Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.Meantime in the schoolroom upstairs another blow had fallen, and Rowena was quivering beneath the shock of discovering that in Miss Bruce’s absence it was she and not Etheldreda who was expected to carry on Maud’s education.“I am sure you will be a conscientious teacher, dear; and I hope that the regular occupation, and the consciousness that you are being of real use will make life brighter for you. Maud will promise to be an industrious pupil, won’t you, darling?”Maud eyed Rowena’s tragic countenance, and felt it wise to refrain from rash protestations. She was longing to rush after Dreda to declaim against this last injustice, and as her mother continued to address herself pointedly to Rowena, taking no more notice of her own important presence, she slipped softly from the room.The two who were left, felt, the one a throb of relief, the other a chill of acute discomfort, at finding themselves alone. The tie between this mother and her eldest daughter was a very tender one, and in the shock of the recent losses Mrs Saxon had unconsciously built much on Rowena’s sympathy and love. Rowena would help. Rowena would sympathise; Rowena—herself a woman—would understand some things which even the good husband could not grasp. In the happy, easy days of prosperity, Rowena could always be relied on to be loving, dutiful, and considerate—it was a shock to discover that these good qualities had not enough foundation to withstand the test of adversity. Mrs Saxon was not angry; only distressed and troubled afresh, and overwhelmingly anxious to find the right way to her daughter’s heart.“Mother!” cried Rowena sharply. “Howdid father lose his money? It seems so strange that it should disappear all of a sudden like this. We have always had plenty until now. Has he been speculating, or doing something rash?”The momentary pause before Mrs Saxon replied and the dignified lifting of her gentle head were more eloquent than a spoken reproof.“No, Rowena; there is no blame attaching to your father. There has been a great failure in America, which has affected many of his investments. We cannot reproach ourselves for any want of care, and that being so, we must look upon this change of circumstances as coming to us from God’s hands, and try to learn the lessons which it is intended to teach. To each of us, perhaps, our own task appears especially hard. You, darling, have looked forward to a time of pleasure and gaiety, and it is difficult to give it up cheerfully, and face living quietly in the country and helping in the house. I understand; I’ve been a girl myself, and I remember how I felt; but, darling, I am a woman now—getting quite an old woman—and I have learnt my lessons. There is more real joy and contentment to be gained by simply doing one’s duty than in all the balls and receptions of a London season, Rowena!”Rowena sat dumb, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, her long dark lashes resting on her cheeks. Those were the sentiments you read in books, and heard in sermons, but it was always grown-up people who voiced them; grown-up people who, like mother, had had a good time in their own youth, and were afterwards unreasonable enough to expect their children to be resigned and middle-aged when they had just emerged from the schoolroom. Rowena thought of the prospect which had stretched dazzlingly before her but a week before; of the gaiety and variety of amusement which had made so fair a dream, and contrasted it with the prospect of an uneventful domestic life at the Manor—teaching Maud! She pressed her lips together, and sat silent, feeling her mother’s eyes on her face; dreading to meet their tenderly reproaching gaze.“That sounds strange to you, dear, and perhaps a little hard, but all the same it istrue. I do not minimise your disappointment, but for the time being it is inevitable, and nothing remains but to face the situation bravely. As the eldest daughter of the house more depends upon you than upon any of the rest, and your opportunities will be endless. You can be a great comfort to us, darling, or a great additional care. It all depends upon the spirit in which you start the new life—upon whether you look in or out—put yourself first, or think of others.”Mrs Saxon paused again, and within Rowena’s still form two contending forces fought for victory. While one sullen spirit held her dumb, the real self seemed to stand apart, reviewing her own conduct, and uttering words of exhortation and appeal: “How hateful of you never to say a word in reply! Poor mother! her voice trembled... It’s hard on her, too. If you could just put your arms round her neck and kiss her, and promise to be good, it would comfort her ever so much. And you’d be happier yourself. It only makes you more miserable to sulk, and be unkind. Look up and smile, and promise to be nice.” So urged the inner voice, but alas, the fleshy eyelids seemed heavy as lead, and the lips remained stiff and unmoveable. To all outward appearance there was no sign of softening in the fixed face.Mrs Saxon’s heart sank heavily. Rowena’s lack of response to her appeal was a bitter disappointment; but she realised that it was useless to prolong the interview. A few moments longer she waited, hoping against hope for a word in reply, then stifling a sigh, she rose from her seat.“Well—I must go back to father. Look after the fire, darling, if you are going to stay here. It is getting low, and you must not catch cold.”She bent as she passed to kiss the unresponsive lips, and walked from the room carrying a heavy heart in her breast. “If she had only spoken! If she had even looked up and smiled!” Such was the wounded mother cry; and all the time Rowena’s heart was speeding unspoken messages after her as she went.“Mother! I’m sorry. You are so sweet, and I am a wretch! Iwilltry! I’ll try my best!”Alas! the ears of sense could not catch the message, and so the opportunity passed, and left both hearts aching and oppressed.

Meantime in the schoolroom upstairs another blow had fallen, and Rowena was quivering beneath the shock of discovering that in Miss Bruce’s absence it was she and not Etheldreda who was expected to carry on Maud’s education.

“I am sure you will be a conscientious teacher, dear; and I hope that the regular occupation, and the consciousness that you are being of real use will make life brighter for you. Maud will promise to be an industrious pupil, won’t you, darling?”

Maud eyed Rowena’s tragic countenance, and felt it wise to refrain from rash protestations. She was longing to rush after Dreda to declaim against this last injustice, and as her mother continued to address herself pointedly to Rowena, taking no more notice of her own important presence, she slipped softly from the room.

The two who were left, felt, the one a throb of relief, the other a chill of acute discomfort, at finding themselves alone. The tie between this mother and her eldest daughter was a very tender one, and in the shock of the recent losses Mrs Saxon had unconsciously built much on Rowena’s sympathy and love. Rowena would help. Rowena would sympathise; Rowena—herself a woman—would understand some things which even the good husband could not grasp. In the happy, easy days of prosperity, Rowena could always be relied on to be loving, dutiful, and considerate—it was a shock to discover that these good qualities had not enough foundation to withstand the test of adversity. Mrs Saxon was not angry; only distressed and troubled afresh, and overwhelmingly anxious to find the right way to her daughter’s heart.

“Mother!” cried Rowena sharply. “Howdid father lose his money? It seems so strange that it should disappear all of a sudden like this. We have always had plenty until now. Has he been speculating, or doing something rash?”

The momentary pause before Mrs Saxon replied and the dignified lifting of her gentle head were more eloquent than a spoken reproof.

“No, Rowena; there is no blame attaching to your father. There has been a great failure in America, which has affected many of his investments. We cannot reproach ourselves for any want of care, and that being so, we must look upon this change of circumstances as coming to us from God’s hands, and try to learn the lessons which it is intended to teach. To each of us, perhaps, our own task appears especially hard. You, darling, have looked forward to a time of pleasure and gaiety, and it is difficult to give it up cheerfully, and face living quietly in the country and helping in the house. I understand; I’ve been a girl myself, and I remember how I felt; but, darling, I am a woman now—getting quite an old woman—and I have learnt my lessons. There is more real joy and contentment to be gained by simply doing one’s duty than in all the balls and receptions of a London season, Rowena!”

Rowena sat dumb, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, her long dark lashes resting on her cheeks. Those were the sentiments you read in books, and heard in sermons, but it was always grown-up people who voiced them; grown-up people who, like mother, had had a good time in their own youth, and were afterwards unreasonable enough to expect their children to be resigned and middle-aged when they had just emerged from the schoolroom. Rowena thought of the prospect which had stretched dazzlingly before her but a week before; of the gaiety and variety of amusement which had made so fair a dream, and contrasted it with the prospect of an uneventful domestic life at the Manor—teaching Maud! She pressed her lips together, and sat silent, feeling her mother’s eyes on her face; dreading to meet their tenderly reproaching gaze.

“That sounds strange to you, dear, and perhaps a little hard, but all the same it istrue. I do not minimise your disappointment, but for the time being it is inevitable, and nothing remains but to face the situation bravely. As the eldest daughter of the house more depends upon you than upon any of the rest, and your opportunities will be endless. You can be a great comfort to us, darling, or a great additional care. It all depends upon the spirit in which you start the new life—upon whether you look in or out—put yourself first, or think of others.”

Mrs Saxon paused again, and within Rowena’s still form two contending forces fought for victory. While one sullen spirit held her dumb, the real self seemed to stand apart, reviewing her own conduct, and uttering words of exhortation and appeal: “How hateful of you never to say a word in reply! Poor mother! her voice trembled... It’s hard on her, too. If you could just put your arms round her neck and kiss her, and promise to be good, it would comfort her ever so much. And you’d be happier yourself. It only makes you more miserable to sulk, and be unkind. Look up and smile, and promise to be nice.” So urged the inner voice, but alas, the fleshy eyelids seemed heavy as lead, and the lips remained stiff and unmoveable. To all outward appearance there was no sign of softening in the fixed face.

Mrs Saxon’s heart sank heavily. Rowena’s lack of response to her appeal was a bitter disappointment; but she realised that it was useless to prolong the interview. A few moments longer she waited, hoping against hope for a word in reply, then stifling a sigh, she rose from her seat.

“Well—I must go back to father. Look after the fire, darling, if you are going to stay here. It is getting low, and you must not catch cold.”

She bent as she passed to kiss the unresponsive lips, and walked from the room carrying a heavy heart in her breast. “If she had only spoken! If she had even looked up and smiled!” Such was the wounded mother cry; and all the time Rowena’s heart was speeding unspoken messages after her as she went.

“Mother! I’m sorry. You are so sweet, and I am a wretch! Iwilltry! I’ll try my best!”

Alas! the ears of sense could not catch the message, and so the opportunity passed, and left both hearts aching and oppressed.

