It was decreed that as Bessie professed no enthusiasm for music, it
would be wasting time that might be more profitably employed to teach
her; and a recommendation to the considerate indulgence of Mademoiselle
Adelaide, who was in charge of the junior class, saved her from huffs
and ridicule while going through the preliminary paces of French.
At recreation-time in the garden Janey ran up to ask how she had got on.
"_J'ai, tu as, il a_," said Bessie, and laughed with radiant audacity.
Her phantoms were already vanishing into thin air.
Not many French girls were yet present. The next noon-day they were
doubled. By Saturday all were come, and answered to their names when the
roll was called, the great and dreadful Miss Hiloe amongst them. They
were two, Mademoiselle Ada and Mademoiselle Ellen. The younger sister
was a cipher--an echo of the elder, and an example of how she ought to
be worshipped. Mademoiselle Ada would be a personage wherever she was.
Already her _role_ in the world was adopted. She had a pale Greek face,
a lofty look, and a proud spirit. She was not rude to those who paid
her the homage that was her due--she was, indeed, helpful and
patronizing to the humble--but for a small Mordecai like Janey Fricker
she had nothing but insolence and rough words. Janey would not bow down
to her; in her own way Janey was as stubborn and proud as her tyrant,
but she was not as strong. She was a waif by herself, and Mademoiselle
Ada was obeyed, served, and honored by a large following of admirers.
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