“I’m not going, to school.” “We’ll see about that” “I tell you I won’t go.” “And I tell you we’ll see about it” “I won’t go till I’ve seen papa. If he says I’m to go, I will of course; but I won’t go for you.” “You _will_, and you _won’t_!” she repeated, standing staring at me, as I leisurely, but with hands trembling partly with fear, partly with rage, was fastening my nether garments to my waistcoat. “That’s all very fine, but I know something a good deal finer. Now wash your face.” “I won’t, so long as you stand there,” I said, and sat down on the floor. She advanced towards me. “If you touch me, I’ll scream,” I cried. She stopped, thought for a moment, and bounced out of the room. But I heard her turn the key of the door. I proceeded with my dressing as fast as I could then; and the moment I was ready, opened the window, which was only a few feet from the ground, scrambled out, and dropped. I hurt myself a little, but not much, and fled for the harbour of Kirsty’s arms. But as I turned the corner of the house I ran right into Mrs. Mitchell’s, who received me with no soft embrace. In fact I was rather severely scratched with a. pin in the bosom of her dress. “There! that serves you right,” she cried. “That’s a judgment on you for trying to run away again. After all the trouble you gave us yesterday too! You are a bad boy.” “Why am I a bad boy?” I retorted. “It’s bad not to do what you are told.” “I will do what my papa tells me.” “Your papa! There are more people than your papa in the world.” “I’m to be a bad boy if I don’t do what anybody like you chooses to tell me, am I?” “None of your impudence!” This was accompanied by a box on the ear. She was now dragging me into the kitchen. There she set my porridge before me, which I declined to eat. “Well, if you won’t eat good food, you shall go to school without it.” “I tell you I won’t go to school.”