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Pixie O'Shaughnessy

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<h3>Chapter Nine.</h3> <h4>Dark Days.</h4> The three girls who shared Pixie’s room were not forbidden to speak to her when they went upstairs to bed, and their first impulse was to pull aside the curtains of her cubicle, where she was discovered lying on the top of the bed, still fully dressed, with features swollen and disfigured with crying. She was shivering, too, and the hand which Kate touched was so icy cold that she exclaimed in horrified reproach— “Pixie, you are freezing! What do you mean by not getting into bed? You will catch a chill, and then goodness knows what may happen! You may go into consumption and die.” Pixie gave a dismal little sniff, and her teeth chattered together. “That’s what I thought. A girl at Bally William died of a chill, and consumption’s in our family. Me mother’s cousin suffered from it every winter. I want to die!” “Here, sit up! I am going to unhook you. Dear me, what a mess you have made of your fine collar! I don’t know what Lottie will say when she sees it. Lucky girl to be out to-night and escape all this fuss! She always gets the best of things. I never wish to spend such an evening again, I know that!” “Pixie, why wouldn’t you tell? Why wouldn’t you answer Miss Phipps?” cried Flora, unable to contain herself a moment longer; and Pixie drew herself up, and tried to look dignified, a difficult achievement when one is being forcibly undressed, and can hardly see out of red, swollen eyelids. “I told her I had not broken the bottle. I gave her a straight answer, and that ought to be enough for any lady!” “Don’t talk such rubbish! This house is not yours, and if you go wandering about into strange rooms, it is only right that you should be made to explain. And it looks so bad when you refuse to answer. You don’t realise how bad it looks. After you left the room, Miss Phipps asked if we had heard you say anything which would explain your going into that room, and we all remembered—we didn’t want to tell, but we were obliged—we remembered that you said you intended to have a good look at the scent-bottle.” “So I did, and I don’t mind who you tell. I looked at it the very next day, but I never lifted it once. I was too afraid I’d be hurting it, and it was all right long after that—Mademoiselle said so herself!” The three girls looked at each other quickly, and as quickly averted their eyes. Ethel gave a toss to her curls, and walked off to her cubicle. Kate went on unhooking with relentless haste, and Flora sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, and melted into tears. “I wish scent-bottles had never been invented! I wish that old marquise had had more sense than to spend her money on a thing that would break if you looked at it! I know how easy it would be. I’ve broken lots of things myself. Mother always said to us when we were children, ‘Don’t be afraid to tell me if you’ve had an accident. I will never scold you if you tell the truth, but if I find out that you have hidden anything from me I shall be extremely angry.’ Lots of girls tell stories just because they are frightened, especially little ones, and when they are strange, too, and don’t know people well. But we all love you, Pixie, really and truly we do! We won’t turn against you. Oh, do tell! Do tell! Tell Kate and me now before we go to bed, and we will help you to-morrow.” “Will Miss Phipps talk to me again to-morrow? Will she be cross again? Will Mademoiselle be cross?” cried Pixie fearfully. “Oh, what will I do? What will I do? No one was ever cross with me at home. I’ll run away in the night and swim over to Ireland. They’d welcome me there if I’d smashed all the scent-bottles in the world. I never meant to do any harm. I didn’t know it was wrong to go into Mademoiselle’s room. No one ever said I mustn’t. Molly, our maid, broke something every day of her life at Bally William, and no one disturbed themselves about it. What’s a scent-bottle? Suppose I had broken it, why should they make such a storm, I should like to know?” Her sentences were broken by sobs and tears, and her companions had learnt by now that Pixie’s outbursts of grief were not to be trifled with, for while other girls shed tears in a quiet and ladylike manner, Pixie grew hysterical on the slightest pretext, and sobbed, and wailed, and shivered, and shook, and drowned herself in tears until she was in a condition of real physical collapse. To-night Kate signalled imperiously to Flora to depart to her own cubicle, and herself bundled the shaking, quivering little creature into bed, where she left her with a “good-night” sufficiently sympathetic, but—oh, agonies to a sensitive heart!