The School Queens Part 32

"No, I am not; only I've been worried since Maggie came back. She was so rude to you yesterday. I felt it terribly."

"Did you now? Well, that was very sensible of you. We'll finish our tea before we begin our talk. Come, Little-sing, eat your cake and drink your tea, and make yourself agreeable to your Bo-peep."

Mrs. Howland felt cheered. She did enjoy her meal; and, if she liked it, Mr. Martin liked it immensely also.

"What a useful girl that would be!" he said. "We could make her housekeeper at Laburnum Villa in no time. She has a head on her shoulders."

Mrs. Howland was silent. She was dreading inexpressibly the little scene which she felt must be endured between her and her intended.

"We'll ring the bell now," said Martin, wiping a few crumbs from his mouth and dusting his trousers with his pocket-handkerchief. "We'll get Tildy to remove all these things, and then what do you say to my taking you for a drive to the Park?"

"Oh, I should like that!" said Mrs. Howland in surprise,

"Thought so. Never say that Bo-peep isn't thoughtful.--Ah, here you be, Tildy. You clear away--smart, my girl, and then whistle for a 'ansom. Do you hear me? A 'ansom, not a four-wheeler. Look as sharp as you can, my girl, and I'll give you sixpence."

"Thank you, sir," said Tildy. She looked with admiring eyes at the pair who were so close to the matrimonial venture, and quickly removed all traces of the meal.

"Now then, Little-sing, go into your room and get dressed for your drive."

Mrs. Howland did so. She put on an elegant sort of bonnet-hat which had been presented to her by Martin, a lace fichu over her shoulders, and a pair of long white gloves. She had also been presented with a white parasol by Martin. He thought that no one could look more beautiful than his ladylove when she reappeared in the drawing-room.

"The 'ansom's at the door," he said. "We'll go now and start on our drive."

Mrs. Howland rose, and Tildy agreed with Martin as to Mrs. Howland's appearance when she stepped into that hansom. Tildy said she looked bride-like. Mrs. Ross remarked that as elegant women before now had become widows in no time. Tildy shuddered, and said that Mrs. Ross should not say things of that sort. Mrs. Ross replied that she invariably spoke the truth, and then returned to her dismal kitchen.

Meanwhile Martin and Mrs. Howland were driven swiftly in the direction of Hyde Park. London society people were fast going out of town, for it was very nearly the end of July; but still there were a few carriages about, and some fine horses, and some gaily dressed ladies and several smart-looking men. Martin provided a couple of chairs for himself and his future wife, and they sat for some little time enjoying the fresh air and looking on at the gay scene.

"It is wonderful," said Martin, "what a sight of money is wasted in this sort of thing."

"But they enjoy it, don't they?" said Mrs. Howland.

"Yes, my pet," he replied, "but not as you and me will enjoy Laburnum Villa. And now, Little-sing, can you attend to business?"

"I have a very weak head for business, Bo-peep," was the reply.

"Don't I know it, my pet; and I am the last person on earth to allow you to be worried; but I tell you what it is, Victory, if your head is weak as regards money matters, your girl has a topping good brain in that direction. Now, I have a notion in my head about her."

"You can't do anything with her," said Mrs. Howland; "she is quite impossible. I never thought she would treat you as she did. I could weep when I think of it. I shouldn't be surprised if, on account of her rudeness and ingrat.i.tude, we broke off the engagement. I shouldn't really, James."

"What do you take me for?" said James. "It isn't the girl I want to marry! it's you."

"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Howland; "of course, I know."

"She ain't a patch on you, Little-sing--that is, I mean as regards looks. But now, don't you fret. If you have been turning things over in your mind, so have I been turning things over in my mind, and the sum and substance of it all is that I believe that girl's right after all."

"Right after all! But dear, dear James, the child can't live on nothing!"

"Who said she was to live on nothing?" said Martin. "Don't tremble, Little-sing; it's more than I can stand. I have been thinking that a sharp young miss like that wants a bit more training. She wants breaking in. Now, I've no mind to the job. I can manage my shop-people--not one of them can come round me, I can tell you--but a miss like your daughter, brought up altogether, I will say, above her station, is beyond me. What I have been turning over in my mind is this, that a year or two's training longer will do her no sort of harm."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Howland. She was trembling exceedingly.

"I think, too," continued Martin, "that Laburnum Villa might not be agreeable to her at present; and if it ain't agreeable to her she'll put on the sulks, and that's more than I _can_ abide. Cheerfulness I must have. My joke I must be allowed to make. My fun in my own way I must enjoy. You and me--we'll hit it off splendid, and let the girl go for the present."

"But she must go somewhere," said Mrs. Howland.

"Good gracious, my lady! do you suppose I'd allow the girl to be dest.i.tute? No; I'm ready to do the generous; and now, I'll tell you something. You mustn't blame her too much. She repented of her ill-natured manner last night, and came to me as pretty as you please this morning, and asked me to breakfast with her. I was taken aback, but she came round me, and we went to Harrison's and had a topping meal. Then she spoke to me very sensible, and explained that she wanted more 'parlez-vooing' and more 'pi-annofortying,' and all the rest of the so-called ladies' accomplishments. She consulted me very pretty and very proper indeed; and the long and the short of it is that I am willing to allow her forty pounds a year for her education at that blessed Aylmer House where all the swells go, and to keep her there for two years certain; and I am willing, further, to give her twenty pounds a year to spend on dress. Of course she takes her holidays with us. Then, if at the end of that time she turns out what I hope she will, I will make her an accountant in the shop; it will be a first-rate post for her, and I am sure, from the way she talks, she has a splendid head for business. Now, what do you say to that, Little-sing?"

