Chapter Fourteen.The synopsis had disappeared! Incredible though it seemed, it was but too true. For the first few minutes Dreda was too much stunned to move from her seat, but presently with a painful effort after self-possession, she arose, and began hastily lifting the contents of the desk, and dropping them one by one on the floor. In this way it seemed impossible to overlook anything, but still no sign of the shining black cover met her sight. She scooped everything together with impatient fingers, pushed them back into the desk, and ran breathlessly into the study.The girls were amusing themselves in various fashions after the fatigues of “prep.,” but one and all looked round with expressions of astonishment at the violent opening of the door which heralded the unexpected appearance of the sub-editor, white-cheeked, and tragic of demeanour.“What in the world’s the matter?”“The list! The synopsis! It’s gone! It was in my desk. Miss Drake sent me for it. She is waiting for me now, and it’sgone: I can’t find it. Has anyone moved it? Does anyone know where it’s gone?”The girls’ faces lengthened; there was a moment’s tense silence, then everyone spoke at once.“Dreda! How dreadful! Are yousure? In your desk? No one would take it out of your desk!”“Dreda! You arealwaysmislaying your things. You have put it somewhere else.Think! Remember your keys! You vowed you had put them in your glove drawer, and they were found in the box with your best hat.”“Have you been upstairs to look in your cubicle?”Dreda stamped with impatience.“Of course I haven’t. My cubicle, indeed! As if I would keep a book there! It was in my desk, I tell you. I left it there last night. I saw it with my own eyes this morning. Oh! don’t ask silly questions—don’t waste time. She is waiting for me. What am I to do?”“Come!” cried Susan quickly, and sped upstairs towards the classroom, while Dreda followed hard in her wake, leaving the other girls to discuss the situation round the fire. The universal impression was that Dreda had stowed away the book in some hiding-place, and had promptly forgotten all about it. She was always doing it; never a day arrived but she went about inquiring in melancholy accents if anyone had seen her indiarubber, her penknife, her keys, her gloves. She was always leaving things about, and, upon suddenly discovering their presence, popping them into impromptu hiding-places to save running upstairs—behind a photograph, in an empty flower-pot, beneath a mat or cushion, anywhere and everywhere, as circumstances prompted. Nothing was certain but that nine times out of ten she would forget the whole incident, and would have no better clue to help her in her search after the missing article than that she had put it “somewhere!”“Poor old Dreda!” said Barbara sympathetically. “Hard lines, when she has worked so hard! The Duck will be down upon her like a ton of bricks. She loathes untidiness. Poor old Dreda—she’ll get a rowing instead of praise. It’s tragic when you think of that fine cover, and all the beautiful black letters!”“She’s been an awful bore. It will do her good to be taken down a bit.”“Poor Dreda all the same. Things that do you good are soverydisagreeable. I like her enthusiasm, when it doesn’t interfere with me! And she’s a real good sort. A bore at times, but a good little meaner.”“It’s no use meaning, if you don’t perform, where The Duck is concerned. I wouldn’t be in her shoes.”Meanwhile Dreda had turned out the contents of her desk for a second time, while Susan stood anxiously looking on. When the last paper had fluttered to the ground, the two girls faced one another in eloquent silence.“It isn’t there,” said Susan at last. “There must be some mistake. Think, dear! Are youquitesure that you put it here, and nowhere else? What did you do after you finished binding the papers? Where did you go? Think of everything you did.”“But I did nothing!” cried Dreda miserably. “I only dressed and went down to supper. I never took it out of this room at all—I’m certain, positive—as certain as I’m alive!”“But we could look. It is worth while looking. We must find it!”But at this very moment the door of Miss Drake’s room opened, and a quick voice called out a summons.“Dreda! I am waiting. Kindly come at once.”The colour ebbed still further from Dreda’s cheeks, her eyes grew wide and tragic, she extended her hands towards Susan, as if mutely appealing for help, and felt them clasped with a strong protecting pressure.“You must go, but I’ll search. I’m a good looker, you know. Poor darling! Itishard, but I’ll help—Iwillhelp.”Then Etheldreda the Ready threw her arms round her friend’s neck and cried brokenly:“Susan, dear Susan, you are good, and I love you! I was horrid about the editorship... You would have been far better than I. This is my punishment—I have brought it on my own head.”Her voice was so sweet, her eyes so liquid and loving, she drew herself up and marched to her doom with so gallant an air, that her faithful admirer thought instinctively of the martyrs of old. She turned and ran hurriedly upstairs.Meantime Miss Drake sat looking towards the door with an impatient frown. The frown deepened at sight of Dreda’s empty hands, and she tapped on the table with the end of her pencil. Dreda’s heart sank still further at the sound which Miss Drake’s pupils had learnt to associate with their blackest hours.