He came into the room, papers in
hand, his mouth screwed up, and his eyebrows nearly hidden under his
hair. We knew at a glance that something awful had happened. He
cleared his throat several times, and began to read aloud the arithmetic
results. `Total, a hundred. Bessie Smith, eighty-seven.' There was a
rustle of surprise. Not Annie Macdiarmid? Just Bessie--an ordinary
sort of creature, who wasn't going in for the Local at all. `Mary Ross,
eighty-two. Stella Bruce, seventy-four.' Where did _I_ come in? I'd
never been lower than that. `Kate Stevenson, sixty-four.' Some one
else fifty, some one else forty, _and_ thirty _and_ twenty, and still
not a mention of Annie Macdiarmid or of me. You should have _seen_ her
face! I shall never forget it. _Green_! and she laced her fingers in
and out, and chewed, and chewed. I was too stunned to feel. The world
seemed to have come to an end. Down it came--sixteen, fourteen, ten--
and then at last--at bitter, long last--`Miss Marian White, _six_! Miss
Macdiar-mid, Two!'"

Darsie stared beneath the brush, drawing a long breath of dismay.

"What _did_ you do?"

"Nothing! That was where he showed himself so wise. An ordinary master
would have raged and stormed, insisted upon our working for extra hours,
going over and over the old ground, but he knew better. He just banged
all the books together, tucked them under his arm, and called out: `No
more work! Put on your hats and run off home as fast as you can go, and
tell your mothers from me to take you to the Waxworks, or a Wild Beast
show. Don't dare to show yourselves in school again until Monday
morning. Read as many stories as you please, but open a school book at
your peril!'"

Marian paused dramatically, Darsie peered at her through a mist of hair,
and queried weakly, "Well?"

"Well--so we didn't! We just slacked and lazed, and amused ourselves
till the Monday morning, and then, like giants refreshed, we went down
to the fray and--"

"And what?"

"I've told you before! I got second-class honours, and the Macdiarmid
came out first in all England, distinction in a dozen subjects--
arithmetic among them. So now, Miss Garnett, kindly take the moral to
heart, and let me hear no more nonsense about `reviving memories.'
_Your_ memory needs putting to sleep, so that it may wake up refreshed
and active after a good night's rest."

And Darsie weakly, reluctantly obeyed.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

FAREWE