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Meade. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + .caption {font-size:smaller;} + hr.tb {border:none; margin-top: 2em;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The School Queens, 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: The School Queens + +Author: L. T. Meade + +Release Date: May 15, 2009 [EBook #28819] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCHOOL QUEENS *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.6em;margin-top:50px;'>THE</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.2em;font-variant:small-caps;'>School Queens</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:40px;'>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;'>L T. MEADE</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>Author of “Polly, a New-Fashioned Girl,”<br />“Sue, a Little Heroine,” “Daddy’s Girl,”<br />“A Sweet Girl Graduate,” etc.</p> + +<div style='margin:30px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /> +</div> + +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:50px;'>NEW YORK<br />THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY<br />1910</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='font-size:smaller; margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;'> +<p style='margin-left:0.0em; margin-right:0.0em; text-align:center'>BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY<br /></p> +<p><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>L. T. Meade</span> (Mrs. Elizabeth Thomasina Smith), +English novelist, was born at Bandon, County Cork, +Ireland, 1854, the daughter of Rev. R. T. Meade, +Rector of Novohal, County Cork, and married Toulmin +Smith in 1879. She wrote her first book, <i>Lettie’s +Last Home</i>, at the age of seventeen and since then has +been an unusually prolific writer, her stories attaining +wide popularity on both sides of the Atlantic.</p> +<p>She worked in the British Museum, living in Bishopsgate +Without, making special studies of East +London life which she incorporated in her stories. +She edited <i>Atlanta</i> 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 <i>Daddy’s Girl</i>, flowing easily +from her pen. She has traveled extensively, being +devoted to motoring and other outdoor sports.</p> +<p>Among more than fifty novels she has written, dealing +largely with questions of home life, are: <i>David’s +Little Lad; Great St. Benedict’s; A Knight of To-day (1877); +Miss Toosey’s Mission; Bel-Marjory (1878); +Laddie; Outcast Robbin: or, Your Brother and Mine; A +Cry from the Great City; White Lillie and Other Tales; +Scamp and I; The Floating Light of Ringfinnan; Dot +and Her Treasures; The Children’s Kingdom: the Story +of Great Endeavor; The Water Gipsies; A Dweller in +Tents; Andrew Harvey’s Wife; Mou-setse: A Negro +Hero (1880); Mother Herring’s Chickens (1881); A +London Baby: the Story of King Roy (1883); Hermie’s +Rose-Buds and Other Stories; How it all Came Round; +Two Sisters (1884); Autocrat of the Nursery; Tip Cat; +Scarlet Anemones; The Band of Three; A Little Silver +Trumpet; Our Little Ann; The Angel of Love (1885); A +World of Girls (1886); Beforehand; Daddy’s Boy; The +O’Donnells of Inchfawn; The Palace Beautiful; Sweet +Nancy (1887); Deb and the Duchess (1888); Nobody’s +Neighbors; Pen (1888); A Girl from America (1907).</i></p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>THE SCHOOL QUEENS</h1> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_I_THE_FASCINATING_MAGGIE' id='CHAPTER_I_THE_FASCINATING_MAGGIE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE FASCINATING MAGGIE</h3> +</div> +<p>Cicely Cardew and her sister Merry were twins. At the +time when this story opens they were between fifteen and +sixteen years of age. They were bright, amiable, pretty +young girls, who had never wanted for any pleasure or +luxury during their lives. Their home was a happy one. +Their parents were affectionate and lived solely for them. +They were the only children, and were treated—as only +children often are—with a considerable amount of attention. +They were surrounded by all the appliances of wealth. They +had ponies to ride and carriages to drive in, and each had +her own luxurious and beautifully furnished bedroom.</p> +<p>It was Mr. Cardew’s wish that his daughters should be +educated at home. In consequence they were not sent to +any school, but had daily masters and governesses to instruct +them in the usual curriculum of knowledge. It might be +truly said that for them the sun always shone, and that +they were carefully guarded from the east wind. They were +naturally bright and amiable. They had their share of +good looks, without being quite beautiful. They had not +the slightest knowledge of what the world meant, of what +sorrow meant, or pain. They were brought up in such a +sheltered way that it seemed to them that there were no +storms in life. They were not discontented, for no one ever +breathed the word in their presence. Their requests were +reasonable, for they knew of no very big things to ask for. +Even their books were carefully selected for them, and their +amusements were of a mild and orderly character.</p> +<p>Such were the girls when this story opens on a bright day +towards the end of a certain July. Their home was called +Meredith Manor, and Merry was called after an old ancestor +on their mother’s side to whom the house had at one time +belonged.</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew was a merchant-prince. Mrs. Cardew belonged +to an old county family. If there was one thing in the +world that Cicely and Merry thought nothing whatever about, +it was money. They could understand neither poverty nor +the absence of gold.</p> +<p>The little village near Meredith Manor was a model place, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +for Mr. Cardew, to whom it belonged, devoted himself absolutely +to it. The houses were well drained and taken great +care of. Prizes were offered for the best gardens; consequently +each cottager vied with the other in producing the +most lovely flowers and the most tempting fruits. The village +consisted entirely of Mr. Cardew’s laborers and the different +servants on his estate. There were, therefore, no hardships +for the girls to witness at Meredith village. They +were fond of popping in and out of the cottages and talking +to the young wives and mothers, and playing with the babies; +and they particularly enjoyed that great annual day when +Mr. Cardew threw open the grounds of Meredith to the entire +neighborhood, and when games and fun and all sorts of +amusements were the order of the hour.</p> +<p>Besides the people who lived in the village, there was, of +course, the rector, who had a pretty, picturesque, old brown +house, with a nice garden in one corner of the grounds. He +had a good-natured, round-faced, happy wife, and a family +of four stalwart sons and daughters. He was known as the +Reverend William Tristram; and, as the living was in the +gift of the Meredith family, he was a distant connection of +Mrs. Cardew, and had been appointed by her husband to the +living of Meredith at her request.</p> +<p>The only playfellows the girls had ever enjoyed were the +young Tristrams. There were two boys and two girls. The +boys were the younger, the girls the elder. The boys were +not yet in their teens, but Molly and Isabel Tristram were +about the same age as the young Cardews. Molly was, in fact, +a year older, and was a very sympathetic, strong-minded, +determined girl. She and her sister Isabel had not been educated +at home, but had been sent to foreign schools both in +France and Germany; and Molly, in her heart of hearts, +rather looked down upon what she considered the meager +attainments of the young Cardews and their want of knowledge +of the world.</p> +<p>“It is ridiculous!” she was heard to say to Isabel on that +very July morning when this story opens. “Of course they +are nice girls, and would be splendid if they could do anything +or knew what to do; but, as it is, they are nothing +whatever but half-grown-up children, with no more idea of +the world than has that baby-kitten disporting itself at the +present moment on the lawn.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they’re right enough,” said Isabel. “They will learn +by-and-by. I don’t suppose Mr. and Mrs. Cardew mean to +keep them always shut up in a nutshell.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Molly. “Mr. and Mrs. Cardew +are like no other people. I have heard father say that he +thinks it a great pity that girls should be so terribly isolated.”</p> +<p>“Well, as to that,” replied Isabel, “I wouldn’t be in their +shoes for creation. I have so enjoyed my time at Hanover +and in France; and now that we are to have two years at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +Aylmer House, in Kensington, I cannot tell you how I look +forward to it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, won’t it be fine?” replied Molly. “But now we had +better go up at once to Meredith Manor and ask the girls +if we may bring Maggie Howland with us this afternoon. +Father has sent the pony-trap to the station to meet her, and +she may arrive any moment.”</p> +<p>“All right,” said Isabel; “but one of us had better stay +at home to receive her. You, Molly, can run up to the +Manor and ask the girls if we may bring our visitor.”</p> +<p>“All right,” replied Molly. Then she added “I wonder +if Maggie is as fascinating as ever. Don’t you remember, +Belle, what a spell she cast over us at our school at Hanover? +She was like no one else I ever met. She seems to +do what she likes with people. I shall be deeply interested +to know what she thinks of Cicely and Merry.”</p> +<p>“Thinks of them!” replied Isabel. “It’s my opinion she +won’t tolerate them for a minute; and we are bound to take +her with us, for of course they will give permission.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Molly, “I’ll be off at once and secure that +permission. You’ look after Maggie—won’t you, Isabel?—and +see that her bedroom is all right.” As Molly spoke she +waved her hand to her sister, then departed on her errand.</p> +<p>She was a bright, fairly good-looking girl, with exceedingly +handsome eyes and curling dark-brown hair. She was +somewhat square in build and athletic in all her movements. +In short, she was as great a contrast to the twin Cardew +girls as could be found. Nevertheless she liked them, and +was interested in them; for were not the Cardews the great +people of the place? There was nothing of the snob about +Molly; but it is difficult even for the most independent English +girl to spend the greater part of her life in a village +where one family reigns as sovereign without being more +or less under its influence.</p> +<p>Mr. Tristram, too, was a very great friend of Mr. Cardew’s; +and Molly’s fat, round, good-natured mother, although a +little afraid of Mrs. Cardew, who was a very stately lady +in her way, nevertheless held her in the greatest respect and +admiration. It was one of the rules of the house of Tristram +that no invitation sent to them from Meredith Manor +should be refused. They must accept that invitation as +though it were the command of a king.</p> +<p>The girls, brought up mostly at foreign schools, had in +some ways wider ideas of life than had their parents. But +even they were more or less influenced by the fact that the +Cardews were the great people of the place.</p> +<p>The day was a very hot one; rather oppressive too, with +thunder-clouds in the distance. But Molly was very strong, +and did not feel the heat in the least. The distance from the +rectory to the Manor was a little over a mile. In addition, +it was all uphill. But when you passed the village—so +exquisitely neat, such a model in its way—you found yourself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +entering a road shaded by overhanging elm-trees. Here +it was cool even on the hottest summer day. There were +deep pine-woods at each side of the road, and the road +itself had been cut right through a part of the forest, which +belonged to the Meredith estate. After going uphill for +nearly three-quarters of a mile you arrived at the handsome +wrought-iron gates which led to the avenue that brought +you to the great front door of Meredith Manor.</p> +<p>Molly often took this walk, but she generally did so in the +company of her sister Isabel. Isabel’s light chatter, her +gay, infectious laughter, her merry manner, soothed the +tedium of the road. To-day Molly was alone; but by no +means on this account did she feel a sense of weariness; her +mind was very busy. She was greatly excited at the thought +of seeing Maggie Howland again. Maggie had made a remarkable +impression on her. She made that impression on +all her friends. Wherever she went she was a leader, and no +one could quite discover where her special charm or magnetism +lay; for she was decidedly plain, and not specially remarkable +for cleverness—that is, she was not remarkable +for what may be termed school-cleverness. She was indifferent +to prizes, and was just as happy at the bottom of her +form as at the top; but wherever she appeared girls clustered +round her, and consulted her, and hung on her words; and +to be Maggie Howland’s friend was considered the greatest +honor possible among the girls themselves at any school +where she spent her time.</p> +<p>Maggie was the daughter of a widow who lived in London. +Her father had died when she was a very little girl. He was +a man of remarkable character. He had great strength of +will and immense determination; and Maggie, his only child, +took after him. She resembled him in appearance also, for +he was very plain of face and rather ungainly of figure. +Maggie’s mother, on the other hand, was a delicate, pretty, +blue-eyed woman, who could as little manage her headstrong +young daughter as a lamb could manage a young +lion. Mrs. Howland was intensely amiable. Maggie was +very good to her mother, as she expressed it; and when +she got that same mother to yield to all her wishes the +mother thought that she was doing the right thing. She +had a passionate love for her daughter, although she deplored +her plain looks, and often told the girl to her face +that she wished she had taken after her in personal appearance. +Maggie used to smile when this was said, and then +would go away to her own room and look at her queer, dark +face, and rather small eyes, and determined mouth, and somewhat +heavy jaw, and shake her head solemnly. She did +not agree with her mother; she preferred being what she +was. She liked best to take after her father.</p> +<p>It was Maggie Howland who had persuaded Mr. Tristram, +during a brief visit which he had made to town at Christmas, +to send his daughters to Aylmer House. Maggie was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +fond of Molly and Isabel. With all her oddities, she had +real affection, and one of her good qualities was that she +really loved those whom she influenced.</p> +<p>Mr. Tristram went to see Mrs. Ward, the head-mistress +of that most select establishment for young ladies at Kensington. +Mrs. Ward was all that was delightful. She was +a noble-minded woman of high aspirations, and her twenty +young boarders were happy and bright and contented under +her influence.</p> +<p>Maggie joined the school at Easter, and spent one term +there, and was now coming on a visit to the rectory.</p> +<p>“I wonder what she will have to tell us! I wonder if +she is as fascinating as ever!” thought Molly Tristram as +she hurried her steps.</p> +<p>She had now reached that point in the avenue which gave +a good view of the old Manor, with its castellated walls and +its square towers at each end. The gardens were laid out in +terraces after an old-world fashion. There was one terrace +devoted to croquet, another to tennis. As Molly approached +she saw Cicely and Merry playing a game of croquet rather +languidly. They wore simple white frocks which just came +down above their ankles, and had white washing-hats on +their heads. Their thick, rather fair hair was worn in a +plait down each young back, and was tied with a bunch of +pale-blue ribbon at the end.</p> +<p>“Hello!” shouted Molly.</p> +<p>The girls flung down their rackets and ran joyfully to +meet her.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am so glad you have come!” said Cicely. “It’s +much too hot to play tennis, and even croquet is more than +we can manage. Are you going to stay and have lunch +with us, Molly?”</p> +<p>“No,” replied Molly; “I must go back immediately.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! I wish you would stay,” continued Merry. +“We could go and sit in the arbor, and you could tell us +another fascinating story about that school of yours at Hanover.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Cicely; “do stay—do, Molly! We want +to hear a lot more about that remarkable girl Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“I can’t stay,” said Molly in a semi-whisper; “but I tell you +what, girls.” She seized a hand of both as she spoke. “I +have come with news.”</p> +<p>“What?” “What?” asked the twins eagerly.</p> +<p>“There’s very seldom much news going on here,” said +Cicely. “Not that we mind—not a little bit; we’re as happy +as girls can be.”</p> +<p>“Of course we are,” said Merry. “We haven’t a care in +the world.”</p> +<p>“All the same,” said Cicely, “tell us your news, Molly, for +you do look excited.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Molly, who enjoyed the pleasure of giving +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +her friends a piece of information which she knew would +interest them intensely, “you know we are to come up here +this afternoon to have tea and buns, aren’t we?”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t talk in that way!” said Merry. “One would +suppose you were school children, when you are our darling, +dear friends.”</p> +<p>“Our only friends,” said Cicely. “You are the only girls +in the world father allows us to be the least bit intimate +with.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” said Molly, “of course Belle and I are very +fond of you both, naturally.”</p> +<p>“Naturally!” echoed Cicely. But then she added, “How +queer you look, Molly, as though you were keeping something +back!”</p> +<p>“Well, yes, I am,” said Molly; “but I’ll have it out in +a minute.”</p> +<p>“Oh, please, be quick!” said Merry. “Anything a little +bit out of the common is very interesting.—Isn’t it, Cicely?”</p> +<p>“Very,” said Cicely; “more particularly in the holidays. +When we are busy with our lessons things don’t so much +matter, you know.—But do be quick, Molly; what is it?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Molly, “you’ve asked us to spend the afternoon +with you.”</p> +<p>“Of course, and you’re both coming, surely?”</p> +<p>“We are—certainly we are—that is, if you will allow us +to bring”––</p> +<p>“To bring”––interrupted Cicely. “Oh Molly, do speak!”</p> +<p>“Well, I will; only, don’t jump, you two girls. To bring +Maggie Howland!”</p> +<p>Cicely’s face grew very pink. Merry, on the contrary, +turned a little pale. They were both silent for a brief +space. Then Merry said excitedly, “Maggie Howland—<i>the</i> +Maggie Howland?”</p> +<p>“Yes, <i>the</i> Maggie Howland; the one who has got the power, +the charm, the fascination.”</p> +<p>“Oh, oh!” said Cicely. “But why is she with you? How +has it happened?”</p> +<p>“She is not absolutely with us yet; and as to how it happened +I cannot exactly tell you. We had a telegram from her +late last night asking if she might come to-day to spend a +week or fortnight, and of course we wired back ‘Yes.’ We +are delighted; but of course you may not like her, girls.”</p> +<p>“Like her! like her!” said Cicely; “and after all you have +said too! We shall be certain to more than like her.”</p> +<p>“She’s not a bit pretty, so don’t expect it,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“We were brought up,” said Merry a little stiffly, “not to +regard looks as anything at all.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” replied Molly. “Looks mean a great deal. +I’d give I don’t know what to be beautiful; but as I am not +I don’t mean to fret about it. Well, Maggie’s downright +plain; in fact—in fact—almost ugly, I may say; and yet—and +yet, she is just Maggie; and you are not five minutes in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +her society before you’d rather have her face than any other +face in the world. But the immediate question is: may she +come this afternoon, or may she not?”</p> +<p>“Of course—of course she may come,” said Cicely; “we’ll +be delighted, we’ll be charmed to see her. This <i>is</i> pleasant +news!”</p> +<p>“I think, perhaps,” said Merry, “we ought to go and ask +mother. Don’t you think so, Cis?”</p> +<p>“Of course we ought,” said Cicely. “I forgot that. Just +stay where you are, Molly, and I’ll run to the house and +find mother. It’s only to ask her, for of course she will give +leave.”</p> +<p>Cicely ran off at once, and Merry and Molly were left alone.</p> +<p>“I know you’ll be delighted with her,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“It will be very delightful to see her,” replied Merry.</p> +<p>“You must expect to be disappointed at first, all the same,” +continued Molly.</p> +<p>“Oh, looks do not matter one scrap,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Isabel and I are going to her school; you know that, +don’t you, Merry?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Merry with a sigh. “What fun you do have +at your different schools! Don’t you, Molly?”</p> +<p>“Well, yes,” said Molly rather gravely; “but it isn’t only +the fun; we see a lot of the world, and we mix with other +girls and make friends.”</p> +<p>“Mother prefers a home education for us, and so does +father,” remarked Merry. “Ah! here comes Cicely. She is +flying down the terrace. Of course mother is delighted.”</p> +<p>This proved to be the case. Mrs. Cardew would welcome +any girl introduced to her daughters through her dear friend +Mr. Tristram. She sent a further invitation for the three +young people to remain to an impromptu supper, which +was pleasanter than late dinner in such hot weather, and +asked if Mr. and Mrs. Tristram would join them at the meal.</p> +<p>“Hurrah!” cried Molly. “That will be fun! I must be off +now, girls. We’ll be with you, all three of us, between four +and five o’clock.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_II_SPOTEAR' id='CHAPTER_II_SPOTEAR'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>SPOT-EAR.</h3> +</div> +<p>Isabel took great pains arranging Maggie Rowland’s bedroom. +At the Castle (or Manor) there were always troops +of servants for every imaginable thing; but at the rectory +the servants were few, and the girls did a good many odds +and ends of work themselves. They were expected to dust +and keep in perfect order their exceedingly pretty bedrooms, +they were further required to make their own beds, and if a +young visitor arrived, they were obliged to wait on her and +see to her comfort. For the Tristrams had just an income +sufficient to cover their expenses, with nothing at all to put +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +by. Mr. Tristram had his two little boys to think of as well +as his two girls. His intention was to give his children the +best education possible, believing that such a gift was far +more valuable to them than mere money. By-and-by, when +they were old enough, the girls might earn their own living +if they felt so inclined, and each girl might become a specialist +in her way.</p> +<p>Molly was exceedingly fond of music, and wished to excel +in that particular. Isabel, on the contrary, was anxious to +obtain a post as gymnasium teacher with the London County +Council. But all these things were for the future. At present +the girls were to study, were to acquire knowledge, were +to be prepared for that three-fold battle which includes body, +soul, and spirit, and which needs triple armor in the fight.</p> +<p>Mr. Tristram was a man of high religious principles. He +taught his children to love the good and refuse the evil. He +wanted his girls to be useful women by-and-by in the world. +He put usefulness before happiness, assuring his children +that if they followed the one they would secure the other.</p> +<p>Belle, therefore, felt quite at home now as she took out +pretty mats and laid them on little tables in the neat spare +room which had been arranged for the reception of Maggie +Howland. She saw that all the appointments of the room +were as perfect as simplicity and cleanliness could effect, +and then went out into the summer garden to pick some +choice, sweet-smelling flowers. She selected roses and carnations, +and, bringing them in, arranged them in vases in the +room.</p> +<p>Hearing the sound of wheels, she flew eagerly downstairs +and met her friend as she stepped out of the little governess-cart.</p> +<p>“Well, here I am!” said Maggie. “And how is Belle? +How good-natured of you all to have me, and how delightful +it is to smell the delicious country air! Mother and I +find town so hot and stuffy. I haven’t brought a great lot +of luggage, and I am not a bit smart; but you won’t mind +that—will you, dear old Belle?”</p> +<p>“You always talk about not being smart, Maggie; but you +manage to look smarter than anyone else,” said Isabel, her +eager brown eyes devouring her friend’s appearance with +much curiosity. For Maggie looked, to use a proverbial +phrase, as if she had stepped out of a bandbox. If she was +plain of face she had an exceedingly neat figure, and there +was a fashionable, trim look about her which is uncommon +in a girl of her age; for Maggie was only just sixteen, and +scarcely looked as much. In some ways she might almost +have been a French girl, so exceedingly neat and <i>comme il +faut</i> was her little person. She was built on a <i>petite</i> scale, +and although her face was so plain, she had lovely hands +and beautiful small feet. These feet were always shod in +the most correct style, and she took care of her hands, never +allowing them to get red or sunburnt. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></p> +<p>“Where’s Molly?” was her remark, as the two girls, with +their arms twined round each other, entered the wide, low +hall which was one of the special features of the old rectory.</p> +<p>“She has gone up to see the Cardews.”</p> +<p>“Who are the Cardews?”</p> +<p>“Why, surely, Mags, you must have heard of them?”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean,” said Maggie with a laugh, and showing +a gleam of strong white teeth, “the two little ladies who +live in a bandbox?”</p> +<p>“Oh, you really must not laugh at them,” said Isabel, immediately +on the defensive for her friends; “but they do lead +a somewhat exclusive life. Molly has gone up to the Castle, +as we always call Meredith Manor, to announce your arrival, +and to ask permission to bring you there to a tennis-party +this afternoon; so you will soon see them for yourself. Now, +come in and say good-morning to the mater; she is longing +to see you.”</p> +<p>“Hello, Peterkins!” called out Maggie at that moment, as +a small boy with a smut across his face suddenly peeped +round a door.</p> +<p>“I’m not Peterkins!” he said angrily.</p> +<p>Maggie laughed again. “I am going to call you Peterkins,” +she said. “Is this one of the little brothers, Belle?”</p> +<p>“Yes.—Come here at once, Andrew, and speak to Miss +Howland.”</p> +<p>The boy approached shyly. Then his eyes looked up into +the queer face of the girl who looked down at him. The +sulkiness cleared away from his brow, and he said, in an +eager, hurried, half-shy, half-confidential way, “I say, do +you like rabbits?”</p> +<p>“Dote on ’em,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Then I’m your man, and I don’t mind being Peterkins +to you; and will you—will you come and see mine? I’ve got +Spot-ear, and Dove, and Angelus, and Clover. And Jack, he +has five rabbits, but they’re not near as nice as mine. You’ll +come and see my rabbits, won’t you, Miss—Miss––-”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am Maggie,” said the girl. “I’ll come and see your +rabbits, Peterkins, in a minute; and I won’t look at Jack’s; +but you must let me talk to your mother first.”</p> +<p>“There you are, Maggie,” said Belle when the boy had +disappeared; “fascinating Andrew in your usual way; and +Jack will be just furious, for he’s the elder, you know, and +he has a temper, and you mustn’t set one of them against +the other—promise you won’t.”</p> +<p>“Trust me,” said Maggie. “Peterkins is a nice little fellow, +and I’ll manage Jackdaw too.”</p> +<p>“You don’t mean to say you’ll call them by those names?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes. I always have my own way with people, as +you know.”</p> +<p>“Indeed I do. Oh, come along, you queer creature. Here’s +the darling mums. Mater dearest, here is Maggie Howland.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span></p> +<p>“Delighted to see you, my dear,” said Mrs. Tristram. “I +hope you are not tired after your journey from town.”</p> +<p>“Not in the least, thank you, Mrs. Tristram,” said Maggie, +speaking in a voice of very peculiar quality; it was sweet +and rich and full of many intonations. She had the power +of putting a world of meaning into the most commonplace +expressions.</p> +<p>Mrs. Tristram had not seen Maggie before, and it was Mr. +Tristram who had been completely bowled over by the young +lady just at Christmas-time.</p> +<p>“I bid you a hearty welcome to the rectory,” said the good +clergyman’s wife, “and I hope you will have a pleasant time +with my children.”</p> +<p>“I’ll have a fascinating time,” said Maggie. “I’m just +too delighted to come. It was sweet of you to have me; and +may I, please, give you a kiss?”</p> +<p>“Of course you may, dear child,” said Mrs. Tristram.</p> +<p>Maggie bestowed the kiss, and immediately afterward was +conducted to her room by the worshiping Belle.</p> +<p>“I do hope you’ll like it,” said Belle in an almost timorous +voice. “I prepared it for you myself.”</p> +<p>“Why, it’s sweet,” said Maggie, “and so full of the country! +Oh, I say, what roses! And those carnations—Malmaisons, +aren’t they? I must wear a couple in this brown +holland frock; they’ll tone with it perfectly. What a delicious +smell!”</p> +<p>Maggie sniffed at the roses. Belle lounged on the window-seat.</p> +<p>“Molly will be jealous,” she said. “Think of my having +you these few moments all to myself!”</p> +<p>“I am delighted to come, as you know quite well,” replied +Maggie. “It’s all right about school, isn’t it, Belle?”</p> +<p>“Yes, quite, quite right. We are to join you there in +September.”</p> +<p>“It’s a perfectly splendid place,” said Maggie. “I will +describe it to you later on.”</p> +<p>“But can it be nicer,” said Belle, “than our darling school +at Hanover?”</p> +<p>“Nicer!” exclaimed Maggie. “You couldn’t compare the +two places. I tell you it’s perfect. The girls—well, they’re +aristocratic; they’re girls of the Upper Ten. It’s the most +select school. You are in luck to be admitted, I can tell you. +You will learn a lot about society when you are a member +of Mrs. Ward’s school.”</p> +<p>“But what possible good will that do us when we are +never going into it?” said Belle.</p> +<p>Maggie slightly narrowed her already narrow eyes, took +off her hat, and combed back her crisp, dark hair from her +low, full, very broad forehead. Then she said, with a smile, +“You are to stay two years at Mrs. Ward’s, are you not?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I think that is the arrangement.”</p> +<p>“And I am to stay there for two years,” said Maggie; “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span> +mean two more. I will ask you, Isabel Tristram, what good +society is worth at the end of your two years. I expect you +will tell me a very different story then.”</p> +<p>At this moment there came a hurried, nervous, excited +knock at the room door.</p> +<p>“Aren’t you coming, Miss—Miss—Maggie? Clover and +Dove and Spot-ear and Angelus are all waiting. Their hutch +is beautiful and clean, and I have all their lettuces waiting +for them just outside, so they sha’n’t begin to nibble till +you come. Do, do come, please, Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Of course I will, my darling Peterkins,” replied Maggie +in her joyful voice. “Oh, this is—this is—this <i>is</i> fun!—Come +along, Belle; come along.”</p> +<p>“But don’t let poor Jack get into a temper,” said Isabel +in a half-frightened whisper.</p> +<p>Maggie took no notice of her. She opened the bedroom +door and flew downstairs, holding the dirty, hot little hand +of Andrew, <i>alias</i> Peterkins, while Isabel followed in their +wake.</p> +<p>In a far-away part of the rectory garden, on a bit of waste +land at the other side of the great vegetable garden, were two +hutches which stood side by side, and these hutches contained +those most adorable creatures, the pets, the darlings +of the Tristram boys.</p> +<p>The Tristram boys were aged eleven and ten years respectively. +Jack was eleven, Andrew ten. They were very +sturdy, healthy, fine little fellows. At present they went to +a good day-school in the neighborhood, but were to be sent +to a boarding-school about the same time as their sisters +were to begin their education at Aylmer House in Kensington. +Their passion above all things was for pets. They had +tried every sort: white mice (these somehow or other were +sacrificed to the reigning cat) and waltzing mice (that shared +an equally luckless fate); these were followed by white rats, +which got into the garden and did mischief, and were banished +by order of the rector, who was a most determined +master in his own house. Dogs were also forbidden, except +one very intelligent Airedale, that belonged to the whole +family and to no one in particular. But the boys must find +vent for their passion in some way, and rabbits were allowed +them. At the present moment Jack owned five, Andrew four.</p> +<p>In trembling triumph, Andrew brought his new friend to +see his darlings. He greatly hoped that Jack would not +appear on the scene just now. While Maggie was up in her +bedroom taking off, her hat, he had, with herculean strength, +managed to move an old wooden door and put it in such +a position that Jack’s hutch was completely hidden, while +his hutch shone forth in all its glory, with those fascinating +creatures Spot-ear, Angelus, Dove, and Clover looking +through their prison-bars at the tempting meal that awaited +them.</p> +<p>“Here they are! here they are!” said Andrew. “Beauties, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +all four; my own—my very own! Maggie, you may share +one of them with me while you are here. He must live in +his hutch, but he shall be yours and mine. Would you like +Spot-ear? He is a character. He’s the finest old cove you +ever came across in your life. Look at him now, pretending +he doesn’t care anything at all for his lettuce, and he’s +just dying for it. Clover is the greedy one. Clover would +eat till he-burst if I let him. As to Angelus, she squeaks +sometimes—you’ll hear her if you listen hard—that’s why I +called her Angelus; and Dove—why, she’s a dear pet; but +the character of all is Spot-ear. You’d like to share him +with me, wouldn’t you, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; he is so ugly; he is quite interesting,” said +Maggie. She flung herself on the ground by the side of the +hutch, and gazed in at the occupants as though her only aim +in life was to worship rabbits.</p> +<p>“You take that leaf of lettuce and give it to Spot-ear your +very own self,” said Peterkins. “He’ll love you ever after; +he’s a most affectionate old fellow.”</p> +<p>Maggie proceeded to feed the rabbit. Peterkins hopped +about in a state of excitement which he had seldom experienced +before. Maggie asked innumerable questions. +Belle seated herself on the fallen trunk of an old oak-tree +and looked on in wonder.</p> +<p>Maggie was a curious girl. She seemed to have a power +over every one. There was Andrew—such a shy little fellow +as a rule—simply pouring out his heart to her.</p> +<p>Suddenly Belle rose. “It’s time for lunch,” she said, “and +you must be hungry. Andrew, go straight to the house and +wash your face and hands. No lady would sit down to lunch +with such a dirty boy as you are.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I say, am I?” said Andrew. “Do you think so, +Maggie?”</p> +<p>“You are a most disreputable-looking little scamp,” said +Maggie.</p> +<p>“Then I won’t be—I won’t, most truly. I’ll run off at +once and get clean, and I’ll get into my Sunday best if you +wish it.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, no!” said Maggie; “I don’t wish it. But clean +hands and face—well, they are essential to the ordinary +British boy, if he’s a gentleman.”</p> +<p>“I am your gentleman—for evermore,” said Andrew.</p> +<p>“I think you are, Peterkins.”</p> +<p>“Then I’m off to clean up,” said the small boy.</p> +<p>“I say, Andrew,” cried his sister; “before you go take +that door away from Jack’s hutch. He’ll be so furious at +your keeping the light and air away from his rabbits.”</p> +<p>“Not I. I can’t be bothered,” said Peterkins.</p> +<p>“Please take it away at once,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>Andrew’s brow puckered into a frown.</p> +<p>“But you’ll see ’em, and he’s got five!” he said in a most +distressed voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“Honor bright,” said Maggie, “I’ll turn my back and shut +my eyes. Jackdaw shall show me his rabbits himself.”</p> +<p>Peterkins immediately removed the door, dragging it to +its former place, where it leaned against a high wall. He +then rushed up to Maggie.</p> +<p>“I’ve done it,” he said. “Promise you won’t like his +bunnies.”</p> +<p>“Can’t,” said Maggie, “for I’ll love ’em.”</p> +<p>“Well, at least promise you won’t love him.”</p> +<p>“Can’t,” said Maggie again, “for I shall.”</p> +<p>“I’ll die of raging jealousy,” said Peterkins.</p> +<p>“No, you won’t, you silly boy. Get off to the house and +make yourself tidy. Come along, Belle.”</p> +<p>“I say, Maggie,” said Belle, “you mustn’t set those two +boys by the ears. They’re fond enough of each other.”</p> +<p>“Of course I’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Maggie. +“That’s a charming little chap, and Spot-ear is my rabbit +as well as his. Jackdaw shall share two of his rabbits with +me. Oh, it is such fun turning people round your little +finger!”</p> +<p>Just then Molly, rather red in the face, ran up.</p> +<p>“Oh, you darling, darling Maggie!” she said. “So you’ve +come!”</p> +<p>“Come!” cried Maggie. “I feel as if I’d been here for +ever.”</p> +<p>“I am delighted to see you,” said Molly.</p> +<p>She kissed her friend rapturously. Maggie presented a +cool, firm, round cheek.</p> +<p>“Oh, how sweet you look, Mags!”</p> +<p>“Don’t talk nonsense, Molly; I’m not a bit sweet-looking.”</p> +<p>“To me,” said Molly with fervor, “You’re the loveliest girl +in all the wide world.”</p> +<p>“I’m very ugly, and you know that perfectly well,” said +Maggie; “but now don’t let’s talk of looks.”</p> +<p>“Whatever were you doing in this part of the garden?” +inquired Molly.</p> +<p>“Oh, she was making love to Andrew,” remarked Belle. +“She calls him Peterkins, and he allows it, and he has given +her one-half of Spot-ear; and she means to make love to +Jack, and he’s to give her a couple of his rabbits—I mean, to +share them with her. She’s more extraordinary than ever, +more altogether out of the common.”</p> +<p>“As if I didn’t know that,” said Molly. “It’s all right +about this afternoon, Maggie. Oh, what do you think? We’re +to stay to supper, and I have a special invitation for father +and mother to come and join us then. Won’t it be fun! I +do wonder, Maggie, if you will like the Cardew girls.”</p> +<p>“Probably not,” replied Maggie in a very calm voice; “but +at least I can promise you one thing: they’ll both like +me.”</p> +<p>“No doubt whatever on that point,” replied Belle with +fervor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>They entered the house, and soon found themselves seated +round the table. Mr. Tristram greeted Maggie with his usual +gentle dignity. Molly delivered herself of her message from +the Castle. Mr. and Mrs. Tristram said that they would be +delighted to join the Cardews at supper.</p> +<p>The meal was proceeding cheerfully, and Maggie was entertaining +her host and hostess by just those pleasant little +pieces of information which an exceedingly well-bred girl +can impart without apparently intending to do so, when a +shy and very clean little figure glided into the room, a pair +of bright-brown eyes looked fixedly at Maggie, and then +glared defiance at Belle, who happened to be seated near +that adorable young person.</p> +<p>Peterkins was making up his mind that in future that +coveted seat should be his—for he and Maggie could talk in +whispers during the meal about Spot-ear, Angelus, and the +rest—when his father said, “Sit down, my boy; take your +place at once. You are rather late.”</p> +<p>The boy slipped into his seat.</p> +<p>“I am glad to see you looking so tidy, Andrew,” said his +mother approvingly.</p> +<p>Andrew looked across at Maggie. Maggie did not once +glance at him. She was talking in her gentle, lady-like tone +to the rector.</p> +<p>Presently another boy came in, bigger and broader than +Andrew.</p> +<p>Andrew said in a raised voice, “Here’s Jack, and his hands +aren’t a bit clean.”</p> +<p>“Hush!” said the rector.</p> +<p>Jack flushed and looked defiantly at Maggie.</p> +<p>Maggie raised her eyes and gave him a sweet glance. “Are +you really Jack?” she said. “I am so glad to know you. I +have been making friends with your brother Andrew, whom +I call Peterkins. I want to call you Jackdaw. May I?”</p> +<p>Jack felt a great lump in his throat. His face was scarlet. +He felt unable to speak, but he nodded.</p> +<p>“I have been looking at Peterkins’s rabbits,” continued +Maggie. “I want to see yours after lunch.”</p> +<p>“They’re beauties!” burst from Jack. “They’re ever so +many times better than Andrew’s. I’ve got a cream-colored +Angora. His name is Fanciful, and I’ve got––”</p> +<p>“Hush, my boy, hush!” said the rector. “Not so much +talking during meals. Well, Maggie, my dear—we must, of +course, call you by your Christian name––”</p> +<p>“Of course, Mr. Tristram; I should indeed feel strange if +you didn’t.”</p> +<p>“We are delighted to see you,” continued the rector, “and +you must tell the girls all about your new school.”</p> +<p>“And you too, sir,” said Maggie, in her soft, rich voice. +“Oh! you’ll be delighted—delighted; there never was such +a woman as Mrs. Ward.”</p> +<p>“I took a very great liking to her,” said the rector. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +think my girls fortunate to be placed under her care. She +has been good, very good and kind, to me and mine.”</p> +<p>“I wonder what he means by that,” thought Maggie; but +she made no remark aloud.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_III_LADY_LYSLE' id='CHAPTER_III_LADY_LYSLE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>LADY LYSLE.</h3> +</div> +<p>At about a quarter to four that same afternoon three girls +prepared to walk over to Meredith Manor. It was for such +golden opportunities that Molly and Isabel kept their best +frocks; it was for just such occasions that they arrayed +themselves most neatly and becomingly. Their dress, it must +be owned, was limited in quantity and also in quality; but +on the present occasion, in their pretty white spotted muslins, +with pale-blue sashes round their waists and white muslin +hats to match, they looked as charming a young pair of +English girls as could be found in the length and breadth +of the land. It is true their feet were not nearly as perfectly +shod as Maggie’s, nor were their gloves quite so immaculate; +but then they were going to play tennis, and shoes +and gloves did not greatly matter in the country. Maggie +thought otherwise. Her tan tennis-shoes exactly toned with +her neatly fitting brown holland dress. The little hat she +wore on her head was made of brown straw trimmed very +simply with ribbon; it was an ugly hat, but on Maggie’s head +it seemed to complete her dress, to be a part of her, so that +no one noticed in the least what she wore except that she +looked all right.</p> +<p>Two boys with worshiping eyes watched the trio as they +stepped down the rectory avenue and disappeared from view. +Two boys fought a little afterward, but made it up again, +and then lay on the grass side by side and discussed Maggie, +pulling her to pieces in one sense, but adoring her all the +same.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the girls themselves chatted as girls will when +the heart is light and there is no care anywhere. It was +very hot, even hotter than it had been in the morning; but +when they reached the road shaded so beautifully by the +elm-trees they found a delicious breeze which fanned their +faces. Somehow, Maggie never seemed to suffer from +weather at all. She was never too cold; she was never too +hot; she was never ill; no one had ever heard her complain +of ache or pain. She was always joyous, except when she +was sympathizing with somebody else’s sorrow, and then her +sympathy was detached—that is, it did not make her personally +sad, although it affected and helped the person who +was the recipient of it to a most remarkable extent. One +of Maggie’s great attractions was her absolute health, her +undiminished strength, the fact that she could endure almost +any exertion without showing a trace of fatigue. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>Molly and Isabel were also strong, hearty, well-made +girls, and the excitement of this expedition caused them to +chatter more volubly than usual. Maggie had a good deal +to tell them with regard to the new school, and they had a +great deal to tell her with regard to the Cardews.</p> +<p>Just as they were entering the avenue Maggie turned and +faced her two companions. “May I say something?” she +asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“Why, of course, Mags,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“Well, it’s this: from what you told me of your friends, +they must be the most profoundly uninteresting girls.”</p> +<p>“Oh no, indeed they are not!” said Isabel stanchly. +“Merry has a great deal in her, and Cicely is so nice-looking! +We think she will be beautiful by-and-by; but Merry undoubtedly +has the most character. Then there is something +dignified and aristocratic about them, and yet they are not +really proud, although they might be, for they are so rich, +and Meredith Manor is such a wonderful old house.”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you tell me,” said Maggie, “that Meredith Manor +belonged to Mrs. Cardew?”</p> +<p>“Did I?” said Isabel, coloring in some confusion. “I am +sure I don’t know; I don’t remember saying it. I don’t think +Mrs. Cardew is the sort of woman who would call anything +hers apart from her husband. She is devoted to him, and +no wonder, for he is quite charming. He is nearly as charming +as father, and that’s saying a great deal.”</p> +<p>“Do let’s come on. We’ll be late!” said Molly impatiently.</p> +<p>“No, not quite yet, please,” said Maggie. “I want to understand +the position. Mrs. Cardew was a Miss Meredith?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear Maggie; but what does that matter?”</p> +<p>“And,” continued Maggie, “she was the heiress of Meredith +Manor?”</p> +<p>“I suppose so. Father can tell you exactly.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t want to question him, but I want to get my +bearings. On the mother’s side, the Cardew girls belong to +the country. Isn’t that so?”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, yes. Do come on.”</p> +<p>“But their father,” continued Maggie, “he is in trade, +isn’t he?”</p> +<p>“He’s a perfect gentleman,” said Isabel stoutly; “no one +looks down on trade in these days.”</p> +<p>“Of course not. I adore trade myself,” said Maggie. She +now proceeded to walk very slowly up the avenue. She was +evidently thinking hard. After a time she said, “I mean to +get those girls to come to school with you, Molly, and with +you, Isabel, in September.”</p> +<p>Both the Tristrams burst into a peal of merry laughter. +“Oh Mags!” they cried, “we never did think before that +you were conceited. You certainly overrate even your powers +when you imagine that you will get Mr. Cardew to change +his mind.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean by his changing his mind?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>“Why, this,” said Belle. “He has set his face from the +very first against his girls leaving home. He wishes them to +have a home education, and that alone.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that is all right,” said Maggie cheerfully. “Well, +what will you bet, girls, that I have my way?”</p> +<p>“We don’t want you to lose, Maggie; but you certainly +will not get your way in this particular.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, I am going to be generous. I am not rich; +but I have got two gold bracelets at home, and I will give +one to each of you for your very own if I succeed in bringing +Cicely and Merry Cardew to Mrs. Ward’s school.”</p> +<p>“Oh! oh!” exclaimed both the Tristram girls.</p> +<p>“You’ll get your bracelets,” said Maggie in a most confident +tone, “and I can assure you they are beauties; my +darling father brought them from India years and years ago. +He brought a lot of jewels for mother and me, and I will +get the bracelets for you—one each—if I succeed; but you +must allow me to manage things my own way.”</p> +<p>“But you won’t do anything—anything—to upset the Cardews?” +said Isabel.</p> +<p>“Upset them!” said Maggie. “Well, yes, I do mean to +upset them. I mean to alter their lives; I mean to turn +things topsyturvy for them; but I’ll manage it in such a +fashion that neither you, nor Molly, nor your father, nor +your mother, nor anyone will suspect how I have got my +way, but get it I will. I thought I’d tell you, that’s all. +You’d like to have them at school with you, wouldn’t you?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, very much indeed,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“I am not so sure,” said Isabel. “It’s rather fun coming +back to the rectory in the holidays and telling the Cardew +girls all about what we do and how we spend our time. +There’ll be nothing to tell them if we all go to the same +school.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Maggie, “I don’t agree with you. I expect, +on the contrary, you’ll find a vast lot more to talk about. But +come, let’s hurry now; I want to be introduced to them, for +I have no time to lose.”</p> +<p>Neither Isabel nor Molly could quite make out why they +felt a certain depression after Maggie Howland had explained +her views. The thought of the possible possession +of the bracelets did not greatly elate them. Besides, there +was not the most remote chance of even such a fascinating +young person as Maggie succeeding in her project. She +would meet her match, if not in Mrs. Cardew, then in Mr. +Cardew. There was no doubt whatever on that point. But +they greatly wished she would not try. They did not want +her to upset the placid existence of their young friends. +The girls who lived at the Castle, the girls who pursued their +sheltered, happy, refined life, were in a manner mysterious +and remote to the young Tristrams, and they thought that +they would not love them any more if they were brought into +closer contact with them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<p>A turn in the avenue now brought the old manor-house +into view. Some friends of Mrs. Cardew’s had arrived, but +there were no other young people to be seen. Cicely and +Merry were standing talking to a lady of middle age who +had come to pay an afternoon call, when Cicely found herself +changing color and glancing eagerly at Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh, will you excuse me?” she said in her pretty, refined +voice. “Our special friends the Tristrams, the rector’s +daughters, and a friend of theirs, a Miss Howland, are coming +up the avenue.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, my dear,” said Lady Lysle; and Cicely and +Merry were off down the avenue like arrows from the bow +to meet their friends.</p> +<p>Lady Lysle watched the two girls, and then turned to +speak to Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>“What name was that I heard Cicely say?” was her +remark. “Of course I know the Tristrams, but who was +the girl who was with them?”</p> +<p>“A special friend of theirs, a Miss Howland. She has +been their school companion abroad. She is staying with +them at the rectory. Why, what is the matter, Lady Lysle? +Do you know anything about her?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know her,” said Lady Lysle, “but I know a +little bit about her mother. I should not have supposed +the Tristram girls and Miss Howland were in the same +set.”</p> +<p>“Why, what is wrong?” said Mrs. Cardew, who was exceedingly +particular as regarded the people whom her daughters +knew.</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said Lady Lysle. “I happen not +particularly to like Mrs. Howland; but doubtless I am prejudiced.”</p> +<p>She turned to talk to a neighbor, and by this time the five +girls had met. There was an eager interchange of greetings, +and then Maggie found herself walking up the avenue by +Merry’s side, while Cicely found a place between the two +Tristram girls.</p> +<p>“I am so glad you’ve come!” said Merry in her gentle, +polite voice.</p> +<p>“It is kind of you to ask me,” replied Maggie. “Do you +know,” she added, turning and fixing her curious eyes on her +companion’s face, “that I am one of those poor girls who +have never seen a beautiful house like yours before.”</p> +<p>“I am so glad you like our house,” said Merry; “but you +haven’t seen it yet.”</p> +<p>“I am looking at it now. So this is what I am accustomed +to hear spoken of as one of the ‘Homes of England’?”</p> +<p>“It certainly is a home,” said Merry, “and an old one, too. +Parts of the Manor have been centuries in existence, but +some parts, of course, are comparatively new.”</p> +<p>“Will you take me all over it, Miss Cardew?” asked Maggie.</p> +<p>“Indeed, I shall be delighted; but you must come another +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +day for that, for we want to make up some sets of tennis +without any delay. We have all our afternoon planned out. +There are three or four young people who may arrive any +moment, so that we shall be able to make two good +sets.”</p> +<p>“How wonderful it all is!” said Maggie, who kept on looking +at the house with ever-increasing admiration, and did +not seem particularly keen about tennis.</p> +<p>“Don’t you like tennis, Miss—Miss Howland?” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh yes,” replied Maggie after a pause; “but then I think,” +she added, after yet another pause, “that I like every nice +thing in all the world.”</p> +<p>“How delightful that must be!” said Merry, becoming +more and more attracted by Maggie each moment. “And you +know a lot, too, don’t you? For you have seen so much of +the world.”</p> +<p>“I know very little,” replied Maggie; “and as to having +seen the world, that is to come. I am quite young, you +know—only just sixteen.”</p> +<p>“But Isabel and Molly told me that you knew more than +any other girl of their acquaintance.”</p> +<p>Maggie gave a cheerful laugh, and said, “You mustn’t mind +what they say, poor darlings! The fact is, they’re fond +of me, and they magnify my knowledge; but in reality it +doesn’t exist. Only, I must tell you, Miss Cardew, I mean +to see everything, and to know everything. I mean to have +a glorious future.”</p> +<p>The enthusiasm in the charming voice was also seen, to +shine through those queer, narrow eyes. Merry felt her +heart beat. “I am going to tell you something in return,” +she said, speaking, for a wonder, without diffidence, for she +was naturally very shy and retiring. “I wish with all my +heart that I could live a glorious life such as you describe.”</p> +<p>“And surely you can?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“No, I must be satisfied with a very quiet life. But +we won’t talk of it now. I am really very happy. I should +consider myself a most wicked, discontented girl were I anything +else. And, please, may I take you to see mother?”</p> +<p>Merry brought up her new friend to introduce her to +Mrs. Cardew, who for the first moment, remembering what +Lady Lysle had said, was a trifle stiff to Maggie Howland, +but two minutes afterward was chatting to her in a pleasant +and very friendly manner. She even went the length of personally +introducing Maggie to Lady Lysle, excusing herself +for the act by saying that Lady Lysle knew her mother.</p> +<p>Maggie also succeeded in charming Lady Lysle, who said +to Mrs. Cardew afterward, “I am glad you have introduced +the girl to me. She is not in the least like her commonplace, +affected mother. She seems a very good sort, and +I like plain girls.”</p> +<p>“But is she plain?” said Mrs. Cardew in some astonishment. +“Do you know, I never noticed it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>Lady Lysle laughed. “You never noticed how remarkably +plain that girl is, my dear friend?” she said.</p> +<p>“To be frank with you,” said Mrs. Cardew, “I didn’t think +of her face at all. She has a pretty manner and a nice, +sensible, agreeable way of talking. I do not think my girls +can suffer injury from her.”</p> +<p>“They seem to like her, at any rate,” said Lady Lysle, +looking significantly as she spoke at the distant part of the +grounds, where Maggie, with Cicely at one side of her and +Merry at the other, was talking eagerly. “Oh yes, she +seems a nice child,” continued the great lady, “and it would +be unfair to judge a girl because her mother is not to one’s +taste.”</p> +<p>“But is there anything really objectionable in the +mother?” asked Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>“Nothing whatsoever, except that she is pushing, vulgar, +and shallow. I am under the impression that the Howlands +are exceedingly poor. Of course they are not to be blamed +for that, but how the mother can manage to send the girl +to expensive schools puzzles me.”</p> +<p>“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Gardew in her gentle voice, “the +child is evidently very different from her mother, and I +must respect the mother for doing her best to get her girl +well educated.”</p> +<p>“Your girls are not going to school, are they, Sylvia?” +asked Lady Lysle.</p> +<p>“Mine? Of course not. Their father wouldn’t hear of it.”</p> +<p>“On the whole, I think he is right,” said Lady Lysle, +“though there are advantages in schools. Now, that school +at Kensington, Aylmer House, which my dear friend Mrs. +Ward conducts with such skill and marvelous dexterity, is +a place where any girl might receive advantages.”</p> +<p>“Is it possible,” said Mrs. Cardew, “that Mrs. Ward is +your friend?”</p> +<p>“My very great friend, dear. I have known her all my +life. Aylmer House is particularly select. My niece Aneta +is at the school, and her mother is charmed with it.”</p> +<p>“But that is very strange,” said Mrs. Gardew after a pause. +“You must talk to-night to our rector when he comes. Oh +yes, of course you’ll stay to supper.”</p> +<p>“I cannot, I regret to say.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, if you won’t, there’s no use in pressing you. +But I have something curious to say. The rector’s two little +girls are going to Aylmer House in September, and that +little Miss Howland whom I just introduced to you is also +one of the girls under Mrs. Ward’s care.”</p> +<p>“Then she will do well,” said Lady Lysle alter a pause, +during which her face looked very thoughtful.</p> +<p>“I wonder if she knows your niece,” said Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>Lady Lysle laughed. “I presume she does. The school +only contains twenty boarders—never any more. I happen to +know that there are two vacancies at the present moment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +Really, if I were you, Sylvia, I would give your girls a couple +of years there. It would do them a world of good, and they +would acquire some slight knowledge of the world before +they enter it.”</p> +<p>“Impossible! quite impossible!” said Mrs. Cardew; “their +father would never consent.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV_POWER_WAS_EVERYTHING_TO_MAGGIE' id='CHAPTER_IV_POWER_WAS_EVERYTHING_TO_MAGGIE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>POWER WAS EVERYTHING TO MAGGIE.</h3> +</div> +<p>Meanwhile the young people enjoyed themselves vastly. +Maggie was very modest with regard to her tennis, but she +quickly proved that she could play better than any one +else at the Manor that day. The visitors walking about the +grounds paused to remark on her excellent play and to inquire +who she was. She took her little triumph very +modestly, saying that she was rather surprised at herself, +and supposed that it was the fresh and delicious air of the +country which had put her into such good form.</p> +<p>“She is ridiculously overmodest,” said Isabel Tristram to +Merry, “for she always did play every sort of game better +than the rest of us. She is not quite so good at her books; +except, indeed, at certain things, such as recitation. I wish +you could see and hear her then. She is almost a genius. +She looks like one inspired.”</p> +<p>“I think her quite delightful,” said Merry; “and as to +being plain––”</p> +<p>“I told you, didn’t I?” said Belle, “that you’d never notice +her looks after you had seen her for a minute or two.”</p> +<p>By-and-by it was time for the family to go into the house +for supper at Meredith Manor. The three girls from the +rectory were taken upstairs, to a spacious bedroom to wash +their hands and brush their hair. Molly and Isabel were +both most anxious to know what Maggie thought of Cicely +and Merry.</p> +<p>“What I think of them?” said Maggie. “Oh, they’re first-rate, +and not really dull at all; and the whole place is lovely, +and all the people I met to-day were so nice, except, indeed, +that Lady Lysle.”</p> +<p>“Lady Lysle!” exclaimed Molly in a tone of astonishment. +“Why, she is Mrs. Cardew’s greatest friend. Do +you mean to say you were introduced to her?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mrs. Cardew was kind enough to do so, though I +am sure I didn’t want it at all.”</p> +<p>“But I can’t imagine why she did it,” said Molly in a +tone of astonishment. “Mrs. Cardew never introduces either +of us to the grown-up people.”</p> +<p>“Well, her ostensible reason,” said Maggie, “was that Lady +Lysle knows my mother.”</p> +<p>“Does she, indeed?” said Isabel in a tone of great respect. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>“But that doesn’t make me like her any the better,” said +Maggie. “And now I will tell you why, girls, only you must +faithfully promise you won’t repeat it to any one.”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” said the girls eagerly, who were accustomed +to receive secrets from their schoolfellows, though +Maggie, as a rule, never gave her secrets to anyone.</p> +<p>“Well, I will tell you,” said Maggie, the color flushing into +her face and then leaving it pale again. “Aneta Lysle is +one of the girls at Aylmer House. She is Lady Lysle’s +niece; and—well—you know I am tolerant enough, but I +can’t bear Aneta Lysle.”</p> +<p>Molly and Isabel were silent for a minute.</p> +<p>“If <i>you</i> can’t bear her,” said Isabel, “then I don’t suppose +we’ll like her either when we go to the school.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, you will; you’ll adore her—sure to. Now promise +once again that you will never repeat this.”</p> +<p>“We certainly will not,” said Molly.</p> +<p>Isabel nodded emphatically. “We don’t tell secrets,” she +said. Then she added, “We had best go downstairs now, +if you’re quite tidy, Mags.”</p> +<p>During supper that night Mrs. Cardew, who found herself +seated near her favorite rector, began to ply him with questions +with regard to Aylmer House. How had he heard of +it, and why had he specially fixed on that establishment +for his daughters?</p> +<p>The rector smiled. He had twinkling dark eyes, and they +now looked down the long table until they rested for a brief +moment on Maggie’s young figure. She was talking to Mr. +Cardew, who, stately and reserved as he was, took her remarks +with good-natured tolerance.</p> +<p>“A nice, unaffected child,” he kept saying to himself, and +neither did he remark how plain she was.