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
no reason why other people should suffer, and, small as this child is
she has made the life of her excellent aunt intolerable by her
unlovable, unsociable, and unchildlike disposition. Children, she was
sent to school to be corrected of her faults, and I order you to stop
your lessons while she is publicly punished. . . ."

With this parade of the spirit of justice, the schoolmistress stepped
back and left me. I knew what she was doing--she was taking her cane out
of her desk which stood by the wall. I heard the desk opened with an
impatient clash and then closed with an angry bang. I was as sure as if
I had had eyes in the back of my head, that the schoolmistress was
holding the cane in both hands and bending it to see if it was lithe and
limber.

I felt utterly humiliated. Standing there with all eyes upon me I was
conscious of the worst pain that enters into a child's experience--the
pain of knowing that other children are looking upon her degradation. I
thought of Aunt Bridget and my little heart choked with anger. Then I
thought of my mother and my throat throbbed with shame. I remembered
what my mother had said, of her little Mary be