CHAPTER VI

ELLA'S DISGRACE

THE mare, after a bit, seemed to understand the change of drivers, and presently she lessened her speed to an ordinary trot. Then Kenneth gradually brought her to a standstill.

Some minutes later they were joined by Giles, who, panting and breathless as he was, commenced giving Rupert a piece of his mind.

For a wonder the boy made no retort. As a matter of fact, he regretted his wilfulness more than he could tell.

"I say, Giles," he said, when they were once more driving steadily on their way, "you won't tell mother anything about this, will you?"

"Ay, that I shall, Master Rupert," was the stolid reply. "Don't you make any mistake about that."

"Then you are a disagreeable old pig," retorted Rupert; "that's what you are!"

"And you are a very wilful young gentleman, and you'll get into trouble one of these fine days if you ain't careful."

Rupert, after this, maintained a sulky silence, and it was not until the wagonette drew up at Farley House that he recovered himself.

"Good-bye, Cinders," he cried mischievously, as the three girls alighted. "I quite expect you'll be in the babies' class with Marcia, so don't disappoint me."

"I hope she will be," said little Marcia; "that would be just lovely for me."

Gertie secretly hoped the same, for the idea of Ella proving a rival to herself was most distinctly unpleasant.

At first Ella felt overcome with bashfulness, for never in her life had she been in such a big company of girls. But presently she forgot about herself altogether, and consequently, when one of the governesses examined her as to the extent of her knowledge, she answered the questions put to her without any shyness, and, moreover, with a clearness which surprised her questioner.

"Who's the new girl with her arm in a sling?" asked a certain Dorothy Grey of Gertie, during an interval of the morning's lessons.

"It's Ella Russell, a girl who lives close by our gates," was the half-scornful reply.

"She looks rather a jolly little thing," said Dorothy. "I wonder if she'll be in our form."

"Oh, I don't suppose she will—she's never been to school before, and Marcia is quite looking forward to having her in the babies' class."

"Then I'm afraid Marcia will be disappointed, for Ella Russell is quite advanced enough to be in the third form. In fact, she is going to join your class at once."

It was Ella's examiner who spoke. She was standing near, and had chanced to overhear Gertie's remark.

Ella was quietly delighted at the position she took in school, although so humble-minded was she that she never thought of taking the credit to herself.

"How is it," asked the third form mistress, Miss Merton by name, "that you are so well up in your lessons, having never been to school?"

"My Grannie taught me," replied the child, "and she's very clever—that's how it is."

"And some one else is clever too, or else I am very much mistaken," was the teacher's unspoken thought.

Shortly after this, school went on in real earnest, and such a busy day it was, that almost before Ella realized the fact, four o'clock had come round, and lessons were over for the day.

The four Snowden children, with little Ella, were to return home by train that afternoon, the four-thirty from Farley Station accomplishing the journey to Berryland in the space of a few minutes.

"Hullo, Cinderella," was Kenneth's friendly greeting at the station, "how have you been getting on?"

"Oh, I've enjoyed it ever so much!" replied the child enthusiastically. "I'm in the same form as Gertie—isn't that lovely?"

"May you always think it so lovely, little 'un!" said Rupert. "If you were at Farley College, you wouldn't think it such high jinks."

"Isn't your school nice, then?"

"It's all right so far as schools go, but what would you think of a master who, the very first opportunity that came round, gave you a beastly imposition to write?"

"What's an imposition?" queried innocent Ella.

"It's imposing on you by giving you a punishment you don't deserve."

"That was very hard lines," said Ella; "but p'raps you did deserve it." This with a twinkle of fun in her eyes.

"Thank you for your sympathy," grinned Rupert; "now I shall know what to say to you when you get into disgrace at school."

"Oh, I don't mean to get into disgrace," said the child confidently. "I am going to be as good as ever I can."

At this moment the train came in, and the conversation ended. But Ella, alas! had reason to remember her own words some three weeks later.

Upon arriving home, Rupert was summoned into his mother's presence, Giles having already given information against him.

Now, there was nothing which cut the Snowden children more to the heart than the thought of "grieving mother," and Rupert's penitence, when she told him how much his foolish and wilful conduct had pained her, was very real. He promised faithfully to amend his ways and to his credit, be it said, he fully meant to keep his word.

During the weeks which followed, Gertie's jealousy of Ella grew by leaps and bounds, until, at last, it was plain enough for any one to see.

"I wonder if Ella Russell ever uses a Key for her arithmetic," said Dorothy Grey one morning to her friend Gertie; "if not, she's the quickest at sums I ever knew."

"I don't think she's that sort of girl," was the reply, given almost unwillingly.

"Oh, one never knows, 'still waters run deep,' and a Key is no end of help."

Alas! Dorothy, on more than one occasion, had used such aid herself.

A couple of days later, Gertie was sitting alone in one of the class-rooms during the dinner hour, poring over a sum which wouldn't come right.

"If I'd got a Key," she said to herself, mindful of Dorothy's words, "I should get the silly old thing done in a minute—I wonder—" here a sudden temptation came into her heart—"if there is one anywhere on the shelf."

As it chanced there was one, and no sooner did Gertie spy the book, than she prepared to make use of it.

"You are doing wrong," said the voice of Conscience, as loudly and clearly as ever it could speak.

"But my head aches so badly, I simply can't bother over it any longer," pleaded Gertie excusingly.

But Conscience was not to be quieted thus. Indeed, so stirring was its voice that, for a while, Gertie wavered, but it was only for a while. A few minutes later, by the aid of the Key, the wrong figures were erased, and the right ones put in their stead. Just as this was done, the little girl heard footsteps in the next room.

"What shall I do with the book?" she said to herself, for there was absolutely no time to replace it on the shelf where she had found it.

Opening the first desk that came handy, she thrust the Key inside, not knowing or caring, in her agitation, to whom the desk belonged.

In the afternoon the book was discovered to be missing, and Miss Merton, having reason to suspect that Dorothy Grey was not quite open with her school work, determined to find out whether the Key was in her possession.

For this purpose she bade the girls turn out their desks for her inspection. Ella, all unsuspectingly, cleared out her various belongings, with never a thought of coming trouble in her mind.

Suddenly her eyes alighted on a brown-covered book, which she knew had no right to be there. It was the Arithmetic Key. Miss Merton's sharp eyes had caught sight of it too.

"Ella," she said sternly, "how is it that this book is in your keeping?"

"I don't know, Miss Merton," she said, flushing redly at her governess's tone. "I didn't put it there."

"Don't add a falsehood to your deception, please," was the sharp reply. "I am bitterly disappointed in you, Ella—this, then, accounts for your remarkably well done arithmetic."

Poor little Ella, her cup of humiliation was full to the brim. The accusation which was laid to her charge seemed to rob her of the power of speech, and she trembled so that she could scarcely stand.

Gertie, who little dreamed of all the trouble her act of deception would cause, was filled with shame and regret.

To Ella's surprise, and no little comfort, she stood by her in her hour of trouble.

"I am sure, Miss Merton," said she, "Ella wouldn't tell you a story about it. I know she didn't put it there."

"Then if she didn't, Gertie, pray, who did?" was the question.

Gertie turned red and white by turns. "Confess," said Conscience sternly, "now is your chance!"

Ah! Had Gertie done so, how much unhappiness and sorrow had been spared! But she let the moment pass, and so it was that Ella was left to bear the burden of unmerited shame and rebuke.