Sometimes, exasperated to the utmost pitch, I would shake her
violently by the shoulder, or pull her long hair, or put her in the
corner; for which she punished me with loud, shrill, piercing
screams, that went through my head like a knife. She knew I hated
this, and when she had shrieked her utmost, would look into my face
with an air of vindictive satisfaction, exclaiming,--'NOW, then!
THAT'S for you!' and then shriek again and again, till I was forced
to stop my ears. Often these dreadful cries would bring Mrs.
Bloomfield up to inquire what was the matter?

'Mary Ann is a naughty girl, ma'am.'

'But what are these shocking screams?'

'She is screaming in a passion.'

'I never heard such a dreadful noise! You might be killing her.
Why is she not out with her brother?'

'I cannot get her to finish her lessons.'

'But Mary Ann must be a GOOD girl, and finish her lessons.' This
was blandly spoken to the child. 'And I hope I shall NEVER hear
such terrible cries again!'

And fixing her cold, stony eyes upon me with a look that could not
be mistaken, she would shut the door, and walk away. Sometimes I
would try to take the little obstinate creature by surprise, and
casually ask her the word while she was thinking of something else;
frequently she would begin to say it, and then suddenly cheek