“I’ll go and tell mother that you won’t give me my music-lesson!” said the baffled, indignant girl, flirting out of the room.
“Mother!” She had grasped the arm of her mother again.
“Go away, and don’t annoy me!” Mrs. Dainty threw out her arm, and swept her daughter away from her side.
“Mother!” Agnes had pressed back again, determined that she would be heard.
“What do you want?” Mrs. Dainty dropped her book from before her face, and turned, with anger flashing in her eyes, upon her daughter.
“Miss Harper won’t give me my music-lesson!”
“Oh, dear! There’s to be nothing but trouble with that stuck-up girl!” exclaimed Mrs. Dainty. “I saw it from the first.”
And, tossing her book from her, she started up, and went with quick steps and a burning face to the room where Miss Harper sat with the two children next younger than Agnes, who were leaning upon her and looking up into her face, gathering intelligence from her eyes as well as her fitly-spoken words.
“See here, miss!” exclaimed Mrs. Dainty, as she came sweeping into the room, “I’m getting tired of this kind of work, and it must end! What do you mean by refusing to give Agnes her music-lesson?”
“Do you wish her music to precede her French?” Very calmly, and with a quiet dignity that rebuked the excited mother, was this question asked; but Mrs. Dainty was partially blinded by anger, and, obeying an ill-natured impulse, made answer,—