Free The Chinese Garden by Rosemary Manning Page B

feed your silly rat. God, Rachel Curgenven, you’ll never grow up.’
    Wounded, Rachel retorted: ‘It’s not that. Bisto’s gotP.D. I promised I’d wait for her. You know how that brute treats her.’
    â€˜Don’t be so sentimental about her. Motherly Rachel Curgenven, you’re a fool. Kindness cuts no ice, and Bisto should be more careful, then she wouldn’t get P.D. I’m going to Stoke.’
    Margaret stalked away. Rena? thought Rachel bitterly. Beastly, slimy little snake.
    Angry with Bisto for being the cause of a wasted afternoon, and hurt with Margaret for her easy contempt, Rachel bullied three of her weaker contemporaries into including her name on their pass and went down to the stables, with a pocketful of food for Willy. But the afternoon was ruined. Willy refused to come out, and Rachel waited in the gloomy harness-room, reading Wuthering Heights , in the fading day-light, and feeling more like Heathcliff with every page. When she found that it was more than half an hour since P.D. was over, she turned suddenly savage. Even Bisto had failed her.
    Forgetting her deception over the pass, she went back into school and looked for her. Two or three forlorn girls, victims of Miss Lucas’s recent persecution, hung about the empty, unwarmed classrooms. They stared at Rachel’s dark, angry face with delighted curiosity.
    â€˜She’ll murder Christian when she finds out,’ whispered one, and Rachel, quick of hearing, turned on her.
    â€˜Finds out what?’ she asked. ‘Where’s Bisto?’
    â€˜She fainted at P.D.’
    â€˜Fainted?’
    â€˜Yes, Christian had her walking round and round the concrete for hours with her hands above her head.’
    â€˜You little beast. Why didn’t you tell me straight away?’
    Rachel hit the child savagely, and sent it retreating with a whimper to its desk. Anger compelled her overgrown strength to displays of bullying, and the others watched anxiously to see what she would do next. But the habit of self-control was also strong. Ashamed of her outburst, Rachel walked away without another word and went up to Bisto’s dormitory. Bisto was lying in bed, looking extremely pale.
    â€˜I’ll go to Chief about this,’ said Rachel, looking sternly down into the pleading, doglike eyes of Bisto.
    â€˜I wish you wouldn’t,’ said the victim miserably. ‘They might find out about the pass, and it’ll be too awful if they do. Go away, please, do.’
    A melodious whistle was heard coming down the passage towards the dormitory. Rachel went over to the window and turned to face Chief who ignored her and walked swiftly over to Bisto.
    â€˜Miss Lucas tells me you fainted,’ she said, and took up one of Bisto’s hands.
    â€˜I’m all right,’ said the Bampfield stoic.
    Chief was silent for a moment, mentally selecting the appropriate speech for the occasion. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed in an infinitely graceful attitude.
    â€˜Punishment drill is not pleasant,’ she began. ‘It is not intended to be. You will find, as you go out into the world, that you often have to suffer what seems to you injustice and hardship. This world of ours, Bisto, this weary, wicked world, is a hard, uncompromising place. Why should Gud make it easy for us? He did not make it easy for His only Son. Here at Bampfield, we are trying to train you to take your place in Gud’s world, Gud’s just and terrible world. Miss Lucas is just. Very just. I have known her too long not to believe that she treated you with perfect justice.’
    Hypnotized, Bisto heard these words without a tremor.
    â€˜But we are all of us, you and I, all of us, too weak at times to bear even justice. You need not feel ashamed that you fainted. Out of your moment of weakness you have gained strength. I am sure of that. I hope you understand me, Bisto.’
    â€˜Yes, Chief.’
    â€˜I