The girl put on an air of protest.
“What? There’s no harm in it, is there? I can’t catch the others up unless I work hard. I have not enough time in preparation, so I put these up and learn them while I dress and undress, and every time I come in to prepare for a meal. You have no idea what a lot I get through. And I keep a list in my pocket too, and take it out at odd moments. Miss Murray is surprised at the way I am getting on.”
“I have been surprised too, to see you look so ill, with such white cheeks and heavy eyes. I understand it now.”
“But, Miss Everett, I must work. I must get on! If I am behind I must catch up. Even if I am tired I must get on in my class.”
“Why?”
Why? Why must she get on? It was such an extraordinary question to come from a teacher, that Rhoda could only gasp in bewilderment—“Why? You ask why?”
“Yes, I do. One has always some object in work. I wondered what yours might be. Why are you so terribly anxious to come to the front?”
A dozen answers rose to Rhoda’s lips. To impress Thomasina; to show her that if I do think a good deal of myself, it’s not without a cause... To take the conceit out of the girls who patronise me. To be able to patronise in my turn, and not remain always insignificant and powerless... To show Harold how clever I am, and to have my name put on the Record Wall when I leave! ... They were one and all excellent reasons, yet somehow she did not care to confide them to Miss Everett. Instead, she hesitated, and answered by another question.
“I suppose you think there is a wrong and a right motive? I suppose you think mine is the wrong one. What is the right, then? I’m ill, and reduced in my mind, so it’s a good time to preach; I’ll listen meekly!”
“And disagree with every word I say,” cried Miss Everett laughing. “No, no, Rhoda, I never preach. I know girls well enough to understand that that doesn’t pay. There are some secrets that we have to find out for ourselves, and it is waste of time telling the answers before the hearer is ready to receive them; only, when one has oneself suffered from ignorance, and sees another poor dear running her head against the wall, one is sorry, that’s all, and one longs to point out the danger signals. Find out, dear, what your motive is, and be satisfied that it’s a good one. Meantime, I’m going to take away these papers. Do you see? Every—single—one!” She walked round the room, confiscating the lists, and putting them in her pocket with an air of good-natured determination. “Let that tired head rest, and believe me, my dear, that your elders understand almost as much about girls as you do yourself. We are never blamed for under-working at Hurst, and you may take for granted that the hours for work are as long as you can stand. The short time spent in your cubicle is not intended for work, but for rest—of all kinds!”