Both children were silent. Then Christabel said, rather sullenly—
“I sent a message by Jasper. I suppose he didn’t give it properly.”
“He gave it as properly as a message that was not a proper one could be given,” was the reply, and Miss Earle’s voice was very cold.
“I must keep up my authority, such as it is,” she said to herself, “but oh, what a pity it is to have so constantly to find fault, when I love them and we might be so happy together.”
It was a bad beginning for the morning’s lessons, and as was to be expected, things did not go smoothly. In their hearts both Leila and Christabel were feeling rather ashamed of themselves, but outwardly this only showed itself by increased sleepy inattention in the one, and a kind of noisy defiance in the other. But Miss Earle knew children too well to “pile on the agony,” and said no more, hoping that the interest they really felt in their work would gradually clear the atmosphere.
So she gave them some history notes to copy out correctly, while Jasper went on with his reading.
He was not a very quick child, as I think I have said already, but it was impossible to feel vexed with him, as he did his very best—getting pink all over his fair little face when he came to some very difficult word. Nor was it always easy to help laughing at his comical mistakes, but a smile of amusement on his teacher’s face never hurt his feelings. It was different, however, when Chrissie burst into a roar at his solemnly narrating that “the gay-oler locked the door of the cell on the prisoner.”
“The what, my dear?” said Miss Earle.
Jasper’s eyes were intently fixed on the word.
“Go-aler,” he announced triumphantly.