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Updated: May 28, 2025
GIRL: "I don't so much mind what you call her flux-de-bouche scolding, but, when she flounced out of the room, she said I was not to go home this Saturday." MARGOT: "Oh, that'll be all right. Just you go off." It had never occurred to me that Mlle. de Mennecy was a snob: this knowledge was a great weapon in my hands and I determined upon my plan of action.
"Et le roi David deplut a l' Eternel," I heard in a broad Scotch accent; and for the first time I looked closely at my stable companions. Mlle. de Mennecy allowed no one to argue with her; and our first little brush took place after she informed me of this fact. "But in that case, mademoiselle," said I, "how are any of us to learn anything?
I don't know how much the others know, but I know nothing except what I've read; so, unless I ask questions, how am I to learn?" MLLE. DE MENNECY: "Je ne vous ai jamais defendu de me questionner; vous n'ecoutez pas, mademoiselle. J'ai dit qu'il ne fallait pas discuter avec moi."
This made me so indignant that, one day when the ink was spilt and Mlle. de Mennecy as usual scolded the wrong girl, I determined I would stand it no longer. Meeting the victim of Mademoiselle's temper in the passage, I said to her: "But why didn't you say you hadn't done it, ass!" She never listens; and I would only have had to tell her who really spilt the ink."
I observed her eyelids flicker and I said: "I think, before you scolded Sarah, you might have heard what she had to say." MLLE. DE MENNECY: "Ce que vous dites me choque profondement; il m'est difficile de croire que vous avez fait une pareille lachete, mademoiselle!" I only knew a few moments ago that you had been so amazingly unjust.
Mademoiselle de Mennecy a Frenchwoman of ill-temper and a lively mind had opened a hyper-refined seminary in Gloucester Crescent, where she undertook to "finish" twelve young ladies.
Our piano was placed in the window and, the next morning, while Ethel was arranging her music preparatory to practising, it appeared my friend the engine-driver began kissing his hand to her. It was eight o'clock and Mlle. de Mennecy was pinning on her twists in the window.
I was much upset when she left me, but faintly consoled by receiving permission to ride in the Row three times a week; Mlle. de Mennecy thought my beautiful hack gave prestige to her front door and raised no objections. Sitting alone in the horsehair schoolroom, with a French patent- leather Bible in my hands, surrounded by eleven young ladies, made my heart sink.
To talk to a girl of nearly seventeen in this way was so unintelligent that I made up my mind I would waste neither time nor affection on her. None of the girls were particularly clever, but we all liked each other and for the first time and I may safely say the last I was looked upon as a kind of heroine. It came about in this way: Mlle. de Mennecy was never wrong.
On hearing that Mlle. de Mennecy had dismissed Ethel on the spot because the engine-driver had kissed his hand to her, I went immediately and told her the whole story; all she answered was that I was such a liar she did not believe a word I said.
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