</p> +<p>“That young person yonder,” said Mr. Tristram to Mrs. +Cardew, “is the influence that has induced me to make arrangements +for my girls at Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>“Miss Howland! You don’t mean to say that you are influenced +by a schoolgirl?”</p> +<p>Mr. Tristram looked grave. “In this case I may as well +confess at once that I have been influenced,” he said. “I +have heard a great deal of the child from Molly and Isabel, +for they were all three at the same excellent school in +Hanover. I met little Miss Howland when I was in London +at Christmas. Being such a great friend of my children’s, +I naturally talked to her. She told me of Mrs. Ward and of +the new delightful school to which she was going. She certainly +never once pressed me to send my girls there, but it +occurred to me that I would visit Mrs. Ward and see if it +could be arranged. My girls are quite proficient for their +ages in foreign languages; but I want them now thoroughly +to learn literature and English history, and also those numerous +small accomplishments which are so necessary for a gentlewoman. +There is also no place in the world like London, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +in my opinion, for hearing good music and seeing good art. +I saw Mrs. Ward. A short interview with her was all-sufficient. +I could not desire to put my girls in safer hands.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Cardew listened very attentively.</p> +<p>“Then you think, Mr. Tristram,” she said after a pause, +“that school-life is really good for girls?”</p> +<p>“In my humble opinion, Mrs. Cardew, it is essential. A +girl must find her level. She can only find it at school.”</p> +<p>“Then what about my dear girls?” said Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>The rector bowed in a very courteous manner. “School-life +may not be really necessary for them,” he said; “although +you know my opinion—in short you know what I +would do with them did they belong to me.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Cardew was silent for a minute or two. Then she +continued the conversation by saying, “It is really a curious +fact that Lady Lysle, my great friend, who was here this +afternoon, spoke to me in terms of the warmest approbation +with regard to Mrs. Ward and Aylmer House. She +says that her own niece Aneta is a member of the school. +She further said that there were two vacancies at present, +and she urged me to send my girls there. But, alas I cannot +do that, for their father would not hear of it.”</p> +<p>“I do wish he would hear of it,” said Mr. Tristram with +some feeling. “You will never have your girls properly +taught unless they go to school. It is impossible at this distance +from London to command the services of the best +masters and governesses. You will not have a resident governess +in the house—forgive me if I speak freely, dear +lady, but I love your children as though they were my own—and +if you could persuade Mr. Cardew to seize this opportunity +and let them go to school with Molly and Isabel I +am certain you would never regret it.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could persuade him,” said Mrs. Cardew; “more +particularly as that excellent music master, Mr. Bennett, has +just written to say he must discontinue giving his music-lessons, +as the distance from Warwick is too far for his +health, and Miss Beverley, their daily governess, has also +broken down. But there, I know my husband never will +agree to part with the girls.”</p> +<p>“Then the next best thing,” said Mr. Tristram, speaking +in a cheerful tone, “is for you to take up your abode in +your London house, and give the girls the advantages of +masters and mistresses straight from the Metropolis. Why, +you will be bringing them out in a couple of years, Mrs. +Cardew, and you would like them to have all possible advantages +first.”</p> +<p>“Something must be done, certainly,” said Mrs. Cardew; +“and I like that girl, Miss Howland, although Lady Lysle +seemed prejudiced against her at first.”</p> +<p>“Oh, she is a girl in a thousand,” said Mr. Tristram; “so +matter-of-fact and amiable and agreeable. See how she is +talking to your husband at this very moment! I never saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +a nicer or more modest young creature, but she is so exceedingly +clever that she will push her own way anywhere. +She has bowled over my two young urchins already, although +she has been only a few hours at the rectory. What could +Lady Lysle have to say against Maggie Howland?”</p> +<p>“Oh, nothing—nothing at all, and I ought not to have +spoken; but it seems she does not much care for Mrs. Howland.”</p> +<p>“I think I can explain that,” said Mr. Tristram. “Mrs. Howland +means well, but is a rather silly sort of woman. The +girl manages her in the sweetest way. The girl herself takes +after her father, poor Howland the African explorer, who +lost his life in his country’s cause. He had, I am told, +a most remarkable personality.”</p> +<p>When Molly and Isabel Tristram, accompanied by Maggie +Howland, the rector, and his wife, walked back to the rectory +that evening, Maggie was in excellent spirits. It was natural +that the three young people should start on in front. Maggie +talked on various subjects; but although the Tristrams were +most anxious to get opinions from her with regard to the +Cardews, she could not be led to talk of them until they +were approaching the house.</p> +<p>It was now nearly eleven o’clock, and a perfect summer +night. The boys, Jack and Andrew, had gone to bed, but +a few lights were twinkling here and there in the dear old +rectory.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am not a scrap sleepy”, said Maggie. “This air +stimulates one; it is splendid. By the way, girls,” she added, +suddenly turning and facing her companions, “would you +like your bracelets to have rubies in them or sapphires?”</p> +<p>“Nonsense!” said Molly, turning crimson.</p> +<p>Belle laughed. “You don’t suppose you are accomplishing +that?” she said.</p> +<p>Maggie spoke rather slowly. “Mother has one dozen bracelets +in her jewelry-case. Father brought them to her in +the course of his travels. Some he got in India and some +in Africa. They are very valuable and exceedingly quaint, +and I recall now to my memory, and can-see clearly in my +mind’s eye one lovely gold bracelet fashioned like a snake +and with eyes of ruby, and another (which I think he must +have got at Colombo) that consists of a broad gold band +studded here and there with sapphires. How pretty those +bracelets would look on your dear little arms, Molly and +Isabel; and how glad—how very, very glad—your Maggie +will be to give them to you!”</p> +<p>“And, of course, when you do give them to us we’ll be delighted +to have them,” said Molly and Isabel.</p> +<p>Then Isabel laughed and said, “But what is the good of +counting your chickens before they’re hatched?”</p> +<p>“I consider my chickens hatched,” was Maggie’s remark, +“What fun we shall all have together next winter! Aneta +won’t have much chance against us. Yes, girls, of course +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +I like your friends Cicely and Merry; but they’ll be twice +three times—the girls they are when they have been for +a short time at Mrs. Ward’s school.”</p> +<p>“Aren’t you tired, Maggie?” was Molly’s remark. +“Wouldn’t you like to go to bed?”</p> +<p>“I am not a scrap tired, and I don’t want to go to bed +at all; but I suppose that means that you would?”</p> +<p>“Well, I must own to feeling a little sleepy,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“And so am I,” said Belle.</p> +<p>“Girls, girls, come in; your father wants to lock up,” called +Mrs. Tristram at that moment.</p> +<p>The girls all entered the house, lit their candles, and went +upstairs to their rooms.</p> +<p>As Maggie was wishing her two dear friends good-night +she said quietly, “I hope you won’t mind; but Merry Cardew—or, +as I ought to call her, Miss Cardew—has asked me +to go over to the Manor to-morrow morning in order to +show me the old house. I said I’d be there at ten o’clock, +and could then get back to you in time for lunch. I do +trust you don’t mind.”</p> +<p>“Of course we don’t,” said Molly in a hearty tone. “Now, +good-night, Mags.”</p> +<p>“But if you think, Maggie,” said Isabel, “that you will +succeed in that scheme of yours you will find yourself +vastly mistaken.”</p> +<p>Maggie smiled gently, and the next moment she found +herself alone. She went and stood by the open window. +There was a glorious full moon in the sky, and the garden, +with its deep shadows and brilliant avenues of light, looked +lovely. But Maggie was not thinking of the scenery. Her +thoughts were busy with those ideas which were always +running riot in her busy little head. She was not unamiable; +she was in reality a good-hearted girl, but she was very +ambitious, and she sighed, above all things for power and +popularity.</p> +<p>When she came to visit Molly and Isabel she had not the +faintest idea of inducing Cicely and Merry to join that select +group who were taught by Mrs. Ward at Aylmer House. +But when once the idea had entered her brain, she determined, +with her accustomed quickness, to carry it into +execution. She had never yet, in the whole course of her +life, met with defeat. At the various schools where she +had been taught she had always been popular and had won +friends and never created an enemy-but at Aylmer House, +extraordinary and delightful as the life was, there was one +girl who excited her enmity—who, in short, roused the +worst that was in her. That girl’s name was Aneta Lysle. +No sophistries on the part of Maggie, no clever speeches, +no well-timed and courteous acts, could win the approval of +Aneta; and just because she was impossible to get at, because +she carried her young head high, because she had that +which Maggie could never have—a stately and wonderful +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +beauty—Maggie was jealous of her, and was determined, if +she could not win Aneta over to be her friend, to use her own +considerable powers against the girl. She had not for a single +moment, however, thought that she could be helped by +Cicely and Merry in this direction, and had intended to +get them to come to the school simply because they were +aristocratic and rich, in the first instance. But when she +saw Lady Lysle—Lady Lysle, who hated her mother and +before whom her mother trembled and shrank; Lady Lysle, +who was Aneta’s aunt—she knew that Cicely and Merry +might be most valuable aids to her in carrying out her +campaign against Aneta, and would help her to establish +herself once and for all as the most powerful and important +person in Mrs. Ward’s school.</p> +<p>Power was everything to Maggie. By power she meant +to rule her small school-world, and eventually by the aid +of that same gift to take her position in the greater world +that lies beyond school. In her heart of hearts she considered +Cicely and Merry tiresome, silly, ignorant little girls; +but they could be made to play into her hands. They must +come to Aylmer House—oh yes! and already she felt certain +she had put the thin end of the wedge beneath that opposition +which she knew she must expect from Mr. Cardew. She +would see him again on the morrow. Indeed, greater schemes +than hers could be carried into effect within a fortnight.</p> +<p>Maggie was the soul of common-sense, however, and +had no idea of wearing herself out thinking when she +ought to be asleep. She accordingly soon turned from the +window, and, getting into bed, dropped at once into healthy +slumber.</p> +<p>When she awoke she felt remarkably light-hearted and +cheerful. She got up early, and went with Andrew and +Jack to see the adorable rabbits. So judicious was she on +this occasion that both boys returned with her to breakfast +in the highest good-humor.</p> +<p>“Mother, mother,” cried Jackdaw, “she loves Fanciful because +he’s so beautiful.”</p> +<p>“And she adores Spot-ear because he’s so ugly,” said +Peterkins.</p> +<p>The boys were exceedingly happy at being allowed to sit at +breakfast one on each side of Maggie, who, when she did +not speak to them—for she wanted to ingratiate herself with +every one present, and not with them alone—contrived to +pat their hands from time to time, and so keep them in a +subdued state of exceeding good-humor.</p> +<p>Soon after breakfast she flew up to her room, put on +that strangely becoming brown hat, which would have suited +no other girl but herself, and went off to the Manor. She +was met at the gate by Merry, who was anxiously waiting +for her appearance.</p> +<p>“I am so sorry that Cicely isn’t here too,” said Merry; +“but mother wanted Cicely to drive into Warwick with her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +this morning. We’re going for a long motor-ride this afternoon. +Don’t you love motors?”</p> +<p>“I have never been in one in my life,” replied Maggie.</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” said Merry; “then you shall come with us, +although I know I can’t ask you to-day, but perhaps to-morrow +we could manage.”</p> +<p>“I must not be too much away from Molly and Isabel, for +it would not be kind—would it, Miss Cardew?”</p> +<p>“Do call me Merry. ‘Miss Cardew’ sounds so stiff, and +you know I feel that I have known you all my life, for +Molly and Isabel have always been talking about you. +Mother was so pleased when she heard that you wanted to +see the old house; and, do you know, Maggie––You don’t +mind my saying Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Of course not, Merry—dear Merry.”</p> +<p>“Well—would you believe it?—father is going to show +you the manuscript-room himself. I can tell you that is +an honor.”</p> +<p>“I am so delighted!” said Maggie. “Your father is a +most charming man.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, that he is,” said Merry; “but I never saw him +get on so well with a young girl before.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Maggie in her modest way, “it was just that +I wanted to listen to him; what he said was so very interesting.”</p> +<p>The girls were now walking up the avenue.</p> +<p>“Please,” said Merry suddenly, “tell me more about your +school—I mean that new, wonderful school you are at in +London.”</p> +<p>“Aylmer House?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Yes, Aylmer House. Mother was talking about it this +morning. She was quite interested in it.”</p> +<p>“Your mother was talking about it?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It seems Mr. Tristram had been praising it to +her like anything last night.”</p> +<p>“Well, he can’t say too much in its favor,” said Maggie. +“Any girl who didn’t get good from it ought to be ashamed +of herself.”</p> +<p>“What is that you are saying, Miss Howland?” said the +voice of Mr. Cardew at that moment.</p> +<p>“Oh father! I never saw you,” cried Merry.</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew came up and shook hands with Maggie. “I +was walking just behind you on the grass,” he said, “and +I heard your enthusiastic remarks with regard to the school +that the young Tristrams are going to. I am heartily +pleased; I take a great interest in the Tristrams.”</p> +<p>“Oh sir,” said Maggie suddenly, “I only wish—oh! I +hardly dare to say it—but I only do wish that your girls +were coming too!”</p> +<p>Merry turned crimson and then grew pale. “Father +doesn’t approve of schools,” she said in a faint voice.</p> +<p>“As a rule, I do not,” said Mr. Cardew decidedly; “but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +of course I am bound to say there are schools and schools. +You shall tell me all about your school presently, Miss +Howland. And now, I will allow my daughter to entertain +you.”</p> +<p>“But, father darling, you promised to show Maggie the +manuscript-room yourself.”</p> +<p>“Are you interested in black-letter?” said Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“I am interested in everything old,” replied Maggie.</p> +<p>“Well, then, I will show you the manuscript-room with +pleasure; but if you want to go over the Manor you have a +heavy morning’s work before you, and Merry is an excellent +guide. However, let me see. I will meet you in the library +at a quarter to twelve. Until then, adieu.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_V_WHAT_DID_YOU_TALK_ABOUT' id='CHAPTER_V_WHAT_DID_YOU_TALK_ABOUT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>“WHAT DID YOU TALK ABOUT?”</h3> +</div> +<p>Maggie and Merry had now reached the great porch which +overshadowed the entrance to the old house. The next instant +they found themselves in the hall. This, supported by graceful +pillars, was open up to the roof of the house. It was +a magnificent hall, and Merry began enthusiastically to explain +its perfections. Maggie showed not a pretended but a +real interest. She asked innumerable and sensible questions. +Her queer, calm, narrow eyes grew very bright. She smiled +now and then, and her face seemed the personification of intelligence. +With that smile, and those gleaming white teeth, +who could have thought of Maggie Howland as plain?</p> +<p>They went from the hall into the older part of the house, +and there Merry continued her duties as guide. Never before +had she been in the company of so absolutely charming a +companion. Maggie was the best listener in the world. She +never interrupted with tiresome or irrelevant questions. +When she did speak it was with the utmost intelligence, +showing clearly that she understood what she was being +told.</p> +<p>By-and-by they found themselves in the picture-gallery. +There Merry insisted on their sitting down for a time and +taking a rest. She touched a bell as she spoke, and then +motioned Maggie to recline in a deep arm-chair which faced +the picture of a beautiful lady who was the grandmother +of the present Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>“That lady’s name,” said Merry, “was Cicely Meredith, +and she was the wife of the last Meredith but one who +owned the Manor. It was little supposed in those days that +my darling mother would inherit the place, and that Cardews +should live at Meredith Manor after all. Ah, here comes +Dixon!—Dixon, will you put our lunch on that small table? +Thank you very much.”</p> +<p>One of the servants in the Cardew livery had appeared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +He was bearing a small tray of tempting drinks, fruit, +and cake.</p> +<p>“Now, Maggie, eat; do eat,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“I declare I am as hungry as a hawk,” said Maggie, and +she munched cake and ate fruit and felt that she was, as +she expressed it to herself—although she would not have +used the words aloud—in clover.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, she was not going to lose sight of that mission +which she had set herself. She turned and looked +thoughtfully at Merry. Merry had a pretty profile, with the +short upper-lip and the graceful appearance of a very high-bred +girl.</p> +<p>“Do you,” said Maggie after a pause, “happen to know +Aneta Lysle?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course,” said Merry. “Do you mean Lady +Lysle’s niece?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Maggie.</p> +<p>“I don’t know her well, but she has stayed here once +or twice. Is she a friend of yours, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Oh no; scarcely a friend, although we are schoolfellows.”</p> +<p>“How stupid of me!” said Merry, speaking with some +warmth. “Of course, I quite forgot that she is at Mrs. +Ward’s school. She is older than you, isn’t she, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Yes, a year older, as days are counted; but she appears +even more than her age, which is just seventeen. Don’t you +think her very beautiful, Merry?”</p> +<p>“Now that I recall her, I do; but she never made a special +impression on me. She never stayed here long enough.”</p> +<p>“Nevertheless, she is a sort of cousin of yours?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Lady Lysle is mother’s cousin; but then one doesn’t +love all one’s relations,” said Merry carelessly. “Have another +piece of cake, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Thanks,” said Maggie, helping herself. “How delicious +it is!”</p> +<p>“And put some more cream over your raspberries. The +raspberries at Meredith Manor are celebrated.”</p> +<p>Maggie helped herself to some more cream. “I do wish” +she said suddenly.</p> +<p>“That I would go on telling you about the pictures?” said +Merry. “But you must be tired. I never knew any one take +in interesting things so quickly.”</p> +<p>“I am glad you think I do; but it so happens that I do +not want to hear about the pictures this morning. I think +perhaps I am, after all, a bit tired. It is the pleasure, the +delight of knowing you and your sister, and of being with +those sweet girls Molly and Isabel.”</p> +<p>“Yes, aren’t they darlings’?” said Merry.</p> +<p>“I want you to tell me a lot about yourself,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“We have half-an-hour yet before I am to meet your +father in the manuscript-room. Begin at the beginning, and +tell me just everything. You are not schoolgirls?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>“Oh, no,” said Merry, speaking slowly. “We are taught +at home.”</p> +<p>“But have you a resident governess?”</p> +<p>“No; father objects. This is holiday-time of course; but +as a rule we have a daily governess and masters.”</p> +<p>“It must be dull,” said Maggie, speaking in a low tone—so +low that Merry had to strain her ears to hear it.</p> +<p>She replied at once, “’Tisn’t nearly so interesting as school; +but we—we are—quite—<i>quite</i> satisfied.”</p> +<p>“I wonder you don’t go to school,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Father doesn’t wish it, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“But you’d like it, wouldn’t you?”</p> +<p>“Like it!” said Merry, her eyes distended a little. “Like +to see the world and to know other girls? Well, yes, I +should like it.”</p> +<p>“There’d be discipline, you know,” said Maggie. “It +wouldn’t be all fun.”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” said Merry. “How could one expect education +to be all fun?”</p> +<p>“And you would naturally like to be very well educated, +wouldn’t you?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Certainly; but I suppose we are—that is, after a fashion.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie, “after a fashion, doubtless; but you +will go into society by-and-by, and you’ll find—well, that +home education leaves out a great many points of knowledge +which cannot possibly be attained except by mixing with +other girls.”</p> +<p>“I suppose so,” said Merry, speaking with a slight degree +of impatience; “but then Cicely and I can’t help it. We have +to do what father and mother wish.”</p> +<p>“Yes, exactly, Merry; and it’s so awfully sweet and amiable +of you! Now, may I describe to you a little bit of school-life?”</p> +<p>“If you like, Maggie. Molly and Isabel have often told me +of what you did in Hanover.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Hanover?” said Maggie with a tone of slight contempt. +“We don’t think of Hanover now in our ideas of +school-life. We had a fairly good time, for a German school; +but to compare it with Mrs. Ward’s house! Oh, I cannot +tell you what a dream of a life I have lived during the +last term! It is only to see Mrs. Ward to love her; and +all the other mistresses are so nice, and the girls are so very +select and lady-like. Then we take a keen interest in our +lessons. You’re the musical one, aren’t you, Merry?”</p> +<p>“Yes. How ever did you find that out?”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Maggie, “I looked at you, and I guessed it. +Besides, I heard you hum an air under your breath yesterday, +and I knew at once that you had a lovely voice.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I haven’t; and I’m too young to begin singing-lessons.”</p> +<p>“Not a bit of it. That’s quite an exploded idea. If, for +instance––Oh, of course I know you won’t be there; but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +if you were so lucky as to be a pupil at Mrs. Ward’s you +would be taught to sing, and, what is more valuable, you +would hear good, wonderful, beautiful singing, and wonderful, +beautiful music of all sorts. Once a week we all +go to a concert at Queen’s Hall. Have you ever been there?”</p> +<p>“No! I don’t know London at all.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, another day in the week,” continued Maggie, +“we go to the different museums and picture-galleries, and +we get accustomed to good art, and we are taught to discern +good from bad. We learn architecture at St. Paul’s and +the Abbey and some of the other churches. You see, Mrs. +Ward’s idea is to teach us everything first-hand, and during +the summer term she takes us on long expeditions up the +river to Kew and Hampton Court and all those dear old +places. Then, in addition, she has what she calls reunions +in the evenings. We all wear evening-dress, and she invites +two or three friends, and we sing and play among ourselves, +and we are taught the little observances essential to +good society; and, besides all the things that Mrs. Ward +does, we have our own private club and our own debating +society, and—oh, it is a full life!—and it teaches one, it +helps one.”</p> +<p>Merry’s soft brown eyes were very bright, and her cheeks +had a carnation glow on them, and her pretty red lips were +slightly parted. “You do all these things at school—at +school?” she said.</p> +<p>“Why, of course; and many, many more things that you +can’t even imagine, for it’s the whole influence of the +place that is so delightful. Then you make friends—great +friends—and you get to understand character, and you get +to understand the value of real discipline, and you are taught +also that you are not meant to live a worldly and selfish +life, for Mrs. Ward is very philanthropic. Each girl in her +school has to help a poor girl in East London, and the poor +girl becomes in a sort of manner her property. I have got +a dear little lame girl. Her name is Susie Style. I am allowed +to see her once or twice a year, and I write her a +letter every week, and she writes back to me, and I collect +enough money to keep her in a cripples’ home. I haven’t +enough of my own, for I am perhaps the poorest girl +in the school; but that makes no difference, for Mrs. Ward +doesn’t allow the word money or rank to be spoken +of—she lives above all that. She says that money is +a great talent, and that people who are merely purse-proud +are detestable. Oh, but I’ve told you enough, haven’t +I?”</p> +<p>“Yes, oh yes!” said Merry. “Thanks very, very much. +And so Aneta is there; and as Molly and Isabel will be +there, they will tell me more at Christmas. Perhaps we +ought to go down now to meet father in the manuscript-room.”</p> +<p>Maggie rose with alacrity. She followed her companion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +quite cheerfully. She felt assured within herself that the +thin end of the wedge had been well inserted by now.</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew was exceedingly courteous and pleasant, and +Maggie charmed him by her intelligence and her marvellous +gift of assimilating knowledge. Not a word was said with +regard to the London school, and at ten minutes to one +Maggie bade good-bye to Mr. Cardew and Merry, and went +back to the rectory in considerable spirits.</p> +<p>Molly and Isabel were all impatience for her return.</p> +<p>“Well, what did you do?” said Molly. “Who was there +to meet you?”</p> +<p>“Only Merry. Cicely had gone with Mrs. Cardew to Warwick.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, Merry is the jollier of the two, although they +are both perfectly sweet,” said Molly. “And did she show +you all the house, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Maggie; “I really couldn’t take it all in; but +she took me round the armory and into the old tower, and +then we went into the picture-gallery.”</p> +<p>“Oh, she took you into the picture-gallery! There are +Romneys and Gainsboroughs and Sir Joshua Reynoldses, and +all sorts of magnificent treasures there.”</p> +<p>“Doubtless,” said Maggie. “But when I tell you what we +did you will laugh.”</p> +<p>“What did you do? Do tell us, Mags.”</p> +<p>“We sat in easy-chairs. I faced the portrait of a very +beautiful lady after whom Cicely Cardew is called.”</p> +<p>“Of course I know her well—I mean her picture,” said +Isabel. “That is a Gainsborough. Didn’t you admire it?”</p> +<p>“Yes; but I want to look at it again; I’m going to do +the gallery another day, and on that occasion I think I shall +ask Cicely to accompany me.”</p> +<p>“Why, what do you mean? Don’t you like our sweet little +Merry?”</p> +<p>“Like her? I quite love her,” said Maggie; “but the +fact is, girls, I did my duty by her this morning, and now +I want to do my duty by Cicely.”</p> +<p>“Oh Mags, you are so mysterious!” said Molly; “but come +upstairs and take off your hat, for the gong will sound for +lunch in a moment.”</p> +<p>Maggie went upstairs, Molly and Isabel following her. +“Come into my room, girls,” she said. Then she added, +dropping her voice, “I think those bracelets are pretty +secure.”</p> +<p>Molly colored. Isabel looked down.</p> +<p>“You will never succeed,” said Molly.</p> +<p>Then Isabel said, “Even if you do, I don’t think we ought, +perhaps, to—to take them, for it would seem as though +they were a sort of—sort of—bribe.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you old goose!” said Maggie, kissing her. “How +could they be a bribe when I don’t ask you to do anything +at all? But now, listen. We were tired when we got to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +the gallery; therefore that sweet little Merry of yours ordered +fruit and milk and cake, and we ate and talked.”</p> +<p>“What did you talk about?”</p> +<p>“School, dear.”</p> +<p>“What was the good of your talking about school to +Merry when she can’t go?”</p> +<p>“Can’t go?” said Maggie. “Why, she is going; only, it +was my bounden duty to make her want to go. Well, I succeeded +in doing that this morning. There’s the gong, and, +notwithstanding my lunch, I am quite hungry.”</p> +<p>“Well, Andrew and Jack are perfectly mad to see you; +you’ll have to devote a bit of your time to them. Dear me, +Mags!” said Molly, “it must be tiresome to be a sort of universal +favorite, as you are.”</p> +<p>“Tiresome!” said Maggie, glancing round with her queer, +expressive eyes, “when I love it like anything? Let’s get +up a sort of play between ourselves this afternoon, and +let the boys join in; and, oh! couldn’t we—don’t you think we +might—get your two friends Cicely and Merry to join us, +just for an impromptu thing that we could act beautifully +in the hay-field? Wouldn’t their father consent?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course he would. I’ll run round the minute +lunch is over and get them,” said Isabel. “You are a girl +for planning things, Mags! It’ll be quite glorious.”</p> +<p>“We might have tea in the hay-field too,” continued Maggie. +“I am sure Peterkins and Jackdaw will help us.”</p> +<p>“Capital! capital! and we’ll get David”—David was the +gardener’s boy—“to pick lots of fruit for the occasion.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI_FORBIDDEN_FRUIT' id='CHAPTER_VI_FORBIDDEN_FRUIT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>FORBIDDEN FRUIT.</h3> +</div> +<p>Meanwhile a little girl stood all alone on one of the terrace +walks at Meredith Manor. Mrs. Cardew and Cicely +would not arrive until rather late for lunch, and Merry and +her father were to partake of it alone. Merry paced up and +down very slowly. What a lovely day it was, and how +beautiful the place looked with its long lines of stately trees, +and its background of woods, and its terraces of bright +flowers and green, green grass!</p> +<p>As far as the eye could reach the land belonged to the +Cardews, and yet Merry Cardew, the joint-heiress with +Cicely of all this wealth, did not feel either happy or contented +at that moment. A girl had come into her life who +had suddenly turned her gold to gray, her sunshine to +shadow. She was a very nice girl, too—exceedingly nice. +There was something about her which Merry found impossible +to define, for Merry had no acquaintances just then +in her sheltered life who possessed the all-important and +marvelous power of charm. Merry knew quite well that +Maggie Howland was neither rich nor beautiful. She was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +just a little schoolgirl, and yet she could not get Maggie +out of her head. She sighed for the girl’s companionship, +and she sighed yet more for the forbidden fruit which +Maggie had placed so enticingly before her mental vision: +the school-life, the good life, the energetic, purposeful life. +Music—oh, how passionately Merry loved the very little +music she had ever heard! And art—Merry and Cicely had +learned a little bit of art in their own picture-gallery; but +of all there was outside they knew nothing. Then that delightful, +wonderful scheme of having an East End girl for +your very own to train, and help, and write to, and support; +and the companionship, and all the magical things which +the Tristrams had more or less enjoyed in foreign schools, +but which seemed to have reached a delicacy of perfection +at Aylmer House!</p> +<p>Yes, doubtless these were forbidden fruits; but she could +not help, as she paced alone on the terrace, contrasting her +mode of education with that which was put within the +reach of her friends Molly and Isabel, and of Maggie herself. +How dull, after all, were her lessons! The daily governess, +who was always tired when she arrived, taught her out +of books which even Molly and Isabel declared to be out of +date; who yawned a good deal; who was always quite, quite +kind, but at the same time had no enthusiasm; who said, +“Yes, my dears; very nicely done,” but never even punished; +and who only uttered just that mild phrase which was +monotonous by reason of its repetition. Where was the +good of reading Racine aloud to Miss Beverley day after +day, and not being able to talk French properly at all? And +where was the use of struggling through German with the +same instructress?</p> +<p>Then the drawing-master who came from Warwick: he +was better than Miss Beverley; but, after all, he taught +what Molly and Isabel said was now quite exploded—namely, +freehand—and he only came once a week. Merry’s passion +was for music more than for drawing; it was Cicely who +pleased Mr. Vaughan, the drawing-master, best. Then there +was the music-master, Mr. Bennett; but he never would +allow her to sing a note, and he taught very dull, old-fashioned +pieces. How sick she was of pieces, and of playing +them religiously before her father at least once a week! +Her dancing was better, for she had to go to Warwick to +a dancing-class, and there were other girls, and they made it +exciting. But compared to school, and in especial Mrs. Ward’s +school, Merry’s mode of instruction was very dull. +After all, Molly and Isabel, although they would be quite +poor girls, had a better time than she and Cicely with all +their wealth.</p> +<p>“A penny for your thoughts, my love,” said her father +at that moment, and Merry turned her charming little face +towards him.</p> +<p>“I ought not to tell them to you, dad,” she said, “for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +they are—I’m ever so sorry—they are discontented +thoughts.”</p> +<p>“You discontented, my dear child! I did feel that I had +two little girls unacquainted with the meaning of the word.”</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll just tell you, and get it over, dad. I’ll be +perfectly all right once I have told you.”</p> +<p>“Then talk away my child; you know I have your very +best interests at heart.”</p> +<p>“Indeed I know that, my darling father. The fact is +this,” said Merry; “I”––She stopped; she glanced at +her father. He was a most determined and yet a most absolutely +kind man. Merry adored him; nevertheless, she +was a tiny little bit in awe of him.</p> +<p>“What is the matter?” he said, looking round at her. “Has +your companion, that nice little Miss Howland, been putting +silly thoughts into your head? If so, she mustn’t come here +again.”</p> +<p>“Oh father, don’t say that! You’ll make me quite miserable. +And indeed she has not been putting silly thoughts +into my head.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, what are you so melancholy about?”</p> +<p>“The fact is—there, I will have it out,” said Merry—“I’d +give anything in the world to go to school.”</p> +<p>“What?” said Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Merry, gaining courage as she spoke; “Molly +and Isabel are going, and Aneta Lysle is there, and Maggie +Howland is there, and I’d like to go, too, and I’m sure Cicely +would; and, oh, father! I know it <i>can’t</i> be; but you asked me +what was the matter. Well, that’s the matter. I do want +most awfully to go to school!”</p> +<p>“Has that girl Miss Howland been telling you that you +ought to go to school?”</p> +<p>“Indeed no, she has not breathed such a word. But I +am always interested, as you know—or as perhaps you +don’t know—in schools; and I have always asked—and so +has Cicely—Molly and Isabel to tell us all about their lives +at school.”</p> +<p>“I did not know it, my little Merry.”</p> +<p>“Well, yes, father, Cicely and I have been curious; for, +you see, the life is so very different from ours. And so +to-day, when Maggie and I were in the picture-gallery, I +asked her to tell me about Aylmer House, and she—she did.”</p> +<p>“She made a glowing picture, evidently,” said Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“Oh father, it must be so lovely! Think of it, father—to +get the best music and the best art, and to be under the +influence of a woman like Mrs. Ward. Oh, it must be +good! Do you know, father, that every girl in her school +has an East End girl to look after and help; so that some +of the riches of the West should be felt and appreciated by +those who live in the East. Oh father! I could not help +feeling a little jealous.”</p> +<p>“Yes, darling, I quite understand. And you find your life +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +with Miss Beverley and Mr. Vaughan and Mr. Bennett a +little monotonous compared to the variety which a school-life +affords?”</p> +<p>“That is it, father darling.”</p> +<p>“I don’t blame you in the least, Merry—not in the very +least; but the fact is, I have my own reasons for not approving +of school-life. I prefer girls who are trained at home. +If, indeed, you had to earn your living it would be a different +matter. But you will be rich, dear, some day, and––Well, +I am glad you’ve spoken to me. Don’t think anything more +about it. Come in to lunch now.”</p> +<p>“I’ll try not to think of it, father; and you’re not really +angry?”</p> +<p>“Angry!” said Mr. Gardew. “I’ll never be angry with you, +Merry, when you tell me all the thoughts of your heart.”</p> +<p>“And you won’t—you won’t,” said Merry in an anxious +tone—“vex darling mother by talking to her about this?”</p> +<p>“I make no promises whatsoever You have trusted me; +you must continue to trust me.”</p> +<p>“I do; indeed I do! You are not angry with dear, nice +Miss Howland, are you, father?”</p> +<p>“Angry with her! Why should I be? Most certainly +not. Now, come in to lunch, love.”</p> +<p>At that meal Mr. Cardew did his very utmost to be +pleasant to Merry; and as there could be no man more +charming when he pleased, soon the little girl was completely +under his influence, and forgot that fascinating picture of +school-life which Maggie had so delicately painted for her +edification.</p> +<p>Soon after lunch Mrs. Cardew and Cicely returned; and +Merry, the moment she was with her sister, felt her sudden +fit of the blues departing, and ran out gaily with Cicely +into the garden. They were seated comfortably in a little +arbor, when Isabel’s voice was heard calling them. She +was hot and panting. She had come up to tell them of the +proposed arrangements for the afternoon, and to beg of +them both to come immediately to the rectory.</p> +<p>“How more than delightful!” said Merry.—“Cicely, you +stay still, for you’re a little tired. I’ll run up to the house +at once and ask father and mother if we may go.”</p> +<p>“Yes, please do,” said Isabel; “and I’ll rest here for a +little, for really the walk up to your house is somewhat +fatiguing.” She mopped her hot forehead as she spoke. +“You might as well come back with me, both of you girls,” +she added. But she only spoke to Cicely, for Merry had +already vanished.</p> +<p>“Father! mother!” said the young girl, bursting abruptly +into their presence. “Belle Tristram has just come up to +ask us to spend the afternoon at the rectory. Tea in the hay-field, +and all kinds of fun! May we go?”</p> +<p>“Of course you may, dears,” said Mrs. Cardew at once. +“We intended motoring, but we can do that another day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>Mr. Cardew looked dubious for a moment. Then he said, +“All right, only you must not be out too late. I’ll send the +pony-trap down to the rectory for you at half-past eight +o’clock.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but, father,” said Merry, “we can walk home.”</p> +<p>“No dear; I will send the little carriage. Now, go and +enjoy yourself, my child.”</p> +<p>He looked at her with great affection, and she felt herself +reddening. Had she hurt that most dear father after all? +Oh! no school that ever existed was worth that.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII_DISCONTENT' id='CHAPTER_VII_DISCONTENT'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>DISCONTENT.</h3> +</div> +<p>On that special afternoon Mr. and Mrs. Cardew happened +to be alone. The girls had gone down to the rectory. This +was not Mrs. Cardew’s At Home day, and she therefore did +not expect any visitors. She was a little tired after her +long drive to Warwick, and was glad when her husband suggested +that they should go out and have tea all alone together +under one of the wide-spreading elm-trees.</p> +<p>Mrs. Cardew said to herself that this was almost like the +old, old times of very long ago. She and her husband had +enjoyed an almost ideal married life. They had never quarreled; +they had never even had a small disagreement. +They were blessed abundantly with this world’s good things, +for when Sylvia Meredith of Meredith Manor had accepted +the hand of Cyril Cardew she had also given her heart +to him.</p> +<p>He and she were one in all particulars. Their thoughts +were almost identical. She was by no means a weak-minded +woman—she had plenty of character and firmness; but she +deferred to the wishes of her husband, as a good wife should, +and was glad! to feel that he was slightly her master. Never, +under any circumstances, did he make her feel the yoke. +Nevertheless, she obeyed him, and delighted in doing so.</p> +<p>The arrival of their little twin-daughters was the crown +of their bliss. They never regretted the fact that no son +was born to them to inherit the stately acres of Meredith +Manor; they were the last sort of people to grumble. Mrs. +Cardew inherited the Meredith property in her own right, +and eventually it would be divided between her two daughters.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the children themselves absorbed the most loving +care of their parents. Mr. Cardew was, as has already +been said, a great merchant-prince. He often went to +London to attend to his business affairs, but he spent most +of his time in the exquisite country home. It was quite +true that discontent seemed far, very far away from so +lovely a spot as Meredith Manor. Nevertheless, Mr. Cardew +had seen it to-day on the face of his best-loved child, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +his little Merry. The look had hurt him; and while he was +having lunch with her, and joking with her, and talking, +in his usually bright and intelligent way, her words, and +still more the expression of her face and the longing look in +her sweet brown eyes, returned to him again and again.</p> +<p>He was, therefore, more thoughtful than usual as he sat +by his wife’s side now under the elm-tree. He had a pile +of newspapers and magazines on the grass at his feet, and his +favorite fox-terrier Jim lay close to his master. Mrs. Cardew +had her invariable knitting and a couple of novels waiting +to occupy her attention when Mr. Cardew took up one of the +newspapers. But for a time the pair were silent. Mrs. Cardew +was thinking of something which she wanted to +say, and Mr. Cardew was thinking of Merry. It was, +as is invariably the case, the woman who first broke the +silence.</p> +<p>“Well, Cyril,” said his wife, “to find ourselves seated here +all alone, without the children’s voices to listen to reminds +me of the old times, the good times, the beautiful times when +we were first married.”</p> +<p>“My dear,” he answered, starting slightly as she spoke, +“those were certainly good and beautiful times, but surely +not more good and beautiful than now, when our two dear +little girls are growing up and giving us such great happiness.”</p> +<p>“That is true. Please don’t misunderstand me, love; but +you come even before the children.”</p> +<p>He felt touched as she said this, and glancing at her, said +to himself that he was indeed in luck to have secured so +priceless a woman as his wife.</p> +<p>“We have had happy times together, Cyril,” she said, +returning his glance.</p> +<p>“Yes, Sylvia,” he answered, and once again he thought +of Merry’s face.</p> +<p>“Nothing can alter that,” she continued.</p> +<p>“Nothing, my love,” he said.</p> +<p>Then he looked at her again, and saw that she was a little +troubled about something; and, as was his custom, he determined +to take the bull by the horns.</p> +<p>“You have something on your mind, Sylvia. What is it?”</p> +<p>“I have,” she said at once; “and something of very great +importance. I have a sort of fear that to talk of it with +you may possibly trouble you a little. Shall we defer it, +dear? The day is so peaceful, and we are so happy.”</p> +<p>“No, no,” he replied at once. “We will take the opportunity +of the children being perfectly happy at the rectory +to discuss the thing that worries you. But what can it +be?” he continued. “That is more than I can imagine. I +have never seen you worried before.”</p> +<p>Again he thought of Merry, but it was impossible to connect +his wife’s trouble with his child’s discontent.</p> +<p>“Well, I will tell you just out, Cyril,” said his wife. “I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +urge nothing, but I feel bound to make a suggestion. I know +your views with regard to the girls.”</p> +<p>“My views, dear! What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“With regard to their education, Cyril.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, Sylvia; we have done our very best. Have +you any reason to find fault with Miss Beverley or with +Vaughan or Bennett?”</p> +<p>“Unfortunately,” said Mrs. Cardew, “Miss Beverley, who, +you know, is an admirable governess, and whom we can +most thoroughly trust, wrote to me yesterday morning saying +that she was obliged to resign her post as daily governess +to our girls. She finds the distance from Warwick too far; +in fact, she has her physician’s orders to take work nearer +home. She regrets it immensely, but feels that she has no +alternative.”</p> +<p>“Provoking!” said Mr. Cardew; “but really, Sylvia, I +wouldn’t allow it to upset me if I were you. Surely there are +plenty of other Miss Beverleys in the world; and”—again he +thought of Merry—“we might perhaps find some one a little +less old-fashioned.”</p> +<p>“I am afraid, dear, that is impossible, for you will not +allow a resident governess in the house.”</p> +<p>“I will not,” said Mr. Cardew with decision. “Such an arrangement +would break in on our family life. You know +my views.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear; and I must say I approve of them.”</p> +<p>“You must find some one else in Warwick who is not +too tired to take the train journey. Doubtless it would be +quite easy,” said Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“I went to Warwick this morning in order to make inquiries,” +said Mrs. Cardew in her gentle voice, “and I grieve +to say there is no one who can in the least take the post +which dear Miss Beverley has so worthily filled. But I have +further bad news to give you. Mr. Bennett is leaving Warwick +for a better post in London, and we shall be at our +wits’ end to get the girls good music-lessons for next term.”</p> +<p>“How provoking! how annoying!” said Mr. Cardew, and +his irritation was plainly shown in his face. “It does seem +hard,” he said after a moment’s pause, “that we, with all +our wealth, should be unable to give our girls the thorough +education they require.”</p> +<p>“The fact is this, dear,” said Mrs. Cardew, “and I must +speak out plainly even at the risk of displeasing you—Cicely +and Merry are exceedingly clever girls, but at the present +moment they are very far behind other girls of their age. +Their knowledge of foreign languages is most deficient. I +have no doubt Miss Beverley has grounded them well in +English subjects; but as to accomplishments, they are not +getting the advantages their rank in life and their talent demand. +Dear Cyril, we ought to forget ourselves and our +interests for the children.”</p> +<p>“What has put all this into your head?” said Mr. Cardew. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +“As, for instance—” He paused. “It seemed impossible––”</p> +<p>“What, dear?” asked his wife very earnestly.</p> +<p>“Well, I may as well say it. Has Merry been talking to +you?”</p> +<p>“Our little Merry!” said Mrs. Cardew in astonishment. +“Of course not. What in the world do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I will not explain just at present, dear. You have some +idea in your head, or you wouldn’t speak to me as you +do.”</p> +<p>“Well, the fact is, when my cousin, Lucia Lysle, was here +yesterday she spoke very strongly to me on the subject of +the girls’ education, and urged me to do what I knew you +would never for a moment consent to.”</p> +<p>“And what is that?” asked Mr. Gardew. “I seem to be +an awful bugbear in this business.”</p> +<p>“No, dear, no. I quite understand your scruples, and—and—respect +them. But Lucia naturally wanted us to seize +the opportunity of two vacancies at Aylmer House, Mrs. Ward’s +school.”</p> +<p>“I shall soon begin to hate the name of Mrs. Ward,” said +Cardew with some asperity.</p> +<p>“My cousin spoke most highly of the school,” continued +Mrs. Cardew. “She said that two years there, or perhaps a +little longer, would give the girls that knowledge of life which +will be all-essential to them in the future.”</p> +<p>“Home education is best; I know it is best,” said Mr. Cardew. +“I hate girls’ schools.”</p> +<p>“I gave her to understand, dear, that those were your +views; but I have something else to tell you. You know how +attached we both are to the dear Tristrams.”</p> +<p>“Of course, of course,” said Mr. Cardew with impatience.</p> +<p>“Well, at supper yesterday evening Mr. Tristram began to +talk to me on the very same subject as my cousin, Lady +Lysle, had spoken of earlier in the day.”</p> +<p>“Very interfering of Tristram,” replied Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“He didn’t mean it in that way, I assure you, my love; +nothing could be nicer than the way he spoke. I was telling +him—for I had not mentioned the fact to you, and it was +troubling me a little—about Miss Beverley and Mr. Bennett, +and asking his advice, as I often do. He immediately urged +Aylmer House as the best possible substitute for Miss Beverley +and Mr. Bennett. I repeated almost the same words +I had used to Lucia Lysle—namely, that you were dead-set +against girls’ schools.”</p> +<p>“That was scarcely polite, my love, seeing that he sends +his own daughters to school.”</p> +<p>“Well, yes,” said Mrs. Cardew; “but of course their circumstances +are very different.”</p> +<p>“I would be sorry if he should feel that difference, Sylvia. +Tristram is a most excellent fellow.”</p> +<p>“He is—indeed he is!” said Mrs. Cardew. “Feeling for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +him, therefore, as you do, dear, you may perhaps be more +inclined to listen to an alternative which he proposed to me.”</p> +<p>“And what is that, my dear?”</p> +<p>“Well, he thinks we might occupy our house in London +during the school terms of each year––”</p> +<p>“During the school terms of each year!” echoed Mr. Cardew +in a voice of dismay. “But I hate living in London.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dearest; but you see we must think of our girls. +If you and I took the children to town they could have +governesses and masters—the very best—and would thus +be sufficiently educated to take their place in society.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew was quite silent for a full minute after his +wife had made this suggestion. To tell the truth, she had +done a somewhat extraordinary thing. Amongst this great +lady’s many rich possessions was a splendid mansion in +Grosvenor Street; but, as she hated what is called London +society, it had long been let to different tenants, for nothing +would induce the Cardews to leave their delightful home, +with its fresh air and country pursuits, for the dingy old +house in town. They knew that when the girls came out—a +far-distant date as yet—they would have to occupy the +house in Grosvenor Street for the season; but Mrs. Cardew’s +suggestion that they should go there almost immediately for +the sake of their daughters’ education was more annoying +to her husband than he could possibly endure.</p> +<p>“I consider the rector very officious,” he said. “Nothing +would induce me to live in town.”</p> +<p>“I thought you would feel like that, dear. I was certain +of it.”</p> +<p>“You surely would not wish it yourself, Sylvia?”</p> +<p>“I should detest it beyond words,” she replied.</p> +<p>“Besides, the house is occupied,” said Mr. Cardew, catching +at any excuse not to carry out this abominable plan, as +he termed it.</p> +<p>“Well, dear, at the present moment it is not. I had a +letter a week ago from our agent to ask if he should relet it +for the winter and next season, and I have not yet replied +to him.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, nonsense, Sylvia! We cannot go to live there.”</p> +<p>“I don’t wish it, my love.”</p> +<p>The pair sat quite silent after Mrs. Cardew had made this +last remark.</p> +<p>After a time her husband said, “We’re really placed in a +very cruel dilemma; but doubtless there are schools and +schools. Now, I feel that the time has arrived when I ought +to tell you about Merry.”</p> +<p>“What about the dear child?” asked her mother. “Isn’t +she well?”</p> +<p>“Absolutely and perfectly well, but our dear little girl +is consumed by the fever of discontent.”</p> +<p>“My dear, you must be mistaken.”</p> +<p>“I am not. Listen, and I will tell you what has happened.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>Mr. Cardew then related his brief interview with Merry, +and Merry’s passionate desire to go to Aylmer House.</p> +<p>“And what did you say to her, love?” asked his wife.</p> +<p>“I told her it was impossible, of course.”</p> +<p>“But it really isn’t, dear, you know,” said Mrs. Cardew in +a low tone; “and as you cannot make up your mind to live +in London, those two vacancies at Aylmer House seem providential.”</p> +<p>At these words Mr. Cardew sprang to his feet. “Nothing +will ever shake my opinion with regard to school-life,” he +said.</p> +<p>“And yet the life in town––”</p> +<p>“That is impossible. Look me straight in the face, Sylvia. +If by any chance—don’t, please, imagine that I’m giving +way—but if, by any possible chance, I were to yield, could +you, my darling, live without your girls?”</p> +<p>“With you—I could,” she answered, and she held out her +hand to him, which he raised to his lips and kissed.</p> +<p>“Well, I am upset,” he said. “If only Miss Beverley and +Bennett were not so silly, we should not be in this awkward +fix. I’ll go for a ride, if you don’t mind, Sylvia, and be back +with you in an hour’s time.”</p> +<p>During that ride Mr. Cardew felt as a strong man does +when his most cherished wishes are opposed, and when +circumstance, with its overpowering weight, bears down +every objection. Beyond doubt the girls must be educated. +Beyond doubt the scheme of living in London could not be +entertained. Country life was essential. Meredith Manor +must not be deserted for the greater part of the year. He +might visit the girls whenever he went to London; but, after +all, he was now more or less a sleeping partner in his great +firm. There was no necessity for him to go to London more +than four or five times a year. Oh! school was hateful, but +little Merry had longed for it. How troublesome education +was! Surely the girls knew enough.</p> +<p>He was riding home, his thoughts still in a most perturbed +condition, when he suddenly drew up just in front of a little +figure who stood by the roadside, attired as a gipsy, with a +scarlet bandana handkerchief twisted round her head, a short +skirt reaching not quite to her ankles made also of scarlet, +and a little gay blue shawl across her shoulders. She was +carrying a tambourine in one hand and in the other a great +bunch of many-colored ribbons.</p> +<p>This little, unexpected figure was seen close to the rectory +grounds, and Mr. Cardew was so startled by it, and so also +was his horse, that he drew up abruptly and looked imperiously +at the small suppliant for his favor.</p> +<p>“If you please, sir,” said Maggie Howland, speaking in her +most enticing voice, and knowing well that her dress magnified +her charms, “will you, kind sir, allow me to cross your +hand with silver and let me tell your fortune?”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew now burst into a merry laugh. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>“Why, Miss Howland,” he said, “I beg your pardon; I did +not recognize you.”</p> +<p>Maggie dropped a low curtsy. “I’m the gipsy girl Caranina, +and I should like to tell your fortune, kind and generous +sir.”</p> +<p>Just then the pretty face of Cicely was seen peeping over +the rectory grounds. She was dressed as a flower-girl, and +looked more lovely than he had ever seen her before.</p> +<p>“Why, dad, dad,” she cried, “oh! you must come in and +join our fun. Mustn’t he, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“I am Caranina, the gipsy girl,” said Maggie, dropping +another low curtsy, and holding her little tambourine in the +most beseeching attitude; “and you are Flora, queen of the +flowers.”</p> +<p>“Well, really, this is entertaining,” said Mr. Cardew. +“What queer little minxes you all are! And may I really +come in and see the fun?”</p> +<p>“Indeed you may, dad,” said the flower-girl. “Oh, and +please we want you to look at Merry. Merry’s a fairy, with +wings. We’re going to have what we call an evening revel +presently, and we are all in our dress for the occasion. But +Maggie—I mean Caranina—is telling our fortunes—that is, +until the real fun begins.”</p> +<p>“Do please come in, Mr. Cardew. This is the height of +good luck,” said Mrs. Tristram, coming forward herself at +this moment. “Won’t you join my husband and me under +the shadow of the tent yonder? The young people are having +such a good time.”</p> +<p>“I will come for a minute or two,” said Cardew, dismounting +as he spoke. “Can some one hold Hector for me?”</p> +<p>David was quickly summoned, and Mr. Cardew walked +across the hay-field to where the hastily improvised tent +was placed.</p> +<p>“No one can enter here who doesn’t submit to the will of +the gipsy,” remarked Caranina in her clear and beautiful +voice. “This is my tent, and I tell the fortunes of all those +kind ladies and gentlemen who will permit me to do so.”</p> +<p>“Then you shall tell mine, with pleasure, little maid,” +said Mr. Cardew, who felt wonderfully cheered and entertained +at this <i>al fresco</i> amusement.</p> +<p>Quick as thought Maggie had been presented with a silver +coin. With this she crossed the good gentleman’s palm, and +murmured a few words with regard to his future. There +was nothing whatever remarkable in her utterance, for +Maggie knew nothing of palmistry, and was only a very +pretense gipsy fortune-teller. But she was quick—quicker +than most—in reading character; and as she glanced now +into Mr. Cardew’s face an inspiration seized her.</p> +<p>“He is troubled about something,” thought the girl. “It’s +the thin end of the wedge; I’ll push it in a little farther.”</p> +<p>Her voice dropped to a low tone. “I see in your hand, +kind sir,” she said, “all happiness, long life, and prosperity; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +but I also see a little cross, just here—” she pointed with her +pretty finger—“and it means self-sacrifice for the sake of a +great and lasting good. Kind sir, I have nothing more to add.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew left the tent and sat down beside the rector and +his wife. Maggie’s words were really unimportant. As one +after the other the merry group of actors went to have their +fortunes told he paid no attention whatever to them. Gipsy +fortune-tellers always mixed a little sorrow with their joyful +tidings. It was a bewitching little gipsy after all. He +could not quite make out her undefined charm, but he was +interested in her; and after a time, when the fortune-telling +had come to an end and Maggie was about to change her +dress for what they called the evening revels, he crossed the +field and stood near her.</p> +<p>“So you, Miss Howland, have been telling my daughter +Merry a good many things with regard to your new school?”</p> +<p>She raised her queer, bright eyes, and looked him full in +the face. “I have told Merry a few things,” she said; “but, +most of all, I have assured her that Aylmer House is the +happiest place in the world.”</p> +<p>“Happier than home? Should you say it was happier +than home, Miss Howland?”</p> +<p>“Happier than my home,” said Maggie with a little sigh, +very gentle and almost imperceptible, in her voice. “Oh, +I love it!” she continued with enthusiasm; “for it helps—I +mean, the life there helps—to make one good.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew said nothing more. After a time he bade his +friends good-by and returned to Meredith Manor. In course +of time the little pony-carriage was sent down to the rectory +for the Cardew girls, who went back greatly elated.</p> +<p>How delightful their evening had been, and what a marvelous +girl Maggie Howland was.’</p> +<p>“Why, she even manages to subdue and to rule those +really tiresome boys,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Yes,” remarked Merry, “she is like no one else.”</p> +<p>“You have quite fallen in love with her, haven’t you, +Merry?”</p> +<p>“Well, perhaps I have a little bit,” said Merry. She +looked thoughtful. She longed to say to Cicely, “How I wish +beyond all things on earth that I were going to the same +school!” But a certain fidelity to her father kept her silent.</p> +<p>She was startled, therefore, when Cicely herself, who was +always supposed to be much calmer than Merry, and less +vehement in her desires, clasped her sister’s hand and said +with emphasis, “I don’t know, after all, if it is good for us +to see too much of Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Why, Cissie? What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean this,” said Cicely: “she makes me—yes, I will +say it—discontented.”</p> +<p>“And me too,” said Merry, uttering the words with an +emphasis which astonished herself.</p> +<p>“We have talked of school over and over again,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +Cicely, “with Molly and Belle; but notwithstanding their glowing +accounts we have been quite satisfied with Miss Beverley, +and dear, gray-haired Mr. Bennett, and Mr. Vaughan; but now +I for one, don’t feel satisfied any longer.” +“Nor do I,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh Merry!”</p> +<p>“It is true,” said Merry. “I want to go to Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>“And I am almost mad to go there,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you something, Cissie. I spoke to father about +it to-day.”</p> +<p>“Merry! you didn’t dare?”</p> +<p>“Well, I just did. I couldn’t help myself. It is hateful +to be under-educated, and you know we shall never be like +other girls if we don’t see something of the world.”</p> +<p>“He didn’t by any chance agree with you?” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Not a bit of it,” said Merry. “We must bear with our +present life, only perhaps we oughtn’t to see too much of +Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Cicely, “I’ve something to tell you, Merry.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?”</p> +<p>“You don’t know just at present why mother and I went +to Warwick this morning?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Merry, who was rather uninterested. “I had +a very good time with Maggie, and didn’t miss you too dreadfully.”</p> +<p>“Well, you will be interested to know why we did go, +all the same,” said Cicely. “It’s because Miss Beverley is +knocked up and can’t teach us any more, and Mr. Bennett is +going to London. Mother can’t hear of anyone to take Miss +Beverley’s place, or of any music-teacher equal to Mr. Bennett; +so, somehow or other, I feel that there are changes in +the air. Oh Merry, Merry! suppose––”</p> +<p>“There’s no use in it,” said Merry. “Father will never +change. We’ll get some other dreadfully dull daily governess, +and some other fearfully depressing music-master, +and we’ll never be like Molly and Belle and Maggie and our +cousin Aneta. It does seem hard.”</p> +<p>“We must try not to be discontented,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Then we had best not ask Maggie here too often,” replied +Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh, but they’re all coming up to-morrow morning, for I +have asked them,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Dear, dear!” replied Merry.</p> +<p>“We may as well have what fun we can,” remarked +Cicely, “for you know we shall be going to the seaside in +ten days.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII_MRS_WARDS_SCHOOL' id='CHAPTER_VIII_MRS_WARDS_SCHOOL'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>MRS. WARD’S SCHOOL.</h3> +</div> +<p>It is to be regretted that Mr. Cardew spent a restless night. +Mrs. Cardew, on the contrary, slept with the utmost peace. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +She trusted so absolutely in her husband’s judgment and in +in his power to do the very best he could on all possible +occasions for her and hers that she was never deeply troubled +about anything. Her dear husband must not be forced to +live in London if he did not like to do so, and some arrangement +must be made for the girls’ home education if he could +not see his way to sending them to school.</p> +<p>Great, therefore, was her astonishment on the following +morning when he came hastily into her room.</p> +<p>“My dear,” he said, “I am off to London for the day.”</p> +<p>“What for?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I will tell you, darling, when I return to-night.”</p> +<p>“Cyril, may I not come with you?”</p> +<p>“I think not, my love. Make all the young people as happy +as you can. I’m just off to the station, in the motor-car.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew left his wife’s room. The girls were told at +breakfast that their father had gone to London; but as this +frequently happened, and was invariably connected with +that business which they knew nothing whatever about, they +were not keenly interested. As a matter of fact, they were +much more absorbed in getting things ready for the entertainment +of their friends; and in this Mrs. Cardew very +heartily joined them. She proposed that during Maggie +Howland’s visit the five girls should have as happy a time +together as possible; and as the weather was perfect the +invariable picnics and gipsy teas were arranged for their +benefit.</p> +<p>“You can all make yourselves happy here to-day, my +darlings,” said Mrs. Cardew, addressing Cicely and Merry. +“To-morrow, when your father is here, the Tristrams, he +and I, and you girls will have a very pleasant picnic to the +Aldersleigh woods. We will arrange it to-day, for there is +nothing your father enjoys more than a whole, long, happy +day in the open air. I will speak to Mrs. Fairlight, and tell +her to have all things in readiness for our picnic.”</p> +<p>“Oh mummy, how good! how good!” said Merry, clasping +her mother’s hand. Then she added, “Mummy, is it true +that Miss Beverley is never going to teach us any more?”</p> +<p>“I am afraid it is only too true, Merry; but this is holiday-time, +darling; we needn’t talk of your education just at +present.”</p> +<p>“Only, we must be educated—mustn’t we, mother?”</p> +<p>“Of course, dearest. Your father will see to that.”</p> +<p>Merry ran off to join her sister, and it is not too much +to say that the whole of that glorious day was one of unalloyed +pleasure. The Tristram girls were always delightful +to the Cardew girls, but now that they were accompanied +by Maggie Howland there was a great addition to +their charm. Nevertheless, Maggie, with her purpose full +in view, with her heart beating a little more quickly than +usual when she heard that Mr. Cardew had gone to London, +religiously avoided the subject of the life at Aylmer House. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +She felt, somehow, that she had done her part. A great deal +of her own future depended on these two girls coming to +Aylmer House. She would make use of them—large use of +them—at school. She was fond of Molly and Belle; but they +were poor. Maggie herself was poor. She wanted to have +rich friends. The Cardews were rich. By their means she +would defeat her enemy, Aneta Lysle, and establish herself +not only in the school but with regard to her future life. +Maggie felt that she could make herself indispensable to +Cicely and Merry. Oh yes, they would certainly go to +Aylmer House in September. She need not worry herself +any further, therefore, with regard to that matter. Little +would they guess how much she had really done toward this +desirable goal, and how fortunate circumstances had been in +aiding her to the accomplishment of her desire. It was +enough for Maggie that they were certainly going. She +could, therefore, give herself up to enjoyment.</p> +<p>With Maggie Howland enjoyment meant a very different +thing from what it does to the average English girl. She +enjoyed herself with all her heart and soul, without one +single reservation. To see her face at such moments was +to behold pure sunshine; to hear her voice was to listen to +the very essence of laughter and happiness. She had a +marvelous power of telling stories, and when she was happy +she told them with such verve that all people within earshot +hung on her words. Then she could improvise, and dance, +and take off almost any character; in short, she was the +life of every party who admitted her within their circle.</p> +<p>Meanwhile a rather tired and rather sad man found himself, +very much against his will, in London. He said to +himself, “This wonderful Mrs. Ward will not be at Aylmer +House now. These are the holidays, and she will be probably +miles away. I will go to see her. Yes, but she won’t +be in; that alone will clinch the matter. But first I will pay +a visit to Lucia Lysle; she said she would be in London—she +told my dear wife so. But Lucia is so erratic, it is most +improbable that she either will be at home.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew drove first of all to Lady Lysle’s house in Hans +Place. He asked if she was within, and, very much to his +annoyance, the servant replied in the affirmative. He entered +Lady Lysle’s drawing-room feeling rather silly. The +first person he saw there was a tall, slim, lovely girl, whom +he did not recognize at first, but who knew him and ran up +to him and introduced herself as Aneta.</p> +<p>“Why, my dear,” he said, “how are you? How you have +grown!”</p> +<p>“How is dear Cousin Sylvia, and how are Cicely and +Merry?” asked Aneta. “Oh, I am very well indeed, Mr. +Cardew; I don’t suppose anybody could be anything but well +who was lucky enough to be at Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Ward’s school?” said Mr. Cardew, feeling rather +shy and almost self-conscious. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span></p> +<p>“Of course. Don’t you know Mrs. Ward, Mr. Cardew?”</p> +<p>“No, my dear, I don’t.”</p> +<p>“It’s the most marvelous school in the world,” said Aneta +with enthusiasm. “I do wish you would send Cicely and +Merry there. They would have a good time.”</p> +<p>“Is your aunt in?” said Mr. Cardew, a little restlessly.</p> +<p>“Oh yes; she’ll be down in a minute.”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle now hurried into the room.</p> +<p>“How do you do, Cyril?” she said. “I didn’t expect to +find you in town just now. Is there anything I can do for +you?”</p> +<p>“I am rather anxious to have a chat with you,” replied +Mr. Cardew.</p> +<p>“Aneta darling, you had better leave us,” said her aunt.</p> +<p>The girl went off with a light laugh. “Auntie,” she said, +“I’ve just been telling Mr. Cardew that he ought to send +Cicely and Merry to Aylmer House.” She closed the door +as she made this parting shot.</p> +<p>“As a matter of fact, I agree with Aneta,” said Lady Lysle. +“A couple of years at that splendid school would do the +girls no end of good.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew was silent for a minute. “I may as well confess +something to you, Lucia,” he said then.</p> +<p>“What is it, Cyril?”</p> +<p>“I have by no means made up my mind; but we are very +much annoyed at the illness of our daily governess Miss +Beverley, and at the girls’ music-master Mr. Bennett removing +to London. So I just thought I would ask you a question +or two about this wonderful Mrs. Ward. I don’t suppose for +a single moment I should dream of sending the children +there; and, besides, she is not in London now, is she?”</p> +<p>“Yes, she is,” replied Lady Lysle. Mr. Cardew felt at +that moment that he hated Mrs. Ward. “She came to see +me only last evening. She is leaving town to-morrow; but +if by any chance you would like to go and see her, and thus +judge of the school for yourself—it would commit you to +nothing, of course—she will, I know, be at home all this +morning.”</p> +<p>“Dear, dear!” said Mr. Cardew. “How very provoking!”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, Cyril?”</p> +<p>“Nothing, nothing, of course, Lucia. But if, as you say, +the school is so popular, there will be no vacancies, for I +think some one told me that Mrs. Ward only took a limited +number of pupils.”</p> +<p>“There are two vacancies at the present moment,” said +Lady Lysle in her calm voice, “although they are likely to +be filled up immediately, for Mrs. Ward has had many applications; +but then she is exceedingly particular, and will only +take girls of high birth and of very distinguished character.”</p> +<p>“Doubtless she has filled up the vacancies by this morning,” +said Mr. Cardew, rising with some alacrity. “Well, +thank you, Lucia. As I am in town—came up on business +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +you know—I may as well just have a look at Aylmer House +and Mrs. Ward. It will satisfy my dear wife.”</p> +<p>“Why, surely you don’t for a minute really intend to send +the girls there?” said Lady Lysle with a superior smile.</p> +<p>“I cannot tell what I may do. When a man is distracted, +and when a valuable daily governess breaks down, and—and—don’t +question me too closely, Lucia, and keep our little +interview to yourself. As I have just said, nothing will +probably come of this; but I will go and see the lady just +to satisfy myself.”</p> +<p>“Aneta will be delighted if you do send the girls to Aylmer +House,” was Lady Lysle’s last word.</p> +<p>She laughed as she spoke, and Mr. Cardew found himself +turning rather red. He left her, called a hansom, and got +into it.</p> +<p>“Of course the vacancies will be filled up,” he said to +himself as he was driving in the direction of South Kensington. +He further thought, “Although that good Mrs. Ward +is remaining for such an unconscionable time in town, she +will very probably be out this morning. If she is out that +puts an end to everything; but even if she is in, she must +ave filled up her vacancies. Then I shall be able to return +to the Manor with a quiet mind. I’ll have done my best, +and the thing will be taken out of my hands. Dear little +Merry! I didn’t like that discontent on her sweet face. Ah, +well, she can’t guess what school is like. It’s not home; +but I suppose the educational advantages would be greater, +and a man must sacrifice himself for his children. Odd +what that queer little Miss Howland told me last night: that +I was approaching a deed of self-sacrifice. She’s a queer +girl, but quite nice; and Aneta is a charming creature. I +could never desire even one of my own precious girls to +look nicer than Aneta does. Well, here I am. Now, then, +what will Fate decide?”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew sprang from the hansom, desired the man to +wait, ran up some low steps, and rang the bell at the front +door of a stately mansion.</p> +<p>A smiling, very bright-looking maid-servant opened it +for him.</p> +<p>“Is Mrs. Ward, within?” questioned Cardew.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Good heavens!” murmured Cardew under his breath.</p> +<p>“Is she disengaged, and can she give me a few moments +of her time?” continued the much-disappointed gentleman.</p> +<p>“Certainly, sir. Will you come into the drawing-room? +What name shall I say?”</p> +<p>Cardew produced one of his cards.</p> +<p>“Have the goodness to tell your mistress that if she is +particularly engaged I can ”—he hesitated—“call another +time.”</p> +<p>“I will tell her, sir; but Mrs. Ward is not particularly +engaged. She will see you, I am sure, directly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>The girl withdrew, and Cardew sank into a low chair.</p> +<p>He had to wait a few minutes, and during that time had +abundant leisure to look round the beautiful room in which +he found himself. It was so furnished as to resemble a +fresh country room. The wall-paper was white; the pictures +were all water-colors, all original, and all the works +of well-known artists. They mostly represented country +scenes, but there were a few admirable portraits of charming +girls just in the heyday of youth and happiness. The +floor was of polished oak and had a large pale-blue drugget +in the center, which could be rolled up at any moment if +an impromptu dance was desirable. The large windows +had boxes of flowers outside, which were fresh and well +kept, and had evidently been recently watered, for some +sparkling drops which looked almost like summer rain still +glistened on them. The room itself was also decked with +flowers in every available corner, and all these flowers were +fresh and beautifully arranged. They were country flowers—and +of course roses, roses everywhere. There were also +great bowls of mignonette and large glass vases filled with +sweet peas.</p> +<p>The air of the room was fresh and full of delicate perfume. +Mr. Cardew had to admit to himself that this was +a room in which the most refined young ladies in the world +might sit with pleasure and profit. There was a shelf for +books running round the dado, and the books therein were +good of their kind and richly and handsomely bound. There +were no small tables anywhere. Mr. Cardew was glad of +that—he detested small tables; but there was a harp standing +close to the magnificent grand piano, and several music +stands, and a violin case on a chair near by.</p> +<p>The furniture of the room was covered with a cool, fresh +chintz. In short, it was a charming room, quite different +from the rooms at Meredith Manor, which, of course, were +old and magnificent and stately; but it had a refreshing, +wholesome look about it which, in spite of himself, Mr. Cardew +appreciated.</p> +<p>He had just taken in the room and its belongings when the +door was opened and a lady of about thirty-five years of +age entered. She was dressed very simply in a long dress +made in a sort of Empire fashion. The color was pale blue, +which suited her calm, fair face, her large, hazel-brown +eyes, and her rich chestnut hair to perfection. She came +forward swiftly.</p> +<p>“I am Mrs. Ward,” she said, and held out her hand.</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew considered himself a connoisseur as regards +all women, and he was immediately impressed by a certain +quality in that face: a mingling of sweetness and power, of +extreme gentleness and extreme determination. There was +a lofty expression in the eyes, too, and round the mouth, +which further appealed to him; and the hands of the lady were +perfect—they were white, somewhat long, with tapering fingers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +and well-kept nails. There was one signet ring on +the left hand, worn as a guard to the wedding-ring—that +was all.</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew was a keen observer, and he noted these +things at a glance.</p> +<p>“I have come to talk to you, Mrs. Ward,” he said; “and, +if you will forgive me, I should like to be quite frank with +you.”</p> +<p>“There is nothing I desire better,” said Mrs. Ward in her +exceedingly high-bred and sympathetic voice.</p> +<p>That voice reminded Cardew of Maggie Howland, and yet +he felt at once that it was infinitely superior to hers.</p> +<p>“Sit down, won’t you, Mr. Cardew?” said Mrs. Ward, and +she set him the example by seating herself in a low chair +as she spoke.</p> +<p>“I hope I am not taking up too much of your time,” +he said; “for, if so, as I said to your servant, I can call +again.”</p> +<p>“By no means,” said Mrs. Ward; “I have nothing whatever +to do this morning. I am, therefore, quite at your +service. You will tell me what you wish?” she said in that +magnetic voice of hers.</p> +<p>“The fact is simply this,” he said. “My friend Tristram, +who is rector of Meredith, in Warwickshire, is sending his +two daughters to your school.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Ward gently. “Molly and Isabel are +coming to me next term.”</p> +<p>“I am Tristram’s near neighbor,” said Mr. Cardew, “I live +at Meredith Manor. At the present moment the Tristram +girls have another pupil of yours staying with them—Miss +Howland.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Ward very quietly.</p> +<p>“Lady Lysle’s niece Aneta is also one of your pupils.”</p> +<p>“That is true, Mr. Cardew.”</p> +<p>“Lady Lysle is my wife’s cousin.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward bowed very slightly.</p> +<p>“I will come to the point now, Mrs. Ward. I am the father +of two little girls. They are of the same age as Molly and +Isabel Tristram; that is, they are both just sixteen. They +are twins. They are my only children. Some day they will +be rich, for we have no son, and they will inherit considerable +property.” Mrs. Ward looked scarcely interested at this. +“Hitherto,” continued Mr. Cardew, “I have stoutly opposed +school-life for my children, and in consequence they have +been brought up at home, and have had the best advantages +that could be obtained for them in a country life. Things +went apparently all right until two or three days ago, when +I discovered that my girl—her name is Meredith; we call +her Merry for short—was exceedingly anxious to change +her home-life for school-life. At the same time, our excellent +daily governess and the music-master who taught +the children have been obliged to discontinue their work. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +The girls are at an age when education is essential; and, although +I <i>hate</i> schools, I have come here to talk over the +possibility of your receiving them.”</p> +<p>“Had you delayed coming to me, Mr. Cardew, until this +evening I should have had no vacancy, for at the present +moment I have twelve applications for the two vacancies +which are to be filled at Aylmer House. But do you really +wish me to consider the proposal of taking your girls when +you hate school-life for young ladies?”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew could not help smiling. “Then you are not +anxious to have them?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not, unless you yourself and Mrs. Cardew most +earnestly desire to send them to me. Suppose, before we go +any further, that I take you over the house.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Mr. Cardew in a tone of relief.</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward rose immediately, and for the next hour the +head-mistress and the owner of Meredith Manor went from +one dainty room to another. They visited the gymnasium; +they entered the studio. All the different properties of the +music-room were explained to the interested visitor. The +excellent playground was also inspected.</p> +<p>By-and-by, when Mr. Cardew returned to the drawing-room, +Mrs. Ward said, “My number of pupils is limited. +You have seen for yourself that sisters are provided with +a room together, and that girls who are not related have +rooms to themselves. The house is well warmed in winter, +and at all seasons of the year I keep it bright and cheerful +with flowers and everything that a judicious expenditure +of money can secure. I have my own special plan for educating +my girls. I believe in personal influence. In short, +Mr. Cardew, I am not at all ashamed to tell you that I believe +in my own influence. I have never yet met a girl whom +I could not influence.”</p> +<p>“If by any chance my Cicely and Merry come to you,” +said Mr. Cardew, “you will find them—I may at least say it—perfect +ladies in word and thought and deed.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward bowed. “I could receive no others within +this establishment,” she said. “If,” continued Mrs. Ward, +“you decide to entrust your daughters to me, I will leave +no stone unturned to do my best for them, to educate them +in a three-fold capacity: to induce their minds to work as +God meant them to work—without overtoil, without undue +haste, and yet with intelligence and activity; to give them +such exercises as will promote health to their bodies; and to +teach them, above all things, to live for others, not for themselves. +Please, Mr. Cardew, give me no answer now, but +think it over. The vacancies at Aylmer House will remain +at your disposal until four o’clock this afternoon. Will you +send me before that hour a telegram saying ‘Yes’ or ‘No’?”</p> +<p>“I thank you,” said Mr. Cardew. He wrung Mrs. Ward’s +hand and left the house.</p> +<p>The hall was as spacious and nearly as beautiful as the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +drawing-room, and the pretty, bright parlor-maid smiled +at the gentleman as he went out. Mrs. Ward remained for +a time alone after her visitor had left.</p> +<p>“I should like to have those girls,” she said to herself. +“Any girls related to such a splendid, lofty character as +Aneta could not but be welcome to me. Their poor father, +he will feel parting with them; but I have no doubt that +I shall receive them next September at this house.”</p> +<p>The thought had scarcely passed through her mind before +there came a brisk ring at the front door, and Lady Lysle +and Aneta were announced.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear Mrs. Ward!” said Lady Lysle, speaking in her +quick, impulsive manner, “have you seen my dear friend +and cousin, Mr. Cardew?”</p> +<p>“And are the girls coming to the school?” asked Aneta.</p> +<p>“I have seen Mr. Cardew,” said Mrs. Ward. “He is a +very charming man. He will decide whether he will send +his daughters here or not during the course of to-day.”</p> +<p>“But,” said Lady Lysle, “didn’t you urge him?”</p> +<p>“No, dear friend; I never urge any one to put a girl in +my care. I should feel myself very wrong in doing so. If +Mr. Cardew thinks well of what he has seen here he may +send his daughters to me, but I certainly did nothing to +urge him.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” said Aneta, “I should so like them to come. +You can’t think, Mrs. Ward, what nice people the Cardews +are; and the girls—they do want school-life. Don’t they, +auntie darling?”</p> +<p>“Such a school as this would do them a world of good,” +said Lady Lysle.</p> +<p>“Well, I really hope they will come,” said Mrs. Ward; +“but I quite understand their father’s objections. They are +evidently very precious treasures, and he has the sort of +objection which exists in the minds of many country gentlemen +to sending his girls to school.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said Aneta, “but there are schools and schools!”</p> +<p>“The girls will be exceedingly rich,” said Lady Lysle. +“Their mother was a Meredith and belonged to an old county +family. She inherits vast wealth <i>and</i> the old family place. +Their father is what may be termed a merchant-prince. +By-and-by all the money of the parents will go to these +girls. They are very nice children, but know nothing whatever +of the world. It seems to me a cruel thing that they +should be brought up with no knowledge of the great world +where they must eventually live.”</p> +<p>“I hope they will come here,” said Mrs. Ward. “Great +wealth means great responsibility. They can make magnificent +use of their money. I should be interested to have +them.”</p> +<p>“I know you would, my dear friend,” said Lady Lysle, +“and they are really quite sweet girls. Now, come, Aneta; +we must not keep Mrs. Ward any longer.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p> +<p>When her visitors had left her Mrs. Ward still remained +in the pleasant drawing-room. She sank into a low chair, +folded her hands in her lap, and remained very still. Although +she was only thirty-five years of age, she had been +a widow for over ten years. She had married when quite +a young girl, and had lost her husband and child before +she was five-and-twenty. It was in her generous and noble +nature to love most passionately and all too well. For a time +after her terrible trouble she scarcely know how to bear her +grief. Then she took it to the one place where such sorrow +can be borne—namely, to the foot of the throne of God; +and afterwards it occurred to her to devote her life to the +education of others. She was quite well-off, and did not +need to work for her living. But work, to a nature such as +hers, was essential. She also needed the sympathy of +others, and the love of others; and so, aided by her friends, +her small but most select school in South Kensington was +started.</p> +<p>From the very first it was a success. It was unlike many +other schools, for the head-mistress had broader and nobler +views of life. She loved all her girls, and they all loved +her; but it was impossible for her not to like some girls +more than others, and of all the girls at present at her +school Aneta Lysle was the one she really loved best. There +was also, it is sad to relate, a girl there whom she did not +love, and that girl was Maggie Howland. There was nothing +whatever with regard to Maggie that her mistress could lay +hold of. She was quite aware of the girl’s fascination, and +of her powerful influence over her schoolfellows. Nevertheless, +she never thought of her without a sense of discomfort.</p> +<p>Maggie was one of the girls who were educated at Aylmer +House for a very low fee; for Mrs. Ward was quite rich +enough and generous enough to take girls who could not +afford her full terms for very much less. Maggie’s fees, +therefore, were almost nominal, and no one knew this fact +better than Maggie herself and her mother, Mrs. Howland. +None of her schoolfellows knew, for she learned just what +they did, and had precisely the same advantages. She was +treated just like the others. No one could guess that her +circumstances were different. And certainly Maggie would +never tell, but none the less did she in her heart hate her +position.</p> +<p>As a matter of fact, Molly and Isabel Tristram were also +coming to the school on specially low terms; but no one +would know this. Maggie, however, suspected it, and intended, +if necessary, to make the fact an added power over +her young friends when they all assembled at Aylmer House.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Ward, half-aloud, half to herself, “I +don’t quite trust Maggie Howland. But I cannot possibly +dismiss her from the school. I may win her round to a +loftier standard of life, but at present there is no doubt she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +has not that high ideal in view which I think my other girls +aim at.”</p> +<p>Between three and four o’clock that day Mrs. Ward received +a telegram from Mr. Cardew. It contained the following +words:</p> +<p>“After consideration, I have made up my mind to do myself +the great honor of confiding my girls to your care. +Their mother and I will write to you fully in a day or two.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward smiled when she received the telegram. “I +will do my best for those children,” she said to herself.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX_THE_NEWS' id='CHAPTER_IX_THE_NEWS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>THE NEWS.</h3> +</div> +<p>Mr. Cardew arrived at Meredith Manor very late that +evening. The long and happy day had come to an end. The +Tristram girls and Maggie Howland had returned to the +rectory. Cicely and Merry were having a long, confidential +chat together. They were in Merry’s bedroom. They had +dismissed their maid. They were talking of the pleasures +of the day, and in particular were discussing the delightful +fact that their beautiful cousin Aneta had wired to say she +would be with them in two days’ time.</p> +<p>They had not seen Aneta for some years, but they both +remembered her vividly. Her memory shone out before +them both as something specially dazzling and specially +beautiful. Maggie Howland, too, had spoken of Aneta’s +beauty. Maggie had been told that Aneta was coming, and +Maggie had expressed pleasure. Whatever Maggie’s private +feelings may have been, she was very careful now to +express delight at Aneta’s appearance at Meredith Manor.</p> +<p>“What a darling she is!” said Merry. “I doubt very +much—I suppose it’s rank heresy to say so, Cicely, but I +really greatly doubt whether I shall ever prefer Aneta to +Maggie. What are mere looks, after all, when one possesses +such charm as Maggie has? That seems to me a much +greater gift.”</p> +<p>“We need not compare them, need we?” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Oh, certainly not,” said Merry; “but, Cicely darling, +doesn’t it seem funny that such a lot of girls who are all +to meet in September at Aylmer House should be practically +staying with us at the present moment?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed,” said Cicely. “I feel almost as though I +belonged to it, which of course is quite ridiculous, for we +shall never by any chance go there.”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” said Merry, and she sighed.</p> +<p>After a time Cicely said, “I wonder what father went to +town for to-day.”</p> +<p>“Well, we don’t know, so where’s the use of troubling?” +said Merry.</p> +<p>“I asked mother,” said Cicely, “why he went to town, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +she said she couldn’t tell me; but she got rather red as she +spoke.”</p> +<p>“Cicely,” said Merry after a long pause, “when these glorious +holidays come to an end, and the Aylmer House girls +have gone to Aylmer House, what shall you and I do?”</p> +<p>“Do,” said Cicely—“do? I suppose what we’ve always +done. A fresh governess will be found, and another music-master, +and we’ll work at our lessons and do the best we +can.”</p> +<p>Merry gave a deep sigh.</p> +<p>“We’ll never talk French like Belle Tristram,” she said, +“and we’ll never play so that any one will care to listen to +us. We’ll never, never know the world the way the others +know it. There seems very little use in being rich when +one can’t get education.”</p> +<p>It was just at that moment that there came a light tap +at the girls’ door. Before they could reply, it was opened +and Mrs. Cardew came in. She looked as though she had +been crying; nevertheless, there was a joyful sort of triumph +on her face. She said quickly, “I thought, somehow, you +two naughty children would not be in bed, and I told father +that I’d come up on the chance of finding you. Father has +come back from London, and has something important to +tell you. Will you come down with me at once?”</p> +<p>“Oh mother! mother! what is it?” said Merry in a tone +of excitement which was slightly mingled with awe.</p> +<p>“Your father will tell you, my darling,” said Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<p>She put her arm round Merry’s slight waist and held +Cicely’s hand, and they came down to the great drawing-room +where Mr. Cardew was waiting for them.</p> +<p>He was pacing slowly up and down the room, his hands +folded behind his back. His face was slightly tired, and yet +he too wore that odd expression of mingled triumph and +pain which Mrs. Cardew’s eyes expressed.</p> +<p>When the mother and the girls entered the room he at +once shut the door. Mr. Cardew looked first of all at Merry. +He held out his hand to her. “Come to me, little girl,” he said.</p> +<p>She flew to him and put her arms round his neck. She +kissed him several times. “Oh dad! dad!” she said, “I +know I was downright horrid and unkind and perfectly +dreadful yesterday, and I don’t—no, I <i>don’t</i>—want to leave +you and mother. If I was discontented then, I am not now.”</p> +<p>Merry believed her own words at that moment, for the +look on her father’s face had struck to her very heart.</p> +<p>He disengaged her pretty arms very gently, and, still +holding her hand, went up to Cicely, who was clinging to +her mother. “I have just got some news for you both,” he +said. “You know, of course, that Miss Beverley cannot +teach you any longer?”</p> +<p>“Poor old Beverley,” said Cicely; “we are so sorry. But +you’ll find another good governess for us, won’t you, dad?”</p> +<p>“I am afraid I can’t,” said Mr. Cardew, “So I sent for you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +to-night to tell you that I have broken the resolve which I +always meant to keep.”</p> +<p>“You have what?” said Merry.</p> +<p>“I have turned my back on a determination which I +made when you were both very little girls, and to-day I +went up to town and saw Mrs. Ward.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Merry. She turned white and dropped her +father’s hand, and, clasping her own two hands tightly together, +gazed at him as though she would devour his face.</p> +<p>“Well, it’s all settled, children,” said Mr. Cardew, “and: +when September comes you will go with your friends Molly +and Belle to Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>This announcement was received at first in total silence. +Then Merry flew to her father and kissed him a great many +times, and Cicely kissed her mother.</p> +<p>Then Merry said, “We can’t talk of it to-night; we can’t +quite realize it to-night; but—but—we are glad!”</p> +<p>Then she took Cicely’s hand, and they went out of the +room. Mr. and Mrs. Cardew watched them as the little figures +approached the door. Merry opened it, and they both +passed out.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” said Mr. Cardew, looking at his wife, “if they +are going out of our lives.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, no,” said Mrs. Cardew; “from what you have +told me of Mrs. Ward, she must be a good woman—one of +the best.”</p> +<p>“She is one of the very, very best, Sylvia; and I think +the very happiest thing for us both would be to run up to +town to-morrow, and for you to see her for yourself.”</p> +<p>“Very well, darling; we will do so,” said Mrs. Cardew.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_X_ANETA' id='CHAPTER_X_ANETA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>ANETA.</h3> +</div> +<p>So everything was settled. Cicely and Merry scarcely +slept at all that night. They were too much excited; the +news was too wonderful. Now that their wish was granted, +there was pain mingled with their joy. It seems as though +perfect joy must have its modicum of pain to make it perfect.</p> +<p>But when the next morning dawned the regret of the night +before seemed to have vanished. In the first place, Mr. and +Mrs. Cardew had gone early to London; and the mere fact +that their father and mother were not present was a sort +of relief to the excited girls. The picnic need not be postponed, +for Mr. and Mrs. Tristram could act as chaperons on +this auspicious occasion.</p> +<p>They were all to meet at the Manor at eleven o’clock; and, +punctual to the hour, a goodly array of happy young people +walked up the avenue and entered the porch of the old-house. +Andrew, devoted to Maggie, was present. Jack, +equally Maggie’s slave, was also there. Maggie herself, looking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +neat and happy, was helping every one. Molly and Belle, +all in white, and looking as charming as little girls could, +were full of expectation of their long and delightful day.</p> +<p>One wagonette could hold the whole party, and as it drove +round to the front door the boys fiercely took possession of +the box-seat, fighting with the coachman, who said that +there would be no room for Miss Howland to sit between +them.</p> +<p>“Well then, Mags, if that is the case,” said Peterkins, “you +get along in at once, and take this corner close to me; then, +whenever we want, we can do a bit of whispering.”</p> +<p>“You won’t whisper more than your share,” said Jackdaw. +“I’ve a frightful lot to say to Mags this morning.”</p> +<p>“Hush, boys!” said Maggie; “if you quarrel about me I +shall not speak to either of you.”</p> +<p>This threat was so awful that the boys glanced at each +other, remained silent and got quietly into their places. +Then the hampers were put on the floor just under their +feet.</p> +<p>Presently Cicely and Merry came out to join the group. +They were wearing pretty pink muslins, with pink sashes +to match. Merry’s beautiful dark eyes were very bright. +Mr. and Mrs. Tristram inquired for their host and hostess.</p> +<p>“Oh, I have news for you!” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Cicely, “Merry will tell.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s Just this,” said Merry, almost jerking out her +words in excitement: “Father and mother have been obliged +to go rather unexpectedly to town.”</p> +<p>“Why?” said Maggie; then she restrained herself, knowing +that it was not her place to speak.</p> +<p>“They have gone to town,” said Merry, scarcely looking +at Maggie now, and endeavoring with all her might and +main not to show undue excitement, “because a great and +wonderful thing has happened; something so unexpected +that—that Cicely and I can scarcely believe it.”</p> +<p>Maggie glanced at the sweet little faces. She said to herself, +“All right,” and got calmly into the wagonette, where +she sat close under the box-seat which contained those obstreperous +young heroes Andrew and Jack. The others +clustered round Merry.</p> +<p>“As I said, I can scarcely believe it,” said Merry; “but +father has done the most marvelous thing. Oh Belle! oh Molly! +it is too wonderful! For after all—after all, Cicely and I are +to go with you to Aylmer House in September, and—and—that +is why father and mother have gone to town. Father +went up yesterday and saw Mrs. Ward, and he—he settled it; +and father and mother have gone up to-day—both of them—to +see her, and to make final arrangements. And we’re to go! +we’re to <i>go</i>!”</p> +<p>“Hurrah!” cried Molly. Immediately the boys, and Maggie +and Belle, and even Mr. and Mrs. Tristram, took up the +glad “Hurrah!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p> +<p>“Well, children,” said Mr. Tristram when the first excitement +had subsided, “I must say I am heartily pleased. +This is delightful! I take some credit to myself for having +helped on this most excellent arrangement.”</p> +<p>“No one thanks me for anything,” thought Maggie; but +she had the prudence to remain silent.</p> +<p>“We had better start on our picnic now,” said Mr. Tristram, +and immediately the whole party climbed into the +wagonette. The horses started; the wheels rolled. They +were off.</p> +<p>By-and-by Merry felt her hand taken by Maggie. Maggie +just squeezed that hand, and whispered in that very, very +rich and wonderfully seductive voice of hers, “Oh, I am glad! +I am very, very glad!”</p> +<p>Merry felt her heart thrill as Maggie uttered those words. +She answered back, turning her face to her young companion, +“To be with you alone would be happiness enough +for me.”</p> +<p>“Is it true, Cicely,” said Mrs. Tristram at the moment, +“that your cousin, Aneta Lysle, is coming to stay with you?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes; but I had half-forgotten it in all this excitement,” +said Cicely. “She will arrive to-morrow.—Maggie, +you’ll be glad, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“More than delighted,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“It is too wonderful,” said Cicely. “Why, it will soon +come to pass that half Mrs. Ward’s school will be all together +during the holidays. Fancy, we two, and you two”—she +touched one of the Tristram girls—“and you, Maggie, +and then dear Aneta; why, that’ll make six. What a lot we +shall have to talk about! Maggie, you and Aneta will be our +two heroines; we shall always be applying to you for information.”</p> +<p>The conversation was here interrupted by Jackdaw, who +pinched Maggie on the arm. “You’re not attending to us,” +he said.</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Jackdaw!”</p> +<p>“Well, stand up for a minute; I want to whisper to +you.”</p> +<p>Maggie, who never lost a chance of ingratiating herself +with any one, obeyed.</p> +<p>“Jack dear, don’t be troublesome,” said his mother.</p> +<p>“I am not,” said Jackdaw. “She loves it, the duck that +she is!”</p> +<p>“Be quick, Jackdaw; it’s very difficult for me to keep my +hold standing up,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“How many chocolates can you eat at a pinch?” whispered +Jackdaw in her ear.</p> +<p>“Oh, forty,” replied Maggie; “but I should be rather ill +afterwards.”</p> +<p>“We’ve got some in our pockets. They’re a little bit +clammy, but you don’t mind that?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any just now, dear boy; and I’ll tell you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +why. I want to be really starving hungry when the picnic +begins.”</p> +<p>“That’s a good notion, isn’t it?” said Jackdaw.—“I say, +Andrew, she wants to be starving hungry when the picnic +begins!”</p> +<p>Maggie resumed her seat, and the boys went on whispering +together, and kicking each other at intervals, and rather +upsetting that very stolid personage, Mr. Charles, the Meredith +Manor coachman.</p> +<p>The picnic was a perfect success. When people are very +happy there is no room for discontent in their hearts, and +all the members of that party were in the highest spirits. +The Cardew girls had no time yet for that period of regret +which must invariably follow a period of intense excitement. +They had no time yet to realize that they must part with +their father and mother for the greater portion of the year.</p> +<p>To children so intensely affectionate as Cicely and Merry +such a parting must mean considerable pain. But even the +beginning of the pain did not come to them on that auspicious +day, and they returned to the house after the picnic +in the highest good-humor.</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Tristram, however, were wise in their generation; +and although Cicely and Merry begged and implored +the whole party to come to the Manor for supper, they very +firmly declined. It is to be regretted that both Jack and +Andrew turned sulky on this occasion.</p> +<p>As the rectory girls and Maggie and the boys and Mr. and +Mrs. Tristam were all going homewards the two girls and +Maggie fell behind.</p> +<p>“Isn’t this real fun? Isn’t it magnificent?” said Molly +Tristram.</p> +<p>“It’s a very good thing indeed for your friends Cicely and +Merry,” said Maggie. Then she added, “Didn’t I tell you, +girls, that you would win your bracelets?”</p> +<p>Belle felt herself changing color.</p> +<p>“We don’t want them a bit—we really don’t,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“Of course we don’t want them,” said Isabel.</p> +<p>“You’ll have them all the same,” said Maggie. “They are +my present to you. Surely you won’t refuse my present?”</p> +<p>“But such a very rich and handsome present we ought +not to accept,” said Molly.</p> +<p>“Nonsense, girls! I shall be unhappy unless you wear +them. When I return to mother—which, alas! I must do +before many days are over—I shall send you the bracelets.”</p> +<p>“I wish you wouldn’t, Maggie,” said Belle Tristram; “for +I am certain father and mother would not like us to wear +jewelry while we are so young.”</p> +<p>“Well, then,” said Maggie, “I will give them to you when +we all meet at Aylmer House. You must take them; you +know you promised you would. You will hurt me most +frightfully if you don’t.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>As Molly and Isabel certainly did not wish to hurt Maggie, +they remained silent, and during the rest of the walk +the three girls scarcely spoke. Meanwhile Cicely and Merry +entered the Manor House and waited impatiently for the +return of their father and mother.</p> +<p>“We must get everything extra nice for them,” said +Cicely to her sister. “I do think it is so wonderfully splendid +of them to send us to school.”</p> +<p>The sun had already set, and twilight had come on; but +it would be quite impossible for Mr. and Mrs. Cardew to +arrive at the Manor until about ten o’clock. What, therefore, +was the amazement of the girls when they heard carriage-wheels +in the distance!</p> +<p>“Father and mother could not possibly have done their +business and caught the early train,” said Merry in some +excitement. “Who can be coming now?”</p> +<p>The next moment their doubts were set at rest, for Aneta +Lysle entered the hall.</p> +<p>“I came to-day after all,” she said. “Auntie thought it +would be more convenient. You got my telegram, didn’t +you?”</p> +<p>These words were uttered while her two cousins, in rapture +and delight, were kissing her.</p> +<p>“No, no,” said Merry, “we got no telegram; but, oh, Aneta! +we are glad to see you.”</p> +<p>“Here’s the telegram on the hall-table,” said Aneta, and +she took up a yellow envelope. This was addressed to “Cardew, +Meredith Manor.” “Yes, I know this must be from +me,” said Aneta. “But why didn’t you open it?”</p> +<p>“Well, the fact is,” said Cicely, “father and mother were +in London, and the rest of us were out on a picnic. But it +doesn’t matter a bit; you’ve come, and the sooner the better. +Oh, it is nice to see you again! But how tall you are, Neta, +and how grown up you look!”</p> +<p>“I am seventeen, remember,” said Aneta. “I don’t feel +grown-up, but auntie says I look it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come into the light—do,” said Merry, “and let’s see +you! We’ve heard so very much of you lately, and we want +to look at your darling face again.”</p> +<p>“And I want to look at you both,” said Aneta in her affectionate +manner.</p> +<p>The servants had conveyed Miss Lysle’s luggage into the +house, and now the three girls, with their arms twined +round each other, entered the same big drawing-room where +Mr. Cardew had given his wonderful news of the night before. +There was a blaze of electric light, and this, judiciously +softened with rose-colored silk, was most becoming +to all those who came under its influence. But the strongest +glare of light could not disfigure any one so absolutely beautiful +as Aneta Lysle. Her delicate complexion, the wonderful +purity and regularity of her features, her sweet, tender +young mouth, her charming blue eyes, and her great luxuriance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +of golden hair made people who looked at her once +long to study that charming face again and yet again.</p> +<p>There was no vanity about this young girl; her manner, +her expression, were simplicity itself. There was a certain +nobility about her fine forehead, and the shape of her head +was classical, and showed undoubted talent. Her clear, +musical voice was in itself a charm. Her young figure was +the very personification of grace. Beside her, Cicely and +Merry felt awkward and commonplace; not that they were +so, but very few people could attain to Aneta Lysle’s incomparable +beauty.</p> +<p>“Well, girls,” she said, “you do look sweet, both of you!”</p> +<p>“Oh Neta, what a darling you are!” said Merry, who worshipped +beauty, and had never come across any one so lovely +as her cousin. “It’s two years since we met,” she continued, +“and you have altered, and not altered. You’re more grown-up +and more—more stately, but your face is the same. Whenever +we want to think of the angels we think of you too, +Neta.”</p> +<p>“That is very sweet of you, darlings; but, indeed, I am +far from being an angel. I am just a very human girl; and, +please, if you don’t mind, we won’t discuss my looks any +more.”</p> +<p>Cicely and Merry both save their cousin a thoughtful +glance. Then they said eagerly, “You must come to your +room and wash your hands, and get refreshed for supper, +for of course you are starving.”</p> +<p>“I shall like to have something to eat,” said Aneta. “What +room am I to have, girls?”</p> +<p>“Oh, the white room, next to ours; we arranged it all this +morning,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Well, come along at once,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Soon the three girls found themselves in the beautiful +bedroom which had been arranged for Aneta’s reception. +As soon as ever they got there Cicely clasped one of her +cousin’s arms and Merry the other.</p> +<p>“We have news for you—news!” they said.</p> +<p>“Yes?” said Aneta, looking at them with her bright, soft +eyes.</p> +<p>“Most wonderful—most extraordinary—most—most beautiful!” +said Merry, speaking almost with passion. “We’re +going to your school; yes, to yours—to Aylmer House, in +September. Could you have believed it? Think of father +consenting, and just because I felt a little discontented. Oh, +isn’t he an angel? Father, of all people, who until now +would not hear of our leaving home! But we’re going.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Aneta, “I am not greatly surprised, for I +happen to know that your father, Cousin Cyril, came to see +auntie yesterday, and afterwards he went to visit Mrs. Ward, +and after his visit we saw Mrs. Ward; and, although he had +not quite made up his mind then whether he would send +you or not, we quite thought he would do so. Yes, this is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +splendid. I’ll he able to tell you lots about the school; but, +after all, it isn’t the school that matters.”</p> +<p>“Then what matters, Aneta?”</p> +<p>“It’s Mrs. Ward herself,” said Aneta; “it’s she who makes +the whole thing so perfect. She guides us; she enlightens +us. Sometimes I can scarcely talk of her, my love for her +and my passion for her are so deep.”</p> +<p>Cicely and Merry looked thoughtful for a minute.</p> +<p>“I’m ready now to come downstairs,” said Aneta; and they +went down, to find supper prepared for them, and the old +butler waiting to attend on his young ladies.</p> +<p>After the meal was over the girls retired to the drawing-room, +where they all three sat by one of the windows waiting +for Mr. and Mrs. Cardew’s return.</p> +<p>Merry then said, “It is so funny of you, Aneta, to speak +as though the school was Mrs. Ward.”</p> +<p>“But it is,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Surely, surely,” said Merry, “it’s the girls too.”</p> +<p>“You will be surprised, perhaps, Aneta, to hear,” said +Cicely, “that our dear, darling friends—our greatest girl-friends, +except yourself perhaps, and you’re a sort of sister—Molly +and Isabel Tristram are also going to Aylmer House +in September. They are so nice—you will like them; and +then, of course, there’s Maggie Howland, one of the most +charming girls we have come across.”</p> +<p>“Whom did you say?” asked Aneta.</p> +<p>“Maggie Howland. She is here.”</p> +<p>“In this house?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“No; she is at the rectory. She is a special friend of +Molly and Isabel. She has been at school with them before +in Hanover. You know her, of course? She is one of the +girls at Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>“I know her—oh yes, I know her,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“And you like her, you feel her charm, you—you almost +worship her, don’t you, Neta?”</p> +<p>Aneta was silent.</p> +<p>“Oh, I know she is considered plain,” said Merry, “but +there’s something about her which prevents one even considering +her features. She is the most unselfish, most fascinating +girl we have ever come across. You love her, don’t +you, Neta?”</p> +<p>There had come a curious change over Aneta’s face. After +a brief pause she said, “I have no right to say it, but you +two are my cousins”––</p> +<p>“Yes, yes! What does this mean?” said Cicely with great +eagerness.</p> +<p>“Well, I know you will be faithful and not repeat it to +any one; but I don’t love Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Neta!”</p> +<p>“And,” continued Aneta, “you; as my cousins, I most earnestly +hope, will not make her your special friend at Aylmer +House.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p> +<p>“But we have done so already, Neta. Oh, Neta darling! +you are mistaken in her.”</p> +<p>“I say nothing whatever against her,” said Aneta, “except +that personally I do not care for her. I should be very +glad if I found that I had misjudged her.”</p> +<p>“Then why don’t you want us to be friends with her? +We are friends with her.”</p> +<p>“I cannot control you, darlings. When you come to school +you will see a variety of girls, and most of them—indeed, all +of them—nice, I think.”</p> +<p>“Then why shouldn’t we like poor Maggie?”</p> +<p>“You do like her, it seems, already.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but you are so mysterious, Neta.”</p> +<p>“I cannot say any more; you must forgive me,” answered +Aneta. “And I hear the sound of wheels. Your father and +mother are coming.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, the darlings!” said Merry, rushing into the +hall to meet her parents.</p> +<p>Aneta and Cicely followed her example, and there was +great excitement and much talk. Mrs. Cardew was now as +anxious that the girls should go to Aylmer House as though +she herself had always wished for such an arrangement, +while Mr. Cardew could not say enough in Mrs. Ward’s +praise.</p> +<p>“You agree with me, Aneta,” said Mrs. Cardew, “that the +school is quite unique and above the ordinary.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Ward is unique and above the ordinary,” was +Aneta’s reply.</p> +<p>When the girls retired to their own rooms that night, +Cicely and Merry met for a brief moment.</p> +<p>“How funny of Aneta not to like Maggie!” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Well, if I were you, Merry,” said Cicely, “I wouldn’t +talk about it. I suppose Aneta is prejudiced.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Merry; “but against Maggie, of all people! +Well, I, for my part, will never give her up.”</p> +<p>“I suppose,” said Cicely, who was more conscientious than +her sister, “that we ought to think something of Aneta’s +opinion.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that’s very fine,” said Merry; “but we ought to +think something, too, of Molly’s opinion, and Belle’s opinion. +They have known Maggie longer than Aneta has.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Cicely; “I forgot that. But isn’t Aneta +herself delightful? It’s a pure joy to look at her.”</p> +<p>“It certainly is,” said Merry; “and of course I love her +dearly and am very proud of her; but I confess I did not +quite like her when she spoke in that queer way about dear +little Maggie. I, at least, am absolutely determined that +nothing will induce me to give Maggie up.”</p> +<p>“Of course we won’t give her up,” said Cicely. But she +spoke with thought. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI_TEN_POUNDS' id='CHAPTER_XI_TEN_POUNDS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>TEN POUNDS.</h3> +</div> +<p>In perfect summer weather, when the heart is brimful +of happiness, and when a great desire has been unexpectedly +fulfilled, what can there possibly be more delightful than an +open-air life? This was what the girls who belonged to +the rectory and the girls who belonged to the Manor now +found. Mr. and Mrs. Cardew and Mr. and Mrs. Tristram +could not do enough for their benefit. Maggie could only +stay for one week longer with her friends; but Aneta had +changed her mind with regard to Belgium, and was to go +with the young Cardews to the seaside, and Mrs. Cardew had +asked the Tristram girls to accompany them. She had also +extended her invitation to Maggie, who would have given a +great deal to accept it. She wrote to her mother on the +subject. Mrs. Howland made a brief reply: “You know it +is impossible, Maggie. You must come back to me early +next week. I cannot do without you, so say no more about it.”</p> +<p>Maggie was a girl with a really excellent temper, and, +recognizing that her mother had a good reason for not giving +her the desired holiday, made the best of things.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Cicely and Merry watched her carefully. As +to Aneta, she was perfectly cordial with Maggie, not talking +to her much, it is true, but never showing the slightest +objection to her society. Nevertheless, there was, since the +arrival of Aneta on the scene, a strange, undefinable change +in the atmosphere. Merry noticed this more than Cicely. +It felt to her electrical, as though there might be a storm +brewing.</p> +<p>On the day before Maggie was to return to London to take +up her abode in her mother’s dull house in Shepherd’s Bush, +a magnificent picnic on a larger scale even than usual was +the order of the hour. Some young girls of the name of +Heathfield who lived a little way off were asked to Meredith +Manor to spend the night, and these girls, who were exceedingly +jolly and bright and lively, were a fresh source of +delight to all those whom they happened to meet. Their +names were Susan and Mary Heathfield. They were older +than the Tristrams and the Cardews, and had, in fact, just +left school. Their last year of school-life had been spent +in Paris; they were highly educated, and had an enviable +proficiency in the French tongue.</p> +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Heathfield, the parents of these girls, were +also guests at the Manor, so that the picnic on this last day +of Maggie’s visit to the rectory was quite a large one. They +drove nearly twenty miles to a beautiful place not far from +Warwick. There the usual picnic arrangements were made +with great satisfaction; dinner was eaten out-of-doors, and +presently there was to be a gipsy-tea. This all the girls +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +looked forward to, and Andrew and Jack were wild with +delight over the prospect of making the kettle boil. This +particular task was given to them, and very proud they were +of the trust reposed in them.</p> +<p>But now, dinner being over, the older people took shelter +from the fierce rays of the sun under the wide-spreading +trees, and the young people moved about in groups or in +couples. Merry Cardew found herself alone with Maggie +Howland. Without intending to do so, she had slightly, very +slightly, avoided Maggie during the last day or two; but +Maggie now seized her arm and drew her down a shady +glade.</p> +<p>“Come with me, Merry,” she said; “I have a lot I want to +say to you.”</p> +<p>Merry looked at her. “Of course I will come with you, +Maggie,” she answered.</p> +<p>“I want just to get quite away from the others,” continued +Maggie, “for we shall not meet again until we meet +in the autumn at Aylmer House. You don’t know, perhaps—do +you, Merry—that you owe the great joy of coming to +that lovely school to me?”</p> +<p>“To you!” said Merry in the utmost amazement.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Maggie in her calmest tone, “to me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear Maggie!” replied Merry, “you surely must be +mistaken.”</p> +<p>“I don’t intend to explain myself,” said Maggie; “I simply +state what is a fact. You owe your school-life to me. It +was I who inserted the thin end of the wedge beneath your +father’s fixed resolution that you were to be educated at +home. It was I, in short, who acted the part of the fairy +princess and who pulled those silken reins which brought +about the desire of your heart.”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand you, Maggie,” said Merry in a distressful +tone; “but I suppose,” she added, “as you say so, it +is the case. Only, I ought to tell you that what really and +truly happened was this”––</p> +<p>“Oh, I know quite well what really and truly happened,” +interrupted Maggie. “Let me tell you. I know that there +came a certain day when a little girl who calls herself +Merry Cardew was very discontented, and I know also that +kind Mr. Cardew discovered the discontent of his child. +Well, now, who put that discontent into your mind?”</p> +<p>“Why, I am afraid it was you,” said Merry, turning pale +and then red.</p> +<p>Maggie laughed. “Why, of course it was,” she said; “and +you suppose I didn’t do it on purpose?”</p> +<p>“But, Maggie, you didn’t really mean—you couldn’t for a +minute mean—that I was to be miserable at home if father +didn’t give his consent?”</p> +<p>“Of course not,” said Maggie lightly; “but, you see, I +meant him to give his consent—I meant it all the time. I +own that there were several favoring circumstances; but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +I want to tell you now, Merry, in the strictest confidence of +course, that from the moment I arrived at the rectory I determined +that you and Cicely were to come with Molly and +Isabel to Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>“It was very kind of you, Maggie,” said Merry; but she +felt a certain sense of distress which she could not quite +account for as she spoke.</p> +<p>“Why do you look so melancholy?” said Maggie, turning +and fixing her queer, narrow eyes on the pretty face of her +young companion.</p> +<p>“I am not really melancholy, only I would much rather +you had told me openly at the time that you wished me to +come to school.”</p> +<p>Maggie gave a faint sigh. “Had I done so, darling,” she +said, “you would never have come. You must leave your +poor friend Maggie to manage things in her own way. But +now I have something else to talk about.”</p> +<p>They had gone far down the glade, and were completely +separated from their companions.</p> +<p>“Sit down,” said Maggie; “it’s too hot to walk far even +under the shade of the trees.”</p> +<p>They both sat down.</p> +<p>Maggie tossed off her hat. “To-morrow,” she said, “you +will perhaps be having another picnic, or, at any rate, the +best of good times with your friends.”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” replied Merry.</p> +<p>“But I shall be in hot, stifling London, in a little house, +in poky lodgings; to-morrow, at this hour, I shall not be +having what you call a good time.”</p> +<p>“But, Maggie, you will be with your mother.”</p> +<p>“Yes, poor darling mother! of course.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you love her very much?” asked Merry.</p> +<p>Maggie flashed round an excited glance at her companion. +“Love her? Yes,” she said, “I love her.”</p> +<p>“But you must love her tremendously,” said Merry—“as +much as I love my mother.”</p> +<p>“As a rule all girls love their mothers,” said Maggie. +“We are not talking about that now, are we?”</p> +<p>“What do you want to say to me in particular, Maggie?” +was Merry’s response.</p> +<p>“This. We shall meet at school on the 20th of September. +There will be, as I have told you already, twenty +boarders at Aylmer House. You will arrive at the school as +strangers; so will Molly and Isabel arrive as strangers; but +you will have two friends—Aneta Lysle and myself. You’re +very much taken, with your cousin Aneta, are you not?”</p> +<p>“Taken with her?” said Merry. “That seems to me a +curious expression. She is our cousin, and she is beautiful.”</p> +<p>“Merry, I must tell you something. At Aylmer House +there are two individuals who lead the school.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Merry, “I thought Mrs. Ward led the school.