The Youngest Girl in the Fifth: A School StoryBrazil, Angela
General
The Youngest Girl in the Fifth: A School Story
Brazil, Angela
Schools -- Fiction
Gwen did not wait to hear Beatrice's reply, but bolted straightway to
her own bedroom. The proposal was as unwelcome as it was unexpected.
To stop at home now, for a whole fortnight, just when every moment at
school was of such great importance! Why, such a proceeding might
wreck every chance she had for the exam.! Of course she was not sure
whether she was really a candidate, but she had a shrewd suspicion
that she was one of the selected number. She wished Miss Roscoe had
openly given out the names, then she would have known exactly what to
do in the circumstances. Could anything be more exasperating? It was
impracticable for Winnie to fill the breach; with one teacher short,
Miss Roscoe could not possibly spare her, especially at such a busy
time as the end of the term. Gwen realized that perfectly.
Lesbia--little, childish Lesbia--would be about as much use as Stumps
or Basil--why, she would be playing with Martin in the orchard while
the fowls went hungry and Nellie burnt the bread. As for Cousin Edith,
she was not a favourite with the Gascoynes, and the fact of her
presence would be hardly conducive to the invalid's recovery.
"I verily believe Bee would get up if she knew Cousin Edith were
poking about downstairs," thought Gwen. "I know I ought to stay--but I
can't, I can't! It means so much to pass that exam. It would be horrid
to stop at home, too, with Bee in bed directing everything. If she
were going away, and would leave me to it, I shouldn't mind. It's not
the work I'm dreading. But I know Bee only too well. She'll ring a
bell and have me up to her room every five minutes to ask how things
are getting on, and what I've done and what I haven't done, and she'll
worry, worry, worry, and scold, scold, scold the whole time. There'll
be no credit in my slaving, not the least. No, I don't think it can be
expected from me. It's too hard."
Gwen made the last remark aloud, and she repeated it again
emphatically, because she just happened to catch sight of the New Year
motto that hung over her dressing table.
"Oh do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. Do
not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers
equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no
miracle. But you shall be a miracle. Every day you shall
wonder at yourself, at the richness of life which has come
to you by the grace of God."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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