I Say No | Page 5

or handed round from bed to bed, one at a time. In the
meanwhile, her lovely blue eyes rested tenderly on the tarts.
Emily's commanding spirit seized on the reins of government, and
employed each of her schoolfellows in the occupation which she was
fittest to undertake. "Miss de Sor, let me look at your hand. Ah! I
thought so. You have got the thickest wrist among us; you shall draw
the corks. If you let the lemonade pop, not a drop of it goes down your
throat. Effie, Annis, Priscilla, you are three notoriously lazy girls; it's
doing you a true kindness to set you to work. Effie, clear the toilet-table
for supper; away with the combs, the brushes, and the looking-glass.
Annis, tear the leaves out of your book of exercises, and set them out
for plates. No! I'll unpack; nobody touches the baskets but me. Priscilla,
you have the prettiest ears in the room. You shall act as sentinel, my
dear, and listen at the door. Cecilia, when you have done devouring
those tarts with your eyes, take that pair of scissors (Miss de Sor, allow
me to apologize for the mean manner in which this school is carried on;
the knives and forks are counted and locked up every night)--I say take

that pair of scissors, Cecilia, and carve the cake, and don't keep the
largest bit for yourself. Are we all ready? Very well. Now take example
by me. Talk as much as you like, so long as you don't talk too loud.
There is one other thing before we begin. The men always propose
toasts on these occasions; let's be like the men. Can any of you make a
speech? Ah, it falls on me as usual. I propose the first toast. Down with
all schools and teachers--especially the new teacher, who came this half
year. Oh, mercy, how it stings!" The fixed gas in the lemonade took the
orator, at that moment, by the throat, and effectually checked the flow
of her eloquence. It made no difference to the girls. Excepting the ease
of feeble stomachs, who cares for eloquence in the presence of a
supper-table? There were no feeble stomachs in that bedroom. With
what inexhaustible energy Miss Ladd's young ladies ate and drank!
How merrily they enjoyed the delightful privilege of talking nonsense!
And--alas! alas!--how vainly they tried, in after life, to renew the once
unalloyed enjoyment of tarts and lemonade!
In the unintelligible scheme of creation, there appears to be no human
happiness--not even the happiness of schoolgirls--which is ever
complete. Just as it was drawing to a close, the enjoyment of the feast
was interrupted by an alarm from the sentinel at the door.
Put out the candle!" Priscilla whispered "Somebody on the stairs."
CHAPTER II.
BIOGRAPHY IN THE BEDROOM.
The candle was instantly extinguished. In discreet silence the girls stole
back to their beds, and listened.
As an aid to the vigilance of the sentinel, the door had been left ajar.
Through the narrow opening, a creaking of the broad wooden stairs of
the old house became audible. In another moment there was silence. An
interval passed, and the creaking was heard again. This time, the sound
was distant and diminishing. On a sudden it stopped. The midnight
silence was disturbed no more.

What did this mean?
Had one among the many persons in authority under Miss Ladd's roof
heard the girls talking, and ascended the stairs to surprise them in the
act of violating one of the rules of the house? So far, such a proceeding
was by no means uncommon. But was it within the limits of probability
that a teacher should alter her opinion of her own duty half-way up the
stairs, and deliberately go back to her own room again? The bare idea
of such a thing was absurd on the face of it. What more rational
explanation could ingenuity discover on the spur of the moment?
Francine was the first to offer a suggestion. She shook and shivered in
her bed, and said, "For heaven's sake, light the candle again! It's a
Ghost."
"Clear away the supper, you fools, before the ghost can report us to
Miss Ladd."
With this excellent advice Emily checked the rising panic. The door
was closed, the candle was lit; all traces of the supper disappeared. For
five minutes more they listened again. No sound came from the stairs;
no teacher, or ghost of a teacher, appeared at the door.
Having eaten her supper, Cecilia's immediate anxieties were at an end;
she was at leisure to exert her intelligence for the benefit of her
schoolfellows. In her gentle ingratiating way, she offered a composing
suggestion. "When we heard the creaking, I don't believe there was
anybody on the stairs. In