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<p>“Of course, of course, Mrs. Ward is just splendid; but, +you see, you, poor Merry, know nothing of school-life. +School-life is really controlled—I mean the inner part of it—by +the girls themselves. Now, there are two girls at +Aylmer House who control the school: one of them is your +humble servant, Maggie Howland; the other is your cousin, +Aneta Lysle. Aneta does not love me; and, to be frank with +you, I hate her.”</p> +<p>Merry found herself turning very red. She remembered +Aneta’s words on the night of her arrival.</p> +<p>“She has already told you,” said Maggie, “that she doesn’t +like me.”</p> +<p>Merry remained silent.</p> +<p>“Oh, you needn’t speak. I know quite well,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>Merry felt more and more uncomfortable.</p> +<p>“The petition I have to make to you is this,” continued +Maggie: “that at school you will, for a time at least—say +for the first month or so—be <i>neutral</i>. I want you and Cicely +and Molly and Isabel to belong neither to Aneta’s party nor +to mine; and I want you to do this because—because I have +been the person who has got you to Aylmer House. Just +remain neutral for a month. Will you promise me that?”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand you. You puzzle me very much indeed,” +said Merry.</p> +<p>“You will understand fast enough when you get to Aylmer +House. I wish I were not going away; I wish I hadn’t to +return to mother. I wish I could go with you all to Scarborough; +but I am the last girl on earth to neglect my duties, +and my duty is to be with poor dear mother. You will understand +that what I ask is but reasonable. If four new girls +came to the school, and altogether went over to Aneta’s +side, where should I be? What chance should I have? But +I do not ask you to come to my side; I only ask you to +be neutral. Merry, will you promise?”</p> +<p>“You distress me more than I can say,” replied Merry. +“I feel so completely in the dark. I don’t, of course, want +to take any side.”</p> +<p>“Ah, then you will promise?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I don’t know what to say.”</p> +<p>“Let me present a picture to you,” continued Maggie. +“There are two girls; they are not equally equipped for the +battle of life. I say nothing of injustice in the matter; +I only state a fact. One of them is rich and highly born, and +endowed with remarkable beauty of face. That girl is your +own cousin, Aneta Lysle. Then there is the other girl, Maggie +Howland, who is ugly.”</p> +<p>“Oh no—no!” said Merry affectionately.</p> +<p>“Yes, darling,” said Maggie, using her most magnetic +voice, “really ugly.”</p> +<p>“Not in my eyes,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“She is ugly,” repeated Maggie, speaking with great calm; +“and—yes—she is poor. I will tell you as a great secret—I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +have never breathed it to a soul yet—that it would be impossible +for this girl to be an inmate of Aylmer House if +Mrs. Ward, in the kindness of her great heart, had not +offered her very special terms. You will never breathe that, +Merry, not even to Cicely?”</p> +<p>“Oh, poor Maggie!” said Merry, “are you really—really +as poor as that?”</p> +<p>“Church mice aren’t poorer,” said Maggie. “But never +mind; I have got something which even your Aneta hasn’t +got. I have talent, and I have the power—the power of +charming. I want most earnestly to be your special friend, +Merry. I have a very affectionate heart, and I love you and +Cicely and Molly and Isabel more than I can say; but of all +you four girls I love you the best. You come first in my +heart; and to see you at my school turning away from me +and going altogether to Aneta’s side would give me agony. +There, I can’t help it. Forgive me. I’ll be all right in a +minute.”</p> +<p>Maggie turned her face aside. She had taken out her +handkerchief and was pressing it to her eyes. Real tears had +filled them, for her emotions were genuine enough.</p> +<p>“Don’t you think,” she said after a pause, “that you, who +are so rich in this world’s goods, might be kind and loving +to a poor little plain girl who loves you but who has got +very little?”</p> +<p>“Indeed, indeed, I shall always love you, dear Maggie,” +said Merry.</p> +<p>“Then you will do what I want?”</p> +<p>“I don’t like to make promises, and I am so much in the +dark; but I can certainly say this—that, whatever happens, +I shall be your friend at school. I shall look to you to help +me in a hundred ways.”</p> +<p>“Will you indeed, darling Merry?”</p> +<p>“Of course I shall. I always intended to, and I think +Cicely will do just the same.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want you to talk to Cicely about this. She doesn’t +care for me as much as you do.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps not quite,” said honest Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am sure—certain of it. Then you will be my +friend as I shall be yours, and when we meet at Aylmer +House you will talk of me to others as your friend?”</p> +<p>“Of course I shall.”</p> +<p>“That’s what I require. The thought of your friendship +when I love you so passionately makes sunshine in my heart. +I sha’n’t be miserable at all to-morrow after what you have +said. I shall think of our pleasant talk under this great +oak-tree; I shall recall this lovely, perfect day. Merry, +you have made me very happy!”</p> +<p>“But please understand,” said Merry, “that, although I +am your friend, I cannot give up Aneta.”</p> +<p>“Certainly not, dear; only, don’t take what you call sides. +It is quite reasonable to suppose that girls who have only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +just come to school would prefer to be there at first quite +free and untrammeled; and to belong to a certain set immediately +trammels you.”</p> +<p>“Well, I, for one, will promise—at any rate at first—that +I won’t belong to any set,” said Merry. “Now, are you satisfied, +Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Oh, truly I am! Do let me kiss you, darling.”</p> +<p>The girls kissed very affectionately.</p> +<p>Then Maggie said, “Now I am quite happy.” After a +pause, she continued as though it were an after-thought, +“Of course you won’t speak of this to any one?”</p> +<p>“Unless, perhaps, to Cicely,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“No, not even to Cicely; for if you found it hard to understand, +she would find it impossible.”</p> +<p>“But,” said Merry, “I never had a secret from her in my +life. She is my twin, you know.”</p> +<p>“Please, please,” said Maggie, “keep this little secret all +to yourself for my sake. Oh, do think how important it is +to me, and how much more you have to be thankful for +than I have!”</p> +<p>“If you feel it like that, poor Maggie,” said Merry, “I will +keep it as my own secret.”</p> +<p>“Then I have nothing further to say.” Maggie sprang to +her feet. “There are the boys running to meet us,” she said. +“I know they’ll want my help in preparing the fire for the +gipsy-kettle.”</p> +<p>“And I will join the others. There’s Susan Heathfield; +she is all alone,” said Merry. “But one moment first, please, +Maggie. Are you going to make Molly and Isabel bind themselves +by the same promise?”</p> +<p>“Dear me, no!” said Maggie. “They will naturally be +my friends without any effort; but you are the one I want, +for you are the one I truly love.”</p> +<p>“Hallo! there you are,” called Andrew’s voice, “hobnobbing, +as usual, with Merry Cardew.”</p> +<p>“I say, Merry,” cried Jack, “it is unfair of you to take our +Maggie away on her last day.”</p> +<p>The two boys now rushed up.</p> +<p>“I am going to cry bottles-full to-morrow,” said Andrew; +“and, although I am a boy, about to be a man, I’m not a +bit ashamed of it.”</p> +<p>“I’ll beat you at that,” said Jackdaw, “for I’ll cry basins-full.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, boys, how horrid of you!” said Maggie. “What +on earth good will crying do to me? And you’ll both be so +horribly limp and damp after it.”</p> +<p>“Well, come now,” said Jackdaw, pulling her by one arm +while Peterkin secured the other.—“You’ve had your share +of her, Merry, and it’s our turn.”</p> +<p>Maggie and her devoted satellites went off in the direction +where the bonfire was to be made; and Merry, walking +slowly, joined Susan Heathfield. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p> +<p>Susan was more than two years older than Merry, and on +that account the younger girls looked up to her with a great +deal of respect. Up to the present, however, they had had +no confidential talk.</p> +<p>Susan now said, “So you are to be a schoolgirl after all?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Isn’t it jolly?” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Oh, it has its pros and cons,” replied Susan. “In one +sense, there is no place like school; but in the best sense of +all there is no place like home.”</p> +<p>“Were you long at school, Susan?”</p> +<p>“Of course; Mary and I went to a school in Devonshire +when we were quite little girls. I was eleven and Mary ten. +Afterwards we were at a London school, and then we went to +Paris. We had an excellent time at all our schools; but +I think the best fun of all was the thought of the holidays +and coming home again.”</p> +<p>“That must be delightful,” said Merry. “Did you make +many friends at school?”</p> +<p>“Well, of course,” said Susan. “But now let me give +you a word of advice, Merry. You are going to a most delightful +school, which, alas! we were not lucky enough to +get admitted to, although mother tried very hard. It may +be different at Aylmer House from what it is in the ordinary +school, but I would strongly advise you and Cicely not +to join any clique at school.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear, how very queer!” said Merry, and she reddened +deeply.</p> +<p>“Why do you look like that?” said Susan.</p> +<p>“Nothing, nothing,” said Merry.</p> +<p>Susan was silent for a minute or two. Then she said, +“That’s a curious-looking girl.”</p> +<p>“What girl?” said Merry indignantly.</p> +<p>“I think you said her name was Howland—Miss Howland.”</p> +<p>“She is one of the most delightful girls I know,” replied +Merry at once.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t know her, you see, so I can’t say. Aneta +tells me that she is a member of your school.”</p> +<p>“Yes; and I am so delighted!” said Merry.</p> +<p>Again Susan Heathfield was silent, feeling a little puzzled; +but Merry quickly changed the conversation, for she did not +want to have any more talk with regard to Maggie Howland. +Merry, however, had a very transparent face. Her conversation +with her friend had left traces of anxiety and even +slight apprehension on her sweet, open face. Merry Cardew +was oppressed by the first secret of her life, and it is +perhaps to be regretted, or perhaps the reverse, that she +found it almost impossible to keep a secret.</p> +<p>“Well,” Cicely said to her as they were hurrying from the +shady woods in the direction of the picnic-tea, “what is +wrong with you, Merry? Have you a headache?”</p> +<p>“Oh no; I am perfectly all right,” said Merry, brightening +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +up. “It’s only—well, to say the truth, I am sorry that +Maggie is going to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“You are very fond of her, aren’t you?” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“Well, yes; that is it, I am,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“We’ll see plenty of her at school, anyway,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I wish she were rich,” said Merry. “I hate to think of +her as poor.”</p> +<p>“Is she poor?” asked Cicely.</p> +<p>“Oh yes; she was just telling me, poor darling!”</p> +<p>“I don’t understand what it means to be poor,” said Cicely. +“People say it is very bad, but somehow I can’t take it in.”</p> +<p>“Maggie takes it in, at any rate,” said Merry. “Think of +us to-morrow, Cicely, having more fun, being out again in +the open air, having pleasant companions all round us, and +our beautiful home to go back to, and our parents, whom +we love so dearly; and then, next week, of the house by the +sea, and Aneta and Molly and Isabel our companions.”</p> +<p>“Well, of course,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“And then think of poor Maggie,” continued Merry. +“She’ll be shut up in a musty, fusty London lodging. I +can’t think how she endures it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what a musty, fusty lodging is,” said Cicely; +“but she could have come with us, because mother invited +her.”</p> +<p>“She can’t, because her own mother wants her. Oh dear! +I wish we could have her and her mother too.”</p> +<p>“Come on now, Merry, I don’t think we ought to ask father +and mother to invite Mrs. Howland.”</p> +<p>“Of course not. I quite understand that,” replied Merry. +“Nevertheless, I am a little sad about dear Maggie.”</p> +<p>Merry’s sadness took a practical form. She thought a +great deal about her friend during the rest of that day, although +Maggie rather avoided her. She thought, in particular, +of Maggie’s poverty, and wondered what poverty +really meant. The poor people—those who were called poor +at Meredith—did not really suffer at all, for it was the +bounden duty of the squire of the Manor to see to all their +wants, to provide them with comfortable houses and nice +gardens, and if they were ill to give them the advice of a +good doctor, also to send them nourishing food from the +Manor. But poor people of that sort were quite different +from the Maggie Howland sort. Merry could not imagine +any lord of the manor taking Maggie and Mrs. Howland in +hand and providing them with all the good things of life.</p> +<p>But all of a sudden it darted through her eager, affectionate +little heart that she herself might be lord of the +manor to Maggie, and might help Maggie out of her own +abundance. If it were impossible to get Maggie Howland +and her mother both invited to Scarborough, why should not +she, Merry, provide Maggie with means to take her mother +from the fusty, dusty lodgings to another seaside resort?</p> +<p>Merry thought over this for some time, and the more she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +thought over it the more enamored she was of the idea. She +and Cicely had, of course, no special means of their own, +nor could they have until they came of age. Nevertheless, +they were allowed as pocket-money ten pounds every quarter. +Now, Merry’s ten pounds would be due in a week. She +really did not want it. When she got it she spent it mostly +on presents for her friends and little gifts for the villagers; +but on this occasion she might give it all in one lump sum +to Maggie Howland. Surely her father would let her have +it? She might give it to Maggie early to-morrow morning. +Maggie would not be too proud to accept it just as a tiny +present.</p> +<p>Merry had as little idea how far ten pounds would go toward +the expenses of a visit to the seaside as she had of +what real poverty meant. But it occurred to her as a delightful +way of assuring Maggie of her friendship to present +Maggie with her quarter’s pocket-money.</p> +<p>On their way home that evening, therefore, she was only +too glad to find herself by her father’s side.</p> +<p>“Well, little girl,” he said, “so you’re forsaking all your +young companions and wish to sit close to the old dad?”</p> +<p>The old dad, it may be mentioned, was driving home in a +mail-phaeton from the picnic, and Merry found herself +perched high up beside him as he held the reins and guided +a pair of thoroughbred horses.</p> +<p>“Well, what is it, little girl?” he said.</p> +<p>“I wonder, father, if you’d be most frightfully kind?”</p> +<p>“What!” he answered, just glancing at her; “that means +that you are discontented again. What more can I do for +you, Merry?”</p> +<p>“If I might only have my pocket-money to-night.”</p> +<p>“You extravagant child! Your pocket-money! It isn’t +due for a week.”</p> +<p>“But I do want it very specially. Will you advance it to +me just this once, dad?”</p> +<p>“I am not to know why you want it?”</p> +<p>“No, dad darling, you are not to know.”</p> +<p>Mr. Cardew considered for a minute.</p> +<p>“I hope you are not going to be a really extravagant woman, +Merry,” he said. “To tell the truth, I hate extravagance, +although I equally hate stinginess. You will have no lack +of money, child, but money is a great and wonderful gift and +ought to be used to the best of best advantages. It ought +never to be wasted, for there are so many people who haven’t +half enough, and those who are rich, my child, ought to help +those who are not rich.”</p> +<p>“Yes, darling father,” said Merry; “and that is what I +should so awfully like to do.”</p> +<p>“Well, I think you have the root of the matter in you,” +said Mr. Cardew, “and I, for one, am the last person to pry +on my child. Does Cicely also want her money in advance?”</p> +<p>“Oh no, no! I want it for a very special reason.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>“Very well, my little girl. Come to me in the study to-night +before you go to bed, and you shall have your money.”</p> +<p>“In sovereigns, please, father?”</p> +<p>“Yes, child, in sovereigns.”</p> +<p>“Thank you ever so much, darling.”</p> +<p>During the rest of the drive there was no girl happier +than Merry Cardew. Mr. Cardew looked at her once or +twice, and wondered what all this meant. But he was not +going to question her.</p> +<p>When they got home he took her away to his study, and, +opening a drawer, took out ten sovereigns.</p> +<p>“I may as well tell you,” he said as he put them into her +hand, “that when you go to school I shall raise your pocket-money +allowance to fifteen pounds a quarter. That is quite +as large a sum as a girl of your age ought to have in the +year. I do this because I well understand that at Mrs. +Ward’s school there will be special opportunities for you to +act in a philanthropic manner.”</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you, thank you, father!” said Merry.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII_SHEPHERDS_BUSH' id='CHAPTER_XII_SHEPHERDS_BUSH'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>SHEPHERD’S BUSH.</h3> +</div> +<p>While Merry was in a state of high rejoicing at this +simple means of helping her friend, Maggie Howland herself +was not having quite such a good time. She had been much +relieved by her conversation with Merry, but shortly after the +picnic-tea Aneta had come up to her.</p> +<p>“Would you like to walk with me,” said Aneta, “as far +as the giant oak? It isn’t a great distance from here, and +I’ll not keep you long.”</p> +<p>“Certainly I will come with you, Aneta,” said Maggie; but +she felt uncomfortable, and wondered what it meant.</p> +<p>The two girls set off together. They made a contrast +which must have been discernible to the eyes of all those +who saw them: Aneta the very essence of elegance; Maggie +spotlessly neat, but, compared to her companion, downright +plain. Aneta was tall and slim; Maggie was short. Nevertheless, +her figure was her good point, and she made the +most of it by having perfectly fitting clothes. This very +fact, however, took somewhat from her appearance, and +gave her the look of a grown-up girl, whereas she was still +only a child.</p> +<p>As soon as ever the girls got out of earshot, Aneta turned +to Maggie and said gravely, “My cousins the Cardews are to +join us all at Aylmer House in September.”</p> +<p>Maggie longed to say, “Thank you for nothing,” but she +never dared to show rudeness to Aneta. No one had ever +been rude to the stately young lady.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said. Then she added, “I am so glad! Aren’t +you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>“For some reasons I am very glad,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“But surely for all, aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“Not for all,” replied Aneta.</p> +<p>How Maggie longed to give her companion a fierce push, +or otherwise show how she detested her!</p> +<p>“I will tell you why I regret it,” said Aneta, turning her +calm, beautiful eyes upon Maggie’s face.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I regret it, Maggie Howland, because you are at the +school.”</p> +<p>“How very polite!” said Maggie, turning crimson.</p> +<p>“It is not polite,” said Aneta, “and I am sorry that I +have to speak as I do; but it is necessary. We needn’t go +into particulars; but I have something to say to you, and +please understand that what I say I mean. You know that +when first you came to the school I was as anxious as any +one else to be kind to you, to help you, to be good to you. +You know the reason why I changed my mind. You know +what you did. You know that were Mrs. Ward to have the +slightest inkling of what really occurred you would not remain +another hour at Aylmer House. I haven’t told any one +what I know; but if you, Maggie, tamper with Cicely and +Merry Cardew, who are my cousins and dear friends—if you +win them over to what you are pleased to call your side of +the school—I shall consider it my duty to tell Mrs. Ward +what I have hitherto kept back from her.”</p> +<p>Maggie was trembling very violently.</p> +<p>“You could not be so cruel,” she said after a pause.</p> +<p>“I have long thought,” continued Aneta, speaking in her +calm, gentle voice, “that I did wrong at the time to keep +silent; but you got my promise, and I kept it.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Maggie, “I got your promise; you +wouldn’t dare to break it?”</p> +<p>“You are mistaken,” said Aneta. “If the circumstances +to which I have just alluded should arise I would break that +promise. Now you understand?”</p> +<p>“I think you are the meanest, the cruellest—I think you +are––There, I hate you!” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“You have no reason to. I will not interfere with you +if you, on your part, leave those I love alone. Cicely and +Merry are coming to the school because I am there, because +my aunt recommends the school, because it is a good school. +Leave off doing wrong, and join us, Maggie, in what is noble +and high; but continue your present course at your peril. +You would do anything for power; you go too far. You +have influenced one or two girls adversely already. I am +convinced that Mrs. Ward does not trust you. If you interfere +with Cicely or Merry, Mrs. Ward will have good reason +to dislike you, for I myself shall open her eyes.”</p> +<p>“You will be an informer, a tell-tale?”</p> +<p>“You can call me any names you like, Maggie; I shall +simply do what I consider my duty.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“Oh, but––I hate you!” said Maggie again.</p> +<p>“I am sorry you hate me, for it isn’t necessary; and if I +saw you in the least like others I should do all in my power +to help you. Now, will you give me your promise that you +won’t interfere with Cicely and Merry?”</p> +<p>“But does this mean—does this mean,” said Maggie, who +was almost choking with rage, “that I am to have nothing +to do with the Cardews?”</p> +<p>“You are on no account to draw the Cardews into the +circle of your friends, who are, I am thankful to say, limited. +If you do, you know the consequences, and I am not the +sort of girl to go back when I have firmly made up my mind +on a certain point.”</p> +<p>Maggie suddenly clutched hold of her companion’s arm.</p> +<p>“I am miserable enough already,” she said, “and you +make my life unendurable! You don’t know what it is to +have a mother like mine, and to be starvingly poor.”</p> +<p>“I am very sorry you are poor, Maggie, and I am very +sorry for you with regard to your mother, although I do +not think you ought to speak unkindly of her. But your +father was a very good man, and you might live up to his +memory. I saw you and Merry together to-day. Beware +how you try to influence her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I can’t stand you!” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I have said my say. Shall we return to the others?” +said Aneta in her calm voice.</p> +<p>“If she would only get into a rage and we might have +a hand-to-hand fight I should feel better,” thought Maggie. +But she was seriously alarmed, for she well remembered +something which had happened at school, which Aneta had +discovered, and which, if known, would force Mrs. Ward to +dismiss her from the establishment. Such a course would +spell ruin. Maggie had strong feelings, but she had also self-control; +and by the time the two joined the others her face +looked much as usual.</p> +<p>On the following morning early a little girl ran swiftly +from the Manor to the rectory. Maggie was to leave by +the eleven o’clock train. Merry appeared on the scene soon +after nine.</p> +<p>“I want you, Maggie, all quite by yourself,” said Merry, +speaking with such excitement that Molly and Belle looked +at her in unbounded amazement.</p> +<p>“You can’t keep her long,” said Peterkins and Jackdaw, +“for it is our very last day, and Spot-ear and Fanciful want +to say good-bye to her. You can’t have the darling more +than three minutes at the most.”</p> +<p>“I am going to keep Maggie for ten minutes, and no +longer.—Come along at once, Maggie,” said Merry Cardew.</p> +<p>They went out into the grounds, and Merry, putting her +hand into her pocket, took out a little brown leather bag. +She thrust it into her companion’s hand.</p> +<p>“What is it?” said Maggie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>“It is for you—for you, darling,” said Merry. “Take it, +as a loan, if you like—only take it. It is only ten pounds. +I am afraid you will think it nothing at all; but do take it, +just as a mere loan. It is my pocket-money for the next +quarter. Perhaps you could go from the musty, fusty lodgings +to some fresher place with this to help you. Do—do +take it, Maggie! I shall so love you if you do.”</p> +<p>Maggie’s narrow eyes grew wide. Maggie’s sallow face +flushed. There came a wild commotion in her heart—a +real, genuine sense of downright love for the girl who had +done this thing for her. And ten pounds, which meant so +very little to Merry Cardew, held untold possibilities for +Maggie.</p> +<p>“You will hurt me frightfully if you refuse,” said Merry.</p> +<p>Maggie trembled from head to foot. Suppose, by any +chance, it got to Aneta’s ears that she had taken this money +from Merry; suppose it got abroad in the school! Oh, she +dared not take it! she must not!</p> +<p>“What is it, Maggie? Why don’t you speak?” said Merry, +looking at her in astonishment.</p> +<p>“I love you with all my heart and soul,” said Maggie; +“but I just can’t take the money.”</p> +<p>“Oh Maggie! but why?”</p> +<p>“I can’t, dear; I can’t. It—it would not be right. You +mustn’t lower me in my own estimation. I should feel low +down if I took your money. I know well I am poor, and +so is dear mother, and the lodgings are fusty and musty, but +we are neither of us so poor as that. I’ll never forget that +you brought it to me, and I’ll love you just more than +I have ever done; but I can’t take it.”</p> +<p>“Do come on, Maggie!” shouted Jackdaw. “Fanciful is +dying for his breakfast; and as to Peterkins, he has got Spot-ear +out of his cage. Peterkins is crying like anything, and +his tears are dropping on Spot-ear, and Spot-ear doesn’t +like it. Do come on!”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes; I am coming,” said Maggie—“Good-bye, darling +Merry. My best thanks and best love.”</p> +<p>That evening, or in the course of the afternoon, Maggie +appeared at Shepherd’s Bush. She had been obliged to travel +third-class, and the journey was hot and dusty.</p> +<p>She lay back against the cushions with a tired feeling +all over her. For a time she had been able to forget her +poverty. Now it had fully returned to her, and she was not +in the mood to be good-natured. There was no need to +show any charm or any kindliness to her neighbors, who, +in their turn, thought her a disagreeable, plain girl, not +worth any special notice.</p> +<p>It was, therefore, by no means a prepossessing-looking girl +who ran up the high flight of steps which belonged to that +lodging-house in Shepherd’s Bush where Mrs. Howland was +staying. Maggie knew the lodgings well, although she had +never spent much time there. As a rule, she contrived +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +to spend almost all her holidays with friends; but on this +occasion her mother had sent for her in a very summary +manner; and, although Maggie had no real love for her +mother, she was afraid to disobey her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland occupied the drawing-room floor of the said +lodgings. They were kept by a Mrs. Ross, an untidy and by +no means too clean-looking woman. Mrs. Ross kept one +small “general,” and the general’s name was Tildy. Tildy +had bright-red hair and a great many freckles on her round +face. She was squat in figure, and had a perpetual smut either +on her cheek or forehead. In the morning she was nothing +better than a slavey, but in the afternoon she generally +managed to put on a cap with long white streamers and +an apron with a bib. Tildy thought herself very fine in this +attire, and she had donned it now in honor of Miss Howland’s +arrival. She had no particular respect for Mrs. Howland, +but she had a secret and consuming admiration for +Maggie.</p> +<p>Maggie had been kind to Tildy once or twice, and had even +given the general a cast-off dress of her own. Maggie was +plain, and yet people liked her and listened to her words.</p> +<p>“Oh miss,” said Tildy when she opened the front door, +“it’s me that’s glad to see you! Your ma is upstairs; +she’s took with a headache, but you’ll find her lyin’ down on +the sofy in the drawin’-room.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll run up at once, Matilda,” said Maggie. “And +how are you?” she added good-naturedly. “Oh, you’ve got +your usual smut.”</p> +<p>“Indicate the spot, miss, and it shall be moved instancious,” +said Tildy. “Seems to me as if never could get +rid of smuts, what with the kitchen-range, and missus bein’ +so exacsheous, and Tildy here, Tildy there; Tildy do this, +Tildy do t’other, soundin’ in my hears all day long.”</p> +<p>“You are a very good girl,” said Maggie, “and if I were +in your place I’d have a hundred smuts, not one. But +take it off now, do; it’s on the very center of your forehead. +And bring me some tea to the drawing-room, for I’m +ever so thirsty.”</p> +<p>“You’ve been in a blessed wondrous castle since, haven’t +you, missie?” said Matilda in a voice of suppressed awe.</p> +<p>“I know some young ladies who live in a castle; but I myself +have been at a rectory,” said Maggie. “Now, don’t keep +me. Oh, here’s a shilling for the cabman; give it to him, +and get my box taken upstairs.”</p> +<p>Maggie flew up the steep, badly carpeted stairs to the +hideous drawing-room. Her spirits had been very low; but, +somehow, Tildy had managed to revive them. Tildy was +plain, and very much lower than Maggie in the social scale; +but Tildy admired her, and because of that admiration made +her life more or less endurable in the fusty, musty lodgings. +She had always cultivated Tildy’s good will, and she thought +of the girl now with a strange sense of pity. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>“Compared to her, I suppose I am well off,” thought Maggie. +“I have only five weeks at the most to endure this +misery; then there will be Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>She opened the drawing-room door and entered. Mrs. Howland +was lying on a sofa, which was covered with faded +rep and had a broken spring. She had a handkerchief wrung +out of aromatic vinegar over her forehead. Her eyes were +shut, and her exceedingly thin face was very pale. When +her daughter entered the room she opened a pair of faded +eyes and looked at her, but no sense of pleasure crossed Mrs. +Howland’s shallow face. On the contrary, she looked much +worried, and said, in a cross tone, “I wish you would not be +so noisy, Maggie. Didn’t Tildy tell you that I had an acute +headache?”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother; and I didn’t know I was noisy,” replied Maggie. +“I came upstairs as softly as possible. That door”—she +pointed to the door by which she had entered—“creaks +horribly. That is not my fault.”</p> +<p>“Excusing yourself, as usual,” said Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>“Well, mother,” said Maggie after a pause, “may I kiss +you now that I have come back against my will?”</p> +<p>“I knew you’d be horribly discontented,” said Mrs. Howland; +“but of course you may kiss me.”</p> +<p>Maggie bent down and touched her mother’s cheek with her +young lips.</p> +<p>“I was having a beautiful time,” she said, “and you don’t +seem glad now that I have come back. What is the matter?”</p> +<p>“I have something to communicate to you,” said Mrs. Howland. +“I did not think I could write it; therefore I was obliged +to have you with me. But we won’t talk of it for a little. +Have you ordered tea?”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother. Tildy is bringing it.”</p> +<p>“That’s right,” said Mrs. Howland. “What a hot day it +is!” she continued.</p> +<p>“This room is stifling,” replied Maggie. “Do you mind +if I pull down the Venetian blinds? That will keep some of +the sun out.”</p> +<p>“The blinds are all broken,” said Mrs. Howland. “I have +spoken to that woman Ross till I am tired, but she never will +see to my wishes in any way.”</p> +<p>“I can’t imagine why we stay here, mother.”</p> +<p>“Oh! don’t begin your grumbles now,” said Mrs. Howland. +“I have news for you when tea is over.”</p> +<p>Just then the drawing-room door was opened by means of +a kick and a bump, and Tildy entered, weighed down by an +enormous tea-tray. Maggie ran to prepare a table for its +reception, and Tildy looked at her with eyes of fresh admiration. +Mrs. Howland raised herself and also looked at the girl.</p> +<p>“Have you kept the cakes downstairs, and the muffins that +I ordered, and the gooseberries?”</p> +<p>“No, um,” said Tildy. “I brought them up for Miss Maggie’s +tea.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>“I told you they were not to be touched till Mr. Martin +came.”</p> +<p>“Yes, um,” said Tildy; “but me and Mrs. Ross thought as +Miss Maggie ’u’d want ’em.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland glanced at her daughter. Then all of a sudden, +and quite unexpectedly, her faded face grew red. She +perceived an expression of inquiry in Maggie’s eyes which +rather frightened her.</p> +<p>“It’s all right,” she said. “Now that you’ve brought the +things up, Tildy, leave them here, and go. When Mr. Martin +comes, show him up. Now leave us, and be quick about it.”</p> +<p>Tildy departed, slamming the door behind her.</p> +<p>“How noisy that girl is!” said Mrs. Howland. “Well, I +am better now; I’ll just go into our bedroom and get tidy. +I’ll be back in a few minutes. I mustn’t be seen looking this +fright when Mr. Martin comes.”</p> +<p>“But who is Mr. Martin?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“You will know presently,” said Mrs. Howland. “It’s about +him that I have news.”</p> +<p>Maggie felt her heart thumping in a very uncomfortable +manner. The bedroom which she and her mother shared +together—that is, when Maggie was with her mother—was +at the back of the drawing-room. Mrs. Howland remained +there for about five minutes, and during that time Maggie +helped herself to a cup of tea, for she was feverishly hot and +thirsty.</p> +<p>Her mother returned at the end of five minutes, looking +wonderfully better, and in fact quite rejuvenated. Her dress +was fairly neat. She had a slight color in her pale cheeks +which considerably brightened her light-blue eyes. Her faded +hair was arranged with some neatness, and she had put on a +white blouse and a blue alpaca skirt.</p> +<p>“Oh mother,” said Maggie, hailing this change with great +relief, “how much better you look now! I am a comfort to +you, am I not, mums? I sha’n’t mind coming back and giving +up all my fun if I am a real comfort to you.”</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t have sent for you but for Mr. Martin,” said +Mrs. Howland. “It was he who wished it. Yes, I am much +better now, though I cannot honestly say that you are the +cause. It’s the thought of seeing Mr. Martin that cheers me +up; I must be tidy for him. Yes, you may pour out a cup +of tea for me; only see that you keep some really strong +tea in the teapot for Mr. Martin, for he cannot bear it weak. +He calls weak tea wish-wash.”</p> +<p>“But whoever is this mysterious person?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I will tell you in a minute or two. You may give me one +of those little cakes. No, I couldn’t stand muffins; I hate them +in hot weather. Besides, my digestion isn’t what it was; but +I shall be all right by-and-by; so will you too, my dear. And +what I do, I do for you.”</p> +<p>“Well, I wish you would tell me what you are doing for +me, and get it over,” said Maggie. “You were always very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +peculiar, mums, always—even when dear father was alive—and +you’re not less so now.”</p> +<p>“That’s a very unkind way for a child to speak of her +parent,” said Mrs. Howland; “but I can assure you, Maggie, +that Mr. Martin won’t allow it in the future.”</p> +<p>Maggie now sprang to her feet.</p> +<p>“Good gracious, mother! What has Mr. Martin to do with +me? Is he—is he—it cannot be, mother!”</p> +<p>“Yes, I can,” said Mrs. Howland. “I may as well have it +out first as last. I am going to marry Mr. Martin.”</p> +<p>“Mother!”</p> +<p>There was a wailing cry in Maggie’s voice. No girl can +stand with equanimity her mother marrying a second time; +and as Maggie, with all her dreams of her own future, had +never for an instant contemplated this fact, she was simply +staggered for a minute or two.</p> +<p>“You will have to take it in the right spirit, my dear,” said +her mother. “I can’t stand this life any longer. I want +money, and comforts, and devotion, and the love of a faithful +husband, and Mr. Martin will give me all these things. +He is willing to adopt you too. He said so. He has no children +of his own. I mean, when I say that, that his first family are +all settled in life, and he says that he wouldn’t object at all +to a pleasant, lively girl in the house. He wants you to +leave school.”</p> +<p>“Leave Aylmer House!” said Maggie. “Oh no, mother!”</p> +<p>“I knew you’d make a fuss about it,” said Mrs. Howland. +“He has a great dislike to what he calls fine folks. He speaks +of them as daisies, and he hates daisies.”</p> +<p>“But, mother—mother dear—before he comes, tell me +something about him. Where did you meet him? Who is +he? A clergyman—a barrister? What is he, mother?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland remained silent for a minute. Then she +pressed her hand to her heart. Then she gave way to a burst +of hysterical laughter.</p> +<p>“Just consider for a minute, Maggie,” she said, “what utter +nonsense you are talking. Where should I be likely to meet +a clergyman or a barrister? Do clergymen or barristers or +people in any profession come to houses like this? Do talk +sense when you’re about it.”</p> +<p>“Well, tell me what he is, at least.”</p> +<p>“He is in—I am by no means ashamed of it—in <i>trade</i>.”</p> +<p>Now, it so happened that it had been duly impressed upon +Maggie’s mind that Mr. Cardew of Meredith Manor was also, +so to speak, in trade; that is, he was the sleeping partner +in one of the largest and wealthiest businesses in London. +Maggie therefore, for a minute, had a glittering vision of a +great country-house equal in splendor to Meredith Manor, +where she and her mother could live together. But the next +minute Mrs. Howland killed these glowing hopes even in the +moment of their birth.</p> +<p>“I want to conceal nothing from you,” she said. “Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +Martin keeps the grocer’s shop at the corner. I may as well +say that I met him when I went to that shop to get the small +articles of grocery which I required for my own consumption. +He has served me often across the counter. Then one day +I was taken rather weak and ill in the shop, and he took +me into his back-parlor, a very comfortable room, and gave +me a glass of excellent old port; and since then, somehow, +we have been friends. He is a widower, I a widow. His children +have gone into the world, and each one of them is doing +well. My child is seldom or never with her mother. It is +about a week ago since he asked me if I would accept him +and plenty, instead of staying as I am—a genteel widow with +so little money that I am half-starved. His only objection +to our marriage is the thought of you, Maggie; for he said that +I was bringing you up as a fine lady, with no provision whatever +for the future. He hates fine ladies, as he calls them; +in fact, he is dead nuts against the aristocracy.”</p> +<p>“Oh mother!” wailed poor Maggie; “and my father was a +gentleman!”</p> +<p>“Mr. Martin has quite a gentlemanly heart,” said Mrs. Howland. +“I don’t pretend for a moment that he is in the same +position as my late lamented husband; but he is ten times +better off, and we shall live in a nice little house in Clapham, +and I can have two servants of my own; he is having the house +refurnished and repapered for me—in his own taste, it is true, +for he will not hear of what he calls Liberty rubbish. But +it is going to be very comfortable, and I look forward to my +change of surroundings with great satisfaction.”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother,” said Maggie, “you always did think of yourself +first. But what about me?”</p> +<p>“You had better not talk to me in that strain before Mr. +Martin. He is very deeply devoted to me,” said Mrs. Howland; +“and do not imagine that we have not given you careful +consideration. He is willing to adopt you, but insists on your +leaving Aylmer House and coming to Laburnum Villa at Clapham. +From what he says, you are quite sufficiently educated, +and your duty now is to look after your mother and your new +father, to be pleasant to me all day long, and to be bright and +cheerful with him when he comes back from business in the +evening. If you play your cards well, Maggie, he will leave +you well provided for, as he is quite rich—of course, not +rich like those people you are staying near, but rich for +his class. I am very much pleased myself at the engagement. +Our banns were called last Sunday in church, and +we are to be married in a fortnight. After that, you had +best stay on here until we desire you to join us at Laburnum +Villa.”</p> +<p>“I can’t, mother,” said Maggie. “I can’t—and I won’t.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come, I hear a step on the stairs,” said Mrs. Howland. +“That is Mr. Martin. Now, you will restrain yourself for +my sake.”</p> +<p>There <i>was</i> a step on the stairs—firm, solid, heavy. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +drawing-room door was opened about an inch, but no one +came in.</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland said in a low whisper to her daughter, “He +doesn’t know you have returned; he is very playful. Just +stay quiet. He really is a most amusing person.”</p> +<p>“Bo-peep!” said a voice at the door; and a round, shining, +bald head was popped in and then disappeared.</p> +<p>“Bo-peep!” said Mrs. Howland in response.</p> +<p>She stood up, and there came over her faded face a waggish +expression. She held up her finger and shook it playfully. +The bald head appeared again, followed immediately by a +very round body. The playful finger continued to waggle.</p> +<p>“Ducksie dear!” said Mr. Martin, and he clasped Mrs. Howland +in his arms.</p> +<p>Maggie gave a smothered groan.</p> +<p>“It’s the child,” said Mrs. Howland in a whisper. “She is +a bit upset; but when she knows you, James, she’ll love you +as much as I do.”</p> +<p>“Hope so,” said Mr. Martin. “I’m a duckle, Little-sing; +ain’t I, Victoria?” Here he chuckled the good lady under the +chin. “Ah, and so this is Maggie?—How do, my dear? How +do, Popsy-wopsy?”</p> +<p>“How do you do?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Come, come,” said Mr. Martin. “No flights and vapors, +no fine airs, no affected, mincing ways. A little girl should +love her new parent. A little girl should kiss her new parent.”</p> +<p>“I won’t kiss you, Mr. Martin,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Oh, come, come—shy, is she? Let me tell you, Popsy-wopsy, +that every man wouldn’t want to kiss you.—She is +not a bit like you, my dear Victoria. Wherever did she get +that queer little face? She is no beauty, and that I will say.—Now, +your mother, Popsy, is a most elegant woman; any one +can see that she is a born aristocrat; but I hate ’em, my dear—hate +’em! I am one of those who vote for the abolition of +the House of Lords. Give me the Commons; no bloated Lords +for me. Well, you’re a bit took aback, ain’t you? Your +mother and me—we settled things up very tidy while you +were sporting in the country. I like you all the better, my +dear, for being plain. I don’t want no beauties except my +beloved Victoria. She’s the woman for me.—Ain’t you, my +Little-sing? Eh dear! Eh dear! It’s we three who’ll have +the fun.—I’ll take you right into my heart, Popsy-wopsy, and +snug and comfortable you’ll find yourself there.”</p> +<p>Poor Maggie! The overwhelming contrast between this +scene and the scenes of yesterday! The awful fact that her +mother was going to marry such a being as Mr. Martin overpowered +her with such a sense of horror that for the time she +felt quite dumb and stupid.</p> +<p>Mr. Martin, however, was in a radiant humor. “Now then, +Little-sing,” he said, addressing Mrs. Howland, “where’s the +tea! Poor Bo-peep wants his tea. He’s hungry and he’s +thirsty, is Bo-peep. Little-sing will pour out Bo-peep’s tea +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +with her own pretty, elegant hands, and butter his muffins +for him, and Cross-patch in the corner can keep herself quiet.”</p> +<p>“May I go into our bedroom, mother?” said Maggie at that +juncture.</p> +<p>“No, miss, you may not,” said Martin, suddenly rousing +himself from a very comfortable position in the only easy-chair +the room afforded. “I have something to say to you, +and when I have said it you may do what you please.”</p> +<p>“Stay quiet, dear Maggie, for the present,” said Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>The poor woman felt a queer sense of shame. Bo-peep and +Little-sing had quite an agreeable time together when they +were alone. She did not mind the boisterous attentions of her +present swain; but with Maggie by there seemed to be a difference. +Maggie made her ashamed of herself.</p> +<p>Maggie walked to the window, and, taking a low chair, sat +down. Her heart was beating heavily. There was such a +misery within her that she could scarcely contain herself. +Could anything be done to rescue her mother from such a +marriage? She was a very clever girl; but, clever as she was, +she could see no way out.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mr. Martin drank his tea with huge gulps, ate +a quantity of muffins, pooh-poohed the gooseberries as not +worth his attention, and then said, “Now, Victoria, my dearest +dear, I am ready to propound my scheme to your offspring.—Come +forward, Popsy-wopsy, and listen to what new pa intends +to do for you.”</p> +<p>Maggie rose, feeling that her limbs were turned to ice. She +crossed the room and stood before Mr. Martin.</p> +<p>“Well?” she said.</p> +<p>“None of those airs, Popsy.”</p> +<p>“I want to know what you mean to do,” said Maggie, struggling +hard to keep her temper.</p> +<p>“Well, missie miss, poor Bo-peep means to marry your +good ma, and he wants a nice ’ittle dirl to come and live +with ma and pa at Clapham; pretty house, solid furniture, +garden stocked with fruit-trees, a swing for good ’ittle dirl, +a nice room for dear Popsy to sleep in, no more lessons, no +more fuss, no more <span style='font-variant:small-caps'>POVERTY</span>! That’s what new pa proposes +to ma’s ’ittle dirl. What does ’ittle dirl say?”</p> +<p>There was a dead silence in the room. Mrs. Howland looked +with wild apprehension at her daughter. Mr. Martin had, +however, still a jovial and smiling face.</p> +<p>“Down on its knees ought Popsy-wopsy to go,” he said. +“Tears might come in Popsy-wopsy’s eyes, and the ’ittle dirl +might say, ‘Dearest pa that is to be, I love you with all +my heart, and I am glad that you’re going to marry ma and +to take me from horrid school.’”</p> +<p>But there was no sign on the part of Maggie Howland of +fulfilling these expectations on the part of the new pa. On +the contrary, she stood upright, and then said in a low voice, +“This has been a very great shock to me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“Shock!” cried Martin. “What do you mean by that, +miss?”</p> +<p>“I must speak,” said Maggie. “You must let me, sir; +and, mother, you must let me. It is for the last time. +Quite the last time. I will never be here to offend you any +more.”</p> +<p>“’Pon my word!” said Martin, springing to his feet, and his +red, good-humored face growing crimson. “There’s gratitude +for you! There’s manners for you!—Ma, how ever did +you bring her up?”</p> +<p>“Let me speak,” said Maggie. “I am sorry to hurt your +feelings, sir. You are engaged to my mother.”</p> +<p>“Ra-<i>ther</i>!” said Mr. Martin. “My pretty birdling hopped, so +to speak, into my arms. No difficulties with her; no drawing +back on the part of Little-sing. She wanted her Bo-peep, +and she—well, her Bo-peep wanted her.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Maggie. “I am exceedingly sorry—bitterly +sorry—that my mother is going to marry again; but as she +cares for you”––</p> +<p>“Which I <i>do</i>!” said Mrs. Howland, who was now reduced +to tears.</p> +<p>“I have nothing more to say,” continued Maggie, “except +that I hope she will be happy. But I, sir, am my father’s +daughter as well as my mother’s, and I cannot for a single +moment accept your offer. It is impossible. I must go on +with my own education as best I can.”</p> +<p>“Then you <i>re-fuse</i>,” said Martin, “to join your mother +and me?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie, “I refuse.”</p> +<p>“Has she anything to live on, ma?” asked Mr. Martin.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear James,” said Mrs. Howland, “don’t take all the +poor child says in earnest now! She’ll be down on her knees +to you to-morrow. I know she will. Leave her to me, James +dear, and I’ll manage her.”</p> +<p>“You can manage most things, Little-sing,” said Mr. Martin; +“but I don’t know that I want that insolent piece. She is +very different from you. If she is to be about our pleasant, +cheerful home snubbing me and putting on airs—why, I’ll +have none of it. Let her go, Victoria, I say—let her go if she +wants to; but if she comes to me she must come in a cheerful +spirit, and joke with me, and take my fun, and be as +agreeable as you are yourself, Little-sing.”</p> +<p>“Well, at least,” said Mrs. Howland, “give us till to-morrow. +The child is surprised; she will be different to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” said Mr. Martin; “but if there’s any philandering, +or falling back, or if there’s any <i>on</i>-gratitude, I’ll have +naught to do with her. I only take her to oblige you, Victoria.”</p> +<p>“You had best leave us now, dear,” said Mrs. Howland. +“I will talk to Maggie, and let you know.”</p> +<p>Mr. Martin sat quite still for a minute. Then he rose, took +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +not the slightest notice of Maggie, but, motioning Mrs. Howland +to follow him, performed a sort of cake-walk out of +the room.</p> +<p>When he reached the door and had said good-bye, he +opened it again and said, “Bo-peep!” pushing a little bit of +his bald head in, and then withdrawing it, while Mrs. Howland +pretended to admire his antics.</p> +<p>At last he was gone; but by this time Maggie had vanished +into the bedroom. She had flung herself on her knees by +the bed, and pushed her handkerchief against her mouth to +stifle the sound of her sobs. Mrs. Howland gently opened the +door, looked at her daughter, and then shut it again. She +felt thoroughly afraid of Maggie.</p> +<p>An hour or two later a pale, subdued-looking girl came out +of the bedroom and sat down by her mother.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Howland, “he is very pleasant and cheerful, +isn’t he?”</p> +<p>“Mother, he is horrible!”</p> +<p>“Maggie, you have no right to say those things to me. +I want a good husband to take care of me. I am very lonely, +and no one appreciates me.”</p> +<p>“Oh mother!” said poor Maggie—“my father!”</p> +<p>“He was a very good man,” said Mrs. Howland restlessly; +“but he was above me, somehow, and I never, never could +reach up to his heights.”</p> +<p>“And you really tell me, his child, that you prefer that +person?”</p> +<p>“I think I shall be quite happy with him,” said Mrs. Howland. +“I really do. He is awfully kind, and his funny little +ways amuse me.”</p> +<p>“Oh mother!”</p> +<p>“You will be good about it, Maggie; won’t you?” said Mrs. +Howland. “You won’t destroy your poor mother’s happiness? +I have had such lonely years, and such a struggle to keep my +head above water; and now that good man comes along and +offers me a home and every comfort. I am not young, dear; +I am five-and-forty; and there is nothing before me if I refuse +Mr. Martin but an old age of great poverty and terrible loneliness. +You won’t stand in my way, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“I can’t, mother; though it gives me agony to think of +your marrying him.”</p> +<p>“But you’ll get quite accustomed to it after a little; and +he is really very funny, I can assure you; he puts me into +fits of laughter. You will get accustomed to him, darling; +you will come and live with your new father and me at Laburnum +Villa?”</p> +<p>“Mother, you must know that I never will.”</p> +<p>“But what are you to do, Maggie? You’ve got no money +at all.”</p> +<p>“Oh mother!” said poor Maggie, “it costs very little to keep +me at Aylmer House; you know that quite, quite well. Please +do let me go on with my education. Afterwards I can earn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +my living as a teacher or in some profession, for I have plenty +of talent. I take after father in that.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I know I always was a fool,” said Mrs. Howland; +“but I have a way with people for all that.”</p> +<p>“Mother, you have a great deal that is quite sweet about +you, and you’re throwing yourself away on that awful man! +Can’t we go on as we did for a year or two, you living here, +and I coming to you in the holidays? Then, as soon as ever +I get a good post I shall be able to help you splendidly. Can’t +you do it, mother? This whole thing seems so dreadful +to me.”</p> +<p>“No, I can’t, and won’t,” said Mrs. Howland in a decided +voice. “I am exceedingly fond of my Bo-peep—as I call him—and +greatly enjoy the prospect of being his wife. Oh +Maggie, you have not returned to be a thorn in our sides? +You will submit?”</p> +<p>“Never, never, never!” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Then I don’t know what you are to do; for your new +father insists on my keeping the very little money I have +for my own personal use, and if you refuse to conform to his +wishes he will not allow me to spend a farthing of it on you. +You can’t live on nothing at all.”</p> +<p>“I can’t,” said Maggie. “I don’t know quite what to do. +Are you going to be so very cruel as to take away the little +money you have hitherto spent on me?”</p> +<p>“I must, dear; in fact, it is done already. Mr. Martin has +invested it in the grocery business. He already provides for +all my wants, and we are to be married in a fortnight. I have +nothing whatever to spend on you.”</p> +<p>“Well, mother, we’ll say no more to-night. I have a headache, +but I’ll sleep on the sofa here; it’s less hot than the +bedroom.”</p> +<p>“Won’t you sleep with your poor old mother?”</p> +<p>“No, I can’t, really. Oh, how dreadfully hot this place is!”</p> +<p>“You are spoilt by your fine life, Maggie; but I grant that +these lodgings are hot. The house at Clapham, however, is +very cool and fresh. Oh Maggie! My dear Bo-peep is getting +such a sweet little bedroom ready for you. I could cry when +I think of your cross obstinacy.”</p> +<p>But even the thought of the sweet little bedroom didn’t +move Maggie Howland. Tildy presently brought up a meagre +supper, of which the mother and daughter partook almost in +silence. Then Mrs. Howland went to her room, where she +fell fast asleep, and Maggie had the drawing-room to herself. +She had arranged a sort of extempore bed on the hard sofa, +and was about to lie down, when Tildy opened the door.</p> +<p>“I say,” said Tildy, “ain’t he cunnin’?”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, Matilda?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Oh my,” said Tildy, “wot a ’arsh word! Does you know, +missie, that he’s arsked me to go down to Clap’am presently +to ’elp wait on your ma? If you’re there, miss, it’ll be the +’eight of ’appiness to me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>“I may as well say at once, Matilda, that I shall not be +there.”</p> +<p>“You don’t like ’im, then?” said Tildy, backing a step. +“And ’e is so enticin’—the prettiest ways ’e ’ave—at least, +that’s wot me and Mrs. Ross thinks. We always listen on +the stairs for ’im to greet your ma. We like ’im, that we do.”</p> +<p>“I have an old dress in my trunk, Tildy, which I will give +you. You can manage to make it look quite nice for your +new post as parlor-maid at Laburnum Villa. But now go, +please; for I must be alone to think.”</p> +<p>Tildy went. She crept downstairs to the kitchen regions. +There she met Mrs. Ross.</p> +<p>“The blessed young lady’s full of ructions,” said Tildy.</p> +<p>“And no wonder,” replied Mrs. Ross. “She’s a step above +Martin, and Martin knows it.”</p> +<p>“I ’ope as she won’t refuse to jine us at Laburnum Villa,” +said Tildy.</p> +<p>“There’s no sayin’ wot a spirited gel like that’ll do,” said +Mrs. Ross; “but ef she do go down, Martin ’ll be a match +for ’er.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know about that,” replied Tildy. “She ’ave a +strong, determined w’y about ’er, has our Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>If Mrs. Howland slept profoundly, poor Maggie could not +close her eyes. She suddenly found herself surrounded by +calamity. The comparatively small trials which she had +thought big enough in connection with Aylmer House and +Cicely and Merry Cardew completely disappeared before this +great trouble which now faced her. Her mother’s income +amounted to a hundred and fifty pounds a year, and out of +that meagre sum the pair had contrived to live, and, owing +to Mrs. Ward’s generosity, Maggie had been educated. But +now that dreadful Mr. Martin had secured Mrs. Howland’s +little property, and the only condition on which it could be +spent on Maggie was that she should accept a home with her +future stepfather. This nothing whatever would induce her +to do. But what was to be done?</p> +<p>She had no compunction whatever in leaving her mother. +They had never been really friends, for the girl took after +her father, whom her mother had never even pretended to +understand. Mrs. Howland, when she became Mrs. Martin, +would be absolutely happy without Maggie, and Maggie knew +well that she would be equally miserable with her. On the +other hand, how was Maggie to live?</p> +<p>Suddenly it flashed across her mind that there was a way +out, or at least a way of providing sufficient funds for the +coming term at Aylmer House. Her mother had, after all, +some sort of affection for her, and if Maggie made her request +she was certain it would not be refused. She meant to get +her mother to give her all that famous collection of jewels +which her father had collected in different parts of the world. +In especial, the bracelets flashed before her memory. These +could be sold, and would produce a sum which might keep +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +Maggie at Aylmer House, perhaps for a year—certainly for +the approaching term.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII_BREAKFAST_WITH_BOPEEP' id='CHAPTER_XIII_BREAKFAST_WITH_BOPEEP'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>BREAKFAST WITH BO-PEEP.</h3> +</div> +<p>After Maggie’s restless night she got up early. The day +promised to be even hotter than the one before; but as the +drawing-room faced west it was comparatively cool at this +hour.</p> +<p>Tildy brought her favorite young lady a cup of tea, and +suggested that she should go for an outing while Tildy herself +freshened up the room. Maggie thought that a good idea, and +when she found herself in the street her spirits rose a trifle.</p> +<p>A curious sort of fascination drew her in the direction +of Martin’s shop. It was a very large corner shop, had several +entrances, and at this early hour the young shopmen and +shopwomen were busy dressing the windows; they were putting +appetizing sweetmeats and cakes and biscuits and all +kinds of delectable things in the different windows to tempt +the passers-by.</p> +<p>Maggie felt a hot sense of burning shame rising to her +cheeks as she passed the shop. She was about to turn back, +when whom should she see standing in the doorway but the +prosperous owner himself! He recognized her immediately, +and called out to her in his full, pompous voice, “Come along +here, Wopsy!”</p> +<p>The young shop-people turned to gaze in some wonder as +the refined-looking girl approached the fat, loud-mannered +man.</p> +<p>“I’m in a hurry back to breakfast with my mother,” said +Maggie in her coldest voice.</p> +<p>“Well, then, I will come along with you, my dear; I am +just in the mood. Little-sing, she will give me breakfast +this morning. I’ll be back again in the shop soon after nine. +It’s a fine shop, ain’t it, Popsy?”</p> +<p>“It does seem large,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“It’s the sort of shop,” responded Martin, “that takes a +deal of getting. It’s not done in a day, nor a month, nor a +year. It takes a lifetime to build up premises like these. It +means riches, my dear—riches.” He rolled out the words +luxuriously.</p> +<p>“I am sure it does,” said Maggie, who felt that for her own +sake she must humor him.</p> +<p>“You think so, do you?” said Martin, giving her a keen +glance.</p> +<p>“Of course I do,” replied Maggie.</p> +<p>Martin gazed at her from head to foot. She was plain. He +rather liked her for that. He admired her, too, for, as he expressed +it, standing up to him. His dear Little-sing would +never stand up to him. But this girl was not the least like +her mother. She had a lot of character; Little-sing had none. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p>“You’d make an admirable accountant, Popsy,” he said. +“How would you like to take that post by-and-by in my +shop?”</p> +<p>Maggie was about to reply that nothing would induce her +to accept such a position, when a quick thought darted through +her mind. She could scarcely hope to make anything of her +mother, for, alack and alas! Mrs. Howland was one of those +weak characters who slip away from you even as you try to +grasp them. But Martin, with his terrible vulgarity and awful +pleasantry, was at least fairly strong.</p> +<p>“Mr. Martin,” said Maggie then, “instead of going in to +breakfast with mother, will you take me to some restaurant +and give me a good meal, and let me talk to you?”</p> +<p>“Well, now,” said Martin, chuckling, “you <i>are</i> a girl! You +have cheek! I am not a man to waste my money, and breakfast +with Little-sing won’t cost me anything.”</p> +<p>“But under the circumstances you will waste a little money +in order to oblige me?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“There now, I admire your cheek. So be it. You don’t +deserve anything from me, for a ruder ’ittle dirl than you were +yesterday to poor Bo-peep could not have been found in the +length and breadth of England.”</p> +<p>“You could scarcely expect me to be pleased, sir. The news +was broken to me very suddenly, and I was tired after my +long journey, too.”</p> +<p>“Yes; and you vented your spite on me, on poor old Bo-peep, +who has the kindest heart in Christendom.”</p> +<p>“I may have said some things that I regret,” said Maggie; +“but, at any rate, I had the night to think matters over, and +if you give me some breakfast I can talk to you.”</p> +<p>“I will take you to Harrison’s for breakfast,” said Martin. +“You’ll get a topper there, I can tell you—eggs, bacon, kidneys, +liver, game-pie, cocoa, coffee, tea, chocolate; anything +and everything you fancy, and the best marmalade in London.”