The attack had been so sudden that for once Katie was tongue-tied. That group of inquisitive girls was too much for her. She turned haughtily on her heel, and disdained to answer, but she felt that her sceptre had departed. There were whisperings in her presence, and confidences in which she had no share. Girls looked meaningly at her dress, and a week afterward, when the day for translations came round, Clara May read aloud the fable of the jay in peacock's feathers, which she had freely rendered into French from the English version.
To Madame it had no particular meaning; to the whole school-room it was startlingly intelligent. Katie tingled with shame and burned with anger. She had pretended not to notice much that had wounded her deeply. Should she continue a course which left her a text for sermons of this kind, or should she boldly take her punishment in her own hand? She decided that the latter would be the bravest and wisest thing to do, and as soon as Clara sat down she rose and asked, "Will Madame allow me to answer Miss May's fable in English?"
"This is the French class, Miss Dawson."
"But, Madame, I desire all present to understand me clearly."
"You have a motive? Ah! then it is well you speak as you wish."
"Madame, I am intended to point the moral of the jay and the peacock's feathers. If Madame permits me, I will explain."
"I desire not to interrupt."
Then Katie spoke frankly of her desire for a velvet suit, and repeated her mother's objections to it—to which objections Madame said, emphatically, "Good, they were good."
"Then I went to Agnes Hilton's, and she proposed I should wear her dress, and I agreed to it very gladly. Madame perhaps remembers the dress?"
Madame nodded her head decidedly.