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diff --git a/45432.txt b/45432.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e203943..0000000 --- a/45432.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8740 +0,0 @@ - MONICA'S CHOICE - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: Monica's Choice -Author: Flora E. Berry -Release Date: April 18, 2014 [EBook #45432] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONICA'S CHOICE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - *[Frontispiece: "THE YOUNG CLERGYMAN CLIMBED - CAREFULLY BUT QUICKLY DOWN TO THEM" - (missing from book)]* - - - - - MONICA'S CHOICE - - - BY - - FLORA E. BERRY - - AUTHOR OF - "NETA LYALL," "IN SMALL CORNERS," ETC. - - - - _WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS_ - - - - London - S. W. PARTRIDGE & CO. - 8 & 9, PATERNOSTER ROW - 1904 - - - - - *CONTENTS* - -CHAP. - - I. "I WISH CONRAD HAD NEVER LEFT HER WITH ME" - II. "SUCH A *DEAR* LITTLE MONKEY!" - III. "I'M MOVED UP!" - IV. "I WISH YOU'D BE FRIENDS WITH ME" - V. "I WANT YOU A MINUTE" - VI. "HE WEREN'T CALLED 'SEIZE-'ER,' FOR NOTHIN'" - VII. "THIS IS MONICA BEAUCHAMP, MOTHER" - VIII. "MIND YOU ARE NOT LATE!" - IX. "HAVE A RIDE, MONICA?" - X. "I LIKE FUSSIN' OVER PEOPLE" - XI. "A NICE ENOUGH LITTLE DOG, AS DOGS GO" - XII. "A HUNGRY FEELING IN MY BRAIN" - XIII. "A NICE SCRAPE SHE'LL GET INTO!" - XIV. "SUNDAY AGAIN ALREADY!" - XV. "OH, MONICA, DON'T!" - XVI. "DO BE CAREFUL, GIRLS" - XVII. "DON'T PERSUADE ME NOT TO, ANY MORE" - XVIII. "I EXPECT IT WILL BE RATHER SLOW AND--POKEY!" - XIX. "YOU TELL THEM, LOIS; I COULDN'T" - XX. "KEEP IT UP, IT ANSWERS VERY WELL" - XXI. "I GUESS I'LL JUST WATCH *YOU* A BIT" - XXII. "I CANNOT SPARE YOU, MONICA!" - XXIII. "IT'S ALL SURPRISES, NOWADAYS" - XXIV. "I THINK MY MONICA DESERVES THE V.C." - XXV. "THE CHILD HAS CHOSEN WELL" - - - - - *LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS* - - -"THE YOUNG CLERGYMAN CLIMBED CAREFULLY BUT QUICKLY DOWN TO THEM" -(missing from book) . . . _Frontispiece_ - -"'YOU HIT HER EXPRESSION TO A T!'" - -"'AH, YOU MAY LAUGH; MEBBE 'TIS NOTHIN' BUT SPORT TO YOUNG LEDDIES LIKE -YOU'" - -"'OH, MISS FRANKLYN, I AM SO AWFULLY SORRY!'" - -"'OH, ROGER! HOW IS SHE?' WHISPERED OLIVE" - -"MONICA GAZED IN UTTER ASTONISHMENT" - - - - - *MONICA'S CHOICE.* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - *"I WISH CONRAD HAD NEVER LEFT HER WITH ME!"* - - -"Tell Miss Monica I wish her to come to me _at once_, Barnes." - -The door closed silently after the retreating maid, and Mrs. Beauchamp -sighed wearily. How often, lately, she had been obliged to send some -such message to her wilful young granddaughter, and, how many more times -would she have the same thing to do? Her aristocratic features wore a -perturbed expression, as her slender fingers toyed mechanically with the -many rings on her left hand; so great a responsibility was her only -grandchild. - -"I am sure I wish Conrad had never left her with me," she mused; "and -yet there seemed no other solution of the difficulty when the regiment -was ordered out to Simla. It was impossible, of course, to take her -with him, and poor Helen was so opposed to boarding-schools. But it has -certainly been a mistake having her here. Such an unruly, passionate -nature as Monica's needs very careful handling, and not one of these -governesses has had the tact to manage her. I'm sure I don't know what -to do about her." - -Mrs. Beauchamp's ruminations were cut short by the abrupt entrance of a -girl of fifteen, tall, and with a haughty mien, but possessing a face -which denoted much character, albeit it wore an unpleasant scowl at the -present moment. Pushing the door to behind her with no gentle hand, so -that it slammed violently, causing a jingling among the pretty -knick-knacks with which the handsome drawing-room was lavishly -ornamented, Monica Beauchamp stood before her grandmother, like a young -lioness at bay. - -"Barnes told me that you had sent for me, grand-mamma." - -With a visible shudder at the noise made by the slamming door, Mrs. -Beauchamp sat erect, and spoke with much annoyance, as she gave the -delinquent an aggrieved look over her gold-rimmed pince-nez. - -"Really, Monica----" she began, in severe tones, but she was -interrupted. - -"Sorry," exclaimed her granddaughter, nonchalantly. "I didn't mean to -hurt your feelings, but doors always seem to slip out of my fingers. -What did you want me for, grandmamma? Would you mind being quick, -because I'm in a great hurry?" - -Even insubordinate Monica quailed before the expressions which flitted -across the old lady's features--amazement, anger, and finally scorn. - -"I am simply _astounded_ at your rudeness, Monica," she said, sternly. -"How you can possibly allow yourself to speak to me in such a manner, I -cannot imagine. It is very evident that you are no Beauchamp." - -The scorn expressed in her grandmother's tones acted in the same way as -a touch of the whip about the ears of a thoroughbred mare. She started, -and tears of wounded pride welled up in her flashing hazel eyes, but -they were quickly forced back. - -"I _am_ a Beauchamp!" she cried, her lips quivering with anger, and her -head thrown back. "Every one says I am my father over again." - -"So you may be, in looks, Monica, but he would never have dreamed of -addressing me in the manner you did just now." - -"Well, perhaps he wasn't aggravated like I am. Miss Thompson is enough -to provoke a saint," she added, _sotto voce_, with a furtive glance at -the old lady's face. - -But Mrs. Beauchamp took no notice of it; indeed, it is doubtful if she -heard the remark, so engrossed was she in deciding how best to deliver -the lecture she had undertaken to give Monica. A startled exclamation -from her grandchild, who had been moodily staring out of one of the -French windows, which overlooked a large sweep of the carriage drive, -effectually roused her. - -"Oh! now he's gone; I do call it too bad!" - -"What do you mean, Monica?" queried the old lady, rising from her chair -and following the direction of Monica's glance. - -"Who has gone?" - -"Why, Tom. The stable-boy, you know, grand-mamma," she added, as Mrs. -Beauchamp looked incredulous. "I was in the yard when you sent for me, -and he was telling me about the jolliest little wire-haired terrier his -father wants to sell, and I----" - -"Monica, how many times have I told you I will not allow you to frequent -the stable-yard? I am sure it is there that you pick up all the vulgar -expressions you are so continually using. I begin to think Miss Thompson -is right in saying you are no lady." - -"Bother Miss Thompson!" cried Monica, now thoroughly angry, and losing -all control of her words; "she's a sly old cat, that's what she is, -spying round after me all day long. It's the only bit of fun I get, -when I----" - -"Be quiet, Monica, and listen to me," said her grandmother, who was -scarcely less angry, but who held herself in admirable check. "It is -quite time that some one controlled you, and I have sent for you this -afternoon to tell you that I am going to----" - -"Send me away to boarding school?" interrupted Monica, her anger -temporarily subsiding, for, of all things, she desired to go away to -school, but it had always been tabooed. "Oh! grandmamma, _do_! I would -really behave well there." And she seized one of the old lady's white -hands impulsively in her warm, and decidedly dirty young fingers, while -the girlish face quivered with excitement, until she looked a totally -different being. But she was doomed to disappointment. - -"Nothing of the kind, Monica," replied Mrs. Beauchamp coldly, and -withdrawing her hand. She never responded to her granddaughter's -advances, which probably accounted for the difficulty she had in dealing -with her; for Monica had a warm heart hidden away somewhere, which no -one but her father had ever reached. "I was going to say, when you so -rudely interrupted me again, that as you have had four governesses -within very little more than a year, who, one and all, have declared -that you are unmanageable, and that it is an utter impossibility to -teach you, I shall be obliged to seek some other mode of education for -you." - -Monica's face, which had fallen considerably at the beginning of her -grandmother's speech, now brightened visibly. - -"There is nothing else but boarding-school left," she said, with -satisfaction. It was to this end that she had made the lives of her -long-suffering instructresses unendurable by her tricks and general -unruliness. - -"You know perfectly well, Monica, that you will never go to a -boarding-school," replied Mrs. Beauchamp. - -"That was only a fad of mother's," said Monica, disdainfully. "Dad -would never have forbidden it. He thought no end of Harrow, and I'm sure -he would let me go to school if you told him what a bother the old -governesses are." - -"He knows what a trouble _you_ are," said her grandmother sententiously, -and her glance fell on a foreign letter lying on her escritoire near by, -which Monica now noticed for the first time. - -"Oh! have you heard from dad, grandmamma? Is there a letter for me?" she -cried eagerly. - -"Yes. I have heard from your father, and there is a letter for you," -Mrs. Beauchamp repeated, slowly, but she did not reach out her hand for -it. - -Impetuous Monica was about to snatch it up, but her grandmother stayed -her hand. - -"Wait, Monica, until I have finished, and then you may take your letter -to the schoolroom to read. For months I did not tell your father a word -about your troublesome ways, but lately you have been so incorrigible -that I was compelled to let him know. And now this letter has come in -reply to mine, and your father is grieved beyond expression. No doubt -he will tell you the same in your letter; and he wishes me to consult -Mr. Bertram, the lawyer, as to which school it will be best to send you -to, immediately. But ... it will be a day-school. Now you may go." - -Monica snatched up the letter handed to her without a word, and was -gone. Mrs. Beauchamp breathed a sigh of relief, and rang the bell for -tea; the letter and consequent interview with her unruly grandchild had -tired her out. - -Meanwhile Monica had fled to her own room, a perfect little paradise, -containing all the things most dear to a young girl's heart. Everything -in it, from the dainty bed to the little rocking-chair beside the open -window, was blue; carpet, curtains, walls, all took the prevailing tint, -and most girls of Monica's age would have revelled in such surroundings, -and have taken a pride in having everything kept in spick-and-span -order, in so charming a domain. But not so Monica; one of her worst -failings was untidiness. The shoes which she had worn out of doors that -morning, and which had been carelessly tossed in a corner, were making -dirty little puddles on the blue and white linoleum: for she had been -caught in a heavy April shower. Her hat and jacket had been tossed -promiscuously on to the most convenient chair; one glove was lying on -the bed, the other--well, as a matter of fact she had dropped that -half-way home, but had not missed it yet; that would mean a fruitless -hunt through drawers, all more or less in confusion, next time she went -out. The comb and brush she had hastily used, to make herself -sufficiently tidy to pass muster with her grandmother at the luncheon -table, were still lying on the dainty little duchesse table, while the -drawer which should have contained them was half open, disclosing a -medley of all kinds. - -These are only samples of "Miss Monica's muddles," as the long-suffering -under-housemaid (whose duty it was to keep the young lady's room in -order) called them. "I can't seem to keep things tidy nohow," she would -confide to the kitchenmaid; "as soon as ever I get it straightened up of -a morning, in she bounces, and begins a-topsy-turvying up of -everything." - -But Monica noticed none of these things; if the room had been in -absolute chaos she would have been oblivious of it, while she held a -thin sheet of foreign paper, covered with her father's writing, in her -hand. - -Pausing only to slip a tiny brass bolt into its place, in order to -secure privacy, she flung herself into the little blue rocker, and tore -open the envelope with eager fingers. - -As she read her letter, a smile of pleasure hovered about her lips, for -her father gave in his own racy style a description of a Hindu _mela_ at -which he had been present the day before; but soon her expression -changed, for his next topic was very different. It was evident that he -was deeply concerned about her behaviour to her grandmother and -governesses, and the thought of her fast growing up into a headstrong, -self-willed young woman grieved him terribly. He spoke of the loving -little girl to whom he had bid farewell only eighteen months before, and -could scarcely imagine that in so short a time she should have become so -changed; what would she be like when he returned to England, if she were -allowed to follow her own way? - -Monica's tears were slowly falling as she reached the last page. She -began to realise, for the first time, that she was disappointing her -father's hopes for his only and much-loved child, and although the -knowledge was painful, it was very salutary. With eyes blinded with -tears, so that the writing seemed blurred and indistinct, she read on to -the end, and then as she saw the well-known signature, she bowed her -proud young head on the broad window-ledge, and sobbed as if her heart -would break. - -"Oh! dad, my darling dad, if only you needn't have left me, I would have -tried to be just what you wanted; but it's all so stiff and dull here, -and I am so lonely without any friend." For several minutes she wept on -unrestrainedly, and then a few lines in the letter recurred to her, and -she looked at it once again. They ran thus-- - -"You see, my child, we must always remember that we are all 'under -authority.' Although I am a colonel, I must obey orders just as -unquestioningly as the youngest recruit, and if my Monica would be a -true soldier's daughter, she must learn first of all to be obedient. It -is a hard, a very hard lesson to learn, and neither you nor I can hope -to master it, unless we ask His help who was obedient even unto death. - -"It is difficult for me to explain what I mean, for I am naturally very -reserved over religious things; but I am confident of this, my child, -that if you took Jesus Christ as your Example, you would grow day by day -more like Him, and you would soon learn to shun all the faults and -failings which now threaten to spoil your character." - -"I wish I could, daddy dear," sighed Monica, as she re-read the lines, -"but there is no one here to help me. I don't believe grandmamma is a -bit religious, for any little excuse is enough to keep her away from -church on Sunday mornings, and she never goes out at night. And all the -time I have been here she has never said a word about it, except to ask -me once or twice if I remember to say my prayers. Neither did any of -the governesses, except Miss Romaine, and grand-mamma was glad when she -went, because she said she had such 'peculiar views.' Well, perhaps -some one at the new school will show me how to be 'good.'" And Monica -tossed her letter into one of the table drawers, and began with -commendable zeal to make herself more tidy than she had been for a long -time. She knew that that was one step in the right direction. - -The next day the family lawyer was closeted with Mrs. Beauchamp for over -an hour. She told him of her son's desire that Monica should go daily -to school, and asked his advice as to a suitable one. - -"There is not much choice in the neighbourhood of Mydenham," said Mr. -Bertram as he tapped his gold-rimmed spectacles meditatively on his -knee. "We are just beyond the suburban limits here, you see, and -consequently suffer in various ways. Let me see, there is Miss Beach's -on the Osmington Road; she receives a few day-scholars, I believe, -although hers is primarily a boarding school." - -"That will not do," replied the old lady decisively. "The late Mrs. -Conrad had a very strong objection to a boarding-school life for -Monica." - -"Certainly, certainly," agreed the obsequious man of law, although he by -no means agreed with the late Mrs. Beauchamp's views; "then I do not see -that there is any other resource than the High school at Osmington." - -"Oh! that is two miles away, and I have never thought very much of High -Schools; there is no restriction as to the social position of the -scholars. Really, I don't think I----" And Mrs. Beauchamp paused -helplessly. - -"If the distance were not an insuperable objection, I think, under the -circumstances, no school could better be calculated to meet with Colonel -Beauchamp's wishes," said the lawyer, with decision. "You say he -expressly desires his daughter to mix with companions of her own age, -and have the opportunity of plenty of open-air exercise, and yet be -under firm, but well-regulated control. As regards its educational -system, I venture to say that in very few respects can the High School -methods be improved upon. Of course, the girls are drawn from varied -ranks, but in a day school it is unnecessary, indeed, it is impossible, -for them to have much opportunity of mixing with more than a few of the -pupils, and naturally your granddaughter would make companions of those -who were in a similar social position to her own." - -"Well, I'm sure I don't know," replied Mrs. Beauchamp, while her face -still wore its perturbed look; "Monica is so rash, she would be just as -likely to choose a butcher's or grocer's daughter as any one else." - -"I doubt if there are many there," said Mr. Bertram, smiling. "I have -always heard that the Osmington school is one of the best, and Mr. Drury -and Canon Monroe have daughters there, as well as many other leading -families." - -"If the Osmington clergy think the school is good enough, I suppose it -is all right," agreed his client, not without some misgivings, still. -"The distance is the difficulty; but Barnes must accompany Monica, and -the regular walks will, no doubt, be good for her." - -"The majority of the pupils who live at a distance bicycle there," -observed the lawyer. - -"Most unwomanly!" was Mrs. Beauchamp's horrified reply. "I cannot -imagine what the mothers of the present day are dreaming of. We might -as well have no girls at all; they seem to become boys as soon as they -can toddle. No, Monica shall not have a bicycle. If she must go to the -school, she must; but she will walk when fine, and Richards will have to -drive her in the brougham when it is wet. I suppose--oh, dear me! I do -wish she had been reasonable and got on with her governesses." - -With an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, Mr. Bertram bade -his client good-day, having undertaken to make all necessary -arrangements. He was a childless man himself, but he felt sure that had -he possessed a high-spirited daughter like Monica, he could have -improved upon Mrs. Beauchamp's method of up-bringing. - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - *"SUCH A *_*DEAR*_* LITTLE MONKEY!"* - - -But there were weightier matters in the lawyer's mind than the choice of -a school for incorrigible girls, and he was soon pondering deeply over a -compensation case, as he strode along the stretch of almost countrified -road which connected the residential district of Mydenham with the -parent town of Osmington. - -He was nearing the latter, and had just consulted his watch, in view of -an important appointment, when, turning a corner sharply, he collided -with a young lady of nineteen or thereabouts, who, with a small brother -and sister, was coming in the opposite direction. - -"I'm _so_ sorry, Mr. Bertram." - -"My dear Miss Franklyn, I beg your pardon," the lawyer ejaculated, as he -straightened his hat and readjusted his spectacles, which had nearly -fallen off in the contretemps. "I hope I didn't hurt you?" and he -looked apologetically into the bright smiling eyes of the girl, who -found it difficult to refrain from laughing outright. - -"Not a bit, thank you," was Kathleen Franklyn's reply. "It was quite as -much my fault as yours. I am afraid I was not looking where I was going; -these chicks were drawing my attention to an organ-grinder, with a -little monkey, across the road." - -As she spoke, she looked round, expecting to find the children close at -hand. But alas! they had seized the opportunity--far too delightful to -lose--of sister Kath's attention being distracted for a moment, and with -wonderful noiselessness and rapidity had crossed the wide road, on which -the traffic was somewhat heavy, and were already some little distance -away, following with a small crowd of children in the wake of the -wonderful monkey. - -"Oh! those naughty children," she cried, "they are always up to -mischief. You and Mrs. Bertram are saved no end of anxiety by having -none." - -"At any rate, they would have got past the monkey-admiring age by now," -was Mr. Bertram's reply, albeit there was a gleam of sadness in his -eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. "But we must go after these young -miscreants speedily." - -"Oh! please don't trouble," said Kathleen as she walked on quickly -beside him; "I shall soon pick them up, and I know you are in a hurry." - -"Because I tried to knock you down," he replied, with an amused laugh. -"The mischief I have done to-day is accumulating terribly." - -"If you have done no one any more harm than you have done me, I think -you need not begin to clothe yourself in sackcloth and ashes on account -of your sins at present," was Kathleen's saucily given reply, as she -shook hands hastily upon reaching Mr. Bertram's office, and hurried -after the children, whom she had kept well in view. - -"A charming girl," soliloquised the little lawyer as he entered his -dull-looking office, and felt as if he had left all the brightness -outside. "Franklyn is to be envied having such a troop of young people -about him. But I daresay he looks at it in quite another light: -probably that of _L s. d_. Well, well, the best of us are never -satisfied, but I must say life would be very different for Mary and me -if we had a bright young thing like Kathleen Franklyn about the house." -And then he turned his attention to legal affairs. - -Meanwhile, Kathleen had succeeded in catching up to the little truants, -and was giving them a lecture on their misbehaviour, in what was -intended to be a very severe tone. - -"It was really _very_ naughty, Joan, very naughty indeed. You are older -than Paddy, and should not have taken him into mischief." And she -looked reproachfully into the dark grey eyes of the little girl, whose -hand she now held tightly. "You might have been knocked down, and run -over, or even lost. All sorts of things might have happened to you," she -added, piling on the agony, for she thought she might as well do it -thoroughly while she was about it. - -"Oh, Kathie, we didn't mean to be naughty, truly we didn't," said little -Joan, somewhat awed by the calamities which her big sister was -enumerating so glibly; "did we, Paddy?" - -"No, didn't mean to be naughty," repeated five-year-old Paddy solemnly, -a simply seraphic look on his sweet little face, which was surrounded by -a halo of golden curls. "But it was such a _dear_ little monkey!" And -he half turned his head, with a longing look after the object of his -affections, now almost out of sight in the distance. - -But Kathleen drew him on. "Well, promise me never to run off like that -alone, again," she said, "or poor mother would be dreadfully upset. -Just fancy if I had gone home without you, what would she have said?" - -"Spect she'd have said 'good riddance'!" was Master Pat's saucy -rejoinder, as he looked roguishly up at his tall sister. - -"Oh! Pat, you are well called 'The Pickle,'" she cried, as she held the -little chubby hand even more tightly, for this baby brother was the pet -and plaything of the whole family, albeit he kept them continually on -thorns with the endless mischief he managed to get into. - -"Must you tell mother we ran away from you, Kathie?" whispered Joan, -beseechingly, as they neared home. She was a very tender-hearted little -maiden, who would seldom have given any trouble but for Paddy's -mischievous suggestions, and the thought of her mother being grieved -troubled her. - -"No, dearie, I don't think we will tell her this time; but you won't do -it again, will you?" said kind-hearted Kathleen, as she pushed open the -heavy iron gate, and the trio walked up the somewhat weed-covered path, -leading to a substantial red brick house, well known in Osmington as Dr. -Franklyn's. - -As they entered the door, a girl of fourteen or so, a younger edition of -Kathleen, rushed out into the hall. - -"What an age you've been, Kath!" she cried impetuously. "Elsa and I -thought you were never coming. Did you get what we wanted?" - -"Yes, yes, Olive, I have it all right, but give me time to breathe," -said Kathleen, as her younger sister began scrimmaging in her pocket. -"Mind you don't upset it!" - -"You dear old granny, how can it be upset if it isn't opened yet?" was -the laughing reply, as Olive succeeded in securing a large tin of -enamel. "But, oh! Kath, what shall we do for a brush?" And her face -fell considerably at the thought. - -"Well, I may be a 'granny,' but even they can be useful, for I had the -sense to bring not only one, but two brushes!" And Kathleen produced -them with a merry laugh. - -"Well, you are a dear old darling"; and Olive hugged her sister -rapturously. "Now Elsa and I can both paint at the same time. Send the -children to Nanny, Kath, and then come up quickly to the 'den.' We've -only half an hour before tea." - -She flew up the shabbily carpeted stairs, two steps at a time, and -finally arrived at the top story, breathless. Bursting into one of the -roomy attics, Olive sank down upon the first chair she came to from -sheer want of breath; but she quickly got up again with an exclamation -of dismay, for she remembered now it was too late that that was where -she had hastily stood the saucer of turpentine she had been using when -she rushed off downstairs to meet Kathleen. - -"What's the matter, couldn't Kath get the paint?" queried a voice from -the other end of the quaint, odd-shaped room, and her twin-sister came -slowly forward. - -Strangers never knew Olive and Elsa Franklyn apart, so much alike were -they in outward appearance, the dark hair and eyes, full rosy lips and -slightly upturned nose of the one being a perfect replica of the other. -But the similarity was only external; in habits and character they were -as widely diverse as the poles. Elsa was as quiet and methodical as -Olive was noisy and impetuous in her actions; indeed their mother -sometimes said she wished they could have been a little less alike -outwardly, and a little more alike inwardly. It would have been better -in every way, she thought; only it was two Elsas, not two Olives, that -she would have chosen. - -"Oh, I say, mother will be frantic!" cried Olive, as she vainly -endeavoured to see the extent of the damage done to her light grey -dress. Fortunately, the saucer did not contain much more than the dregs -of the turpentine cook had given them, somewhat gingerly; but alas! the -old bookcase and table that Olive had been seized with a desire to -rejuvenate, had been scarlet during the last phase of their existence, -so that the turpentine they had been cleaning them with had become -decidedly reddish! Consequently the skirt had taken that tone. - -"You _have_ made yourself in a mess," was all Elsa could say, as she -stood helplessly looking at the ugly stain which was growing visibly -larger, for the material had soaked up all the mixture. - -"If that's all you can do to help, you may just as well go on with your -old hammering," blurted out Olive, her vexation at the mishap fast -turning into anger, for she knew punishment would inevitably follow upon -discovery. "I never did know such a stupid thing as you are, Elsa." -And Olive blinked desperately hard to keep back the tears, which seemed -as if they would choke, as well as blind her. - -"I don't see _what_ you can do," said poor Elsa, bravely refraining from -an angry retort. There were those among her acquaintances who were wont -to declare that she had not sufficient spirit to hold her own with her -somewhat tyrannical twin sister. But Elsa Franklyn had lately learnt -that it is "the soft answer that turneth away wrath;" and although she -was often sorely tempted to return evil for evil, she remembered Him who -never answered back, and day by day the quiet, unobtrusive girl was -growing more like the Saviour whom she humbly sought to please. - -"Hadn't you better change your dress, Olive," she suggested, as her -sister twisted the skirt, first this way, and then that, to get a better -idea of the extent of the damage. - -"Quite a brilliant idea, Miss Elsa," was Olive's sarcastic reply; "just -what I was going to do." And the girl, who knew she had only her own -carelessness to thank for the catastrophe, gave the unoffending chair -such a kick with her foot as she was going out of the door, that the -saucer, which was still upon it, slid off the shiny seat, and falling on -the linoleum-covered floor, was smashed into little bits. - -"Oh, Olive!" - -"Horrid, aggravating thing!" cried the hot-tempered girl. "Won't old -Cookey be mad, though? She wanted to find an odd one, but she couldn't, -so she gave me one of the kitchen set. I _shall_ catch it, when she -knows. But there's no hurry about that, the frock's the worst." - -Meanwhile, Elsa had been carefully collecting all the broken bits of -china into an old box-lid, and was wiping up the floor with some rag -they had been using to clean their woodwork with. For a minute she was -inclined to let Olive bear the brunt of the cook's wrath, as a -punishment for her silly outburst of temper, but the next she said -quietly: "I will take this down to the kitchen, Ollie, and explain to -cook, while you go and change your frock. And if I can find Kathleen -anywhere, I will send her up to you. She will know what had better be -done to it." - -With an incomprehensive look at Elsa, as if such conduct were beyond her -ken, Olive burst out, "Well, you are a dear good creature, Elsa; I'm -sorry now I was cross to you," and she looked affectionately into the -quiet face Elsa lifted to hers, as she rose from her stooping posture. -They were never at variance for long, this pair of twins, for if Olive -was careless and hot-tempered she was also generous and affectionate. - -"I know you didn't mean it," was all Elsa said, but the smile which -irradiated her face at the words of commendation was good to see. - -Elsa soon put matters right with cook (who had been for many years a -faithful servant in the doctor's busy household) and was on her way to -find Kathleen, when she heard her name called. - -"Elsa, dear!" - -Gently pushing open the door of a room that was half bedroom and half -boudoir, she found the object of her search sitting beside a couch on -which reclined a delicate looking lady, who, from the resemblance her -daughter bore her, was unmistakably their mother. - -"Did you want me, mamma?" she said, as she bent over the invalid. - -"Yes, darling, I heard a noise like something falling upstairs a little -while ago, and I was afraid one of you was hurt." - -Elsa had to stoop quite low to hear the whispered words, for it had been -one of the fragile mother's bad days, and she was very weak. - -In a few words Elsa explained the catastrophe, taking care not to make -the worst of Olive's temper; but both the mother and Kathleen read -between the lines. - -The latter rose hastily, a look of annoyance on her girlish face. - -"Really, Olive is too careless," she said indignantly. "She is always -spoiling something; only last week she tore a long zig-zag slit in her -blue serge dress, and now this grey one will be ruined, and she will -have nothing fit to go back to school in. I must go and see what can be -done, I suppose, but I shall give her a good scolding." - -"Don't be too harsh with her, Kathie," pleaded her mother. "It was very -thoughtless of her, I know, but she will soon grow older now and be more -careful. Girls will be girls." And she looked at her tall, handsome -daughter, who had never given her a quarter of the trouble that Olive -had, with admiring and yet wistful eyes. How she wished for the sake of -her eight robust sons and daughters that she had not been compelled, -since Paddy's babyhood, to spend the greater part of her life in her own -room. But yet she could not regret the imprisonment, for it was only -since she had been forced to give up her busy active life in the large -household, where the doctor's income never seemed sufficient to meet the -huge demands made upon it, that she had learnt that bringing up her boys -and girls to be healthy and happy was not all that was necessary. God -had taken the busy mother aside, and had shown her that her children -were only lent to her, to be trained for Him. And she had heard His -loving voice, and was seeking now to do what she could to make amends -for the years of lost opportunities. Her eldest daughter Lois (who, as -far as she could, had taken her mother's place in the household) and -Elsa had already chosen "that good part which shall never be taken -away." But the mother-heart yearned over her two big sons, Roger and -Dick, winsome Kathleen and careless Olive. - -She held Elsa's warm young hand in her nerveless grasp, as Kathleen -closed the door behind her, and drew the girlish face, aglow with -health, down to hers, until their lips met in a long, lingering caress; -this quiet, thoughtful little daughter was a great comfort to her -mother. - -"I am afraid poor Olive was in a temper again, Elsa, for I do not see -how the saucer could have fallen by itself. But do not tell me, dear; I -will speak to her myself when she comes in to see me later on." - -"She doesn't get into a temper _quite_ so often as she used to, mamma," -said Elsa, eager to defend the absentee. "At least, we don't have so -many quarrels now." - -"I can guess why that is," whispered Mrs. Franklyn, tenderly, as she -stroked the dark hair with her soft white fingers; "it takes two to make -a quarrel, I used to be told in my childhood, and my Elsa tries very -hard nowadays not to be one of the two, doesn't she?" - -"Yes, mamma, generally, but I don't always succeed," and the girlish -head was half hidden in the rug which covered her mother's slight form, -so that her words were only just audible. "Sometimes I fail; I did -yesterday when we were having a game, but oh! mamma, I was so sorry -afterwards." And she raised her tear-dimmed eyes to her mother's face. - -"Did you tell Jesus, darling?" - -"Oh! yes, mamma. I always do, directly, and----" - -"He has forgiven you, then, Elsa?" - -"Yes, mamma, I know He has; but oh! I do wish I could remember quicker, -so as not to let the hasty words slip out. It must grieve Him so!" - -"So it does, my childie, but I am sure He is pleased, too, when He sees -how hard you fight against this enemy of yours, and He is only too ready -to help you. Keep looking to Him for strength, Elsa, and go on -persevering, and pray for Olive, dear; her enemy is stronger far than -yours, and she does not try to conquer it." - -"I do, mamma, I do," murmured her little daughter. - -And then the tea-bell sounded through the house, summoning all the young -folk to the large, plainly furnished dining-room where Lois Franklyn -presided over the tea-tray. "Just her mother over again," was Dr. -Franklyn's description of his eldest daughter, but there seemed little -resemblance, nowadays, between the fragile invalid and this tall, -capable young woman of three-and-twenty. Lois was not so handsome as -Kathleen, but there was a certain indescribable charm about her, a -nameless something which was wont to retain the admiration that -Kathleen's more youthful beauty at first sight attracted. - -From furtive glances at Kathleen and Olive, Elsa gathered that no -serious trouble had arisen between the sisters; indeed, Olive seemed on -her best behaviour. So Elsa breathed freely, and concluded that the -turpentine incident had blown over, as no mention was made of it. The -meal passed merrily enough; Kathleen's racy account of her contretemps -with Mr. Bertram amusing them very much. Paddy and Joan were just being -reprimanded by Lois for running away, when Dr. Franklyn appeared on the -scene, tired out after a long round of visits, and his children vied -with each other in making him comfortable. - -"How is your mother, Lois?" was his first query, as she poured out a cup -of tea, and begged him to drink it at once, assuring him that the -invalid had rested a little, and felt a trifle better. - -He drank it hastily, and then set the cup down, saying: "I will have -some more when I come back: only one of you girls need wait for me." - -And Lois, seeing that he was physically worn out, despatched the younger -ones in various directions, as soon as they had finished their tea, and -thus secured a quiet room for her father in which to have his -long-waited-for meal in peace. - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - *"I'M MOVED UP!"* - - -The Rev. Herbert Drury sat in his study chair deep in thought. His -writing table was strewn with letters answered, and unanswered, for he -had been trying to make up arrears in his correspondence that morning. -At his elbow lay his well-worn Bible, open, for very few of his letters -were written without consulting that; but the case under consideration, -just now, needed personal help rather than clerical advice. - -His dark hair, already thickly streaked with grey, although he was less -than forty-five, was crisply cut, and an iron-grey moustache gave him a -decidedly military appearance. His keen, dark eyes could, on occasion, -flash a scrutinising glance, and delinquents felt he must be reading -their very thoughts, but their habitual expression was one of kindly -sympathy. Mr. Drury had only been Vicar of St. Paul's, Osmington, for a -couple of years, but he had won the love and respect of all his clerical -brothers in the neighbourhood, although their doctrinal opinions widely -differed; his was such a singularly attractive personality. His -church-workers felt no work was tedious or uphill, for was not their -vicar interested in every detail, aiding personally every scheme that -was set on foot for the evangelising of the very poverty-stricken part -of the town which comprised his parish. Of money, he had by no means a -superabundance, for the living was a poor one, and he was a younger son; -but, like St. Peter of old, he could say with truth: "Such as I have, -give I thee." - -And if the vicar was beloved, his wife was no less so: she was, in every -sense, a true help-meet. He was thinking of her now, as he considered -the sad case which had just been brought to his notice by a note from -one of the district-visitors, and he decided to ask her advice. He -strode across the study, and opening the door, called "Nora" in a -resonant voice, which was calculated, if necessary, to penetrate to the -topmost story of the roomy vicarage. - -"One minute, dear," was the brisk reply, from the dim recesses of a -store-cupboard at the extreme end of the hall, and in less than that -time Mrs. Drury appeared upon the scene. She was a plump little woman, -with soft brown eyes and hair which waved a trifle, but otherwise was -combed smoothly back from her broad white brow. Her blue serge dress -was enveloped in a large holland apron, for she was on housekeeping work -intent that morning; indeed, her hands bore traces of some floury -substance which she was emptying when the vicar called her. Her bright -face, still young enough to possess a dimple in the chin, was flushed -with the exercise of trotting back and forth between store-cupboard and -kitchen, and to her husband she made a sweet, homely picture as she -entered his study, ready to help him in whatever way he needed. - -"Sit down a minute, Nora," he said, as he pushed an arm-chair forward, -"there is a very sad case here." And the vicar unburdened his mind. - -For a few minutes they chatted over the sad details of the case in -point, and as the vicar had expected, Mrs. Drury's woman's wit saw a way -of helping, quicker than he had done. - -"Well, I will call there first thing this afternoon," he said, as his -wife returned to her interrupted duties. - -As she arranged her stores, she contrasted the sad state of the little -blind girl for whom they had just been planning, with the happy lot of -her own little daughter. "Thank God my precious Amethyst has her -eyesight," she murmured; and then, as a deep-toned clock struck the -hour, she added: "Why, it is striking one! She will be home directly; I -must hurry." - -In a few minutes the stores were all put away, the apron removed, and -Mrs. Drury was standing in the large bay window of the dining-room -watching for her little daughter to return from school, while the -housemaid laid the table for dinner. Very soon she descried a trim -little figure, clad in scarlet, hastening along the pavement, swinging -her lesson books by their strap, and waving her hand gaily in response -to her mother's smile, and in a moment more she was in Mrs. Drury's -arms. - -"Oh! mumsie darling," she cried, breathlessly, "I'm moved up!" - -"Are you, my pet? I'm so glad." And her mother pressed loving kisses -upon the upturned face, all quivering with the excitement of telling her -news. "Then you are in the Upper School now?" - -"Yes, mumsie, the Fourth Form. And Olive and Elsa Franklyn, and Gipsy -Monroe and a lot of others have been moved up too. And oh! mumsie, -there's a new----" - -Here she paused from sheer want of breath, and Mrs. Drury interposed -saying: "You shall tell me your news presently, darling, but now you -must run and make yourself tidy for dinner, for there is the gong." - -A winsome little lassie was Amethyst Drury; at least, so her fond -parents thought. She looked less than her fourteen years, because she -was so very slight, and the pretty fair hair, simply tied back with a -scarlet ribbon, and falling loose about her neck, accentuated the -appearance of fragility. Her scarlet frock was almost hidden by the -white overall pinafore which her mother sensibly insisted upon her -wearing indoors, and which really added to the charm of her appearance. -Amethyst was not specially good-looking, but her soft complexion and -sparkling grey eyes made up for any little defects in her mouth and -nose, the former being a trifle too large, and the latter too -_retrousse_, to be termed strictly pretty. - -"Well, girlie," said her father, as grace having been said he began to -carve the joint of roast beef; "how did you get on the first day of -term?" - -"Pretty well, I think, thank you, father, although the lessons seem -harder now than they did with Miss Hemming; I've brought home a lot for -to-morrow," and Amethyst looked somewhat ruefully at the lesson books -lying on the table in the window. - -"You must expect to pay the penalty of honour," remarked the vicar, who -had, of course, been immediately informed of the change of class. "You -cannot hope to be so high in this form as you were in the other, -Amethyst, because many of these girls will be older than you, I -presume." - -"Yes, father, some of them are, but they can't be very sharp or they -would not have been left behind. I am going to try hard to get near the -top of this class by the time the reports come out," said Amethyst, a -ring of determination in her young voice, as she began to attack her -dinner with a school-girl's appetite. - -Her parents exchanged glances. "My girlie mustn't be too confident of -her own powers," said Mrs. Drury gently, but firmly; "father and I want -you to do your very best to learn well, and grow up to be a clever -woman, but you must not expect to take all the honours, Amethyst." - -"Oh! of course, mumsie, I only meant I was going to do my lessons as -well as I possibly could," and the clear grey eyes met her mother's -unfalteringly. "There are several girls who are really clever, in my -form now, who find it quite easy to learn difficult things. I wish I -did," she added with a little sigh. - -"You must remember the hare and the tortoise, girlie," said the vicar, -with a smile. "If you have more trouble to learn than they do, you may -depend upon it you will remember better. Are there any new girls?" - -"Only one in our form, father, and she comes from Mydenham. Her name is -Monica Beauchamp. I don't think I like her very much," added Amethyst -meditatively. - -"Don't judge hastily, darling," said her mother; "she may be a very nice -girl, when you know her." - -"I am sure you wouldn't like her, mumsie," said her little daughter, -positively, "she seems so off-hand; and once or twice she was quite rude -to Miss Churchill. Why, she actually said----" - -"Hush! dear, no tale-telling. You know, girlie, I only want to hear -nice things about your school companions. Perhaps it would be wiser not -to make a close friend of this Monica, just at present, but always be -kind and courteous. I daresay she feels strange among you all, -especially if she is not accustomed to school. How old is she?" - -"Fifteen; but she is such a big girl, mumsie, quite as tall as some of -the girls in the Fifth. She went in the school door as I did this -morning, and some elderly person was with her. I thought perhaps it was -her mother or aunt, although she didn't look a very kind one; but Monica -said: 'That will do, Barnes, you need not come any farther,' in such a -commanding tone, so I suppose she was a servant." - -"I expect the young lady in question is a granddaughter of Mrs. -Beauchamp, of Carson Rise," remarked Mr. Drury. "I have heard she has -one living with her." - -"Yes, she is, father," said Amethyst, eager to show off her knowledge. -"Olive and Elsa knew her by sight. They said she had had _four_ daily -governesses, and she wouldn't obey one of them. That's why her -grandmother has sent her to school." Amethyst's face wore an awe-struck -expression; such a terrible state of affairs seemed incredible to her. - -"I am surprised at the Franklyns for repeating such a thing. At any -rate _we_ will not discuss this Monica's misdeeds, Amethyst, we have -plenty of faults of our own." Mrs. Drury spoke sternly, and then she -changed the subject. - -Her little daughter looked very abashed, and was quite quiet for a few -minutes; her mother seldom spoke in so severe a tone, her rule was -rather one of love. But she had a great aversion to tittle-tattling, -and endeavoured to check every indication of it in Amethyst's -school-girl talk. - -The cheerful midday meal concluded, the vicar prepared for an -afternoon's parochial visiting. Mrs. Drury got out her work-basket in -order to finish a garment she was making for a poor old woman, who used -to attend her mothers' meeting. Amethyst amused herself with -alternately talking to the canary, whose cage hung in one of the sunny -windows, and playing with a beautiful black and white cat, who stretched -himself lazily on the hearthrug, and blinked his eyes and purred in -appreciation of his little mistress's fondling. - -"Shall I get out my lessons now, mumsie; they will take me a good long -time to-day?" she asked, when she was tired of amusing herself. - -"No, dear, I think you shall leave them until after tea," said Mrs. -Drury, as she sewed on the last button, and folded up her work. "I am -going to take this to old Mrs. Robbins, and you may go with me." - -"Oh, lovely!" cried Amethyst excitedly, as she jumped up with alacrity. -"I like going to see your dear little old women, mumsie. I don't think -I know Mrs. Robbins." - -"I hardly think you do, dear. But come, let us get ready, and go at -once." - -Although St. Paul's Vicarage was situated in a by no means grand -locality, a very few minutes brisk walking brought Mrs. Drury and -Amethyst into widely different surroundings. Long rows of tenement -houses looking on to the ugly brick buildings which comprised the iron -foundry where most of the husbands and sons earned their daily bread, -were traversed before they paused at an almost paintless door, bearing -the number 75, but guiltless of a knocker. - -Applying the handle of her umbrella briskly, Mrs. Drury waited for some -one to admit her. But instead of the door being opened, a feeble voice -was heard saying: "Please come in." And bidding Amethyst follow her, -she turned the rickety handle and entered the squalid-looking house. -For a moment it was so dark after the bright sunlight outside, that she -could scarcely see her way, but she soon descried another door on her -left, and pushing that open, a certain amount of light illumined the -dark passage. - -"Come in, ma'am, do 'ee come in," cried a quavering old voice from the -interior of the room, and Mrs. Drury led Amethyst, who was somewhat shy -of strangers, into the tidy but comfortless apartment, and shut the -door. - -"Well, Mrs. Robbins, how are you to-day?" she enquired sympathetically, -as she gently shook the poor old hand, badly crippled with rheumatism. - -"Only very middlin', ma'am, very middlin'," said the poor old soul, as -she begged her visitors to be seated. Mrs. Drury drew the only -available chair up to the side of the poor miserable bed, and Amethyst -found a little wooden footstool, upon which she perched herself as best -she could. The old woman's dim eyes lit up as she saw the bright face -and hair of her little visitor. - -"La, bless me, ma'am, she's just for all the world like a fairy," she -said, and she struggled to raise her poor old body the better to feast -her eyes on the pretty picture, but a low moan of pain escaped her lips. -"'Tis these screwmatics," she explained, as Mrs. Drury bent over her -tenderly, "my back and legs is awful to-day." - -"Have you had any medicine lately, and who looks after you, Mrs. -Robbins?" said the lady, sympathetically. - -"My darter-in-law looks in most days, and her little gal runs of arrants -for me; they live at No. 68, just below. No, ma'am, I haven't had any -medicine for a good bit now, it don't seem much use like. But there, -ma'am, the Almighty is wonderful good to me. I have never been without -a bite or a sup yet, and there's a many can't say as much as that, poor -things of 'em." - -"Perhaps they don't look to Him for succour as you do," was Mrs. Drury's -gentle reply, as she stroked the poor knotted fingers. - -"Ah, ma'am, that's true, more's the pity of it. I mind when I was young, -like little missy there, my father used to say to me: 'Now, Jemima, my -gal, never you do nothing as'll make you shamed for God Almighty to see, -and you may depend upon it, He'll look to it that you never want.' -Sometimes, when I was young and foolish, I used ter think as there was a -many things I wanted, and never got, but now I'm growing old, and the -Golden City is very near, I seem quite content-like." - -"Shall I just read a few words to you?" said Mrs. Drury, as she opened -her little pocket Bible at the book of the Revelation. - -"Aye, please do, ma'am," and the dear old soul lay placidly listening to -the beautiful description given by St. John of the New Jerusalem, where -there shall be no more pain, hunger, or tears, for those who have been -washed in the blood of the Lamb. - -"Beautiful, beautiful words," murmured old Mrs. Robbins, as she drank in -the comforting promises; "we'll not remember the trials and troubles of -this life when we are up yonder." - -"Now, Amethyst, dear, before we go, just sing a nice hymn for Mrs. -Robbins," said Mrs. Drury, to her little daughter, who had been a silent -spectator so far. - -"What might little missy's name be, ma'am?" enquired the old woman, with -some curiosity. - -"Amethyst," replied Mrs. Drury, with a smile. "An unusual one, isn't it? -but her father and I chose it for a special reason." - -"'Tis one of the precious stones in the Bible, surely," said Mrs. -Robbins; "one of all they long-named things as is going to be in the -walls of the golden city." - -"Yes, it is a Bible name, and has a special meaning, signifying an -abhorrence of the drink which is such a curse to our land. We want our -little daughter to grow up to be a true Amethyst. Now, dearie, sing -your hymn." - -"Shall it be 'There is a city bright,' mumsie? Would Mrs. Robbins like -that?" - -"Yes, dear, I am sure she would. Come and stand close by me, and sing -very clearly, girlie," and Mrs. Drury took one of the white-gloved hands -in her own, and held it lovingly while her little daughter's clear, -childish treble filled the bare room. - - "There is a city bright - Closed are its gates to sin, - Naught that defileth, - Naught that defileth, - Can ever enter in. - - "Saviour, I come to Thee! - Oh, Lamb of God, I pray,-- - Cleanse me and save me, - Cleanse me and save me, - Wash all my sins away. - - "Lord, make me, from this hour, - Thy loving child to be, - Kept by Thy power, - Kept by Thy power, - From all that grieveth Thee. - - "Till in the snowy dress - Of Thy redeemed I stand; - Faultless and stainless, - Faultless and stainless, - Safe in that happy land." - - -"Thank you, my dearie, thank you," said the old woman gratefully, as the -last word died away. "And thank you kindly, ma'am, for coming to cheer -an old body up." - -"I will come again when I can, Mrs. Robbins; meanwhile here is a -comfortable loose gown for you to use, either when you sit up again, or -in bed, just as you like, and a trifle to buy a few little extras with." - -The poor old cripple's dim eyes filled with tears as she saw the nice -grey woollen wrapper, and felt the half-crown pressed into her wrinkled -palm. - -"God bless you, dear lady! God Almighty bless and reward you!" was all -she could say. - -And, quite understanding, Mrs. Drury gently bade Amethyst open the door, -and in a moment more their footsteps resounded along the uneven -pavement. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - *"I WISH YOU'D BE FRIENDS WITH ME."* - - -Mrs. Drury and Amethyst walked along silently for a few minutes, each -apparently busy with her own thoughts. The former was thinking how best -she could aid the poor old cripple she had just left, while her little -daughter was pondering over the history of her name. They had reached a -more open thoroughfare when Amethyst broke the silence. - -"Amethyst is _rather_ a funny name for a girl, don't you think, mumsie?" - -Suddenly recalled from a mental calculation in which blankets and -beef-tea played a prominent part, Mrs. Drury smiled down at her little -daughter. "Do you think so, girlie?" was all she said. - -"Well, yes, I do," confessed Amethyst, slowly. "Although the girls at -the High School have nicknamed me 'Thistle,' they tease me about my -proper name sometimes, and say I might as well have been called Sapphire -or Topaz, or one of those long names which begin with a 'C.' I can't -pronounce them properly, but you know the ones I mean, mumsie." - -"Yes, dear, I know. You mean chrysolite and chalcedony and -chrysoprasus," said her mother, with a smile; "but they are very -different. Your father and I chose your name because of its meaning, -for a special reason, as we have often told you, Amethyst. When we used -to live in the East-end of London, where you were born, there was so -much sin and sorrow all round us everywhere, caused by strong drink, -that we resolved to call you Amethyst, so that you might always be a -reminder to us of our promise not to have anything to do with it. And -there was another reason, girlie," Mrs. Drury dropped her voice, and -spoke softly. "Your father and I have always hoped and prayed, from -your very babyhood, that when you were grown up you might become a -worker in the noble army of men and women who are fighting, in God's -strength, against this dreadful enemy of our beloved England." - -"How could I, mother?" Amethyst asked wonderingly; she had never been -told so much as this before. - -"There are many ways, dear," replied her mother, "in which people can -influence those around them in the cause of total abstinence. Some are -wanted who can write books and articles; others who can speak in favour -of it. But it is early days for us to plan your future, girlie; when -you have left school far behind and are quite grown up, it will be -easier to see how you can best live up to your name." - -"I think I should like to be a speaker," said Amethyst meditatively. - -"You are one now, I think, girlie," said Mrs. Drury, with a little -laugh. "You know father says you are a regular chatterbox. Now, let us -go into Wilson's and get some of those nice scones for tea, and then we -must hurry home." - -They had just emerged from the confectioner's, and were crossing the -road, when Amethyst espied the two Franklyn girls coming towards them. - -"There are Olive and Elsa," she said, delightedly; and then she added, -persuasively, "Oh! mumsie, do you think they might come to tea with us -to-day?" - -"Not to-day, darling, I think, because you have all your lessons to do, -and there is scarcely time for them to go home and get permission, now. -But they might come on Saturday," she added, as Amethyst looked very -doleful. "Let us speak to them." - -"How do you do, dears?" was Mrs. Drury's bright greeting, as she shook -hands with the twins. "How is your mother to-day?" - -"Father thinks she is a little better, thank you, Mrs. Drury." It was -Elsa who spoke; Olive always deputed her sister to give the latest -bulletins of her mother's health. - -"I am glad to hear that," said Mrs. Drury warmly; "will you give her my -love, and tell her I hope to come and see her very soon? Meanwhile, -Amethyst and I are wondering whether she would allow you both to come to -tea next Saturday." - -"Oh! thank you very much, Mrs. Drury, we shall be delighted to come," -said Olive, a ring of pleasure in her tones; they always enjoyed -themselves at St. Paul's Vicarage. - -"I think we had better just ask first," ventured Elsa, "although I feel -sure mother will be very pleased." - -"Quite right, dear," said Mrs. Drury, looking approvingly at Elsa, so -that she did not see Olive shrug her shoulders disdainfully. "Come -early in the afternoon, if you may, so that you and Amethyst can have -some fun together in the garden. I hear you have all been moved up," -she added, as they began to separate. - -"Yes, an awful nuisance, I call it," said Olive; "we shall have no end -of home-work to do now. That algebra we did this morning is stupid -stuff, isn't it, Thistle? All silly little letters and numbers that -don't seem to mean anything. I couldn't make head or tail of it." - -"I rather liked it," said Amethyst. - -"So did I," admitted Elsa. - -"Well, you all ought to grow up very clever women," said Mrs. Drury, -with a smile. "I hope you will all do something great some day." - -"No fear of that for me," was Olive's nonchalant reply, as Amethyst and -her mother hurried on. - -"I hope mother will let us go on Saturday," said Elsa, as the twins -walked in the direction of home. - -"Why, of course she will, you stupid; how often does she refuse us?" -cried her sister, snappishly. She had an uncomfortable sense of having -lowered herself somehow in Mrs. Drury's estimation, and was not best -pleased with Elsa for appearing to correct her before that lady. - -"No, she is always so pleased for us to go to the vicarage," said Elsa, -wisely refraining from adding fuel to the fire by saying what she might -have said; namely, that she had seen Mrs. Drury's look of astonishment -when Olive calmly accepted the invitation without any reference to their -mother. "We must be quick, now, Olive, or we shall be late for tea; it -is just upon five by the post-office clock." - -The three girls met again next morning in the Fourth Form cloakroom, -where the pupils took off their outdoor garments, and changed their -shoes. They had the narrow, partitioned-off room, with its rows of -clothes-hooks and pigeon-holes for boots, to themselves, for a moment. -But as they were rather late, Elsa, whose division was nearest to -Amethyst's, could only just whisper, "We may come on Saturday," before -the bell, which summoned them all to their places in the large hall, -warned them to lose no time. - -Scrambling into their slippers, and hanging hats and coats on their -respective pegs, the trio hastened into the hall, and were each in their -own particular place by the time the bell ceased clanging: much to -Elsa's and Amethyst's delight, as they had no wish to begin so early in -the term with a late mark. Olive was one of the happy-go-lucky sort who -did not mind a few marks one way or the other. - -Indeed, she ran the risk of losing a conduct mark by nudging Elsa, and -whispering: "Monica Beauchamp is----" just as Miss Buckingham, the -head-mistress, who conducted prayers from a raised platform at one end -of the hall, announced the number of the hymn. - -But Elsa only smiled, and resolutely turned her head away from Olive, so -that the sentence remained unfinished. - -Prayers over, and the various notices relative to the new term having -been given out, the classes filed into their classrooms, which all -opened off the spacious hall, with the exception of the First and Sixth -Forms, whose rooms were on the first floor, where were also the studio, -music-rooms and others used for various purposes. - -There was a friendly rivalry among the girls with respect to the -appearance of their own particular classrooms, and they had inaugurated -a fund among themselves for decorative purposes, by means of which -plants and pictures, etc., were purchased for the adornment of the -rooms. - -The Fourth Form, by reason of its position, had the best view of all the -classrooms, for it overlooked the prettily laid out garden of Miss -Buckingham's private house, so that the girls of that form always tried -to outdo the others in their decoration of the room itself. And indeed, -as the twenty or more girls filed into it that bright May morning, and -took their places, each at her own desk, it looked a charming room. -Half a dozen pretty engravings, well-framed, and a couple of coloured -maps, on rollers, adorned the walls which were painted a pale green; on -the dark oak mantelpiece, which matched the door and wainscoting, stood -some "Liberty" vases, which the "Decoration Committee" undertook to keep -supplied with flowers. Miss Churchill (the Fourth Form governess) had a -large desk on a raised platform, from which she could command a good -view of all her pupils at once; behind her hung the baize-covered notice -board, and at her right hand stood the black-board on its easel. The -windows, of which there were three, were, much to the girls' disgust, -guiltless of curtains, as such commodities as carpets and -window-hangings were not allowed in the classrooms, a large Oriental rug -before the tiled hearth being the only covering on the inlaid floor. -But the upper parts of the casement windows were filled in with coloured -glass, and on each of the deep window ledges stood a palm, or some hardy -fern, in artistic pots, so that the appearance was all that could be -desired. - -There is just one more thing to be mentioned, and that is, that each -class had its own motto, framed, and hung over the mantelpiece, where it -could not fail to be seen; that of the Fourth Form being _Suaviter in -modo, fortiter in re_ (Gentle in manner, resolute in deed). - -The mottoes had been Miss Buckingham's gift some few months before, when -the girls, for the time being, in each class had chosen their own, by -vote, and the idea was still sufficiently fresh to cause a good deal of -interest. - -"Now, girls," said Miss Churchill brightly, as she seated herself at her -desk, "let us get to work at once. We did really nothing yesterday, -what with giving out stationery, and drawing up the timetable, etc.; so -this morning we must begin in earnest. Divinity is our first lesson." - -She was a plain little person, dressed in a blue serge skirt, and blouse -of blue and white striped flannel. Her age might have been anything -under forty, but as a matter of fact, Mary Churchill had not yet passed -her twenty-eighth birthday. Her soft brown hair, guiltless of fringe or -wave, was simply arranged, and her broad forehead was suggestive of -talent, while her lips spoke of a resolute will. But beneath the -commonplace exterior, there beat a warm loving heart, which took a real -vital interest in the character of each of her pupils; and it was -because of her love for them that, for the most part, the girls of the -Fourth Form were devoted to their teacher. - -There was an opening of desks, a rustling of Bibles and notebooks, and -then the work of the morning began. The period in Scripture that had -been chosen for that term's study was the book of Exodus, and the girls -grew quite interested as Miss Churchill graphically described the -position of the Israelites in bondage. - -Elsa and Amethyst, who shared a double desk between them, listened -intently, for they thoroughly enjoyed the Divinity lesson always; but -Olive paid scant attention. It was far too dry, she thought, to trouble -about listening properly, and so her thoughts wandered, first to one -thing, and then to another, until she had quite lost the thread of the -lesson, and gave up trying to follow it. So she looked about her, to -see what the others were thinking, and found Monica Beauchamp's eyes -were fixed on her. She was too far away from her to whisper, as she -would undoubtedly have done if she could, so she contented herself with -smiling and making various grimaces, to show her feelings, when Miss -Churchill was engaged with the blackboard. - -Monica, who had felt terribly "out of it" the day before, was only too -ready to make advances towards this girl who seemed to have plenty of -fun in her, and was not a goody-goody like her sister; so she returned -the gesticulations with interest. - -For a few minutes Miss Churchill noticed nothing wrong, but presently as -she looked round from the blackboard she heard a decided titter, and -turning in the direction from which the sound came, she saw that one of -the girls, Hetty Warner, a quiet, inoffensive child, was endeavouring to -conceal her merriment by means of her handkerchief. - -"What are you laughing at, Hetty?" she said, somewhat sternly. - -"Nothing, Miss Churchill," muttered the girl, as best she could. - -"There must have been some reason, and I insist upon knowing it," and -Miss Churchill came a few steps nearer to the culprit's desk. A hasty -movement between two of the girls did not escape her, and quick as -thought she intercepted a small piece of paper which Olive Franklyn was -frantically trying to put out of sight. - -The girls held their breath as their teacher opened and smoothed out the -paper, which Olive had screwed up into a ball rather than hand it up as -it was. Those who had been in the form before remembered a similar -occasion when Miss Churchill had confiscated a little scribbled note -which was being passed along, and the punishment that had been inflicted -for such an underhand trick. But that was as nothing to the present -scene, for Miss Churchill held aloft, so that all could see it, the -paper on which was an unmistakable caricature of herself, in the -attitude she assumed when delivering a lesson. - -"What a shame!" cried several of the girls simultaneously, but she -stopped them with a motion of her hand. - -"Who drew this?" she enquired, in a well-controlled voice; but her eyes -flashed, and it was evident that she was very, very angry. - -For a moment no one answered, and she put the question again, while the -girls waited breathlessly; those who were innocent were eager to know -who the culprit was. Only two of them looked at all guilty, and those -were the Franklyns. Miss Churchill, looking round at all the faces -before her, noticed the frightened look of one, and the off-hand, -nonchalant air of the other. As yet she scarcely knew them apart, so -she enquired of the one nearest to her, who happened to be Elsa: "Did -you draw this ... thing?" - -A scarcely audible "No" came from Elsa's trembling lips, and Miss -Churchill was about to tell her to speak louder, when Olive stood up, -and said, in a bold, defiant tone: "Elsa knows nothing about it, I did -it," and then she sat down again calmly, to await her punishment. - -"You will apologise to me for your rudeness before you go home, and you -will copy out a hundred lines of French translation and bring it to me, -to-morrow, without a fault, or else I shall show this drawing to Miss -Buckingham," was all the teacher said, in very quiet tones; but for once -Olive was subdued, and behaved tolerably well for the rest of the -morning. - -She was greeted with various remarks during the ten minutes' recreation -the girls had in the playground. Some of them looked askance at her, -and she felt she had made a bad beginning in the new form. But two or -three of the troublesome, fun-loving ones complimented her upon the -cleverness of her drawing. - -"You hither expression to a T!" said Lily Howell, a somewhat -vulgar-looking girl, whose slangy expression jarred upon her superiors, -but whose well-filled purse made her a desirable acquaintance. - -[Illustration: "'YOU HIT HER EXPRESSION TO A T!'"] - -"It wasn't bad," admitted Olive, "but I could have done it a great deal -better if I had had time." - -"I'm afraid you've done for yourself," said Gipsy Monroe, a dark-eyed -girl, with short, curly black hair, as she and Amethyst Drury sauntered -by arm in arm. - -But, beyond a shrug of her shoulders, Olive took no notice, for all her -interest was centred in Monica, who was just coming towards her. - -"I say, wasn't it a lark?" was Monica's greeting, as she came near; "but -it's hard lines that you should have all the punishment, because I was -nearly as bad." - -"Oh! I don't care a fig about the copying," said Olive carelessly. "It -goes against the grain rather to beg her pardon, but, of course, I shall -have to, or there'll be no end of a row, and I only did it for fun." - -"Well, you _are_ a jolly girl!" was Monica's admiring reply. "I wish -you'd be friends with me." - -"So I will," agreed Olive, with alacrity. "I haven't got a real chum, -and I should think you and I would get on A1." - -"I've never had a girl-friend in all my life," said Monica; "to tell the -truth I always thought them rather dull and stupid. I am awfully keen -on dogs; do you like them?" - -And Olive assenting, a lively conversation ensued, which was abruptly -terminated by the sound of the bell recalling them to lessons. - -Olive's equanimity appeared to be quite restored as she entered the -school door with her new-made friend, but a pitiful little look from -Elsa, and a whispered, "How _could_ you, Ollie?" made her feel most -uncomfortable, and she seized an early opportunity of going up to Miss -Churchill and expressing the contrition that, at the moment, she really -felt, for Olive Franklyn was a good-hearted girl, although she was full -of fun, and she began to realise that perhaps Miss Churchill had -"feelings" the same as herself, and she knew she wouldn't have liked -such a trick played upon her. - -Something in the honest brown eyes which looked unflinchingly into her -own touched Miss Churchill, who had somewhat recovered from the -indignation which Olive's treatment of her had roused, and she spoke -gently to the pupil who would doubtless prove a "handful" as time went -on. - -"Very well, dear, I quite forgive you; let us say no more about it. I -don't think you will do such a thing again. You have evidently some -talent for sketching quickly and boldly; see that you do not misuse your -gift." - -And Olive, glad to be at peace with her teacher again, made a mental vow -that she would be an exemplary scholar from that day forward. But alas! -Olive Franklyn's promises were, like the proverbial pie-crust, made to -be broken! - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - *"I WANT YOU A MINUTE."* - - -Monica Beauchamp returned home from her second day at school in high -spirits. At last, she believed, she had found a friend, a girl of about -her own age, who apparently had tastes somewhat similar to her own, to -whom she could talk without restraint, and to whom she could confide all -the hundred and one grievances of her everyday life at her -grandmother's. - -She felt so light-hearted about it that she even condescended to make an -affable remark now and again, during the walk home, to the -long-suffering Barnes, whom Mrs. Beauchamp insisted should accompany -Miss Monica both to and from school, and who had had a sorry time so -far. For Monica was so indignant at the idea of requiring a nurse-maid -(as one or two of the girls had not hesitated to call the person whom -they saw with Monica) that she had vented her spite on Barnes by -marching sullenly along without saying a single word. - -Barnes, who was accustomed to all sorts of treatment from "that Miss -Monica," as she was wont to call her, confided to the other maids over -their dinner that school was working wonders in their young lady -already, and she wished she'd gone a good bit before. - -"Not as I enjoys the constitootional twice a day," she added, "for I -can't abear it, and it takes a sight of time. But still, if the missis -will have it so----" - -"I'm sure I'd just as lief go out a-walking, as tidy up all the rubbidge -in her bedroom," sniffed Mary Ann, the under-housemaid, who privately -thought herself far more suited to go than Barnes. - -"You never need be expecting to, then," replied the maid, with -conviction. "You're far too giddy." - -"Dear, dear," was the mocking answer, "old maids isn't always the ones -preferred!" - -"There, that'll do, Mary Ann!" interposed cook good-temperedly; "don't -be rude to Miss Barnes." And she adroitly changed the subject. - -Meanwhile, Monica was having a _tete-a-tete_ meal with her grandmother -in the dining-room upstairs. The old lady had been out the previous -afternoon and evening, and so had not had an opportunity of questioning -Monica about her first experiences of school life. She proceeded to do -so when the parlourmaid left them alone together. - -Monica, still happy in the thought of her new-made friend, looked bright -and lovable as she sat opposite her grandmother at the lavishly -appointed luncheon table; even Mrs. Beauchamp, austere and -undemonstrative as she was, felt for the moment a thrill of satisfaction -in possessing so handsome a grandchild. But neither her words nor tones -gave any indication of such a state of feeling. - -"Now give me some account of your school-work, Monica," she said -stiffly, as she toyed with a minute helping of orange jelly. - -"Oh! I think I shall like it no end," was the girl's off-hand reply, as -well as she could between huge mouthfuls of rhubarb tart, which she was -discussing with her healthy school-girl's appetite. "It was a bit -strange at first, but I chummed up to one of the girls to-day, so I feel -quite at home." - -"Really, Monica," expostulated her grandmother, "you must not use such -expressions; you quite shock me. I do hope they will not allow you to -speak improperly at this school." And she sighed voluminously. - -"That isn't slang, really, grandmother; everybody says chum nowadays," -was Monica's conciliatory reply. "At least, all young people do." - -"I do hope you won't grow unladylike, I'm sure. It is doubtful if it was -a wise step to send you to such a large school, I am afraid." - -"Don't fidget, grandmother," said her grandchild soothingly. "I daresay -I shall turn out all right in the end." And she added, mentally: "At -any rate, dad, I won't disappoint _you_ if I can help it." - -"Well, what about this girl you've made friends with?" continued the old -lady helplessly; "who is she?" - -"One of Dr. Franklyn's daughters," began Monica, but Mrs. Beauchamp -interrupted her. - -"Oh! I'm glad you had the sense to choose a professional man's child. -Although I don't know much of Dr. Franklyn, I think he is a very -respectable medical man. But was there no girl in your own station, -Monica, who would have been more suited as a companion for you?" - -"I'm sure I didn't give a thought to what her father was," said Monica -frankly. "I shouldn't have cared much if he had been a chimney sweep. -I've taken a great fancy to Olive Franklyn, and she seemed friendly, so -we have agreed to be chums." - -"Well, I hope you have not been rash. I must make enquiries about these -Franklyns before I can allow you to become further acquainted." - -Monica muttered something under her breath, which sounded suspiciously -like "What rubbish!" but the look on her grandmother's stern face warned -her to be careful, if she would keep her friend. - -"I thought Mr. Bertram said the Osmington clergy had daughters at the -High School," remarked Mrs. Beauchamp after a pause; "would not one of -them have done?" - -"I think there's only Amethyst Drury in our form," was the scornful -reply, "and I'm sure she's a little prig. She's great friends with -Olive's twin sister Elsa, who is just such another as herself, I should -think." - -Her grandmother inferred from that remark that Monica had evidently -chosen a kindred spirit, and she dreaded what might be in store, in the -way of added unruliness. But she refrained from saying what was in her -mind, and went on to enquire about lessons, and so forth. - -Monica gave a very good description of all she had done, with the -exception of the caricature episode, and having somewhat ingratiated -herself with her grandmother, by repeating a few words of praise that -had been bestowed upon her German exercise, she thought it a good -opportunity to ask a favour. - -"Oh! grandmamma," she said coaxingly, "don't you think I might go -without Barnes? It seems so silly for a great girl like me to be -obliged to have a maid to walk with me. The girls say nasty things -about it, too," she added ruefully. - -"I have been considering the matter, Monica," said Mrs. Beauchamp, as -she rose from the table, "but I have not decided yet what I shall do." - -"Can't I go by myself, grandmother? I'm sure you might trust me." - -"I am not so sure, Monica," was the cold rejoinder. "I do not approve of -young ladies tearing here, there, and everywhere by themselves, though -it may be all very well for girls of the middle classes. I shall -probably get a small governess cart, and Richards will drive you in and -out." - -A drive with the sedate old coachman who had been years in Mrs. -Beauchamp's service, and who occasionally "spoke his mind to Miss -Monica," was scarcely any improvement on walking with Barnes. But, at -any rate, there would be no reason for the girls to ridicule her then. -So she made no demur. - -"Now, Monica, go to the schoolroom and do some of your lessons, and be -ready at half-past-three to accompany me to The Knoll. Put on your -cream serge frock, and make yourself as neat-looking as you possibly -can, for Mrs. St. Quintin is very particular." - -Monica was not over-pleased at the prospect of a longish drive, and -drawing-room tea to follow, but even that was preferable to remaining at -home alone. So she prepared to do as she was told, and behaved in so -exemplary a manner during the rest of the day that Mrs. Beauchamp began -to have great hopes from the new educational arrangements. - -By the end of the week the governess cart was procured, and Monica was -freed from Barnes's espionage. The girls were quick to see the fresh -arrangement, and Lily Howell, who had been the one to talk about the -nursemaid, was furiously jealous of the smart little turn-out. Her -father, a retired soap-manufacturer, was extremely wealthy, and his only -and much spoiled child was most extravagantly dressed; indeed, she had -everything for which she expressed a wish. But for some unaccountable -reason he would not go in for "hoss-flesh," as he called it, preferring -to hire a landau from the livery stables when Mrs. Howell wished to -drive; so that Lily's pet ambition, which was to drive herself, was not -realised. A bicycle she might, and did, have, but she had tired of -that, because it was such a "fag"; so that she was dreadfully annoyed -when the new girl, with the uppish ways, passed her on her way to the -High School, seated in just such a trap as her soul coveted. She made -up her mind to vent her spite somehow upon Monica, who took absolutely -no notice of her at all, while she was as "thick as thieves" with that -Franklyn girl, whose father was as poor as a church mouse. - -Now Lily was a sly, deceitful sort of girl, and was by no means a -favourite with the others; but she was in the habit of spending money -freely, simply because she wanted to show off; so that some of the more -greedy girls made a sort of queen of her, and flattered her tremendously -on account of the chocolate, and other good things, which she showered -upon them. She was so lazy and indolent that she would have been -continually getting into trouble with the governesses, had it not been -for her little coterie, who managed, by one trick and another, to shield -her from exposure; and somehow she managed to pass muster. - -On the morning in question she nursed her jealousy of Monica until -recreation time came round, and then she found a splendid opportunity, -as she thought, of "paying her out." - -The usual visit to the housekeeper's room, where the girls could buy -various biscuits, and get milk, if they liked, for lunch, having been -paid, some of the Fourth Form girls hurried off to secure one of the two -asphalted tennis courts, Monica and Olive being among the number. But -when they arrived on the scene, it was only to find that the Fifth Form -had appropriated them both, and were practising with a view to a -tournament which was to take place between the girls of the Osmington -and another High School later on. - -"Oh, I say! it's too bad of you girls to take both courts," cried Olive -breathlessly. - -"First come, first served, my dear," replied one of the elder girls -condescendingly, as she returned a serve gaily, but so carelessly, that -the ball was netted, and her partner groaned, as the umpire scored -"forty--love." - -"Well, let's have a game of fives, Monica," suggested Olive, as they -left the tennis players. But, alas! the fives courts were all filled by -then, so there was no amusement left but to saunter about the large -playground arm-in-arm, as several of the others were doing, some, like -themselves, in couples, and some in school-girl fashion, in strings of -four, or even five. - -"What do you do on Saturdays, Olive?" said Monica, as they left the -tennis players behind them, and strolled round the quieter part of the -playground, that nearest to Miss Buckingham's house. - -"Oh! all sorts of things. In the summer we have picnics in Disbrowe -woods, and sometimes on the river, when my brothers are home." - -"You never told me you had any brothers but Pat," said Monica, in -surprise. "Are they older than you?" - -"Haven't I? Why, yes--Roger, that's the one at St. Adrian's Hospital, -is twenty-two, and Dick is seventeen. He's with an uncle of ours who is -an auctioneer. They'll both be home in August, and we can have some -lovely picnics then, if Mrs. Beauchamp will let you come." - -"I expect I shall have to go to the seaside with her again, like we did -last year," was Monica's gloomy reply. "She always goes to Sandyshore -for a whole month, because it's quiet and restful, she says. It's a -hateful little place, _I_ think--no niggers, or band, or anything to -amuse you all day long. I do wish we needn't go there this year." - -"Oh, dear," sighed Olive lugubriously, "I wish I had half a chance of a -month by the dear, darling sea! We are so dreadfully poor that father -can never afford a holiday at the seaside for us. At least, we haven't -been for years, though we did have a fortnight once, when Elsa and I -were about eight or nine, but it is so long ago I can hardly remember -it." - -"Wouldn't it be awfully jolly if grandmother would let you come with -us?" said Monica eagerly. - -"If pigs might fly!" was her friend's merry response, as the bell -clanging out warned them that "rec." was over. - -"Olive Franklyn, I want you a minute." - -The girl turned round at the sound of her name, and saw Lily Howell -beckoning to her mysteriously from a little distance. - -"Whatever does she want? I suppose I must go and see," said Olive, as -she slipped her arm out of her companion's. "I'll catch you up in half -a minute, Monica." - -"All right; I'm glad she doesn't want me. I can't bear that girl." - -"Nor I." - -Monica went leisurely round the corner towards the entrance the girls -generally used; several of them, hurrying past, advised her not to be -late. - -"I'm just coming," she said, and turned back to look for Olive. There -was no one in sight now, except a girl called Maggie Masters, who came -flying round the corner in great haste. - -"Olive Franklyn told me, if I saw you, to ask you to go back to the -tennis courts a minute. It is something particular." - -If Monica had been a little more up to school-girls' tricks she would -have scented something wrong in the way the girl delivered her message, -and then rushed into school. As it was, she hastened back to the tennis -courts, only to find the place absolutely deserted, and no trace of -Olive anywhere! Feeling sure there was some mischief afloat, Monica -retraced her steps hurriedly, determined to find out the originator of -the trick. But alas! when she reached the school door it was bolted -from within, and rattle at the handle as she would, no one appeared to -open it. Growing more angry every minute, she rushed round the -playground to the other entrance, only to find that fastened likewise! - -Scarcely knowing what to do, Monica was just about to pull the -door-bell, when she remembered that the Fourth Form windows were -accessible to the playground. She hurried across the small plot of -grass, nicknamed "The Square," and by dint of standing on tiptoe could -just see into the classroom. - -All the girls had taken their places, with the exception of Olive, who -was vainly endeavouring to make Fraeulein Wespe understand that Monica -Beauchamp must have got shut out. But Fraeulein, who was a very fresh -importation from Germany, either could not, or would not understand, so -she merely motioned to Olive to take her place, while she ejaculated -"Ach, so!" and smiled benignantly. - -A hurried glance round the room revealed to Monica that she had been the -victim of a practical joke, for Lily Howell and Maggie Masters, who were -seated at a desk just under the open window, were engaged in a whispered -conversation about her non-appearance while Fraeulein's attention was -being taken up with Olive. - -"We've put a spoke in her ladyship's wheel, now," whispered Lily, an -ugly sneer upon her thin lips. - -"Nasty, uppish thing to look down on you, dear!" purred Maggie, who had -vivid remembrances of the delicious milk-chocolate she had just been -enjoying at Lily's expense. - -"I'll be even with them yet," remarked Monica mentally, as she moved to -the next window, from which the two conspirators would be unable to see -her. Here she rapped loudly on the pane, to attract Fraeulein's -attention. That lady was, of course, astonished beyond anything to see -one of the pupils still out in the playground, and she began to question -volubly in German as to the cause of such behaviour, leaving her desk, -as she did so, and walking over to the window. - -Now it so happened that Monica was not a bad German scholar, for her -age, one of her long-suffering governesses having insisted upon German -conversations, and Monica had picked up a very fair smattering of the -language during her six months' reign. Therefore she made it -sufficiently intelligible to Fraeulein that she had been the victim of a -practical joke for that worthy to express pity for the girl who would -evidently be one of her best pupils, and, in broken English, she bade -some one go and unfasten the passage door. - -Olive, of course, was the first to run and do her bidding, and in the -second or two they were together Monica learnt that Olive had been -decoyed into entering the school by the other door, under some pretext -or other, Lily Howell having assured her that she had seen Monica go in -the usual way a minute before. Neither of the girls could think of any -reason for the trick, except that Olive thought it was "just like Lily -Howell." - -"She'll hear more about it one of these days," said Monica -sententiously, as she entered the classroom, with her haughtiest air, -and took her place, without deigning even to glance at the conspirators, -who were burning with curiosity to know just how much Fraeulein had been -told, and whether any exposure would follow. But as no further notice -was taken of the affair, probably on account of Fraeulein Wespe's -ignorance of rules, Lily Howell began to feel that her little manoeuvre -to get the new girl into disgrace had fallen rather flat! - - - - - *CHAPTER VI.* - - *"HE WEREN'T CALLED 'SEIZE-'ER' FOR NOTHIN'!"* - - -The following day was Saturday, and therefore a whole holiday. Monica, -who had grown quite accustomed to the new life among companions of her -own age, felt quite dismal when she rose in the morning, and remembered -there were two long, long days to be got through before she could expect -to see any of them again. She fully intended asking her grandmother if -Olive might come to Carson Rise (as Mrs. Beauchamp's residence was -called) to tea, at least, if not to spend the greater part of the day. -But Olive had told her of the previous arrangement that she and Elsa -should go to the vicarage (an invitation, by the way, which she now -wished she had not been so eager to accept!), so that Monica was -compelled to give up her plans for that week. - -Whether it was that she missed the wholesome control of school _regime_, -or whether, to use a common phrase, "she got out of bed the wrong side" -that Saturday morning, it would be difficult to say; but at any rate, -things went very much wrong. - -To begin with, Mrs. Beauchamp was confined to her bed with a feverish -cold, and Barnes came down at breakfast time to say "would Miss Monica -please have her breakfast, and then amuse herself as quietly as -possible, so that grandmother could get a little sleep, as she had had a -very restless night." - -Now Monica was not really an unfeeling girl, but being abnormally -healthy and vigorous herself, she had scant sympathy with ailing people, -and was of opinion that her grandmother coddled herself frightfully. -Added to this, she knew that Mrs. Beauchamp had intended driving into -Osmington that day, to call on some friends who would be likely to be -able to tell her more about the Franklyns, and whether Monica might -safely be allowed to mix with them. Now, with this cold, the drive would -be impossible, and perhaps several days would elapse before she would -get full permission to make a friend of Olive. It certainly _was_ -vexing; it almost seemed to the disappointed girl as if her grandmother -had caught cold on purpose; and Olive had hinted only the day before -that perhaps Mrs. Beauchamp would let Monica come to tea, one day, with -them, and the lonely girl was longing to have her first glimpse of real -home life, and make the acquaintance of the "Pickle," and see the girls' -"den." - -And, in her chagrin, Monica, with a hasty movement, pushed the hot water -jug roughly out of her way, as she reached after the butter dish, with -the result that the silver cream jug, which she had carelessly placed -near the edge of the table, tipped over, and spilling its contents on -the handsome felt carpet, fell with sufficient force to bend the handle, -and to make a very nasty dent in its pretty fluted side. - -"Oh, horrors!" ejaculated Monica, "there _will_ be a row!" and she -endeavoured to mop up the cream with her serviette, and tried what she -could do with the jug. - -"I suppose I must ring for Harriet," she muttered, in despair, as the -carpet seemed to get worse under her treatment and the jug certainly no -better! - -Her hasty ring brought the parlourmaid quickly on the scene, and that -worthy held up her hands in horror at the dreadful state of the carpet. - -"Oh! Miss Monica," she gasped, "whatever will your grandma say? The -carpet will be ruined, you may depend. There'll be a nasty looking -stain, however much we get it out. That's the worst of these felts," -and she hastened away, to return in a moment with cloths and hot water -and various remedies for the mishap. - -Harriet went down on her knees and applied them vigorously, but an ugly -dark patch remained, and, as she seemed to take great pleasure in -reminding poor Monica, "it always would." She turned her attention to -the cream jug next, but, of course, could do nothing to remove the dent, -or straighten the twisted handle. - -"Oh, my!" she said; "your grandma will be vexed, Miss Monica, so -partikler as she always is about the silver things, on account of their -anticwitty, as she calls it. Well, well!" - -Poor Monica! How she ached to box the ears of this Job's comforter; and -it is to be feared the only motive that she had in refraining from doing -so, was that she considered it _infra dig._ of a lady to strike a -menial! She had not learnt the lesson "that he that ruleth his spirit -is better than he that taketh a city." So, merely shrugging her -shoulders, she said not one syllable to the retreating parlourmaid, as -she departed with her cloths, and the final remark "that it _was_ -unfortunate, the missis laid up, and all." - -Monica finished her interrupted meal in gloomy silence, meditating upon -the scene that would be enacted later on, when her grandmother was made -aware of the mishap. - -Having made a bad start, unfortunately Monica thought it didn't much -matter now if she got into more trouble. So after lounging about in the -schoolroom for half an hour, and finding nothing to amuse herself with, -she decided upon a visit to the stables. - -She knew very well that in going there she was acting in defiance of her -grandmother's expressed wish; but the spirit of insubordination had -seized hold of Monica, and she felt absolutely reckless. Old Richards -was nowhere to be seen, so she proceeded to enjoy herself thoroughly, by -visiting "Belle" and "Beauty," the handsome pair of greys in their loose -boxes, and then passed on to inspect the new pony "Caesar," who was -fastened in his stall. - -She had just leaned over the door, the upper half of which was open, -when she espied Tom, the stable-boy, in the harness-room beyond, busy -over polishing the harness, and humming a tune. - -"Mornin', miss," he grinned, as he touched his ragged cap with delight, -and went on with his work with extra briskness. He was a bright little -chap of fourteen, only recently introduced into the Carson Rise stables, -and he appreciated to the full the magnificent opportunity of "getting -on" that the situation afforded. - -For Tom White meant to "get on" to the very best of his ability; and -even Richards, who was rather grudging of praise, could find no fault in -the little lad, who was as willing as willing could be, and took the -greatest possible pains over all his jobs. - -"Is the new pony all right, Tom?" queried Monica, as she stood looking -admiringly at Caesar, as he pawed the ground impatiently, and tossed his -silky brown mane. "Will he let me pat him?" - -"Better not, miss," suggested Tom, with an elderly air, which sat -comically upon his young shoulders. "Mr. Richards, he said this mornin' -that he thought he were a bit of a tartar, miss." And Tom put down a -piece of harness with evident pride in the high state of polish which -his efforts had produced. He was just going to attack another -vigorously, when Monica bade him come and unfasten the pony, so that she -could see his head better. - -"Please, miss, I'd rather not." And Tom came slowly out of the -harness-room, but made no effort to do as Monica said. - -"Why not, pray? You surely aren't afraid he'll bite you?" said Monica -sharply. She had an intense scorn for those who were afraid. "You'll -never be any good for a coachman if you're afraid of a _pony_." And her -proud young face expressed disgust. - -"Please, miss, 'tisn't that a bit," said the boy, his big grey eyes -upraised to hers pleadingly; for he was devoted to Miss Monica. "I -ain't a mite afraid of 'im, but Mr. Richards 'e said, said 'e: 'Now, -Tom, you leave that there pony alone,' says 'e. 'If 'e don't bite, if -'e gits a chance, my name ain't Richards. You may depend,' says 'e, ''e -weren't called "Seize-'er" for nothin'.'" - -"Nonsense!" said Monica, scornfully, although she was tickled with the -man's unconscious pun. "You wouldn't bite me, would you, old boy?" she -added to the little chestnut, who eyed her rather maliciously as she -entered the stall, and put out her hand to rub his soft brown nose. - -"Oh, don't, miss, please don't!" cried the little stable-boy, as he -tried to snatch her hand away. But even as he spoke the pony made a grab -at the girlish fingers, and Monica realised too late that she would have -been wiser to pay attention to the boy's warning, for her hand ached -terribly, and there were ugly tooth marks on the palm and one or two -fingers. - -"You little wretch! You horrid little vixen!" she cried, in pain and -anger, as she bound her hand, fortunately the left one, in her -handkerchief, and tried to still the throbbing. - -The pony, quiet enough now, appeared to take no notice of the epithets -she poured out upon him, and Tom stood helplessly by, his very soul in -his liquid grey eyes, wishing with all his heart, poor little chap, that -it had happened to him instead of to his adored young lady. - -"Please, miss," he suggested timidly, "'adn't you better go indoors, and -get something to do your 'and good. Shall I run round to the kitchen -and tell 'em?" - -Monica blessed the warm-hearted little lad for his evident desire to -make matters a little easier for her indoors, and gladly assented to his -plan. - -She was thankful when she reached the house that she was saved the -effort of telling what had happened, for she felt a curious sensation -all over her, and was seized with a desire to fall into the first chair -she came to. Surely she was not going to faint? Monica Beauchamp had -never been known to have nerves before! - -"Mercy on us, Miss Monica, you do look bad!" cried the kindly old cook, -as she called to one of the maids for a glass of water, and sent another -for the vinegar bottle. "La, what a nasty grip the little beast give -you!" she added, as the handkerchief fell off, and revealed the extent -of the damage. "Get a bowl of warm water, Mary Ann, quick!" And in -another minute she was gently bathing the injured hand in the water, to -which she had added a little Condy's fluid. - -"Is that better, miss?" she asked, with kindly sympathy, glad to notice -that the colour was returning to Monica's cheeks. She was, perhaps, the -only one of all the servants who had any affection for the girl whose -coming had upset the even tenor of the quiet household, and whose pranks -gave them so much extra trouble. - -"Oh! yes, thanks, cook, it doesn't ache quite so horribly now," she -said, with a sigh of relief, as the woman bound the hand up in some soft -old linen, and Monica prepared to leave the kitchen regions. But when -she let her hand fall for a moment, a stifled groan escaped her lips, -and she raised it quickly. - -"Let me make a sling of this old scarf, Miss Monica," said cook, suiting -the action to the word, and hastily improvising a sling from a black and -white check tie, which she produced from one of the huge dresser -drawers. "It's a mercy the skin ain't broke." - -"Thanks," was all Monica could manage to say, for it required all her -self-control to keep her lips firmly clenched, the aching was so -intense. - -"Perhaps Barnes could find some soothin' stuff to put on it, miss," she -called after the girl, as she slowly ascended the kitchen stairs. - -Monica managed to reach the schoolroom door, where she came face to face -with Barnes, who had been in search of her; and she had to tell the maid -what had befallen her. - -"Dear, dear, Miss Monica," said Barnes, "'tis nothing but a chapter of -accidents this morning; the missis so poorly, too. But there, 'tis one -consolation the doctor will be here in a few minutes to see her (for she -told me I'd better send for him), and he'll soon put your hand to -rights." - -She spoke more cheerfully than she felt, for Monica looked very unlike -her usual self, and she feared she was going to be ill. "Just you have -a bit of rest in this easy chair, miss," she said, pushing forward a -cosy basket chair, and Monica sank among the cushions with relief. -"Why, there's the doctor's gig, I do declare," added the maid, with -satisfaction, as wheels sounded on the carriage drive. - -The fatherly old doctor, who knew Monica very well, although she had -seldom required any of his physic, paid her a visit after he had -attended to her grandmother. He examined the bite carefully, and -commiserated with her on the unfortunate mishap, but said it was not at -all a serious matter. He promised to send some lotion, and told her to -keep her hand in a sling, and he hoped in a day or two there would be -little more than bruises left. - -"But you mustn't go and put your hand into the pony's mouth again, my -dear child," said he with a smile, "or you might not get off so easily -again. I can't quite understand how it happened yet." - -"Oh! it was all my own fault," admitted Monica, frankly. "I was warned -that the pony might bite, but, of course, I didn't think he would! In -fact, I ought not to have gone into the stables at all." And she looked -up saucily into the kind old face bending over her. But the expression -in the keen eyes which looked searchingly at her made her lower her own, -while something akin to shame filled her heart. - -"I suspect the colonel would say that obedience was one of the first -duties of a recruit," he said, slowly; "at any rate, it is one of the -hardest lessons that a soldier of the King of kings has to learn. My -lassie," he added, tenderly, but solemnly, as he smoothed her ruffled -hair with a fatherly touch, "how much longer are you going on fighting -against Him? Why don't you surrender arms, and begin to fight for Him, -and with Him? You see, I know that I am talking to a soldier's -daughter. Won't you think about what I have said?" And he took up his -hat and gloves, preparatory to departing. - -Monica, remembering her father's last letter, thought how strange it was -that the old doctor should speak in the same strain, but she was too shy -to mention it, and Dr. Marley feeling that, at any rate, the seed had -been sown in the rebellious young heart, forbore to say more. But as he -drove on to his next patient he prayed that it might take root; for the -old doctor had known Colonel Beauchamp since he was a little lad, and he -took a warm interest in his only child. - -Monica passed a bad five minutes in her grandmother's room after the -doctor had gone, but the influence of his words remained with her, and -she refrained from being saucy or off-hand. Indeed, Mrs. Beauchamp -began to fear that the accident had made her really ill, so wonderfully -subdued and penitent was she. - -Considering that she would have to bear the pain and inconvenience of -her injured hand for some little time, the old lady excused Monica from -further punishment, on condition that she did not disobey again. Fully -intending at the moment to keep her promise, Monica said she would -remember her grandmother's wishes in future, and the latter dismissed -her, feeling more hopeful about her grandchild than she had done for a -long time. - -As she did not feel up to any great exertion, Monica spent the greater -part of the afternoon and evening in writing a long letter to her -father, telling him, in detail, all about her new school, and, above -all, about her new-found friend. She also described the happenings of -that unfortunate morning, taking care not to spare herself in the least; -but she felt too shy to say much in reply to his letter, the only remark -she made being: "I have been thinking about what you wrote, dad dear, -and I mean to try and learn the hard lesson, but I haven't found a -teacher yet." And when the father read the girlish, blotted, and rather -badly spelt letter, some weeks later, in far off Simla, the tears rose -to his eyes, while he bowed his head and prayed that God would send some -one to guide his little daughter into the only safe path. - -While Monica was engaged in writing her letter, Amethyst Drury was busy -playing hostess to the two Franklyns. It was such a lovely sunny -afternoon that Mrs. Drury had given permission for the trio to have tea -in the little rustic summer-house overlooking the pretty, but by no -means large, lawn. - -"Isn't it fun having tea out here?" remarked Amethyst, as the three -girls sat lazily in the garden chairs, having done ample justice to the -cocoanut cake and raspberry jam sandwiches, which had been provided for -the feast by kind Mrs. Drury. - -"Awfully nice," admitted Olive, "but I must say I wish Monica could have -been here too." - -"Oh! Ollie," said Elsa, hastily, with an apologetic glance at Amethyst, -for she feared she would think her sister rude. - -Amethyst's eyes flashed, and she burst out indignantly: "I can't bear -that girl! She's going to spoil everything, and we had such lovely -times together before she came." And her lips trembled, and in a minute -more there would have been an April shower. But Elsa the peacemaker -interposed. - -Putting her arm lovingly round the little hostess, she said, soothingly: -"Olive didn't mean anything unkind, dear, I am sure. And I don't think -Monica will make much difference, because, you see, she lives so far -away. And besides, if Olive and Monica become great friends, that -leaves me out in the cold; and I want you, Thistle." - -"Of course," added Olive. "You two are cut out for each other, and I -always feel like a fish out of water amongst you. But let's have a game -now, shall we?" - -And in the intricacies of playing croquet-golf, as best they could, all -against all, the little unpleasantness blew over. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII.* - - *"THIS IS MONICA BEAUCHAMP, MOTHER."* - - -But Amethyst remembered it again, later on, as she was preparing to get -into her little white bed, after the Saturday night bathing operations -were over. Mrs. Drury was with her, brushing out the soft fair hair, -and plaiting it up into a smooth pigtail. - -"Mumsie," she said suddenly, twisting herself round, so that the bow -Mrs. Drury was tying nearly slipped out of her hand, and she bade the -child keep still a moment longer. - -"Now, what is it, girlie?" - -"Oh, mumsie, I do _wish_ Monica Beauchamp had never been born!" -Amethyst brought out the words with such vehemence, that for the moment -her mother was too astonished to reply. - -"I do, mumsie," repeated the child vehemently. - -"Amethyst, I am ashamed of you," said her mother sternly. "I cannot -understand what you mean. I don't think you quite know what you are -saying." - -"I do mean it, really, mumsie, but I daresay it's wicked of me. Only I -know she's going to spoil everything, and Olive doesn't care a bit about -me now; all she wants is Monica." And Amethyst repeated what Olive had -said that afternoon. But if she expected her mother to take her part, -she was disappointed. - -"I am afraid my girlie is jealous of this new rival," she said, gently, -as she drew the little night-gowned figure on to her knee. "You must -not expect to be first always, Amethyst. You have had very happy times -with the Franklyns, and I have been very pleased for them to make up a -little of what you miss by having no sisters. But Olive, especially, -seems older than you, and I do not at all wonder at her making this new -friend, and I only hope that they will help each other to be good girls. -And, surely, Amethyst, if you have Elsa left, you ought to be content. -I do not know a nicer, dearer girl than Elsa, anywhere. I am really -very glad that it is she who is left to you. It might be very sad if -_she_ forsook you for some one else, but I don't think Elsa Franklyn -would do that." - -"No, I'm sure she wouldn't, mumsie," cried the warm-hearted little girl; -"she is a dear old darling, and, as you say, so long as I have her it -doesn't matter so much about Olive. All the same, I wish that Monica -had never come to our school." - -"I am afraid you have already forgotten the passage you have been -learning this evening, for your Sunday class to-morrow," said her -mother, somewhat sadly. - -And Amethyst hung her head in confusion, for the verses she had been -saying over and over, not an hour before, were those of that beautiful -chapter in the first epistle to the Corinthians, where the Apostle says: -"Without charity, I am nothing." - -"I forgot, mumsie," she murmured. - -"Yes, dear; alas! we all forget so soon. Shall we kneel down together -now, darling, and ask our loving Heavenly Father to root up this little -weed of jealousy, and sow instead the seed of unselfish love; not only -for those we have a natural affection for, but love even for our enemy -if we had one." - -Amethyst Drury often looked back to that Saturday night, and her -mother's prayer, in the days and weeks that followed; and the memory of -it helped her to overcome her feeling of aversion towards the girl who -had, to a large extent, usurped her place. - -Monica's hand was sufficiently better by the following Monday to allow -of her going to school; but the sling which the doctor insisted upon her -using excited so many remarks that she wished she had not gone. She put -off the girls, as long as she could, but at last, in sheer desperation, -she told them exactly what had happened. - -Her explanation was received in varied ways. One or two of the -well-behaved girls looked askance at such insubordination, and lost -interest in the result of pure disobedience; but several of the more -reckless-minded, Olive among the number, exclaimed at the severity of -old Mrs. Beauchamp in forbidding her to go in the stable-yard. - -"Catch me keeping that rule," cried one. - -"Or me either," said another. "Why, I should just like to see my father -trying to stop me visiting the dog-kennels, and petting our old grey -pony." - -"I suppose my grandmother has a perfect right to do as she likes in her -own house?" said Monica haughtily, and the girls muttered, "Oh, yes, of -course," in confusion, scarcely knowing what to make of this very -peculiar girl. - -The days passed swiftly on, without much incident to mark them, until -another Saturday drew near, and Monica, happy in her grandmother's -permission to be as friendly as occasion necessitated with the -Franklyns, realised that on that afternoon she was going to have her -first peep into the home life of a big houseful of young people. - -A nicely worded note from Olive's mother asking Mrs. Beauchamp to allow -her granddaughter to spend from three to seven with her girls had been -graciously answered in the affirmative by the old lady, who, though she -thought it right to be very stern with Monica, was really anxious for -the girl to mix with other young people. So she arranged to drive in -the direction of Osmington that afternoon, and drop Monica at the -Franklyns' door. - -Monica, who was tremendously excited at what was really a great event in -her life, tried her utmost to pay attention to the old lady's advice, as -they bowled along in the handsome victoria. - -"Very well, grandmother, I will be sure to remember," she replied -dutifully, to some injunction of Mrs. Beauchamp's, and she looked so -good and well-behaved that the old lady's heart quite warmed towards -this troublesome, but wonderfully taking, granddaughter of hers. - -For Monica looked extremely well in a new coat and skirt of the darkest -shade of blue, which, being unfastened, showed a pretty delaine blouse, -with a suggestion of pink among its colourings; while the French sailor -hat, simply trimmed with a huge rosette of dark blue, exactly suited her -bright young face. It was very seldom that the girl troubled about her -personal appearance: her usual cry being that "it was too much fag" to -make herself look nice, but on this occasion she had been quite ready to -fall in with her grandmother's wish that she should dress herself -suitably. - -"Here we are, grandmamma," said Monica, as the victoria pulled up at the -iron gates over which the regulation doctor's lamp was swinging, and in -a moment more she was on the pavement. - -"Now, Monica, remember, you are on no account to be late in getting -ready to come home. Richards will be here punctually at seven, and you -must be sure not to keep the pony standing." - -"Very well, grandmother." Monica could see a well-known face at one of -the windows, so she was eager to be off, and promised readily. Her hand -was on the iron gate, when her grandmother's voice recalled her. - -"Oh! and, Monica----" - -Very reluctantly she turned back, and the face under the upturned -hat-brim did not look quite so fascinating, with the expression of -vexation it had assumed at the delay. - -"Please to remember that you are my granddaughter, and behave yourself -as such." - -Fortunately, the horses grew restive and made a jerk forward, before -Monica's pettish exclamation, "I never get a chance to forget it!" -reached Mrs. Beauchamp's ears, or that lady would have had her return -drive disturbed by the thought of her grandchild's ingratitude. - -The little cloud soon disappeared from Monica's brow, and her face was -all smiles again as she received a boisterous welcome from her "chum." - -"It is jolly to have you, Monica!" - -"It's ever so much more jolly to come, then!" - -And the two girls laughed gaily, in their buoyancy of spirit. - -"Come up and take your things off first, and then you shall investigate -our 'den' and all its treasures," suggested Olive, as the two girls -ascended the staircase, arm-in-arm. As they went up, Olive pointed out -the various rooms, lowering her voice as they passed her mother's closed -door. - -"Mother wants to see you ever so much, Monica, but she always has to -rest in the afternoon, so I am to take you to her room later on. This -is our room--Elsa's and mine," she continued, as they crossed the wide -landing, and entered a half-open door. "It's not very big, so we keep -most of our property upstairs." - -If Monica thought she had never been in such a small, poorly furnished -room before, she made no outward sign. Two small beds, a simple -wash-stand, and chest of drawers (which also did duty as toilet table), -a couple of chairs, and an impromptu wardrobe made by a shelf and some -cretonne curtains, was all the furniture the room contained. How vastly -different was it from the elegant apartment she called her own at Carson -Rise! - -Her hat and coat were off in a moment, and then the two friends climbed -another flight of stairs, and the "den" was reached. - -"Now, isn't it a dear old place?" cried Olive, enthusiastically, as she -showed her friend into every nook and corner of the queer L-shaped room, -and Monica warmly agreed with her. - -"What do you use it for, and who does it belong to?" - -"Oh! it really used to be shared by the whole family, and when the boys -lived at home, and went to Osmington College, we had gay old times up -here, between us. But now they are away, and as Lois has so much to do -about the house, and Kath looks after mother, it pretty well belongs to -Elsa and me." - -"Oh! by the way, where is Elsa?" asked the visitor, suddenly remembering -her existence. - -"She took the two little ones out for a walk. Funny of her not to want -to be in when you were coming, wasn't it?" - -And Olive flung her arm round her friend, and hugged her impetuously. - -It never so much as entered Olive's head that her twin sister had -unselfishly absented herself on purpose, so that she might have the -satisfaction and pleasure of having her friend all to herself for a -little while. It had not been exactly easy for Elsa, either, to suggest -that she should take the little ones with her, and go on an errand that -needed to be done, for she, too, was very much attracted by the -winsomeness of this new schoolfellow, although Monica's many faults -repelled her at times; in fact, a year before, Elsa Franklyn would not -have troubled a bit about it, she would have sought to please herself -first, whatever the circumstances might be. But now, she was wont to -ask herself on occasions like these: "What would Jesus do if He were in -my place just now?" and the answer coming back, very distinctly, she -sought by His help to act as she felt convinced He would. - -Olive, self-seeking, self-loving Olive, often wondered at various little -sacrifices, quietly and unostentatiously made, but accepted them without -demur, stifling her conscience, which accused her very plainly, by -persuading herself that Elsa was such a "mouse" she really didn't care -about things a bit, so it was no sacrifice to her. - -The two girls perched themselves on the high window seat whence they -could see the river gliding swiftly by the bottom of the large, -old-fashioned garden, and indulged in a long, long "confab," as Olive -termed it, after the newly painted things (which had caused such -disaster to Olive's dress) had been admired among many other things. - -At length, when each had confided to the other all that was in her -heart, a sound of youthful voices was heard in the hall below, and in a -few moments more, Elsa appeared on the scene. - -"Where are Joan and Pat?" said Olive, as Monica and Elsa greeted each -other with the school-girl's typical "How d'you do?" - -"They went to Nanny." - -"Because Monica wants to see Paddy. Go and fetch him up, Elsa, there's -a good girl." - -"Mayn't Joan come, too?" pleaded Elsa; "she wants to, ever so much." - -"Oh, yes!" said Olive, with good-humoured benignity; "let her come if -she likes. But Monica doesn't care for small girls." - -"I really don't know anything about children," said Monica, as Elsa went -off at Olive's request. - -"Well, I think, myself, that they are a perfect nuisance," admitted her -friend; "they are always in the way, or getting into mischief, but Paddy -is such a jolly little chap, everybody takes a fancy to him." - -And as soon as Monica saw him, she added yet another to the number of -those whom Master Pat, the Pickle, had slain with the sword of his -fascinations. He came peeping in the door, demurely twisting his clean -holland overall in restless little fingers, as he looked shyly out of -his lovely blue eyes at the tall girl who had not the least idea of what -to say to "small fry." - -"Come here, little man," she ventured somewhat stiffly at length, -holding out a hand to him. - -"Don't fink I will, big girl," was the unexpected reply, which sent them -off into roars of laughter. Paddy, perceiving he had said something -comical, laughed gleefully, and added, drolly: "Aren't I a pickle?" -which, of course, amused them all the more. - -The laugh set them all at their ease, and a happy half-hour was spent -over one thing and another; Joan sitting quietly looking on, while her -little brother received most of the attention. Monica had to be told of -some of Paddy's escapades--how once he had got hold of the garden hose, -and hiding behind some shrubs, had squirted the water all over Nanny, -who was searching everywhere for him. And how another time father had -come in one evening to find a stream of water running out at the front -door, and they found the mischievous little boy had turned the bathroom -tap on, and left it, and the bath overflowing; the water, of course, was -running like a river down the stairs and through the hall! - -"Paddy _was_ whipped that night," interpolated Joan solemnly, and Pat -added innocently, "Yes, _naughty_ Paddy; but you can't 'spect no better -of a 'pickle.'" - -The tea-bell rang before they could have imagined it was time for that -meal, and Monica, who was really somewhat shy of strangers, had to make -the acquaintance of the twins' elder sisters. But Lois' kindly courtesy -and Kathleen's merry chatter soon made her feel quite at home amongst -them. The doctor, too, came in just as they had begun tea, the result -of Olive's persistent pleading that he would be sure to be early so as -to see her "dear Monica," and as he exerted himself to help entertain -the young guest a sigh of regret rose to the latter's lips when the -happy, homely meal was over. - -A stroll round the old-fashioned garden with Olive and Elsa included a -visit to the rabbit-hutch and dovecot, and ended with a splendid swing; -the twins, who were by no means novices at swinging, being really -frightened at the height to which Monica worked herself up. But she -knew no fear, and rather enjoyed seeing the anxiety which Elsa evinced -every time the ropes creaked uneasily. - -"Oh, do go lower, Monica!" she pleaded; but the wayward girl only -laughed. Even Olive tried to dissuade her from going so recklessly -high, but Monica showed no sign of lessening her speed, and would -doubtless have eventually overbalanced herself, had not little Joan run -out to say that her mother was ready to see Monica now. - -With a merry laugh the girl slowed down, and finally dropped from the -seat and catching hold of Olive, said mischievously: "Were you afraid -you would have to pick up a bundle of broken bones? I am sure Dr. -Franklyn would have liked mending them up again!" - -"Oh, don't, Monica!" was all Olive said, but her silence and Elsa's -still scared-looking face, made Monica realise that she had gone a -little too far, and she felt somewhat subdued as they retraced their -steps to the house. - -Kathleen came out of her mother's room as the girls tapped at the door. - -"Mother is very anxious to see your friend, Olive," she said, with a -bright little smile; "she is feeling fairly well to-day." - -Monica was seized with a sudden fit of intense shyness, and would gladly -have escaped the ordeal, but Olive, never dreaming that her haughty -young friend was troubled with any such thing as nervousness, pushed her -forward as the door closed after Kathleen's retreating figure, saying: -"This is Monica Beauchamp, mother." - -And Monica looking straight before her, saw a pale, gentle face, with -large luminous eyes, and heard a sweet, soft voice murmuring words of -welcome, while the thin white hands clasped her strong young ones, and -drew her proud young head down low enough for the invalid to print a -loving motherly kiss upon the frank, open brow. - -"You do not mind, dear?" said Mrs. Franklyn gently, as she scanned the -face of Olive's new friend with eager intensity. "If you are Olive's -friend, you must be mine, too." - -And Monica murmured something to the effect that she would like to be. - -A few minutes were spent in pleasant chatter, about the school, and one -thing and another, and Mrs. Franklyn, reading between the lines, got a -very good insight into the character of Olive's friend. "A girl with -wonderful possibilities before her," she thought to herself, "but----" -The unfinished sentence ended in a sigh, for she was thinking of this -stranger's influence over her little girl. - -Meanwhile Olive was showing the photographs of all the brothers and -sisters, which made quite a picture gallery of the mantelpiece; but -remembering yet another of her two brothers, taken together, which was -in the drawing-room, she ran off to get it, saying: "Monica must see -that one, mother; take care of each other until I come back." - -The door had no sooner closed after Olive than Mrs. Franklyn, turning to -the girl who was sitting beside her couch, said, in the tenderest of -tones, "My child, are you a Christian?" - -Monica started with astonishment, for she had no idea the Franklyns were -what she called "religious," and scarcely knew what to answer, but the -kind, motherly eyes seemed to read her very thoughts, and she felt -constrained to reply as she did. - -"No,--I am not. But my father wants me to be." - -"Then, oh! my child, why don't you?" - -"I don't think I want to be one," said Monica, slowly; "at least, not -yet." - -"Don't put it off, childie; life is very short. If you know the -way----" - -"But I don't," interrupted Monica; "that's just what I don't know. -Perhaps if I knew how to set about it I might be one." - -"The Lord Jesus----" began Mrs. Franklyn. - -But, alas! Olive came bursting into the room, and the precious -opportunity had gone. The invalid could only whisper: "Read the 3rd -chapter of St. John, and ask God to show you the way, dear child," when, -a few moments later, Monica bent over her to say, "Good-bye." - -And Monica said she would. But, alas! she put the thought aside that -night, thinking Sunday afternoon would be a good opportunity for reading -the chapter; and when the next day came she was deep in the pages of a -fascinating book, and had completely forgotten her promise to Mrs. -Franklyn. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - *"MIND YOU ARE NOT LATE!"* - - -The days and weeks passed quickly at school, once the new term's work -was well begun, and the half-term holiday was drawing near. - -Monica had never forgotten Lily Howell's trick to get her into trouble, -but she felt above paying her out, so she left her severely alone. As -it happened, that was perhaps the most trying punishment she could have -devised for a girl of Lily's disposition, who ardently longed to be -"taken up" by people such as the Beauchamps, whom her father called "The -Quality"; and Monica's absolute indifference to her piqued her terribly. - -Lily was telling her mother about it one day, and complaining of being -sent to Coventry by "that Monica Beauchamp, who gives herself such airs, -just for all the world as if she was a duchess!" - -Mrs. Howell, a kindly creature of ample proportions, who always felt -impelled to address her magnificent housekeeper as "ma'am," and who -never ceased to wish for the happy olden days when first she had married -Bob Howell, and kept house on little less than a pound a week, sighed -feebly as she looked helplessly at her young daughter, who tyrannised -frightfully over her "Ma," as she called her. - -"Well, I'm sure, my dear," she ventured, "you might be content with -havin' such nice young ladies as the Miss Masters to make friends of, -without 'ankerin' after the gentry." - -"I do wish you wouldn't leave out all your 'g's,' ma," cried Lily, -pettishly; "it's dreadful the way you talk. And as for the Masters, -they're only butchers, and I detest being mixed up with shop people." -And the girl stamped her foot in disgust. - -Mrs. Howell, who was shedding a quiet tear or two over her child's -unkindness, sniffed loudly, and said: "I'm sure shop people is plenty -good enough for girls as behaves to their poor ma like you do, and I -don't wonder as this Miss Beauchamp don't take up with you. I wish to -goodness your pa had never made a fortune, that I do; for it's a worry -from mornin' to night, a-mindin' my manners here, and a-shuttin' up my -mouth there!" And the poor, lonely woman, surrounded with every luxury -and elegance that money could buy, but who felt less free than a canary -in its cage, wept silently. - -For a minute, Lily regarded her with some sort of compunction, but she -was afraid of giving way to her better nature, so merely saying: "Well, -I'm sure, ma, there's nothing to cry about," turned on her heel, and -left the room. - -And the poor mother, who had strained every nerve, in her younger days, -to make her only child's life one of cloudless happiness, realised that -she and her husband had made a bitter mistake in educating Lily "as a -lady," for it was only too evident that she now considered herself -immensely superior to her parents; and as for affection for them she had -little or none. - -There was little talked of at the High School that second week in June -but the approaching half-term holiday, and various ways of spending it. -Some of the girls, whose homes were at a distance, but who either lived -or boarded with friends in Osmington, so as to attend the High School, -were looking forward to a week-end at home; while others were going to -stay from the Friday to Monday night with relations. - -Monica and Olive had discussed several plans for spending the -long-looked-forward-to holiday, each of which was delightful in its own -way. But eventually, with Mrs. Beauchamp's consent, it was decided that -the first part of the day should be spent picnic-fashion, the girls -returning to a substantial tea at Carson Rise. - -Monica would have preferred having Olive only to spend a long day with -her, but Mrs. Beauchamp, who had made the acquaintance of the Franklyn -twins, and had taken a great fancy to quiet, nicely behaved Elsa, -stipulated that if one sister came, both did; so as Monica said: "To -make it all square, let's have Amethyst Drury as well." - -Accordingly, on the most perfect of sunny June mornings the quartette -having met at a given spot at eleven o'clock made their way to a -favourite place in Disbrowe woods, and prepared to enjoy themselves to -the full. - -The same river which ran past the bottom of the Franklyns' garden, a -mile away, flowed through the pretty little copse which enjoyed the -above grand cognomen, because it was included in the Disbrowe estate, -and the few acres of cherished copse seemed like "woods" in that -suburban neighbourhood. It was in this copse that the Osmington people -gathered their spring flowers, for the ground was carpeted with -primroses during the month of April; and here, too, the boys and girls -went nutting in the autumn. - -But in June there was nothing to gather, so the girls who had brought -well-filled lunch baskets and books with which to while away the time, -gave themselves up to what Olive called "a thorough laze." - -Seating themselves in characteristic fashion, Monica and Olive up -amongst the low-spreading branches of an old oak, while Amethyst and -Elsa chose the grassy hillocks caused by its roots, the quartette soon -opened their baskets, and the contents disappeared with startling -rapidity. As Monica said, "the river smelt quite sea-i-fied," and gave -them an extra good appetite; indeed, if it had not been for Elsa, poor -Hero, the collie, who Mrs. Beauchamp had suggested should accompany the -girls for protection's sake, would have fared badly. - -However, he managed to make a very good meal, and was lying down fast -asleep in the shade, while the girls, whose tongues had grown tired with -talking, were either reading, or lying curled up half asleep on the -grassy slope, gazing dreamily at the river, as it flowed smoothly and -silently on, when they were all aroused by a short sharp bark, followed -by a low growl, and Hero had bounded up the slope to a path which ran -along at the top, and which was one of the least frequented paths in the -wood. - -"Whatever can he see?" cried Monica; "a rabbit, I expect." - -"Oh, call him back, Monica, do! Perhaps he will do some mischief," said -Elsa. - -"Nonsense! He's only chasing a rabbit or a bird." - -But even as she spoke there came the sound of feeble crying, as of some -one in trouble, and all four girls dropped their books, and ran swiftly -up the incline. Arrived there they found Hero, who was still growling -at intervals, sniffing suspiciously at a large bundle, done up in a red -cotton handkerchief, which was lying on the path: and a few steps away, -a poor old body, in a quaint poke bonnet and black shawl, was holding -herself up with one hand on the limb of an ash tree, while her other, -all knotted with rheumatism, was grasping a stout walking-stick. - -Her gown bore traces of Hero's paws, and it was evident from her panting -and half-sobbing breath that she had been very much upset. - -As the girls drew near she raised her stick and shook it at the dog, -crying, "Oh, the beast, the beast, the wicked beast!" while Monica -caught hold of Hero by his collar and dragged him away from the bundle -which had great attractions for him. - -The situation was not without its comical side, and Olive and Monica, -seeing no tragedy in it, both began to titter quite audibly. - -"Ah, you may laugh; mebbe 'tis nothin' but sport to young leddies like -you," cried the little old woman, as she glanced angrily at them. "But -'tis a sorry thing for me; I'm fair shattered wi' fright." - -[Illustration: "'AH, YOU MAY LAUGH; MEBBE 'TIS NOTHIN' BUT SPORT TO -YOUNG LEDDIES LIKE YOU.'"] - -"Poor old thing!" whispered Amethyst to Elsa; "see how she is shuddering -still. I should have been afraid of Hero myself, if he had suddenly -bounced upon me." - -"Yes," was all Elsa said, and the next moment she had slipped up to the -old woman, and with a pitiful look in her eyes had taken one of the -knotted, wrinkled hands in her own, while she said gently: "We are very -sorry, really we are. We wouldn't have let Hero frighten you for -anything, if we had known you were here. But people hardly ever come -along this path." - -"Ah! little lady, you've got a kind heart, I can see," said the old -granny, as she looked up into the bright, young face, which evinced real -sympathy for her; "not like them two yonder, a-makin' sport o' an old -body like me. They'll be rewarded one of these days, though." - -She clutched her stick tightly and prepared to pick up her bundle; but -Amethyst stooped for her and gave it to her with a smile. - -"Thank you, my pretty dear. God bless you both for helpin' me. And now -I'll get on a bit, if that there beast 'll let me." But even as she -spoke, she tottered and would have fallen, but for a helping-hand from -Elsa. - -"'Tis the rheumatizzy, missy; it ketches me all of a heap like, nows and -thens." - -"Let us go a little way with her, Thistle," suggested Elsa, and Amethyst -agreed readily, although their companions tried to persuade them not to -go. - -"Whereabouts are you going?" asked Elsa. - -"To my darter's, missy; Joe Hodges' wife she be as lives over agin -Disbrowe House." - -"Oh! I know Mrs. Hodges, Elsa," cried Amethyst; "she comes to the -mothers' meeting. Her husband works for Sir Tudor Disbrowe." - -"So he do, missy, and they has a cottage on the estate, so they've -a-told me. But I be a stranger to these parts, and I must have mistook -my way a-crossin' the copse. I tried to foller the 'rections they gave -me at the station, but I made sure I'd took a wrong turn just as that -there animal a-bounced at me." - -"It's more than a mile from here to Mrs. Hodges' cottage," said -Amethyst, somewhat dubiously. She was not quite sure that her good -nature was equal to traversing all that distance with the comical old -woman. - -"Can you walk so far as that, if we help you, do you think?" asked Elsa. - -"Oh, my dear young lady," expostulated Granny Wood (as she was generally -called), "I don't like to let you do it. I really don't." - -"Oh, we don't mind, do we, Elsa?" said Amethyst, a little -grandiloquently. "Just look after our baskets and books till we come -back, you girls." This she called out to Monica and Olive, who had -retreated to a little distance and were watching the proceedings with -amusement and contempt. - -"You won't find us here when you get back, you needn't fear," retorted -Olive. "It's likely to be a lengthy affair! If you're both determined -to go, you'd better take your things with you and meet us at the white -gate in West Lane. What is the time now, Monica?" - -"Two o'clock," replied the only owner of a watch among the quartette. - -"Well, we'll meet you about three o'clock, and mind you are not late." - -"All right," called back Amethyst, as the queer little party set off, -the old woman supported by Elsa's strong, young arm on one side and her -stick in her right hand, while Amethyst carried the handkerchief bundle. - -"We shan't wait after half-past three, whatever happens," shouted -Monica, "so if you're later than that, go straight to Carson Rise." - -"Oh, we shall be there in time," returned Amethyst, and the trio -disappeared round a turn in the pathway. - -"What a fuss about nothing," said Olive, as the girls returned to their -seat by the river, and Monica fastened Hero to the trunk of a tree. - -"Yes, perfect twaddle I call it," returned her friend; "but there, if -they like to do it, it doesn't matter to us." And she took up the book -she had flung down in her hurry, and hunted about for her place. -"Babyish sort of story this," she added, as she turned over the pages, -"nothing at all exciting in it. How do you like yours, Olive?" - -"Oh, pretty fair; it's rather childish, too, but mother is very -particular about what we read; she won't let us girls look at a novel." - -"Grandmother never troubles about what I read," said Monica. "I've got -some jolly books at home, I'll show them to you after tea. I am reading -one now that I wanted to bring out with me, but that little Amethyst's -eyes are as sharp as needles, and she might have picked it up. I must -lend it to you when I've done. It's an awfully jolly story called A -Cruel Fate." - -"It sounds nice," said Olive, "but if it's a novel, mother won't let me -read it." - -"Surely you don't have to show her everything you read?" cried Monica, -and there was a suggestion of scorn in her tone, which touched a weak -spot in Olive's nature; she could not bear being sneered at. - -"Of course not," she replied hastily. - -"Well, you shall have it later on." - -And then the conversation dropped, and they went on reading. - -Meanwhile, the progress that the old granny and and her two young -companions made was very slow. The sudden, unexpected appearance of the -big dog had really upset her, and she was very shaky and nervous still. -By the time half a mile had been traversed, her feeble steps began to -flag, and it was only by dint of resting very often, and leaning very -heavily upon one or other of the girls, that at length the daughter's -cottage was reached. - -Elsa and Amethyst were by no means sorry when their task was over. They -had not thought it would be such a tedious journey, and they were very -glad when they had left the old woman safely ensconced in an armchair by -Mrs. Hodges' fireside, while that worthy followed them to the gate, -overwhelming them with thanks for their very great kindness to her old -mother. - -"I'm sure, miss, we never can thank you both enough," she repeated again -and again, as she held the little green gate open for them to go -through. - -"Please don't say any more," replied Elsa, earnestly; "we were very glad -to do what we could to help your mother." - -And as the two girls hastened off, the words the grateful old woman had -repeated reverently, as they bade her "good-bye," rang in Elsa's ears -like a benediction: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these -... ye have done it unto ME." - -But Amethyst's thoughts were in quite another direction. - -"It must be awfully late, Elsa," she said, as they hurried along the -quiet road which skirted the copse, and which would bring them -eventually to West Lane, where they had arranged to meet the others. "We -were ages getting there." - -"Yes, I suppose it is," replied Elsa, coming back to the present moment -with a start; "why, now I remember it, the grandfather's clock in Mrs. -Hodges' room was nearly three o'clock." - -"Good gracious!" cried Amethyst. "I never noticed it; let's hope it was -fast. But, anyhow, we shall have a business to reach the white gate in -time;" and they quickened their footsteps into a run. - -At length the trysting place was reached, and they were glad to find -that they were the first on the spot. - -"Now we can have a rest and get back our breath," said Amethyst, as they -perched themselves on the white gate, and fanned their flushed faces -with their straw hats. "Oh, I say, how hot and tired I am!" - -"I do wish we knew what the time was," said Elsa, who looked rather -worried. - -"Yes, it's a great bother not having a watch, but I'm to have one next -Christmas, so there's not very much longer to wait;" and Amethyst heaved -a little sigh of satisfaction. Then she jumped off the gate and ran -into the road, as she heard footsteps approaching, expecting it to be -the other two girls, but it was only a nurse pushing a baby in a mail -cart. - -"Do you think she'd know the time, Elsa?" she said, as she ran back to -the gate. - -"You might ask her," replied the elder girl. - -The next moment Amethyst returned with a look of incredulous horror on -her little flushed face. - -"It's actually four o'clock, Elsa! What _shall_ we do?" - -With a spring, Elsa was on the ground beside her, and the two girls -gazed at each other in consternation. - -"Why, they said they would not wait after half-past three, and they must -have gone long before we came, and here we have been waiting ever so -long for them. Oh, it is _too_ bad!" cried Amethyst, nearly in tears. - -"That clock must have been dreadfully slow," said Elsa. "Perhaps it was -not even going. But cheer up, Thistle, we can get to Carson Rise in -less than half an hour from here, and we shall be in time for tea. It -wasn't our fault, dear; we couldn't help it, if we are late." - -"I don't half like going by ourselves," said Amethyst, as they hurried -along the hot, dusty road towards Mydenham; "you see, I've never been -there yet." - -"Oh! it will be all right," returned Elsa consolingly. "Mrs. Beauchamp -is very kind, really, although Monica thinks she is strict. She will -understand when we explain. I daresay the other two had only just left -when we arrived." - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - *"HAVE A RIDE, MONICA?"* - - -"Oh, dear me!" yawned Monica, as she stretched herself lazily, and shut -up her book. "I feel awfully sleepy." - -"Have a snooze, then," returned Olive, who was deep in the intricacies -of her story; "only just tell me the time first." - -"Good gracious!" cried her friend, as she twisted her wristlet round, so -as to see the hands of the watch it enclosed; "it's just upon three." - -"How the time has flown," said Olive, shutting up her book somewhat -reluctantly; "we must be going at once. I expect the other two are at -the white gate already." - -"Not they," ejaculated Monica, as she unfastened Hero, and put her book -in her empty lunch basket. And when, five minutes later, they reached -the appointed meeting-place, and no trace of the others was to be seen, -she said: "I told you so." - -"Well, I suppose we must wait about a bit for them," said Olive, "they -can't be many minutes. Let's perch on the gate posts and read a bit." -She had only a few pages left, and was anxious to see what became of her -heroine. But Monica's story was ended, so she looked about her for some -other amusement. - -In less than a minute the gay chatter of girls sounded on the still, -summer air, and Olive, looking up from her book, said: "There they are." - -But Monica, who had gone to reconnoitre, said: "No, it's only some of -the High School girls--Gipsy Monroe and her little sisters, with a -bicycle." - -"Hullo!" they said, as they came up, "what are you up to?" - -"Waiting for Elsa Franklyn and Thistle Drury," was Monica's reply. -"Seen anything of them?" - -"No," replied the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, rightly nicknamed -"Gipsy," instead of the plainer appellation of Emily which she had been -given. She was holding a younger girl on the bicycle, who jumped off as -she brought it to a stand-still. "Have a ride, Monica?" - -Now Monica knew that her grandmother had a great abhorrence of girls -riding bicycles, and, indeed, she had expressly forbidden her -granddaughter to attempt to mount one. But Monica, in this, as in most -things, entirely disagreed with her grandmother, and felt with the -boundless self-confidence of youth that her own opinion was far the -best. So without a qualm of conscience, she readily accepted the offer. - -"I can't balance myself a bit," she said, as she mounted the machine, -while Gipsy held it steady. "I have tried once or twice, but I always -wobble frightfully." And her movements proved she was right. - -"Oh, I say, how heavy you are!" cried Gipsy, in dismay, as Monica and -the bicycle rolled first one way and then the other. "Come and hold her -up, Olive." - -Things went better then, with two to steady the uncertain rider, and -they had gone some little distance along the road, when the Monroe -children, who were a little behind, called out: "Look out, here's a -motor!" And in another second the car whizzed by them. - -They never knew just how it happened; whether Monica overbalanced, or -whether she steered purposely into the hedge, so as to avoid the motor, -but the next instant the bicycle overturned, and Monica lay all huddled -up underneath it. - -"Oh! Monica, are you hurt?" cried both girls simultaneously, as they -lifted up the bicycle, and stood it against the hedge. But Monica -neither moved nor spoke. - -"Oh, she's dead!" cried the younger children, as they looked at the -inanimate form, lying so still on the dusty road. - -"Nonsense!" said a loud, cheery voice beside them, and looking up, -startled, the girls saw that the motor had been brought to a standstill -not many yards off, and its occupant had come back to see what was the -matter. "Not a bit of it! The lass has only twisted her foot a bit, by -the look of it, and I expect she's either stunned or fainted. I'll lift -her up," and suiting the action to the word, the stranger, whom the -girls had recognised as Lily Howell's father, raised Monica gently in -his strong arms. - -The movement roused Monica, and she opened her eyes, saying with a -shudder, "Oh, my foot, my foot!" - -"Oh, Monica, Monica!" cried Olive, who was nearly beside herself with -fright, and who was terrified when she thought of Mrs. Beauchamp. - -"There, that'll do, missy!" interposed Mr. Howell, in his bluff, hearty -voice; "just you let me carry her to the car there, and we'll have this -foot attended to in a jiffy." - -And in another moment Monica was half-lying, half-sitting in the car, -supported by Mr. Howell and Olive, whom he had bade get up as well, when -he understood they were together; the Monroes following on foot with the -bicycle, which had been the innocent cause of the calamity. - -"Drive on home, Cobb," said Mr. Howell to his chauffeur; while he added -to Olive, "It's the nearest place, and we shall soon see how much damage -is done." - -"Oh, she's fainted again!" cried poor Olive, as Monica's head fell -helplessly against the broad shoulder which was supporting it. - -"By Jove! she has," ejaculated the man under his breath, and he noticed -with relief that another minute would see them at his door. - -It was the work of a very few moments to carry the injured girl into the -house, and lay her gently on a huge couch, which was placed under an -open window in one of the expensively furnished rooms. The next thing -was to remove the shoe from the fast-swelling foot, to find Mrs. Howell, -and send for the doctor. - -"Franklyn is nearest," said the plutocrat to a smartly liveried footman, -who waited for orders. "Get him to come at once, or if he's out, bring -any one you can find." - -"Oh, I hope father will come!" said Olive pitifully, as she rubbed -Monica's cold hands and tried to rouse her. - -"Are you one of Franklyn's girls, then?" asked Mr. Howell; "and who is -this young lady?" - -"Monica Beauchamp. Her grandmother lives at Carson Rise, Mydenham." - -"Oh, I've heard of her from my girl," and Lily's father had a good look -at the object of his child's envious dislike. "We'll send a message to -her grandma as soon as the doctor's been." - -The door opened, and Mrs. Howell appeared on the scene, followed by a -maid bringing water, smelling-salts, and various other remedies. Her -plain, homely face wore an expression of anxiety, and she had evidently -hurried so much in response to her husband's imperative summons, that -she was short of breath. - -"Here, Caroline, you'll know best what to do," said Mr. Howell; "see if -you can pull her round. I'll be on the look out for the doctor," and he -left the room as he spoke. - -"Bless me!" was all Mrs. Howell could find breath enough to say, but she -busied herself with trying the various restoratives the elderly servant -handed to her, and in a few moments Monica opened her eyes. - -"Where am I?" she murmured, seeing strange faces bent over her, and Mrs. -Howell nudged Olive to speak to her friend. - -"You're at Mrs. Howell's, Monica; you hurt your foot, you know. But -don't try to talk now. Father will be here directly." She spoke with a -confidence she was far from feeling, for it was quite possible that Dr. -Franklyn was some distance away. - -A spasm of pain passed over Monica's white face. "Oh, my ankle, how it -does hurt!" she said, as she tried to alter the position of the injured -limb, but could not bear the agony the movement caused. - -"Bathe it again, Martha," said Mrs. Howell, to the maid who was standing -by. Then she stroked Monica's rumpled hair, kindly, but somewhat -hesitatingly, while she murmured, "Poor dear." - -The motherly woman would have liked to have said much more, to show this -young stranger within her gates how sorry she was for her; but she had -heard how haughty she was from Lily, and she was afraid of saying -anything for fear of giving offence. For one thing she was very -thankful: and that was that Lily had gone to some friends at a distance -to spend the half-term holiday, so there was no fear of her turning up -to make a fuss. - -Every one breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Franklyn was announced. - -"Oh, father, I _am_ glad you were in!" said Olive, as she caught -impetuously at his arm. - -"I hope you had no hand in this, Olive," he said, as he began, with -professional touch, to examine the swollen ankle. - -"No, father, no; indeed I didn't; it was no one's fault, but quite an -accident," she assured him, so earnestly, that he was fain to believe -that his careless, heedless child was not to blame in this instance. - -"Well, well," he said, "it might have been much worse. There are no -bones broken, but it is a nasty sprain; you won't do much walking for a -little while, young lady." And he looked with compassion at the girl, -who he knew was so full of energy. - -"How long?" was all Monica's quivering lips could articulate. Her ankle -was suffering so acutely from the doctor's handling, gentle as it had -been, that it took all her courage to keep the tears back. - -"Oh, two or three weeks, perhaps," was the reply, kindly but truthfully -given. It was never his way to tell his patients half-truths, and buoy -them up with hopes that had not a shadow of a chance of being realised. -"It will all depend upon whether you obey orders or not, how soon it -will get better." - -At the word "obey," a pang of remorse seized Monica; how she had failed -in obedience, and how bitterly she was suffering the penalty for a very -little act of disobedience (as she thought) even now. A sob rose in her -throat, but she gulped it down, and turned her face slightly away. - -"Now, Olive, my child, if Mrs. Howell will excuse you, come home with -me," said Dr. Franklyn, as, having done all he could to relieve the -sprained ankle, he prepared to depart. "Mr. Howell has sent to Mrs. -Beauchamp, and your friend will be able to go home in her grandmother's -carriage when it arrives, and your mother will be anxious about you. By -the way, I can't imagine where Elsa is," he added as they reached the -hall door; and for the first time Olive remembered the other two girls. - -"Oh, father, suppose they have been waiting all this time for us? What -a dreadful afternoon this has been!" And she felt ready to cry. - -"Cheer up, Olive," said her father kindly, pitying her unhappiness; -"we'll send some one to the white gate in case they should be there; but -I expect they gave you up long since, and we shall hear that they went -on to Carson Rise as you arranged." - -Meanwhile, how had Elsa and Amethyst been faring? - -In spite of her reassuring words to Amethyst, Elsa felt a considerable -amount of trepidation as she and her companion mounted the flight of -wide, stone steps, and rang the bell at the front door of Mrs. -Beauchamp's residence. She was mentally deciding what it would be best -to say, when the door opened, and the trim parlourmaid appeared. Elsa -had half hoped that Monica would have been on the look-out, and have -opened the door herself, so as to make the late-comers feel more -comfortable. So she was astounded when the maid replied, in answer to -her diffident enquiry, that the other young ladies had not arrived yet. - -Elsa and Amethyst looked askance at each other, one thought uppermost in -both their minds. "Suppose they should be waiting for us at the white -gate!" - -"My mistress is rather put about to think Miss Monica should be so late -coming back; would you please to walk in and explain, miss?" suggested -the maid to Elsa, who seemed to be spokeswoman. - -"Oh, yes, of course, we will tell all we know," said Elsa, and she and -Amethyst silently followed the maid to the drawing-room, where Mrs. -Beauchamp was sitting by one of the open French windows, which -overlooked part of the prettily laid-out gardens. - -"Well, my dear, how are you?" she said, as Elsa approached, and held out -a timid hand; "and is this your little friend?" And the old lady looked -approvingly at the pretty, childish face and simple attire of the -vicar's little daughter. "But how is it you have arrived alone? Where -are Monica and your sister?" - -"Oh, Mrs. Beauchamp, we can't think what they are doing!" And Elsa told -the whole story of what had occurred that afternoon, at least, as far as -the present state of affairs was concerned; finishing up by saying, "We -wouldn't have been so long, indeed we wouldn't, if we had known how late -it was. I am almost sorry, now, that we went all the way with the old -woman, but we thought it was right at the time." And Elsa's eyes filled -with tears. - -"You did quite right, children, no one could blame you," said Mrs. -Beauchamp, more kindly than Monica ever heard her speak. "I am only -sorry that my granddaughter did not wish to act as you did." And the -old lady sighed as she thought of the difference between self-pleasing, -self-willed Monica, and this nice-speaking, unselfish girl; and the -advantage was all on Elsa's side. "The thing to be considered is, where -are they now?" - -"Do you think they might still be waiting for us?" queried Amethyst, who -had been a silent spectator so far. "Shall we go back and see?" - -Mrs. Beauchamp smiled. "I think we can manage better than that," she -said. "I will send a messenger to the gate in West Lane, in case they -should be there, and we will have some tea, for I am sure you must be -thirsty after hurrying so, on this hot day. I quite expect that before -very long they will come rushing in." - -The two girls were very glad to wash their hands and smooth their -dishevelled hair; and Amethyst was delighted to see Monica's room (where -Barnes had taken them) for the first time. - -Then they went into the dining-room, where a sumptuous repast had been -spread for the quartette, Mrs. Beauchamp knowing something, from -experience, of young people's appetites. If it had not been for the -suspense about the other girls, Elsa and Amethyst would have enjoyed -themselves immensely. - -Mrs. Beauchamp was so very kind, and made herself quite agreeable to -these two well-behaved girls; indeed Amethyst, who was light-hearted by -nature, almost forgot the unfortunate ending to their picnic, but Elsa -was unable to banish the thought from her mind that something must have -happened to them to cause such delay, and she could see that Mrs. -Beauchamp was very much worried, although she strove to entertain her -little guests cheerfully. - -"You are not making much of a tea, my dear. Try one of these," and Mrs. -Beauchamp held a plate of delicious looking macaroons toward Elsa. - -"No, thank you, I don't feel as if I could eat another mouthful." And -Elsa's tears, which had been very near the surface for some time, rained -down her cheeks, while a sob choked her voice. - -"Don't fret, my dear," said Mrs. Beauchamp, soothingly, albeit her own -voice shook. - -"I am so afraid something has happened," sobbed Elsa, and she hid her -face in her hands. - -"Let us hope not; they may have been hindered in some way," replied Mrs. -Beauchamp; but even as she spoke, a maid entered the room with an -expression of alarm on her face. - -"If you please, ma'am----" she began. - -"What is it, Harriet? Tell me at once?" And Mrs. Beauchamp clutched -the back of her chair for support, while her face assumed an ashen hue, -and poor Elsa felt inclined to scream. - -"A man's come from Osmington, from Mr. Howell's place, ma'am, to say as -there's been an accident, ma'am, and Miss Monica's leg is hurt. It were -something to do with one of these motors, ma'am, but he says he was told -to say it weren't by no means serious." - -A tinge of colour came into Mrs. Beauchamp's cheeks, as the servant -reached the end of her sentence; she had dreaded she knew not what. - -"Is the man here, Harriet? Have him taken to the morning-room, and I -will see him," she faltered. - -"Oh! please may we hear too?" asked Elsa, with quivering lips. - -And the old lady, reading the alarm in the girl's tense young face, -said: "Of course, my dear." - -By dint of much questioning they got some idea of what had occurred; -and, relieved to a certain extent by having definite news of her -grandchild, Mrs. Beauchamp made speedy arrangements for her conveyance -home. - -In a very few minutes the brougham was at the door, and into it stepped -Mrs. Beauchamp and the two girls, followed by the reliable Barnes, who -was always to be depended upon in an emergency. - -Elsa and Amethyst would dearly have liked to go as far as the Howells', -so as to know exactly how Monica was, but when Mrs. Beauchamp ordered -the coachman to put them down at Dr. Franklyn's, on his way through the -town, they did not dare to make the suggestion. - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - *"I LIKE FUSSIN' OVER PEOPLE!"