I held my slate yet closer to my face and made no answer.

"Don't you hear, miss? Speak! You've a tongue in your head, haven't
you?"

But still I did not answer, and then the schoolmistress said:

"Mary O'Neill, come forward."

She had commanded me like a dog, and like a dog I was about to obey when
I caught sight of Betsy Beauty's face, which, beaming with satisfaction,
seemed to be saying: "Now, we shall see."

I would not stir after that, and the schoolmistress, leaving her desk,
came towards me, and looking darkly into my face, said:

"You wilful little vixen, do you think you can trifle with me? Come out,
miss, this very moment."

I knew where that language came from, so I made no movement.

"Don't you hear? Or do you suppose that because you are pampered and
spoiled by a foolish person at home, you can defy _me_?"

That reflection on my mother settled everything. I sat as rigid as a
rock.

Then pale as a whitewashed wall, and with her thin lips tightly
compressed, the schoolmistress took hold of me to drag me out of my
seat, but with my little nervous fingers I clung to the desk in front of