Chapter Six.“What’s ‘rejuiced’?” queried Maud, squeezing herself into the central place on the big fender, as her brothers and sisters sat roasting chestnuts by the schoolroom fire one wet afternoon a few days later, and the question being received by a blank stare of bewilderment she repeated the word with intensified emphasis. “Re-juiced!We’rerejuiced! I heard Mary say so in the schoolroom. She said to nurse that she didn’t know if the missis would be wanting to keep on two housemaids now she was re-juiced! Does it meanpoor?”“You have no business to listen to servants’ conversation; but if you do, pray spare us the repetition!” said Rowena in her most grown-up manner. Maud reflected that ever since mother had spoken of the new arrangement about lessons, Ro had talked exactly like a governess, and been just as snappy as snappy. She bounced on her seat, and wagged her head in the obstinate manner which she adopted upon provocation.“I don’t listen, but I have ears, and if people speak I am obliged to hear. Mary came into the room to dust. Nurse was darning the tablecloth. It’s all gone into holes where Gurth spilt the chemical acid. It’s the one with the little shamrocks for a pattern. So Nurse said: ‘Drat those boys!’ and licked the cotton with her tongue, and—”Hereward and Gurth exchanged glances of resigned boredom, but Dreda drummed her heels on the floor, and called aloud with startling emphasis:“Go on! Go on! Who wants to hear about tablecloth patterns, and licking threads? Keep to your point, if you have a point to stick to! If Rowena’s is going to give you lessons, she’d better begin by teaching you not to be such a bore. You go prosing on and on—”“I don’t. I’m not. Bore yourself! ’Twas most intrusting!” insisted Maud, stolidly. “They were sort of talking about us all, in a sort of way as if I couldn’t understand, and I understood all the time, and they said we were rejuiced, and I asked you a simple question what it meant. When you’re perlite to other people, other people should be perlite to you in return.”“All right, Maud, keep calm, keep calm! You reduce a thing by taking something from it. We are reduced because something—a great deal—has been taken away from our income, and what remains is not enough to go round. I expect the second housemaid will be sent packing, and you will have to make the beds.”Maud squealed with dismay, then with a gleam of shrewdness nodded her head, and prophesied sagely:“It would be worse for you than me if I did! I’d make them full of crumples. I’d get hold of the ends of the clothes, andHopthem down all together like Mary does when it’s her Sunday out, and she’s in a hurry.Thenyou’d be in a rage when you got in and your toes stuck out!”“I’ll make the beds!” announced Dreda, graciously. “I think all girls ought to learn to be domestic, and there’s a real art in making beds. I’ve often thought how much better I could do it than any servant we have had. It’s the trained intellect, I suppose. (I dohateyou, Rowena, when you sneer like that!) F’rinstance—I like my blankets just up to my chin, and if I tell Mary ten times a day, it’s always the same—she doubles them down till you are all hunkley round the neck. Then that leaves less to tuck in at the bottom, and if you have a nightmare and kick, there you are with your feet sticking out in the cold, and have to get up and tuck them in, when you want to sleep! And I can’t endure creases. I like the under sheet stretched as tight as tight. Everyone likes a bed made in a special way, and itoughtto be done. Think of the time one spends in bed! A third of one’s life. It’s a shame not to be comfortable. I should be an expert in bed-making. I’d keep a book to remind me of everyone’s special fancies—”“And lose it the second day! Play all the experiments you like, but leave my room alone. I want no expert. The ordinary common or garden housemaid is good enough for me,” said Hereward, cruelly.Dreda reflected sadly that a prophet was not a prophet in her own country, but she was too much fired with the new idea to relinquish it without a trial. Besides, hidden in her heart lay the reviving thought: “If I could prove that I could be of use in the house, perhaps they’d let me stay! I know quite enough lessons as it is!”The first two nights after hearing of the changed arrangements for her own education Dreda had cried herself to sleep, and had even succeeded—with a little difficulty—in squeezing out a few tears as she dressed in the morning, or what was the use of breaking your heart if no one were the wiser, or pitied you for your pathetic looks? By the third morning, however, her facile nature had adapted itself to the inevitable. She was tired of being in the dumps, and reflected that with a little diplomacy she would be able to “manage” the school governesses as cleverly as she had done the Spider before them, while the Currant Buns looked meek, poor-spirited creatures, who would like nothing better than to be ruled. “I’llteach them!” prophesied Dreda darkly, and the word was used in no educational sense.The future was thus swallowed at a gulp; but all the same Dreda thought it worth while to interview her mother on the subject of her domestic ambitions, and was much disappointed to have her generous offer kindly but firmly refused.“There is no necessity, dear. Thank you very much, all the same,” Mrs Saxon said, smilingly. “We are no longer able to keep up two houses, but we can afford all the help that is needed for one. The two housemaids can keep the bedrooms in order very easily in this fresh clean air.”Etheldreda put her head on one side and lengthened her upper lip, after a fashion she affected when she wished to be impressive.“Still,” she insisted, obstinately, “when a family is reduced in circumstances I think itmostimportant that the girls should learn to be domestic. I have always understood that in reduced circumstances it was necessary for the mistress to overlookeverything, and how can you learn to do that if you never begin? It seems to me that one can never begin too young, and if wecoulddo with only one housemaid, it is our duty to do so.”Mrs Saxon laughed. She always did laugh when Dreda waxed impressive, which was one of that young woman’s trials in life.“Darling Dreda!” she cried, affectionately. “You shall be as domestic as ever you please—the more domestic the better; but there is a time for everything, and this is your time for study. You must wait until your education is finished, before you take up home duties. We are not going to sacrifice your interests for the sake of a servant’s wages. Work hard, and do your best, dear. One thing at a time, and that done well—”But Dreda refused to be convinced.“Mytheory,” she announced, firmly, “my theory is that it is stupid to waste time learning things which you will never need! As we are ‘rejuiced’ (the expression had stuck, until the very pronunciation was unconsciously reproduced), and I can’t go to Madame Clerc’s and be finished properly, I should consider that it would be wiser to stop as I am. I am very well grounded. We can’t afford to go into society now, so I shall probably marry a man in a humble position, and it’s foolish to educate me above my rank!”“Oh, Dreda, Dreda! Oh! I haven’t laughed for weeks. You mustn’t be vexed with me for laughing, dear—it’ssorefreshing!” And Mrs Saxon wiped her eyes and chuckled irresistibly, the while her young daughter regarded her more in pity than in anger.“I can’t see what I have said that is so amusing. I was speakingmostseriously. I’m fifteen. It’s my own future that is at stake. Really, mother!”“I’m sorry, dear, and I don’t mean to be unsympathetic. I know you are in earnest, but for the next few years you must consent to be guided by what father and I believe to be best. Whatever may be before you, it is necessary that you have a good education, so put your heart into your work, and get on as quickly as possible.”Dreda sucked her upper lip in eloquent disgust.“Parents are sotrying!” she told herself, mentally. “They never seem to think it possible that you know better yourself. I shall be quite different with my daughters. What a pity it is that you can never manage to be your own mother!”

“What’s ‘rejuiced’?” queried Maud, squeezing herself into the central place on the big fender, as her brothers and sisters sat roasting chestnuts by the schoolroom fire one wet afternoon a few days later, and the question being received by a blank stare of bewilderment she repeated the word with intensified emphasis. “Re-juiced!We’rerejuiced! I heard Mary say so in the schoolroom. She said to nurse that she didn’t know if the missis would be wanting to keep on two housemaids now she was re-juiced! Does it meanpoor?”

“You have no business to listen to servants’ conversation; but if you do, pray spare us the repetition!” said Rowena in her most grown-up manner. Maud reflected that ever since mother had spoken of the new arrangement about lessons, Ro had talked exactly like a governess, and been just as snappy as snappy. She bounced on her seat, and wagged her head in the obstinate manner which she adopted upon provocation.

“I don’t listen, but I have ears, and if people speak I am obliged to hear. Mary came into the room to dust. Nurse was darning the tablecloth. It’s all gone into holes where Gurth spilt the chemical acid. It’s the one with the little shamrocks for a pattern. So Nurse said: ‘Drat those boys!’ and licked the cotton with her tongue, and—”

Hereward and Gurth exchanged glances of resigned boredom, but Dreda drummed her heels on the floor, and called aloud with startling emphasis:

“Go on! Go on! Who wants to hear about tablecloth patterns, and licking threads? Keep to your point, if you have a point to stick to! If Rowena’s is going to give you lessons, she’d better begin by teaching you not to be such a bore. You go prosing on and on—”

“I don’t. I’m not. Bore yourself! ’Twas most intrusting!” insisted Maud, stolidly. “They were sort of talking about us all, in a sort of way as if I couldn’t understand, and I understood all the time, and they said we were rejuiced, and I asked you a simple question what it meant. When you’re perlite to other people, other people should be perlite to you in return.”

“All right, Maud, keep calm, keep calm! You reduce a thing by taking something from it. We are reduced because something—a great deal—has been taken away from our income, and what remains is not enough to go round. I expect the second housemaid will be sent packing, and you will have to make the beds.”

Maud squealed with dismay, then with a gleam of shrewdness nodded her head, and prophesied sagely:

“It would be worse for you than me if I did! I’d make them full of crumples. I’d get hold of the ends of the clothes, andHopthem down all together like Mary does when it’s her Sunday out, and she’s in a hurry.Thenyou’d be in a rage when you got in and your toes stuck out!”

“I’ll make the beds!” announced Dreda, graciously. “I think all girls ought to learn to be domestic, and there’s a real art in making beds. I’ve often thought how much better I could do it than any servant we have had. It’s the trained intellect, I suppose. (I dohateyou, Rowena, when you sneer like that!) F’rinstance—I like my blankets just up to my chin, and if I tell Mary ten times a day, it’s always the same—she doubles them down till you are all hunkley round the neck. Then that leaves less to tuck in at the bottom, and if you have a nightmare and kick, there you are with your feet sticking out in the cold, and have to get up and tuck them in, when you want to sleep! And I can’t endure creases. I like the under sheet stretched as tight as tight. Everyone likes a bed made in a special way, and itoughtto be done. Think of the time one spends in bed! A third of one’s life. It’s a shame not to be comfortable. I should be an expert in bed-making. I’d keep a book to remind me of everyone’s special fancies—”

“And lose it the second day! Play all the experiments you like, but leave my room alone. I want no expert. The ordinary common or garden housemaid is good enough for me,” said Hereward, cruelly.

Dreda reflected sadly that a prophet was not a prophet in her own country, but she was too much fired with the new idea to relinquish it without a trial. Besides, hidden in her heart lay the reviving thought: “If I could prove that I could be of use in the house, perhaps they’d let me stay! I know quite enough lessons as it is!”

The first two nights after hearing of the changed arrangements for her own education Dreda had cried herself to sleep, and had even succeeded—with a little difficulty—in squeezing out a few tears as she dressed in the morning, or what was the use of breaking your heart if no one were the wiser, or pitied you for your pathetic looks? By the third morning, however, her facile nature had adapted itself to the inevitable. She was tired of being in the dumps, and reflected that with a little diplomacy she would be able to “manage” the school governesses as cleverly as she had done the Spider before them, while the Currant Buns looked meek, poor-spirited creatures, who would like nothing better than to be ruled. “I’llteach them!” prophesied Dreda darkly, and the word was used in no educational sense.

The future was thus swallowed at a gulp; but all the same Dreda thought it worth while to interview her mother on the subject of her domestic ambitions, and was much disappointed to have her generous offer kindly but firmly refused.

“There is no necessity, dear. Thank you very much, all the same,” Mrs Saxon said, smilingly. “We are no longer able to keep up two houses, but we can afford all the help that is needed for one. The two housemaids can keep the bedrooms in order very easily in this fresh clean air.”

Etheldreda put her head on one side and lengthened her upper lip, after a fashion she affected when she wished to be impressive.

“Still,” she insisted, obstinately, “when a family is reduced in circumstances I think itmostimportant that the girls should learn to be domestic. I have always understood that in reduced circumstances it was necessary for the mistress to overlookeverything, and how can you learn to do that if you never begin? It seems to me that one can never begin too young, and if wecoulddo with only one housemaid, it is our duty to do so.”

Mrs Saxon laughed. She always did laugh when Dreda waxed impressive, which was one of that young woman’s trials in life.

“Darling Dreda!” she cried, affectionately. “You shall be as domestic as ever you please—the more domestic the better; but there is a time for everything, and this is your time for study. You must wait until your education is finished, before you take up home duties. We are not going to sacrifice your interests for the sake of a servant’s wages. Work hard, and do your best, dear. One thing at a time, and that done well—”

But Dreda refused to be convinced.

“Mytheory,” she announced, firmly, “my theory is that it is stupid to waste time learning things which you will never need! As we are ‘rejuiced’ (the expression had stuck, until the very pronunciation was unconsciously reproduced), and I can’t go to Madame Clerc’s and be finished properly, I should consider that it would be wiser to stop as I am. I am very well grounded. We can’t afford to go into society now, so I shall probably marry a man in a humble position, and it’s foolish to educate me above my rank!”

“Oh, Dreda, Dreda! Oh! I haven’t laughed for weeks. You mustn’t be vexed with me for laughing, dear—it’ssorefreshing!” And Mrs Saxon wiped her eyes and chuckled irresistibly, the while her young daughter regarded her more in pity than in anger.