</p> +<p>Maggie felt rather hungry, and when the pair entered +Harrison’s she was not displeased at the liberal supply of +food which her future stepfather ordered. He pretended to +hate the aristocracy, as he called them, and poor Maggie could +certainly never claim this distinction in her own little person. +Nevertheless, she was entirely superior to Martin, and he felt +a sort of pride in her as she walked up the long restaurant +by his side.</p> +<p>“Now, waiter,” he said to the man who approached to take +orders, “you look slippy. This young ’oman and me, we want +a real comfortable, all-round, filling meal. You give us the +best the house contains; and look slippy, I say.”</p> +<p>The waiter did look “slippy,” whatever that word might +imply, and Martin proceeded to treat Maggie to really excellent +viands and to satisfy himself to his heart’s content. Maggie +ate with a certain amount of relish, for, as has been said, +she was really hungry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></p> +<p>“Like it, don’t you?” said Martin as he watched her consuming +her eggs and bacon.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, very much indeed,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I’m fond of a good table myself,” said Martin. “This is +the sort of thing you’ll have on all occasions and at every meal +at Laburnum Villa. We’ll soon fill your poor mother’s thin +cheeks out, and get her rosy and plump, and then she’ll be a +more charming Little-sing to her own Bo-peep than ever.”</p> +<p>Maggie was silent.</p> +<p>“Come, come,” said Martin, patting her hand; “it’s all right +about Laburnum Villa, ain’t it, my girl?”</p> +<p>“No, Mr. Martin,” said Maggie then.</p> +<p>She withdrew her hand and turned and looked at him +fixedly. “I want to tell you all about myself,” she said. “I +was really rude to you yesterday, and I am sorry; but I +couldn’t go to live with you and mother at Laburnum Villa. +I will tell you the principal reason why I couldn’t go.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come, come, you’re only a child; you must do what +you are told. Your mother has no money to give you, and you +can’t live on air, you know. Air is all very well, but it don’t +keep folks alive. You’ll have to come to me whether you +like it or not.”</p> +<p>“Before you come to that determination, Mr. Martin, may +I tell you something about myself?”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! I hope it isn’t a long story.”</p> +<p>“It’s very important, and not very long. I am not the least +like mother”––</p> +<p>“My good girl, any one can see that. Your mother’s a +remarkably pretty and elegant woman, and you’re the plainest +young person I ever came across.”</p> +<p>“I am plain,” said Maggie; “and, in addition, I am by no +means good-natured.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you admit that? For shame!”</p> +<p>“I was born that way,” said Maggie. “I’m a very high-spirited +girl, and I have got ideas with regard to my future. +You said just now that perhaps some day you might make +me accountant in your shop. That was kind of you, and I +might be a good accountant; but, of course, all that is for the +future. I shouldn’t mind that—I mean, not particularly. But +if you were to follow out your plan, and take me to live with +you and mother at Laburnum Villa, you would never have a +happy moment; for, you see, I am much stronger in character +than mother, and I couldn’t help making your life miserable; +whereas you and mother would be awfully happy without me. +Mother says that she loves you, and wishes to be your wife”—</p> +<p>“Now, what are you driving at, Popsy? For if you have +nothing hanging on your hands I have a vast lot hanging on +mine, and time is precious.”</p> +<p>“I will tell you quite frankly what I want you to do, Mr. +Martin. You are taking mother.”</p> +<p>“I am willing to take you too. I can’t do any more.”</p> +<p>“But then, you see, I don’t want to be taken. Until you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +came forward and proposed to mother to be your wife she +spent a little of her money on my education. She tells me that +she has put it now into your business.”</p> +<p>“Poor thing!” said Martin. “She was making ducks and +drakes of it; but it is safe enough now.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie in a determined voice; “but I think, +somehow, that a part of it does lawfully belong to me.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come! tut, tut!”</p> +<p>“I think so,” said Maggie in a resolute tone; “for, you see, +it was father’s money; and though he left it absolutely to +mother, it was to go to me at her death, and it was meant, +little as it was, to help to educate me. I could ask a lawyer +all about the rights, of course.”</p> +<p>For some extraordinary reason Martin looked rather frightened.</p> +<p>“You can go to any lawyer you please,” he said; “but what +for? let me ask. If I take you, and do for you, and provide +for you, what has a lawyer to say in the matter?”</p> +<p>“Well, that is just it—that’s just what I have to inquire +into; because, you see, Mr. Martin, I don’t want you to provide +for me at all.”</p> +<p>“I think now we are coming to the point,” said Martin. +“Stick to it, Popsy, for time’s precious.”</p> +<p>“I think you ought to allow me to be educated out of +mother’s money.”</p> +<p>“Highty-tighty! I’m sure you know enough.”</p> +<p>“I don’t really know enough. Mrs. Ward, of Aylmer House, +has taken me as an inmate of her school for forty pounds a +year. Her terms for most girls are a great deal more.”</p> +<p>Martin looked with great earnestness at Maggie.</p> +<p>“I want to go on being Mrs. Ward’s pupil, and I want you to +allow me forty pounds a year for the purpose, and twenty +over for my clothes and small expenses—that is, sixty pounds +a year altogether. I shall be thoroughly educated then, and it +seems only fair that, out of mother’s hundred and fifty a year, +sixty pounds of the money should be spent on me. There’s +no use talking to mother, for she gets so easily puzzled about +money; but you have a very good business head. You see, +Mr. Martin, I am only just sixteen, and if I get two more years’ +education, I shall be worth something in the world, whereas +now I am worth nothing. I hope you will think it over, Mr. +Martin, and do what I wish.”</p> +<p>Martin was quite silent for a minute. The waiter came +along and was paid his bill, with a very substantial tip for +himself thrown in. Still Martin lingered at the breakfast-table +with his eyes lowered.</p> +<p>“There’s one thing—and one thing only—I like about this, +Popsy-wopsy,” he said.</p> +<p>“And what is that?” asked Maggie.</p> +<p>“That you came to me on the matter instead of going to +your mother; that you recognized the strength and force of +my character.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span></p> +<p>“Oh, any one can see that,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“You put it straight, too, with regard to your own disagreeable +nature.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I put it straight,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Well, all I can say at present is this: I will think it over. +You go home to your mother now, and tell her that her Bo-peep +will be in as usual to tea; and you, little girl, may as well +make yourself scarce at that hour. Here’s a sovereign for +you. Go and have a jolly time somewhere.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mr. Martin, I”––began Maggie, her face crimson.</p> +<p>“You had best not put on airs,” said Martin; and Maggie +slipped the sovereign into her pocket.</p> +<p>When she reached her mother’s lodgings she felt well assured +that she had done the right thing. Hitherto she had +been too stunned and miserable to use any of her power—that +strange power which she possessed—on Mr. Martin. But she +felt well assured that she could do so in the future. She +had gauged his character correctly. He was hopelessly vulgar, +but an absolutely good-natured and straight person.</p> +<p>“He will do what I wish,” she thought. Her uneasiness +vanished as soon as the first shock of her mother’s disclosure +was over. She entered the house.</p> +<p>“Why, missie?” said Tildy, “w’erehever ’ave you been? +The breakfast’s stony cold upstairs, and Mrs. ’Owland’s cryin’ +like nothin’ at all.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Tildy; I’ll see mother immediately,” said Maggie. +“And I don’t want any breakfast, for I’ve had it already.”</p> +<p>“With the haristocracy?” asked Tildy in a low, awed kind +of voice. “You always was one o’ they, Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>“No, not with the aristocracy,” said Maggie, trying to suppress +her feelings. “Tildy, your smut is on your left cheek +this morning. You can remove the breakfast-things, and I’ll +go up to mother.”</p> +<p>Maggie ran upstairs. Mrs. Howland had eaten a little, very +indifferent breakfast, and was looking weepy and washed-out +as she sat in her faded dressing-gown near the open +window.</p> +<p>“Really, Maggie,” she said when her daughter entered, +“your ways frighten me most terribly! I do wish poor Mr. +Martin would insist on your coming to live with us. I shall +never have an easy moment with your queer pranks and +goings-on.”</p> +<p>“I am sure you won’t, dear mother,” said Maggie. “But +come, don’t be cross with me. Here’s Matilda; she’ll clear +away the breakfast-things in no time, and then I have something +I want to say to you.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! my head is so weak this morning,” said Mrs. +Howland.</p> +<p>“If I were you, Miss Maggie,” said Tildy as she swept the +cups and saucers with noisy vehemence on to a tray, “I +wouldn’t worrit the poor mistress, and she just on the eve of +a matrimonial venture. It’s tryin’ to the nerves, it is; so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +Mrs. Ross tells me. Says she, ‘When I married Tom,’ says +she, ‘I was on the twitter for a good month.’ It’s awful to +think as your poor ma’s so near the brink—for that’s ’ow Mrs. +Ross speaks o’ matrimony.”</p> +<p>“Please be quick, Tildy, and go,” said Maggie in a determined +voice.</p> +<p>Matilda cleared the table, but before she would take her +departure she required definite instructions with regard to +dinner, tea, and supper.</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland raised a distracted face. “Really, I can’t +think,” she said, “my head is so weak.”</p> +<p>“Well, mum,” said Matilda, “s’pose as missus and me does +the ’ousekeepin’ for you to-day. You ain’t fit, mum; it’s but +to look at you to know that. It’s lyin’ down you ought to be, +with haromatic vinegar on your ’ead.”</p> +<p>“You’re quite right, Matilda. Well, you see to the things +to-day. Have them choice, but not too choice; fairly expensive, +but not too expensive, you understand.”</p> +<p>“Yus, ’um,” said Tildy, and left the room.</p> +<p>Maggie found herself alone with her mother. “Mother,” +she said eagerly, “now I will tell you why I was not home +for breakfast this morning.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter, Maggie,” said Mrs. Howland; “I +am too weak to be worried, and that’s a fact.”</p> +<p>“It won’t worry you, mother. I breakfasted with Mr. Martin.”</p> +<p>“What—what!” said Mrs. Howland, astonishment in her +voice, and with eyebrows raised almost to meet her hair.</p> +<p>“And an excellent breakfast we had,” said Maggie. “He +isn’t a bad sort at all, mother.”</p> +<p>“Well, I am glad you’ve found that out. Do you suppose +your mother would marry a man who was not most estimable +in character?”</p> +<p>“He is quite estimable, mother; the only unfortunate thing +against him is that he is not in your rank in life.”</p> +<p>“A woman who lives in these rooms,” said Mrs. Howland, +“has no rank in life.”</p> +<p>“Well, dear mother, I cannot agree with you. However, as +I said, I breakfasted with him.”</p> +<p>“Then you’re coming round?” said Mrs. Howland. “You’re +going to be good, and a comfort to us both?”</p> +<p>“No, mother, I haven’t come round a bit. When I was +breakfasting with Mr. Martin I fully explained to him what +a fearful trial I should be to him; how, day by day and hour +by hour, I’d annoy him.”</p> +<p>“You did that! Oh you wicked child!”</p> +<p>“I thought it best to be frank, mother. I made an impression +on him. I did what I did as much for your sake as +for mine.”</p> +<p>“Then he’ll break off the engagement—of course he will!” +said Mrs. Howland. She took a moist handkerchief from her +pocket and pressed it to her eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>“Not he. He is just devoted to you, mother; you need +have no such apprehension.”</p> +<p>“What else did you say to him?”</p> +<p>“Well, mother darling, I said what I thought right.”</p> +<p>“Oh, of course you won’t confide in me.”</p> +<p>“I think not. I will let him do that. He is coming to +tea this afternoon, and he has given me a sovereign”—how +Maggie felt inclined to kick that sovereign!—“to go and have +some pleasure somewhere. So I mean to take the train to +Richmond, and perhaps get a boatman to take me out on the +river for a little.”</p> +<p>“He is certainly more playful and amusing when you are +not here,” said Mrs. Howland, a faint smile dawning on her +face.</p> +<p>“I am certain of that,” said Maggie; “and what’s more, he +is very fond of good living. I mean to go out presently and +get some excellent things for his tea.”</p> +<p>“Will you, Maggie? Will you, my child? Why, that will +be quite sweet of you.”</p> +<p>“I will do it with pleasure, mother. But now I want you +to do something for me.”</p> +<p>“Ah,” said Mrs. Howland, “I thought you were coming to +that.”</p> +<p>“Well, it is this,” said Maggie. “When he talks to you +about me, don’t oppose him. He will most probably propound +a scheme to you, as his own perhaps; and you are to +be quite certain to let him think that it is his own scheme. +And you might make out to him, mother, that I am really very +disagreeable, and that nothing in all the world would make +me anything else. And if you are a very wise little mother +you will tell him that you are happier alone with him.”</p> +<p>“Which I am—I am,” said Mrs. Howland. “He is a dear, +quite a dear; and so comical and amusing!”</p> +<p>“Then it’s all right,” said Maggie. “You know I told you +yesterday that nothing would induce me to live at Laburnum +Villa; but I will certainly come to you, mums, in the holidays, +if you wish it.”</p> +<p>“But, dear child, there is no money to keep you at that +expensive school. There isn’t a penny.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well, well, mother, perhaps that can be managed. But +now we needn’t talk any more about my future until after +Mr. Martin has had tea with you to-day. If you have any +news for me when I return from Richmond you can let me +know.”</p> +<p>“You are a very independent girl to go to Richmond by +yourself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, that’ll be all right,” said Maggie in a cheerful tone.</p> +<p>“Have you anything else to say to me?”</p> +<p>“Yes. You know all that beautiful jewellery that my dear +father brought back with him from those different countries +where he spent his life.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland looked mysterious and frightened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“It was meant for me eventually, was it not?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Oh, well, I suppose so; only, somehow, I have a life-interest +in it.”</p> +<p>“You won’t want for jewellery when you are Mr. Martin’s +wife.”</p> +<p>“Indeed no; why, he has given me a diamond ornament +for my hair already. He means to take me out a great deal, +he says.”</p> +<p>“Out!—oh mother—in his set!”</p> +<p>“Well, dear child, I shall get accustomed to that.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you think you might give me father’s jewellery?” +said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Is it worth a great deal?” said Mrs. Howland. “I never +could bear to look at it—that is, since he died.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t given it to Mr. Martin, have you, mother?”</p> +<p>“No, nor said a word about it to him either.”</p> +<p>“Well, suppose, now that we have a quiet time, we look at +the jewellery?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Mrs. Howland. Then she added, “I was +half-tempted to sell some of it; but your father was so queer, +and the things seemed so very ugly and unlike what is worn, +that I never had the heart to part with them. I don’t suppose +they’d fetch a great deal.”</p> +<p>“Let’s look at them,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland half-rose from her chair, then sank back +again.</p> +<p>“No,” she said, “I am afraid of them. Your father told me +so many stories about each and all. He courted death to get +some of them, and others came into his hands through such +extraordinary adventures that I shudder at night when I +recall what he said. I want to forget them. Mr. Martin would +never admire them at all. I want to forget all my past life +absolutely. You’re like your father, and perhaps you admire +that sort of thing; but they are not to my taste. Here’s the +key of my wardrobe. You will find the tin boxes which hold +the jewels. You can take them; only never let out a word +to your stepfather. He doesn’t know I posses them—no one +does.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, mother,” said Maggie in a low voice. “Will +you lie down on the sofa, mums? Oh, here’s a nice new novel +for you to read. I bought it coming up in the train yesterday. +You read and rest and feel quite contented, and let me go to +the bedroom to look at the jewels.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Mrs. Howland; “you can have them. I +consider them of little or no importance; only don’t tell your +stepfather.”</p> +<p>“He is not that yet, mums.”</p> +<p>“Well, well,” said Mrs. Howland, “what does a fortnight +matter? He’ll be your stepfather in a fortnight. Yes, take +the key and go. I shall be glad to rest on the sofa. You’re +in a much more reasonable frame of mind to-day.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, dear mother,” said Maggie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p> +<p>She entered the bedroom and closed the door softly behind +her. She held her mother’s bunch of keys in her hand. First +of all she unlocked the wardrobe, and then, removing the tin +boxes, laid them on the table which stood at the foot of the +bed. She took the precaution first, however, to lock the bedroom +door. Having done this, she seated herself at the table, +and, selecting the proper keys, unlocked the two tin boxes. +One of them contained the twelve famous bracelets which +Maggie had described to Molly and Isabel Tristram. She +would keep her word: she would give a bracelet to each girl. +She recognized at once the two which she considered suitable +for the girls, and then examined the others with minute care.</p> +<p>Her mother could not admire what was strange in pattern +and dimmed by neglect; but Maggie, with her wider knowledge, +knew well that she possessed great treasures, which, if +possible, she would keep, but which, if necessary, she could +sell for sums of money which would enable her to start in life +according to her own ideas.</p> +<p>She put the twelve bracelets back into their case, and then, +opening the second tin box, took from it many quaint curios, +the value of which she had no means of ascertaining. There +was a great deal of gold and silver, and queer beaten-work in +brass, and there were pendants and long chains and brooches +and queer ornaments of all kinds.</p> +<p>“Poor father!” thought the girl. She felt a lump in her +throat—a choking sensation, which seemed to make her +mother’s present conduct all the more intolerable. How was +she to live in the future with the knowledge that her father’s +memory was, as she felt, profaned? But at least she had got +his treasures.</p> +<p>She relocked the two tin boxes, and, stowing them carefully +away in her own trunk, transferred the keys from her +mother’s bunch to her own, and brought her mother’s keys +back to Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>“Have you looked at them? Are they worth anything, +Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Memories mostly,” said Maggie evasively.</p> +<p>“Oh, then,” said Mrs. Howland, “I am glad you have them; +for I hate memories.”</p> +<p>“Mother,” said Maggie, and she went on her knees to her +parent, “you have really given them to me?”</p> +<p>“Well, of course, child. Didn’t I say so? I don’t want +them. I haven’t looked at the things for years.”</p> +<p>“I wonder, mums, if you would write something on a piece +of paper for me.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! oh dear!” said Mrs. Howland. “Mr. Martin +doesn’t approve of what he calls documents.”</p> +<p>“Darling mother, you’re not Mr. Martin’s wife yet. I want +you to put on paper that you have given me father’s curios. +He always meant them for me, didn’t he?”</p> +<p>“He did! he did!” said Mrs. Howland. “One of the very +last things he said—in his letter, I mean, for you know he died +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +in Africa—was: ‘The treasures I am sending home will be +appreciated by my little girl.’”</p> +<p>“Oh mother! yes, and they are. Please, mother, write +something on this bit of paper.”</p> +<p>“My head is so weak. I haven’t an idea what to say.”</p> +<p>“I’ll dictate it to you, if I may.”</p> +<p>“Very well, child; I suppose I can’t prevent you.”</p> +<p>Maggie brought paper, blotting-pad, and pen, and Mrs. Howland +presently wrote: “I have given, on the eve of my marriage +to Mr. Martin, her father’s treasures to my daughter, +Margaret Howland.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, mother,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>The date was affixed. Mrs. Howland added the name she +was so soon to resign, and Maggie almost skipped into the +bedroom.</p> +<p>“It’s all right now,” she said to herself.</p> +<p>She unlocked her trunk, also unlocking one of the tin boxes. +In the box which contained the twelve bracelets she put the +piece of paper in her mother’s handwriting. She then relocked +the box, relocked the trunk, and came back to her +mother, restored to perfect good-humor.</p> +<p>Maggie was in her element when she was planning things. +Yesterday was a day of despair, but to-day was a day of hope. +She sat down by her mother’s desk and wrote a long letter to +Molly Tristram, in which she told Molly that her mother was +about to be married again to a very rich man. She mentioned +the coming marriage in a few brief words, and then went on +to speak of herself, and of how delightful it would be to +welcome Molly and Isabel when they arrived at Aylmer House. +Not by the faintest suggestion did she give her friend to understand +the step down in the social scale which Mrs. Howland’s +marriage with Mr. Martin meant.</p> +<p>Having finished her letter, she thought for a minute, then +wrote a careful line to Merry Cardew. She did not tell Merry +about her mother’s approaching marriage, but said that Molly +would have news for her. In other respects her letter to +Merry was very much more confidential than her letter to +Molly. She assured Merry of her deep love, and begged of her +friend to regard this letter as quite private. “If you feel you +must show it to people, tear it up rather than do so,” said +Maggie, “for I cannot bear that our great and sacred love each +for the other should be commented on.”</p> +<p>When Merry received the letter she neither showed it to +any one else nor tore it up. She could not forget Maggie’s +face as she parted from her, and the fact that she had refused +to accept the ten pounds which the little girl had wanted to +give her in order to remove her from musty, fusty lodgings +had raised Maggie considerably in her friend’s estimation.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Maggie Howland, having finished her letters, +went out and posted them. She then changed her sovereign, +and bought some excellent and appetizing fruit and cakes for +her mother’s and Mr. Martin’s tea. She consulted with Tildy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +as to how these dainties were to be arranged, and Tildy entered +into the spirit of the thing with effusion, and declared +that they were perfect crowns of beauty, and that most assuredly +they would melt in Mr. Martin’s mouth.</p> +<p>On hearing this Maggie hastened to change the conversation; +but when she had impressed upon Tildy the all-importance +of a snowy cloth being placed upon the ugly tray, and +further begged of her to polish up the teapot and spoons, +Tildy thought that Miss Maggie was more wonderful than ever.</p> +<p>“With them as is about to step into the life-matrimonial, +pains should be took,” thought Tildy, and she mentioned her +sentiments to Mrs. Ross, who shook her head sadly, and replied +that one ought to do the best one could for the poor things.</p> +<p>At three o’clock Maggie put on her hat, drew her gloves on, +and, taking up a parasol, went out.</p> +<p>“Good-bye, darling,” she said to her mother.</p> +<p>After all, she did not go to Richmond; it was too far off, +and she was feeling a little tired. Besides, the thought of her +father’s wonderful treasures filled her mind. She determined +to go to South Kensington and look at similar jewels +and ornaments which she believed she could find there. It +occurred to her, too, that it might be possible some day to +consult the manager of the jewel department with regard to +the worth of the things which her dear father had sent home; +but this she would not do to-day.</p> +<p>Her visit to the South Kensington Museum made her feel +positively assured that she had articles of great value in the +tin boxes.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Mrs. Howland waited impatiently for Mr. Martin. +She was puzzled about Maggie, and yet relieved. She wondered +much what Maggie could have said to Mr. Martin that +day when she breakfasted with him. She was not really +alarmed. But had she been able to look into Mr. Martin’s +mind she would have felt a considerable amount of surprise. +The worthy grocer, although an excellent man of business, +knew little or nothing about law. Maggie’s words had +made him distinctly uncomfortable. Suppose, after all, the +girl could claim a right in her father’s beggarly hundred and +fifty pounds a year? Perhaps the child of the man who had +settled that little income on his wife must have some sort +of right to it? It would be horrible to consult lawyers; they +were so terribly expensive, too.</p> +<p>There was a man in the shop, however, of the name of +Howard. He was the principal shopwalker, and Mr. Martin +had a great respect for him. Without mentioning names, he +put the case before him—as he himself expressed it—in a +nutshell.</p> +<p>Howard thought for a few minutes, then said slowly that +he had not the slightest doubt that a certain portion of the +money should be spent on the child—in fact, that the child +had a right to it.</p> +<p>Martin did not like this. A heavy frown came between his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +brows. The girl was a smart and clever girl, not a bit like +Little-sing, and she could make herself very disagreeable. +Her modest request for sixty pounds a year did not seem +unreasonable. He thought and thought, and the more he +thought the more inclined he felt to give Maggie her way.</p> +<p>When he arrived at Mrs. Ross’s house he did not look quite +as cheerful as usual. He went upstairs, as Tildy expressed it, +“heavy-like”; and although both she and Mrs. Ross watched +for that delightful scene when he was “Bo-peep” to “Little-sing,” +Martin entered the drawing-room without making any +exhibition of himself. The room looked quite clean and +inviting, for Maggie had dusted it with her own hands, and +there was a very nice tea on the board, and Mrs. Howland was +dressed very prettily indeed. Martin gave a long whistle.</p> +<p>“I say, Little-sing,” he remarked, “whoever has been and +done it?”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, James?” said Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>“Why, the place,” said Martin; “it looks sort of different.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s Maggie,” said Mrs. Howland. “She went out and +bought all those cakes for you herself.”</p> +<p>“Bless me, now, did she?” said Martin. “She’s a smart +girl—a <i>ver</i>-ry smart girl.”</p> +<p>“She’s a very clever girl, James.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that’s how I put it—very clever. She has a way +about her.”</p> +<p>“She has, James. Every one thinks so.”</p> +<p>“Well, Little-sing, give me a good meal, and then we’ll +talk.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland lifted the teapot and was preparing to pour +out a cup of tea for Mr. Martin, when he looked at her, noticed +her extreme elegance and grace, and made a spring toward +her.</p> +<p>“You haven’t give Bo-peep one kiss yet, you naughty +Little-sing.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland colored as she kissed him. Of course she +liked him very much; but somehow Maggie had brought a +new atmosphere into the house. Even Mrs. Howland felt it.</p> +<p>“Let’s eat, let’s eat,” said Martin. “I never deny myself +the good things of life. That girl knows a thing or two. She’s +a ver-ry clever girl.”</p> +<p>“She is, James; she is.”</p> +<p>“Now, what on earth do you call me James for? Ain’t I +Bo-peep—ain’t I?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Bo-peep, of course you are.”</p> +<p>“And you are Little-sing. You’re a wonderfully elegant-looking +woman for your years, Victoria.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV_IN_THE_PARK' id='CHAPTER_XIV_IN_THE_PARK'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>IN THE PARK.</h3> +</div> +<p>Mrs. Howland did not like to have her years mentioned. +Mr. Martin had been careful never to do so until Maggie +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +appeared on the scene. On the contrary, he had dropped +hints that his birdling, his Little-sing, his Victoria, was in +the early bloom of youth. But now he said that she was a +wonderful woman for her years.</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland bridled slightly. “I am not old, James,” she +said.</p> +<p>“Come, come,” said the good-natured grocer; “no ‘Jamesing’ +of me. I’m your Bo-peep. What does it matter whether +you are old or young, Victoria, if you suit me and I suit you? +This is a first-rate tea, and that girl’s clever—uncommon +clever. By the way, how old may she happen to be?”</p> +<p>“Sixteen her last birthday,” said Mrs. Howland. “I was +very, very young, a mere child, when I married, James.”</p> +<p>“There you are with your ‘James’ again! Strikes me, +you’re a bit huffy to-day, Little-sing.”</p> +<p>“No, I am not; only I’ve been worried since Maggie came +back. She was so rude to you yesterday. I felt it terribly.”</p> +<p>“Did you now? Well, that was very sensible of you. +We’ll finish our tea before we begin our talk. Come, Little-sing, +eat your cake and drink your tea, and make yourself +agreeable to your Bo-peep.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland felt cheered. She did enjoy her meal; and, if +she liked it, Mr. Martin liked it immensely also.</p> +<p>“What a useful girl that would be!” he said. “We could +make her housekeeper at Laburnum Villa in no time. She has +a head on her shoulders.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland was silent. She was dreading inexpressibly +the little scene which she felt must be endured between her +and her intended.</p> +<p>“We’ll ring the bell now,” said Martin, wiping a few crumbs +from his mouth and dusting his trousers with his pocket-handkerchief. +“We’ll get Tildy to remove all these things, +and then what do you say to my taking you for a drive to the +Park?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I should like that!” said Mrs. Howland in surprise,</p> +<p>“Thought so. Never say that Bo-peep isn’t thoughtful.—Ah, +here you be, Tildy. You clear away—smart, my girl, +and then whistle for a ’ansom. Do you hear me? A ’ansom, +not a four-wheeler. Look as sharp as you can, my girl, and +I’ll give you sixpence.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir,” said Tildy. She looked with admiring +eyes at the pair who were so close to the matrimonial venture, +and quickly removed all traces of the meal.</p> +<p>“Now then, Little-sing, go into your room and get dressed +for your drive.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland did so. She put on an elegant sort of bonnet-hat +which had been presented to her by Martin, a lace fichu +over her shoulders, and a pair of long white gloves. She had +also been presented with a white parasol by Martin. He +thought that no one could look more beautiful than his ladylove +when she reappeared in the drawing-room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“The ’ansom’s at the door,” he said. “We’ll go now and +start on our drive.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Howland rose, and Tildy agreed with Martin as to Mrs. +Howland’s appearance when she stepped into that hansom. +Tildy said she looked bride-like. Mrs. Ross remarked that as +elegant women before now had become widows in no time. +Tildy shuddered, and said that Mrs. Ross should not say things +of that sort. Mrs. Ross replied that she invariably spoke the +truth, and then returned to her dismal kitchen.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Martin and Mrs. Howland were driven swiftly +in the direction of Hyde Park. London society people were +fast going out of town, for it was very nearly the end of +July; but still there were a few carriages about, and some +fine horses, and some gaily dressed ladies and several smart-looking +men. Martin provided a couple of chairs for himself +and his future wife, and they sat for some little time +enjoying the fresh air and looking on at the gay scene.</p> +<p>“It is wonderful,” said Martin, “what a sight of money +is wasted in this sort of thing.”</p> +<p>“But they enjoy it, don’t they?” said Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>“Yes, my pet,” he replied, “but not as you and me will +enjoy Laburnum Villa. And now, Little-sing, can you attend +to business?”</p> +<p>“I have a very weak head for business, Bo-peep,” was the +reply.</p> +<p>“Don’t I know it, my pet; and I am the last person on earth +to allow you to be worried; but I tell you what it is, Victory, if +your head is weak as regards money matters, your girl has a +topping good brain in that direction. Now, I have a notion +in my head about her.”</p> +<p>“You can’t do anything with her,” said Mrs. Howland; “she +is quite impossible. I never thought she would treat you as +she did. I could weep when I think of it. I shouldn’t be +surprised if, on account of her rudeness and ingratitude, we +broke off the engagement. I shouldn’t really, James.”</p> +<p>“What do you take me for?” said James. “It isn’t the girl +I want to marry! it’s you.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” said Mrs. Howland; “of course, I know.”</p> +<p>“She ain’t a patch on you, Little-sing—that is, I mean +as regards looks. But now, don’t you fret. If you have been +turning things over in your mind, so have I been turning +things over in my mind, and the sum and substance of it +all is that I believe that girl’s right after all.”</p> +<p>“Right after all! But dear, dear James, the child can’t live +on nothing!”</p> +<p>“Who said she was to live on nothing?” said Martin. +“Don’t tremble, Little-sing; it’s more than I can stand. I have +been thinking that a sharp young miss like that wants a bit +more training. She wants breaking in. Now, I’ve no mind +to the job. I can manage my shop-people—not one of them +can come round me, I can tell you—but a miss like your +daughter, brought up altogether, I will say, above her station, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +is beyond me. What I have been turning over in my mind +is this, that a year or two’s training longer will do her no +sort of harm.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Mrs. Howland. She was trembling exceedingly.</p> +<p>“I think, too,” continued Martin, “that Laburnum Villa +might not be agreeable to her at present; and if it ain’t agreeable +to her she’ll put on the sulks, and that’s more than I <i>can</i> +abide. Cheerfulness I must have. My joke I must be allowed +to make. My fun in my own way I must enjoy. You and me—we’ll +hit it off splendid, and let the girl go for the present.”</p> +<p>“But she must go somewhere,” said Mrs. Howland.</p> +<p>“Good gracious, my lady! do you suppose I’d allow the +girl to be destitute? No; I’m ready to do the generous; and +now, I’ll tell you something. You mustn’t blame her too much. +She repented of her ill-natured manner last night, and came +to me as pretty as you please this morning, and asked me to +breakfast with her. I was taken aback, but she came round +me, and we went to Harrison’s and had a topping meal. Then +she spoke to me very sensible, and explained that she wanted +more ‘parlez-vooing’ and more ‘pi-annofortying,’ and all +the rest of the so-called ladies’ accomplishments. She consulted +me very pretty and very proper indeed; and the long +and the short of it is that I am willing to allow her forty +pounds a year for her education at that blessed Aylmer House +where all the swells go, and to keep her there for two years +certain; and I am willing, further, to give her twenty pounds +a year to spend on dress. Of course she takes her holidays +with us. Then, if at the end of that time she turns out +what I hope she will, I will make her an accountant in the +shop; it will be a first-rate post for her, and I am sure, from +the way she talks, she has a splendid head for business. Now, +what do you say to that, Little-sing?”</p> +<p>“I say there never was your like, Bo-peep.”</p> +<p>Mr. Martin rubbed his hands. “Thought you’d be pleased,” +he said. “The girl spoke very proper indeed this morning, +and she is a good girl—plain and sensible, and I couldn’t +but take notice of her words. Now then, s’pose we take a +fresh ’ansom, and hurry home; and I’ll take you out and give +you a right good bit of dinner, and afterwards we’ll go to the +play.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear!” said Mrs. Howland, “you are good to me, Bo-peep.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV_TWO_SIDES' id='CHAPTER_XV_TWO_SIDES'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<h3>TWO SIDES.</h3> +</div> +<p>Mrs. Ward’s school reopened on the 20th of September. +For two or three days beforehand the immaculate and +beautiful house was being made, if possible, still more immaculate +and still more lovely. The window-boxes were refilled +with flowers; the dainty little bedrooms were supplied +with fresh curtains to the windows and fresh drapery for the +beds. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>Mrs. Ward herself arrived at the school about a week before +her pupils made their appearance. She had much to +settle during this week. She had, in short, to prepare her +plan of campaign for the ensuing term: to interview her different +masters and mistresses, to consult with her resident +English governess (a charming girl of the name of Talbot), +to talk over matters with Fräulein Beck, and to reassure +Mademoiselle Laplage, who was very lively, very conscientious, +but at the same time very nervous with regard to her +own powers. “<i>Les jeunes filles Anglaises sont bien capables +et bien distinguées mais—ma foi! comme elles me fatiguent +les nerfs!</i>” Mademoiselle Laplage would say; and, although +she had been at Aylmer House for three terms, she always +doubted her powers, and made the same speech over and +over again at the beginning of each term. In addition to +Miss Talbot, there was a very cheery, bright girl of the +name of Johnson, who looked after the girls’ wardrobes and +helped them, if necessary, with their work, saw that they +were punctual at meals, and occasionally took an English +class. She was a great favorite with all the girls at Mrs. +Ward’s school. They called her Lucy, instead of Miss Johnson. +She was quite young—not more than twenty years of +age.</p> +<p>These four ladies resided at Aylmer House; but masters +and mistresses for various accomplishments came daily to +instruct the girls. Mrs. Ward loved her teachers almost as +much as she loved her girls, and they each and all adored her.</p> +<p>Miss Talbot was an exceedingly clever woman, close on +thirty years of age. She had taken very high honors at Cambridge, +and was a person of great penetration of character, +with a genius for imparting knowledge.</p> +<p>Unlike most head-mistresses, Mrs. Ward seldom changed +her staff of teachers. She had the gift of selection to a +marvellous degree, and never was known to make a mistake +with regard to the choice of those women who helped her +in her great work of education.</p> +<p>Summer was, of course, over when the girls assembled at +Aylmer House. Nevertheless, there was a sort of afterglow +of summer, which was further intensified by the beautiful +flowers in the window-boxes and by the fresh, clean, fragrant +atmosphere of the house itself.</p> +<p>The two Cardews and the two Tristrams came up to Aylmer +House by an early train. Mr. Tristram brought them to school, +Mr. and Mrs. Cardew at the last moment feeling unequal to +the task of parting with their darlings in the presence of +their companions. The real parting had taken place the previous +night; and that pain which Merry had felt at intervals +during the end of the summer vacation was sharp enough +to cause her to cry when she lay down to sleep on the night +before going to school. But Merry was brave, and so was +Cicely; and, although Merry did hate beyond words the +thought of not seeing her beloved father and her dear mother +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +until Christmas, she thought also that very good times were +before her, and she was resolved to make the best of them.</p> +<p>Molly and Isabel, who were quite accustomed to going to +school, had no pangs of heart at all when they bade their +mother good-bye. As to Peterkins and Jackdaw, as they were +also going to school on the following day, they scarcely observed +the departure of their sisters, only saying, when Belle +hugged one and Molly the other, “What a fuss you girls do +make! Now, if Spot-ear and Fanciful were to fret about us +there’d be some reason in it. But mother’s going to look after +them; and mother’s a brick, I can tell you.” The girls +laughed very merrily, and asked what message her two adorers +would like to send to Maggie.</p> +<p>The two adorers only vouchsafed the remark, “Don’t bother; +we’re going to be with boys now, and boys are worth all +the girls in creation put together.”</p> +<p>The journey to town was taken without any special adventure, +and at about three o’clock in the afternoon an omnibus +containing the four girls, accompanied by Mr. Tristram, with +their luggage piled on the roof, stopped at Aylmer House.</p> +<p>Aneta had already arrived; and as the girls entered with a +new feeling of timidity through the wide-open doors they +caught a glimpse of Maggie in the distance. There were +other girls, absolute strangers to them, who peeped for a +minute over the balusters and then retired from view. But, +whatever the four strangers might have felt with regard to +these interesting occurrences, every other feeling was brought +into subjection by the appearance of Mrs. Ward on the scene.</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward looked quite as stately as Mrs. Cardew, with her +beautiful face still quite young; with her most kind, most +gentle, most protective manner; with the glance of the eye +and the pressure of the hand which spoke untold volumes of +meaning. Merry felt her loving heart rise in sudden adoration. +Cicely gave her a quick, adoring glance. As to Molly +and Isabel, they were speechless with pleasure.</p> +<p>“You have come, dears,” said Mrs. Ward. “Welcome, all +four!—These are your girls, Mr. Tristram”—she singled out +Molly and Isabel without being introduced to them. “I know +them,” she said with a smile, “from their likeness to you. +And these are the Cardews. Now, which is Cicely and which +Merry? Ah, I think I can tell. This is Merry, is she not?” +and she laid her hand on the pretty girl’s shoulder.</p> +<p>“Yes, I am Merry,” replied Meredith Cardew in a voice +which almost choked her.</p> +<p>“And you, of course, are Cicely,” said Mrs. Ward. “In +this house all the girls speak to each other by their Christian +names; and you will be Cicely and Merry to me, as Molly and +Isabel Tristram will be Molly and Isabel to me. You know +Aneta, of course. She is hovering near, anxious to take possession +of you. Go with her, dears. I think all my girls have +now come.—Is it not so, Miss Talbot?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mrs. Ward,” replied Miss Talbot. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Miss Talbot, may I introduce my four new pupils to you, +Cicely and Merry Cardew, and Molly and Isabel Tristram?—You +will have a good deal to do with Miss Talbot, girls, for +she is our English teacher, and my very great friend.”</p> +<p>Miss Talbot blushed slightly from pleasure. She said a +gentle word to each girl, and a minute afterwards they had, +so to speak, crossed the Rubicon, and were in the heart of +Aylmer House; for Aneta had seized Merry’s hand, and Cicely +followed immediately afterwards, while Molly and Belle found +themselves one at each side of Maggie Howland.</p> +<p>“Oh, this is delightful!” said Maggie. “We have all met +at last. Isn’t the day glorious? Isn’t the place perfect? +Aren’t you in love with Mrs. Ward?”</p> +<p>“She seems very nice,” said Molly in an almost timid voice.</p> +<p>“How nice Merry and Cicely look!” continued Maggie.</p> +<p>“You look nice, yourself, Maggie. Everything is wonderful,” +said Molly; “not a bit like the school in Hanover.”</p> +<p>“Of course not. Who could compare it?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Aneta, Cicely, and Merry had gone on in front. +But as they were ascending the broad, low stairs, Merry turned +and glanced at Maggie and smiled at her, and Maggie smiled +back at Merry. Oh, that smile of Merry’s, how it caused +her heart to leap! Aneta, try as she would, could not take +Merry Cardew quite away from her.</p> +<p>Cicely and Merry had a bedroom together. Two little white +beds stood side by side. The drugget on the floor was pale +blue. The room was a study in pale blue and white. It +was all exquisitely neat, fresh, airy, and the smell of the +flowers in the window-boxes came in through the open windows.</p> +<p>“Why,” said Cicely with a gasp, “we might almost be in +the country!”</p> +<p>“This is one of the nicest rooms in the whole house,” said +Aneta. “But why should I say that,” she continued, “when +every room is, so to speak, perfect? I never saw Mrs. Ward, +however, more particular than she was about your bedroom, +girls. I think she is very much pleased at your coming to +Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>Cicely ran to the window and looked out.</p> +<p>“It is so nice to be in London,” she said; “but somehow, +I thought it would be much more noisy.”</p> +<p>Aneta laughed.</p> +<p>“Aylmer House,” she said, “stands in the midst of a great +square. We don’t have huge traffic in the squares; and, really, +at night it is as quiet as the country itself.”</p> +<p>“But hark! hark!” said Merry, “there is a funny sound +after all.”</p> +<p>“What do you take it for?” asked Aneta.</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” said Merry. “I could almost imagine that +we were by the seaside, and that the sound was the roar of the +breakers on the beach.”</p> +<p>“It is the roar of human breakers,” said Aneta. “One always +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +hears that kind of sound even in the quietest parts of +London. It is the great traffic in the thoroughfares not far +away.”</p> +<p>“It is delightful! wonderful!” said Merry. “Oh, I long to +know all the girls! You will introduce us, won’t you, Aneta?”</p> +<p>“Of course; and you must be very quick remembering +names. Let me see. You two, and Molly and Isabel, and +Maggie Howland, and I make six. There are twenty girls in +the house altogether, so you have to make the acquaintance +of fourteen others.”</p> +<p>“I never can possibly remember their names,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“You will have to try. That’s the first thing expected of +a schoolgirl—to know the names of her schoolfellows.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will do my best.”</p> +<p>“You had better do your best; it will be a good occupation +for you during this first evening. Now, are you ready? And +shall we go down? We have tea in the refectory at four +o’clock. Mademoiselle Laplage presides over the tea-table +this week.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but does she talk English?”</p> +<p>“Of course not—French. How can you learn French if +you don’t talk it?”</p> +<p>“I shall never understand,” said poor Merry.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ve no doubt she will let you off very easily during +the first few days,” said Aneta. “But afterwards she is just +as particular as woman can be.”</p> +<p>The girls went downstairs, where a group of other girls—most +of them wearing pretty white dresses, for they were +all still in full summer attire—met in the wide, pleasant hall. +Aneta performed the ceremony of introduction.</p> +<p>“Henrietta and Mary Gibson, may I introduce my special +friends and cousins, Cicely and Meredith—otherwise Merry—Cardew?”</p> +<p>Two tall, fair, lady-like girls responded to this introduction +with a hearty shake of the hand and a hearty welcome +to the new-comers.</p> +<p>“Here is Rosamond Dacre,” continued Aneta, as a very dark, +somewhat plain girl appeared in view.—“Rosamond, my +friends and cousins, Cicely and Merry Cardew.”</p> +<p>Rosamond shook hands, but stiffly and without any smile. +The next minute a laughing, merry, handsome little girl, +with dark-blue eyes, very dark curling eyelashes, and quantities +of curling black hair, tumbled rather than walked into +view.</p> +<p>“Ah Kathleen—Kitty, you’re just as incorrigible as ever!” +cried Aneta:—“Girls, this is our Irish romp, as we always +call her. Her name is Kathleen O’Donnell.—Now then, Kathleen, +you must be good, you know, and not too terribly Irish. +I have the honor to present to you, Kathleen, my cousins +Cicely and Merry Cardew.”</p> +<p>Kathleen did more than smile. She laughed outright. “I +am delighted you have come,” she said. “How are you? Isn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +school glorious? I do love it! I have come straight from +Glengariff—the most beautiful part of the whole of Ireland. +Do you know Ireland? Have you ever seen Bantry Bay? Oh, +there is no country in all the world like it, and there is no +scenery so magnificent.”</p> +<p>“Come, Kitty, not quite so much chatter,” said Aneta.—“Ah, +there’s the tea-gong.”</p> +<p>The girls now followed Aneta into a pleasant room which +looked out on to a small garden. The garden, compared to the +great, sweeping lawns and lovely parterres of Meredith Manor, +was insignificant. Nevertheless, with the French windows of +the refectory wide open, and the beds full of hardy flowers—gay +geraniums, late roses, innumerable asters, fuchsias, etc.—it +appeared as a fresh surprise to the country girls.</p> +<p>“It isn’t like London,” thought Merry.</p> +<p>At tea she found herself, greatly to her relief, at Maggie’s +side. There was also another piece of good fortune—at least +so it seemed to the Cardews, whose conversational French +was still almost <i>nil</i>—Mademoiselle Laplage was unexpectedly +absent, the good lady being forced to remain in her room with +a sudden, overpowering headache, and pleasant, good-natured +Lucy—otherwise Miss Johnson—took her place.</p> +<p>“Perfect freedom to-day, girls,” said Miss Johnson.</p> +<p>“Ah, good Lucy! thank you, Lucy!” exclaimed Kathleen.</p> +<p>“That’s right, Lucy! Hurrah for Lucy!” cried several +other voices.</p> +<p>“No discipline at all to-day,” continued Lucy. “School +doesn’t begin until to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Cicely was seated near Aneta, with Kathleen O’Donnell at +her other side. Just for a minute Aneta’s eyes traveled across +the table and fixed themselves on Maggie’s face. Maggie +found herself coloring, and a resentful feeling awoke in her +heart. She could not dare to oppose Aneta; and yet—and +yet—she was determined at any cost to keep the love of +Merry Cardew for herself.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Merry, who was equally delighted to find herself +by Maggie’s side, began to talk to her in a low tone.</p> +<p>“You don’t look very well, Mags,” she said—“not nearly +as robust as when I saw you last; and you never wrote to me +after that first letter.”</p> +<p>“I have a great deal I want to tell you,” said Maggie in a +low tone. “Lucy is quite right; there are no lessons of any +sort this evening. Mrs. Ward always gives us the first evening +to settle and to get perfectly at home in, so we shall be able +to chatter to our heart’s content. This is going to be a glorious +night, and we can walk about in the garden.”</p> +<p>“But won’t there be a lot of other people in the garden?” +asked Merry.</p> +<p>“Why, of course,” said Maggie in a surprised tone. “I +suppose we’ll all be there.”</p> +<p>“We can’t talk any secrets, if that is what you mean,” said +Merry, “for the garden is so very small.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p> +<p>Maggie laughed. “That’s because you are accustomed to +Meredith Manor,” she said. “Anyhow,” she continued, dropping +her voice, “I must talk to you. I have a great, great +deal to say, and you’ll have to listen.”</p> +<p>“Of course I will listen, dear,” said Merry.</p> +<p>Rosamond Dacre now joined in, and the conversation became +general. Henrietta and Mary Gibson had a very agreeable +way of describing things. Maggie felt herself reinstated +in the life she loved; Merry, the girl she cared for best, +was by her side, and she would not have had a single thorn +in the flesh but for the presence of Aneta.</p> +<p>It has been said that in this school there were two girls +who held considerable sway over their companions. One of +them was Aneta Lysle, the other Maggie Howland. Aneta had, +of course, far and away the greater number of girls under +her spell, if such a word could describe her high and noble +influence over them. But Maggie had her own friends, +among whom were Rosamond Dacre, Kathleen O’Donnell, +Matty and Clara Roache, and Janet Burns. All these girls +were fairly nice, but not so high-bred and not so noble in +tone as the girls who devoted themselves to Aneta. Kathleen +was, indeed, altogether charming; she was the romp of +the school and the darting of every one. But Rosamond Dacre +was decidedly morose and sulky. She was clever, and on this +account her mistresses liked her; but she was a truly difficult +girl to deal with, being more or less shut up within herself, +and disinclined to true friendship with any one. She liked +Kathleen O’Donnell, however, and Kathleen adored Maggie. +Rosamond was, therefore, considered to be on Maggie’s side +of the school. Matty and Clara Roache were quite ordinary, +everyday sort of girls, neither very good-looking nor the reverse, +neither specially clever nor specially stupid. Their +greatest friend was Janet Burns, a handsome little girl with +a very lofty brow, calm, clear gray eyes, and a passionate +adoration for Maggie Howland. Matty and Clara would follow +Janet to the world’s end, and, as Janet adhered to Maggie, +they were also on Maggie’s side.</p> +<p>Maggie naturally expected to add to the numbers of her +special adherents her own two friends, the Tristrams. She +felt she could easily have won Merry also to join, the ranks +of adorers; but then it suddenly occurred to her that her +friendship for Merry should be even more subtle than the +ordinary friendship that an ordinary girl who is queen at +school gives to her fellows. She did not dare to defy Aneta. +Merry must outwardly belong to Aneta, but if her heart was +Maggie’s what else mattered?</p> +<p>When tea was over several of the girls drifted into the +garden, where they walked in twos, discussing their holidays, +their old friends, and the time which was just coming. There +was not a trace of unhappiness in any face. The whole atmosphere +of the place seemed to breathe peace and goodwill.</p> +<p>Aneta and Cicely, with some of Aneta’s own friends, two +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +girls of the name of Armitage—Anne and Jessie—and a very +graceful girl called Sylvia St. John, walked up and down talking +quietly together for some little time.</p> +<p>Then Cicely looked eagerly round her. “I can’t see Merry +anywhere,” she remarked.</p> +<p>“She is all right, dear, I am sure,” said Aneta. But Aneta +in her inmost heart did not think so. She was, however, far +too prudent to say a word to make her cousin Cicely uneasy.</p> +<p>Meanwhile Maggie and Merry had found a cosy corner for +themselves in one of the conservatories. They sat side by side +in two little garden-chairs.</p> +<p>“Well, you’ve come!” said Maggie. “I have carried out my +design. My heart’s desire is satisfied.”</p> +<p>“Oh, how sweet you are, Maggie!” said Merry. “I have +missed you so much!” she added. “I have so often wished for +you!”</p> +<p>“Do you really love me?” asked Maggie, looking at Merry +in her queer, abrupt manner.</p> +<p>“You know I do,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Maggie, “there are a great many girls in the +school who love me very dearly.”</p> +<p>“It is easy to perceive that,” said Merry. “Why, Maggie, +at tea-time that handsome little Irish girl—Kathleen you call +her—couldn’t take her eyes off you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Kitty,” said Maggie. “Yes, she is on my side.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean by your side?”</p> +<p>“Well, of course I have told you—haven’t I?—that there +are two of us in this school who are more looked up to than +the others. It seems very conceited for me to say that I +happen to be one. Of course I am not a patch on Aneta; I +know that perfectly well.”</p> +<p>“Aneta is a darling,” said Merry; “and she is my own +cousin; but”—she dropped her voice—“Maggie, somehow, I +can’t help loving you best.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Maggie with a start, “is that true?”</p> +<p>“It is! it is!”</p> +<p>Maggie was silent for a minute. At the end of that time +she said very gently, “You won’t be hurt at something I want +to tell you?”</p> +<p>“Hurt! No,” said Merry; “why should I be?”</p> +<p>“Well, it is just this: Aneta is frightfully jealous of me.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I don’t believe it,” said Merry indignantly. “It isn’t +in her nature to be jealous. It’s very low-minded to be jealous.”</p> +<p>“There is no school,” said Maggie, “where jealousy does +not abound. There is no life into which jealousy does not +enter. The world itself is made up of jealous people. Aneta +is jealous of me, and I—I am jealous of her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Maggie dear, you must not, and you ought not to be +jealous of Aneta! She thinks so kindly, so sweetly of every +one.”</p> +<p>“She loves you,” said Maggie. “You just go and tell her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +how much you care for me, that you love me better than you +love her, and see how she will take it.”</p> +<p>“But I wouldn’t tell her that,” said little Merry, “for it +would hurt her.”</p> +<p>“There!” said Maggie with a laugh; “and yet you pretend +that you don’t think her jealous.”</p> +<p>“She will never be jealous of me, for I’ll never give her +cause—dear Aneta!” said Merry.</p> +<p>Maggie was again silent and thoughtful for a few minutes. +“Listen to me, Merry,” she said. “In this school the girls +follow the queens. If I wanted to make Aneta Lysle really +mad with jealousy I’d get you over to me; but—don’t speak +for a minute—I won’t get you over to me. You shall stay at +school and be on Aneta’s side.”</p> +<p>“I suppose—I suppose I ought,” said Merry in a faint voice.</p> +<p>“You must—you must be on Aneta’s side of the school, and +so must Cicely; but you can, all the same, love me best.”</p> +<p>“Can I?” said Merry, brightening up. “Then, if I can, +I sha’n’t mind a bit.”</p> +<p>Maggie patted her hand very gently. “You can, Merry; and +you can help me. You will always take my part, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“Indeed—indeed I will! But it won’t be necessary.”</p> +<p>“It may be,” said Maggie very earnestly. “Promise that, +if the time comes, you will take my part.”</p> +<p>“I promise, of course. What can be the matter with you, +Maggie? You don’t look a bit yourself.”</p> +<p>Maggie did not at once reply. “I shall have a great deal to +do this term,” she said after a pause; “and my party in the +school won’t be so weak after all. There’ll be Rosamond +Dacre––”</p> +<p>“I didn’t very much like Rosamond,” said Merry, speaking +in a low voice.</p> +<p>“Oh, she is excellent fun when you know her,” said Maggie; +“but as she won’t be on your side, nor in your form, you are +not likely to have much to do with her. Then Matty and +Clara are first-rate, and they’re mine too; and Kathleen O’Donnell +is a perfect brick; and Janet Burns, she’s as strong as +they make ’em. Of course the Tristrams will belong to me. +Let me see: Tristrams, two; Rosamond, three; Kathleen, four; +Matty and Clara, six; Janet, seven. Ah, well, I am quite in +the minority. Aneta carries off eleven girls as her share.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be sad about it, Maggie. Surely we might all be one +in the school! Why should there be parties?” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Little you know, Merry, how impossible school-life would +be without parties, and great friends, and medium friends, and +favorites, and enemies. Why, Merry, school is a little world, +and the world is made up of elements such as these.”</p> +<p>“Tell me,” said Merry after a pause, “what you did after +you left us.”</p> +<p>Maggie colored. “Oh, stayed for a time in that horrid Shepherd’s +Bush.”</p> +<p>“In those fusty, musty lodgings?” said Merry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></p> +<p>“Yes, and they were fusty, musty.”</p> +<p>“Oh dear! I am sorry for you. We had such a glorious +time!”</p> +<p>“I know it, dear; but glorious times don’t come to girls +like me.”</p> +<p>“Why, are you so very, very sad, Maggie? Oh, now I know—of +course I know. I didn’t like to write to you about it, +for it seemed to me quite—you will forgive me, won’t you?—quite +dreadful that your mother should have married again. +Is she married yet, Maggie?”</p> +<p>Maggie nodded.</p> +<p>“Oh, I can sympathize with you, dear Maggie! It must be so +fearful to have a stepfather!”</p> +<p>“It is,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Is he a nice man, Maggie? Or would you rather I didn’t +speak of him?”</p> +<p>“No; you may speak of him if you like. He is a rich man—he +is very rich.”</p> +<p>“I am glad of that at any rate,” said Merry. “You will never +be in fusty, musty lodgings any more.”</p> +<p>“Oh no, never! My mother’s husband—I cannot speak of +him as my stepfather—will see to that.”</p> +<p>“What is his name?”</p> +<p>Maggie hesitated. Not for the world would she have let any +of her schoolfellows know the real position; but she could +not very well conceal her stepfather’s name.</p> +<p>“Martin,” she said.</p> +<p>“Spelt with a ‘y’? We know some awfully nice Martyns. +They live about twenty miles away from Meredith Manor. +I wonder if your Mr. Martyn is related to them.”</p> +<p>“Oh, very likely,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Then perhaps you will go to stay with them—your mother, +and your—your mother’s husband, and you too; and we’ll all +meet. They live at a place-called The Meadows. It isn’t as +old or as beautiful as our Manor, but it’s a sweet place, and +the girls are so nice you’ll be sure to like them.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I dare say I shall,” said Maggie, who didn’t care to +contradict Merry’s innocent ideas with regard to her mother’s +marriage.</p> +<p>“Well, I am glad,” said Merry, “that your dear mother has +married a rich gentleman. Has he a country place of his +own?”</p> +<p>“Of course he has,” said Maggie, who felt that she could +at least utter these words with truth.</p> +<p>“And is it far, far from London, or quite in the country?”</p> +<p>“It is,” said Maggie, “in—in the Norwood direction.”