Miss Delicia was fussing in and out of the house, and picking fresh strawberries, and nodding to the girls she happened to meet with a kind of suppressed delight."I do, my love. But your truest happiness is not secured by giving you your own way in everything."Marshall had to be comforted with this rather dubious speech, and Dorothy ran on to join Janet.[Pg 31]
"Oh, I am sorry!""Yes; does not a mistress always command her pupils?""Well, well," interrupted Janet impatiently, "have your own way, Olive. Make that tiresome, disagreeable girl a female Hercules if you fancy, only cease to talk about her. That is all I have to beg."
"O Bridget!" exclaimed the little girls, starting back in affright.
She never came into a room without exercising in a silent, unobtrusive, very gentle way, a marked effect for good."I could not help myself," replied Dorothy. "You know, of course, Janet, what Bridget did last night?"
"Oh, if you take it up in that way," said Olive; but her words had a faint sound about them—she was a girl who was easily impressed either for good or evil.
Bridget's arms were flung impulsively round her governess's neck, and then one hand was tucked within the good lady's arm.
The Irish girl looked certainly pretty enough to win any number of susceptible small hearts at that moment. Her pale blue dress set off her graceful figure and fair complexion to the best advantage. Her mirthful, lovely eyes were raised to follow Dorothy as she disappeared into the house. Her lips were parted in a mischievous smile. She raised one hand to push back the rebellious locks of chestnut curls from her forehead.
"Just play the piece over to me," she said to her master. "I'll do it if you play it over. Yes, that's it—tum, tum, tummy, tum, tum. Oughtn't you to crash the air out a bit there? I think you ought. Yes, that's it—isn't it lovely? Now let me try."