“You have kept me waiting for ten minutes, Dreda. Where is your manuscript? I have no time to waste.”“I—I—can’t—I can’t find it, Miss Drake.”Miss Drake leant back in her chair and became in a moment a monument of outraged dignity. Looking at her, it was impossible to believe that one had even ventured on the liberty of calling her by so familiar an epithet as “The Duck.” She turned her long neck from side to side, elevated her eyebrows, and cleared her throat in an ominous manner.“I am afraid I don’t understand. You told me a few minutes ago that everything was ready.”“So it was. In my desk. I left it there last night—I went to find it just now, and—it’s gone! Disappeared. I can’tthinkwhat has happened. It was bound like a book. It looked beautiful. It’s not my fault!”“Nonsense, Etheldreda!” cried Miss Drake sharply. “If you had put it in your desk, it would be there still. This is just another example of your careless, unmethodical habits. You have put the book in some unlikely, out-of-the-way corner, and have forgotten all about it. I feared somecontretempsof the kind, and was much relieved when you told me that all was ready. I am very much disappointed and annoyed!”“Miss Drake, itwasthere! I’m absolutely positive. I never was surer of anything in my life than that I left it there last night, and saw it again this morning.”Miss Drake shrugged her shoulders expressively.“Extravagant assertions do not prove anything, Etheldreda. In a case of this sort I judge by previous experience. I have repeatedly warned you about your careless habits, but apparently without success. In this case you had a responsibility to fulfil for others as well as yourself, which should have made you doubly careful. You had better continue your search in the other rooms.”“It is no good, Miss Drake. The bookwasin the desk.”Dreda kept her place stolidly, and there was a settled conviction upon her face which Miss Drake was quick to note. She watched the girl in silence for several moments, her brow knitted in thought, then suddenly her expression softened and her voice regained its habitual kindly tone.“If you put it there, my dear child, it must be there still. Perhaps it is! I know your sketchy fashion of looking. See! I will come and help you to look again. Perhaps we shall find the book hidden away in a corner where you have never thought of looking!”Dreda thought ruefully of the scattering of her treasures which had twice over left the desk bare and empty, but it seemed easier to allow Miss Drake to see for herself than to protest any further; so she meekly opened the door and followed the governess down the passage. From above could be heard the voices of the girls ascending to dress for the evening; doors opened and shut, and echoes of suppressed laughter floated to the ear. Everybody, Dreda reflected darkly—everybody was happy but herself! She led the way to her desk and opened the lid, revealing the confused mass of books and papers. She was miserably resigned to receiving yet another lecture on untidiness, but The Duck smiled in a forbearing fashion, and said:“Youhavebeen making hay of your possessions! No wonder you could not find what you wanted. Now what was this book like? You said that the papers were bound.”“A shiny black cover with a paper label on the back.”Miss Drake lifted up the loose papers with her pretty white hands, laid them daintily on one side, and proceeded to examine the exercise books one by one, while Dreda stood by in hopeless silence. One might search all day and all night, but it was impossible to find what was not there. Her eyes looked listlessly on the map book, the arithmetic book, the French exercise book; even the big untidy note book roused no flicker of animation, though if it chanced to fall open it would reveal caricature drawings of school authorities which must needs draw confusion upon her head. She would never have the heart to draw caricatures again! The thick book with the mottled cover contained the compositions which had won praise and distinction. She had felt so proud of the “Excellent” written in pencilled letters at the end of the final sentences. Never again would she know what it was to be happy and gay! The big drawing-book must have suffered from its fall—for the leaves appeared to be bent and doubled back. Dreda felt the calm indifference of despair, but Miss Drake frowned and made a clicking sound of disapproval.“My dear! Your drawing-book! You are really incorri—”She stopped short in the middle of the word, for the moment that the drawing-book was opened her quick eye had caught sight of a shiny black cover behind the crumpled papers. She lifted it rapidly, saw the printed label on the back, and held it out towards her pupil with a mingling of triumph and impatience.