"I will hurry," replied Emily. She closed her book, and added, with a great effort, "I must say my prayers first."
"Say them, and welcome," returned Delia, "but I am afraid they will not save you from a mark, and I should not like to be imperfect in deportment the very first week, if I were you."
Emily knelt down without replying, but, as may be imagined, her mind was in any thing but a devotional state. She could not at first compose herself sufficiently to remember even a form of words, and the bell rang before she had finished the Lord's prayer. She started up and began to undress as fast as possible, but she had not nearly finished when the door opened, and Miss Thomas, who was going her rounds in the regular discharge of her duties, as officer, put her head into the room.
Miss Thomas' passion for neatness and punctuality have been noticed before. Her temper, never very placid, had already been severely ruffled by several untoward events, such as finding her own towel fallen into the slop jar, and various skirts, hoops, etc., belonging to the young ladies, scattered upon the floors of their respective apartments, instead of being neatly disposed for the night. She reproved Emily sharply, would listen to no excuses, telling her that three-quarters of an hour was time sufficient for any young lady to prepare for bed, and concluded by saying that she should give her a mark, which she need not seek to have excused. All this did not, of course, tend to the increase of Emily's serenity.
"Hateful, cross old thing!" said she, as the door finally closed upon Miss Thomas and her lecture. "I wish she were in Jericho!"
"And just as you were being so extra good too," returned Delia, laughing. "But never mind, Emily, you can call it persecution for righteousness sake, you know."
"You are very provoking, Delia," retorted Emily. "I do believe you are glad to have me get into a scrape, just that you may have the pleasure of saying, 'I told you so!'"
"Upon my word, your devotions don't seem to have improved your temper," said Delia, not without reason. "I am sure I did all I could to save you from trouble. I don't object to your saying as many prayers as you like, only as I have told you before, consistency is a jewel."
Emily felt that Delia had some reason for her remarks, and checked the sharp answer which rose to her lips, but her frame of mind was any thing but amiable or Christian. As one goes to sleep at night, so one is very apt to awake in the morning, and she opened her eyes with that unpleasant feeling which every one has experienced at one time or another, that something very disagreeable had happened which she did not exactly remember.
Delia was already up, curling her hair at the dressing-table, and looking as neat and bright as ever, while Emily's uncurled locks hung tangled and uncomfortable around her face—another circumstance to remind her of course of the night before. Delia made no remark upon them, however, but assisted Emily to arrange her hair neatly and comfortably, straightened and smoothed the tumbled collar and sleeves, and sewed on a missing button. She generally delivered a little lecture upon neatness upon these occasions, for the most perfect tidiness was one of her good qualities, and she had already rendered Emily an essential service in reforming her rather careless habits.