I Say No | Page 6

these old houses there are always strange
noises at night--and they say the stairs here were made more than two
hundred years since."
The girls looked at each other with a sense of relief--but they waited to
hear the opinion of the queen. Emily, as usual, justified the confidence
placed in her. She discovered an ingenious method of putting Cecilia's
suggestion to the test.
"Let's go on talking," she said. "If Cecilia is right, the teachers are all
asleep, and we have nothing to fear from them. If she's wrong, we shall

sooner or later see one of them at the door. Don't be alarmed, Miss de
Sor. Catching us talking at night, in this school, only means a
reprimand. Catching us with a light, ends in punishment. Blow out the
candle."
Francine's belief in the ghost was too sincerely superstitious to be
shaken: she started up in bed. "Oh, don't leave me in the dark! I'll take
the punishment, if we are found out."
"On your sacred word of honor?" Emily stipulated.
"Yes--yes."
The queen's sense of humor was tickled.
"There's something funny," she remarked, addressing her subjects, "in a
big girl like this coming to a new school and beginning with a
punishment. May I ask if you are a foreigner, Miss de Sor?"
"My papa is a Spanish gentleman," Francine answered, with dignity.
"And your mamma?"
"My mamma is English."
"And you have always lived in the West Indies?"
"I have always lived in the Island of St. Domingo."
Emily checked off on her fingers the different points thus far
discovered in the character of Mr. de Sor's daughter. "She's ignorant,
and superstitious, and foreign, and rich. My dear (forgive the
familiarity), you are an interesting girl--and we must really know more
of you. Entertain the bedroom. What have you been about all your life?
And what in the name of wonder, brings you here? Before you begin I
insist on one condition, in the name of all the young ladies in the room.
No useful information about the West Indies!"
Francine disappointed her audience.

She was ready enough to make herself an object of interest to her
companions; but she was not possessed of the capacity to arrange
events in their proper order, necessary to the recital of the simplest
narrative. Emily was obliged to help her, by means of questions. In one
respect, the result justified the trouble taken to obtain it. A sufficient
reason was discovered for the extraordinary appearance of a new pupil,
on the day before the school closed for the holidays.
Mr. de Sor's elder brother had left him an estate in St. Domingo, and a
fortune in money as well; on the one easy condition that he continued
to reside in the island. The question of expense being now beneath the
notice of the family, Francine had been sent to England, especially
recommended to Miss Ladd as a young lady with grand prospects,
sorely in need of a fashionable education. The voyage had been so
timed, by the advice of the schoolmistress, as to make the holidays a
means of obtaining this object privately. Francine was to be taken to
Brighton, where excellent masters could be obtained to assist Miss
Ladd. With six weeks before her, she might in some degree make up
for lost time; and, when the school opened again, she would avoid the
mortification of being put down in the lowest class, along with the
children.
The examination of Miss de Sor having produced these results was
pursued no further. Her character now appeared in a new, and not very
attractive, light. She audaciously took to herself the whole credit of
telling her story:
"I think it's my turn now," she said, "to be interested and amused. May
I ask you to begin, Miss Emily? All I know of you at present is, t hat
your family name is Brown."
Emily held up her hand for silence.
Was the mysterious creaking on the stairs making itself heard once
more? No. The sound that had caught Emily's quick ear came from the
beds, on the opposite side of the room, occupied by the three lazy girls.
With no new alarm to disturb them, Effie, Annis, and Priscilla had
yielded to the composing influences of a good supper and a warm night.

They were fast asleep--and the stoutest of the three (softly, as became a
young lady) was snoring!
The unblemished reputation of the bedroom was dear to Emily, in her
capacity of queen. She felt herself humiliated in the presence of the
new pupil.
"If that fat girl ever gets a lover," she said indignantly, "I shall consider
it my duty to warn the poor man before he marries her. Her ridiculous
name is Euphemia. I have christened her (far more