“My dear Dreda! What did I tell you? All this fuss for nothing. You are really too trying. Why didn’t you look properly before coming to me?”Dreda’s exclamation of bewilderment was echoed by another, as Susan entered the room on her return from her unsuccessful search upstairs. She added her own quiet testimony to Dreda’s excited protestations that the synopsis was not, could not conceivably have been in the desk when she had turned it out ten minutes before, but Miss Drake refused to listen. Her temper was ruffled, she enforced silence with an imperative gesture, bade Dreda follow her to the study, and seated herself at her desk with her most severe and school-mistressy expression.As for Dreda, she feebly dropped into a chair and sat staring blankly before her, the image of limp dejection. The very stars in their courses seemed conspiring to fight against her, for no ordinary, every-day reason could explain the extraordinary happenings of this afternoon! She was so stunned and bewildered that she forgot to watch the effect of the great synopsis on the Editor-in-chief, and so missed a delightful study in expressions, as The Duck’s irritation gave place to smiles and dimpling spasms of amusement. It was only after she had finished the reading (after all the labour of production what a short time it took to read), and had asked a word of explanation, that Dreda seemed suddenly galvanised into fresh life, but as usual with her, when the awakening came, it came with a vengeance. She leapt to her feet, and disregarding the question, launched her thunderbolt with dramatic vehemence.“Miss Drake, I wish to resign being editor.”“Do you, Etheldreda? Why?”The voice was so calm, Miss Drake’s whole manner so devoid of surprise or chagrin, that Dreda felt as if a douche of cold water had been suddenly poured down her back. No kindly protests, no encouragement, no sympathy. Nothing but that cool, level “Why?” She stood gaping and hesitating, for in truth it was hard to answer. To say that she was sick of the whole thing because she had encountered a few initial difficulties and worries seemed mean and poor-spirited, and Dreda could not think so lightly of herself. In the minute of hesitation she had lightly brushed aside difficulties, and felt a swelling of righteous renunciation.“Because—I want Susan to take it. She would do better than I.”“Have you only just discovered that, Dreda?”The question was put in a tone which Dreda had never heard before from Miss Drake’s lips—a tone so tender, so gentle and conciliatory, that it startled as much as the words themselves. Dreda stared, the colour paling on her cheeks, her hands clenched at the back of her chair. What did it mean? Susan had volunteered her services, and Miss Drake had deliberately rejected them in favour of herself, and now she said, she implied— The girl’s lips quivered as she spoke again:“Youchoseme!”“Why?” asked Miss Drake once more, in the same gentle voice. “Why, Dreda? Think a moment! Does it not occur to you, dear, that I might have chosen you, not because the work neededyou, but because you needed the work? Your duties called for patience, and perseverance, and method, and punctuality, and neatness, and tact—all qualities which needed development in your case; while in Susan’s—”“You would rather have had Susan! You didn’t really want me at all!”The bitter disappointment in the girl’s voice went to the hearer’s heart. It was one of the hardest tasks which she had ever had to perform to answer truthfully, and so give another pang to the sensitive young heart. The colour rose on her cheeks and her brows twitched nervously, but she would not allow herself to prevaricate.“Yes, Dreda, dear. For the sake of the work I should have preferred Susan, but I wanted to help you to get the better of your failings. I wanted it so much that I was prepared to undertake the extra work which your carelessness might involve, for the magazine could not be allowed to suffer. I am afraid it is painful to you, dear, to hear this, but if your vanity is wounded, you can comfort yourself with the remembrance that I was so much interested in you, so anxious for your improvement, that I rejected a most capable helper on your account.”“Thank you!” sighed Dreda faintly. There was not a sign of irritation or resentment in her manner, and her thanks were evidently genuine. She might have posed as an image of humility and abasement as she stood with bowed head and downcast eyes before the desk. The swing of the pendulum had brought her into the valley of humiliation, and in characteristic fashion she felt a melancholy pleasure in playing her part as thoroughly as possible. “Thank you. You are very good. I am very grateful. We have to learn our lessons in life, I suppose, but it’s hard at the time. It’s been a greatshock, but it’s good for me, I suppose. I can never be careless again. I’ve read in books about something happening and finishing the girl’s youth. I feel like that now! You meant me to learn, and Ihavelearnt, so there’s no need to go on. You can have Susan, and no more bother—”Miss Drake’s lips twitched in a smile which fortunately Dreda did not see.“I think not, Dreda. I should prefer to keep to present arrangements. If you have really learnt your lessons so quickly there will be no ‘bother’ to fear. You may go now, dear. We will discuss the synopsis later on. I dare say you will like to have a little quiet time before dinner. Come to me to-morrow at the same hour.”Dreda backed silently from the room a picture of tragic despair, and slowly mounted to the dormitory where the faithful Susan awaited her coming. The two girls faced one another in silence for several moments before Dreda spoke.