“I can’t see what I have said that is so amusing. I was speakingmostseriously. I’m fifteen. It’s my own future that is at stake. Really, mother!”

“I’m sorry, dear, and I don’t mean to be unsympathetic. I know you are in earnest, but for the next few years you must consent to be guided by what father and I believe to be best. Whatever may be before you, it is necessary that you have a good education, so put your heart into your work, and get on as quickly as possible.”

Dreda sucked her upper lip in eloquent disgust.

“Parents are sotrying!” she told herself, mentally. “They never seem to think it possible that you know better yourself. I shall be quite different with my daughters. What a pity it is that you can never manage to be your own mother!”

Chapter Seven.During the next three weeks the Saxons settled slowly into the routine of life as it would in future be spent at the Manor. To begin with, the house itself was greatly improved in appearance by the addition of extra furniture and draperies sent down from the lavishly equipped house in town. The cold austerity of the entrance-hall was turned into something positively approaching cheerfulness by the presence of crimson portières, a huge tapestry screen shutting off the staircase, and, best of all, by a brass brazier which, piled high with blazing coals, diffused both light and heat, and seemed to speak a cheery welcome to each new-comer. The Bechstein grand piano was not only a gain from a musical point of view, but made a decided improvement in the sparsely furnished drawing-room, while a few good pictures and ornaments gave a homelike air which had hitherto been conspicuous by its absence.Rowena regarded these improvements with the numb unconcern which a prisoner might manifest over an unimportant alteration in his cell; but Dreda, as usual, was afire with enthusiasm, and spent a radiantly happy day playing the part of a charwoman, in apron and rolled-up sleeves. She washed all the ornaments, exulting in the inky colour of the water after the operation, and insisting that each member of the household should ascend to regain the same.“Isn’t it beautifully dirty?” she cried in triumph. “I scrubbed them with the nail brush. You should have seen the dust come out of the chinks! I simply dote upon seeing the water turn black. It’s no fun washing things unless they arereallydirty!”When the additions were viewed as a whole, however, Dreda was not so content. She even frowned with displeasure at sight of the luxury in the hall.“It’s not consistent!” she pronounced, judicially. “We arerejuiced, and it doesn’t look rejuiced! People in the neighbourhood coming to call will think we are richer instead of poorer. You will have to explain, mother. It wouldn’t be honest if you didn’t.”Mrs Saxon’s smile was a somewhat painful effort.“I imagine there will be little need of explanation, Dreda. News flies fast in a country place, and our neighbours probably know our affairs as well as we know them ourselves.”“And are gossiping about us behind our backs, and longing to call and see how we bear it!” continued Rowena, with that new edge of bitterness in her voice, which sounded so sadly in her mother’s ears. It needed a hard struggle with herself before Mrs Saxon could command herself to reply gently:“Curiosity is natural, perhaps, but I don’t think we need fear anything unfriendly. If there should be any exhibition of the sort, it’s a comfort to feel that I can depend upon my grown-up daughter to set an example of dignity and self-restraint. My nature is like Dreda’s, so much more impulsive, that you will be a great strength to me, dear.”Oh, that soft answer that turneth away wrath, how omnipotent it is! The sneer was wiped off Rowena’s face as by a sponge, her blue eyes glistened, and she stooped her tall young head to press an impetuous kiss upon her mother’s cheek. For the rest of the day she was her old, sweet loving self, and the mother was rewarded a thousandfold for the effort which it had cost her to repress a hasty retort, and replace it by a word of tenderness and appreciation.At the end of a fortnight the three boys returned to school, placidly resigned to a change of circumstances which left their own lives untouched; and no sooner had they departed than the Spider in her turn began to pack her boxes, in preparation for her own exit. For the past ten years she had been regarded as a member of the family, spending the greater number of her holidays with her pupils, and being included in all the household festivities and rejoicings. It was inevitable that her absence would cause a blank, and the young people experienced sundry pangs of conscience as they recalled the want of appreciation with which they had received their efforts on their behalf. How they had teased and lazed, and plotted and schemed, to escape the tasks which she had so laboriously enforced! How they had laughed behind her back, imitating her little mannerisms, and exhorting each other after her invariable formulae: “Impertinence, my love, isnotwit!”“A young lady should be composed and dignified in demeanour.”“Concentration, my dear, concentration! That is what you require.” Poor, dear, good Spider; her methods were somewhat behind the times; but she was the kindest, most faithful of souls. Everyone was thankful to know that owing to the recent receipt of a legacy she was able to retire comfortably from active work, and to look forward to a peaceful contented home in the family of a beloved niece. Neither was it a very serious parting, since nothing was so certain as that so true a friend must return again and again to the scene of her labours; to see Hereward in his first uniform; to attend Rowena’s marriage; Dreda’s coming out; and inspect the progress of her youngest pupils. A few tears were shed when the hour of parting actually arrived, but there was no bitterness in them on either side, nor were they of any long duration.And now for Etheldreda’s turn! When the morning dawned on which she was to depart for school, she felt it fitting that her toilette should express the melancholy of her mood. Dreda had a great idea of fitness, and a costume composed of an old shepherd plaid skirt, a grey flannel blouse and a black tie seemed admirably symbolic of what she herself described as “the mourning of her soul.” When it was donned, however, the result was found to be so extremely unbecoming that resolution wavered, and collapsed. After all, the most important matter was to impress her new companions, and there was no denying that that could be done most effectively in blue—in just such a blue as was at that moment hanging in the wardrobe ready for use. With light-like speed Dreda shed her dun-coloured garments on to the floor, and in a trice was arrayed in her prettiest, most becoming costume.This time the reflection was so pleasing that it was quite an effort to pull down her chin, and drop her eyelids, with the air of melancholy resignation which she was determined at all costs to preserve during breakfast. Mrs Saxon’s face brightened at sight of the pretty blue dress, but neither she nor any other member of the family mentioned the fatal word “school.” Rather did each one try to give a cheerful turn to the conversation, and to lead it towards a discussion of those topics in which the heroine of the day was the most interested. “Sops!” murmured Dreda dramatically to herself. “Sops!” She struggled hard to restrain her longing for a second helping of bacon; but her courage gave out at the thought of the motor drive across the cold open country.“I must strengthen myself with plenty of nourishment,” she decided, as she handed over her plate, and accepted the offer of a third cup of coffee. Like all pleasant things, however, the meal came to an end at last, and then the great event of the day could no longer be ignored. Maud caught the glance exchanged between her parents, and felt herself freed from her promise of silence.“Now!” she exclaimed, with a gusty sigh of relief. “Now for the Buns!Nowyou’ll see which knows most, them or you. Them, I should think, ’cause they’re clever, and you forget. Miss Bruce said your head was like a sieve. Do you remember the day she said it? She had on her jet chain, and jingled with the beads. You’ll have to remember not to forget, or you’ll be the bottom of the class. Fancy three Currant Buns on top!”She stopped short, with her characteristic throaty little laugh, and Dreda glared at her with flashing eyes. It was really extraordinary that anyone so stupid as Maud should so often succeed in hitting upon just the most aggravating thing to say under the circumstances. Three Currant Buns on top indeed! Life would only be endurable if she herself could seize the leading place, and hold it relentlessly to the end. She would not condescend to reply, and Maud was hurriedly nudged, and poked, and “shoved” into silence by Rowena, who was in an unusually sympathetic mood, realising how she herself would have felt had fate cast her own scholastic lot with that of the Misses Webster.“Never mind her,” she whispered, consolingly, as she followed Dreda upstairs to put on hat and jacket before her departure. “It’s not worth while troubling yourself about Maud’s remarks. It’s impossible to think that any of those girls will get the better ofyou! It’s hateful, of course; but perhaps it may not be quite so hateful as we think—”“Oh, I don’t mind. I’m resigned! One can only be as miserable as one can. Perhaps I’ll have an accident some day, riding over those rough roads, and then it will all be finished. I don’t mind how soon my life is over!” declared Dreda, harpooning her hat viciously with a pin of murderous length, ornamented at the head by a life-size imitation of a tomato. “But while Idolive, I tell you one thing, Rowena, I’ll—I’llhold my own!”“I’m sure of that,” assented Rowena, with conviction. “Look here, Dreda, would you like me to drive over with you as well as mother? I could, you know; and it might break the ice!”“No, no! Father wanted to come, but I begged not. Everything is arranged, and I don’t want people looking on. It will be ahidjusordeal!”“Oh, my dear, come! Don’t exaggerate. It’s not so tragic as all that.”“Isn’t it, then? Don’t be so grown-up and horrid! How wouldyoulike it yourself, if anyone made the best of your having to teach Maud?”That one trenchant question was sufficient to reduce Rowena to the depths of silent despair, and the two sisters descended the staircase with aspects equally lugubrious and mournful.It was not a cheerful send-off, despite all the efforts of the family, who stood shivering in the porch to wave farewells, and call out encouraging prognostications so long as the motor remained in sight. Dreda drew a big sigh of relief as they turned out of the drive, and spun rapidly along the highway. The necessity for keeping up a part was over, and involuntarily she began softly whistling beneath her breath, for in truth she was by no means so miserable as she had striven to appear.Novelty was the breath of Dreda’s nostrils. Any novelty to her was better than none, and if the chance of returning to the house had at that moment been vouchsafed, it is doubtful if she would have accepted it at the cost of missing the excitements of the next few hours.The car spun along strongly, so that the twenty miles’ distance was speedily covered, and before Etheldreda was half-way through her dreams it had turned in at a gate, and there before her eyes lay Grey House, a square, pretentious-looking building, with a door in the middle and a stretch of three windows on either side. There, also—oh! thrilling and exciting moment—pressed against the panes of an upper window were a number of round white discs, which must obviously be the faces of pupils watching the advent of the new girl!Dreda sat up, and throwing back her golden mane, tossed a laughing remark to her mother—the first she had volunteered since leaving home, and showed her white teeth in a determined smile. If she were fated to arrive at all, she would arrive as a conqueror who would be regarded with envy and admiration. Privately, she might consider herself a martyr, but that was not a rôle in which she chose to appear before other people. She was smiling as she entered the drawing-room after her mother, smiling as Miss Bretherton came forward to greet them, smiling still, a forced, fixed smile, as she listened to the conversation between the two ladies.“Hope we shall be very happy together—”(“I shan’t. I don’t like you a bit! Scraggy, cross-looking thing! Your nose looks as if it would cut!”)”...Dreda is fond of society. She will enjoy working with other girls!”(“Shan’t, then! I shall hate it. I should have enjoyed it in Paris.”)”...Beginnings always are a little difficult; but young peoplesoonadapt themselves!”(“It’s easy to talk!”)After a few minutes passed in the exchange of these and similar commonplaces, Mrs Saxon rose to depart. On a previous visit she had been shown over the house, and had seen the room where her daughter was to sleep, and now her presence would only prolong the agony. She cast a look at her daughter, full of yearning mother love and sympathy; but Dreda was smiling still, her grey eyes wide open, her very gums showing in the unnatural stretching of her lips. She submitted to be kissed, but offered no caress in return, and turned with a nonchalant air to examine the photographs on the mantelshelf, while Miss Bretherton escorted her mother to the door.They were all photographs of girls—old girls who had left school and could afford to be amiable and forgiving. One wore a cap and gown and was evidently a crack pupil who had won honours at college; another held a baby on her knee—she was pretty, and had married young; a third supported her head on her hand and stared dreamily into space; another posed against a screen. Dreda stared at them with eyes that grew misty and unseeing, as the motor puffed down the drive. Now she was alone—away from home for the first time in her life! Miss Bretherton was coming back—Miss Bretherton with the thin face and the sharply pointed nose.The door opened; the photographs looked mistier than ever; Miss Bretherton’s voice sounded from an immense distance, saying in cheery tones:“Now I am going to take you upstairs to see your room, Etheldreda. Susan Webster and Nancy West will share it with you. Susan you know already—a delightful girl; and Nancy is equally charming. Most of the girls returned last night, but we have not yet settled into regular work: it takes a little time to arrange the classes. Are your boots quite clean? Better rub them once more on the mat! Pupils are not allowed to ascend the staircase in outdoor shoes.”She led the way forward, while Dreda followed, looking about with curious eyes. The carpet lasted only so long as the stair could be seen from the hall beneath, and was then replaced by oil-cloth, worn to a colourless drab by the tramp of many feet. On the first storey a narrow passage ran the whole length of the house, and innumerable doors seemed to open on each side. The murmur of voices could be heard from within, as one passed these closed portals; but one of the number, labelled Number 5, was not quite shut, and Dreda had a shrewd suspicion that it opened an inch or two wide as she passed by. Probably it gave entrance to the room from which faces had stared out on the drive; probably the same curious faces were peering forth through that crack at this very moment.The bedroom bore a bleak look, despite the fact that the furniture was all in threes—three narrow beds, three washstands, three chests of drawers—topped by miniature mirrors—and three small cane-seated chairs. Each of the three inmates had a portion of the room to herself, and against the wall stood two folding screens, evidently designed to insure privacy. Dreda noted with dismay that the two ends of the room, the one next the window and the one next the door, already bore signs of occupation. Her brow clouded, and instead of the usual polite remarks of approval, out shot an impetuous question:“Have I to take the middle? I’d rather have an end!”“Susan and Nancy have occupied the same beds for the last year. All are equally comfortable.”“There ought to be three screens. I want two to shut myself in. Suppose one of the others didn’t want hers up!”“Why suppose disagreeables, my dear? It is a great mistake. I feel sure your companions will consider your comfort as thoughtfully as their own. Hang your jacket on the pegs; then you can come to your classroom, to be introduced to your companions. Take off your hat.”Dreda pulled a face in the mirror. She felt cross and ill-used. At home she was accustomed to a big, beautiful room all to herself; she did not at all enjoy the prospect of owning a third of this chill grey dormitory. She took off her hat—conscious that Miss Bretherton’s eyes were regarding the tomato-topped pin with silent disapproval—wriggled out of her coat, and bestowed a series of pats and pulls to hair, necktie, and blouse. Being one of the happy people who feel cheered rather than depressed by the sight of her own reflection in the glass, she followed the head mistress downstairs without any of the trepidations of nervousness which afflict most new girls, and was by no means surprised when that lady made straight for the doorway of Number 5.It opened, and six girls were discovered seated before a table, wearing expressions of preternatural solemnity. One of the number wore spectacles; a second had a broad band of metal over her front teeth; a third had red hair and a thick powdering of freckles; “The Currant Buns” wore dresses of yellowy-brown tweed, which in Dreda’s eyes made them appear “bunnier” than ever. So much was taken in by the first lightning glance, as at the appearance of Miss Bretherton the girls leapt mechanically to their feet and stood stolidly at attention.“Girls, this is your new companion, Etheldreda Saxon. She is to share Number 20 with Susan and Nancy, and I expect will be in the fourth form. You had better leave your books and have a little chat beside the fire, until Miss Drake is ready. You may tell her that I gave you permission.”She left the room and shut the door behind her, and Dreda was left face to face with her new companions.

