Her voice was lost in the din. The lady no more loved wasps than did her
pupils. She retreated as the wasp advanced. The intruder ranged itself
on the side of the girls and circled towards their instructress with
malevolence in every turn and vicious intent in its buzz.
The only one not afraid was Lavinia Fenton who, waving a pocket
handkerchief met the foe bravely but without success. The enemy refused
to turn tail. Other girls plucking up courage joined the champion and
soon the school-room was in a hubbub. Probably the army of hoydenish
maidens were not anxious the conflict should cease--it was far more
entertaining than maxims, arithmetic and working texts on samples--and
Miss Pinwell seeing this, summoned Bridget, the brawny housemaid, who
with a canvas apron finally caught and squashed the rash intruder.
It was sometime before the excitement died down, and meanwhile Lavinia
Fenton's remissness of conduct was forgotten--indeed her intrepidity
singled her out for praise, which she received with becoming
graciousness.
But before the day was out she relapsed into her bad ways. She could or
would do nothing right. Miss Pinwell chided her for carelessness, she
retorted saucily. As discipline had to be maintained she was at last
condemned to an hour with the backboard and there she sat in a corner of
the room on a high legged chair with a small and extremely uncomfortable
oval seat made still more uncomfortable by it sloping slightly forward.
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