“Susan! on your word of honour will you answer me a question truthfully?”“Yes, Dreda, of course I will.”“Why did you offer to be sub-editor after I had asked?”Poor Susan! The freckles disappeared in a crimson blush which mounted to her temples, and tinged her very neck beneath the stiff brown band. She twisted her fingers together, and stammered incoherent nothings.“Go on! You promised. The truth, and nothing but the truth.”“Dreda, dear—”“Go on! I’m prepared. I’ve suffered so much humiliation already that a little more or less doesn’t matter. Well?”“I thought—I was afraid—I didn’t want you to get into trouble, dear. You are so clever, and original, and sparkling, it is natural that you should get tired. I am just a dull, plodding old machine.”Dreda bent her tall young head and kissed her friend with an air of humble adoration.“You are good and true, and I wronged you. I thought you were as despicable as myself. All my life long I shall try to be worthy of your forgiveness. My heart’s broken, Susan! Everyone despises me in this school, and I’ve an enemy, a secret enemy, who is hiding like a snake in the grass. You know perfectly well that that book was not in the desk when we looked!”Susan was silent. She was as sure of the fact as it was possible to be, but her cautious nature reminded her of the possibility of mistake, and she would not venture on a definite assertion.“Ithoughtit was not; Ithoughtwe turned out everything.”“Iknowwe did! It was the work of mine enemy. Some day I’ll discover her, and then—”Susan looked sharply upwards.“What then?”“I’ll heap coals of fire on her head! I’ll forgive her, and try to lead her into better ways. That’s all that’s left to me now—to be a beacon to others!” Dreda’s voice shook, her composure breaking down before the force of her own eloquence. She sank down on her bed, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh! Oh! My heart will break. If it wasn’t for the exeat next week I should lie down and die. I’m going home! They love me there. I never, never valued it before. I’m going home to mother and the girls!”
The synopsis had disappeared! Incredible though it seemed, it was but too true. For the first few minutes Dreda was too much stunned to move from her seat, but presently with a painful effort after self-possession, she arose, and began hastily lifting the contents of the desk, and dropping them one by one on the floor. In this way it seemed impossible to overlook anything, but still no sign of the shining black cover met her sight. She scooped everything together with impatient fingers, pushed them back into the desk, and ran breathlessly into the study.
The girls were amusing themselves in various fashions after the fatigues of “prep.,” but one and all looked round with expressions of astonishment at the violent opening of the door which heralded the unexpected appearance of the sub-editor, white-cheeked, and tragic of demeanour.
“What in the world’s the matter?”
“The list! The synopsis! It’s gone! It was in my desk. Miss Drake sent me for it. She is waiting for me now, and it’sgone: I can’t find it. Has anyone moved it? Does anyone know where it’s gone?”
The girls’ faces lengthened; there was a moment’s tense silence, then everyone spoke at once.
“Dreda! How dreadful! Are yousure? In your desk? No one would take it out of your desk!”
“Dreda! You arealwaysmislaying your things. You have put it somewhere else.Think! Remember your keys! You vowed you had put them in your glove drawer, and they were found in the box with your best hat.”
“Have you been upstairs to look in your cubicle?”
Dreda stamped with impatience.
“Of course I haven’t. My cubicle, indeed! As if I would keep a book there! It was in my desk, I tell you. I left it there last night. I saw it with my own eyes this morning. Oh! don’t ask silly questions—don’t waste time. She is waiting for me. What am I to do?”
“Come!” cried Susan quickly, and sped upstairs towards the classroom, while Dreda followed hard in her wake, leaving the other girls to discuss the situation round the fire. The universal impression was that Dreda had stowed away the book in some hiding-place, and had promptly forgotten all about it. She was always doing it; never a day arrived but she went about inquiring in melancholy accents if anyone had seen her indiarubber, her penknife, her keys, her gloves. She was always leaving things about, and, upon suddenly discovering their presence, popping them into impromptu hiding-places to save running upstairs—behind a photograph, in an empty flower-pot, beneath a mat or cushion, anywhere and everywhere, as circumstances prompted. Nothing was certain but that nine times out of ten she would forget the whole incident, and would have no better clue to help her in her search after the missing article than that she had put it “somewhere!”
“Poor old Dreda!” said Barbara sympathetically. “Hard lines, when she has worked so hard! The Duck will be down upon her like a ton of bricks. She loathes untidiness. Poor old Dreda—she’ll get a rowing instead of praise. It’s tragic when you think of that fine cover, and all the beautiful black letters!”
“She’s been an awful bore. It will do her good to be taken down a bit.”
