me, and as often as she tore one of my hands open the other fixed itself
afresh.

"You minx! We'll see who's mistress here. . . . Will none of you big
girls come and help me?"

With the utmost alacrity one big girl from a back bench came rushing to
the schoolmistress' assistance. It was Nessy MacLeod, and together,
after a fierce struggle, they tore me from my desk, like an ivy branch
from a tree, and dragged me into the open space in front of the classes.
By this time the schoolmistress' hands, and I think her neck were
scratched, and from that cause also she was quivering with passion.

"Stand there, miss," she said, "and move from that spot at your peril."

My own fury was now spent, and in the dead silence which had fallen on
the entire school, I was beginning to feel the shame of my ignominious
position.

"Children," cried the schoolmistress, addressing the whole of the
scholars, "put down your slates and listen."

Then, as soon as she had recovered her breath she said, standing by my
side and pointing down to me:

"This child came to school with the character of a wilful, wicked little
vixen, and she has not belied her character. By gross disobedience she
has brought herself to where you see her. 'Spare the rod, spoil the
child,' is a scriptural maxim, and the foolish parents who ruin their
children by overindulgence deserve all that comes to them. But there is