—without attempting the kiss which had become a nightly institution! Next morning Pixie’s face was still swollen and puffy, but her elastic spirits had sufficiently recovered to enable her to make repeated attempts to converse with her taciturn companions, and to run in and out of their cubicles to play lady’s-maid as usual, in such useful, unostentatious ways as carrying water, folding nightgowns, and tying hair ribbons. This morning she was even more assiduous than usual in her attentions, for there was an edge of coldness and reserve in the manner even of Flora herself which cut deeply into the sensitive heart. Then when she had fully dressed, she gathered together Lottie’s fineries and betook herself to the room which that luxurious young lady occupied in solitary splendour. Early as she had been in leaving her cubicle, breakfast had already begun when Pixie made her appearance downstairs, and the furtive manner in which she entered the room was not calculated to dispel the suspicions with which she was regarded. Her “good-morning” to the teachers was a mere mumble, and oh, how formidable they looked! Miss Phipps with tight lips and a back like a poker; Mademoiselle, a vision of misery, and Fraulein and Miss Bruce staring at the tablecloth as if afraid to raise their eyes. As for the girls, they munched away in silence, no one daring to make a remark, and it was significant of the solemnity of the occasion that not a single girl helped herself to marmalade or jam. By the unwritten laws of the school it would have been considered unfeeling to indulge in such luxuries while the reputation of a companion was at stake. It was a ghastly occasion, and Pixie seemed literally to shrink in stature as she cowered in her chair, glancing to right and left with quick, terrified glances. The hopefulness of the earlier morning had departed, and among all the dejected faces round the table hers was conspicuously the worst. There seemed a special meaning in the Bible reading that morning, and when Miss Phipps laid aside the book she added a few words of her own before kneeling in prayer. The sternness had left her face, but it was very grave and sad. “Before we kneel down together this morning, girls, there are some thoughts which I would like to impress upon you all. We are in trouble, and it behoves each one of us to ask in all earnestness that the cloud may be lifted, and that courage and truthfulness may be given where it is most needed. An accident, however regrettable, is not a serious offence, but in this instance it has been turned into one by the refusal of the culprit to acknowledge her offence. I have made every inquiry, and it seems morally certain that one of you must know how it happened, and be able to give a satisfactory explanation; and until she does so, the shadow of her deceit must fall on all. I ask those of you who know that they are blameless to pray for her who is guilty, that she may acknowledge her fault, and for yourselves that you be preserved from temptation; and I ask the guilty one to remember that God reads all hearts, and although she may deceive her companions, she can hide nothing from His eyes. And now we will kneel and pray, and let the words which you say be no vain repetition, but the earnest cry of your hearts that God will help us!” Many of the girls had tears in their eyes as they rose from their knees, and no one was surprised when, as they filed slowly towards the door, Miss Phipps spoke again, to request Pixie O’Shaughnessy to follow her to her private sanctum. Flora thrust her hand through Lottie’s arm as they went upstairs and heaved a sigh of funereal proportions. “Poor little Pixie! Don’t you pity her? Oh, Lottie, you are lucky to have been out last night and escape all this bother! I wish I had had an invitation too, and then, even if Pixie doesn’t confess, no one could possibly think that I had done it. Poor little thing! She is so scared that she hardly knows what she is doing. Did you notice her face at breakfast? Did you hear about the accident when you came in last night, or who told you first?” “I only saw the teachers last night, but Mademoiselle was crying, and I knew something was wrong. Then Pixie came to my room this morning to bring me back my collar, and she told me. It seems that she is suspected because she won’t tell why she was in Mademoiselle’s room. It’s very stupid of her! There can’t be any great mystery about it, one would think, though she wouldn’t tell even me; but if she says she didn’t break the bottle, I think she ought to be believed. She has always been truthful, so far as we know.” “Yes, but then we haven’t known her long, and she has never been in a corner before. It is easy to tell the truth when all is going smoothly, but it’s rather dreadful when you know quite well you are going to be punished; and if you let the first moment pass it’s fifty times worse, because then you have been deceitful as well. What I’m afraid of is that she was too frightened to own up last night—you know what a scarey little thing she is—and that now she is determined to be obstinate and brave it out!” Lottie hitched her shoulder with an impatient movement which drew her arm free from her companion. “Well, I’m fond of Pixie O’Shaughnessy, and I am going to stick to her, whatever happens! It’s mean of Mademoiselle to make such a fuss about an accident which nobody could help. I’ll buy her another scent-bottle myself, if that will