"Shall it be an English school or a school in France?" said Mr. Short,
taking the indulgent cue, to avoid offence and stave off resistance. But
his affectation of meekness was more provoking than his sarcasm. Bessie
fired up indignantly at such unworthy treatment.
"You are deciding and settling everything without a word to my father.
How do you know that he will let me go away? I don't want to go," she
said.
"That _is_ settled, Bessie darling. _You have to go_--so don't get angry
about it," said Mrs. Carnegie with firmness. "You may have your choice
about a school at home or abroad, and that is all. Now be good, and
consider which you would like best."
Bessie's tears overflowed. "I hate girls!" she said with an asperity
that quite shamed her mother, "they are so silly." Mr. John Short with
difficulty forbore a smile. "And they don't like me!" she added with
gusty wrath. "I never get on with girls, never! I don't know what to say
to them. And when they find out that I can't speak French or play on the
piano, they will laugh at me." Her own countenance broke into a laugh as
she uttered the prediction, but she laughed with tears still in her
eyes.
The lawyer nodded his head in a satisfied way. "It will all come right
in time," said he. "If you can make fun of the prospect of school, the
reality will not be very terrible to a young lady of your courageous
temper."
Poor Bessie was grave again in an instant.
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