"I shan't begin it again."
"You will not say to me I shall or I shan't; you will do what I please," quietly corrected Madame. "This is your English History. What reign are you in?"
Miss Flora had her elbows on the table, her hands under her chin, and her pretty face pushed out defiantly opposite Madame. The patches of plaster were nearly all gone; her light curls tied back with a black ribbon, hang low behind. She wore a black frock and white pinafore.
"Which of the king's reigns are you in?" pursued Madame.
"Not in any. I know them all. Charles the Second was beheaded; and Henry the Eighth had ten wives: and Guy Faux blew up the gunpowder plot; and Elizabeth boxed people's ears."
"Oh," said Madame, "I think we shall have to begin that again. Are you good at spelling?"
"I can't spell at all. I hate it. Mamma says I need not learn to spell."
"I fancy that cannot be true. How will you write letters if you cannot spell?"
"Who wants to write letters?--I don't."
"Flora!" put in Ethel in a warning tone.