"That while there you talked against your teachers, and some of your schoolmates, whose conduct you called too strict; that you mimicked Miss Granby's words and tone; that you complained of being unhappy here, everybody was so pious, and declared your intention of writing to your father to take you home; worse than all, it is reported that you talked in an indelicate and improper manner of a young man, whose name Miss Granby cannot recollect. Now, what do you say to all this, my dear?"
While Mrs. Collins had been speaking, Ellen twitched her hand from her aunt and stood quivering with passion, looking defiantly in her teacher's face.
"It's all a lie,—a wicked lie!" she exclaimed, with more passion than her aunt had ever seen in her before. "I never thought of mimicking my teacher or making fun of her in any way; I told Josey—" She checked herself in great confusion and then went on. "I couldn't talk against her, for I always loved her before to-day. You know, aunty, that I love you and Uncle Collins and all the family dearly; and that I never was so happy as since I came to live with you. All I ever said about writing to father was to beg him to come and live here too."
Miss Granby pursed up her mouth, and looked unconvinced; but Mrs. Collins said, soothingly,—
"Don't get excited, Ellen; I believe all you say. Now what is it about the young man?"
"I don't remember any young man being mentioned."
"Then you do acknowledge going to visit Josey after she was dismissed in disgrace from the school, and that, too, without the consent of your aunt?"
The tone was slightly exultant, and grated harshly on Mrs. Collins's ears.
"Yes, I did go. I'll tell you sometime, aunt, how it happened."
"And what did you talk about?"