* - - -With a sigh of relief Monica heard the front door shut, and saw the -retreating figures of the doctor and Olive passing down the drive, from -her post of vantage in the great bay window. She wanted to think; at -least, she was not sure that she _wanted_ to, but ideas suggested -themselves to her brain and insisted upon being thought out. - -How _could_ she, who never before had been actually laid up with any -ailment, endure the thought of being for three weeks, at least, chained -like a log to a sofa? And, just as likely as not, it would end in being -a month, or even more. Oh, it was unendurable! No school--no fun--no -daily meeting with all the girls, and Olive, of course, in particular: -and Monica realised how wonderfully attached she had become to -school-life and doings, even in seven short weeks. No pleasant German -lessons with kind little Fraeulein Wespe, which she so much enjoyed. -Nothing but day after day in one or other of the dull, lonely rooms at -Carson Rise, waited on by Barnes, and visited periodically by her -grandmother, who she was sure, from experience, would gladly seize every -available opportunity of improving the occasion by telling her she had -only herself to thank for the position in which she found herself! - -How heartily Monica wished now that she had never seen the wretched -bicycle, as she styled it, much less have been persuaded into attempting -to ride it. In her vexation she blamed the bicycle, its owner, Elsa and -Amethyst for being late, and even poor, unfortunate old Granny Wood, for -being the primary cause of the mishap. It is a wonder that she did not -go one step farther, and credit Hero with originating the whole chapter -of accidents, for it certainly was his bark that started the ball -rolling. If Monica had heard any one else _saying_ what she was -_thinking_, she would have been exceedingly amused, for it sounded like -a modern version of the "House that Jack built." But she saw no fun in -anything just then, all was disappointment, discomfort, and pain; and -yet in her heart of hearts, Monica knew that it all arose from -disobedience. - -Not for worlds would she have owned it even to herself, but as she lay -on that couch, looking out into the sunlit garden and thinking, her -better nature craved after a nobler, higher life, where disobedience and -its results would have no place. She thought of her father and his words -to her in that almost forgotten letter, and unwonted tears rose to her -eyes, as she realised that instead of becoming what he wanted her to be, -she seemed lately to have grown less and less like the ideal she had -even set up for herself in those days. - -Monica's ruminations were brought to an abrupt termination at this -moment by the door opening, and a pleasant rattle of teacups sounded on -her ears as the footman appeared with the tea equipage. Mrs. Howell -followed him in, and busied herself in pouring out a cup of the fragrant -beverage, and placing it on a little table at Monica's elbow, saying in -her uncultured but kindly tones: "There's nothin' so comfortin' as a cup -of tea, to my mind; have a good drink, do 'ee now, my----" - -The good soul paused, in confusion, at the words which had so nearly -slipped out. What would this haughty young maiden have said if she had -called her "my dear?" So she made a nervous little cough, and added, in -an apologetic voice, "Miss Beauchamp." - -"Thanks, you're very kind," replied Monica, in her off-hand way. "I'm -sure I'm awfully sorry to give you such a lot of trouble." - -"It's no trouble at all, my dear," said her hostess warmly, quite -forgetting to watch her words this time; but Monica did not appear to -mind the appellation, it seemed natural to be called "my dear" by a -person of Mrs. Howell's description. "I like fussin' over people." And -the good woman looked a wee bit wistful, for Lily hated above all things -to be "fussed over by ma." - -"I don't think I should care about it always," said Monica candidly, -with a little laugh; "but just now it feels rather nice to be waited -on," and she smiled up into the homely face, surmounted by the -magnificent, but too lavishly trimmed cap, which was bending over her. - -Mrs. Howell's heart went out to this girl, who seemed so different from -what Lily had declared her to be; and Monica, realising the motherliness -which underlay all the oddities and vulgarities, felt strangely drawn -towards her commonplace hostess. They were becoming quite at home with -each other, when carriage wheels were heard, and "Mrs. Beauchamp" was -announced. - -A hasty glance at the visitor's aristocratic appearance, and the sound -of her well-modulated voice, made poor Mrs. Howell realise her many -deficiencies once again, and she relapsed into monosyllabic replies to -Mrs. Beauchamp's many enquiries. So Monica had perforce to be chief -spokeswoman. - -"Well, I am glad that it is no worse than it is," said her grandmother -stiffly. "The anxiety your non-appearance caused me was intense; and -all this trouble and inconvenience to everybody would have been avoided, -if you had not disobeyed my commands." And she shook her head severely -at the culprit, who showed no sign of contrition for her misdeeds. -"Well, you will have plenty of time to reflect, so we will say no more -now," added the old lady, "but with Mrs. Howell's permission Barnes -shall help you out to the carriage, and we will not trespass further on -her kindness." - -"Oh, I can hobble out by myself, somehow," said Monica, and she tried to -get up off the couch, but fell back among the cushions with a stifled -groan. - -"Let me help you, my dear," whispered Mrs. Howell, so low that no one -but Monica heard her, and with a supreme effort the girl managed just to -stand, by holding tight to the velvet-covered arm which was offered for -her to lean on. But to walk was absolutely impossible, the mere -movement of the injured ankle (the pain had been tolerably easy while it -had been laid up) was so excruciating, that even strong-willed Monica -could not summon up courage to put it to the ground. - -"I'm afraid I can't walk," she was obliged to confess, with white, -quivering lips, just as Mr. Howell appeared upon the scene. - -"How now, young lady?" he said, in his bluff way; "not trying to walk, -surely? You don't look any too fit." - -"Couldn't me an' you help her out to the carriage, Bob?" his wife said, -in a somewhat loud aside. "Her grandma wants to be off." - -"If the young lady will allow me, I think the best plan will be for me -to pick her up and carry her out," he said, with a grandiloquent bow. - -"Really, I cannot----" began Mrs. Beauchamp, in horrified tones. - -And Monica said: "Oh! no, please." - -But without more ado, the big burly man lifted her gently in his strong -arms, saying, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes: "It won't be the -first time to-day, missy," and before Mrs. Beauchamp had had time to -summon Barnes, Monica was comfortably settled in the brougham, with her -injured ankle resting on a board, and some cushions, which Barnes' -forethought had provided. - -"Thank you ever so much, Mr. Howell," said Monica gratefully, "and Mrs. -Howell too." - -"Tut, tut, missy! T'was a pleasure to her to have some one to coddle." - -"I should like to come and see her some day, when my ankle is well -again, if I may." - -"She'd be very glad if you would," was Mr. Howell's reply, as he handed -Mrs. Beauchamp into the carriage, and shut the door after Barnes had -squeezed herself into the tiny bit of space that was left. - -"I am sure we are very much indebted to you for all your kindness," said -Mrs. Beauchamp, in her freezingly polite way, as he stood, hat in hand, -waiting to see the carriage off. - -"Pray don't mention it, madam," was all he said, as he bowed in response -to her formal "good evening"; the smile that overspread his rugged, -good-tempered face was for the girl who nodded a bright farewell, albeit -her face was white and drawn with pain. - -"A noble lass, that," was Mr. Howell's comment, as he sauntered round -the beautifully laid-out garden with his worthy spouse; "but a vixen of -a grandmother, to judge from looks." - -Mrs. Howell, who had not been very prepossessed herself, felt it her -duty to remonstrate with him for judging hastily. - -"The gentry always has such airs," she said; "I daresay the old lady -means well enough. But I must say I did take to the girl." - -"And she to you, apparently." And her husband repeated what Monica had -said about coming again. - -"Bless her!" ejaculated warm-hearted Mrs. Howell; and then she added -wistfully, "I wish, Bob----" - -"What, old girl?" - -"That our Lily was a bit more like her." - -"Tut, tut!" he said. "This Miss Beauchamp is a lady, born and bred; and -our girl ain't got a drop of blue blood in her veins." - -"Our Lily don't seem to have got no heart, somehow," sighed her mother. -"She's all for clothes, an' pleasure, an' pleasin' herself." - -"It's the brass that's to blame for that," said the man who had amassed -a fortune of over a quarter of a million. "I'm almost sorry I had such -a streak of luck. We were happier in the old days, Caroline, when we -lived in the little house at Bermondsey, and went out marketing together -Saturday nights, guess the old proverb that 'money's the root of all -evil' is about right. It's all very well, but it don't buy happiness." - -"That ain't a proverb, Bob," said his wife, reprovingly, "it's in the -Bible, and it says it's the love of money that makes all the mischief. -I sometimes think, Bob," she added, a trifle hesitatingly, for she was -treading on tender ground, "that if we were a bit religious, we should -be happier like." - -"Time enough for religion when you get notice to quit," he replied with -a hard laugh, which had no mirth in it. "'Do as you would be done by' -is a good enough creed for me; and if everybody acted up to it the world -would be a better place than it is, with all its parsons and -church-going." - -"That ain't enough to take you to heaven, Bob," said Mrs. Howell, sadly, -but as she knew no better way to suggest she said no more, and the -subject dropped. But in the plain, homely woman's breast there was a -deep, unsatisfied longing after a peace which she had never found, amid -all the luxuries and splendour of her surroundings. - - -While the above conversation was taking place, and Monica was being -driven slowly home, the story of that disastrous day was being eagerly -detailed by the other three girls at the Franklyns', whither Amethyst -had accompanied Elsa, and where to her great delight she found her -mother sitting with Mrs. Franklyn. - -Fortunately for the invalid, no rumour of the accident had reached her -room, Mr. Howell's messenger having met the doctor after he had left -home a few minutes; so that she and Mrs. Drury had been enjoying a -little confidential chat about their children over a cup of tea; never -dreaming but that they were all having a splendid time at Carson Rise, -until Olive, who was followed by the other two girls before there had -been time to become anxious about them, told how differently they had -been placed. - -Olive and Amethyst both talked together, and there was such a confused -jargon going on, that for some time neither of the ladies could get a -very clear idea of what had happened; but eventually Elsa was appealed -to for her version of the affair, and then they understood better. - -"Dear me, I am sorry for Monica," said Mrs. Drury sympathetically; "it -will be a long business, I am afraid." - -"Poor child!" murmured the invalid; "how will she bear it?" - -"It's awfully hard lines on her," cried Olive vehemently, "shut up in -that great, dull house for weeks. And I shall miss her just -dreadfully." - -"I'm glad it isn't me," said Amethyst; "not that I should mind being -laid up if mumsie nursed me," with an affectionate press of her mother's -hand, at whose feet she had thrown herself. "But you get so low in -class if you are away from school long." - -"There are lessons to be learnt on a sofa, my child, that are more -important than all the school ones," said the invalid gently; "and by -learning them properly a higher place can be gained than any that the -High School can bestow." - -"I don't think I understand, Mrs. Franklyn," said Amethyst, in a puzzled -tone, while Elsa crept nearer to her mother, and kissed her thin, white -hand, a little comprehensive smile flickering about her mouth. Olive -looked on, a trifle superciliously; if it had not been for Mrs. Drury's -presence, she would have said: "For goodness' sake, don't preach, -mamma!" - -"I mean the lessons in God's school, dearie, the difficult things we are -so slow to learn. It is only when 'He teaches us of His ways' that we -can 'walk in His paths.' I was thinking perhaps God had allowed this -accident to happen to Monica, so that she might have time to think of -these things." - -"Monica is good enough as she is," cried Olive tempestuously; "we don't -all want to be goody-goodies like some people I know. There would never -be a bit of fun left then." And she stood up defiantly. - -With a significant glance at Mrs. Franklyn, whose pale face wore a -grieved, sad expression, Mrs. Drury took the matter into her own hands. - -"I am sorry, Olive, that you should feel like that," she said calmly, -while she looked searchingly into the defiant face of the young girl, -who was picking a tea-rose to pieces with thoughtless fingers. "But it -is a good thing, sometimes, to say what one feels. You must have been -unfortunate in your acquaintance with Christians if you find them dull -and gloomy. They are not all so, I can assure you. Indeed there is no -one so light-hearted, no life so sunshiny, as that of a true follower of -the Lord Jesus Christ. It is just because we are so happy with Him as -our Friend, as well as Teacher, that we want all those whom we know, and -love, to become learners in His school. For we remember that the -Examination Day is coming, and unless we have Him as our helper, we -shall certainly 'fail,' instead of 'pass.' You know yourself from -school experience that there are only the two positions to be in; and it -rests with each one of us to decide, now, which state shall be ours -hereafter." - -As Mrs. Drury ended her sentence, she lowered her voice, until it was -scarcely more than a whisper, but the silence which had fallen upon the -little group was so intense that every word was distinctly audible. -Amethyst looked up into her mother's face, and said, with real -earnestness: "I do want to pass _that_ examination, mumsie," and Mrs. -Drury bent down and kissed the upturned face with clinging tenderness, -for she knew that her little daughter's real desire was to please her -Saviour, although she very often failed to do so. - -But just at that moment her heart went out with a great longing towards -that other mother's girl, who seemed so unwilling to put first things -_first_. Her eyes sought Olive's, so that she might, if possible, read -in them something of her thoughts, but Olive kept her head persistently -turned away, and so she could not gauge what was passing in her mind. - -So, with a prayer in her heart (oft repeated as time passed) that God -would show Olive her need of a Saviour, she bade the invalid a tender -farewell, with a whispered word of hope, and after good-byes had been -exchanged, Mrs. Drury and Amethyst took their departure. - -The little girl chattered volubly of all the incidents of the afternoon, -as they walked home in the pleasant coolness which had succeeded the -heat of that June day, but Mrs. Drury was a trifle abstracted. She was -thinking of the friend she had left, who appeared to her to be losing, -rather than gaining strength, of the sorrow that the indecision of some -of her children, with regard to spiritual things, caused the patient -invalid. For a moment, a subtle temptation presented itself: why did -not a gracious Father answer His children's prayers for their loved ones -more speedily. But she thrust the thought from her, knowing well that -God both could, and would, do all things well, in His own good time. - -"Father will be astonished when we tell him, won't he?" piped Amethyst, -in her childish treble, and Mrs. Drury's eyes lost their far-away look -as she smiled into the animated little face, which only reached to her -shoulder. - -"Yes, very," she replied, "but you won't see him to-night, dearie, for -he has gone to a big meeting at Alwinton and he will not be home until -quite late." - -"Oh!" Amethyst's face fell somewhat; she rather liked telling her own -news, and the events of that day had been quite exciting ones to her. -"Well, you will have to tell him then, mumsie, I suppose. But couldn't -you only say just enough, and leave the rest for me to tell at -breakfast?" - -And her mother promised she would. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - *"A NICE ENOUGH LITTLE DOG, AS DOGS GO."* - - -"Is there anything else you're wanting, Miss Monica?" - -And Mary Ann, who had been for the last half-hour engaged in arranging -everything for the comfort and convenience of her young mistress, paused -as she reached the door of the apartment, half-schoolroom, half-boudoir, -which Monica called her "prison-house," and looked towards the occupant -of a low couch that had been drawn up to the open window. - -"Oh, yes, you might put those books where I can reach them," and Monica -indicated a pile of library books which were lying on a low bookcase in -a corner of the room. The maid obeyed, and placed them on a table by -Monica's side, on which she kept the various things with which she -vainly endeavoured to while away the tedium of the long, long days. - -"Are you sure there's nothing else, miss?" - -"I don't think there is, thanks." And the housemaid was just departing, -when she was recalled by the sound of her name. - -"Oh, Mary Ann!" - -"Yes, miss?" - -"Which is your evening out?" - -"Fridays, Miss Monica," said the girl, astonishment expressed in both -face and voice. Whatever could be coming to their young lady? Never -before had she taken the slightest interest in the outings of her -grandmother's domestics! - -"Let me see, to-day is Friday," mused Monica, "could you do an errand -for me while you are out this evening, Mary Ann?" - -"Well, miss, it all depends," replied the under-housemaid, cautiously. -"Where would it be, miss?" - -"Oh, it's only to take back these books and get me some fresh ones from -Bell's Library," said Monica. "Are you fond of reading, Mary Ann?" - -"La, yes, miss," admitted the girl with a giggle. "Cook says I get right -down wropt up in my book, and they have to shake me sometimes, when I'm -sittin' readin' in the kitchen of a evening, for I never 'ears no one -a-speakin' when I'm deep in my story." - -"Well, I daresay I could lend you a book, now and again," said Monica -graciously. "And you think you could go to Bell's this evening?" - -"Why, yes, Miss Monica, I'll go with pleasure," said the girl, delighted -at the prospect of the loan of some books. "Me and Jim (that's my young -man, miss," she explained with a simper and a blush) "we generally -strolls down High Street, and I can easy pop in and get 'em." - -"Well, here is a list of half a dozen," said Monica, handing her a -paper. "Ask them to give you any three that are in, and tell them who -they're for." - -"Very good, Miss Monica," and Mary Ann finally departed. - -Left to herself, Monica began to wonder how she should pass the weary -hours of that hot June day. - -"I wish Olive hadn't been yesterday, now," she mused; "because there is -not the faintest chance of her coming over again to-day; she said she -would come to-morrow if she could. Oh, dear! I do think some of the -girls might come. I'd rather have Elsa, or even that little Amethyst -Drury, than nothing but my own company all day long. I do wish I could -have a dog, it would not be so sickeningly dull then." And she heaved a -weary sigh of discontent. "What a nuisance this horrid sprain is! You -simply can't do anything but read, when you can't move your leg, and I -hate needlework. I'm glad I thought of getting Mary Ann to go for some -fresh books. Heigho! I wish I hadn't hurried so over the last one -yesterday, I should have had some left to read now, but it was so -fascinating I couldn't leave off once I began." - -At that moment a footfall was heard on the richly carpeted stairway, and -Mrs. Beauchamp opened the door. Monica looked up in astonishment; it -was quite an hour earlier than her grandmother usually paid her morning -visit. - -"Good morning, Monica," she said, as she bent and just touched the -girl's forehead with cold, undemonstrative lips, "I hope your ankle is -going on well." - -"Oh, I suppose it is, but I wish it had never been ill," replied Monica -with grim humour. "I'm sick of lying here." - -"You have only yourself to blame," was the old lady's unconsoling reply; -"if you had not been disobedient, all this would have been avoided." -And she waved her slender white hand expressively towards Monica's -injured limb. - -With a pout, Monica looked out of the window, muttering something about -"the same old tale." - -Her grandmother, who was slightly deaf, did not catch the words, but she -saw the gesture, and drew her own conclusions. With a sigh, Mrs. -Beauchamp wished, for the hundredth time, that she had never undertaken -the charge of this troublesome granddaughter; her coming into the prim -household had made an end of all its restful quiet, and she never seemed -free from anxiety about her. And yet--Conrad had intreated her so -earnestly to have his only and much-loved child, and at the time she had -seemed tractable enough. But oh! how greatly Monica had altered in -eighteen short months; perhaps she had had mistaken ideas about her -upbringing; perhaps, if she had been a little less strict in minor -matters, things might have gone more smoothly; perhaps old Dr. Marley -was right when he said: "It is easier to lead than to drive young -people." - -With these thoughts in her mind, the old lady made a proposition that -nearly took Monica's breath away; so unexpected was it. - -"I have been thinking that perhaps you might have a small dog of some -kind, Monica; it would be company for you while you are laid up." - -"Oh, grandmother!" was all the girl could find to say; but the look of -intense pleasure which irradiated her whole face, entirely transforming -it, was sufficient reward to Mrs. Beauchamp for the very real concession -she was making; for, of all things, a mischievous, gambolling dog -_indoors_, who would be sure to bark or whine just when she was having a -little nap, was one that she objected to most. - -"Of course, it must be a very nice quiet one, Monica, small and -well-trained. Perhaps Richards might hear of one somewhere." - -"Oh! grandmother, do you remember that day you decided I was to go to -school?" Monica questioned, eagerly; "because Tom had just been telling -me about a jolly little wire-haired terrier his father wanted a home -for, when you sent for me." - -"I do remember something of the sort, Monica," said the old lady, "but -even if the dog were still to be had, it might not be just what we -want." - -"Well, I do wish you would send round to the stables and ask, -grandmother," said Monica, coaxingly "because we could have him at once, -I expect. We might have to wait ever so long before Richards came -across one, he is so dreadfully slow. And it _is_ so dull up here, all -alone." - -"Well, I will see what can be done." - -And the old lady departed, a comfortable feeling of having given -pleasure warming her cold, reserved heart; while Monica reiterated again -and again, in words which jarred terribly on her aristocratic nerves: -"It's most awfully kind of you, grandmother! It _will_ be jolly to have -a dog of my own." - -To say that Monica waited patiently for results would be untrue. She -was far too excited and eager about the matter to do that; but as she -was alone, except for a flying visit from Barnes, who brought her some -lunch, and as she could not move her leg, her impatience had a salutary -amount of check. She could not think how it was her grandmother had ever -brought her mind to think of such a thing, knowing well how keenly she -objected to animals indoors; it puzzled her a good deal, especially -after her disobedience earlier in the week. And Monica grew quite -repentant for her misdeeds, as she considered the unexpected favour she -was being granted. - -An hour or so later a peculiar scratching noise along the corridor -outside made Monica listen intently, and a second after there came a -hesitating knock at the door. - -"Come in," cried Monica, who was all excitement; and the door opened to -admit Tom, the little stable-boy, who was leading the cutest looking -wire-haired terrier imaginable, and was closely followed by Barnes. - -"Oh, you darling!" cried Monica, who was infatuated with the dog at -first sight; "do bring him close, Tom." - -"Yes, miss," said Tom, with alacrity, pulling his forelock, and grinning -all over his bright little face, as he clutched hold of the bit of strap -that did duty for a collar, and dragged the terrier up to Monica's -couch. "I hope you're better, miss," he ventured to say shyly, for -Barnes, of whom he stood greatly in awe, was looking severely at him, -and he had been bidden "to mind his behaviour." - -"Oh, yes," said Monica, carelessly; she had no thoughts to spare on -herself just then. "What's his name, Tom? Do put him up beside me." - -"Be careful, now," said Barnes, a trifle sharply; she was not best -pleased at this introduction into the household. "Remember your leg, -Miss Monica." - -"All right, Barnes, don't fidget! See, he's as quiet as possible. Good -boy, dear old fellow!" and Monica stroked the ginger coloured head, and -looked into the liquid brown eyes which had a wistful expression in -them. He pricked up his ears at the tones of endearment, and licked her -hands in response. - -"'E 'ave took to you, an' no mistake, miss," said Tom, with huge -delight. "Jack 'e 'ave been called, miss," he added, in answer to -Monica's query, "but you'll find 'im a grander name, miss, now." - -"No, I think Jack will do very well," said Monica, and the little dog, -who knew by her fondling that he was being loved and made much of, gave -a little grunt of satisfaction, and curled himself round on the couch -beside his new mistress. - -"Isn't he sweet, Barnes?" - -"Oh, he's a nice enough little dog, as dogs go, Miss Monica, but I have -no particular fancy for them," was the maid's somewhat grudging reply. -And then she added: "Now then, my boy, you'd better be off to your work -again." - -"Yes'm. Good mornin', miss," stammered Tom, in confusion, for Barnes' -repelling tones made him feel as if he had done something wrong. - -"Oh, good-bye, Tom. I'm awfully glad to have Jack," said Monica, with a -bright smile, which made the little lad feel at ease again, and remained -in his memory for many a day. "I shall be coming out on the lawn in a -few days' time, and then you must come round and see him." - -The little newcomer proved an endless source of pleasure and amusement -to Monica; he had such quaint ways, and made himself thoroughly happy -and contented in his new home. Even Mrs. Beauchamp was obliged to -confess that he was no trouble; he spent hours curled up on the rug -which was thrown over Monica's knees, as if he had been accustomed to an -invalid mistress all his life. - -"You wait until this tiresome sprain is well," Monica would often say to -him, "and then you shall have a very different existence, Jack." - -The old doctor made great friends with him when he came to see his -patient the next morning, and went off chuckling with pleasure over the -result of his plain-speaking to Mrs. Beauchamp, a few days before. - -"She'll get on fast enough now," he said to himself, as he trotted down -the drive; "young folk want young things about them, and up there," with -a suggestive glance backward at the stately residence he had just left, -"they are all as old as Methuselah. She looked a totally different being -this morning, from the sulky, discontented girl I saw last time. But I -don't deny she's a handful--takes after her mother, I suppose. Conrad -was as nice a fellow as ever breathed, but I never had much of a fancy -for his wife, poor thing; she was too much of a woman of the world for -old Henry Marley. But there, he isn't, by any means, all he ought to -be." And the dear old doctor sighed as he realised how far short he was -of being a true copy of the Great Example. - -The doctor had not long left, when a footman called at Carson Rise, with -a basket containing some magnificent peaches and hot-house flowers, -"with Mrs. Howell's compliments, and she would be glad to know how the -young lady was." - -Mrs. Beauchamp was out for a drive, so the parlourmaid came up to Monica -for a message. - -"Oh, Harriet, how lovely!" cried the girl; "do take them out carefully -while I write a little note to send back. How very kind of Mrs. -Howell." - -"The same lady has sent every day to enquire for you, miss," said the -maid, who was very much impressed by the grandeur of the Howell livery, -and the importance of the individual who wore it. - -"Has she really? No one has mentioned it before," said Monica; "I ought -to have been told." And there was a suggestion of displeasure in her -tones. - -"Mrs. Beauchamp knew, miss, of course, and so did Barnes," Harriet -hastened to say, in defence of herself. - -"Very well, Harriet, it was not your fault," said Monica, and she busied -herself in writing a little girlish note of thanks, which brought tears -of pleasure and gratification to the eyes of the good-natured, motherly -woman who received it, and then slipped it into her pocket for fear her -tyrannical young daughter should come across it, and make fun of it. For -Lily Howell had not yet grown reconciled to the idea of "_that_ Monica -Beauchamp" getting into her home, and prying into everything, and then -going off to make fun of all the mistakes she knew her mother must have -made. - -There had been a great scene upon her return home, on the Monday -evening, and she had exclaimed long and loudly against the fate which -had allowed such an unfortunate thing to come to pass. - -Mrs. Howell, instead of severely reprimanding her daughter for being so -insulting and rude, had wept feebly, and bowed beneath the angry girl's -storm of words; but in her heart she treasured the remembrance of the -kind words and very real gratitude of a daughter of the aristocracy to a -poor, common-place woman, such as she was allowed no opportunity of -forgetting that she, Caroline Howell, was. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - *"A HUNGRY FEELING IN MY BRAIN."* - - -"What do you think of this?" said Monica, that same Saturday afternoon, -as she pointed to Jack, who was lying curled up on her rug. - -And Olive was astounded, as her friend knew she would be, at such an -unexpected sight. - -"Oh! isn't he a dear fellow?" she cried, rapturously, patting his head, -and playing with his well-shaped ears, as Jack first sniffed enquiringly -at the boots and dress of his young mistress's friend, and then, with a -wag of his stumpy bit of tail, sat down on the floor at her feet, and -rested his head against her knees. "He is going to like me at once." - -"Of course, he is," said Monica; "it will be Jack's business to like all -my friends and hate all my enemies." - -"Oh, Monica, I don't think you've got any enemies!" - -"Haven't I?" enquired Monica quizzically; "what about Lily Howell?" - -"Oh, I forgot her," replied the other merrily; "and yet I ought not to -have, for she's been in such a temper all the week. She's tried every -way she can to get Elsa and me into trouble, and when she finds she -can't manage it, she's in a worse tantrum than ever. I can't think why -she's in such a mood," continued Olive, meditatively, "unless it is----" - -"Oh, I expect she's huffy because Mr. Howell took me into his house," -interrupted Monica, "and she wasn't at home to see all that went on. -But I don't care a straw for her, or what she thinks; she's too common -and vulgar to think about. Now her mother is the dearest old creature," -she went on, in quite a different tone; "she was as kind and nice as -possible. And Harriet tells me she's sent every day to ask how I am, -and it was she who sent those lovely peaches and flowers. Do have a -peach, Olive; they're awfully nice." - -And Monica, taking one herself, pushed the plate containing them nearer -to her friend. - -"How nice of her!" said Olive, taking a bite of the luscious fruit, -while Jack looked up to ascertain whether she was eating anything that -he could share. "No, you won't like this, old boy," she said, with a -merry laugh. - -"He can beg beautifully," said Monica. "When we've eaten these, I'll -put him through all his tricks." - -A merry quarter of an hour passed in watching Jack beg, and "trust for -it," and "die," and "give three cheers for the king." Then, when he was -tired, and lay curled up asleep on Monica's couch again, the two girls -had a thorough good chat about everything dear to their school-girl -hearts, until a clock striking the hour of four warned Olive that she -must be going. - -Monica begged her to stay to tea with her, saying: "Grandmother quite -expects you to." - -But, much as Olive would have liked it, she was obliged to refuse, as -she had promised her mother to meet Kathleen and the children at a -quarter past, at a certain place, so as to walk home together. - -"Oh, there's heaps more I wanted to ask," said Monica. "I never dreamt -but that you would stay to tea. What did Fraeulein say to my being away -yesterday? There will be no chance now of my coming out top in German, -and that's the only thing I had a shadow of a chance about." And Monica -looked rueful. - -"Oh, she was very sorry about your ankle. She had heard from the other -mistresses, I expect, for when I tried to explain she said: 'No, yes, -but that is ver' sad!' in her broken English. You know how she says it; -I can't imitate her properly," said Olive. "But, I say, Monica, you -won't be away long, will you? Surely not three weeks?" And Olive's -bright face assumed a dismal expression at the thought of being so long -without her friend. - -"Dr. Marley said this morning it might be better before then, but not -fit for school. It is a bore; I wish that old bicycle was further." -And the girl groaned. - -"So do I," acquiesced Olive sympathetically; neither of them apparently -taking into consideration that the bicycle was quite the least guilty of -everything and everybody concerned. - -"Well, I must go now, but I'll come over as often as I can next week." - -"Not to-morrow?" - -"Why, that's Sunday!" said Olive, in astonishment. - -"What of that?" queried Monica. - -"Why, there's no time on Sundays: we go to church twice, and to Miss -Grant's class in the afternoon. Besides, mother doesn't let us go for -walks on Sundays." - -"What a funny idea! I never go, because there's nothing to go for; but -I don't think grandmother would mind. She dozes all the afternoon, and -I read. Oh, that reminds me: here is the book I promised to lend you, -Olive," and she drew it from under her cushions. - -"'_A Cruel Fate_';" Olive read the title aloud, and glanced at the -closely printed pages. "It doesn't look _very_ interesting, Monica." - -"Oh, it is, awfully. You can't think how it fascinated me." - -"I'm sure mother would not think it was a nice book," she said -doubtfully. - -"Oh, fiddlesticks!" was Monica's rather rude reply. "You take it home -and read it on the quiet, and if you don't want to borrow some more next -time you come, I shall be very much mistaken. Your mother can't expect -to keep you tied to her apron-strings always." And there was again that -suggestion of a sneer underlying the words which Olive could not stand. - -A girl with higher principles would have said: "No, thank you, Monica; I -would rather not have anything to do with it." And if Olive Franklyn -had had the courage to refuse the evil that afternoon, she would have -saved herself much sorrow. But she weakly gave in, and slipped the book -into her string-bag, well knowing that she was flatly disobeying her -mother's commands. - -Poor Olive! She carried more away with her from Carson Rise than the -novel; already the poison was beginning its deadly work. How could she -manage so that not even Elsa should know she had it in her possession? -She was very differently situated from Monica: in their large family -they had no secret drawers or private hiding-places, everything was -common property, and she could depend on nowhere being absolutely safe. - -She was so deep in thought about it, that she almost ran into Kathleen -and the children before she knew they were approaching her, and she was -so preoccupied during the walk home that Kathleen teased her about -having left her tongue at Carson Rise. She pulled herself together -then, but alas! the same complaint became an habitual one, as time went -on and Olive Franklyn, careless, light-hearted, and fun-loving, but -hitherto always open and frank, became moody, abstracted, peevish, and -discontented. - -That first book was but the forerunner of many more; she became -absolutely possessed by an insatiable thirst for novel-reading. Indeed, -the girl became so engrossed in them that ordinary, everyday life had no -attraction for her, the distorted views of life which the novels gave -her totally unfitting her for both school and home associations. - -Lois and Kathleen noticed the change in their young sister and puzzled -over it, but their mother put it down to Monica being laid up. - -"See how anxious she is to go over to see her friend as often as -possible," said Mrs. Franklyn; "it is evident that they are very fond of -one another, and she misses her companionship. It will be all right -when Monica gets back to school; Olive will be her usual happy, -contented self again then." - -And as they had no inkling of the land of unrealities in which the girl -was living, her sisters accepted the mother's verdict, and -good-naturedly made it possible for Olive to go over to Carson Rise -quite frequently, little dreaming that, each time she went, fresh fuel -was added to the flame. - -Monica, who, at first, had smiled with satisfaction when she found her -prediction come true, began to be a little alarmed as time went on and -Olive kept continually asking for a fresh book. She was rather a slow -reader herself, but Olive seemed literally to devour them. - -"How _do_ you manage to find time to read such a lot?" she said -incredulously one Monday afternoon, when they were sitting in a rustic -summer-house, in a shady corner of the sheltered garden, and Olive had -admitted that she had already finished a three-volume novel that she had -taken home only the Saturday before. "I can't think how you do it!" - -"I can't leave off," said Olive. "As it happens, Elsa is grinding hard -for her music exam., so she spends hours in the drawing-room practising, -and that leaves me the 'den' pretty much to myself. But if she weren't, -I should just _have_ to make opportunities somehow, for I am perfectly -wretched when I can't have a read." - -"But I thought your people objected to novel-reading. Do none of them -ever catch you at it? and how do you manage to do your home-work?" said -Monica, still incredulous. - -"No, they haven't yet; but I live in dread of discovery every day," -confessed her friend. "As to lessons, I manage to scrape along -somehow." - -"Well, I'm almost sorry I ever lent you a book," said Monica, who could -detect a subtle difference in Olive, and felt uneasy. - -"Oh, Monica, how often and often I've wished that I'd never borrowed -that first one!" said the poor infatuated girl; "and, sometimes, I think -I'll never touch a novel again. But I always have to; I can't seem to -live without reading them now. There's a hungry feeling in my brain. I -can't explain what I mean, but it feels quite empty, somehow, until I -have a good read, and then I feel better. Don't you ever get sensations -like that?" and the poor child looked pitifully at her companion. - -"No, I can't say I do," admitted Monica; "and I hope I never shall. I -like reading, certainly, and there is more excitement in a regular novel -than there is in ordinary little goody-goody books. But I'm not so keen -on them as I was; they're rather horrid sometimes. But I think you'd -better give them up, Olive." - -"Oh, I can't, Monica!" - -"Well, I really don't think I shall lend you any more." - -But Olive pleaded so pitifully for just one, that Monica reluctantly -gave in, saying: "That's the only one I've got that you haven't had, so -you must make the most of it. I'm not sure that I'm going to have any -more." - -"Oh, Monica, _do_, to please me!" pleaded Olive. "I'm not at all sure. -By the way, did, you bring back those you've finished, because they must -go to the library." - -"No, I couldn't; they would have made rather a large parcel, and I had -no way of hiding it, especially as Elsa and Paddy came half-way with -me." - -"Well, take good care no one spies them," cautioned Monica. "I don't -want to have the credit of leading you astray." - -And Olive promised to be careful, as indeed she always was. As a matter -of fact, not the least of the sins to be laid at the door of her -novel-reading on the sly was the deceit she had to practise in order to -hide the books. - -Three weeks had already sped since the half-term holiday, and still -Monica could scarcely bear to stand on her ankle, so severe had been the -sprain. There was little likelihood of her being back at school for -quite another week or ten days; indeed, Mrs. Beauchamp had hinted that -it seemed hardly worth while for her to go again that term, at all. But -the kindly old doctor, seeing that Monica's heart was set upon it, had -said: "Oh, yes, it will do her good to rub up against the other girls -for a week or two. The holidays will be quite long enough, seven weeks -or more." And so it was settled that, as soon as the ankle was really -to be depended upon, Monica should go back to finish out the term. - -She was thinking of it a few days later, as she kept her grandmother -company in the drawing-room after tea. The old lady had seemed much -less stiff lately, and Monica had begun to think that she might grow -fond of her in time. She was so kind, too, about Jack, who was allowed -to be wherever his mistress was, even in the drawing-room; certainly he -was a particularly good dog. He was lying on the hearth-rug now, fast -asleep, while Mrs. Beauchamp was knitting some fleecy wool into a wrap; -and Monica, who was no longer compelled to keep her leg up, so long as -she did not walk on it much, was lazily, and by no means elegantly, -lounging in the depths of an easy chair. - -Suddenly Jack pricked up his ears, and gave a short, sharp little bark, -there was the sound of the front door opening and shutting, and the next -minute "Miss Franklyn" was announced. - -Mrs. Beauchamp greeted the visitor cordially. She had met Lois once -before and had been prepossessed by the gentle tones and ladylike -bearing of the doctor's eldest daughter. - -Monica jumped up hastily, with a pleased exclamation, but she soon saw -that something was wrong. There was a stern expression about Lois' lips -which was not habitual to her, and she had brought a parcel, which -Monica could see only too well contained books. - -She scarcely responded to Monica's, "How do you do, Miss Franklyn?" but -turned to Mrs. Beauchamp and began to explain her errand without delay. - -"I am very sorry to have to draw your attention to these books, Mrs. -Beauchamp," she said, laying a three-volume novel and another library -book on an octagonal table beside her. "It seems that for some -weeks--all the time your granddaughter has been laid up, at any -rate--she has been lending Olive books of this description. I do not -know whether Monica has your permission to read them, but it has been -one of my dear mother's strictest rules that none of us should read any -novel, except standard works, until we had left school; then we might do -so if we wished. As it happens, neither my sister Kathleen, nor myself, -has the slightest inclination for literature of _that_ kind," and here -Lois glanced contemptuously at the books, "but Olive seems to have been -thoroughly infatuated with them. We have all noticed a great change in -her lately, but could not account for it, until, by mere accident this -afternoon, three of these books were found by one of the children, -carefully hidden in an old doll's house which is rarely used. Seeing -that it was useless to deny it, Olive has confessed to my mother the -unhappy deceit that she has been practising, and produced the remaining -book from her bedroom. She says she has been most miserable all the -time, but was evidently frightfully fascinated, or she could never have -been so wicked as to deceive our mother, who is very grieved and upset -about it all. However, Olive has at length promised solemnly not to -read any more of this kind of book, and I believe she will keep her -word, unless she is tempted. That is why I have come to ask you to -forbid Monica lending any more to Olive, if she is allowed to read them -herself." - -Lois paused, and Mrs. Beauchamp, after a glance at the title-pages of -the books, looked severely at Monica, who had sat perfectly still, with -her eyes fixed on Lois, during the recital of Olive's wrong-doing. - -"How came you to get books of this description from the library, -Monica?" - -"You never forbade me to, grandmother," murmured the girl, more to gain -time than anything else, for she had resolved to make a clean breast of -it. - -"More I did," admitted Mrs. Beauchamp ruefully. "I am afraid I never -realised that you would choose this style of literature; I have thought -of you as a mere child, still. Oh, dear me, what a terrible -responsibility girls are!" And the old lady sighed feebly, and looked -at Lois for assistance. - -"Perhaps Monica will ask your advice in future," was all Lois could say, -for she felt she was in a somewhat difficult position. "At any rate, -for my mother's sake, I am sure she will promise not to help Olive to -disobey her again." - -The kind tone was too much for Monica, and she said impulsively: "Oh, -Miss Franklyn, I am so awfully sorry! Olive never would have read one -if I hadn't persuaded her to; she knew she ought not. I would give -anything, now, not to have lent them to her. Indeed, last time she was -here I told her so, and said I was half-inclined not to read any more -myself." - -[Illustration: "'OH, MISS FRANKLYN, I AM SO AWFULLY SORRY!'"] - -"I don't know what Mrs. Beauchamp's opinion may be," said Lois, to whose -face Monica's honest avowal had brought a pleased expression, "but if -you took _my_ advice, Monica, you would make up your mind to be _quite_ -inclined to let them severely alone, for the next few years, at all -events." - -"I will," Monica replied, without hesitation; the reality in her tones -betokening steadfastness of purpose. - -"I am very glad," said Lois, and there was distinct approval in the -expressive glance her grey eyes flashed on Monica, as she rose. "I will -tell Olive of your resolve, and it will help her to be true to her -promise." - -Mrs. Beauchamp, looking alternately from one to the other, as the -conversation seemed to be carried on without her help, suddenly realised -that the question was settled, and she had no battle to fight with -Monica. She could not help thinking how differently she would have gone -to work, and how unsuccessful she would, in all probability, have been. - -"I am sure, Miss Franklyn, I hope that your mother will accept my -apologies for all this trouble. There seems no end to the anxiety my -granddaughter causes every one!" - -"It _was_ an anxiety to her, I must confess," said Lois, "but now that -Olive has told her everything, she feels easier about it. She has such -an abhorrence of anything approaching deceit." - -"Of course," murmured Mrs. Beauchamp. - -"Can Olive come to tea to-morrow, grandmother?" Monica's face was -pleading. - -"I really don't know, I'm sure. I hardly think you deserve----" began -the old lady hesitatingly. - -"May I interrupt?" said Lois, quickly. "I was to tell you that my -mother felt that the most suitable punishment she could inflict upon -Olive was to forbid her to see Monica again until she returns to school, -whenever that may be." - -And although Monica said, "Oh!" and looked disconsolate, she could not -but admit that the punishment was a just one. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - *"A NICE SCRAPE SHE'LL GET INTO!"* - - -"Monica Beauchamp is back at school." - -The news soon spread, until all the Fourth Form girls were aware of the -fact, and, for the most part, it was received with acclamation, for the -bright, high-spirited girl had been missed during the month she had been -away. - -There was only one little clique who regretted her return, and that was -Lily Howell and her votaries who, knowing she had a rooted objection to -the new-comer, took their cue from their leader, and looked upon Monica -as an interloper; but it must be confessed that, personally, they had no -fault to find with her, except that the absolute indifference with which -she treated them annoyed them terribly. - -During recreation, when Olive would fain have had Monica all to herself, -several of the girls, in other forms besides her own, gathered round -her, and made quite a fuss of her. This of course did not escape Lily's -notice, who, remembering one occasion when she had returned to school -after a slight illness, and no one had expressed any pleasure at seeing -her back again, was frightfully jealous of Monica. - -But the chief reason why she was sorry to see Monica at school once more -was because she knew that, with Monica in the arithmetic class, her own -chance of coming out first in the examination was decidedly lessened. -There were only two studies which Monica had any real interest in, and -those were German and arithmetic; the former because she had a very fair -idea of the language, and the latter she thoroughly enjoyed and -consequently took pains with. - -Up to the half-term, Monica had kept her place steadily, much to Lily's -mortification, who had always been praised for her neatly worked -examples, until Monica appeared upon the scene, with her less tidy, but -far more quick and correct work. But the month she had been away -provided Lily with a grand opportunity of getting ahead; and she had -worked with a zeal, worthy of a better cause, to endeavour to supplant -Monica. - -Great was her chagrin, then, to find upon a new rule being explained by -Miss Churchill, that Monica was well acquainted with it, and had worked -out a given example, and got the right answer, before the problem had -thoroughly penetrated Lily's brain. She did not know that Monica had -spent many hours amusing herself with her _Hamblin Smith_ while she had -been laid up at home, and so had got far ahead of what the Fourth Form -was still doing. - -"Very good indeed, Monica! You have worked that out well," commended -Miss Churchill, as she looked at the sum; and Monica flushed with -pleasure at words of praise such as she seldom had received before. - -During that last fortnight of the summer term, she tried her very -hardest to have a neat exercise book, as well as correct answers, but it -was uphill work for Monica, whose home-lessons were invariably blotted -and smudged, and the lines anything but straightly ruled. However, Miss -Churchill, quick to notice and commend real effort, encouraged her -several times with a word of praise. None of these escaped Lily -Howell's ears, and she felt more convinced than ever that Monica was -deliberately aiming at supplanting her in the forthcoming examination. -No such idea had entered Monica's head; she was merely actuated by a -desire to please Miss Churchill, and arithmetic was the only subject (of -those taught by her) for which Monica had any liking. In English -subjects and science she was a terrible pupil, and she was continually -getting into trouble on account of carelessly written, or insufficiently -learnt, work; but as it was just at the end of the term, and she had -been away so long, she was let off more easily than she really deserved. - -At length the examination week dawned, and those girls who were keen -about their place in the class list spent all their spare time in -cramming. Amethyst Drury, whose talents lay in the direction of English -history and geography, was continually on the look out for some one to -hear her say her "dates," and ask her questions about Africa, the -country they were to be examined upon that term. Elsa, who, among -others, was what their teacher called an "all-round girl," knew it was -hopeless to try to look up everything, so she depended upon the -knowledge she had gained during the term; by far the wisest plan. -Olive, who seldom did well in any subject, on account of carelessness -and inattention, expected to "get along somehow"; the only distinction -she ever obtained was for drawing, and as she certainly had a real gift -in that direction she was universally acknowledged to be the artist of -the class. - -It would be impossible, as well as unnecessary, to describe in detail -the varied experiences of the examination week. Suffice it to say that -the questions, according to the girls' opinions, were "harder than -ever," and the candidates were none too hopeful when they gave up their -papers, after a couple of hours' work upon each subject; somehow just -the questions they had made sure Miss So-and-So would set had not been -included, and the very things they had fondly hoped would not be -required had been given a prominent place! But that is an experience -common to all time, and by no means peculiar to the girls of that Fourth -Form. - -The arithmetic examination was almost the last on the list. And most of -the girls who had expended their energies on previous subjects looked -with dismay at the long list of difficult examples. Olive glanced at the -others to see what they thought of it, but Elsa was beginning to write -steadily, and Monica, catching her eye, gave her a reassuring smile; it -seemed rather a nice paper to her. Amethyst, who was no mathematician, -was biting the end of her penholder and looking frantic. - -Olive was just going to dip her pen in the ink and begin to inscribe her -name elaborately on the top sheet of the ruled paper before her, when -something made her look in Lily Howell's direction just in time to see -an ugly expression of malignant jealousy sweep over her face, as she -observed Monica steadily applying herself to answer the questions which -appalled her rival. - -"There'll be awful ructions in that quarter, if Monica comes out top, as -I do hope she will," soliloquised Olive, and then a reproving glance -from Miss Churchill warned her to get on with her work. - -For an hour no sound was heard but the scratching of pens and the -rustling of paper, except now and then when a long-drawn sigh escaped -the lips of one or other of the girls, as she realised her inability to -solve a difficult problem. - -By that time Olive had come to the end of her resources and could do no -more, so she fastened her papers together and then began to look about -at the other girls with a view to seeing how they were getting on. Her -desk was in one corner of the room, and Monica (who long since had had -to be moved to a distance from Olive, on account of whispering) was in -the centre of the second row quite near the front. Lily Howell and her -ally, Maggie Masters, were next to each other in the opposite corner -from Olive's. - -A glance at Monica showed her to be still hard at work over her paper, -so Olive turned her attention elsewhere. As she looked across at Lily, -their eyes met, and Olive turned away quickly, for she did not want to -get into trouble with Miss Churchill, who might think they were -communicating with each other in some way; but a peculiar expression she -had seen in Lily's light grey orbs impelled her to look again a few -seconds later, and then what she saw horrified her, and her eyes seemed -rooted to the spot! For Lily was positively making copious use of the -contents of some little note-book or paper, (Olive could not detect -which) that was cleverly hidden, on the desk, by Maggie's pencil-box, -from Miss Churchill's view. - -"The horrid, mean, hateful sneak!" Olive, in her anger and contempt -could not find enough opprobrious epithets. "She's got all her tables, -and a whole lot of hints copied out, I do believe, and of course, now -she'll go and beat Monica; but I'll be even with her! A nice scrape -she'll get into!" And Olive chuckled to herself at the thought of what -was in store. "Perhaps she'll be expelled, and a good job, too. I'd -better nudge Gipsy, and make her see, in case the sneak goes and -declares she didn't cheat." - -Olive glanced over into the other corner again, but--nothing wrong was -to be seen! All trace of the notes had vanished, and Lily was neatly -ruling her manuscript paper as if no such thing as cheating had ever -entered her head! - -"Oh, you wretch!" And Olive felt as if she could have done anything to -her, so exasperated was she to think that she had been "done"; for not -once again, during the time that remained for the arithmetic paper, did -she catch a glimpse of the missing paper. At length the gong sounded, -and whether completed or not, the girls had to fasten their sheets -together and hand the papers in to Miss Churchill. - -They were glad enough to stretch their cramped limbs, and let their -tongues loose during the recreation that followed, in discussing the -questions and comparing their answers. Olive, of course, told Monica -what she had seen Lily doing, and how vexed she was to think she could -not prove it to Miss Churchill, if she were to tell her. - -"Oh, let it be," said Monica, who loathed telling tales; "she'll be so -mad if you tell, and she'll be sure to declare it wasn't a crib." - -"I shall tell if she comes out top." - -And Monica could not persuade her otherwise. - -"We shall know to-morrow," said Olive as they entered the school door. - -But in less than five minutes after the words had escaped her lips, part -of the truth had come to light, and it happened in this way. - -Lily (who was under the impression that her neat little scheme for -aiding her memory had been quite unobserved by any one except Maggie, -who had benefited by it, too), already, in imagination, saw her own name -at the head of the list. But she thought it would be just as well to -make assurance doubly sure, by securing Monica's downfall, if it were -possible, in case she should be perilously near. So, as she passed up -to the desk with her paper, taking care to be the last girl who filed -out, she very quietly dropped her little paper of tables, etc., on the -floor of Monica's desk, in such a manner as to make it appear as if it -had slipped off Monica's lap, when she rose to go out. - -"Now we shall be quits!" was her amiable thought, as she went with the -rest into the playground. She bound Maggie, with promises of many good -things, to absolute secrecy, and returned to the classroom to await -developments. - -The girls had no sooner taken their places than they became aware that -something was wrong! The head-mistress Miss Buckingham came in with a -very stern expression on her face, and Miss Churchill seemed on the -verge of tears. - -"I am grieved to tell you that there is a cheat--yes, a _cheat_," and -Miss Buckingham repeated the words with scornful emphasis, "amongst you -girls of the Fourth Form. Miss Churchill found this paper, containing -arithmetical tables and various other information, under one of the -desks when you had left the classroom. I desire that girl, who has -sought to secure a good place in the examination list by such despicable -means to stand up in her place." - -A furtive glance from Lily, who was as white as a ghost, revealed the -fact that the head-mistress was looking straight at Monica, and the real -culprit breathed freely, and the colour came back to her cheeks. She -did not know that Olive's gaze was riveted on her, or she would not have -felt so easy in her mind as she did! - -"Come, stand up," repeated Miss Buckingham, and Monica began to feel -uncomfortable. Why did the head-mistress look so persistently at _her_, -when it was Lily Howell who was the culprit. - -"Well, I am sorry she will not confess it herself," said the calm, cold -voice of the head of the school; "but Monica Beauchamp is the cheat!" - -"I'm _not_!" - -"She _isn't_!" - -The two disclaimers burst simultaneously from the lips of Monica and -Olive, who were aghast at this fresh piece of trickery, and could not -imagine how it had come to pass. - -"Olive Franklyn, sit down. Now, Monica, what have you to say in defence -of yourself?" - -"I know nothing whatever about it; I would scorn such a mean trick. -Miss Churchill knows I would," and Monica looked reproachfully at the -little mistress, who had been a sad and silent spectator, so far. - -"I cannot believe you would cheat, Monica, but----" and she paused -significantly. - -Meanwhile, Olive had been frantically trying to make Monica see her, but -failing to do so, she asked permission to speak, and told what she had -seen on Lily's desk. - -But both Lily and Maggie stoutly denied having had anything of the kind -in their possession, and, as no other girl seemed to have observed it, -Miss Churchill was reluctantly compelled to think that Olive, in -championing her friend's cause, was drawing on her imagination. The -figures and words on the paper were all in printing hand, so that no -one's writing was recognisable. - -No more light being thrown on the matter by further questioning, Miss -Buckingham left the classroom, saying: "I shall not decide upon the -punishment to be given until to-morrow morning, by which time I -sincerely hope that the girl, whose conscience must be accusing her, -will be ready to make confession." - -In her own mind, Miss Buckingham was of opinion that Monica Beauchamp -was entirely innocent; and she could not but feel that suspicion -strongly rested upon Lily Howell, although the latter had feigned entire -ignorance of the matter; for her changing colour belied her words. - -The truth was arrived at in a singular and indisputable way after all. - -When correcting the arithmetic papers, late that afternoon, in the -teacher's room, Miss Churchill found some most astonishing blunders in -Lily Howell's calculations. For some time she was mystified, and then -it dawned upon her what had happened. - -"Why, the girl's cubic measure is all wrong. No less than three times -she has put down 1278 cubic inches instead of 1728, when reckoning a -cubic foot. It is curious how she came to transpose the numbers? I -wonder----" - -She hastened across the hall to Miss Buckingham's room, and upon looking -at the "crib," she saw, with a curious sense of satisfaction (for she -felt sure Monica was innocent) that underneath "Solid or Cubic Measure" -the first line, was - - 1278 cub. in. = 1 cub. ft. - - -"Found out!" she murmured, and recrossing the hall, she told two of the -other teachers, who were also correcting papers, what she had -discovered, and bade them look at the paper, and compare it with Lily's -sums. - -They both agreed it was a very clear case, and when, upon examination, -Monica was found to have calculated her cubic inches rightly each time, -no further proof of Lily Howell's guilt was needed. - -Little did that individual dream of what awaited her on the morrow, when -she retired to rest that night, rather well satisfied with the success -which she thought she had achieved. - -The girls waited breathlessly next morning for Miss Buckingham's -verdict; many had been the conversations about it, and very varied were -the punishments suggested. Every one was sure that, somehow, Lily would -be proved guilty, most of them thinking that she would voluntarily -confess. - -Monica, knowing she was quite innocent, felt no real fear, although she -was not at all sure that she would escape punishment, for she was under -the impression that Miss Buckingham had believed her to be the culprit. - -Every one was amazed when they heard the conclusion of the matter. In a -few terse words the head-mistress explained how the truth had been -brought to light; and no one felt that undue punishment was being meted -out to Lily Howell when she was informed that after that term she would -not be allowed to return to the Osmington High School. - -"Not only for the using of unfair and forbidden means in order to secure -a good place in the examination list, but far more on account of the -wicked intention to bring discredit and punishment upon an innocent -fellow-schoolgirl." - -Miss Buckingham's words were stern and uncompromising, and poor unhappy -Lily Howell cowered beneath her glance. - -It was an unfortunate ending to the term, and the girls who came off -victorious in the examinations did not feel the same satisfaction as -they would have done if nothing of the kind had occurred. Monica, of -course, was first in arithmetic; Amethyst secured a similar place in -English history, and although she was beaten in geography, she did not -mind so very much, as the honours fell to her friend Elsa. - -A few days more, and the huge pile of buildings which constituted the -Osmington High School was left in the charge of caretakers, for -governesses and pupils alike had scattered in every direction to enjoy -the long, summer vacation. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - *"SUNDAY AGAIN ALREADY!"* - - -"Oh, isn't it simply glorious?" - -"How beautiful the sea looks!" - -Sundry exclamations such as these escaped the lips of most of the -passengers in the heavily laden train bound for Sandyshore, as it -emerged from a tunnel with a shrill whistle, and rounded the last corner -prior to slowing down. A beautiful panorama stretched out before them; -in the foreground lay the quaint old town, beyond that an expanse of -deep, blue sea, and in the distance the white, rocky peaks of some -promontory seemed almost dazzling in the brilliance of an August sun. - -Two out of three young people in a reserved second-class compartment -were in ecstasies of delight; and the third was contemplating a month at -Sandyshore, with very different feelings from those she had expressed a -couple of months ago. For Monica had obtained her wish, and she would -have Olive as her companion and friend during all that holiday month. - -It had not been quite easy to gain Mrs. Franklyn's consent to let Olive -accompany the Beauchamp party; especially after the trouble about the -novel-reading, but eventually she had consented, upon both Monica and -Olive promising her faithfully not to cause her distress in that way -again. And when Mrs. Beauchamp insisted upon Elsa going with them too, -she and the doctor very gladly availed themselves of the kindness and -generosity which would enable their twin-daughters to have such a -thorough holiday and change, free of expense. - -Monica had, at first, demurred a little over having Elsa, saying "two's -company, and three's none," but her grandmother was firm. For one -thing, Mrs. Beauchamp thought it would be just as well to have Elsa, on -account of her trustworthiness, and the old lady was a trifle afraid of -Olive getting into mischief without her more sensible sister being near -by. Also she had a desire to know more of the gentle-mannered girl, and -quite looked forward to enjoying her bright young society, when the -other two girls were bent on following their own devices. So Monica -had, perforce, to fall in with her grandmother's wishes, and when it was -known that Mr. Drury was acting as locum-tenens of the quaint old church -of St. Mary, Sandyshore, everything seemed to fit in splendidly. - -As it happened, the Drurys preceded their friends by a couple of days. -So Amethyst was at the station to meet the girls when they arrived. She -had never been to Sandyshore before, and was captivated with the dear -little old-fashioned town, as all its summer visitors were. Her merry -tongue rattled away about all its charms and wonders while Barnes -counted up the huge dress-baskets, trunks, and other articles of luggage -belonging to the party, and engaged a couple of cabs to convey them to -their destination. - -At length, all was satisfactorily accomplished, and, with arrangements -for an early meeting, Amethyst saw them drive off into the town, and -then ran home to the quaint, rambling old vicarage, next to the church, -which the Drurys were occupying. - -Meanwhile, after a few minutes' drive through the narrow-streeted town, -and up a very steep hill, "Mrs. Beauchamp and party" (according to the -"Sandyshore Visitors' List") arrived at "Rocklands," a large house, -standing in its own grounds, overlooking the entire bay. - -Mrs. Beauchamp always engaged rooms at that particular house, owing to -the magnificent view which she could enjoy, simply by sitting -comfortably ensconced in one or other of the bay windows; for, in one -direction, Rocklands overlooked the pier, to and from which pleasure -steamers were continually passing; and when one tired of these, the -sands, thickly sprinkled with bathing machines and private tents, amused -and interested the onlooker with their varied phases of holiday life. - -Comfort being of more importance than expense to Mrs. Beauchamp, she had -made every arrangement for convenience during their month's stay at -Rocklands by engaging a whole suite of rooms. Thus Elsa and Olive were -charmed to find themselves the proud possessors of a delightful bedroom, -while Monica occupied the one next to theirs. Seldom were their doors -shut; it was such a new experience for Monica to have young companions -to live with. Then the dining-room in which they had all their meals was -entirely at the girls' disposal, between times, when they could do just -as they pleased, and "need not be so much on their best behaviour," as -Monica termed it, as in the drawing-room. But the weather was so -delightful, and so seldom did it rain, that the trio were not often to -be found indoors except in the evenings. - -The next morning, the whole party were early on the small strip of -shore, which extended for fully half a mile round the bay, and on which -the visitors made themselves thoroughly at home. The short season was -at its height, and at first sight there seemed no chance of securing a -comfortable position; but as they walked along the Shore Road, looking -down upon the gay throng of holiday-makers, Elsa descried a well-known -figure, and saw Amethyst frantically signalling to them. - -"There seems room there, Mrs. Beauchamp," she suggested, "where the -Drurys are. Shall we go down?" - -And in a few minutes, after mutual greetings, Mrs. Beauchamp was -comfortably settled in her deck chair, while the girls, spreading a rug -on the sand, threw themselves down upon it in careless attitudes. - -That first morning was but a sample of most of those which followed. - -Mrs. Beauchamp read, or chatted with Mr. and Mrs. Drury, while the young -people enjoyed themselves in every way. A tent, next to the one used by -the Drurys, was hired, and the girls had great fun over bathing. Mrs. -Beauchamp wished Monica to learn to swim, so an old bathing-machine -proprietor, one of the chief features of Sandyshore, used to give her -and Olive a lesson every morning. Elsa was too timid to really enjoy -more of the sea than could be had where the water was comparatively -shallow, and Amethyst and she were quite content to look on at the more -daring exploits of the other two girls. - -Such fun and merriment did they all have that first week at Sandyshore, -that it did not seem possible that they _could_ enjoy themselves more, -although Amethyst's one cry was: "Won't it be just too perfectly lovely -when Marcus comes?" - -Marcus Drury, Amethyst's brother and senior by four or five years, had -only recently gone up to Cambridge upon leaving Trent College. He had -been spending a few weeks of the Long Vacation with another -undergraduate at the latter's home in Scotland, but now he was expected -to arrive at Sandyshore any day, and his devoted and admiring little -sister was on the tiptoe of excitement about his coming. Of course, he -was well known to the Franklyn girls, with whose brothers he had been -friendly since the Drurys had lived at Osmington, but Monica felt a good -deal of interest in the young fellow of whom she had heard so much. - -Therefore, one morning, some ten days after their arrival at Sandyshore, -when Amethyst came flying along the Shore Road to meet them with the -words, "Marcus has come, and you'll never guess who is with him!" all -three girls were quite as mystified as she wished them to be. - -"No one I know," said Monica, with decision. - -"No, you don't; but the others do." And Amethyst bubbled over with -excitement. "Do be quick and guess: I can't keep it much longer." - -"Not Dick?" hazarded Elsa, more to please her friend than because she -expected to be right. - -"No, not Dick," said Amethyst merrily. "Try again." - -"Roger, then," said Olive. - -"Yes, yes, yes! Isn't it splendid? He wanted to surprise you, and he's -got a week's holiday from St. Adrian's, and Marcus met him in the -Strand, or somewhere, and persuaded him to pack up and come down here -with him." - -"Oh, how lovely!" cried the twins simultaneously; "do let us see him. -Where is he?" - -"There," and Amethyst triumphantly pointed out a couple of young fellows -not very far away, who had evidently been enjoying, from a distance, the -surprise the news had caused. - -Monica, feeling somewhat out of it, followed the others rather more -slowly, and thus secured a good look at the newcomers while they were -engaged in greeting Olive and Elsa. - -There was no doubt as to which was which: the elder, of medium height, -slightly built, dark, with brown eyes, was a Franklyn all over; while -his companion, a tall, broad-shouldered youth, with merry blue eyes and -curly hair, although he was not in the least like his sister, bore an -unmistakable resemblance to Mr. Drury. - -Raising his panama hat, round which his college colours were twisted, he -came forward with outstretched hand, and Monica thought she had never -liked any one so well, at first sight, as this debonair undergraduate. -She had previously somewhat sneered at Amethyst's praises of her paragon -brother, but she could understand her feelings now that she had met -Marcus Drury. - -She almost forgot his companion, until a quiet, manly voice, so -different from the other's boyish tones, said, "How do you do, Miss -Beauchamp? I am very glad to meet my sister's friend." And she found -herself shaking hands with Olive's eldest brother. - -A very short time sufficed to put them all at their ease, and then, as -the tide was fast going out, they went in different directions for their -bathe. But an hour later found the young people all together again, and -the girls were charmed with the proposal that they should go for a row, -there being just an hour left before dinner. - -Mr. and Mrs. Drury, who had undertaken to keep Mrs. Beauchamp company -until their return, watched the boatful with interest, until Roger's and -Marcus' even strokes had rowed it so far as to be scarcely more than a -speck. - -"Dear boy," murmured Mrs. Drury, as she took up the knitting she had -neglected; and her husband smiled as he said, quizzically: "Do you mean -Roger?" - -"I meant Marcus, of course," replied his wife, with a smile, "but Roger -is a dear boy, too. I only wish----" - -"What do you wish, Nora?" queried her husband, in a lower tone, as he -tilted his black straw hat over his eyes, to protect them from the glare -of the midday sun. - -"Why, the same as I know you wish, Herbert," was the reply, "that in -choosing the medical profession Roger had been actuated by the one -desire to follow in the steps of the Good Physician." - -"Yes, I would that he had, but I fear it was not so. But, Nora, motives -and hearts, too, can be changed. Why should not Roger Franklyn go back -to St. Adrian's 'transformed'?" - -"Ah! why not?" And little Mrs. Drury's eyes grew earnest, as she looked -out at the tiny black speck dancing on the ocean in the distance, and -she prayed that God would answer that other mother's prayers, and give -to Roger a new purpose, a new ideal in life. - -The days flew swiftly by, what with picnics, tennis, bathing, boating, -and many other amusements and enjoyments, and Sunday dawned. - -Monica and Olive, it must be confessed, did not appreciate that one day -in the week as much as they should, inasmuch as they were compelled, of -necessity, to forego during its sacred hours all the secular amusements -with which they filled up every moment of the week, from Monday morning -until Saturday evening. They awoke that brilliant August morning to the -unwelcome remembrance that it was "Sunday again already!" - -But Elsa, whose happiest hours were spent in God's house, with a tender -little smile hovering round her lips, drew up the blinds, and looked out -upon the calm blue sea, and lifted her heart in thanksgiving to her -Heavenly Father for making such a beautiful world. Even Olive's -ceaseless chatter, as they dressed, did not disturb her; and when her -sister had gone into Monica's room, as she invariably did, Elsa gently -shut the door, and taking her little Bible, she knelt by the open window -and prayed long and earnestly. She did not know how to pray properly, -she only knew how to talk to her dearest Friend, and she was accustomed -to tell Him everything, and ask with the simplicity and directness of a -little child for what she needed. - -That morning, after praying for help and strength for herself, to enable -her to be a faithful follower of her Master, she remembered her darling -mother (whom it had been a very real sorrow to leave) and all those at -home; and then her heart seemed overwhelmed with the thought of those -about her, who, as yet, did not know and serve her Saviour. "Oh! Lord," -she prayed, "do speak to-day, _somehow_, to Monica and Olive. I can't -bear to think of them going on living without Thee. And kind Mrs. -Beauchamp wants something to satisfy her. O Lord, she wants _Thee_! and -Roger needs Thee, too. Lord, show Thyself to them all to-day, and show -them they will never be happy until they have come to Thee." - -Thus, in all earnestness, but with childish simplicity, Elsa poured out -her heart unto the Lord, and "the Lord hearkened and heard." - -The dear old-fashioned church, taxed to its utmost to provide -accommodation for the throngs of fashionably attired people who poured -ceaselessly up the aisles, as the five-minute bell gave warning that -service would soon commence, was eventually crammed with a huge -congregation, made up of many types. Perhaps it would be safe to say -that the majority of the people assembled within the sacred edifice had -gone there because "it was the proper thing to do"; they neither -expected nor desired any spiritual help. - -Among this class were several of our acquaintances. In one pew, a -prominent one, because the verger had an eye to a substantial sum for -the offertory from such an imposing looking personage as Mrs. Beauchamp, -in her trailing gown of black satin, and a Parisian bonnet, were seated -the two Franklyn girls, Monica and her grandmother; Elsa being next to -the old lady. - -At a little distance, and at right angles to them, at the end of the -vicarage pew in the south transept, Marcus' tall form towered above -those in the vicinity, and made his neighbour, Roger Franklyn, look -quite insignificant; also Mrs. Drury and Amethyst. It is to be feared -that some of the occupants of the two pews were a trifle disposed to -look at each other, at first; but a glance from her mother subdued -Amethyst, and she soon forgot the others in paying attention to the -service. - -Marcus, who had a tenor voice, which promised to be of unusual quality, -sang all the chants and hymns; but Roger, a slightly cynical expression -disfiguring his clear-cut features, took no part in the service. With -arms folded, and head erect, he stood looking straight before him, his -eyes wandering, occasionally, to the pew in which his sisters sat; but -he did not look at them so much as at their friend. - -Monica, her softly rounded cheeks already tanned by exposure to sun and -sea, was looking really handsome that morning. Her hair, arranged in a -new and becoming fashion, was tied back with a large cream bow, which -matched her flop hat and daintily made dress. The only scrap of colour -about her was a couple of dark crimson roses, tucked carelessly into her -waistband; and altogether she made a very pretty picture, standing, as -she did, erect and tall, between the twins, who wore simple delaine -frocks of a pale greenish hue. - -Mr. Drury conducted the service, and a young clergyman, apparently a -curate, read the lessons. Elsa, with a sinking heart, saw the latter -ascend the pulpit stairs; for it must be confessed she had hoped her -favourite, Mr. Drury, would be the preacher. But she need not have -feared; God had given Leslie Herschel a message to deliver to the -congregation assembled at St. Mary's Church that August Sunday morning, -and as the young man looked down upon the throbbing mass of never-dying -souls, his heart went up to God that many there that morning might be -led to make the one great choice. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV.* - - *"OH, MONICA, DON'T!"* - - -"My text you will find in the First Book of Chronicles, the twenty-ninth -chapter and the fifth verse. 'Who then is willing to consecrate his -service this day unto the Lord'?" - -The young preacher, for he had been barely two years in orders, read the -verse once, and yet again, feelingly, and as if he would impress every -word of it upon his hearers, and then he closed his Bible, and began his -sermon. - -It was not a very long one; indeed there were a few who wished it had -been half as long again. It was not by any means a brilliant peroration, -but yet there were points about it which made it the most remarkable -sermon to which many of his hearers had ever listened. And that last -word gives the key to the whole thing; they _had_ to listen! Whether -they liked it or not (and many, very many, did not at all appreciate the -home-truths which they heard), some unseen and uncontrollable impulse -forced them to listen, even against their will. The earnest, ringing -tones of the young preacher, his dark eyes, which seemed to penetrate -their very motives and thoughts, stirred the apathetic indifference of -that nominally Christian congregation; and they realised, some of them -for the first time, that the service of God was a very real and tangible -thing, and that they had, so far, had no part or lot in the matter. - -Leslie Herschel dwelt first upon the Master, then upon the service -itself, and finally upon those who were called to serve, and when and -how that service should be rendered. - -"My friends," he said, in conclusion, "I claim your service, -whole-hearted, faithful, loyal service, to-day, for my Master. He will -force none, coerce no one into rendering unloving obedience, but He -pleads with you to-day to come with willing hearts and offer Him your -best. And what does He promise in return? Peace, joy, hope, -satisfaction in this life, and eternal life in the world to come. I ask -you, are you content to do without Him? Is this world, pleasant and -attractive though it be, so satisfying that you need nothing more than -the gaiety, the success, the honour, aye, and the gold which it offers -to some, but by no means all of its devotees? But supposing you _are_ -satisfied now (and I very much doubt if there exists a single individual -who is absolutely satisfied), will you be satisfied, think you, when you -come to stand, all unprepared, in the presence of your Judge? Will this -world stand you in good stead _then_?" And the preacher leaned over the -pulpit, while with searching glance his eyes seemed to scan every one of -the disturbed faces before him. "The Bible tells me that 'this world -passeth away.' What will it advantage you, _then_, whether you have -moved in a select circle, or not? Whether you have acquired fame and -distinction, or not? Whether you have been known among men as almost a -millionaire, or not? Oh! my friends, I beseech you, with all -earnestness, that you will _this day_ choose the Lord Christ for your -Master. - -"It is an old, but true, saying, that 'To-morrow never comes'; we are -only sure of to-day, therefore 'Choose ye this day whom ye will serve,' -and say: 'Behold, Thy servants are ready to do whatsoever my Lord the -King shall appoint.' - -"I do not, I dare not, promise you a path of ease and luxury, but I -_can_ say, for I have proved it, that the life which has Christ as its -Alpha and Omega is the only truly happy one, the only life worth living. -And that word 'whatsoever,' if you really mean what you say, may entail -the giving up of many a cherished plan, many a life-long project. It may -mean going to China or Africa as a medical missionary for one; to face -the misery and horrors of life among the denizens of the East End for -another; to live a Christlike life in a worldly and uncongenial -atmosphere for a third. - -"But in it all, and through it all, Christ's never-failing arm will -guide and uphold you, and His voice will be heard, saying: 'Behold, I -come quickly, and My reward is with Me, to give every man according as -his work shall be.' '_Who_, then, is willing to consecrate his service -_this day_ unto the Lord?' May God in His mercy grant that from many a -heart in this church this morning the cry may go up to Him, 'O Lord ... -_I_ am willing.'" - -The strains of the organ, on which the opening bars of that beautiful -consecration hymn: - - Take my life, and let it be - Consecrated, Lord, to Thee, - -were being exquisitely played by the organist, accentuated rather than -disturbed the hush of solemnity which had fallen upon the congregation, -as the young preacher concluded his earnest appeal for personal -dedication; and there were undoubtedly several that morning who, -realising the claim which Christ had upon them, willingly surrendered -all to Him. - -The Beauchamp and Drury parties met in the quaint old churchyard, and -the two elder ladies walked slowly on, while the young people waited -about for Mr. Drury. - -"A wonderful sermon, was it not?" said Mrs. Drury. - -"Ye--es; but rather too dictatorial in style for such a young preacher." -Mrs. Beauchamp's tones expressed dissatisfaction. - -"Did you think it dictatorial?" enquired the vicar's wife pleasantly; -"it did not strike me in that way. I thought it was a grand -opportunity, splendidly seized. With such a varied congregation, coming -as we do from all parts of England, no one but God can foresee the -results that may accrue, with His blessing, from the faithful message -this morning." - -"Perhaps so," was Mrs. Beauchamp's somewhat absent reply; and she turned -back as if to wait for the girls. - -Amethyst and Elsa were close at hand, and quickly joined them, but -Monica and Olive were some distance behind, walking slowly, and -apparently deep in conversation. Mrs. Drury, who had not been -unobservant of the effect of the sermon upon Monica, as she sat -listening, listlessly at first, and then was roused into paying startled -attention to the (to her) unusual discourse, tactfully drew her own -child and Elsa into conversation, as they walked on. For she was sure, -from the expressions on the faces of the girls behind, that they were -discussing what they had been hearing. - -As a matter of fact, after a few commonplaces with Marcus and Roger, the -girls left them, and slowly following the others, had been silent -companions for a few moments. - -Then Olive, shaking off the unwelcome feelings which had taken -possession of her, said gaily: "A penny for your thoughts, Monica!" - -"You can have them without the penny," was her friend's rather sad -reply, as she slipped her arm into Olive's. "I'm half inclined to do -what he said, Ollie." - -Olive raised a startled face to Monica's, and read quite a new -expression upon it, in which there was a certain amount of -determination. "What do you mean?" she queried; but in her own heart -she knew full well what Monica meant. - -"Why, to say _I_ am willing," said Monica, with some confusion, for she -felt diffident about expressing what she meant even to her greatest -friend. - -"Oh, Monica, don't! We'll never have any more good times together," -said Olive, and it must have been her bad angel who prompted her words; -"if you do you'll have to leave me behind, for _I'm_ not going to give -in." - -"I wish I could live like he said," and Monica's face looked wistful. -"Sometimes I----" - -"Well?" - -"Sometimes I long to be able to write and tell dad that it is all -settled. He _would_ be so glad." - -"Well, I don't see much in it," said Olive obstinately. Her better -feelings were aroused by Monica's words, but she deliberately crushed -them down. - -"Oh, yes, there is; there's _everything_ in it! You've only to look at -that young clergyman, and your mother, and even Elsa, to see what a -difference there is. Oh, Olive, if I had your mother to help me I -_would_, really, say to God what we sang just now, - - Take myself, and I will be - Ever, only, all for Thee"-- - -and Monica's young face glowed with feeling. - -"No, you wouldn't," was Olive's moody reply, "any more than I do. Of -course, I mean to be a Christian some day, but not while I'm only a -girl; I want some pleasure first." - -"Oh, Olive, Olive, you little know the dark cloud that even now is -beginning to gather over your head!" - -With a sigh, Monica turned away, and, with one consent, they hurried -after the others, and no more was said. But the elder girl's heart had -been roused and awakened, and never again would she drift into her -former state of indifference. - -The two young fellows, waiting about in the churchyard for Mr. Drury, at -length received a message to the effect that he would be detained still -longer, and they had better not wait for him. So they, too, strolled -down to the Shore Road, where they knew they would eventually come -across their friends. - -"I'm almost sorry I'm not in your shoes, old man," said Marcus, as he -adapted his long, swinging strides to his friend's shorter steps. - -"It's a very good thing that you are a little undecided about it," was -Roger's somewhat enigmatical reply. "But tell me what you mean?" - -"Why, I felt this morning as if I would give anything to go in for -medicine, with a view to going abroad; but I know father has set his -heart on my taking orders." - -"If I remember rightly, the preacher distinctly observed that the -service was not to be one of picking and choosing but a case of -'whatsoever.'" - -Something unusual about the tone in which Roger made this remark, and a -total absence of his usual cynicism, made his friend glance curiously at -him, and he realised that a change, undefinable at present, but -nevertheless unmistakable, had taken place in Roger Franklyn. - -"I say, old chap, I wish with all my heart _you_ would be a 'Whatsoever -Christian,'" he said impulsively. - -"With God's help I mean to be," was the unexpected reply, as Roger -lifted his hat, and glanced upward, as if registering a vow. - -"Thank God!" was Marcus' low but fervent response, as he gripped his -friend's hand with such force as to make him wince. - -"I knew you would be glad," was the quiet reply, "and so will my dearest -mother; she has been praying a long time for her eldest boy, and he has -been very obstinate. But I shall need all your prayers, now, for -already I foresee trouble and disappointment looming in the distance. -The pater is expecting me to follow in his footsteps when I leave St. -Adrian's, but I--oh! Drury, I am sure those words were meant for me -this morning. There was probably not another medical student in the -church, and I felt called to offer myself to Him for foreign service, if -He will accept me." - -"You need not doubt His acceptance, old fellow. When we give what God -asks for, you may be very sure He takes it. How glad Herschel will be!" - -"Who is Herschel?" ask Roger quickly. - -"Why, this morning's preacher. Did not you hear father talking about -him last night? No? Oh, then I must tell you. He is staying down here -with his mother and a sister, I believe, and father met him yesterday, -some time. Leslie Herschel's father (the late Dean of Balmore) and he -were great friends, so he was awfully glad to come across him, and asked -him, straight off, to preach this morning. He has had a curacy in some -huge mining town, but he is going out to the Soudan this autumn." - -"It's marvellous how God makes things fit in," remarked young Franklyn, -with rather an embarrassed laugh; it was such a new thing for _him_ to -be talking in that strain. "I suppose, humanly speaking, Mr. Drury -might have preached a hundred sermons and they would never have touched -me; but just this one, from an utter stranger, _did_. And if he had -been here either last Sunday, or next, instead of to-day, I should not -have heard it!" - -"There is a little chorus we undergrads sing sometimes, before we begin -our Open-Airs, in Cambridge," said Marcus, "which runs thus-- - - 'I believe God answers prayer. - I am sure God answers prayer. - I have proved God answers prayer. - Glory to His name.'" - - -"He certainly answered prayer for me this morning, and I'll trust Him -for all the future." - -Thus, Roger Franklyn, medical student, was "transformed"; and, in the -course of a few days, he returned to his work at St. Adrian's, filled -with a new purpose, governed by one desire, and one only, namely, to -consecrate his service henceforth unto the Lord. - -Mr. and Mrs. Drury's hearts were filled with thanksgiving when they -heard of his conversion, and a smile irradiated Leslie Herschel's face -when he was told of one result, at any rate, of his claim for service. - -And Elsa: who can describe Elsa's joy, when, late that Sunday evening as -her brother bade her "good-night" at Rocklands gate, he bent down and -whispered his news in her ear? He knew well enough which of his twin -sisters would be the one to rejoice with him, for Elsa's brave efforts -to live a consistent Christian life in her own home had not been -unobserved by her eldest brother. - -"Oh, Roger, darling, how splendid!" and she clung tenderly to him. -"_How_ glad mamma will be when she hears; she has been praying for you -so long. And I have, too," she added shyly. - -"Dear little sister," he murmured, as he stooped and kissed her -forehead. "Go on praying, Elsa, not only for me, but for Dick, and -Olive, and the others." - -Monica was strangely subdued all that Sunday. Twice Mrs. Beauchamp -enquired if she were not well, but she replied that nothing ailed her. -Elsa, who felt sure that she had been, in some way, influenced by the -sermon, tried to muster sufficient courage to speak to her about it; but -no opportunity occurred. Olive seemed determined never to leave -Monica's side for a moment. So persistent was she, that even Monica -grew cross once, and said pettishly, "Do be quiet for a bit, Olive, I -want to read." But if any one had taken the trouble to watch her -movements, they would have seen that she rarely turned a page, although -she appeared to be absorbed in her story. - -In reality, Monica was thinking; good and evil were striving for the -mastery within her, and she did not seem able to come to any decision. -She longed to become a Christian, in her inmost heart, but something -seemed to bar the way. At first, she could not think what the obstacle -could be; but before she had lain down to rest that night, she knew that -it was her friend, Olive, who was hindering her from taking the decisive -step. Olive had said, "Oh, Monica, don't!" and although she knew that -she was acting worse than foolishly, Monica decided not to make the -great choice just then! - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI.* - - *"DO BE CAREFUL, GIRLS."