Bessie naturally had a high temper and was inclined to be stubborn when she felt that she was being imposed upon; but she had always held her temper in subjection, as she knew it to be wrong to give way to anger.  On this occasion, however, it seemed impossible to control herself.  When the teacher said, “Go to writing,” Bessie obeyed; but she was so angry that she hardly knew what she was doing.  Suddenly she thought, “If I daub a lot of ink on my face, perhaps she will let me wash”; and she rubbed some on with her finger.  But alas! this did not work as she had expected.  The teacher saw her put it on and concluded that she had put the other on also; so she said, “Bessie, you may go and sit in my chair.”  As she said this, all the stubbornness in Bessie’s nature arose.  She did not move; and when the teacher said sternly, “Are you going to obey?” she shook her head and caught hold of the seat.  At this moment Nora whispered, “If that were me, she’d make me go.”  The teacher heard the words and looked first at Nora and then at Bessie.  She hesitated for a moment, then walked over to Bessie, took her by the shoulders and jerked her from the seat, and then dragged her up to the chair and set her down, telling her to study.  “I have no book,” retorted Bessie.  The teacher ordered one brought, and, leaving her, went to her other duties.

What a moment for Bessie!  Too angry to study, she sat there thinking of the dreadful scene she had created.  Her heart burned with shame.  Oh! what could she do?

Anna, the girl who had tried to hand her the wet handkerchief, had noticed all of Nora’s actions and had determined to help Bessie, if possible.  On pretext of looking up a word in the dictionary, Anna went forward, laid a wet rag where Bessie could reach it, and returned to her seat.  Bessie eagerly took the rag and rubbed her face.  She was surprised to see the different colors of ink appear upon it.  How they came to be there she did not know; but she did not think about them long, for something far worse began to trouble her.  She knew that she had lost the grace of God out of her heart.  Oh, how wretched she felt!  Would God forgive her again?  Yes; she knew he would; for she had read that, “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart, and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.”  This thought was a great comfort to her.  But, oh! what about her teacher?  How could her teacher ever love and respect her again?  She would ask her pardon as soon as possible, but would she forgive her?

It was not long until the teacher went to her desk for something, but she took no notice of Bessie.  Beaching out very timidly, Bessie touched her and said, “O Miss Harrington, won’t you please forgive me?” But the teacher pretended not to hear her, and turned quickly away.  The next thought was, “What will Mama think and say?  Oh, if only she did not have to know about it!” With these thoughts coursing through her mind, Bessie was unable to study; and by the time school closed, she was in great distress.