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diff --git a/25872.txt b/25872.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..859f37e --- /dev/null +++ b/25872.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11485 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Girls of the Forest, by L. T. Meade + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Girls of the Forest + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Release Date: June 22, 2008 [EBook #25872] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GIRLS OF THE FOREST *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +GIRLS OF THE FOREST + +------------------------------------------------------------------------- + +GUARANTEE + +The story in this book is complete as written +and published by the Author + +MACLELLAN .N.Y. COMPANY + +------------------------------------------------------------------------- + +GIRLS OF THE FOREST + +L. T. MEADE + +AUTHOR OF ALWYN'S FRIENDS, BEYOND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS, +GOOD LUCK, PLAYMATES, PRETTY GIRL AND THE OTHERS, +THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL, ETC. + +AKRON, OHIO +MACLELLAN .N.Y. COMPANY +PUBLISHERS + +------------------------------------------------------------------------- + +BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY + +L. T. Meade (Mrs. Elizabeth Thomasina Smith), English novelist, was born +at Bandon, County Cork, Ireland, 1854, the daughter of Rev. R. T. Meade, +rector at Novohal, County Cork, and married Toulmin Smith in 1879. She +wrote her first book, _Lettie's Last Home_, at the age of 17, and since +then has been an unusually prolific writer, her stories attaining wide +popularity on both sides of the Atlantic. + +She worked in the British Museum, lived in Bishopsgate Without, making +special studies of East London life, which she incorporated in her +stories. She edited the _Atlanta_, a magazine, for six years. Her +pictures of girls, especially in the influence they exert on their +elders, are drawn with intuitive fidelity, pathos, love, and humor, as in +_Girls of the Forest_, flowing easily from her pen. She has traveled +extensively, and is devoted to motoring and other outdoor sports. + +Among more than fifty novels she has written, dealing largely with +questions of home life, are: _A Knight of To-day_ (1877), _Bel-Marjory_ +(1878), _Mou-setse: a Negro Hero_ (1880), _Mother Herring's Chickens_ +(1881), _A London Baby: The Story of King Roy_ (1883), _Two Sisters_ +(1884), _The Angel of Life_ (1885), _A World of Girls_ (1886), _Sweet +Nancy_ (1887), _Nobody's Neighbors_ (1887), _Deb and The Duchess_ (1888), +_Girls of the Forest_ (1908), _Aylwyn's Friends_ (1909), _Pretty Girl and +the Others_ (1910). + +------------------------------------------------------------------------- + + + + +GIRLS OF THE FOREST. + +CHAPTER I. + +THE GUEST WHO WAS NEITHER OLD NOR YOUNG. + + +It was a beautiful summer's afternoon, and the girls were seated in a +circle on the lawn in front of the house. The house was an old +Elizabethan mansion, which had been added to from time to time--fresh +additions jutting out here and running up there. There were all sorts of +unexpected nooks and corners to be found in the old house--a flight of +stairs just where you did not look for any, and a baize door shutting +away the world at the moment when you expected to behold a long vista +into space. The house itself was most charming and inviting-looking; but +it was also, beyond doubt, much neglected. The doors were nearly +destitute of paint, and the papers on many of the walls had completely +lost their original patterns. In many instances there were no papers, +only discolored walls, which at one time had been gay with paint and +rendered beautiful with pictures. The windows were destitute of curtains; +the carpets on the floors were reduced to holes and patches. The old +pictures in the picture gallery still remained, however, and looked down +on the young girls who flitted about there on rainy days with kindly, or +searching, or malevolent eyes as suited the characters of those men and +women who were portrayed in them. + +But this was the heart of summer, and there was no need to go into the +musty, fusty old house. The girls sat on the grass and held consultation. + +"She is certainly coming to-morrow," said Verena. "Father had a letter +this morning. I heard him giving directions to old John to have the trap +patched up and the harness mended. And John is going to Lyndhurst Road to +meet her. She will arrive just about this time. Isn't it too awful?" + +"Never mind, Renny," said her second sister; "the sooner she comes, the +sooner she'll go. Briar and Patty and I have put our heads together, and +we mean to let her see what we think of her and her interfering ways. The +idea of Aunt Sophia interfering between father and us! Now, I should like +to know who is likely to understand the education of a girl if her own +father does not." + +"It is all because the Step has gone," continued Verena. "She told us +when she was leaving that she meant to write to Aunt Sophia. She was +dreadfully cross at having to go, and the one mean thing she ever did in +all her life was to make the remark she did. She said it was very little +short of disgraceful to have ten girls running about the New Forest at +their own sweet will, without any one to guide them." + +"Oh, what a nuisance the Step is!" said Rose, whose pet name was Briar. +"Shouldn't I like to scratch her! Dear old Paddy! of course he knows how +to manage us. Oh, here he comes--the angel! Let's plant him down in our +midst. Daisy, put that little stool in the middle of the circle; the +Padre shall sit there, and we'll consult as to the advent of precious +Aunt Sophia." + +Patty, Briar, and Verena now jumped to their feet and ran in the +direction where an elderly gentleman, with a stoop, gray hair hanging +over his shoulders, and a large pair of tortoise-shell spectacles on his +nose, was walking. + +"Paddy, Paddy! you have got to come here at once," called out Briar. + +Meanwhile Verena took one of his arms, Patty clasped the other, Briar +danced in front, and so they conducted him into the middle of the group. + +"Here's your stool, Paddy," cried Briar. "Down you squat. Now then, +squatty-_vous_." + +Mr. Dale took off his spectacles, wiped them and gazed around him in +bewilderment. + +"I was construing a line of Virgil," he said. "You have interrupted me, +my dears. Whatever is the matter?" + +"We have brought the culprit to justice," exclaimed Pauline. "Paddy, +forget the classics for the time being. Think, just for a few moments, of +your neglected--your shamefully neglected--daughters. Ten of them, Paddy, +all running wild in the Forest glades. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? +Don't you feel that your moment of punishment has come? Aunt Sophia +arrives to-morrow. Now, what have you got to say for yourself?" + +"But, my dear children, we can't have your Aunt Sophia here. I could not +dream of it. I remember quite well she came here once a long time ago. I +have not got over it yet. I haven't really." + +"But she is coming, Paddy, and you know it quite well, for you got the +letter. How long do you think you can put up with her?" + +"Only for a very short time, Pauline; I assure you, my darling, she is +not--not a pleasant person." + +"Describe her, Paddy--do," said Verena. + +She spoke in her very gentlest tone, and held out one of her long white +hands and allowed her father to clasp it. Verena was decidedly the +best-looking of the eight girls sitting on the grass. She was tall; her +complexion was fair; her figure was naturally so good that no amount of +untidy dressing could make it look awkward. Her hair was golden and soft. +It was less trouble to wind it up in a thick rope and hairpin it at the +back of her head than to let it run wild; therefore she was not even +untidy. Verena was greatly respected by her sisters, and Briar was rather +afraid of her. All the others sat silent now when she asked the old Padre +to describe Aunt Sophia. + +"My dear," he answered, "I have not the slightest idea what her +appearance is like. My memory of her is that she was fashionable and very +conventional." + +"What on earth is 'conventional'?" whispered Pat. + +"Don't interrupt, Patty," said Verena, squeezing her father's hand. "Go +on, Paddy; go on, darling of my heart. Tell us some more. Aunt Sophia is +fashionable and conventional. We can look out the words in the dictionary +afterwards. But you must know what she is like to look at." + +"I don't, my dears; I cannot remember. It was a good many years ago when +she came to visit us." + +"He must be prodded," said Briar, turning to Renny. "Look at him; he is +going to sleep." + +"Excuse me, girls," said the Squire, half-rising, and then sitting down +again as Verena's young hand pushed him into his seat. "I have just made +a most interesting discovery with regard to Virgil--namely, that----" + +"Oh, father! we don't want to know about it," said Briar. "Now, then, +Renny, begin." + +"Her appearance--her appearance!" said Verena gently. + +"Whose appearance, dear?" + +"Why, Aunt Sophia's; the lady who is coming to-morrow." + +"Oh, dear!" said Mr. Dale; "but she must not come. This cannot be +permitted; I cannot endure it." + +"Paddy, you have given John directions to fetch her. Now, then, what is +she like?" + +"I don't know, children. I haven't the slightest idea." + +"Prod, Renny! Prod!" + +"Padre," said Verena, "is she old or young?" + +"Old, I think; perhaps neither." + +"Write it down, Briar. She is neither old nor young. Paddy, is she dark +or fair?" + +"I really can't remember, dear. A most unpleasant person." + +"Put down that she is--not over-beautiful," said Verena. "Paddy, must we +put on our best dresses when she comes--our Sunday go-to-meeting frocks, +you know?" + +"Children, wear anything on earth you like, but in Heaven's name let me +go away now! Only to think that she will be here to-morrow! Why did Miss +Stapleton leave us? It is really too terrible." + +"She left," said Briar, her eyes twinkling, "because we would call her +Step, which means step-mother. She was so dreadfully, dreadfully afraid +that you might find it out." + +"Oh, children, how incorrigible you are! The poor woman! I'd sooner have +married---- I--I never mean to marry anybody." + +"Of course you don't, Padre. And you may go now, darling," said Verena. +"Go, and be happy, feeling that your daughters will look after you. You +are not lonely, are you, darling, with so many of us? Now go and be very +happy." + +Eight pairs of lips blew kisses to the departing figure. Mr. Dale +shambled off, and disappeared through the open window into his study. + +"Poor dear!" said Verena, "he has forgotten our existence already. He +only lives when he thinks of Virgil. Most of his time he sleeps, poor +angel! It certainly is our bounden duty to keep him away from Aunt +Sophia. What a terror she must be! Fancy the situation. Eight nieces all +in a state of insurrection, and two more nieces in the nursery ready to +insurrect in their turn!" + +"Something must be done," interrupted Pauline. "Nurse is the woman to +help us. Forewarned is forearmed. Nurse must put us up to a wrinkle or +two." + +"Then let's go to her at once," said Verena. + +They all started up, and, Verena leading the way, they went through the +little paddock to the left of the house, and so into a yard, very +old-fashioned and covered with weeds and cobble-stones. There were +tumble-down stables and coach-houses, hen-houses, and buildings, useful +and otherwise, surrounding the yard; and now in the coach-house, which +for many years had sheltered no carriage of any sort, sat nurse busy at +work, with two little children playing at her feet. + +"Don't mind the babies at present," said Verena. "Don't snatch them up +and kiss them, Briar. Patty, keep your hands off. Nurse, we have come." + +"So I see, Miss Verena," said nurse. + +She lifted her very much wrinkled old face and looked out of deep-set, +black eyes full at the young girl. + +"What is it, my darling child?" + +"How are we to bear it? Shall we fall on our knees and get round you in a +little circle? We must talk to you. You must advise us." + +"Eh, dears!" said nurse. "I am nearly past that sort of thing. I'm not as +young as I wor, and master and me we're both getting old. It doesn't seem +to me to matter much now whether a body's pretty or not, or whether you +dress beautiful, or whether a thing is made to look pretty or otherwise. +We're all food for worms, dears, all of us, and where's the use of +fashing?" + +"How horrid of you, nurse!" said Verena. "We have got beautiful bodies, +and our souls ought to be more beautiful still. What about the +resurrection of the body, you dreadful old nurse?" + +"Oh, never mind me, dears; it was only a sort of dream I were dreaming of +the funeral of your poor dear mother, who died when this dear lamb was +born." + +Here nurse patted the fat arm of the youngest hope of the house of Dale, +little Marjorie, who looked round at her with rosy face and big blue +eyes. Marjorie was between three and four years old, and was a very +beautiful little child. Verena, unable to restrain herself any longer, +bent down and encircled Marjorie with her strong young arms and clasped +her in an ecstatic embrace. + +"There, now," she said; "I am better. I forbid all the rest of you girls +to touch Marjorie. Penelope, I'll kiss you later." + +Penelope was seven years old--a dark child with a round face--not a +pretty child, but one full of wisdom and audacity. + +"Whatever we do," Verena had said on several occasions, "we must not let +Penelope out of the nursery until she is quite eight years old. She is so +much the cleverest of us that she'd simply turn us all round her little +finger. She must stay with nurse as long as possible." + +"I know what you are talking about," said Penelope. "It's about her, and +she's coming to-morrow. I told nurse, and she said she oughtn't never to +come." + +"No, that she oughtn't," said nurse. "The child is alluding to Miss +Tredgold. She haven't no call here, and I don't know why she is coming." + +"Look here, nurse," said Verena; "she is coming, and nothing in the world +will prevent her doing so. The thing we have to consider is this: how +soon will she go?" + +"She'll go, I take it," said nurse, "as soon as ever she finds out she +ain't wanted." + +"And how are we to tell her that?" said Verena. "Now, do put on your +considering-cap at once, you wise old woman." + +"Yes, do show us the way out, for we can't have her here," said Briar. +"It is absolutely impossible. She'll try to turn us into fine ladies, and +she'll talk about the dresses we should have, and she'll want father to +get some awful woman to come and live with us. She'll want the whole +house to be turned topsy-turvy." + +"Eh!" said nurse, "I'll tell you what it is. Ladies like Miss Tredgold +need their comforts. She won't find much comfort here, I'm thinking. +She'll need her food well cooked, and that she won't get at The Dales. +She'll need her room pretty and spick-and-span; she won't get much of +that sort of thing at The Dales. My dear young ladies, you leave the +house as it is, and, mark my words, Miss Tredgold will go in a week's +time at the latest." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A HANDFUL. + + +The girls looked full at nurse while she was talking. A look of +contentment came into Verena's face. She shook herself to make sure she +was all there; she pinched herself to be certain that she was not +dreaming; then she settled down comfortably. + +"There never was anybody like you, nursey," she said. "You always see the +common-sense, possible side of things." + +"Eh!" said nurse. "If I hadn't seen the common-sense, possible side of +things many years ago, where would I be with the handling and bringing up +of you ten young ladies? For, though I say it that shouldn't, there ain't +nicer or bonnier or straighter children in the whole Forest; no, nor +better-looking either, with cleaner souls inside of them; but for all +that, anybody else"--and here nurse gave a little sort of wink that set +Pauline screaming--"anybody else would say that you were a handful. You +are a handful, too, to most people. But what I say now is this. You +needn't take any notice of me; you can keep your own counsel and say +nothing; but if you want her to go--the lady that has no call to be +here--the lady that's forced herself where she ain't wanted--why, you +have _got_ to be handfuls. And now I'll go into the house with my two +precious lambs." + +The elder "precious lamb" looked very cross at being suddenly informed +that she was to go indoors while the sun shone so brightly and the summer +warmth surrounded her. + +"No, I won't," said Penelope. "I am going to stay out with the others. +I'm a very big girl; I am not a baby any longer. And you aren't to keep +me in the nursery any longer, Verena. And I won't be naughty. I'll make +up to Aunt Sophia like anything--that I will--if you keep me in the +nursery any longer." + +This was such a daring threat that, although Penelope was not thought +much of as a rule, the girls looked at her now with a sort of awe. + +"She might as well stay for a quarter of an hour longer, mightn't she, +nursey?" said Briar. + +"No, that she ain't to do, Miss Rose. She comes right indoors and +prepares for her bed like a good child. Is it me that's to be shortened +of my hours of rest by a naughty little thing like this? Come along this +minute, miss, and none of your nonsense." + +So Penelope, her heart full of rage, retired into the house with nurse +and baby Marjorie. + +"I hope she won't do anything mean and nasty," said Pauline. "It's the +sort of thing she would do, for she's frightfully clever." + +"Oh, we needn't consider her," said Verena. "Do let's make up our minds +what to do ourselves." + +"I have all sorts of things in my head," said Patty. "The pony-carriage +might break down as it was coming from the station. I don't mean her to +be badly hurt, but I thought she might get just a little bit hurt, so +that she could stay in her bed for twenty-four hours. An aunt in bed +wouldn't be so bad, would she, Renny?" + +"I don't know," said Verena. "I suppose we must be polite. She is +mother's half-sister, you know. If mother were alive she would give her a +welcome. And then Padre will have to talk to her. He must explain that +she must go. If he doesn't, we will lead him a life." + +The girls talked a little longer. They walked round and round the ugly, +ill-kept lawn; they walked under the beautiful trees, entwined their arms +round each other's waists, and confabbed and confabbed. The upshot of it +all was that on the following day a very large and very shabby bedroom +was got ready after a fashion for Miss Tredgold's arrival; and John, the +sole factotum of the establishment--the man who cleaned the boots and +knives, and swept up the avenue, removed the weeds from the flower-beds, +cleaned the steps whenever they were cleaned, and the windows whenever +they were cleaned--appeared on the scene, leading a tumble-down, +knock-kneed pony harnessed to a very shabby pony-cart. + +"I'm off now, miss," he said to Verena, pulling a wisp of hair as he +spoke. "No, miss, there ain't any room. You couldn't possibly sit on the +back seat, for it's as much as ever I'll do to bring the lady home in +this tumble-down conveyance. Our own is too bad for use, and I had to +borrow from Farmer Treherne, and he said he wouldn't trust any horse but +old Jock; this carriage will just keep together until the lady's here." + +"But whatever he thinks," said Verena, "do you suppose we can have a +smart, neat carriage ready to take Miss Tredgold back again this day +week? You will see about that, won't you, John?" + +"I will, miss. There'll be no difficulty about that; we'll get the lady +away whenever she wants to go." + +"Very well. You had better be off now. You must wait outside the station. +When she comes out you are to touch your hat and say, 'This is the +carriage from The Dales.' Be sure you say that, John. And look as +important as ever you can. We must make the best of things, even if we +are poor." + +"You never saw me, miss, demeaning the family," said John. + +He again touched his very shabby hat, whipped up the pony, and +disappeared down the avenue. + +"Now, then," said Briar, "how are we to pass the next two hours? It will +take them quite that time to get here." + +"And what are we going to give her to eat when she does come?" said +Patty. "She'll be awfully hungry. I expect she'll want her dinner." + +"Dinner!" cried Josephine. "Dinner! So late. But we dine at one." + +"You silliest of silly mortals," said Verena, "Aunt Sophia is a +fashionable lady, and fashionable ladies dine between eight and nine +o'clock." + +"Do they?" said Josephine. "Then I'm glad I'm not a fashionable lady. +Fancy starving all that long time! I'm always famished by one o'clock." + +"There's Penelope!" suddenly said Patty. "Doesn't she look odd?" + +Penelope was a very stout child. She had black eyes and black hair. Her +hair generally stood upright in a sort of halo round her head; her face +was very round and rosy--she looked like a kind of hard, healthy +winter-apple. Her legs were fat, and she always wore socks instead of +stockings. Her socks were dark blue. Nurse declared that she could not be +fashed with putting on white ones. She wore a little Turkey-red frock, +and she had neither hat nor coat on. She was going slowly and +thoughtfully round the lawn, occasionally stooping and picking something. + +"She's a perfect mystery," said Pauline. "Let's run up to her and ask her +what she's about." + +Catching Patty's hand, the two girls scampered across the grass. + +"Well, Pen, and what are you doing now? What curious things are you +gathering?" they asked. + +"Grasses," replied Penelope slowly. "They're for Aunt Sophia's bedroom. +I'm going to make her bedroom ever so pretty." + +"You little horror!" said Pauline. "If you dare to go against us you will +lead a life!" + +Penelope looked calmly up at them. + +"I'll make a bargain," she said. "I'll throw them all away, and be +nastier than you all--yes, much nastier--if you will make me a schoolroom +girl." + +Pauline looked at her. + +"We may be low," she said, "and there is no doubt we are very poor, but +we have never stooped to bribery and corruption yet. Go your own way, +Penelope. If you think you can injure us you are very much mistaken." + +Penelope shook her fat back, and resumed her peregrinations round and +round the lawn. + +"Really she is quite an uncomfortable child," said Pauline, returning to +her other sisters. "What do you think she is doing now? Picking grasses +to put in Aunt Sophia's room." + +"Oh, let her alone," said Verena; "it's only her funny little way. By the +way, I wonder if Padre has any idea that Aunt Sophia is coming to-day." + +"Let's invade him," said Patty. "The old dear wants his exercise; he +hasn't had any to-day." + +The eight girls ran with whoops and cries round the house. Penelope +picked her grasses with more determination than ever. Her small, straight +mouth made a scarlet line, so tightly was it shut. + +"I am only seven, but I'm monstrous clever," she whispered to herself. "I +am going to have my own way. I'll love poor Aunt Sophy. Yes, I will. I'll +kiss her, and I'll make up to her, and I'll keep her room full of lovely +grasses." + +Meanwhile the other girls burst into the study. A voice was heard +murmuring rapidly as they approached. A silvery-white head was bending +over a page, and some words in Latin came like a stream, with a very +beautiful pronunciation, from the scholar's lips. + +"Ah, Verena!" he said, "I think I have got the right lines now. Shall I +read them to you?" + +Mr. Dale began. He got through about one line when Patty interrupted him: + +"It can't possibly be done, Paddy. We can't listen to another line--I +mean yet. You have got to come out. Aunt Sophia is coming to-day." + +"Eh? I beg your pardon; who did you say was coming?" + +"Aunt Sophia--Miss Tredgold. She's coming to-day on a visit. She'll be +here very soon. She's coming in an old cart that belongs to Farmer +Treherne. She'll be here in an hour; therefore out you come." + +"My dears, I cannot. You must excuse me. My years of toil have brought to +light an obscure passage. I shall write an account of it to the _Times_. +It is a great moment in my life, and the fact that---- But who did you +say was coming, my dears?" + +"Really, Paddy, you are very naughty," said Verena. "You must come out at +once. We want you. You can't write another line. You must not even think +of the subject. Come and see what we have done for Aunt Sophia. If you +don't come she'll burst in here, and she'll stay here, because it's the +most comfortable room in the house. And she'll bring her work-basket +here, and perhaps her mending. I know she'll mend you as soon as she +arrives. She'll make you and mend you; and you need mending, don't you, +dear old Padre?" + +"I don't know, my dears. I'm a stupid old man, and don't care about +dress. Who is the person you said was coming? Give her some tea and send +her away. Do you hear, Verena? Give her tea, my darling, and--and toast +if you like, and send her away. We can't have visitors here." + +"Patty!" said Verena. + +Patty's eyes were shining. + +"Pauline!" + +The two girls came forward as though they were little soldiers obeying +the command of their captain. + +"Take Padre by the right arm, Pauline. Patty, take Padre by the left arm. +Now then, Paddy, quick's the word. March!" + +Poor Mr. Dale was completely lifted from his chair by his two vigorous +daughters, and then marched outside his study into the sunshine. + +"We are not going to be cross," said Verena, kissing him. "It is only +your Renny." + +"And your Paulie," said the second girl. + +"And your Rose Briar," said the third. + +"And your Patty," said the fourth. + +"And your Lucy," "And your Josephine," "And your Helen," "And your +Adelaide," said four more vigorous pairs of lips. + +"And we all want you to stand up," said Verena. + +"Good heavens! I did think I had come to the end of my worries. And what +on earth does this mean? Penelope, my child, what a hideous bouquet you +have in your hand! Come here and kiss father, my little one." + +Penelope trotted briskly forward. + +"Do you like my red frock, father?" she asked. + +"It is very nice indeed." + +"I thought it wor. And is my hair real tidy, father?" + +"It stands very upright, Penelope." + +"I thought it did. And you like my little blue stockings, father?" + +"Very neat, dear." + +"I thought they wor." + +"You look completely unlike yourself, Penelope. What is the matter?" + +"I want to be a true, kind lady," said the little girl. "I am gathering +grasses for my aunty; so I are." + +She trotted away into the house. + +"What a pretty, neat, orderly little girl Penelope has become!" said Mr. +Dale. "But---- You really must excuse me, my dear girls. You are most +charming, all of you. Ah, my dears!--so fresh, so unsophisticated, +so--yes, that is the word--so unworldly. But I must get back to my +beloved Virgil. You don't know--you can never know--what a moment of +triumph is mine. You must excuse me, darlings--Verena, you are nearly +grown up; you will see to the others. Do what you can to make them +happy--a little treat if necessary; I should not mind it." + +"Give us fourpence to buy a pound of golden syrup for tea, please, +Padre," suddenly said Briar. "If there is a thing I love, it is golden +syrup. A pound between us will give us quite a feast--won't it, Renny?" + +"Only we must save a little for the aunt," cried Patty. + +"I do hope one thing," said Pauline: "that, whatever her faults, she +won't be greedy. There isn't room for any one to be greedy in this house. +The law of this house is the law of self-denial; isn't it, Padre?" + +"I begin to perceive that it is, Pauline. But whom are you talking of?" + +"Now, Padre," said Verena, "if you don't wake and rouse yourself, and act +like a decent Christian, you'll be just prodded--you'll be just shaken. +We will do it. There are eight of us, and we'll make your life a burden." + +"Eh--eh!" said Mr. Dale. "Really, girls, you are enough to startle a man. +And you say----" + +"I say, Paddy, that Miss Sophia Tredgold is on her way here. Each instant +she is coming nearer. She is coming in the old pony cart, and the old +pony is struggling with all his might to convey her here. She is coming +with her luggage, intending to stay, and our object is to get her to go +away again. Do you hear, Padre?" + +"Yes, my dear, I hear. I comprehend. It takes a great deal to bring a man +back down the ages--down--down to this small, poor, parsimonious life; it +takes a great deal. A man is not easily roused, nor brought back; but I +am back now, darlings.--Excuse me, Briar; no more prodding.--Hands off, +Pauline.--Hands off, Patty. Perhaps I had better tidy myself." + +"You certainly would look nicer, and more like the owner of The Dales, if +you got into your other coat," said Briar. + +"Shall we all come up and help you, Padre?" called out the eight in a +breath. + +"No, no, dears. I object to ladies hovering about my room. I'll run away +now." + +"Yes, yes; and you'd better be quick, Padre, for I hear wheels." + +"I am going, loves, this moment." + +Mr. Dale turned and absolutely ran to the shelter of the house, for the +wheels were getting near--rumbling, jumping, uncertain. Now the rumbling +and the jumping and the uncertainty got into the avenue, and came nearer +and nearer; and finally the tumble-down pony cart drew up at the house. +The pony printed his uncertain feet awkwardly but firmly on the +weed-grown sweep in front of the unpainted hall door, and Miss Tredgold +gazed around her. + +Miss Tredgold was a very thin, tall woman of about forty-five years of +age. She was dressed in the extreme of fashion. She wore a perfectly +immaculate traveling dress of dark-gray tweed. It fitted her +well-proportioned figure like a glove. She had on a small, very neat +black hat, and a spotted veil surrounded her face. She stepped down from +the pony cart and looked around her. + +"Ah!" she said, seeing Verena, "will you kindly mention to some of the +ladies of the family that I have arrived?" + +"I think I need not mention it, because we all know," said Verena. "I am +your niece Verena." + +"You!" + +Miss Tredgold could throw unutterable scorn into her voice. Verena +stepped back, and her pretty face grew first red and then pale. What she +would have said next will never be known to history, for at that instant +the very good child, Penelope, appeared out of the house. + +"Is you my Aunty Sophy?" she said. "How are you, Aunty Sophy? I am very +pleased to see you." + +Miss Sophia stared for a moment at Penelope. Penelope was hideously +attired, but she was at least clean. The other girls were anyhow. They +were disheveled; they wore torn and unsightly skirts; their hair was +arranged anyhow or not at all; on more than one face appeared traces of +recent acquaintance with the earth in the shape of a tumble. One little +girl with very black eyes had an ugly scratch across her left cheek; +another girl had the gathers out of her frock, which streamed in the most +hopeless fashion on the ground. + +"How do you do?" said Aunt Sophia. "Where is your father? Will you have +the goodness, little girl, to acquaint your father with the fact that his +sister-in-law, Sophia Tredgold, has come?" + +"Please come into the house, Aunt Sophy, and I'll take you to father's +study--so I will," exclaimed champion Penelope. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +PREPARING FOR THE FIGHT. + + +Penelope held up a chubby hand, which Miss Tredgold pretended not to see. + +"Go on in front, little girl," she said. "Don't paw me. I hate being +pawed by children." + +Penelope's back became very square as she listened to these words, and +the red which suffused her face went right round her neck. But she walked +solemnly on in front without a word. + +"Aunties are unpleasant things," she said to herself; "but, all the same, +I mean to fuss over this one." + +Here she opened a door, flung it wide, and cried out to her parent: + +"Paddy, here comes Aunt Sophia Tredgold." + +But she spoke to empty air--Mr. Dale was still busy over his toilet. + +"Whom are you addressing by that hideous name?" said Miss Sophia. "Do you +mean to tell me you call your father Paddy?" + +"We all do," said Penelope. + +"Of course we do," said Verena, who had followed behind. + +"That is our name for the dear old boy," said Pauline, who stood just +behind Verena, while all the other children stood behind Pauline. + +It was in this fashion that the entire party invaded Mr. Dale's sanctum. +Miss Tredgold gazed around her, her face filled with a curious mixture of +amazement and indignation. + +"I had an intuition that I ought to come here," she said aloud. "I did +not want to come, but I obeyed what I now know was the direct call of +duty. I shall stay here as long as I am wanted. My mission will be to +bring order out of chaos--to reduce all those who entertain rebellion to +submission--to try to turn vulgar, hoydenish little girls into ladies." + +"Oh, oh! I say, aunty, that is hard on us!" burst from Josephine. + +"My dear, I don't know your name, but it is useless for you to make those +ugly exclamations. Whatever your remarks, whatever your words, I shall +take no notice. You may struggle as you will, but I am the stronger. Oh! +here comes---- Is it possible? My dear Henry, what years it is since we +met! Don't you remember me--your sister-in-law Sophia? I was but a little +girl when you married my dear sister. It is quite affecting to meet you +again. How do you do?" + +Miss Tredgold advanced to meet her brother-in-law. Mr. Dale put both his +hands behind his back. + +"Are you sorry to see me?" asked Miss Tredgold. "Oh, dear, this is +terrible!" + +The next instant the horrified man found that Miss Tredgold had kissed +him calmly and with vigor on each cheek. Even his own children were never +permitted to kiss Mr. Dale. To tell the truth, he was the last sort of +person anybody would care to kiss. His face resembled a piece of +parchment, being much withered and wrinkled and dried up. There was an +occasion in the past when Verena had taken his scholarly hand and raised +it to her lips, but even that form of endearment he objected to. + +"I forgive you, dear," he said; "but please don't do it again. We can +love each other without these marks of an obsolete and forgotten age. +Kissing, my dear, is too silly to be endured in our day." + +That Miss Tredgold should kiss him was therefore an indignity which the +miserable man was scarcely likely to get over as long as he lived. + +"And now, girls," said the good lady, turning round and facing her +astonished nieces, "I have a conviction that your father and I would have +a more comfortable conversation if you were not present. Leave the room, +therefore, my dears. Go quietly and in an orderly fashion." + +"Perhaps, children, it would be best," said Mr. Dale. + +He felt as though he could be terribly rude, but he made an effort not to +show his feelings. + +"There is no other possible way out of it," he said to himself. "I must +be very frank. I must tell her quite plainly that she cannot stay. It +will be easier for me to be frank without the children than with them." + +So the girls left the room. Penelope, going last, turned a plump and +bewildered face towards her aunt. + +But Miss Tredgold took no more notice of Penelope than she did of the +others. When the last pair of feet had vanished down the passage, she +went to the door and locked it. + +"What are you doing that for?" asked Mr. Dale. + +"My dear Henry, I locked the door because I wish to have a quiet word +with you. I have come here--I will say it plainly--for the sole purpose +of saving you." + +"Of saving me, Sophia! From what?" + +"From the grievous sin you are committing--the sin of absolutely and +completely neglecting the ten daughters given to you by Providence. Do +you do anything for them? Do you try in the least to help them? Are you +in any sense of the word educating them? I scarcely know the children +yet, but I must say frankly that I never came across more terribly +neglected young people. Their clothes are in rags, they are by no means +perfectly clean in their persons, and they look half-starved. Henry, you +ought to be ashamed of yourself! I wonder my poor sister doesn't turn in +her grave! When I think that Alice was their mother, and that you are +bringing them up as you are now doing, I could give way to tears. But, +Henry, tears are not what are required. Action is the necessary thing. I +mean to act, and nothing will turn me from that resolution." + +"But, my dear Sophia, I have not met you for years. To be frank with you, +I had almost forgotten your existence. I am a terribly busy man, +Sophia--a scholar--at least, I hope so. I do not think the children are +neglected; they are well, and no one is ever unkind to them. There is no +doubt that we are poor. I am unable to have the house done up as poor +Alice would have liked to see it; and I have let the greater part of the +ground, so that we are not having dairy produce or farm produce at +present. The meals, therefore, are plain." + +"And insufficient; I have no doubt of that," said Miss Tredgold. + +"They are very plain," he answered. "Perhaps you like dainty food; most +ladies of your age do. I must be as frank with you as you are with me. +You won't like our table. Sometimes we do without meat for a week at a +time." + +"I do not care if you never touch meat again," said Miss Sophia. "Thank +goodness, with all my faults, I am not greedy." + +"What a pity!" murmured Mr. Dale. + +"What was that you said? Do you like greedy women?" + +"No, Sophia; but I want to put matters so straight before you that you +will consider it your bounden duty to leave The Dales." + +"Where my duty calls me I stay, whatever the circumstances, and however +great the inconveniences," remarked Miss Sophia. + +"Well, Sophia, your attitude and manner and words distress me +considerably. But I must speak to you again. I am busy now over a most +important matter. I have just discovered----" + +"A gold mine on your estate?" + +"No; something fifty times more valuable--a new rendering----" + +"Of what, may I ask?" + +"'The noblest meter ever moulded by the lips of man.' Bowen is quite +wrong in his translation; I am about to prove it. I allude to Virgil's +_AEneid_." + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Miss Tredgold, "is the man staring mad? Now, my +dear fellow, you have got to put up with me. I can tell you plainly that +it will be no treat to live with you. If it were not for my sister I +would leave this house and let you and your family go your own way to +destruction; but as Alice was so fond of me, and did her best for me when +I was a little girl, I mean to do my best for your children." + +"But in what way, Sophia? I told you I was poor. I am poor. I cannot +afford a governess. Verena can darn quite nicely, and she knows a little +about plain needlework. She turned a skirt of her own a month ago; her +work seemed quite creditable, for I did not notice it one way or the +other." + +"Oh, you man--you man!" said Miss Tredgold. + +"And the other children are also learning to use the needle; and most of +them can read, for all the novels that I happen to possess have been +removed from the bookshelves. The girls can read, they can write, and +they can use their needles. They are thoroughly happy, and they are +healthy. They do not feel the heat of summer or the cold of winter. The +food is plain, and perhaps not over-abundant, but they are satisfied with +it. They don't worry me much. In short, it is only fair to say that I am +not well enough off to keep you here. I cannot possibly give you the +comforts you require. I should be glad, therefore, my dear Sophia, if you +would be kind enough to leave The Dales." + +"Now listen to me, Henry. I have resolved to stay, and only force will +turn me out. My heavier luggage is coming by the carrier to-morrow. I +brought a small trunk in that awful little conveyance which you sent to +meet me. As to the money question, it needn't trouble you, for I shall +pay for all extras which my presence requires. As to luxuries, I am +indifferent to them. But I mean the girls to eat their food like ladies, +and I mean the food to be well cooked; and also everything in the house +shall be clean, and there shall be enough furniture in the rooms for the +ordinary requirements of ordinary gentlefolks. I shall stay here for at +least three months, and if at the end of that time you do not say to me, +'Sophia, I can never thank you enough for what you have done,' I shall be +surprised. Now I have stated exactly the position of things, and, my dear +Henry, you are welcome to go back to your work. You can study your +beloved Virgil and gloat over your discovery; but for goodness' sake come +to dinner to-night looking like a gentleman." + +"My wardrobe is a little in abeyance, Sophia. I mean that I--I have not +put on an evening coat for years." + +"You probably have one at the back of nowhere," said Miss Tredgold in a +contemptuous tone. "But, anyhow, put on the best you have got. Believe +me, I have not come to this house to sit down with my hands before me. I +have come to work, to renovate, to restore, to build up. Not another +word, Henry. I have put the matter into a nutshell, and you and your +children must learn to submit to the arrival of Sophia Tredgold." + +At these words the good lady unlocked the door and stepped out. + +As she walked down the passage she heard the quick trampling of many +feet, and it occurred to her that some of the girls must have been +listening at the keyhole. + +"I can't allow that sort of thing again," she said to herself. "But +now--shall I take notice?" + +She stood for a moment thinking. The color came into her cheeks and her +eyes looked bright. + +"For my sister's sake I will put up with a good deal," was her final +comment; and then she went into the hall. + +There was a wide old hall leading to the front stairs, and in this hall +now stood the good child Penelope. She had brought in a quantity of fresh +grasses, and had a piteous and beseeching expression on her face. Miss +Tredgold took no notice of her. She stood by the open hall door and +looked out. + +"Might be made a pretty place," she said aloud. + +Then she turned to go upstairs, sighing as she did so. Penelope echoed +the sigh in a most audible manner. Miss Tredgold was arrested by the +sound, and looked down. + +"Ah, little girl!" she said. "What are you doing here?" + +"I thought perhaps you'd like me to help you," said Penelope. "I wor +waiting for you to come out of Pad's room." + +"Don't use that hideous word 'wor.' W-a-s, was. Can you spell?" + +"No; and I don't want to," said Penelope. + +"We'll see about that. In the meantime, child, can you take me to my +room?" + +"May I hold of your hand?" said Penelope. + +"May you hold my hand, not _of_ my hand. Certainly not. You may go on in +front of me. You have got clearly to understand---- But what did you say +your name was?" + +"Penelope." + +"You must clearly understand, Penelope, that I do not pet children. I +expect them to be good without sugar-plums." + +Now, Penelope knew that sugar-plums were delicious. She had heard of +them, and at Christmas-time she used to dream of them, but very few had +hitherto come into her life. She now looked eagerly at Miss Tredgold. + +"If I are good for a long time without them, will you give me two or +three?" she asked. + +Miss Tredgold gave a short, grim laugh. + +"We'll see," she said. "I never make rash promises. Oh! so this is my +room." + +She looked around her. + +"No carpet," she said aloud; "no curtains; no pictures on the walls. A +deal table for a dressing-table, the muslin covering much the worse for +dirt and wear. Hum! You do live plain at The Dales." + +"Oh, yes; don't us?" said Penelope. "And your room is much the handsomest +of all the rooms. We call it very handsome. If you wor to see our +rooms----" + +"Were to see----" + +"Yes, were to see," repeated Penelope, who found this constant correction +very tiresome. + +"And may I ask," exclaimed Miss Tredgold suddenly, not paying any heed to +the little girl's words, "what on earth is that in the blue mug?" + +She marched up to the dressing-table. In the center was a large blue mug +of very common delft filled with poor Penelope's grasses. + +"What horror is this?" she said. "Take it away at once, and throw those +weeds out." + +At that moment poor Penelope very nearly forsook her allegiance to Aunt +Sophia. She ran downstairs trembling. In the hall she was received by a +bevy of sisters. + +"Well, Pen, and so you have bearded the lion! You took her to her room, +did you? And what did she say? Did she tell you when she was going away?" + +"Yes, did she?" came from Verena's lips; and Pauline's eager eyes, and +the eyes of all the other children, asked the same question. + +Penelope gave utterance to a great sigh. + +"I thought I'd be the goodest of you all," she said. "I maded up my mind +that I just would; but I doesn't like Aunt Sophia, and I think I'll be +the naughtiest." + +"No, you little goose; keep on being as good as you can. She can't +possibly stay long, for we can't afford it," said Verena. + +"She'll stay," answered Penelope. "She have made up her mind. She throwed +away my lovely grasses; she called them weeds, my darlings that I did +stoop so much to pick, and made my back all aches up to my neck. And she +said she hated little girls that pawed her. Oh, I could cry! I did so +want to be the goodest of you all, and I thought that I'd get sugar-plums +and perhaps pennies. And I thought she'd let me tell her when you was all +bad. Oh, I hate her now! I don't think I care to be took out of the +nursery if she's about." + +"You certainly are a caution, Penny," said Verena. "It is well that you +have told us what your motives are. Believe me, there are worse places +than that despised nursery of yours. Now, I suppose we must get some sort +of dinner or tea for her. I wonder what Betty is doing to-day, if her +head aches, and if----" + +"Oh, come along; let's go and find out," said Pauline. "I feel so +desperate that I have the courage for anything." + +It is to be owned that the Dales did not keep an extensive establishment. +Old John pottered about the gardens and did what little gardening he +thought necessary. He also did odd jobs about the house. Besides John, +there was Betty. Betty ruled supreme as cook and factotum in the kitchen. +Betty never asked any one for orders; she got what she considered +necessary from the local tradesmen, or she did without. As a rule she did +without. She said that cooking was bad for her--that it made her head and +back ache. On the days when Betty's head or back ached there was never +any dinner. The family did not greatly mind. They dined on these +occasions on bread, either with butter or without. Betty managed to keep +them without dinner certainly at the rate of once or twice a week. She +always had an excellent excuse. Either the boiler was out of gear, or the +range would not draught properly, or the coals were out, or the butcher +had failed to come. Sometimes the children managed to have jam with their +bread-and-butter, and then they considered that they had a very fine meal +indeed. It mattered little to them what sort of food they had if they +only had enough; but sometimes they had not even enough. This more +constantly happened in the winter than in the summer, for in the summer +there was always plenty of milk and always plenty of fruit and +vegetables. + +When Betty heard that Miss Tredgold was coming to stay she immediately +gave Verena notice. This was nothing at all extraordinary, for Betty gave +notice whenever anything annoyed her. She never dreamed of acting up to +her own words, so that nobody minded Betty's repeated notices. But on the +morning of the day when Miss Tredgold was expected, Betty told nurse that +she was about to give a real, earnest notice at last. + +"I am going," she said. "I go this day month. I march out of this house, +and never come back--no, not even if a dook was to conduct me to the +hymeneal altar." + +Betty was always great on the subject of dukes and marquises. She was +seldom so low in health as to condescend to a "hearl," and there had even +been a moment when she got herself to believe that royalty might aspire +to her hand. + +"She must be really going," said Verena when nurse repeated Betty's +speech. "She would not say that about the duke if she was not." + +"You leave her alone," said nurse. "But she's dreadful put out, Miss +Renny; there's no doubt of that. I doubt if she'll cook any dinner for +Miss Tredgold." + +Verena, Pauline, and Penelope now rushed round to the kitchen premises. +They were nervous, but at the same time they were brave. They must see +what Betty intended to do. They burst open the door. The kitchen was not +too clean. It was a spacious apartment, which in the days when the old +house belonged to rich people was well taken care of, and must have sent +forth glorious fires--fires meant to cook noble joints. On the present +occasion the fire was dead out; the range looked a dull gray, piles of +ashes lying in a forlorn manner at its feet. Betty was sitting at the +opposite side of the kitchen, her feet on one chair and her capacious +person on another. She was busily engaged devouring the last number of +the _Family Paper_. She had come to a most rousing portion in her +story--that part in which the duke marries the governess. Betty was, as +she said, all in a twitter to see how matters would end; but just at this +crucial moment the girls burst in. + +"Betty, do stop reading," said Verena. "She's come, Betty." + +"I know," cried Betty. "I'm not deaf, I suppose. John told me. He brought +her, drat him! He says she's the sort to turn the house topsy-turvy. I'll +have none of her. I won't alter my ways--no, not a hand's-turn--for the +like of her, and I go this day month." + +"Oh, Betty!" said Verena. + +"I do, my dear; I do. I can't put up with the ways of them sort--never +could. I like you well enough, young ladies, and your pa; and I'd stop +with you willing--so I would, honey--but I can't abide the likes of her." + +"All the same, she's come, Betty, and we must have something for dinner. +Have you anything in the house?" + +"Not a blessed handful." + +"Oh, Betty!" said Verena; "and I told you this morning, and so did nurse. +We said we must have dinner to-night at seven o'clock. You should have +got something for her." + +"But I ain't done it. The stove's out of order; we want the sweep. I have +a splitting headache, and I'm just reading to keep my mind off the pain." + +"But what are we to do? We must get her something." + +"Can't she have tea and bread-and-butter? We've half-a-pound of cooking +butter in the house." + +"Are there any eggs?" + +"No. I broke the last carrying it across the kitchen an hour ago. My +hands were all of a tremble with the pain, and the egg slipped." + +"Betty, you are too dreadful! Won't you put that paper down and try to +help us?" + +Betty looked at the three faces. In their shabby dresses, and with their +pretty, anxious eyes, Verena having a frown between her charming brows, +they made a picture that struck the cook's heart. With all her odd and +peculiar ways, she was affectionate. + +"Are you fretting about it, Miss Renny?" she asked. + +As she spoke she put down her feet and pushed the tempting number of the +_Family Paper_ from her. + +"There!" she said; "poor little Miss Dunstable may marry the Dook of +Mauleverer-Wolverhampton just as soon as she pleases, but I won't have +you put out, Miss Renny." + +"I did want something nice for dinner," said Verena. + +"Then I'll manage it. There ain't a better cook than I anywhere when I'm +put on my mettle. Miss Penny, will you help me?" + +"Certainly," said Penelope. + +"Well, run into the garden and pick all the peas you can find. There's a +nice little joint in the larder, and I'll roast it, and you shall have a +beautiful dinner. Now off you go, dears. You shall have custard-pudding +and cream and strawberry-jam afterwards." + +"Oh, how nice!" cried Penelope, with a little gasp. "Be sure you give us +_plenty_ of strawberry-jam, and make a very large custard-pudding, for +there's such a lot of us to eat the things, and I generally get the +teeniest little bit." + +"You are a nursery child, and it's in the nursery you'll have your tea," +said Verena in a stern tone. "Go and pick the peas." + +"Not me," said Penelope. + +She sat down just where she was, in an obstinate heap, in the middle of +the floor. + +"If I are not to eat those peas I don't pick 'em," she said. "I wor going +to be kind, but I won't be kind if I'm to be turned into a nursery +child." + +"Oh! do let her come to the dining-room just for to-night," pleaded +Pauline. + +"Very well, then; just for once," said Verena. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE LIFE OF MISRULE. + + +Dinner went off better than the girls had expected. But to Miss Tredgold +it was, and ever would be, the most awful meal she had eaten in the whole +course of her existence. The table was devoid of all those things which +she, as a refined lady, considered essential. The beautiful old silver +spoons were dirty, and several of them bent almost out of recognition. A +like fate had befallen the forks; the knives were rusty, the handles +disgracefully dirty; and the tablecloth, of the finest damask, was almost +gray in color, and adorned with several large holes. The use of +serviettes had been long abolished from The Dales. + +The girls, in honor of the occasion, had put on their best frocks, and +Verena looked fairly pretty in a skimpy white muslin made in an obsolete +style. The other girls each presented a slightly worse appearance than +their elder sister, for each had on a somewhat shabbier frock, a little +more old-fashioned and more outgrown. As to Mr. Dale, it had been +necessary to remind him at least three times of his sister-in-law's +arrival; and finally Verena had herself to put him into his very old +evening-coat, to brush him down afterwards, and to smooth his hair, and +then lead him into the dining-room. + +Miss Tredgold, in contradistinction to the rest of the family, was +dressed correctly. She wore a black lace dress slightly open at the neck, +and with elbow sleeves. The children thought that she looked dazzlingly +fashionable. Verena seemed to remember that she had seen figures very +like Aunt Sophia's in the fashion books. Aunt Sophia's hair in particular +absorbed the attention of four of her nieces. How had she managed to turn +it into so many rolls and spirals and twists? How did she manage the wavy +short hair on her forehead? It seemed to sit quite tight to her head, and +looked as if even a gale of wind would not blow it out of place. Aunt +Sophia's hands were thin and very white, and the fingers were +half-covered with sparkling rings, which shone and glittered so much that +Penelope dropped her choicest peas all over her frock as she gazed at +them. + +John was requisitioned to wait at table, and John had no livery for the +purpose. The family as a rule never required attendance at meals. On this +occasion it was supposed to be essential, and as Betty refused +point-blank to stir from the kitchen, John had to come to the fore. + +"No, no, Miss Renny," said Betty when poor Verena begged and implored of +the good woman to put in an appearance. "No, you don't. No, you certain +sure don't. Because you looked pretty and a bit coaxing I gave up Miss +Dunstable and the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton two hours ago, but not +another minute will I spare from them. It's in their select society that +I spend my haristocratic evening." + +Verena knew that it would be useless to coax Betty any further. So John +appeared with the potatoes in a large dish on a rusty tray, each potato +having, as Betty expressed it, a stone inside. This she declared was the +proper way to cook them. The peas presently followed the potatoes. They +were yellow with age, for they ought to have been eaten at least a week +ago. The lamb was terribly underdone, and the mint sauce was like no mint +sauce that Miss Tredgold had ever dreamed of. The pudding which followed +was a pudding that only Betty knew the recipe for, and that recipe was +certainly not likely to be popular in fashionable circles. But the +strawberry-jam was fairly good, and the cream was excellent; and when, +finally, Miss Tredgold rose to the occasion and said that she would make +some coffee, which she had brought down from town, in her own coffee-pot +on her own etna, the girls became quite excited. + +The coffee was made, and shed a delicious aroma over the room. Mr. Dale +was so far interested that he was seen to sniff twice, and was found to +be observing the coffee as though he were a moth approaching a candle. He +even forgot his Virgil in his desire to partake of the delicious +stimulant. Miss Tredgold handed him a cup. + +"There," she said. "If you were ever young, and if there was ever a time +when you cared to act as a gentleman, this will remind you of those +occasions.