</p> +<p>This remark made no impression whatever on Merry, who +had not the least idea where the Norwood direction was. But +by-and-by, when she parted from Maggie and joined her sister +and Aneta, she said, “I have a piece of rather good news to +tell about dear Maggie Howland. She won’t be poor any +more.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span></p> +<p>“That is a word we never discuss at school,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Well, we needn’t after to-night,” said Merry with a slight +touch of irritation in her manner. “But although I haven’t +the faintest idea what poverty means, I think poor Maggie +knows a good deal about it. Well, she won’t have anything +to do with it in future, for her mother has just married again.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Aneta, with a show of interest.</p> +<p>“Yes; and a very nice gentleman he must be. He is a cousin +of the Martyns of The Meadows. You know how you liked +them when we spent a day there during these holidays—didn’t +you, Aneta?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aneta, “most charming people. I felt quite +sorry that the Martyn girls were too old for school. I wonder +they didn’t mention the fact of their cousin being about to +marry Mrs. Howland; for you know we were talking of Maggie +to them, or at least you were, Merry.”</p> +<p>“Of course I was,” said Merry in a determined voice. “I +am very, very fond of Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps we had better go to bed now,” said Aneta. “I +may as well tell you, girls, that we have to get up at half-past +six. Lucy comes to us and wakes us at that hour, and +we are expected to be downstairs at seven. Lucy will tell you, +too, girls, that it is expected of us all that we shall keep our +rooms in perfect order. Now, shall we say good-night?”</p> +<p>The Cardews kissed their cousin and went to their own +pleasant room.</p> +<p>As soon as they were there Merry said, “Cicely, I am glad +about poor Maggie.”</p> +<p>“And so am I,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“When we write home we must be sure to mention to +mother about Mr. Martyn. I don’t think dear Maggie knew +anything about The Meadows; so perhaps, after all, he is a +somewhat distant cousin; but it is such a comfort to know +that he is rich and a gentleman.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Cicely. Then she added, “I don’t think Aneta +wants you to make too great a friend of Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Oh, nonsense!” said Merry, coloring slightly. “I am never +going to give Maggie up, for I love her dearly.”</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Cicely, “it would be very mean to give +her up; but you and I, as Aneta’s cousins, must be on her +side in the school. What I am afraid of is that Maggie will +try to induce you to join her set.”</p> +<p>“That shows how little you know her,” said Merry, roused +to the defensive. “She explained everything to me this afternoon, +and said that I certainly must belong to Aneta.”</p> +<p>“Did she? Well, I call that splendid,” said Cicely.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI_BOPEEP' id='CHAPTER_XVI_BOPEEP'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<h3>BO-PEEP.</h3> +</div> +<p>When Aneta found herself alone that evening she stayed +for a short time thinking very deeply. She felt a queer sense +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +of responsibility with regard to the Cardews. If Maggie +imagined that it was through her influence they had come to +Aylmer House, Aneta was positive that they would never +have entered the school but for her and her aunt, Lady Lysle. +Besides, they were her very own cousins, and she loved them +both dearly. She was not especially anxious about Cicely, +who was a more ordinary and less enthusiastic girl than +Merry; but about Merry she had some qualms. There was no +doubt whatever that the girl was attracted by Maggie; and, +in Aneta’s opinion, Maggie Howland was in no sense of the +word a proper companion for her.</p> +<p>Aneta, as she sat calmly by her open window—for it was +not necessary to hurry to bed to-night—thought much over +the future which spread itself immediately in front of her +and her companions. She was naturally a very reserved girl. +She was born with that exclusiveness and reserve which a distinguished +class bestows upon those who belong to it. But +she had in her heart very wide sympathies; and, like many +another girl in her position, she could be kind to the poor, +philanthropic to the last degree to those in real distress, denying +herself for the sake of those who wanted bread. Towards +girls, however, who were only a trifle below her in the social +scale she could be arbitrary, haughty, and strangely wanting +in sympathy. Maggie Howland was exactly the sort of girl +who repelled Aneta. Nevertheless, she was a member of the +school; and not only was she a member of the school, but a +very special member. Had she even been Janet Burns (who +was so clever, and as far as learning was concerned carried +all before her), or had she been as brilliant and witty as +Kathleen O’Donnell, Aneta would not have troubled herself +much over her. But Maggie was possessed of a curious sense +of <i>power</i> which was hers by heritage, which her father had +possessed before her, and which caused him—one of the least +prepossessing and yet one of the most distinguished men of +his day—to be worshipped wherever he went. This power +was greater than beauty, greater than birth, greater than +genius. Maggie had it, and used it to such effect that she and +Aneta divided the school between them. Aneta was never +quite certain whether some of her special friends would not +leave her and go over to Maggie’s side; but she felt that she +did not greatly care about this, provided she could keep Merry +and Cicely altogether to herself.</p> +<p>After thinking for a little time she sprang to her feet, and +going to the electric bell, sounded it. After a short delay +a servant appeared.</p> +<p>“Mary,” said Aneta, “will you have the goodness to ask +Miss Lucy if I may speak to her for a minute?”</p> +<p>“Yes, miss,” replied Mary, closing the door behind her in +her usual noiseless fashion.</p> +<p>In a very few minutes Miss Johnson entered Aneta’s room.</p> +<p>“I was just thinking of going to bed, dear,” said that good-natured +young woman. “Can I do anything for you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span></p> +<p>“I only want to say something to you, Lucy.”</p> +<p>“What is it, my love? I do not like to see that our dear +Aneta looks worried, but your face almost wears that expression.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Aneta, “it is just this: I am a trifle worried +about a matter which I hope I may set right. It is against +the rules for girls to leave their rooms after they have gone +to them for the night, and it would never do for me to be the +first to break a rule at Aylmer House. Nevertheless, I do +want to break it. May I, Miss Lucy?”</p> +<p>“Well, Aneta, I do not think that there’ll be the slightest +difficulty, for we don’t really begin school till to-morrow. +What do you wish to do, dear?”</p> +<p>“I want to go and visit one of my schoolmates, and stay +with her for a time.”</p> +<p>“Of course you may go, Aneta. I give you permission; but +don’t remain too long, for we get up early to-morrow, as to-morrow +school really begins.”</p> +<p>“I won’t remain a minute longer than I can help. Thank +you, Lucy,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Miss Johnson kissed her pupil and left the room.</p> +<p>A minute later Aneta Lysle was running down the corridor +in the direction of the bedroom occupied by Maggie Howland. +It was some distance from her own room. She knocked at +the door. She guessed somehow that Maggie would be still up.</p> +<p>Maggie said, “Come in,” and Aneta entered.</p> +<p>Maggie was in a white dressing-gown, with her thick, handsome +hair falling below her waist. Her hair was her strongest +point, and she looked for the time being almost pretty.</p> +<p>“What do you want, Aneta?” she said.</p> +<p>“To speak to you, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“But it’s against the rules,” said Maggie, drawling out her +words a little, and giving Aneta a defiant glance.</p> +<p>“No,” said Aneta. “I asked for permission to come and see +you, and I have obtained it.”</p> +<p>“Well, sit down, won’t you?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>Aneta availed herself of the invitation, and took a chair.</p> +<p>Maggie remained standing.</p> +<p>“Won’t you sit too, Maggie?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“I don’t particularly want to, but I will if you insist on +it. To tell the truth, I am a little sleepy. You won’t keep me +long, will you?”</p> +<p>“That depends on yourself.”</p> +<p>Maggie opened her narrow eyes. Then she contracted them +and looked fixedly at her companion. “Have you come here +to talk about Merry Cardew?”</p> +<p>“Yes, about her, and other matters.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you trust me at all, Aneta?”</p> +<p>Aneta looked full up at the girl. “No, Maggie,” she said.</p> +<p>“Do you think when you say so that you speak kindly?”</p> +<p>“I am afraid I don’t, but I can’t help myself,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Maggie gave a faint yawn. She was, in reality, far too interested +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +to be really sleepy. Suddenly she dropped into a +sitting position on the floor. “You have me,” she said, “in +the hollow of your hand. Do you mean to crush me? What +have I done that you should hate me so much?”</p> +<p>“I never said I hated you,” said Aneta. “I don’t hate you, +but I am exceedingly anxious that you should not have any +influence over my two young cousins who came here to-day.”</p> +<p>“I thought we discussed that when you were staying at +Meredith Manor,” said Maggie. “You made me unhappy +enough then, but I gave you my promise.”</p> +<p>“I was sorry to make you unhappy, Maggie; and you did +give me your promise; but I have come here to-day to know +why you have broken it.”</p> +<p>“Broken it!” said Maggie. “Broken it!”</p> +<p>“Don’t you understand me?” said Aneta. “You and Merry +were together the greater part of the evening, and even Cicely +wondered where her sister was. Why did you do it?”</p> +<p>“Merry is my friend,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I don’t wish her to be your friend.”</p> +<p>“I am afraid you can’t help it,” said Maggie. She looked +a little insolent, and round her mouth there came a dogged expression. +After a minute she said, “I did want to talk to +Merry to-night; but, at the same time, I most undoubtedly did +not forget my promise to you. I explained to Merry what I +think she already knew: that there were two girls in the +school who greatly influence their fellows; in short, that you +and I are the two queens of the school. But I said that, compared +to you, I had a comparatively small number of subjects. +Merry was interested, and asked questions, and then I most +particularly explained to her that, although I knew well she +cared for me, and I cared for her, she was to be on your side +in the school. If you don’t believe me, you have but to ask +Merry herself.”</p> +<p>“I have no reason not to believe you, Maggie,” said Aneta, +“and I am relieved that you have spoken as you did to Merry. +But now I want to say something else. I have thought of it +a good deal during the holidays, and I am firmly convinced +that this taking sides, or rather making parties, in a school +is pernicious, especially in such a small school as ours. I +am willing to give up my queendom, if you, on your part, +will give yours up. I want us all to be in unity—every one +of us—all striving for the good of the school and for the +happiness and welfare each of the other. If you will agree +to this I will myself speak to Mrs. Ward to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Ward!” said Maggie. “What has she to do with it?”</p> +<p>“I want to consult with her, so that <i>she</i> may be the queen +of the school—not one girl or two girls. She is so clever, so +young, so resourceful, that she will more than make up to us +for the little we lose in this matter. But, of course, there +is no manner of use in my resigning my queendom if you won’t +resign yours.”</p> +<p>“I will never do it,” said Maggie—“never! Two queens +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +in the school means little or nothing at all. All it does mean +is that I have special friends whom I can influence, and +whom I love to influence, and you have special friends whom +you love to influence. Well, go on influencing them as hard +as ever you can, and I will do the same with my friends. +Your cousins will belong to you. I could, I believe, have +won Merry Cardew to my side, but I am not going to do so.”</p> +<p>“It would be very unwise of you,” said Aneta in a low +tone. “Very well, Maggie,” she added after a pause, “if you +won’t give up being queen in the minds of a certain number +of girls, I must, of course, continue my influence on the other +side. It’s a great pity, for we might all work together.”</p> +<p>“We never could work together,” said Maggie with passion. +“It is but to talk to you, Aneta, to know how you despise +and hate me.”</p> +<p>“I neither despise nor hate you, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Well, I despise and hate you, so I suppose it comes to the +same thing.”</p> +<p>“I am very, very sorry, Maggie. Some day, perhaps, you +will know me as I really am.”</p> +<p>“I know you now as you really are—eaten up with pride +of birth, and with no sympathy at all for girls a trifle poorer +than yourself.”</p> +<p>“You speak with cruelty, and I am sorry.”</p> +<p>To Aneta’s astonishment, Maggie’s face underwent a queer +change. It puckered up in an alarming manner, and the next +moment the girl burst into tears.</p> +<p>The sight of Maggie’s tears immediately changed Aneta +Lysle’s attitude. Those tears were genuine. Whether they +were caused by anger or by sorrow she did not stop to discriminate. +The next minute she was down on her knees by +the other girl and had swept her young arms round Maggie’s +neck.</p> +<p>“Maggie, Maggie, what is it? Oh, if you would only understand +me!”</p> +<p>“Don’t!—don’t touch me!” said Maggie. “I am a miserable +girl!”</p> +<p>“And I have hurt you, poor Maggie!” said Aneta. “Oh, I +am terribly sorry! Sit here now, and let me comfort you.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I can’t, Aneta. You don’t understand me—not a +bit.”</p> +<p>“Better than you think, perhaps; and I am terribly sorry +you are troubled. Oh, perhaps I know. I was told to-night +that your mother had married again. You are unhappy about +that?”</p> +<p>Maggie immediately dried her fast-falling tears. She felt +that she was in danger. If Aneta found out, or if Mrs. Ward +found out, who Maggie’s stepfather was, she would certainly +not be allowed to stay at Aylmer House. This was her dread +of all dreads, and she had so managed matters with her +mother that Mrs. Ward knew nothing at all of Mrs. Howland’s +change of name. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p> +<p>“Yes, my mother is married again,” said Maggie. “She is +a rich woman now; but the fact is, I dearly loved my own +father, and—it hurt me very much to see another put into +his place.”</p> +<p>“Of course it did,” said Aneta, with deep sympathy; “it +would have driven me nearly wild. Does Mrs. Ward know +that your mother is married again, Maggie?”</p> +<p>“Well, I haven’t told her; and, please, Aneta, will you +promise me not to do so?”</p> +<p>“But is there any occasion to keep it a secret, dear?”</p> +<p>“I would so much rather she did not know. She received +me here as Maggie Howland. I am Maggie Howland still; my +mother having changed her name makes no difference, except, +indeed, that she is very well off, whereas she was poor.”</p> +<p>“Well, that of course is a comfort to you,” said Aneta. +“Perhaps by-and-by you will learn to be glad that your +mother has secured the care of a good husband. I am told that +she has married one of those very nice Martyns who live in +Warwickshire. Is that true?”</p> +<p>Maggie nodded. She hated herself after she had given that +inclination of her head; but she had done it now, and must +abide by it. To own Martin the grocer as a stepfather was +beyond her power.</p> +<p>Aneta did not think it specially necessary to worry about +Maggie’s mother and her new husband. She said that the +whole thing was Maggie’s own affair; and, after trying to comfort +the girl for a little longer, she kissed Maggie, and went +to her own room. When there, she went at once to bed and +fell fast asleep.</p> +<p>But Maggie sat for a long time by her open window. “What +an awful and ridiculous position I have put myself in!” she +thought. “The Martyns of The Meadows and Bo-peep of +Laburnum Villa to be connected! I could almost scream with +laughter if I were not also inclined to scream with terror. +What an awful idea to get into people’s heads, and now I have, +confirmed it! Of course I shall be found out, and things will +be worse than ever.”</p> +<p>Before Maggie went to bed she sat down and wrote a brief +note to her mother. She addressed it when written to Mrs. +Martyn (spelt with a “y”), Laburnum Villa, Clapham. Maggie +had seen Laburnum Villa, and regarded it as one of the +most poky suburban residences she had ever had the pleasure +of entering. The whole house was odiously cheap and common, +and in her heart poor Maggie preferred Tildy and Mrs. +Ross, and the fusty, musty lodgings at Shepherd’s Bush.</p> +<p>Her note to her mother was very brief:</p> +<p>“I am back at school, and quite happy. Tell Mr. Martin, if +he should happen to write to me, to spell his name with a +‘y,’ and please spell your name with a ‘y.’ Please tell Mr. +Martin that I will explain the reason of this when we meet. +He is so good to me, I don’t know how to thank him enough.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>Maggie managed the next day to post this letter unknown to +her fellows, and in course of time a remarkable post-card +arrived for her. It was dated from Laburnum Villa, Clapham, +and was written in a sprawly but business-like hand:</p> +<p>“No ‘y’s’ for me, thank you.—<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Bo-peep</span>.”</p> +<p>Very fortunately, Maggie received her card when none of +her schoolfellows were present; but it was certainly the +reverse of reassuring.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_LEISURE_HOURS' id='CHAPTER_XVII_THE_LEISURE_HOURS'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<h3>THE LEISURE HOURS.</h3> +</div> +<p>School-life began in real earnest, and school-life at Aylmer +House was so stimulating, so earnest, so invigorating, +that all that was best in each girl was brought to the fore. +There was an admirable time-table, which allowed the girls +periods for play as well as the most suitable hours for work. +In addition, each day there were what were called the “leisure +hours.” These were from five to seven o’clock each evening. +The leisure hours began immediately after tea, and lasted +until the period when the girls went to their rooms to dress +for dinner. During these two hours they were allowed to do +precisely what they pleased.</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward was most particular that no teacher should interfere +with her girls during the leisure hours. From the +very first she had insisted on this period of rest and absolute +relaxation from all work. Work was strictly forbidden in +the school from five to seven, and it was during that period +that the queens of the school generally exercised their power. +Aneta then usually found herself surrounded by her satellites +in one corner of the girls’ own special sitting-room, and +Maggie was in a similar position at the farther end. Aneta’s +satellites were always quiet, sober, and well-behaved; Maggie’s, +it is sad to relate, were a trifle rowdy. There is something +else also painful to relate—namely, that Merry Cardew +cast longing eyes from time to time in the direction of +that portion of the room where Maggie and her friends clustered.</p> +<p>The girls had been about a fortnight at school, and work +was in full swing, when Kathleen, springing from her seat, +said abruptly, “Queen, I want to propose something.”</p> +<p>“Well, what is it?” asked Maggie, who was lying back +against a pile of cushions and supplying herself daintily from +a box of chocolates which her adorers had purchased for her.</p> +<p>“I want us all,” said Kathleen, “to give a party to the other +queen and her subjects; and I want it to be about the very +jolliest entertainment that can be found. We must, of course, +ask Mrs. Ward’s leave; but she is certain to give it.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that she is,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Oh, she is—certain sure,” said Kathleen. “May I go and +ask her now?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>“Do you dare?” said Rosamond Dacre, looking at Kitty’s +radiant face with some astonishment.</p> +<p>“Dare!” cried Irish Kitty. “I don’t know the meaning of +anything that I don’t dare. I am off. I’ll bring you word in a +few minutes, girls.” She rushed out of the room.</p> +<p>Janet Burns looked after her, slightly raising her brows. +Rosamond Dacre and the two Roaches began to sound her +praises. “She is sweet, isn’t she?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Clara; “and I do so love her pretty Irish +brogue.”</p> +<p>“Mother tells me,” said Janet, who was Scotch, “that Irish +characters are not much good—they’re not reliable, I mean.”</p> +<p>“Oh, what a shame!” said Matty Roache.</p> +<p>“I don’t think we need discuss characters,” said Maggie. +“I don’t know a great deal about the Irish, but I do know that +Kitty is a darling.”</p> +<p>“Yes, so she is—one of the sweetest girls in the whole +school,” said Molly Tristram, who was quite as excited as +Kathleen herself with regard to the party scheme.</p> +<p>Meantime Kitty found herself tapping at Mrs. Ward’s private +door. Mrs. Ward said, “Come in,” and the pretty girl, +with her great dark-blue eyes and wild-rose complexion, entered +abruptly.</p> +<p>“Well, Kathleen?” said Mrs. Ward in her pleasant tone.</p> +<p>“Oh, please, Mrs. Ward, I’ve come with such a lovely +scheme.”</p> +<p>“And you want me to help you?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, please, do say you will before I let you into the +secret!”</p> +<p>“I can’t do that, dear; you must just tell me what is in +your mind, and be satisfied with my decision. The only thing +that I can assure you beforehand is that if it is a workable +scheme, and likely to give you great pleasure, I will do my +best to entertain it.”</p> +<p>“Then we’re certain to have it—certain,” said Kathleen.</p> +<p>“It was I who thought of it. You will forgive me if I speak +out just as plainly as possible?”</p> +<p>“Of course, Kathleen dear.”</p> +<p>“Well, you know you are the head-mistress.”</p> +<p>“That is scarcely news to me, my child.”</p> +<p>“And people, as a rule,” continued Kathleen, “respect their +head-mistress.”</p> +<p>“Dear me,” said Mrs. Ward with a smile, “have you come +here, Kathleen, to say that you don’t respect me?”</p> +<p>“Respect you!” said Kathleen. “We do a jolly lot more +than that. We adore you! We love you! You’re—you’re a +sort of—of mother to us.”</p> +<p>“That is what I want to be,” said Mrs. Ward with fervor, +and she took the girl’s hand and smoothed it gently.</p> +<p>“I often want to hug you, and that’s a fact,” said Kathleen.</p> +<p>“You may kiss me now if you like, Kitty.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mrs. Ward!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +Kitty bent down and bestowed a reverent kiss on that sweet +face.</p> +<p>“I have permitted you to kiss me, Kitty,” said Mrs. Ward, +“in order to show you that I sympathize with you, as I do +with all my dear girls. But now, what is the matter?”</p> +<p>“Well, the fact is this. We want, during the ‘leisure +hours’ to give a party.”</p> +<p>“Is that all? Do you all want to give a party?”</p> +<p>“Our side wants to give a party, and we want to invite the +other side to it.”</p> +<p>“But what do you mean by ‘our side’ and ‘the other +side’?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mrs. Ward! you know—of course you know—that +Aneta and Maggie divide the school.”</p> +<p>“I know,” said Mrs. Ward after a pause, “that Aneta has +considerable influence, and that Maggie also has influence.”</p> +<p>“Those two girls divide the school,” said Kathleen, “the +rest of us follow them. As a matter of fact, we only follow +our leaders in the leisure hours; but as they come every day +a good deal can be done in that time, can’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Mrs. Ward, and her tone was not exactly cheerful. +“On which side are you, Kitty?”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear Mrs. Ward, of course, on Maggie’s! Do you think +that a girl like me, with all my spirit and that irresistible +sort of fun always bubbling up in me, could stand the stuck-ups?”</p> +<p>“Kitty, you have no right to speak of any girls in the school +by such an offensive term.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry,” said Kitty. “I ought not to have said it to +you. But they are stuck-ups; they really are.”</p> +<p>“And what do you call yourself?”</p> +<p>“Oh, the live-and-let-live—that’s our title. But it’s only +quite among ourselves, and perhaps I ought not to have +said it.”</p> +<p>“I will never repeat what you have told me in confidence, +dear. But now for your request?”</p> +<p>“Well, we of Maggie’s set want to invite the Aneta set to +a sort of general party. We should like it to be on the +half-holiday, if possible. We want to give them a right royal +entertainment in order to knock some of their stuck-upness +out of them. We wish for your leave in the matter.”</p> +<p>“You must describe your entertainment a little more fully.”</p> +<p>“I can’t; for we haven’t really and truly planned it all out +yet. But I tell you what we’ll do. If you give us leave +to have the party, we will ask Queen Aneta and her satellites +if possible this very evening, and then we’ll submit our programme +to you. Now, may we do this, or may we not?”</p> +<p>“Who sent you to me, Kathleen?”</p> +<p>“I came of my own very self, but of course the others approved. +We have no intention of doing shabby things in the +dark, as they do in some schools. That would be unfair +to you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span></p> +<p>Mrs. Ward thought a little longer. “I will give you the +required permission,” she said, “on one condition.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mrs. Ward, darling! what is that?”</p> +<p>“You can have your party on Saturday week, and I will +give you from early in the afternoon until bedtime to enjoy +it.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mrs. Ward, you are too angelic!”</p> +<p>“Stop a minute. You may not care for it so much when +I have finished what I have got to say.”</p> +<p>“What is it, dear Mrs. Ward?”</p> +<p>“It is this: that you ask me too as one of your guests.”</p> +<p>“Oh! oh!” said Kathleen. Her expressive face changed +from red to white and then to red again. Her eyes brimmed +over with laughter, and then as suddenly filled with tears. +“But would you—would you like it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, and I don’t want to destroy your pleasure; but I +presume you will have a sort of supper or an entertainment +which will include refreshments. Let me assist you with +the expense of your supper, and may I be present at it as +one of your guests? I will promise to leave soon after supper, +and not to appear until supper. How will that do?”</p> +<p>“Oh, it would be just, heavenly! It will give such distinction. +I know the girls will love it.”</p> +<p>“I think I can make myself pleasant to you all,” said Mrs. +Ward, “and I should like to be there.”</p> +<p>“But as to paying anything, Mrs. Ward, you will come as +our guest, and you know we have most of us plenty of money. +Please, please, let us do the entertaining.”</p> +<p>“Very well, dear, I will not press that point. I hope I +have made you happy, Kathleen.”</p> +<p>“Oh! you have—very, very happy indeed. And Saturday +week is to be the day?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Kathleen.”</p> +<p>Kathleen bent down, took one of Mrs. Ward’s hands, and +kissed it. Then she skipped out of the room and flew back +to her companions. They were waiting for her in a state of +suppressed eagerness.</p> +<p>“Well, Kathleen—Kitty—Kit, what’s the news?” asked +Maggie.</p> +<p>Room was made for Kathleen in the center of the group.</p> +<p>“We have won! We may do it!” she said, speaking in a +low tone. “Oh, she’s—she’s like no one else! I don’t know +how you will take it, girls; but if you’re not just delighted +you ought, to be. Why, what <i>do</i> you think? She wants to +come herself.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Ward!” said Maggie in amazement.</p> +<p>“Yes, just to supper. She says she will come—she wishes +to come—that we’re to invite her; in fact, she makes it a +<i>sine quâ non</i>. She will go away again after supper, and +we’re to have the whole glorious day, next Saturday week, +from two in the afternoon until bedtime. Oh, sha’n’t we +have fun!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span></p> +<p>“Yes, of course,” said Maggie. “It’s much better even than +I thought. I will write the letters of invitation immediately.”</p> +<p>“But why should you write a whole lot of letters?” said +Kathleen. “You are one queen. Write to the other queen +and mention that Mrs. Ward is coming.”</p> +<p>There was nothing like the present time for making arrangements; +and Maggie wrote on a sheet of headed note-paper +provided for her by her satellites the following words:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“Queen Maggie presents her compliments to Queen Aneta, +and begs for the pleasure of her company with all her subjects +on Saturday the 15th of October, to an entertainment from +three to nine o’clock. She hopes that the whole school will +be present, and writes in the names of her own subjects +as well as of herself.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<i>P.S.</i>—Mrs. Ward has most kindly promised to attend.”</p> +<p>This letter was subjected to the approval of the group of +girls who surrounded Maggie. It was then addressed to +“Queen Aneta,” and Kathleen crossed the room with it and +dropped it, there and then, into Aneta Lysle’s lap.</p> +<p>It caused very deep amazement in the hearts of all the +girls who belonged to Aneta’s party, and it is highly probable +that they might have refused to accept the invitation but +for that magical postscript, “Mrs. Ward has most kindly +promised to attend.” But there was no withstanding that +patent fact, as Mrs. Ward knew very well when she made +the proposal to Kathleen.</p> +<p>After a lapse of about twenty minutes, Cicely Cardew +crossed the room and laid the answer to Maggie’s note in +her lap:</p> +<p>“Queen Aneta and her subjects have much pleasure in +accepting Queen Maggie’s invitation for the 15th inst.”</p> +<p>“Hip, hip, hurrah!” cried Kathleen. “The thing’s arranged, +and we’ll have about the jolliest flare-up and the +most enticing time that girls ever had at any school.” She +sprang from her seat, and began tossing a book which had +lain in her lap into the air, catching it again. In short, the +subjects of the two queens broke up on the spot and chatted +gaily together, and Maggie and her subjects could not be +induced to say one word of what was to take place on the +15th of October.</p> +<p>“It is wonderful,” thought Aneta to herself. “Why does +Mrs. Ward come? But, of course, as she comes we must +all come.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_TREASURE' id='CHAPTER_XVIII_THE_TREASURE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<h3>THE TREASURE.</h3> +</div> +<p>Maggie had by no means forgotten her promise to the Tristram +girls to give them a bracelet apiece. It was easy to do +this, for they were her very special friends in the school. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +fact is that Molly and Belle had a somewhat peculiar position +at Aylmer House, for they were not only Maggie’s special +friends, but also the undoubted friends and allies of Cicely, +Merry, and also of Aneta. But they were such good-humored, +good-natured, pleasant sort of girls—so lively, so jolly—that +they could take up a position with ease which would oppress +and distress other people.</p> +<p>When Maggie presented them with their bracelets they +were in wild raptures, accepting them gleefully, and on occasions +when ornaments were permitted to be worn—which, +as a matter of fact, was only in the leisure hours—they invariably +had them on their arms.</p> +<p>But other girls noticed them, and one and all admired them +immensely.</p> +<p>“Oh, I have others,” said Maggie in a careless tone; “many +more. My dear father was a great traveler, and these are +some of the treasures he brought from the East.”</p> +<p>Maggie had by no means forgotten to bring her two boxes +of jewellery to Aylmer House. These lay at the bottom of +her little trunk, which was, it is true, stowed away in the +box-room. But as the girls were at liberty to go there for +anything they especially required, she was not troubled on +this account.</p> +<p>There came a day, shortly after the great party was arranged, +when the rain poured incessantly, and some of the +girls were a little restless. Molly and Isabel were wearing their +queer Oriental bracelets. Kathleen suddenly caught sight +of them, and demanded in an eager tone that Maggie should +exhibit her treasures. Maggie, only too pleased to have anything +to do which glorified herself, immediately complied. +She ran to find Miss Lucy in order to obtain the key of the +box-room.</p> +<p>“What do you want it for, dear?” said Miss Johnson in her +pleasant voice.</p> +<p>“I have two boxes in the bottom of one of my trunks, +Miss Lucy; they are full of curiosities which my father collected +from time to time. The girls want to see them. Do +you mind my showing them?”</p> +<p>“Of course not, Maggie; but if they are of any value you had +better give them to Mrs. Ward to take care of for you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, well,” said Maggie, “I don’t know really whether they +are of value or not.” She got rather red as she spoke.</p> +<p>“I should like to see them myself,” said Miss Johnson. +“I know a little bit about gems and curios.”</p> +<p>“Certainly, Miss Lucy; do come,” said Maggie. “We’re +in our sitting-room, and I shall be only too delighted to +show them to you.”</p> +<p>Maggie fetched down her two precious boxes, and soon she +was surrounded, not only by her own special satellites, but +by every girl in the school. They were all loud in their +expressions of rapture at the unique and lovely things which +she exhibited to them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>Kathleen, as usual, was quick in suggestion. “Would not +Mrs. Ward love to see them?” she said.</p> +<p>“I am sure she would,” remarked Miss Johnson.—“I hadn’t +the least idea, Maggie, that you had such treasures in those +old tin boxes. They must be carefully put away in the safe +for you. My dear girl, they’re worth a great deal of money.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t suppose they are,” said Maggie, trying to +speak carelessly, although she by no means wished to part +with her treasures.</p> +<p>“I tell you what,” said Kathleen. “Can’t we make an exhibition +of them on <i>the</i> day?”</p> +<p>“Yes, why not?” said Molly and Isabel. “That would be +quite lovely.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, do!—do, Maggie darling!” said Merry Cardew.</p> +<p>Maggie at once agreed; and Miss Johnson said, “Now, if +you will put them all back in their boxes I will take them +and lock them into the safe myself. I shouldn’t have an easy +moment if I thought such valuable things were in one of +your school-trunks.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Maggie, looking up with flushed cheeks and +bright eyes, “please—please let me keep them until after +our party. Then we will consult Mrs. Ward, and she will +tell me what to do.”</p> +<p>“If you must keep them, then, Maggie,” said Miss Johnson, +“you had better have them in your own bedroom. They +would be at least safe there. Put them into your locked +drawer, dear; I think it will hold both these boxes.”</p> +<p>“Thank you very much,” said Maggie. She put the ten +bracelets into their tin box, and the necklets and other curios +into the other, locked each, and took them upstairs. “It +would never, never do,” she said to herself, “for me to lose +control of these precious things. I am almost sorry now +that I allowed the girls to tempt me to show them.”</p> +<p>After a few minutes she came downstairs. Her stepfather’s +allowance of pocket-money was certainly not ample, and she +knew that at the party which was to be so specially distinguished +she must give, if she wished to keep up her prestige +in the school, a lion’s share towards the expenses. There +was a quaint little brooch in one of her boxes containing +one large ruby and set with diamonds which she intended +to sell in order to provide herself with funds. But what +use would any of her treasures be if they were consigned +to the safe at Aylmer House?</p> +<p>After a great deal of consultation, it was resolved that the +girls were to meet in their own special sitting-room at four +o’clock, where tea and light refreshments were to be provided +by Queen Maggie and her subjects. Afterwards they +were to play games, have recitations, and amuse themselves +in different ways until five o’clock; when a curtain which +would be put across a portion of the room would be raised, +and tableaux vivants, in which Maggie, Kathleen, and both +the Tristram girls, who were all adaptable for this purpose, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +were to take special parts. The tableaux were under the +management of Janet Burns, who was exceedingly clever, and +had studied the scenes—which she took from different episodes +in Scott’s novels—with great care. The rehearsing +for the tableaux was a little difficult, but this was done each +evening after tea, when Maggie and her subjects had the +sitting-room to themselves.</p> +<p>Immediately after the tableaux there would be that wonderful +supper, at which Mrs. Ward was to be the principal guest, +and then the happy evening would end with all sorts of +dances and frolics.</p> +<p>Now, all these things would cost money, and it was arranged, +after brief consultation, that each girl was to subscribe in +an equal ratio towards the proposed entertainment. Janet, +who had a head for figures as well as a taste for tableaux +vivants, suggested that, to do the entertainment properly, +they would have to expend something like fifteen shillings +each. This was immediately agreed upon, and even the Tristrams +did not feel embarrassed by the amount which was +decided upon, for Mr. Tristram was wise in his generation, +and would not send his girls to an expensive school if he +could not give them a sufficient supply of pocket-money to +make them feel independent. The only person who was +short of funds on this occasion was Maggie, for her stepfather +had arranged that she was to receive her allowance +at the end of the term, not at the beginning. He had given +her a few shillings to go to school with; but these she had +already spent on chocolates, which were considered essential +during the leisure hours. It is true that Mrs. Ward would +have advanced a little money to Maggie, but Maggie could +not bear to ask her. She had a great dislike to the subject +of money being mentioned in Mrs. Ward’s presence. She +was afraid beyond everything else that the fact of her being +received at such a select school for forty pounds a year might +reach the ears of her fellow-pupils. What more easy than +to sell that charming little Oriental brooch, which was one of +the treasures in one of those tin boxes? But Maggie could +not manage this in Miss Lucy’s presence, and it was quite +against the rules at Aylmer House for any girl to go shopping +or even to leave the house unaccompanied.</p> +<p>On one or two previous occasions Maggie had, however, +managed to evade this rule without being found out, and she +thought she could do so now. She planned the whole thing +rather cleverly. She had a room to herself; which of course +made it easier for her, and there were always the leisure +hours. She made up her mind to feign headache or some slight +indisposition, to go downstairs by the back way, and sell her +brooch on a certain afternoon during the leisure hours. She +must do it quickly, for the girls had proposed to put the +necessary money for the entertainment into a bag on a certain +Tuesday. Maggie must, therefore, go out on Monday in +order to sell her brooch. Her absence from the little party +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +in the girls’ sitting-room was explained by Molly Tristram, +who said that Maggie was upstairs lying down. No one +troubled to make any comment with regard to this. Any +girl might have a headache, and Mrs. Ward did not wish her +girls to be catechised as to how they spent their leisure +hours. Besides, Janet Burns was occupying all their attention +with the tableaux vivants, Queen Aneta’s girls most good-naturedly +leaving them the sitting-room to themselves for +this purpose.</p> +<p>Maggie, in her distant bedroom, felt the quiet in the house. +She had been lying down; now she rose noiselessly. This +was the time when the servants had their tea, when Mrs. +Ward was busy writing letters or resting in her own sitting-room, +when Lucy Johnson and the other governesses were +either reposing in their bedrooms, or were out, or were reading. +There was, of course, the chance that Maggie might +meet some one; but, having calculated all possibilities, she +thought that she could most likely get out unobserved.</p> +<p>During her expeditions with Miss Lucy Johnson she had +noticed a jeweller’s shop not far away, and resolved to go +to him with her precious brooch. It was a very respectable +shop, and she was certain he would give her fair value. +She could be back again before she was missed, and, in fact, +could join her companions in the girls’ sitting-room long +before the leisure hours had expired. The days were now +getting very short, but this fact was in Maggie’s favor rather +than otherwise.</p> +<p>She ran downstairs unnoticed by any one, opened a side-door +which was used as a tradesmen’s entrance, and got into +the street. Then, putting wings to her feet, she quickly +turned the corner, left the square where Aylmer House was +situated, and reached the jeweller’s shop. She entered. There +were a few people standing by the counter; and the jeweller, +a certain Mr. Pearce, was attending to them. Maggie felt +impatient. She awaited her turn as best she could. How she +disliked those showy-looking people who were purchasing +goods of some value, whereas she only wanted to sell! She +could scarcely restrain her great impatience, and was relieved +when another shopman came forward.</p> +<p>He asked her what he could do for her. She immediately +showed him the quaint little brooch set with rubies and +diamonds.</p> +<p>“I want to sell this,” said Maggie, speaking abruptly and +the color flaming into her cheeks. “What will you give me +for it?”</p> +<p>“Oh my!” suddenly exclaimed one of the ladies who was +purchasing jewels in Pearce’s shop, “what a lovely curio! +Wherever now did you get it from?”</p> +<p>Maggie turned and said in a low tone, “It belongs to me. +It was left to me by my father.”</p> +<p>The man who was attending to Maggie took up the brooch +and examined it carefully. He took it into another room, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +where he subjected it to various tests. He then came back +to Maggie.</p> +<p>“I will give you five pounds for this, miss, if you can +satisfy me that you have come rightly by it.”</p> +<p>“Oh my!” said the American lady, drawing near, and her +eyes glistening.</p> +<p>“What is your address, miss?”</p> +<p>Maggie by no means wished to give her address. “I haven’t, +stolen that brooch,” she said. “It belongs to me; I have +a right to sell it.”</p> +<p>“Of course, miss, I shall never trouble you in any way, +but I really must have your address. In purchasing secondhand +from young ladies like yourself it is essential that everything +should be above-board and quite correct.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Maggie in a hurried voice, “take the brooch +and give me the money. I must get back as quickly as I can. +I am one of Mrs. Ward’s pupils at Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>The man looked at Maggie with all respect. “And your +own name?”</p> +<p>“Howland,” said Maggie. “Miss Howland.”</p> +<p>The man entered name and address in his book, and then +handed Maggie five sovereigns. She was hurrying from the +shop, when the customer who had been standing near all +the time, and listening with great attention, followed her.</p> +<p>“I say, young lady,” she exclaimed, “I am from New York, +and I like your quaint old English things. That man cheated +you, I take it. If you had offered me that brooch I’d have +given you fifteen pounds for it, not five. If you have any +more curios to sell, my address is Miss H. Annie Lapham, +Langham Hotel. I am straight from the States, and would +like to take a collection of beautiful things home with me.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” said Maggie in a hurried voice.</p> +<p>She ran back to Aylmer House as quickly as she could. +As soon as she was quite out of sight the lady re-entered +the shop.</p> +<p>“Say,” she remarked to the shopman, “I witnessed that +little transaction between you and Miss Howland. I want +to buy that brooch for ten pounds.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry, madam,” said the man, “but it is not for +sale just at present.”</p> +<p>“That means,” said Miss Lapham, coloring crimson, “that +you have cheated the young lady. You ought to have given +her four times as much for the brooch.”</p> +<p>The man shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>Miss Lapham grew redder than ever, “I happen to know +Miss Howland’s address,” she said. Then she went away +without giving’ him time to add a word.</p> +<p>When she had left the shop the younger Mr. Pearce turned +to his brother, took the little brooch from the drawer into +which he had carelessly thrown it, and gave it to the elder +Mr. Pearce to examine. “There’s a find here,” he said; “only, +somehow, I feel a bit uncomfortable. How did one of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +young ladies from Aylmer House come by a treasure of this +sort?”</p> +<p>The other man examined the brooch carefully. “It’s worth +a good bit,” he said. “What did you give her for it?”</p> +<p>“Five pounds; but somehow I think that I ought not to +have taken it for that sum.”</p> +<p>“It is worth at least two hundred,” said the elder Mr. +Pearce. “Where did you say she lived?”</p> +<p>“She is one of the young ladies at Aylmer House—Miss +Howland.”</p> +<p>“What! from Mrs. Ward’s school?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“You had better give me that brooch, Alfred,” said his +brother. “We’ll have to consider what is to be done. We +can’t rob the young lady of it. We had best consult Mrs. +Ward.”</p> +<p>“Oh, as to that,” said the younger Pearce, “that sounds +almost as shabby as giving the schoolgirl too little money.”</p> +<p>“Well, lock it up for the present,” said the elder Pearce; +“but I am an honest tradesman, and I can’t see even a schoolgirl +robbed.”</p> +<p>“She was up to some little lark,” said the younger man, +“and evidently did not know the value of the brooch. Why, +I think she’d have taken a pound for it. But what she +did know the value of was her precious time; she was very +much annoyed at being kept waiting and at being asked for +her address. It is plain she got out without leave; and although +the brooch may belong to her—I am sure I hope +it does—she has broken a rule, you mark my words. Those +schoolgirls are always up to larks. Well, I’d never have +thought it of one of Mrs. Ward’s girls.”</p> +<p>“It is a pity you didn’t consult me, Alfred,” said his +brother. “The best thing to do now is to put the brooch carefully +away. We’ll consider what is best to be done with it; +but as to giving the young lady only five pounds for what +we can sell any day at Christie’s for a couple of hundred, +that is not to be thought of.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_LETTER' id='CHAPTER_XIX_THE_LETTER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<h3>THE LETTER.</h3> +</div> +<p>Maggie got out and came back again without any apparent +adventure. She had five pounds in her pocket, and thought +herself rich beyond the dreams of avarice. What a delightful +fairy-gift had been handed down to her by her dear dead +father! She did not miss the brooch in the least, but she +valued the small sum she had obtained for it exceedingly.</p> +<p>But while Maggie thought herself so secure, and while the +pleasant jingle of the sovereigns as she touched them with her +little hand comforted her inexpressibly, things quite against +Maggie Howland’s supposed interests were transpiring in another +part of the school. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p> +<p>It was a strange fact that on this special afternoon both +the queens should be prostrated with headache. It is true +that Queen Maggie’s headache was only a fiction, but poor +Queen Aneta’s was real enough. She was lying down in +her pretty bedroom, hoping that quiet might still the throbbing +of her temples, when the door was very softly opened, +and Merry Cardew brought in a letter and laid it by her side.</p> +<p>“May I bring you some tea upstairs, Aneta?” she said. +“Is there anything I can do for you?”</p> +<p>“Oh no, darling,” said Aneta. “I can’t eat or drink; but +if I stay very still I shall be better by-and-by. Leave me +now, dear; all I want is perfect quiet.”</p> +<p>“I am so sorry for you, Aneta,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“What are you doing downstairs?” said Aneta as the girl +turned away.</p> +<p>“Well, Maggie has a headache too.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“So we are without our queens,” continued Merry; “but +Maggie’s girls have taken possession of our sitting-room, and +we are all in the schoolroom. We’re having great fun and +are very happy, so don’t worry about us at all, Aneta.”</p> +<p>“I won’t,” said Aneta, closing her eyes, while a feeling of +drowsy relief stole over her.</p> +<p>Her anxiety with regard to Maggie was really making her +ill. Her sense of responsibility with reference to the Cardew +girls seemed to oppress her usually calm spirit. She could +not conceal the fact from herself that Merry loved Maggie, +most passionately. The knowledge, therefore, that Maggie +was not downstairs gave her such a sense of comfort that +she dropped into a doze, and when she awoke a short time +afterwards her headache was gone.</p> +<p>Yes, her headache had departed, but there lay by her pillow +what is a great treasure to all schoolgirls—an unopened letter. +She looked at the handwriting, and saw that it was from her +aunt, Lady Lysle. Aneta was very fond of Lady Lysle; and, +sitting up against her pillows, she tore open the letter and +began to read. She was surprised to see that it was dated +from Meredith Manor.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>My dear Aneta</span>”—it ran—“I have been staying with the +dear Cardews for the last week. We have been having a very +pleasant time; although, of course, the house is vastly different +without Cicely and Merry. But the dear Cardews are +so sensible that they never would regret anything that was +for the real benefit of their children.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“Your letter assuring me that the children were happy +at school gave me great delight, and when I told the Cardews +they were equally pleased. Altogether, this school-venture +seems likely to turn out most satisfactory, and the dear children +will be properly equipped for the brilliant life which +lies before them.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“But now I have a curious piece of information for you. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +You told me about Miss Howland and her mother’s second +marriage to one of the Martyns of The Meadows. Well, dear, +we went there yesterday, and I happened incidentally to +speak on the subject; and, whatever may be the position of +Miss Howland’s stepfather, he certainly is no relation to our +dear friends the Martyns. They have no uncles or cousins +in England at all. All their people come from Australia, and +they assured me that such a marriage as I have described +has, in the first place, never reached their ears, and, in the +next, is impossible, for they have no marriageable relations +in the country. I mention this to show that your friend +has made a mistake. At the same time, it is strange of her +to say that her mother, has married into such a well-known +and distinguished family. I can add no more now.—Yours, +with love, and in haste,</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Lucia Lysle</span>.”<br /></p> +<p>Aneta thought over this letter for some time. Her face +was very grave as she tried to put two and two together. +She rose from her bed, dressed herself with her usual immaculate +neatness, and came down to supper, which took +place each evening at half-past seven.</p> +<p>All the girls were present, and each and all were in the +best of good-humor. Maggie was radiant. Why not? She +had performed a difficult task discreetly, and she had five +lovely golden sovereigns in her drawer upstairs. She could +put the required money into the bag for the school-treat, +and she would have plenty over to buy chocolates and little +things that she might require for herself. She did not in the +least miss that one small brooch which her father had left +her; but she thought with a feeling of intense satisfaction of +her treasures. She need no longer be a penniless girl. She +had but at rare intervals to visit Pearce the jeweler, and her +pocket would be well lined. She had no romantic feeling +with regard to those beautiful things which her father had +collected on his travels. She had been so poor all her life +that money to her represented power. She even thought +of getting a couple of new dresses made by a fashionable +dressmaker. She resolved to consult Lucy on the subject. +She was never quite as well dressed as the other girls, although +very plain clothes were the order of the hour at +school.</p> +<p>Immediately after supper those girls who required to look +over their lessons went into the schoolroom and spent a +quiet time there; but the others, as a rule, joined Mrs. Ward +in the drawing-room. There those who could play were requested +to do so, and those who could sing did likewise. Mrs. +Ward was very fond of needlework. She could do rare and +wonderful embroideries, and knew some of the tapestry +stitches which were in vogue hundreds of years ago. The +girls who cared to be taught those things she was only too +glad to instruct; but she never pressed any one into her +working-party. This was always an hour of relaxation for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +those girls who had all their lessons ready for the following +day.</p> +<p>Maggie, who was exceedingly clever and learned with the +utmost ease, was generally a member of the drawing-room +coterie. She wore a white dress on this evening, with a +somewhat crude pink sash round her waist. She hated the +crudity of the color, and it occurred to her that she could get +some soft and becoming sashes out of part of the money +which Pearce had given her for the brooch.</p> +<p>By-and-by she found herself near Aneta. Aneta was working +a center-piece which she meant to present to Lady Lysle +at Christmas. Maggie was no good whatever at needlework, +and seldom joined the band of needlewomen. But Aneta +now motioned the girl to come and sit by her side. Maggie +did so. Aneta looked full in her face.</p> +<p>“Is your headache better, Maggie?” she asked.</p> +<p>Maggie had to reflect for a time, she had so absolutely forgotten +that she had pretended to have a headache that afternoon! +Then she said, with a slight flush and a suspicious +narrowing of her eyes, “Oh yes; thank you, I am quite all +right again.” Maggie had not heard of Aneta’s headache. She, +therefore, did not ask about it.</p> +<p>“I pity people who have headaches,” said Aneta. “I suffer +from them very badly myself. Nothing cures me but perfect +rest. I was lying down all the afternoon. Merry came to +see me, and told me that you were also prostrated with headache. +I was sorry for you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, thank you so much!” said Maggie. “Mine is quite +gone; is yours?”</p> +<p>“Yes, thank you.”</p> +<p>Aneta sat quiet and very still. When her face was in +repose she never moved her body. There was an absolute +sense of rest about her which was refreshing to those who +really knew her well. But Maggie hated it. She wanted to +leave her; she wanted to go and talk to Merry, who was playing +a solitary game of patience in a distant part of the +drawing-room; she wanted to do anything rather than remain +by Aneta’s side.</p> +<p>Then Aneta looked up. “I had a letter this afternoon from +my aunt, Lady Lysle.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Maggie. She could not quite understand why +her heart beat so fast, but she had undoubtedly a premonition +of some sort of trouble ahead.</p> +<p>“Aunt Lucia is staying with the Cardews,” continued Aneta.</p> +<p>“Is she?” said Maggie. “Oh, that sweet and beautiful +place!” she continued.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aneta, “Meredith Manor will always be lovely. +There is no season of the year when it is not, in my opinion, +more charming than any other place I know.”</p> +<p>“Is your aunt going to stay there long?” asked Maggie, +who felt that she need not say anything further with regard +to the delights of Meredith Manor just now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span></p> +<p>“I cannot tell you,” replied Aneta. “She mentioned something +rather curious. It is connected with you.”</p> +<p>“With poor little me?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“With you,” said Aneta. “You remember telling me that +your stepfather is one of the Martyns of The Meadows?”</p> +<p>Maggie’s face grew crimson, then turned pale.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Aneta, bringing out her words with great calmness, +“it turns out to be a mistake. Your stepfather is no +relation whatever to our friends the Martyns. Aunt Lucia +and Mrs. Cardew went to call on them the other day, and asked +the question. You made a mistake in announcing your stepfather +as being a connection of our friends.”</p> +<p>“Did I? Perhaps so,” said Maggie. “I thought he was, +that’s all.”</p> +<p>“You thought wrong,” said Aneta. “I felt I would mention +it to you. He may be just as well connected,” she added +quietly; “but he is <i>not</i> related to the Martyns of The Meadows.”</p> +<p>“You speak in a very disagreeable tone,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I don’t mean to,” replied Aneta; “but I thought I would +tell you in order that you should not spread the report any +further.”</p> +<p>“I am sure I don’t want to. My stepfather has just as +good connections as any one else.”</p> +<p>“No doubt,” said Aneta gently; “only, he is not related +to our special friends. You might let Merry and Cicely know.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked Maggie in a dogged voice.</p> +<p>“You can please yourself. I shall tell them if you don’t.”</p> +<p>“Why do you hate me so much, Aneta?” said Maggie then.</p> +<p>“I hate subterfuge and untruth,” said Aneta. “I don’t hate +you. If you would be straight and open and above-board you +would find me your best friend.”</p> +<p>“Thank you so much!” said Maggie in a sneering tone. +“When I require you for my best friend it will be time enough +for you to offer me that enviable position.” Then she added, +speaking in a low tone of intense dislike, “Is it likely that +any girl would wish to make a best friend of another girl +who accused her of subterfuge and want of truthfulness?”</p> +<p>The delicate pink rose in Aneta’s cheeks. She raised her +eyes and looked full up at Maggie. Her clear, calm eyes +seemed like mirrors. Maggie felt that she could not meet +them.</p> +<p>It was just at that moment that Cicely Cardew, in a state +of suppressed excitement, came into the room.</p> +<p>“Maggie,” she said, coming straight up to Maggie Howland, +“there’s a very large parcel addressed to you in the hall. It +has been paid for; we are all dying with curiosity to know +what it is.”</p> +<p>Maggie rose abruptly.</p> +<p>“I will go and look at it myself,” she said. “A large parcel +addressed to me! Who can have sent me anything?”</p> +<p>“It looks like a huge dress-box,” said Cicely. “We’re all +curious about it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p> +<p>Before any girl could leave the drawing-room it was necessary +that she should ask Mrs. Ward’s permission. So Maggie +now went up to that good lady and asked if she might +go and look at her parcel.</p> +<p>“A parcel for you, dear?” said Mrs. Ward. “And you +want to see its contents? But bring it in here; we shall all +be delighted to look at it—sha’n’t we, girls?”</p> +<p>Maggie went away, wondering a good deal. Cicely accompanied +her. Miss Johnson also appeared on the scene.</p> +<p>“Why, Maggie,” she said, “what can you have got? Such +a huge box, and all covered over with brown paper! I don’t +suppose Mrs. Ward would really like that box to be brought +into the drawing-room. I’ll just go and ask her.”</p> +<p>One of Mrs. Ward’s peculiarities, and perhaps one of the +reasons why she was such a favorite and led her girls with +such gentle, silken cords, was her power of entering into +their pleasures. She used to confess with a smile that she +was like a child herself over an unopened parcel; and when +Miss Johnson appeared with the information that the box +was large and cumbersome, Mrs. Ward still gave directions +that it was to be brought into the drawing-room.</p> +<p>“You can put some of the brown paper on the floor, if you +like, Lucy,” she said, “and Maggie can show us its contents.”</p> +<p>Now, one glance at the parcel told Maggie Howland who had +sent it. She recognized her stepfather’s writing. That bold +commercial hand was painfully visible on the label. She +would have given worlds not to have anything selected for +her by Martin exhibited in the drawing-room at Aylmer +House. But to refuse to show the contents of the box would +but raise strong suspicion against her. She therefore, although +very unwillingly, followed Miss Johnson into the +drawing-room. The box was laid on the floor. The lid was +removed, some tissue-paper was next extricated, and beneath +lay a wardrobe such as poor Maggie even in her wildest +dreams had never imagined. There was a letter lying on +the top which she clutched and put into her pocket. This +letter was in her stepfather’s writing. She could not read it +before the others. Aneta and all the girls of her set, also +Kathleen O’Donnell, Rosamond Dacre, Matty and Clara Roache, +Janet Barns, the Tristrams, the Cardews, all clustered round +the box.</p> +<p>“Oh, what fun!” said Kathleen. “A box of dresses for +you! You lucky Queen Maggie! How I wish some one would +send me some clothes!”</p> +<p>“Take them out, dear, and let us look at them,” said Mrs. +Ward.</p> +<p>The first dress to be removed was a magenta cachemire. +It was made with a short skirt trimmed with little frills +of the same. The bodice had sleeves to the elbows, and long, +coarse cream-colored lace sleeves below. The front of the +dress was also much bedizened by the same coarse cream lace. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p>Maggie felt her face nearly purple with rage. “Oh, why +must all these things be looked at here?” she said; and there +was a piteous note in her voice.</p> +<p>“I don’t see the necessity, dear,” said Mrs. Ward kindly.</p> +<p>“But, oh! please, please,” said Kathleen, “we <i>must</i> see the +others. Here’s a sage-green dress trimmed with bands of +black silk: that will be quite useful in the winter, won’t it, +Mags?”