* - - -"Hurrah! Three cheers for mumsie!" cried Amethyst excitedly, one -morning. - -"What's up now?" enquired her brother, in a provokingly calm tone. - -"Why, we're all going for a picnic to Gullane Head, father as well, for -the whole day. Isn't it scrumptious?" And she danced about him in -great glee. - -"Very," he agreed, "but whom do you mean by 'all'? Four people scarcely -constitute a picnic." - -"Silly boy!" she retorted; "of course Monica and the Franklyns are -coming. Mumsie arranged it all with Mrs. Beauchamp yesterday, only she -would not say a word until this morning, in case it should not be fine. -But there's no fear of rain to-day," and she glanced up at the deep blue -sky, in which no speck of cloud was visible, with great satisfaction. - -"How do you propose to get there?" - -"Oh, father and you are to bicycle, and mother and we four girls are -going in a waggonette." - -"Is Mrs. Beauchamp going to bicycle, also?" asked Marcus, gravely. He -was terribly fond of teasing his young sister. - -"Oh, you dreadful boy! Of course not! She isn't going at all; it's too -much of a real picnic for her to enjoy." - -"I'm sorry Roger has gone," mused Marcus, as he began putting his Kodak -in order, with a view to some snap-shotting. "I wonder if Herschel -would care to come." - -He was soon striding up the quaint old street to the lodgings occupied -by the Herschels. The town was very full, and rooms were at a premium, -so that the Herschels had been glad to secure even such rooms as they -had, in a very old-fashioned house, where the front door opened into the -sitting-room, and when one sat in the low bay window, one seemed -absolutely in the street. - -Marcus, whistling a merry tune, paused a moment at the door, and then -went by it, and tapped at the window. All the visitors acted in a very -free-and-easy fashion at Sandyshore! - -He was invited to "come in," and without more ado he walked into the -sitting-room, where the remains of breakfast were still upon the table. - -With apologies for intruding so early, Marcus shook hands with a -sweet-looking widow lady, the depth of whose mourning betokened recent -loss, and a tall slender girl, whose clear, grey eyes seemed too large -for the fragile little face surrounded with an aureole of fair hair. - -"I came to see if Herschel had any plans for to-day. If not, we are -having a picnic at Gullane Head, about seven miles from here, and I -wondered whether he would bicycle over with father and me." - -"Do, Leslie; it will do you good," said his mother, as the young -clergyman hesitated, and demurred about leaving them for a whole day, -when his time with them was getting so short. "Robina and I have plenty -to amuse ourselves with." - -"Would you both join us?" asked Marcus. "Mother and the girls are going -in a waggonette." - -"Thank you very much, but I am afraid you must excuse us. Robina is not -very strong, and it suits us best to have a lazy time by the sea." Mrs. -Herschel smiled lovingly at her daughter, whose fair face flushed at the -allusion to her health, for it was a sore trial to Robina Herschel that -she had always to be taken care of, and shielded from every ill wind. -But she bore her cross bravely, and no word of murmuring escaped her -lips, although she was denied much that goes to make a girl's life -happy. - -"What time do you start, Drury?" - -"Oh, 10.30, I believe; but come round to the vicarage directly you are -ready, won't you?" and, excusing himself on the plea of having to pump -up his tyres, Marcus hurried away. - -It was a merry party that finally left the Vicarage, after various -delays, that morning. For some time the three cyclists kept level with -the waggonette, and Marcus teased Amethyst and the girls most -unmercifully about ill-treating the poor horse by making him drag such -heavy weights as they were, etc., etc. - -"It isn't us, it's all the lunch we had to bring for you," cried -Amethyst. - -"Oh, indeed! You hear, mother? Be sure not to give my small sister so -much as a crumb, because, upon her own confession, it's all been brought -for me." - -"Oh! isn't he tiresome, mumsie?" said his sister, with a little pout. -She did not care to be made a laughing-stock of, and the others were all -smiling. - -"He's only teasing you, girlie; I wouldn't mind," said Mrs. Drury. - -"Dick always goes on like that," put in Olive. "Brothers are an awful -nuisance, but they 'keep a body alive,' as our old cook says." - -"I wish I had one," said Monica wistfully, her glance following the -merry young fellow who was now cycling along at a good rate, in order to -pick up the two clerics, who were well ahead. - -"I don't know what Mrs. Beauchamp would say to a troublesome grandson as -well as a troublesome granddaughter," said Olive mischievously. But the -words were scarcely out of her mouth before she wished she had not said -them. - -For Monica, drawing herself up, with one of her haughty airs, said -sarcastically: "I am much obliged for your opinion of me, I am sure; -especially as no one asked you for it." - -"Oh, I only said it for fun," and Olive looked repentantly at her -friend. But Monica chose to consider herself injured, and for some -little time all the occupants of the waggonette felt a trifle -uncomfortable. - -But a halt was proclaimed soon after, and all the party dismounted, in -order to go over a lighthouse which was situated about two-thirds of the -way between Sandyshore and Gullane Head, and in the general interest -resulting from an inspection of the wonderful mechanism, which the -lighthouse keeper proudly explained to them, the little cloud blew over, -and by the time their destination was reached, Olive and Monica were as -good friends as ever. - -Gullane Head, as the promontory which projected from the mainland was -called, was an ideal place for picnics. There were several old caves, -said to have been used as hiding-places for contraband goods years -before; and the huge boulders which had evidently fallen at some time or -other from the cavernous roofs made rough-and-ready chairs and tables, -provided one was not too particular. - -It was universally decided that it would be the best plan to have lunch -first, as they were all hungry, and then devote a long afternoon to -exploring the neighbourhood. So a particularly nice spot was chosen, -and amid much laughter an impromptu lunch was quickly laid upon one of -the flattest boulders, and the party seated themselves, as best they -could, around it. - -"I'm glad we've got it all to ourselves," said Amethyst, with a deep -sigh of enjoyment, as she passed a plate containing half a pork-pie to -Marcus; between whom and herself a truce had been declared. - -"I can't understand it," added the vicar. "I should have thought half -Sandyshore would come to such a charming spot." And he leaned over and -looked down at the dark blue sea, dashing up against the base of the -rocks, some sixty or seventy feet below. - -"It is rather an expensive drive, for one thing," said his wife, who was -engaged in pouring lemonade syrup into glasses, to which Elsa added -water. - -"By the way, where is our coachee?" enquired Marcus. "Isn't he to have -something to eat?" - -"He has driven on to the Coastguard station, to put up his horse," -replied his father. "Some relations of his live there, he says. He -will turn up again at four." - -"Are you enjoying your holiday, Miss Beauchamp?" - -Monica started at the sound of a voice near her elbow, and looked up to -see that the young clergyman, of whom she was frightfully shy, and whom -she had done her utmost to avoid so far, had found a seat near her own, -which was rather a high lump of rock where she had perched herself in -order to get a good view of the undercliff. - -"Yes, thank you, very much," she faltered; and then she pulled herself -together, for it was an unusual thing for Monica Beauchamp to be at a -loss for words. - -"Sandyshore, and indeed all the coast in this neighbourhood, is very -lovely," said Leslie Herschel, his eyes sweeping the panorama that -stretched out before them. - -"I couldn't bear staying here last year," admitted Monica, "and when I -knew my grandmother was coming again, I was vexed at first; but I should -have been very sorry not to have come, now." - -"How is that? May I ask what has made the difference?" And there was -eager questioning in his voice, also in the dark eyes which met -Monica's. - -"Why, I have had my special friend, Olive Franklyn, with me, this year, -and that has made all the difference," was Monica's reply. - -Leslie heaved an involuntary sigh, for he had observed the young girl's -startled attention on the previous Sunday morning, and he had hoped to -have heard that it was the presence of a new-found Heavenly Friend that -had made things different. He looked earnestly at Monica, who was -occupied with balancing her plate, safely, upon one knee, and wondered -whether the present was a good opportunity for speaking a word for his -Master, or whether a better one might occur later on. - -He had just decided that there is no better time than "now," when Monica -looked up with a merry word about the difficulty she was experiencing -with her plate, and in a moment more the article in question had slipped -out of her grasp, and was lying in fragments on the ground, some six or -seven feet below. - -All hope of a further _tete-a-tete_ was prevented by the contretemps; -and when peace reigned again, Monica was to be found seated amongst the -others, in case, next time, she should let herself fall, instead of her -plate! - -"What were you talking about up there, Monica?" whispered Olive, who had -been extremely curious to know what the young clergyman had been saying. - -"You!" was the very unexpected reply; and that was all the information -she could get, whereat she was all the more puzzled. She had noticed -Mr. Herschel glance at her, while Monica was speaking; surely she had -never told him of their conversation after the sermon! If so, perhaps -he would be trying to get a talk with her; and Olive was filled with -alarm at the idea, for her conscience had been accusing her very loudly. -However, she determined not to give him an opportunity of speaking to -her alone, by never leaving Monica for an instant, and, by that means, -she congratulated herself she prevented any more conversation between -him and her friend. - -But Olive need not have been quite so scheming, for after the whole -party had explored the caves, Mr. Drury and the two young men went off -on a tour of inspection, leaving Mrs. Drury and the girls to amuse -themselves close home. - -Mrs. Drury's suggestion that they should all sit still for a little -while and enjoy the beautiful view and delicious breeze after the -darkness and dampness of the caves, was received with acclamation, -Amethyst stipulating that she should tell them a story. - -Her mother, who was accustomed to a request of that nature, demurred at -first, but finally consented, and they were delighted with her racy -account of a journey she had taken in her girlhood's days, when a -terrific snowstorm had kept all the passengers imprisoned in the train, -several miles from a station, for more than twenty-four hours. - -Monica followed next, with some particulars of her early days in Burmah, -culled rather from what she had been told than from what she actually -remembered. And then Olive protested that she was tired of sitting -still, and proposed a search for some way of reaching a piece of sand -which could be seen at a little distance along the coast. - -Amethyst and Monica were ready enough to go with her, but Elsa, who was -no climber, decided to keep Mrs. Drury company; so the trio set off on -their voyage of discovery. - -"Do be careful, girls," pleaded Mrs. Drury, who was rather anxious, well -knowing their zeal was apt to run away with their discretion; "and -unless you succeed in finding either some steps, or a proper path -leading down to the shore, you are on no account to go. I can trust -you, Amethyst?" - -"Oh, yes, mumsie! We'll promise to be awfully careful," the shrill -treble voice called back, and a few minutes later the sight of a -handkerchief waving in the breeze proclaimed the fact that a beaten -track had been found; and the two who were left behind settled down to a -cosy half-hour. - -Elsa, who loved Mrs. Drury only next to her own mother, squeezed up -close to her, and the vicar's wife put a protecting arm round the -girlish figure, for she had a very warm corner in her heart for quiet, -gentle Elsa. Then they had what was a delightful, helpful chat to the -young girl, who confided all her hopes and fears about Monica and Olive -to Mrs. Drury, and was encouraged to pray on, and look out for -opportunity of service. The latter remark reminded Elsa of the young -clergyman's text, and Roger's decision, and, from her own difficulties -and anxious thoughts about her twin sister, she went on to speak of the -future that now stretched out before her favourite brother. - -"I think it is so splendid of him to want to be a missionary," and -Elsa's face glowed with animation; "but I am afraid it will disappoint -father a good deal, and poor mamma will be _very_ sad at the thought of -his going so far away, but she will not let him know it, because she -will be so glad for him to go, really. I suppose, if all is arranged, -that he would not start for a year or two, would he, Mrs. Drury?" - -"No, dear, I expect not." - -"That will give mamma a nice long time to get used to it," replied Elsa -contentedly. She was singularly childish in some things, and -correspondingly sensible about others. - -Mrs. Drury cast a shrewd glance at the bright young face, which was -turned seawards, and sighed. She realised what even the elder Franklyns -either could not, or would not, dream of, that the gentle, patient, -invalid mother was fading slowly, but surely, away; and she knew that -the happenings of even a year hence would have no power to bring either -gladness or sorrow to Mrs. Franklyn, who by then would be in the -presence of the King. But the twins had no idea of it, and as Mrs. -Drury sat silently looking at Elsa, who was all unconscious of the -terrible sorrow in store for them all, she wondered if she were wise in -leaving the girl in ignorance, for she could imagine what the shock -would be like, when the blow fell. She had talked the matter over with -Mrs. Franklyn, who well knew upon what a slender thread her life hung, -and had urged her to let her children be prepared for the inevitable; -but their mother had pleaded their youth, and said it would be time -enough later on to break the news to them, and Mrs. Drury had no choice -but to be silent, although she did not agree with her friend. - -Elsa, who had been indulging in the pleasantest daydreams, roused -herself to find her companion beginning to look anxiously in the -direction in which the girls had gone, for time was getting on, and they -ought to have been returning by then. - -"It is half-past three, Elsa," she said, and there was a ring of real -concern in her voice; "it is careless of them to have been so long, for -we must soon think about preparing for home. Can you see any signs of -them? Your eyes are younger than mine." - -But Elsa was obliged to confess that she could not, even though she -mounted with some trepidation to the top of a huge boulder in order to -get a more extended view. - -"We would go and look for them," went on the vicar's wife, "only it is -hardly safe to leave the bicycles, and all our things. I am vexed with -them for staying away so long." - -"Shall I run along the cliff and see if I can find them?" suggested -Elsa, who was not without anxiety about the missing trio herself. "I -could go very quickly, if you would not mind staying here with our -belongings." - -"Perhaps you would be able to see them, Elsa, and then call to them to -return at once. But don't go far, dear," said Mrs. Drury, now really -worried about the absentees. - -"If you would go on packing up, we will all try to be back by the time -you are ready," said Elsa, with a cheeriness she was far from feeling, -as she hurried off. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII.* - - *"DON'T PERSUADE ME NOT TO, ANY MORE."* - - -Meanwhile, how had the missing trio been spending their time? - -With delight, after walking about a quarter of a mile along the cliff, -they found some old, uneven steps leading down to its base. They were -very unsafe-looking, as several were missing at intervals; but, neither -of the three girls being troubled with nerves, they proceeded to descend -cautiously. Amethyst was the last to climb down, and it was her white -handkerchief, fluttering in the breeze, which Mrs. Drury and Elsa had -seen. - -"I say, girls, mind how you get down here," cried Monica, who was -leader. "It's an awful stretch." And she dropped a distance of several -feet, to gain a foothold on a lower step. - -"It's a good thing we have a gymnasium at school," said Olive, who had -lost a considerable amount of breath over her scrambling; "that kind of -practice helps one in experiences of this sort." - -"Oh, Olive, I can't possibly get down there, my legs won't reach!" And -Amethyst looked hopelessly at the long distance between the step she was -on and the next one below. - -"Drop down, you'll be all right," said both the girls encouragingly. - -"Oh, I couldn't, I should fall!" cried the smaller girl, a spice of fear -in the shrill tones. - -"Oh, come along! Don't be a coward, Thistle!" said Olive -contemptuously. "Here, I'll give you a hand." - -Either the hand or the sneer had the desired effect, for Amethyst was a -plucky little girl really; and in another moment she was landed safely -on the lower step. - -That proved to be the worst difficulty, and eventually, the shore was -reached without further trouble. - -"I wish Jack was here; he would like a race along this sand, poor old -chap," said Monica, whose one sorrow had been the leaving of her devoted -dog behind. - -"Yes, isn't it jolly down here, and not a soul to be seen," cried Olive. -"I wonder if there are any shells about?" - -A search was instituted, and a collection of various kinds quickly -gathered together, and tied up in a handkerchief. Then paddling was -proposed, and a merry time ensued of splashing about, off and on the -large flat rocks with which the sand was thickly studded at that -particular spot. - -"What's the time, Monica?" Amethyst enquired at length. - -"Why, past three already," was the horrified reply; "how quickly the -time has flown! We must give this up, girls, and get our shoes and -stockings on." - -The drying process was accomplished as satisfactorily as was compatible -with only two very minute handkerchiefs, and seizing the bundle of -shells, the girls reluctantly bade farewell to the charming and secluded -little cove. - -"I vote we find some other way up the cliff," suggested Monica; and the -idea was received with acclamation by Olive, on account of variety, also -by Amethyst, who thought any other means would be preferable to the -last. - -"There's no other way nearer the caves," said Olive, as her glance swept -the dangerous-looking rocky cliffs, which seemed to be almost -perpendicular. "But perhaps if we go a little further on we shall find -some better steps." - -They walked along the sands some little distance, eagerly scanning the -cliffs, but alas! no other steps were to be seen anywhere. However, the -cliff seemed to be more sloping, and not quite so forbidding-looking, -and Olive declared that she could see what looked like a pathway, -running zig-zag upwards. - -"Let's try it," she said, and leading the way, she began scrambling up -the rocky cliff. - -Monica followed suit, and Amethyst, determined not to be thought -cowardly again, tried her very hardest to keep up with them. But, -partly on account of her being smaller and a little more nervous than -the others, and also because they had thoughtlessly rather than -intentionally left her to carry the bundle of shells, she made very slow -progress. - -Thus it came to pass that she had got a very little way up the steep -incline, when a cry of fear, and a quantity of loose sand, and small -rocky stones, falling about her, made her look up in alarm. Monica and -Olive had managed, by hook or by crook, to get within fifteen or twenty -feet of the top of the cliff, but a false footing had caused Olive to -slip; a projection which she had imagined to be firm hard rock, and to -which she had trusted her whole weight, having crumbled away beneath -her, and she had gone slipping down with it! - -"Oh!" Amethyst's eyes grew round with terror, and she felt rooted to -the spot; suppose Olive should go on falling all the way down. How -dreadful it would be, and no one near to help do anything! - -Monica, separated from her friend by several feet of crumbling cliff, -tried her hardest not to lose her nerve, but an irresistible feeling -came over her that, if once she looked back, she must fall, too. - -"Are you hurt, Ollie?" she called out, while she clung to a tuft of -grass which happened to be near, and tried to steady herself. But no -answer came, and fearing she knew not what she looked down the cliff. - -"Oh! Ollie, have you hurt yourself?" she cried again, in an agony of -fear, for Olive looked so white and strange, half-standing, half-lying -on a sloping bit of rock. - -"I--don't--know." The answer came back, slowly, this time, in tones so -unnatural that Monica shuddered and grew cold. What had happened to -Olive that she should speak and look like that? Supposing she should -faint, then all chance of getting her either up or down would be at an -end. Monica did not know that her friend was simply paralysed with -fear, and for the time being could neither speak nor move. - -"Try to hold on, Ollie dear, and I'll come down to you," said the elder -girl bravely, although she well knew that it was certain danger to -attempt to descend that shifting, crumbling portion of cliff. -"Amethyst," she called out to the shivering child below, "try to get -down, and run as hard as ever you can to the bottom of the cliff, where -the others are, and shout to them to come." - -Slipping and sliding, Amethyst reached terra firma once more, and set -off running as fast as her trembling legs would carry her; and Monica -began her perilous task. - -"O God," she whispered, aloud, in her dire extremity, "do help me now! -Do keep Olive safely, and let me reach her, and oh, please send some one -to help us quickly!" - -She did not know what made her pray, but some unseen power impelled her -to utter those few short words in her agony of helplessness and fear; -and even as the words died on her lips she felt a peculiar sensation of -calm stealing over her, and her hands and feet seemed to be guided to -just the places which would hold. - -A few moments, and she had reached Olive's side, and steadying herself -upon a small, but firm piece of rock, she put her arm tenderly round her -companion's waist, and begged her to tell her if anything serious was -the matter. - -"Oh, Monica!" Olive murmured, with a convulsive shudder which nearly -caused them both to lose their foothold, "I am so frightened! I looked -down as I fell, and it seemed as if I _must_ go rolling all the way down -to the bottom, and if I had.... Oh, Monica, I should have been killed, I -know I should!" And Olive burst into tears. - -"Don't cry, dear," said Monica, soothingly; "if we can manage to hold on -until help comes, we shall be all right. I--have asked--God to let us -both be saved, Ollie," she added, in a lower tone, "and--I believe He -will." - -"Oh, Monica," wailed Olive, as she clung to her friend, "I tried so hard -to pray when I felt myself falling, but I _couldn't_! And then I -remembered all I said last Sunday morning, and it seemed as if God was -punishing me for my wickedness, by giving me no more chance." - -"I don't think He is like that," said Monica. "I think He loves us too -much. I am sure I have heard something about Him not wanting anybody to -perish. I am going to try to serve Him after this, Olive, so don't -persuade me not to, any more." - -"Oh, I won't! I am so miserable. I would rather be good, too, but I -can't!" cried the unhappy girl, who had caught a glimpse of her real -self during those moments of agonised suspense. - -"I will try to help you, dear, but I shan't know quite what to do -myself," said Monica; "but if God hears our prayers, and lets us get -rescued, it would be mean not to try to please Him after that." - -"He may hear your prayers," was Olive's desponding reply, "but I _can't_ -pray." - -"Try, dear," whispered Monica, closing her own eyes, and asking once -again that help might be speedily forthcoming, for she did not feel as -if she could hold on much longer. But, even as she prayed, a voice -calling both their names came floating over the cliff, and Elsa's face, -white and strained, but with hope written all over it, looked down at -them. - -"Hold tight, Monica and Olive, just for a minute more. Mr. Herschel is -coming down to help you." - -And in a moment more, the young clergyman, his body encircled by a stout -rope, which was secured at the other end to the stump of a tree on the -cliff path above, climbed carefully but quickly down to them. - -"Thank God, we were near at hand!" he said, as he realised the spent -condition both girls were in; "but you will soon be safe now." - -"Please take Olive first," urged Monica, and Leslie, filled with -admiration for the pluck and unselfishness the girl displayed, made his -way cautiously to the summit, half-leading, half-carrying the almost -helpless Olive, the rope which was slowly pulled up as he neared the -top, affording him a sense of security. - -It was the work of a very few moments to lay his burden down upon the -short heather, to be tenderly cared for by Elsa, and to return for her -companion. Marcus eagerly suggested that he should take a turn, but -Leslie waved him back, saying: "No, no, Drury; you do the holding, -that's the hardest, really," and was scrambling down again before he -could be gainsaid. - -"Your friend is safe," he said, as he reached Monica's side, and at his -words a tinge of colour appeared in her face, which was white even to -the lips, but quite calm. "You're not afraid to trust yourself to me?" -he added, more as an assertion than a question, for he had observed, -with satisfaction, that Monica had heaved a little sigh of content as -she felt herself supported by his strong arm. - -"No, oh! no," she whispered, and a smile, pathetic in its wanness, -illumined the girlish features, causing the young clergyman's heart to -beat strangely, in a fashion hitherto unknown to him. Then she nerved -herself for the necessary climb, which was accomplished in silence, and -neither of the couple was sorry when the brow of the cliff was -eventually reached in safety, and Marcus cried: "Bravo!" - -"I can never, never thank you enough, Mr. Herschel," Monica murmured, as -Leslie gently pushed her to a heather-covered mound, and, bidding her -rest a bit, threw himself on the grass beside her. - -"Please say no more," he entreated earnestly, "it was a mere nothing; I -have always been a climber. But I am afraid this afternoon's mishap will -cause you to have unpleasant recollections of Gullane Head." - -A happy little smile played about Monica's lips. "No, indeed, I shall -always be glad----" she began, earnestly; but before she could finish -her sentence, Elsa, whose whole attention had been taken up by Olive, -came to express her delight at the happy ending to what had seemed an -almost unavoidable accident. - -"How is Olive? I must go to her," said Monica, rising, vexed with -herself for having forgotten her friend, even for a moment. - -"She is feeling more herself now," replied Elsa, "but I don't believe -she can walk a step, her legs tremble so, she says. And I don't know -how we shall get back to Mrs. Drury," and Elsa looked troubled. - -"We'll manage that," said Marcus, cheerfully. "Come on, Herschel, let's -make a bandy chair, as the youngsters call it, and carry her between -us." - -Olive demurred feebly, but it was very palpable when she tried to stand -that she was far too exhausted to walk, so without more ado the two -young men bore her off, Monica and Elsa bringing up the rear. - -The former was glad to slip her arm in Elsa's, for she felt surprisingly -shaky, and as they walked along the heather-grown cliff path, Monica -learned how it was that Elsa had procured help; a question she had been -longing to ask. - -It was soon explained--Elsa, going in search of the belated trio, had -met Marcus and his friend leisurely strolling along the cliff, but not -near enough to the edge to see what was happening. Fearing she knew not -what, but instinctively feeling that they were in danger of some kind, -Elsa told her fears to the young fellows, who at once proceeded to help -in the search. - -With long strides they made for the cliff-side, in order to scan the -shore, and were horrified to see the perilous position the two girls -were in, less than twenty-five feet below them. A fisherman's little -shanty, presumably used in connection with lobster catching, close at -hand, was hastily ransacked, and a stout coil of rope produced with -intense satisfaction; and while young Herschel fastened on the rope, -Elsa had encouraged the girls with words of hope. - -"What _will_ Mrs. Drury be thinking?" queried Monica, as they neared the -Gullane Caves, following closely in the wake of the young men, who were -still carrying their burden. "Oh, dear, what a lot of anxiety I do give -people!" - -"I don't think you must blame yourself specially, Monica dear," said -Elsa gently; "you all seem to have agreed to attempt the climb -together." - -"It didn't really look difficult; not anything like so bad as the steps -would have been to get up; and we should have reached the top all right -if Olive hadn't slipped and lost all her nerve. Oh, there are Mr. and -Mrs. Drury. They are looking _so_ worried," added Monica; "and Amethyst -has actually got up to them. How _did_ she do it?" - -It was some little time before everybody knew just what had happened to -everybody else; but eventually all was explained, and expressions of -thankfulness were heard that the results were no worse than they were. - -"I was getting dreadfully frightened about you all," said Mrs. Drury, -whose face still bore traces of the anxiety she had passed through, -"especially when Elsa had been gone some time. I was thankful to find -Mr. Drury close at hand; but I had no sooner told him what had been -happening during his absence, than we heard shouts, and descried -Amethyst down on the sands below, trying to tell us something, but what -it was we could not hear, on account of the wind. However, in a very -few moments Mr. Drury had gone down the steps and helped her up, and -just as she had made us realise the danger you girls were in, we were -immensely relieved to see the cavalcade approaching. It has been a -merciful escape." And Mrs. Drury shuddered as she thought of what the -result of their foolhardiness might have been, but for God's -providential care. - -"Now, what shall we do for this girlie?" she enquired tenderly, as she -endeavoured to improve Olive's dishevelled appearance, without much -success, for both she and Monica were covered with sand, which no amount -of rubbing would remove from their clothes. "Shall we drive to the -coastguard station and get some tea; or will you have some lemonade and -cake that was left from lunch, and get off home as quickly as we can? -The waggonette is here." - -All were unanimously of opinion that the second proposal was most to -their taste, and in a very short time the party set off homewards, the -horse, well knowing he had his head turned towards his stable, going at -a brisk trot. - -Olive, whom they made as comfortable as they could with cloaks and a -large rug, seemed powerless to talk or exert herself in any way; indeed, -her lethargic attitude somewhat alarmed Mrs. Drury, who felt she would -be glad when Sandyshore was reached. But the motion of driving seemed -to have a soporific effect upon the exhausted girl, and with her head on -Elsa's shoulder she fell asleep, and did not awaken until the waggonette -pulled up at Rocklands. - -"Are you very angry with me, Mrs. Drury?" Monica asked penitently, -during the homeward drive, for that lady had been very silent, and -Monica could not but feel that she was displeased with their rashness, -as indeed she was. - -"Not more with you than the others, my dear," was the somewhat grave -reply. - -"If you will forgive me this time, Mrs. Drury, I hope I shall not go on -being quite so troublesome to every one after this." Monica spoke with -a quiet decision and earnestness unusual to her. - -Mrs. Drury, who, of course, knew nothing of the new and unwonted -thoughts passing through the mind of the girl beside her, was touched by -her remark, but thought it would be a good place to say a word of -caution. - -"I daresay you do feel, now, as if you would not willingly cause trouble -and anxiety to your friends by your thoughtlessness, just as present. -But it is not enough to _mean_ well, Monica; we always fail to keep our -resolutions if we make them in our own strength." - -Her eyes sought those of the girl who sat beside her, and something that -she read in them told her what had happened, even before Monica -diffidently whispered the good news. - -The vicar's wife bent and kissed the earnest face, with glad tears in -her eyes, as she murmured: "May God bless and keep you always, my -child." - -Amethyst, turning round from her seat on the box, where she had been -amusing the old coachman with her chatter, was amazed at what she saw, -and looked curiously at Monica. But her mother, merely saying quietly: -"Monica has some news to tell you another time," turned the conversation -into a fresh channel. - -Elsa, who had caught a word or two now and then, as she sat silently -supporting her sleeping sister, flashed a radiant look at Monica, which -was acknowledged by a loving little smile; and the young girl's heart -was almost overwhelmed with joy at this fresh answer to prayer. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII.* - - *"I EXPECT IT WILL BE RATHER SLOW AND--POKEY!"* - - -Olive, whose nervous system had received a severe shock, did not regain -her usual strength for some days, and in accordance with the doctor's -advice (for Mrs. Beauchamp had hastily sent for a medical man) was -compelled to take things very quietly during the remainder of their stay -at Sandyshore. - -It was quite a new experience for the high-spirited, romping girl to be -cut off from the pursuits that they had all been accustomed to, and a -not altogether pleasant one. But at first she felt totally unable to -join Monica and Elsa at their bathing or tennis, and was only too glad -to lie in a deck chair on the sands, and watch the others engaged in -active exercise which she seemed to have lost the courage to enter into. - -It was a very quiet Olive who was Mrs. Beauchamp's companion during -those days, and but for the doctor's assurance that she would soon -recover her usual robust health, both the old lady and Mrs. Drury would -have been very anxious about her. As it was, they all strove to cheer -and amuse her, as much as possible, and Monica and Elsa were untiring in -their devotion. They never alluded to the episode on Gullane Cliffs in -her hearing, as any reference to it seemed to revive the old, nervous -fear which had seized her at the time; but they often found her looking -with a sort of fascinated, and yet awestruck intentness, at the white -cliffs in the distance, which closely resembled those beyond the -lighthouse. - -One day Olive broke through the reserve herself. Monica, who had been -bathing, was sitting beside her, her hair hanging dank and loose about -her shoulders, in order that the sun might dry it. - -"Monica," she said, "you none of you ever say a word about _that day_, -but I am always thinking of it. - -"Then I should begin to forget it at once," was the brusque reply. "It -is all over and done with, and there is no need for _you_ to remember -'that day,' as you call it, any more. As for me, I do not wish ever to -forget it." And a happy smile overspread Monica's sunburnt face. - -"Oh, I know," interposed Olive hastily, who was afraid her friend would -open up the subject which she dreaded. "But even when I sleep, I always -seem to feel myself slipping down, down, down; and I only stop when I -wake. Oh, it is an awful feeling!" And the girl shuddered -convulsively. - -"I am sure you could forget it if you made an effort to," was Monica's -apparently unfeeling reply. But she had overheard the doctor saying -something similar, and, to her strong-minded nature, Olive's fancy -seemed ridiculous. "You will never be well until you do." - -Whether Monica's sensible advice had any effect upon Olive, or whether -she really was on the mend already, it would be difficult to say, but, -at any rate, it was noticeable that from about that time the improvement -in her was very marked indeed, and by the time their return to Osmington -drew near, she had become practically herself again. Mrs. Beauchamp was -extremely glad, as she would have been very sorry for either of her -charges to have gone home the worse, rather than the better, for the -holiday. - -"Oh, dear!" sighed Amethyst dolefully, as the quartette ensconced -themselves for the last time in one of their favourite nooks, on a -grassy slope overlooking the bay--"oh, dear! I _am_ sorry to be going -home." - -"So am I!" echoed the others, and Elsa added, "Except that it will be -just lovely to see mamma again." - -"If it weren't for all of them at home," put in Olive, "I should like to -stay until school begins." - -"We should find it rather dull," said Monica; "there would be no one -left but us, for the Drurys would be gone. I miss the Herschels -already, although they only went yesterday." - -"You got so awfully friendly with them after the picnic," retorted -Olive. - -"We all liked them," interposed Elsa, for she saw a little flush upon -Monica's cheek. "I think Miss Herschel was a dear; but, of course, she -would naturally be most friendly with Monica, because she is the eldest -of us!" - -A grateful little squeeze told Elsa that Monica was pleased with her for -championing her cause, as she said softly, with far-seeing eyes, "I -shall always be thankful that I have known the Herschels, even if I -never see them again. They have helped me a great deal." - -Olive, fearful lest the conversation should drift in a direction she -would fain shun, interrupted the silence that had fallen upon them, by -saying hurriedly, and with apparent enthusiasm: "I say, girls, what -about that missionary meeting we are invited to? When is it?" - -"To-morrow afternoon." - -"Shall we go? I expect it will be rather slow and--pokey." - -"Why should it?" queried Monica, who was continually finding herself -differing from her friend, now-a-days. - -"Oh, I don't know why, I'm sure; but missionary meetings are always dull -affairs. They read long reports, you know, and tell silly little tales -about goody-goody children, who would a hundred times rather put the -one, and only, penny they possess in a missionary box, than spend it on -themselves." And the girl laughed satirically. - -"Oh, Olive!" expostulated Elsa, while Amethyst opened her eyes to their -widest proportions. - -"Well, _I_ am going, anyhow," said Monica decisively, for whom, since -she had been influenced by Leslie Herschel, every thing of a missionary -nature had great attractions. "It will be my first experience of a -missionary meeting, so I am going to find out what it's like." - -"So am I," echoed Elsa and Amethyst, and Olive was obliged to fall in -with the general opinion, as she did not care about being left out. - -The meeting, to which the quartette, as well as many other girls among -the visitors, had been invited a few days previously, had been kindly -arranged by a lady living in Sandyshore, and was to be held on her -beautiful lawn the next afternoon. Only girls, of all ages, had received -invitations, and no grown-up people were expected to be present. - -When the appointed time came, the hostess, a dear old lady of seventy or -more, whose heart, home, and purse were devoted to the cause of -spreading the gospel news, welcomed her young guests as they arrived, -and three, at any rate, of our party felt their hearts go out to her as -her kindly smile and gentle words greeted them. Olive, who felt -belligerent, prided herself on not being so easily won. - -They found quite a number of girls, most of whom they knew well by -sight, from continual meetings on the sands or tennis-courts, already -seated on the chairs which had been carefully placed in a shady portion -of the lawn, and slipping into some empty places, they waited for -further developments. - -Two ladies, standing under a pretty rose-covered verandah, were engaged -in conversation near a little table strewn with various books and -pamphlets; another had just taken her seat before a small harmonium, -while yet a fourth was handing round hymn-sheets. - -"Which do you suppose is the speaker?" whispered Monica to Elsa, who was -next to her, "the lady in the nurse's uniform, or the one in black?" - -"I can't tell, they both look so nice. The tall, dark one in mourning -looks clever; but I almost hope it will be the other, she looks so -sweetly pretty." And both girls looked admiringly at the fair, healthy, -girlish face framed in its dark blue bonnet. - -Soon a hymn was given out, in which the twenty-five or thirty girls -joined somewhat shyly at first; this sort of meeting was an unusual -experience for the majority of them. But the easily caught-up tune, -sung so heartily by the lady helpers, inspired them, and by the time the -last verse was reached quite a volume of sound rose from the youthful -audience. - -After a short, informal prayer, by the elder of the two ladies, which -was a revelation to Monica, who had never heard a woman's voice uplifted -in extempore prayer before, the girls sang another hymn; and then, after -a few explanatory words from the same lady, who they discovered was a -daughter of their hostess, the nurse stepped forward, and began to speak -in clear, ringing tones, which could be heard all over the lawn, and -which secured the attention of all. - -"I was so very pleased," she began, "when Mrs. Murray asked me if I -would have a little 'talk' with some girl-friends of hers one afternoon -while I was staying with her for a few days in this delightful place. -And I will tell you why. First, because I love English girls; second, -because I love Chinese girls; and third, because I long to get the -former to become interested in their sisters with a pig-tail, in that -far-off land, behind the Great Wall. - -"So now, while we are all here together, I want you to listen while I -tell you something of my work for the last five years in China, and then -I will try to show you what you can do, _if you will_, to help make the -lives of Chinese girls brighter and happier. First and foremost, I must -start by saying that girls are thought little or nothing of in China; -they are _not wanted_. And, although it is not really allowed, in one -way or another nearly one-half of all the baby girls who are born in -China are either drowned, or murdered, or what is even worse, buried -alive directly they are born! And when I tell you that out of every -three people in the whole world one is born in China, you can guess -something of how many there are. It made my heart ache, often and -often, to be in the midst of such dreadful cruelty; and yet we must not -altogether blame the Chinese, for they do not know that our Heavenly -Father values girls just as much as He does boys, and is grieved when -they are ill-treated. - -"But though it is sad to think of the little babies dying, they are -really better off than many of the little girls who are left to grow up. -For there is a cruel custom in China of squeezing the feet of little -girls up tight, by means of a bandage--so"--and Hope Daverel picked up a -strip of calico, and deftly bound up her left hand to illustrate her -words--"until it hurts most dreadfully. Of course, the little girl -cries with the pain, but no one pities her, and in a few days it is -unbound, and done up tighter still. Sometimes a mother will take a big -stick to bed with her, in order to beat the child if she screams with -the awful pain. I wonder how _you_ would like that?" - -The young missionary paused a moment, and looked down enquiringly into -the young faces before her, which expressed horror at the recital of -China's woes. - -"Well, the poor feet have to go on being squeezed smaller and smaller, -until after about two years they are considered small enough to be -pretty! Oh! girls, you who love pretty things, think of it an ugly lump, -without any shape, tiny enough to totter about in shoes like this," and -Miss Daverel held up a wee Chinese shoe. "This is a full-sized shoe for -a lady, and it only measures two inches and a half! This pair has been -actually worn by a woman belonging to one of my classes, and she gave -them to me on purpose to bring home and show to you. A girl's chances of -getting married depend entirely upon the smallness of her feet: they do -not trouble at all about whether she is clever, or handsome or good. -And she is married, often, as young as six months old! and is taken away -from her own mother, to go and live with the mother of the little boy, -or lad, who is her husband. It is difficult for you English girls to -imagine such a state of affairs; but unless you know _something_ about -them, you cannot do much towards helping your Chinese sisters. Once they -are married, the poor girls have a very, very dull life, if they are -fortunate enough to escape ill-treatment from their husbands. One of -the first questions asked by the Chinese ladies whom I go to visit, in -their dim, cheerless rooms at the back of the house, is 'Does your -husband beat you?' and when I shake my head and say I am not married, -they look astounded, and say: '_So_ old, and no husband!' - -"But sad as their lives are, their fear of what comes after death is far -more sad. The women are taught that there is no heaven for them, and -all that the very best of them can look forward to is that, after -numbers of future lives spent in torment, they _may_ be born again into -this world as a little boy! And they are so afraid of evil spirits, who -they think are constantly on the look-out to do them untold harm: they -even call the boys by girls' names, so that they may not be thought -_worth_ harming! and when the poor creatures die, as the funeral -procession goes along the road, imitation money made in paper like this" -(and the speaker held up samples) "is scattered about, to propitiate any -evil spirits that may be near; while clothes, money, and various other -things, all made in paper, are burned at the grave side, in order that -the dead person may have them to use in the other world. And that sort -of thing is continually being done before what they call ancestral -tablets, or at the graves of relations who have died, lest the spirits -of the departed should come back to earth and trouble those that are -living. Millions of pounds are spent every year, in that way alone. - -"Is it not all terribly sad? I am sure that you agree with me that it -is, and are wishing that you knew of some way to help. Well, I will -tell you; there are many things you might do. I suppose that most of -you elder girls go to school; when you meet your school-friends again, -you can pass on to them what I have told you this afternoon; and perhaps -you could gather some of them together to dress dolls, or make little -presents such as we missionaries love to be able to give to the children -and girls who attend our schools, or come to us for medicine. A little -gift from England is _such_ a treasure; it would repay you for any -self-denial it may cost, if you could only see the delight on the poor, -little, dull faces, when they catch sight of the doll, or the pair of -bright knitted cuffs, or the little cotton-box, that the _guniong_, as -they call us, is going to give them. And besides that, you can give -some of your pocket-money: those pence and shillings which it is _so_ -easy to fritter away on mere nothings, and things which do not last. -Oh! girls, which do you think you will value _most_ in the great day of -reckoning which is coming, the sweets you have eaten, the grand -collection of picture post-cards you were so eager to get, or the -Master's 'Well done!' which will surely be spoken to those who have -denied themselves for His sake? - -"But working and giving are not everything--there is praying. And if, -as I do hope, there are some here who have found a precious Friend in -Jesus for themselves, will you not pray that your Chinese sisters may -find Him too? There are millions of them who have never heard His name, -even _once_, yet; and they are dying _so_ fast, without God, and without -hope. So I am praying that He will touch some of the girls' hearts here -this afternoon, and fill them with an intense longing to go and bear His -message, in the years to come, to the women and girls in far-off China. - -"Now shall we sing a hymn, so simple that even the smallest can -understand it, and will you try to mean every word?" And soon, girlish -voices were singing, with real earnestness, - - The fields are all white, - And the reapers are few; - We children are willing, - But what can we do - To work for our Lord in His harvest? - - Our hands are so small, - And our words are so weak, - We cannot teach others; - How then shall we seek - To work for our Lord in His harvest? - - We'll work by our prayers, - By the gifts we can bring, - By small self-denials; - The least little thing - May work for our Lord in His harvest. - - Until, by-and-by, - As the years pass, at length - We, too, may be reapers, - And go forth in strength - To work for our Lord in His harvest. - - -Just a few solemn words of prayer followed, in which Miss Daverel asked -that her young hearers might realise the need of the heathen, and with -God's help seek to do their part towards satisfying it; and then the -meeting ended. - -While tea was being handed round by Mrs. Murray's maids, Miss Daverel, -who had noted Monica's rapt attention, drew her aside, and after a few -whispered words, she and a little maiden of not much over six -accompanied the missionary indoors, to reappear in a few minutes in -Chinese costume. - -"Oh!" cried the girls, as first one and then another discovered what -appeared to be a Chinese lady and her little girl coming across the lawn -towards them, and they all crowded round, while Hope Daverel showed them -the beautifully embroidered red satin coat and kilted skirt, such as the -wife of a mandarin or high official would wear, and which Monica's tall -figure showed off to advantage. They all laughed merrily at the quaint -little object in mauve and yellow jacket and _trousers_, who, they were -told, looked just like a little Chinese girl, with the exception of her -hair and feet. - -Tea over, all the girls were given magazines or little booklets about -missionary work, and Miss Daverel showed them samples of all sorts of -nice easy things that are valued so much as gifts, not only in China, -but in all parts of the mission field; and she gladly promised to send -all particulars (and a missionary box!) to any or every girl who would -write to her, and tell her that she had found some others to help her, -and they wanted to start working. - -"I say, girls, we'll make some things, won't we, when we get back?" said -Monica, as the quartette wended their way homewards. - -"Oh, yes!" cried Amethyst and Elsa, simultaneously; and if Olive said -nothing, her voice was not missed. "And we'll get a lot of the High -School girls to join us." - -"I wish Miss Daverel lived at Osmington," said Elsa wistfully; "she -would show us just what to do." - -"Oh, she is wanted in China," was Monica's decisive reply; "she can't -possibly be spared from there. I daresay we shall be able to make the -things by her directions, and we'll send them to her to give away." - -"Mother will help, I'm sure," said Amethyst. - -"And Lois, too," added Elsa; "she cuts out splendidly, and makes the -stuff go ever so far, because she fits everything in so well." - -"It is evident we must begin to save up our pocket-money," said Monica, -"because there will be a lot of things to buy, and we want to give it -all ourselves, don't we, girls?" - -And again, in the eager assent that Monica's words called forth, if one -voice was silent, it passed unnoticed. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX.* - - *"YOU TELL THEM, LOIS; I COULDN'T."