Or there is the game of Making a Noise.At this game,without any earlier training or practice,Jeremy was a perfect master.The three children would be sitting there very,very quiet,learning the first verse of "Tiger,Tiger,burning bright--"A very gentle creaking sound would break the stillness--a creaking sound that can be made,if you are clever,by rubbing a boot against a boot.It would not come regularly,but once,twice,thrice,a pause,and then once,twice and another pause.
"Who's making a noise?"
Dead silence.A very long pause,and then it would begin again.
"That noise must cease,I say.Jeremy,what are you doing?"He would lift to her then eyes full of meekness and love.
"Nothing,Miss Jones."
Soon it would begin again.Miss Jones would be silent this time,and then Mary would speak.
"Please,would you ask Jeremy not to rub his boots together?I can't learn my verse--""I didn't know I was,"says Jeremy.
Then it would begin again.Jeremy would say:
"Please,may I take my boots off?"
"Take your boots off?Why?"
"They will rub together,and I can't stop them,because I don't know when I do it,and it is hard for Mary--""Of course not!I never heard of such a thing!Next time you do it you must stand on your chair."Soon Jeremy is standing on his chair.Soon his poetry book drops with a terrible crash to the ground,and five million pins stab Miss Jones's heart.With white face and trembling hands,she says:
"Go and stand in the corner,Jeremy!I shall have to speak to your mother!"He goes,grinning at Mary,and stands there knowing that his victim is watching the door in an agony lest Mrs.Cole should suddenly come in and inquire what Jeremy had done,and that so the whole story of his insubordination be revealed and Miss Jones lose her situation for incapacity.
How did he discover this final weakness of Miss Jones?No one told him;but he knew,and,as the days passed,rejoiced in his power and his might and his glory.
Then came the climax.The children were not perfectly sure whether,after all,Miss Jones might not tell their mother.They did not wish this to happen,and so long as this calamity was possible they were not complete masters of the poor lady.Then came a morning when they had been extremely naughty,when every game had been played and every triumph scored.Miss Jones,almost in tears,had threatened four times that the Powers Above should be informed.Suddenly Mrs.Cole entered.
"Well,Miss Jones,how have the children been this morning?If they've been good I have a little treat to propose."The children waited,their eyes upon their governess.Her eyes stared back upon her tormentors.Her hands worked together.She struggled.Why not call in Mrs.Cole's authority to her aid?No;she knew what it would mean--"I'm very sorry,Miss Jones,but I think a younger governess,perhaps--"Her throat moved.
"They've been very good this morning,Mrs.Cole."The eyes of Mary and of Jeremy were alight with triumph.
They had won their final victory.
III
I know what Miss Jones suffered during those weeks.She was not an old lady of very great power of resistance,and it must have positively terrified her that these small children should so vindictively hate her.She could not have seen it as anything but hatred,being entirely ignorant of children and the strange forces to whose power they are subject,and she must have shivered in her bedroom at the dreariness and terror of the prospect before her.
Many,many times she must have resolved not to be beaten,and many,many times she must have admitted herself beaten as badly as any one can be.
Her life with the people downstairs was not intimate enough,nor were those people themselves perceptive enough for any realisation of what was occurring to penetrate.
"I hope you're happy with the children,Miss Jones,"once or twice said Mrs.Cole.
"Very,thank you,"said Miss Jones.
"They're good children,I think,although parents are always prejudiced,of course.Jeremy is a little difficult perhaps.It's so hard to tell what he's really thinking.You find him a quiet,reserved little boy?""Very,"said Miss Jones.
"In a little while,when you know him better,he will come out.Only you have to let him take his time.He doesn't like to be forced--""No,"said Miss Jones.
Meanwhile,that morning descent into the schoolroom was real hell for her.She had to summon up her courage,walking about her bedroom,pressing her hands together,evoking the memory of her magnificent iron-souled brother,who would,she knew,despise such tremors.If only she could have discovered some remedy!But sentiment,attempted tyranny,anger,contempt,at all these things they laughed.She could not touch them anywhere.And she saw Jeremy as a real child of Evil in the very baldest sense.She could not imagine how anyone so young could be so cruel,so heartless,so maliciously clever in his elaborate machinations.She regarded him with real horror,and on the occasions when she found him acting kindly towards his sisters or a servant,or when she watched him discoursing solemnly to Hamlet,she was helplessly puzzled,and decided that these better manifestations were simply masks to hide his devilish young heart.She perceived meanwhile the inevitable crisis slowly approaching,when she would be compelled to invite Mrs.Cole's support.That would mean her dismissal and a hopeless future.There was no one to whom she might turn.She had not a relation,not a friend--too late to make friends now.
She could see nothing in front of her at all.
The crisis did come,but not as she expected it.
There arrived a morning when the dark mist outside and badly made porridge inside tempted the children to their very worst.Miss Jones had had a wakeful night struggling with neuralgia and her own hesitating spirit.The children had lost even their customary half-humourous,half-contemptuous reserve.They let themselves appear for what they were--infant savages discontented with food,weather and education.
