Marshall departed, and Bridget lifted the cover from her plate and looked at the nice hot lamb and green peas.
"Don't do that, Bridget," said Miss Patience; "you are disturbing me."
Bridget's arms were flung impulsively round her governess's neck, and then one hand was tucked within the good lady's arm.
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"I certainly want you, Bridget. I am not in the habit of sending for my pupils if I don't wish to speak to them."
Something, however, she could not tell what, restrained her from doing this. She sank back again in her chair; angry tears rose to her bright eyes, and burning spots appeared in her round cheeks.
Bridget opened her eyes wide, and started at the transformation scene which had taken place during the brief moment she had remained in darkness. The room was painted a pale, cool green. The walls were divided into several panels. One of these had now absolutely disappeared, and in its place was a deep recess, which went far enough back into the wall to contain shelves, and had even space sufficient for a chair or two, a sewing machine, and one or two other sacred possessions.
"But your father cannot pay for your disobedience—for the bad example you have set the little children, for the pain and anxiety you have given me."