During the next three weeks the Saxons settled slowly into the routine of life as it would in future be spent at the Manor. To begin with, the house itself was greatly improved in appearance by the addition of extra furniture and draperies sent down from the lavishly equipped house in town. The cold austerity of the entrance-hall was turned into something positively approaching cheerfulness by the presence of crimson portières, a huge tapestry screen shutting off the staircase, and, best of all, by a brass brazier which, piled high with blazing coals, diffused both light and heat, and seemed to speak a cheery welcome to each new-comer. The Bechstein grand piano was not only a gain from a musical point of view, but made a decided improvement in the sparsely furnished drawing-room, while a few good pictures and ornaments gave a homelike air which had hitherto been conspicuous by its absence.

Rowena regarded these improvements with the numb unconcern which a prisoner might manifest over an unimportant alteration in his cell; but Dreda, as usual, was afire with enthusiasm, and spent a radiantly happy day playing the part of a charwoman, in apron and rolled-up sleeves. She washed all the ornaments, exulting in the inky colour of the water after the operation, and insisting that each member of the household should ascend to regain the same.

“Isn’t it beautifully dirty?” she cried in triumph. “I scrubbed them with the nail brush. You should have seen the dust come out of the chinks! I simply dote upon seeing the water turn black. It’s no fun washing things unless they arereallydirty!”

When the additions were viewed as a whole, however, Dreda was not so content. She even frowned with displeasure at sight of the luxury in the hall.

“It’s not consistent!” she pronounced, judicially. “We arerejuiced, and it doesn’t look rejuiced! People in the neighbourhood coming to call will think we are richer instead of poorer. You will have to explain, mother. It wouldn’t be honest if you didn’t.”

Mrs Saxon’s smile was a somewhat painful effort.

“I imagine there will be little need of explanation, Dreda. News flies fast in a country place, and our neighbours probably know our affairs as well as we know them ourselves.”

“And are gossiping about us behind our backs, and longing to call and see how we bear it!” continued Rowena, with that new edge of bitterness in her voice, which sounded so sadly in her mother’s ears. It needed a hard struggle with herself before Mrs Saxon could command herself to reply gently:

“Curiosity is natural, perhaps, but I don’t think we need fear anything unfriendly. If there should be any exhibition of the sort, it’s a comfort to feel that I can depend upon my grown-up daughter to set an example of dignity and self-restraint. My nature is like Dreda’s, so much more impulsive, that you will be a great strength to me, dear.”

Oh, that soft answer that turneth away wrath, how omnipotent it is! The sneer was wiped off Rowena’s face as by a sponge, her blue eyes glistened, and she stooped her tall young head to press an impetuous kiss upon her mother’s cheek. For the rest of the day she was her old, sweet loving self, and the mother was rewarded a thousandfold for the effort which it had cost her to repress a hasty retort, and replace it by a word of tenderness and appreciation.

At the end of a fortnight the three boys returned to school, placidly resigned to a change of circumstances which left their own lives untouched; and no sooner had they departed than the Spider in her turn began to pack her boxes, in preparation for her own exit. For the past ten years she had been regarded as a member of the family, spending the greater number of her holidays with her pupils, and being included in all the household festivities and rejoicings. It was inevitable that her absence would cause a blank, and the young people experienced sundry pangs of conscience as they recalled the want of appreciation with which they had received their efforts on their behalf. How they had teased and lazed, and plotted and schemed, to escape the tasks which she had so laboriously enforced! How they had laughed behind her back, imitating her little mannerisms, and exhorting each other after her invariable formulae: “Impertinence, my love, isnotwit!”

“A young lady should be composed and dignified in demeanour.”

“Concentration, my dear, concentration! That is what you require.” Poor, dear, good Spider; her methods were somewhat behind the times; but she was the kindest, most faithful of souls. Everyone was thankful to know that owing to the recent receipt of a legacy she was able to retire comfortably from active work, and to look forward to a peaceful contented home in the family of a beloved niece. Neither was it a very serious parting, since nothing was so certain as that so true a friend must return again and again to the scene of her labours; to see Hereward in his first uniform; to attend Rowena’s marriage; Dreda’s coming out; and inspect the progress of her youngest pupils. A few tears were shed when the hour of parting actually arrived, but there was no bitterness in them on either side, nor were they of any long duration.

And now for Etheldreda’s turn! When the morning dawned on which she was to depart for school, she felt it fitting that her toilette should express the melancholy of her mood. Dreda had a great idea of fitness, and a costume composed of an old shepherd plaid skirt, a grey flannel blouse and a black tie seemed admirably symbolic of what she herself described as “the mourning of her soul.” When it was donned, however, the result was found to be so extremely unbecoming that resolution wavered, and collapsed. After all, the most important matter was to impress her new companions, and there was no denying that that could be done most effectively in blue—in just such a blue as was at that moment hanging in the wardrobe ready for use. With light-like speed Dreda shed her dun-coloured garments on to the floor, and in a trice was arrayed in her prettiest, most becoming costume.

This time the reflection was so pleasing that it was quite an effort to pull down her chin, and drop her eyelids, with the air of melancholy resignation which she was determined at all costs to preserve during breakfast. Mrs Saxon’s face brightened at sight of the pretty blue dress, but neither she nor any other member of the family mentioned the fatal word “school.” Rather did each one try to give a cheerful turn to the conversation, and to lead it towards a discussion of those topics in which the heroine of the day was the most interested. “Sops!” murmured Dreda dramatically to herself. “Sops!” She struggled hard to restrain her longing for a second helping of bacon; but her courage gave out at the thought of the motor drive across the cold open country.

“I must strengthen myself with plenty of nourishment,” she decided, as she handed over her plate, and accepted the offer of a third cup of coffee. Like all pleasant things, however, the meal came to an end at last, and then the great event of the day could no longer be ignored. Maud caught the glance exchanged between her parents, and felt herself freed from her promise of silence.

“Now!” she exclaimed, with a gusty sigh of relief. “Now for the Buns!Nowyou’ll see which knows most, them or you. Them, I should think, ’cause they’re clever, and you forget. Miss Bruce said your head was like a sieve. Do you remember the day she said it? She had on her jet chain, and jingled with the beads. You’ll have to remember not to forget, or you’ll be the bottom of the class. Fancy three Currant Buns on top!”

She stopped short, with her characteristic throaty little laugh, and Dreda glared at her with flashing eyes. It was really extraordinary that anyone so stupid as Maud should so often succeed in hitting upon just the most aggravating thing to say under the circumstances. Three Currant Buns on top indeed! Life would only be endurable if she herself could seize the leading place, and hold it relentlessly to the end. She would not condescend to reply, and Maud was hurriedly nudged, and poked, and “shoved” into silence by Rowena, who was in an unusually sympathetic mood, realising how she herself would have felt had fate cast her own scholastic lot with that of the Misses Webster.

“Never mind her,” she whispered, consolingly, as she followed Dreda upstairs to put on hat and jacket before her departure. “It’s not worth while troubling yourself about Maud’s remarks. It’s impossible to think that any of those girls will get the better ofyou! It’s hateful, of course; but perhaps it may not be quite so hateful as we think—”

“Oh, I don’t mind. I’m resigned! One can only be as miserable as one can. Perhaps I’ll have an accident some day, riding over those rough roads, and then it will all be finished. I don’t mind how soon my life is over!” declared Dreda, harpooning her hat viciously with a pin of murderous length, ornamented at the head by a life-size imitation of a tomato. “But while Idolive, I tell you one thing, Rowena, I’ll—I’llhold my own!”

“I’m sure of that,” assented Rowena, with conviction. “Look here, Dreda, would you like me to drive over with you as well as mother? I could, you know; and it might break the ice!”

“No, no! Father wanted to come, but I begged not. Everything is arranged, and I don’t want people looking on. It will be ahidjusordeal!”

“Oh, my dear, come! Don’t exaggerate. It’s not so tragic as all that.”

“Isn’t it, then? Don’t be so grown-up and horrid! How wouldyoulike it yourself, if anyone made the best of your having to teach Maud?”