satisfy her. I have lots of money, and can get as much more as I want. It’s absurd making thirty people miserable for the sake of a few pounds. I’ll ask Miss Phipps if I may go into town and buy one this very day.” “She wouldn’t let you spend so much without your mother’s consent, and it’s my belief Mademoiselle wouldn’t take it if she did. It was the association she liked, and you could not give her that. I’m fond of Pixie too, but I shan’t like her a bit if she gets us all into trouble, and that’s what it will mean if she is obstinate. We shall have all our treats and holidays knocked off until the truth comes out. It is bound to be discovered sooner or later, don’t you think?” “No, I don’t! Lots of things are never discovered, and the holidays will be here in a month, thank goodness! It will have to drop after that, for it wouldn’t be fair to drag the troubles of one term into the next. I don’t know what Margaret is going to do, but I shall be kind to Pixie and try to help her!” The girls had reached the schoolroom by this time and joined the group by the fire, so that Margaret herself was able to reply. “I shall certainly help her if I can,” she said gently; but her followers noticed that she avoided giving any opinion as to guilt or innocence, and the reticence depressed them still further, for it was unlike Margaret to refrain from speaking a good word if it was possible to do so. She was soon to have an opportunity of trying to help, however, for half an hour later Miss Phipps called her out of class, and said sadly— “I can make nothing of Pixie, Margaret. Will you try what you can do? She seems afraid of me, though I have tried to be as forbearing as possible, and perhaps she may speak more freely to a girl like herself. So long as she refuses to say what she was doing in Mademoiselle’s room we cannot help believing her to be guilty. I am dreadfully upset about it all, and should be so thankful to get at the truth. I have heard of this kind of thing going on in other schools, but this is my first experience, and I earnestly hope it will be the last. She is in my snuggery. Go to her there, and see what your influence will do!” Margaret went, and, at the first opening of the door, Pixie rushed into her arms with a cry of joyous welcome. “Oh, Margaret, I hoped you would come! I wanted you to come. I’m so dreadfully miserable.” “So are we all, Pixie, but you can end the misery if you will only tell us truthfully all you know about this accident. You do know something, I feel certain, or why should you be so afraid to speak? It’s no use being afraid, dear. We all have to do difficult things sometimes, whether we like them or not, and it will only get worse as time goes on. The truth is bound to come out, and then how ashamed you will feel, if you have not taken the opportunity while it was yours!” “Do you think it will be found out, really?” Pixie shivered, and twisted her fingers together in nervous fashion. “But how can it if I don’t tell, and if—if there is no one else?” “I don’t know, Pixie, but I believe it will, sooner or later. It may be later, for God is very patient, and waits to give us our chance before He takes things into His own hands. In the days when Jesus was on earth He used to work miracles, but He doesn’t do that any longer. I used to be sorry for that, but I am not now, for it is so wonderful that He lets us help Him by putting it into our hearts to do His will. He won’t show us in any miraculous way who is deceiving us now, but if she will listen He will speak to her, and make it seem impossible to go on doing wrong.” “That’s what Bridgie said!” agreed Pixie eagerly. “It was the night before I came to school, and she was speaking to me for my good. ‘You’ll be far away from home,’ she said, ‘but you never need be far from Him, and He is your best friend. When you are happy and everything is bright, thank Him for it, for it’s a shame to be always asking, asking, and never saying a “Thank you” for what you receive. And when you are undecided between two ways, take the one that’s hardest, for that was what He meant by bearing the cross; and when you are in trouble, keep still,’ she says, ‘keep still, and you’ll hear His voice in your heart.’ And I was thinking of that last night, and I could hear Bridgie saying it all over again, as plain as if she were by my side!” “And the other voice, Pixie—did you hear that too?” “I tried to, but,”—the small troubled face was pitiful to behold—“it seemed always to say the things I wanted, and I was afraid I was imagining. Then I remembered about doing the hardest thing, and every time I awoke I thought of it again, and this morning I decided that I would!” “Pixie!” cried Margaret, in a tone of almost incredulous relief. “Oh, Pixie, you will really! I am so glad, so glad! You will come with me to Miss Phipps now, and tell all you know!” But Pixie shook her head firmly, and her lips closed in determined lines. “I will never tell,” she said. “I’ll be silent for ever!” <hr> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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