“Poor Dreda all the same. Things that do you good are soverydisagreeable. I like her enthusiasm, when it doesn’t interfere with me! And she’s a real good sort. A bore at times, but a good little meaner.”
“It’s no use meaning, if you don’t perform, where The Duck is concerned. I wouldn’t be in her shoes.”
Meanwhile Dreda had turned out the contents of her desk for a second time, while Susan stood anxiously looking on. When the last paper had fluttered to the ground, the two girls faced one another in eloquent silence.
“It isn’t there,” said Susan at last. “There must be some mistake. Think, dear! Are youquitesure that you put it here, and nowhere else? What did you do after you finished binding the papers? Where did you go? Think of everything you did.”
“But I did nothing!” cried Dreda miserably. “I only dressed and went down to supper. I never took it out of this room at all—I’m certain, positive—as certain as I’m alive!”
“But we could look. It is worth while looking. We must find it!”
But at this very moment the door of Miss Drake’s room opened, and a quick voice called out a summons.
“Dreda! I am waiting. Kindly come at once.”
The colour ebbed still further from Dreda’s cheeks, her eyes grew wide and tragic, she extended her hands towards Susan, as if mutely appealing for help, and felt them clasped with a strong protecting pressure.
“You must go, but I’ll search. I’m a good looker, you know. Poor darling! Itishard, but I’ll help—Iwillhelp.”
Then Etheldreda the Ready threw her arms round her friend’s neck and cried brokenly:
“Susan, dear Susan, you are good, and I love you! I was horrid about the editorship... You would have been far better than I. This is my punishment—I have brought it on my own head.”
Her voice was so sweet, her eyes so liquid and loving, she drew herself up and marched to her doom with so gallant an air, that her faithful admirer thought instinctively of the martyrs of old. She turned and ran hurriedly upstairs.
Meantime Miss Drake sat looking towards the door with an impatient frown. The frown deepened at sight of Dreda’s empty hands, and she tapped on the table with the end of her pencil. Dreda’s heart sank still further at the sound which Miss Drake’s pupils had learnt to associate with their blackest hours.
“You have kept me waiting for ten minutes, Dreda. Where is your manuscript? I have no time to waste.”
“I—I—can’t—I can’t find it, Miss Drake.”
Miss Drake leant back in her chair and became in a moment a monument of outraged dignity. Looking at her, it was impossible to believe that one had even ventured on the liberty of calling her by so familiar an epithet as “The Duck.” She turned her long neck from side to side, elevated her eyebrows, and cleared her throat in an ominous manner.
“I am afraid I don’t understand. You told me a few minutes ago that everything was ready.”
“So it was. In my desk. I left it there last night—I went to find it just now, and—it’s gone! Disappeared. I can’tthinkwhat has happened. It was bound like a book. It looked beautiful. It’s not my fault!”
“Nonsense, Etheldreda!” cried Miss Drake sharply. “If you had put it in your desk, it would be there still. This is just another example of your careless, unmethodical habits. You have put the book in some unlikely, out-of-the-way corner, and have forgotten all about it. I feared somecontretempsof the kind, and was much relieved when you told me that all was ready. I am very much disappointed and annoyed!”
“Miss Drake, itwasthere! I’m absolutely positive. I never was surer of anything in my life than that I left it there last night, and saw it again this morning.”
Miss Drake shrugged her shoulders expressively.
“Extravagant assertions do not prove anything, Etheldreda. In a case of this sort I judge by previous experience. I have repeatedly warned you about your careless habits, but apparently without success. In this case you had a responsibility to fulfil for others as well as yourself, which should have made you doubly careful. You had better continue your search in the other rooms.”
“It is no good, Miss Drake. The bookwasin the desk.”
Dreda kept her place stolidly, and there was a settled conviction upon her face which Miss Drake was quick to note. She watched the girl in silence for several moments, her brow knitted in thought, then suddenly her expression softened and her voice regained its habitual kindly tone.
“If you put it there, my dear child, it must be there still. Perhaps it is! I know your sketchy fashion of looking. See! I will come and help you to look again. Perhaps we shall find the book hidden away in a corner where you have never thought of looking!”
Dreda thought ruefully of the scattering of her treasures which had twice over left the desk bare and empty, but it seemed easier to allow Miss Drake to see for herself than to protest any further; so she meekly opened the door and followed the governess down the passage. From above could be heard the voices of the girls ascending to dress for the evening; doors opened and shut, and echoes of suppressed laughter floated to the ear. Everybody, Dreda reflected darkly—everybody was happy but herself! She led the way to her desk and opened the lid, revealing the confused mass of books and papers. She was miserably resigned to receiving yet another lecture on untidiness, but The Duck smiled in a forbearing fashion, and said:
“Youhavebeen making hay of your possessions! No wonder you could not find what you wanted. Now what was this book like? You said that the papers were bound.”