That one trenchant question was sufficient to reduce Rowena to the depths of silent despair, and the two sisters descended the staircase with aspects equally lugubrious and mournful.

It was not a cheerful send-off, despite all the efforts of the family, who stood shivering in the porch to wave farewells, and call out encouraging prognostications so long as the motor remained in sight. Dreda drew a big sigh of relief as they turned out of the drive, and spun rapidly along the highway. The necessity for keeping up a part was over, and involuntarily she began softly whistling beneath her breath, for in truth she was by no means so miserable as she had striven to appear.

Novelty was the breath of Dreda’s nostrils. Any novelty to her was better than none, and if the chance of returning to the house had at that moment been vouchsafed, it is doubtful if she would have accepted it at the cost of missing the excitements of the next few hours.

The car spun along strongly, so that the twenty miles’ distance was speedily covered, and before Etheldreda was half-way through her dreams it had turned in at a gate, and there before her eyes lay Grey House, a square, pretentious-looking building, with a door in the middle and a stretch of three windows on either side. There, also—oh! thrilling and exciting moment—pressed against the panes of an upper window were a number of round white discs, which must obviously be the faces of pupils watching the advent of the new girl!

Dreda sat up, and throwing back her golden mane, tossed a laughing remark to her mother—the first she had volunteered since leaving home, and showed her white teeth in a determined smile. If she were fated to arrive at all, she would arrive as a conqueror who would be regarded with envy and admiration. Privately, she might consider herself a martyr, but that was not a rôle in which she chose to appear before other people. She was smiling as she entered the drawing-room after her mother, smiling as Miss Bretherton came forward to greet them, smiling still, a forced, fixed smile, as she listened to the conversation between the two ladies.

“Hope we shall be very happy together—”

(“I shan’t. I don’t like you a bit! Scraggy, cross-looking thing! Your nose looks as if it would cut!”)

”...Dreda is fond of society. She will enjoy working with other girls!”

(“Shan’t, then! I shall hate it. I should have enjoyed it in Paris.”)

”...Beginnings always are a little difficult; but young peoplesoonadapt themselves!”

(“It’s easy to talk!”)

After a few minutes passed in the exchange of these and similar commonplaces, Mrs Saxon rose to depart. On a previous visit she had been shown over the house, and had seen the room where her daughter was to sleep, and now her presence would only prolong the agony. She cast a look at her daughter, full of yearning mother love and sympathy; but Dreda was smiling still, her grey eyes wide open, her very gums showing in the unnatural stretching of her lips. She submitted to be kissed, but offered no caress in return, and turned with a nonchalant air to examine the photographs on the mantelshelf, while Miss Bretherton escorted her mother to the door.

They were all photographs of girls—old girls who had left school and could afford to be amiable and forgiving. One wore a cap and gown and was evidently a crack pupil who had won honours at college; another held a baby on her knee—she was pretty, and had married young; a third supported her head on her hand and stared dreamily into space; another posed against a screen. Dreda stared at them with eyes that grew misty and unseeing, as the motor puffed down the drive. Now she was alone—away from home for the first time in her life! Miss Bretherton was coming back—Miss Bretherton with the thin face and the sharply pointed nose.

The door opened; the photographs looked mistier than ever; Miss Bretherton’s voice sounded from an immense distance, saying in cheery tones:

“Now I am going to take you upstairs to see your room, Etheldreda. Susan Webster and Nancy West will share it with you. Susan you know already—a delightful girl; and Nancy is equally charming. Most of the girls returned last night, but we have not yet settled into regular work: it takes a little time to arrange the classes. Are your boots quite clean? Better rub them once more on the mat! Pupils are not allowed to ascend the staircase in outdoor shoes.”

She led the way forward, while Dreda followed, looking about with curious eyes. The carpet lasted only so long as the stair could be seen from the hall beneath, and was then replaced by oil-cloth, worn to a colourless drab by the tramp of many feet. On the first storey a narrow passage ran the whole length of the house, and innumerable doors seemed to open on each side. The murmur of voices could be heard from within, as one passed these closed portals; but one of the number, labelled Number 5, was not quite shut, and Dreda had a shrewd suspicion that it opened an inch or two wide as she passed by. Probably it gave entrance to the room from which faces had stared out on the drive; probably the same curious faces were peering forth through that crack at this very moment.

The bedroom bore a bleak look, despite the fact that the furniture was all in threes—three narrow beds, three washstands, three chests of drawers—topped by miniature mirrors—and three small cane-seated chairs. Each of the three inmates had a portion of the room to herself, and against the wall stood two folding screens, evidently designed to insure privacy. Dreda noted with dismay that the two ends of the room, the one next the window and the one next the door, already bore signs of occupation. Her brow clouded, and instead of the usual polite remarks of approval, out shot an impetuous question:

“Have I to take the middle? I’d rather have an end!”

“Susan and Nancy have occupied the same beds for the last year. All are equally comfortable.”

“There ought to be three screens. I want two to shut myself in. Suppose one of the others didn’t want hers up!”

“Why suppose disagreeables, my dear? It is a great mistake. I feel sure your companions will consider your comfort as thoughtfully as their own. Hang your jacket on the pegs; then you can come to your classroom, to be introduced to your companions. Take off your hat.”

Dreda pulled a face in the mirror. She felt cross and ill-used. At home she was accustomed to a big, beautiful room all to herself; she did not at all enjoy the prospect of owning a third of this chill grey dormitory. She took off her hat—conscious that Miss Bretherton’s eyes were regarding the tomato-topped pin with silent disapproval—wriggled out of her coat, and bestowed a series of pats and pulls to hair, necktie, and blouse. Being one of the happy people who feel cheered rather than depressed by the sight of her own reflection in the glass, she followed the head mistress downstairs without any of the trepidations of nervousness which afflict most new girls, and was by no means surprised when that lady made straight for the doorway of Number 5.

It opened, and six girls were discovered seated before a table, wearing expressions of preternatural solemnity. One of the number wore spectacles; a second had a broad band of metal over her front teeth; a third had red hair and a thick powdering of freckles; “The Currant Buns” wore dresses of yellowy-brown tweed, which in Dreda’s eyes made them appear “bunnier” than ever. So much was taken in by the first lightning glance, as at the appearance of Miss Bretherton the girls leapt mechanically to their feet and stood stolidly at attention.

“Girls, this is your new companion, Etheldreda Saxon. She is to share Number 20 with Susan and Nancy, and I expect will be in the fourth form. You had better leave your books and have a little chat beside the fire, until Miss Drake is ready. You may tell her that I gave you permission.”

She left the room and shut the door behind her, and Dreda was left face to face with her new companions.

