England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Schools -- Fiction; Teenage girls -- Fiction
I'm not sure whether that is quite right, but it is as I recollect from
very, very long--ages ago; and it was about this time that I began to
feel--oh, so old, and worn, and weary.
Yes, Achille tried hard to obtain my forgiveness; but I would not
notice. He whispered to me more than once, over the lessons, that it
was from motives of policy that he had so acted; but I would not hear
him. And it was about this time that mamma began to send me word of how
frequently Theodore Saint Purre used to call at Chester Square, and how
kindly he always inquired after me; and it really was very kind of him,
and almost looked as if he took an interest in me. But then, what
interest could he feel in the poor, weak school-girl that I was? So I
only sighed when mamma wrote, and tried, by being good friends with the
new pupil, Euphemia Campanelle Brassey, to keep from being miserable
about Monsieur de Tiraille--for I made a vow never to call him Achille
any more. Then he must try to pique me by taking more notice of Clara
and Euphemia; but he gained nothing by that movement, for I saw Miss
Furness look crochet needles at him--which, I mean to say, is a far
better simile than daggers, for they are old, exploded things that have
gone off without noise; while crochet needles are things of the present,
equally sharp, and more vicious, from being barbed. And then, too, I
told Euphemia all about his treatment of me, while Clara already knew
it, and laughed in his face, making him look so ashamed, when he had
been trying to be so--so--so--well, what's that word?--empresse; whilst
the next time he came, Euphemia, who had felt a little flattered,
regularly turned up her nose at him. Of course, I am speaking
metaphorically, for Patty Smith was the only big girl who really could
do that literally, but then it came natural to her. And it was such a
good thing that we had got rid of Patty; for, as I have said before, I
think, I never could look upon her, big as she was, as anything but a
child; while she acted as a regular check upon all our little chats.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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