The Honorable Miss Part 11

"Come into the garden," said Beatrice, stepping forward in her usual bright way, forgetting herself completely, and in consequence putting every one else at their ease. "We are very punctual people at Northbury," she continued, "and we are all wild to begin our game Captain Bertram, these are my friends, the Bells. May I introduce you?

This is Miss Matty, and this is Miss Alice, and this is Miss Sophy.

Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge. Albert," she continued, looking at young Bell, "will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?"

How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice! In a moment or two all the visitors were perambulating about the garden. Mr. Jones was escorted on one side by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her element. Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them.

"That's a nice girl, and a fine looking girl," she murmured, "and very good company for my Bee. Very good company for her. Yes, the Bertrams are stylish but not of our set. My word, not a bit of our set. Bee, of course, might talk to anybody, but the rest of us--no, no, I'm the first to see the fitness of things, and the Bertrams don't belong to us nor we to them. Bee takes after her father, poor man, but the rest of us, we have no right to know the Bertrams. Now, do look at that young captain.

Why, he's making the little Bells laugh themselves into fits. Dear me, I'd better go out. These girls don't know manners, and their heads will be turned by that fine young spark. They are certain to believe any rubbish he talks to them."

Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with difficulty, stepped out of the open window, and sailed in her rose-colored satin across the gra.s.s.

"Now, what's up?" she said. "Fie, fie, Matty, your laugh is for all the world like a hen cackling."

"He, he!" exclaimed the younger girls.

"Now, there you are off again, and all three of you this time!"

"It's Captain Bertram, ma'am," began Matty.

"Captain Bertram!" echoed Alice.

"Bertram," sighed Sophy.

"He says," continued Matty, "that we are all alike, and he doesn't know one from the other, and we are trying to puzzle him. It is such delicious fun."

"Delicious fun!" said Alice.

"Fun!" gasped Sophy, through her peals of mirth.

"Now," continued Alice, "he shall begin again. He shall go through his catechism. Here we three stand in a row. Which is Matty, which is Alice, which is Sophy?"

Captain Bertram pulled his mustache, swept his dark eyes over the little eager palpitating group, and in a languid tone p.r.o.nounced the wrong one to be Matty.

The cackling rose to a shriek.

"You shall pay a forfeit, you bad man," said the real Matty. She shook her little fat finger at him. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Meadowsweet, he really shall--he _must_. This really is too sweetly delicious,--fancy his not knowing me from Alice--I call it ungallant. Now what shall the forfeit be, Alice and Sophy. Let's put our fingers on our lips and think."

"He shall tell us," exclaims Alice, "he shall describe at full length his--"

She looked at her sisters.

"His first battle," prompted Matty.

"No, no, better than that, better than that--" came from Sophy's girlish lips. "Captain Bertram shall tell us about his--his first love."

It may have been rude, but at this remark Captain Bertram not only changed color but turned in a very marked way from the Misses Bell, and devoted himself to his hostess.

He was attacked by a complaint somewhat in vogue in high life--he had a sudden fit of convenient deafness. He said a few words in a cold voice to Mrs. Meadowsweet, crushed the little Bells by his icy manner, and took the first opportunity of finding more congenial society.

An eager game of tennis was going on, and Beatrice, who did not play, stood by to watch. Northbury was accustomed to Beatrice, and did not therefore observe, what was very patent to Captain Bertram, that this girl was as perfectly well-bred as his own sisters. She wore a long, gray cashmere dress, slightly open at her throat, with ruffles of soft, real lace.

As she watched the game, her sensitive and speaking face showed interest, sympathy, keen appreciation. She heard Captain Bertram's step, and turned to welcome him with a smile.

"Would not you like to play?"

"Will you be my partner?"

"When they make up a fresh set I will, with pleasure; although," she added, looking down at her long dress, "I did not expect to play to-night, and did not dress for it."

"Thank goodness. I hate tennis dresses. All girls should wear trains."

Beatrice raised her bright eyes to his face. Their open expression said plainly, "It is a matter of indifference to me what you think about my dress." Aloud she said:

"What have you done with my friends, the Bells?"

"I am afraid, Miss Meadowsweet, that long intercourse with those young ladies would be too severe a strain on my intellect."

"Captain Bertram, you don't mean what you are saying."

"I do, on my honor. They are too intellectual for me."

"They are not! You are laughing at them."

Beatrice stepped back a pace, and looked at him with a heightened color coming into her face.

Captain Bertram began to explain. Before he could get in a word she said, abruptly:

"Pardon me," and flew from his side.

Her movement was so fleet and sudden that he had not realized her departure before the impulsive girl was standing by the despised Matty, talking to her in a cheery and affectionate voice, and making fresh arrangements for the pleasure and satisfaction of all three.

"By Jove, she's a fine creature!" thought the captain. "I don't mind how much I see of her--but as to the rest of this motley herd, my mother is quite right in not letting the girls have anything to do with them. I suppose I put my foot in it bringing them here to-night. Well, that can't be helped now. I hope Miss Beatrice will soon come back. Her eyes flashed when I said even a word against those terrible little friends of hers. I should like her eyes to flash at me again. I suppose she'll soon return. She promised to be my partner in the next set at tennis. That girl doesn't care a bit for fine speeches. She won't take a compliment even when it is offered to her--won't stretch out her hand for it or touch it. Cool? I should think she is cool. Might have been through two or three London seasons. What a queer lot surround her! And how unlike them she is. There's the old mother--I had better go and talk to her.

She's quite as vulgar as the rest, but somehow she doesn't jar on a man's nerves like those charming Miss Bells. Positively, I should have a fever if I talked much longer to them. My first love, too! I'm to tell them about _her_. Oh, yes, that's so likely."

Again the angry flame mounted to Captain Bertram's thin cheek. He strolled across the gra.s.s, and joined his hostess.

"Now I call this a shame!" exclaimed the good lady, "you don't tell me that you are all by yourself, captain, and no one trying to make themselves agreeable to you! Oh, fie! this will never do--and you, so to speak, the lion of the party."

"Pray don't say that, Mrs. Meadowsweet, I hate being a lion."

"But you can't help it, my good young sir. You, who represent our Gracious Sovereign Lady's Army. Now, where's that girl of mine?

Beatrice! Trixie! Bee!"

Captain Bertram was amazed at the shrill and far-sounding quality of Mrs. Meadowsweet's voice. It distressed him, for anything not ultra refined jarred upon this sensitive young officer's nerves; but he trusted that the result would be satisfactory, and that Beatrice, whose motions he began to liken to a poem, would put in a speedy appearance.

She was talking to Mr. Jones, however, and when her mother called her, she and the curate approached together.

"Beatrice, this poor young man--Captain Bertram, the hero of the evening, is all alone. Not a soul to amuse him or entertain him."

"Mother, you mistake," answered Beatrice, "Captain Bertram is being entertained by you."