"I say there never was your like, Bo-peep."

Mr. Martin rubbed his hands. "Thought you'd be pleased," he said. "The girl spoke very proper indeed this morning, and she is a good girl--plain and sensible, and I couldn't but take notice of her words.

Now then, s'pose we take a fresh 'ansom, and hurry home; and I'll take you out and give you a right good bit of dinner, and afterwards we'll go to the play."

"Oh dear!" said Mrs. Howland, "you are good to me, Bo-peep."

CHAPTER XV.

TWO SIDES.

Mrs. Ward's school reopened on the 20th of September. For two or three days beforehand the immaculate and beautiful house was being made, if possible, still more immaculate and still more lovely. The window-boxes were refilled with flowers; the dainty little bedrooms were supplied with fresh curtains to the windows and fresh drapery for the beds.

Mrs. Ward herself arrived at the school about a week before her pupils made their appearance. She had much to settle during this week. She had, in short, to prepare her plan of campaign for the ensuing term: to interview her different masters and mistresses, to consult with her resident English governess (a charming girl of the name of Talbot), to talk over matters with Fraulein Beck, and to rea.s.sure Mademoiselle Laplage, who was very lively, very conscientious, but at the same time very nervous with regard to her own powers. "_Les jeunes filles Anglaises sont bien capables et bien distinguees mais--ma foi! comme elles me fatiguent les nerfs!_" Mademoiselle Laplage would say; and, although she had been at Aylmer House for three terms, she always doubted her powers, and made the same speech over and over again at the beginning of each term. In addition to Miss Talbot, there was a very cheery, bright girl of the name of Johnson, who looked after the girls' wardrobes and helped them, if necessary, with their work, saw that they were punctual at meals, and occasionally took an English cla.s.s. She was a great favorite with all the girls at Mrs. Ward's school. They called her Lucy, instead of Miss Johnson. She was quite young--not more than twenty years of age.

These four ladies resided at Aylmer House; but masters and mistresses for various accomplishments came daily to instruct the girls. Mrs.

Ward loved her teachers almost as much as she loved her girls, and they each and all adored her.

Miss Talbot was an exceedingly clever woman, close on thirty years of age. She had taken very high honors at Cambridge, and was a person of great penetration of character, with a genius for imparting knowledge.

Unlike most head-mistresses, Mrs. Ward seldom changed her staff of teachers. She had the gift of selection to a marvellous degree, and never was known to make a mistake with regard to the choice of those women who helped her in her great work of education.

Summer was, of course, over when the girls a.s.sembled at Aylmer House.

Nevertheless, there was a sort of afterglow of summer, which was further intensified by the beautiful flowers in the window-boxes and by the fresh, clean, fragrant atmosphere of the house itself.

The two Cardews and the two Tristrams came up to Aylmer House by an early train. Mr. Tristram brought them to school, Mr. and Mrs. Cardew at the last moment feeling unequal to the task of parting with their darlings in the presence of their companions. The real parting had taken place the previous night; and that pain which Merry had felt at intervals during the end of the summer vacation was sharp enough to cause her to cry when she lay down to sleep on the night before going to school. But Merry was brave, and so was Cicely; and, although Merry did hate beyond words the thought of not seeing her beloved father and her dear mother until Christmas, she thought also that very good times were before her, and she was resolved to make the best of them.

Molly and Isabel, who were quite accustomed to going to school, had no pangs of heart at all when they bade their mother good-bye. As to Peterkins and Jackdaw, as they were also going to school on the following day, they scarcely observed the departure of their sisters, only saying, when Belle hugged one and Molly the other, "What a fuss you girls do make! Now, if Spot-ear and Fanciful were to fret about us there'd be some reason in it. But mother's going to look after them; and mother's a brick, I can tell you." The girls laughed very merrily, and asked what message her two adorers would like to send to Maggie.

The two adorers only vouchsafed the remark, "Don't bother; we're going to be with boys now, and boys are worth all the girls in creation put together."

The journey to town was taken without any special adventure, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon an omnibus containing the four girls, accompanied by Mr. Tristram, with their luggage piled on the roof, stopped at Aylmer House.

Aneta had already arrived; and as the girls entered with a new feeling of timidity through the wide-open doors they caught a glimpse of Maggie in the distance. There were other girls, absolute strangers to them, who peeped for a minute over the bal.u.s.ters and then retired from view. But, whatever the four strangers might have felt with regard to these interesting occurrences, every other feeling was brought into subjection by the appearance of Mrs. Ward on the scene.

Mrs. Ward looked quite as stately as Mrs. Cardew, with her beautiful face still quite young; with her most kind, most gentle, most protective manner; with the glance of the eye and the pressure of the hand which spoke untold volumes of meaning. Merry felt her loving heart rise in sudden adoration. Cicely gave her a quick, adoring glance. As to Molly and Isabel, they were speechless with pleasure.

"You have come, dears," said Mrs. Ward. "Welcome, all four!--These are your girls, Mr. Tristram"--she singled out Molly and Isabel without being introduced to them. "I know them," she said with a smile, "from their likeness to you. And these are the Cardews. Now, which is Cicely and which Merry? Ah, I think I can tell. This is Merry, is she not?"