But I felt sure the exercise would do her good, and was glad Miss Bousfield set her to it.
She irritated me by having it all written down in a twinkling, and going on with Cicero on her own account, while I plodded on up the "high tree" and around the "beautiful table." I hoped Miss Bousfield would rebuke her for insubordination, but she did not, and I began to think much less of both ladies as the afternoon went on.
It did not add to my satisfaction to get my exercise back with fifteen corrections scored across it in bold red pencil--whereas Miss Steele's was not even looked at.
I thought of suggesting that it would be only fair that she and I should be treated alike, when Miss Bousfield capped all by saying to her governess-- "Perhaps, Miss Steele, you will go through the exercise with Jones and show him where he has gone wrong.

Then he can write it out again for you, and try not to have any mistake this time." This was really too much! To be passed on to a girl who was learning Latin herself, and for her to score about my exercises! It was a conspiracy to degrade me in the eyes of myself and my fellow-mortals.
But protest was rendered impossible by Miss Bousfield quitting the room and leaving me to the mercies of her deputy.
"Why," said Miss Steele, not at all unkindly, but with a touch of raillery in her voice--"why were you such a goose, Jones, as to pretend you knew what you didn't ?" "I didn't; I forgot, that's all," said I.
"Well, look here, Jones," said she, in a friendly way--and, by the way, she was not at all bad-looking--"if you really want to get up Latin, and mean to work, I'll do my best to coach you; but if you're only playing at learning, I've something better to do." "I'm not playing," said I.

"I don't know why I've got to come and learn Latin at all." "I suppose you are going to a school some day, aren't you ?" "I've been to one, and I've left," said I.
"Left ?" said she, with a little laugh.
"Well, then, I was expelled," said I.
"Tell me all about it." And I did, and found her not only interested and sympathetic, but decidedly indignant on my account.
"It was a great shame," said she, "especially as your friend never shot the dog at all." "He's all right, lucky chap," said I; "he's got an exhibition to Low Heath, and is going there after the holidays." "Why don't you get an exhibition too, Jones ?" The question astounded me.

I get an exhibition! I who had been licked once a week for bad copies, and had been told by every teacher I had had anything to do with that I was a hopeless dunce.
"Why not ?" said the siren at my side.

"You're not a dunce.