An Unsocial Socialist | Page 5

down that I don't know how to behave
myself. Besides, I do not like to be told that I am ill-bred!"
Agatha laughed. "What a deep old thing she is! She knows all our
weaknesses, and stabs at us through them. Catch her telling me, or Jane
there, that we are ill-bred!"
"I don't understand you," said Miss Lindsay, haughtily.
"Of course not. That's because you don't know as much moral science
as I, though I never took a prize in it."
"You never took a prize in anything," said Miss Carpenter.
"And I hope I never shall," said Agatha. "I would as soon scramble for
hot pennies in the snow, like the street boys, as scramble to see who
can answer most questions. Dr. Watts is enough moral science for me.
Now for the Recording Angel."
She went to a shelf and took down a heavy quarto, bound in black
leather, and inscribed, in red letters, MY FAULTS. This she threw
irreverently on a desk, and tossed its pages over until she came to one
only partly covered with manuscript confessions.
"For a wonder," she said, "here are two entries that are not mine. Sarah

Gerram! What has she been confessing?"
"Don't read it," said Miss Lindsay quickly. "You know that it is the
most dishonorable thing any of us can do."
"Poch! Our little sins are not worth making such a fuss about. I always
like to have my entries read: it makes me feel like an author; and so in
Christian duty I always read other people's. Listen to poor Sarah's tale
of guilt. '1st October. I am very sorry that I slapped Miss Chambers in
the lavatory this morning, and knocked out one of her teeth. This was
very wicked; but it was coming out by itself; and she has forgiven me
because a new one will come in its place; and she was only pretending
when she said she swallowed it. Sarah Gerram."'
"Little fool!" said Miss Lindsay. "The idea of our having to record in
the same book with brats like that!"
"Here is a touching revelation. '4th October. Helen Plantagenet is
deeply grieved to have to confess that I took the first place in algebra
yesterday unfairly. Miss Lindsay prompted me;' and--"
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Lindsay, reddening. "That is how she thanks me
for prompting her, is it? How dare she confess my faults in the
Recording Angel?"
"Serves you right for prompting her," said Miss Carpenter. "She was
always a double-faced cat; and you ought to have known better."
"Oh, I assure you it was not for her sake that I did it," replied Miss
Lindsay. "It was to prevent that Jackson girl from getting first place. I
don't like Helen Plantagenet; but at least she is a lady.'
"Stuff, Gertrude," said Agatha, with a touch of earnestness. "One would
think, to hear you talk, that your grandmother was a cook. Don't be
such a snob."
"Miss Wylie," said Gertrude, becoming scarlet: "you are very--oh! oh!
Stop Ag--oh! I will tell Miss--oh!" Agatha had inserted a steely finger

between her ribs, and was tickling her unendurably.
"Sh-sh-sh," whispered Miss Carpenter anxiously. "The door is open."
"Am I Miss Wylie?" demanded Agatha, relentlessly continuing the
torture. "Am I very--whatever you were going to say? Am I? am I? am
I?"
"No, no," gasped Gertrude, shrinking into a chair, almost in hysterics.
"You are very unkind, Agatha. You have hurt me."
"You deserve it. If you ever get sulky with me again, or call me Miss
Wylie, I will kill you. I will tickle the soles of your feet with a feather,"
(Miss Lindsay shuddered, and hid her feet beneath the chair) "until
your hair turns white. And now, if you are truly repentant, come and
record."
"You must record first. It was all your fault."
"But I am the youngest," said Agatha.
"Well, then," said Gertrude, afraid to press the point, but determined
not to record first, "let Jane Carpenter begin. She is the eldest."
"Oh, of course," said Jane, with whimpering irony. "Let Jane do all the
nasty things first. I think it's very hard. You fancy that Jane is a fool;
but she isn't."
"You are certainly not such a fool as you look, Jane," said Agatha
gravely. "But I will record first, if you like."
"No, you shan't," cried Jane, snatching the pen from her. "I arm the
eldest; and I won't be put out of my place."
She dipped the pen in the ink resolutely, and prepared to write. Then
she paused; considered; looked bewildered; and at last appealed
piteously to Agatha.
"What shall I write?" she said. "You know how to write things down;

and I don't."
"First put the date," said Agatha.
"To be sure," said Jane, writing it quickly.