Chapter Eight.For a moment the six girls retained their former positions, staring with blank, expressionless faces at the new comer. Then Mary Webster, the eldest of the “Currant Buns,” advanced with outstretched hand, followed by her two younger sisters.“How do you do?”“How do you do?”“How do you do?”“So glad to see you.”“So glad—”“Very glad—”The murmurs died into silence, while Dreda smiled a radiant encouragement.“Quite well, thank you. But rather cold. May we poke the fire? My feet—”She tapped expressively on the floor, whereupon Mary Webster poked discreetly at the fire and Susan, the youngest of the sisters, pushed a chair into the cosiest corner. The other three girls had come forward by this time, and introduced themselves in due form.“How do you do? I’m Barbara Moore. It’s hateful to be a new girl!”“How do you do? I’m Norah Grey. Sorry you’re cold.”“How do you do? I’m Nancy. Tell me truthfully—Do you snore?”Dreda laughed gaily.“Sometimes—when I lie on my back. I do it on purpose, because you dream such thrilling dreams. And I yell horribly when I come to the bad bits.”“Something will have to be done!” said Nancy, darkly. She was the girl with the band over her front teeth. It was ugly, but fascinating; one felt constrained to look at it, and looking at it could not help noticing how curved and red were the lips, how darkly lashed the long grey eyes. Nancy was evidently a person to be reckoned with. She sat herself down by the fire, stretched out her feet to the blaze, and appeared to be lost in thought. Dreda longed to talk to her, to inquire what she meant by that mysterious “something,” but the “Currant Buns” were clustering round her, regarding her with anxiously proprietary airs as if, having the honour of a personal acquaintance, it was their due to receive the first attention. Dreda felt quite like a celebrity, on the point of being interviewed by a trio of reporters; but as usual she preferred to play the part of questioner herself.“Were you doing prep when I came in? What classes are you taking to-day? I feel as if I’ve forgotten everything. One always does in the holidays, doesn’t one? Such a bore having to grind through it all again. Seems such a waste of time.”“Have you a bad memory? Miss Drake, our English governess, is especially clever at developing the powers of memory. And holiday tasks are so useful, too; don’t you find them so? It is impossible to forget, if one has to study for an elaborate thesis.”“The—what?” questioned Dreda blankly. “But whoeverdoesstudy in the holidays? I don’t! If you did, they wouldn’t be holidays. So stupid! Holidays are for rest and fun. Bad enough to have lessons for two-thirds of the year. One’s brain must havesomerest!”She ended on quite an indignant note, and her companions stared at her with a mingling of admiration and dismay. Such a vivid bit of colouring had not been seen for many a long day in that neutral-tinted room. Yellow hair, pink cheeks, red lips, blue dress—she was positively dazzling to behold. The two younger Miss Websters appeared absorbed in admiration, but the eldest and cleverest-looking of the three pursed up her lips with an air of disapproval and said primly:“It depends upon one’sideaof rest, doesn’t it? Leisure may mean only a time of amusement, but it’s a rather poor conception of the word. The ancient Greeks understood by it a time ofcongenialwork, as distinguished from work which they were obliged to do. Their necessary work was undertaken in order that they might obtain a time of leisure, but when it came, instead of wasting it in foolish and passing amusement, they used it to strengthen their intellect and to store up ennobling thoughts.”“How did they do that, pray?” Dreda put the question with the air of one launching a poser, but Mary Webster showed no signs of discomfiture.“They used to meet together in little companies, and discuss the deepest and most important topics of the day—”“I expect they gossiped horribly!”“And they watched the dramas—”“I call that amusement! I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.”“But the Greek dramas were not light and vapid like modern plays. They dealt with serious subjects, and the audience often used to commit the words to memory as a mental exercise.”Dreda yawned.“Ah, well,” she conceded indulgently, “it’s a long while ago! One mustn’t be hard on them, poor dears, for they knew no better. I don’t approve of girls bothering their heads about ancient Greeks. Boys have to, for examinations, but if we want to grow up nice, domesticated women it’s better to learn modern things, and leave those old fusties alone. They do one no good.”The girls stared at her in stunned surprise. Agnes, the second Webster, dropped her chin to an abnormal length; the youngest, Susan, bit nervously at her lips; Mary cleared her throat and showed signs of returning to the attack, but Dreda was already tired of the subject, and made a diversion by leaping from her seat and approaching the table where piles of blue-covered exercise books were neatly arranged at intervals of about a yard apart.“Let me look at your books, and see what you are doing! I didn’t bring any books till I saw what you used. I expect they will be the same. All school books are. I’ve got the ones Rowena used.” She broke off, staring with dismay at the underlined questions which met her eye in one of Agnes’s neatly written books:“Characterise the work of Praxiteles, comparing it with that of Phidias.”“Describe the Caryatids of the Erectheum.”“MoreGreeks! How awful! You seem saturated in Greece.” She threw down the book impatiently and took up another. “Write a short essay on Chaucer (I know Chaucer!) and his times (When did he live? Ages ago, I know, for he couldn’t spell), dwelling on (1) the state of society as shown by the attitude of Wycliffe to the Pope, and the higher clergy; (2) the peasants’ revolt”—Dreda looked round with horrified eyes. “Whata thing! Do you often have essays like that? Your governess must be a man in disguise!”“She is exceedingly clever and well read, and a most interesting and original teacher.”“Humph!—I prefer the old school! Our governess gives us essays on Spring, and Happiness, and quotations from poetry. They are far better, for if you don’t know anything, you can make it up. You know the sort of thing. ‘One has often felt—’ ‘Should we not all—’ ‘At this season of the year our hearts overflow—’ I assure you I have often sat down not knowing what on earth I was going to say, and have writtenpages! That’s far better for you than learning dull facts about people who were dead and buried hundreds of years ago, because it exercises your imagination and resource, and they are so useful for a woman. Now, just suppose you were married, and a lot of dull people were coming to dinner—it would help you awfully if you’d been trained to make conversation out of nothing! And supposing you suddenly found that there was nothing to eat, and you had to make a dinner out of scraps—what would be most useful to you then, Greek history or a good, resourceful brain?”Mary and Agnes stared aghast, but the sound of a snigger came from the fireplace where Susan stood meekly in the background, and a moment later a ringing laugh drew all eyes to the doorway where stood a tall, bright-haired girl, whose white teeth gleamed pleasantly through her parted lips.“Bravo!” she cried gaily. “Bravo, my new pupil! Very adroitly argued. But suppose now that one of your dull diners happened to be an enthusiast about Greece, and that its glories were the only subject on which he was prepared to talk! Suppose he spoke of the ‘Caryatids,’ for example, and you had no idea what the word meant—how would you keep up your share of the conversation?”“Quite easily. I’d say—‘Really! How very interesting!Praydo go on!’ Then he’d be charmed. People always are charmed to go on talking,” declared Dreda smiling back with the utmost frankness into the face of this bright, friendly stranger.So this was the English governess of whose cleverness and accomplishments she had heard so much! She looked quite young—ridiculously young; not many years older than Rowena herself. Dreda had expected to see an elderly, spectacled dame, thin and spare, with scant locks dragged tightly back from her face. In the dark depression of her spirits she had thought it possible that she might even wear knitted mittens, and have cotton wool in her ears. Never for a moment had it occurred to her that an accomplished finishing governess could be young and pretty!To judge from Miss Drake’s expression she was experiencing very much the same pleasure in the sight of her new pupil, for her eyes brightened visibly as she looked Dreda up and down, down and up, with a keen, intent scrutiny. She laughed as she heard the girl’s answer, and replied easily:“That’s quite true, Etheldreda. I am myself! That’s one of the reasons which induced me to work—for unless one is contented to play the part of hearer through life, it really is worth the trouble to store up a little general knowledge, so that one may talk as interestingly as possible. Lessons may seem dull and unnecessary at the time, but theyareuseful afterwards! Now, girls, take your places! Etheldreda shall sit here on my left, and I will read over the syllabus for this term’s study, and draw out a timetable. As we come to each fresh subject I will show you our books, Etheldreda, and we will see if they are the same as those which you have been using, and how far you have progressed. I expect we shall be able to work along together, even if there is a little space to be gulfed on either side.”“Please!” cried the new pupil earnestly, “don’t call me Etheldreda. Nobody ever does except when I’m in disgrace, and it’s so long and proper. I’m always Dreda at home.”“Dreda, then! Itismore get-at-able. Well, now, Dreda, take a pen and write down our syllabus in this book. I like my pupils to have a clear idea of the work ahead.”Dreda settled herself complacently to the task, but as she wrote her face grew ever longer and longer. What subjects were there which she was supposed to study? Political economy—she had not the vaguest idea of what it meant! Physiology—that was something horrid about one’s body, which ought properly to be left to nurses and doctors! Zoology—animals! She knew everything that she wanted to know about animals already; how to feed and tend them, and make them tame and friendly. She could not love them half so much if she were obliged to worry herself learning stupid names half a yard long, which no ordinary human creature understood! Latin—Algebra—Astronomy. She glanced round the table and beheld Mary and Agnes and Susan scribbling away with unruffled composure. No sign of alarm could be traced on their calm, bun-like countenances, the longest words flowed from their pens as if such a thing as difficulty in spelling did not exist. Dreda looked for a moment over Mary’s shoulder, and beheld her writing a diphthong without so much as turning a hair.A chilly feeling crept up her spine; her heart seemed to stop beating, then at the next moment thudded violently against her side. She was not going to be at the top of the class; she was to be at the bottom! Instead of leading the van, and victoriously trailing the Currant Buns in her wake, the Currant Buns would have to trail her; and a heavy, unenlightened load she would be! A stormy prospect lay ahead; straits of difficulty; seas of depression; oceans of humiliation. Pride, and pride alone, prevented Dreda from laying down her head on the dingy brown tablecloth and bursting into tears. Alas, alas! for the happy, easy days of History, Geography, and Arithmetic, with the old-fashioned Spider. Alas for the finishing joys of Madame Clerc’s select academy, where the young ladies were taken about to see the sights of Paris, with no other restriction on their pleasure seeking but that on one and all occasions they should amuse themselves in French!It grew wearisome to make ever the same reply to Miss Drake’s question. “No, she had never studied that subject.”“No, she had never seen this book.” Mary stared unblushingly with her little dark eyes. Agnes dropped her chin until it looked twice its natural length, Susan flicked over the pages of her exercises and appeared absorbed in their contents. Nancy smiled a furtive smile.“No,” cried Dreda desperately. “No, I know nothing about it! I—I have been educated on quite different lines—I think I had better go on as I have begun. I don’t want to keep back the whole class. Let the others go on as usual, and leave me out. I can joininfor the ordinary subjects.”“Nonsense, Dreda. Nothing of the sort. We take up each subject afresh at the beginning of the term, and if you work hard you will be able to manage quite well. It is better to make a little push to keep in this form than to go into a lower one with younger girls, and less interesting work. I am not unreasonable. I shall not expect miracles; do your best, and we’ll help you on. I think you had better have a special coach to whom you can apply if you want help or explanation in your preparation. Now which of you girls would like to be Dreda’s coach, and spare her a little time when it is needed?”There was a simultaneous rustle of assent, but two voices spoke first, breaking the silence at identically the same moment.“I!” cried Susan.“Me!” cried Nancy.Miss Drake smiled. “Oh, Nancy, Nancy!” she cried gaily; “a nice personyouwould be to coach another! Better give a little more attention to your own grammar, my dear. Very well, Susan, that is settled. You shall be Dreda’s coach!”Dreda and Susan looked at each other across the table in silence. Susan saw flushed cheeks and eyes suspiciously bright. Dreda stared in amazement, asking herself how it could be that anyone so much like the two elder sisters could at the same time be so diametrically different. Mary and Agnes were unusually plain, heavy-looking girls, but in Susan’s face there was at this moment, a light of sympathy which made it strangely attractive. She possessed the family features, the family eyes, but Nature had evidently been prejudiced on her behalf and had given with a more generous hand. An extra shade of darkness on the eyebrows, an extra dip to the nose, a tiny curl to the lips, a tilt of the chin—these were trifles in themselves, but what an amazing improvement when taken in bulk! Dreda gazed and gazed, and as she did so there came to her one of those delightful experiences which most of us encounter once or twice as we go through life. As she met this strange girl’s glance, a thrill of recognition ran through her veins; a voice in her heart cried, “My Friend!” and she knew just as surely as if she had been toldinwords that at the same moment Susan’s heart had sounded the same glad welcome.She said: “Thank you, Susan,” in a voice unusually subdued, and bit her lips to keep back the tears.

For a moment the six girls retained their former positions, staring with blank, expressionless faces at the new comer. Then Mary Webster, the eldest of the “Currant Buns,” advanced with outstretched hand, followed by her two younger sisters.

“How do you do?”

“How do you do?”

“How do you do?”

“So glad to see you.”

“So glad—”

“Very glad—”

The murmurs died into silence, while Dreda smiled a radiant encouragement.

“Quite well, thank you. But rather cold. May we poke the fire? My feet—”

She tapped expressively on the floor, whereupon Mary Webster poked discreetly at the fire and Susan, the youngest of the sisters, pushed a chair into the cosiest corner. The other three girls had come forward by this time, and introduced themselves in due form.

“How do you do? I’m Barbara Moore. It’s hateful to be a new girl!”

“How do you do? I’m Norah Grey. Sorry you’re cold.”

“How do you do? I’m Nancy. Tell me truthfully—Do you snore?”

Dreda laughed gaily.

“Sometimes—when I lie on my back. I do it on purpose, because you dream such thrilling dreams. And I yell horribly when I come to the bad bits.”

“Something will have to be done!” said Nancy, darkly. She was the girl with the band over her front teeth. It was ugly, but fascinating; one felt constrained to look at it, and looking at it could not help noticing how curved and red were the lips, how darkly lashed the long grey eyes. Nancy was evidently a person to be reckoned with. She sat herself down by the fire, stretched out her feet to the blaze, and appeared to be lost in thought. Dreda longed to talk to her, to inquire what she meant by that mysterious “something,” but the “Currant Buns” were clustering round her, regarding her with anxiously proprietary airs as if, having the honour of a personal acquaintance, it was their due to receive the first attention. Dreda felt quite like a celebrity, on the point of being interviewed by a trio of reporters; but as usual she preferred to play the part of questioner herself.

“Were you doing prep when I came in? What classes are you taking to-day? I feel as if I’ve forgotten everything. One always does in the holidays, doesn’t one? Such a bore having to grind through it all again. Seems such a waste of time.”

“Have you a bad memory? Miss Drake, our English governess, is especially clever at developing the powers of memory. And holiday tasks are so useful, too; don’t you find them so? It is impossible to forget, if one has to study for an elaborate thesis.”

“The—what?” questioned Dreda blankly. “But whoeverdoesstudy in the holidays? I don’t! If you did, they wouldn’t be holidays. So stupid! Holidays are for rest and fun. Bad enough to have lessons for two-thirds of the year. One’s brain must havesomerest!”

She ended on quite an indignant note, and her companions stared at her with a mingling of admiration and dismay. Such a vivid bit of colouring had not been seen for many a long day in that neutral-tinted room. Yellow hair, pink cheeks, red lips, blue dress—she was positively dazzling to behold. The two younger Miss Websters appeared absorbed in admiration, but the eldest and cleverest-looking of the three pursed up her lips with an air of disapproval and said primly:

“It depends upon one’sideaof rest, doesn’t it? Leisure may mean only a time of amusement, but it’s a rather poor conception of the word. The ancient Greeks understood by it a time ofcongenialwork, as distinguished from work which they were obliged to do. Their necessary work was undertaken in order that they might obtain a time of leisure, but when it came, instead of wasting it in foolish and passing amusement, they used it to strengthen their intellect and to store up ennobling thoughts.”

“How did they do that, pray?” Dreda put the question with the air of one launching a poser, but Mary Webster showed no signs of discomfiture.

“They used to meet together in little companies, and discuss the deepest and most important topics of the day—”

“I expect they gossiped horribly!”

“And they watched the dramas—”

“I call that amusement! I wouldn’t mind doing that myself.”

“But the Greek dramas were not light and vapid like modern plays. They dealt with serious subjects, and the audience often used to commit the words to memory as a mental exercise.”

Dreda yawned.