--And now, children, I introduce you to 'Open sesame;' and I +hope, my dear nieces, by means of these simple cups of coffee you will +enter a different world from that which you have hitherto known." + +The girls all drank their coffee, and each pronounced it the nicest drink +they had ever taken. + +Presently Miss Tredgold went into the garden. She invited Verena and +Pauline to accompany her. + +"The rest of you can stay behind," she said. "You can talk about me to +each other as much as you like. I give you leave to discuss me freely, +knowing that, even if I did not do so, you would discuss me all the same. +I am quite aware that you all hate me for the present, but I do not think +this state of things will long continue. Come, Verena; come, Pauline. The +night is lovely. We will discuss nature a little, and common sense a +great deal." + +The two girls selected to walk with Miss Tredgold looked behind at the +seven girls left in the dining-room, and the seven girls looked back at +them with a mixture of curiosity and pity. + +"Never mind your sisters now," said Miss Tredgold. "We want to talk over +many things. But before we enter into any discussion I wish to ask a +question." + +"Yes," said Verena in her gentle voice. + +"Verena," said her aunt suddenly, "how old are you?" + +"Fifteen," said Verena. + +"Precisely. And on your next birthday you will be sixteen, and on the +following seventeen, and on the next one again eighteen. You have, +therefore, nearly three years in which to be transformed from a little +savage into a lady. The question I now want to ask you is: Do you prefer +to remain a savage all your days, uneducated, uncultured, your will +uncontrolled, your aspirations for good undeveloped; or do you wish to +become a beautiful and gracious lady, kind, sympathetic, learned, full of +grace? Tell me, my dear." + +"How can I?" replied Verena. "I like my life here; we all suit each +other, and we like The Dales just as it is. Yes, we all suit each other, +and we don't mind being barbarians." + +Miss Tredgold sighed. + +"I perceive," she said, "that I shall have uphill work before me. For you +of all the young people, Verena, are the easiest to deal with. I know +that without your telling me. I know it by your face. You are naturally +gentle, courteous, and kind. You are easy to manage. You are also the +most important of all to be brought round to my views, for whatever you +do the others will do. It is on you, therefore, that I mean to exercise +my greatest influence and to expend my heaviest forces." + +"I don't quite understand you, Aunt Sophia. I know, of course, you mean +kindly, but I would much rather----" + +"That I went away? That I left you in the disgraceful state in which I +have found you?" + +"Well, I don't consider it disgraceful; and----" + +"Yes? You would rather I went?" + +Verena nodded. After a moment she spoke. + +"It seems unkind," she said--"and I don't wish to be unkind--but I +_would_ rather you went." + +"And so would I, please, Aunt Sophia," said Pauline. + +Miss Tredgold looked straight before her. Her face became a little +pinched, a little white round her lips. + +"Once," she said slowly, "I had a sister--a sister whom I loved. She was +my half-sister, but I never thought of that. She was to me sister and +mother in one. She brought me up from the time I was a little child. She +was good to me, and she instilled into me certain principles. One of +these principles can be expressed in the following words: God put us into +the world to rise, not to sink. Another of her principles was that God +put us into the world to be good, to be unselfish. Another one, again, +was as follows: We must give account for our talents. Now, to allow the +talent of beauty, for instance, to degenerate into what it is likely to +do in your case, Verena, is distinctly wicked. To allow you to sink when +you might rise is sinful. To allow you to be selfish when you might be +unselfish is also wrong. Your talents, and the talents of Pauline, and +the talents of your other sisters must be cultivated and brought to the +fore. I want to tell you now, my dear girls, that for years I have longed +to help you; that since your mother's death you have scarcely ever been +out of my mind. But circumstances over which I had no control kept me +away from you. At last I am free, and the children of my sister Alice are +the ones I think most about. I have come here prepared for your +rebellion, prepared for your dislike, and determined not to be +discouraged by either the one or the other. I have come to The Dales, +Verena and Pauline, and I mean to remain here for at least three months. +If at the end of the three months you ask me to go, I will; although even +then I will not give you up. But until three months have expired you can +only turn me out by force. I don't think you will do that. It is best +that we should understand each other clearly; is it not, Verena?" + +Verena's face was very white; her big brown eyes were full of tears. + +"I ought to be glad and to say 'Welcome.' But I am not glad, and I don't +welcome you, Aunt Sophia. We like our own way; we don't mind being +savages, and it is untrue that we are selfish. We are not. Each would +give up anything, I think, for the other. But we like our poverty and our +rough ways and our freedom, and we--we don't want you, Aunt Sophia." + +"Nevertheless you will have to put up with me," said Miss Tredgold. "And +now, to start matters, please tell me exactly how you spend your day." + +"Our life is not yours, Aunt Sophia. It would not interest you to know +how we spend our day." + +"To-morrow, Verena, when the life of rule succeeds the life of misrule, I +should take umbrage at your remark, but to-night I take no umbrage. I but +repeat my question." + +"And I will tell you," said Pauline in her brisk voice. "We get up just +when we like. We have breakfast when we choose--sometimes in the garden +on the grass, sometimes not at all. We walk where we please, and lose +ourselves in the Forest, and gather wild strawberries and wild flowers, +and watch the squirrels, and climb the beech-trees. When it is fine we +spend the whole day out, just coming back for meals, and sometimes not +even then, if Betty gives us a little milk and some bread. Sometimes we +are lazy and lie on the grass all day. We do what we like always, and +always just when we like. Don't we, Renny?" + +"Yes," said Verena. "We do what we like, and in our own way." + +"In future," said Miss Tredgold, "you will do things in my way. I hope +you will not dislike my way; but whether you like or dislike it, you will +have to submit." + +"But, Aunt Sophia," said Verena, "what authority have you over us? I am +exceedingly sorry to seem rude, but I really want to know. Father, of +course, has authority over us, but have you? Has anybody but father? That +is what I want to know." + +"I thought you might ask something of that sort," said Miss Tredgold--"or, +even if you did not ask it, you might think it--and I am prepared with my +answer. I quite recognize that in the case of girls like you I have no +authority, and I cannot act fairly by you until I have. Now, my dear +girls, please understand that before I go to bed to-night I get that +authority. I shall get it m writing, too, so that you can none of you +gainsay it, or slip past it, or avoid it. When the authority comes, then +will also come the happy life of rule, for the life of misrule can never +be really happy--never for long. Believe me, I am right." + +Pauline pulled her hand away from Aunt Sophia's. She ran to the other +side of Verena. + +"I don't like you, Aunt Sophia," she said, "and I don't want you to stay. +Renny, you don't like her either, and you don't want her to stay. We +don't believe all the things you are saying, Aunt Sophia. You can't look +into our hearts, and although you are clever, you can't know all about +us. Why shouldn't we be wild in our own fashion? We are very happy. To be +happy is everything. We have only been unhappy since we knew you were +coming. Please go away; please do." + +"You cannot influence me, Pauline. I love you too well to desert you. Now +I am going into the house. You can discuss me then with your sister to +your heart's content." + +Miss Tredgold went very slowly towards the old and dilapidated house. +When she reached the hall door she turned and looked around her. + +"I certainly have tough work before me. How am I to manage? If I were not +thinking so much of Alice, I should leave these impertinent, neglected, +silly girls to their fate. But no--I seem to see my sister's eyes, to +hear her voice. I can so well understand what she would really want me to +do. I owe a great debt of gratitude to my beloved sister. I am free, +hampered by no ties. I will reform these wild young nieces. I will not be +easily deterred." + +Miss Tredgold clasped her hands before her. The moon was rising in a +silvery bow in the sky; the air was deliciously fresh and balmy. + +"The place is healthy, and the children are strong," she thought, +"notwithstanding their bad food and their disreputable, worn-out clothes. +They are healthy, fresh, good-looking girls. But this is summer-time, and +in summer-time one puts up with discomforts for the sake of air like +this. But what about winter? I have no doubt they have scarcely any +fires, and the house must be damp. As the children grow older they will +develop rheumatism and all kinds of troubles. Yes, my duty is plain. I +must look after my nieces, both soul and body, for the future." + +As Miss Tredgold thought these last thoughts she re-entered the house. +She walked through the desolate rooms. It was now twilight, but no one +thought of lighting lamps, or drawing curtains, or shutting windows. Miss +Tredgold stumbled as she walked. Presently she found that she had +wandered in the neighborhood of the kitchen. She had no intention of +bearding Betty in her den--she had no idea that there was a Betty--but as +she was near the kitchen, and as under that doorway alone there streamed +a light, she opened the door. + +"Is there any one inside?" she asked. + +A grunt in the far distance came by way of response. The fire was out in +the stove, and as Miss Tredgold grew accustomed to the gloom she saw in +the farthest corner something that resembled the stout form of a woman, +whose legs rested on one chair and her body on another. A guttering dip +candle was close to her side, and a paper book was held almost under her +nose. + +"I am sorry to disturb you," said Miss Tredgold, "but I have come for a +light. Will you kindly inform me where I can get a candle?" + +"There ain't none in the house." + +The book was put down, and the angry face of Betty appeared to view. + +"Then I fear I must trouble you to resign the one you yourself are using. +I must have a light to see my way to my bedroom." + +"There ain't no candles. We don't have 'em in summer. This one I bought +with my own money, and I don't give it up to nobody, laidy or no laidy." + +"Am I addressing the cook?" + +"You are, ma'am. And I may as well say I am cook and housemaid and +parlor-maid and kitchen-maid and scullery-maid all in one; and I does the +laundry, too, whenever it's done at all. You may gather from my words, +ma'am, that I have a deal to do, so I'll thank you to walk out of my +kitchen; for if I am resting after my day of hard work, I have a right to +rest, and my own candle shall light me, and my own book shall amuse me. +So have the goodness to go, ma'am, and at once." + +"I will go," replied Miss Tredgold very quietly, "exactly when I please, +and not a moment before. I wish to say now that I require breakfast to be +on the table at nine o'clock, and there must be plenty of good food. Do +you mean to say that you have not got food in the house? You can, I +presume, send out for it. Here is a half-sovereign. Spend it in what is +necessary in order to provide an abundant meal on the table to-morrow +morning for the use of Mr. Dale, myself, and my nieces." + +What Betty would have said had there been no half-sovereign forthcoming +history will never relate. But half-sovereigns were very few and very +precious at The Dales. It was almost impossible to get any money out of +Mr. Dale; he did not seem to know that there was such a thing as money. +If it was put into his hand by any chance, he spent it on books. Betty's +wages were terribly in arrears. She wanted her wages, but she was too +generous, with all her faults, to press for them. But, all the same, the +touch of the gold in her hand was distinctly soothing, and Miss Tredgold +immediately rose in her estimation. A lady who produced at will golden +half-sovereigns, and who was reckless enough to declare that one of these +treasures might be spent on a single meal, was surely not a person to be +sniffed at. Betty therefore stumbled to her feet. + +"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am; and it's badly we does want some +things here. I'll get what I can, although the notice is short, and the +dook's nuptials, so to speak, at the door." + +"What!" said Miss Tredgold. + +"I beg your pardon again, ma'am, but my head aches and I'm a bit +confused. I'm reading a most wonderful account of the wedding of the Dook +of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton." + +"I never heard of him." + +"He's marrying a young girl quite in my own station of life--one that was +riz from the cottage to the governess-ship, and from the governess-ship +to the ducal chair. My head is full of Her Grace, ma'am, and you'll +excuse me if I didn't rightly know to whom I had the honor of talking. +I'll do what I can. And perhaps you'd like to borrow one of my dip +candles for the present night." + +"I should very much," said Miss Tredgold. "And please understand, Betty--I +think you said your name was Betty--please understand that if you are on +my side I shall be on your side. I have come here meaning to stay, and in +future there will be a complete change in this establishment. You will +receive good wages, paid on the day they are due. There will be plenty of +money and plenty of food in the house, and the cook who pleases me stays, +and the cook who displeases me goes. You understand?" + +"Sakes!" muttered Betty, "it's nearly as exciting as the doocal +romance.--Well, ma'am, I'm of your way of thinking; and here's your +candle." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +IN THE STUDY. + + +Miss Tredgold was the sort of woman who never let the grass grow under +her feet. She felt, therefore, altogether out of place at The Dales, for +at The Dales there was time for everything. "Time enough" was the motto +of the establishment: time enough for breakfast, time enough for dinner, +time enough for supper, time enough for bed, time enough for getting up, +time enough for mending torn garments; surely, above all things, time +enough for learning. To judge by the manner in which the family at The +Dales went on, life was to last for ever and a day. They never hurried; +they put things off when it pleased them; they stopped in the middle of +one pursuit and turned to something else when the fancy took them; they +were unruffled by the worries of life; they were, on the whole, gay, +daring, indifferent. There was no money--or very little--for the future +of these girls; they were absolutely uneducated; they were all but +unclothed, and their food was poor and often insufficient. Nevertheless +they were fairly happy. "Let well alone" was also their motto. "Never may +care" was another. As to the rush and toil and strain of modern life, +they could not even comprehend it. The idea of not being able to put off +an engagement for a week, a month, or a year seemed to them too +extraordinary to be believed. They were too young, too healthy, too happy +to need to kill time; for time presented itself to them with an agreeable +face, and the hours were never too long. + +But although they were so indifferent to weighty matters, they had their +own enthusiasms, and in their idle way they were busy always and forever. +To have, therefore, a person like Aunt Sophia put suddenly into the +middle of their gay and butterfly lives was something which was enough to +madden the eight healthy girls who lived at The Dales. Aunt Sophia was, +in their opinion, all crotchets, all nervousness, all fads. She had no +tact whatsoever; at least, such was their first opinion of her. She put +her foot down on this little crotchet, and pressed this passing desire +out of sight. She brought new rules of life into their everyday +existence, and, what is more, she insisted on being obeyed. With all +their cleverness they were not half so clever as Aunt Sophia; they were +no match for this good lady, who was still young at heart, who had been +highly educated, who was full of enthusiasm, full of method, and full of +determination. Aunt Sophia brought two very strong essentials with her to +The Dales, and there was certainly little chance of the girls getting the +victory over her. One thing which she brought was determination, joined +to authority; the other thing was money. With these two weapons in her +hand, what chance had the girls? + +It might have been supposed that Miss Tredgold had done enough on the +first night of her arrival. She had to a great extent vanquished the +cook; and she had, further, told Verena and Pauline what lay before them. +Surely she might have been contented, and have taken her dip candle in +its tin candlestick and retired to her own room. But that was not Aunt +Sophia's way. She discovered a light stealing from under another door, +and she made for that door. + +Now, no one entered Mr. Dale's room without knocking. None of the girls +would have ventured to do so. But Aunt Sophia was made of sterner stuff. +She did not knock. She opened the door and entered. The scholar was +seated at the far end of the room. A large reading-lamp stood on the +table. It spread a wide circle of light on the papers and books, and on +his own silvery head and thin aquiline features. The rest of the room was +in shadow. Miss Tredgold entered and stood a few feet away from Mr. Dale. +Mr. Dale had already forgotten that such a person as Miss Sophia existed. +It was his habit to work for a great many hours each night. It was during +the hours of darkness that he most thoroughly absorbed himself in his +darling occupation. His dinner had been better than usual, and that +delicious coffee had stimulated his brain. He had not tasted coffee like +that for years. His brain, therefore, being better nourished, was keener +than usual to go on with his accustomed work. As Miss Sophia advanced to +his side he uttered one or two sighs of rapture, for again a fresh +rendering of a much-disputed passage occurred to him. Light was, in +short, flooding the pages of his translation. + +"The whole classical world will bless me," murmured Mr. Dale. "I am doing +a vast service." + +"I am sorry to interrupt you, Henry," said the sharp, incisive tones of +his sister-in-law. + +At Miss Tredgold's words he dropped his pen. It made a blot on the page, +which further irritated him; for, untidy as he was in most things, his +classical work was exquisitely neat. + +"Do go away," he said. "I am busy. Go away at once." + +"I am sorry, Henry, but I must stay. You know me, don't you? Your +sister-in-law, Sophia Tredgold." + +"Go away, Sophia. I don't want to be rude, but I never see any one at +this hour." + +"Henry, you are forced to see me. I shall go when I choose, not before." + +"Madam!" + +Mr. Dale sprang to his feet. + +"Madam!" he repeated, almost sputtering out his words, "you surely don't +wish me to expel you. You don't intend to stand there all night. I can't +have it. I don't allow people in my study. I am sorry to be discourteous +to a lady, but I state a fact; you must go immediately. You don't realize +what it is to have a brain like mine, nor to have undertaken such a +herculean task. Ah! the beautiful thought which meant so much has +vanished. Madam, you are responsible." + +"Stop!" interrupted Miss Tredgold. "I will go the moment you do what I +want." + +"Will you? I'll do anything--anything that keeps you out of this room." + +"That is precisely what I require. I don't wish to come into this +room--that is, for the present. By-and-by it must be cleaned, for I +decline to live in a dirty house; but I give you a fortnight's grace." + +"And the rendering of the passage is beyond doubt, according to +Clericus---- I beg your pardon; are you still speaking?" + +"Yes, Henry. I am annoying you, I know; and, all things considered, I am +glad, for you need rousing. I intend to sit or stand in this room, close +to you, until morning if necessary. Ah! here is a chair." + +As Miss Tredgold spoke she drew forward an unwieldy arm-chair, which was +piled up with books and papers. These she was calmly about to remove, +when a shriek from the anguished scholar stopped her. + +"Don't touch them," he exclaimed. "You destroy the work of months. If you +must have a chair, take mine." + +Miss Tredgold did take it. She now found herself seated within a few +yards of the scholar's desk. The bright light from the lamp fell on her +face; it looked pale, calm, and determined. Mr. Dale was in shadow; the +agony on his face was therefore not perceptible. + +"Take anything you want; only go, woman," he said. + +"Henry, you are a difficult person to deal with, and I am sorry to have +to speak to you as I do. I am sorry to have to take, as it were, +advantage of you; but I intend to stay in this house." + +"You are not wanted, Sophia." + +"I am not wished for, Henry; but as to being wanted, no woman was ever +more wanted." + +"That you are not." + +"I say I am; and, what is more, I intend to remain. We need not discuss +this point, for it is settled. I take up my sojourn in this house for +three months." + +"Three months!" said Mr. Dale. "Oh, my word! And this is only June. From +June to July, from July to August, from August to September! It is very +cruel of you, Sophia. I did not think my poor wife's sister would torture +me like this." + +"For the sake of your family I intend to stay, Henry. You will have to +submit. I do not leave this room until you submit. What is more, you have +to do something further. I want you to give me authority over your +children. The moment I have it--I want it in writing, remember--I will +leave you; and I will trouble you in the future as little as woman can +trouble man. You will have better meals; but that you won't care about." + +"The coffee," murmured Mr. Dale. + +"Yes, you will have plenty of that delicious coffee. You will also have +cleaner rooms." + +"This room is not to be touched; you understand?" + +"For the present we will let that matter lie in abeyance. Come, give me +your authority in writing, and I leave the room; but if you don't, I stay +in this chair--your chair, Henry Dale--all night if necessary." + +If ever there was a poor, bewildered man, it was Mr. Dale at that moment. +He did not give many thoughts to anything on earth but his beloved +studies; but, all the same, when he had time for a momentary reflection +that he possessed girls, he felt that he quite liked them. In his own +fashion he was fond of Verena; and once when Briar had a very bad cold he +sat with her for a very few minutes, and recommended her to try snuff. He +did not wish to make his children unhappy, and he thought that the advent +of Miss Tredgold would have that effect on them. But, after all, a +determined woman like her must be humored; and what were the children +compared to his own most valuable work? In the days to come they would be +proud to own him. He would be spoken of as the very great English scholar +whose rendering of Virgil was the most perfect that had ever been put +into English prose. Oh! it was impossible to hesitate another moment. The +woman was in his chair, and his thoughts were leaving him. + +"Madam," he said, "you have taken me at a cruel disadvantage. I am +seriously sorry for my poor children." + +"Never mind about that now, Henry. You are, I perceive, a wise man. You +can rest assured that I will do what is best both for you and for them." + +"Very well, madam, I yield." + +"You give me absolute authority to do what I think best for your +children?" + +"Ye--s." + +"To reorganize this household?" + +"Not this room." + +"With the exception of this room." + +"I suppose so." + +"You will uphold my authority when the girls come to you, as perhaps they +will, and ask you to interfere?" + +"Oh, Sophia, you won't be hard on the poor children?" + +"I will be just to them. You will uphold my authority?" + +"Ye--s." + +"If I think it necessary to punish them, you won't condemn the +punishment?" + +"Oh, please, Sophia, do go away! The night is passing quickly. I never +think well by daylight." + +"Put it on paper, Henry. Or stay! that will take too long. Give me a +sheet of paper; I will write what I require. I only want your signature." + +Poor Mr. Dale had to search among his papers for a blank sheet. Miss +Sophia seized his special stylographic pen, pressed very hard on the nib, +and wrote what she required. Mr. Dale felt certain he would find it quite +spoilt when he came to use it again. But at last all her requirements +were on paper, and Henry Dale wrote his signature at the end. + +"Thank you, Henry; you have acted wisely. You have your study now to +yourself." + +Miss Tredgold bowed as she left the room. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +TOPSY-TURVYDOM. + + +The fortnight that followed was not likely to be forgotten by the young +Dales. It would live in the remembrance of each child old enough to +notice. Even Penelope found the course of events interesting--sometimes +irritating, it is true; sometimes also delightful; but at least always +exciting. Miss Tredgold never did things by halves. She had got the +absolute authority which she required from the master of the house, and +having got it she refrained from annoying him, in any way whatsoever. His +meals were served with punctuality, and were far more comfortable than +they had ever been before. He was always presented with a cup of strong, +fragrant, delicious coffee after his dinner. This coffee enabled him to +pursue his translation with great clearness and accuracy. His study up to +the present was left undisturbed. His papers were allowed to remain thick +with dust; his chairs were allowed to be laden with books and papers; the +carpet was allowed to remain full of holes; the windows were left exactly +as the scholar liked them--namely, tightly screwed down so that not even +the faintest breath of heaven's air could come in and disarrange the +terrible disorder. + +But the rest of the house was truly turned topsy-turvy. It was necessary, +Miss Tredgold assured the girls, to have topsy-turvydom before the reign +of order could begin. + +At first the young Dales were very angry. For the whole of the first day +Verena wept at intervals. Pauline sulked. Briar wept one minute and +laughed the next. The other children followed in the footsteps of their +elders. Penelope was now openly and defiantly a grown-up child. She +belonged to the schoolroom, although no schoolroom as yet existed at The +Dales. She defied nurse; she took her meals with her sisters, and pinched +baby whenever she found her alone. Miss Tredgold, however, took no notice +of the tears or smiles or groans or discontented looks. She had a great +deal to do, and she performed her tasks with rectitude and skill and +despatch. New furniture was ordered from Southampton. She drove to +Lyndhurst Road with Verena in the shabby trap which had first brought her +to The Dales. She went from there to Southampton and chose new furniture. +Verena could not help opening her eyes in amazement. Such very pretty +white bedsteads; such charming chests of drawers; such nice, +clean-looking carpets! + +"Surely, Aunt Sophia," she said, "these things are not for us?" + +"They certainly are, my dear," replied her aunt; "for in future I hope +you will live as a lady and a Christian, and no longer as a savage." + +The furniture arrived, and was put into the rooms. Pretty white curtains +were placed at the windows; the paint was washed, and the paper rubbed +down with bread. + +"Fresh decoration and repainting must wait until I get the children to +London for the winter," thought Aunt Sophia. + +But notwithstanding the fact that paint and paper were almost +non-existent by this time at The Dales, the house assumed quite a new +air. As to Betty, she was in the most extraordinary way brought over +absolutely to Miss Tredgold's part of the establishment. Miss Tredgold +not only raised her wages on the spot, but paid her every farthing that +was due in the past. She spoke to her a good deal about her duty, and of +what she owed to the family, and of what she, Miss Tredgold, would do for +her if she proved equal to the present emergency. Betty began to regard +Miss Tredgold as a sort of marchioness in disguise. So interested was she +in her, and so sure that one of the real "haristocrats" resided on the +premises, that she ceased to read the _Family Paper_ except at long +intervals. She served up quite good dinners, and by the end of the +fortnight few people would have known The Dales. For not only was the +house clean and sweet--the drawing-room quite a charming old room, with +its long Gothic windows, its tracery of ivy outside, and its peep into +the distant rose-garden; the hall bright with great pots of flowers +standing about--but the girls themselves were no longer in rags. The +furniture dealer's was not the only shop which Miss Tredgold had visited +at Southampton. She had also gone to a linen draper's, and had bought +many nice clothes for the young folks. + +The house being so much improved, and the girls being clothed afresh, a +sufficient staff of servants arrived from a neighboring town. Betty was +helped in the kitchen by a neat kitchen-maid; there were two housemaids +and a parlor-maid; and John had a boy to help in the garden. + +"Now, Verena," said Miss Tredgold on the evening of the day when the new +servants were pronounced a great success, "what do you think of +everything?" + +"You have made the place quite pretty, Aunt Sophia." + +"And you like it?" + +"I think you mean to be very kind." + +"My dear Verena, do talk sense. Don't tell me that you don't feel more +comfortable in that pale-gray, nicely fitting dress, with the blush-rose +in your belt, and that exceedingly pretty white hat on your head, than +you did when you rushed up to welcome me, little savage that you were, a +fortnight ago." + +"I was so happy as a savage!" + +"And you are not happy now?" + +"I think you are kind, Aunt Sophia, and perhaps--I shall get accustomed +to it." + +Her aunt whisked round with some impatience. + +"I hope so," she said; "for, whether you like it or not, you will have to +put up with it. I fully intend to be kind, but I also mean to be very +firm. I have now got the home in which you live into decent order, and +you yourselves are respectably clothed. But I have not yet tackled the +most important part of my duties, my dear Verena." + +"Oh, please, Aunt Sophia, what else is necessary?" + +Miss Tredgold threw up her hands. + +"A great, great deal more," she cried. "I have not yet touched your +minds; and I fear, from the way you speak, that I have scarcely touched +your hearts. Well, your bodies at least are attended to, and now come +your minds. Lastly, I hope to reach the most important of all--your +hearts. Verena, I must probe your ignorance in order to stimulate you to +learn. You, my dear, will be grown up in three years, so that you in +particular have a vast lot to do." + +"But I hate learning, and I shouldn't like to be a learned woman," said +Verena. "Mother knew a lot of things, but she wasn't learned like +father." + +"Good gracious, child! I don't want you to be like your father. To tell +the truth, a bookworm such as he is is one of the most irritating persons +in existence. But there! What am I saying? I oughtn't to speak against +him in your presence. And your poor mother loved him, oh, so much! Now +then, dear, to return to yourself and your sisters. I presume that you +would like to be a useful and valuable member of society--a woman who has +been trained to do her best, and to exercise the highest influence over +all those with whom she comes in contact. Influence, which springs from +character, my dear Verena, is the highest power that any one can get. +Now, an ignorant person has little or no influence; therefore, to be kind +and sympathetic and useful in the future, you must know many things. You +have not a minute to lose. I appeal to you for your mother's sake; for my +dear, dear sister would have liked her eldest child to be--ah, +Verena!--so good and so true!" + +"You touch me, Aunt Sophy," said Verena, "when you talk of mother. You +touch me more than words can say. Yes, I will try to be good; but you +must bear with me if I don't take the yoke too kindly at first." + +"Poor child! I will try to make it light for you. Now what is the matter, +Penelope?" + +"Please, please, Aunt Sophy," said that young person, rushing up at the +moment. + +"Hold yourself erect, my dear; don't run quite so fast. There! you have +got a rent already in your new frock. Now what do you want?" + +"May I be a schoolroom little girl in the future?" + +"What are you now?" + +"Nursey says I'm nursery. But I don't want to be nursery; I want to stay +always with my own good Aunty Sophy. That is what I want. May I be a +schoolroom child?" + +"In the first place, you are not to call me 'aunty.' I am Aunt Sophia to +you. I dislike abbreviations." + +"What's them?" + +"Say, 'What are they?'" + +"What are they?" + +"I will tell you another time. How old are you, Penelope?" + +"I wor seven my last birthday, one month agone." + +"Your grammar is disgraceful, child. Please understand that the +schoolroom has its penalties." + +"What's them?" + +"Again I shall have to correct you. 'What are they?' is the sentence you +ought to use. But now, my dear, I don't approve of little girls learning +much when they are only seven years old; but if you wish to be a +schoolroom girl you will have to take your place in the schoolroom, and +you will have to learn to submit. You will have to be under more +discipline than you are now with nurse." + +"All the same, I'll be with my own aunt," said Penelope, raising her bold +black eyes and fixing them on Miss Sophia's face. + +But Miss Tredgold was not the sort of person to be influenced by soft +words. "Deeds, not words," was her motto. + +"You have said enough, Penelope," she said. "Take your choice; you may be +a schoolroom child for a month if you like." + +"I wouldn't if I were you, Pen," said Josephine. + +"But I will," said Penelope. + +In her heart of hearts she was terrified at the thought of the +schoolroom, but even more did she fear the knowledge that nurse would +laugh at her if she returned to the nursery. + +"I will stay," she said. "I am a schoolroom child;" and she pirouetted +round and round Aunt Sophia. + +"But, please, Aunt Sophia," said Verena, "who is going to teach us?" + +"I intend to have that honor," said Miss Tredgold. + +If there were no outward groans among her assembled nieces at these +words, there were certainly spirit groans, for the girls did not look +forward to lessons with Aunt Sophia. + +"You are all displeased," she said; "and I am scarcely surprised. The +fact is, I have not got any efficient teacher to come here just yet. The +person I should wish for is not easy to find. I myself know a great deal +more than you do, and I have my own ideas with regard to instruction. I +may as well tell you at once that I am a very severe teacher, and +somewhat cranky, too. A girl who does not know her lessons is apt to find +herself seated at my left side. Now, my right side is sunshiny and +pleasant; but my left side faces due northeast. I think that will explain +everything to you. We will meet in the schoolroom to-morrow at nine +o'clock sharp. Now I must go." + +When Miss Tredgold had vanished the girls looked at each other. + +"Her northeast side!" said Pauline. "It makes me shudder even to think of +it." + +But notwithstanding these remarks the girls did feel a certain amount of +interest at the thought of the new life that lay before them. Everything +had changed from that sunny, languorous, _dolce far niente_ time a +fortnight back. Now the girls felt keen and brisk, and they knew well +that each moment in the future would be spent in active employment. + +The next day, sharp at nine o'clock, the young people who were to form +Miss Tredgold's school entered the new schoolroom. It was suitably and +prettily furnished, and had a charming appearance. Large maps were hung +on the walls; there was a long line of bookshelves filled partly with +story books, partly with history books, and partly with ordinary lesson +books. The windows were draped with white muslin, and stood wide open. As +the girls took their seats at the baize-covered table they could see out +into the garden. A moment after they had arrived in the schoolroom Miss +Tredgold made her appearance. + +"We will begin with prayers," she said. + +She read a portion from the Bible, made a few remarks, and then they all +knelt as she repeated the Lord's prayer. + +"Now, my dears," said their new governess as they rose from their knees, +"lessons will begin. I hope we shall proceed happily and quietly. It will +be uphill work at first; but if we each help the other, uphill work will +prove to have its own pleasures. It's a long pull, and a strong pull, and +a pull all together that masters difficulties. If we are all united we +can accomplish anything; but if there is mutiny in the camp, then things +may be difficult. I warn you all, however, that under any circumstances I +mean to win the victory. It will be much easier, therefore, to submit at +first. There will be no use in sulkiness, in laziness, in inattention. +Make a brave effort now, all of you, and you will never regret this day. +Now, Verena, you and I will have some conversation together. The rest of +you children will read this page in the History of England, and tell me +afterwards what you can remember about it." + +Here Miss Tredgold placed a primer before each child, and she and Verena +retired into the bay-window. They came out again at the end of ten +minutes. Verena's cheeks were crimson, and Miss Tredgold decidedly wore a +little of her northeast air. Pauline, on the whole, had a more successful +interview with her new governess than her sister. She was smarter and +brighter than Verena in many ways. But before the morning was over Miss +Tredgold announced that all her pupils were shamefully ignorant. + +"I know more about you now than I did," she said. "You will all have to +work hard. Verena, you cannot even read properly. As to your writing, it +is straggling, uneven, and faulty in spelling." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +NANCY KING. + + +The rest of the day passed in a subdued state. The girls hardly knew +themselves. They felt as though tiny and invisible chains were +surrounding them. These chains pulled them whenever they moved. They made +their presence felt when they spoke, when they sat down, and when they +rose up. They were with them at dinner; they were with them whenever Miss +Tredgold put in an appearance. Perhaps they were silken chains, but, all +the same, they were intensely annoying. Verena was the most patient of +the nine. She said to her sisters: + +"We have never had any discipline. I was reading the other day in one of +mother's books that discipline is good. It is the same thing as when you +prune the fruit trees. Don't you remember the time when John got a very +good gardener from Southampton to come and look over our trees? The +gardener said, 'These trees have all run to wood; you must prune them.' +And he showed John how, and we watched him. Don't you remember, girls?" + +"Oh, don't I!" said Pauline. "And he cut away a lot of the little apples, +and hundreds of tiny pears, and a lot of lovely branches; and I began to +cry, and I told him he was a horrid, horrid man, and that I hated him." + +"And what did he answer?" + +"Oh, he got ruder than ever! He said, 'If I was your pa I'd do a little +pruning on you.' Oh, wasn't I angry!" + +Verena laughed. + +"But think a little more," she said. "Don't you remember the following +year how splendid the pears were? And we had such heaps of apples; and +the gooseberries and raspberries were equally fine. We didn't hate the +man when we were eating our delicious fruit." + +Pauline made a slight grimace. + +"Look here, Renny," she said suddenly; "for goodness' sake don't begin to +point morals. It's bad enough to have an old aunt here without your +turning into a mentor. We all know what you want to say, but please don't +say it. Haven't we been scolded and directed and ordered about all day +long? We don't want you to do it, too." + +"Very well, I won't," said Verena. + +"Hullo!" suddenly cried Briar; "if this isn't Nancy King! Oh, welcome, +Nancy--welcome! We are glad to see you." + +Nancy King was a spirited and bright-looking girl who lived about a mile +away. Her father had a large farm which was known as The Hollies. He had +held this land for many years, and was supposed to be in flourishing +circumstances. Nancy was his only child. She had been sent to a +fashionable school at Brighton, and considered herself quite a young +lady. She came whenever she liked to The Dales, and the girls often met +her in the Forest, and enjoyed her society vastly. Now in the most +fashionable London attire, Nancy sailed across the lawn, calling out as +she did so: + +"Hullo, you nine! You look like the Muses. What's up now? I have heard +most wonderful, astounding whispers." + +"Oh, Nancy, we're all so glad to see you!" said Briar. She left her seat, +ran up to the girl, and took her hand. "Come and sit here--here in the +midst of our circle. We have such a lot to say to you!" + +"And I have a lot to say to you. But, dear me! how grand we are!" + +Nancy's twinkling black eyes looked with mock approval at Verena's plain +but very neat gray dress, and at the equally neat costumes of the other +girls. Then finally she gazed long and pensively at Penelope, who, in an +ugly dress of brown holland, was looking back at her with eyes as black +and defiant as her own. + +"May I ask," said Nancy slowly, "what has this nursery baby to do in the +midst of the grown-ups?" + +"I'm not nursery," said Penelope, her face growing crimson; "I'm +schoolroom. Don't tell me I'm nursery, because I'm not. We're all +schoolroom, and we're having a right good time." + +"Indeed! Then I may as well remark that you don't look like it. You look, +the whole nine of you, awfully changed, and as prim as prim can be. +'Prunes and prisms' wouldn't melt in your mouths. You're not half, nor +quarter, as nice as you were when I saw you last. I've just come home for +good, you know. I mean to have a jolly time at Margate by-and-by. And oh! +my boy cousins and my two greatest chums at school are staying with me +now at The Hollies. The girls' names are Amelia and Rebecca Perkins. Oh, +they're fine! Do give me room to squat between you girls. You are +frightfully stand-off and prim." + +"Sit close to me, Nancy," said Verena. "We're not a bit changed to you," +she added. + +"Well, that's all right, honey, for I'm not changed to you. Even if I am +a very rich girl, I'm the sort to always cling to my old friends; and +although you are as poor as church mice, you are quite a good sort. I +have always said so--always. I've been talking a lot about you to Amelia +and Rebecca, and they'd give their eyes to see you. I thought you might +ask us all over." + +"Oh! I daren't, Nancy," said Verena. "We are not our own mistresses now." + +"Well, that's exactly what I heard," said Nancy. "Oh, how hot it is! Pen, +for goodness' sake run and fetch me a cabbage-leaf to fan my face." + +Penelope ran off willingly enough. Nancy turned to the others. + +"I sent her off on purpose," she said. "If we can't come to you, you must +come to us. We three girls at The Hollies, and my two boy cousins, Tom +and Jack, have the most daring, delightful scheme to propose. We want to +have a midnight picnic." + +"Midnight picnic!" cried Verena. "But we can't possibly come, Nancy." + +"My good girl, why not? You know I talked about it last year. We want to +have one on a very grand scale; and there are a few friends at +Southampton that I would ask to join us. You won't have any expense +whatever. I'll stump up for the whole. Father gives me so much money that +I have at the present moment over five pounds in the savings-bank. We +will light fires in a clearing not far from here, and we will have tea +and supper afterwards; and we shall dance--dance by the light of the +moon--and I will bring my guitar to make music. Can you imagine anything +in all the world more fascinating?" + +"Oh, Nancy, it does sound too lovely!" said Briar. "I'd just give the +world to go." + +"Well, then, you shall come." + +"But Aunt Sophy would not hear of it," said Verena. + +"Nonsense!" cried Briar; "we must go. It would be such a jolly treat!" + +Nancy favored the eight girls with a sharp glance. + +"I have heard of that dreadful old body," she said. "Father told me. He +said you'd be frumped up like anything, and all the gay life taken out of +you. I came over on purpose. I pity you from the very bottom of my +heart." + +"But, Nancy, you can't think how things are changed," said Pauline. "All +our time is occupied. Lessons began to-day. They are going to take hours +and hours." + +"But these are holiday times," said Nancy. "All the world has a holiday +in the middle of the summer." + +"That's true enough," said Verena; "but then we had holidays for over a +year, and Aunt Sophia says we must begin at once. She is quite right, I'm +sure; although of course we scarcely like it. And anyhow, Nancy, she +won't allow us to go to a midnight picnic; there's no use thinking about +it." + +"But suppose you don't ask her. Of course, if she's an old maid she'll +refuse. Old maids are the queerest, dumpiest things on the earth. I'm +really thankful I'm not bothered with any of them. Oh! here comes Pen. +It's nonsense to have a child like that out of the nursery. We'd best not +say anything before her. Verena and Briar, will you walk down to the gate +with me? I thought perhaps we might have the picnic in a week. It could +be easily managed; you know it could." + +"Oh, we must go!" said Pauline. + +"I'm going," said Josephine. + +But Verena was silent. + +"Here's your cabbage-leaf. How red your face looks!" said Penelope. + +Nancy turned and gazed at her. She was a bold-looking girl, and by no +means pretty. She snatched the leaf angrily from Penelope's hand, saying: + +"Oh, my dear, go away! How you do worry, jumping and dancing about! And +what a stupid, good-for-nothing leaf you've brought! Fetch me one that's +not completely riddled with caterpillar holes." + +Penelope's black eyes flashed fire, and her face flushed. + +"If I could, I would just," she said. + +"If you could you would what?" said Nancy. + +"I know--I know! And I'll do it, too." + +A provoking smile visited the lips of the child. She danced backwards and +forwards in an ecstasy of glee. + +"I can punish you all fine," said Penelope; "and I'll do it, too." + +She vanished out of sight. Now, it must be admitted that Penelope was not +a nice child. She had her good points, for few children are without them; +but in addition to being thoroughly untrained, to never having exercised +self-control, she had by nature certain peculiarities which the other +children had not. It had been from her earliest days her earnest desire +to curry favor with those in authority, and yet to act quite as naughtily +as any one else when she thought no one was looking. Even when quite a +tiny child Penelope was wont to sit as still as a mouse in nurse's +presence. If nurse said, "Miss Penelope, you are not to move or you will +wake baby," then nurse knew that Penelope would not stir. But if this +same child happened to be left with baby, so strong would be her jealousy +that she would give the infant a sharp pinch and set it howling, and then +run from the room. + +These peculiarities continued with her growth. Nurse was fond of her +because she was quiet and useful in the nursery, fairly tidy in her +habits, and fairly helpful. But even nurse was wont to say, "You never +can get at Miss Penelope. You can never see through what is brewing in +her mind." + +Now, when Aunt Sophia appeared on the scene, Penelope instantly +determined to carry out the darling wish of her heart. This was no less +than to be removed from the dullness of the nursery to the fascinating +life that she supposed the elder children led. To accomplish this she +thought it would be only necessary to make a great fuss about Aunt +Sophia, to attend to her fads, and to give her numerous little +attentions. In short, to show that she, Penelope, cared very much for her +new aunt. But Aunt Sophia did not care for Penelope's fusses, and +disliked her small attentions. Nevertheless, the small girl persevered, +and in the end she did win a triumph, for she was promoted to the +schoolroom, with its superior privileges and--alas! alas!--also its +undoubted drawbacks. She, who hated lessons, must now try to read; she +must also try to write, and must make valiant efforts to spell. Above and +beyond all these things, she had to do one yet harder--she had to sit +mute as a mouse for a couple of hours daily, with her hands neatly folded +in her lap; and by-and-by she had to struggle with her clumsy little +fingers to make hideous noises on the cracked old piano. These things +were not agreeable to the wild child, and so uncomfortable and restrained +had she felt during the first morning's lessons that she almost resolved +to humble her pride and return to the nursery. But the thought of her +sisters' withering, sarcastic remarks, and of nurse's bitterly cold +reception, and nurse's words, "I told you so," being repeated for ever in +her ears, was too much for Penelope, and she determined to give a further +trial to the schoolroom life. Now it occurred to her that a moment of +triumph was before her. In the old days she had secretly adored Nancy +King, for Nancy had given her more than one lollypop; but when Nancy +asked what the nursery child was doing with the schoolroom folk, and +showed that she did not appreciate Penelope's society, the little girl's +heart became full of anger. + +"I'll tell about her. I'll get her into trouble. I'll get them all into +trouble," she thought. + +She ran into the shrubbery, and stood there thinking for a time. She was +a queer-looking little figure as she stood thus in her short holland +overall, her stout bare legs, brown as berries, slightly apart, her head +thrown back, her hair awry, a smudge on her cheek, her black eyes +twinkling. + +"I will do it," she said to herself. "Aunt Sophy shall find out that I am +the good one of the family." + +Penelope ran wildly across the shrubbery, invaded the kitchen-garden, +invaded the yard, and presently invaded the house. She found Miss Sophia +sitting by her writing-table. Miss Sophia had a headache; teaching was +not her vocation. She had worked harder that day than ever in her life +before, and she had a great many letters to write. + +It was therefore a very busy and a slightly cross person who turned round +and faced Penelope. + +"Don't slam the door, Penelope," she said; "and don't run into the room +in that breathless sort of way." + +"Well, I thought you ought for to know. I done it 'cos of you." + +"'I did it because of you,' you should say." + +"I did it because of you. I am very fond of you, aunt." + +"I hope so; and I trust you will prove your affection by your deeds." + +"Bovver deeds!" remarked Penelope. + +"What is that you said, my dear?" + +"I say, bovver deeds!" + +"I confess I do not understand. Run away, now, Penelope; I am busy." + +"But you ought for to know. Nancy King has come." + +"Who is Nancy King?" + +"A girl. She's squatting up close to Renny on the lawn, and her arm is +twisted round Pauline's waist. She's big, and dressed awful grand. She +has gold bangles on her arms, and tinkling gold things round her neck, +and she's here, and I thought course you ought for to know. I thought so +'cos I love you. Aren't you pleased? Aren't I the sort of little girl you +could perhaps give a lollypop to?" + +"No, you are not, Penelope. I do not wish you to tell tales of your +sisters. Go away, my dear; go away." + +Penelope, in some wonder, and with a sense of disgust, not only with +Nancy King and Miss Tredgold, but also with herself, left the room. + +"I won't tell her any more," she thought. "She never seems to like what I +do for her. She'd be pretty lonesome if it wasn't for me; but she don't +seem to care for anybody. I'll just rush away to nursey this very minute +and tell her how I love being a schoolroom girl. I'll tell her I dote on +my lessons, and that I never for the big, big, wide world would be a +nursery child again." + +"Queer little child, Penelope," thought Miss Tredgold when her small +niece had left her. + +She sat with her pen suspended, lost in thought. + +"Very queer child," she soliloquized; "not the least like the others. I +can't say that I specially care for her. At present I am not in love with +any of my nieces; but of all of them, Penelope is the child I like the +least. She tells tales; she tries to curry favor with me. Is she +truthful? Is she sincere? I have a terrible fear within me that occasions +may arise when Penelope would prove deceitful. There! what am I saying? A +motherless child--my own niece--surely I ought to love her. Yes, I do +love her. I will try to love them all. What did she say about a girl +sitting on the lawn with my girls? It is nice to talk of the Dales as my +girls; it gives me a sort of family feeling, just as though I were not an +old maid. I wonder what friends my girls have made for themselves round +here. Nancy King. I don't know any people of the name of King who live +about here. If Henry were any one else he would probably be able to tell +me. I will go and see the girl for myself." + +Miss Tredgold left the room. She had a very stately walk. The girls +always spoke of her movements as "sailing." Miss Tredgold now sailed +across the lawn, and in the same dignified fashion came up to the +secluded nook where the girls, with Nancy King in their midst, were +enjoying themselves. They were all talking eagerly. Nancy King was seated +almost in the center of the group; the other girls were bending towards +her. As Miss Tredgold appeared in view Josephine was exclaiming in her +high-pitched, girlish voice: + +"Oh, I say, Nancy! What screaming fun!" + +When Josephine spoke Lucy clapped her hands, Helen laughed, Verena looked +puzzled, and Pauline's expression seemed to say she longed for something +very badly indeed. + +"My dears, what are you all doing?" suddenly cried Aunt Sophia. + +She had come up quietly, and they had none of them heard her. It was just +as if a pistol had gone off in their ears. The whole nine jumped to their +feet. Nancy's red face became redder. She pushed her gaily trimmed hat +forward over her heated brows. She had an instinctive feeling that she +had never before seen any one so dignified and magnificent as Miss Sophia +Tredgold. She knew that this was the case, although Miss Sophia's dress +was almost dowdy, and the little brown slipper which peeped out from +under the folds of her gray dress was decidedly the worse for wear. Nancy +felt at the same time the greatest admiration for Miss Tredgold, the +greatest dislike to her, and the greatest terror of her. + +"Aunt Sophia," said Verena, who could be a lady if she chose, "may I +introduce our special friend----" + +"And crony," interrupted Nancy. + +"Our special friend, Nancy King," repeated Verena. "We have known her all +our lives, Aunt Sophia." + +"How do you do, Miss King?" said Miss Tredgold. + +She favored "the young person," as she termed Miss King, with a very +distant bow. + +"Girls," she said, turning to the others, "are you aware that preparation +hour has arrived? Will you all go quietly indoors?--Miss King, my nieces +are beginning their studies in earnest, and I do not allow the hour of +preparation to be interfered with by any one." + +"I know all about that," said Nancy in a glib voice. "I was at a +first-rate school myself for years. Weren't we kept strict, just! My +word! we couldn't call our noses our own. The only language was +_parlez-vous_. But it was a select school--very; and now that I have +left, I like to feel that I am accomplished. None of you girls can beat +me on the piano. I know nearly all the girls' songs in _San Toy_ and the +_Belle of New York_. Father loves to hear me when I sing 'Rhoda Pagoda.' +Perhaps, Miss Tredgold, you'd like to hear me play on the pianoforte. I +dote on dance music; don't you, Miss Tredgold? Dance music is so lively; +it warms the cockles of the heart--don't it, Miss Tredgold?" + +"I don't dance, so it is impossible for me to answer," said Miss +Tredgold. "I am sorry, Miss King, to disturb a pleasant meeting, but my +girls are under discipline, and the hour for preparation has arrived." + +Nancy shrugged her capacious shoulders. + +"I suppose that means _conge_ for poor Nancy King," she said. "Very +sorry, I'm sure. Good-day, madam.--Good-bye, Renny. I'll look you up +another day.--Good-bye to all. I'm off to have a bit of fun with my boy +cousins." + +Nancy swung round and left the group. She walked awkwardly, switching her +shoulders and swaying from side to side, a dirty train trailing after +her. + +"May I ask who your friend really is?" said Miss Tredgold when she had +watched the departure of this most undesirable acquaintance. + +"She is Nancy King, Aunt Sophia. We have known her all our lives," said +Verena. + +"My dear Verena, I have heard that statement before. Nevertheless, the +fact that you have known that young person since you were little children +does not reply to my question. Who is she? Where does she come from? Who +is her father? I don't remember to have heard of any gentlefolks of the +name of King residing in this part of the New Forest." + +"She is not gentlefolk," said Pauline. + +Pauline came a step nearer as she spoke. Her eyes were bright, and there +was a red spot on each cheek. + +"But although she is not born a lady, she is our friend," she continued. +"She is the daughter of Farmer King, who keeps a very jolly house; and +they have plenty of money. We have often and often been at The Hollies." + +"Oh! we get delicious apples there," interposed Adelaide; "the juiciest +you ever tasted--the cherry-and-brandy sort." + +"I have never heard of that special apple, and I dislike its name," said +Miss Sophia.--"Now come into the house, all of you." + +She did not question them further. She walked on in front. + +"I can't stand too much of this," whispered Briar to Verena. + +But Verena said "Hush!" and clasped Briar's little hand as it lay on her +arm. + +They entered the house and proceeded to the pleasant schoolroom. + +"It is now four o'clock," said Miss Tredgold. "At five tea is served. As +the evening is so fine, I have ordered it to be laid under the cedar-tree +on the lawn. For the next hour I expect close attention to lessons. I +shall not stay in the room, but you, Verena, are monitress during my +absence. Please understand that I expect honor. Honor requires that you +should study, and that you should be silent. Here are your books. Prepare +the lessons I shall require you to know to-morrow morning. Those girls +who have not made due preparation will enter into Punishment Land." + +"What in the world is that?" burst from the lips of the irrepressible +Briar. + +"Don't ask me," answered Miss Tredgold. "I hope you may never have a +personal acquaintance with that gloomy country. Now farewell. For an hour +fix your attention on your tasks; and adieu." + +Never before had the Dale girls found themselves in such a quandary. For +a whole long hour they were prohibited by a code of honor from speaking. +They were all just bursting with desire to launch forth in a fiery +torrent, but they must none of them utter a single word. Verena, as +monitress, could not encourage rebellion. There are some things that even +untrained girls, provided they are ladies, understand by intuition. The +Dales were ladies by birth. Their home had belonged to their father's +family for generations. There was a time in the past when to be a Dale of +The Dales meant to be rich, honored, and respected. But, alas! the Dales, +like many other old families, had gone under. Money had failed; purses +had become empty; lands had been sold; the house had dwindled down to its +present shabby dimensions; and if Miss Tredgold had not appeared on the +scene, there would have been little chance of Mr. Dale's ten daughters +ever taking the position to which their birth entitled them. But there +are some things which an ancient race confers. _Noblesse oblige_, for one +thing. These girls were naughty, rebellious, and angry; their hearts were +very sore; their silken chains seemed at this moment to assume the +strength of iron fetters; but during the hour that was before them they +would not disobey Miss Tredgold. Accordingly their dreary books were +opened. Oh, how ugly and dull they looked! + +"What does it matter whether a girl knows how to spell, and what happened +long, long ago in the history-books?" thought Briar. + +"Aunt Sophia was downright horrid about poor Nancy," was Pauline's angry +thought. "Oh! must I really work out these odious sums, when I am +thinking all the time of poor Nancy?" + +"I shall never keep my head if this sort of thing goes on for long," +thought Verena as she bent over her page of English history. "Oh, dear! +that midnight picnic, and Nancy's face, and the dancing in the glades of +the Forest. It would have been fun. If there is one thing more than +another that I love, it is dancing. I think I could dance for ever." + +Verena could not keep her pretty little feet still. They moved restlessly +under her chair. Pauline saw the movement, and a wave of sympathy flashed +between the sisters. Pauline's eyes spoke volumes as they encountered the +soft brown ones of pretty Verena. + +But an hour--even the longest--is quickly over. Five o'clock struck, and +quick to the minute each girl sprang to her feet. Books were put away, +and they all streamed out into the open air. Now they could talk as much +as they liked. How their tongues wagged! They flew at each other in their +delight and embraced violently. Never before, too, had they been so +hungry for tea; and certainly never before had they seen such a +delightful and tempting meal as that which was now laid for them on the +lawn. The new parlor-maid had brought it out and placed it on various +little tables. A silver teapot reposed on a silver tray; the cups and +saucers were of fine china; the teaspoons were old, thin, and bright as a +looking-glass. The table-linen was also snowy white; but what the girls +far more appreciated were the piles of fruit, the quantities of cakes, +the stacks of sandwiches, and the great plates of bread-and-butter that +waited for them on the festive board. + +"Well!" said Briar. "Did you ever? It looks just like a party, or a +birthday treat, or something of that sort. I will say there are some nice +things about Aunt Sophia. This is certainly better than squatting on the +ground with a basket of gooseberries and a hunch of bread." + +"I liked the gooseberries," said Pauline, "but, as you say, Briar, this +is nice. Ah! here comes the aunt." + +Miss Tredgold sailed into view. She took her seat opposite the hissing +urn and began to pour out cups of tea. + +"For a week," she said, "I take this place. At the end of that time +Verena occupies my throne." + +"Oh, I couldn't!" said Verena. + +"Why in the world not, Renny? You aren't quite a goose." + +"Don't use those expressions, Pauline; they are distinctly vulgar," said +Miss Tredgold. + +"Bother!" said Pauline. + +She frowned, and the thought of the gooseberries and the hard crusts that +used to constitute tea on many days when there was no Aunt Sophia came +back to her with a sense of longing and appreciation of the golden past. + +Nevertheless the girls were hungry, and the tea was excellent; and when +Miss Tredgold had seen that each plate was piled with good things, and +that every girl had her cup of tea made exactly as she liked it, she +began to speak. + +"You know little or nothing of the world, my dear girls, so during tea I +intend to give you some pleasant information. I attended a tea-party last +year in a house not far from London. You would like to hear all about it, +would you not?" + +"If you are sure it is not lessons," said Briar. + +"It is not lessons in the ordinary acception of the word. Now listen. +This garden to which I went led down to the Thames. It was the property +of a very great friend of mine, and she had invited what I might call a +select company. Now will you all listen, and I will tell you how things +were done?" + +Miss Tredgold then proceeded to tell her story. No one could tell a story +better. She made her narrative quite absorbing. For these girls, who had +never known anything of life, she drew so vivid and fascinating a picture +that they almost wished to be present at such a scene as she described. +She spoke of the girls of the London world in their pretty dresses, and +the matrons in their richer garments; of the men who moved about with +polite deference. She spoke of the summer air, the beautiful appearance +of the river, the charming punts and boats which disported themselves on +the bosom of the waters. + +"It must have been pretty; but rather stiff, wasn't it?" said Verena. + +"To you, my dear, it would have been stiff, for you are not yet +accustomed to self-restraint, but to those who belong to that world it +was nothing short of enchantment." + +"But you were in fetters," said Pauline; "and I should hate fetters +however jolly they looked." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Why, you know you are putting them on us." + +"Hush, Paulie!" said Verena. + +"You are, Aunt Sophy; and you can't be angry with me if I speak. I can't +imagine any one getting accustomed to fetters; it is quite beyond me." + +She shrugged her shoulders, and looked with her downright face full at +Miss Tredgold. + +"Never mind," said that lady after a pause. "I can't expect you to +understand everything all at once; but my description of a real bit of +the world can do you no harm. The world has its good points; you will +find that out presently. Perhaps you may not like it, but some people do. +In your case there is no saying. To-morrow I will tell you another story, +but it shall be of the graver and sadder side of life. That story will +also introduce the nobler side of life. But now the time has come for me +to ask you a question, and I expect an answer. The time has come for me +to ask a very straight question.--Verena, you are the eldest; I shall +speak to you." + +"Yes?" said Verena. + +She felt herself coloring. She said afterwards she knew exactly what was +coming. Pauline must have known also, for she pinched Verena's arm. + +"Yes?" repeated the young girl. + +"You are surprised at the story I have just related to you," continued +Miss Tredgold. "You think that the courtly grace, the sweet refinement, +the elegant manners, the words that speak of due knowledge of life and +men and women, represent a state of fetterdom; but you must also have +felt their charm." + +"To a certain extent," said Verena slowly, "what you have said excited +me." + +"You feel it possible that, under certain circumstances, you, too, could +belong to such a group?" + +"Perhaps," said Verena. + +"There is not a doubt of it, my dear. A few years' training, a little of +that discipline which you call fetters, pretty manners, and suitable +dress would make you quite the sort of girl who would appear amongst my +cultivated friends in the garden by the River Thames. But now for my +question: Could your friend, Nancy King, ever figure in such an +assembly?" + +"It would not perhaps be her world," said Verena. + +"You have answered me. Now I am going to say something that may annoy +you; nevertheless I must say it. Your acquaintanceship with that girl as +a friend must cease, and absolutely. She is not your equal. You are not +to know her as a friend. If you meet her, there is no reason why you +should not be civil, but civility and friendship are different things. If +the time comes when she is in need or in trouble, I should be deeply +sorry to think you would not help her, but as a friend she is to cease to +exist for you. This is my firm command to all of you girls. There are to +be no two voices on the subject. You may not agree with me now, and you +may think me hard, but I insist on having my own way. You cease to know +Nancy King as a friend. I shall myself write to that young person and +forbid her to visit here. I will try not to hurt her; but there are +certain distinctions of class which I for one must insist upon +preserving. She is not a lady, she was not born a lady, and she never can +be a lady; therefore, my dear nieces, you are not to know her." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +MUSIC HATH CHARMS. + + +The girls were tired when they went to bed. The life of routine had +fatigued them; although, of course, it would soon cease to do so. +Notwithstanding, therefore, Miss Tredgold's startling announcement with +regard to Nancy King, they slept soundly; and the next morning when nine +o'clock struck they all appeared in the schoolroom, their persons neat, +their hair carefully brushed, and each pair of eyes beaming with +intelligence. Even Penelope looked her very best in a clean brown holland +frock, and she went quite creditably through her alphabet, and did not +squiggle her pot-hooks quite as much as she had done on the previous day. + +Miss Tredgold was in an excellent humor. She praised the girls, told them +she was much pleased with their performances, and said further that, if +only they would meet her half-way by being attentive and intelligent and +earnest in their work, she on her part would do all in her power to make +lessons agreeable; she would teach them in a way which would be sure to +arouse their interest, and she would vary the work with play, and give +them as gay a time as the bright weather and their own happy hearts would +permit. + +The girls felt quite cheerful; they even began to whisper one to another +that Aunt Sophia was developing more and more good points as days went +on. + +On that afternoon a great excitement was in store, for a beautiful new +piano was to arrive from Broadwood's, and Aunt Sophia announced that she +meant to play on it for the benefit of the entire household that evening. + +"For, my dears," said that good lady, "I have forgotten neither my +playing nor my singing. I will sing you old-fashioned songs to-night, and +I quite hope that I may lure your father from his retirement. There was a +time when he was musical--very musical." + +"The dad musical!" cried Briar. "Aunt Sophia, what do you mean?" + +"It is true, Rose. In the days long ago, when your mother and he and I +spent happy times together, he played his violin better than any other +amateur that I happen to know." + +"There is an old violin in one of the attics," said Verena. "We have +never touched it. It is in a case all covered with dust." + +"His Stradivarius," murmured Miss Tredgold. "Oh dear! How are the mighty +fallen! My dears, you had better say no more to me about that or I shall +lose my temper." + +The girls could not imagine why Miss Tredgold's eyes grew full of a +certain mistiness and her cheeks were very pink with color. The next +moment she looked full at her nieces. + +"When your mother died she took a great deal away with her," she said. +"What would you have done, poor children! if I had not been able to come +to the rescue? It does seem almost impossible that your father, my +brother-in-law, has forgotten to play on his Stradivarius." + +"Well, aren't you glad you comed?" said Penelope, marching up and +standing before the good lady. "Don't you like to feel you are so useful, +the grand piano coming, and all the rest? Then you has us under your +thumb. Don't you like that?" + +"I don't understand you, Penny. You are talking in a very naughty way." + +"I aren't. I are only saying what nursey said. Nursey said last night, +'Well, well, drat it all! They are under her thumb by this time.' I asked +nursey what it meant, and she said, 'Miss Penny, little girls should be +seen, and not heard.' Nursey always says that when I ask her questions +that I want special to know. But when I comed down this morning I asked +Betty what being under your thumb meant, and she said, 'Oh, lor', Miss +Penny! You had better look out, miss. It means what you don't like, +miss.' Then she said, Aunt Sophy, that old ladies like you was fond of +having little girls under their thumbs. So I 'spect you like it; and I +hope you won't squeeze us flat afore you have done." + +Miss Tredgold had turned very red. + +"How old are you, Pen?" she said when the loquacious child became silent. + +Penelope tossed her head. "You knows of my age quite well." + +"Then I will just repeat the remark made by your excellent nurse--'Little +girls should be seen, and not heard.' I will add to that remark by saying +that little girls are sometimes impertinent. I shall not say anything +more to-day; but another time, if you address me as you have just done, I +shall be obliged to punish you." + +"And if I don't dress you," said Penelope--"if I'm awful good--will you +give me sugar-plums?" + +"That is a treat in the very far distance," said Miss Tredgold.--"But +now, girls, go out. The more you enjoy this lovely air the better." + +They did all enjoy it; after their hard work--for lessons were hard to +them--freedom was sweet. With each moment of lesson-time fully occupied, +leisure was delicious. They wandered under the trees; they opened the +wicket-gate which led into the Forest, and went a short way into its deep +and lovely shade. When lunch-bell sounded they returned with hungry +appetites. + +The rest of the day passed pleasantly. Even preparation hour was no +longer regarded as a hardship. It brought renewed appetites to enjoy tea. +And in the midst of tea a wild dissipation occurred, for a piano-van came +slowly down the rutty lane which led to the front avenue. It stopped at +the gates; the gates were opened, the piano-van came up the avenue, and +John and two other men carried the beautiful Broadwood into the big +drawing-room. + +Miss Tredgold unlocked it and touched the ivory keys with loving fingers. + +"I will play to you to-night when it is dusk," she said to the girls. + +After this they were so eager to hear the music that they could scarcely +eat their dinner. Mr. Dale now always appeared for the evening meal. He +took the foot of the table, and stared in an abstracted way at Aunt +Sophia. So fond was he of doing this that he often quite forgot to carve +the joint which was set before him. + +"Wake up, Henry," said Miss Sophia in her sharp voice; "the children are +hungry, and so am I." + +Then the student would shake himself, seize the knife and fork, and make +frantic dashes at whatever the joint might happen to be. It must be owned +that he carved very badly. Miss Tredgold bore it for a day or two; then +she desired the parlor-maid to convey the joint to the head of the table +where she sat. After this was done the dinner-hour was wont to progress +very satisfactorily. To-day it went quickly by. Then Verena went up to +her aunt. + +"Now, Aunt Sophy," she said, "the gloaming has come, and music is waiting +to make us all happy in the drawing-room." + +"I will play for you, my dears," said Aunt Sophia. + +She was just leaving the room when she heard Verena say: + +"You love music, father. Do come into the drawing-room. Aunt Sophia has +got her new piano. She means to play on it. Do come; you know you love +music." + +"Indeed, I do nothing of the kind," said Mr. Dale. + +He pushed his gray hair back from his forehead and looked abstractedly at +Miss Sophia, who was standing in the twilight just by the open door. + +"You remind me, Sophia----" said Mr. Dale. + +He paused and covered his eyes with his hand. + +"I could have sworn that you were she. No music, thanks; I have never +listened to it since she died. Your mother played beautifully, children; +she played and she sang. I liked her songs; I hate the twaddle of the +present day. Now I am returning to my Virgil. My renderings of the +original text become more and more full of light. I shall secure a vast +reputation. Music! I hate music. Don't disturb me, any of you." + +When Mr. Dale reached his study he sank into his accustomed chair. His +lamp was already lit; it burned brightly, for Miss Tredgold herself +trimmed it each morning. His piles of books of reference lay in confusion +by his side. An open manuscript was in front of him. He took up his pen. +Very soon he would be absorbed by the strong fascination of his studies; +the door into another world would open and shut him in. He would be +impervious then to this present century, to his present life, to his +children, to the home in which he lived. + +"I could have sworn," he muttered to himself, "that Alice had come back. +As Sophia stood in the twilight I should scarcely have known them apart. +She is not Alice. Alice was the only woman I ever loved--the only woman I +could tolerate in my house. My children, my girls, are none of them women +yet, thank the Almighty. When they are they will have to go. I could not +stand any other woman but Alice to live always in the house. But now to +forget her. This knotty point must be cleared up before I go to bed." + +The doors of the ancient world were slowly opening. But before they could +shut Mr. Dale within their portals there came a sound that caused the +scholar to start. The soft strains of music entered through the door +which Verena had on purpose left open. The music was sweet and yet +masterly. It came with a merry sound and a certain quick rhythm that +seemed to awaken the echoes of the house. Impossible as it may appear, +Mr. Dale forgot the ancient classics and the dim world of the past. He +lay back in his chair; his lips moved; he beat time with his knuckles on +the arms of his chair; and with his feet on the floor. So perfect was his +ear that the faintest wrong note, or harmony out of tune, would be +detected by him. The least jarring sound would cause him agony. But there +was no jarring note; the melody was correct; the time was perfect. + +"I might have known that Alice----" he began; but then he remembered that +Alice had never played exactly like that, and he ceased to think of her, +or of any woman, and became absorbed in those ringing notes that stole +along the passage and entered by the open door and surrounded him like +lightsome fairies. Into his right ear they poured their charm; in his +left ear they completed their work. Virgil was forgotten; old Homer might +never have existed. + +Mr. Dale rose. He got up softly; he walked across the room and opened the +door wide. There was a very bright light streaming down the passage. In +the old days this passage was always dark; no one ever thought of +lighting the lobbies and passages at The Dales. The master of the house +wondered dimly at the light; but at the same time it gave him a sense of +comfort. + +Suddenly a voice began to sing: + + "I know a bank whereon the wild thyme grows." + +The voice was sweet, pure, and high. It floated towards him. Suddenly he +stretched out his arms. + +"I am coming, Alice," he said aloud. "Yes, I am coming. Don't call me +with such insistence. I come, I tell you; I come." + +He ran down the passage; he entered the central hall; he burst into the +drawing-room. His eyes were full of excitement. He strode across the room +and sank into a chair close to the singer. + +Miss Tredgold just turned and glanced at him. + +"Ah, Henry!" she said; "so you are there. I hoped that this would draw +you. Now I am going to sing again." + +"A song of the past," he said in a husky voice. + +"Will this do?" she said, and began "Annie Laurie." + +Once again Mr. Dale kept time with his hand and his feet. "Annie Laurie" +melted into "Home, Sweet Home"; "Home, Sweet Home" into "Ye Banks and +Braes o' Bonny Doon"; "Ye Banks and Braes" wandered into the delicious +notes of "Auld Lang Syne." + +Suddenly Miss Tredgold rose, shut and locked the piano, and then turned +and faced her audience. + +"No more to-night," she said. "By-and-by you girls shall all play on this +piano. You shall also sing, for I have not the slightest doubt that most +of you have got voices. You ought to be musical, for music belongs to +both sides of your house. There was once a time when your father played +the violin as no one else, in my opinion, ever played it. By the way, +Henry, is that violin still in existence?" + +"Excuse me," said Mr. Dale; "I never touch it now. I have not touched it +for years. I would not touch it for the world." + +"You will touch it again when the time is ripe. Now, no more music +to-night. Those who are tired had better go to bed." + +The girls left the room without a word. Miss Tredgold then went up to Mr. +Dale. + +"Go back to your study and your Virgil," she said. "Don't waste your +precious time." + +He looked exactly as though some one had whipped him, but he took her at +her word and returned to his study. + +The music was henceforth a great feature in the establishment. Miss +Tredgold enhanced its value by being chary in regard to it. She only +played as a special treat. She would by no means give them the great +pleasure of her singing and playing every night. + +"When you have all had a good day I will sing and play to you," she said +to the girls; "but when you neglect your work, or are idle and careless, +or cross and sulky, I don't intend to amuse you in the evenings. I was +brought up on a stricter plan than the girls of the present day, and I +mean while I am with you to bring you up in the same way. I prefer it to +the lax way in which young people are now reared." + +For a time Miss Tredgold's plans went well. Then there came a day of +rebellion. Pauline was the first to openly rebel against Aunt Sophia. +There came a morning when Pauline absolutely refused to learn her +lessons. She was a stoutly built, determined-looking little girl, very +dark in complexion and in eyes and hair. She would probably be a handsome +woman by-and-by, but now she was plain, with a somewhat sallow face, +heavy black brows, and eyes that could scowl when anything annoyed her. +She was the next eldest to Verena, and was thirteen years of age. Her +birthday would be due in a fortnight. Even at The Dales birthdays were +considered auspicious events. There was always some sort of present, even +though it was worth very little in itself, given by each member of the +family to the possessor of the birthday. Mr. Dale generally gave this +happy person a whole shilling. He presented the shilling with great pomp, +and invariably made the same speech: + +"God bless you, my dear. May you have many happy returns of the day. And +now for goodness' sake don't detain me any longer." + +A shilling was considered by the Dale girls as valuable as a sovereign +would be to girls in happier circumstances. It was eked out to its +furthest dimensions, and was as a rule spent on good things to eat. Now, +under Miss Tredgold's reign, Pauline's birthday would be a much more +important event. Miss Tredgold had long ago taken Verena, Briar, Patty, +Josephine, and Adelaide into her confidence. Pauline knew quite well that +she was talked about. She knew when, the girls retired into corners that +she was the object of their eager conversations. The whole thing was most +agreeable to her sense of vanity, and when she suddenly appeared round a +corner and perceived that work was put out of sight, that the eager +whisperers started apart, and that the girls looked conscious and as if +they wished her out of the way, she quite congratulated herself on the +fact that hers was the first birthday in the immediate future, and that +on that day she would be a very great personage indeed. As these thoughts +came to her she walked with a more confident stride, and thought a great +deal of her own importance. At night she lay awake thinking of the happy +time, and wondering what this coming birthday, when she would have been +fourteen whole years in the world, would bring forth. + +There came a lovely morning about a week before the birthday. Pauline had +got up early, and was walking by herself in the garden. She felt terribly +excited, and almost cross at having to wait so long for her pleasure. + +"After all," thought Pauline, "Aunt Sophia has done something for us. How +horrid it would be to go back to the old shilling birthdays now!" + +As she thought these thoughts, Patty and Josephine, arm-in-arm and +talking in low tones, crossed her path. They did not see her at first, +and their words reached Pauline's ears. + +"I know she'd rather have pink than blue," said Patty's voice. + +"Well, mine will be trimmed with blue," was Josephine's answer. + +Just then the girls caught sight of Pauline, uttered shrieks, and +disappeared down a shady walk. + +"Something with pink and something with blue," thought Pauline. "The +excitement is almost past bearing. Of course, they're talking about my +birthday presents. I do wish my birthday was to-morrow. I don't know how +I shall exist for a whole week." + +At that moment Miss Tredgold's sharp voice fell on her ears: + +"You are late, Pauline. I must give you a bad mark for want of +punctuality, Go at once into the schoolroom." + +To hear these incisive, sharp tones in the midst of her own delightful +reflections was anything but agreeable to Pauline. She felt, as she +expressed it, like a cat rubbed the wrong way. She gave Miss Tredgold one +of her most ungracious scowls and went slowly into the house. There she +lingered purposely before she condescended to tidy her hair and put on +her house-shoes. In consequence she was quite a quarter of an hour late +when she appeared in the schoolroom. Miss Tredgold had just finished +morning prayers. + +"You have missed prayers this morning, Pauline," she said. "There was no +reason for this inattention. I shall be obliged to punish you. You cannot +have your usual hour of recreation before dinner. You will have to write +out the first page of Scott's _Lay of the Last Minstrel_; and you must do +it without making any mistake either in spelling or punctuation. On this +occasion you can copy from the book. Now, no words, my dear--no words. +Sit down immediately to your work." + +Pauline did sit down. She felt almost choking with anger. Was she, an +important person who was soon to be queen of a birthday, one about whom +her sisters talked and whispered and made presents for, to be treated in +this scant and ungracious fashion? She would not put up with it. +Accordingly she was very inattentive at her lessons, failed to listen +when she should, played atrociously on the piano, could not manage her +sums, and, in short, got more and more each moment into Miss Tredgold's +black books. + +When recreation hour arrived she felt tired and headachy. The other girls +now went out into the pleasant sunshine. Pauline looked after them with +longing. They would sit under the overhanging trees; they would eat fruit +and talk nonsense and laugh. Doubtless they would talk about her and the +birthday so near at hand. At noon the schoolroom was hot, too, for the +sun beat hard upon the windows, and Pauline felt more stifled and more +headachy and sulky than ever. + +"Oh! please," she said, as Miss Tredgold was leaving the room, "I can't +do this horrid writing to-day. Please forgive me. Do let me go out." + +"No, Pauline; you must take your punishment. You were late this morning; +you disobeyed my rules. Take the punishment which I am obliged to give +you as a lady should, and make no more excuses." + +The door was shut upon the angry girl. She sat for a time absolutely +still, pressing her hand to her aching brow; then she strolled across the +schoolroom, fetched some paper, and sat down to her unwelcome task. She +wrote very badly, and when the hour was over she had not half copied the +task assigned to her. This bad beginning went on to a worse end. Pauline +declined to learn any lessons in preparation hour, and accordingly next +morning she was absolutely unprepared for her tasks. + +Miss Tredgold was now thoroughly roused. + +"I must make an example," she said to herself. "I shall have no influence +over these girls if I let them think I am all softness and yielding. The +fact is, I have shown them the south side of my character too long; a +little touch of the northeast will do them no harm." + +Accordingly she called the obstinate and sulky Pauline before her. + +"I am very much displeased with you. You have done wrong, and you must be +punished. I have told you and your sisters that there is such a place as +Punishment Land. You enter it now, and live there until after breakfast +to-morrow morning." + +"But what do you mean?" said Pauline. + +"I mean exactly what I say. You have been for the last twenty-four hours +extremely naughty. You will therefore be punished for the next +twenty-four hours. You are a very naughty girl. Naughty girls must be +punished, and you, Pauline, are now under punishment. You enter +Punishment Land immediately." + +"But where is it? What is it? I don't understand." + +"You will soon. Girls, I forbid you to speak to your sister while she is +under punishment. Pauline, your meals will be sent to you in this room. +You will be expected to work up your neglected tasks and learn them +thoroughly. You must neither play with nor speak to your sisters. You +will have no indulgence of any sort. When you walk, I wish you to keep in +the north walk, just beyond the vegetable garden. Finally, you will go to +bed at seven o'clock. Now leave the room. I am in earnest." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +PUNISHMENT LAND. + + +Pauline did leave the room. She passed her sisters, who stared at her in +horrified amazement. She knew that their eyes were fixed upon her, but +she was doubtful if they pitied her or not. Just at that moment, however, +she did not care what their feelings were. She had a momentary sense of +pleasure on getting into the soft air. A gentle breeze fanned her hot +cheeks. She took her old sailor hat from a peg and ran fast into a +distant shrubbery. Miss Tredgold had said that she might take exercise in +the north walk. If there was a dreary, ugly part of the grounds, it might +be summed up in the north walk. The old garden wall was on one side of +it, and a tattered, ugly box-hedge on the other. Nothing was to be seen +as you walked between the hedge and the wall but the ground beneath your +feet and the sky above your head. There was no distant view of any sort. +In addition to this disadvantage, it was in winter an intensely cold +place, and in summer, notwithstanding its name, an intensely hot place. +No, Pauline would not go there. She would disobey. She would walk where +she liked; she would also talk to whom she liked. + +She stood for a time leaning against a tree, her face scarlet with +emotion, her sailor hat flung on the ground. Presently she saw Penelope +coming towards her. She felt quite glad of this, for Penelope might +always be bribed. Pauline made up her mind to disobey thoroughly; she +would walk where she pleased; she would do what she liked; she would talk +to any one to whom she wished to talk. What was Penelope doing? She was +bending down and peering on the ground. Beyond doubt she was looking for +something. + +"What is it, Pen?" called out her sister. + +Penelope had not seen Pauline until now. She stood upright with a start, +gazed tranquilly at the girl in disgrace, and then, without uttering a +word, resumed her occupation of searching diligently on the ground. +Pauline's face put on its darkest scowl. Her heart gave a thump of wild +indignation. She went up to Penelope and shook her by the arm. Penelope, +still without speaking, managed to extricate herself. She moved a few +feet away. She then again looked full at Pauline, and, to the amazement +of the elder girl, her bold black eyes filled with tears. She took one +dirty, chubby hand and blew a kiss to Pauline. + +Pauline felt suddenly deeply touched. She very nearly wept herself. + +"Oh, dear Penny," she said, "how good you are! I didn't know you'd feel +for me. I can bear things better if I know you feel for me. You needn't +obey her, need you? See, I've got three-ha'pence in my pocket. I'll give +you the money and you can buy lollypops. I will really if only you will +say a few words to me now." + +"I daren't," burst from Penelope's lips. "You have no right to tempt me. +I can't; I daren't. I am looking now for Aunt Sophy's thimble. She was +working here yesterday and she dropped it, she doesn't know where. She's +awful fond of it. She'll give me a penny if I find it. Don't ask me any +more. I've done very wrong to speak to you." + +"So you have," said Pauline, who felt as angry as ever. "You have broken +Aunt Sophia's word--not your own, for you never said you wouldn't speak +to me. But go, if you are so honorable. Only please understand that I +hate every one of you, and I'm never going to obey Aunt Sophia." + +Penelope only shook her little person, and presently wandered away into a +more distant part of the shrubbery. She went on searching and searching. +Pauline could see her bobbing her little fat person up and down. + +"Even Penny," she thought, "is incorruptible. Well, I don't care. I won't +put up with this unjust punishment." + +The dinner-gong sounded, and Pauline, notwithstanding her state of +disgrace, discovered that she was hungry. + +"Why should I eat?" she said to herself. "I won't eat. Then perhaps I'll +die, and she'll be sorry. She'll be had up for manslaughter; she'll have +starved a girl to death. No, I won't eat a single thing. And even if I +don't die I shall be awfully ill, and she'll be in misery. Oh dear! why +did mother die and leave us? And why did dreadful Aunt Sophy come? Mother +was never cross; she was never hard. Oh mother! Oh mother!" + +Pauline was now so miserable that she flung herself on the ground and +burst into passionate weeping. Her tears relieved the tension of her +heart, and she felt slightly better. Presently she raised her head, and +taking out her handkerchief, prepared to mop her eyes. As she did so she +was attracted by something that glittered not far off. She stretched out +her hand and drew Miss Tredgold's thimble from where it had rolled under +a tuft of dock-leaves. A sudden burst of pleasure escaped her lips as she +glanced at the thimble. She had not seen it before. It certainly was the +most beautiful thimble she had ever looked at. She put it on the tip of +her second finger and turned it round and round. The thimble itself was +made of solid gold; its base was formed of one beautifully cut sapphire, +and round the margin of the top of the thimble was a row of turquoises. +The gold was curiously and wonderfully chased, and the sapphire, which +formed the entire base of the thimble, shone in a way that dazzled +Pauline. She was much interested; she forgot that she was hungry, and +that she had entered into Punishment Land. It seemed to her that in her +possession of the thimble she had found the means of punishing Aunt +Sophia. This knowledge soothed her inexpressibly. She slipped the lovely +thimble into her pocket, and again a keen pang of downright healthy +hunger seized her. She knew that food would be awaiting her in the +schoolroom. Should she eat it, or should she go through the wicket-gate +and lose herself in the surrounding Forest? + +Just at this moment a girl, who whistled as she walked, approached the +wicket-gate, opened it, and came in. She was dressed in smart summer +clothes; her hat was of a fashionable make, and a heavy fringe lay low on +her forehead. Pauline looked at her, and her heart gave a thump of +pleasure. Now, indeed, she could bear her punishment, and her revenge on +Miss Tredgold lay even at the door. For Nancy King, the girl whom she was +not allowed to speak to, had entered the grounds. + +"Hullo, Paulie!" called out that young lady. "There you are! Well, I must +say you do look doleful. What's the matter now? Is the dear aristocrat +more aristocratic than ever?" + +"Oh, don't, Nancy! I ought not to speak to you at all." + +"So I've been told by the sweet soul herself," responded Nancy. "She +wrote me a letter which would have put another girl in such a rage that +she would never have touched any one of you again with a pair of tongs. +But that's not Nancy King. For when Nancy loves a person, she loves that +person through thick and thin, through weal and woe. I came to-day to try +to find one of you dear girls. I have found you. What is the matter with +you, Paulie? You do look bad." + +"I'm very unhappy," said Pauline. "Oh Nancy! we sort of promised that we +wouldn't have anything more to do with you." + +"But you can't keep your promise, can you, darling? So don't say any more +about it. Anyhow, promise or not, I'm going to kiss you now." + +Nancy flung her arms tightly round Pauline's neck and printed several +loud, resounding kisses on each cheek; then she seated herself under an +oak tree, and motioned to Pauline to do likewise. + +Pauline hesitated just for a moment; then scruples were forgotten, and +she sat on the ground close to Nancy's side. + +"Tell me all about it," said Nancy. "Wipe your eyes and talk. Don't be +frightened; it's only poor old Nancy, the girl you have known since you +were that high. And I'm rich, Paulie pet, and although we're only +farmer-folk, we live in a much finer house than The Dales. And I'm going +to have a pony soon--a pony of my very own--and my habit is being made +for me at Southampton. I intend to follow the hounds next winter. Think +of that, little Paulie. You'll see me as I ride past. I'm supposed to +have a very good figure, and I shall look ripping in my habit. Well, but +that's not to the point, is it? You are in trouble, you poor little dear, +and your old Nancy must try and make matters better for you. I love you, +little Paulie. I'm fond of you all, but you are my special favorite. You +were always considered something like me--dark and dour when you liked, +but sunshiny when you liked also. Now, what is it, Paulie? Tell your own +Nancy." + +"I'm very fond of you, Nancy," replied Pauline. "And I think," she +continued, "that it is perfectly horrid of Aunt Sophia to say that we are +not to know you." + +"It's snobbish and mean and unlady-like," retorted Nancy; "but her saying +it doesn't make it a fact, for you do know me, and you will always have +to know me. And if she thinks, old spiteful! that I'm going to put up +with her nasty, low, mean, proud ways, she's fine and mistaken. I'm not, +and that's flat. So there, old spitfire! I shouldn't mind telling her so +to her face." + +"But, on the whole, she has been kind to us," said Pauline, who had some +sense of justice in her composition, angry as she felt at the moment. + +"Has she?" said Nancy. "Then let me tell you she has not a very nice way +of showing it. Now, Paulie, no more beating about the bush. What's up? +Your eyes are red; you have a great smear of ink on your forehead; and +your hands--my word! for so grand a young lady your hands aren't up to +much, my dear." + +"I have got into trouble," said Pauline. "I didn't do my lessons properly +yesterday; I couldn't--I had a headache, and everything went wrong. So +this morning I could not say any of them when Aunt Sophia called me up, +and she put me into Punishment Land. You know, don't you, that I am soon +to have a birthday?" + +"Oh, don't I?" interrupted Nancy. "Didn't a little bird whisper it to me, +and didn't that same little bird tell me exactly what somebody would like +somebody else to give her? And didn't that somebody else put her hand +into her pocket and send---- Oh, we won't say any more, but she did send +for something for somebody's birthday. Oh, yes, I know. You needn't tell +me about that birthday, Pauline Dale." + +"You are good," said Pauline, completely touched. She wondered what +possible thing Nancy could have purchased for her. She had a wild desire +to know what it was. She determined then and there, in her foolish little +heart, that nothing would induce her to quarrel with Nancy. + +"It is something that you like, and something that will spite her," said +the audacious Nancy. "I thought it all out, and I made up my mind to kill +two birds with one stone. Now to go on with the pretty little story. We +didn't please aunty, and we got into trouble. Proceed, Paulie pet." + +"I didn't learn my lessons. I was cross, as I said, and headachy, and +Aunt Sophia said I was to be made an example of, and so she sent me to +Punishment Land for twenty-four hours." + +"Oh, my dear! It sounds awful. What is it?" + +"Why, none of my sisters are to speak to me, and I am only to walk in the +north walk." + +"Is this the north walk?" asked Nancy, with a merry twinkle in her black +eyes. + +"Of course it isn't. She may say what she likes, but I'm not going to +obey her. But the others won't speak to me. I can't make them. And I am +to take my meals by myself in the schoolroom, and I am to go to bed at +seven o'clock." + +Pauline told her sad narrative in a most lugubrious manner, and she felt +almost offended at the conclusion when Nancy burst into a roar of +laughter. + +"It's very unkind of you to laugh when I'm so unhappy," said Pauline. + +"My dear, how can I help it? It is so ridiculous to treat a girl who is +practically almost grown up in such a baby fashion. Then I'd like to know +what authority she has over you." + +"That's the worst of it, Nancy. Father has given her authority, and she +has it in writing. She's awfully clever, and she came round poor father, +and he had to do what she wanted because he couldn't help himself." + +"Jolly mean, I call it," said Nancy. "My dear, you are pretty mad, I +suppose." + +"Wouldn't you be if your father treated you like that?" + +"My old dad! He knows better. I've had my swing since I was younger than +you, Paulie. Of course, at school I had to obey just a little. I wasn't +allowed to break all the rules, but I did smuggle in a good many +relaxations. The thing is, you can do what you like at school if only you +are not found out. Well, I was too clever to be found out. And now I am +grown up, eighteen last birthday, and I have taken a fancy to cling to my +old friends, even if they have a snobby, ridiculous old aunt to be rude +to me. My dear, what nonsense she did write!--all about your being of +such a good family, and that I wasn't in your station. I shall keep that +letter. I wouldn't lose it for twenty shillings. What have you to boast +of after all is said and done? A tumble-down house; horrid, shabby, +old-fashioned, old-maidy clothes; and never a decent meal to be had." + +"But it isn't like that now," said Pauline, finding herself getting very +red and angry. + +"Well, so much the better for you. And did I make the little mousy-pousy +angry? I won't, then, any more, for Nancy loves little mousy-pousy, and +would like to do what she could for her. You love me back, don't you, +mousy?" + +"Yes, Nancy, I do love you, and I think it's a horrid shame that we're +not allowed to be with you. But, all the same, I'd rather you didn't call +me mousy." + +"Oh dear, how dignified we are! I shall begin to believe in the ancient +family if this sort of thing continues. But now, my dear, the moment has +come to help you. The hour has arrived when your own Nancy, vulgar as she +is, can lend you a helping hand. Listen." + +"What?" said Pauline. + +"Jump up, Paulie; take my hand, and you and I together will walk out +through that wicket-gate, and go back through the dear old Forest to The +Hollies, and spend the day at my home. There are my boy cousins from +London, and my two friends, Rebecca and Amelia Perkins--jolly girls, I +can tell you. We shall have larks. What do you say, Paulie? A fine fright +she'll be in when she misses you. Serve her right, though." + +"But I daren't come with you," said Pauline. "I'd love it more than +anything in the world; but I daren't. You mustn't ask me. You mustn't try +to tempt me, Nancy, for I daren't go." + +"I didn't know you were so nervous." + +"I am nervous about a thing like that. Wild as I have been, and untrained +all my life, I do not think I am out-and-out wicked. It would be wicked +to go away without leave. I'd be too wretched. Oh, I daren't think of +it!" + +Nancy pursed up her lips while Pauline was speaking; then she gave vent +to a low, almost incredulous whistle. Finally she sprang to her feet. + +"I am not the one to try and make you forget your scruples," she said. +"Suppose you do this. Suppose you come at seven o'clock to-night. Then +you will be safe. You may be wicked, but at least you will be safe. +She'll never look for you, nor think of you again, when once you have +gone up to bed. You have a room to yourself, have you not?" + +Pauline nodded. + +"I thought so. You will go to your room, lock the door, and she will +think it is all right. The others won't care to disturb you. If they do +they'll find the door locked." + +"But I am forbidden to lock my room door." + +"They will call to you, but you will not answer. They may be angry, but I +don't suppose your sisters will tell on you, and they will only suppose you +are sound asleep. Meanwhile you will be having a jolly good time; for I can +tell you we are going to have sport to-night at The Hollies--fireworks, +games, plans for the future, etc., etc. You can share my nice bed, and go +back quite early in the morning. I have a lot to talk over with you. I want +to arrange about our midnight picnic." + +"But, Nancy, we can't have a midnight picnic." + +"Can't we? I don't see that at all. I tell you what--we will have it; and +we'll have it on your birthday. Your birthday is in a week. That will be +just splendid. The moon will be at the full, and you must all of you +come. Do you suppose I'm going to be balked of my fun by a stupid old +woman? Ah! you little know me. My boy cousins, Jack and Tom, and my +friends, Becky and Amy, have made all arrangements. We are going to have +a time! Of course, if you are not there, you don't suppose our fun will +be stopped! You'll hear us laughing in the glades. You won't like that, +will you? But we needn't say any more until seven o'clock to-night." + +"I don't think I'm coming." + +"But you are, Paulie. No one will know, and you must have a bit of fun. +Perhaps I'll show you the present I'm going to give you on your birthday; +there's no saying what I may do; only you must come." + +Nancy had been standing all this time. Pauline had been reclining on the +ground. Now she also rose to her feet. + +"You excite me," she said. "I long to go, and yet I am afraid; it would +be so awfully wicked." + +"It would be wicked if she was your mother, but she's not. And she has no +right to have any control over you. She just got round your silly old +father----" + +"I won't have dad called silly!" + +"Well, your learned and abstracted father. It all comes to much the same. +Now think the matter over. You needn't decide just this minute. I shall +come to the wicket-gate at half-past seven, and if you like to meet me, +why, you can; but if you are still too good, and your conscience is too +troublesome, and your scruples too keen, you need not come. I shall quite +understand. In that case, perhaps, I'd best not give you that lovely, +lovely present that I saved up so much money to buy." + +Pauline clasped her hands and stepped away from Nancy. As she did so the +breeze caught her full gray skirt and caused it to blow against Nancy. +Nancy stretched out her hand and caught hold of Pauline's pocket. + +"What is this hard thing?" she cried. "Have you got a nut in your +pocket?" + +"No," said Pauline, instantly smiling and dimpling. "Oh, Nancy, such +fun!" + +She dived into her pocket and produced Miss Tredgold's thimble. + +"Oh, I say!" cried Nancy. "What a beauty! Who in the world gave you this +treasure, Paulie?" + +"It isn't mine at all; it belongs to Aunt Sophia." + +"You sly little thing! You took it from her?" + +"No, I didn't. I'm not a thief. I saw it in the grass a few minutes ago +and picked it up. It had rolled just under that dock-leaf. Isn't it +sweet? I shall give it back to her after she has forgiven me to-morrow." + +"What a charming, return-good-for-evil character you have suddenly +become, Pauline!" + +As Nancy spoke she poised the thimble on her second finger. Her fingers +were small, white, and tapering. The thimble exactly fitted the narrow +tip on which it rested. + +"I never saw anything so lovely," she cried. "Never mind, Paulie, about +to-morrow. Lend it to me. I'd give my eyes to show it to Becky." + +"But why should I lend it to you? I must return it to Aunt Sophia." + +"You surely won't give it back to her to-day." + +"No, but to-morrow." + +"Let to-morrow take care of itself. I want to show this thimble to Becky +and Amy. I have a reason. You won't refuse one who is so truly kind to +you, will you, little Paulie? And I tell you what: I know you are +starving, and you hate to go into the house for your food. I will bring +you a basketful of apples, chocolates, and a peach or two. We have lovely +peaches ripe in our garden now, although we are such common folk." + +Pauline felt thirsty. Her hunger, too, was getting worse. She would have +given a good deal to have been able to refuse the horrid meals which +would be served to her in the schoolroom. Perhaps she could manage +without any other food if she had enough fruit. + +"I should like some very much," she said. "Aunt Sophia has, as she calls +it, preserved the orchard. We are not allowed to go into it." + +"Mean cat!" cried Nancy. + +"So will you really send me a basket of fruit?" + +"I will send Tom with it the instant I get home. He runs like the wind. +You may expect to find it waiting for you in half-an-hour." + +"Thank you. And you will take great care of the thimble, won't you?" + +"Of course I will, child. It is a beauty." + +Without more ado Nancy slipped the thimble into her pocket, and then +nodding to Pauline, and telling her that she would wait for her at the +wicket-gate at half-past seven, she left her. + +Nancy swung her body as she walked, and Pauline stood and watched her. +She thought that Nancy looked very grown-up and very stylish. To look +stylish seemed better than to look pretty in the eyes of the +inexperienced little girl. She could not help having a great admiration +for her friend. + +"She is very brave, and so generous; and she knows such a lot of the +world!" thought poor Pauline. "It is a shame not to be allowed to see her +whenever one likes. And it would be just heavenly to go to her to-night, +instead of spending hungry hours awake in my horrid bedroom." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +DISCIPLINE. + + +The other girls were miserable; but Miss Tredgold had already exercised +such a very strong influence over them that they did not dare to disobey +her orders. Much as they longed to do so, none of them ventured near poor +Pauline. In the course of the afternoon Miss Tredgold called Verena +aside. + +"I know well, my dear, what you are thinking," she said. "You believe +that I am terribly hard on your sister." + +Verena's eyes sought the ground. + +"Yes, I quite know what you think," repeated Miss Tredgold. "But, Verena, +you are wrong. At least, if I am hard, it is for her good." + +"But can it do any one good to be downright cruel to her?" said Verena. + +"I am not cruel, but I have given her a more severe punishment than she +has ever received before in her life. We all, the best of us, need +discipline. The first time we experience it when it comes from the hand +of God we murmur and struggle and rebel. But there comes a time when we +neither murmur nor struggle nor rebel. When that time arrives the +discipline has done its perfect work, and God removes it. My dear Verena, +I am a woman old enough to be your mother. You must trust me, and believe +that I am treating Pauline in the manner I am to-day out of the +experience of life that God has given me. We are so made, my dear, that +we none of us are any good until our wills are broken to the will of our +Divine Master." + +"But this is not God's will, is it?" said Verena. "It is your will." + +"Consider for a moment, my child. It is, I believe, both God's will and +mine. Don't you want Pauline to be a cultivated woman? Don't you want her +character to be balanced? Don't you want her to be educated? There is a +great deal that is good in her. She has plenty of natural talent. Her +character, too, is strong and sturdy. But at present she is like a flower +run to weed. In such a case what would the gardener do?" + +"I suppose he would prune the flower." + +"If it was a hopeless weed he would cast it out of his garden; but if it +really was a flower that had degenerated into a weed, he would take it up +and put it to some pain, and plant it again in fresh soil. The poor +little plant might say it was badly treated when it was taken from its +surroundings and its old life. This is very much the case with Pauline. +Now, I do not wish her to associate with Nancy King. I do not wish her to +be idle or inattentive. I want her to be energetic, full of purpose, +resolved to do her best, and to take advantage of those opportunities +which have come to you all, my dear, when I, your mother's sister, took +up my abode at The Dales. Sometime, dear, it is quite possible that, +owing to what will be begun in Pauline's character to-day, people will +stop and admire the lovely flower. They will know that the gardener who +put it to some pain and trouble was wise and right. Now, my dear girl, +you will remember my little lecture. Pauline needs discipline. For that +matter, you all need discipline. At first such treatment is hard, but in +the end it is salutary." + +"Thank you, Aunt Sophy," said Verena. "But perhaps," she added, "you will +try and remember, too, that kindness goes a long way. Pauline is perhaps +the most affectionate of us all. In some ways she has the deepest +feelings. But she can be awfully sulky, and only kindness can move her." + +"I quite understand, my dear; and when the time comes kindness will not +be wanting. Now go away and amuse yourself with your sisters." + +Verena went away. She wondered as she did so where Pauline was hiding +herself. The others had all settled down to their various amusements and +occupations. They were sorry for Pauline, but the pleasant time they were +enjoying in the middle of this lovely summer's day was not to be +despised, even if their sister was under punishment. But Verena herself +could not rest. She went into the schoolroom. On a tray stood poor +Pauline's neglected dinner. Verena lifted the cover from the plate, and +felt as though she must cry. + +"Pauline is taking it hardly," thought the elder girl. + +Tea-time came, and Pauline's tea was also sent to the schoolroom. At +preparation hour, when the rest of the girls went into the room, +Pauline's tea remained just where it had been placed an hour before. +Verena could scarcely bear herself. There must be something terribly +wrong with her sister. They had often been hungry in the old days, but in +the case of a hearty, healthy girl, to do without any food from +breakfast-time when there was plenty to eat was something to regard with +uneasiness. + +Presently, however, to her relief, Pauline came in. She looked rough and +untidy in appearance. She slipped into the nearest chair in a sulky, +ungainly fashion, and taking up a battered spelling-book, she held it +upside down. + +Verena gave her a quick glance and looked away. Pauline would not meet +Verena's anxious gaze. She kept on looking down. Occasionally her lips +moved. There was a red stain on her cheek. Penelope with one of her +sharpest glances perceived this. + +"It is caused by fruit," thought the youngest of the schoolroom children. +"I wonder who has given Pauline fruit. Did she climb the garden wall or +get over the gate into the orchard?" + +Nobody else noticed this stain. Miss Tredgold came in presently, but she +took no more notice of Pauline than if that young lady did not exist. + +The hour of preparation was over. It was now six o'clock. In an hour +Pauline was expected to go to bed. Now, Pauline and Verena had bedrooms +to themselves. These were attic rooms at the top of the house. They had +sloping roofs, and would have been much too hot in summer but for the +presence of a big beech tree, which grew to within a few feet of the +windows. More than once the girls in their emancipated days, as they now +considered them, used to climb down the beech tree from their attic +windows, and on a few occasions had even managed to climb up the same +way. They loved their rooms, having slept in them during the greater part +of their lives. + +Pauline, as she now went in the direction of the north walk, thought with +a sense of satisfaction of the bedroom she had to herself. + +"It will make things easier," she thought. "They will all be on the lawn +doing their needlework, and Aunt Sophia will be reading to them. I will +go past them quite quietly to my room, and then----" + +These thoughts made Pauline comparatively happy. Once or twice she +smiled, and a vindictive, ugly expression visited her small face. + +"She little knows," thought the girl. "Oh, she little knows! She thinks +that she is so clever--so terribly clever; but, after all, she has not +the least idea of the right way to treat me. No, she has not the least +idea. And perhaps by-and-by she will be sorry for what she has done." + +Seven o'clock was heard to strike in the house. Pauline, retracing her +steps, went slowly past her sisters and Miss Tredgold. Miss Tredgold +slightly raised her voice as the culprit appeared. She read aloud with +more determination than ever. Penelope flung down the duster she was +hemming and watched Pauline. + +"I a'most wish I wor her," thought the ex-nursery child. "Anything is +better than this horrid sewing. How it pricks my fingers! That reminds +me; I wonder where Aunt Sophy's thimble has got to. I did look hard for +it. I wish I could find it. I do want that penny so much! It was a beauty +thimble, too, and she loves it. I don't want to give it back to her 'cos +she loves it, but I should like my penny." + +Pauline had now nearly disappeared from view. + +"Paulie is up to a lark," thought Penelope, who was the sharpest of all +the children, and read motives as though she was reading an open book. +"She doesn't walk as though she was tur'ble unhappy. I wonder what she's +up to. And that red stain on her cheek was fruit; course it was fruit. +How did she get it? I wish I knew. I'll try and find out." + +Pauline had now reached her bedroom. There she hastily put on her best +clothes. They were very simple, but, under Miss Tredgold's regime, fairly +nice. She was soon attired in a neat white frock; and an old yellow sash +of doubtful cleanliness and a bunch of frowsy red poppies were folded in +a piece of tissue paper. Pauline then slipped on her sailor hat. She had +a great love for the old sash; and as to the poppies, she thought them +far more beautiful than any real flowers that ever grew. She meant to tie +the yellow sash round her waist when she reached the shrubbery, and to +pin the poppies into her hat. The fact that Miss Tredgold had forbidden +her to wear this sash, and had herself removed the poppies from her +Sunday hat, gave her now a sense of satisfaction. + +"Young ladies don't wear things of that sort," Miss Tredgold had said. + +"A young lady shall wear things of this sort to-night," thought Pauline. + +Having finished her toilet, she locked her door from the outside and put +the key into her pocket; but before she left the room she drew down the +dark-green blind. She then slipped downstairs and went out through the +back way. She had to go through the yard, but no one saw her except +Betty, who, as she afterwards remarked, did observe the flutter of a +white dress with the tail of her eye. But Betty at that moment was +immersed in a fresh installment of the wonderful adventures of the Duke +of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton and his bride, and what did it matter to her +if the young ladies chose to run out in their best frocks? + +Pauline reached the shrubbery without further adventure. There she put on +her extra finery. Her yellow sash was tied in a large bow, and her +poppies nodded over her forehead. + +It was a very excited dark-eyed girl who presently met Nancy King on the +other side of the wicket-gate. + +"Here I am," said Pauline. "I expect I shall never have any luck again +all my life; but I want to spite her at any cost, so here I am." + +"Delicious!" said Nancy. "Isn't it good to spite the old cat? Now then, +let's be off, or we may be caught. But I say, how fine we are!" + +"You always admired this bunch of poppies, didn't you, Nancy? Do you +remember? Before you went to that grand school at Brighton you used to +envy me my poppies. I found them among mother's old things, and Verena +gave them to me. I love them like anything. Don't you like them very +much, placed so in front of my hat?" + +"Didn't I say, 'How fine we are'?" + +"Yes; but somehow your tone----" + +"My dear Paulie, you are getting much too learned for my taste. Now come +along. Take my hand. Let us run. Let me tell you, you look charming. The +girls will admire you wonderfully. Amy and Becky are keen to make your +acquaintance. You can call them by their Christian names; they're not at +all stiff. Surname, Perkins. Nice girls--brought up at my school--father +in the pork line; jolly girls--very. And, of course, you met Jack and Tom +last year. They're out fishing at present. They'll bring in beautiful +trout for supper. Why, you poor little thing, you must be starved." + +"Ravenous. You know I had only your fruit to-day." + +"You shall have a downright jolly meal, and afterwards we'll have +fireworks; and then by-and-by you will share my bed. Amy and Becky will +be in the same room. They think there's a ghost at the other side of the +passage, so they came along to my chamber. But you won't mind." + +"I won't mind anything after my lonely day. You are quite sure that I'll +get back in time in the morning, Nancy?" + +"Trust me for that. Haven't you got the key of your room?" + +"Yes; it's in my pocket. I left the window on the latch, and I can climb +up the beech tree quite well. Oh! that reminds me, Nancy; you must let me +have that thimble before I return to The Dales." + +"To be sure I will, dear. But you needn't think of returning yet, for you +have not even arrived. Your fun is only beginning. Oh! you have done a +splendid, spirited thing running off in this fashion. I only hope she'll +go to your room and tap and tap, and knock and knock, and shout and +shout, and get, oh, so frightened! and have the door burst open; and then +she'll see for herself that the bird has flown. Won't she be in a tantrum +and a fright! Horrid old thing! She'll think that you have run off +forever. Serve her right. Oh! I almost wish she would do it--that I do." + +"But I don't," said Pauline. "If she did such a thing it would almost +kill me. It's all very well for you to talk in that fashion; you haven't +got to live with her; but I have, and I couldn't stand her anger and her +contempt. I'd be put into Punishment Land for a year. And as one day has +very nearly killed me, what would a year of it do? If there is any fear +of what you wish for, I'd best go back at once." + +"What! and lose the trout, and the game pie, and the steak and onions, +and the fried potatoes, and the apple turnovers, and the plum puffs, to +say nothing of the most delicious lollypops you have ever tasted in your +life? And afterwards fireworks; for Jack and Tom have bought a lot of +Catherine-wheels and rockets to let off in your honor. And then a cosy, +warm hug in my bed, with Amy and Becky telling ghost stories in the bed +opposite. You don't mean to tell me you'd rather have your lonely room +and starvation than a program of that sort?" + +"No, no. Of course I'll go on with you. I've done it now, so I'll stick +to it. Oh, I'm madly hungry! I hope you'll have supper the moment we get +in." + +"Supper will be delayed as short a time as possible. It rather depends +upon the boys and when they bring the trout home. But here is a queen +cake. I stuffed it into my pocket for you. Eat it as we go along." + +So Pauline ate it and felt better. Her courage returned. She no longer +thought of going back. Had she done so, she knew well that she would not +sleep. People never slept well if they were hungry. + +"No," she said to herself; "I will go on with it now. I'll just trust to +my good luck, and I'll enjoy the time with Nancy. For, after all, she's +twice as kind as Aunt Sophia. Why should I make myself miserable on +account of a woman who is not my mother?" + +The Hollies was a very snug, old-fashioned sort of farm. It had been in +the King family for generations, and Mr. Josiah King was a very fine +specimen of the British farmer. He was a big man with a red face, bushy +whiskers, grizzled hair, and a loud laugh. The expression of his broad, +square face was somewhat fierce, and the servants at the farm were afraid +to anger him. He was a just enough master, however, and was always served +well by his people. To only one person was he completely mild and gentle, +and that person, it is needless to say, was his daughter Nancy. Nancy was +his only child. Her mother was dead, and from her earliest days she had +been able to twist her father round her little finger. He sent her to a +smart boarding school, and no money was spared in order to give her +pleasure. It was the dream of Farmer King, and Nancy's dearest ambition +also, that she should be turned into a lady. But, alas and alack! Miss +Nancy could not overcome the stout yeoman blood in her veins. She was no +aristocrat, and nothing could make her one. She was just a hearty, +healthy happy-minded English girl; vulgar in voice and loud in speech, +but fairly well-intentioned at heart. She was the sort of farmer's +daughter who would marry a farmer, and look after the dairy, and rear +stalwart sons and hearty girls in her turn. Nature never intended her for +a fine lady; but silly Nancy had learnt a great deal more at school than +how to talk a little French very badly and how to recite a poem with +false action and sentiment. She had learnt to esteem the world for the +world's own sake, and had become a little ashamed of the farmer and the +farmer's ways; and, finally, when she returned from school she insisted +on the best parlor being turned into a sort of drawing-room, on her +friends being regaled with late dinners, and on herself being provided +with servants, so that she need not touch household work. She was +playing, therefore, the game of being a lady, and was failing as she +played it. She knew that she was failing, and this knowledge made her +feel very cross. She tried hard to stifle it, and clung more than ever to +her acquaintanceship with the Dale girls. + +In her heart of hearts Nancy knew that she would very much like to milk +the cows, and superintend the dairy, and churn the butter. In her heart +of hearts she would have adored getting up early in the morning and +searching for the warm, pink eggs, and riding barebacked over the farm +with her father, consulting him on the tilling of the land and the best +way to make the old place profitable; for one day it would be her own, +and she would be, for her class in life, a rich girl. Just at present, +however, she was passing through a phase, and not a very pleasant one. +She thought herself quite good enough to go into any society; and fine +dress, loud-voiced friends, and the hollow, empty nothings which she and +her acquaintances called conversation seemed the best things possible +that could come into life. She was, therefore, not at all in the mood to +give up her friendship with the Dale girls. + +Now, there never was a girl less likely to please Miss Tredgold than this +vulgarly dressed, loud-voiced, and unlady-like girl. Nancy was desired to +abstain from visiting at The Dales, and the Dale girls were told that +they were not to talk to Nancy. Nancy's rapture, therefore, when she was +able to bring Pauline to The Hollies could scarcely be suppressed. + +Amy and Becky Perkins were standing in the old porch when the two girls +appeared. Nancy called out to her friends, and they ran to meet her. + +"This is Paulie," said Nancy; "in other words, Pauline Dale--Pauline +Dale, the aristocrat. We ought to be proud to know her, girls. Pauline, +let me introduce my special friend, Becky Perkins. She's in pork, but +that don't matter. And my other special friend, Amy Perkins; also in +pork, but at your service. Girls, you didn't happen to notice if supper +was being put on the table, did you?" + +"I should think we did," said Becky. "I smelt fish. The boys brought in a +lot of trout. I'm as hungry as hungry can be." + +"Let's run upstairs first," said Nancy, turning to Pauline. "You'd like +to take off your hat and wash your hands, wouldn't you, my fine friend of +aristocratic circles?" + +"I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Nancy," said Pauline, flushing +angrily, while the two Perkins girls looked at her with admiration. + +"Well, then, I won't," said Nancy; "but I'm always one for my joke. I +meant no harm. And you know you are aristocratic, Paulie, and nothing +will ever take it out of you. And I'm terribly afraid that nothing will +take the other thing out of me. I only talk to you like this because I'm +so jealous. So now come along and let's be friends." + +The two girls scampered up the old oak stairs. They ran down an uneven +passage, and reached a door of black oak, which was opened with an +old-fashioned latch. At the other side of the door they found themselves +in a long and very low room, with a black oak floor and black oak walls. +The floor of the room was extremely uneven, being up in one part and down +in another, and the whole appearance of the room, although fascinating, +was decidedly patchy. In an alcove at one end stood a four-post bedstead, +with a gaudily colored quilt flung over it; and in the alcove at the +other end was another four-post bedstead, also boasting of a colored +quilt. There were two washstands in the room, and one dressing-table. The +whole place was scrupulously neat and exquisitely clean, for the white +dimity curtains rivalled the snow in winter, and the deal washstands and +the deal dressing-table were as white as the scrubbing of honest hands +could make them. The whole room smelt of a curious mixture of turpentine, +soap, and fresh flowers. + +"I had the lavender sheets put on the bed for you and me," said Nancy. +"They are of the finest linen. My mother spun them herself, and she put +them in lavender years and years ago. I am heartily glad to welcome you, +little Paulie. This is the very first time you have ever slept under our +humble roof. So kiss me, dear." + +"How snug and sweet it all is!" said Pauline. "I am glad that I came." + +"This is better than lying down hungry in your own little room," said +Nancy. + +"Oh, much better!" + +Pauline skipped about. Her high spirits had returned; she was charmed +with the room in which she was to repose. Through the lattice window the +sweetest summer air was entering, and roses peeped all round the frame, +and their sweet scent added to the charm of the old-fashioned chamber. + +"I hope you won't mind having supper in the kitchen," said Nancy. "I know +it's what a Dale is not expected to submit to; but, nevertheless, in Rome +we do as the Romans do--don't we?" + +"Oh, yes; but I wish you wouldn't talk like that, Nancy. As if I cared. +Whether I am a lady or not, I am never too fine for my company; and it +was when Aunt Sophia wanted us to give you up that I really got mad with +her." + +"You are a darling and a duck, and I love you like anything," said Nancy. +"Now come downstairs. We are all hungry, and the boys are mad to be at +the fireworks." + +"I have never seen fireworks in my life," said Pauline. + +"You poor little innocent! What a lot the world has to show you! Now +then, come along." + +Pauline, deprived of her hideous hat, looked pretty and refined in her +white dress. She made a contrast to the showy Nancy and the Perkins +girls. The boys, Jack and Tom Watson, looked at her with admiration, and +Jack put a seat for Pauline between himself and his brother. + +The farmer nodded to her, and said in his bluff voice: + +"Glad to welcome you under my humble roof, Miss Pauline Dale. 'Eartily +welcome you be. Now then, young folks, fall to." + +The meal proceeded to the accompaniment of loud jokes, gay laughter, and +hearty talking. The farmer's voice topped the others. Each remark called +forth fresh shouts of laughter; and when a number of dogs rushed in in +the middle of supper, the din almost rose to an uproar. + +Pauline enjoyed it all very much. She laughed with the others; her cheeks +grew rosy. Nancy piled her plate with every available dainty. Soon her +hunger left her, and she believed that she was intensely happy. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE BURNT ARM. + + +After supper the excitement waxed fast and furious. The boys, aided by +the farmer and one of his men, proceeded to send off the fireworks. This +was done on a little plateau of smoothly cut lawn just in front of the +best sitting-room windows. The girls pressed their faces against the +glass, and for a time were satisfied with this way of looking at the fun. +But soon Nancy could bear it no longer. + +"It is stupid to be mewed up in the close air," she said. "Let's go out." + +No sooner had she given utterance to the words than all four girls were +helping the boys to let off the squibs, Catherine-wheels, rockets, and +other fireworks. Pauline now became nearly mad with delight. Her shouts +were the loudest of any. When the rockets went high into the air and +burst into a thousand stars, she did not believe that the world itself +could contain a more lovely sight. But presently her happiness came to a +rude conclusion, for a bit of burning squib struck her arm, causing her +fine muslin dress to catch fire, and the little girl's arm was somewhat +severely hurt. She put out the fire at once, and determined to hide the +fact that she was rather badly burnt. + +By-and-by they all returned to the house. Nancy sat down to the piano and +began to sing some of her most rollicking songs. Then she played dance +music, and the boys and girls danced with all their might. Pauline, +however, had never learned to dance. She stood silent, watching the +others. Her high spirits had gone down to zero. She now began to wish +that she had never come. She wondered if she could possibly get home +again without being discovered. At last Nancy noticed her grave looks. + +"You are tired, Paulie," she said; "and for that matter, so are we. I +say, it's full time for bed. Good-night, boys. Put out the lamps when you +are tired of amusing yourselves. Dad has shut up the house already. Come, +Paulie; come, Amy; come, Becky." + +The four girls ran upstairs, but as they were going down the passage +which led to their pretty bedroom, Pauline's pain was so great that she +stumbled against Becky and nearly fell. + +"What is it?" said Becky. "Are you faint?" + +She put her arm around the little girl and helped her into the bedroom. + +"Whatever can be wrong?" she said. "You seemed so lively out in the open +air." + +"Oh, you do look bad, Paulie!" said Nancy. "It is that terrible fasting +you went through to-day. My dear girls, what do you think? This poor +little aristocrat, far and away too good to talk to the likes of +us"--here Nancy put her arms akimbo and looked down with a mocking laugh +at the prostrate Pauline--"far too grand, girls--fact, I assure you--was +kept without her food until I gave her a bit of bread and a sup of water +at supper. All these things are owing to an aunt--one of the tip-top of +the nobility. This aunt, though grand externally, has a mighty poor +internal arrangement, to my way of thinking. She put the poor child into +a place she calls Punishment Land, and kept her without food." + +"That isn't true," said Pauline. "I could have had plenty to eat if I had +liked." + +"That means that if you were destitute of one little spark of spirit +you'd have crawled back to the house to take your broken food on a cold +plate like a dog. But what is the matter now? Hungry again?" + +"No; it is my arm. Please don't touch it." + +"Do look!" cried Amy Perkins. "Oh, Nancy, she has got an awful burn! +There's quite a hole through the sleeve of her dress. Oh, do see this +great blister!" + +"It was a bit of one of the squibs," said Pauline. "It lit right on my +arm and burned my muslin sleeve; but I don't suppose it's much hurt, only +I feel a little faint." + +"Dear, dear!" said Nancy. "What is to be done now? I don't know a thing +about burns, or about any sort of illness. Shall we wake cook up? Perhaps +she can tell us something." + +"Let's put on a bandage," said one of the other girls. "Then when you lie +down in bed, Pauline, you will drop asleep and be all right in the +morning." + +Pauline was so utterly weary that she was glad to creep into bed. Her arm +was bandaged very unskilfully; nevertheless it felt slightly more +comfortable. Presently she dropped into an uneasy doze; but from that +doze she awoke soon after midnight, to hear Nancy snoring loudly by her +side, to hear corresponding snores in a sort of chorus coming from the +other end of the long room, and to observe also that there was not a +chink of light anywhere; and, finally, to be all too terribly conscious +of a great burning pain in her arm. That pain seemed to awaken poor +Pauline's slumbering conscience. + +"Why did I come?" she said to herself. "I am a wretched, most miserable +girl. And how am I ever to get back? I cannot climb into the beech-tree +with this bad arm. Oh, how it does hurt me! I feel so sick and faint I +scarcely care what happens." + +Pauline stretched out her uninjured arm and touched Nancy. + +"What is it?" said Nancy. "Oh, dear! I'd forgotten. It's you, Paulie. How +is your arm, my little dear? Any better?" + +"It hurts me very badly indeed; but never mind about that now. How am I +to get home?" + +"I'll manage that. Betty, our dairymaid, is to throw gravel up at the +window at four o'clock. You shall have a cup of tea before you start, and +I will walk with you as far as the wicket-gate." + +"Oh, thank you! But how am I to get into my room when I do arrive at The +Dales? I don't believe I shall be able to use this arm at all." + +"Of course you will," said Nancy. "You will be miles better when cook has +looked to it. I know she's grand about burns, and has a famous ointment +she uses for the purpose. Only, for goodness' sake, Paulie, don't let +that burn in the sleeve of your dress be seen; that would lead to +consequences, and I don't want my midnight picnic to be spoilt." + +"I don't seem to care about that or anything else any more." + +"What nonsense! You don't suppose I should like this little escapade of +yours and mine to be known. You must take care. Why, you know, there's +father. He's very crotchety over some things. He likes all of you, but +over and over again he has said: + +"'I'm as proud of being an honest farmer as I should be to be a lord. My +grandfather paid his way, and my father paid his way, and I am paying my +way. There's no nonsense about me, and I shall leave you, Nancy, a tidy +fortune. You like those young ladies at The Dales, and you shall have +them come here if they wish to come, but not otherwise. I won't have them +here thinking themselves too grand to talk to us. Let them keep to their +own station, say I. I don't want them.' + +"Now you see, Paulie, what that means. If father found out that your aunt +had written to me and desired me to have nothing further to do with you, +I believe he'd pack me out of the country to-morrow. I don't want to +leave my home; why should I? So, you see, for my sake you must keep it +the closest of close secrets." + +"You should have thought of that before you tempted me to come," said +Pauline. + +"That is just like you. You come here and enjoy yourself, and have a +great hearty meal, and when you are likely to get into a scrape you throw +the blame on me." + +"You can understand that I am very miserable, Nancy." + +"Yes; and I'm as sorry as I can be about that burn; but if you'll be +brave and plucky now, I'll help you all I can. We'll get up as soon as +ever the day dawns, and cook shall put your arm straight." + +As Nancy uttered the last words her voice dwindled to a whisper, and a +minute later she was again sound asleep. But Pauline could not sleep. Her +pain was too great. The summer light stole in by degrees, and by-and-by +the sharp noise made by a shower of gravel was heard on the window. + +Pauline sprang into a sitting posture, and Nancy rubbed her eyes. + +"I'm dead with sleep," she said. "I could almost wish I hadn't brought +you. Not but that I'm fond of you, as I think I've proved. We haven't yet +made all our arrangements about the midnight picnic, but I have the most +daring scheme in my head. You are every single one of you--bar Penelope, +whom I can't bear--to come to that picnic. I'll make my final plans +to-day, and I'll walk in the Forest to-morrow at six o'clock, just +outside your wicket-gate. You will meet me, won't you?" + +"But---- Oh! by the way, Nancy, please give me back that beautiful +thimble. I'm so glad I remembered it! It belongs to Aunt Sophia." + +"I can't," said Nancy, coloring, "I lent it to Becky, and I don't know +where she has put it. I'll bring it with me to-morrow, so don't fuss. Now +jump up, Paulie; we have no time to lose." + +Accordingly Pauline got up, dressed herself--very awkwardly, it is +true--and went downstairs, leaning on Nancy's sympathetic arm. Nancy +consulted the cook, who was good-natured and red-faced. + +"You have got a bad burn, miss," she said when she had examined Pauline's +arm; "but I have got a famous plaster that heals up burns like anything. +I'll make your arm quite comfortable in a twinkling, miss." + +This she proceeded to do, and before the treatment had been applied for +half an hour a good deal of Pauline's acute pain had vanished. + +"I feel better," she said, turning to Nancy. "I feel stronger and +braver." + +"You will feel still braver when you have had your cup of tea. And here's +a nice hunch of cake. Put it into your pocket if you can't eat it now. We +had best be going; the farm people may be about, and there's no +saying--it's wonderful how secrets get into the air." + +Pauline looked startled. She again took Nancy's hand, and they left the +house together. + +Now, it so happened that the the morning was by no means as fine as those +lovely mornings that had preceded it. There was quite a cold wind +blowing, and the sky was laden with clouds. + +"We'll have rain to-day," said Nancy; "rain, and perhaps thunder. I feel +thunder in the air, and I never was mistaken yet. We must be quick, or +we'll both be drenched to the skin." + +Accordingly the two walked quickly through the Forest path. But before +they reached the wicket-gate the first mutterings of thunder were +audible, and heavy drops of rain were falling. + +"I must leave you now, Paulie," said Nancy, "for if I go any farther I'll +be drenched to the skin. Climb up your tree, get into your bedroom, and +go to bed. If you can manage to send that white dress over to me, I will +put on a patch that even your aunt will not see. Put on another dress, of +course, this morning, and say nothing about the burn. Good-bye, and good +luck! I'll be over about six o'clock to-morrow evening to talk over our +midnight picnic." + +"And the thimble," said Pauline. "You won't forget the thimble." + +"Not I. Good gracious, what a flash! You had best get home at once; and I +must run for my life or I may be struck down under all these trees." + +Pauline stood still for a minute, watching Nancy as she disappeared from +view; then slowly and sadly she went up to the house. + +She was too tired and depressed to mind very much that the rain was +falling in showers, soaking her thin white muslin dress, and chilling her +already tired and exhausted little frame. The rattle of the thunder, the +bright flash of the lightning, and the heavy fall of the tempest could +not reach the graver trouble which filled her heart. The way of +transgressors had proved itself very hard for poor Pauline. She disliked +the discomfort and misery she was enduring; but even now she was scarcely +sorry that she had defied and disobeyed Aunt Sophia. + +After a great deal of difficulty, and with some injury to her already +injured arm, she managed to climb the beech-tree and so reach the gabled +roof just under her attic window. She pushed the window wide open and got +inside. How dear and sweet and fresh the little chamber appeared! How +innocent and good was that little white bed, with its sheets still +smoothly folded down! It took Pauline scarcely a minute to get into her +night-dress, sweep her offending white dress into a neighboring cupboard, +unlock the door, and put her head on her pillow. Oh, there was no place +like home! It was better to be hungry at home, it was better to be in +punishment at home, than to go away to however grand a place and however +luxuriant a feast. + +"And Nancy's home isn't grand," thought Pauline. "And the food was rough. +Aunt Sophia would even call it coarse. But, oh, I was hungry! And if I +hadn't been so naughty I'd have been very happy. All the same," she +continued, thinking aloud, as was her fashion. "I won't go to that +midnight picnic; and Renny must not go either. Of course, I can't tell +Aunt Sophia what I did last night. I promised Nancy I wouldn't tell, and +it wouldn't be fair; but see if I do anything wrong again! I'll work like +a Briton at my lessons to-day. Oh, how badly my arm hurts! And what an +awful noise the storm is making! The thunder rattles as though it would +come through the roof. My arm does ache! Oh, what lightning! I think I'll +put my head under the sheet." + +Pauline did so, and notwithstanding the tempest, she had scarcely got +down into the real warmth of her bed before sleep visited her. + +When she awoke the storm was over, the sun was shining, and Verena was +standing at the foot of her bed. + +"Do get up, Paulie," she said. "How soundly you have slept! And your face +is so flushed! And, oh, aren't you just starving? We only discovered last +night that you hadn't touched any of your food." + +"I'm all right," said Pauline. + +"You will try to be good to-day, won't you, Paulie? You don't know how +miserable I was without you, for you are my own special most darling +chum. You will try, won't you?" + +"Yes, I will try, of course," said Pauline. "Truly--truly, I will try." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CHANGED LIVES. + + +After the mental storm of the day before, Pauline would never forget the +peace of the day that followed. For Miss Tredgold, having punished, and +the hours of punishment being over, said nothing further to signify her +displeasure. She received Pauline kindly when she appeared in the +schoolroom. She took her hand and drew the little girl toward her. It was +with a great effort that the poor girl could suppress the shriek that +nearly rose to her lips as the unconscious Miss Tredgold touched her +burnt arm. + +"We will forget about yesterday, Pauline," said her aunt. "We will go +back to work this morning just as though there never had been any +yesterday. Do you understand?" + +"I think so," said Pauline. + +"Do you happen to know your lessons?" + +"I'm afraid I don't." + +"Well, my dear, as this is practically your first transgression, I am the +last person to be over-hard. You can listen to your sisters this morning. +At preparation to-day you will doubtless do your best. Now go to your +seat." + +Pauline sat between Briar and Adelaide. Adelaide nestled up close to her, +and Briar took the first opportunity to whisper: + +"I am so glad you are back again, dear old Pauline! We had a horrid time +without you yesterday." + +"They none of them know what I did," thought Pauline; "and, of course, I +meant to tell them. Not Aunt Sophia, but the girls. Yes, I meant to +confide in the girls; but the atmosphere of peace is so nice that I do +not care to disturb it. I will put off saying anything for the present. +It certainly is delightful to feel good again." + +Lessons went on tranquilly. The girls had a time of delightful rest +afterwards in the garden, and immediately after early dinner there came a +surprise. Miss Tredgold said: + +"My dear girls, there are several things you ought to learn besides mere +book knowledge. I propose that you should be young country ladies whom no +one will be ashamed to know. You must learn to dance properly, and to +skate properly if there ever is any skating here. If not, we will go +abroad for the purpose. But while you are in the Forest I intend you to +have riding lessons and also driving lessons. A wagonette will be here at +two o'clock, and we will all go for a long and delightful drive through +the Forest. I am going to some stables about six or seven miles away, +where I hear I can purchase some good horses and also some Forest ponies. +Don't look so excited, dears. I should be ashamed of any nieces of mine +brought up in the New Forest of England who did not know how to manage +horses." + +"Oh, she really is a darling!" said Verena. "I never did for a single +moment suppose that we should have had the chance of learning to drive." + +"And to ride," said Pauline. + +She began to skip about the lawn. Her spirits, naturally very high, +returned. + +"I feel quite happy again," she said. + +"Why, of course you are happy," said Verena; "but you must never get into +Punishment Land again as long as you live, Paulie, for I wouldn't go +through another day like yesterday for anything." + +The wagonette arrived all in good time. It drew up at the front door, and +Mr. Dale, attracted by the sound of wheels, rose from his accustomed seat +in his musty, fusty study, and looked out of the window. The window was +so dusty and dirty that he could not see anything plainly; but, true to +his determination, he would not open it. A breeze might come in and +disturb some of his papers. He was busy with an enthralling portion of +his work just then; nevertheless, the smart wagonette and nicely +harnessed horses, and the gay sound of young voices, attracted him. + +"I could almost believe myself back in the days when I courted my dearly +beloved Alice," he whispered to himself. "I do sincerely trust that +visitors are not beginning to arrive at The Dales; that would be the +final straw." + +The carriage, however, did not stop long at the front door. It was +presently seen bowling away down the avenue. Mr. Dale, who still stood +and watched it, observed that it was quite packed with bright-looking +young girls. Blue ribbons streamed on the breeze, and the girls laughed +gaily. + +"I am glad those visitors are going," thought the good man, who did not +in the least recognize his own family. "A noisy, vulgar crowd they +seemed. I hope my own girls will never become like that. Thank goodness +they did not stay long! Sophia is a person of discernment; she knows that +I can't possibly receive incidental visitors at The Dales." + +He returned to his work and soon was lost to all external things. + +Meanwhile the girls had a lovely and exciting drive. Aunt Sophia was in +her most agreeable mood. The children themselves were quite unaccustomed +to carriage exercise. It was a wonderful luxury to lean back on the +softly cushioned seats and dash swiftly under the noble beech-trees and +the giant oaks of the primeval forest. By-and-by they drove up to some +white gates. Verena was desired to get out and open them. The carriage +passed through. She remounted into her seat, and a few minutes later they +all found themselves in a great cobble-stoned yard surrounded by stables +and coach-houses. The melodious cry of a pack of fox-hounds filled the +air. The girls were almost beside themselves with excitement. Presently a +red-faced man appeared, and he and Miss Tredgold had a long and +mysterious talk together. She got out of the wagonette and went with the +man into the stables. Soon out of the stables there issued, led by two +grooms, as perfect a pair of Forest ponies as were ever seen. They were +well groomed and in excellent order, and when they arched their necks and +pawed the ground with their feet, Pauline uttered an irrepressible shout. + +"Those ponies are coming to The Dale in a fortnight," said Miss Tredgold. +"Their names are Peas-blossom and Lavender." + +"I believe I'll die if much more of this goes on," gasped Briar. "I'm too +happy. I can't stand anything further." + +"Hush, Briar!" said Verena, almost giving her sister a shake in her +excitement, and yet at the same time trying to appear calm. + +"Now, my dear children, we will go home," said their aunt. "The wagonette +will come any day that I send for it, and Mr. Judson informs me he hopes +by-and-by to have a pair of carriage horses that I may think it worth +while to purchase." + +"Aren't these good enough?" asked Verena, as they drove back to The +Dales. + +"They are very fair horses, but I don't care to buy them. Judson knows +just the sort I want. I am pleased with the ponies, however. They will +give you all a great deal of amusement. To-morrow we must go to +Southampton and order your habits." + +"I wonder I _ever_ thought her cross and nasty and disagreeable," thought +Pauline. "I wonder I ever could hate her. I hope she'll let me ride +Peas-blossom. I liked his bright eyes so much. I never rode anything in +my life, but I feel I could ride barebacked on Peas-blossom. I love him +already. Oh, dear! I don't hate Aunt Sophia now. On the contrary, I feel +rather bad when I look at her. If she ever knows what I did yesterday, +will she forgive me? I suppose I ought to tell her; but I can't. It would +get poor Nancy into trouble. Besides--I may as well be frank with +myself--I should not have the courage." + +As soon as the girls got home Penelope ran up to Pauline. + +"You stayed for a long time in the shrubbery yesterday, didn't you, +Pauline?" she asked. + +"Yes," said Pauline. + +"You didn't by any chance find Aunt Sophy's thimble?" + +"I! Why should I?" + +Pauline felt herself turning red. Penelope fixed her exceedingly sharp +eyes on her sister's face. + +"You did find it; you know you did. Where is it? Give it to me. I want my +penny. Think of all the fun you are going to have. She doesn't mean me to +ride, 'cos I asked her. I must have my penny. Give me the thimble at +once, Paulie." + +"I haven't got it. Don't talk nonsense, child. Let me go. Oh! you have +hurt me." + +Pauline could not suppress a short scream, and the next minute she felt +herself turning very faint and sick, for Penelope had laid her +exceedingly hard little hand on Pauline's burnt arm. + +"What is it, Paulie? I know you are not well," said Verena, running up. + +"It is 'cos of her bad conscience," said Penelope, turning away with a +snort of indignation. + +"Really," said Verena, as Pauline leaned against her and tried hard to +repress the shivers of pain that ran through her frame, "Penelope gets +worse and worse. Only that I hate telling tales out of school, I should +ask Aunt Sophia to send her back to the nursery for at least another +year. But what is it, Paulie dear? You look quite ill." + +"I feel rather bad. I have hurt my arm. You must not ask me how, Renny. +You must trust me. Oh dear! I must tell you what has happened, for you +will have to help me. Oh, Renny, I am in such pain!" + +Poor Pauline burst into a torrent of tears. Where was her happiness of an +hour ago? Where were her rapturous thoughts of riding Peas-blossom +through the Forest? Her arm hurt her terribly; she knew that Penelope was +quite capable of making mischief, she was terrified about the thimble. +Altogether her brief interval of sunshine was completely blotted out. + +Verena, for her years, was a wonderfully wise girl. She had since her +mother's death been more or less a little mother to the younger children. +It is true, she had looked after them in a somewhat rough-and-ready +style; but nevertheless she was a sympathetic and affectionate girl, and +they all clung to her. Now it seemed only natural that Pauline should +lean on her and confide her troubles to her. Accordingly Verena led her +sister to a rustic seat and said: + +"Sit down near me and tell me everything." + +"It is this," said Pauline. "I have burned my arm badly, and Aunt Sophia +must not know." + +"You have burnt your arm? How?" + +"I would rather not tell." + +"But why should you conceal it, Paulie?" + +"I'd rather conceal it; please don't ask me. All I want you to do is to +ask me no questions, but to help me to get my arm well; the pain is +almost past bearing. But, Renny, whatever happens, Aunt Sophia must not +know." + +"You are fearfully mysterious," said Verena, who looked much alarmed. +"You used not to be like this, Paulie. You were always very open, and you +and I shared every thought Well, come into the house. Of course, whatever +happens, I will help you; but I think you ought to tell me the whole +truth." + +"I can't, so there! If you are to be a real, real sister to me, you will +help me without asking questions." + +The girls entered the house and ran up to Pauline's bedroom. There the +injured arm was exposed to view, and Verena was shocked to see the extent +of the burn. + +"You ought to see a doctor. This is very wrong," she said. + +She made Pauline lie down, and dressed her arm as well as she could. +Verena was quite a skilful little nurse in her own way, and as Pauline +had some of the wonderful ointment which the Kings' cook had given her, +and as Verena knew very nicely how to spread it on a piece of rag, the +arm soon became more comfortable. + +Just before dinner Miss Tredgold called all the girls round her. + +"I have something to say," she remarked. "I want you all to go upstairs +now; don't wait until five minutes before dinner. You will each find +lying on your bed, ready for wearing, a suitable dinner-blouse. Put it on +and come downstairs. You will wear dinner-dress every night in future, in +order to accustom you to the manners of good society. Now go upstairs, +tidy yourselves, and come down looking as nice as you can." + +The girls were all very much excited at the thought of the dinner-blouses. +They found them, as Aunt Sophia had said, each ready to put on, on their +little beds. Verena's was palest blue, trimmed daintily with a lot of +fluffy lace. The sleeves were elbow-sleeves, and had ruffles round them. +The blouse in itself was quite a girlish one, and suited its fair wearer +to perfection. Pauline's blouse was cream-color; it also had +elbow-sleeves, and was very slightly open at the neck. + +"Do be quick, Paulie," called out Briar. "I have got a sweet, darling, +angel of a pink blouse. Get into yours, and I'll get into mine. Oh, what +tremendous fun this is!" + +Briar ran whooping and singing down the corridor. She was met by nurse +with baby in her arms. + +"Now, Miss Rose, what's up?" said the good woman. "You do look happy, to +be sure. You don't seem to miss the old days much." + +"Of course I don't, nursey. I'm twice as happy as I used to be." + +"Twice as happy with all them lessons to learn?" + +"Yes; twice as happy, and twice as good. She doesn't scold us when we're +good. In fact, she's just uncommonly nice. And to-night she says she'll +play and sing to us; and it's so delicious to listen to her! Dad comes +out of his study just as if she drew him by magic. And I like to learn +things. I won't be a horrid pig of an ignorant girl any more. You will +have to respect me in the future, nursey. And there's a darling little +blouse lying on my bed--pink, like the leaf of a rose. I am to wear it +to-night. I expect Aunt Sophia chose it because I'm like a rose myself. I +shall look nice, shan't I, nursey?" + +"That's all very well," said nurse. "And for my part I don't object to +civilized ways, and bringing you up like young ladies; but as to Miss +Pen, she's just past bearing. New ways don't suit her--no, that they +don't. She ain't come in yet--not a bit of her. Oh! there she is, +marching down the corridor as if all the world belonged to her. What have +you done to yourself, Miss Pen? A nice mess you are in!" + +"I thought I'd collect some fresh eggs for your tea, nursey," said the +incorrigible child; "and I had three or four in my pinafore when I +dropped them. I am a bit messy, I know; but you don't mind, do you, +nursey?" + +"Indeed, then, I do. Just go straight to the nursery and get washed." + +Penelope glanced at Briar with a wry face, and ran away singing out in a +shrill voice: + + "Cross patch, draw the latch, + Sit by the fire and spin." + +She disappeared like a flash, and nurse followed her, murmuring angrily. + +Briar ran into her bedroom. This room she shared with Patty and Adelaide. +They also were wildly delighted with their beautiful blouses, and had not +begun to dress when Briar appeared. + +"I say, isn't it all jolly?" said Briar. "Oh, Patty, what a duck yours +is!--white. And Adelaide's is white, too. But don't you love mine? I must +be a very pretty girl to cause Aunt Sophia to choose such a lovely shade +of rose. I wonder if I am really a pretty girl. Do stand out of the way; +I want to stare at myself in the glass." + +Briar ran to the dressing-table. There she pushed the glass into such an +angle that she could gaze contentedly at her features. She saw a small, +rather round face, cheeks a little flushed, eyes very dark and bright, +quantities of bright brown curling hair, dark pencilled eyebrows, a +little nose, and a small pink mouth. + +"You are a charming girl, Briar Dale," she said, "worthy of a rose-pink +blouse. Patty, don't you just love yourself awfully?" + +"I don't know," said Patty. "I suppose every one does." + +"The Bible says it is very wrong to love yourself," said Adelaide. "You +ought to love other people and hate yourself." + +"Well, I am made the contrary," said Briar. "I hate other people and love +myself. Who wouldn't love a darling little face like mine? Oh, I am just +a duck! Help me into my new blouse, Patty." + +The three girls, each with the help of the other, managed to array +themselves even to Briar's satisfaction. She was the neatest and also the +vainest of the Dales. When she reached the outside corridor she met +Verena, looking sweet, gentle, and charming in her pale-blue blouse. They +all ran down to the drawing-room, where Miss Tredgold was waiting to +receive them. She wore the old black lace dress, which suited her faded +charms to perfection. She was standing by the open French window, and +turned as her nieces came in. The girls expected her to make some remark +with regard to their appearance, but the only thing she said was to ask +them to observe the exquisite sunset. + +Presently Pauline appeared. She looked pale. There were black shadows +under her eyes, and she was wearing a dirty white shirt decidedly the +worse for wear. The other girls looked at her in astonishment. Verena +gave her a quick glance of pain. Verena understood; the others were +simply amazed. Miss Tredgold flashed one glance at her, and did not look +again in her direction. + +Dinner was announced in quite the orthodox fashion, and the young people +went into the dining-room. Mr. Dale was present. He was wearing quite a +decent evening suit. He had not the faintest idea that he was not still +in the old suit that had lain by unused and neglected for so many long +years. He had not the most remote conception that Miss Tredgold had taken +that suit and sent it to a tailor in London and desired him to make by +its measurements a new suit according to the existing vogue. Mr. Dale put +on the new suit when it came, and imagined that it was the old one. But, +scholar as he was, he was learning to appreciate the excellent meals Miss +Tredgold provided for him. On this occasion he was so human as to find +fault with a certain entree. + +"This curry is not hot enough," he said. "I like spicy things; don't you, +Sophia?" + +Miss Tredgold thought this an enormous sign of mental improvement. She +had already spoken to cook on the subject of Mr. Dale's tastes. + +"Why, drat him!" was Betty's somewhat indignant answer. "In the old days +he didn't know sprats from salmon, nor butter from lard. Whatever have +you done to him, ma'am?" + +"I am bringing him back to humanity," was Miss Tredgold's quiet answer. + +Betty raised her eyebrows. She looked at Miss Tredgold and said to +herself: + +"So quiet in her ways, so gentle, and for all so determined! Looks as +though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; yet you daren't so much as +neglect the smallest little sauce for the poorest little _entree_ or +you'd catch it hot. She's a real haristocrat. It's a pleasure to have +dealings with her. Yes, it's a downright pleasure. When I'm not thinking +of my favorite 'ero of fiction, the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton, I +feel that I'm doing the next best thing when I'm receiving the orders of +her ladyship." + +Another of cook's ideas was that Miss Tredgold was a person of title, who +chose for the present to disguise the fact. She certainly had a +marvellous power over the erratic Betty, and was turning her into a +first-rate cook. + +"Are you going to give us some of that exquisite music to-night, Sophia?" +asked Mr. Dale when he had finished his dinner. He looked languidly at +his sister-in-law. + +"On one condition I will," she said. "The condition is this: you are to +accompany my piano on the violin." + +Mr. Dale's face became pale. He did not speak for a minute; then he rose +and went nimbly on tiptoe out of the room. + +There was silence for a short time. The girls and their aunt had migrated +into the drawing-room. The drawing-room looked sweetly pretty with its +open windows, its softly shaded lamps, its piano wide open, and the +graceful figures of the girls flitting about. Even Pauline's ugly blouse +was forgotten. There was a sense of mystery in the air. Presently in the +distance came the sound of a fiddle. It was the sound of a fiddle being +tuned. The notes were discordant; but soon rich, sweeping melodies were +heard. They came nearer and nearer, and Mr. Dale, still playing his +fiddle, entered the room. He entered with a sort of dancing measure, +playing an old minuet as he did so. + +Miss Tredgold stepped straight to the piano and without any music, played +an accompaniment. + +"I have won," she thought. "I shall send him away for change of air; then +the study must be cleaned. I shall be able to breathe then." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NANCY SHOWS HER HAND. + + +It was not until after breakfast on the following morning that Miss +Tredgold said anything to Pauline about the ugly shirt she had chosen to +wear on the previous evening. + +"My dear," she said then, very gently, "I did not remark on your dress +last night; but for the future remember that when I say a thing is to be +done, it is to be done. I had a pretty, suitable blouse put into your +room for you to appear in last night. Why did you wear that ugly torn +shirt?" + +"I couldn't help myself," said Pauline. + +"That is no reason." + +Pauline was silent. She looked on the ground. Miss Tredgold also was +silent for a minute; then she said decisively: + +"You will wear the new blouse to-night. Remember, I expect to be obeyed. +I will say nothing more now about your forgetting my orders last evening. +Do better in the future and all will be well." + +It was with great difficulty that Pauline could keep the tears from her +eyes. What was to become of her. She did not dare expose her burnt arm; +she could not possibly wear a blouse with sleeves that reached only to +the elbow without showing the great burn she had received. If Miss +Tredgold found out, might she not also find out more? What was she to do? + +"What am I to do, Verena?" she said on the afternoon of that same day. + +"What do you mean, Paulie? Your arm is better, is it not?" + +"Yes; it doesn't hurt quite so much. But how can I wear the new blouse +to-night?" + +"Would it not be wiser," said Verena, "if you were to tell Aunt Sophy +that you have burnt your arm? It is silly to make a mystery of it." + +"But she will make me tell her how I did it." + +"Well?" + +"I daren't tell her that. I daren't even tell you." + +"What am I to think, Paulie?" + +"Anything you like. You are my own sister, and you must not betray me. +But she must never know. Can't you think of something to get me out of +this? Oh, dear! what is to be done?" + +Verena shook her head. + +"I don't know what is to be done," she said, "if you haven't the courage +to speak the truth. You have probably got into some scrape." + +"Oh! I----" + +"I am sure you have, Paulie; and the sooner you tell the better. The +longer you conceal whatever it is, the worse matters will grow." + +Pauline's face grew crimson. + +"I am exceedingly sorry I told you," she said. "You are not half, nor +quarter, as nice a sister as you used to be. Don't keep me. I am going +into the shrubbery to help Penelope to look for Aunt Sophy's thimble." + +Verena said nothing further, and Pauline went into the shrubbery. + +"I seem to be getting worse," she said to herself. "Of course, I don't +really want to help Penelope. How should I, when I know where the thimble +is? There she is, hunting, hunting, as usual. What a queer, unpleasant +child she is growing!" + +Penelope saw Pauline, and ran up to her. + +"You might tell me everything to-day," said the child. "Where did you put +it?" + +"I have come to help you to look for it, Pen." + +"Don't be silly," was Penelope's answer. + +She instantly stood bolt upright. + +"There's no use in my fussing any longer," she said. "I've gone round and +round here, and picked up leaves, and looked under all the weeds. There +isn't a corner I've left unpoked into. Where's the good of troubling when +you have it? You know you have it." + +"I know nothing of the kind. There! I will tell you the simple truth. I +have not got the thimble. You may believe me as much as you like." + +"Then I'll believe just as much as nothing at all. If you haven't got the +thimble, you know where it is. I'll give you until this time to-morrow to +let me have it, and if you don't I'll go straight to Aunt Sophy." + +"Now, Pen, you are talking nonsense. You have no proof whatever that I +have touched the thimble; and what will Aunt Sophia say to a little child +who trumps up stories about her elder sister?" + +"Perhaps she'll be very glad," said Penelope. "I have often thought that +with such a lot of you grown-up girls, and all of you so very rampagious +and not a bit inclined to obey or do your lessons nicely, poor Aunt +Sophy, what is really a dear old duck of a thing, wants some one like me +to spy round corners and find out what goes on ahind her back. Don't you +think so? Don't you think her'll love me if I tell her always what goes +on ahind of her back?" + +"If she's a bit decent she'll hate you," said Pauline. "Oh, Pen, how were +you made? What a queer, queer sort of child you are! You haven't ideas +like the rest of us." + +"Maybe 'cos I'm nicer," said Penelope, not at all impressed by Pauline's +contempt. "Maybe I shouldn't like to be made same as all you others are. +There is something wrong about Aunt Sophy's thimble, and if I don't get +it soon I'll be 'bliged to tell her." + +Penelope's eyes looked like needles. She walked away. Pauline gazed after +her; then she went into the house. + +"That thimble is really a very trifling matter," she said to herself, +"but even that at the present moment annoys me. Nancy has promised to +bring it back to me this evening, and I will just put it somewhere where +Pen is sure to find it. Then she'll be in raptures; she'll have her +penny, and that matter will be set at rest. Oh, dear! it is almost time +to go and meet Nancy. She must not keep me long, for now that that horrid +dressing for dinner has begun, it takes quite half an hour to get +properly tidy. But what am I to do? How can I wear that blouse?" + +Pauline waited her chance, and slipped out at the wicket-gate without +even Penelope's sharp eyes watching her. She found Nancy pacing up and +down at the other side. Nancy was decidedly cross. + +"Why did you keep me waiting?" she said. "It is five minutes past six, +and I have barely another five minutes to stay with you, and there's a +lot to talk over." + +"I'm in great luck to be able to come at all, Nancy. I didn't think I +could ever slip away from the others. As to the midnight picnic, we must +give it up. It is quite impossible for me to come. And I know the others +won't; they're all getting so fond of Aunt Sophy. What do you think? She +has given us ponies, and we're to have carriage-horses presently; and we +are obliged to dress for dinner every evening." + +"Oh, you are turning aristocratic, and I hate you," said Nancy, with a +toss of the head. + +She looked intensely jealous and annoyed. She herself was to ride soon, +and her habit was already being made. She had hoped against hope that +Miss Tredgold would be impressed by seeing her gallop past in an elegant +habit on a smart horse. + +"Oh, Nancy!" said Pauline, "don't let us talk about ponies and things of +that sort now; I am in great, great trouble." + +"I must say I'm rather glad," said Nancy. "You know, Paulie, you are in +some ways perfectly horrid. I did a great deal for you the other night, +and this is all the thanks I get. You won't come to the midnight picnic, +forsooth! And you won't have anything more to do with me, forsooth! +You'll ride past me, I suppose, and cut me dead." + +"I shall never do anything unkind, for I really do love you, Nancy. I +have always loved you, but I can't get into fresh scrapes. They're not +worth while." + +"You didn't talk like that when you were mad and starving the other day." + +"No, I didn't; but I do now. I have been miserable ever since I came +back; and, oh, my arm has pained me so badly! You can imagine what I felt +last evening when we were desired to wear pretty new blouses with +elbow-sleeves; such sweet little dears as they all were. Mine was +cream-color--just what suits me best--but of course I couldn't appear in +it." + +"Why not?" + +"With my burnt arm! How could I, Nancy?" + +Nancy burst out into a roar of laughter. + +"What a lark!" she cried. "Well, and what did the poor little Miss Misery +do?" + +"I had to put on an old dirty shirt, the only one I could find. Aunt +Sophia gave me no end of a lecture this morning. She says I am to wear my +new blouse to-night or she'll know the reason why. Of course, I can't +wear it." + +"Then you can't have any dinner?" + +"I am absolutely beside myself to know what to do," said Pauline. +"Sometimes I think I'll go to bed and pretend I have got a headache. Oh, +dear, what a bad girl I am turning into!" + +Nancy laughed again. + +"It is sometimes very tiresome to develop a conscience," she said. "You +were a much nicer girl before that grand aunt of yours arrived to turn +things topsy-turvy. As to the midnight picnic, you must come. I have made +a bet on the subject. Jack and Tom say you won't come--that you will be +afraid. 'Pauline Dale afraid! That's all you know about her,' says I. I +have assured them that you will come whatever happens, and they have said +you won't. So the end of it is that Tom, Jack, and I have made a bet +about it. It is ten shillings' worth either way. If you come, I get three +beautiful pairs of gloves. If you don't come, I give the boys ten +shillings. Now you see how important it is. Why, Paulie, of course you +will come! We are going to have a right-down jolly time, for father is so +tickled with the notion that he is coming, too; and he says he will give +us a real good lark. And we are going to Friar's Oak, eight miles away; +and we are to take hampers full of dainties. And Fiddler Joe will come +with us to play for us; and there's a beautiful green-sward just under +the beech-trees by Friar's Oak, and there we'll dance by the full light +of the moon. Oh, you must come! I told father you were coming, and he was +awfully pleased--as pleased as Punch--and he said: + +"'That's right, my girl; that's right, Nancy. If the Dales stick to me +through thick and thin, I'll stick to them.' + +"You know, Pauline, you have always been at our fun before; so, aunt or +no aunt, you can't fail us now." + +"I'd like to go beyond anything," said Pauline, who felt intensely +tempted by this description. "It is so horrible to be pulled up short. +But I know I can't, so there's no use thinking about it." + +"You needn't answer me now. I'll come back again. This is Friday night. +I'll come back on Monday night. The picnic is arranged for Wednesday +night. Listen, Paulie; you will have to change your mind, for if you +don't--well!" + +"If I don't?" + +"I can make it very hot for you." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I'll come and have a talk with your aunt. There!" + +"Oh, Nancy. What about?" + +"Such an interesting story, darling! All about our fun that night when +you burnt your arm--all about our gaiety, and the fireworks, and your +stealing away as you did, and your stealing back as you did. Oh! I shall +have a jolly story to tell; and I will tell it, too. She'll turn me away, +and tell me she'll never see me any more; but what of that? She's done +that already. I will have my fun; you will have your punishment. That's +fair enough, isn't it? You don't desert Nancy King for nothing, remember +that, Pauline, so you had better say at once that you will come. Now, my +love, I think that is about all." + +Nancy's face was very red. She was feeling thoroughly angry. Pauline's +manner annoyed her past description. She really imagined herself to be +extremely kind and good-natured to Pauline, and could not endure the +little girl taking her present high stand. + +"I must be going now," she said. + +She gave Pauline a nod which was scarcely friendly, but was, at the same +time, very determined, and was about to run home, when Pauline called +her. + +"Don't go for a minute, Nancy. There's something else. Have you brought +me back Aunt Sophia's thimble?" + +"No, I have not. I have a story to tell you about that, and I was just +forgetting it. I do hope and trust you won't really mind." + +"Oh, what is it? You know I am quite likely to get into a scrape about +that horrid thimble as well as everything else. What is the story? The +thimble isn't yours. You surely haven't lost it!" + +"Nothing of the kind. You look as though you thought I had stolen it. +Mean as I am, I am not quite so bad as that. Now let me tell you. Becky, +poor old girl! saw it. She's always mad about finery of any sort, and her +people are rich as rich. I had the thimble in my pocket, and she was +snuggling up close to me in her nice, engaging little fashion, and she +felt the thimble hard against my side, much as I felt it when it was in +your pocket. In she slipped her little bit of a white hand and drew it +out. I never saw any one so delighted over a toy of the sort in all my +life. It fitted her little finger just to a nicety. + +"'Why,' she exclaimed, 'I never, never saw a thimble like this before; +did you, Nancy?' + +"'Guess not,' I answered. 'It's a cunning one, isn't it?' + +"She kept turning it round and round, and looking at it, and pressing it +up to her cheek, and trying to see her own reflection in that wonderful +sapphire at the bottom of the thimble. Then what do you think happened? I +own it was a little sharp of her, but of course you can't be so +unfriendly as to mind. She took the precious little toy and put it into a +dear, most precious little box, and covered it over with soft, soft +cotton-wool, and placed a sweet little lid on the top. Dear me, Pauline! +you needn't open your eyes any wider. And when she had secured the little +box, she wrapped it in brown paper, and twined it, and sealed it, and +addressed it to her sister Josephine in London." + +"Then she stole it," said Pauline. + +"Not a bit of it. What a narrow-minded girl you are! Just hear my story +out. Becky sent the thimble to Josephine to their house in Bayswater, +with directions that Josephine was to take it to their jeweller, Paxton, +and ask him to make another in all particulars precise ditto the same. +You understand? Precise ditto the same--sapphire, gold, turquoise, and +all. And this beautiful thimble is to be worn on the dear little middle +finger of Becky's dear little white hand. When it is faithfully copied +you will have the original thimble back, my love, but not before. Now, +then, ta-ta for the present." + +Nancy ran off before Pauline had time to reply. She felt stunned. What +did everything mean? How queer of Nancy to have suddenly turned into a +perfectly awful girl--a sort of fiend--a girl who had another girl +completely in her power; who could, and would if she liked, make that +other girl wretched; who could and would ruin that other girl's life. +There was a time when the midnight picnic seemed the most delightful +thing on earth; but it scarcely appeared delightful now to poor Pauline, +whose head ached, whose arm ached, and whose whole body ached. What was +she to do? + +When she re-entered the shrubbery, her unhappy feelings were by no means +lightened to see that Penelope was waiting for her. Penelope stood a +little way off, her feet firmly planted a little apart, her straw hat +pushed back from her sunburned face, her hands dropped straight to her +sides. + +"I didn't eavesdrop," she said. "I could have easy. There was a +blackberry briar, and I could have stole under it and not minded the +scratches, and I could have heard every single word; but I didn't, 'cos +I'm not mean. But I saw you talking to Nancy, what kind Aunt Sophy says +you're not to talk to. Perhaps, seeing you has done what is awful wrong, +you'll give me a penny instead of Aunt Sophy; then I needn't tell her +that you were talking to Nancy when you oughtn't, and that I think you +have got the thimble. Will you give me a penny or will you not?" + +Pauline put her hand into her pocket. + +"You are a most detestable child," she said. + +"Think so if you like," said Penelope. "Oh, here's my penny!" + +She snatched at the penny which was reposing on Pauline's palm. + +"Now I'll go straight off and get John to bring me in some cookies," she +exclaimed. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +PAULINE CONFESSES. + + +Pauline was in such a strait that she made up her mind to tell a lie. She +had never, so far as she could remember, told an actual and premeditated +lie before. Now matters were so difficult, and there seemed such a +certainty of there being no other way out, that she resolved to brave the +consequences and add to her former sin by a desperate, downright black +lie. Accordingly, just before dinner she ran into Verena's room. + +"Renny," she said, "I have made up my mind." + +"What about?" asked Verena. "Why, Pauline, you do look bad. Your face is +as white as a sheet." + +"I shall have to explain," continued Pauline. "I am going to tell how I +got the burn on my arm." + +Verena gave a great sigh of relief. + +"I am glad," she cried. "It is far better to tell." + +"So I think," said Pauline in an airy fashion. "Give me a kiss, Verena; I +must dress for dinner, and I haven't a moment to lose." + +"You will wear your pretty blouse?" + +"Certainly." + +Pauline dashed out of the room, banging the door noisily after her. + +"I wonder what she means," thought Verena. "She is certainly getting +rather queer. I am afraid she has a terrible secret on her mind. I am +glad she means to confess, poor darling! I seem to have less influence +over her than I used to have, and yet I love no one like Paulie. She is +all the world to me. I love her far better than the others." + +Meanwhile Pauline, with great difficulty, put on her pretty evening-blouse. +How she hated those elbow-sleeves! How she wished the little soft chiffon +frills were longer! At another time she would have been delighted with her +own reflection in the glass, for a cream-colored silk blouse suited her. +She would have liked to see how well she looked in this new and fashionable +little garment. She would have been pleased, too, with the size and +brilliancy of her black eyes. She would have admired that flush which so +seldom visited her sallow cheeks; she would even have gazed with +approbation at her pearly-white teeth. Oh, yes, she would have liked +herself. Now she felt that she hated herself. She turned from the glass +with a heavy sigh. + +Having finished her toilet, she wrapped a soft muslin handkerchief round +her wounded arm and ran downstairs. Her aunt was already in the +drawing-room, but to Pauline's relief no one else was present. The little +girl ran up to her aunt, dropped a curtsy, and looked somewhat +impertinently into her face. + +"Here I am," she said; "and how do I look?" + +"You have put on your blouse, Pauline. It suits you. Turn round and let +me see how it fits at the back. Oh! quite nicely. I told Miss Judson to +make the blouses in a simple fashion, so that they could be washed again +and again. But what is the matter, my dear? Your face is very white. +And--why, my dear Pauline, what is wrong with your arm?" + +"I have something to confess, Aunt Sophy. I hope you won't be terribly +angry." + +"Something to confess, my dear child? Well, I am glad you have the +courage to confess when you do wrong. There is nothing like owning up +one's faults, Pauline. There is nothing else that really strengthens the +soul. Well, I am listening, dear. Now, what is it?" + +Pauline slowly unfastened the handkerchief which she had bound round her +arm, and showed the great burn to Miss Tredgold. + +Miss Tredgold started, uttered an exclamation, took the little arm in her +hand, and looked tenderly at the ugly place. + +"My poor little girl," she said. "Do you mean that you have been +suffering from this all this time? But how in the world did it happen?" + +"That is what I want to confess. I did something extremely naughty the +day you kept me in Punishment Land." + +"What was it?" + +"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock." + +"Yes; that was part of the punishment." + +"Well, I didn't like it. Oh! here comes Verena. Renny, I am confessing my +sins." + +Verena ran up, her face full of anxiety. She put her arm round Pauline's +waist. + +"See how bad her poor arm is," she said, glancing at Miss Tredgold. + +"Yes," said Miss Tredgold, "it is badly hurt; but don't interrupt, +Verena. I am listening to the story of how Pauline burnt her arm." + +"You sent me to bed at seven o'clock," said Pauline, who, now that she +had embarked on her narrative, felt emboldened and, strange to say, +almost enjoyed herself. "I could not possibly sleep at seven o'clock, you +know; so, to amuse myself, I tried on my new white dress; and then I lit +a candle, drew down the blinds, and looked at myself in the glass. I was +so pleased! I did look nice; I felt quite conceited." + +"You needn't tell me how you felt, Pauline. I want to hear facts, not +accounts of your feelings. You did wrong to put on your white dress, for +it had already been fitted on by the dressmaker, and it was being +carefully kept for Sunday wear. But proceed. After you lit the candle and +drew down the blinds what happened?" + +"A great puff of wind came in through the window, and it blew the blind +against the candle, and the flame of the candle came towards me, and I +had my hand up to arrange my hair. I was fastening it up with hairpins to +make myself look quite grown-up." + +"Well?" + +"And the candle caught my sleeve and set it on fire." + +Miss Tredgold now began to look so pale that Verena vaguely wondered if +she were going to faint. The little culprit, however, stood bolt upright +and gazed with defiant black eyes at her aunt. + +"Yes," said Pauline, "I suffered awful pain, and the sleeve blazed up +like anything; but I ran to the basin of water and put it out. I was +afraid to tell you. I had to tell Renny that I had burnt my arm, but I +didn't tell her how it happened, and I wouldn't allow her to breathe to +you that I was in pain. That was the reason I could not wear my pretty +blouse last night, and you were angry with me. I hope you won't be angry +any more; but the sleeve of the dress is burnt badly. Perhaps you won't +give me any birthday present because the sleeve of my new dress is so +much injured." + +"I will see about that. The thing is to cure your arm. The doctor must +come immediately." + +"But it is getting better." + +"You must see the doctor," said Miss Tredgold. + +She went out of the room as she spoke. Pauline sank into a chair; Verena +looked down at her. + +"Have you told the truth?" asked Verena suddenly. + +Pauline nodded with such a savage quickness that it made her sister +positively certain that she had not heard the right story. + +Miss Tredgold came back in a minute. + +"I have sent for Dr. Moffat," she said. "I hope he will be here after +dinner. My dear child, why didn't you tell me before?" + +"Are you going to forgive me?" faltered Pauline. "I--I almost think I'd +rather you didn't." + +"You are a very queer child, and I may as well tell you frankly you are +talking nonsense. You did wrong, of course, to put on the white dress; +but I think, my dear, your sufferings have been your punishment. We will +say no more now about the burnt sleeve. Fortunately I have plenty of the +same muslin in the house, and the mischief can be quickly repaired. Now, +dear, lie back in that chair. No; you are not to come in to dinner. It +shall be sent to you here on a tray." + +For the rest of the evening Pauline was so pitied and fussed over, and +made so thoroughly comfortable, that she began to think the black, black +lie she had uttered quite a good thing. + +"Here am I half out of my scrape," she thought. "Now, if I can only +persuade Nancy not to force us to go to that midnight picnic, and not to +tell if we don't go, and if I can get the thimble back, I shall be once +more as happy as the day is long. This wicked black lie shall not +frighten me. There is no other way out. I cannot possibly tell the truth. +What would Nancy think if I did?" + +The doctor came. He ordered a healing lotion for the arm; he also felt +the pulse of the little patient. He declared her to be slightly feverish, +and ordered her to bed. + +Half the next day Pauline stayed in her comfortable bed. She was fed with +dainties by Aunt Sophia, was not expected to learn any lessons, and was +given a fascinating story-book to wile away the time. During the morning, +when she was not engaged in the schoolroom, Miss Tredgold stayed by the +little girl's side, and mended the burnt dress, cutting out a new sleeve +and putting it in with deft, clever fingers. + +Pauline watched her as one fascinated. As she looked and observed the +graceful figure, the kindly expression of the eyes, and the noble pose of +the head, there stole over her desolate little heart a warm glow. She +began to love Aunt Sophia. When she began to love her she began also to +hate herself. + +"I don't want to love her a bit," thought the child. "I want quite to +detest her. If I love her badly--and perhaps I may--it will make things +that must happen much more difficult." + +Aunt Sophia left the room. She came back presently with a dainty jelly +and some home-made biscuits. She put an extra pillow at Pauline's back, +and placed the little tray containing the tempting food in front of her. + +"What are you thinking about, Paulie?" she asked suddenly. + +"About how nice you are," answered the child; and then she added, "I +don't want you to be nice." + +"Why so?" + +"Because I don't. I can't tell you more than just I don't." + +Miss Tredgold said nothing more. She resumed her work, and Pauline ate +her jelly. + +"Aunt Sophy," she said presently, "I want to be awfully good at my +lessons next week. I want to learn real desperate hard. I want to turn +into a very clever girl. You'd like me to be clever, wouldn't you?" + +"Provided you are not conceited with it," said Aunt Sophia in her abrupt +way. + +"Perhaps I should be," said Pauline. "I was always thought rather smart. +I like people to call me smart. You don't want me to turn stupid because +I may get conceited." + +"No, dear; I want you to be natural. I want you to try very hard to be +learned, to be good, to be a lady. I want you to be the sort of woman +your mother would have wished you to be had she lived. I want you to grow +up strong in mind and strong in body. I want you to be unselfish. I want +you to look upon life as a great gift which you must not abuse, which you +must make use of. I want you, Paulie, and your sisters to be the best in +every sense of that great word. You will fail. We all fail at times; but +there is forgiveness for each failure if you go to the right and only +source. Have I said enough?" + +"Yes," said Pauline in a low voice. + +Her conscience was pricking her. She lowered her eyes; the long black +lashes trembled with tears. Miss Tredgold stooped and kissed her. + +"I hear Briar in the garden," she said. "I will send her up to you. Be as +merry as you please with her, and forget my words for the present." + +Pauline got up in time for late dinner. She was, of course, excused +wearing her dinner-blouse, and was still treated somewhat as an invalid. +But on Sunday morning she was so much better that she was able to wear +her white dress, and able also to join her sisters in the garden. + +They all went to the pretty little church in the next village, and Miss +Tredgold accompanied them. + +Looking back on it afterwards, that Sunday always seemed to Pauline like +an exquisite dream of peace. Her lie did not press at all against her +heart. The discomfort of it was for the time in abeyance. She tried to +forget Miss Tredgold's ideal girl; she was happy without knowing why. She +was happy, but at the same time she was quite well aware of the fact that +her happiness would come to an end on Sunday night. She was quite certain +that on Monday morning her grave and terrible troubles would begin. She +would have to see Nancy. She would have to decide with regard to the +midnight picnic. There was no joy for Pauline in the thought of that +picnic now, but she dared not stay away from it, for if she did Nancy +would have her way. Nancy's temper, quick and hot as a temper could be, +would blaze up. She would come to Miss Tredgold and tell her everything. +If it had been awful to Pauline's imagination to think of Miss Tredgold +knowing the truth before, what would it be to her now after the lie she +had told? + +"I must coax Nancy," thought the little girl to herself. "I must tell her +that I can't go to the picnic, and I must implore her not to tell. Oh, +what shall I do? How shall I persuade her?" + +On Sunday morning, therefore, notwithstanding her promises, Pauline was +inattentive at lessons. But Miss Tredgold was not inclined to be +over-severe. The doctor had said that the child had not only been badly +burnt, but had also received a nervous shock. He had further added that +the more liberty she was given, and the more fresh air just at present, +the better. + +Accordingly Pauline was sent into the garden long before the others had +finished their lessons. She presently sat down under the shade of a tree. +She was not to meet Nancy till six o'clock. + +By-and-by Penelope came out, saw her sister, and ran towards her. + +"Have you got the thimble?" she asked. + +"Of course I haven't. I don't know anything about the thimble. What do +you mean?" + +Alas for Pauline! Her first lie had made her second easy. + +Penelope looked at her in puzzled wonder. + +"I thought you did know about it," she said, disappointment stealing over +her shrewd little face. + +"I don't know anything about it. Don't worry me." + +"You are so cross that I'm sure you have done something desperate +naughty," said Penelope. "I want to find out what it is, and I don't want +to stay with you. I think you are horrid." + +She marched away defiantly, her squat little figure and bare legs looking +so comical that Pauline burst out laughing. + +"What am I coming to?" she said to herself. "This is lie number two. Oh, +dear! I feel just as if a net were surrounding me, and the net was being +drawn tighter each moment, and I was being dragged into a pit out of +which there is no escape. What shall I do?" + +Just then Mr. Dale, who seldom left the house, appeared in view. He was +walking slowly, his hands thrust into his pockets, his head bent forward; +he was murmuring some sentences of his beloved Virgil to himself. He took +no notice of Pauline. He did not even see her. Neither did he notice the +chair in which she was sitting. He came bang up against her before he +knew that she was there. + +"What have I done?" he exclaimed. "Oh, it is you, Pauline! How +inconsiderate of you to sit like this on the lawn!" + +"But we always sit on the chairs, dad," said Pauline, springing to her +feet. + +He forgot that he had made the remark. He laid his hand on her shoulder. + +"I have been having a delightful time," he said--"truly a delightful +time. All this morning I have been in contact with noble thoughts. My +child, can you realize, even dimly, what it is to dip into those mines of +wealth--those mines of illimitable wisdom and greatness and strength and +power? Oh, the massiveness of the intellects of the old classic writers! +Their lofty ideas with regard to time and eternity--where can their like +be found?" + +Pauline yawned. + +"Are you tired?" asked her father. + +"No--only worried," she answered. + +She did not know why she made the latter remark; but at the same time she +was perfectly well aware that anything she said to her father was safe, +as he would absolutely forget it in the course of the next minute. He was +roused now from his visions of the past by a certain pathos in the little +face. He put his arm round the child and drew her to him. + +"My dear, pretty little girl," he said. + +"Am I pretty?" asked Pauline. + +He gazed at her out of his short-sighted eyes. + +"I think not," he said slowly. "I was imagining you were Verena, or +perhaps Briar. Briar is certainly very pretty. No, Pauline, you are not +pretty; you are plain. But never mind; you have perhaps got"--he put a +finger on each temple--"you have perhaps got something greater." + +"It doesn't matter if you are plain or not," said Pauline almost crossly, +"when you are awfully worried." + +"But what worries you, my child? I would not have one so young subjected +to worries. My dear, is it possible that you already are perplexed with +the ways of this present life? Truly, I am scarcely surprised. The life +we lead in these degenerate days is so poor; the giants have left the +earth, and only the pigmies are left. Don't worry about life, child; it +isn't worth while." + +"I am not," said Pauline bluntly. "I am worrying because----" + +"Because of what, dear?" + +"Because I am going to be desperately naughty." + +Mr. Dale shook his head slowly. + +"I wouldn't," he said. "It is very uncomfortable and wrong, and it +sullies the conscience. When the conscience gets sullied the nature goes +down--imperceptibly, perhaps, but still it goes down. If your worry is an +affair of the conscience, take it to Him who alone can understand you." + +Pauline looked at her father with awed astonishment. + +"You mean God?" she said. "Will He help me?" + +"Certainly He will. He is the Great Deliverer, and His strength is as +immeasurable as it ever was. He gave power to the martyrs to go through +the flames. He will help a little, weak girl if she asks Him. Oh, my +dear, it has struck twelve! I have lost a quarter of an hour. Don't keep +me another moment." + +The scholar and dreamer hurried to the house. Long before he got there he +had forgotten Pauline and her childish worries. She was going to be +desperately naughty. He certainly no longer remembered those words. + +Meanwhile the child stayed behind with her hands clasped. + +"I wish he had told me more," she said to herself. "I don't believe God +could put this straight." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE NET. + + +On Monday Pauline's troubles began over again. She ought to have been +very happy on this special day, for the birthday--the great, important +birthday, her very own, when she would reach the completion of her +fourteenth year--was near at hand. But although Pauline was perplexed and +unhappy, there was nevertheless a birthday feeling in the air. In the +first place, there was a great and exciting sense of mystery. The girls +were seen darting quickly here and there; in every imaginable corner +there were whispered consultations. Aunt Sophia, in particular, never +looked at Pauline without smiling. She was kindness itself. It seemed to +the poor little girl that her aunt had taken a great fancy to her. This +was the case. Miss Tredgold was interested in all her nieces, but even +Verena with her daintiness and pretty face, and Briar with her most +charming personality, did not attract Miss Tredgold as did the +blunt-looking, almost plain child who called herself Pauline. + +"She has got character and independence," thought the good lady. "She +will be something by-and-by. She will always be able to hold her own in +the world. She is the kind of girl who could do much good. It hurt me +very much to send her into Punishment Land, but she is all the better for +it. Oh, yes, she must taste the rough as well as the smooth if she is to +be worth anything. She will be worth a good deal; of that I am +convinced." + +Miss Tredgold, therefore, had compassion on Pauline's late indisposition, +and made lessons as easy as possible for her. Thus Pauline had very +little to do, except to think of that mystery which was growing thicker +and thicker. In one way it helped her own dilemma. With her sisters +walking in twos and threes all over the place, it would not be at all +remarkable for her to slip down at the appointed hour to the wicket-gate. +Even Penelope would not notice her, so absorbed was she in assisting +Adelaide to make a special present for Pauline. + +As the day advanced the little girl became terribly nervous. She felt a +sense of irritation when one of her sisters looked at her, whispered to +her companion, and then turned away. She would almost have preferred Miss +Tredgold to be as stern as she was before. Her whole mind was in a state +of tumult. She felt the net closing tighter and tighter around her. Even +the birthday was scarcely interesting while such a weight rested on her +heart. Miss Tredgold had said during the afternoon as they were all +sitting together on the lawn: + +"This is to be a great birthday. This is the very first birthday I have +spent under your roof. You must all remember it as long as you live." + +"Oh, can I ever forget it?" thought poor Pauline. "But Aunt Sophy little +knows that I shall not remember it for its kindness and its sunshine and +its presents; I shall remember it always because I am such a wicked +girl." + +Now as evening approached she could not help whispering to herself: + +"The net is closing--closing round me. It is gathering me up into a heap. +My legs and arms are tied. Soon the wicked, dreadful thing will press my +head down, and I shall be powerless and lost." + +She thought out this metaphor, and it seemed to haunt her footsteps. + +"It is right that a girl who told a black lie should be cramped up in +it," thought Pauline. "Oh, why hadn't I courage to tell Aunt Sophy the +truth? She might have been angry, but in the end she would have forgiven +me. I would far rather have no notice whatever taken of my birthday than +be as miserable as I am now." + +"That child isn't well," said Miss Tredgold to Verena, as Pauline was +seen slowly creeping in a subdued sort of way in the direction of the +lower shrubbery. "Why is she always stealing off by herself? I have a +good mind to call her back and take her for a drive. It is a lovely +evening, and a drive would do her good." + +"So it would, Aunt Sophy. You know how busy all the rest of us are +finishing her presents. I am sure she would love to drive with you, for I +think she is getting very fond of you." + +"Perhaps, my dear; but I have made up my mind not to have favorites. As +long as you are all good I shall love you all.--Pauline--yes, Verena, I +shall offer her a drive--Pauline, come here." + +Pauline hated to be called back, but she could not do otherwise than +obey. She approached lingeringly. + +"Yes, Aunt Sophy," she said. + +"Would you like to take a drive with me? We might go and find out how +soon Peas-blossom and Lavender will be ready to come to their new home." + +At another time such a request on the part of Miss Tredgold would have +enraptured Pauline; but she knew that it only wanted five minutes to six, +and she doubted if Nancy would consent to be kept waiting long. + +"No," she answered slowly; "my head aches. Please, I would rather not +take a drive." + +She did not wait for Miss Tredgold's response, but continued her slow +walk. + +"The poor child is certainly ill," said the good lady. "If she continues +to look as poorly and as sadly out of sorts next week I shall take her to +the seaside." + +"Will you, Aunt Sophy? How lovely! Do you know that Paulie and I have +never been to the sea? We do so long to see it!" + +"Well, my dear, I shall take you all presently, but I can't say when. +Now, as Pauline does not want to drive with me, I shall go into the house +and finish some of my arrangements." + +Miss Tredgold went indoors, and Verena joined Briar and Patty, who were +in a great state of excitement. + +Meanwhile Pauline had reached the wicket-gate. She opened it and went +out. Nancy was waiting for her. Nancy's cheeks were flushed and her eyes +bright. She looked as if she had been quarreling with somebody. Pauline +knew that look well. Nancy's two friends Becky and Amy were standing at a +little distance. There was a small governess-cart drawn up not far away, +and Becky was stroking the nose of a rough little Forest pony. + +"Father gave me the cart and pony this morning," said Nancy. "There's +nothing he wouldn't do for me. The pony and cart aren't much, perhaps, +but still it is fun to have them to fly over the place. Well, and how +goes her little high-and-mightiness? Frumpy, I can see. Grumpy, I can +guess. Now, is Pauline glad to see poor old Nance--eh?" + +"Of course, Nancy; but I have come to say----" + +"We'll have no 'buts,' darling, if you please." + +"I can't come to the picnic, Nancy; I really cannot." + +"How white poor little Dumpy looks! Wants some one to cheer her up, or +she'll be dumped and frumped and grumped all in one. Now, darling, I'm +going to put my arm round your waist. I am going to feel your little +heart go pit-a-pat. You shall lean against me. Isn't that snug? Doesn't +dear old Nancy count for something in your life?" + +"Of course you do, Nancy. I am fond of you. I have always said so," +replied Pauline. + +"Then you will yield, darling, to the inevitable." + +"I am yielding to it now," replied Pauline. "I am not going with you +because I can't." + +"And you are going with me because you must," Nancy responded. "For +listen, Pauline. Although I am affectionate, I can be--oh, yes--dangerous. +And if you don't come, why, I can keep my word. Wednesday is your +birthday. I wonder when the crown of the day will come?" + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, there always is a crown to a birthday. There is a time, either in +the evening or in the morning, when the queen receives the homage of her +subjects. She gets her presents, and there are pretty speeches made to +her, and she has her dainty feast and her crown of flowers. Yes, that +time is the crown of the day, and that is just the moment when the poor +little queen shall topple down. The throne shall be knocked from under +her; the presents will vanish; the sovereignty will cease to exist. Poor, +poor little queen without a kingdom! How will you like it, Paulie? Do you +think you could bear it? To have no kingdom and no crown and no presents +and no love, and to be bitterly disgraced as well! How will you like it, +Paulie?" + +"I know that you can do all that you say," answered Pauline. "I know you +can be dreadful, and everything is against me. You can ruin me if you +like, but I want you not to do it, Nancy." + +"And if you don't come with us I want to do it, dear; and I rather think +that my will is stronger than yours." + +"But if it kills me?" + +"It won't do that, Paulie. You will feel bad, and, oh! as though somebody +had crushed you; but you won't die. There's only one way out." + +Pauline was silent. + +"It is quite an easy way," continued Nancy. "It is easy and safe, and +there's a deal of fun to be got out of it. You have got to come to the +picnic. Once you are there you will enjoy yourself tremendously. I +promise to get you home in the morning. You will come, and you will bring +two of your sisters with you. Two will be enough. I have yielded that +point. You will meet us here, at this very spot, at eleven o'clock on +Wednesday night. We are going some distance away, so that no one in the +neighborhood of The Dales need hear our singing and our fun and our +jollity. We will come back before daybreak and deposit you just outside +the wicket-gate. You may think it very unpleasant just now, and very mean +and all the rest, but it is the only possible way to save yourself. You +must come to the picnic, and bring two of your sisters." + +"But suppose they won't come?" + +"They will if you manage things properly. It needn't be Verena. I expect +Verena, for all she is so soft and fair, is a tough nut to crack; but you +can bring Briar and Patty. My father will be quite satisfied if three of +you are present. The fact is, he is awfully hurt at the thought of your +all thinking yourselves too good for us. He says that the Dales and the +Kings were always friends. My father is a dear old man, but he has his +cranks, and he has made up his mind that come you must, or he'll make +mischief. It won't be only me; it will be my father as well. He will +appear at The Dales, and if I go straight to Miss Tredgold, he will go +straight to Mr. Dale. Now, what do you think of that? I am determined to +have you for reasons of my own, and I shall poke up my father to do no +end of mischief if you don't appear. Now don't be a goose. Get up a +little dash of courage and a little dash of your old spirit and +everything will be as straight as possible." + +Pauline stood quite still. Nancy danced in front of her. Nancy's face was +almost malicious in its glee. Pauline looked at it as a child will look +when despair clutches at her heart. + +"I didn't know--I couldn't guess--that you were like that," she said in a +sort of whisper. + +"Couldn't you, dear little duckledoms? Well, you do know it now; and you +know also how to act. Don't you see by the lines round my mouth and the +expression in my eyes that I can be hard as hard when I please? I am +going to be very hard now. My honor is involved in this. I promised that +you would be there. There are presents being bought for you. Come you +must; come you shall." + +Pauline stood quite silent; then she flung her arms to her sides and +faced her tormentor. + +"There was a time," she said slowly, "when I loved you, Nancy. But I +don't love you now. By-and-by, perhaps, you will be sorry that you have +lost my love, for I think--yes, I think it is the sort that doesn't come +back. I don't love you to-night because you are cruel, because you have +already got me into a scrape, and you want to push me into a yet deeper +one. I am not the sort of girl you think me. However grand and stately +and like a lady Aunt Sophia is--and compared to you and me, Nancy, she is +very stately and very grand and very noble--I would not give you up. Aunt +Sophy is a lady with a great brave heart, and her ideas are up-in-the-air +ideas, and she doesn't know anything about mean and low and vulgar +things. I'd have clung to you, Nancy, and always owned you as my friend, +even if Aunt Sophy had taken me into good society. Yes, I'd have stuck to +you whatever happened; but now"--Pauline pressed her hand to her +heart--"everything is altered. You are cruel, and I don't love you any +more. But I am in such trouble, and so completely in despair, that I will +come to the picnic; and if I can bring two of the girls, I will. There is +nothing more to say. You may expect us at eleven o'clock on Wednesday +night." + +"But there is more to say," cried Nancy. + +She flew at Pauline, and before she could stop her Nancy had lifted the +younger girl into her strong arms. She had not only lifted her into her +arms, but she was running with her in the direction where Becky and Amy +were minding the pony. + +"Hurrah! I have won!" she cried. "She yields. Come and kiss her, the +little duck.--Pauline, you silly, if you don't love me, I love you; and +you will soon find out for yourself what a good time you are going to +have, and what a goose you have made of yourself with all this ridiculous +fuss. What a grand birthday you are going to have, Paulie! A birthday for +a whole twenty-four hours--a whole day and a whole night! Remember, there +will be presents, there will be surprises, there will be love, there will +be sweetness. Trust us, you will never get into a scrape for this. Now +run along home as fast as you can." + +Pauline did not run. She closed the wicket-gate and walked soberly to the +house. Strange as it may seem, once she had made her decision, the fact +that she was to deceive her aunt, and do the thing that of all others +would fill Aunt Sophia with horror, did not pain her. The conflict was +over; she must rest now until the time came to go. She was a clever +child, and she thought out the situation with wonderful clearness. She +must go. There was no help for it. The sin must be sinned. After all, +perhaps, it was not such a very great sin. Aunt Sophia would be happier +if she never knew anything at all about it. + +"If I go she will never know," thought the child. "Nancy is clever, and +now that I have yielded to her she will not fail me. If I go it will +never be discovered, and what has happened before will never be +discovered; and Aunt Sophy will never have reason to distrust me, for she +will never know. Yes," thought Pauline, "it is the only possible way." + +She saw Penelope coming to meet her. The other girls were still busy with +their birthday surprises, but Penelope had just deposited her own small +and somewhat shabby present in Verena's keeping, and was now, as she +expressed it, taking the air. When she saw Pauline she ran to meet her. + +"I suppose you are feeling yourself monstrous 'portant, and all that sort +of thing," she said. + +"No, I am not," said Pauline. + +Penelope gave her a quick glance out of her sharp eyes. + +"Does you like me to be nursery or schoolroom child?" she asked. + +"Oh, I like you to be just what you are, Pen; and I do beg of you not to +worry me just now." + +"You is most ungrateful. I has been spending my teeny bit of money on +you. You will know what I has done on your birthday. You are going to get +a most 'licious present, and it will be I who has gived it to you. +Sometimes I does wish I was two years older; but Aunt Sophy has got +monstrous fond of me, Paulie, and of you, too. I know it. Shall I tell +you how I know it?" + +"How?" asked Pauline. + +"I was standing near her when you said you wouldn't go for a drive, and +she gave a big sigh, just as though she was hurted. I was hurted, too, +for I thought I might perhaps sit on the little back-seat and hear more'n +is good for me. People always say that little girls like me hear more'n +is good for them. I love--I love hearing things of that wicked sort. +Well, you didn't go, and I couldn't have my nice drive on the little +back-seat. But Aunt Sophy did give a pained sigh. She loves you, does +Aunt Sophy. She loves me, too." + +"Do you love me, Pen?" said Pauline suddenly, for it occurred to her that +perhaps Penelope was the child who would have to accompany her to the +midnight picnic. She knew enough of Penelope to be sure that she could be +bribed. She was not so certain about the others. + +"Do you love me, Pen?" she repeated. + +"When you speak in that softy, sympathisy voice, I feel that I could just +hug you," said Penelope. + +"Then would you really help me?" + +"Really and really. What am I to do? If you will whisper secrets to me, I +will even forget that I am certain you know something most 'portant about +that thimble, and I will cling to you like anything. You will be the oak, +and I will be the ivy. It will be most lovely to be the close friend of +the birthday queen. I do--oh, I do hope you are going to tell me a great +secret!" + +"Perhaps I am, but I can't tell you now." + +"When will you tell me?" + +"If I ever tell you, it will be before midday on my birthday. Now run +away. Don't whisper a word of this." + +"Not me," said Penelope. "I was borned to keep secrets." + +She marched away in her usual stalwart fashion. + +"I may have to take her with me," thought Pauline again. "If the others +won't be bribed, I must fall back on her." + +She felt a curious sense of relief, for of course Penelope could be +bribed. A shilling would do it. Penelope would go to the end of the earth +for a shilling, particularly if it was given to her all in pence. Twelve +separate pence would send Penelope off her head. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE CONFERENCE. + + +It was late on the following evening when Pauline found herself alone +with Briar and Patty. Both these little girls had plenty of character; +but perhaps Patty had more of that estimable quality than her sister. +They were both straightforward by nature, upright and noble, and were +already benefiting by the discipline which had at last come into their +lives. The glories of the birthday which was so near were already +beginning to shed some of their rays over Pauline, and her sisters felt +themselves quite honored by her company. + +"To think," said Briar, "that you are really only Paulie! I can scarcely +bring myself to believe it." + +"Why so?" asked Pauline. + +"In twelve hours' time--in less--you will be a queen." + +"It is rather like the Lord Mayor," said Patty. "It's all very grand, but +it lasts for a very short time. Aunt Sophy was telling us to-day about +the Lord Mayor and the great, tremendous Show, and I began to think of +Pauline and her birthday. I could not help myself. It is a pity that a +birthday should only last such a very short time!" + +"Yes, that is the worst of it," said Pauline. "But then it comes every +year. Perhaps it is all for the best that it should have a quick come and +a quick go. Of course, I shall be very happy to-morrow, but I dare say I +shall be glad when the next day arrives." + +"Not you," said Briar. "I have known what the next day meant, even when +we had only shilling birthdays. The others used to cry out, 'Your +birthday is the farthest off now.' I used to keep my head covered under +the bedclothes rather than hear them say it. Adelaide and Josephine +always said it. But don't let's get melancholy over it now," continued +Briar in a sympathetic tone. "When you lie down to-night you won't be +able to sleep much; but you will sleep like a top to-morrow night. I +expect you will wake about every two minutes to-night. Oh, it is exciting +the night before a birthday! Even when we had shilling birthdays I used +to wake the night before every few minutes. Once I got up at four o'clock +in the morning. I went out. I had a cold afterwards, and a bad sore +throat, but I never told anybody how I got it. If I was excited about my +poor little birthday, what will you be to-morrow?" + +"I don't know," said Pauline. "Listen, girls. I am so excited in one +sense that I couldn't be any more so. I am so excited that I'm not +excited. Can you understand what I mean?" + +"No, I'm sure I can't a bit," said Briar. + +"And it's quite likely," continued Pauline, "that I shall have no sleep +at all the night after my birthday." + +"What do you mean now?" asked Briar. + +Pauline looked mysterious. The two girls glanced at her. Suddenly Pauline +put one arm around Briar's neck and the other arm round Patty's neck. + +"You are the nicest of us all--that is, of course, except Verena," she +said. "I have always been fonder of you two than of Adelaide or Josephine +or Helen or Lucy. As to Pen, well, I don't suppose any of us feel to Pen +as we do to the rest. She is so different. Yes, I love you two. I love +you just awfully." + +"It is sweet of you to say that; and, seeing that you are to have a +birthday so soon, it makes us feel sort of distinguished," said Briar. + +"How old are you, Briar?" + +"I'll be thirteen next May. That's a long time off. I do wish my birthday +had waited until Aunt Sophy came on the scene." + +"And my birthday comes in the winter," said Patty--"near Christmas; but I +dare say Aunt Sophy will give us a good time then, too." + +"I do like her awfully," said Pauline. "Now, girls, I want to ask you a +question. I know you won't tell, for you are not the sort to tell." + +"Of course we won't tell, Paulie." + +"And you love me, don't you?" + +"Yes," echoed both little girls. + +"This is my question. If I do something that is not just exactly +absolutely right, will you still love me?" + +"Why, of course. We're not so wonderfully good ourselves," said Briar. + +"I know what you are thinking of," said Patty. "You are thinking of +Punishment Day. But we have forgotten all about that." + +"I was thinking of Punishment Day. And now I want to say something. I +want to make the most tremendous confidence. I want to tell you the most +tremendous secret." + +"Oh!" echoed both. + +"Light that candle, Briar," said Pauline. + +Briar crossed the room, struck a match, lit the candle, and then turned +to see what her darling Paulie wished further. + +"Bring it right over here," said Pauline. "Put it on this table." + +Briar did so. + +"Kneel down, Briar, so that the light from the candle falls full on your +face." + +Briar knelt. Her eyes were beaming with happiness. + +"Look at me," said Pauline. + +Briar raised two honest and pretty brown eyes to her sister's face. + +"I think," said Pauline slowly, "that you are the sort of girl to make a +promise--a solemn, awfully solemn promise--and stick to it." + +"Yes; you are right. I am made that way," said Briar proudly. + +"I see you are. Patty, will you kneel so that the candle may shine on +your face?" + +Patty hurried to obey. + +"I am made like that, too," she said. "I always was like that. When I +said I wouldn't tell, you might pinch me black and blue, but it didn't +change me. Pen has tried to run pins into me sometimes to make me tell. +Pen is the only one who would tell when she promised not." + +"I think so," said Pauline decidedly. "Pen would not do at all. Girls, I +shall come to you to-morrow evening. To-morrow evening, very late, I will +come to you here. Perhaps you will have gone to bed, but that won't +matter. I will come to you whether you are in bed or whether you are up; +and I will claim your promise. You will do what I ask, and you will +never, never, never tell. You must help me. You will--oh, you will!" + +"Of course," said Briar. "Darling Paulie, don't cry. Oh, how the pet is +trembling! Patty, she's trembling like anything. Do kiss her and hug her, +and tell her there's nothing we wouldn't do for her." + +"There's nothing in all the world we wouldn't do for you," said Patty. + +They both kissed her so often and with such deep affection that she found +herself leaning on their innocent strength. She would not tell them yet; +she would tell them just before the time to-morrow evening. Of course +they would go with her. Pen would never do. It would be madness to +confide in Pen. + +Notwithstanding her excitement Pauline did sleep soundly that night +before her birthday. No sooner had her head touched the pillow than sweet +unconsciousness visited her. She slept without dreaming, and was at last +awakened by the shouts of her sisters. + +"Paulie, get up. It's your birthday. Oh, do dress yourself fast! There's +such a lot of fun going on! We are to have a whole holiday, and Aunt +Sophy is so delightful. And what do you think? She has dragged father out +of his study, and he is standing in the very middle of the lawn. He has a +huge, untidy-looking parcel in his hands, and he looks as if he didn't in +the least know what to do with it. He is trying each moment to escape +back into the house, but Aunt Sophy won't let him. She says he must not +stir until you come down. Poor father does look in misery. Be quick and +dress and come downstairs." + +At this moment there was a shout from below, and the three girls who had +summoned Pauline from the land of dreams rushed off, dashing through the +house with whoops of triumph. + +Pauline rose and dressed quickly. She put on the pretty pale lavender +print frock that Aunt Sophia had decided she was to wear, and went +downstairs. When she joined the others Mr. Dale greeted her with one of +his slow, sweet smiles. + +"How are you, darling?" he said. "I have a sort of idea that I am kept +standing here on this lawn, exposed to the heat of a very powerful sun, +on your account." + +"Of course it is on Pauline's account, Henry," said Miss Sophia. "It is +her birthday. Kiss me, Pauline, dear. Many happy returns of the day. +Henry, give your daughter her present. She is fourteen to-day." + +"Fourteen! Ah!" said Mr. Dale, "a charming age. The ancients considered a +woman grown-up at fourteen." + +"But no one is so silly in these days," said Miss Tredgold. "We know that +a girl is never more childish than at fourteen. Henry, open that parcel +and give Pauline what it contains." + +Mr. Dale dropped the brown-paper parcel at his feet. He looked at it in +bewilderment. + +"It is heavy," he said. "I haven't the least idea what is in it." + +"It is your present to your daughter." + +"Ah!" said Mr. Dale, "I forgot; and I packed it myself last night. My +child, I wonder if you are worthy of it." + +"I don't suppose I am, father," said Pauline. + +"For goodness' sake open it, Henry, and don't torture the child's +feelings." + +"I put it in an old bandbox," said Mr. Dale. "I couldn't find anything +else. Pauline, in giving you what I am about to give you, I show a high +appreciation of your character. I remember now what my present is. I had +an awful night in consequence of it. I felt as though one of my limbs was +being severed from my body. Nevertheless, my dear, I don't retract nor go +back, for that is not my way. I give you this most noble gift with a +distinct object. I have lately been examining all your foreheads. +Although I have appeared to take little notice of you, I have watched you +as day by day I have enjoyed the excellent food provided by your most +worthy aunt. While my body was feeding, my mind was occupying itself, and +I have at last come to the decision that you, my child, are the only one +of my young people who has been blessed with a classical brow. As yet you +have not even begun to learn the language of the ancients; but now that +you have reached the mature age of fourteen, I shall be pleased to +instruct you myself for one hour daily, in both that Latin and Greek +which delighted our forefathers." + +"But the Romans and Greeks were not our forefathers," said Miss Tredgold. + +She snapped out the words quite angrily, and the look on her aunt's face +caused Pauline to go closer to her father and take one of his long white +hands and hold it close to her heart. + +"It doesn't matter whether we are descended from them or not, does it, +Padre?" she said. + +"All that is noble in thought, all that is original, all that partakes of +inspiration, has come down to us from the classics," said Mr. Dale. "But +take your gift, Pauline. Now, my dear children, I beseech of you, don't +keep me any longer from my important work." + +He was striding towards the house, when Verena got in front of him, Briar +stood at his left hand, Patty at his right, and Adelaide, Josephine, +Lucy, Helen, and Penelope came up in the rear. + +"You don't stir," they cried, "until Paulie opens her parcel." + +So Pauline knelt down on the grass, untied the clumsy cord, and removed +the brown paper. She then lifted the lid from a broken-down bandbox and +revealed a musty, fusty tome bound in old calf. + +"It is my precious annotated edition of Cicero," said Mr. Dale. "I have +written your name in it--'Pauline Dale, from her affectionate father.' It +is yours now, and it will be yours in the future. If you like to leave it +on the shelf in my study, I shall not object, but it is yours to do what +you like with." + +He sighed profoundly, and turned away with his lip trembling. + +"Good gracious!" Miss Tredgold was heard to exclaim. Then she spoke to +Adelaide. + +"Run into the house and bring out a cup of coffee. The precious man gets +queerer each moment. What a present to give the child!" + +Pauline raised the big book and clasped it against her neat lilac frock. + +"Thank you, father," she said. "I will learn to read it. Thank you very +much." + +"And you don't object to its occupying its old place on my shelf?" + +"No. Shall I run and put it there now?" + +"Do. You are really a wise child. Sophia, as I have given Pauline her +present, I presume I need not stay out any longer wasting my precious +time and running the risk of sunstroke." + +Miss Tredgold nodded and laughed. Adelaide appeared with the coffee. Mr. +Dale drank it off at a single draught. Pauline ran into the house with +the treasure which was hers and yet not hers. For surely never during his +lifetime would Mr. Dale allow that special edition of Cicero out of his +study. She put it gravely and quietly into its accustomed place, kissed +her father, told him she appreciated his present beyond words, and then +went back to her sisters and aunt, who were waiting for her. + +What a day it was! What a wonderful, magnificent day! The weather was +perfect; the air was sweet; the garden was full of perfume. And then the +presents. Every imaginable thing that a little girl could want was poured +at the feet of the birthday queen. The story-books she had longed for; +the little writing-desk she had always coveted but never possessed; the +workbox with its reels of colored silks, its matchless pair of scissors, +its silver thimble, its odds and ends of every sort and description; the +tennis-bat; the hockey-club; the new saddle that would exactly fit +Peas-blossom: all these things and many more were given to Pauline. But +besides the richer and more handsome presents, there were the sort of +pretty things that only love could devise--that charming little +pin-cushion for her dressing-table; that pen-wiper; that bag for her +brush and comb; that case for her night-dress. Some of the gifts were +clumsy, but all were prompted by love. Love had begun them, and gone on +with them, and finished them, and Pauline laughed and had brighter eyes +and more flushed cheeks each moment as the day progressed. + +After breakfast Miss Tredgold took her nieces for a drive. The little +party were all packed into the wagonette, and then they went off. They +drove for miles and miles under the trees of the Forest. Miss Tredgold +told more interesting and fascinating stories of her own life than she +had ever told before. The girls listened to her with the most absorbed +attention. As a rule Miss Tredgold's stories carried a moral with them; +but the birthday stories had no moral. Pauline waited for one. She waited +with a sort of trembling dread. She expected it to intrude its sober face +at each moment, but it did not put in an appearance anywhere. It stayed +out of sight in the most delightful and graceful manner. Soon the girls, +Pauline amongst them, forgot to look out for the moral. Then Verena began +telling anecdotes of the past, and Pauline joined her; and the children +laughed, and nearly cried with delight. That drive was the happiest they +had ever enjoyed. + +But it was somewhat late in the afternoon when the birthday treat came to +its culmination. They were having tea on the lawn, a most fascinating +tea, with a frosted cake in the middle of the table, on which Pauline's +name was inscribed in golden letters, and round which were lighted +fourteen little wax candles, denoting that she had now come to that +mature age. The candles were protected by tiny glass shades, so that the +soft summer air could not blow them about, and all the girls thought they +had never seen such a wonderful sight. Mr. Dale was abducted from his +study--there was really no other word to describe the way in which he was +carried off bodily--and requested to light the candles. He did so looking +very confused, and as though he did not in the least comprehend what he +was doing. Nevertheless he was there, and he was obliged to seat himself +in the centre of the group; and then garlands and garlands of flowers +suddenly made their appearance, and Pauline was conducted to her throne, +and a crown of tiny roses was placed on her dark head, and wreaths of +flowers were laid at her feet. + +"Now you are queen, Pauline," said Miss Tredgold. "Your father and I and +your sisters are bound to obey you from now until ten o'clock to-night. +This is your reign. It is short, but full of possibilities. What are we +to do for you, fair queen? In what way do you wish to employ us?" + +"May I wish for anything?" asked Pauline eagerly. + +She had a flashing thought as she uttered the words--a quick, terrible, +agonized thought. Oh, if only she might claim her birthright! If only she +might put into use her grand privilege and ask for the one thing she +really wanted--a free, absolute pardon! If she might confess her sin +without confessing it, and get her aunt and father to say that, whatever +she had done in the past, she was forgiven now! Just for an instant her +black eyes looked almost wild; then they fixed themselves on Miss +Tredgold, who was looking at her attentively. She glanced beyond her, and +met the great black eyes of Penelope. Penelope seemed to be reading +Pauline. Pauline felt a sudden revulsion of feeling. + +"That would never do," she said to herself. + +"Why don't you speak?" said Verena in her gentle voice. + +"I was considering what to ask," replied Pauline. + +"It isn't to ask, it is to command," said Miss Tredgold. "What sort of a +queen would you make, Pauline, if you really had a kingdom? This is your +kingdom. It lasts for a few hours; still, for the present it is your own. +Your sway is absolute." + +"Then let us have hide-and-seek in the garden," she said. + +She laughed. The spell was broken. Penelope's eyes lost their watchful +glance. The girls were all agreeable. Mr. Dale rose to his feet. + +"I have had my tea," he said, "and the queen has received her crown. I am +truly thankful that birthdays don't last longer than a day. I presume +there is no reason why I may not return to my study." + +"No, father, you mustn't stir," said Pauline. "You are my subject, and I +command you to play hide-and-seek. You and Aunt Sophy must hide together. +Now let us begin." + +The games that followed were provocative of mirth. Even Mr. Dale was +heard to chuckle feebly. This was when Josephine put her hand into his +pocket and withdrew his handkerchief. He made a scholarly remark the next +moment to Miss Tredgold, who replied: + +"For goodness' sake, Henry, come down from the clouds. This is your +child's birthday. It is all very well to know all that musty stuff, but +there are times when it is fifty times better to be full of nonsense." + +Mr. Dale groaned, and then Lucy seemed to spring out of the ground. She +laughed in his face, and cried out that she had found him. + +So the merry game proceeded. It had nearly come to an end when Pauline +and Penelope found themselves alone. + +"I waited for you at twelve o'clock," said Penelope, "but you never +comed. Why didn't you?" + +"I didn't want to, Pen. I have changed my mind. Think no more about what +I said." + +"I can't never forget it," replied Pen. + +But then she heard a whoop from a distant enemy, and darted to another +part of the garden. + +The game of hide-and-seek was followed by another, and then another and yet +another, and the cries of mirth and laughter sounded all over the place. +Even Betty forgot the tragic end of the Duke of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton, +who was killed by a brigand in Italy while defending his fair duchess. +Betty had been weeping scalding tears over the tragedy when the sound of +mirth called her forth. John accompanied her, and the other servants looked +on in the distance. + +"There never was such a rowdy family," said Betty. + +"Rowdy do you call it?" cried John. + +"Yes; and the very rowdiest is Miss Tredgold. For mercy's sake look at +the way she runs! She's as fleet as a hare." + +"She have very neat ankles," said John. "I call her a neat figure of a +woman." + +"Don't tell me," said Betty. "Much you know what a neat figure of a woman +means. Miss Tredgold's a haristocrat. Now, if you'll believe me, she's +the moral image of the duchess." + +"What duchess?" cried John. + +"The Duchess of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton--her that's just made a widow, +and is crying her eyes out over the murdered remains of the poor dook." + +"Sometimes," said John, "I think that you have gone off your head, Betty. +But I can't stay to listen to any more of these nonsenses. I have my +garden to look after." + +The final delight before the curtain of that birthday was dropped down +for ever found its vent in music--music in which Mr. Dale took a part, +and in which Miss Tredgold excelled herself. It was the music that awoke +Pauline's slumbering conscience. It was during that music that her heart +truly began to understand itself. + +"I am wicked--a coward and a liar," she thought. "But, all the same, I am +going on, for I must. Aunt Sophy loves me, and I love her, and I wouldn't +have her love turned to hate for all the world. She must never find out +what I did in the past, and the only way to keep it from her is to go on +as I am going on." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A WILD FROLIC. + + +The first part of the birthday was absolutely over, but the second +part--the terrifying, awful part--was at hand. Aunt Sophy had kissed +Pauline and had blessed her by a look. Her father had also put his +trembling hand on her shoulder. + +"When you want to read that lovely volume of Cicero," he said, "come to +me and I will teach you. I will spare a few minutes of my valuable time +to give you instruction." + +Verena had also kissed her heartily, and she and the rest of her sisters +had gone to bed. They were all tired. Verena came for a minute into +Pauline's little room. + +"I am too sleepy even to brush my hair in your room to-night, Paulie," +she said. "I am too sleepy to talk about our long happy day. What a pile +of presents you have got! Don't you think you have had a perfect +birthday? I only wish mine was near at hand." + +"It will come in good time," said Pauline; "and even birthdays----" + +She broke off abruptly. + +"What do you mean by 'even birthdays'?" asked Verena. "What were you +going to say?" + +"I was going to say that even birthdays had drawbacks. I know that I am +dead-tired." + +"You look it, darling. Do turn into bed and go to sleep." + +Verena kissed her sister and left the room. + +Pauline stood by the attic window. The window was a French one, and was +wide open. The night was warm; the sky was without a cloud; stars like +diamonds dotted the firmament; the sky itself looked darkly blue. Pauline +felt a sudden thrill going through her. It was a thrill from the nobler +part of her being. The whole day, and all that happened in the day, had +wrought her up to her present state of feeling. A touch now and she would +have confessed all. A touch, a look, would have done it--for the child, +with her many faults, was capable of noble deeds; but the touch was not +there, nor the word of gentle advice given. Had her mother been alive, +Pauline would have certainly gone to her and confessed what she had done. +As it was, she only felt that, in order to save herself from the past, +she must do something much more wicked in the future. + +She waited until she was quite certain that Verena was in bed; then she +gently unfastened the door of her room and stole out on to the landing. +There was not a light in the house. All the tired people had gone to bed. +She reached the room, at the farther end of the same wing, where Briar +and Patty slept. The sleeping attics occupied two wings of the old house, +the centre part of the house being without rooms in the roof. Pauline, +Verena, Briar, and Patty slept in one of the wings, the rest of the girls +and the nursery children in the other. Mr. Dale had the room exactly +under the large attic occupied by Briar and Patty. Miss Tredgold's room +was under the nursery wing. + +Pauline now very gently opened the door of the room where her two little +sisters slept. They were not asleep; they were sitting up in their beds +waiting for her. + +"We thought you would come, Paulie," said Briar. "We are so excited! What +is it you want us to do for you, darling Paulie?" + +"To save me! To save me!" said Pauline. + +Her tone was dramatic; her action was more so. She fell on her knees by +Briar's bed; she clasped her arms round the little girl's neck; she laid +her head on her shoulder and burst into tears. The birthday queen was +weeping. Could emotion go beyond that fact? Patty bounded out of her bed +and knelt by Pauline's other side. The two little girls clasped their +arms round her. She had exercised a glamour over them all day, which now +became greater than ever. Was she not their queen? Oh, yes, until +midnight she was their own dear and absolutely beautiful queen. An hour +was still left of her sovereignty. She had quite stolen their hearts; +they loved her like anything. + +"What is it, Paulie?" said Briar. + +"I must tell you," said Pauline. "I know you won't betray me." + +"Indeed we won't," they both answered. + +"Well, then, this is what has happened." + +She began to tell her story. She told it quickly, for the time was short. +If they were to meet Nancy they must steal away almost at once. Pauline +told her tale with scarcely any comment. When it was finished she looked +at her sisters. The moonlight was in the room, and Pauline's face looked +ghastly, but it looked beautiful also. Her eyes were very big and dark +and solemn and beseeching. Briar and Patty glanced at each other. + +"Shall we?" said Briar. + +"It seems the only thing to do," said Patty. + +"All the same, it is awfully wrong," said Briar. + +"Think of poor Paulie," said Patty. + +"If we are discovered----" cried Briar. + +"Oh, bother!" interrupted Patty. "She's our queen. We must obey her. We +are bound to help her. Let us go. She mustn't run into danger. You know +what Nancy has said: two of us must go with her. She mustn't go alone." + +Briar leant towards Patty, and Patty whispered in her ear; and then the +two little girls began to dress. + +"You are darlings," said Pauline. "I shall never forget this to +you--never. I have everything else managed. I am going back to my room. +When you are dressed you must shut the door of your room very quietly +behind you, and then you must steal along the corridor and you will find +my door just ajar. We will get out of my window by the beech-tree, and +we'll be back and safe in our beds before any one is up in the morning." + +"It certainly is thrilling," said Briar, raising her voice in her +excitement. + +"Oh, don't speak so loud!" said Pauline. "Dress very fast. I will wait +for you in my room. I shall be quite ready." + +Pauline rushed back to her own room. She then put on a warm golf-cape and +an old hat; and her arrangements having been completed, she bent out of +the French window. In an incredibly short time Briar and Patty appeared. +All three girls were now in the wildest state of excitement. Scruples +were silenced for the time being. Pauline's conscience no longer spoke. +She felt that a midnight picnic, stolen, partaken of under difficulties, +sinned mightily to obtain, had its own inexplicable charm. It was +certainly sweet to be naughty; there was a thrill about it, and a sense +of adventure, which goodness never brought. Oh, yes, it was well worth +the risk and danger. Her two little sisters partook of Pauline's +feelings. They all easily reached the ground, and when they found +themselves outside in the middle of the night, it was with difficulty +that Briar could keep from giving a shriek of ecstasy. + +"I suppose it's because I'm so awfully naughty that I enjoy it so," she +said. + +"Come along; don't speak," said Pauline. + +She took a hand of each sister. They ran quickly over the dew-laden +grass. Their feet soon got wet, for they had forgotten to put on strong +shoes. But what mattered that? What did small discomforts signify when +the grand total of pleasure was so enormous? + +They opened the wicket-gate, and Pauline found herself immediately in the +strong embrace of Nancy King. + +"There you are, darling!" she cried, bestowing a resounding kiss on her +cheek. "I feared that the she-dragon would waken and call you back; but +you are here, and you have brought--let me see. Oh, you are Patty, are +you not? And Briar? You are my friends for ever now. Oh, we shall have +fun! The wagonette is here, and the dogcart; there are a party of us, and +a lot more coming to meet us at the rendezvous. We shall have the most +glorious time you ever imagined." + +As Nancy spoke she called out to two girls who were standing in the +shadow. + +"Becky, this is Briar Dale--in other words, Rose Dale. You are to see +after her. Amy, Patty Dale is your charge. Now let us get into the +wagonette, for it is the snuggest of all the carriages, and the horses +are so fleet. Listen how they are pawing the ground; they're mad to be +off. Oh, here's father! Father, three of the young Dales have come." + +"Pleased to see you, I'm sure," said the farmer. "It's a warm night for +the time of year." + +The little girls did not answer. Even Pauline, now that she had met the +rest of the party, felt curiously silent. A weight seemed to rest on her. +Her wild and riotous spirits had died down. Her conscience was not +troubling her, but she felt depressed, she scarcely knew why. + +"I want something to poke me up," she said to herself. "I thought I'd be +quite riotous with bliss when I met Nancy. I don't feel riotous; and, oh, +how white the moonlight is making Briar look! Briar," whispered Pauline +suddenly, "are your feet very wet?" + +"Very: and they're getting so cold," said Briar. + +"What are you talking about?" said Nancy. + +"The fact is," said Pauline, "we forgot to put on our outdoor shoes, and +the dew is very heavy." + +"Dear, dear! That will never do. Father, what do you think these silly +little misses have done? They've come out in their house slippers." + +"I never!" cried the farmer. "You are silly little ladies; that I will +say. I tell you what it is, Nance; we don't want these children to catch +cold. Shall we drive back to The Hollies and get them some of your shoes? +You have enough, I take it, to shoe a regiment." + +Nancy laughed. + +"They wouldn't fit," she said. "They'd be too big for any of them." + +"Well, then," said the farmer, "they shall all three take their shoes off +and wrap their feet in these warm rugs. They can put them on again, and +when the dancing begins they will soon dry." + +"Are we to dance?" said Pauline, her eyes sparkling. + +"You wait and see," said Nancy. + +"Yes, you wait and see," cried the farmer. "There are all sorts of +surprises. And there's a birthday queen of this here party, ain't there, +Nancy?" + +"I have heard tell that there was," said Nancy. As she spoke she took +Pauline's hand and dragged the little girl forward to sit by her. + +The drive took some time, and the farmer and his party were extremely +loud and riotous and merry. As they passed under the huge oak-trees some +one in a dogcart went by, and the light from a lantern fell on his face. +Pauline recognized Dr. Moffat. The moment she saw him he looked round, +and she fancied that he must have seen her, and that his eyebrows went up +with an expression of astonishment. But he did not look again; he only +continued on his way. + +"I do hope he didn't see me," said Pauline to Nancy. + +"What matter if he did? He's thinking of his profession, and not of a +little girl like you. I wonder where he is going to." + +"To Farmer Jackson," said Farmer King. "He broke his leg a fortnight ago, +and they say mortification is setting in and he can't live. Poor Farmer +Jackson! Here are we all on a rollick, so to speak, a midnight picnic in +summer, and all our hearts as light as froth, and the farmer lying on the +flat of his back and like to pass away before morning." + +Pauline felt uncomfortable. She turned her head away. She did not wish to +think of the sober events of life at that moment. + +By-and-by the long drive came to an end. The girls again put on their wet +slippers, and the next moment they found themselves inside a large +marquee, with a boarded floor, where a magnificent feast was prepared at +the farther end. The whole centre of the marquee was got ready for +dancing, and a number of young people whom Pauline had never seen before +were standing about in little knots, evidently waiting for the arrival of +the farmer and his family. + +"There!" said Nancy. "Now, Paulie, what do you think? Here's feasting for +you at this end, and there's dancing at the other, and if the Kings don't +do things in style I don't know who do." + +"Ah, Miss King, and how are you?" + +"Pleased to see you, I'm sure," was Nancy's response. + +A bashful-looking young man with sandy hair and light-blue eyes now came +forward. He was followed by a girl of similar type, and the two were +introduced to Pauline as Mr. and Miss Minchin. The Minchins were +accompanied by other neighbors, and the Dale girls found themselves in +the midst of a party numbering at least fifty people. + +Pauline felt suddenly shy. As a rule she was not remarkable for this +quality. She had a certain pretty assurance, and never, as her sisters +expressed it, lost her head; but now her principal desire was to creep +into her shell, not to answer the inane remarks made by the young men of +the party, and on no account to allow them to put their arms round her +waist and carry her round in the dance. Her face grew first red, then +pale. She realized that she was very tired, and more than ever did she +wish that she had never yielded to Nancy's enticements. + +Patty and Briar, on the other hand, were enjoying themselves very much. +They had done this very naughty thing on account of Pauline; they were +glad they were helping her--their consciences did not trouble them in the +least. They leant upon Pauline more than they were themselves aware of. +If trouble came, she would of course shield them. At present there was no +trouble. A picnic in the middle of the night, miles away from home, was +the most exciting thing they had ever imagined. It beat the joys of the +birthday hollow. They were quite aware that by-and-by there would perhaps +be repentance, but who could think of repentance now, with the feast--and +such a feast!--on the board, and Fiddler Joe making such exquisite, mad, +intoxicating music (it caused your feet to twitch so that they could +scarcely keep still), and that floor as smooth as glass, and the summer +moon entering through a chink in the big tent, and the gayly dressed +people, and all the merry voices? Oh, it was an intoxicating time! + +So Briar danced with the first man who asked her, and Patty did likewise. +They danced with the ease and lightness and grace of children in whom the +accomplishment is born. Nancy's clumsy efforts, and the clumsy efforts of +her friends, were nowhere beside them. + +"That little girl," said a rough-headed farmer, pointing to Patty as he +spoke, "dances like the foam of the sea. I never saw anything like it in +all my life." + +"But why doesn't the elder Miss Dale dance?" asked Farmer King. + +He had noticed that she was declining one partner after another. + +"Come, Miss Paulie," he said, going to her side: "this won't do. May I +have the pleasure of a barn-dance with you, miss? You can't refuse me." + +Pauline did find it impossible to refuse the good man. He took her hand +and led her out, and presently she, too, was being whirled round and +round. But her sense of weariness increased, and the heavy pain and +bewilderment at her heart grew worse. Oh, why had she come? Once the +farmer, looking at her, saw tears in her eyes. In a moment he stopped +dancing. He took her hand and led her to the other side of the tent. + +"You dance beautifully, miss," he said; "not quite so light as your +little sister, but I am proud to be seen with you, miss, all the same. +And now, if I may make so bold, what is the matter with you, Miss Pauline +Dale?" + +"Nothing," answered Pauline. + +"Don't tell me," replied the farmer. "Is it in reason that a little lady +like yourself would have tears in her eyes at a moment like the present +if there was nothing the matter? Is it in reason, miss?" + +"Oh, I ought not to have come!" said Pauline. + +The farmer's face grew rather red. He looked full at Pauline for a +moment; then he said: + +"I can't speak out now, for it's only the beginning of the fun. There's a +great deal planned, and you are in the thick of it, but before you go +back home I'll have a word with you; so cheer up, my pretty little miss, +for things that aren't right can be put right. You trust Farmer King for +that." + +Pauline did cheer up. She felt that the farmer was her friend, and she +also knew that he was a friend worth having. The other girls met her once +or twice, and Patty whispered: + +"Oh, there never was anything like this before! I could be naughty every +single night of my life to have such fun!" + +The dance was followed by the feast, and the feast was A1. When it was +over there was a moment of silence. Then Nancy, accompanied by Briar and +Patty, Becky and Amy, and the two boys, Jack and Tom, assembled round the +seat where Pauline had placed herself. + +"It is your turn, Paulie," said Nancy. "You are queen of to-night, for it +is the night following your birthday. Come, queen, take your throne." + +"I am sick of thrones," answered Pauline. + +But Nancy took her hand. + +"Whatever you feel, you must not show it," she said, "for that will spoil +everything. Here is your throne; step up." + +Pauline looked round her. Up to the present moment a curtain had been +drawn across one end of the tent. It was now removed, and the little girl +saw a deep chair covered completely with flowers and moss and ferns. A +bright light was hanging just at the back of this throne. Now Pauline, as +queen of the day, was led up to it, and requested to take her seat +thereon. She did so, feeling queer and giddy. When she was seated the +young people stood in groups at her right hand and at her left. + +The farmer now appeared, carrying a table. All the guests stood in the +background and looked on. The table was placed in front of Pauline. At +the same instant Nancy bent forward and laid her hand across the little +girl's eyes. + +"Don't look just for a minute," she said. + +Pauline heard the ecstatic whispers of her own little sisters, and for +the first time a feeling of wonder and pleasure stole over her. She +forgot all that had gone before, and for the time was both happy and +excited. + +"Now you may look," said Nancy. + +As Pauline opened her eyes she felt something cool and soft descending on +her head. + +"Don't touch it," whispered Nancy; "it's your crown. But come, girls and +boys, we must do more than this to make our queen beautiful." + +As she spoke all the young people divided into two groups, crossed the +floor, and came past Pauline as she sat on her throne; and each one, as +she or he passed, threw a wreath of flowers either over the head of the +little girl, or round her neck, or into her lap, until finally she found +herself absolutely embedded in flowers. + +"Look at yourself," said Nancy, suddenly slipping a looking-glass in +front of the birthday queen. "Tell us what you see." + +Pauline looked. The lights were so managed that she could see everything +distinctly. The lights fell full upon her. She saw a pair of dark eyes, +sweet, anxious, and beautiful; she saw a radiant and rosy face. Lilies of +the valley, sweet-peas, and summer roses fell about her soft dark hair. +Similar flowers fell about her neck. Her dress was hidden beneath its +wealth of flowers; her charming face rose out of a perfect foam of +flowers. + +"Oh, I do look beautiful!" she said aloud, and at the naive remark the +whole party shouted with merriment. Nancy cried, "Long life to the +queen!" and Joe the Fiddler burst into his merriest strains; it was with +the greatest difficulty that the desire for dancing could be suppressed, +for the little ceremony was not yet quite over. It was Nancy's turn to +come forward. + +"Queen of the night," she said, "we hope that you will like what we, your +subjects, have done for you, and we hope that you will never forget your +happy birthday. There is just one thing I have to say. When the flowers +fade--and they are fading already--you, dear queen, will have no longer a +kingdom, so we have brought you something; we have subscribed among us +for something that will not fade--something that you can always wear in +memory of us. Look! isn't it beautiful?" + +As Nancy spoke, she took a morocco case from the table, touched a spring, +and revealed to Pauline's dazzled eyes, a necklace of thin pure gold, to +which a little locket, with a diamond in the centre, was attached. + +"This won't fade," said Nancy. "You can keep it all your life long. You +can also remember that there are people in the world, perhaps born a +little lower than yourself, who love you and care for you." + +"Oh, you are good!" cried Pauline. "I will never forsake you, Nancy, or +think myself better than you are." + +"Didn't I say she was a brick?" said Nancy. "Stoop your head, queen; I +will clasp the necklace around your neck." + +Pauline did stoop her head, and the necklace was put in its place. The +little diamond in the centre glittered as though it had a heart of fire. +The flowers smelled sweet, but also heavy. Pauline was tired once again; +but the music was resumed. Fiddler Joe played more enchanting music than +before, and Pauline, suddenly rising from her throne, determined to dance +during the remaining hours of that exciting night. + +But all happy things, and all naughty things come to an end, for such is +the fashion of earth; and by-and-by the farmer said that if they wished +to be home before morning they must get into the wagonette and the +dogcart, and their guests must take themselves away. Now it was the +farmer's turn to come up to Pauline. + +"You have given us all pleasure to-night, Miss Pauline," he said; "and it +warms our hearts to feel that, whatever the circumstances, you will +always be true to us, who have been true to you and yours for +generations. For, miss, the history of the Dales is almost bound up with +the history of the Kings. And if the Dales were gentlefolks and lords of +the manor, the Kings were their humble retainers. So, miss, the Dales and +Kings were always good to each other; the Kings over and over again +laying down their lives for the Dales in the Civil Wars, and the Dales on +their part protecting the Kings. So, after all, miss, there's no earthly +reason, because a grand aunt of yours has come to live at The Dales, why +the traditions of your house should be neglected and forgotten. I am +proud to feel that this will never happen, and that your family and mine +will be one. We do not consider ourselves your equals, but we do consider +ourselves your friends. And if I can ever help you, Miss Pauline, you +have only to come to me and I will do it. That's all I've got to say. I +don't want thanks. I'm proud that you and your little sisters have +trusted yourselves to us to-night, and I leave the matter of whether it +was right or wrong to your own consciences. But whatever happens, what +you did to-night is the sort of thing that Farmer King will never +forget." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +VINEGAR. + + +It was certainly not at all remarkable that the entire party should be +drowsy and languid on the following day. Pauline had dark shadows under +her eyes, and there was a fretful note in her voice. Nurse declared that +Briar and Patty had caught cold, and could not imagine how they had +managed to do so; but Miss Tredgold said that colds were common in hot +weather, and that the children had played too long in the open air on the +previous night. In short, those who were out of the mischief suspected +nothing, and Pauline began to hope that her wild escapade would never be +known. Certainly Briar and Patty would not betray her. + +They had all managed to climb up the tree and get in at her window +without a soul knowing. Pauline therefore hoped that she was quite safe; +and the hope that this was the case revived her spirits, so that in the +afternoon she was looking and feeling much as usual. As she was dressing +that morning she had made a sort of vow. It was not a bit the right thing +to do, but then poor little Pauline was not doing anything very right +just then. This was her vow. She had said in her prayer to God: + +"If You will keep Aunt Sophy from finding out how naughty I have been, I +will, on my part, be extra good. I will do my lessons most perfectly, and +never, never, never deceive Aunt Sophy again." + +Now, Pauline, unaware that such a prayer could not possibly be answered, +felt a certain sense of security after she had made it. + +In addition to the beautiful chain with its locket and its diamond star +in the middle, she had received several other presents of the gay and +loud and somewhat useless sort. Nancy's friends, Becky and Amy, had both +given her presents, and several young people of the party had brought +little trifles to present to the queen of the occasion. There was a time +when Pauline would have been highly delighted with these gifts, but that +time was not now. She felt the impossible tidies, the ugly pin-cushions, +the hideous toilet-covers, the grotesque night-dress bags to be more +burdens than treasures. What could she possibly do with them? The gold +chain and locket were another matter. She felt very proud of her chain +and her little heart-shaped locket. She was even mad enough to fasten the +chain round her neck that morning and hide it beneath her frock, and so +go downstairs with the diamond resting on her heart. + +Miss Tredgold had wisely resolved that there were to be very few lessons +that day. The girls were to read history and a portion of one of +Shakespeare's plays, and afterwards they were to sit in the garden and do +their fancy-work. They were all glad of the quiet day and of the absence +of excitement, and as evening progressed they recovered from their +fatigue, and Pauline was as merry as the rest. + +It was not until preparation hour that Pauline felt a hand laid on her +arm; two keen black eyes looked into her face, and a small girl clung to +her side. + +"Oh, what is it, Pen?" said Pauline, almost crossly. "What do you want +now?" + +"I thought perhaps you'd like to know," replied Penelope. + +"To know what, you tiresome child? Don't press up against me; I hate +being pawed." + +"Does you? Perhaps you'd rather things was knowed." + +"What is it, Pen? You are always so mysterious and tiresome." + +"Only that I think you ought to tell me," said Penelope, lowering her +voice and speaking with great gentleness. "I think you ought to tell me +all about the things that are hidden away in that bandbox under your +bed." + +"What do you mean?" said Pauline, turning pale. + +"Why, I thought I'd like to go into your room and have a good look +round." + +"But you have no right to do that sort of thing. It is intolerably mean +of you. You had no right to go into my bedroom." + +"I often does what I has no right to do," said Penelope, by no means +abashed. "I went in a-purpose 'cos you didn't tell me what you wished to +tell me once, and I was burning to know. Do you understand what it is to +be all curiosity so that your heart beats too quick and you gets fidgety? +Well, I was in that sort of state, and I said to myself, 'I will know.' +So I went into your room and poked about. I looked under the bed, and +there was an old bandbox where you kept your summer hat afore Aunt Sophy +came; and I pulled it out and opened it, and, oh! I see'd---- Paulie, I'd +like to have 'em. You doesn't want 'em, 'cos you have hidden 'em, and I +should like to have 'em." + +"What?" + +"Why, that pin-cushion for one thing--oh! it's a beauty--and that tidy. +May I have the pin-cushion and the tidy, Paulie--the purple pin-cushion +and the red tidy? May I?" + +"No." + +"May Aunt Sophy have them?" + +"Don't be silly." + +"May anybody have them?" + +"They're mine." + +"How did you get them?" + +"That's my affair." + +"You didn't get them from me, nor from any of the other girls--I can go +round and ask them if you like, but I know you didn't--nor from father, +nor from Aunt Sophy, nor from Betty, nor from John, nor from any of the +new servants. Who gave them to you?" + +"That's my affair." + +"You won't tell?" + +"No." + +"May I tell Aunt Sophy about the bandbox chock-full of funny things +pushed under the bed?" + +"If you do----" + +Penelope danced a few feet away. She then stood in front of her sister +and began to sway her body backwards and forwards. + +"I see'd," she began, "such a funny thing!" + +"Penelope, you are too tormenting!" + +"I see'd such a very funny thing!" + +Miss Tredgold was seen approaching. Penelope looked round at her and then +deliberately raised her voice. + +"I see'd such a very, very funny thing!" + +"What is it, Pen? Why are you teasing your sister?" said Miss Tredgold. + +"I aren't!" cried Penelope. "I are telling her something what she ought +to know. It is about something I---- Shall I go on, Paulie?" + +"No; you make my head ache. Aunt Sophy, may I go in and lie down?" + +"Certainly, my dear. You look very pale. My poor child, you were +over-excited yesterday. This won't do. Penelope, stop teasing your +sister, and come for a walk with me. Pauline, go and lie down until +dinner-time." + +Pauline went slowly in the direction of the house, but fear dogged her +footsteps. What did Penelope know, and what did she not know? + +Meanwhile Miss Tredgold took the little girl's hand and began to pace up +and down. + +"I have a great deal to correct in you, Pen," she said. "You are always +spying and prying. That is not a nice character for a child." + +"I can be useful if I spy and pry," said Penelope. + +"My dear, unless you wish to become a female detective, you will be a +much greater nuisance than anything else if you go on making mysteries +about nothing. I saw that you were tormenting dear little Pauline just +now. The child is very nervous. If she is not stronger soon I shall take +her to the seaside. She certainly needs a change." + +"And me, too?" said Penelope. "I want change awful bad." + +"Not a bit of you. I never saw a more ruddy, healthy-looking little girl +in the whole course of my life." + +"I wonder what I could do to be paled down," thought Penelope to herself; +but she did not speak her thought aloud. "I mustn't tell Aunt Sophy, that +is plain. I must keep all I know about Paulie dark for the present. +There's an awful lot. There's about the thimble, and--yes, I did see them +all three. I'm glad I saw them. I won't tell now, for I'd only be +punished; but if I don't tell, and pretend I'm going to, Paulie will have +to pay me to keep silent. That will be fun." + +The days passed, and Pauline continued to look pale, and Miss Tredgold +became almost unreasonably anxious about her. Notwithstanding Verena's +assurance that Pauline had the sort of complexion that often looked white +in summer, the good lady was not reassured. There was something more than +ordinary weakness and pallor about the child. There was an expression in +her eyes which kept her kind aunt awake at night. + +Now this most excellent woman had never yet allowed the grass to grow +under her feet. She was quick and decisive in all her movements. She was +the sort of person who on the field of battle would have gone straight to +the front. In the hour of danger she had never been known to lose her +head. She therefore lost no time in making arrangements to take Verena +and Pauline to the seaside. Accordingly she wrote to a landlady she +happened to know, and engaged some remarkably nice rooms at Easterhaze on +the south coast. Verena and Pauline were told of her plans exactly a week +after the birthday. Pauline had been having bad dreams; she had been +haunted by many things. The look of relief on her face, therefore, when +Miss Tredgold told her that they were to pack their things that day, and +that she, Verena, and herself would start for Easterhaze at an early hour +on the following morning, was almost beyond words. + +"Why is you giving Pauline this great big treat?" asked Penelope. + +"Little girls should be seen and not heard," was Miss Tredgold's remark. + +"But this little girl wants to be heard," replied the incorrigible child. +"'Cos she isn't very strong, and 'cos her face is palefied." + +"There is no such word as palefied, Penelope." + +"I made it. It suits me," said Penelope. + +"Pauline's cheeks are rather too pale," answered Miss Tredgold. + +She did not reprove Penelope, for in spite of herself she sometimes found +a smile coming to her face at the child's extraordinary remarks. + +Presently Penelope slipped away. She went thoughtfully across the lawn. +Her head was hanging, and her whole stout little figure testified to the +fact that she was meditating. + +"Off to the sea!" she muttered softly to herself. "Off to the big briny +waves, to the wadings, to the sand castles, to the shrimps, to the +hurdy-gurdies, and all 'cos she's palefied. I wish I could be paled." + +She ran into the house, rushed through the almost deserted nursery, and +startled nurse out of her seven senses with a wild whoop. + +"Nursey, how can I be paled down?" + +"Nonsense, child! Don't talk rubbish." + +"Am I pale, nursey, or am I a rosy sort of little girl?" + +"You are a sunburnt, healthy-looking little child, with no beauty to fash +about," was nurse's blunt response. + +"Am I healthy-looking?" + +"Of course you are, Miss Pen. Be thankful to the Almighty for it, and +don't worry me." + +Pen stuck out her tongue, made a hideous face at nurse, and darted from +the room. She stood in the passage for a minute or two reflecting, then +she slipped round and went in the direction of Pauline's bedroom. + +The bandbox chock-full of those vulgar presents had been pushed into the +back part of a dark cupboard which stood in the little girl's room. +Penelope knew all about that. She opened the cupboard, disappeared into +its shadows, and then returned with an orange-colored tidy and a +chocolate-red pin-cushion. Having made a bag of the front of her frock, +she slipped the pin-cushion and tidy into it, and ran off to the kitchen. +Aunt Sophia visited the kitchen each morning, but Pen knew that the hour +of her daily visit had not yet arrived. Betty was there, surreptitiously +reading a copy of the _Faithful Friend_. She started when Pen darted into +her domain. + +"Now what is it, Miss Penelope? For goodness' sake, miss, get out of +this. Your aunt would be flabbergasted to see you here." + +For response Pen planted down in front of Betty the orange-colored tidy +and the chocolate-red pin-cushion. + +"Here's some things," she said. "Here's two nice things for a nice body. +What will that nice body give for these nice things?" + +"My word!" said Betty, "they're natty." + +She took up the pin-cushion and examined it all over. She then laid it +down again. She next took up the tidy, turned it from side to side, and +placed it, with a sigh of distinct desire, beside the pin-cushion. + +"Them's my taste," she said. "I like those sort of fixed colors. I can't +abide the wishy-washy tastes of the present day." + +"They's quite beautiful, ain't they?" said Pen. "I'll give them to you if +you will----" + +"You will give them to me?" said Betty. "But where did you get them +from?" + +"That don't matter a bit. Don't you ask any questions and you will hear +no lies. I will give them to you, and nobody and nothing shall ever take +them from you again, if you do something for me." + +"What's that, Miss Pen?" + +"Will you, Betty--will you? And will you be awful quick about it." + +"I should like to have them," said Betty. "There's a friend of mine going +to commit marriage, and that tidy would suit her down to the ground. +She'd like it beyond anything. But, all the same, I don't hold with young +ladies forcing their way into my kitchen; it's not haristocratic." + +"Never mind that ugly word. Will you do what I want?" + +"What is it, Miss Pen?" + +"Palefy me. Make me sort of refined. Take the color out of me. Bleach +me--that's it. I want to go to the seaside. Pale people go; rosy people +don't. I want to be awful pale by to-night. How can it be done? It's more +genteel to be pale." + +"It is that," said Betty, looking at the rosy Penelope with critical +eyes. "I have often fretted over my own color; it's mostly fixed in the +nose, too. But I don't know any way to get rid of it." + +"Don't you?" said Penelope. + +Quick as thought she snatched up the pin-cushion and tidy. + +"You don't have these," she said. "Your friend what's going to be married +won't have this tidy. If you can't take fixed colors out of me, you don't +have fixed colors for your bedroom, so there!" + +"You are awful quick and smart, miss, and I have heard tell that vinegar +does it." + +"Vinegar?" + +"I have heard tell, but I have never tried it. You drink it three times a +day, a wine-glass at a time. It's horrid nasty stuff, but if you want to +change your complexion you must put up with some sort of inconvenience." + +"Suppose, Betty, you and me both drink it. Your nose might get white, and +I might go to the seaside." + +"No, miss, I'm not tempted to interfere with nature. I've got good +'ealth, and I'll keep it without no vinegar." + +"But will you give me some? You shall have the pin-cushion and the tidy +if you do." + +"'Arriet would like that tidy," contemplated Betty, looking with round +eyes at the hideous ornament. + +"You sneak round to the boot-house, and I'll have it ready for you," she +said. "Come at eleven, come again at half-past three, and come at seven +in the evening." + +This was arranged, and Pen, faithfully to the minute, did make her +appearance in the boot-house. She drank off her first glass of vinegar +with a wry face; but after it was swallowed she began to feel intensely +good and pleased with herself. + +"Will it pale me in an hour?" was her thought. + +She ran upstairs, found a tiny square of looking-glass, concealed it in +her pocket, and came down again. During the remainder of the day she +might have been observed at intervals sneaking away by herself, and had +any one followed her, that person would have seen her taking the +looking-glass from her pocket and carefully examining her cheeks. + +Alas! the vinegar had only produced a slight feeling of discomfort; it +had not taken any of the bloom out of the firm, fat cheeks. + +"It's horrid, and it's not doing it," thought the child. "I wish I hadn't +gived her that tidy and that pin-cushion. But I will go on somehow till +the color is out. They will send for me when they hear that I'm bad. +Perhaps I'll look bad to-night." + +But Pen's "perhapses" were knocked on the head, for Miss Tredgold made a +sudden and most startling announcement. + +"Why wait for the morning?" she exclaimed. "We are all packed and ready. +We can easily get to Easterhaze by a late train to-night." + +Accordingly, by a late train that evening Miss Tredgold, Verena, and +Pauline departed. They drove to Lyndhurst Road, and presently found +themselves in a first-class carriage being carried rapidly away. + +"I am glad I thought of it," said Miss Tredgold, turning to the two +girls. "It is true we shall arrive late, but Miss Pinchin will have +things ready, as she will have received my telegram. We shall sleep at +our new quarters in peace and comfort, and be ready to enjoy ourselves in +the morning." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +GLENGARRY CAPS. + + +Penelope drank her vinegar three times a day. She applied herself to this +supposed remedy with a perseverance and good faith worthy of a better +cause. This state of things continued until on a certain night she was +seized with acute pain, and awoke shrieking out the startling words, +"Vinegar! vinegar!" Nurse, who was not in the plot, thought the child was +raving. She scolded Penelope more than pitied her, administered a strong +dose, and, in short, treated her as rather a naughty invalid. + +"It's green apples that has done it," said nurse, shaking her head +solemnly, and looking as if she thought Penelope ought certainly to +return to her nursery thraldom. + +"I mustn't take so much vinegar," thought the little girl; "but I do hope +that being so ill, and taking the horrid medicine, and being scolded by +the nurse will have made me a bit pale." + +She doubtless hoped also that her illness would be reported to Miss +Tredgold, who would send for her in double-quick time; but as Miss +Tredgold was not told, and no one took any notice of Pen's fit of +indigestion, she was forced to try other means to accomplish her darling +desire--for go to the seaside she was determined she would. Of late she +had been reading all the books she could find relating to the sea. She +devoted herself to the subject of shells and seaweeds, and always talked +with admiration of those naughty children who got into mischief on the +sands. + +"Lots of them get drownded," she was heard to say to Adelaide. "It is +quite, quite common to be washed up a drownded person by the big waves." + +Adelaide did not believe it, but Penelope stuck to her own opinion, and +whenever she found one of her sisters alone and ready to listen to her, +her one invariable remark was: + +"Tell me about the sea." + +Once it darted into her erratic little head that she would run away, walk +miles and miles, sleep close to the hedges at night, receive drinks of +milk from good-natured cottagers, and finally appear a dusty, +travel-stained, very sick little girl at Aunt Sophia's lodgings at +Easterhaze. But the difficulties in the way of such an undertaking were +beyond even Pen's heroic spirit. Notwithstanding her vinegar and her +suffering, she was still rosy--indeed, her cheeks seemed to get plumper +and rounder than ever. She hated to think of the vinegar she had taken in +vain; she hated to remember Betty and the tidy and pin-cushion she had +given her. + +Meanwhile the days passed quickly and the invitation she pined for did +not come. What was to be done? Suddenly it occurred to her that, if she +could only become possessed of certain facts which she now suspected, she +might be able to fulfil her own darling desire. For Pen knew more than +the other girls supposed. She was very angry with Pauline for not +confiding in her on Pauline's birthday, and at night she had managed to +keep awake, and had risen softly from her cot and stood in her white +night-dress by the window; and from there she had seen three little +figures creeping side by side across the lawn--three well-known little +figures. She had very nearly shouted after them; she had very nearly +pursued them. But all she really did was to creep back into bed and say +to herself in a tone of satisfaction: + +"Now I knows. Now I will get lots of pennies out of Paulie." + +She dropped into the sleep of a happy child almost as she muttered the +last words, but in the morning she had not forgotten what she had seen. + +On a certain day shortly after Penelope had recovered from her very +severe fit of indigestion, she was playing on the lawn, making herself, +as was her wont, very troublesome, when Briar, looking up from her new +story-book, said in a discontented voice: + +"I do wish you would go away, Penelope. You worry me awfully." + +Penelope, instead of going away, went and stood in front of her sister. + +"Does I?" she said. "Then I am glad." + +"You really are a horrid child, Pen. Patty and Adelaide, can you +understand why Pen is such a disagreeable child?" + +"She is quite the most extraordinary child I ever heard of in the whole +course of my life," said Adelaide. "The other night, when she woke up +with a pain in her little tum-tum, she shouted, 'Vinegar! vinegar!' She +must really have been going off her poor little head." + +"No, I wasn't," said Penelope, who turned scarlet and then white. "It was +vinegar--real vinegar. It was to pale me." + +"Oh, don't talk to her!" said Patty. "She is too silly for anything. Go +away, baby, and play with sister Marjorie, and don't talk any more +rubbish." + +"You call me baby?" said Penelope, coming close to the last speaker, and +standing with her arms akimbo. "You call me baby? Then I will ask you a +question. Who were the people that walked across the lawn on the night of +Paulie's birthday? Who was the three peoples who walked holding each +other's hands?--little peoples with short skirts--little peoples about +the size of you, maybe; and about the size of Briar, maybe; and about the +size of Paulie, maybe. Who was they? You answer me that. They wasn't +ghostses, was they?" + +Briar turned pale; Patty glanced at her. Adelaide, who had watchful blue +eyes, turned and looked from one sister to the other. + +"You are talking rubbish," said Briar. "Go and play." + +"Who was they?" repeated Pen. + +"I don't know." + +"Am I baby or big wise girl?" + +"Oh, you are an infant Solomon! I don't know who the people were." + +"Don't you?" + +Penelope looked at Briar with a sigh of disappointment. Then she +whispered to herself: + +"It's 'cos of Adelaide. Course they don't want to say anything when +Addy's there." + +She strolled away. + +"What was the child talking about?" asked Adelaide. + +"I'm sure I don't know," replied Briar. "She's the rummiest little thing +that ever walked. But there's no good in taking any notice of what she +says." + +"Of course no one does," answered Adelaide. "But I do wonder if ghosts +ever walk across the lawn. Do you believe in ghosts, Briar?" + +"Certainly not," said Briar. "No girl in her senses does." + +"I don't know at all as to that," replied Adelaide. "There was a girl +that came to stay with Nancy King last year; her name was Freda Noell. +She believed in ghosts. She said she had once been in a haunted house. +What is it, Briar? Why do you shrug your shoulders?" + +"I don't know," said Briar. "I don't want to talk about ghosts. I don't +believe in them." + +She got up and crossed the lawn. The next moment Pen had tucked her hand +inside her arm. + +"You needn't keep it from me," she said in a whisper. "It was you and +Patty and Paulie. I knew who you were, 'cos the moon shone on Patty's +Glengarry cap. You needn't deny it." + +"I do deny it. I didn't go," said Briar. + +She felt her heart smite her as she told this lie. She walked quickly. + +"Do leave me," she said. "You are a little girl that doesn't at all know +her own place." + +"But I do know it," said Penelope. "My place is at the seaside. I want to +go there. I'm 'termined to go there. If I don't go one way I'll go +another. Why should Paulie, what is the naughtiest of girls, have all the +fun? I don't mind Renny being there so much. And why should I, what is +the very best of girls, be kept stuck here with only nursey and you +childrens to bother me? I am going. I'm 'termined." + +She marched away. Patty came up. + +"Patty," said Briar, "I've done it." + +"What?" asked Patty. + +"I've told a lie about it. I said we weren't on the lawn at all. I told +her she was talking nonsense." + +"Couldn't you have got out of it by any other way?" asked Patty. "It +doesn't seem right to tell lies." + +"I could with any one but Pen; but Pen can see through a brick wall. I +had to tell it, and very plump, too, where Pen was in the question." + +"Well, it makes me feel horrid," said Patty. "I am sorry we went. I think +we did awfully wrong." + +"We did it for Paulie. We'd do more than that for her," replied Briar. + +"I suppose so. I certainly love Paulie very much," answered Patty. + +"And, Patty," continued Briar, "having told such a great black lie to +help her, we must go through with it. Pen means mischief. She's the sort +of child who would do anything to gain anything. She wants to go to the +seaside, and she wouldn't mind whom she got into trouble if it suited her +own ends. We must remember she means mischief, and if she talks again +about three figures on the lawn, you and I have got to stick to it that +we didn't go. Do you understand?" + +"I do, and I consider it awful," said Patty. + +She did not add any more, but went slowly into the house. Presently, +feeling much depressed, she sought nurse's society. Nurse was turning +some of the girls' skirts. She was a good needlewoman, and had clung to +the house of Dale through many adverse circumstances. She was enjoying +herself at present, and used often to say that it resembled the time of +the fat kine in Egypt. + +"Ah, Miss Patty!" she cried. "It's glad I am to see you, darling." + +"Can I do anything for you, nursey?" asked Patty. + +"Of course you can, dear. You can help me to unpick this frock. I am +cutting it down to fit Miss Pen. It will make a very neat frock for her, +and it seems unfair that dear Miss Tredgold should be at more expense +than is necessary." + +"Why," asked Patty, with a surprised look, "doesn't father pay for the +things?" + +"Mr. Dale!" cried nurse in a tone of wrath, "I'd like to see him. It's +not that he wouldn't, and for all I can tell he may have the money; but, +bless you, darling! he'd forget it. He'd forget that there was such a +thing as dress wanted in all the world; and servants and food, and the +different things that all well-managed houses must have, couldn't lie on +his memory while you were counting twenty. Do you suppose if that dear, +blessed lady didn't put her hand into her pocket in the way she does that +you'd be having the right good time you are now having, and the nice +clothes, and the good education, and the pretty ponies coming next week? +And Miss Pauline, just because she's a bit pale, taken to the seaside? +Not a bit of it, my dear Miss Patty. It's thankful you ought to be to the +Providence that put it into your aunt's head to act as she has done. Ah! +if my dear mistress was living she would bless her dear sister." + +"Did you know mother before she was married?" asked Patty, taking up a +skirt and the pair of sharp scissors which nurse provided her with, and +sitting down happily to her task. + +"Didn't I live with her when she was Miss Tredgold?" asked nurse. "And +didn't I over and over again help Miss Sophia out of scrapes? Oh, she was +a wild young lady!" + +"You don't mean to tell me that Aunt Sophy ever did anything wrong?" + +"Nothing mean or shameful; but for temper and for spirit and for dash and +for go there wasn't her like. Not a horse in the land was wild enough to +please her. She'd ride bareback on any creature you gave her to mount, +and never come to grief, neither. She broke horses that trainers couldn't +touch. She had a way with her that they couldn't resist. Just a pat of +her hand on their necks and they'd be quiet and shiver all over as though +they were too delighted for anything. Oh, she did follow the hounds! My +word! and she was admired, too. She was a young lady in a thousand. And +as for wanting to have her own way, she was for all the world like our +Miss Pauline. It strikes me those two have very much in common, and that +is why Miss Tredgold has taken such a fancy to your sister." + +"Do you think she has?" asked Patty. + +"Do I think it?" cried nurse. "For goodness' sake, Miss Patty, don't cut +the material. Do look where you are putting the scissors. Do I think it, +miss? I know it. Miss Marjorie, sweet pet, you shall thread these +daisies. You shall make a pretty chain of them to put around your neck. +There's my little precious." + +Fat, lovely, little Marjorie shrieked with delight when nurse put a +coarse needle, to which was attached an equally coarse piece of cotton, +and a basket of daisies before her. Marjorie tried to thread daisies, and +uttered little cries of happiness, while Patty and nurse talked together. + +"Miss Tredgold was a wonderful young lady, so handsome and high-spirited. +But if she didn't always obey, she never did anything mean or underhand. +Everybody loved her; and your poor mother was that took up with her that +when my master proposed that they should marry, it was a good while +before she'd consent--and all because she didn't want to part with Miss +Sophy. She said that if Miss Sophy would consent to live with them she'd +marry Mr. Dale at once, for she was very much attached to him. But Miss +Sophy put down her foot. 'Live with a married couple!' she cried. 'Why, +I'd rather die.' Well, my dear, there were words and tears and groans; +but at last Miss Sophy took the bit between her teeth, and went off to an +old relative, a certain Miss Barberry, in Scotland, and arranged to live +with her and look after her. And your mother married; and when Miss +Barberry died she left Miss Sophy every penny she possessed, and Miss +Sophy is very rich now; and well she deserves it. Dear, dear! I seem to +see Miss Sophia over again in our Miss Pauline. She was very comical, and +so high-spirited and wild, although she'd never do an underhand thing." + +"Never?" asked Patty, with a sigh. + +"Of course not. What do you take her for? Noble ladies what is ladies +don't do mean sort of things." + +Patty sighed again. + +"What are you sighing for, Miss Patty? I hate to hear young ladies giving +way to their feelings in that sort of fashion." + +"I was only thinking that you compared Aunt Sophy to Pauline." + +"And why shouldn't I? Is it you who want to belittle your sister? Miss +Pauline is as high-spirited as ever young lady was, but neither would she +do a mean or underhand thing." + +Patty suppressed her next sigh. For a long time she did not speak. + +"Nurse," she said when she next broke silence, "did you in the whole +course of your life ever tell a lie?" + +"My word!" cried nurse--"Miss Marjorie, you'll prick your little fingers +if you hold the needle like that. This way, lovey. Did I ever tell a lie, +Miss Patty? Goodness gracious me! Well, to be sure, perhaps I told a bit +of a tarradiddle when I was a small child; but an out-and-out lie--never, +thank the Almighty!" + +"But what is the difference between a lie and a tarradiddle?" + +"Oh, Miss Patty, there's a deal of difference. A tarradiddle is what you +say when you are, so to speak, took by surprise. It isn't a lie out and +out; it's the truth concealed, I call it. Sometimes it is a mere +exaggeration. You say a person is very, very cross when maybe that person +is hardly cross at all. I can't quite explain, miss; I suppose there's +scarcely any one who hasn't been guilty of a tarradiddle; but a lie--a +thought-out lie--never." + +"Is a lie so very awful?" asked Patty. + +"Awful!" repeated nurse. + +She rose solemnly from her seat, went up to Patty, and put her hand under +her chin. + +"Don't you ever catch me a-seeing you a-doing of it," she said. "I +wouldn't own one of you Dales if you told falsehoods. A black lie the +Bible speaks of as a thing that ain't lightly forgiven. But, of course, +you have never told a lie. Oh, my dear, sweet young lady, you quite +frightened me! To think that one of my children could be guilty of a sin +like that!" + +Patty made no answer. + +"I am tired of work," she said; "I am going out." + +She flung down the skirt that she was helping to unpick and let the +scissors fall to the ground. + +"You might put your work tidily away, Miss Patty. You aren't half as +useful and helpful as you ought to be." + +Patty laid the skirt on a chair and slipped away. Nurse continued her +occupation. + +"I wonder what the child meant," she thought. "She looked queer when she +spoke. But there! with all their faults--and goodness knows they've +plenty--they're straight, every one of them. A crooked-minded Dale or a +crooked-minded Tredgold would be a person unheard of. Oh, yes, they're +straight enough, that's a blessing." + +Meanwhile Patty sought her sister. + +"It's worse than I thought," she remarked. "It's not even a tarradiddle." + +"What do you mean?" asked Briar. + +"The lie you told--the lie I am to help you to hide. It's black as ink, +and God is very angry with little girls who tell lies. He scarcely can +forgive lies. I was talking to nurse, and she explained." + +"You don't mean to say that you told her about Pauline?" + +"No," answered Patty in a voice of scorn. "I am not quite as bad as that. +But she was speaking about Aunt Sophy and how wild she used to be, and +she compared her to Paulie, and said that Aunt Sophy never did anything +mean or underhand, and that Paulie never did either. I felt as if I could +jump, for we know, Briar, what Paulie has done." + +"Yes, we know," answered Briar. "And you and I have done very wrong, too. +But there is no help for it now, Patty. We can't go back." + +"It certainly does seem awful to think of growing up wicked," said Patty. +"I don't like it." + +"Don't let's talk about it," said Briar. "We'll have to suffer some time, +but perhaps not yet. Do you know that the apples are getting ripe, and +John wants us to help him to pick them? Oh! and the mulberry-tree, too, +is a mass of fruit. What do you say to climbing the apple-trees and +shaking down the apples?" + +"Say!" cried Patty. "Delicious!" + +Without more words the little girls ran off to the orchard, and nurse's +remarks with regard to the difference between lies and tarradiddles were +forgotten for the time being. + +The days went on, but Pen did not forget. There came a morning when, a +letter having arrived from Aunt Sophy saying that Pauline was much +better--in fact, quite herself again--and that she and both the girls +would be home in about a week, the little girl was rendered desperate. + +"I has no time to lose," she said to herself. "I am 'termined to go; I am +going some fashion or t'other." + +On this occasion she took a bolder step than she had yet attempted. She +resolved to walk alone the entire distance between The Dales and The +Hollies, which was about three miles. Pen was the sort of child who was +never troubled by physical fear. She also knew the Forest very well. She +had but to slip away; none of her sisters would miss her. Or if nurse +wondered where she was, she would conclude that Pen was keeping her elder +sisters company. If the girls wondered, they would think she was with +nurse. Altogether the feat was easy of accomplishment, and the naughty +child determined to go. She started off an hour after breakfast, opened +the wicket-gate, let herself out, and began to walk quickly. These were +the days of early autumn, when the Forest was looking its best; the trees +were beginning to put on their regal dresses of crimson and brown and +gold. Already the rich red leaves were dropping to the ground. The +bracken was withering to a golden brown, and the heather was a deep +purple. Everywhere, too, little bluebells sprang up, looking as if they +were making fairy music. There were squirrels, too, darting from bough to +bough of the beech-trees; and rabbits innumerable, with white-tipped +tails, disappearing into their various holes. A walk in the Forest on +this special day was the sort to fascinate some children, but Pen cared +for none of these things. Her way lay straight before her; her object was +never for a moment forgotten. She meant to reach the sea by some means or +other. + +She was a somewhat tired and hot little person when at last she appeared +outside the broad gravel walk that led to The Hollies; and it so happened +that when she entered this walk her courage was put to a severe test, for +Lurcher, the farmer's bulldog, happened to be loose. As a rule he was +kept tied up. Now, Lurcher was a very discerning person. He attacked +beggars in a most ferocious manner, but as to ladies and gentlemen a +fierce bout of barking was sufficient. Pen, however, looked like neither +a beggar nor a lady or gentleman. Lurcher did not know what to make of +Pen. Some one so small and so untidy could scarcely be a visitor. She was +much too short and much too stout, and her little legs were bleeding from +the thorny brambles that she had come through during her journey. +Accordingly Lurcher, with a low growl and a swift bound, pinned poor +little Pen by the skirt of her short frock. He was sufficiently a +gentleman not to hurt her, but he had not the least idea of letting her +go. He pinned her even more firmly when she moved an inch away from him, +and when she raised her voice he growled. He not only growled, but he +shook her dress fiercely. Already she felt it snap from its waistband +under Lurcher's terrible teeth. She was a very brave child, but her +present predicament was almost more than she could bear. How long it +lasted no one quite knew. Then there came a stride across the gravel, a +shout from Farmer King, and Pen was transferred from the ground into his +sheltering arms. + +"You poor little thing!" he said. "You poor little bit of a lass! Now, +you don't tell me you are one of the Dales? You have their eyes--black as +black most of them are. Are you a Dale?" + +"Course I am," answered Penelope. "I'm Penelope Dale. He's a shocking bad +dog. I never thought I could be frightened. I was 'termined to come, but +I never thought you kept such a shocking, awful dog as that." + +"I am more sorry than I can say, my little dear. I wonder now who let the +brute out. He'll catch it from me, whoever he is. Here, Nancy! Hullo, +Nancy! Come along here, quick!" + +Nancy, looking fresh and smiling, stepped out of the open French window. + +"Why," she said when she saw Pen, "wherever did you drop from?" + +Pen began to cry. + +"I wor 'termined to come," she said. "I wanted to see you most tur'ble +bad." + +"Poor little thing!" said the farmer. "She's got a bit of a fright. What +do you think, Nancy? Lurcher had little miss by her skirt. He'd pinned +her, so to speak, and he wouldn't let go, not if she fainted; and she was +that brave, little dear, that she didn't do anything but just stood +still, with her face as white as death." + +"Wor I paled down?" said Pen. "Do tell me if I wor paled down a bit." + +"You were as white as death, you poor little pretty," said the farmer; +and then he kissed the little girl on her broad forehead, and hurried off +to expostulate with regard to Lurcher. + +Nancy took Pen into the house, and sat down in a cosy American +rocking-chair with the little girl in her lap. She proceeded to gorge her +with caramels and chocolates. Pen had never been so much fussed over +before; and, truth, to tell, she had seldom enjoyed herself better. + +"I wor 'termined--'termined to come," she repeated several times. At last +her sobs ceased altogether, and she cuddled up against Nancy and went to +sleep in her arms. + +Nancy lifted her up and put her on the horse-hair sofa; she laid a rug +over her, and then stooped and kissed her. Afterwards she went out and +joined her father. + +"Whatever brought little miss here?" asked the farmer. + +"That's more than I can tell you, father." + +"And why don't the others come sometimes?" snapped Farmer King. "They +none of 'em come, not even that pretty girl we made so much fuss over, +giving her a gold locket and chain. Now, I'd like to find out, Nancy, my +girl, if she has ever shown that locket and chain to her haristocratic +aunt. Do you suppose the haristocratic lady has set eyes on it?" + +Nancy laughed. + +"I guess not," she said. "Paulie's a bit of a coward. She wants to know +us and yet she don't. She wants to know us behind the aunt's back." + +"Left hand, not right hand," said the farmer. "I don't like that sort." + +"At any rate she can't come to us at present, father, for Miss Tredgold +has taken her to the seaside." + +"That's it, is it?" said the farmer, his face clearing. "Then I suppose +little miss has come with a message. What did missie say about your +friend, Nancy?" + +"Nothing. She's asleep at present. I mean to let her have her sleep out, +then give her some dinner, and drive her home in the dogcart." + +"Do as you like, Nance; only for mercy's sake don't make a fool of +yourself over that family, for it strikes me forcibly they're becoming +too grand for us." + +Nancy said nothing further. She returned to the house and sat down in the +room where Penelope slept. Her work-basket was open. She was making a +pretty new necktie for herself. Nancy was a very clever workwoman, and +the necktie grew under her nimble fingers. Presently she dived into the +bottom of the basket and took out a gold thimble with a sapphire top and +turquoises round the rim. She slipped it on to the tip of her slender +first finger. + +"I must send it back again," she said to herself. "I'd have done it +before, but Pauline is away." + +Just then she was attracted by a sound on the sofa. She turned. Pen's big +black eyes were wide open; she was bending forward and gazing at the +thimble. + +"So you got it after all!" she said. + +"Oh, child, how you startled me! What do you mean?" + +"Why, that's Aunty Sophy's thimble. I was to get a penny if I found it." + +Nancy was silent. + +"How did it get into your work-basket?" asked Pen. + +"I borrowed it from Paulie, and I'd have given it to her long ere this, +but I heard she was away." + +"Give it to me," cried Penelope. Her voice quite shook in her eagerness. +"Give it to me at once, and I will take it back to her." + +"I wish you would, Pen, I am sure; but you must be very careful not to +lose it, for it is a real beauty. See, I will put it into this little +box, and cover the box up." + +Penelope pressed close to Nancy. Nancy placed the thimble in the midst of +some pink cotton-wool and looked at it affectionately; then she tied up +the little box, put brown paper round it, tied string round that again, +and then she held it out to Pen. + +"You are quite positive you won't lose it?" she said. + +"Positive. I has a big pocket, and no hole in it. See for yourself, +there's no hole. Turn it out, will you?" + +Penelope's pocket proved to be quite safe, and Nancy, with a qualm at her +heart which she could not account for, allowed the little girl to put the +thimble therein. + +"Well, that is settled," she cried. "And now I want to know what you came +for. You are going to have dinner with father and me after a bit." + +"No, I'm not," answered Pen. "I'm going home at once." + +"But why did you come? Did Pauline send me a message?" + +"No, she wouldn't." + +"Why not? I've done a great deal for her." + +"She's ongrateful," said Pen. "She didn't send no message. I 'spect +she'll have forgot you when she comes back." + +Nancy's face flamed. + +"I can make it a little too hot for her if she does." + +"What's making a thing too hot?" asked Penelope. + +"Oh, making it so that you squirm and tingle and your heart goes +pit-a-pat," replied Nancy. "There! I'm not going to talk any more. If you +won't tell me why you came, I suppose you will come into the other room +and have some dinner?" + +"I won't. I'm going home. As Paulie didn't send you a message, are you +going to make it hot for her?" + +"That I am. Somebody will come here--somebody I know--to see somebody she +knows; and there will be a begging and imploring, and somebody she knows +will do nothing for somebody I know. Now, can you take that in?" + +"You are very funny," answered Penelope, "but I think I can. I'm glad, +and I'm not glad, that I comed. I won't stay to dinner; I'm going +straight away home this blessed minute." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +PEN VICTORIOUS. + + +Penelope managed to reach home unattended. She was tired and draggled and +dusty, and also very much scratched. Her sisters received her with whoops +of astonishment and welcome. They had not missed her, it is true, but +when they saw her coming sadly and sheepishly in at the wicket-gate they +concluded that they had. Adelaide was the first to reach her. + +"Don't ask me any questions and you'll hear no lies," was Pen's remark. +She waved her fat hand as she spoke. "I am going to nursey straight away. +I has something I wants to say to nursey. Has the post gone? I want to +catch the post immediate." + +"You are too queer for anything," said Adelaide; "but go your own way. +You'll catch it for being out all by yourself in the woods." + +"I won't catch it, but there are others who will," replied Penelope. "And +now keep out of my way. I want to find nursey." + +She marched in a most defiant and even queenly style towards the house; +and the others, after laughing for a moment, returned to their various +pursuits and forgot all about her. + +When nurse saw Penelope she uttered a groan. + +"There you come," she said. "You are a handful! You never turned up at +dinner-time, although we looked for you everywhere. Now, where were you +hiding?" + +"Never mind that, nursey. Get out your writing 'terials." + +"Now, whatever does the child mean? Sakes! you are scratched, and your +nice new holland frock is all torn, and you are dusty and pale and +trembling--as pale and trembling as can be." + +"Is it pale I am?" cried Penelope. "Is it? Is it? Nursey, I love you, +love you, love you!" + +With a flop Penelope's fat arms were flung round nurse's neck; her hot +little lips caressed nurse's cheeks. + +"Oh," she cried, "how much I love you! Get writing 'terials quick. Get +pen and ink and paper, and sit down and write. I will tell you what to +say. You must write this instant minute. It is the most 'portant thing in +all the world. Write, and be quick. If you don't I'll go to Betty, and +she'll do what I want her to do." + +"You needn't do that," cried nurse. "You are a queer child, and more +trouble than you're worth, but when you are in a bit of a mess I'm not +the one to refuse my aid. Who have I to write to?" + +"To my darlingest Aunt Sophy." + +"My word! What on earth have you got to say to her?" + +"Get 'terials and you'll know." + +Nurse complied somewhat unwillingly. She produced a portfolio, got out +her ink-bottle and pen, dipped the pen in ink, and looked up at Penelope. + +"Go on, and be quick," she said. "I can't be fashed with the whims of +children. What is it that you want to say?" + +"Write, 'Dear, darling Aunt Sophia.'" + +"You are too queer!" + +Nevertheless nurse put the words on the sheet of paper, and Pen proceeded +to deliver herself quickly. + +"'I am paled down, and want change of air. My breaf is too quick. My legs +is all tored with briers and things. I has got a prickly feeling in my +froat, and I gets wet as water all over my hands and round my neck and my +forehead. It's 'cos I'm weak, I 'spect.'" + +"Miss Penelope," said the nurse, "if those symptoms are correct, it is +the doctor you want." + +"'I has a doubly-up pain in my tum-tum,'" proceeded Penelope, taking no +notice of nurse's interruption. "'I shrieks in my sleep. I wants change +of air. I am very poorly. Nursey is writing this, and she knows I am very +poorly. I feel sort of as though I could cry. It's not only my body, it's +my mind. I has got a weight on my mind. It's a secret, and you ought to +know. Send for me quick, 'cos I want change of air. + + Pen.'" + +"I never wrote a queerer letter," said nurse; "and from the looks of you +there seems to be truth in it. You certainly don't look well." + +"You will send it, nursey?" asked Pen, trembling with excitement. + +"Yes, child; you have dictated it to me, and it shall go by the post. +Whether Miss Tredgold will mind a word you say or not remains to be +proved. Now leave me, and do for goodness' sake try not to run about +wildly any more for to-day at least." + +Penelope left the room. She stooped slightly as she walked, and she +staggered a little. When she got near the door she coughed. As she +reached the passage she coughed more loudly. + +"It's my froat," she said in a very sad tone, and she crept down the +passage, nurse watching her from the open door of the nursery. + +She did not guess that when Penelope turned the last corner she gave a +sudden whoop, leapt nearly a foot into the air, and then darted out of +the house as fast as she could. + +"I 'spect I's done it this time," thought Pen. + +Meanwhile in the nursery, after a moment's reflection, nurse added a +postscript of her own to Pen's letter. + +"Miss Penelope is very queer, and don't look well at all." + +That letter was put in the post, and in due time received by Miss +Tredgold. + +Penelope began to count the hours. She knew that no answer could come for +some time after the letter was written. During the next day she went at +intervals to visit Betty, and begged her for drinks of vinegar; and as +she paid Betty by more and more presents out of Pauline's old bandbox, +she found that individual quite amenable. After drinking the vinegar +Penelope once again suffered from the "doubly-up pain in her tum-tum." +She spoke of her agonies to the others, who pitied her a good deal, and +Josephine even presented her with some very precious peppermints for the +purpose of removing it. Towards evening she seemed better, and talked +continually of the seaside and how she intended to enjoy herself there. +And then she suggested that her sisters should come and help her to pack +her things. The girls naturally asked why they were to do it, and she +replied: + +"'Cos I'm going on a journey, and it's most 'portant. None of you are +going, but I am." + +"You're not going on any journey," said Lucy. "You do talk rubbish." + +"What you bet?" asked Penelope, who saw an instant opportunity of making +a little money. + +"Nothing," replied Lucy. "You are talking rubbish. Get out of my way. I'm +very busy." + +Pen looked wildly around her. She was in such a state of suppressed +excitement that she could stop at nothing. Her sisters were all close at +hand. Patty and Briar were sitting as usual almost in each other's +pockets. Adelaide, Josephine, Lucy, and Helen made a group apart. Pen +thought carefully. + +"There's six of 'em," she said to herself. "I ought to make a little +money by six of 'em. Look here!" she called out. "You all say I'm not +going on a journey to-morrow; I say I am. Will you give me a penny each +if I go? Is it done? Is it truly done? If I don't go I'll give you a +penny each." + +"But you haven't got any pence to give us." + +"I will borrow from nursey. I know she'll lend me the money. But I shan't +need it, for I am going. Will you give me a penny each if I go?" + +"Oh, yes, if you want it," said Adelaide. + +"But remember," continued Lucy, "we shall keep you to your part of the +bargain if you don't go." + +"All right," cried Pen; and, having received the promise, she walked +sedately across the grass. + +"Six pennies! I'll find them useful at the seaside," she thought. +"There's nothing like having a little money of your own. It buys +sweetmeats and cakes. I'll tell Aunt Sophy that my froat is so sore, and +that I must have constant sweetmeats. Six pennies will get a lot." + +She walked more slowly. She was in reality in excellent health; even the +vinegar was not doing her much harm. + +"How hungry I'll be when I get to the seaside!" she said to herself. +"I'll swell out and get very red and very fat. My body will be 'normous. +Oh, there's father!" + +Mr. Dale was seated near his window. His head was bent as usual over his +work. + +"Father could give me something," thought Pen. "He could and he ought. +I'll ask him. Dad!" she called. + +Mr. Dale did not answer. + +"Dad!" called Pen again. + +He looked up with a fretful expression. + +"Go away, my dear," he said. "I am particularly busy." + +"I will if you'll give me sixpence." + +"Go away." + +Pen's father bent again over his book. He forgot Penelope. + +"He's sure to give me sixpence if I worrit him long enough," thought the +naughty little girl. + +She stood close to the window. Suddenly it occurred to her that if she +drew down the blind, which she could easily do by pushing her hand inside +the window and then planting her fat little person on the window-sill, +she would cause a shadow to come before the light on her father's page. + +"That will make him look up," she thought. "When he does I'll ask him +again for sixpence. I'll tell him I won't go away till I get it." + +She sat down on the window-sill, cleverly manipulating the blind, and Mr. +Dale found an unpleasant darkness steal over his page. + +"Draw up that blind and go away, Penelope," he said. "Do you hear? Go +away." + +"I will 'mediately you give me sixpence. I will draw up the blind and +I'll go away," said Pen. + +"I will give you nothing. You are an extremely naughty little girl." + +Penelope sat on. Mr. Dale tried to read in the darkening light. Presently +he heard a sniff. The sniff grew louder. + +"My froat," said Penelope. + +He glanced towards her. She was sitting huddled up; her back looked very +round. + +"Do go away, child. What is wrong?" + +"My froat. I want something to moisten it. It is so dry, it hurts me." + +"Go and get a drink of water." + +"Oh, my froat! Oh, my tum-tum! Oh, my froat!" said Penelope again. + +Mr. Dale rose from his seat at last. + +"I never was so worried in my life," he said. "What is it, child? Out +with it. What is wrong?" + +Penelope managed to raise eyes brimful of tears to his face. + +"If you knowed that your own little girl was suffering from bad froat and +doubly-up tum-tum, and that sixpence would make her well--quite, really, +truly well--wouldn't you give it to her?" said Penelope. + +"How can sixpence make you well? If you really have a sore throat and a +pain we ought to send for the doctor." + +"Sixpence is much cheaper than the doctor," said Penelope. "Sixpence will +do it." + +"How?" + +"It will buy peppermints." + +"Well, then, here it is, child. Take it and be off." + +Penelope snatched it. Her face grew cheerful. She shot up the blind with +a deft movement. She jumped from her seat on the window-ledge. She was no +longer doubled up. + +"Thank you, dad," she said. "Thank you--thank you." + +She rushed away. + +"I'll have another sixpence to-morrow," she thought. "That's a whole +beautiful shilling. I will do fine when I am at the seaside." + +Penelope could scarcely sleep that night. She got up early the next +morning. She was determined to stand at the gate and watch for the +postman. The letters usually arrived about eight o'clock. The postman +hove in sight, and Pen rushed to meet him. + +"Have you letters--a letter for me?" she asked. + +"No, Miss Penelope, but there is one for your nurse." + +"It is from Easterhaze," said the child. "Thank you--thank you, posty." + +She snatched the first letter away from the old man and darted away with +it. Into the nursery she rushed. + +"Here it is, nursey. Open it, quick! I am to go; I know I am." + +Nurse did open the letter. It was from Miss Tredgold, and it ran as +follows: + +"DEAR NURSE: Penelope is evidently too much for you. I intend to remain +two or three days longer in this pleasant place, so do not expect me home +next week. I shall have Penelope here, so send her to me by the first +train that leaves Lyndhurst Road to-morrow. Take her to the station and +put her into the charge of the guard. She had better travel first-class. +If you see any nice, quiet-looking lady in the carriage, put Penelope +into her charge. I enclose a postal order for expenses. Wire to me by +what train to expect the child." + +The letter ended with one or two more directions, but to these Pen +scarcely listened. Her face was pale with joy. She had worked hard; she +had plotted much; she had succeeded. + +"I feel as though I'd like to be really quite good," was her first +thought. + +Nurse expected that she would be nearly mad with glee; but she left the +nursery quietly. She went downstairs quietly. Her sisters were at +breakfast. She entered the room and stood before them. + +"Pennies, please," she said. + +"What do you mean?" asked Briar, who was pouring out coffee. + +"Pennies from all of you, quick." + +Josephine put on a supercilious face; Lucy sniffed; Helen and Adelaide +went on with their breakfast as though nothing had happened. + +Penelope came a little nearer. + +"Must I speak up?" she said. "Must I ask again? Is you all deaf? I am +going to Easterhaze to Aunt Sophy. Darling aunty can't do without me. She +has sent for me as she wants me so badly. I'm going by the first train. I +am much the most 'portant person in the house, and I's won my bet. I like +betting. A penny from you all if you please." + +The girls were excited and amazed at Pen's news. + +"You are clever," said Briar. "How in the world did you get her to do +it?" + +"Tum-tum and sore froat," said Penelope bluntly. "Oh! and vinegar and +paling down." + +"You are really such an incomprehensible child that I am glad Aunt Sophy +is going to manage you," was Patty's remark. "Here are your pence. Shall +we help you to pack your things?" + +"They are a'most packed. I did some myself last night. I took your new +little trunk, Briar. I don't 'uppose you'll mind." + +Briar did mind, but she knew it was useless to expostulate. + +By eleven o'clock Penelope was off to Lyndhurst Road station. By twelve +o'clock she was in charge of a red-faced old lady. In five minutes' time +she was _en route_ for Easterhaze. The old lady, whose name was Mrs. +Hungerford, began by considering Pen a plain and ordinary child; but she +soon had reason to change her views, for Pen was not exactly plain, and +was certainly by no means ordinary. She stared fixedly at the old lady, +having deliberately left her own seat and planted herself on the one +opposite. + +"Vinegar will do it," she said. + +"What are you talking about, child?" asked Mrs. Hungerford. + +"You are so red--such a deep red, I mean--much the same as chocolate. +Vinegar will do it. Take three small glasses a day, and pay your Betty +with vulgar sort of things out of an old bandbox." + +"The unfortunate child is evidently insane," was Mrs. Hungerford's +thought. She spoke, therefore, in a reassuring way, and tried to look as +though she thought Pen's remarks the most natural in the world. + +Pen, however, read through her. + +"You don't believe me," she said. "Now you listen. I look a pale little +girl, don't I? I am nearly eight years old. I don't see why a girl of +eight is to be trampled on; does you? I wanted to go, and I am going. +It's tum-tum-ache and sore froat and paling cheeks that has done it. If +you want to get what you don't think you will get, remember my words. +It's vinegar does it, but it gives you tum-ache awful." + +The old lady could not help laughing. + +"Now, I wonder," she said, opening a basket of peaches, "whether these +will give tum-ache." + +Penelope grinned; she showed a row of pearly teeth. + +"Guess not," she said. + +The old lady put the basket between Penelope and herself. + +"I have also got sandwiches--very nice ones--and little cakes," she said. +"Shall we two have lunch together, even if my face is like chocolate?" + +"It's a beauty face, even if it is, and I love you," said Penelope. "I +think you are quite 'licious. Don't you like to look like chocolate?" + +The old lady made no answer. Penelope dived her fat hand into the basket +of peaches and secured the largest and ripest. + +"It is the best," she said. "Perhaps you ought to eat it." + +"I think I ought, but if you don't agree with me you shall have it." + +Penelope hesitated a moment. + +"You wouldn't say that if you didn't mean me to eat it," she said. "Thank +you." + +She closed her teeth in the delicious fruit and enjoyed herself vastly. +In short, by the time Mrs. Hungerford and her curious charge reached +Easterhaze it seemed to them both that they had known each other all +their days. + +Miss Tredgold, Verena, and Pauline met the train. The girls looked rosy +and sunburnt. This was an ideal moment for Penelope. She almost forgot +Mrs. Hungerford in her delight at this meeting with her relatives. But +suddenly at the last moment she remembered. + +"How are you, Aunt Sophy? I am scrumptiously glad to see you. How are +you, Verena? How are you, Paulie? Oh! please forgive me; I must say +good-bye to the chocolate old lady." + +And the chocolate old lady was hugged and kissed several times, and then +Pen was at liberty to enjoy the delights of the seaside. + +The lodgings where Miss Tredgold was staying were quite a mile from the +station. Pen enjoyed her drive immensely. The look of the broad sea +rolling on to the shore had a curious effect upon her strange nature. It +touched her indescribably. It filled that scarcely awakened little soul +of hers with longings. After all, it might be worth while to be good. She +did not know why the sea made her long to be good; nevertheless it did. +Her face became really pale. + +"Are you tired, dear?" asked Miss Tredgold, noticing the curious look on +the expressive little face. + +"Oh, no, not that," replied Pen; "but I have never seen the sea before." + +Miss Tredgold felt that she understood. Pauline also understood. Verena +did not think about the matter. It was Verena's habit to take the sweets +of life as they came, to be contented with her lot, to love beauty for +its own sake, to keep a calm mind and a calm body through all +circumstances. She had accepted the sea as a broad, beautiful fact in her +life some weeks ago. She was not prepared for Pen's emotion, nor did she +understand it. She kept saying to herself: + +"Nurse is right after all; it was not mere fancy. Little Penelope is not +well. A day or two on the sands in this glorious air will soon put her +straight." + +Pauline, however, thought that she did understand her little sister. For +to Pauline, from the first day she had arrived at Easterhaze, the sea had +seemed to cry to her in one incessant, reiterating voice: + +"Come, wash and be clean. Come, lave yourself in me, and leave your +naughtiness and your deceits and your black, black lies behind." + +And Pauline felt, notwithstanding her present happiness and her long days +of health and vigor and glee, that she was disobeying the sea, for she +was not washing therein, nor getting herself clean in all that waste of +water. The old cry awoke again in her heart with an almost cruel +insistence. + +"Come, wash and be clean," cried the sea. + +"I declare, Pauline, you are looking almost as pale as your sister," said +Miss Tredgold. "Well, here we are. Now, Pen," she added, turning to +Penelope, "I hope you will enjoy yourself. I certainly did not intend to +ask you to join us, but as nurse said you were not well, and as your own +extremely funny letter seemed to express the same thing, I thought it +best to ask you here." + +"And you did quite right, Aunty Sophy," said Penelope. + +Then the look of the sea faded from her eyes, and she became once again a +suspicious, eager, somewhat deceitful little girl. Once again the subtle +and naughty things of life took possession of her. At any cost she must +keep herself to the front. At any cost she must assume the power which +she longed for. She was no longer a nursery child. She had won her way +about coming to the seaside; now she must go still further. She must +become a person of the greatest moment to Aunt Sophia. Aunt Sophia held +the keys of power; therefore Penelope determined to devote herself to +her. + +The lodgings were extremely cheerful. They were in a terrace overhanging +the sea. From the big bay-windows of the drawing-room you could see the +sunsets. There was a glorious sunset just beginning when Penelope walked +to the window and looked out. Miss Tredgold had secured the best rooms in +this very handsome house, and the best rooms consisted of a double +drawing-room, the inner one of which was utilized as a dining-room; a +large bedroom overhead in which Verena and Pauline slept; and a little +room at the back which she used for herself, and in which now she had +ordered a cot to be placed for Penelope. + +Penelope was taken upstairs and shown the arrangements that had been made +for her comfort. Her eyes sparkled with delight when she saw the little +cot. + +"There's no time like the night for telling things," she thought to +herself. "Aunt Sophy can't get away from me at night. It's only to stay +awake, perhaps to pertend to have a nightmare. Anyhow, night is the time +to do what I have to do." + +Being quite sure, therefore, that she would get her opportunity of +talking to Aunt Sophia, she revived for the time being to enjoy herself. +Her volatile spirits rose. She laughed and talked, and ate an enormous +meal. After the sort of tea-dinner was over the three girls went out by +themselves on the sands. + +"You may stay out half-an-hour," said Miss Tredgold: "no longer, for +Penelope has to go to bed. Afterwards I will take a walk with you two +elder ones if you care to have me." + +"Of course we care to have you, dear Aunt Sophy," said Verena in her +gentlest tone; and then the three started off. Penelope, in honor of her +recent arrival, was promoted to the place in the middle. She laid a hand +on each sister's arm and swung herself along. People remarked the trio, +and said to themselves what a remarkably fat, healthy-looking little girl +the one in the middle was. + +"Well, Pen," said Pauline as they approached the house, having discussed +all sorts of subjects, "I can't see where the tum-ache and the sore +throat and the pale cheeks come in." + +"They're gone," said Penelope. "I knew the sea would cure 'em. I am quite +perfect well. I am going to be quite perfect well while I am here. I love +the sea; don't you?" + +"Come, wash and be clean," whispered the sea to Pauline. + +She was silent. Verena said, however, that she greatly liked the sea. +They went back to the house. Penelope was escorted upstairs. Pauline +helped her to undress, and presently she was tucked into her little bed. + +"It seems a'most as if I wor still a nursery child," she said to her +elder sister. + +"Why so?" asked Pauline. + +"Being sent to bed afore you and Renny. I am quite as old as you and +Renny--in my mind, I mean." + +"Don't talk nonsense," said Pauline almost crossly. + +"Paulie," said Penelope, taking hold of her hand and pulling her towards +her, "I went to see Nancy King t'other day." + +"Why did you do that?" asked Pauline. + +"Because I wanted to come to the sea, and there was no other way. Vinegar +wouldn't do it, nor tum-aches, but I thought Nancy might." + +"I don't know what you mean," said Pauline. "In what possible way could +Nancy King have brought you here?" + +"Only that I got so desperate after seeing her that I wrote that funny, +funny letter, and nursey helped me; and now I'm here, and I think I can +do what I like. You had best be friends with me now, for I can do just +what I like." + +Pauline felt just a little afraid. She knelt down by Pen. + +"Tell me why you went," she said. "You know you disobeyed Aunt Sophy when +you went." + +"Yes; but what's one more in a family doing disobeying things?" answered +Pen in her glib fashion. "But now listen. I will tell you." + +She related her adventures with much glee--her walk through the woods, +her arrival, the terrible way in which Lurcher had treated her, the +kindness of the farmer, the proposed dinner, Nancy's manners. She was +working up to the grand climax, to the moment when she should speak about +the thimble. + +"What do you think?" she said suddenly. "Nancy put me on a sofa, and I +slept. I slept sound, and when I woke up I saw Nancy sitting by the +window sewing. She wor making a blue scarf, and her thimble went flashing +in and out; and what do you think, Paulie? What _do_ you think?" + +"Well?" said Pauline. + +"Pauline, dear, are you ready?" called a voice from below. + +"I must go," said Pauline; "but tell me at once, Pen, what you mean." + +"It was the thimble--the lost one," said Penelope--"the one with the +dark-blue top and the light-blue stones round the rim, the goldy thimble +which was Aunt Sophy's." + +In spite of her efforts Pauline did find herself turning white. + +"Pauline, dear, we can't wait any longer," said Miss Tredgold's voice. + +"I must go," said Pauline. "Tell me afterwards." + +"Whisper," said Penelope, pulling her hand. "I have got it. The deep-blue +top and the light-blue stones and the goldy middle--I have it all. And I +can tell Aunt Sophy, and show it, and I will if--if you don't tell me +about----" + +"About what?" + +"About that time when three peoples walked across the lawn--the night +after your birthday, I mean. Will you tell? I asked Briar, and she said +she didn't know. She told a lie. Are you going to tell a lie, too? If you +do I will---- Well, I won't say any more; only I have put it in the +safest of places, and you will never find it. Now you can go down and go +out with Aunt Sophy. Now you know, 'cos I've told you." + +Pauline slowly left the room. She felt dazed. Once again Miss Tredgold +called her. She ran to her washstand, filled her basin with cold water, +and dipped her face into it. Then she ran downstairs. She found it +difficult to analyze her own sensations, but it seemed to her that +through her little sister's eyes she saw for the first time her own +wickedness. + +"To think that Pen could do it, and to think that I could be afraid of +her!" she thought. + +She went out and walked with her aunt and Verena, but the insistent voice +of the sea, as with each swish of the waves it cried, "Come, wash and be +clean," hit like a hammer on her brain. + +"What is the matter with Pauline?" thought Verena. + +"The child is tired; she is not quite well yet," was Miss Tredgold's +mental reflection. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +THE WHITE BAY. + + +Penelope did not repeat her threat, but she watched Pauline. Miss +Tredgold also watched Pauline. Verena felt uncomfortable, without quite +knowing why. The keen vigor and joy of the first days at the seaside had +departed. Pauline became pale once more, and Miss Tredgold's anxieties +about her were revived. The Dales were a healthy race, but one or two of +the Tredgolds had died of consumption. Miss Tredgold remembered a +young--very young--sister of her own who had reached Pauline's age, and +then quite suddenly had become melancholy, and then slightly unwell, and +then more unwell, until the fell scourge had seized her as its prey. She +had died when between sixteen and seventeen. Miss Tredgold seemed to see +her sister's face in Pauline's. She did not for a single moment accuse +the child of any wrong-doing. She did not imagine that what ailed her +could have to do with the mind. Nevertheless she was anxious about her. +Miss Tredgold had a good deal of penetration, but she was not accustomed +to children. She thought that children of Pen's age were more little +animals than anything else. It did not occur to her that a small child +like Pen could have a mind of a very extraordinary order, and that the +mind of this child could work in a direction which might hurt others. She +did not suppose such a terrible child could exist. + +Pauline was therefore more or less a prey to the naughtiness of Pen, who +used her as a weapon for her own enjoyment. Pen was quite determined to +enjoy herself at the seaside. She would have her bucket and spade and +make castles in the sand as long as ever she liked, and she would play +with other children, and would make acquaintance with them. She insisted +also on going very often to the shops to buy caramels or chocolates. In +short, she was determined that during her brief stay at Easterhaze she +would have as good a time as possible. It is quite on the cards that she +would not have had so good a time as she did but for the agency of +Pauline. Pauline, however, in spite of herself, sided with Pen. She +almost hated Pen, but she sided with her. She used to throw her voice +into the scale of Pen's desires, and Pen in consequence got pretty much +what she wanted. + +There came a day when two children, a boy and a girl of the name of +Carver, ran up to Pen and asked her if she would join them in going round +the next promontory and gathering shells in a wide bay on the other side, +which was known as the White Bay. The way to this bay, except at +low-water, was not very safe, as during high-tide the sea was apt to come +up and cut off retreat. Pen, however, knew nothing about this. The moment +she was asked to go it occurred to her that there could be no such +delightful place as the White Bay anywhere else in the world. She knew +well, however, that Miss Tredgold never allowed her to go fifty yards +from the house on either side. She looked up. Pauline was walking along +the upper walk. She had a story-book in her hand. She meant to reach one +of the shelters and sit down there to read. Pen turned to the two Carvers +and said that she must ask permission, but she would be with them in a +minute. She then scrambled up the path and ran to Pauline's side. + +"Pauline," she said, "I am going to the White Bay with the Carvers--those +two children there--that boy and girl; you see 'em. We are going at once. +They have got a basket of cakes, and we are going to gather shells and +have a jolly time. We won't be back till one o'clock." + +"But you can't go," said Pauline. She did not know of any danger in +going; she only thought that Penelope meant to disobey Miss Tredgold. +"Aunt Sophy is out, and she has not given you leave," she said. "You must +stay where you are, Pen." + +"But you can give me leave, Paulie, darling, can you not?" + +"I can't do anything of the sort; you mustn't ask me." + +Pen's eyes danced. The children on the sands called out to her. + +"Be quick, little girl, or we'll be cotched. If nurse comes out she won't +let us go. We can go if we start at once." + +"Well, I'm off. You must give me leave, Paulie. If you don't I will----" + +"Don't!" said Pauline, backing away from her sister. She felt a sort of +terror when Penelope taunted her with her superior knowledge and the +cruel use she meant to put it to. + +"Go if you like," she said, in a white heat of passion. "You are the +worry of my life." + +Pen gave her a flashing, by no means good sort of glance, and then tore +down the winding path which led to the sands. Pauline got up; she left +her seat by the shore and went inland. + +"I don't know how I am to bear it," she said to herself. "Pen has made me +so wretched. I was hoping that nothing would be known. I was trying to +forget, and I was making a lot of good resolves, and I am loving Aunt +Sophy more and more each day. Why have I got such a dreadful little +sister as Pen? She is like none of the rest. It seems almost incredible +that I should be in the power of such a small child. Nevertheless I am in +her power. I had no right to let her go to the White Bay; still, I told +her to go, for I couldn't bear the agonies I should have to go through if +I refused. Oh, I am wretched! Pen practically knows everything; so does +Patty, and so does Briar. But they're safe enough; they won't betray +me--they wouldn't for all the world. As to Pen, I don't know what she is +made of. She will be a terrible woman by-and-by." + +Pauline walked on until she heard Verena's voice. She then turned back. + +"Aunt Sophy said we were to go up to the town to meet her," said Verena. +"She's doing some shopping. She wants to get a new autumn hat for you, +and another for me. Come along, Paulie. We are to be at Murray's in the +High Street at eleven o'clock." + +Pauline turned and walked soberly by her sister's side. + +"Are you as tired as ever this morning, Paulie?" asked Verena. + +"I am not tired at all," replied Pauline. + +Verena considered for a minute. + +"Aunt Sophy is often anxious about you," she said. "I can't imagine why, +but she is. She says that she doesn't think you are at all strong." + +"Oh, I am!" interrupted Pauline. "I wish she wouldn't worry about me. I +wish you'd tell her not to worry. I am really as strong as any girl could +be. Do tell her not to fret about me any more." + +"Where is Pen?" said Verena suddenly. + +Pauline did not speak. + +"I suppose she is down on the beach as usual," said Verena again in a +careless tone. "She's always down there. She is such a queer little +mite!" + +"Don't let's talk about her," said Pauline almost crossly. + +The girls turned their conversation to other matters, and when they +joined Miss Tredgold at Murray's shop they had both forgotten the +existence of their little sister Penelope. + +Meanwhile that young person was having a good time. Having gained her +wish, she was in excellent spirits, and was determined to make herself +extremely agreeable to the Carvers. She thought them quite nice children. +They were different from the children at home. They had lived almost all +their lives in London. They told Pen a good many stories about London. It +was the only place worth living in, Harry Carver said. When you went out +there you always turned your steps in the direction of the Zoo. Pen asked +what the Zoo was. Harry Carver gave her a glance of amazement. + +"Why, it's chock-full of wild beasts," he said. + +Pen thought this a most exciting description. Her cheeks paled; her eyes +grew big. She clasped hold of Harry's arm and said in a trembling voice: + +"Are you joking, or do you mean real lions and bears and tigers?" + +"I mean real lions and bears and tigers," said Harry. "Oh, if you only +heard the lions roar! We see them fed, too. It is fun to hear them +growling when they get their meat; and the way they lick it--oh, it's +most exciting!" + +"So it is," said Nellie Carver. "It's awful fun to go to the Zoo." + +"You must be very courageous," said Pen, who did not know that the wild +beasts were confined in cages. + +Neither Eleanor nor Harry Carver thought it worth while to enlighten Pen +with regard to this particular; on the contrary, they determined to keep +it to themselves. It was nice to have a little girl like Pen looking at +them with awe. + +"It isn't everybody who can go to the Zoo," proceeded Harry. "There are +people that the wild beasts don't ever care to touch. Nellie and I are +that sort; we're made that way. We walk about amongst them; we stroke +them and pet them. I often sit on the neck of a lion, and quite enjoy +myself." + +"My pet beast for a ride is a panther," said Nellie, her eyes sparkling +with fun at her own delicious ideas; "but most children can never ride on +lions and panthers." + +"I don't believe you ride on them," said Pen. "You don't look half brave +enough for that." + +"Why don't you think us brave?" asked Harry. "You are not a nice girl +when you talk in that way. You wouldn't even be brave enough to ride on +the elephants. Oh, it's very jolly for the real brave people when they go +to the Zoo." + +"And is that the only place to go to in London?" asked Pen. + +As she spoke she quickened her steps, for the children were now crossing +the extreme end of the promontory round which was the celebrated White +Bay. + +"There are other places. There's the British Museum, full of books. There +are miles and miles of books in London, and miles and miles of pictures." + +"What an awful place!" said Pen, who had no love for either books or +pictures. "Don't tell me any more about it. Go on ascribing the wild +animals. Is there serpents at the Zoo?" + +"Tons of 'em. When they have gorged a rabbit or a lamb or a girl whole, +they lie down and sleep for about a week." + +"They don't gorge girls!" + +"They think nothing of it; that is, if the girl is the sort of child they +don't like." + +"I won't go," said Pen. "I am not the sort of child the wild beasts would +love. I think maybe I might be crunched up by the lions. I shan't go." + +"Well, no one asked you," said Harry. "You are quite certain to be eaten, +so you had best stay away." + +"Why do you say that?" + +Harry glanced at his sister. Nellie laughed. Harry laughed also. + +"Why do you talk in that way, you horrid boy?" said Pen, stamping her +foot. "What do you mean?" + +"I'll tell you, only you need not try to kill me with your eyes. The wild +beasts only like good uns. You ain't good. The wild beasts would soon +find that out." + +For some extraordinary reason Pen found herself turning pale. She had a +moment of actual fear. At this instant she would have resigned the +thimble--the golden thimble, with its sapphire top and turquoise rim--to +the safe keeping of Pauline. For if Pauline had the thimble Pen would +have very little to say against her. As long as she possessed the thimble +she felt that Pauline was in her power. She liked the sensation, and she +was honest enough to own as much. + +The conversation was now quickly turned. The children found plenty of +shells in the White Bay. Soon they were sitting on the sands picking them +up and enjoying themselves as only children can. + +"So," said Pen, pushing back her hat and fixing her eyes on Harry's face, +"you comed here without leave?" + +"Of course we did," said Harry. "Won't nurse be in a state when she finds +we've gone! She will rush up and down in front of the house and cry, for +father and mother have gone away for the whole day, and nurse is in sole +charge. Oh, won't she be in a state! She went off to walk with her young +man, and we thought we'd play a joke on her, for she's often told us not +to come here. 'If you go near that White Bay,' she said, 'you will be +drowned as sure as sure.' She daren't tell father and mother because of +her young man. Isn't it fun?" + +"Yes," said Penelope, "it's prime fun; but isn't this fun, too? You won't +be able to go to that Zoo place any more." + +"Now what do you mean?" + +"Why, this: the animals will eat you up. You are bad, same as me. You two +won't be able to go to any more Zoos;" and Pen rolled round and round in +fiendish delight. + +The other children looked at her with anything but approval. + +"I don't like her," whispered Nellie to her brother. + +"Of course you don't like bad little girls," replied Harry. "Let's run +away at once and leave her. Let's." + +They scrambled to their feet. To love a new playmate and yet without an +instant's warning to desert her was quite in accordance with their +childish ideas. In a moment they were running as fast as their legs would +permit across the sands. The tide had been coming in fast for some time. + +For a moment Pen sat almost petrified; then she rushed after them. She +was wild with passion; she had never been so angry in all her life. There +were many times when the other children at The Dales treated her with +scant courtesy, but to be suddenly deserted in this fashion by strange +children was more than she could endure. + +"Oh, how bad you have got! You are so bad--so dreadfully, horribly +bad--that the tide is certain to come in and drown you up," she cried. +"You can't go away from me; you can't. Oh, see! it has comed;" and Pen +danced up and down and clapped her hands in triumph. + +She was right. She had gained a complete victory. Just at the extreme end +of the promontory a gentle wave, peaceful, pretty, and graceful, curled +up against the solid rock. It had scarcely retired in bashful innocence +when another wave tumbled after it. They looked like charming +playfellows. Then came a third, then a fourth and a fifth. Faster and +faster they rolled in, flowing up the white sands and making a white foam +round the rock. + +The little Carvers stood still, transfixed with a curious mingling of +delight, excitement, and horror. Pen ceased to jump up and down. +Presently she ceased to laugh. She was only a very small girl, and did +not in the least realize her danger; nevertheless, as she used her eyes +to good purpose, and as she quickly perceived that the opposite side of +the bay was now shut away by a great body of water, it did occur to her +that they would have to stay in their present shelter for some time. +Harry turned round slowly. Harry was ten years old, and he understood. He +had heard his father talk of the dangerous White Bay. He went straight up +to Pen, and, taking her hand, burst out crying. + +"It don't matter," he said--"it don't matter whether we are good or +whether we are bad. We can none of us ever go to the Zoo again. Nellie +and I won't ever go any more, and you can never go at all." + +"What do you mean?" asked Pen. + +Her heart began to beat fast and loud. + +"What do you mean? Oh, you dreadful bad----" + +"Don't call names," said Harry. "You will be sorry by-and-by; and +by-and-by comes soon. We have got to be drowned, all three of us." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +"OUR FATHER" IS BEST. + + +Pauline and Verena found Miss Tredgold waiting for them. They went into +the shop, which was quite one of the best shops in the High Street. There +Miss Tredgold asked to see hats, and presently the two girls and their +aunt were absorbed in the fascinating occupation of trying on new +headgear. Miss Tredgold was buying a very pretty hat for herself also. It +was to be trimmed with lace and feathers, and Verena had a momentary +sense of disappointment that she was to have nothing so gay to wear on +her own head. The attendant who was serving them made a sudden remark. + +"Yes, ma'am," she said, "this little brown hat trimmed with velvet will +exactly suit the dark young lady." Here she looked at Pauline. "And I +should venture to suggest a very little cream-colored lace introduced in +front. The autumn is coming on, and the young lady will find this hat +very suitable when the weather changes." + +"Well, the weather seems inclined to remain fine," said Miss Tredgold, +glancing out of the window, where a very blue sky met her gaze. There +were heavy white clouds, however, drifting quickly across the sky, and +the young shop attendant said: + +"I hear that there's a storm expected. And anyhow it is high-tide +to-night. The tide will come up and quite cover the White Bay this +evening. It is always more or less dangerous there, but it is specially +dangerous to-day. I never like these high-tides; children and nursemaids +are so apt to forget all about them." + +Miss Tredgold muttered something conventional. Pauline suddenly sat down +on a chair. + +"How white you are, dear!" said Miss Tredgold. "Would you oblige me," she +added, turning to the attendant, "by bringing this young lady a glass of +water?" + +But Pauline had already recovered herself. + +"Please don't," she said. "I want to go out. I want to get the air. +Don't--don't keep me." + +Her movement was so sudden and so unexpected that neither Miss Tredgold +nor Verena had time to say a word. The people in the shop saw a somewhat +untidy-looking little girl rush wildly down the stairs and out of doors, +and long before Miss Tredgold had time to recover her scattered senses +that same little girl was tearing as though on the wings of the wind up +the High Street. Panting, breathless, overpowered with emotion, she +presently reached the long flat stretch of beach at the farther end of +which was the dangerous White Bay. Never in all her life had Pauline run +as she did now. Faster and faster flew her feet. There was a noise in her +ears as though something was hammering on her brain. She was almost faint +with terror. Should she be in time? Should she be too late? Oh! she must +be in time. + +Presently she saw the far end of the promontory. Her heart gave a bound +and almost stood still. What was that white thing curling round it? +Water? Oh, yes; but she did not mind. She had waded before now. This was +a case of wading again. She reached the spot, and a moment later she had +torn off her shoes and stockings, had gathered her skirts round her +waist, and was walking through the waves. The water was already over a +foot deep. There was also a strong tide, and she had some difficulty in +keeping her feet. She managed to hold her own, however, and found herself +a minute or two later, drenched all over, panting and trembling, but +still safe in the White Bay. To her relief, she saw three terrified +children crouching up as near as they dared to the water. Even now a +great wave, deeper and stronger than its predecessors, rolled in. It took +Pauline off her feet just as she was clambering to dry ground. She +recovered herself, ran up to Pen, took her hand, and said: + +"We have played pickaback before now. Get on my back this moment; don't +stop to think." + +"I daren't," said Pen. + +"Little boy--I don't know your name," said Pauline--"put Pen onto my back +whatever happens." + +Harry Carver sprang towards Pen. + +"You must," he said. "She is brave; she is a true heroine. The lions and +tigers would love her. Get on her back and she will return for us. Oh! be +quick--do be quick--for we don't any of us want to be drowned." + +"Can you swim?" asked Pauline. "No; I know you can't. I haven't a moment +to stay; I'll come back somehow." + +She struggled towards the water, but Pen scrambled off her back and stood +firm on the ground. + +"I am bad," she said--"there never was anybody much badder--but I'm not +going first. Take that little girl; I will go afterwards." + +"Come, little girl," said Pauline. + +Harry rushed towards his sister. + +"Do go, Nellie. Let mother keep one of us. I don't mind being +drowned--not a bit. You tell mother I don't mind. Go, Nellie; do go with +the big brave girl." + +So Pauline carried Nellie through the rising tide, and, marvellous to +relate, did land her safely on the other side. + +"Now look here," she said, "you must rush home as fast as you can, and +when you get there you are to say that there are two girls and a boy in +the White Bay, and that your people are to bring a boat immediately. +Don't waste a second. Find somebody. If all your people are out, go to +ours. Our house is No. 11. You understand? There isn't a minute to lose." + +"Yes, see you go," shouted Harry Carver. "And if you are too late, be +sure you tell mother that I wasn't afraid to drown." + +Nellie Carver began to run as fast as she could across the sands. Pauline +hesitated for a moment; then she deliberately waded back to the other +two. The water was up to her waist now, and she had the greatest +difficulty in keeping her feet. + +"I couldn't face anybody again if Pen were drowned," she said to herself. +"If she drowns, so will I. It is the only thing fit for me. Perhaps when +God sees that I am sorry, and that I did try to save Pen, He will forgive +me; but I am not sure. Anyhow, I deserve to be drowned. I could never, +never face the others if Pen were to die because of me." + +She was just able to scramble again out of the water on the White Bay +side. The tide was coming in with great rapidity. It was hopeless to +think of carrying Pen across. + +"Let us go to the top part of the bay, as close to the rocks as +possible," said Pauline; "and don't let's be really frightened, for I am +sure the boat will be in time." + +"Oh, I am certain of it!" said Harry. "Nellie never does lose her head. +She won't want us to drown, so she'll hurry up." + +"Give me your hand, Pen," said Pauline. "You are a very brave little girl +to let the other little girl go first. I am glad you did it." + +"Will God remember that about me by-and-by?" asked Pen. + +"I hope so," replied Pauline, with a shiver. + +She took Pen's icy hand and began to rub it. + +"It isn't at all good for you to shiver like this," she said. "Here is a +bright piece of sunshine. Let us run up and down in the sunshine. It +doesn't seem, somehow, as though anybody could drown when the sun +shines." + +"Maybe the boat will be in time," said Harry. + +They ran up and down for some time, and then stood quiet. Pauline was +very silent. Beside the other two children she felt quite old and +grown-up. She had got Pen into this terrible scrape; it was her mission +to help them both. If they must all die, she at least would have to show +courage. She was not ready to die. She knew that fact quite well. But she +had naturally plenty of pluck, and fearful as her present surroundings +were, she would not have been afraid but for that ugly black thing which +rested on her conscience. Penelope looked full into her face. There was +something also pricking Penelope's conscience. The three children stood +close together on the little white patch of sand which had not yet been +covered by the waves. The wind was getting up, and the waves were +mounting higher; they rushed farther and farther up the bay, and curled +and swept and enjoyed themselves, and looked as though they were having a +race up the white sands. Pauline made a rapid calculation, and came to +the conclusion that they had about half-an-hour to live; for the bay was +a very shallow one, and when the wind was in its present quarter the tide +rose rapidly. She looked back at the rocks behind her, and saw that +high-water mark, even on ordinary occasions, was just above their heads. +This was what is called a spring-tide. There was not the least hope. + +"If only we could climb up," she thought. + +Then Penelope gave her hand a great tug. She looked down. Pen went on +tugging and tugging. + +"Look," she said; "stoop and look." + +In the palm of Pen's hand lay the thimble. + +"Take it," said Pen. "I comed with it to make mischief, but I won't never +tell now--never. Take it. Put it in your pocket. I am sorry I was so bad. +Take it." + +Pauline did take the little gold thimble. She slipped it into her pocket; +then she stooped and kissed Pen. + +"What are you two doing?" said Harry. "Why don't you talk to me? Can't I +do something to help? I'm ten. How old are you?" + +"I was fourteen a few weeks ago," said Pauline. + +"Granny!" said the boy. "Why, you are quite old; you are withering up. I +wouldn't like to be fourteen. You must know a monstrous lot. You are a +very plucky one to come through the water as you did. I wish I could +swim, and I wouldn't let the waves get the better of me; but I'm glad I +let Nellie see that I wasn't afraid of drowning. Do you mind drowning, +big, big, old girl?" + +"Yes, I do," said Pauline. + +"You have a queer sort of look in your eyes, like the little one has in +hers. Are you wicked, too?" + +"You have guessed it," said Pauline. + +"I expect we're all wicked for that matter; but we can say our prayers, +can't we?" + +"Yes," said Pauline, and now her lips trembled and the color faded from +her cheeks. "Let us say them together." + +"By-and-by," said Pen. "We needn't say our prayers yet. It will be some +time afore the water will touch us; won't it, Paulie?" + +Pauline knew that the water would come in very quickly. Harry looked full +at Pen, and then he nodded his head. He came to Pauline and whispered +something in her ear. + +"What is it?" she said. + +"She's little," he said. "She's quite a baby--not eight yet. I am ten. +When the water begins to come in we'll lift her in our arms and raise her +above it; shan't we?" + +"Yes; that is a very good thought," said Pauline. She looked back again +at the rocks. They were smooth as marble; there did not seem to be a +possible foothold. She felt a sense of regret that they had not gone to +the farther end of the bay, where the rocks were lower and more indented, +and where it might be possible for a brave boy and girl to get temporary +foothold; but the sea had already reached those rocks and was dashing +round them. + +"I wish I had thought of it," said Pauline. + +"What about?" + +"The rocks--those rocks out there." + +The words had scarcely passed her lips before Harry darted back. A wave +from the incoming tide had rolled over his feet. + +Pen uttered a sudden cry: + +"I am frightened. I won't drown. I am awful frightened." + +She began to shriek. + +"Try and keep up your courage, darling," said Pauline. "It won't be long. +It will be quickly over, and I will stay close to you. Paulie will be +close to you." + +"Let us get her to stand on our two shoulders, and we'll lean up against +the rocks," said Harry. "She can steady herself against the rock, and I +will support you both. Here, I will hoist her up. Now, missy, you look +slippy. That's it." + +Harry was a very active boy, and he did manage to lift Pen, who was stiff +with cold and fright, and miserable with a sense of her own naughtiness, +on to Pauline's and his shoulders. When she was established in that +position she was propped up against the rocks. + +"Now you are safe," said Harry, looking back at her and trying to laugh. +"We'll both drown before you. See how safe you are." + +Just for a moment Pen was somewhat consoled by this reflection. But +presently a fresh terror seized her. It would be so awful when she was +left alone and there was only a dead Pauline and a dead Harry to keep her +company. She had never seen anybody die, and had not the least idea what +death meant. Her terrors grew worse each moment. She began to cry and +whimper miserably, "I wish that boat would come." + +Another wave came in and washed right over both Pauline's and Harry's +ankles. They were jammed up against the rocks now. This big wave was +followed by a second and a third, and soon the children were standing in +water very nearly up to their knees. + +"Seems to me," said Harry in a choky voice, "that it is about time we +began our prayers. It is like going to sleep at night. Just when you are +preparing to sleep you say your prayers, and then you dump your head down +on your pillow and off you go to by-bye land. Then mother comes and +kisses you, and she says---- Oh, bother! I don't want to think of that. +Let's try and fancy that it is night. Let's begin our prayers. Oh, what a +wave that is! Why, it has dashed right into my eyes." + +"How far up is the water now, Pauline?" asked Penelope from her position. + +"It is not very far up yet," replied Pauline in as cheerful a tone as she +could. "We had better do what Harry says, and say our prayers." + +"Shall us?" said Pen. + +"I think so," replied Pauline. + +There was a strange sensation in her throat, and a mist before her eyes. +Her feet were so icy cold that it was with difficulty she could keep +herself from slipping. + +"Which prayer shall we say?" asked Harry. "There's a lot of them. There's +our special private prayers in which we say, 'God bless father and +mother;' and then there's 'Our Father.'" + +"'Our Father' is best," said Pauline. + +The children began repeating it in a sing-song fashion. Suddenly Pen +violently clutched hold of Pauline. + +"Will God forgive our badnesses?" she asked. + +"He will--I know He will," answered Pauline; and just at that instant +there came a cry from Harry. + +"A boat! a boat!" he shrieked. "And it's coming our way. I knew Nellie +was a brick. I knew she'd do it." + +A boat rowed by four men came faster and faster over the waves. By-and-by +it was within a stone's-throw of the children. A big man sat in the +stern. Harry glanced at him. + +"Why, it's father!" he cried. "Oh, father, why did you come home? I +thought you had gone away for the day. Father, I wasn't a bit afraid to +drown--not really, I mean. I hope Nellie told you." + +"Yes, my brave boy. Now, see, when I hold out my hand, spring up +carefully or the boat will capsize." + +The next instant a stalwart hand and arm were stretched across the +rapidly rising waves, and Harry, with a bound, was in the boat. + +"Lie down in the boat, and stay as quiet as a mouse," said his father. + +Pauline, already up to her waist in water, struggled a step or two and +was dragged into the boat; while two of the men bent over, and, catching +Penelope round the waist, lifted her into their ark of shelter. + +"It was touch-and-go, sir," said one of the sailors who had accompanied +Harry's father. "Five minutes later and we could have done no good." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE DULL WEIGHT. + + +The rest of that day passed for Pauline in a sort of dream. She felt no +fear nor pain nor remorse. She lay in bed with a languid and sleepy +sensation. Aunt Sophia went in and out of the room; she was all kindness +and sympathy. Several times she bent down and kissed the child's hot +forehead. It gave Pauline neither pain nor pleasure when her aunt did +that; she was, in short, incapable of any emotion. When the doctor came +at night his face looked grave. + +"The little girl is all right," he said. "She has had a terrible fright, +but a good night's rest will quite restore her to her usual health; but I +don't quite like the look of the elder girl." + +Verena, who was in the room, now came forward. + +"Pauline is always pale," she said. "If it is only that she looks a +little more pale than usual----" + +"It isn't that," interrupted the doctor. "Her nervous system has got a +most severe shock." + +"The fact is this," said Miss Tredgold. "The child has not been herself +for some time. It was on that account that I brought her to the seaside. +She was getting very much better. This accident is most unfortunate, and +I cannot understand how she knew about Penelope." + +"It was a precious good thing she did find it out," said the doctor, "or +Mr. Carver's two little children and your young niece would all have been +drowned. Miss Pauline did a remarkably plucky thing. Well, I will send +round a quieting draught. Some one had better sleep in the child's room +to-night; she may possibly get restless and excited." + +When Miss Tredgold and Verena found themselves alone, Miss Tredgold +looked at her niece. + +"Can you understand it?" she asked. + +"No, Aunt Sophy." + +"Has Pen told you anything?" + +"No." + +"We must not question her further just now," said Miss Tredgold. "She +will explain things in the morning, perhaps. Why did the children go to +the White Bay--a forbidden place to every child in the neighborhood? And +how did Pauline know that they were there? The mystery thickens. It +annoys me very much." + +Verena said nothing, but her eyes slowly filled with tears. + +"My dear," said Miss Tredgold suddenly, "I thought it right this +afternoon to send your father a telegram. He may arrive in the morning, +or some time to-morrow; there is no saying." + +"Oh, I'm sure he will come if he remembers," said Verena. + +"That's just it, Renny. How long will he remember? Sometimes I think he +has a fossil inside of him instead of a heart. But there! I must not +abuse him to you, my dear." + +"He is really a most loving father," said Verena; "that is, when he +remembers. Why he should forget everything puzzles me a good deal; still, +I cannot forget that he is my father." + +"And you are right to remember it, dear child. Now go and sleep in the +same room with Pen, and watch her. I will take care of Pauline." + +Pauline was given her sleeping draught, and Miss Tredgold, placing +herself in an easy-chair, tried to think over the events of the day. Soon +her thoughts wandered from the day itself to the days that had gone +before, and she puzzled much over Pauline's character and her curious, +half-repellent, half-affectionate attitude towards herself. + +"What can be the matter with the child?" she thought. "She doesn't really +care for me as the others do, and yet sometimes she gives me a look that +none of the others have ever yet given me, just as if she loved me with +such a passionate love that it would make up for everything I have ever +missed in my life. Now, Verena is affectionate and sweet, and open as the +day. As to Pen, she is an oddity--no more and no less. I wish I could +think her quite straightforward and honorable; but it must be my mission +to train her in those important attributes. Pauline is the one who really +puzzles me." + +By-and-by Pauline opened her eyes. She thought herself alone. She +stretched out her arms and said in a voice of excitement: + +"Nancy, you had no right to do it. You had no right to send it away to +London. It was like stealing it. I want it back. Nancy, I must have it +back." + +Miss Tredgold went and bent over her. Pauline was evidently speaking in +her sleep. Miss Tredgold returned again to her place by the window. The +dawn was breaking. There was a streak of light across the distant +horizon. The tide was coming in fast. Miss Tredgold, as she watched the +waves, found herself shuddering. But for the merest chance Pauline and +Pen might have been now lying within their cold embrace. Miss Tredgold +shuddered again. She stood up, and was just about to draw the curtain to +prevent the little sleeper from being disturbed by the light, when +Pauline opened her eyes wide, looked gravely at her aunt, and said: + +"Is that you, Nancy? How strange and thin and old you have got! And have +you brought it back at last? She wants it; she misses it, and Pen keeps +on looking and looking for it. It is so lovely and uncommon, you see. It +is gold and dark-blue and light-blue. It is most beautiful. Have you got +it for me, Nancy?" + +"It is I, dear, not Nancy," said Miss Tredgold, coming forward. "You have +had a very good night. I hope you are better." + +Pauline looked up at her. + +"How funny!" she said. "I really thought you were Nancy--Nancy King, my +old friend. I suppose I was dreaming." + +"You were talking about something that was dark-blue and light-blue and +gold," said Miss Tredgold. + +Pauline gave a weak smile. + +"Was I?" she answered. + +Miss Tredgold took the little girl's hands and put them inside the +bedclothes. + +"I am going to get you a cup of tea," she said. + +Miss Tredgold made the tea herself; and when she brought it, and pushed +back Pauline's tangled hair, she observed a narrow gold chain round her +neck. + +"Where did she get it?" thought the good lady. "Mysteries get worse. I +know all about her little ornaments. She has been talking in a most +unintelligible way. And where did she get that chain?" + +Miss Tredgold's discoveries of that morning were not yet at an end; for +by-and-by, when the servant brought in Pauline's dress which she had been +drying by the kitchen fire, she held something in her hand. + +"I found this in the young lady's pocket," she said. "I am afraid it is +injured a good bit, but if you have it well rubbed up it may get all +right again." + +Miss Tredgold saw in the palm of the girl's hand her own much-valued and +long-lost thimble. She gave a quick start, then controlled herself. + +"You can put it down," she said. "I am glad it was not lost." + +"It is a beautiful thimble," said the girl. "I am sure Johnson, the +jeweller in the High Street, could put it right for you, miss." + +"You had better leave the room now," replied Miss Tredgold. "The young +lady will hear you if you talk in a whisper." + +When the maid had gone Miss Tredgold remained for a minute or two holding +the thimble in the palm of her hand; then she crossed the room on tiptoe, +and replaced it in the pocket of Pauline's serge skirt. + +For the whole of that day Pauline lay in a languid and dangerous +condition. The doctor feared mischief to the brain. Miss Tredgold waited +on her day and night. At the end of the third day there was a change for +the better, and then convalescence quickly followed. + +Mr. Dale made his appearance on the scene early on the morning after the +accident. He was very much perturbed, and very nearly shed tears when he +clasped Penelope in his arms. But in an hour's time he got restless, and +asked Verena in a fretful tone what he had left his employment for. She +gave him a fresh account of the whole story as far as she knew it, and he +once more remembered and asked to see Pauline, and actually dropped a +tear on her forehead. But by the midday train he returned to The Dales, +and long before he got there the whole affair in the White Bay was +forgotten by him. + +In a week's time Pauline was pronounced convalescent; but although she +had recovered her appetite, and to a certain extent her spirits, there +was a considerable change over her. This the doctor did not at first +remark; but Miss Tredgold and Verena could not help noticing it. For one +thing, Pauline hated looking at the sea. She liked to sit with her back +to it. When the subject was mentioned she turned fidgety, and sometimes +even left the room. Now and then, too, she complained of a weight +pressing on her head. In short, she was herself and yet not herself; the +old bright, daring, impulsive, altogether fascinating Pauline seemed to +be dead and gone. + +On the day when she was considered well enough to go into the +drawing-room, there was a festival made in her honor. The place looked +bright and pretty. Verena had got a large supply of flowers, which she +placed in glasses on the supper-table and also on a little table close to +Pauline's side. Pauline did not remark on the flowers, however. She did +not remark on anything. She was gentle and sweet, and at the same time +indifferent to her surroundings. + +When supper was over she found herself alone with Penelope. Then a wave +of color rushed into her face, and she looked full at her little sister. + +"Have I done it or have I not, Pen?" she said. "Have I been awfully +wicked--the wickedest girl on earth--or is it a dream? Tell me--tell me, +Pen. Tell me the truth." + +"It is as true as anything in the wide world," said Pen, speaking with +intense emphasis and coming close to her sister. "There never was anybody +more wicked than you--_'cept_ me. We are both as bad as bad can be. But I +tell you what, Paulie, though I meant to tell, I am not going to tell +now; for but for you I'd have been drownded, and I am never, never, never +going to tell." + +"But for me!" said Pauline, and the expression on her face was somewhat +vague. + +"Oh, Paulie, how white you look! No, I will never tell. I love you now, +and it is your secret and mine for ever and ever." + +Pauline said nothing. She put her hand to her forehead; the dull weight +on her head was very manifest. + +"We are going home next week," continued Pen in her brightest manner. +"You will be glad of that. You will see Briar and Patty and all the rest, +and perhaps you will get to look as you used to. You are not much to be +proud of now. You are seedy-looking, and rather dull, and not a bit +amusing. But I loves you, and I'll never, never tell." + +"Run away, Pen," said Miss Tredgold, coming into the room at that moment. +"You are tiring Pauline. You should not have talked so loud; your sister +is not very strong yet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +PLATO AND VIRGIL. + + +Mr. Dale returned home to find metamorphosis; for Betty and John, egged +on by nurse, had taken advantage of his day from home to turn out the +study. This study had not been properly cleaned for years. It had never +had what servants are fond of calling a spring cleaning. Neither spring +nor autumn found any change for the better in that tattered, dusty, and +worn-out carpet; in those old moreen curtains which hung in heavy, dull +folds round the bay-window; in the leathern arm-chair, with very little +leather left about it; in the desk, which was so piled with books and +papers that it was difficult even to discover a clear space on which to +write. The books on the shelves, too, were dusty as dusty could be. Many +of them were precious folios--folios bound in calf which book-lovers +would have given a great deal for--but the dust lay thick on them, and +Betty said, with a look of disgust, that they soiled her fingers. + +"Oh, drat you and your fingers!" said nurse. "You think of nothing but +those blessed trashy novels you are always reading. You must turn to now. +The master is certain to be back by the late afternoon train, and this +room has got to be put into apple-pie order before he returns." + +"Yes," said John; "we won't lose the chance. We'll take each book from +its place on the shelf, dust it, and put it back again. We have a long +job before us, so don't you think any more of your novels and your grand +ladies and gentlemen, Betty, my woman." + +"I have ceased to think of them," said Betty. + +She stood with her hands hanging straight to her sides; her face was +quite pale. + +"I trusted, and my trust failed me," she continued. "I was at a wedding +lately, John--you remember, don't you?--Dick Jones's wedding, at the +other side of the Forest. There was a beautiful wedding cake, frosted +over and almond-iced underneath, and ornaments on it, too--cupids and +doves and such-like. A pair of little doves sat as perky as you please on +the top of the cake, billing and cooing like anything. It made my eyes +water even to look at 'em. You may be sure I didn't think of Mary +Dugdale, the bride that was, nor of poor Jones, neither; although he is a +good looking man enough--I never said he wasn't. But my heart was in my +mouth thinking of that dear Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton." + +"Who in the name of fortune is he?" asked nurse. + +"A hero of mine," said Betty. + +Her face looked a little paler and more mournful even than when she had +begun to speak. + +"He's dead," she said, and she whisked a handkerchief out of her pocket +and applied it to her eyes. "It was bandits as carried him off. He loved +that innocent virgin he took for his wife like anything. Over and over +have I thought of them, and privately made up my mind that if I came +across his second I'd give him my heart." + +"Betty, you must be mad," said nurse. + +"Maybe you are mad," retorted Betty, her face flaming, "but I am not. It +was a girl quite as poor as me that he took for his spouse; and why +shouldn't there be another like him? That's what I thought, and when the +wedding came to an end I asked Mary Dugdale to give me a bit of the cake +all private for myself. She's a good-natured sort is Mary, though not +equal to Jones--not by no means. She cut a nice square of the cake, a +beautiful chunk, black with richness as to the fruit part, yellow as to +the almond, and white as the driven snow as to the icing. And, if you'll +believe it, there was just the tip of a wing of one of those angelic +little doves cut off with the icing. Well, I brought it home with me, and +I slept on it just according to the old saw which my mother taught me. +Mother used to say, 'Betty, if you want to dream of your true love, you +will take a piece of wedding-cake that belongs to a fresh-made bride, and +you will put it into your right-foot stocking, and tie it with your +left-foot garter, and put it under your pillow. And when you get into +bed, not a mortal word will you utter, or the spell is broke. And that +you will do, Betty,' said my mother, 'for three nights running. And then +you will put the stocking and the garter and the cake away for three +nights, and at the end of those nights you will sleep again on it for +three nights; and then you will put it away once more for three nights, +and you will sleep on it again for three nights. And at the end of the +last night, why, the man you dream of is he.'" + +"Well, and did you go in for all that gibberish?" asked nurse, with +scorn. + +She had a duster in her hand, and she vigorously flicked Mr. Dale's desk +as she spoke. + +"To be sure I did; and I thought as much over the matter as ought to have +got me a decent husband. Well, when the last night come I lay me down to +sleep as peaceful as an angel, and I folded my hands and shut my eyes, +and wondered what his beautiful name would be, and if he'd be a dook or a +marquis. I incline to a dook myself, having, so to speak, fallen in love +with the Dook of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton of blessed memory. But what do +you think happened? It's enough to cure a body, that it is." + +"Well, what?" asked nurse. + +"I dreamt of no man in the creation except John there. If that isn't +enough to make a body sick, and to cure all their romance once and for +ever, my name ain't Betty Snowden." + +John laughed and turned a dull red at this unexpected ending to Betty's +story. + +"Now let's clean up," she said; "and don't twit me any more about my +dreams. They were shattered, so to speak, in the moment of victory." + +The children were called in, particularly Briar and Patty, and the room +was made quite fresh and sweet, the carpet taken up, the floor scrubbed, +a new rug (bought long ago for the auspicious moment) put down, white +curtains hung at the windows in place of the dreadful old moreen, every +book dusted and put in its place, and the papers piled up in orderly +fashion on a wagonette which was moved into the room for the purpose. +Finally the children and servants gazed around them with an air of +appreciation. + +"He can't help liking it," said Briar. + +"I wonder if he will," said Patty. + +"What nonsense, Patty! Father is human, after all, and we have not +disturbed one single blessed thing." + +Soon wheels were heard, and the children rushed out to greet their +returning parent. + +"How is Pauline, father?" asked Briar in an anxious voice. + +"Pauline?" replied Mr. Dale, pushing his thin hand abstractedly through +his thin locks. "What of her? Isn't she here?" + +"Nonsense, father!" said Patty. "You went to see her. She was very ill; +she was nearly drowned. You know all about it. Wake up, dad, and tell us +how she is." + +"To be sure," said Mr. Dale. "I quite recall the circumstance now. Your +sister is much better. I left her in bed, a little flushed, but looking +very well and pretty. Pauline promises to be quite a pretty girl. She has +improved wonderfully of late. Verena was there, too, and Pen, and your +good aunt. Yes, I saw them all. Comfortable lodgings enough for those who +don't care for books. From what I saw of your sister she did not seem to +be at all seriously ill, and I cannot imagine why I was summoned. Don't +keep me now, my dears; I must get back to my work. The formation of that +last sentence from Plato's celebrated treatise doesn't please me. It +lacks the extreme polish of the original. My dear Briar, how you stare! +There is no possible reason, Briar and Patty, why the English translation +should not be every bit as pure as the Greek. Our language has extended +itself considerably of late, and close application and study may recall +to my mind the most fitting words. But there is one thing certain, my +dear girls---- Ah! is that you, nurse? Miss Pauline is better. I was +talking about Plato, nurse. The last translation I have been making from +his immortal work does not please me; but toil--ceaseless toil--the +midnight oil, _et cetera_, may evoke the spirit of the true Muse, and I +may be able to put the matter before the great English thinking public in +a way worthy of the immortal master." + +Mr. Dale had now pushed his hat very far back from his forehead. He +removed it, still quite abstractedly, and retired with long, shuffling +strides to his beloved study. + +"No food until I ring for it," he said when he reached the door, and then +he vanished. + +"Blessed man!" said Betty, who was standing in the far distance. "He +might be a dook himself for all his airs. It was lovely the way he +clothed his thoughts that time. What they be themselves I don't know, but +his language was most enthralling. John, get out of my way. What are you +standing behind me like that for? Get along and weed the garden--do." + +"You'll give me a cup of tea, and tell me more about that dream of +yours," was John's answer. + +Whereupon Betty took John by the hand, whisked into her kitchen, slammed +the door after her, and planted him down on a wooden seat, and then +proceeded to make tea. + +But while John and Betty were happily engaged in pleasant converse with +each other, Mr. Dale's condition was by no means so favorable. At first +when he entered his study he saw nothing unusual. His mind was far too +loftily poised to notice such sublunary matters as white curtains and +druggets not in tatters; but when he seated himself at his desk, and +stretched out his hand mechanically to find his battered old edition of +Plato, it was not in its accustomed place. He looked around him, raised +his eyes, put his hand to his forehead, and, still mechanically, but with +a dawning of fright on his face, glanced round the room. What did he see? +He started, stumbled to his feet, turned deathly white, and rushed to the +opposite bookcase. There was his Plato--his idol--actually placed in the +bookshelf upside-down. It was a monstrous crime--a crime that he felt he +could never forgive--that no one could expect him to forgive. He walked +across to the fireplace and rang the bell. + +"You must go, Miss Patty," said nurse. "I was willing to do it, but I +can't face him. You must go; you really must." + +"Well, I'm not frightened," said Patty. "Come on, Briar." + +The two little girls walked down the passage. Mr. Dale's bell was heard +to ring again. + +"Aren't you the least bit frightened, Patty?" asked Briar. + +"No," answered Patty, with a sigh. "If only I could get the real +heaviness off my mind, nothing else would matter. Oh, Briar, Briar!" + +"Don't talk of it now," said Briar. "To-night when we are alone, when we +are by ourselves in our own room, but not now. Come, let us answer +father's bell." + +They opened the door and presented themselves--two pretty little figures +with rosy faces and bright eyes--two neatly dressed, lady-like little +girls. + +"Do you want anything, father?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Dale. "Come in and shut the door." + +The girls did what he told them. + +"Who did this?" asked the master of The Dales. He swept his hand with a +certain majesty of gesture round the restored room. "Who brushed the +walls? Who put those flimsies to the windows? Who touched my beloved +books? Who was the person? Name the culprit." + +"There were quite a lot of us, father. We all did it," said Briar. + +"You all did it? You mean to tell me, little girl, that you did it?" + +"I dusted a lot of the books, father. I didn't injure one of them, and I +put them back again just in the same place. My arms ached because the +books were so heavy." + +"Quite right that they should ache. Do you know what injury you have done +me?" + +"No," said Patty suddenly. "We made the room clean, father. It isn't +right to live in such a dirty room. Plato wouldn't have liked it." + +"Now what do you mean?" + +Mr. Dale's white face quieted down suddenly; for his daughter--his small, +young, ignorant daughter--to dare to mention the greatest name, in his +opinion, of all the ages, was too much for him. + +"You are always talking to us about Plato," said Patty, who grew braver +and braver as she proceeded. "You talk of Plato one day, and Virgil +another day, and you always tell us how great they were; but if they were +really great they would not be dirty, and this room was horrid and dirty, +father. It really was. Nice, great, good, noble people are clean. Aunt +Sophy says so, and she knows. Since Aunt Sophy came we have been very +happy, and the house has been clean and nice. And I love Aunt Sophy, and +so does Briar. I am very sorry, father, but I think when we made your +room sweet and pretty as it is now we pleased Plato and Virgil--that is, +if they can see us." + +"If Plato and Virgil can see mites like you?" said Mr. Dale. + +He took up his spectacles, poised them on his forehead, and gazed at the +children. + +"There is the door," he said. "Go." + +They vanished. Mr. Dale sank into a chair. + +"Upon my word!" he said several times. "Upon--my--word! So Plato liked +things clean, and Virgil liked things orderly. Upon--my--word!" + +He sat perfectly motionless for a time. His brain was working, for his +glasses were sometimes removed and then put on again, and several times +he brushed his hand through his hair. Finally he took up his hat, and, +gazing at the frills of the white window-curtains, he opened the French +windows, and, with an agile leap, found himself in the open air. He went +for a walk--a long one. When he came back he entered his clean study, to +find the lamp burning brightly, his Plato restored to its place by his +left-hand side, and a fresh pad of blotting-paper on the table. His own +old pen was not removed, but the inkpot was clean and filled with fresh +ink. He took his pen, dipped it into the ink, and wrote on a sheet of +paper, "Plato likes things clean, and Virgil likes things orderly," and +then pinned the paper on the opposite wall. + +For the rest of the evening the astonished household were much beguiled +and overcome by the most heavenly strains from Mr. Dale's violin. He +played it in the study until quite late at night; but none of the +household went to bed, so divine, so restoring, so comforting was that +music. + +About eleven o'clock Patty and Briar found themselves alone. + +"Well," said Patty suddenly, "I have made up my mind." + +"Yes," said Briar, "I thought you had." + +"When Aunt Sophy comes back I am going to tell her everything." + +Briar went up to her sister, put her arms round her neck, and kissed her. + +"I wonder what she will say," said Briar. + +"Say!" echoed Patty. "She will be hurt. Perhaps she'll punish us; but +that doesn't matter, for in the end she is quite, quite certain to +forgive us. I am going to tell her. I couldn't go through another night +like last night again." + +"Nor could I," said Briar. "I stayed awake and thought of Paulie, and I +seemed to see her face as it might look if she were really dead. I wish +they'd all come back, for Paulie is better. And then we'd have just a +dreadful ten minutes, and everything would be all right." + +"That's it," said Patty. "Everything would be all right." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +"YOU ARE NOT TO TELL." + + +Pauline was certainly better, although she was not what she was before. +In body she was to all appearance quite well. She ate heartily, took long +walks, and slept soundly at night; but she was dull. She seldom laughed; +she took little interest in anything. As to the sea, she had a positive +horror of it. When she went out for walks she invariably chose inland +directions. She liked to walk briskly over the great moors which surround +Easterhaze, and to sit there and think, though nobody knew what she was +thinking about. Her face now and then looked pathetic, but on the whole +it was indifferent. Miss Tredgold was much concerned. She made up her +mind. + +"The seaside is doing the child no good," she thought. "I will take her +straight back home. She is certainly not herself; she got a much greater +shock than we knew of or had any idea of. When she gets home the sight of +the other children and the old place will rouse her. She is not +consumptive at the present moment. That is one thing to be thankful for. +I shall take her to London for the winter. If going back to The Dales +does not arouse her, she must go somewhere else, for roused she certainly +must be." + +Miss Tredgold, having made up her mind, spoke to Verena. + +"We are going home to-morrow, Verena," she said. + +"And a very good thing," answered the young girl. + +"Do you really think so?" + +"I do, Aunt Sophy. Pauline has got all she can get out of the sea at +present. She does not love the sea; she is afraid of it. She may be +better when she is home." + +"And yet she is well," said Miss Tredgold. "The doctor pronounces her in +perfect health." + +"In body she is certainly well," said Verena. + +"Oh, then, you have observed it?" + +"Yes, I have," replied Verena slowly. "There is some part of her stunned. +I can't make out myself what ails her, but there is undoubtedly one part +of her stunned." + +"We will take her home," said Miss Tredgold. + +The good lady was a person of very direct action and keen resource. She +had whisked Pauline and Verena off to the sea almost at a moment's +notice, and quite as quickly she brought them back. They were all glad to +go. Even Pen was pleased. Pen looked very still and solemn and contented +during these days. She sat close to Pauline and looked into her eyes over +and over again; and Pauline never resented her glance, and seemed to be +more pleased to be with Penelope than with anybody else. + +The nice landau which Miss Tredgold had purchased met the travellers at +Lyndhurst Road, and the first piece of news which Briar, who had come to +meet them, announced was that the ponies had arrived. + +"Peas-blossom and Lavender are so sweet!" she said. "They came yesterday. +We are quite longing to ride them. As to Peas-blossom, he is quite the +dearest pony I ever looked at in my life." + +"Peas-blossom will be Pauline's special pony," said Miss Tredgold +suddenly. "Do you happen to know if the sidesaddles have arrived?" + +"Oh, yes, they have; and the habits, too," said Briar. "It is +delicious--delicious!" + +"Then, Pauline, my dear, you shall have a ride to-morrow morning." + +Pauline scarcely replied. She did not negative the idea of the ride, but +neither did she accept it with any enthusiasm. + +There was a wild moment when the entire family were reassembled. All the +girls surrounded Pauline, and kissed her and hugged her as though she had +come back from the dead. + +"You quite forget," said Penelope, "that I was nearly drownded, too. I +was very nearly shutting up of my eyes, and closing of my lips, and +stretching myself out and lying drownded and still on the top of the +waves. I was in as big a danger as Pauline, every bit." + +"But you didn't get ill afterwards, as Paulie did," said the other girls. + +They kissed Pen, for, being their sister, they had to love her after a +fashion; but their real adoration and deepest sympathy were centred round +Pauline. + +Meanwhile Pen, who never cared to find herself neglected, ran off to +discover nurse. + +"Well," she said when she saw that worthy, "here I am. I'm not pale now. +I am rosy. The seaside suits me. The salty waves and the sands, they all +agrees with me. How are you, nursey?" + +"Very well," replied nurse, "and glad to see you again." + +"And how is Marjorie? Kiss me, Marjorie." + +She snatched up her little sister somewhat roughly. + +"Don't make the darling cry," said nurse. + +"All right," replied Pen. "Sit down, baby; I have no time to 'tend you. +Nursey, when I was at the sea I was a very 'portant person." + +"Were you indeed. Miss Pen? But you always think yourself that. And how +is Miss Pauline?" + +"Paulie?" said Penelope. "She's bad." + +"Bad!" echoed nurse. + +"Yes, all-round bad," said Penelope. + +As she spoke she formed her mouth into a round O, and looked with big +eyes at nurse. + +"The seaside didn't agree with her," said Pen. "Nor does the fuss, nor +the petting, nor the nice food, nor anything else of that sort. The only +thing that agrees with Paulie is me. She likes to have me with her, and I +understand her. But never mind about Paulie now. I want to ask you a +question. Am I the sort of little girl that lions would crunch up?" + +"I never!" cried nurse. "You are the queerest child!" + +"But am I, nursey? Speak." + +"I suppose so, Miss Pen." + +"I thought so," answered Pen, with a sigh. "I thought as much. I am bad +through and through, then. They never eat good uns. You know that, don't +you, nursey? They wouldn't touch Marjorie, though she is so round and so +white and so fat; and they wouldn't look at Adelaide or Josephine, or any +of those dull ones of the family; but they'd eat me up, and poor Paulie. +Oh! they'd have a nice meal on Paulie. Thank you, nursey. I am glad I +know." + +"What is the child driving at?" thought nurse as Penelope marched away. +"Would lions crunch her up, and would they crunch up Miss Paulie? Mercy +me! I wouldn't like any of us to be put in their way. I do hope Miss Pen +won't go off her head after a time; she is too queer for anything. But +what is wrong with Miss Pauline? I don't like what she said about Miss +Pauline." + +When nurse saw Pauline she liked matters even less. For though her dearly +beloved young lady looked quite well in health, her eyes were no longer +bright, and she did not take the slightest interest in the different +things which the children had to show her. When asked if she would not +like to visit the stables, now in perfect restoration, and see for +herself those darling, most angelic creatures that went by the names of +Peas-blossom and Lavender, she said she was tired and would rather sit in +the rocking-chair on the lawn. + +The others, accompanied by Aunt Sophia, went off to view the ponies; and +then at the last moment Pen came back. She flung herself on the ground at +Pauline's feet. + +"I has quite made up my mind for ever and ever," she said. "Not even +lions will drag it from me." + +"What?" asked Pauline. + +"Why, all that I know: about who stole the thimble, and about the picnic +on the birthday, and about what Briar and Patty did, and about you, +Paulie, and all your wicked, wicked ways. I meant to tell once, but I +will never tell now. So cheer up; even lions won't drag it from me." + +Pauline put her hand to her forehead. + +"I keep having these stupid headaches," she said. "They come and go, and +whenever I want to think they get worse. I suppose I have been very bad, +and that all you say is right, but somehow I can't think it out. Only +there is one thing, Pen--if I were you I wouldn't do wrong any more. It +isn't worth while." + +"It is quite worth while getting you cheered up," said Pen, "so I thought +I'd let you know." + +That same evening Briar and Patty held a consultation in their own room. + +"We must do it after breakfast to-morrow," said Patty. + +Just then there was a slight rustle. Briar paused to listen. + +"Those horrid mice have come back again," she said. "We must get +Tiddledywinks to spend a night or two in this room." + +"Oh, bother the mice!" was Patty's response. "Let us arrange when we must +see her." + +"I have planned it all out," said Briar. "We must tell her just +everything we know. She won't be so terribly angry with Paulie, because +poor Paulie is not well. But I suppose she will punish us terribly. I +have been thinking what our punishment ought to be." + +"What?" asked Patty. + +"Why, not to ride either of the ponies until after Christmas." + +"Oh! don't tell her to do that," said Patty, in some alarm. "I have been +so pining for my rides." + +"There's that mouse again," said Briar. + +The children now looked under the little beds, and under the farther one +there was something which would certainly have preferred to be thought an +enormous mouse. On being dragged to the front, the stout, dishevelled +figure of Penelope Dale was discovered. + +"I comed a-purpose," said Pen, who did not look the least taken aback. "I +saw by your faces that you were up to fun, and I thought I'd like to be +in it. It is well I comed. I am willing to talk to you about everything. +Call me a mouse if you like. I don't care. I meant to listen. I am glad I +comed." + +"You are too mean for anything," said Briar. "You are the horridest girl +I ever came across. Why did you dare to hide under my bed in order to +listen to what I had to say to Patty?" + +"I knew it all afore," said Penelope, "so that wasn't why I comed. I +comed to keep you from doing mischief. What are you going to tell +to-morrow?" + +"That isn't your business," said Briar. + +"But I am going to make it my business. What you have to tell isn't news +to me. You are going to 'fess 'cos of the pain in your little hearts. You +must keep your pain, and you must not 'fess. You are going to tell Aunt +Sophy about that wicked, wicked birthday night--how you stole away in the +dark across the lawn, and wore your Glengarry caps, and how you didn't +come back until the morning. But you mustn't tell. Do you hear me, Briar +and Patty?" + +"But why not? Why should you talk to us like that?" asked Patty. "Why +shouldn't we say exactly what we like?" + +"You mustn't tell 'cos of Paulie. She is ill--more ill than you think. +She mustn't be punished, nor fretted, nor teased, nor worrited. If you +tell it will worrit her, so you mustn't tell. Why do you want to tell? +You have kept it dark a long time now." + +"Because we are unhappy," said Patty then. "We haven't got hard hearts +like yours. My heart aches so badly that I can't sleep at nights for +thinking of the lies I've told and how wicked I am." + +"Pooh!" said Penelope. "Keep your achy hearts; don't worrit." + +"But it's past bearing," said Briar. "What we feel is remorse. We must +tell. The Bible is full of the wickedness of people not confessing their +sins. We can't help ourselves. We are obliged to tell." + +"Just because you have a bit of pain," said Pen in a tone of deepest +contempt. "I suppose you think I never have any pain. Little you know. I +have done a lot of wicked things. I consider myself much the most +desperate wicked of the family. Your little pains is only pin-pricks +compared to mine. It would relieve me to tell, but I love Paulie too +much, so I won't. We have all got to hold our tongues for the present. +Now good-night. I am not a mouse, nor a rat, nor a ferret. But I mean +what I say. You are not to tell." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +DECEITFUL GIRLS. + + +Miss Tredgold was dreadfully puzzled to know what to make of the girls. +The time was autumn now; all pretense of summer had disappeared. Autumn +had arrived and was very windy and wet, and the girls could no longer +walk in twos and twos on the pretty lawn. They had to keep to the walks, +and even these walks were drenched, as day after day deluges of rain fell +from the heavens. The Forest, too, was sodden with the fallen leaves, and +even the ponies slipped as they cantered down the glades. Altogether it +was a most chilling, disappointing autumn, winter setting in, so to +speak, all at once. Verena said she never remembered such an early season +of wintry winds and sobbing skies. The flowers disappeared, several of +the Forest trees were rooted up in consequence of the terrible gales, and +Miss Tredgold said it was scarcely safe for the children to walk there. + +"The best cure for weather of this sort," she said to herself, "is to +give the young people plenty to do indoors." + +Accordingly she reorganized lessons in a very brisk and up-to-date +fashion. She arranged that a good music-master was to come twice a week +from Southampton. Mistresses for languages were also to arrive from the +same place. A pretty little pony-cart which she bought for the purpose +conveyed these good people to and from Lyndhurst Road station. Besides +this, she asked one or two visitors to come and stay in the house, and +tried to plan as comfortable and nice a winter as she could. Verena +helped her, and the younger girls were pleased and interested; and Pen +did what she was told, dashing about here and there, and making +suggestions, and trying to make herself as useful as she could. + +"The child is improved," said Miss Tredgold to Verena. "She is quite +obliging and unselfish." + +Verena said nothing. + +"What do you think of my new plans, Verena?" said her aunt. "Out-of-door +life until the frost comes is more or less at a standstill. Beyond the +mere walking for health, we do not care to go out of doors in this wet +and sloppy weather. But the house is large. I mean always to have one or +two friends here, sometimes girls to please you other girls, sometimes +older people to interest me. I should much like to have one or two +_savants_ down to talk over their special studies with your father; but +that can doubtless be arranged by-and-by. I want us to have cheerful +winter evenings--evenings for reading, evenings for music. I want you +children to learn at least the rudiments of good acting, and I mean to +have two or three plays enacted here during the winter. In short, if you +will all help me, we can have a splendid time." + +"Oh, I will help you," said Verena. "But," she added, "I have no talent +for acting; it is Paulie who can act so well." + +"I wish your sister would take an interest in things, Verena. She is +quite well in body, but she is certainly not what she was before her +accident." + +"I don't understand Pauline," said Verena, shaking her head. + +"Nor do I understand her. Once or twice I thought I would get a good +doctor to see her, but I have now nearly resolved to leave it to time to +restore her." + +"But the other girls--can you understand the other girls, Aunt Sophy?" +asked Verena. + +"Understand them, my dear? What do you mean?" + +"Oh, I don't mean the younger ones--Adelaide and Lucy and the others. I +mean Briar and Patty. They are not a bit what they were." + +"Now that you remark it, I have noticed that they are very grave; but +they always do their lessons well, and I have nothing to complain of with +regard to their conduct." + +"Nor have you anything to complain of with regard to Paulie's conduct," +said Verena. "It isn't that." + +"Then what is it, my dear?" + +"It is that they are not natural. There is something on their minds. I am +certain of it." + +"Verena," said her aunt gently, "I wonder if I might confide in you." + +Verena started back; a distressed look came over her face. + +"If it happens to be anything against Paulie, perhaps I had better not +hear," she said. + +"I do not know if it is for her or against her. I am as much in the dark +as you. I have not spoken of it yet to any one else, but I should like to +mention it to you. It seems to me that light ought to be thrown on some +rather peculiar circumstances or your sister will never get back her old +brightness and gaiety of heart." + +"Then if you think so, please tell me, Aunt Sophy," said Verena. + +She got up as she spoke and shut the door. She was a very bright and +pretty-looking girl, but her face sometimes wore too old a look for her +age. Her aunt looked at her now with a mingling of affection and +compassion. + +"Come," she said, "sit on this sofa, darling. We can understand each +other better when we are close together. You know how much I love you, +Renny." + +"There never, never was a better aunt," said the girl. + +"I am not that. But I do love you. Now, dear, I will tell you. You +remember when first I came?" + +"Oh, don't I? And how angry we were!" + +"Poor children! I don't wonder. But don't you think, Verena, I was a very +brave woman to put myself into such a hornet's nest?" + +"Indeed you were wonderful. It was your bravery that first attracted me. +Then I saw how good you were, and how kindly you meant, and everything +else became easy." + +"But was it equally easy for Pauline?" + +"I--I don't know. I am sure I do know, however, that now she loves you +very much." + +"Ah! now," said Miss Tredgold. "But what about the early time?" + +"I don't quite know." + +"Verena, if I am to be frank with you, you must be frank with me." + +"I think perhaps she was not won round to you quite as easily as I was." + +"You are right, my dear. It was harder to win her; but she is worth +winning. I shall not rest until I bring her round altogether to my side. +Now, little girl, listen. You know what a very odd child we are all +forced to consider your sister Pen?" + +"I should think so, indeed." Verena laughed. + +"Well, your sister found out one day, not very long after I came, that I +had lost a thimble." + +"Your beautiful gold thimble? Of course we all knew about that," said +Verena. "We were all interested, and we all tried to find it." + +"I thought so. I knew that Pen in particular searched for it with +considerable pains, and I offered her a small prize if she found it." + +Verena laughed. + +"Poor Pen!" she said. "She nearly broke her back one day searching for +it. Oh, Aunt Sophy! I hope you will learn to do without it, for I am +greatly afraid that it will not be found now." + +"And yet, Verena," said Miss Tredgold--and she laid her hand, which +slightly shook, on the girl's arm--"I could tell you of a certain person +in this house to whom a certain dress belongs, and unless I am much +mistaken, in the pocket of that dress reposes the thimble with its +sapphire base, its golden body, and its rim of pale-blue turquoise." + +"Aunt Sophy! What do you mean?" + +Verena's eyes were wide open, and a sort of terror filled them. + +"Don't start, dear. That person is your sister Pauline." + +"Oh! Pauline! Impossible! Impossible!" cried Verena. + +"It is true, nevertheless. Do you remember that day when she was nearly +drowned?" + +"Can I forget it?" + +"The next morning I was in her room, and the servant brought in the +dark-blue serge dress she wore, which had been submerged so long in the +salt water. It had been dried, and she was bringing it back. The girl +held in her hand the thimble--the thimble of gold and sapphire and +turquoise. She held the thimble in the palm of her hand, and said, 'I +found it in the pocket of the young lady's dress. It is injured, but the +jeweller can put it right again.' You can imagine my feelings. For a time +I was motionless, holding the thimble in my hand. Then I resolved to put +it back where it had been found. I have heard nothing of it since from +any one. I don't suppose Pauline has worn that skirt again; the thimble +is doubtless there." + +"Oh, may I run and look? May I?" + +"No, no; leave it in its hiding-place. Do you think the thimble matters +to me? What does matter is this--that Pauline should come and tell me, +simply and quietly, the truth." + +"She will. She must. I feel as if I were in a dream. I can scarcely +believe this can be true." + +"Alas! my dear, it is. And there is another thing. I know what little +trinkets you each possess, for you showed them to me when first I came. +Have you any reason to believe, Verena, that Pauline kept one trinket +back from my knowledge?" + +"Oh, no, Aunt Sophy; of course she did not. Pauline has fewer trinkets +than any of us, and she is fond of them. She is not particularly fond of +gay clothes, but she always did like shiny, ornamenty things." + +"When she was ill I saw round her neck a narrow gold chain, to which a +little heart-shaped locket was attached. Do you know of such a locket, of +such a chain?" + +"No." + +Miss Tredgold rose to her feet. + +"Verena," she said, "things must come to a climax. Pauline must be forced +to tell. For her own sake, and for the sake of others, we must find out +what is at the back of things. Until we do the air will not be cleared. I +had an idea of taking you to London for this winter, but I shall not do +so this side of Christmas at any rate. I want us all to have a good time, +a bright time, a happy time. We cannot until this mystery is explained. I +am certain, too, that Pen knows more than she will say. She always was a +curious, inquisitive child. Now, until the time of the accident Pen was +always pursuing me and giving me hints that she had something to confide. +I could not, of course, allow the little girl to tell tales, and I always +shut her up. But from the time of the accident she has altered. She is +now a child on the defensive. She watches Pauline as if she were guarding +her against something. I am not unobservant, and I cannot help seeing. +From what you tell me, your sisters Briar and Patty are also implicated. +My dear Verena, we must take steps." + +"Yes," said Verena. "But what steps?" + +"Let me think. It has relieved my mind to tell you even this much. You +will keep your own counsel. I will talk to you again to-morrow morning." + +Verena felt very uncomfortable. Of all the Dales she was the most open, +in some ways the most innocent. She thought well of all the world. She +adored her sisters and her father, and now also her aunt, Miss Tredgold. +She was the sort of girl who would walk through life without a great deal +of sorrow or a great deal of perplexity. The right path would attract +her; the wrong would always be repellent to her. Temptation, therefore, +would not come in a severe guise to Verena Dale. She was guarded against +it by the sweetness and purity and innocence of her nature. But now for +the first time it seemed to the young girl that the outlook was dark. Her +aunt's words absolutely bewildered her. Her aunt suspected Pauline, Pen, +Briar, and Patty of concealing something. But what had they to conceal? +It is true that when Aunt Sophia first arrived they had felt a certain +repugnance to her society, a desire to keep out of her way, and a longing +for the old wild, careless, slovenly days. But surely long ere this such +foolish ideas had died a natural death. They all loved Aunt Sophia now; +what could they have to conceal? + +"I dare not talk about it to the younger girls. I don't want to get into +Pen's confidence. Pen, of all the children, suits me least. The people to +whom I must appeal are therefore Briar or Patty, or Pauline herself. +Patty and Briar are devoted to each other. The thought in one heart seems +to have its counterpart in that of the other. They might even be twins, +so deeply are they attached. No; the only one for me to talk to is +Pauline. But what can I say to her? And Pauline is not well. At least, +she is well and she is not well. Nevertheless I will go and see her. I +will find her now." + +Verena went into the nursery. Pauline was sometimes there. She was fond +of sitting by the cosy nursery fire with a book in her hand, which of +late she only pretended to read. Verena opened the nursery door and poked +in her bright head and face. + +"Come in, Miss Renny, come in," said nurse. + +"I am not going to stay, nurse. Ah, Marjorie, my pet! Come and give me a +sweet kiss." + +The little baby sister toddled across the floor. Verena lifted her in her +arms and kissed her affectionately. + +"I thought perhaps Miss Pauline was here, nurse. Do you happen to know +where she is?" + +"Miss Pauline has a very bad headache," said nurse--"so bad that I made +her go and lie down; and I have just lit a bit of fire in her bedroom, +for she is chilly, too, poor pet! Miss Pauline hasn't been a bit herself +since that nasty accident." + +"I am sure she hasn't; but I did not know she was suffering from +headache. I will go to her." + +Verena ran along the passage. Her own room faced south; Pauline's, +alongside of it, had a window which looked due east. Verena softly opened +the door. The chamber was tiny, but it was wonderfully neat and cheerful. +A bright fire burned in the small grate. Pauline was lying partly over on +her side; her face was hidden. Her dark hair was tumbled about the +pillow. + +"Paulie, it is I," said Verena. "Are you awake?" + +"Oh, yes," said Pauline. + +She turned round almost cheerfully. A cloud seemed to vanish from her +face. + +"I am so glad you have come, Renny," she said. "I see so little of you +lately. Get up on the bed, won't you, and lie near me?" + +"Of course I love to be with you, but I thought----" + +"Oh! don't think anything," said Pauline. "Just get on the bed and cuddle +up close, close to me. And let us imagine that we are back in the old +happy days before Aunt Sophy came." + +Verena did not say anything. She got on the bed, flung her arms round +Pauline's neck, and strained her sister to her heart. + +"I love you so much!" she said. + +"Do you, Renny? That is very, very sweet of you." + +"And you love me, don't you, Paulie?" + +"I--I don't know." + +"Pauline! You don't know? You don't know if you love me or not?" + +"I don't think that I love anybody, Renny." + +"Oh, Paulie! then there must be something dreadfully bad the matter with +you." + +Pauline buried her face in Verena's soft white neck and lay quiet. + +"Does your head ache very badly, Paulie?" + +"Pretty badly; but it is not too bad for us to talk--that is, if you will +keep off the unpleasant subjects." + +"But what unpleasant subjects can there be? I don't understand you, +Paulie. I cannot think of anything specially unpleasant to talk of now." + +"You are a bit of a goose, you know," replied Pauline with a smile. + +"Am I? I didn't know it. But what are the subjects we are not to talk +about?" + +"Oh, you must know! Aunt Sophia, for instance, and that awful time at +Easterhaze, and the most terrible of all terrible days when I went to the +White Bay, and Nancy King, and--and my birthday. I can't talk of these +subjects. I will talk of anything else--of baby Marjorie, and how pretty +she grows; how fond we are of nurse, and of father, and--oh!" + +Pauline burst into a little laugh. + +"Do you know that John is courting Betty? I know he is. He went up to her +the other day in the garden and put his hand on her shoulder, and when he +thought no one was by he kissed her. I hid behind the hedge, and I had +the greatest difficulty to keep back a shout of merriment. Isn't it fun?" + +"I suppose so," said Verena. "But, Pauline, what you say makes me +unhappy. I wish I might talk out to you." + +Pauline raised herself on her elbow and looked full into Verena's face. + +"What about?" she asked. + +Verena did not speak for a minute. + +"Where are your dresses?" she asked suddenly. + +"My dresses! You silly girl! In that cupboard, of course. I am getting +tidy. You know I would do anything I possibly could to please Aunt Sophy. +I can't do big things to please her--I never shall be able to--so I do +little things. I am so tidy that I am spick-and-span. I hate and loathe +it; but I wouldn't leave a pin about for anything. You open that door and +look for yourself. Do you see my skirts?" + +Verena got off the bed and opened the cupboard door. Pauline had about +half-a-dozen skirts, and they all hung neatly on their respective hooks. +Amongst them was the thick blue serge which she had worn on the day when +she had gone to the White Bay. Verena felt her heart beating fast. She +felt the color rush into her cheeks. She paused for a moment as if to +commune with her own heart. Then her mind was made up. + +"What are you doing, Renny?" said her sister. "How funny of you to have +gone into the cupboard!" + +For Verena had absolutely vanished. She stood in the cupboard, and +Pauline from the bed heard a rustle. The rustling grew louder, and +Pauline wondered what it meant. A moment later Verena, her face as red as +a turkey-cock, came out. + +"Paulie," she said--"Paulie, there is no good going on like this. You +have got to explain. You have got to get a load off your mind. You have +got to do it whether you like it or not. How did you come by this? +How--did--you--come--by--this?" + +As Verena spoke she held in her open palm the long-lost thimble. Poor +Pauline had not the most remote idea that the thimble was still in the +pocket of the blue serge dress. She had, indeed, since the day of her +accident, forgotten its existence. + +"Where did you get it?" she asked, her face very white, her eyes very +startled. + +"In the pocket of the dress you wore on the day you were nearly drowned +in the White Bay." + +"I told you not to mention that day," said Pauline. Her whole face +changed. "I remember," she said slowly, but she checked herself. The +words reached her lips, but did not go beyond them. "Put it down, +Verena," she said. "Put it there on the mantelpiece." + +"Then you won't tell me how you got it? It is not yours. You know it +belongs to Aunt Sophy." + +"And it is not yours, Renny, and you have no right to interfere. And what +is more, I desire you not to interfere. I don't love anybody very much +now, but I shall hate you if you interfere in this matter." + +Verena laid the thimble on the mantelpiece. + +"You can leave me, Renny. I am a very bad girl; I don't pretend I am +anything else, but I won't talk to you now." + +"Oh!" said poor Verena. "Oh!" + +Before she reached the door of the room she had burst into tears. Her +agony was so great at Pauline's behavior to her that her tears became +sobs, and her sobs almost cries of pain. Pauline, lying on the bed, did +not take the least notice of Verena. She turned her head away, and when +her sister had left the room and shut the door Pauline sprang from the +bed and turned the key in the lock. + +"Now, I am safe," she thought. "What is the matter with me? There never +was anything so hard as the heart that is inside me. I don't care a bit +whether Renny cries or whether she doesn't cry. I don't care a bit what +happens to any one. I only want to be let alone." + +At dinner-time Pauline appeared, and tried to look as though nothing had +happened. The other girls looked neat and pretty. They had not the least +idea through what a tragedy Verena and Pauline were now living. Verena +showed marks of her storm of weeping, and her face was terribly +woebegone. Miss Tredgold guessed that things were coming to a crisis, and +she was prepared to wait. + +Now, Miss Tredgold was a very good woman; she was also a very wise and a +very temperate one. She was filled with a spirit of forbearance, and with +the beautiful grace of charity. She was all round as good a woman as ever +lived; but she was not a mother. Had she been a mother she would have +gone straight to Pauline and put her arms round her, and so acted that +the hard little heart would have melted, and the words that could not +pass her lips would have found themselves able to do so, and the misery +and the further sin would have been averted. But instead of doing +anything of this sort, Miss Tredgold resolved to assemble the children +after breakfast the next day, and to talk to them in a very plain way +indeed; to assemble all before her, and to entreat the guilty ones to +confess, promising them absolute forgiveness in advance. Having made up +her mind, she felt quite peaceful and happy, and went down to interview +her brother-in-law. + +Mr. Dale still continued to like his study. He made no further objection +to the clean and carefully dusted room. If any one had asked him what was +passing in his mind, he might have said that the spirits of Homer and +Virgil approached the sacred precincts where he wrote about them and +lived for them night after night, and that they put the place in order. +He kept the rough words which he had printed in large capitals on the +night when he had returned to his study still in their place of honor on +the wall, and he worked himself with a new sense of zest and freedom. + +Miss Tredgold entered the room without knocking. + +"Well, Henry," she said, "and how goes the world?" + +"The world of the past comes nearer and nearer," was his reply. "I often +feel that I scarcely touch the earth of the nineteenth century. The world +of the past is a very lovely world." + +"Not a bit better than the world of the present," said Miss Sophia. "Now, +Henry, if you can come from the clouds for a minute or two----" + +"Eh? Ah! What are you saying?" + +"From the clouds, my dear brother, right down to this present prosaic and +workaday world. Can you, and will you give me five minutes of your +attention?" + +"Eh? Yes, of course, Sophia." + +Mr. Dale sat very still, drumming with his right hand on his pad of +blotting-paper. Miss Tredgold looked at him; then she crossed the room, +took away the pad, his pen and ink, the open volume of Homer, and removed +them to another table. + +"Sit with your back to them; keep your mind clear and listen to me, +Henry." + +"To be sure." + +"I want you to come into the schoolroom after breakfast to-morrow +morning." + +"To the schoolroom?" + +"I have a reason. I should like you to be present." + +"But it is just my most important hour. You commence lessons with the +girls--when, Sophia?" + +"We sit down to our work at nine o'clock. Prayers take ten minutes. I +should like you to be present at prayers--to conduct Divine worship in +your own house on that occasion." + +"Oh, my dear Sophia! Not that I have any objection--of course." + +"I should hope you have no objection. You will take prayers, and +afterwards you will assist me in a most painful task which lies before +me." + +"Painful, Sophia? Oh, anything I can do to help you, my dear sister, I +shall be delighted to undertake. What is it? I beg of you to be brief, +for time does fly. It was only a quarter of an hour ago that I found +Homer----" + +"I could say a very ugly word about Homer," said Miss Tredgold. +"Sometimes I wish that I were a man in order that I might swear hard at +you, Henry Dale. As I am a woman I must refrain. Do you know that your +daughter Pauline, your daughter Briar, your daughter Patty, and your +extraordinary daughter Penelope are all of them about as naughty children +as they can be. Indeed, in the case of Pauline I consider her worse than +naughty. What she has done I don't know, and I don't know what the others +have done; but there is a weight on their minds, and those four girls +must be got to confess. And you must be present, and you must speak as a +father to them. Now do you understand?" + +"I am to be in the schoolroom to-morrow," said Mr. Dale, "and four of my +girls are turning wicked, and I am not to know what they have done. I +will be in the schoolroom at nine o'clock to-morrow, Sophia. May I thank +you to hand me back my blotting-pad, my pen and bottle of ink, and my +beloved Homer? Take care of the volume. Take it tenderly. Put both hands +under the binding. Ah! that is so. You will have the goodness to leave me +now, Sophia. To-morrow morning at nine o'clock precisely." + +Miss Tredgold went out of the room. + +"How my poor dear sister ever brought herself to marry that man," she +whispered under her breath, "I know not. But he is capable of being +roused, and I rather fancy I shall manage to rouse him to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +PAULINE IN DISTRESS. + + +When Pauline went up to her room late that evening she gave Verena a very +cold good-night. Her little fire was still burning, for nurse had taken +care of it. Verena heard her lock the door. Had she not done so her +sister would have gone to her, and begged and prayed, as such a sweet +girl might, for the confidence of Pauline. Verena had to get into bed +feeling lonely and unhappy. Just as she was doing so she heard a firm +step walking down the corridor. A hand turned the handle of Pauline's +door, and Verena heard Pen's voice say: + +"It's me, Paulie. It's me. Let me in, Paulie." + +Verena instantly opened her own door. + +"Go away, Pen," she said. "Go straight back to your bed. You are not to +go near Pauline to-night." + +"Yes, but I want her," said Pauline, opening the door and putting out her +head. + +"Very well," said Verena. "You shall see her with me. I will ring the +bell and ask nurse to fetch Aunt Sophy." + +Pauline gave a shrill laugh. + +"It isn't worth all that fuss. Go to bed, Pen. We shall have plenty of +time for our chat to-morrow morning." + +Penelope looked disgusted. Verena stood in the passage until her stout +little figure had disappeared. She then turned, hoping that Pauline would +speak to her; but Pauline had gone into her room and locked the door. + +Now, Pauline Dale was at this time going through a curious phase. She was +scarcely to be blamed for her conduct, for what she had lately lived +through had produced a sort of numbness of her faculties, which time +seemed to have no intention of restoring to her. To look at her face now +no one would suppose her to be in the ordinary sense of the word an +invalid; for she was rosy, her eyes were bright, her appetite was good, +and she had plenty of strength. Nevertheless there was a certain part of +her being which was numb and cold and half-dead. She was not frightened +about anything; but she knew that she had behaved as no right-minded or +honorable girl should have done. Verena's words that afternoon had roused +her, and had given her a slight degree of pain. She lay down on her bed +without undressing. She left the blind up so that the moon could shine +through her small window, and she kept repeating to herself at intervals +through the night the words that had haunted her when she was at +Easterhaze: "Wash and be clean." It seemed to Pauline that the sea was +drawing her. The insistent voice of the sea was becoming absolutely +unpleasant. It echoed and echoed in her tired brain: "Wash--wash and be +clean." After her accident she had hated the sea while she was there, but +now she wanted to get back to it. She dreaded it and yet she was hungry +for it. + +As she lay with her eyes wide open it seemed to her that she was looking +at the sea. It seemed to her, too, that she really did hear the murmur of +the waves. The waves came close, and each wave as it pressed nearer and +nearer to the excited child repeated the old cry: "Wash and be clean." + +"Oh, if only I could get to the sea!" was her thought. She pressed her +hand to that part of her forehead which felt numb and strange. All of a +sudden the numbness and strangeness seemed to depart. She saw one vivid +picture after another, and each picture revealed to her the sin which she +had sinned and the wrong she had committed. At last she saw that fearful +picture when she stood with her little sister in the White Bay, and the +waves had so nearly drowned them. She sat up in bed. The idea of going +straight to Aunt Sophia and of telling her everything did not occur to +her. She wanted to get back to the sea. How could she manage this? She +was not in the least afraid of Aunt Sophy; she was only afraid of the God +whom she had offended. She got up, pushed back her black hair, tied it +neatly behind her ears, and taking her little sailor-hat and her +dark-blue serge jacket, she put them on. She would go back to the sea. +She did not know exactly how she could manage it, but somehow she would. +When she was dressed she opened a drawer. She must have money. Aunt +Sophia was liberal in the matter of pocket-money, but Pauline was +careless and spent hers as she got it. All she possessed now was a +shilling. She put the shilling into her pocket. Turning round, she saw +the flash of the gold thimble as it rested on the mantelpiece. She +slipped that also into her pocket. She then opened the window, and, as +she had done on a previous night long ago, she got out and let herself +down to the ground. She was now out all alone about midnight. Once again +the numb feeling had come back to her; nevertheless her mind was made up. +She would at any cost get back to the sea. + +She walked across the grass. By-and-by she found herself at the +wicket-gate. When she reached the gate she had a sudden overwhelming +memory of Nancy King. During the last few weeks she had forgotten Nancy. +Now she thought of her. Standing with one hand on the post of the +wicket-gate, she reflected on an idea which presented itself to her. If +she, Pauline, was wicked--if she had been a naughty girl from the +first--surely Nancy was worse! If it was necessary for Pauline to wash +and be clean, it was still more necessary for Nancy. Together they could +visit the seaside; together lave themselves in the waves; together reach +that beautiful state where sin did not trouble. + +Pauline smiled to herself. She walked through the Forest in the dead of +night, and presently reached Nancy's home. Now, it would have been a very +bad thing for Pauline, as it had very nearly been a bad thing for +Penelope some weeks ago, had Lurcher been out. But Lurcher was ill, and +had been sent to a neighboring vet.'s. And it also happened--just, as it +were, in the nick of time--that Farmer King was returning very late from +visiting a neighboring fair. He had been kept by a friend until past +midnight, and had driven home through the woods. As Pauline got to the +gate the farmer drew up his mare within a few feet of the tired girl. He +saw a girl standing by the gate, and could not make out who she was or +what she was doing. He said gruffly: + +"You get out of this. What are you doing here at this time of night?" + +Then Pauline raised a white face. He recognized the face, gave a +smothered, hasty exclamation, sprang to the ground, flung the reins over +the neck of the mare, and came towards the girl. + +"Miss Pauline," he said, "what in the name of all that is wonderful are +you doing here at this hour?" + +Pauline looked full up at him. + +"You said you would help me. You said you would if ever the time came. I +want to be helped--oh, so badly!--and I have come." + +"Because I said that?" exclaimed the farmer, his face flushing all over +with intense gratification. "Then you be certain of one thing, my +dear--sure and positive certain--that when Farmer King says a thing he +will do it. You come straight in with me, missy--straight in with me this +blessed minute." + +Pauline gave him her hand. It was quite wonderful how he soothed her, how +her fear seemed to drop away from her, how contented and almost happy she +felt. + +"You are very strong, aren't you?" she said. "You are very, very strong?" + +"I should about think I am. I can lift a weight with any man in England, +cut up a sheep with any man in existence, run a race with any farmer of +my age. Strong! Yes, you are right there, missy; I am strong--strong as +they're made." + +"Then you are what I want. You will help me." + +The farmer opened the hall door with his latch-key. Nancy had been in bed +for an hour or more. The farmer unlocked the door which led into the +kitchen. + +"The parlor will be cold," he said, "and the drawing-room will be sort of +musty. We don't use the drawing-room every night. But the kitchen--that +will be all right. You come right into the kitchen, Miss Pauline, and +then you'll tell me." + +He took her into the kitchen, lit a big lamp which hung over the +fireplace, and poked the ashes in the big stove. + +"You do look white and trembly all over. Shall I call Nancy to see you, +miss?" + +"Please, please do." + +Farmer King went noisily upstairs. + +"Nancy!" he called to his daughter. "I say, Nancy!" + +Nancy was in her first sleep. She opened her eyes at the sound of the +farmer's voice, and said in a sleepy tone: + +"Well, what now, dad? I wish you wouldn't call me just because you come +in late." + +"You get up, my girl. There's trouble downstairs. Missy has come." + +"Missy? Miss Pen?" + +"No, not Miss Pen; the other one--the one we love, both of us--the one +who was our queen--Miss Pauline. She's downstairs, and she's shocking +bad. She has come to me to help her." + +"Why, of course she's bad, father," said Nancy. "Don't you know all that +happened? Pauline was nearly drowned at Easterhaze, and they say she +hasn't been quite, so to say, right in her head ever since. I have been +nearly mad about it." + +"Sane, you mean, to my way of thinking," exclaimed the farmer; "for you +never said a word to me about it, eating your meals as hearty and +contented as you please, buying your winter finery, and talking about +going to London for Christmas. Give me a friend who will think of me when +I am in trouble. But the lass knows what's what, and it isn't to you she +has come; it's to me. She wants me to help her because I made her a +promise, forsooth! But you come right down, for she will want a bit of +cuddling from a girl like yourself. Come right down this minute and see +her, for she badly wants some one to do something for her." + +Now, Nancy was really fond of Pauline, notwithstanding her father's +words, and she got up willingly enough and ran downstairs to the kitchen; +and when she saw her little friend sitting by the fire, looking very +white, her head dropped forward, and her big black eyes fixed with an +almost vacant expression straight before her, a great lot of Nancy's +heart did go out to the sad and unhappy girl. She rushed to her side, +threw her arms round her, and hugged her over and over again. + +"Come," said the farmer, "it's a bit of something to eat she wants; then +to go upstairs and share your bed with you, Nance. And in the morning, +why, I am at her service." + +"Yes, that's what you do want, isn't it, Paulie?" said Nancy. + +Pauline nodded. She felt almost incapable of speaking. So the farmer +brought her food, and made her eat and drink. And then she went upstairs +with Nancy, and Nancy made her he down by her side, and when they were +both together in the dark, in the warm bed in the pretty room, Pauline +flung her arms round Nancy and began to cry. It was really quite a long +time since Pauline had cried. At first her tears came slowly and with +great difficulty; but in a little they rained from her eyes more and more +easily, until at last they came in torrents, and her tears hurt her and +shook her little frame, and came faster, and yet faster, until from sheer +exhaustion she dropped asleep. But when Pauline woke from that sleep it +seemed to her that the numb part had greatly left her brain and that she +could think clearly. Only, still she had no wish to go back to The Dales. +She only wanted to wash and be clean. + +"You are the queerest girl that ever lived," said Nancy. "You come right +downstairs and have breakfast. Of course, they are sure to look for you +and try to find you, but you must come straight downstairs now and hear +what father has got to say." + +Pauline got up willingly enough and went downstairs. There was a groaning +breakfast on the board. On most occasions the farmers' servants ate below +the salt, but now only the farmer and his daughter Nancy were present. + +"Here's cake worth eating," said the farmer, "and new-laid eggs worth +taking; and here's honey the like of which is not to be found anywhere +else, even in the New Forest. And here's chicken rissoles, and here's +cooked ham. Now, missy, fall to--fall to." + +Pauline ate very little, and then she turned to the farmer. + +"And now you want me to help you?" he said. + +"I want you to take me to the seaside. I want Nancy to come, too. I want +to go where the waves are high, and where I can wash and be clean." + +"My word!" said the farmer, "what does the little lass say?" + +"I don't want to go home. I can't go home. If I am alone with you and +with Nancy I might get better. Don't let me go home." + +"My lass, my lass, you have applied to Farmer King in your trouble, and +Farmer King won't desert you. I have not the most remote notion what +trouble it can be that worrits a poor little lass, but, such as it is, +Farmer King will be your friend. There is no doubt, my dear, that when +they miss you at The Dales they will come to look for you here, and what +am I to do?" + +"Hide me! Oh, hide me! I can't go home." + +"What a lark!" cried Nancy. "We could, couldn't we, father?" + +"And we won't," said the farmer, bringing his hand down with a great bang +on the table. "What we do we'll do above-board. We did wrong that time in +the summer when we took miss to that picnic and got her into trouble. Now +we're bound to see her out of her trouble. It has to do with that night +partly, hasn't it, missy?" + +"I have never been happy since," said Pauline. + +"Well, then, my dear, I said I would help you out if the time came, and I +will. You shall stay here--I vow it--and I am just going to get on my +horse Caesar, and I shall ride over to The Dales this blessed minute. You +leave it to me. You leave it all to me, my dear." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +FARMER KING. + + +Since Pauline's illness she had very often not been down in time for +breakfast. The fact, therefore, that she did not appear on this special +morning caused no excitement in the mind of any one. Miss Tredgold was so +much absorbed in the task which lay before her that she scarcely noticed +the little girl's absence; nurse would see to her, would take her a +proper meal, would do all that was necessary. Very often nurse did not +disturb Pauline until long after the others had breakfasted, for the +doctor had said that she ought never to be wakened when asleep, and that +she ought to have as much rest and sleep as possible. So breakfast came +to an end. There was a weight in the air. Now, it happened that the day +was a specially fine one, for the skies, after crying so many tears, had +cleared up, the sun had come out, and the few flowers that were left held +up their heads gayly and tried to forget the storm through which they had +lived and the winter days which were before them. + +Mr. Dale had, of course, forgotten what he had promised his sister-in-law +to do on the previous night. But Miss Tredgold had not the slightest idea +of letting him off. + +"Come, Henry," she said; "we will go into the schoolroom to prayers." + +Accordingly they went, and Mr. Dale read prayers in his somewhat sleepy +tones. The children, with the exception of Pauline, were all present. At +last family worship was finished and the servants were allowed to leave +the room. As nurse was going she looked at Verena. + +"Miss Pauline is sleeping longer than usual," she said. "She asked me a +few days ago never to waken her, and said she would ring her bell when +she wanted breakfast or hot water. I had better find out if she is +awake." + +"Yes, do, nurse," said Miss Tredgold briskly; "and ask her to be quick +and come downstairs. I want all the children except little Marjorie to be +present." + +"Oh, my dear Sophia!" said Mr. Dale at that moment, "you cannot expect me +to wait here with all my morning's work neglected while one of the girls +chooses to dress herself." + +"Here's a very interesting paper on Plato," said Miss Tredgold suddenly, +and as she spoke she handed Mr. Dale the last number of the _Spectator_. +"I thought you might like to see it." + +"Eh? What?" he cried. "An article on Plato. By whom?" + +"By the great classical scholar, Professor Mahaffy," replied Miss +Tredgold calmly. + +Mr. Dale was in an intense state of excitement. + +"When did this come?" + +"On Saturday morning." + +"But this is Wednesday. How is it I did not see it before?" + +"To tell you the truth, Henry, I read it and kept it back on purpose. I +want to keep your attention until all the family are assembled. Here is +your chair, here are your spectacles, and here is the paper." + +Mr. Dale took the paper, muttering to himself: + +"Mahaffy--Mahaffy; one of the greatest scholars of the time;" and then he +was lost to external things. + +Yes, Mr. Dale of The Dales, the head of an ancient house, the father of a +large family, forgot everything on earth except a certain disputed +passage in which he and Professor Mahaffy diametrically disagreed. He +continued to forget everything else, even when nurse rushed into the +room. + +"Why, she has gone!" cried the good woman. "She ain't in her bed; and +what's more, she's been out of it for hours, and the window is open. Oh, +whatever has come to the child? Where in the world is she?" + +Miss Tredgold looked terribly startled. Verena's face turned like a +sheet. Briar and Patty clasped each other's hands. Pen said to herself: + +"This is the time for a good sort of child like me to do something." + +Then a clatter of horse's hoofs was heard on the gravel outside, and a +stoutly built, rubicund man, on a very large horse, drew rein at the +front door. + +"It's Farmer King!" cried Verena. + +"Yes, it's Farmer King," said Pen. + +"Penelope, be quiet," said her aunt. + +The next moment the door was opened, and the parlor-maid said that Farmer +King had come and was anxious to see Mr. Dale and Miss Tredgold. + +"Show him in here," said Miss Tredgold. "Henry, have the goodness to give +me that paper." + +"But I---- My dear Sophia, I have not finished reading it. I don't agree +a bit with Mahaffy--not a bit. He takes the text in its literal meaning. +He ought to read it with the context. Now, there is not the slightest +manner of doubt that Plato meant----" + +"Henry! Are you mad? Give me that paper." + +It is to be regretted that Miss Tredgold snatched the _Spectator_ from +Mr. Dale's unwilling hand. + +"Now, Henry, wake up," she said. "Pauline is lost, and Farmer King has +come to speak to us both on a matter of importance." + +Just then Farmer King came into the room. Now, the Kings may have been +the humble retainers of the Dales for generations, but there was not the +slightest doubt that Farmer King made a far more imposing appearance at +that moment than did Mr. Dale of The Dales; for Mr. Dale stood up, thin, +bewildered, shivering, his mind in the past, his eyes consumed by a sort +of inward fire, but with no intelligence as far as present things were +concerned; and Farmer King was intensely wide awake, and, so to speak, +all there. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr. Dale," he said. "And I beg your pardon, miss. I +presume I am speaking to Miss Tredgold?" + +"You are, Mr. King," said that lady. + +"Good-day to you all, misses," said the farmer. + +He looked round at the somewhat frightened little group of sisters in the +background. + +"I have come to say something," said the farmer. "It is something about +Miss Pauline. It is something about myself and Nancy, and it has to do +with you, sir"--here he bowed low to Mr. Dale--"and with you, madam"--his +bow was not quite so reverential when he turned to the lady. + +"What is it? Please speak," said Miss Tredgold. "We are very anxious +about Pauline. Our nurse has just told us that she is not in her bedroom. +Do you know where she is?" + +"Well, madam, about half an hour ago I left Miss Pauline seated in my +warm kitchen, in the company of my good daughter, Nancy, and eating as +good a breakfast as I could provide for her. She did not eat much, madam, +but it is there for her acceptance. The young lady is heartily welcome. +She prefers us to you for the time being. She did not want you to know +anything about it, but that ain't quite my way, so I came to explain." + +"Please, please, Aunt Sophy, don't be too angry," here came from Verena's +lips. + +"Silence, Verena!" said her father. + +Surely there was quite a new note in his voice! He rose; his languor left +him; he came up to Farmer King and held out his hand. + +"Why, good old friend," he said, "it seems ages since we met. Do you +remember that day when we were boys together and went in search of +robins' eggs?" + +"Don't I?" said the farmer. + +He gave an embarrassed laugh, which ended in a sort of roar. + +"And haven't I the eggs safe still?" he said. "I have parted with many +things, but not with the eggs the young squire and I took together." + +"It is ages since we met," said Mr. Dale. "You are looking very well, +Robert--admirably well. I am pleased to see you. Sit down, won't you? +Pray sit down." + +"That man is enough to turn the brain of any one," was Miss Tredgold's +private ejaculation. Aloud she said: + +"I presume, Farmer King, that you have not come here without a story to +tell." + +"That is just it, madam. And now, if I may speak, I will tell you my +story." + +"We are all prepared to listen," said Miss Tredgold. + +"Yes, Robert, and with attention--with attention and interest," said Mr. +Dale. "Why, upon my word, this is almost as good as a fresh rendering of +the immortal Plato. Sit down, farmer, sit down." + +The farmer did not sit down. + +"It's no use mincing matters," he said, "nor walking round the bush. It +is just this. If there is a family on this earth that I have been proud +to have to do with, it is that of the Dales. If there were children that +I loved next to my own, it was the Dales. Why, I was brought up, so to +speak, to look on them as my liege lords. My mother had the old feudal +principles in her, and she never went with the times. She never held that +we were as good as our betters. We were good enough, straight enough, +honest enough, but we hadn't the blue blood of the Dales in us. That is +how I was brought up. Well, you, sir, were married, and came to live here +with your good lady. It was the will of the Almighty that she should be +taken, and the children were left motherless; and my little Nancy and I, +we used to watch to do them a kindness. They were right pleased to come +over and see us, and to ride barebacked on my two Forest ponies, and have +their fun whenever they could get as far away as The Hollies. And Nancy +was free to come to your house, and much she enjoyed it." + +"Well, Robert, very natural--very natural indeed," said Mr. Dale. + +"So I took it; so I took it." + +Here the farmer flashed an angry eye in the direction of Miss Tredgold. + +"But never mind," he continued. "I did not presume--far from that--far +indeed from that. It pleased the Almighty to give you ten daughters, Mr. +Dale, and to give me but one. And I love my one as much, perhaps, as you +love the whole of your ten. But be that as it may, when Nancy went to The +Dales to have her fun and her larks and her gay time, I was as pleased as +Punch. And then this good lady came, and she said to herself, 'Who is +Nancy King?' and the young ladies told her the plain truth; and then this +good lady did not take the trouble to inquire. A farmer's daughter was +only a farmer's daughter to her. Oh, I am not blaming her; but a little +thought, a little less prejudice, would have prevented a lot of mischief. +Anyhow, the good aunt gave the word--my girl and the young ladies were to +have nothing to do with each other in the future. Mark you that, sir, +when they were brought up, so to speak, together--always tumbling about +in the same hay-field, and riding the same ponies, and playing the same +games. It was all to end because of madam. Now, Mr. Dale, I was real mad +when Nancy came and told me what had happened. My feelings were hot and +strong and bitter, and I thought the treatment dealt out to my child and +me none too just. So, sir, when Nancy asked me to help her, I helped with +a will. When Miss Pauline came over to see us--which she did unknown to +her aunt--I gave her the best of welcomes, and we started our midnight +picnic for no other reason in life but to have her with us." + +"When did you have your midnight picnic?" asked Miss Tredgold very +gently. "When? Kindly give me the date." + +The farmer looked into her face. When he saw how white she was, and when +he glanced at the two little girls, Briar and Patty, his heart smote him. + +"I was given over to evil feelings at that time," he said, "and I don't +pretend for a moment I did right. Miss Pauline didn't want to be coaxed, +but Nancy was a rare temptress. We did our best, and the children +came--three of them. You want to know the date, madam. It was the date of +Miss Pauline's birthday--the night after her birthday. Oh, yes, madam, we +had our wild time--a right good time, too." The farmer gave a short +laugh. "You thought your young ladies quite out of the reach of the +influence of Farmer King and his family; but you never guessed, madam, +that all through one long beautiful summer night we had revels in the +woods--dancing, madam; and a picnic, no less; and the young miss crowned +with flowers as queen, and given the best presents we could give her. We +took a drive under the oaks and elms and beeches of the New Forest, and +you never guessed, madam--never. But Miss Pauline, Miss Briar, and Miss +Patty were there, and Miss Pauline was our queen. Ah! she had a gay +birthday, but you ask her what sort of a birthnight she had. It is true +she was queen of the day, but that was nothing to the time when she was +queen of the night. Well, sir"--the farmer's eyes shone as he spoke---- +"I meant it as a big joke, and I was desperately proud of myself; but I +saw even then that Miss Pauline was fretting, and I spoke to her quite +seriously, and I said, 'If ever the time comes when you want a friend, I +am the man for your purpose. Don't you forget that; because you are a +Dale and I am a King, and you Dales have always been our liege lords, so +don't you forget that.' And the child, sir, she believed me. Lots of +things happened afterwards, but of them I have nothing to say until last +night. Miss Pauline came back to me, and she reminded me of what I had +said to her that night in the woods. And, sir--and, madam--I mean to keep +my promise. I came home at midnight, and there she was standing at the +gate, white and slim and pretty as though she was a moonbeam. And she +said, 'You promised to help me when I was in trouble, and I have come to +you to get you to keep your promise.' Now, sir and madam, I have come +here about that. The young lady wants to be helped. She has got a shock, +and wants a bit of humoring. She says some words which have no meaning to +me, but they mean something to her, and she must be humored. 'I want to +wash and be clean,' she keeps saying; and she wants Nancy and me to take +her away to the seaside where the waves are big and strong, and she +insists on it that she will only go with Nancy and me. So, Miss Tredgold +and Mr. Dale, I have come here to-day to say that we mean to take her." + +"Can I see her?" asked Miss Tredgold. "I have nothing to say. Perhaps I +did wrong that time. We all make mistakes sometimes. I ought to have +known you better, Mr. King. But that time is over. The important thing +now is to restore the balance of Pauline's mind. Can I see her?" + +"You can, madam, when the right time comes; but that is not to-day, and +it won't be to-morrow. This is my business now, madam, and you must leave +it to me." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +THE CLEANSING WATERS. + + +That very day Farmer King went away with his daughter and Pauline. They +went to a small village called Rosestairs, not many miles from +Easterhaze. The farmer was immensely proud and pleased at having the care +of Pauline, and he was determined that if man could restore her to +health, he would be that individual. Rosestairs was a very pretty little +place, and quite sheltered. The Kings took lodgings in a tiny cottage, +where they lived as plainly as people could. Here Pauline rested and took +long walks, and, as she expressed it afterwards, found herself again. But +although day by day the weight in her head grew less, the haunting words +still clung to her: "Wash and be clean." One night they entered into her +dreams, and she awoke quite early with the words hovering on her lips: +"Wash, Pauline; wash and be clean." Nancy was sleeping peacefully by her +side. Pauline raised her head. She felt well--absolutely well--but for +those haunting words. She stole out of bed and went and stood by the +window. + +The sea was only a few yards off, and the waves were coming in fresh and +lovely and sparkling. "Come, wash," they seemed to say, and each soft +thud of a wave on the shore seemed to repeat the words. + +"I will--I will; I must," thought the young girl. + +She opened her trunk very softly, took out her bathing-dress, put it on, +and ran down to the beach. There was no one about. In a moment she had +entered the waves. She breasted them as far as her waist; she ducked and +covered herself with the invigorating salt water. And as the sparkling +salt water rolled over her, it seemed to her fancy that a load rolled off +her mind. She felt light of heart and gay. She felt cheerful and happy. A +few minutes later she was back in the cottage. Nancy turned in her sleep, +started, opened her sleepy eyes, and looked at the dripping figure +standing in the middle of the room. + +"Why, Paulie," she cried, "what are you doing? Oh, you are dripping wet; +your hair and all. What have you been at?" + +"I am wet because I have washed. I have washed and I am clean. Oh, Nancy, +Nancy! it is as right as possible. The terrible, haunting words have +gone, and the longing for the sea has gone. I know that I am forgiven. +Nancy, do you hear? I am washed, and I am clean. Oh! I know at last what +it means." + +"For goodness' sake take off those wet things and get back into bed and +let me warm you up. You will catch your death." + +"My death!" cried Pauline, "when I am so happy I scarcely know how to +contain myself." + +Nancy sprang out of bed, dragged Pauline towards her, and helped her to +pull off her wet things. Then she wrapped her up in her warm night-dress, +made her cuddle down in bed, and kissed her and hugged her. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, "you are the queerest girl; but your face looks as +it did long ago." + +"I feel as I did long ago--or, rather, I feel different. I was a child +then and did not understand much. Now, it seems to me, I understand a +great deal--yes, a great deal. Oh! and there is your father in the +garden. I must dress; I must go to him." + +So Pauline jumped out of bed, got quickly into her clothes, and ran out +to join the farmer. + +"Mr. King," she cried, "I am quite well again." + +"It looks like it, little missy," said the farmer. + +"I am," repeated Pauline. "I am as perfectly well as a girl can be. You +know how often I told you I wanted to wash and be clean. I had my wash +this morning, and it was really what I did want, for that dull feeling +has left my head. I know just everything, and how I behaved, and all the +rest, and I am prepared to take the bitter as well as the sweet. It is +very, very sweet living here with you and Nancy, and whatever happens, +you will be my friends as long as I live. And it is very bitter to think +that I must tell Aunt Sophia and Verena and the rest of them the whole +truth; but, bitter or not, I am going to do it, and I am going back to +them, for it is right. I want to go back to them this very day. May I?" + +"Yes, my lass; I understand you," said the farmer gravely. + + * * * * * + +It was a lovely day for the time of year; although it was November, the +sun shone brilliantly. Miss Tredgold stood on the lawn in front of the +house and talked to Verena, who stood by her side. + +"I understand all of you now, Verena," she said, "except Pauline. I never +did understand her, and I sometimes think I never shall, poor child!" + +"Oh, yes, you will," said Verena. "When Paulie comes back she will be as +you never knew her--as she used to be, her sweetest and best. In some +ways she is stronger and better and braver than any of us. I think she +ought to make a splendid woman some day, for she has so much character +and so much determination." + +"I think I have done the rest of you good by coming here; but if I have +done Pauline harm, I sometimes wonder if I can ever be happy again," said +the poor lady. + +"You have not done her harm. Only wait until she comes back. She is just +getting the right treatment now. She felt everything so terribly that her +mind was quite numb and incapable of conducting her right for a time; but +wait until she returns." + +"Day after day I long and hope for her return," said Miss Tredgold, "but +day after day there is a fresh excuse." + +"And yet you say you want her to return," said Verena. "Oh, aunty, aunty! +who is this coming up the path? Here she is--Paulie herself; and Nancy is +following her, and there is Farmer King. They have entered by the +wicket-gate and are coming up through the plantation. Oh, look, look! And +she is well. I know by the way she walks, by the way she runs, by the way +she smiles. She is as well as ever she was in all her life." + +"Better--far better than ever!" cried Pauline's gay and almost rollicking +voice. "Here I am, stronger than ever, and quite, quite well." + +The next moment Pauline's arms were flung round her aunt's neck. + +"You must forgive me first of all," she said. "I have come back to +confess, and I want to get my confession over. I want all the others to +stand round and listen. Ah! here they come. Don't rush at me for a +moment, girls. Don't hug me or do anything of that sort. Stand still and +listen, listen, listen. I was rebellious, and I did wrong, and----" + +"My darling," interrupted Miss Tredgold, "we know the whole story. We +only want you to confess that you did wrong, and then never, never to +allude to it again; for I see, Pauline, by your eyes that you mean to do +right now." + +"I will obey you because I love you," said Pauline. + +"There, madam! I think she is pretty well restored," cried the farmer. +"And she is the best young lady in the world. Nancy and I have brought +her home, and now, with your permission, madam, we will take our leave." + +"Nothing of the sort!" cried Miss Tredgold. "If you did wrong, Pauline, I +was by no means altogether in the right. I little knew when I told you, +my dears, to have nothing more to do with Farmer King and his daughter, +that I was preventing your enjoying the society of a gentleman. Please +shake hands with me, Mr. King." + +Farmer King's face was quite pale with emotion. + +"I admire you; I thank you," said Miss Tredgold. "You are a man in a +thousand;" and again she held out her hand. + +This time Farmer King wrung it. But he was absolutely speechless; not a +single word passed his lips. + +"Nancy," said Miss Tredgold, "I revoke what I said. You must come and see +my girls whenever you like." + +"On condition, madam," said the farmer, "that the young ladies sometimes +come to see Nancy and me." + +"Certainly," said Miss Tredgold; "but I also must put in a condition." + +"What is that, madam?" + +"That I occasionally accompany them." + +But at this the farmer gave such a cheer of hearty goodwill that all the +children joined in in spite of themselves. + +"Was there ever anything quite so jolly in all the world?" cried Pauline. +"I feel younger than ever, and jollier than ever. Here comes father, too. +We are all together. Father, I am back again, and it is all owing to +Farmer King and Nancy that I am cured. Whom shall we cry three cheers +for? You give the word." + +"Aunt Sophy, of course," cried Verena. + +"Hip! hip! hurrah!" shouted the Dale family. + +"And I should like to suggest a hearty cheer for my good old friend, +Farmer King," said Mr. Dale. + +"And for his cure," said Pauline. + +And then the Dale family and the King family joined hands and shouted +"Hip! hip! hurrah!" once more. + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Girls of the Forest, by L. T. 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