</p> +<p>She tried to speak kindly, for the sage-green dress was as +little to her taste as the impossible magenta. Under the two +dresses were ribbons of different shades and hues, some strong, +coarse stockings, some square-toed shoes, and finally, below +everything else, an evening-dress made of voile, and deep +blue in tone.</p> +<p>“Some of the things will he very useful,” said Miss Johnson. +“I will put them all back again now.”</p> +<p>“But whom have they come from?” said Mrs. Ward. “I +saw you take a note and put it into your pocket, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Yes, these are a present from my stepfather,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Miss Johnson, you will take them upstairs, won’t you?” +said Mrs. Ward.—“It is kind of your stepfather to think of +you, Maggie.”</p> +<p>Maggie looked up and met Aneta’s glance. Was Aneta thinking +of the Martyns of The Meadows? The color rushed all +over Maggie’s face. She clenched her hands. “I hate the +horrid, horrid things!” she said. “I won’t wear one of them.”</p> +<p>“Oh, come, dear,” said Mrs. Ward kindly; “your stepfather +means very well indeed by you. He has doubtless had very +little to do with dressing a lady before.—We can slightly +alter those dresses, can we not, Miss Johnson?”</p> +<p>Miss Johnson had now placed all the hideous garments back +in the box. She said with a smile, “The sage-green dress +can be made quite useful; but I rather despair of the magenta.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Ward, “it was meant kindly. Perhaps, +Maggie, if you gave me your stepfather’s address I might +write to him and tell him the sort of things that I like my +girls to wear.”</p> +<p>Maggie turned crimson. That would indeed be the final +straw. She murmured something which Mrs. Ward did not +choose to hear. To her great relief, the hour for bed had +arrived, and all the girls went to their rooms.</p> +<p>Miss Johnson came down again after she had deposited the +hideous dresses in Maggie’s wardrobe. “I quite pity poor little +Maggie,” she said. “What frightful taste! There is really +nothing in the whole of that box that she can possibly wear.”</p> +<p>“I must write to Mr. Martyn,” said Mrs. Ward. “Didn’t +somebody tell me that he was a country gentleman—a relation +of the Martyns of The Meadows? Such particularly nice +people!”</p> +<p>“I know nothing about that,” said Miss Johnson. “I only +know that the contents of the box are simply atrocious.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span></p> +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Ward, “we won’t say anything to annoy +Maggie to-night; I could see that the poor dear child was +greatly mortified. I only regret that I had the box opened +here; but you know it is one of our customs to share all +our pleasures. Poor little Maggie! The thing was most unlucky.”</p> +<p>Up in her room, Maggie had locked her door. She would +unlock it again, but she must read that frightful letter without +any chance of being disturbed. She opened it, tore it +from its envelope, and read the contents:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Dear Popsy</span>,—I came across a cheap lot of frocks the +other day at a bankrupt’s sale, and thought at once of Little-sing +and her daughter Popsy-wopsy. I am sending the dresses +off to you without saying a word to Little-sing. You will be +well off now for some time, and won’t require the five pounds +from me for dress at Christmas. Hope you’re enjoying your +fine young ladies and fine life. Neither Little-sing nor me +miss you a bit; but, all the same, your room will be ready for +you at Christmas. Take care of those good clothes, for I +can’t often spend as much on you.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“Good-bye for the present.—Your affectionate father,</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Bo-peep</span>.<br /></p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<i>P.S.</i>—I have a good mind to call on that fine-lady schoolmistress +of yours, Mrs. Ward. There’s no saying but that +Little-sing and me may come along some afternoon when +you least expect us.”</p> +<p>Maggie crushed the letter in her hand. Fresh terrors seemed +to surround her. Dreadful as the impossible clothes were, +they were nothing to what the appearance on the scene would +be of the impossible stepfather and her poor mother. Oh, +why had she concealed the position of the man whom her +mother had married? Already Aneta had detected her little +act of deception with regard to the Martyns of The Meadows. +But that, Maggie felt, could be got over. It was easy for +a girl to make a mistake in a matter of that kind, and surely +there were other Martyns in the country high-born and respectable +and all that was desirable. But James Martin who +kept a grocer’s shop at Shepherd’s Bush—James Martin, with +“grocer” written all over him!—rich, it is true; but, oh, so +vulgarly rich! Were he to appear and announce his relationship +to her at the school, she felt that, as far as she was concerned, +the end of the world would have arrived. What was +she to do? There was not a minute to be lost. In one way +or another she had seen a good deal of Bo-peep during the +last half of those dreadful summer holidays, and she knew +that he was, as he expressed it, as good as his word.</p> +<p>Her only chance was in writing to her mother. But then, +if, by any chance, Maggie’s letter got into the hands of Bo-peep, +his wrath would be so great that he would, in all probability, +take her from the school at once. What was to be +done? Poor Maggie felt herself between two fires. In either +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +direction was danger. On the whole, she resolved to throw +herself on her mother’s mercy. Mrs. Martin, as she was now, +would much prefer Maggie to remain at school, and she might +be clever enough to keep Maggie’s stepfather from putting +in an appearance at Aylmer House.</p> +<p>Maggie wrote a short and frantic letter. She was in the +midst of it when there came a tap at her room-door.</p> +<p>“It’s I, Maggie,” said Miss Johnson’s voice from without. +“Your light is still burning; you ought to be in bed.”</p> +<p>Maggie flew and opened the door. “I am sorry,” she said. +“I was a good deal upset about those detestable clothes. I +am writing to my mother. Please, Lucy, let me finish the +letter. When it’s done—and I won’t be a minute longer—I’ll +put it in the post-box myself, so that it can go by the +first post in the morning.”</p> +<p>“Very well, dear,” said Lucy, who was too kind not to +be good to any girl in the school; “only be quick, Maggie,” +she said, “for you know you are breaking the rules.”</p> +<p>“Yes! oh yes!” said Maggie; “and I will never do it +again.”</p> +<p>Miss Johnson left her, and Maggie flew back to bend over +her paper and continue her writing:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“Darling, you must not let him come here. He threatens +to come, but you must keep him away. All will be up with +me if he is seen at the school. I beseech of you have a little +mercy on me. For the sake of my own father, keep him—do +keep him—from Aylmer House.—Your distracted daughter,</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Maggie Howland</span>.”<br /></p> +<p>This letter was addressed to Mrs. Martin (spelt this time +with an “i”), Laburnum Villa, Clapham. Maggie stamped +it, and, flying downstairs, popped it into the box which held +the letters.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX_THE_VILLA' id='CHAPTER_XX_THE_VILLA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<h3>THE VILLA.</h3> +</div> +<p>Laburnum Villa, in the suburb of Clapham, was, in the +new Mrs. Martin’s eyes, quite a delightful place. She had +never appreciated her first husband, Professor Howland, but +she thoroughly appreciated Bo-peep, and after her own +fashion was fond of him. He gave her comforts. She had +lived so long without comforts that she appreciated these +good things of life to the full. She had never really been much +attached to Maggie, who was too like her own father and too +unlike herself to allow of the existence of any sympathy +between them. Maggie, even before Mrs. Howland met Martin +the Shepherd’s Bush grocer, had been more or less a thorn +in the flesh to her mother.</p> +<p>Laburnum Villa was furnished, as James Martin expressed +it, with an eye to comfort. There were solid arm-chairs +with deep seats and good springs, and these were covered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +with maroon-colored leather. There were thick, maroon-colored +curtains to the dining-room windows, and all the furniture +of the room was of solid oak. There was a rich Turkey +carpet on the floor, and prints of different hunting scenes—by +no means bad in their way—hanging on the walls. The +paint-work of the room was of dull red, and the paper was +of the same tone. It was a small room, and the furniture was +large and heavy, but it represented in Martin’s eyes the very +essence of comfort. The fireplace was modern, and when it +was piled up with goodly lumps of coal it caused a warmth +to pervade the whole room which, as Mrs. Martin expressed +it, was very stimulating. The house had electric light, which +both Mr. and Mrs. Martin considered distinguished.</p> +<p>They spent most of their time in the dining-room, although +Mrs. Martin, with some faint instinct still left of +her own life, would have preferred to use the drawing-room +in the evenings; but when she suggested this Bo-peep +said, “No, no, Little-sing; I can smoke here and sit by the +fire, and enjoy the rest which I have rightly earned. I hate +rooms full of fal-lals. You can keep your drawing-room for +the time when I am out, Little-sing.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin knew better than to oppose her husband. She +recognized her own weakness, and knew that against his fiat +she could no more exercise her puny strength than a babbling +stream can disturb a great rock. She used her drawing-room +when Bo-peep was out, and regarded it with intense +satisfaction. It is true that the colors were crude, for James +Martin would have screamed at any Liberty tints. But the +carpet was good of its kind, the pictures on the walls not +too atrocious. Although they were in gilt frames, the large +mirrors over the mantelpiece and at one end of the room +were first rate; in short, the drawing-room was fairly presentable, +and Mrs. Martin had some traces of her old life +still lingering about her which gave a look of domesticity +and even repose to the place. Her little work-basket, with +its embroidery, was home-like and pleasant. She had forgotten +how to play, but she always kept the piano open. Bo-peep +suggested buying a pianola, and Mrs. Martin thought +it would be a good idea.</p> +<p>“We’ll have all the comic operas on it,” said Bo-peep; +“nothing of the classic order for me—nothing over-my-head, +but the popular tunes, plenty of them—no stint. What +do you say, Little-sing?”</p> +<p>Little-sing replied that it would be charming; but in her +heart she somewhat shuddered, and was glad that the pianola +was still a thing to be purchased.</p> +<p>Tildy had been turned into a very presentable little parlor-maid. +There was also a first-rate cook, for Martin was fond +of the pleasures of the table. On the whole, the little household +was comfortable, and Mrs. Martin enjoyed her life. She +had some cards printed with her new name and address, and +the notification that she was “at home” on the third, fourth, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +and fifth of each month. Tildy was very much excited about +these At Home days; but the first month after Mrs. Martin’s +marriage passed without a single individual calling upon her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin had been settled for over six weeks, and the +day of Queen Maggie’s great reception at the school in Kensington +was drawing on apace. Mrs. Martin was in a state +of subdued excitement. She was dressed in her best. Her +best consisted of a light fawn-colored silk with velvet trimmings +of the same. The silk rustled as she walked. On her +fingers were many rings of much brilliancy, and she wore a +small diamond brooch at her throat. The reason of all this +festive attire was a simple one, a good one, a domestic one. +James Martin was coming home. He had been in Liverpool, +engaged on special business, for the greater part of a week; +but he was now returning to his beloved Little-sing, who +had missed him, and he was pleased to feel that he would +be with her again. She knew his tastes to a nicety, and had +desired the cook to prepare a very special dinner for his +delectation.</p> +<p>“Beef-steak pudding, cook,” she said, “with mutton kidneys, +and plenty of oysters; and be sure the crust is very +light.”</p> +<p>Cook replied that if she did not know how to make beef-steak +pudding she ought immediately to leave her “perfession.” +She was a stout, red-faced woman, and had a way +of frightening Mrs. Martin, who generally retreated from the +kitchen premises as quickly as possible.</p> +<p>“Very well,” said Mrs. Martin; “I am glad you quite understand. +You know that my husband is very particular. Then +we’ll have potatoes and fried mushrooms, and I think afterwards +apple-tart and cream.”</p> +<p>The cook, whose name was Horniman, condescended to signify +her willingness to provide this dinner, and Mrs. Martin +went up to the drawing-room.</p> +<p>“You had better light a fire here, Matilda,” she said. “It’s +going to be a very cold day.”</p> +<p>“I’d a sight rayther you called me Tildy, mum. It seems +like as though a lump o’ ice got on my ’eart when you say +Mat-tilda.”</p> +<p>“‘Matilda’ is more refined and suitable,” said Mrs. Martin +with dignity.</p> +<p>“Oh yes, ’um—’course, ’um. When ’ull Miss Maggie be +comin’ to see us, ’um?”</p> +<p>“Not before Christmas, you silly girl. Miss Maggie is at +school.”</p> +<p>“So I ’ave ’eard,” said Matilda. “You ’aven’t give me no +’olidays, ’um, sence I come to yer; and it were understood, +sure-<i>ly</i>, that I were to ’ave my day out once a month.”</p> +<p>“You shall go out to-morrow, Matilda. I haven’t the slightest +wish to keep you indoors against your will.”</p> +<p>“To-morrer’s cook’s day, ’um.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, you shall go the next day.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span></p> +<p>“Thank you, ’um. I thought I’d go and see Miss Maggie +ef you’d give me her address.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, that’s a very good idea,” said Mrs. Martin. “I +could write her a little note, and you could take it to her. +That’s very thoughtful of you, Tilda. Yes, I should like you +to go and bring me word how she is.”</p> +<p>“It’s longin’ I am to lay eyes on ’er, mum. She’s a bee-utiful +way with ’er,” said Matilda.</p> +<p>When she was quite alone Mrs. Martin took that letter of +Maggie’s, which she had received during her husband’s absence, +from her pocket. She was terrified lest Bo-peep should +read it. The letter had offended her. Maggie had written +with great fire and distress: “You must not let him come +here. All will be up with me if he is seen at the school. +For the sake of my own father, keep him from Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin slipped it back into her pocket, and then sat +by her comfortable drawing-room fire waiting for the arrival +of the good Bo-peep. He was a very playful creature. His +one idea of happiness consisted in endless jokes—practical +jokes or otherwise, just as it suited him at the moment.</p> +<p>He had done a very successful stroke of business in Liverpool, +and was returning to Laburnum Villa in the highest +spirits. While he was in the train he was planning how he +could most effectively announce his return. To ring at his +own hall-door, or to open it with a latch-key, or to walk in in +the ordinary fashion of the master of the house did not content +him at all. He must invent a more novel manner of +return than that. He was really fond of Little-sing. She +suited him to perfection. What he called her “fine-lady +airs,” when they were displayed to any one but himself, +pleased him mightily. He thought of her as pretty and +gracious and sweet. He really loved her after his own fashion, +and would do anything in his power to make her happy. But +he must, as he expressed it, have his joke.</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin was seated by the fire in the drawing-room. +It was getting late—nearly four o’clock; but, according to +an expressed wish of Bo-peep, the window-blinds had not yet +been drawn down. He liked, as he said, to see his home +before he entered it. Mrs. Martin, therefore, with the electric +light on, was perfectly visible from the road. Mr. Martin +guessed that this would be the case, and he stopped the cab +at a little distance from the house, paid the fare, shouldered +his bag, and walked softly down the street. He went and +stood outside the window. He looked in. The street was +a quiet one, and at that moment there were no passers-by. +Mrs. Martin was seated in her smart dress which he had +given her, with her profile towards him. He thought her +very beautiful indeed. His heart swelled with pride. She +belonged to him. He hated fine ladies, as a rule; but a fine +lady who was his very own was a different matter. He even +felt romantic.</p> +<p>She was reading a letter. Who could have been writing to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +Little-sing? Suddenly it occurred to him to slip down the +area steps and stand close under the window. He did so, +to the terror of cook and Tildy. Cook was about to scream, +“Burglars!” but Tildy recognized her master.</p> +<p>“It’s his joke,” she said. “’E’s a wonderful man for jokes. +Don’t let on to Mrs. Martin that ’e’s ’ere for your life. ’E’ll +do something so comic in a minute.”</p> +<p>The comicality of Martin consisted, in the present instance, +of singing in a harsh baritone the song of the Troubadour:</p> +<table style='margin: auto' summary=''><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;'> +“Gaily the Troubadour<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.78125em;'>Touched his guitar,</span><br /> +When he was hastening<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.78125em;'>Home from the war;</span><br /> +Singing, ‘From Palestine<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.78125em;'>Hither I come.</span><br /> +Ladye love! ladye love!<br /> +<span style='margin-left: 0.78125em;'>Welcome me home.’”</span></p> +</td></tr></table> +<p>Mrs. Martin gave a shriek. She had the presence of mind +to pop her letter into her pocket. Then she approached the +window, trembling and blushing. Bo-peep uttered a huge +laugh of delight, let himself in by the back way, and ran up +the stairs.</p> +<p>“Little-sing!” he said, and clasped his wife in his arms.</p> +<p>During dinner James Martin was in high good humor, and +it was not until dessert was put on the table and he had +helped himself liberally to port wine, and was filling his pipe +for his evening smoke, that it occurred to him to speak to his +wife about Maggie.</p> +<p>“By the way,” he said, “I did a right good turn for that +girl of yours, Little-sing, before I left for Liverpool. I sent +her a box of clothes—two smart everyday dresses, an evening +dress, and no end of fal-lals. She wrote to thank me, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“She wrote to me, dear,” said Mrs. Martin, trembling a good +deal. “She was very much obliged to you.”</p> +<p>“And well she ought to be. Did she clearly understand +that I sent her the things—that you had nothing to do with +them?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, yes,” said Mrs. Martin. “Won’t you have some +coffee, James? I’ll tell Matilda to bring it in.”</p> +<p>“Coffee—fiddlestick!” said Martin; “and you know I hate +to be called ‘James.’ Where’s Bo-peep?”</p> +<p>“You are Bo-peep,” said his wife with a funny smile.</p> +<p>“Well, then, no ‘Jamesing’ of me. I think it is very queer +of your daughter not to reply to me when I send her expensive +and handsome things. What did she say in her letter to +you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, she was very grateful, of course, Bo-peep.”</p> +<p>“Well—but—where’s the letter? I may as well see it. +There’s stuff in that girl. I don’t despair of her yet. She has +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +a head for business. I wouldn’t have your dear little head +muddled with business, but your daughter’s a different person. +She has nothing whatever to live on except what I allow her, +and unless she is to starve she has got to please me.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin might have said, had she not been afraid, that +Maggie was certainly entitled to her own father’s money; but +it is to be regretted that Little-sing had not much courage.</p> +<p>Matilda came in with the coffee, which caused a slight +diversion, more particularly as it was not to Martin’s taste, +who desired her to take it away again, and request Horniman +to send him something fit to drink. When the door was +closed behind Matilda he renewed the subject of the letter.</p> +<p>“I saw you reading something as I came along,” he said. +“When I peeped in at the window you had a letter in your +hand. Who has been writing to you?”</p> +<p>“Only Maggie.”</p> +<p>“And that is the letter you spoke about?”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear James—I mean Bo-peep—yes. The child is +very grateful.”</p> +<p>“She ought to be. I’d like to see the letter. Where is +it?”</p> +<p>“I will go upstairs and fetch it,” said Mrs. Martin, who +knew well that it was safe in her pocket all the time.</p> +<p>James Martin roused himself and gave her a studied look.</p> +<p>“Do so,” he said. “Bring it back to me at once. If I have +to support that girl, and keep her at school, and pay for her +clothing, I’ll allow her to have no secrets from me. You understand +that, don’t you, Little-sing?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I will fetch the letter,” said Mrs. Martin.</p> +<p>She left the room. Martin was fond of her, but he was no +fool. He was certain now that there was something in the +letter which his wife did not wish him to see, and his curiosity +was instantly aroused. He was determined to read poor +Maggie’s letter at any cost. He waited impatiently, drumming +his large, fat hand on the highly polished oak table the while. +Tildy came in with fresh coffee.</p> +<p>“Please, sir,” she said, “cook wants to see you for a minute.”</p> +<p>“I can’t see her now. Tell her so,” replied Martin.</p> +<p>“Which is no message for a woman of my class,” said Horniman, +entering the room and showing a very heated face. +“I wishes to give notice that I leave your service this day +month.”</p> +<p>“You can go to-morrow,” said Martin.</p> +<p>“As you please, sir; wages in full.”</p> +<p>“You go to-morrow,” said Martin; “and if you say another +word you go to-night. Leave the room.”</p> +<p>Tildy breathed a little quickly, felt inclined to pat master +on the back, thought better of it, and left the room.</p> +<p>“Whatever is keeping Little-sing?” thought Martin to +himself.</p> +<p>He was not going to worry about cook and her whims, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +of Little-sing and the letter. He grew a little more suspicious, +and consequently a little more angry.</p> +<p>“She has that letter in her pocket; I saw her put it there +when I was acting the part of the Troubadour,” he said to +himself. “She is destroying it now; but she sha’n’t—not +before I get it.”</p> +<p>He softly left the dining-room and crept with catlike steps +upstairs. He stopped outside his wife’s bedroom. There was +a light burning there. He turned the handle of the door. It +was locked.</p> +<p>“Open the door at once,” he said; and Mrs. Martin flew to +do so.</p> +<p>“Oh Bo-peep, you gave me a fright!”</p> +<p>“Where is that letter, Victoria?”</p> +<p>“It—it—I can’t find it,” she replied.</p> +<p>“What are those papers lying on the floor?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin gave a cry. Mr. Martin was too quick for her. +He swept up the pieces of torn letter, collected them in his +great hand, and, taking Mrs. Martin with the other hand, +returned with her to the dining-room.</p> +<p>“Now, you sit there, Little-sing,” he said, “while I piece +the letter together. There is something in it that you want +hidden from me; but you’ve quite mistook your man. There +are to be no secrets between you and me. I’m not the least +bit angry with you, but I am not going to have that girl ruling +you. You’re frightened of that girl. Now, let’s see what she +has to say.”</p> +<p>Poor Mrs. Martin trembled from head to foot. Suddenly +she went on her knees, clasped her hands round Bo-peep’s +arm, and looked into his face. “She was naughty. She was +a silly child. Oh, forgive her! I ought to have destroyed the +letter. I ought not to have kept it until you came back. +Please—please, don’t read it!”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Little-sing,” he replied, restored once more to +the height of good humor. “You have roused my curiosity; +nothing will induce me not to see every word of the letter +now.”</p> +<p>It took Martin some time to piece together poor Maggie’s +letter; but at last the greater part of its meaning was made +plain to him. Mrs. Martin sat, white as death, looking at her +lord and master. What was going to happen? What awful +thing lay ahead of her? She felt crushed beyond words. +Once again she struggled to get on her knees to implore him, +to entreat; but Martin put out his great hand and kept her +forcibly in her seat.</p> +<p>When he had quite taken in the meaning of the letter he +made no comment whatever, but carefully deposited the torn +fragments in his pocket-book. Then he said quietly, “I don’t +blame you, Little-sing, not one bit. But we’ve got to punish +this girl. To-morrow I shall be busy in town. The day after +will be Friday, and I shall be busy then; but on Saturday we’ll +take a half-holiday and go to visit Miss Margaret Howland at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +Aylmer House—you and me together, Little-sing—the grocer +and his wife together. Not a word, my love; not a word.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI_TILDYS_MESSAGE' id='CHAPTER_XXI_TILDYS_MESSAGE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<h3>TILDY’S MESSAGE.</h3> +</div> +<p>Nothing ever kept Mrs. Martin awake; and, notwithstanding +her anxiety with regard to Maggie, she slept soundly that +night. Bo-peep was his own delightful self. His jokes were +really too good for anything! She regarded him as the wittiest +man of her acquaintance. She laughed till the tears ran +down her cheeks. He told her that he would take her to the +theater on the following evening, and further said that he +would engage a cook himself in town, send her out in the +course of the morning, and that Horniman could go.</p> +<p>Horniman came up to interview her mistress soon after +Martin’s departure. She was penitent now, and willing to +stay; but nothing would induce Martin himself to forgive her, +and, in consequence, Mrs. Martin did not dare to do so. The +woman was paid her wages in full, and dismissed. Then it +occurred to Mrs. Martin that here was her opportunity to send +a short note of warning to Maggie. Why she did not send it +by post it is hard to ascertain; but she thought that it would +go more swiftly and surely if Tildy were the messenger.</p> +<p>Accordingly she sent for Tildy and told her what she expected +her to do.</p> +<p>“Matilda,” she said, “cook has gone, and I shall be quite +content with tea and toast and a lightly boiled egg for my +lunch. After lunch you can take the train to London and +convey a message from me to Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Oh mum, ’ow beauteous!” said Tildy.</p> +<p>“I will have a letter ready which you are, if possible, to put +into her own hands.”</p> +<p>“Yes, ’um; and don’t I long to see ’er, jest!”</p> +<p>“Well, this is the address,” said Mrs. Martin. “Get everything +cosy and comfortable in the house, and bring me my +tea by one o’clock. A train will take you to Victoria at half-past +one, which you ought to catch. You can easily be back +here between four and five; by that time the new cook will +have arrived.”</p> +<p>“Things ain’t dull a bit to-day’,” said Tildy. “They’re much +more Shepherd’s Bushy, and I like ’em a sight better than I +did.”</p> +<p>“Well, go now, and attend to your business,” said Mrs. +Martin.</p> +<p>Having secured a messenger, Mrs. Martin next prepared to +write to poor Maggie:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>My dear Child</span>,—Most unfortunately your father has discovered +the letter you wrote to me. He doesn’t say much, but +I can see that he is furiously angry. He intends to take me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +with him to call on you next Saturday—I presume, some time +in the afternoon. I will try to make him dress in as gentlemanly +a manner as possible, and also will endeavor to prevent +his talking about the shop. You must make the very best of +things you can, dear; for there’s no possible way of keeping +him from Aylmer House.—Your affectionate mother,</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'>“<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Victoria Martin</span>.”<br /></p> +<p>When the letter was finished Mrs. Martin put it into an +envelope, addressed to Miss Maggie Howland, Aylmer House, +Randal Square, South Kensington, and put it into Tildy’s care. +Tildy caught her train all in good time, arrived at Victoria, +and took a bus to South Kensington. A very little inquiry +enabled her to find Randal Square, and at about half-past +two she was standing on the steps of that most refined and +genteel home, Aylmer House. The look of the place impressed +her, but did not give her any sense of intimidation. +When the door was opened to her modest ring, and the +pleasant, bright-looking parlor-maid answered her summons, +Tildy gazed at her with great interest but without a scrap +of shyness.</p> +<p>“I’ve come from ’er ’ome to see Miss Maggie ’Owland,” +said Tildy; “and I’ve a message for ’er from ’er ma.”</p> +<p>The girl, whose name was Agnes, stared for a minute at +Tildy. She recognized her “sort” in a moment. Tildy belonged +to the lodging-house sort of girl. What she could +have to do with one of Agnes’s young ladies puzzled that +young person considerably. It was the rule, however, at +Aylmer House that no one, however poor or humble, should +be treated with rudeness, and certainly a person bringing +a message to one of the young ladies was entitled to respect. +Agnes said, therefore, in a polite and superior tone, “Step +in, will you, miss? and I will find out if Miss Howland is in.”</p> +<p>Tildy stepped into the hall, feeling, as she expressed it, +“dream-like and queer all over.” She did not dare to sit +down, but stood on the mat, gazing with her bright, inquisitive +eyes at the various things in this new world in which +she found herself.</p> +<p>“How beauteous!” she kept repeating at intervals. “Why, +Laburnum Villa ain’t a patch on this. How very beauteous! +No wonder Miss Maggie ’ave the hair of a queen.”</p> +<p>Now, it so happened that Maggie Howland was out, and +would not be back for some time. This was the day when +she and the other girls belonging to her kingdom had gone +forth to purchase all sorts of good things for the coming +feast. Maggie, as queen, had put a whole sovereign into the +bag. There would, therefore, be no stint of first-class provisions. +Every sort of eatable that was not usually permitted +at Aylmer House was to grace the board—jelly, meringues, +frosted cake, tipsy cake, as well as chickens garnished +in the most exquisite way and prepared specially by a confectioner +round the corner; also different dainties in aspic +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +jellies were to be ordered. Then flowers were to be secured +in advance, so as to make the table really very beautiful.</p> +<p>Maggie, Kathleen O’Donnell, and Janet were the people selected +to arrange about the supper. Not a single thing was +to be cooked in the establishment; this would give extra +trouble to the servants, and was therefore not to be permitted. +The girls would make their own sandwiches; and, oh, what +troublesome thoughts they had over these! Maggie was in +the highest spirits, and left the house with her companions—Miss +Johnson, of course, in close attendance—half-an-hour +before Tildy with her ominous letter appeared on the scene.</p> +<p>Now, it so happened that Agnes knew nothing at all of the +absence of the young ladies. They usually went out by a side-door +which had been specially assigned to their use when +the house was turned into a school. As Agnes was going +upstairs, however, in order to try to find Maggie, she met +Aneta coming down.</p> +<p>“Oh miss,” she said, “can you tell me if Miss Howland +is in?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Aneta, “I happen to know that she is out, and +I don’t think she will be in for some little time.”</p> +<p>“Very well, miss; the young person will be sorry, I expect.”</p> +<p>“What young person?” asked Aneta, eager in her turn to +find out why Maggie was inquired for.</p> +<p>“A girl, miss, who has called, and has asked very particularly +to see Miss Howland. She’s rather a common sort of +girl, miss, although I dare say she means well.”</p> +<p>“I will go and see her myself,” said Aneta; “perhaps I can +convey a message from her to Miss Howland, for I know she +won’t be back for some little time.”</p> +<p>Agnes, quite relieved in her mind, turned down the back-stairs +and went to attend to her numerous duties. A few +minutes after, Aneta, in all her slim grace, stood in the hall +and confronted Tildy. Aneta was herself going out; she was +going out with Mademoiselle Laplage. They had some commissions +to execute. The day was a foggy one, and they were +both rather in a hurry. Nevertheless, Aneta stopped to say +a kind word to Tildy. Tildy gazed at her with open-eyed +admiration. Beautiful as the house was, this young lady +was indeed a radiant and dazzling vision.</p> +<p>“She made me sort o’ choky,” said Tildy as she related +the circumstance afterwards to Mrs. Martin. “There was +a hair about her. Well, much as I loves our Miss Maggie, +she ain’t got the hair o’ that beauteous young lady, with ’er +eyes as blue as the sky, and ’er walk so very distinguishified.”</p> +<p>“What can I do for you?” said Aneta now, in a kind tone.</p> +<p>Tildy dropped an awkward curtsy. “I’ve come, miss,” she +said, “to see our Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Miss Howland is out,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Oh, miss!” replied Tildy, the corners of her mouth beginning +to droop, “that’s crool ’ard on me. Do you think, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +miss, if I may make so bold as to inquire, that Miss Maggie ’ll +be in soon?”</p> +<p>“I do not think so,” replied Aneta; “but I can convey any +message you like to her, if you will trust me.”</p> +<p>“Oh miss,” said Tildy, worshipping Aneta on the spot, “who +wouldn’t trust one like you?”</p> +<p>“Well, what is it? What can I do for you?”</p> +<p>“I was maid, miss—maid-of-all-work—at Shepherd’s Bush +when Miss Maggie and ’er ma used to live there; and when +Mrs. ’Owland married Martin the grocer they was that kind +they took me to live at Laburnum Villa. It’s a very rich +and comfortable ’ouse, miss; and the way they two goes on is +most excitin’. It’s joke, joke, and play, play, from morn till +night—that’s the ma and steppa of Miss Maggie. I’ve brought +a letter from Mrs. Martin to be delivered straight to Miss +Maggie.”</p> +<p>“I can give it to her,” said Aneta in her calm voice.</p> +<p>“You’ll per’aps mention, miss,” said Tildy, taking the +letter from her pocket, “as I called, and as I love our dear +Miss Maggie as much as I ever did. You’ll per’aps say, miss, +with my dutiful respects, that my ’eart is ’ers, and always +will be.”</p> +<p>“I will give her a kind message,” said Aneta, “and safely +deliver her mother’s letter to her. I am afraid there’s no use +in asking you to stay, as Miss Howland is very much occupied +just now.”</p> +<p>“Very well, miss, I’ve delivered my message faithful.”</p> +<p>“You have.”</p> +<p>As Aneta spoke she herself opened the hall-door.</p> +<p>“Good-day, miss,” said Tildy, dropping another curtsy, +“and I wishes you well.”</p> +<p>“Good-day,” replied Aneta.</p> +<p>Tildy’s little form was swallowed up in the fog, which +was growing thicker each moment, and at that instant +Mademoiselle Laplage, profuse in apologies for her brief delay, +entered the hall.</p> +<p>“Pardon me, <i>ma chère</i>, that I have caused you to wait. I +was just ready to descend, when—see! the lace of my shoe +was broken. But what will you? You will go out in this +dreadful fog?”</p> +<p>Aneta replied in French that she did not think the fog +was too thick, and the French governess and the girl went +out together into the street. But all the time Aneta Lysle +was thinking hard. She was in possession of Maggie’s secret. +Her stepfather, instead of being related to the Martyns of +The Meadows, was a grocer! Aneta belonged to that class of +persons who think a great deal of good birth. She did not +mind Tildy in the least, for Tildy was so far below her as +to be after a fashion quite companionable; but—a grocer! +Nevertheless, Aneta had a heart. She thought of Maggie, and +the more she thought of her the more pitiful she felt towards +her. She did not want to crush or humiliate her schoolfellow. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +She felt almost glad that the secret of Maggie’s unhappiness +had been made known to her. She might at last +gain a true influence over the girl.</p> +<p>Her walk, therefore, with Mademoiselle Laplage took place +almost in silence. They hastily executed their commissions, +and presently found themselves in Pearce’s shop, where Aneta +had taken a brooch a day or two ago to have a pin put on.</p> +<p>The shopman, as he handed her the mended brooch, said +at the same time, “If you will excuse me, miss, you are one +of the young ladies who live at Aylmer House?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aneta, “that is true.”</p> +<p>“Then I wonder, miss, if”––He paused a minute, looked +hard at the girl, and then continued, “Might my brother +speak to you for a minute, miss?”</p> +<p>“But it make so cold!” said mademoiselle, who knew very +little of the English tongue, “and behold—zee fog! I have +such fear of it. It is not to joke when it fogs in your country, +<i>ma chère. Il faute bien dépêcher</i>.”</p> +<p>“I shall be quite ready to come back with you in a minute +or two,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Just then the man who had bought the brooch from Maggie +appeared. “I am very sorry, miss,” he said, “but I thought +that, instead of writing to Miss Howland, I might send her +a message; otherwise I should have to see Mrs. Ward on +the matter.”</p> +<p>“But what matter is it?” said Aneta. “You want to see +Miss Howland, or you want me to take her a message?”</p> +<p>“Well, miss, it’s no special secret; only my brother and +I cannot afford to buy the brooch which she sold us the other +day.”</p> +<p>“But I don’t understand,” said Aneta. “Miss Howland sold +you a brooch? Then if she sold it, you did buy it.”</p> +<p>“The fact is, miss,” said young Pearce, coloring rather +deeply, “I was not myself quite aware of its value at the +time, and I gave the young lady much too small a sum of +money for it. I want her to return me the money, and I +will give her back the brooch. My brother and I have been +talking it over, and we cannot do an injustice to one of the +ladies at Aylmer House—it is quite impossible.”</p> +<p>“I will give your message,” said Aneta coldly. “Please do +not purchase anything else from Miss Howland. She will +doubtless call to see you to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, miss; then that is all right,” said the man, +looking much relieved.</p> +<p>Aneta hastened home. She felt perplexed and alarmed. +She must see Maggie, and as soon as possible. It was a strange +fact that while Maggie was in no danger at all, while everything +seemed to be going right with her, and as long as she +held an undeniable position in the school as one of the queens, +Aneta could scarcely endure her; that now that Maggie Howland, +was, so to speak, at her mercy, this girl, whose nature +was fine and brave and good, felt a strong desire to help her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p> +<p>There were, however, very strict rules at Aylmer House, +and one of them was that no girl on any account whatsoever +was to sell any of her possessions in order to make money. +This was one of the unwritten rules of the school; but the +idea of an Aylmer House girl really requiring to do such a +thing was never contemplated for an instant. There were +broad lines of conduct, however, which no girl was expected +to pass. Liberty was allowed to a great extent at Aylmer +House; but it was a liberty which only those who struggle +to walk in the right path can fully enjoy. Crooked ways, +underhand dealings, could not be permitted in the school.</p> +<p>Maggie had done quite enough to cause her to be expelled. +There had been times when Aneta almost wished for this; +when she had felt deep down in her heart that Maggie Howland +was the one adverse influence in the school; when she +had been certain that if Maggie Howland were removed all the +other girls would come more or less under her own gentle +sway, and she would be queen, not of the greater number +of the girls at Aylmer House, but of all the girls, and very +gentle, very loving, very sympathetic would be her rule. Her +subjects should feel her sympathy, but at the same time +they should acknowledge her power. Maggie’s was a counter-influence; +and now there was a chance of putting a stop to it.</p> +<p>Aneta knew well that, kind as Mrs. Ward was to Maggie, +she did not in her heart absolutely trust her. Therefore, +if Maggie left it would also be a relief to Mrs. Ward. Miss +Johnson might be sorry, and one or two of the girls might +be sorry; in particular, dear little Merry. Aneta had a great +love for Merry, and was deeply sorry to feel that Merry was +under Maggie’s spell; that was the case, although she did +not openly belong to Maggie’s party. So Merry too would +be saved if Maggie left the school. Oh! it was most desirable, +and Aneta held the key of the position in her hand. She +also had in her pocket Mrs. Martin’s letter. That did not +perhaps so greatly matter, for Maggie’s father, whatever her +mother had done, was himself a gentleman; but the fact of +Maggie’s slipping out of doors alone to sell an ornament was +a sufficiently grave offense to banish her from such a school +as Aylmer House.</p> +<p>Yes, Aneta could send her away, but it might be managed +dexterously. Maggie might stay till the end of the present +term and then go, knowing herself that she would never +return, whereas the girls would know nothing about it until +the beginning of the next term, when they would no longer +see her familiar face or hear her pleasant voice. A few of +them might be sorry, but they would quickly forget. The +school would be the better for her absence. The thing could +be done, and it would be done, if Aneta used that knowledge +which she now possessed.</p> +<p>The girls all met at tea, and Maggie was in the highest +spirits. She knew nothing whatever of all the information +which Aneta had gathered in her absence. She knew nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +of Tildy’s arrival, of Tildy’s departure, nor of the letter which +Aneta had put into one of her drawers. Still less did she +know anything of Pearce and his betrayal of her. She and +her companions had had a very pleasant time, and immediately +after tea, in the “leisure hours,” they were to meet +in the girl’s private sitting-room to discuss matters officially.</p> +<p>The Aneta girls had, by common consent, given up the room +to them during these last important days. There were plenty +of nooks and corners all over the cheerful house where they +could amuse themselves and talk secrets, and have that sort +of confidence which schoolgirls delight in.</p> +<p>As soon as tea was over Maggie jumped up and said, “Now, +Kitty”—she turned to Kathleen O’Donnell as she spoke—“you +and I, and Rosamond and Jane, and Matty and Clara, and +the Tristrams will get through our work as quickly as possible.—I +suppose, girls”—here she glanced at Aneta in particular—“you +will let us have the sitting-room as usual during +the leisure hours?”</p> +<p>“Of course we will,” said Sylvia St. John in her gentle +tone; but she had scarcely uttered the words before Aneta +rose.</p> +<p>“Of course you can have the sitting-room,” she said; “but +I want to talk to you, Maggie.”</p> +<p>“You can’t, I am afraid, just now,” said Maggie. “I am +much too busy.—We have to go into accounts, girls,” she +added. “There are no end of things to be done, besides, at +the rehearsal.” Here she dropped her voice slightly.</p> +<p>“The rest of you can go to the sitting-room and do what +is necessary,” continued Aneta. “I want you, Maggie, and +you had better come with me.” She spoke very firmly.</p> +<p>A dogged look came into Maggie’s face. She threw back her +head and glanced full at Aneta. “I go with you,” she said, +“just because you ask me, forsooth! You forget yourself, +Queen Aneta. I also am a queen and have a kingdom.”</p> +<p>“My business with you has something to do with a person +who calls herself Tildy,” said Aneta in her gravest voice; and +Maggie suddenly felt as though a cold douche had been thrown +over her. She colored a vivid red. Then she turned eagerly +to Kathleen.</p> +<p>“I won’t be a minute,” she said. “You all go into the sitting-room +and get the accounts in order. You might also go over +that tableaux with Diana Vernon.—Kathleen, you know that +you must put a little more life into your face than you did +the other day; and—and—oh dear, how annoying this is!—Yes, +of course I will go with you, Aneta. You won’t keep me +a minute?”</p> +<p>Maggie and Aneta left the room.</p> +<p>Merry turned to her sister and said in a troubled voice, “I +can’t imagine why it is that Aneta doesn’t care for poor Maggie. +I love Aneta, of course, for she is our very own cousin; +but I cannot understand her want of sympathy for dearest +Maggie.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>“I am not altogether quite so fond of Maggie as you are, +Merry; and you know that,” said Cicely.</p> +<p>“I know it,” said Merry. “You are altogether taken up +with Aneta.”</p> +<p>“Oh, and with school generally,” said Cicely, “it is all so +splendid. But come, we are alone in the room, and losing +some of our delightful leisure hours.”</p> +<p>The Maggie-girls had meanwhile retired into the sitting-room, +where they stood together in groups, talking about the +excitement which was to take place on the following Saturday +(it was now Thursday), and paying very little heed to Maggie’s +injunctions to put the accounts in order.</p> +<p>“Don’t bother about accounts,” said Kitty; “there’s heaps +of money left in the bag. Wasn’t it scrumptious of old Mags +to put a whole sovereign in? And I know she is not rich, the +dear old precious!”</p> +<p>“She is exactly the sort of girl who would do a generous +thing,” said Clara Roache, “and of course, as queen, she felt +that she must put a little more money into the bag than the +rest of us.”</p> +<p>“Well, she needn’t,” said Kathleen. “I’d have loved her +just as much if she hadn’t put a penny in. She is a duck, +though! I can’t think why I care so much about her, for +she’s not beautiful.”</p> +<p>“Strictly speaking, she is plain,” said Janet Burns; “but +in a case like Maggie’s plain face doesn’t matter in the least.”</p> +<p>“She has got something inside,” said Matty, “which makes +up for her plain features. It’s her soul shining out of her +eyes.”</p> +<p>“Yes, of course,” said Kathleen O’Donnell; “and it fills her +voice too. She has got power and—what you call charm. She +is meant to rule people.”</p> +<p>“I admire her myself more than Aneta Lysle,” said Janet +Burns, “although of course all the world would call Aneta +beautiful.”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is quite true,” said Kathleen; “but I call Aneta +a little stiff, and she is very determined too, and she doesn’t +like poor old Mags one single bit. Wasn’t it jolly of Mags to +get up this glorious day for us? Won’t we have fun? Aneta +may look to her laurels, for it’s my opinion that the Gibsons +and the Cardews will both come over to our side after Saturday.”</p> +<p>While this conversation was going on, and Maggie’s absence +was deplored, and no business whatever was being done +towards the entertainment of Saturday, Maggie found herself +seated opposite to Aneta in Aneta’s own bedroom. Maggie felt +queer and shaken. She did not quite know what was the +matter. Aneta’s face was very quiet.</p> +<p>After a time she drew a letter from her pocket and put it +into Maggie’s hand.</p> +<p>“Who brought this?” asked Maggie.</p> +<p>“A person who called herself Tildy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p> +<p>Maggie held the letter unopened in her lap.</p> +<p>“Why don’t you read it?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Maggie took it up and glanced at the handwriting. Then +she put it down again.</p> +<p>“It’s from my mother,” she said. “It can keep.”</p> +<p>“I cannot imagine,” said Aneta, “anybody waiting even for +one moment to read a letter which one’s own mother has written. +My mother is dead, you know.”</p> +<p>She spoke in a low tone, and her pretty eyelashes rested +on her softly rounded cheeks.</p> +<p>Maggie looked at her. “Why did you bring me up here, +Aneta, away from all the others, away from our important +business, to give me this letter?”</p> +<p>“I thought you would rather have it in private,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“You thought more than that, Aneta.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I thought more than that,” said Aneta in her gentlest +tone.</p> +<p>Maggie’s queer, narrow, eyes flashed fire. Suddenly she +stood up. “You have something to say. Say it, and be quick, +for I must go.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think you must go just yet, Maggie; for what I +have to say cannot be said in a minute. You will have to +give up your leisure hours to-day.”</p> +<p>“I cannot. Our entertainment is on Saturday.”</p> +<p>“The entertainment must wait,” said Aneta. “It is of no +consequence compared to what I have to say to you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, have it out!” said Maggie. “You were always spying +and prying on me. You always hated me. I don’t know what +I have done to you. I’d have left you alone if you had left +me alone; but you have interfered with me and made my +life miserable. God knows, I am not too happy”—Maggie +struggled with her emotion—“but you have made things +twice as bad.”</p> +<p>“Do you really, really think that, Maggie? Please don’t +say any more, then, until you hear me out to the end. I +will tell you as quickly as possible; I will put you out of suspense. +I could have made things very different for you, but +at least I will put you out of suspense.”</p> +<p>“Well, go on; I am willing to listen. I hope you will be +brief.”</p> +<p>“It is this, Maggie. I will say nothing about your past; +I simply tell you what, through no fault of mine, I found +out to-day. You gave the girls of this school to understand +that your mother’s husband—your stepfather—was a gentleman +of old family. The person called Tildy told me about +Mr. Martin. He may be a gentleman by nature, but he is not +one by profession.”</p> +<p>Maggie clutched one of her hands so tightly that the nails +almost pierced her flesh.</p> +<p>“I won’t hurt you, Maggie, by saying much on that subject. +Your own father was a gentleman, and you cannot help your +mother having married beneath her.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>Maggie gasped. Such words as these from the proud Aneta!</p> +<p>“But there is worse to follow,” continued Aneta. “I happened +to go to Pearce’s to-day.”</p> +<p>Maggie, who had half-risen, sank back again in her seat.</p> +<p>“And Pearce wants to see you in order to return a brooch +which you sold him. He says that he cannot afford the right +price for the brooch. He wants you to give him back the +money which he lent you on it, and he wants you to have the +brooch again in your possession. You, of course, know, Maggie, +that in selling one of your belongings and in going out +without leave you broke one of the fundamental rules of +Aylmer House. You know that, therefore––Why, what +is the matter?”</p> +<p>Maggie’s queer face was working convulsively. After a time +slow, big tears gathered in her eyes. Her complexion changed +from its usual dull ugliness to a vivid red; it then went white, +so ghastly white that the girl might have been going to +faint. All this took place in less than a minute. At the end +of that time Maggie was her old disdainful, angry self once +more.</p> +<p>“You must be very glad,” she said. “You have me in +your power at last. My stepfather is a grocer. He keeps +a shop at Shepherd’s Bush. He is one of the most horribly +vulgar men that ever lived. Had I been at home my mother +would not have consented to marry him. But my mother, +although pretty and refined-looking, and in herself a lady, +has little force of character, and she was quite alone and +very poor indeed. You, who don’t know the meaning of the +word ‘poor,’ cannot conceive what it meant to her. Little +Merry guessed—dear, dear little Merry; but as to you, you +think when you subscribe to this charity and the other, you +think when you adopt an East End child and write letters to +her, and give of your superabundance to benefit her, that you +understand the poor. I tell you you <i>don’t</i>! Your wealth is +a curse to you, not a blessing. You no more understand what +people like mother and like myself have lived through than +you understand what the inhabitants of Mars do—the petty +shifts, the smallnesses, the queer efforts to make two ends +meet! You in your lovely home, and surrounded by lovely +things, and your aunt so proud of you—how <i>can</i> you understand +what lodgings in the hot weather in Shepherd’s Bush +are like? Mother understood—never any fresh air, never +any tempting food; Tildy, that poor little faithful girl as servant—slavey +was her right name; Tildy at every one’s beck +and call, always with a smut on her cheek, and her hair so +untidy, and her little person so disreputable; and mother +alone, wondering how she could make two ends meet. Talk +of your knowing what the poor people in my class go +through!”</p> +<p>“I don’t pretend that I do know, Maggie,” said Aneta, who +was impressed by the passion and strength of Maggie’s words. +“I don’t pretend it for a moment. The poverty of such lives is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +to me a sealed book. But—forgive me—if you are so poor, +how could you come here?”</p> +<p>“I don’t mind your knowing everything now,” said Maggie. +“I am disgraced, and nothing will ever get me out of my +trouble. I am up to my neck, and I may as well drown at +once; but Mrs. Ward—she understood what a poor girl whose +father was a gentleman could feel, and she—oh, she was +good!—she took me for so little that mother could afford it. +She made no difference between you and me, Aneta, who are +so rich, and your cousins the Cardews, who are so rich too. +She said, ‘Maggie Howland, your father was a gentleman +and a man of honor, a man of whom his country was proud; +and I will educate you, and give you your chance.’ And, oh, +I was happy here! And I—and I should be happy now but +for you and your prying ways.”</p> +<p>“You are unkind to me, Maggie. The knowledge that your +stepfather was a grocer was brought to me in a most unexpected +way. I was not to blame for the little person who +called herself Tildy coming here to-day. Tildy felt no shame +in the fact that your mother had married a grocer. She +was far more lady-like about it than you are, Maggie. No +one could have blamed you because your mother chose to +marry beneath her. But you were to blame, Maggie, when +you gave us to understand that her husband was in quite +a different position from what he is.”</p> +<p>“And you think,” said Maggie, stamping her foot, “that the +girls of this house—Kathleen O’Donnell, Sylvia St. John, Henrietta +and Mary Gibson, the Cardews, the Tristrams, you yourself—would +put up with me for a single moment if it was +known what my mother has done?”</p> +<p>“I think you underrate us all,” said Aneta. Then she came +close to Maggie and took one of her hands. “I want to tell +you something,” she added.</p> +<p>Maggie had never before allowed her hand to remain for a +second in Aneta’s grasp. But there was something at this +moment about the young girl, a look in her eyes, which absolutely +puzzled Maggie and caused her to remain mute. She +had struggled for a minute, but now her hand lay still in +Aneta’s clasp.</p> +<p>“I want to help you,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“To—help me! How? I thought you hated me.”</p> +<p>“Well, as a matter of fact,” said Aneta, “I did not love +you until”––</p> +<p>“Until?” said Maggie, her eyes shining and her little face +becoming transformed in a minute.</p> +<p>“Until I knew what you must have suffered.”</p> +<p>“You do not mean to say that you love me now?”</p> +<p>“I believe,” said Aneta, looking fixedly at Maggie, “that I +could love you.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Maggie. She snatched her hand away, and, +walking to the window, looked out. The fog was thicker than +ever, and she could see nothing. But that did not matter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +She wanted to keep her back turned to Aneta. Presently her +shoulders began to heave, and, taking her handkerchief from +her pocket, she pressed it to her eyes. Then she turned +round. “Go on,” she said.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by that?” asked Aneta.</p> +<p>“Say what you want to say. I am the stepdaughter of a +grocer, and I have broken one of the strictest rules in the +school. When will you tell Mrs. Ward? I had better leave +at once.”</p> +<p>“You needn’t leave at all.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean,” said Aneta, “that if you will tell Mrs. Ward +everything—all about your stepfather, and all about your +selling that jewel and going out without leave—I am positively +sure that dear Mrs. Ward will not expel you from the +school. I am also sure, Maggie, that there will not be one +girl at Aylmer House who will ever reproach you. As to +your stepfather being what he is, no girl in her senses would +blame you for that. You are the daughter of Professor Howland, +one of the greatest explorers of his time—a man who +has had a book written about him, and has largely contributed +to the world’s knowledge. Don’t forget that, please; none of +us are likely to forget it. As to the other thing—well, there +is always the road of confession, and I am quite certain that +if you will see Mrs. Ward she will be kind to you and forgive +you; for her heart is very big and her sympathies very wide; +and then, afterwards, I myself will, for your sake, try to +understand your position, and I myself will be your true +friend.”</p> +<p>“Oh Aneta!” said Maggie.</p> +<p>She ran up to Aneta; she took her hand; she raised it to her +lips and kissed it.</p> +<p>“Give me till to-morrow,” she said. “Promise that you +won’t say anything till to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Aneta promised. Maggie went to her room.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII_ANETAS_PLAN' id='CHAPTER_XXII_ANETAS_PLAN'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<h3>ANETA’S PLAN.</h3> +</div> +<p>The girls downstairs wondered why Maggie Howland did +not appear. After an hour of waiting Kathleen O’Donnell took +the lead. The accounts were left alone, but the tableaux vivants +were diligently rehearsed, the Tristrams and Jane Burns +being the three critics; Rosamond Dacre, Kathleen O’Donnell, +and Matty and Clara Roache the performers. But, somehow, +there was no life in the acting, for the moving spirit was not +there; the bright, quick eye was missed, the eager words were +lacking, with the pointed and telling criticism. Then there +was the scene where Maggie herself was to take a part. It +was from <i>The Talisman</i>, and a night-scene, which she was +able to render with great precision and even beauty, and +the dun light would be in her favor. It was to be the crowning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +one, and the last of the tableaux. It was expected to +bring down the house. But Maggie was not there, and the +girls could not help feeling a little disconsolate and a little +surprised.</p> +<p>At supper that evening there were eager inquiries with regard +to Maggie Howland. All the girls came up to ask Aneta +where the other queen was.</p> +<p>“She is not quite well, and has gone to bed,” said Aneta. +“She does not wish to be disturbed until the morning.”</p> +<p>Aneta’s words had a curious effect upon every one who +heard her speak. It was as though she had, for the first time +in her life, absolutely taken Maggie’s part. Her eyes, when +she spoke of Maggie, were full of affection. The girls were +puzzled; but Merry, as they turned away, suddenly ran back +to Aneta, swept her arm round the girl’s neck, and said, “Oh +Neta, I do love you!”</p> +<p>Aneta pressed Merry’s hand. For the first time these two +understood each other.</p> +<p>Meanwhile poor Maggie was living through one of the most +dreadful periods of her life. Her mother’s intimation that she +and her stepfather were coming without fail to Aylmer +House on Saturday—<i>the</i> day, the glorious day when Maggie +and her friends were to entertain Mrs. Ward and the rest of +the school—drove the girl nearly wild. Aneta had discovered +her secret, and Aneta had urged, as the one way out, the painful +but salutary road of confession. Maggie writhed at the +thought, but she writhed far more terribly at the news which +her mother’s letter contained.</p> +<p>The girl said to herself, “I cannot stand it! I will run +away! He has destroyed my last chance. I will run away +and hide. I will go to-night. There is no use in waiting. +Aneta is kind; she is far kinder than I could ever have given +her credit for. She would, I believe, help me; and dear Mrs. +Ward would help me—I am sure of that. And I don’t really +mind now that it comes to the point of losing my position +in the school as queen; but for all the school—for the Tristrams, +for Merry Cardew, for Kathleen—to see that man is +beyond my power of endurance. He will call here, and he +will bring poor mother, but as I won’t be here I won’t feel anything. +I will go to-night. I’ll slip downstairs and let myself +out. I have some money—thank goodness for that!—and +I have my father’s treasures. I can take them out of the +tin box and wear them on my person, and I can sell them one +by one. Yes, I will run away. There’s no help for it.”</p> +<p>Maggie, at Aneta’s suggestion, had got into bed, but even +to think of sleep was beyond her power. She got up again +presently, dressed, and sat by the foggy window. The fog +was worse; it was so thick now that you could not see your +way even as far as the trees in the middle of the square. +There were fog-signals sounding from time to time, and cabs +going very slowly, and boys carrying torches to light belated +and lost passengers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>Maggie was safe enough in her room, which had, like all +the other bedrooms at Aylmer House, a small fire burning +in the grate. By-and-by some one tapped at the door. Maggie +said, “Don’t come in”; but her words were unheeded. +The door was opened an inch or two, and Merry Cardew entered.</p> +<p>“Oh Merry, you—of all people!” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“And why not?” said Merry. “I am your friend—your +own very, very great friend. What is the matter, Mags? +You were so jolly at tea; what can have happened since?”</p> +<p>“Something most dreadful,” said Maggie; “but you will +know on Saturday.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Merry, coming up to Maggie and dropping on +her knees and fondling one of the girl’s cold hands, “why +should I wait till Saturday? Why should I not know now?”</p> +<p>“I can’t talk of it, Merry. I am glad you—you—<i>loved</i> me. +You won’t love me in the future. But kiss me just this once.”</p> +<p>“I am not going to leave you like this,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“You must, dear; yes, you must. Please, please go! And—please, +be quick. Some one will see us together. Lucy +Johnson will come in. Oh! don’t make matters worse for me. +Good-night, Merry, good-night.”