“Ah, well,” she conceded indulgently, “it’s a long while ago! One mustn’t be hard on them, poor dears, for they knew no better. I don’t approve of girls bothering their heads about ancient Greeks. Boys have to, for examinations, but if we want to grow up nice, domesticated women it’s better to learn modern things, and leave those old fusties alone. They do one no good.”

The girls stared at her in stunned surprise. Agnes, the second Webster, dropped her chin to an abnormal length; the youngest, Susan, bit nervously at her lips; Mary cleared her throat and showed signs of returning to the attack, but Dreda was already tired of the subject, and made a diversion by leaping from her seat and approaching the table where piles of blue-covered exercise books were neatly arranged at intervals of about a yard apart.

“Let me look at your books, and see what you are doing! I didn’t bring any books till I saw what you used. I expect they will be the same. All school books are. I’ve got the ones Rowena used.” She broke off, staring with dismay at the underlined questions which met her eye in one of Agnes’s neatly written books:

“Characterise the work of Praxiteles, comparing it with that of Phidias.”

“Describe the Caryatids of the Erectheum.”

“MoreGreeks! How awful! You seem saturated in Greece.” She threw down the book impatiently and took up another. “Write a short essay on Chaucer (I know Chaucer!) and his times (When did he live? Ages ago, I know, for he couldn’t spell), dwelling on (1) the state of society as shown by the attitude of Wycliffe to the Pope, and the higher clergy; (2) the peasants’ revolt”—Dreda looked round with horrified eyes. “Whata thing! Do you often have essays like that? Your governess must be a man in disguise!”

“She is exceedingly clever and well read, and a most interesting and original teacher.”

“Humph!—I prefer the old school! Our governess gives us essays on Spring, and Happiness, and quotations from poetry. They are far better, for if you don’t know anything, you can make it up. You know the sort of thing. ‘One has often felt—’ ‘Should we not all—’ ‘At this season of the year our hearts overflow—’ I assure you I have often sat down not knowing what on earth I was going to say, and have writtenpages! That’s far better for you than learning dull facts about people who were dead and buried hundreds of years ago, because it exercises your imagination and resource, and they are so useful for a woman. Now, just suppose you were married, and a lot of dull people were coming to dinner—it would help you awfully if you’d been trained to make conversation out of nothing! And supposing you suddenly found that there was nothing to eat, and you had to make a dinner out of scraps—what would be most useful to you then, Greek history or a good, resourceful brain?”

Mary and Agnes stared aghast, but the sound of a snigger came from the fireplace where Susan stood meekly in the background, and a moment later a ringing laugh drew all eyes to the doorway where stood a tall, bright-haired girl, whose white teeth gleamed pleasantly through her parted lips.

“Bravo!” she cried gaily. “Bravo, my new pupil! Very adroitly argued. But suppose now that one of your dull diners happened to be an enthusiast about Greece, and that its glories were the only subject on which he was prepared to talk! Suppose he spoke of the ‘Caryatids,’ for example, and you had no idea what the word meant—how would you keep up your share of the conversation?”

“Quite easily. I’d say—‘Really! How very interesting!Praydo go on!’ Then he’d be charmed. People always are charmed to go on talking,” declared Dreda smiling back with the utmost frankness into the face of this bright, friendly stranger.

So this was the English governess of whose cleverness and accomplishments she had heard so much! She looked quite young—ridiculously young; not many years older than Rowena herself. Dreda had expected to see an elderly, spectacled dame, thin and spare, with scant locks dragged tightly back from her face. In the dark depression of her spirits she had thought it possible that she might even wear knitted mittens, and have cotton wool in her ears. Never for a moment had it occurred to her that an accomplished finishing governess could be young and pretty!

To judge from Miss Drake’s expression she was experiencing very much the same pleasure in the sight of her new pupil, for her eyes brightened visibly as she looked Dreda up and down, down and up, with a keen, intent scrutiny. She laughed as she heard the girl’s answer, and replied easily:

“That’s quite true, Etheldreda. I am myself! That’s one of the reasons which induced me to work—for unless one is contented to play the part of hearer through life, it really is worth the trouble to store up a little general knowledge, so that one may talk as interestingly as possible. Lessons may seem dull and unnecessary at the time, but theyareuseful afterwards! Now, girls, take your places! Etheldreda shall sit here on my left, and I will read over the syllabus for this term’s study, and draw out a timetable. As we come to each fresh subject I will show you our books, Etheldreda, and we will see if they are the same as those which you have been using, and how far you have progressed. I expect we shall be able to work along together, even if there is a little space to be gulfed on either side.”

“Please!” cried the new pupil earnestly, “don’t call me Etheldreda. Nobody ever does except when I’m in disgrace, and it’s so long and proper. I’m always Dreda at home.”

“Dreda, then! Itismore get-at-able. Well, now, Dreda, take a pen and write down our syllabus in this book. I like my pupils to have a clear idea of the work ahead.”

Dreda settled herself complacently to the task, but as she wrote her face grew ever longer and longer. What subjects were there which she was supposed to study? Political economy—she had not the vaguest idea of what it meant! Physiology—that was something horrid about one’s body, which ought properly to be left to nurses and doctors! Zoology—animals! She knew everything that she wanted to know about animals already; how to feed and tend them, and make them tame and friendly. She could not love them half so much if she were obliged to worry herself learning stupid names half a yard long, which no ordinary human creature understood! Latin—Algebra—Astronomy. She glanced round the table and beheld Mary and Agnes and Susan scribbling away with unruffled composure. No sign of alarm could be traced on their calm, bun-like countenances, the longest words flowed from their pens as if such a thing as difficulty in spelling did not exist. Dreda looked for a moment over Mary’s shoulder, and beheld her writing a diphthong without so much as turning a hair.

A chilly feeling crept up her spine; her heart seemed to stop beating, then at the next moment thudded violently against her side. She was not going to be at the top of the class; she was to be at the bottom! Instead of leading the van, and victoriously trailing the Currant Buns in her wake, the Currant Buns would have to trail her; and a heavy, unenlightened load she would be! A stormy prospect lay ahead; straits of difficulty; seas of depression; oceans of humiliation. Pride, and pride alone, prevented Dreda from laying down her head on the dingy brown tablecloth and bursting into tears. Alas, alas! for the happy, easy days of History, Geography, and Arithmetic, with the old-fashioned Spider. Alas for the finishing joys of Madame Clerc’s select academy, where the young ladies were taken about to see the sights of Paris, with no other restriction on their pleasure seeking but that on one and all occasions they should amuse themselves in French!

It grew wearisome to make ever the same reply to Miss Drake’s question. “No, she had never studied that subject.”

“No, she had never seen this book.” Mary stared unblushingly with her little dark eyes. Agnes dropped her chin until it looked twice its natural length, Susan flicked over the pages of her exercises and appeared absorbed in their contents. Nancy smiled a furtive smile.

“No,” cried Dreda desperately. “No, I know nothing about it! I—I have been educated on quite different lines—I think I had better go on as I have begun. I don’t want to keep back the whole class. Let the others go on as usual, and leave me out. I can joininfor the ordinary subjects.”

“Nonsense, Dreda. Nothing of the sort. We take up each subject afresh at the beginning of the term, and if you work hard you will be able to manage quite well. It is better to make a little push to keep in this form than to go into a lower one with younger girls, and less interesting work. I am not unreasonable. I shall not expect miracles; do your best, and we’ll help you on. I think you had better have a special coach to whom you can apply if you want help or explanation in your preparation. Now which of you girls would like to be Dreda’s coach, and spare her a little time when it is needed?”

There was a simultaneous rustle of assent, but two voices spoke first, breaking the silence at identically the same moment.

“I!” cried Susan.

“Me!” cried Nancy.

Miss Drake smiled. “Oh, Nancy, Nancy!” she cried gaily; “a nice personyouwould be to coach another! Better give a little more attention to your own grammar, my dear. Very well, Susan, that is settled. You shall be Dreda’s coach!”

Dreda and Susan looked at each other across the table in silence. Susan saw flushed cheeks and eyes suspiciously bright. Dreda stared in amazement, asking herself how it could be that anyone so much like the two elder sisters could at the same time be so diametrically different. Mary and Agnes were unusually plain, heavy-looking girls, but in Susan’s face there was at this moment, a light of sympathy which made it strangely attractive. She possessed the family features, the family eyes, but Nature had evidently been prejudiced on her behalf and had given with a more generous hand. An extra shade of darkness on the eyebrows, an extra dip to the nose, a tiny curl to the lips, a tilt of the chin—these were trifles in themselves, but what an amazing improvement when taken in bulk! Dreda gazed and gazed, and as she did so there came to her one of those delightful experiences which most of us encounter once or twice as we go through life. As she met this strange girl’s glance, a thrill of recognition ran through her veins; a voice in her heart cried, “My Friend!” and she knew just as surely as if she had been toldinwords that at the same moment Susan’s heart had sounded the same glad welcome.

She said: “Thank you, Susan,” in a voice unusually subdued, and bit her lips to keep back the tears.

