“But it won’t be much fun, Mildred, if you have to teach all day long. You won’t be able to go about as you like, or have any time free except in the evenings. And fancy having to go over all the wretched old lessons again, and to drill tables and dates, and latitudes and longitudes into the brains of a lot of stupid children. It will be worse than being at school.”
“Our children are not stupid. They are as sharp as needles, and I don’t think it will be dull at all. It will be fun to have the positions reversed, and to do none of the work and all the fault-finding. I shall bully them fearfully. Can’t you imagine me—very proper and stiff, hair done up—sitting at the head of the table tapping with a lead pencil... ‘At-tention to the board! ... Shoulders back, young ladies, if you please! Your deportment leaves much to be desired! ... My dear, good child, how can you be so stupid! You try my patience to the uttermost!’”
Mildred accompanied these remarks with contortions of the face and body in imitation of the different teachers at Milvern House, and the bursts of laughter with which they were greeted showed how real were her powers of mimicry. She joined in the laughter herself, then suddenly breaking off, clasped her hands together, and rocked to and fro in an ecstasy of anticipation.
“This time to-morrow—oh! I shall be driving home from the station. We shall have passed the village cross, and the almshouses, and turned the corner by the farm. The children will be swarming out of the gate—the table will be laid for tea, with a bowl of roses in the middle—oh!—and strawberries—oh!—and real, true, thick, country cream. To-morrow! I can’t believe it. I don’t think I ever wanted to go home so badly before. The term from Christmas to midsummer seems so awfully long when you don’t go away for Easter. I shan’t sleep a wink to-night, I am so excited. I don’t think I can lie down at all.”
The girls were so absorbed in their conversation that they had not heard the door open during Mildred’s last speech, and the new comer had thus an opportunity of listening undisturbed. She was a tall, slight young lady, with dark hair, and the sweetest brown eyes that were ever seen. She wore a black dress, and white collar and cuffs, and looked as if she were trying her best to appear old and dignified, and not succeeding so well as she would have wished. This was Miss Margaret, the younger of the two lady principals, familiarly known among the girls as “Mardie”, because she was “such a darling” that it was impossible to address her by an ordinary, stiff, school-mistressy title. This afternoon, however, Mardie’s eyes were not so serene as usual, and her face clouded over in a noticeable manner as she listened to Mildred’s rhapsodies.
“Mildred, dear,” she said, coming forward and laying her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I want you in my room for a few minutes. I won’t keep you long. There is something—”
“You want to say to me! Oh, Mardie, I can guess. I have left my slippers in the middle of the floor, and thrown my clothes all over the room. I know—I know quite well, but it’s the last day—I can’t be prim and tidy on the last day. It’s not in human nature!” Mildred took hold of Miss Margaret by the arm, and rubbed her curly head against her shoulder in a pretty, kitten-like manner. “To-morrow morning you will be rid of us altogether, and then—”
“But it is not about your room, Mildred. Come dear—come with me. I really want you.”
“I’m ready then!” The girl slipped lightly to the ground, and turned to follow Miss Margaret from the room. “You make me quite curious, Mardie. Whatever can it be?”