</p> +<p>Maggie seemed so anxious that Merry should go that the +girl felt hurt and rose to her feet.</p> +<p>“Good-night, Merry dear,” said Maggie as Merry was walking +towards the door. Then she added, in a semi-whisper +which Merry did not catch, “And good-bye, Merry dear; we +shall never meet again.”</p> +<p>Merry left the room, feeling full of apprehension. She +thought for a minute as she stood outside. Then she went +and knocked at Aneta’s door.</p> +<p>“Aneta, may I come in?”</p> +<p>“Of course, dear. What is the matter?” said her cousin.</p> +<p>Merry entered at once.</p> +<p>“I have been to see Maggie. She is awfully queer. Oh, I +know I broke the rules. I must tell Miss Johnson in the +morning.”</p> +<p>“I did beg of you, Merry, not to go to her,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know you did; but I could not help thinking and +thinking about her. She is very queer. Her eyes look so +strange.”</p> +<p>“I hoped she was in bed and asleep,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“In bed!” said Merry. “Not a bit of it. She was up and +sitting by the window gazing at the fog.”</p> +<p>“I will go and see her myself,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Will you, Neta? And you will be kind to her?”</p> +<p>“Yes, darling, of course.”</p> +<p>“Somehow, she used to think that—that you didn’t love +her,” said Merry.</p> +<p>“Nor did I,” said Aneta. “But I will be kind to her; don’t +be afraid. I think I can guess what is the matter.”</p> +<p>“It is all very queer,” said Merry. “She was in such +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +splendid spirits to-day; all the girls said so when they were +out preparing for our party, and now she looks years older and +utterly miserable.”</p> +<p>“Go to bed, Merry, and leave your friend in my care.”</p> +<p>“Then you don’t think it wrong of me to be very fond +of her?”</p> +<p>“I do not, Merry. There was a time when I hoped you +would not care for her; now I earnestly want you to be her +true friend. There is a very great deal of good in her, and +she has had many sorrows. Pray for her to-night. Don’t +be anxious. Everything will come as right as possible.”</p> +<p>“Oh Neta,” said Merry, “you are a darling! And when you +talk like that I love you more than I ever did before. You +see, dear, I could not help caring for Maggie from the very +first, and nothing nor anybody can alter my love.”</p> +<p>Aneta kissed Merry, who left the room. Then Aneta herself, +taking up her candle, went out. She was wearing a long +white wrapper, and her clouds of golden hair were falling +far below her waist. She looked almost like an angel as +she went down the corridor as far as Miss Johnson’s room.</p> +<p>Lucy Johnson was just getting into bed when Aneta knocked.</p> +<p>“What is it, Neta?” said the governess in a tone almost +of alarm.</p> +<p>“I want to break a rule, Lucy,” said Aneta; “so put me +down for punishment to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Oh, but why? What are you going to do?”</p> +<p>“I am going to do something which I shall be punished +for. I am going to spend to-night, if necessary, with Maggie +Howland.”</p> +<p>“Is she ill, Neta? Ought we to send for the doctor?”</p> +<p>“Oh no, she is not a bit ill in that way. Good-night, Lucy; +I felt I ought to tell you.”</p> +<p>Aneta continued her way until she reached Maggie’s room. +It was now past midnight. The quiet and regular household +had all retired to bed, and Maggie had feverishly begun to +prepare for departure. She knew how to let herself out. +Once out of the house, she would be, so she felt, through +the worst part of her trouble. She was not unacquainted +with the ways of this cruel world, and thought that she might +be taken in at some hotel, not too far away, for the night. +Early in the morning she would go by train to some seaside +place. From there she would embark for the Continent. Beyond +that she had made no plans.</p> +<p>Maggie was in the act of removing her father’s treasures +from the tin boxes when, without any warning, the room-door +was opened, and Aneta, in her pure white dress, with her +golden hair surrounding her very fair face, entered the room.</p> +<p>“Oh!” said Maggie, dropping a curiously made cross in +her confusion and turning a dull brick-red. “Whatever have +you come about?”</p> +<p>Aneta closed the door calmly, and placed her lighted candle +on the top of Maggie’s chest of drawers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p> +<p>“I hoped you were in bed and asleep,” she said; “but instead +of that you are up. I have made arrangements to spend +the night with you. It is bitterly cold. We must build up +the fire.”</p> +<p>Maggie felt wild.</p> +<p>Aneta did not take the slightest notice. She knelt down +and put knobs of fresh coal on the fire. Soon it was blazing +up merrily. “That’s better,” she said. “Now, don’t you +think a cup of cocoa each would be advisable?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to eat,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“I should like the cocoa,” said Aneta; “and I have brought +it with me. I thought your supply might be out. Here’s your +glass of milk which you never drank, and here’s a little saucepan, +and there are cups and saucers in your cupboard, and +a box of biscuits. Just sit down, won’t you? while I make +the cocoa.”</p> +<p>Maggie felt very strange. Her dislike of Aneta was growing +less and less moment by moment. Nevertheless, she by +no means gave up her primary idea of running away. She +felt that she must hoodwink Aneta. Surely she was clever +enough for that. The best plan would be to acquiesce in the +cocoa scheme, afterwards to pretend that she was sleepy, and +go to bed. Then Aneta would, of course, leave her, and there +would still be plenty of time to get out of the house and +disappear into the foggy world of London. The glowing fire, +the beautiful young girl kneeling by it, the preparation for +the little meal which she made with such swiftness and dexterity, +caused Maggie to gaze at her in speechless amazement.</p> +<p>Maggie drank her delicious cocoa and munched her biscuits +with appetite, and afterwards she felt better. The world was +not quite so black and desolate, and Aneta looked lovely with +her soft eyes glowing and the rose-color in her cheeks.</p> +<p>“Why are you doing all this for me?” said Maggie then.</p> +<p>“Why?” said Aneta. “I think the reason is very simple.” +Then she paused for a minute and her eyes filled with sudden +tears. “I think it is, Maggie, because quite unexpectedly I +have learned to love you.”</p> +<p>“You—to love me—me?” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>Maggie felt herself trembling. She could not reply. She +did not understand that she returned the love so suddenly +given to her—given to her, too, in her moment of deepest degradation, +of her most utter misery. Once again the feeling +that she must go, that she could not face confession and the +scorn of the school, and the awful words of Bo-peep, and +her poor mother as Bo-peep’s wife, overpowered her.</p> +<p>“You are—very kind,” she said in a broken voice; “and +the cocoa was good; and, if you don’t mind—I will—go to +bed now, and perhaps—sleep a little.”</p> +<p>“What have you been doing with all those lovely curios?” +said Aneta. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span></p> +<p>“I?” said Maggie. “I—oh, I like to look at them.”</p> +<p>“Do pick up that cross which is lying on the floor, and +let me examine it.”</p> +<p>Maggie did so rather unwillingly.</p> +<p>“Please bring over all the other things, and let me look +at them,” said Aneta then.</p> +<p>Maggie obeyed, but grudgingly, as though she did not care +that Aneta should handle them.</p> +<p>“Why have you taken them out of their boxes and put +them all in a muddle like this?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“I—I wanted something to do,” said Maggie. “I couldn’t +sleep.”</p> +<p>“Was that the only reason—honor bright?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Maggie dropped her eyes.</p> +<p>Aneta did not question her any further, but she drew her +down to a low chair by the fire, and put a hand on her lap, +and kept on looking at the treasures: the bracelets, the +crosses, the brooches, the quaint designs belonging to a bygone +period. After a time she said, “I am not at all sure—I +am not a real judge of treasures; but I have an uncle, Sir +Charles Lysle, who knows more about these things than any +one else in London; and if he thinks what I am inclined to +think with regard to the contents of these two boxes, you will +be”––She stopped abruptly.</p> +<p>Maggie’s eyes were shining. “Aneta,” she said, “don’t talk +of these any more; and don’t talk either of wealth or poverty +any more. There is something I want to say. When you +came into my room just now I was packing up to run away.”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, I know that,” said Aneta. “I saw that you had +that intention the moment I entered the room.”</p> +<p>“And you said nothing!”</p> +<p>“Why should I? I didn’t want to force your confidence. +But you’re not going to run away now, Mags?” She bent +towards her and kissed her on the forehead.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie, trembling. “I want you to let me +go.”</p> +<p>“I cannot possibly do that, dear. If you go, I go too.”</p> +<p>“I must go,” said Maggie. “You don’t understand. You +found things out about me to-day, and you have behaved—well, +splendidly. I didn’t give you credit for it. I didn’t know +you. Now I do know you, and I see that no girl in the school +can be compared to you for nobleness and courage, and just +for being downright splendid. But, Aneta, I cannot bear that +which is before me.”</p> +<p>“The fact is,” said Aneta, “you are in the midst of a terrible +battle, and you mean to give in and turn tail, and let the enemy +walk over the field. That is not a bit what I should have +expected at one time from Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“I will tell you,” said Maggie. “I am not really a bit +brave; there is nothing good in me.”</p> +<p>“We won’t talk about that,” said Aneta. “What we have +to think about now is what lies straight ahead of you; not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +of your past any more, but your immediate future. You have +a tough time before you; in fact, you have a very great battle +to fight, but I do not think you will turn tail.”</p> +<p>“You want me,” said Maggie, “to go to Mrs. Ward and tell +her everything?”</p> +<p>“You must do that, Maggie. There is no second course to +pursue. There is no way out. But I have been thinking since +I saw you that perhaps you might have your day on Saturday. +I think it would be best for you to tell Mrs. Ward to-morrow; +and I think she would not prevent you having your day on +Saturday. Perhaps it will be necessary—but she is the one +to decide—that some of your schoolfellows should be told; +and of course your little brooch which you sold to Pearce +must be got back. Even Pearce is far too honest to keep it +for the price he paid you.”</p> +<p>“He gave me five pounds, and I have spent one. There +are still four pounds left,” said Maggie. “I meant to run +away with the help of these.”</p> +<p>“I will lend you a pound,” said Aneta, “and we’ll get the +brooch back to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“But, Aneta, I have not yet told you—it is too fearful—you +cannot conceive what my stepfather is like. It isn’t only +his being a grocer—for I have no doubt there are lots of +grocers who are quite, quite tolerable; but you cannot imagine +what he is. I had a letter from him a little time ago—that +time, you remember, when he sent me those perfectly awful +dresses—and he said then that he and my mother were coming +to see me, as he wanted to interview Mrs. Ward and to +look at the school for himself. Well, that poor Tildy brought +me a letter to-day from mother. I had written to mother +to beg of her not to let him come; but he got hold of the letter, +and he was nearly mad about it. The end of it is that he +and she are coming on <i>Saturday</i>, and, somehow, I can’t bear +it. I must run away; I <i>cannot</i> endure it!”</p> +<p>“I don’t wonder,” said Aneta. “Let me think. Lay your +head on my shoulder, Maggie. Oh, how tired you are!”</p> +<p>“Aneta, you seem to me quite new—just as though I had +never seen you before.”</p> +<p>“I think you and your story have opened my eyes and done +me good,” said Aneta. “Then what you said about the sufferings +of the poor—I mean your sort of poor—gave me great +pain. Will you take off your things and lie down, and let +me lie by your side? Do, Maggie darling!”</p> +<p>Maggie darling! Such words to come from Aneta Lysle’s +lips! Maggie felt subjugated. She allowed her rival queen +to undress her, and presently the two girls were lying side +by side in the little bed. Maggie dropped off into heavy slumber. +Aneta lay awake.</p> +<p>It was early morning when Aneta touched her companion.</p> +<p>“Maggie, I have been thinking hard all night, and I am going +to do something.”</p> +<p>“You! What can you do? Oh, I remember everything now. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +Oh, the horror! Oh, how can I endure it? Why didn’t I +run away?”</p> +<p>“Maggie, you must promise me faithfully that you will +never run away. Say it now, this minute. I believe in your +word; I believe in your fine nature. I will help you with all +my might and main through school-life, and afterwards. Give +me your word now. You will stay at Aylmer House?”</p> +<p>“I will stay,” said poor Maggie.</p> +<p>“I don’t ask any more. Thank you, dear. Maggie, do nothing +to-day, but leave matters in my hands. You are not well; +your head aches, your forehead is so hot.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I have a headache,” owned Maggie.</p> +<p>“I shall be away for the greater part of the day, but I will +ask Miss Johnson to look after you. Don’t say anything until +I return.”</p> +<p>“But what are you going to do?”</p> +<p>“I am going to see your mother and your stepfather.”</p> +<p>“Aneta!”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Oh Aneta, you must not see him!”</p> +<p>“It is probable that I shall seem him, dear; I am not easily +alarmed. I will take Aunt Lucia with me. I am going downstairs +now to ask Mrs. Ward’s permission.”</p> +<p>“And you will say nothing about me?”</p> +<p>“Something, but nothing of your story. When you feel well +enough you can get up and go on with the preparations for +to-morrow. I believe we shall have our happy day.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII_AT_LABURNUM_VILLA' id='CHAPTER_XXIII_AT_LABURNUM_VILLA'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<h3>AT LABURNUM VILLA.</h3> +</div> +<p>Aneta went back to her room, where she dressed with her +usual expedition and extreme neatness. When she had finished +her toilet she ran downstairs. It was not yet eight +o’clock; but most of the girls were assembled in the large hall +waiting for prayers, which always took place before breakfast. +Mrs. Ward was seen passing to the library, where +prayers were held. Aneta went up to her.</p> +<p>“Prayers first, of course,” said Aneta, “and afterwards may +I talk to you?”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward looked at Aneta. “What is the matter, dear?”</p> +<p>“Something very important indeed. I must see you.”</p> +<p>“Well, breakfast follows prayers; come to me the minute +breakfast is over.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, dear Mrs. Ward,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>At breakfast Merry asked Aneta how Maggie was. Aneta +said that Maggie had a headache, and would not be in school +during the morning.</p> +<p>“Then what are we to do about our day?” said Molly Tristram, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +who overheard this remark. “We have absolutely +more to get through than we can possibly manage.”</p> +<p>“Oh, to-morrow will be quite all right,” said Aneta; “and +Maggie will join you presently.”</p> +<p>Aneta was so respected in the school, so little given to exaggeration, +so absolutely to be relied on, that these words of +hers had a most calming effect. The girls continued their +breakfast, those who were in the secret of to-morrow occasionally +alluding to the subject in French, which was the +only language allowed to be spoken. The others talked about +their different occupations.</p> +<p>As soon as ever breakfast was over, Aneta went to Mrs. +Ward’s private room.</p> +<p>“Now, dear, what is it?” said the head-mistress. “I have +to take the class for literature at half-past nine, and have very +little time to spare.”</p> +<p>“I won’t keep you,” said Aneta; “but what I wanted was +to beg for a day’s holiday.”</p> +<p>“My dear girl! What do you mean? In the middle of term—a +day’s holiday! Can you not take it to-morrow?—oh, +I forgot, to-morrow Maggie is having her grand carnival, as +I call it. But what is the matter, Aneta? Have you any +trouble?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aneta; “and I cannot tell you, dear Mrs. Ward.”</p> +<p>“I trust you, of course, Aneta.”</p> +<p>“I know you do; and I want you to trust me more than +ever. It has something to do with Maggie.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward slightly frowned. “I am never sure”—she +began.</p> +<p>But Aneta stopped her impulsively. “If you give me that +holiday to-day,” she said, “and if you trust me, and if you +will also give me Mrs. Martin’s address, which, of course, +you must have on your books”––</p> +<p>“Mrs. Martin’s address?” said Mrs. Ward.</p> +<p>“Yes. You know Maggie’s mother has married again; she +is Mrs. Martin.”</p> +<p>“Of course, of course; I had forgotten for the moment. +Yes, I have her address.”</p> +<p>“Well, if you will do all that,” continued Aneta, “I think +that you will find a new Maggie in the future, one whom you—will +trust, and—and love, as I love her.”</p> +<p>“My dear girl! as you love Maggie Howland?”</p> +<p>Aneta lowered her head for a minute. “It is true I did not +love her,” she said, “in the past, but I have changed my +views. I have been narrow-minded, and small, and silly. She +herself has opened my eyes. I cannot tell you more now. +Maggie will come down, and will be able to go on with her +lessons just as usual this afternoon; but I want a day off, and +I want it at once.”</p> +<p>“But where are you going, dear?”</p> +<p>“I am going to Aunt Lucia. You will let me have a cab, and +I will drive to Aunt Lucia’s house in Eaton Square at once?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span></p> +<p>Mrs. Ward looked doubtful. “You have a very grave reason +for this?” she said.</p> +<p>“Very, very grave; and I will tell you all presently.”</p> +<p>“I have never had reason to doubt you,” said Mrs. Ward, +“and I won’t doubt you now. Does Maggie know of this?”</p> +<p>“Yes—oh yes; but please don’t question her until I return.”</p> +<p>“Very well, dear; you shall have your way. Oh, you want +Mrs. Martin’s address. It is Laburnum Villa, Clapham.”</p> +<p>Aneta entered the address in a little tablet bound in gold +which she always wore at her waist.</p> +<p>“Thank you ever so much,” she said, and then left the +room.</p> +<p>A minute or two later she met Miss Johnson. “Give me +something stiff to learn—something that I don’t like—to-night, +dear Lucy,” she said. “I am off for a whole day’s +holiday, but I shall be back in the evening.”</p> +<p>“That is very queer,” said Miss Johnson. “What does +it mean?”</p> +<p>“I cannot explain, but Mrs. Ward knows. Be specially kind +to dear Maggie, and give me something that I don’t like to +do when I return.”</p> +<p>Miss Johnson smiled. “You shall hem some dusters,” she +said.</p> +<p>Aneta made a wry face. “Thanks ever so much,” she +replied; then she ran upstairs to get ready for her visit.</p> +<p>Just before leaving the house she looked in at Maggie. “I’m +off, Mags. It’s all right. I shall probably see you about tea-time.”</p> +<p>Before Maggie had time even to expostulate Aneta closed +the door, and a minute or two later had stepped into the cab +which Agnes had called for her. The cabman was desired +to drive Miss Lysle to Lady Lysle’s house in Eaton Square. +This was accordingly done, and soon after ten o’clock Lady +Lysle, who had not yet completed her morning toilet, was +most amazed at being informed by her maid that Miss Lysle +was waiting for her downstairs.</p> +<p>“Aneta! You don’t mean Aneta, Purcell?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my lady; and she wants to see you in a very great +hurry.”</p> +<p>“Then send her up to me.”</p> +<p>Purcell disappeared. Lady Lysle wondered what was +wrong. Presently Aneta burst into the room.</p> +<p>“My dear child,” said her aunt, “what can be wrong? Why +have you left school? I do hope no illness has broken out +there. It would be very inconvenient for me to have you +here at present.”</p> +<p>“There is no illness whatever at the school, Aunt Lucia,” +said Aneta, going up to her aunt and kissing her; “only there +is a girl there, one of my schoolfellows, in a good bit of +trouble, and I want to help her, and I have got a day off from +Mrs. Ward, who doesn’t know why she is giving it to me, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +trusts me all the same. And now, auntie, I want you to come +with me at once.”</p> +<p>“Oh my dear child, where?”</p> +<p>“To Clapham, auntie.”</p> +<p>“Clapham! I never stopped at Clapham in my life. I have +driven through the place, it is true.”</p> +<p>“Well, we’ll stop there to-day,” said Aneta, “at Laburnum +Villa, Clapham. I want to see Mrs. Martin, Maggie’s mother.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear child,” said Lady Lysle, “you mean Miss Howland +when you speak of Maggie? Now, you know I told you +that her stepfather is no relation whatever to the Martyns +of The Meadows. I cannot make out why she should have +given you to understand that he was. A man who lives at +Clapham! Dear Aneta, I would rather be excused.”</p> +<p>“There is no excuse, auntie, that I can listen to for a single +moment. I know all about Maggie’s stepfather, and I will tell +you as we are driving out to Clapham. You have always let +me have my own way, and I have—yes, I have tried to be a +good girl; but there is something before me to-day more important +and more difficult than I ever tackled yet, and if I +can’t come to my own aunt—I, who am a motherless girl—for +help at this crisis I shall think the world is coming to an +end.”</p> +<p>“What a strange, earnest way you do speak in, Aneta!”</p> +<p>“I am very sorry, darling; but I assure you the case is +most urgent. You are quite well, aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“Oh yes, my love; I am never an ailing sort of person.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, I will send Purcell back to you, and please +order the carriage, and please be as quick as possible. We +have to go somewhere else after we have done with Mrs. +Martin.”</p> +<p>“Well, Aneta, I always was wax in your hands, and I suppose +I must do what you wish. But remember your promise +that you will tell me the meaning of this extraordinary thing +during our drive to Clapham.”</p> +<p>“I promise faithfully to tell you what is necessary, for the +fact is I want your help. Darling auntie! you are doing about +the best work of your life to-day. I knew you would stand +by me; I felt certain of it, and I told Maggie so.”</p> +<p>“That girl!” said Lady Lysle. “I don’t care for that girl.”</p> +<p>“You will change your mind about her presently,” said +Aneta, and she ran downstairs to request Davidson, the butler, +to bring her something to eat, for her breakfast had been +slight, and she was quite hungry enough to enjoy some of her +aunt’s nice food.</p> +<p>By-and-by Lady Lysle, looking slim and beautiful, wearing +her becoming sables and her toque with its long black +ostrich plume, appeared on the scene, and a minute later +Davidson announced that the carriage was at the door.</p> +<p>The two ladies stepped in, Aneta giving very careful directions +to the driver.</p> +<p>He expressed some astonishment at the address. “Laburnum +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +Villa, Clapham!” he said. “Martin, Laburnum Villa, +Clapham! Clapham’s a big place, miss.”</p> +<p>“I know that,” said Aneta; “but that is all the address I +can obtain. We must call at the post-office, if necessary, to +get the name of the street.”</p> +<p>The footman sprang into his place, and Aneta and her aunt +drove off in the comfortable brougham towards that suburb +known as Clapham.</p> +<p>“Now, Aneta, I suppose you will tell me what is the meaning +of this?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I will,” said Aneta. “I made a mistake about Maggie, +and I am willing to own it. She has been placed in a difficult +position. I do not mean for a minute to imply that she has +acted in a straight way, for she has not. But there is that in +her which will make her the best of girls in the future, as +she is one of the cleverest and one of the most charming. Yes, +auntie, she has got a great power about her. She is a sort of +magnet—she attracts people to her.”</p> +<p>“She has never attracted me,” said Lady Lysle. “I have +always thought her a singularly plain girl.”</p> +<p>“Ugliness like hers is really attractive,” said Aneta. “But, +now, the thing is this: if we don’t help her she will be absolutely +lost, all her chance taken from her, and her character +ruined for ever. We do a lot at our school for those poor +slum-girls, but we never do anything for girls in our class. +Now, I mean my girl in future to be Maggie Howland.”</p> +<p>“Aneta, you are absurd!”</p> +<p>“I mean it, auntie; her father’s daughter deserves help. +Her father was as good a man as ever lived, and for his sake +something ought to be done for his only child. As to her +mother”––</p> +<p>“Yes, the woman who has married a person of the name of +Martin, and to whose house I presume we are going”––</p> +<p>“Auntie, I have rather a shock to give you. Poor Maggie +did mean to imply that her stepfather was in a different class +of life from what he is. He is a—grocer!”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle put up her hand to pull the check-string.</p> +<p>“Pray, auntie, don’t do that. Maggie isn’t the daughter of +a grocer, and she can’t help her mother having married this +dreadful man. I want Maggie to have nothing to do with her +stepfather in the future, and I mean to carry out my ideas, +and you have got to help me.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, I will do nothing of the kind. What a disgraceful +girl! She must leave Aylmer House at once.”</p> +<p>“Then I will go too,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Aneta, I never knew you behave in such a way before.”</p> +<p>“Come, auntie darling, you know you are the sweetest and +the most loving and sympathetic person in the world; and +why should you turn away from a poor little girl who quite +against her own will finds herself the stepdaughter of a grocer? +Maggie has given me to understand that he is a dreadful +man. She is horrified with him, and what I am going now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +to Laburnum Villa about is to try to prevent his visiting the +school with his wife on Saturday. I will do the talking, dear, +and you have only to sit by and look dignified.”</p> +<p>“I never was put in such a dreadful position before,” said +Lady Lysle, “and really even you, Aneta, go too far when you +expect me to do this.”</p> +<p>“But you would visit a poor woman in East London without +the smallest compunction,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“That is different,” replied Lady Lysle with dignity.</p> +<p>“It is different,” replied Aneta; “but the difference lies in +the fact that the grocer’s wife is very much higher up in the +social scale than the East End woman.”</p> +<p>“Oh my dear child, this is really appalling! I have always +distrusted that Miss Howland. Does Mrs. Ward know of your +project?”</p> +<p>“Not yet, but she will to-night.”</p> +<p>“And what am I to do when I visit this person?”</p> +<p>“Just look your dear, sweet, dignified self, and allow me to +do the talking.”</p> +<p>“I think you have taken leave of your senses.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t taken leave of my senses, and I would do more +than I am now doing to help a fine girl round a nasty corner. +So cheer up, auntie! After we have seen Mrs. Martin we have +to go on and visit the grocer.”</p> +<p>“Aneta, that I do decline!”</p> +<p>“I am sure you won’t decline. But let us think of Mrs. +Martin herself first, and try to remember that by birth she is +a lady.”</p> +<p>Just at this moment the carriage drew up outside a post-office. +There was a short delay while Laburnum Villa was +being inquired for by the footman. At last the street in which +this small suburban dwelling was situated was discovered, +and a few minutes later the carriage, with its splendid horses +and two servants on the box, drew up before the green-painted +door.</p> +<p>The villa was small, but it was exceedingly neat. The +little brass knocker shone, even though yesterday was a day +of such fog. The footman came to the carriage-door to make +inquiries.</p> +<p>“I will get out,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Hadn’t James best inquire if the woman is in?” said Lady +Lysle.</p> +<p>“No, I think I will,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>She went up the narrow path and rang the front-door bell. +Tildy opened the door. The new cook had been peeping above +the blinds in the kitchen. Tildy had hastily put on a white +apron, but it is to be regretted that a smut was once more on +her cheek. Somehow, Aneta liked her all the better for that +smut.</p> +<p>“I want to see your mistress, Tildy,” she said. “It is +something about Miss Maggie, and I am, as you know, one of +her schoolfellows.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>“Lor’, miss! yes, for certain, miss. Mrs. Martin ’ll be that +proud, miss.”</p> +<p>“I have brought my aunt with me,” said Aneta. “She +would like to come in too in order to see Mrs. Martin.”</p> +<p>“Yes, miss; in course, miss. There’s no fire lit in the +drawin’-room. But there’s the dinin’-room; it do smell a bit +smoky, for master ’e loves ’is pipe. ’E smokes a lot in the +dinin’-room, miss.”</p> +<p>“Show us into the dining-room,” said Aneta. She ran back +to fetch Lady Lysle, and conducted that amazed and indignant +woman into the house.</p> +<p>Tildy rushed upstairs to fetch her mistress. “You get into +your best gown in no time, mum. There’s visitors downstairs—that +most beauteous young lady who spoke to me yesterday +at Aylmer House, and a lady alongside of ’er as ’u’d make +yer ’eart quake. Ef Queen Victoria was alive I’d say yes, it +was ’erself. Never did I mark such a sweepin’ and ’aughty +manner. They’re fine folks, both of ’em, and no mistake.”</p> +<p>“Did they give their names?” asked Mrs. Martin.</p> +<p>“I didn’t even arsk, mum. They want to see you about our +Miss Maggie.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will go down. What a queer, early hour for +visitors! What dress shall I wear, Tildy?”</p> +<p>“I’d say the amber satin, mum, ef I’d a voice in the choice. +You look elegant in it, mum, and you might ’ave your black +lace shawl.”</p> +<p>“I don’t think I will wear satin in the morning,” said Mrs. +Martin.</p> +<p>Tildy helped her into a dark-brown merino dress, one of +her extensive trousseau. Mrs. Martin then went downstairs, +prepared to show these visitors that she was “as good as +them, if not better.” But the glimpse of the carriage and +horses which she got through the lobby-window very nearly +bowled her over.</p> +<p>“Go in, mum, now; you’ve kept them waitin’ long enough. +I can serve up an elegant lunch if you want it.”</p> +<p>Tildy felt almost inclined to poke at her mistress in order +to hurry her movements. Mrs. Martin opened the dining-room +door and stood just for a minute on the threshold. She +looked at that moment a perfect lady. Her gentle, faded face +and extreme slimness gave her a grace of demeanor which +Lady Lysle was quick to acknowledge. She bowed, and looked +at Aneta to speak for her.</p> +<p>“How do you do, Mrs. Martin,” said that young lady. “I +am Aneta Lysle, one of your daughter’s schoolfellows. My +aunt, Lady Lysle”—Mrs. Martin bowed—“has kindly come +with me to see you. We want to have a little confidential talk +with you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, indeed!” said Mrs. Martin. “Has Maggie done anything +wrong? She always was a particularly troublesome +girl.”</p> +<p>“I quite agree with you,” said Lady Lysle. At that moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +she had an idea of Maggie in disgrace and banished from +Aylmer House, which pleased her.</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin stopped speaking when Lady Lysle said this.</p> +<p>“Doubtless you agree with me, Mrs. Martin,” continued the +lady, “that your daughter would do better at another school.”</p> +<p>“Oh no,” said Mrs. Martin; “we wish her—Bo-peep and I—I +mean James and I—to stay where she is.”</p> +<p>“And so do I wish her to stay where she is,” said Aneta.—“Auntie +darling, you don’t quite understand; but Mrs. Martin +and I understand.—Don’t we, Mrs. Martin?”</p> +<p>“Well, I am sure,” said Mrs. Martin, “I haven’t the faintest +idea what you are driving at, Miss—Miss Lysle.”</p> +<p>“Well, it is just this,” said Aneta. “You sent a letter yesterday +to Maggie.”</p> +<p>“I did,” said Mrs. Martin; “and great need I had to send it.”</p> +<p>“In that letter you informed Maggie that you and your +husband were coming to see her to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Bo-peep wishes—I mean, James wishes—to.”</p> +<p>“Really, Aneta, had not we better go?” said Lady Lysle.</p> +<p>“Not yet, auntie, please.—Mrs. Martin, I begged for a holiday +to-day on purpose to come and see you.”</p> +<p>“If it’s because you think I’ll keep James—Bo-peep—I +mean James—from having his heart’s wish, I am sorry you +have wasted your time,” said Mrs. Martin. “The fact is, he +is very angry indeed with Maggie. He considers her his own +child now, which of course is true, seeing that he has married +me, and I really can’t go into particulars; but he is determined +to see her and to see Mrs. Ward, and he’s not a bit ashamed of +being—being—well, what he is—an honorable tradesman—a +grocer.”</p> +<p>“But perhaps you are aware,” said Lady Lysle, “that the +daughters of grocers—I mean tradesmen—are not admitted to +Aylmer House.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin turned her frightened eyes on the lady. “Maggie +isn’t the real daughter of a tradesman,” she said then. +“She is only the stepdaughter. Her own father was”––</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Aneta, “we all know what her own father was—a +splendid man, one of the makers of our Empire. We are +all proud of her own father, and we do not see for a moment +why Maggie should not live up to the true circumstances of +her birth, and I have come here to-day, Mrs. Martin, to ask +you to help me. If you and your husband come to Aylmer +House there will be no help, for Maggie will certainly have to +leave the school.”</p> +<p>“Of course, and the sooner the better,” said Lady Lysle.</p> +<p>“But if you will help us, and prevent your husband from +coming to our school to-morrow, there is no reason whatever +why she shouldn’t stay at the school. Even her expenses can +be paid from quite another source.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin looked intensely nervous. A bright spot of +color came into her left cheek. Her right cheek was deadly +pale. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>“I—I cannot help it,” she said. “I never meant Bo-peep +to go; I never wished him to go. But he said, ‘Little-sing, I +will go’—I—I forgot myself—of course you don’t understand. +He is a very good husband to me, but he and Maggie +never get on.”</p> +<p>“I am sure they don’t,” said Aneta with fervor.</p> +<p>“Never,” continued Mrs. Martin. “I got on with her only +with difficulty before I married my present dear husband. I +am not at all ashamed of his being a grocer. He gives me +comforts, and is fond of me, and I have a much better time +with him than I had in shabby, dirty lodgings at Shepherd’s +Bush. I don’t want him to go to that school to-morrow; but +I thought it right to let Maggie know he was coming, for, all +the same, go he will. When James puts his foot down he is a +very determined man.”</p> +<p>“This is altogether a most unpleasant interview,” said Lady +Lysle, “and I have only come here at my niece’s request.—Perhaps, +Aneta, we can go now.”</p> +<p>“Not yet, auntie darling.—Mrs. Martin, Maggie and I had a +long talk yesterday, and will you put this matter into my +hands?”</p> +<p>“Good heavens! what next?” murmured Lady Lysle to +herself.</p> +<p>“Will you give me your husband’s address, and may I go +to see him?”</p> +<p>“You mean the—the—shop?” said Mrs. Martin.</p> +<p>“I don’t go into that shop!” said Lady Lysle.</p> +<p>“Yes, I mean the shop,” said Aneta. “I want to go and see +him there.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he will be so angry, and I am really terrified of him +when he is angry.”</p> +<p>“But think how much more angry he will be if you don’t +give me that address, and things happen to-morrow which +you little expect. Oh! please trust me.”</p> +<p>Aneta said a few more words, and in the end she was in +possession of that address at Shepherd’s Bush where Martin +the grocer’s flourishing shop was to be found.</p> +<p>“Thank you so very much, Mrs. Martin. I don’t think you +will ever regret this,” said the girl.</p> +<p>Lady Lysle bowed to the wife of the grocer as she went out, +but Aneta took her hand.</p> +<p>“Perhaps you never quite understood Maggie,” she said; +“and perhaps, in the future, you won’t have a great deal to +say to her.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to; she never suited me a bit,” said the +mother, “and I am very happy with Bo-peep.”</p> +<p>“Well, at least you may feel,” said Aneta, “that I am going +to be Maggie’s special friend.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Martin stood silent while Lady Lysle and her niece +walked down the little path and got into the carriage. When +the carriage rolled away she burst into a flood of tears. She +did not know whether she was glad or sorry; but, somehow, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +she had faith in Aneta. Was she never going to see Maggie +again? She was not quite without maternal love for her only +child, but she cared very much more for Bo-peep, and quite +felt that Maggie would be a most troublesome inmate of +Laburnum Villa.</p> +<p>“Now, Aneta,” said her aunt as the carriage rolled away, +“I have gone through enough in your service for one day.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t been at all nice, auntie,” said Aneta; “but +perhaps you will be better when you get to the shop.”</p> +<p>“I will not go to the shop.”</p> +<p>“Auntie, just think, once and for all, that you are doing +a very philanthropic act, and that you are helping me, whom +you love so dearly.”</p> +<p>“Of course I love you, Aneta. Are you not as my own +precious child?”</p> +<p>“Well, now, I want you to buy no end of things at Martin’s +shop.”</p> +<p>“Buy things! Good gracious, child, at a grocer’s shop! But +I get all my groceries at the Stores, and the housekeeper +attends to my orders.”</p> +<p>“Well, anyhow, spend from five to ten pounds at Martin’s +to-day. You can get tea made up in half-pound packets and +give it away wholesale to your poor women. Christmas is +coming on, and they will appreciate good tea, no matter where +it has been bought from.”</p> +<p>“Well, you may go in and give the order,” said Lady Lysle; +“but I won’t see that grocer. I will sit in the carriage and +wait for you.”</p> +<p>Aneta considered for a few minutes, and then said in a sad +voice, “Very well.”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle looked at her once or twice during the long +drive which followed. Aneta’s little face was rather pale, but +her eyes were full of subdued fire. She was determined +to carry the day at any cost.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV_A_VISIT_TO_THE_GROCER' id='CHAPTER_XXIV_A_VISIT_TO_THE_GROCER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<h3>A VISIT TO THE GROCER.</h3> +</div> +<p>James Martin abhorred the aristocracy—so he said. Nevertheless, +he greatly admired his elegant wife in her faded +beauty. He liked to hear her speak, and he made some effort +to copy her “genteel pronunciation.” He also, in his inmost +heart, admired Maggie as a girl of spirit, although not a beautiful +one. He had his own ideas with regard to female loveliness, +and, like all men, was impressed and attracted by it.</p> +<p>On this special foggy day, as he was standing behind his +counter busily engaged attending to a customer who was +only requiring a small order to be made up, he gave a visible +start, raised his eyes, dropped his account-book, let his pencil +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +roll on to the floor, and stared straight before him. For +somebody was coming into the shop—somebody so very beautiful +that his eyes were dazzled and, as he said afterwards, +his heart melted within him. A radiant-looking girl, with +wonderful blue eyes and hair of the color of pure gold, a girl +with a refined face—most beautifully dressed—although Martin +could not quite make out in what fashion she was apparelled—came +quickly up to the counter and then stood still, +waiting for some one to attend to her. The other men in the +shop also saw this lovely vision, and an attendant of the +name of Turtle sprang forward to ask what he could do.</p> +<p>“I want to see Mr. Martin,” said the silvery voice.</p> +<p>Martin felt pleased, and said <i>sotto voce</i>, “Chuck it, Turtle; +you’re out of it, old boy.” A minute later he was standing before +Aneta, inquiring in a trembling voice what he could do +for her.</p> +<p>“I want to order fifty pounds of tea to be made up in half-pound +packets and sent to my aunt, Lady Lysle, 16<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>b</span> Eaton +Square,” said Aneta. “The tea will be paid for on delivery, +and please let it be the very best. I also want a hundred +pound-packets of the best currants, and a hundred pound-packets +of the best sugar.”</p> +<p>“Demerara, miss, or loaf?” inquired Martin, tremblingly +putting down the order.</p> +<p>“Loaf, I think,” said Aneta. “Will you kindly send everything +within the next day or two to Eaton Square, 16<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>b</span>, to +Lady Lysle?”</p> +<p>“I will enter her ladyship’s name in my book. Yes, it +shall be done,” said Martin.</p> +<p>He looked at Aneta, and Aneta looked straight back at him.</p> +<p>“Mr. Martin,” she said suddenly, “I am the school-friend +of your stepdaughter, Maggie Howland. May I have a little +conversation with you in your private room?”</p> +<p>“Ah, I thought there was something!” said Martin. “To +be sure, miss,” he added.—“Turtle, you see that this order +is <i>h</i>executed. It’s for her ladyship, Lady Lysle, 16<span style='font-variant:small-caps'>b</span> Eaton +Square.—Come this way, my lady.”</p> +<p>“I am only Miss Lysle,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>All the attendants in the shop gazed in wonder as the beautiful +girl and the excited Martin went into the little parlor +at the back of the business establishment. There Martin +stood with his hands behind him; but Aneta sank into a low +chair.</p> +<p>“I want to ask you a great favor, Mr. Martin,” said the +girl. She looked full up at him as she spoke.</p> +<p>Martin thought that he had never in his life seen such melting +and lovely blue eyes before. “She bowls me over,” he +kept saying to himself. “I hate the aristocrats, but somehow +she bowls me over.”—“Anything in my power, miss,” +he said aloud, and he made a low bow, pressing his hand to +his chest.</p> +<p>“I think,” said Aneta—“indeed, I am sure—to judge from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +your most flourishing shop—that you are a good business +man.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, there’s no doubt on that point, Miss—Miss +Lysle.”</p> +<p>“But you would like to extend your custom?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Business is always business to me,” replied Martin.</p> +<p>“Well, the fact is, it lies in my power to induce my aunt, +Lady Lysle, to get her groceries from you. She has a large +establishment and sees a great deal of company. She gets +them now at the Army and Navy Stores, but I haven’t the +slightest doubt that she would not object to have them from +you.”</p> +<p>“You are exceedingly good, Miss Lysle, and I am sure anything +that her ladyship ordered should have my very best +attention; in fact, I should make it my business to get in +specially good things for her. If I might let you into a business +secret, miss, the people round here don’t want the very +best things; they don’t, so to speak, appreciate them.”</p> +<p>“I quite understand that,” said Aneta. “Of course Lady +Lysle would require the very best.”</p> +<p>“She should have the best, miss; I’d be proud of her custom. +Things should be punctually delivered; just an order +overnight, and my cart would convey them to her ladyship’s +door at an early hour on the following day.”</p> +<p>“Yes, it could be arranged,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“Then, perhaps, miss,” said Mr. Martin, who saw brilliant +prospects opening before him, and the possibility of a West +End shop, a genuine West End shop, being his, as well as the +profitable establishment at Shepherd’s Bush, “her ladyship +might be so kind as to recommend me to others.”</p> +<p>“It is possible,” said Aneta coldly; “but of course I can +only speak for my aunt herself.” Then she added, “And even +for her I cannot quite speak, although I believe the matter +can be arranged. I have given you a large order to-day.”</p> +<p>“You have, Miss Lysle, and most faithfully will it be attended +to.”</p> +<p>Martin took out his red silk handkerchief and mopped his +forehead.</p> +<p>“Now,” said Aneta gently, “I haven’t come here all the +way from Aylmer House, and practically given up a day of +my school-life, for nothing. I have come on behalf of another.”</p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” said Martin, “so the cat’s going to be let out +of the bag.”</p> +<p>Aneta colored.</p> +<p>Martin saw he had gone too far, and immediately apologized. +“You will forgive my coarse way of expressing myself, +miss. I know it isn’t done in your circle.”</p> +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” said Aneta. “I will come to the point +at once. I am interested in Miss Howland.”</p> +<p>“Ah! my little stepdaughter. I keep her at a fine, smart +school, don’t I? I do the knowing by her, don’t I?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p> +<p>“Well, all I want you to do in future—and I believe her +mother will consent, for I have seen Mrs. Martin this morning”––</p> +<p>“You went to Laburnum Villa this morning? Tasty place, +that, eh?”</p> +<p>“Yes, a very comfortable sort of house. My aunt, Lady +Lysle, and I went together.”</p> +<p>“Her ladyship and you?”</p> +<p>“We drove there.”</p> +<p>“I hope the neighbors saw,” said Martin. “They’ll come +in shoals to see Little-sing after they’ve peeped at her ladyship’s +carriage.”</p> +<p>Aneta could scarcely keep back a smile.</p> +<p>“Mr. Martin,” she said, “if I do what I intend for you—and +it lies in my power—will you please not come to Aylmer +House to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“Ho, hi! And why not? Ashamed of me, eh?”</p> +<p>“Not at all,” said Aneta. “I am not ashamed of you in your +walk in life; but I think it would be best for Maggie if you +did not come; therefore I ask you not to do so.”</p> +<p>“But the girl’s my girl.”</p> +<p>“No, she is her mother’s daughter; and, to tell the truth, +we all want—I mean, my aunt and I, and others—to have +her to ourselves, at least until she is educated.”</p> +<p>“But, come now, miss, that’s all very fine. Who pays for +her education?”</p> +<p>“Her father’s money.”</p> +<p>“So she let that out?” said Martin.</p> +<p>“I know about it,” said Aneta. “That is sufficient. Now, +Mr. Martin, I ask you to become grocer to my aunt, Lady Lysle, +of Eaton Square, and to any friends who she may recommend, +on the sole condition that you do not come to Aylmer +House, and that you allow Maggie Howland to spend the holidays +with us.”</p> +<p>“Oh, my word, I am sure I don’t care,” said Martin,</p> +<p>“You promise, then?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I promise fast enough. If you’re going to take Maggie +and bring her up a fine lady she’ll never suit me. All +I beg is that she doesn’t come back to me like a bad penny +some day.”</p> +<p>“That I can absolutely assure you she will never do. I am +exceedingly obliged to you. Will you come with me now +and let me say a few words to my aunt; for as you have +made your definite promise to leave Maggie alone, my aunt +must make a definite promise to you.”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle was much astonished, as she sat wearily in her +carriage, when a red-faced, bald-looking, stout grocer accompanied +her elegant young niece to the carriage-door.</p> +<p>“Aunt Lucia,” said Aneta, “this is Mr. Martin.”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle gave the faintest inclination of her head.</p> +<p>“Proud to see your ladyship,” said Martin.</p> +<p>“I have been making arrangements with Mr. Martin,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +Aneta, “and on certain conditions he will do what I want. +Will you please, in future, get your groceries from him?”</p> +<p>“I will faithfully attend to you, my lady, if agreeable to +you. I will come weekly for <i>h</i>orders. I will do anything to +oblige your ladyship.”</p> +<p>“Please, auntie, you’ve got to do it,” said Aneta.</p> +<p>“My dear, it depends on Watson, my housekeeper.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll manage Watson,” said Aneta, springing lightly +into the carriage, her face all beams and smiles.—“It is quite +right, Mr. Martin; and you will get your second order this +evening. You won’t forget about the tea and currants and +sugar for the poor people.—Now, auntie, will you drive me +back to Aylmer House, or shall we go straight to Eaton +Square?”</p> +<p>“Eaton Square, I think.”</p> +<p>“Good-day, Mr. Martin.”</p> +<p>The carriage rolled out of sight. Martin stood bareheaded +in the doorway of his shop. There was not a prouder man +than he in the whole of Christendom. When he returned to +the sacred precincts of the shop itself he said to Turtle, +“Fresh customer, Turtle—West End, Turtle. That’s a fine +young lady—eh, Turtle?”</p> +<p>“The most beautiful young female I ever saw,” returned +Turtle.</p> +<p>“When I ask you what you think of her personal appearance +you can tell me, Turtle. Now, go and attend to the shop.”</p> +<p>Meanwhile Aneta, her heart full of thankfulness, accompanied +her aunt to Eaton Square.</p> +<p>“I have got what I want,” she said, “and dear Maggie is +practically saved; and you have done it, auntie. You will +feel happier for this to your dying day.”</p> +<p>Lady Lysle said that at the present moment she did not +feel specially elated at the thought of getting her tea and +numerous groceries at a shop in Shepherd’s Bush; but Aneta +assured her that that was a very tiny sacrifice to make for +so great an end as she had in view.</p> +<p>“It will help Mr. Martin,” she said. “He is not a gentleman, +and doesn’t pretend to be, but he’s a good, honest tradesman; +and perhaps Mrs. Ward, too, will give him some of her +custom.”</p> +<p>“Well, my dear Aneta, if you’re happy, I have nothing to +say,” responded her aunt. “But you must tackle Watson, for +I really cannot attempt it.”</p> +<p>Aneta did tackle the old housekeeper to some purpose. At +first there were objections, protests, exclamations; but Aneta +was sure of her ground. Did not Mrs. Watson idolize the girl, +having known her from her earliest days?</p> +<p>About tea-time a tired and triumphant girl returned to +Aylmer House. She had had her way. The great difficulty +was overcome. Maggie, looking pale and tired, was having +tea with the others. Aneta sat down by her side. Maggie +turned anxious eyes towards the queen of the school whom +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +she used to fear and almost hate. But there was no hatred +now in Maggie’s eyes. Far, far from that, she looked upon +Aneta as a refuge in the storm. If Aneta could not get her +out of her present trouble no one could.</p> +<p>“You will be very busy during the leisure hours this afternoon,” +said Aneta when the meal was coming to an end. “But, +first of all, I want to speak to you just for a minute or two.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“We have done tea now. May Maggie and I go away by ourselves, +please, Miss Johnson, for a few minutes?” said Aneta.</p> +<p>Miss Johnson signified her consent, and the two queens +left the room together. The other girls looked after them, +wondering vaguely what was up.</p> +<p>“Maggie,” said Aneta, “I have managed everything.”</p> +<p>“Aneta—you haven’t”––</p> +<p>“Yes; he isn’t coming to-morrow, nor is your mother; and +Aunt Lucia has invited you to spend the Christmas holidays +with us. You can see your mother occasionally; but, somehow +or other, Maggie dear, you are to be my friend in future; +and—oh, Maggie!”</p> +<p>“Oh Aneta! how can I ever, ever thank you?”</p> +<p>“Well, the beginning of the way is a little hard,” said +Aneta. “Come now, at once, straight to Mrs. Ward, and tell +her every single thing.”</p> +<p>“She will expel me if I do,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“That I know she will not. She is too true and dear and +kind. Besides, I will stay with you all the time while you +are telling her. Come, quick. You can get your confession +over in a very few minutes.”</p> +<p>“Oh Aneta! for you I would do anything. But how did you +manage to get my dreadful stepfather to give up his plan.”</p> +<p>“That matters little. He has given it up. Now, come. +There’s much to do to prepare for to-morrow; but you must +get your confession over first.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward always had her tea alone, and she was just finishing +it on this special evening when there came a tap at +her door, and, to her great amazement, Aneta and Maggie +entered, holding each other’s hands.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Ward, Maggie has something to say to you.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Maggie; and then in a few broken words, choked +by tears of true repentance, she told her story. She had been +ashamed of her stepfather. She had been deceitful. She +had been afraid to confess that she was taken at a lower fee +than the other girls at the school. She had gone out, without +leave, to sell one of her own father’s treasures. Everything +was told. Mrs. Ward looked very grave as the girl, with bent +head, related the story of her deceit and wrong-doing.</p> +<p>“I know you can expel me,” said Maggie.</p> +<p>“But you will not,” said Aneta. “I feel sure of that, for I, +who never cared for Maggie until now, love her with all my +heart. There will be no rivalry in the school any more, and +dear Maggie must not go.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></p> +<p>“Oh, if you would keep me! If you would keep me,” said +Maggie, “and give me one more chance!”</p> +<p>“Have you asked God to forgive you, Maggie?” said Mrs. +Ward.</p> +<p>“I cannot, somehow; my heart is so cold. But if—if you +would”––</p> +<p>“We will ask Him together,” said Mrs. Ward.</p> +<p>There and then she knelt down, and Aneta and Maggie knelt +at each side of her, and she said a few words of prayer which +touched Maggie’s heart as no words had ever touched it +before. “Keep from her all hurtful things, and give her those +things which are necessary for her salvation,” pleaded the +mistress.</p> +<p>Suddenly Mrs. Ward’s hand was taken by Maggie and covered +with kisses. “Oh, I will try!” she said; “I will try +hard to be really good! And,” she added, “I will take any punishment +you give me.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward looked at her with sparkling eyes. She was +a very keen observer of character. She put her hand under +the girl’s chin and looked into her downcast face.</p> +<p>“My dear,” she said, “full and absolute forgiveness means +the doing away with punishment. You have suffered sorely; +I will not add to your suffering in any way. Now, go and +prepare for to-morrow’s entertainment.—Aneta, you will stay +with me for a few minutes.”</p> +<p>Maggie left the room, but in a short time she returned. +She carried in her arms the two tin boxes which contained +her father’s treasures.</p> +<p>“I want you to keep these for me, or to sell them, or to do +what you like with them,” said Maggie. She then immediately +left the room.</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward and Aneta bent over the treasures. Mrs. Ward +gave a start of great surprise when she saw them.</p> +<p>“Why, these,” she said, “are a fortune in themselves.”</p> +<p>“I thought so,” said Aneta, her eyes sparkling. “I felt sure +of it. We must get that brooch back from Pearce.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Aneta; I will send Miss Johnson round for it at once. +What did you say he gave Maggie for it?”</p> +<p>“Five pounds, Mrs. Ward.”</p> +<p>“It is very honest of him to offer to restore it to her. Ring +the bell, dear, and Lucy Johnson will come.”</p> +<p>Miss Johnson was very much interested when she saw the +sparkling treasures.</p> +<p>“Maggie’s!” she exclaimed. “I am glad she has given them +to you to take care of for her. I was always terrified at her +keeping such priceless things in her drawer.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Ward gave the girl some directions and the necessary +money; she went off to fulfill her errand in considerable +amazement. Lucy returned in less than half-an-hour with +the lovely little brooch, which was immediately added to the +collection.</p> +<p>“The best person to see these, as you suggested, Aneta,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +said Mrs. Ward, “is Sir Charles Lysle. They are really no +good to Maggie, but ought to be sold for their utmost value +for her benefit. She has many fine points, and considerable +strength of character; and if you take her up, dear, I feel +certain that she will be saved from all those things which +would ruin a nature like hers.”</p> +<p>“I mean to take her up,” said Aneta with spirit.</p> +<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Ward, “the first thing to do is to get to-morrow +over. I have no doubt it will be a success. Meanwhile, +will you write a line to your uncle, Sir Charles, and +ask him if he can call here to see these treasures?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I will write to him at once,” said Aneta. “He spends +most of his time at the British Museum. Couldn’t I send +him a wire, Mrs. Ward, and then he would come to-night?”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is a very good idea. Do so, my love.”</p> +<p>The girls had a very spirited rehearsal, and Maggie was +her old vivacious, daring, clever self once more. That inward +change which no doubt had taken place brought an added +charm to her always expressive face.</p> +<p>Between seven and eight that evening Aneta’s uncle, Sir +Charles, arrived. He and Mrs. Ward had a long consultation. +His opinion was that the bracelets and other curios were +worth at least seven thousand pounds, and that such a sum +could easily be obtained for them.</p> +<p>“In fact, I myself would buy them for that figure,” said +Sir Charles. “It is not only that there are in this collection +some unique and valuable stones; but the history, the setting, +and the make of these ancient relics would induce the British +Museum to buy many of them. Doubtless, however, Miss +Howland will get the biggest price of all for them if they are +auctioned at Christie’s.”</p> +<p>Before she went to bed that night Aneta told Maggie that +she was by no means a penniless girl, and that if she would +consent to having her father’s treasures sold she would have +sufficient money to be well educated, and have a nice nest-egg +in the future to start in any profession she fancied.</p> +<p>“Oh Aneta, it is all too wonderful!” said poor Maggie—“to +think of me as I am to-night, and of me as I felt last night +when I wanted to lose myself in the London fog. Aneta, I can +never love you enough!”</p> +<p>“You want a good long sleep,” she said. “Think of to-morrow +and all the excitement which lies before us!”</p> +<p>Maggie did sleep soundly that night, for she was quite worn +out, and when Saturday arrived she awoke without a fear and +with a wonderful lightness of heart. The day of the festival +and rejoining passed without a hitch. The supper was delightful. +The tableaux vivants were the best the school had +ever seen. The games, the fun, made the Cardews at least +think that they had entered into a new world.</p> +<p>But perhaps the best scene of all came at the end when +Aneta went up to Maggie and took her hand, and, still holding +it, turned and faced the assembled school. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>“Maggie and I don’t mean to be rival queens any longer,” +she said. “We are joint-queens. All Maggie’s subjects are +my subjects and all my subjects are Maggie’s. Any girl who +disapproves of this, will she hold down her hand? Any girl +who approves, will she hold her hand up in the air?”</p> +<p>Instantly all the pairs of hands were raised, and there was +such a clapping and so many cheers for the queens who were +no longer rival queens that mademoiselle was heard to exclaim, +“But it is charming. It makes the heart to bound. I do +love the English manner, and Mademoiselle Aneta, <i>si jolie, si +élégante</i>; and Mademoiselle Maggie, who has a large charm. +I do make homage to them as the two queens. I would,” +she continued, turning and clasping Miss Johnson’s hands, “be +a schoolgirl myself to be a subject of them.”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>A few words will suffice to end this story. Lady Lysle +might be proud and perhaps somewhat disdainful, but she +was at least as good as her word, and in a very short time +Martin the grocer thought it worth his while to open a very +smart-looking shop in the West End. This shop Lady Lysle +took a curious interest in and recommended to her friends, +so that Martin began to do as sound a business in the neighborhood +of Eaton Square as he did in Shepherd’s Bush. Of +all things in the world, he liked best to make money, and +he was quite glad to be rid of Maggie when his own prospects +became golden owing to her absence from his premises.</p> +<p>As to Mrs. Martin, she was content to see her daughter occasionally.</p> +<p>Maggie’s curios were all sold, except the little brooch +(which she kept for herself in memory of her father), for a +sufficiently large sum to pay for her education and to leave her +enough money to do well for herself by-and-by. Having no +longer anything to conceal, and under the beautiful, brave +influence of Aneta, she became quite a different girl. That +strength of character and that strange fascination which were +her special powers were now turned into useful channels. +Maggie could never be beautiful, but her talents were above +the average, and her moral nature now received every stimulus +in the right direction. Merry Cardew could love her, +and gain good, not harm, from her influence. But, strange to +say—although perhaps not strange—Aneta was her special +friend. It was with Aneta that Maggie mostly spent her holidays. +It was Aneta’s least word that Maggie obeyed. It was +for Aneta’s approval that Maggie lived.</p> +<p>Queens of the school they still remain, each exercising her +influence in her own way, and yet both working in perfect +harmony.</p> +<p>“Have they not both the characters beautiful?” said +mademoiselle. “I think there is no girl like the English girl.”</p> +<p>Doubtless she is right.</p> +<p style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:1em'>THE END</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad1.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div style='text-align:center'> +<img alt='ad page' src='images/illus-ad2.jpg' /> +</div> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0513a --> +<!-- timestamp: Thu May 14 21:38:46 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The School Queens, by L. T. 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