“Oh, mother won’t care!” Agnes spoke with animation. “If I prefer this hour to twelve it will be all the same to her.”
“Your mother don’t care for her word, Agnes?” Miss Harper spoke in a tone of surprise.
“I didn’t mean that,” was answered, with some little confusion of manner. “I only meant that if she knew I preferred one time to another she would not hesitate to gratify my wishes.”
“Very well. We will consult her this evening,” said Miss Harper. “And if she consents to a new arrangement of the study-hours I will make no objection. But at present both you and I are bound to observe existing rules. I have no power to change them if I would. So, come up to the line cheerfully, to-day, and to-morrow we will both be governed by your mother’s decision.”
Agnes was subdued. Without a sign of hesitation she went on with her lesson in French, and said it all the better for this little contention, through which she came with an entirely new impression of Miss Harper.
When the young teacher came to George, this little reprobate would do nothing that was required of him. His book he had, from the commencement of the school-hours, refused to open; replying to every request of Miss Harper to do so with a sullen, “A’n’t a-going to.”
“Now, George, you will say your lesson,” said Miss Harper, in a pleasant tone.
“A’n’t a-going to,” replied the little fellow, pouting out his lips, and scowling from beneath his knit brows.
“Oh, yes; George will say his lesson.”
“A’n’t a-going to.”