CHAPTER V

THE GREAT FIGHT

Margaret was quite sorry when Bob departed on Monday morning to school, for although nothing further was said to assure her, his attitude towards her was evidently changed, and she believed she was now upon a friendly footing with the boy, and at least one of the difficulties of Oaklands was partially overcome.

The days that intervened before his return upon the following Saturday were not of the happiest. She determined to insist upon her charge having special hours for study, and for recreation, and this meant a struggle of wills. Ellice had hitherto had her own way entirely, and any curtailing of that met strenuous opposition.

Monday morning was a lesson in patience to Margaret. Ellice came willingly to the schoolroom, and condescended (for that was her attitude) to give her mind to lessons for about half an hour. For that length of time she seemed docility itself. Bob's words as to her ignorance had rankled in her mind; the child was full of pride, and the idea of possibly being looked down upon as an ignoramus later on was a detestable thought. But half an hour every morning, she had determined, would be sufficient for her concentration.

She worked busily and happily at first, and showed an intelligence which pleased her teacher; then she grew a little restless, and cast furtive glances at the clock. Margaret noticed the slackening of attention, but made no remark. An hour and a half she thought would be sufficient for the first week's morning's work: with such an undisciplined pupil it might be wise to go slowly.

Suddenly Ellice threw down her book.

"It's ten, Miss Woodford. I've done enough for this morning. I don't want to do any more."

"Oh, you've only just begun!" said Margaret quietly. "You started at half-past nine; at eleven we will put the lessons away, and go into the woods, or orchard, as you like."

"I know I'm not going to work until eleven," was the impertinent reply.

Jumping up from her seat, the child made for the door. But her governess was too quick for her. Margaret had been fully on the alert for a possible attempted escape, and in a moment she intercepted the flight.

"I am sorry, Ellice, but you cannot go yet," she said firmly. "Sit down, child, and make the best of it; only an hour more, and you will be free."

For the second time in her life astonishment bereft Ellice of speech for a few seconds, then her indignation vented itself in words as she stamped her feet in her rage.

"I hate you!--I hate you! I will go out when I want to!' she stormed, tears of passion shining in her eyes, and sobs half choking her.

"Stop that noise at once, Ellice," said Miss Woodford. "I am ashamed of you. Sit down, and understand you will remain here for one hour longer as I said; but unless you obey me now, it will be two."

With an abandonment of temper the little girl flung herself into a chair, throwing her arms across the table and hiding her tear-scorched face in her hands. There was still the sound of suppressed, gasping sobs, which gradually died down into silence. It almost appeared that, wearied out with her own temper, she had fallen asleep.

No sound now disturbed the quiet of the schoolroom, but the tick-tock of the clock on the mantelshelf. Margaret remained silent, apparently reading. Presently she glanced up at the time, laid her book down, and, rising quietly, went and stood by her pupil. Unshed tears glimmered in her eyes as she looked down upon the child whose uncontrolled temper meant such misery to herself.

"Girlie," she said softly, "it is almost eleven, but before you go, I want to ask you to forgive me for being, as you think, unkind and nasty. Listen, Ellice. When your mother engaged me to come here as your governess, she offered me a salary in exchange for giving so many hours a day to teaching you. I agreed to her wishes, and I should not be honourable if I took her money and did not fulfil my promise to do the very best I could for you--can you understand that?"

"But I don't want to be taught," muttered the child; "I can teach myself when I am older."

"If you were allowed to do as you wish, you would find presently, when you were growing up, you would be despised by all the other girls of education, because of your ignorance; you would be behind them probably in everything. I don't think you would like that. From what I have seen of you, I believe you would want to be first rather than last. Isn't that so?"

A half-murmured assent greeted this last.

"Can't you see, child, I want to help you? But you must be willing, and try too if we are to succeed. How proud your dear father will be if his daughter grows up bright and intelligent, and is able to be a companion to him some day! He cares ever so much about that; he has told me so."

A slight movement indicated Ellice was listening.

"There is something else he cares about; he wants you to grow up sweet and gentle, and to get over these selfish ways--do you know, trying to please and help others always makes people happier than trying to please themselves. You do it, and see. It just makes people love you. Then there is one other thing I want to say; you are very fond of flowers. I know you look at the garden when you go out, and bury your face in the sweetness of the lavender bed, and smell the fragrance of the roses. Just think how God loved you when He made the flowers so sweet to please you--and gave you your garden and the woods and everything nice you love best. You remember the hymn you sing sometimes:

"'All things bright and beautiful, The great God made them all.'

"_All_ things--and for you--and in His word to us He sends you this message--this morning: '_Study to show yourself a workman approved of God._' He has done so much for us, dear--He has given us every good thing we possess. He came to this earth to die for us--to win our love and our allegiance, and He asks us to show our gratitude by making a life-study of how to prove our love to Him, as good workmen. He wants our best. Ellice, shall we both make up our minds to try to give Him that always, to fight against our tempers, our selfishness; to do even the dry lessons as well as we can, to please Him? I have to try too--all the grown-up people who love Him have to fight this battle with self. It is difficult sometimes, and we often fail, but God has promised to give us His Holy Spirit, to enable us to be brave and strong to do good, if we ask Him."

Margaret paused a moment as she gently stroked the child's bowed head with her hand. Then:

"Ask Him now, darling, to help you all your life to be a workman approved of God."

Again there was silence. The old clock ticked those precious moments away, but at the same time registered a child's desire for a nobler life.

The lesson-time was over as the hour struck. Lesson books had not, after all, played a great part in the morning's work; but was not something learned of greater worth?

"Off you go," said Margaret brightly, and, pressing a light kiss upon the tumbled curls, she turned and went out quietly, leaving her charge to her own devices.

When they afterwards met at luncheon, all traces of the storm were past, and Ellice chatted responsively to the governess she had intended earlier to hate for ever and ever.