“A shiny black cover with a paper label on the back.”
Miss Drake lifted up the loose papers with her pretty white hands, laid them daintily on one side, and proceeded to examine the exercise books one by one, while Dreda stood by in hopeless silence. One might search all day and all night, but it was impossible to find what was not there. Her eyes looked listlessly on the map book, the arithmetic book, the French exercise book; even the big untidy note book roused no flicker of animation, though if it chanced to fall open it would reveal caricature drawings of school authorities which must needs draw confusion upon her head. She would never have the heart to draw caricatures again! The thick book with the mottled cover contained the compositions which had won praise and distinction. She had felt so proud of the “Excellent” written in pencilled letters at the end of the final sentences. Never again would she know what it was to be happy and gay! The big drawing-book must have suffered from its fall—for the leaves appeared to be bent and doubled back. Dreda felt the calm indifference of despair, but Miss Drake frowned and made a clicking sound of disapproval.
“My dear! Your drawing-book! You are really incorri—”
She stopped short in the middle of the word, for the moment that the drawing-book was opened her quick eye had caught sight of a shiny black cover behind the crumpled papers. She lifted it rapidly, saw the printed label on the back, and held it out towards her pupil with a mingling of triumph and impatience.
“My dear Dreda! What did I tell you? All this fuss for nothing. You are really too trying. Why didn’t you look properly before coming to me?”
Dreda’s exclamation of bewilderment was echoed by another, as Susan entered the room on her return from her unsuccessful search upstairs. She added her own quiet testimony to Dreda’s excited protestations that the synopsis was not, could not conceivably have been in the desk when she had turned it out ten minutes before, but Miss Drake refused to listen. Her temper was ruffled, she enforced silence with an imperative gesture, bade Dreda follow her to the study, and seated herself at her desk with her most severe and school-mistressy expression.
As for Dreda, she feebly dropped into a chair and sat staring blankly before her, the image of limp dejection. The very stars in their courses seemed conspiring to fight against her, for no ordinary, every-day reason could explain the extraordinary happenings of this afternoon! She was so stunned and bewildered that she forgot to watch the effect of the great synopsis on the Editor-in-chief, and so missed a delightful study in expressions, as The Duck’s irritation gave place to smiles and dimpling spasms of amusement. It was only after she had finished the reading (after all the labour of production what a short time it took to read), and had asked a word of explanation, that Dreda seemed suddenly galvanised into fresh life, but as usual with her, when the awakening came, it came with a vengeance. She leapt to her feet, and disregarding the question, launched her thunderbolt with dramatic vehemence.
“Miss Drake, I wish to resign being editor.”
“Do you, Etheldreda? Why?”
The voice was so calm, Miss Drake’s whole manner so devoid of surprise or chagrin, that Dreda felt as if a douche of cold water had been suddenly poured down her back. No kindly protests, no encouragement, no sympathy. Nothing but that cool, level “Why?” She stood gaping and hesitating, for in truth it was hard to answer. To say that she was sick of the whole thing because she had encountered a few initial difficulties and worries seemed mean and poor-spirited, and Dreda could not think so lightly of herself. In the minute of hesitation she had lightly brushed aside difficulties, and felt a swelling of righteous renunciation.
“Because—I want Susan to take it. She would do better than I.”
“Have you only just discovered that, Dreda?”
The question was put in a tone which Dreda had never heard before from Miss Drake’s lips—a tone so tender, so gentle and conciliatory, that it startled as much as the words themselves. Dreda stared, the colour paling on her cheeks, her hands clenched at the back of her chair. What did it mean? Susan had volunteered her services, and Miss Drake had deliberately rejected them in favour of herself, and now she said, she implied— The girl’s lips quivered as she spoke again:
“Youchoseme!”
“Why?” asked Miss Drake once more, in the same gentle voice. “Why, Dreda? Think a moment! Does it not occur to you, dear, that I might have chosen you, not because the work neededyou, but because you needed the work? Your duties called for patience, and perseverance, and method, and punctuality, and neatness, and tact—all qualities which needed development in your case; while in Susan’s—”
“You would rather have had Susan! You didn’t really want me at all!”