Chapter Nine.At twelve o’clock work was laid aside and Miss Drake accompanied the girls for an hour’s constitutional. She claimed Dreda for her companion for the first part of the walk, for she had noticed the girl’s humiliation, and was anxious to have a few words with her in private.“I am sorry that you should have had such a disagreeable cross-questioning this morning, Dreda,” she began brightly, “but I am sure you will realise that it was necessary. I was obliged to find out what you had been doing before I could make plans for the future. Now that is over, and we can move ahead. You will enjoy working with Susan. She is appreciative and thoughtful—a little slow in taking things in, perhaps, but for the present that will be a good thing, as it will make it all the easier for a quick girl like yourself to catch up to her in class work.” Dreda glanced up sharply.“I! Quick! How do you know?”Miss Drake smiled mischievously.“Oh, very easily—very easily, indeed! I am accustomed to work among girls, and when I get a new pupil I know at once under which category she will fall. When I saw you I said to myself—‘Quick, ambitious, versatile!’ I have no fear that you will fail to do anything to which you persistently give your mind.”“Ah!” groaned Dreda tragically, “but that’s just what I can never do. For a little time—yes! I’m awonderto work when I first get a craze. But—it passes! I get—bored! I’ve never stuck persistently to one thing in my life. The boys call me ‘Etheldreda the Ready,’ because I’m always bubbling over with enthusiasm at the beginning, and willing to promise any mortal thing you like—and then,”—she snapped her fingers in illustration—“Snap! the balloon bursts, and I collapse into nothing. It will be the same thing with lessons!”Miss Drake held up her hand imperatively.“Stop!” she cried clearly. “Stop! Never say that again, neverallowyourself to say it. You know your failing in your own heart, and that is enough! Every time that you put it into words, and talk about it to others, gives it added strength and power and makes it more difficult to fight. My dear girl, you are not a child—how feeble to take for granted that you are going to continue in your old baby failings! Take for granted instead that you are going to live them down, and trample them beneath your feet. You’ll have to fight for it, and to fight hard, but it will do you more good than any lessons I can teach. That’s the best education, isn’t it, to achieve the mastery over ourselves?”Now, if meek Miss Bruce had delivered herself of similar sentiments, Dreda would have tilted her chin and wriggled contemptuously in her chair, muttering concerning “preaching,” and wishing to goodness that the tiresome old thing would stop talking and get on with her work, but Miss Drake wore such a young and gallant air, as she strode along the country lane with her head thrown back, and her uplifted hand waving aloft, that the girl’s ardent nature took flame; she tilted her own head, waved her own arm, and felt a tingling of martial zeal. Yes, she would work! Yes, she would fight! She would tread her enemies under foot and emerge from the conflict victorious, untrammelled, a paragon of virtues. She turned a dazzling smile upon her companion and heaved an ardent sigh.“How beautifully you talk! Our old governess was so different! She did not understand my nature. I have wonderful ambitions, but I am so sensitive that I can’t work against difficulties. I need constant encouragement and appreciation. A sensitive plant—”“Oh, Dreda, please spare me that worn-out simile! Not work against difficulties, indeed! What nonsense you talk! It is not work at all when everything is easy and smooth. Don’t deceive yourself, my dear—you are going to find plenty of difficulties, and to find them quickly, too. This very afternoon they will begin, when you tackle the new subjects and realise your own ignorance. You won’t enjoy being behind your companions.”Dreda threw out her arms with a gesture of despair, but she made no further protest. Difficulties arising in the dim future she felt herself able to face resolutely enough, but the thought that they might begin that very afternoon dispelled her ardour. She listened to Miss Drake’s further utterances with so quelled and dispirited an air that that quick-sighted lady felt that enoughhad been said for the moment, and calling her elder pupils to her side, set the two younger girls free to walk together.It was the moment for which both had been longing, but a mutual shyness held them tongue-tied for the first hundred yards. Naturally it was Dreda who broke the silence.“It was ripping of you to offer to coach me. I don’t believe in learning all those things, but if I must, I must, and it would have been difficult all alone. I hope you don’t mind.”“I want to,” said Susan simply. “I’ve always wanted to do something for you, since the first time we met. It was at a Christmas party at the Rectory and you wore a black frock. I never thought then that you would come to school with us, but I wished you could be my friend. When I’ve made castles in the air they have always been about you, and something we could do together. I sat beside you at supper. Do you remember?”No! Dreda had no recollection of the kind. She and her brothers and sisters had always cherished a secret contempt for the Webster sisters and had sedulously avoided them on every occasion. If Susan had been seated on one side at supper, it followed as a matter of course that Dreda herself had devoted her attention exclusively to whoever sat at the other side. She felt a faint pricking of conscience, and answered tentatively: “It is so long ago. I have a wretched memory. I remember we had lovely crackers at supper—but that’s all. How did you come to notice me?”“Because you were so pretty,” Susan said. “Your sister is pretty too, very pretty, but she does not look so gay. And your brothers—they are such big, handsome boys. You are all handsome, and big, and strong, and have such romantic names. You seemed far more like a family in a book than real, live people. The ‘Story-Book Saxons’—that was always our name for you when we spoke of you between ourselves. Do you think it is nice?”“Very nice, indeed. ‘Story-Book Saxons!’ I must tell Rowena that.” Dreda preened her head complacently. This simple admiration was most refreshing after the humiliations of the morning. “Perhaps wearerather unusual,” she allowed. “Rowena is beautiful when she is in a good temper, and the boys are always bringing home prizes, and being captains in their sports. Maud is stupid, but she has lovely hair, and I, I’m not advanced in lessons—yoursort of lessons—but Miss Bruce says I have a very original mind. When I’m grown up I don’t intend to stodge along in the dull, humdrum fashion most women do. I mean to Do something. To Be something. To live for an Aim!”Susan regarded her with serious eyes.“What sort of aim?”“Oh–h”—Dreda waved her arms with a sweeping movement—“I’ve not decided. There’s plenty of time. But I mean to have a Career, and make my name known in the world.”“Don’t you think,” Susan asked tentatively, “that it is best to have a definite aim and to prepare for it beforehand?”“You talk as if you had an ambition yourself!”“I have!” said Susan quietly.“You mean to be celebrated like me?”“I am going to be an author. I hope I shall be celebrated. I shall try my best, but only time can show how I shall succeed.”“An author!” Dreda repeated disapprovingly. “You! How very odd! I have thought of being an author myself, and we are so different. I believe I could make up a very good story if I’d time. The only difficult part would be writing it out. Fancy perhaps fifty chapters! You’d get sick of them before you were half through, and have writers’ cramp, and all sorts of horriblenesses. We might collaborate, Susan!”Susan smiled, but showed no sign of weakening.“I don’t think that would do. We should never agree about what we wanted to say, but it would be delightful to read our stories aloud to each other, and discuss them together. The first heroine I make shall be exactly like you!”“That’s sweet of you. Begin at once—do! and read each chapter as it’s done.”Susan’s smile was somewhat wistful. She looked in Dreda’s face with anxious eyes, as though waiting for a promise which must surely come, but Dreda remained blankly unresponsive. It never occurred to her for a moment that it could be possible to make a heroine out of Susan Webster!

At twelve o’clock work was laid aside and Miss Drake accompanied the girls for an hour’s constitutional. She claimed Dreda for her companion for the first part of the walk, for she had noticed the girl’s humiliation, and was anxious to have a few words with her in private.

“I am sorry that you should have had such a disagreeable cross-questioning this morning, Dreda,” she began brightly, “but I am sure you will realise that it was necessary. I was obliged to find out what you had been doing before I could make plans for the future. Now that is over, and we can move ahead. You will enjoy working with Susan. She is appreciative and thoughtful—a little slow in taking things in, perhaps, but for the present that will be a good thing, as it will make it all the easier for a quick girl like yourself to catch up to her in class work.” Dreda glanced up sharply.

“I! Quick! How do you know?”

Miss Drake smiled mischievously.

“Oh, very easily—very easily, indeed! I am accustomed to work among girls, and when I get a new pupil I know at once under which category she will fall. When I saw you I said to myself—‘Quick, ambitious, versatile!’ I have no fear that you will fail to do anything to which you persistently give your mind.”

“Ah!” groaned Dreda tragically, “but that’s just what I can never do. For a little time—yes! I’m awonderto work when I first get a craze. But—it passes! I get—bored! I’ve never stuck persistently to one thing in my life. The boys call me ‘Etheldreda the Ready,’ because I’m always bubbling over with enthusiasm at the beginning, and willing to promise any mortal thing you like—and then,”—she snapped her fingers in illustration—“Snap! the balloon bursts, and I collapse into nothing. It will be the same thing with lessons!”

Miss Drake held up her hand imperatively.

“Stop!” she cried clearly. “Stop! Never say that again, neverallowyourself to say it. You know your failing in your own heart, and that is enough! Every time that you put it into words, and talk about it to others, gives it added strength and power and makes it more difficult to fight. My dear girl, you are not a child—how feeble to take for granted that you are going to continue in your old baby failings! Take for granted instead that you are going to live them down, and trample them beneath your feet. You’ll have to fight for it, and to fight hard, but it will do you more good than any lessons I can teach. That’s the best education, isn’t it, to achieve the mastery over ourselves?”

Now, if meek Miss Bruce had delivered herself of similar sentiments, Dreda would have tilted her chin and wriggled contemptuously in her chair, muttering concerning “preaching,” and wishing to goodness that the tiresome old thing would stop talking and get on with her work, but Miss Drake wore such a young and gallant air, as she strode along the country lane with her head thrown back, and her uplifted hand waving aloft, that the girl’s ardent nature took flame; she tilted her own head, waved her own arm, and felt a tingling of martial zeal. Yes, she would work! Yes, she would fight! She would tread her enemies under foot and emerge from the conflict victorious, untrammelled, a paragon of virtues. She turned a dazzling smile upon her companion and heaved an ardent sigh.

“How beautifully you talk! Our old governess was so different! She did not understand my nature. I have wonderful ambitions, but I am so sensitive that I can’t work against difficulties. I need constant encouragement and appreciation. A sensitive plant—”

“Oh, Dreda, please spare me that worn-out simile! Not work against difficulties, indeed! What nonsense you talk! It is not work at all when everything is easy and smooth. Don’t deceive yourself, my dear—you are going to find plenty of difficulties, and to find them quickly, too. This very afternoon they will begin, when you tackle the new subjects and realise your own ignorance. You won’t enjoy being behind your companions.”

Dreda threw out her arms with a gesture of despair, but she made no further protest. Difficulties arising in the dim future she felt herself able to face resolutely enough, but the thought that they might begin that very afternoon dispelled her ardour. She listened to Miss Drake’s further utterances with so quelled and dispirited an air that that quick-sighted lady felt that enoughhad been said for the moment, and calling her elder pupils to her side, set the two younger girls free to walk together.

It was the moment for which both had been longing, but a mutual shyness held them tongue-tied for the first hundred yards. Naturally it was Dreda who broke the silence.

“It was ripping of you to offer to coach me. I don’t believe in learning all those things, but if I must, I must, and it would have been difficult all alone. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I want to,” said Susan simply. “I’ve always wanted to do something for you, since the first time we met. It was at a Christmas party at the Rectory and you wore a black frock. I never thought then that you would come to school with us, but I wished you could be my friend. When I’ve made castles in the air they have always been about you, and something we could do together. I sat beside you at supper. Do you remember?”

No! Dreda had no recollection of the kind. She and her brothers and sisters had always cherished a secret contempt for the Webster sisters and had sedulously avoided them on every occasion. If Susan had been seated on one side at supper, it followed as a matter of course that Dreda herself had devoted her attention exclusively to whoever sat at the other side. She felt a faint pricking of conscience, and answered tentatively: “It is so long ago. I have a wretched memory. I remember we had lovely crackers at supper—but that’s all. How did you come to notice me?”

“Because you were so pretty,” Susan said. “Your sister is pretty too, very pretty, but she does not look so gay. And your brothers—they are such big, handsome boys. You are all handsome, and big, and strong, and have such romantic names. You seemed far more like a family in a book than real, live people. The ‘Story-Book Saxons’—that was always our name for you when we spoke of you between ourselves. Do you think it is nice?”

“Very nice, indeed. ‘Story-Book Saxons!’ I must tell Rowena that.” Dreda preened her head complacently. This simple admiration was most refreshing after the humiliations of the morning. “Perhaps wearerather unusual,” she allowed. “Rowena is beautiful when she is in a good temper, and the boys are always bringing home prizes, and being captains in their sports. Maud is stupid, but she has lovely hair, and I, I’m not advanced in lessons—yoursort of lessons—but Miss Bruce says I have a very original mind. When I’m grown up I don’t intend to stodge along in the dull, humdrum fashion most women do. I mean to Do something. To Be something. To live for an Aim!”

Susan regarded her with serious eyes.

“What sort of aim?”

“Oh–h”—Dreda waved her arms with a sweeping movement—“I’ve not decided. There’s plenty of time. But I mean to have a Career, and make my name known in the world.”

“Don’t you think,” Susan asked tentatively, “that it is best to have a definite aim and to prepare for it beforehand?”

“You talk as if you had an ambition yourself!”

“I have!” said Susan quietly.

“You mean to be celebrated like me?”

“I am going to be an author. I hope I shall be celebrated. I shall try my best, but only time can show how I shall succeed.”

“An author!” Dreda repeated disapprovingly. “You! How very odd! I have thought of being an author myself, and we are so different. I believe I could make up a very good story if I’d time. The only difficult part would be writing it out. Fancy perhaps fifty chapters! You’d get sick of them before you were half through, and have writers’ cramp, and all sorts of horriblenesses. We might collaborate, Susan!”

Susan smiled, but showed no sign of weakening.

“I don’t think that would do. We should never agree about what we wanted to say, but it would be delightful to read our stories aloud to each other, and discuss them together. The first heroine I make shall be exactly like you!”

“That’s sweet of you. Begin at once—do! and read each chapter as it’s done.”

Susan’s smile was somewhat wistful. She looked in Dreda’s face with anxious eyes, as though waiting for a promise which must surely come, but Dreda remained blankly unresponsive. It never occurred to her for a moment that it could be possible to make a heroine out of Susan Webster!

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