* - - -"There is not likely to be any letter for us, this morning, as we are -going home to-morrow," said Elsa, the next morning, as the girls stood -in the bay window, watching the postman delivering his missives at -practically every house in the steep road which led up to Rocklands. -They usually filled up the few minutes before breakfast, while waiting -for Mrs. Beauchamp's appearance, in this way. - -"I hardly expect there will be one for any of us," said Monica, "unless -there should be one from dad forwarded on." - -"He's coming in our gate," said Olive; and a few seconds later a maid -entered, with one solitary letter on a salver. - -"For Mrs. Beauchamp, miss." - -"Very well, Ada;" and the girl withdrew, as Mrs. Beauchamp entered. - -"Only one letter for you, grannie." Somehow, Monica had slipped into -the way of calling her grandmother thus, lately, and the shortened form -was by no means unpleasant to Mrs. Beauchamp. - -"Just cut it open for me, Elsa, my dear," said the old lady to her -"little right hand," as she called her; "while I pour out the coffee." - -And Elsa, preparing to do as she was asked, picked up the letter. But -as she did so, she observed the writing, and with wonder in her tones, -she exclaimed: "I think it must be from Lois!" and she cut it open -hastily, a nameless fear taking possession of her. - -"Thank you, my dear, I will see what it says," said Mrs. Beauchamp, as -she adjusted her pince-nez; "possibly it is some arrangement about your -return home." She spoke quietly, but she felt otherwise, for she, too, -had a presentiment of impending trouble. With eyes which seemed ready to -devour her, Elsa watched Mrs. Beauchamp's face, while she hastily -scanned the short letter, and something in its expression made her heart -beat with great thumps. - -"Mamma!" she faltered, with trembling lips, and even Olive and Monica -held their breath while they waited for Mrs. Beauchamp's answer. - -"Don't be frightened, dear," she said kindly; "it certainly is about -your mother, who is not quite so well. But your father thinks there is -nothing to be alarmed at, and hopes she will be as well as usual by the -time you reach home to-morrow." - -"Are you sure that is quite all?" Elsa whispered, in a voice hoarse with -emotion; she loved her mother so intensely that she could not bear the -thought of her being worse than her usual invalid condition. - -"Quite, my dear; you may read it, both of you," and the twins found -nothing different in the few sentences the letter contained. - -"I wish we were going home to-day," murmured Elsa wistfully, while tears -trembled on her long, dark lashes. - -"Nonsense, Elsa!" said Olive, a touch of impatience in her voice; really -a sign that she was troubled, too. "I don't suppose that mamma is very -much worse than usual, only Lois croaks so." - -But Elsa, although she said no more, did not feel comforted; and Mrs. -Beauchamp and Monica stole furtive glances at the sad, downcast face of -the gentle, loving girl, who had endeared herself to both of them. - -Breakfast was a quiet meal, and all were glad when it was ended, -although the bright sunshine seemed suddenly clouded over, and the -girls' interest in the various amusements they had planned for their -last day at Sandyshore had vanished. - -They were in their bedrooms, getting ready for a morning on the sands, -when a double knock was heard upon the open front door, and poor Elsa -grew white as death. - -"Oh, Olive, perhaps it's a telegram!" she gasped. - -"What a grizzler you are, Elsa!" said Olive, not really unkindly, for -she was very fond of her mother, too, though in a totally different -fashion from Elsa; "probably it's only the butcher or greengrocer." - -But Barnes, with alarm on her face, came to summon the twins, and Elsa -knew that her foreboding was true, even before she saw the fateful pink -paper in Mrs. Beauchamp's trembling fingers. - -"Oh, don't say she's--dead!" wailed Elsa, as she crossed the room; and -Olive shuddered convulsively. - -"No, no, my dears," said the old lady; "no, no, not that; only very ill, -and your father wants you home at once." - -"Oh, my dear mamma, my darling mamma!" sobbed Elsa pitifully, as she -clung to Mrs. Beauchamp; while Olive, with horror-stricken face and dry -eyes, read the few words of the telegram, which ran thus-- - -"Mother very ill: girls to come home with all possible speed." - -"Oh, I wish I'd never left her! I don't believe I'll ever see her -again," wailed Elsa, in such heart-broken, pitiful tones, that Monica -begged her to try not to cry so, and whispered words of comfort. - -"How soon could we go, Mrs. Beauchamp?" Olive said, in a strained, -unnatural voice. - -"There is a train at eleven," said Monica, who had been studying the -time-table, "a very quick one, which arrives at Osmington by one-thirty. -The Drurys go home to-day," she added, "but not until the three-fifteen -train." - -"Oh, Barnes shall go with them," interposed Mrs. Beauchamp, "and return -here this evening. We would all go to-day, but the packing could not be -done in time for the eleven o'clock train. There is less than an hour, -now; so, Monica, you help Olive and Elsa to get their things together, -and Barnes shall pack their boxes at once. Cheer up, my dears," she -added, to the poor twins, who were already collecting their books and -needlework, which were lying about on the different tables; "let us hope -for the best; and, very likely, you will find a change for the better -has taken place when you reach home." - -"Elsa, darling, do let Jesus comfort you," whispered Monica, a few -minutes later, when they were alone in the girl's bedroom, "I am asking -Him to. And He can make dear Mrs. Franklyn better, you know, if it is -His will." Monica spoke shyly; she was unaccustomed to giving Elsa -advice--Elsa, who had always appeared almost perfect to hasty, impetuous -Monica, who had, by no means, found it easy work to follow in the -footsteps of the meek and lowly Saviour. - -"Oh, Monica, I have been asking Him to help me bear it!" said Elsa, "and -I don't want to grieve Him by fretting. But, oh, you can't think what -it would be like to lose my precious mamma!" And the tears rained down -the poor child's face. - -"No," said Monica, with unconscious pathos, "I can hardly remember how I -felt when I lost mine. It is so long ago now, I have nearly forgotten -it." - -"Monica, will you go on praying, all day, that God will make her better, -but if He sees--the other--would be best--for her--that He will help us -bear it?" - -The words, so hard to utter, came falteringly, and the elder girl, with -wet eyes, gathered Elsa into her strong, young arms, and while she -pressed a kiss upon the downcast brow, she murmured: "Yes, Elsa, -darling, and we know He will." - -A hasty scramble to get all packed, a short drive to the station crowded -with visitors now making their way homewards at the close of their -holiday, and then a few last words were said, after the twins, -accompanied by Barnes, had ensconced themselves in one of the -fast-filling compartments. - -Mrs. Beauchamp, at Elsa's request, had not accompanied them, so only -Monica--her sunburnt face, usually so bright, now wearing a sad -expression--stood on the platform waiting to bid them farewell. - -"The Drurys, Monica," said Olive, as she leant out of the window just as -the train began to move, "they won't know. Tell them." - -"Yes, I will," replied Monica; "they'll be sure to see you to-night, and -I shall come to-morrow. Good-bye, good-bye," and with a would-be -cheerful smile she waved to both of them, but her eyes sought Elsa's, -who, poor child, was making a brave effort not to give way, and make a -scene before a compartment full of people. It was a good thing, in one -way, that they had not the luxury of one to themselves. - -Very few words were said during the long, long two hours and a half -which dragged wearily by. About half-way, Barnes produced a basket of -lunch, which she had brought with kindly forethought, and pressed the -girls to eat something. Olive managed a couple of sandwiches, but Elsa, -who tried to swallow one, felt as if it would choke her, and gave it up -after toying with it for a few minutes. - -"Have this lovely pear, now do, Miss Elsa," urged Barnes, with whom the -kind, thoughtful girl was a great favourite. - -And with a pathetic smile, Elsa thanked her, and felt refreshed after -eating the juicy fruit. - -The twins whispered a sentence or two now and again, but for the most -part the journey was accomplished in silence. Elsa lay back with closed -eyes as if asleep, except that sometimes her lips moved unconsciously, -showing that she was taking her sorrow where alone she would find real -comfort. - -Olive gazed through the window with unseeing eyes at the country through -which they were passing, but her mind was in a turmoil. Could this -terrible and unexpected blow be sent by God as a punishment to her for -all her wilful neglect of Him? Did He think that by taking her mother -away He would _drive_ her to become His child? Then nothing should -induce her to become one! These and countless other thoughts passed -through the unhappy girl's mind, and her heart grew more rebellious than -ever. She did not want to become "goody-goody" she told herself, but it -was too bad of Monica to have left her in the lurch. And then, she, -Olive Franklyn, tried to make a bargain with God! If He would avert the -threatened sorrow which overhung her home, and restore her mother to her -usual degree of health again, then she would serve Him; but if not---- - -At length the train began to draw near Osmington, and the girls dreaded -and yet longed to see a familiar face on the platform, and to hear the -latest bulletin. - -They had expected Kathleen, or perhaps only one of the servants, so that -they were astonished to see Roger striding up the platform as the train -pulled up. - -"Oh, Roger!" and the twins each seized a hand and clung to him, "how is -she?" whispered Olive, for Elsa was trembling too much to speak; from -Roger's sad face she feared the worst. - -[Illustration: "'OH, ROGER! HOW IS SHE?' WHISPERED OLIVE."] - -"She is very, very ill," was all he said gravely; "I am glad you have -come, she has been asking for you both." - -Barnes, who had been standing near, now came forward, and, for the first -time, Roger realised that his sisters were not alone. With a word of -thanks he spoke gratefully of Mrs. Beauchamp's kindness in sending the -girls home under her care, and enquired as to her plans. - -"Oh, I return by the next train, sir, thank you, which leaves just after -two. I'll just have time to get a cup of tea before I start. Mrs. -Beauchamp wished me to offer her sincere sympathy, sir, if I saw any of -the family, and she would like to know the latest report." - -"Please thank her," said Roger. "My mother has been most grateful for -all her kindness to my sisters." - -"And how is Mrs. Franklyn now, sir?" she asked. - -Roger turned away from the girls, who for the moment were collecting -various small packages they had brought with them, and with something -suspiciously like a sob in his throat, he replied, "She is sinking -rapidly; she cannot live many hours." - -"Dear, dear. I _am_ sorry to hear that, sir!" said the woman, with real -concern. "Poor, dear Miss Elsa." - -"Hush! Don't let them hear. I have not said so much to them." - -And with a word of farewell to the maid, he bade the twins come with -him. Stopping only to give a porter instructions about the luggage, he -strode on, and the girls had as much as they could do to keep up with -him. - -Fortunately, it was only a matter of a very few minutes' walk to their -home, so that they were soon there. As they entered the gate, Roger -glanced furtively at the windows, for he knew his mother's life was only -just trembling in the balance, and even during the fifteen or twenty -minutes that he had been absent, the call might have come. But the -blinds were up, and he breathed freely. In silence they entered the old -side door, and quietly, oh! so quietly, Lois came downstairs to meet -them. - -What a different home-coming was this from the one they had been -anticipating. No bright welcome, no merry words, no gay laughter. -Instead of all that, there was an awful hush and unnatural quiet -reigning in the busy, bustling household, and it was all owing to the -fact that their mother was lying so very, very ill in the well-known -room, beyond the baize-covered doors, upstairs. - -"I am glad you have come, dears," said Lois, gently, as she bent and -kissed the twins, and Elsa saw that her face bore traces of recent -tears. - -"Oh, Lois!" - -"Hush, darlings, hush!" she whispered, as she gently pushed them into -the deserted dining-room; "we must not make any noise, it worries her -so." - -"But she will get better? Oh, Lois, say she will!" cried Olive. - -Lois looked enquiringly at Roger; but muttering: "You tell them, Lois; I -couldn't," in hoarse tones, he strode by her, and went out, shutting the -door gently behind him. - -And, with am arm round each of them, Lois told them, in tender words, -that God was calling their mother to Himself, and that very, very soon -they must give her up. For a few minutes she let them weep on -unrestrainedly, knowing well that it was best so. And then, with words -of comfort, the elder sister, who in future would have to act a mother's -part, bade them think of the peace, and rest, and freedom from all pain -that their loved one would soon be enjoying in the presence of her -Saviour. - -As Lois talked thus, Elsa seemed not to think so much of her own -sorrows, as of the gain that would be her mother's, and her sobs grew -less as she remembered the blessedness of those who die in Christ Jesus. - -But Olive, over whose turbulent young heart a perfect hurricane of doubt -was sweeping, refused to be comforted, and wept on unrestrainedly. God -was cruel, _cruel_ to take their mother away, and nothing Lois or Elsa -said would persuade her otherwise. - -A hasty opening of the door startled them, and Dr. Franklyn, looking ten -years older than when the twins left home, entered the room. - -"I hear that Olive and Elsa have come," he said. "Let them get undressed -and go to their mother at once. Remember, girls, no scenes," he added -severely, and was gone without another word. - -After hastily removing their hats, and vainly endeavouring by sponging -their faces with cold water to obliterate the traces of emotion, the -twins entered their mother's room. If they had expected to see a vast -difference in her, they were disappointed for only a very practised eye -could tell that Mary Franklyn was nearing the gates of death. To the -twins she looked much as usual, the bright flush upon her poor, thin -face was so deceptive. She was quite conscious and free from pain, and -lay with one hand in her husband's watching for them. - -"My girlies," she murmured, and she feebly stroked their sunburnt faces, -as they bent over her, and kissed her passionately. "I am so glad--you -had--a nice holiday--before--this trouble--came. Don't cry--my -darlings--Jesus is--very precious--and He--will bring--all my dear -ones--to me--some day." And then she stopped, for her breath was coming -in quick, short pantings, and the pulse, upon which Dr. Franklyn had his -finger, was only feebly fluttering. - -"Don't exert yourself too much, my dear," he said tenderly, with anguish -in his eyes. - -A radiant smile passed over the dying woman's worn features, and she lay -back, exhausted. "I will--rest--a little," she whispered. For she -hoped to recover sufficient strength to speak a last word to these two -of her children and Dick, who could not arrive for some hours. - -But it was not to be. The gentle sleep into which she presently fell, -and which seemed as if it must be doing her good, deepened into that -last, long, slumber that knows no awakening in this life, and Mary -Franklyn passed into the presence of the King. - -The sorrow and sadness in that household during the days that followed -can be more easily imagined than described. Lois, Kathleen, and Roger -endeavoured to be brave and forgetful of self, as they strove to comfort -their father and the younger ones. - -Dick, who arrived home a couple of hours after his mother had breathed -her last, was inconsolable. He had adored his gentle, fragile mother, -and it was heart-breaking to see the erstwhile merry whistler wandering -listlessly and silently about the house; or to come upon him, unawares, -in some quiet spot whither he had fled in order to indulge his grief -unseen. Roger, who had always been his chum in a way that brothers -seldom are, now became his comforter; and it was during those sad, -sorrowful days, when the younger lad's heart was rendered impressionable -by grief, that he began to seek the Saviour whom Roger had lately found, -and whom their mother had loved so dearly. - -Elsa bore up bravely, after the first terrible outburst, and was very -helpful in looking after Joan and Paddy, who fretted for their mother a -great deal. But Olive seemed turned to stone. She realised that in the -bargain she had sought to make with God she had been worsted! He -_might_ have spared her mother; He _might_ have heard her cry: and she -would have kept her promise if He had! But He was cruel, oh! _so_ cruel, -to snatch her mother away without giving her a chance even to whisper -that she was sorry for all the anxiety she had caused her, and that she -would be a better girl, in future, if her mother would only say she -forgave her. Both Lois and Kathleen sought to break down the stoical -reserve, behind which Olive hid her real feelings, but she always -repulsed them, and they could only hope that, in time, God would answer -their mother's many prayers for her wilful little daughter. - - - - - *CHAPTER XX.* - - *"KEEP IT UP, IT ANSWERS VERY WELL."* - - -A few days after Mrs. Franklyn's funeral, Monica Beauchamp, looking very -fresh and dainty in a pretty linen frock and straw hat was walking up -the shady road leading from the town to The Cedars, Mr. Howell's -residence. - -She had never yet paid the visit she had promised on the day she -sprained her ankle, so Monica had coaxed her grandmother into dropping -her in the town, that afternoon, while she drove on to pay a call at a -little distance in the country. For some time a plan had been forming -in the girl's mind, and a visit to Mrs. Howell was necessary before it -could be put into execution. - -"I hope Mrs. Howell will be in," she said to herself, as she entered the -white gates, and walled up the beautifully kept drive, "and I almost -hope that Lily will be _out_," she added; for upon the only occasion she -and Lily had met since the unhappy affair at school, the latter had -passed Monica with no attempt at recognition, beyond an ugly scowl. At -the time (it was before she went to Sandyshore) Monica had felt very -much inclined to return the scowl with interest, except that she -considered Lily utterly beneath contempt. But lately she had had very -different feelings towards her would-be injurer, and it was chiefly on -her account that she was so anxious to pay her mother a visit. - -Mrs. Howell being at home, Monica was ushered into a huge and -magnificently furnished drawing-room, decorated lavishly with plush -hangings, of decidedly gay hues, and was warmly welcomed by her hostess, -who was delighted to see her. - -A quarter of an hour passed pleasantly in chatting over the sprained -ankle, long since well, and the holiday she had enjoyed so much, and -then Monica broached the subject uppermost in her mind. - -"Mrs. Howell," she began diffidently, for she was not quite sure how her -proposal would be received, "did Lily tell you _all_ about the -examination affair?" - -"Well, my dear, by degrees we got to know the rights of it, though she -would not tell us till her pa threatened to punish her, if she didn't -speak out. He was in a great taking when the notice came that she wasn't -to go back no more, and he packed her off to stay with his step-sister, -a very strict woman, and poor Lily has had a very rough time of it. She -only came back yesterday, and wouldn't have done then, only for her aunt -being took ill; for it was her pa's intention to let her bide there some -months. Now he talks of sendin' her to boardin'-school, but where to he -hasn't no idea. All our plans for her schoolin' was upset-like, you -see, my dear, by that notice, and her pa was terrible annoyed to think -it all came about through her trying to do you a bad turn. For, to tell -the truth, my dear," Mrs. Howell rambled on garrulously, "he thinks a -sight of you, does Bob. He would have wrote to apologise, but he -couldn't get Lily to say she was sorry, nohow. Oh! dear me, what -trouble that girl has caused us, and 'twill be far worse when she comes -'ome from boardin'-school." And the poor woman whimpered distressingly. - -"Don't cry, dear Mrs. Howell," said Monica gently; "perhaps she won't -have to go away to school at all. Would you like her to go back to the -High School if she could? Do you think she would go?" - -"Oh, my dear, there's no chance!" was the dismal reply, as Mrs. Howell -wiped her florid face with a tiny muslin handkerchief; "they wouldn't -take her back now. I only wish they would. I know Lily would be -delighted really, although she's said times and times that she'd rather -die than ever go there again." - -"Well, don't tell her, please, in case it falls through, but grandmother -thinks I might write to Miss Buckingham, and perhaps she would overlook -it this once and let Lily go back." Monica spoke earnestly, and there -was no hint of pride in her tones, neither did she say that it had taken -a good deal of persuasion to get Mrs. Beauchamp to consent to let her -write on her school-fellow's behalf. - -"Oh, Miss Beauchamp, my dear, if you only would!" ejaculated Mrs. -Howell, delight and incredulity struggling for the mastery in both tones -and countenance. "But it does seem strange that you that's been injured -should be the one to do us a good turn. I can't think why you should!" -And she looked searchingly into the flushed face opposite her, as if she -would find the motive written upon it. - -Monica was sorely tempted to make just a mere commonplace reply, but she -summoned up all the courage she could, and gave Mrs. Howell the real -reason, realising that this was an opportunity afforded her of -witnessing to her new Master. - -"I don't know whether you know Him, dear Mrs. Howell," she said, a -trifle nervously, but with intense earnestness, "but while I was away I -accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my Saviour, and He has forgiven me so -much, that I can't help forgiving everybody else. And I think He told -me to show Lily how I feel, by trying to do this. Oh, I do hope Miss -Buckingham will make it right! I almost think she will." - -"Oh, my dear, my dear!" said Mrs. Howell, tremulously, in her eagerness -clutching hold of Monica's hands; "you've found some One I've been -wanting for years! My heart's just breaking for want of peace." - -And in very simple fashion, for it was all such new and unaccustomed -work to her, Monica tried to feed this hungry, longing soul with the -Bread of Life. She felt so helpless, but trusting to the Holy Spirit's -guidance, she repeated a great deal of the sermon which she would never -forget; and Mrs. Howell seemed to literally drink it all in. - -"God bless you, my dear," she murmured, as Monica at length rose in -haste, having discovered that the time arranged for her to meet the -carriage was already past--"God bless and reward you for all you've -done. I've been a sinful woman, all my life, but please God this shall -be the beginning of better things." - -Monica hurried down the hill, a song of thanksgiving in her heart, and a -happy smile flickering about her lips. How delightful this new life -was! Not for anything would she go back now to the careless, thoughtless -days of the past, when she had given others such endless trouble, and -been so discontented and miserable herself. She felt as if she loved -everybody, that beautiful September day, and as if it would be -impossible ever to displease any one again. - -But, alas! a rude stare, without a trace of recognition in it, from the -object of her solicitude, with whom she came suddenly face to face as -she turned a corner, and upon whom she bestowed a radiant smile, and -cordial "How do you do, Lily?" sent her on the rest of her way with a -small cloud in her hitherto cloudless sky, and a nasty little feeling of -wounded pride endeavoured to make itself felt. However, she consoled -herself with the thought that Lily would soon have cause to think -differently of her, and hastened to the place where she had promised to -wait for the carriage. - -But, unfortunately, it was just the other way round! The carriage, with -Mrs. Beauchamp in it, had been waiting some time for Monica, and her -grandmother greeted her with words of displeasure. - -"I am very much annoyed, Monica; you are fifteen or twenty minutes -behind time," she said severely. "Richards has been driving up and -down, up and down, all that time, lest the horses should take cold; they -were so very warm. It was very thoughtless indeed of you, to keep me -waiting like this." - -"I am very sorry, grannie," was all Monica said, as she seated herself -beside her grandmother in the landau; and it spoke volumes for her that -her voice was gentle, and her look penitent. Monica of old would not -have answered thus, and Mrs. Beauchamp knew it, and thoroughly -appreciated the change, although she said nothing. Indeed, silence -reigned during the drive, and it was not until they were in the -drawing-room after dinner that Mrs. Beauchamp enquired the result of -Monica's visit. - -"You might as well write to Miss Buckingham this evening, if you are -still anxious to do so," she said, when she had heard what Mrs. Howell -said; "there is no time to spare, as the letter will have to be -forwarded to wherever she is spending her holidays." - -And Monica gladly fetched her writing-case, and began to write what -proved to be a very difficult epistle. Her pen had to be nibbled -thoughtfully many times before the letter was accomplished, and then the -result was not all that the writer could wish. She was rather afraid -that Mrs. Beauchamp would ask to see it before it went; but, -fortunately, just as Monica had signed her name, in school-girl -calligraphy, at the end of perhaps the most tidy letter she had ever -written, the old lady roused up from the little doze in which she had -been indulging, and bade Monica hasten, or she would lose the post. - -"I have just finished, grannie," and as Monica laid down her pen, -Harriet came to say that Richards was waiting for the letters. - -"Have you any to send to-night, grannie? No? Then there is only this -one, Harriet," and Monica breathed a sigh of relief as she shut up her -writing-case and prepared to read to her grandmother. - -Not the most agreeable of tasks was this; for Mrs. Beauchamp considered -that it was "improving" for her granddaughter to read aloud for at least -half an hour every evening. Monica was not a very fluent reader, so -that she was continually being pulled up for leaving out commas, or for -emphasising quite the wrong word. The interruptions would have been -very trying if the book had been even the least bit interesting, but as -it really seemed to have been chosen for its dryness and dullness, -Monica did not mind. However, she tried her hardest, nowadays, to read -carefully, and with a fair amount of expression, and she was far less -often interrupted than she used to be. She did want to be what Marcus -Drury called a "whatsoever" Christian. - -"You really begin to read quite nicely, Monica," her grandmother said -approvingly, as she finished a chapter, and was told that would do for -that evening. "Your father would be greatly pleased with the -improvement there has been in you lately." - -Tears of joy sprang to Monica's eyes, as she put the book away, and then -stooped and gave the old lady a "good-night" kiss. - -"What has made the difference in you, Monica?" - -And for the second time that day the young girl answered radiantly, but -humbly, "The Lord Jesus Christ." - -"Little Elsa said that was what it was," muttered Mrs. Beauchamp under -her breath, as she toyed nervously with her eye-glasses. "Well, child, -keep it up, it answers very well," she added, in a louder tone. - -"It would be no use for me to try to keep myself, grannie dear," was the -stammering reply, "for I should do something wrong directly, but when I -let Jesus hold me tight, then it is all right." - -Mrs. Beauchamp made no answer, and, after waiting a moment or two, -Monica slipped off, fearful lest she had offended her grandmother. - -But the old lady sat thinking deeply for a long, long time--thinking of -the past when she was a girl of Monica's age, and with as headstrong a -nature as hers--thinking of her married life, when her whole time and -thought had been given to the things of this world--thinking of the -unrestful, unsatisfying present, and of the dark, dark future stretching -out beyond. - -"Little Elsa told me, once, that she prayed God every day to bless me," -she murmured, while a tear trickled slowly down her cheek. "God bless -the child ... and me, too!" - -A week elapsed before any reply came to Monica's letter, and she began -to be afraid that Miss Buckingham would not make known her decision -before it was too late, for the school reopened in another few days. -However, one morning, the long-looked-for letter arrived, and the girl's -heart was overjoyed when she found that her request had been granted, -and that Lily Howell would be allowed to re-attend the school if she -wrote an apology for her past conduct, and sent it to the head-mistress -without delay. Miss Buckingham added that it had been a matter of -regret with her, that one of her scholars should have had to leave the -school under such circumstances, so that if Lily were really penitent, -the past should be overlooked; more especially as the girl she had -endeavoured to injure had taken upon herself the task of interceding for -her. - -"I wish she hadn't put that last bit in," mused Monica, "because that -will very likely offend Lily more than ever, because she will hate to -think she owes anything to me. However, I can't help that; I have done -what seemed right, and I must just leave the result, and I am dreadfully -afraid she won't apologise. Well, I'll do as grannie suggests--just -send Miss Buckingham's letter to Mrs. Howell, and then wait to see what -happens." - -A little note, badly expressed and ill-spelt, but breathing gratitude in -every line, from Mrs. Howell, was all that Monica received, and in it -there was only a hope expressed that Lily would send the apology, but no -certainty. So she had to be patient, and wait a little longer. - -Meanwhile, she kept the matter quite secret, not even breathing a word -of it to Olive, for she thought, and very wisely, that if the whole -affair fell through, it would be much better for no one to have known -anything of it. But Monica was not very clever at keeping a secret, and -if she had seen much of the Franklyns the probability is, that in a -moment of forgetfulness she would have divulged it. However, the girls -met but seldom during the days that elapsed between Mrs. Franklyn's -funeral and the school reopening. - -Once, when Monica was in Osmington, she ran up against Amethyst Drury, -and, as they were talking, Mr. Howell's motor car passed them, reminding -the younger girl of his daughter. - -"I saw Lily the other day, Monica, and she wouldn't look at me. She -walked by just as proud as Lucifer. The idea! As if we were all to -blame, and she was innocent! I'm awfully glad she won't be at school -any more." - -"I daresay we should feel pretty much as she does, Thistle, if we were -in her place," was Monica's reply; "she can't enjoy herself much." - -"Quite as much as she deserves," said Amethyst, with decision; "horrid -cheat!" - -"Oh, Thistle!" Monica's tone was reproachful. - -"Well, I ought not to have said that, I know," said Amethyst penitently, -"but I _don't_ like her; do you, Monica?" - -"I am afraid I can't say I really like her," Monica confessed honestly; -"but still she may be sorry inside, you know, and, perhaps, if we had -been kinder to her at first, she would have been nicer to us now. I mean -she would feel that we did not think the very worst of her," added -Monica, a trifle lamely. She knew what she meant herself, but had -difficulty in expressing it. - -"I am afraid the worst is about right," was Amethyst's sententious -answer, as they parted. And Monica could not help wondering just _what_ -the girls, as a whole, would say, if Lily should reappear at the High -School again. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI.* - - *"I GUESS I'LL JUST WATCH *_*YOU*_* A BIT."* - - -"Monica!" - -"Yes, grannie?" - -"I want to talk to you for a few minutes." - -And Monica, without so much as a frown, although she had just reached a -most interesting part of her story, laid her book down, and prepared to -give all her attention to her grandmother. She had no idea that Mrs. -Beauchamp was covertly watching her, as she frequently did, to see -whether she would exhibit any irritation or temper at the interruption; -but if she had been aware of it, she could not have smiled more -brightly, or been more ready to give up her own wishes to please her -grandmother. Truly the Monica Beauchamp of the present was a totally -different being from the one of bygone days. - -The old lady noted her expression with an approving smile, and could not -help acknowledging to herself that this grandchild of hers was fast -becoming very dear to her, and well deserved the pleasure that was in -store for her. - -"I wanted to have a little talk about your birthday, Monica; it will -soon be here now." - -"Yes, grannie," replied the girl, with sparkling eyes. "Next Tuesday, -the 27th." - -"And you will be sixteen. Dear me, how time flies, to be sure! I well -remember the day your dear father was the same age," Mrs. Beauchamp said -musingly, and her thoughts went back to past days for a few moments. -But they soon returned to the present, and she went on: "I wonder what -you would choose if I said you might have what you liked for a birthday -present, Monica?" And she smiled into the eager, upturned face. - -"Oh, grannie, I don't know, I'm sure, _what_ I should choose; there are -so many nice things!" And Monica turned over in her mind various things -she had been wishing she possessed. Most people would have thought that -she already had everything that she could possibly want, but even the -best supplied of mortals can always do with "more." A nice -writing-case, some books, a new brooch--any or all of these would be -nice, and Monica was about to mention them, when a sudden thought -flashed through her brain; here was the very opportunity she had been -wanting! If only Mrs. Beauchamp would give her money this birthday to -spend as she liked! - -"Well, Monica, how long are you going to be choosing? Remember, I did -not say I would give you what you chose!" - -"Oh, grannie dear, I do hope you will!" coaxed Monica, in persuasive -tones. "I would rather have it than anything else." - -"Well, what is it? Perhaps if it is anything in reason, you might have -it, but I warn you not to ask for a bicycle." Mrs. Beauchamp looked -quite stern, as if the mere mention of the article brought the past -vividly before her, but there was a suspicious twinkle in her eyes, -which Monica did not notice. - -"No, grannie, I will never ask you for _that_," was Monica's subdued -reply, although her active young limbs literally ached sometimes, when -she saw other girls jumping on their bicycles and spinning off along the -country roads. But she had long since given up expecting ever to do the -same, for she knew how her grandmother objected to women cyclists. "But -I do wish you would give me money instead of any other present, this -year, grannie, because I want some very particularly." - -"What for?" asked the old lady curiously. "Surely you haven't exceeded -your pocket-money, and got into debt like boys do; have you, Monica?" - -"Oh! dear, no, grannie," and Monica's laugh rang merrily out, "it isn't -anything of that kind! But if I tell you what I want it for, you won't -say 'no,' will you, grannie dear? It's nothing wrong." And the clear -grey eyes sought the old lady's earnestly. - -"Very well; now, tell me." - -"Oh, you are a dear grannie!" said Monica enthusiastically. "I'll tell -you all about it. You know when we girls all went to the missionary -meeting at Sandyshore, Miss Daverel, the lady who spoke, said there were -lots of ways girls could help; and we four made up our minds to see what -we could do." Monica paused, and looked a trifle diffidently at Mrs. -Beauchamp; she was not quite sure what sort of reception her words would -get, for, as far as she knew, her grandmother had no more interest in -foreign missions than old Richards, the coachman, had. - -But the old lady nodded, and seemed in no wise annoyed, so Monica took -courage, and proceeded with her story. "We want to have a sort of -working-party, just amongst us girls, with perhaps Mrs. Drury and Miss -Franklyn to help, and make all sorts of things to send out to China, for -the poor little girls and the women who are so sad and unhappy, Miss -Daverel says. She has promised to send us patterns and directions, and -we want to begin very soon; but you see, grannie, we must have some -money to buy dolls and print, and wool, and all sorts of things with. -And I _thought_, grannie dear, if you would give me money instead of -anything else, it would help us start, at any rate." - -"H'm." Mrs. Beauchamp said nothing in favour of the proposal, but then -she did not say anything against it, which was fairly encouraging. -Monica tried to read her thoughts by scanning the face which was -slightly turned away from her, but could make nothing of it. "Why -should this undertaking be started with your money, Monica? Surely it -is as much the others' affair as yours?" - -"Oh, yes, we all want to do it; but you see, grannie, none of the others -have much to spend, and I---- Oh, I do want to give something that I -shall miss, if it is only a little!" And Monica's girlish face glowed -with enthusiasm. - -"Well, I had intended giving you something that I believe you would have -liked very much, Monica; but if you would really rather have money to -spend as you propose, you may count upon having a five-pound note on -your birthday instead. I was going to give you a bicycle." - -"Oh, grannie!" Amazement, consternation, hesitation, these, and -countless other emotions played upon the young girl's heart. First, -utter astonishment that her grandmother should ever have dreamt of -revoking her decision about cycling; then a great desire for the -long-coveted, and now possible machine took possession of her, and -something within her said: "Here is the chance, at last, that you have -been longing for. It is a pity you mentioned 'sacrifice,' but still, it -does not matter, you have your choice, and your grandmother feels sure -you will choose the bicycle, that is why she urges you to consider." -Oh, how subtle was the temptation! Only those similarly constituted can -imagine what a battle was being fought in Monica's heart. The -bicycle--or the five-pound note: an endless amount of pleasure for -herself--or the means to provide joy for others. How hard it was! -Monica felt that no other choice that she might ever be called upon to -make could possibly equal this; for it was just the one thing she did -want, and yet---- - -"Don't decide hastily, Monica," said her grandmother, seeing that she -hesitated; "think it well over, and tell me to-morrow which you have -chosen." - -Monica was glad that it was nearly bedtime, for she longed to get away -to her own room and think. Once there, she determined to fight the -matter out, and a very sharp battle it proved, this first real denial of -self. For some time, it seemed as if she _must_ choose the bicycle, and -satisfy her conscience by scraping together all the pocket-money she -could muster (only a few shillings) and giving that to the missionary -cause. She had not promised the girls a large amount, they knew nothing -of the offer of the five pounds, and never need know. Her grandmother -quite expected her to choose the bicycle, yes--she would decide upon -that, and perhaps her father or some one else would give her a present -of money, and if so, that should be added to the sum in her purse, and -would provide quite a nice start for the working-party. - -Monica began to feel quite self-sacrificing, and having, as she thought, -made a final decision, she proceeded to prepare for bed, her mind full -of the joy and pleasure that the possession of (and permission to use) a -bicycle of her own would afford. - -Her thoughts were still running in the same direction when she opened -her little Bible and began to read a few verses, as she had done lately. -She did not read according to any plan, she had never heard of such a -thing as a Union for Bible Reading, so that she was just reading -straight on through the gospels, and finding out many wonderful truths. -She had read as far as Matt. xvi. 20 last time, and the little ribbon -marker was laid between the pages. Her brain was still very full of the -bicycle, and soon she found that she had read some few verses without -having taken in the sense of them at all! So with an effort she sought -to fix her wandering thoughts on the printed page, and as she did so, -the words of the next verse seemed to stand out from it as if the -letters were made of fire; at any rate they burnt right into her very -soul. - -"Then said Jesus unto His disciples, If any man will come after Me, let -him deny himself." - -Oh, how that one short sentence, straight from the lips of the Saviour, -accused Monica! How guilty she felt! How small must be her love for -Him, if she could, even for one short hour, think more of her own -personal pleasure and gratification, than the needs of great, dark, -heathen China! She fell on her knees beside the pretty white bed, and -burying her face in her hands, she sobbed out her sorrow and humiliation -into the ear of Him who never fails to hear His children's cry for -pardon. And as she prayed, a deep, sweet peace filled her heart, and she -knew that she was forgiven. Thus Monica Beauchamp was enabled to -triumph over self, and the first real sacrifice she had been called upon -to make, since becoming a Christian, was willingly, nay, gladly made. - -The next day, Mrs. Beauchamp, not without some misgiving (for she did -not want Monica to fall short of her expectations, though she would -hardly confess so much, even to herself), asked for her decision. - -"I would like the five pounds best, please, grannie dear," was the -bright reply, while a little flush rose to the young girl's face. - -The old lady's heart thrilled with pleasure, but she evinced no sign of -it. - -"Very well, Monica," was all she said; and if her granddaughter had -expected to be asked for her reasons, she would have been disappointed; -but Monica was glad that no more was said. The experience of the night -before was too real, too solemn, for her to talk it over, and she was -too honest to have given any but her real reason. - -With a glad heart, and a bright song often upon her lips, she prepared -for school next day, and Mrs. Beauchamp, catching snatches of the -refrain every now and then, marvelled at the total change that had taken -place in her grandchild. "It is simply wonderful," she murmured, -"wonderful! She used to be _such_ an anxiety, and now she is just the -reverse. I am glad for Conrad's sake; he will find a treasure when he -returns, if this condition of things lasts." And the old lady sighed a -wee bit doubtfully; but then she had no experimental knowledge of the -Saviour who is "able to keep from falling," as well as "able to save." - -The little governess cart was brought round from the stables punctually -at nine o'clock the next morning, and Monica jumped into it, closely -followed by Jack. - -"No, no, poor Jack, you can't go with me to-day," she said, as she tried -in vain to get him out of the trap; "I'm going to school, my doggie, and -you can't go there." - -Tom, the little stable-boy, who had been holding Caesar's head, and -grinning with delight at Jack's persistence, volunteered to carry him -back and fasten him up in the yard. - -"Poor old fellow," said his mistress, as Richards gathered up the reins, -and the pony trotted briskly down the drive, for Jack's whines and -short, yapping barks of disappointment could be heard for some distance. - -"Pony's a bit fresh this morning, miss," remarked the old coachman, who -had all his work cut out to hold him in, for the road to Osmington was a -downhill one. "Steady there, steady," he said, as Caesar tossed his -dark-brown mane, resentful of some little flicks of the whip. - -"A nasty-tempered h'animal 'e is sometimes; look how he bit your 'and, -miss." - -"Oh, that was all my own fault, Richards," replied Monica; "I deserved -that." - -"Well, he didn't ought to have snapped out at you like that," continued -the old man. "Belle and Beauty wouldn't have done such a thing, never," -and he shook his grey head decisively, for "the pair" constituted the -joy and pride of his heart, and he had never forgiven the introduction -of the pony. - -"They are always so quiet and gentle," agreed Monica, and the old -coachman, having subdued Caesar into going at a steady trot, rambled on -about the merits of "the pair" until the short drive was over. - -"I do _wonder_ if Lily Howell will turn up," thought Monica to herself, -as she entered the school door, greeting one and another as she passed -them on her way to the cloak-room. There she found Amethyst Drury, who -informed her that several of the girls had been moved up, but the -quartette was still intact. - -"And oh, Monica," she added, in an excited whisper, "Lily Howell must -have come back! There is that pink and green hat of hers; no other girl -would have one exactly like it, would she?" - -Monica, glancing at the pegs, and seeing what was unmistakably one of -Lily's well-known, gaudy hats, was not as astonished or disconcerted as -Amethyst could have wished. - -"I think there is no doubt about it, Thistle," she said quietly. "I -shall be glad to find Lily has come back." - -"Whatever for?" enquired the younger girl, in a puzzled tone. Monica -had been incomprehensible to her lately. - -But Monica was entering the hall by the swing-door, and only smiled her -answer, for talking was forbidden. With one swift glance she saw that -Lily, looking certainly less defiant than usual, was in her old place, -and with a glad feeling in her heart, Monica slipped into her usual -position at Olive's side, persistently ignoring the telegraphic messages -that Olive's dark eyes were continually dispatching, until the -head-mistress's bell announced the commencement of prayers. - -Every one of the girls was more or less excited that first morning at -school after the long holidays, but the air of the Fourth Form seemed -charged with electricity. No one, except Monica and Lily, knew how it -had come about that the latter was again amongst them; and even those -two were wondering just what would happen, when Miss Buckingham appeared -in the doorway. - -"Good morning, girls. I am glad to meet you all once again," she said -in the energetic, crisp fashion peculiar to her. "I hope you have all -thoroughly enjoyed your holidays, and have now come back prepared to -work hard. Some of you may be surprised to see one of your number here -again, after what occurred last term; but when I tell you that she has -apologised, and I have entirely consented to overlook what took place -then, I am sure I may depend upon you, one and all, to do your share in -helping to blot out the memory of the past, and by your kindness and -consideration, strive to emulate the Spirit of Him who said: 'Whatsoever -ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.' I am not -afraid that this unaccustomed leniency will be taken a mean advantage -of, or I should warn you not to count upon a repetition of it. Instead -of that, I advise you, one and all, to throw all your energies into this -term's work, particularly those among you who will be candidates for the -Junior Cambridge Examination at its close, and I shall look forward to -seeing the majority of your names in the 'Honours' List." - -The excitement caused by Miss Buckingham's words soon subsided, and -beyond being the object of a good deal of staring, Lily Howell was not -interfered with; and as the morning wore on, she began to feel less -uncomfortable. It had been a hard tussle to get her to write the -apology, and, but for her father threatening to send her to live -indefinitely, with her strict aunt if she did not, she would have -absolutely refused. But now that it was over, and the head-mistress had -spoken so kindly, as even Lily could not help feeling, the girl began to -see how despicable her conduct had been, and she was seized with a -sudden desire to prove to the whole form that she could be as nice a -girl as any of them, if she liked. - -Fortunately, Maggie Masters, her former ally, was no longer at school, -having left the neighbourhood, so that Lily had every opportunity of -making a fresh start, and she took advantage of it. As the days passed, -the change in her was very noticeable--even those who had always felt an -aversion for her could no longer find any complaint to make; she was -painstaking and persevering, and being by no means wanting in ability, -she bade fair to rival the most clever in the class. But she kept aloof -from the girls; she felt, instinctively, that in spite of Miss -Buckingham's expressed wish, they were not willing to let bygones be -bygones. They did not twit her, or indeed make any allusion to the -past, but they simply let her alone. - -All but Monica Beauchamp and Elsa Franklyn, who from the very first day -of the term had tried their best to be friendly. But she repulsed them, -feeling convinced that they were only patronising her; it was an -impossibility for a nature like Lily Howell's to realise that both those -girls were actuated by the same principle, that of "loving one another." - -"I can't think what you did it for," she remarked to Monica, referring -to the letter of intercession the latter had written on her behalf, -"unless it was to make Miss Buckingham think a lot of you. Weren't you -mad when she never even mentioned your name?" And the girl looked -curiously at Monica, who was a complete enigma to her. - -"Oh, Lily! I never once thought of such a thing," she replied, in a -pained tone. - -"Well, what _was_ it for, then?" persisted Lily. - -"I don't think you would understand if I told you," was the reply. - -"Why not, pray? Ma said it was because you had turned religious lately. -Is that why?" And Lily's light blue eyes scanned the other's face -inquisitively. - -"I have not turned 'religious' as you call it, Lily," said Monica -gently, although a flush rose to her cheek; "I have only given myself to -Jesus Christ, and I am trying to follow Him. I _do_ wish you would, -too, Lily," she added earnestly. - -"My gracious goodness!" ejaculated Lily, inelegantly, for she was -completely taken aback. "I guess I'll just watch _you_ a bit, and see -the effect before I go in for it." - -Monica had to bite her lip hard to keep back the tears that would spring -to her eyes, for she was tremendously in earnest, and Lily's mocking -words jarred cruelly. "I am afraid you will see more failures than -anything else," she said, in a low tone; "but you must not judge of -Jesus Christ by me. He is the One to copy, He never fails or makes -mistakes." - -"Pa always says Christian people are far more often 'libels' than -'Bibles,' and that's why he doesn't believe in them," said Lily, to -herself, as Monica and she separated; "but if I'm not mistaken, Miss -Monica will prove an exception to that rule. All I know is, _I_ wouldn't -have done for _her_, what she did for _me_! So there must be something -in it!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII.* - - *"I CANNOT SPARE YOU, MONICA."