“And of what use is any theme or fable without a moral? But I wish to know your motive for writing this ridiculous piece.”
“To vex Mrs. Adair, certainly, because she won’t let me go to my Aunt’s on Thursday.”
“And do you really think that it is in your power to vex Mrs. Adair with this trifling nonsense? You may be assured of this, Miss Bruce, the only notice she will take of this childish, insignificant fable, will be to make you read it to the ladies.”
“I won’t be talked to in this way, though you are my monitress. I will write what I please;” so saying, she snatched the slate from Miss Damer, and in haste rubbed off the words.
“The wisest thing you could do,” said Miss Damer. “Now sit down, and reflect seriously upon your conduct, and then tell me whether you feel quite satisfied with yourself, or whether you are grateful to Mrs. Adair for her care of you, and attention to you. You are the only little girl who has not a mamma: who would be so indulgent, so tender to you, as Mrs. Adair?”
At these words Miss Bruce sobbed violently; but her sorrow was of short duration: “You would vex any thing, Miss Damer, with talking so quietly. I like people to be angry with me, and then I can be angry myself.”
“My dear, I shall not listen to you, so I advise you to cease talking: it is my plan never to argue with unruly little girls. Come, Miss Grey, and Isabella; we will go into the play-ground.”
Isabella whispered to Miss Bruce as she passed her; “do, dear Miss Bruce, be good. Why should you vex Miss Damer when she is so kind to you?” Miss Bruce pushed her companion’s hand from her shoulder, and turned her face to the wall, and there they found her on their return.
When the bell rang for prayers, Miss Bruce sprang across the room to Miss Damer, who was seated, talking to Miss Arden, and throwing her arms round her neck, she exclaimed, “You must indeed forgive me; I cannot sleep unless you say, ‘good night.’”
Miss Damer turned round, and kissed her: “Now, my dear, I hope you will never offend me again.”