The bitter disappointment in the girl’s voice went to the hearer’s heart. It was one of the hardest tasks which she had ever had to perform to answer truthfully, and so give another pang to the sensitive young heart. The colour rose on her cheeks and her brows twitched nervously, but she would not allow herself to prevaricate.
“Yes, Dreda, dear. For the sake of the work I should have preferred Susan, but I wanted to help you to get the better of your failings. I wanted it so much that I was prepared to undertake the extra work which your carelessness might involve, for the magazine could not be allowed to suffer. I am afraid it is painful to you, dear, to hear this, but if your vanity is wounded, you can comfort yourself with the remembrance that I was so much interested in you, so anxious for your improvement, that I rejected a most capable helper on your account.”
“Thank you!” sighed Dreda faintly. There was not a sign of irritation or resentment in her manner, and her thanks were evidently genuine. She might have posed as an image of humility and abasement as she stood with bowed head and downcast eyes before the desk. The swing of the pendulum had brought her into the valley of humiliation, and in characteristic fashion she felt a melancholy pleasure in playing her part as thoroughly as possible. “Thank you. You are very good. I am very grateful. We have to learn our lessons in life, I suppose, but it’s hard at the time. It’s been a greatshock, but it’s good for me, I suppose. I can never be careless again. I’ve read in books about something happening and finishing the girl’s youth. I feel like that now! You meant me to learn, and Ihavelearnt, so there’s no need to go on. You can have Susan, and no more bother—”
Miss Drake’s lips twitched in a smile which fortunately Dreda did not see.
“I think not, Dreda. I should prefer to keep to present arrangements. If you have really learnt your lessons so quickly there will be no ‘bother’ to fear. You may go now, dear. We will discuss the synopsis later on. I dare say you will like to have a little quiet time before dinner. Come to me to-morrow at the same hour.”
Dreda backed silently from the room a picture of tragic despair, and slowly mounted to the dormitory where the faithful Susan awaited her coming. The two girls faced one another in silence for several moments before Dreda spoke.
“Susan! on your word of honour will you answer me a question truthfully?”
“Yes, Dreda, of course I will.”
“Why did you offer to be sub-editor after I had asked?”
Poor Susan! The freckles disappeared in a crimson blush which mounted to her temples, and tinged her very neck beneath the stiff brown band. She twisted her fingers together, and stammered incoherent nothings.
“Go on! You promised. The truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Dreda, dear—”
“Go on! I’m prepared. I’ve suffered so much humiliation already that a little more or less doesn’t matter. Well?”
“I thought—I was afraid—I didn’t want you to get into trouble, dear. You are so clever, and original, and sparkling, it is natural that you should get tired. I am just a dull, plodding old machine.”
Dreda bent her tall young head and kissed her friend with an air of humble adoration.
“You are good and true, and I wronged you. I thought you were as despicable as myself. All my life long I shall try to be worthy of your forgiveness. My heart’s broken, Susan! Everyone despises me in this school, and I’ve an enemy, a secret enemy, who is hiding like a snake in the grass. You know perfectly well that that book was not in the desk when we looked!”
Susan was silent. She was as sure of the fact as it was possible to be, but her cautious nature reminded her of the possibility of mistake, and she would not venture on a definite assertion.
“Ithoughtit was not; Ithoughtwe turned out everything.”
“Iknowwe did! It was the work of mine enemy. Some day I’ll discover her, and then—”
Susan looked sharply upwards.
“What then?”
“I’ll heap coals of fire on her head! I’ll forgive her, and try to lead her into better ways. That’s all that’s left to me now—to be a beacon to others!” Dreda’s voice shook, her composure breaking down before the force of her own eloquence. She sank down on her bed, and the tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh! Oh! My heart will break. If it wasn’t for the exeat next week I should lie down and die. I’m going home! They love me there. I never, never valued it before. I’m going home to mother and the girls!”