* - - -Tuesday, September 27th, dawned bright and fair, as all birthdays -should, and Monica, girl-like, was full of curiosity as to what presents -she would have, beyond the one already promised. - -Several inviting-looking packages were laid beside her plate on the -breakfast table, and also some letters. Monica made a dash at them, -hoping, not without a good deal of misgiving, that there would be one -from her father. - -"There is!" she exclaimed aloud, in her delight, just as Mrs. Beauchamp -entered the dining-room, and greeted her with the old-time wish of "many -happy returns," and bestowed upon her one of her rare kisses. - -"What is there?" she queried, as she slipped a sealed envelope among the -other presents, and took her seat at the head of the table. - -"Why, actually a letter from dad, grannie, come on the very day," she -explained, in glee, as she held it up. "And here is one from Miss -Herschel, too, but she does not know when my birthday is, so that has -only come by chance. Isn't that odd?" - -"Very," agreed Mrs. Beauchamp, as she began to pour out the coffee. -"Now eat your breakfast, and then you can look at your packages." - -Either Monica's usually keen appetite was very small, or her digestion -very good, on that particular morning, for in a very few minutes she -expressed herself as "quite finished," and then began undoing strings -and paper with eager fingers. - -A dear little pocket Bible "with love from Amethyst and her mother"; a -crudely drawn, but wonderfully life-like portrait of Jack, nicely -framed, from Olive; a beautifully-worked nightdress-case from Elsa: both -inexpensive gifts, for the twins had very little pocket-money. Then -there was a very handsome collar for Jack, the united gift of the -servants. - -"I can't think who this is from," said Monica, taking up the last parcel -and hastily cutting the string. "Oh, grannie, do look!" she cried, -holding up a plain leather frame containing the photograph of Robina -Herschel and her brother, taken together. In the frame was slipped a -scrap of paper, bearing the words: "In memory of happy days at -Sandyshore." - -"Oh, I _am_ glad to have that!" said Monica, as she gazed upon the -pictured features of the two she admired so much, the fair, fragile girl -presenting such a contrast to her firm, resolute brother. "I suppose it -is in return for the snapshot which Marcus took, that I gave them. But -how could they--I mean who could have told them when my birthday was?" - -"Probably the letter will explain," suggested Mrs. Beauchamp, who was -not quite sure that she approved of a _double_ photograph. But a hasty -glance at Monica's innocent face disarmed all suspicion. - -It soon transpired that Elsa had been the little bird who had been only -too ready to tell Miss Herschel when Monica's birthday was; and thus the -mystery was quickly cleared up. Robina only wrote a short letter, as -they were all very busy getting her brother's things ready for his -voyage to Africa. He was to be dismissed, among other missionaries, at -a public meeting in London in the course of a few days, and would start -for the Soudan almost immediately after. "He sends you his best wishes, -not only for your birthday, but for always," the letter concluded, "and -says that you will find his good-bye message in Colossians i. 9, 10. We -shall miss him terribly, mother and I, but we are quite, quite willing. -Perhaps Mrs. Beauchamp would spare you to pay us a little visit after -Christmas, while your holidays were on. Tell her, mother says we would -take the greatest care of you!" - -Monica read the last two sentences aloud, before she folded up the -letter and put it in its envelope. - -"It would be nice, grannie, wouldn't it? I hardly remember going away -on a visit to any one." - -"We must see," remarked Mrs. Beauchamp, in not very gushing tones. -Strangely enough, the mere thought of parting with this granddaughter of -hers, even for a week or two, filled her with dismay; she had grown to -be dependent upon her for company, and the bright, cheery, girlish -presence would be sadly missed at Carson Rise now. - -And yet, Monica must go out into the world, and make friends and see -many phases of life, of which she was utterly ignorant now. So she -stifled a sigh, and added: "It is very kind of Mrs. Herschel to invite -you, and it would make a nice little change for you, during the winter." - -Monica, whose face had fallen somewhat at her grandmother's first -remark, brightened up visibly. She _would_ so like to go and stay with -the Herschels, and she had been afraid Mrs. Beauchamp meant to refuse -her consent, but now the prospect looked more hopeful. - -"Two more letters and then I've done," she said gaily, opening the -envelope bearing the old lady's handwriting first. Inside it was a -crisp, new five-pound note, wrapped in a half-sheet of notepaper. - -"Oh, thank you so much, grannie dear!" she said, as she fingered the -rustling bit of paper which meant so much for the cause she had at -heart: her imagination already pictured all sorts of nice things for -China which that sum would procure. - -"Are you not sorry now that you did not choose the bicycle?" said her -grandmother drily. - -"No, grannie, indeed I am not," was the bright response, for down in -Monica's young heart was a deep sense of satisfaction that that battle -with self had been fought and won the week before; for however much -common sense may say to the contrary, the Bible axiom that "it is more -blessed to give than to receive" still holds good. - -"Now for dad's letter." With a hasty glance at the clock, which told -her she had only a few minutes to spare, Monica tore open the thin -envelope, and with eager fingers unfolded the closely written sheet. For -a few seconds no words were spoken, and then she lifted her face, which -was full of excitement and bubbling over with joy. - -"Oh, grannie, he's coming home!" she cried; "something quite unexpected -has changed all his plans, and instead of the regiment staying out in -Simla, it's been ordered home, and when he gets to England, dad's going -to retire. Oh, isn't it lovely! Just fancy, grannie, he won't go away -from home any more, and he says he will then be able to look after his -troublesome child himself, and relieve you of all responsibility. -Naughty dad!" she added, while a little thrill of pleasure ran through -her at the remembrance of the long letter sent from Sandyshore, which -would only just be arriving at Simla then. "I don't think I'm quite so -much trouble now, am I, grannie? And I am sure you would miss me just a -little bit, wouldn't you?" - -She looked up roguishly, and was amazed to see her grandmother's eyes -were looking suspiciously wet. - -"I cannot spare you, Monica, I could not give you up now," she said -tremulously; "your father must make his home here, as long as I live." - -A sudden impulse prompted Monica to slip out of her place, and give her -grandmother a caress, and a moment later they were locked in each -other's arms: the first embrace the girl had ever received from the -undemonstrative old lady. But it was only the forerunner of many more; -the possibility of losing her grandchild had shown Mrs. Beauchamp how -intensely she loved her, and the proud reserve of her nature tottered -and fell before the flood of love which came rushing in. - -"When does he speak of coming, Monica?" she asked, as she wiped her -eyes, and felt if her dainty lace cap was on straight, while Monica -returned to her letter. - -"He doesn't quite know yet, grannie dear," she replied, glancing it -quickly through, "but it might be in time for him to spend Christmas -with us. Oh, isn't it almost too splendid, to think of seeing my -darling dad quite two years sooner than I had ever dreamt, and then, not -just for a little while, but for always!" - -And Monica, gathering up all her packages, rushed upstairs to get ready -for school in a perfect maze of delight. - -She was already behind time, so that she could only put all her letters -and presents into a half-empty drawer, to be admired more fully upon her -return. But she just managed to look out Leslie Herschel's text, and -some of the words, which she never remembered having seen before, -fastened themselves upon her memory. - -"We ... do not cease to pray for you, and desire that ye might be filled -with the knowledge of His will ... that ye might walk worthy of the Lord -unto all pleasing." - -"What a beautiful 'Good-bye' message," she murmured, as she closed her -Bible, and began putting on her hat and coat. "I am sorry to think -perhaps I shall never see him again, but I will try to become what he -would wish, in case we should ever come across each other in years to -come. Dear old dad would like the Herschels, I am sure." - -The Franklyns and Amethyst were quite excited at Monica's news which she -told them during recreation, until Olive remembered that Colonel -Beauchamp's return to England _might_ mean Monica leaving the -neighbourhood and school, too; but she soon reassured them, feeling -convinced that her father would fall in with her grandmother's wishes. -Then she began talking about their work for China, and told them of the -five pounds which Mrs. Beauchamp had given her, and which was to be -spent on materials. She did not think it necessary to mention that it -was in lieu of any other present, and, curiously enough, it did not -occur to the girls to ask what her grandmother's real birthday gift to -her, personally, had been. - -"We must have a committee meeting," said Olive importantly. She had -made up her mind to enter heart and soul into the project, but her -reason for doing so was very different from the others; she thought, -poor child, that by working hard she would be able to drown the voice of -conscience, which never rested, and was always accusing her. "I suppose -we four will be the committee." - -"Yes, if you like," Monica agreed, laughingly; all this was new ground -to her. "Where shall we meet?" - -"Mother says we can have my old playroom to use just as we like," piped -Amethyst, "and we can have the working parties there, too." - -"Lovely! Splendid! Just the place." - -These, and other similar explanations greeted the proposal, which was -unanimously accepted, and arrangements were quickly made for a committee -on the following Saturday afternoon, to be followed by an expedition -into the town to buy sufficient things to start the work with. Miss -Daverel's instructions were expected to arrive at any time, Monica -having written to her some days previously. - -The bell rang before they had finished planning everything; but enough -had been arranged for the time being, and the quartette went into school -with very light hearts, and the lessons went well that day. Indeed, Miss -Churchill had a model class that term, the greater number of her pupils -being intent on doing both their teacher and themselves credit. Her only -regret was that the girls would probably all do so well in the -examinations that there would be a wholesale removal, and she would lose -them all next term! Of Monica she had grown particularly fond. The -story of her intercession on Lily Howell's behalf had, of course, become -known to the teachers, though it had not been allowed to reach the ears -of the girls, and Mary Churchill admired the spirit which had prompted -such an action. There was a subtle change in Monica Beauchamp, too, an -indefinable something which was rounding off the sharp corners of her -disposition, and the teacher could not think what it was. Good and -upright as Mary Churchill was, she was, as yet, a stranger to Him Who -can make all the crooked places in the lives of His children straight, -and the rough places smooth, or she would have recognised His handiwork. - -However, she looked on and wondered, as day succeeded day, and the -alteration not only lasted, but actually became intensified. Not that -Monica became the least bit "goody-goody," even Olive could never say -she was that; she was just as bright and laughter-loving as ever, and -fond of every kind of fun that did no one any harm. But her companions -soon found that it was useless to get her to join in a joke, or laugh, -carried out at some one else's expense, and nothing would persuade her -to do behind a teacher's back what she would not do before her face! - -Lily Howell, watching keenly, noted all these things, and being a -quick-witted girl drew her own conclusions. Monica had not proved to be -a "libel," and she felt constrained to admire the girl whom she used -almost to hate. - -Sometimes the remembrance that Lily was judging Christianity by its -effect upon her daily life prevented Monica from doing, or saying -something, in a moment's thoughtlessness, that would have brought -discredit on her Master's cause. But far more often it was the -realisation of His presence, unseen, but very real, which kept her from -doing that which would grieve Him, for she had taken as her motto Leslie -Herschel's text, "Walk worthy of the Lord, unto all pleasing." - -Elsa Franklyn, who had been learning very hard lessons lately in the -school of sorrow, was a great help to Monica. Indeed, when things went -wrong Monica got into the way of telling Elsa all about it, and the -quiet, gentle girl, who was so diffident of any attempt at advising the -elder one, yet seemed, somehow, to straighten out the tangles in a -wonderful way. - -Olive, whose unrest made her captious and pettish at times, was -sometimes inclined to be jealous of her twin-sister, and angry with -Monica for "taking up" with Elsa, instead of being content with her -alone, as used to be the case. But when she expostulated with Monica, -as she did occasionally, the answer she invariably received, was, "I am -just as fond of you as ever, Ollie, you know that quite well; but you -see Elsa _understands_, and you don't _yet_; that's why I must have a -talk with her sometimes." - -And Olive, angry with herself for falling short of her friend's -expectations, but not willing to take the same step as Monica and Elsa -had done, felt that the explanation was even worse than the offence! - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII.* - - *"IT'S ALL SURPRISES, NOWADAYS!"* - - -"Now, let's get to business." - -And the quartette, _alias_ the "China Committee," as Amethyst had -playfully nicknamed them, gathered round the large table in the vicarage -playroom and began to consider ways and means. - -"I've got a box full of patterns, and a long letter from Miss Daverel," -began Monica, who had been elected president by virtue of her munificent -gift towards the Expenses Fund, and who in consequence, occupied the -"chair" at the head of the table. "Let us look at each thing, and I'll -read to you how it's made, and then we'll decide whether we can -undertake to make some like it, or not." - -Half an hour was spent in admiring and examining the eighteen or twenty -pretty and useful little "gifts," any, or all, of which, Miss Daverel -said would be so acceptable to Chinese girls. Simply made children's -clothing, a gaily dressed doll, bright knitted cuffs, a bookmarker, a -woollen ball, a gay cretonne bag (containing a thimble, cotton, tiny -pair of scissors and a pincushion), a knitted comforter, small Scripture -pictures mounted on card--these were some of the articles the box -contained. - -"Most of them are quite easy to make," said Amethyst, who was keenly -interested; "I should like to make a work-bag best, I think." - -"I like dressing dolls," said Elsa, who was carefully examining the -clothes of the sample she held in her hand. - -"Oh, doll's clothes are awfully finicking to make!" was Olive's opinion; -"but I think I could paste pictures on cards, like that. What shall you -make, Monica?" - -"I don't know, I'm sure. I am not much good at needlework. Perhaps I -could knit a scarf, or some cuffs. But we must think about going to -market first. Who will make a list of what we want?" - -"I will." And Olive produced a pencil and paper with alacrity, and by -dint of many references to Miss Daverel's directions, for quantities, a -list of requisites sufficient to start with was eventually drawn up. - -"Now about a working-party, Monica. When shall we begin, and whom shall -we ask to join?" - -It was unanimously decided that they would meet on Saturday afternoons, -for a couple of hours, once a month to begin with, and every fortnight -afterwards, if they got on well, and Mrs. Drury and Lois Franklyn were -to be asked to take it in turns to superintend things. Several girls' -names were proposed, and seconded, as suitable for invitation, and then -Monica said she would like to ask Lily Howell. - -"Oh, no!" cried Amethyst, in dismay; "we don't want her." - -And Olive said: "I should think not, indeed!" - -But Monica, who read approval in Elsa's glance, insisted that there was -no reason why she should not join them, and realising that Monica was -really the prime mover in the whole concern, the other two were -reluctantly compelled to acquiesce; Amethyst comforting Olive and -herself by remarking: "It's not the least bit likely that she will come, -that's one good thing." - -But contrary to Amethyst's expectations and wishes, she did. And thus -it came to pass, on the following Saturday when the quartette, with very -varying feelings, were waiting the arrival of the half-dozen or so of -their companions who had promised to come and help them, that Lily -Howell was shown into the playroom, the first of any to put in an -appearance. - -Monica, suddenly overwhelmed with a terrible fit of shyness, shook hands -stiffly, and could not think of a single thing to say. But Elsa came to -the rescue, and soon interested Lily in the work they were going to do, -showing and explaining one thing after another, until the newcomer -caught the infection, and was very ready to do her share. - -Indeed, that was the general opinion expressed Mrs. Drury, who, at the -girls' earnest request, acted as spokeswoman, explained more fully the -object of the little working-party, and with happy tact soon set -everybody at their ease, having provided each one with exactly the piece -of work which she had a fancy for doing. - -For at least half an hour the tongues wagged busily, and many were the -questions asked, for the work in most cases was quite novel; but -eventually all were settled, and then Mrs. Drury read part of a book -which Miss Daverel had suggested they should start with--"Children in -Blue, and What They Do," one of the most delightful and fascinating -books ever written with a view to interesting English girls in their -Chinese sisters. - -By the end of the afternoon every one of the girls had become quite as -enthusiastic as even Monica could wish, and when the new missionary box -had been handed round, it began to feel quite heavy. - -"What are you going to do with all the things when we have made them?" -asked one of the visitors, and Monica replied that they wanted to -collect a nice number, and let Miss Daverel have them to take back with -her when she returned to China, in about a year; and if they had more -than were wanted for her, the missionary had sent the address of a depot -in London, where some ladies would gladly forward any gifts sent to -them. - -"Are you going to have a working party every Saturday?" Gipsy Monroe -enquired, as they folded up their work. She was making a queer little -cotton jacket, and was eager to go on with it. - -"Only once a month, we thought," replied Monica; "we didn't suppose you -would want to come oftener." - -But every one insisted that they should meet every fortnight, at least; -and so it was arranged. - -"It _has_ been nice, hasn't it?" - -It was Amethyst who actually said the words, as they put away the work -and cleared up the room after their visitors had gone, preparatory to -going down to the dining-room for tea; but all the others were thinking -the same thing. There were three very happy girls that evening, at any -rate, out of the four. - -Amethyst whispered to her mother, in that hour of confidences, when the -light is waning outdoors, and the gas has not been lighted within, that -she still meant to be a speaker when she grew up, but she was quite, -quite sure now that it would have to be about missionary work, instead -of temperance; would mumsie mind very much? And Mrs. Drury imprinted a -kiss upon the upturned brow, and repressed an inclination to smile at -the rapidity with which the alteration in subjects had been made, and -said that she thought perhaps there would be plenty of opportunities for -her to plead on behalf of both causes, if her little daughter ever -became a "platform woman." - -Olive slipped her arm through her twin-sister's, as they walked home in -the dusk, and talked more frankly than she had done for a long time, and -Elsa's heart grew light about her. She felt there was no end to what -Olive could do, if once she started in the right direction, for she knew -there were immense capabilities in her sister, such as she herself would -never possess. And Elsa, who, ever since the meeting at Sandyshore, had -had a great desire to become a missionary like Miss Daverel, when she -grew up, but felt convinced that she would never be thought suitable, -began to hope and pray that God would choose Olive instead. How -splendid it would be if Olive, as well as Roger, should some day take -the Gospel to the heathen! - -Monica being rapidly driven home in the brougham which had been sent for -her, reviewed the afternoon with girlish satisfaction. It was nice of -the girls to come, nicer of them to be interested, and nicer still that -they should be willing to meet more often than they had expected. But -it was nicest of all to know (and the knowledge made her very humble) -that she, Monica Beauchamp, was being enabled in a strength not her own, -to walk along the pathway of life, in a way that was pleasing to her -Master and helpful to others. - -Mrs. Beauchamp was very interested in hearing all the details of the -afternoon's work, and delighted Monica by offering to knit some -comforters and cuffs during the long winter evenings that were coming. -She would undertake to buy all the wool herself, she said, so that the -"Expenses Fund" might last as long as possible. - -"That's very kind, grannie," said Monica, with a smile, "for I can see -our money will soon melt. We have spent nearly thirty shillings, -already!" - -"Out of your five pounds? Did none of the others contribute anything?" -asked the old lady. - -"Oh, yes, seven or eight shillings between them, grannie. But they -could not do more: Amethyst has very little pocket-money, I know, and I -think the Franklyns are quite poor." Monica dropped her voice to a -whisper. Not even to her grandmother could she explain her reasons for -thinking so; but first, the barely furnished rooms at the doctor's, and -then the very, very simple and inexpensive mourning which was all that -could be afforded for the grown-up daughters, as well as for the younger -children, told their own tale, which Monica, brought up as she had been -in the lap of luxury, thought the essence of poverty. - -"The doctor's practice is not so large as his family," remarked Mrs. -Beauchamp, with grim humour. "When is Elsa's birthday, Monica?" she -added, after a short pause. - -The girl, who had been thinking deeply, started at the sudden and -apparently irrelevant question. - -"Why, next Saturday, grannie, the same day as Olive's, of course." What -could have made her grandmother ask? - -Probably she looked her surprise, for the old lady said: "You need not -be afraid I am going to give them five-pound notes to squander on -heathen Chinese," but her smile belied her words. "I was wondering how -much younger they are than you." - -"Just over a year: they will be fifteen on their birthday. It will be a -very sad day for them; Olive says Elsa can't bear to think of a birthday -without their mother." - -"Poor children," said Mrs. Beauchamp, in tones of pity; then, as if to -change the subject, she said: "I suppose Amethyst Drury is younger -again?" - -"Oh, yes, she won't be fifteen until next summer, only she is so quick -and clever that she is quite as forward at school as those who are -older. I am much the oldest in our form," added Monica, with a sigh. -Her backwardness in many subjects had been a source of trouble to her -lately. - -"I expect you will know enough by the time you leave school, my dear, if -you make the most of the next two years," said her grandmother kindly. -"I have no fancy for you to become a blue-stocking." - -"I am afraid there is no fear of that, grannie!" and Monica laughed -merrily. "I am far too big a dunce. Little Thistle will do the best of -us all, I expect, but Elsa and Olive have to work hard, because they -must earn their living when they leave school. Olive wants to go in for -art, she says; and she is so clever at drawing I expect she will get -on." - -"H'm! it's a pity she hasn't a fancy for cooking or washing," said the -old lady bluntly; "either of those occupations would be more likely to -provide her with food and clothing than dabbling about with messy -paints. I expect my little Elsa is far more sensible, and means to be a -home-bird." - -"No, grannie, she will have to do something; for Miss Franklyn can -manage all the housekeeping. I _think_ Elsa hopes some day that she -might be a nurse in a children's hospital, but she has not said anything -about it lately." - -"Sensible girl. Now get the book, Monica, and we will have some -reading." - -It was not until the twins' birthday that Monica realised what all her -grandmother's questions were aiming at, and then she understood! - -"What time do the girls come, Monica," asked Mrs. Beauchamp, as they sat -longer than usual over their breakfast, there being no need to hurry, -for Saturday was a whole holiday. - -Monica looked up in surprise, for it had been all arranged before that -the Franklyns should come at eleven, and remain the whole day at Carson -Rise, in order that their birthday might not be spent among surroundings -which would remind them continually of their loss. Amethyst Drury had -been invited, too. - -"At eleven, granny." - -"Oh, yes, of course. How are you going to amuse yourselves, Monica?" - -"I don't know, I'm sure, grannie; we might get a game of croquet-golf, -or tennis, if the grass is dry enough." And Monica looked critically -out upon the beautiful lawn, which was the pride of the gardener's -heart. - -"I have secured a new 'amusement' for you," said Mrs. Beauchamp, her -eyes twinkling with fun. "I was going to say 'game,' but it is hardly -that." - -"What can it be? Not badminton?" queried Monica, all excitement. - -"No, not badminton," repeated her grandmother, with a smile. "I hardly -think you will guess, so as soon as you have finished breakfast we will -go and see it." - -"I finished ages ago," said Monica, as she pushed back her chair with -alacrity; "I am curious, grannie." And she slipped her arm through the -old lady's (a favourite habit nowadays), and they went together to a -large summer-house where the croquet and tennis sets were kept. - -"Is it a small game, or whatever you call it, grannie?" - -"Not very small," was the amused reply, "but here we are, and you can -judge for yourself." - -She fitted a key in the lock, and opened the door, and Monica gazed in -utter astonishment at what she saw; for, resting on its own stand in the -middle of the quaint, octagonal summer-house, was a beautiful, perfectly -new bicycle! - -[Illustration: "MONICA GAZED IN UTTER ASTONISHMENT."] - -"Oh, grannie!" Only an exclamation, but who can describe all that was -contained in those two words? and Monica almost squeezed the breath out -of the old lady's body with the energy with which she hugged her. - -"There, there, that will do, Monica; don't quite strangle me," protested -Mrs. Beauchamp; but all the same, she keenly enjoyed her grandchild's -unqualified delight. "Do you like it?" she added, as Monica examined -and admired the bicycle to her heart's content. - -"I can't _think_ why you have given it to me, grannie!" was the answer, -if answer it could be called. - -And Mrs. Beauchamp said she would find the reason inside the little -basket fastened to the handle-bars. - -The old lady turned away, and pretended to look out of one of the little -coloured glass windows, while Monica read the few words on a tiny card -which she found:-- - - "For an unselfish girl, - from her loving - GRANNIE." - - -A lump rose in Monica's throat as she stepped across the little -summer-house and bent down and kissed the face which only a few short -months ago she had thought so stern and unlovable. _How_ different -everything was nowadays! - -"I didn't do it for a reward, grannie dear," she whispered. "I never -dreamt of such a thing. I _quite_ gave up all thought of the bicycle -when I chose the five pounds." - -"I know you did, my child," replied the old lady, while she furtively -wiped her eyes, which were suspiciously moist, although she was smiling -now; "but you see, _I_ didn't! And as I knew nothing about these -things, I took Mr. Bertram into my confidence, and told him to choose -just the right kind and size; and I should think he has done his work -very well. Now you will have something to amuse your friends with, -to-day." - -"We shall have to take great care not to knock it about," said Monica. - -"Ah! that reminds me: Mr. Bertram advised your learning to ride on an -old one first, so I have ordered Brown's to send a man over with one -from Osmington this morning, and if you like to spend a little time in -having a lesson, he can stay. I daresay the girls would find it -amusing." - -"To see me tumble off, grannie?" cried Monica merrily. - -"Well, don't hurt your ankle again, or anything else," cautioned her -grandmother; "I should prefer to hand you over whole to your father when -he comes." - -The next hour passed quickly, and then the Franklyns and Amethyst -arrived. - -Monica, all excitement, took them straight to the summer-house, not -noticing, in her eagerness, that her friends seemed quite as excited as -herself. But they no sooner saw the bicycle than Olive, who could -contain herself no longer, exclaimed: "It's _exactly_ the same!" and -then it was Monica's turn to look puzzled. - -However, the mystery was soon cleared up, as she learnt that there had -been a great surprise at the doctor's that morning, too; a bicycle, the -exact counterpart of Monica's, having been delivered there addressed to, -"The Misses Elsa and Olive Franklyn"; and a little note attached to it -stated that it was a birthday gift to the twins, with love and best -wishes from Mrs. Beauchamp. - -"How splendid of grannie!" cried Monica enthusiastically; "now we shall -have some lovely rides together." - -"Won't it be jolly?" said Olive, who was beside herself with pleasure, -and Elsa's quietly happy face was good to see. - -"Poor Thistle, you are the only one left out! Never mind, you shall use -mine sometimes," Monica said, suddenly remembering that this new -departure would make Amethyst feel rather out of it. - -She was delighted when Amethyst replied with glee: "But I am going to -have one of my own very soon. Father promised me he would get me one -this autumn, and he said the other day he had seen one which was just -what he liked, only a little too big for me, so he has ordered a -smaller-sized one. I meant to have given you _such_ a surprise." - -"I think it's all surprises nowadays," said Monica; "how little any of -us dreamt last half-term holiday that we should all be riding our own -bicycles before the next one arrived!" - -"We wanted to bring ours up to show you," put in Elsa, "but Mrs. -Beauchamp, in her note, asked us not to. We were dreadfully afraid that -perhaps she didn't want you to know, Monica. But that isn't like her, -and it wouldn't have been any pleasure if we couldn't tell you." - -"I should think not! Dear old grannie, I can guess why she said that. -A man from Osmington is coming up this morning to give us some lessons -on an old one. Why, there he is, and grannie too!" - -All four girls crossed the lawn, and while the twins were trying in vain -to express to Mrs. Beauchamp the delight that her handsome present had -given them, Monica and Amethyst spoke to the man, and inspected the -bicycle he had brought, and which Jack was sniffing suspiciously. - -The greater part of the day, first with the teacher, and afterwards with -only each other to hold the machine up, was spent on the wide, straight -drive, which was a charming place to practise upon. And if the -quartette were _all_ quite tired out as they bade each other "good-bye," -they were all agreed that it was well worth it, to be able to balance -themselves and even go a few yards without assistance! - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV.* - - *"I THINK MY MONICA DESERVES THE V.C."* - - -The autumn term sped swiftly away. In addition to the school work, -which required a great deal of persevering effort to do as well as the -quartette aimed at doing theirs that term, Elsa had her music, and Olive -attended a school of art for extra lessons in drawing and sepia. - -Amethyst, who, as yet, evinced no great talent for any accomplishments, -so-called, had a little more spare time than the others, and was -therefore able to go occasionally with her mother to visit some of her -poor old, or invalid, folk. These visits were a great interest to -Amethyst, who had a kind and pitying little heart for sorrow and -suffering, and Mrs. Drury wisely encouraged her little daughter to sing, -or repeat a few comforting texts to the sad, or lonely, or suffering, as -the case might be. Poor old Mrs. Robbins had long since gone to the -"City bright" of which Amethyst had sung to her; but in the crowded and -squalid streets of the poorer part of St. Paul's parish there were many -more who needed temporal as well as spiritual help. - -Once, Mrs. Drury took her with her to see Mrs. Hodges, whose cottage was -on the Disbrowe estate, and as Amethyst entered the little garden gate, -the only occasion on which she had ever been there before recurred -vividly to her mind. - -"I wonder whether that little old woman is still here, mumsie," she -said. - -"Hardly likely, dear, but you will soon hear." - -It transpired that Granny Wood was there, circumstances having caused -her to make her home with her daughter, and the dear old soul, now quite -a prisoner through rheumatism to her chair by the fireside, was -delighted to see one of the "little missies," of whom, as her daughter -explained, she was never tired of talking. - -"They was angels without wings to me, that day, ma'am," the old granny -asserted; "little missy here, and her friend. But them other two--well, -there, I won't say all I thinks! My darter says I ain't no business to -bear malice, an' me a Christian body, but I owes this last illness o' -mine to that there bouncin' h'animal." And the wrinkled old face looked -as nearly cross as it was possible for her apple-cheeks and faded blue -eyes to manage. - -Amethyst looked subdued, and Mrs. Drury hastened to explain that she was -sure the girls had not meant to be really unkind, and that both of them -had learnt since what suffering meant, and she went on to tell of the -death of Olive's mother. - -"Dear, dear; poor lamb!" ejaculated Granny Wood, commiseratingly, all -her animosity gone; "to think o' that now, and me a-grumblin' at 'er an' -all." - -"And Monica Beauchamp, the other one, you know," put in Amethyst, "she -is quite different now. She tries to be kind to everybody, because Jesus -was always kind." - -"Praise the Lord, missy," cried the old woman, in quavering tones; "then -I'll never say aught agin' either of 'em again; but I'll just keep on -asking the Almighty to bless every one of you, and make you all -blessings every day of your lives." - -Amethyst and her mother walked home rather silently, until they reached -the spot where the bicycle accident had happened that memorable -afternoon. - -"It must have been just here," said the little girl, as they passed the -place. "I remember Olive saying the motor was pulled up by that tree. -It was a good thing Mr. Howell went by just then, wasn't it, mumsie?" - -"Yes, dear," agreed Mrs. Drury. - -"_Such_ a lot has happened since then," continued Amethyst, who was in a -retrospective mood. "Everything seemed to begin with that half-term -holiday." - -"What do you mean, girlie?" - -"Why, mumsie, Mrs. Beauchamp used to be so cross, and now she's the -nicest old dear possible; and Monica was nasty and uppish, you know, at -first. I didn't think I ever _could_ like her, and now I think she's -almost too good to live, sometimes! And Olive is nicer too, although I -shall always like my darling Elsa best." Here Amethyst paused, from -sheer want of breath, for her tongue always ran twice as quickly as -other people's. - -"Is that all, girlie?" put in Mrs. Drury, who was much amused at the -comparisons, but felt they were truthfully if somewhat quaintly made. - -"Oh, no! There's Lily Howell, just _think_ how she's altered. I don't -believe any one would know her nowadays who knew her then; she's so well -behaved, and speaks quietly, and seldom gets into trouble at school. -I'm so glad Mrs. Howell buys plain hats and things for her now," -Amethyst ran on. "I don't believe she could help being vulgar when she -wore such hideously gaudy hats and dresses." - -"What has Lily's clothing to do with the bicycle accident? You have -wandered a long way from that," remarked her mother, with a smile. - -"Oh, mumsie, I haven't! It's just because Lily wants to copy everything -Monica does now, that she is so much more lady-like. I think she nearly -worships Monica." - -"Hush, Amethyst! Don't speak like that, dear," reproved her mother; "I -can quite understand that Lily feels she owes a good deal to her. I -hope that she will one day be a star in Monica's crown. I am so glad -that they have begun to attend St. Paul's." - -"Mrs. Howell and Lily were both at church twice last Sunday, mumsie, and -Mr. Howell was there in the evening. I remember noticing him, because I -did think father must have chosen his text on purpose for him, only of -course he didn't, because he couldn't possibly have known he would be -there." - -And Mrs. Drury, who had vivid recollections of the intense earnestness -with which her husband had preached from Mark viii. 36, on the subject -of Eternal Profit and Loss, said, softly, as they turned in at the -Vicarage gates: "Father always asks God to give him the right text to -preach from, girlie, and _He_ knew just who would be hearing the -sermon." - -Shrewd little Amethyst had been fairly correct in her rough-and-ready -epitome of the happenings of the last six months, which had certainly -left their mark on all concerned, and, in every case, for the better, to -a greater or smaller degree. - -The missionary working-party prospered and increased, and, by the time -Christmas drew near, the number of members had risen to fourteen; quite -a large drawer full of "gifts" had been already neatly and carefully -made, and the Expenses Fund was almost exhausted! The committee began -to consider how it was to be replenished, and hazy ideas of "collecting" -(which they dreaded) or else having a little sale of work during the -Christmas holidays, formed in their enthusiastic minds. - -But they were still only ideas, when, one Saturday afternoon, Lily -Howell, who, upon one pretext or another, had waited until all but the -quartette had gone, slipped a sealed envelope into Monica's hand, and -merely whispering: "Pa told me to give it to you," was gone before the -astonished girl could say a word. - -The excitement of the committee when they found that the envelope -contained a cheque for L10, "To be used for your Chinese folks, and ask -for more when you want it," was tremendous. - -"How splendid! Now we sha'n't have either to beg, borrow, or steal," -cried Olive. "It is a good thing we let Lily come, after all." - -And Monica, who remembered the opposition which she had met with upon -proposing Lily's name, could not refrain from smiling. - -Those were happy days for Monica: her school life was most interesting, -and now that she bicycled into Osmington, instead of being dependent -upon the pony-trap, she enjoyed the ride to and fro immensely, -especially as either one or two of her friends accompanied her most of -the way to Carson Rise, on the days that she remained at school until -the afternoon, for music or some other extra. - -Then the missionary work was a source of great pleasure to her, and her -enthusiasm was kept very keen by long letters from Robina Herschel, and -an occasional one from Miss Daverel. - -Sometimes, when Monica was poring over a missionary magazine, or -exercising her ingenuity in making something fresh for the girls to copy -at the working-party, her grandmother would tease her by saying she was -"missionary mad." But Monica would only look up and smile, knowing that -in her heart of hearts the old lady was well-content that her grandchild -should seek to help forward, even in the simplest way, the spread of the -"good news," which had brought light at eventide to her own dark heart. - -And every day was bringing Colonel Beauchamp nearer. Several letters -had come from him, but in none of them had he been able, definitely, to -say when he would reach England; he hoped, as he had said at first, to -spend Christmas Day at home, but it was uncertain. Monica was counting -the days, in true school-girl fashion, by marking off on a little -calendar each day at its close; and the number had steadily decreased -until very few remained to be crossed off now. - -She stood before the little calendar on the bedroom wall one night, -pencil in hand, and crossed off the twenty-first of December. "Only -four more days to Christmas now, and by then, my darling dad will be -here. Oh, how I am longing to see him, and tell him everything! I have -tried to explain in my letters, but it is so difficult to write just -what one feels, and I _do_ want to feel his hand on my head once more, -just as he used to do, and hear his dear voice saying, 'God bless my -darling child.'" - -Here Monica's feelings overcame her, and her eyes brimmed with tears for -a moment. But they were soon chased away, and a happy smile played -about her lips, as she began to undress, and put the various articles of -her attire neatly away. "I do hope he will think I have improved, and -that I am growing up a little bit like he wanted me to. If I am, it is -all owing to the Herschels," and Monica took up the frame containing the -pictured faces of her seaside friends, and gazed thoughtfully at them. -"Dear Robina, and--and Leslie, too; what sort of girl should I have been -by now, if God had not sent you into my life? I can never, never thank -Him enough for all His goodness to me, and so the only thing I can do is -to seek to 'walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing,' as my motto -says, and do what I can to get others to follow Him, too." - -Monica never crossed off December the twenty-second on her little -calendar; indeed, she forgot all about it, for a telegram the next -afternoon informed them that the colonel had already left London, and in -less than a couple of hours Monica was in her father's arms. - -"My darling child!" - -"Dearest dad!" - -What else they said was unintelligible for the next few moments, and -then Colonel Beauchamp held his daughter at arm's length, and critically -examined her. - -"Shall I pass muster, daddy dear?" she asked, merrily; but there was -more behind the words than appeared on the surface. - -And the proud father, noting the purposeful face, so full of expression, -and reading true nobility of character therein, held out his arms, and -Monica slipped confidingly into them, while he bent his soldierly head -and pressed a long, long kiss upon her broad white brow, murmuring, as -he did so, in tones so low as only to reach his daughter's ears: "I -think my Monica deserves the V.C., for it is evident she has fought -successfully against heavy odds, under fire of the enemy, and won a -brilliant victory." - -"Oh, dad, I don't think I have," whispered the happy girl, her head on -his shoulder; "but whatever good there is about me, is all owing to my -having enlisted under the banner of Jesus Christ." - -"His arm hath gotten him the victory," repeated the colonel reverently, -and Monica knew that her father understood. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV* - - *"THE CHILD HAS CHOSEN WELL."* - - -Our story is done. With the retirement of her son from the army, and -his return to England, and subsequent settling down at Carson Rise, Mrs. -Beauchamp's responsibility over her once troublesome granddaughter -ceased. But to those readers who have been interested in the quartette, -during a few months of their school life, a glimpse at them all, seven -years after the events recorded, will not come amiss. - -Olive Franklyn, having excelled in various drawing examinations, was -fortunate in securing an exhibition which admitted her, at a nominal -fee, as student at a much-sought-after School of Art for a couple of -years upon leaving the High School. From thence, she went over to -Paris, in order to perfect herself in her particular branch of art, and -so talented are her sketches that already there seems a brilliant future -stretching out before her. She has made many friends among her fellow -students, for Olive Franklyn is not only a clever artist, but a -congenial companion as well. But in her inmost heart, she feels that no -one will ever take Monica's place. They are friends still, although for -several years they have only met occasionally; but they have very little -in common, for Olive has not yet surrendered to the King of kings, -although Monica and Elsa have faith enough to believe that she will do -so, sooner or later. She says she never intends to marry, for she is -wedded already to her art, and that suffices her. - -Elsa has been able to carry out her girlish ambition, and for the last -two years has been a nurse in the children's ward of a large London -hospital. Her heart, brimming over with love for the pitiful specimens -of humanity entrusted to her care, has found an outlet in tending the -little ones, for as each newcomer arrives she seems to hear the Divine -commission, "Take this child, and nurse it _for Me_." She is beloved by -all the staff for her gentle, helpful ways, and her influence over the -little inmates of the cots in her ward is marvellous. Seldom indeed -does a child remain refractory after Nurse Franklyn has spoken a few -words to it, in her soft girlish tones; and the Sister persists in -saying that even the tiniest baby knows when it is in her arms, and -leaves off crying instantly! But it was not merely for the sake of -helping to alleviate pain that Elsa made choice of hospital nursing as a -profession. That is a noble work; but it is a nobler still when the sad -and suffering hearts of even little children are pointed to the tender -Shepherd who said: "Suffer the little children to come unto Me." And -that was Elsa's aim in all her work, and many were the young lives won -for her Master in that large children's ward. She is hoping, some day, -to become Sister of her ward if all goes well, and not one of her -fellow-nurses would grudge her the honour; but the Rev. Marcus Drury, -senior curate of Monkrigg, has other views for her, and, possibly, when -he obtains a living, Nurse Franklyn will be persuaded to say "good-bye" -to her bairnies; and if so, there will be much wailing and many regrets. - -Amethyst Drury has not developed into a "platform woman" yet; but one -cannot tell what the future has in store for her, as she has only lately -celebrated her twenty-first birthday. She has improved wonderfully -since her school-days, and is her mother's right hand in the parish, -while Miss Drury's Bible Class for girls just too old for Sunday School, -but not yet "young women," is remarkably well-attended. She has a very -pretty, clear soprano voice, and is much in request at various choral -classes and concerts, and in that way has commenced platform work. And -as Amethyst long ago, in the words of Miss Havergal's hymn had said, - - Take my voice, and let me sing - Always, only, for my King, - -her mother and father feel that she is speaking for Him, in words of -sacred song, just as clearly, and sometimes far more tellingly, than she -could ever hope to do as a lecturer. - -The Drurys are still at Osmington, and Amethyst carries on the -missionary working party begun so many years ago in the old playroom. -Not one of the original members is still on the spot except her, but the -younger sisters of some of those girls have taken their places, Joan -Franklyn, who will soon be leaving school, being the oldest member. A -very special interest is attached to the work this year, for it is all -destined for the mission station in China, where Lily Howell has been -working with an older missionary (none other than Hope Daverel herself!) -for some few months. Little did any of the quartette dream, when two of -them so reluctantly admitted her to their working-party, that she would -become their "first-fruits." But it seems that Monica's disinterested -action on Lily's behalf, and subsequent Christlike life, influenced the -girl who was keenly criticising all her actions, with the result that -she became an earnest Christian, while a great desire took root in her -heart to go to the poor Chinese and tell them of the Saviour she had -found. At first, her father was unwilling, and Lily felt she would have -to give up her cherished desire; but eventually all hindrances were -removed, and after training she went out as an honorary missionary to -inland China. - -But what of Monica? Well, Monica Beauchamp is Monica Herschel now, and -so, at last, she has a sister of her own in Robina, whom she dearly -loves. Life has not been all unclouded sunshine to Monica, for, soon -after her engagement to Leslie Herschel, who was home on furlough, he -became seriously ill with African fever, and for days his life hung in -the balance. But God was with her through it all, and her faith, which -never wavered, was eventually rewarded by the giving back to her of the -one whom she had always enshrined in her heart, as her ideal, because it -was he who had been the means of her salvation. - -Leslie's serious illness put an end to their hopes of working side by -side for Christ in the Soudan, for the time being, at any rate; but they -still look forward to it, in the future, if God so wills it. Meanwhile, -they are very happy in their work for Him at West Port, a large -seafaring town, where Leslie is acting as curate-in-charge for an -elderly and infirm vicar. The work is arduous, for the fisher-folk at -West Port are hardly less heathen than the natives of Africa, but the -seed is being faithfully sown there, and already a harvest of precious -souls is being reaped. - -"Parson's lady" is a great favourite among the women, to whom Monica -devotes all her energies, and not a few among them will one day "rise up -and call her blessed," for from her lips and life they have learnt the -way into the Kingdom. - -Perhaps the daily teaching, and oftentimes tending, of these poor -ignorant fisherwomen, was not just the career that Colonel Beauchamp -would have chosen for his handsome daughter; and when he gave his -consent to her marriage with Leslie Herschel such a future for her was -an undreamt-of thing. - -But who could resist her pleading tones and soft caress, when, with -cheeks like damask roses, she whispered, "Oh, dad, I love him! I think -I always have, since the old Sandyshore days. There never _could_ be -any one but Leslie for me, and he says just the same!" So her fond -father, remembering the sadness of his own short married life, confessed -that he was conquered. - -"She might have married anybody, with her face and fortune," demurred -Mrs. Beauchamp, who was very little altered, outwardly, despite her -seventy-six years; "but she always would have her own way." - -"Well, I must say I think the child has chosen well," said the colonel. -"Leslie is a man in a thousand, and worthy even of our dearest Monica." - -"Perhaps, as he was the means of my losing the troublesome part of my -granddaughter seven years ago, he has the best right to have her -altogether," murmured the old lady, more to herself than to her son, and -she fell into a reverie, and lived over again the days that are no more. - - - - - THE END. - - - - - _Printed by Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._ - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONICA'S CHOICE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45432 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. 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