Said he, "As to Julia's beauty, there can be but one opinion, for she is
very handsome; but the interior of the casket does not correspond with the
exterior; she is as false as fair. Then, as to her intellect, I never
thought it greatly superior to Fanny's. To be sure, she has a way of
showing off all she does know, while Fanny is more retiring."
Here Mr. Wilmot spoke of the faculty she possessed for learning so long
lessons. "Even your favorite Fanny," said he, "admitted that."
"True," returned Mr. Miller, "but have you forgotten the notes? Do you not
think there may be something in that?"
"Is it possible," said Mr. Wilmot, rather warmly, "is it possible you
think the high-souled Julia capable of such meanness? You do not know her
as well as I do, if you think she would stoop to such deception. You shall
go to school with me tomorrow, and then you can see for yourself."
"Yes, I will do so," said Mr. Miller, and then as he saw Mr. Wilmot seemed
somewhat excited, he changed the conversation, which had been heard by
other ears. Adjoining the room of Mr. Wilmot was a long dark closet, the
door of which opened into the apartment of Julia and Fanny. This closet
was used for a kind of lumber room, in which were stored promiscuously old
barrels, trunks, hats, boots and so forth. It originally had a window, but
the glass had long been broken and its place supplied by a large board,
which failed to keep out the wind and rain, so that during the winter
season the closet was a cold, cheerless place.
But on the night of which we were speaking, it contained a novel piece of
lumber. Crouched behind an old barrel sat Julia, listening eagerly to the
conversation between her teacher and Mr. Miller. When it ceased she arose
from her dark hiding place and muttered to herself: "So you'll see, will
you? You old torment! I wish the Old Scratch had got you before you ever
came here. If I dared to I'd--but no, I wouldn't do that, bad as I am.
However, I'll cheat you for once, you hateful limb! But what shall I do?"
She indeed was in a dilemma; but she had often boasted that she never yet
was in so straitened a spot that she could not devise some means of
extricating herself, and she relied on the Master she served to aid her in
this difficulty. She never brought her books home and as the reader will
ere this have surmised, she was in the daily habit of writing a sketch of
her lesson on foolscap, and then reading it off. When school first
commenced she had asked the privilege of sitting in her seat while
reciting and by this means she could hold the paper under her desk and
thus avoid Mr. Wilmot's suspicion. Her lessons for the next day were
unusually long and hard, and as Mr. Miller would be present, she dared not
resort to her usual artifice, particularly after what had been said about
her "notes." She knew she never could learn all that long lesson in school
hours, neither would she fail of having it for anything. What could she
do? For some time she sat by the dying embers, with her dark face buried
in her hands, revolving in her mind the best scheme by which to outwit Mr.
Miller.