Chapter Fifteen.It was a very subdued, a very humble, a touchingly affectionate Etheldreda who made her appearance at The Meads a few days later, and her mother and sisters regarded her demeanour with anxious curiosity.“Poor darling, poor darling! She is so sweet and quiet—I’m glad, of course;veryglad,” repeated Mrs Saxon, with a forced emphasis, which seemed to show that she needed to convince herself of her own sincerity, “but it seems so short a time to have brought about such a change. I’m afraid she has been unhappy!”Rowena stared thoughtfully at the fire. Her face looked older, the cheeks less rounded, the red lips dropping at the corner. She was a beautiful girl, but the old sparkle had given place to an air of weary endurance sad to see on a young face. At the moment when she had expected most of life, she had been obliged to give up her dreams, and to accept in their place a monotonous, uneventful existence, which left too much time for the indulgence of her own thoughts. The weather was depressing, visitors few and far between, and, from a girl’s point of view, lacking in interest when they did arrive. Maud was stupid and obstinate, Dreda and the boys at school, and the parents depressed. Lessons, walking, and practising occupied the days until four o’clock, then the curtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and each afternoon afresh Rowena counted up the long hours which must elapse before bedtime, and asked herself how she could get through the time. Poor Rowena! She had counted the days until Dreda’s return, and now felt yet another pang of depression at meeting this subdued edition of her lively sister. She sighed in melancholy, long-drawn fashion, while Maud wriggled and grimaced.“I expect she’smisunderstood. There’s lots of people are, besides the book. I know One who is. She’s misunderstood by people who think they know best, and are always scolding and finding fault. ‘’Tis better far to rule by love than fear.’Ishall, when I’m big. You could do something then, but when people are always grumbling, it’s no use trying. I expect Dreda has some one like that, and it’s broken her spirit. If you don’t let her leave, she’ll pine away and die!”“Is that what you contemplate doing yourself beneath the persecution of the people, or person, to whom you so eloquently refer? I must give you a lesson in nominatives to-morrow, my dear. They are evidently another point which is misunderstood,” retorted Rowena with cutting composure. It was one of the little encounters which was daily, almost hourly, taking place between the two sisters, whose widely differing dispositions seemed to jar more than ever in the close relationship of teacher and pupil. Mrs Saxon was greatly troubled by the continual friction, and she, like her daughter, had been anxiously looking forward to Dreda’s visit as a healthful enlivening influence which could not fail to do good. And now Dreda was so mysteriously subdued and silent! What had happened to change the child so strangely in six short weeks?As for Miss Dreda herself, she was not only conscious of, but felt an acute enjoyment in observing the anxiety of her relatives on her behalf, and, like a true actress, warmed to her part under the consciousness of an audience. The more intently did her mother’s eyes regard her, the more meek and downcast became her air; she figuratively turned the other cheek to Maud’s tactless sallies, and played humble handmaid to Rowena’s lightest wish. For one whole day—and then of a sudden weariness fell upon her. She reflected with horror that only two more days of the exeat remained, and determined to waste not another moment in repining. Within five minutes’ time from the forming of this decision Maud was dumbfounded to find herself brutally snubbed, while a request from Rowena was received with a callous exhortation to “Do it yourself!”“I was wondering how long it would last,” said Rowena, with a smile. “It was really an admirable impersonation, but what was the idea, Dreda? I can’t quite see what you were driving at, but I suppose there was some reason behind!”“Yes, there was; several reasons! I’ve recovered, Rowena, because I am young and elastic, and time is a wonderful healer—but I’ve been through awful difficulties! Treachery and humiliation, and things turning to dust and ashes when you expected to enjoy them most. Talk of martyrdoms!”—Dreda rolled her eyes to the ceiling—“I look back, my dear, to the time when I lived quietly at home, and I can’t believe it was the same person!”“Rubbish! Bunkum! Bosh! What high-falutin’ you talk, Dreda! You’re not changed a bit, and I’m glad of it, for, oh, my dear, Ihavemissed you! I’ve beensodull! Come down from your stilts and talk sensibly. I’m aching for a good old talk.”Dreda beamed with delight. Here was appreciation! No sign of superiority, no condescension from a young lady in long frocks and done-up hair towards a schoolgirl fledgling, but an open avowal of need, an invitation to a heart-to-heart talk on a basis of affectionate equality. She clasped her hands together in the intensity of her delight, and hitched her chair nearer her sister.“Yes, yes, let’s talk, let’s—let’sgrumble! We’re both in the dumps, and it’s so cheering to grumble and get it off your mind. Go on, you’re the eldest—you’ve the first turn. Is it Maud?”“Oh, Maud! Maud is enough to drive anyone crazy; but she’s only a part.”“What’s the rest?”Rowena leant her head on her hand and stared out of the window. The garden was dank and deserted, the country beyond showed no sign of habitation; the wind moaned among the tall, bare trees.“Dreda,” she asked unexpectedly, “am I pretty?”Dreda’s grey eyes widened with surprise.“What in the world has that to do with it?” she asked curiously. “Pretty? Yes, of course. Awfully, when you’re in a good temper. We all are. It’s in the family. Do you know what Susan calls us?—the youngest Currant Bun, you know—‘The Story-Book Saxons.’ Isn’t it a jolly name? Because, she says, we look as if things would happen to us like they do to people in a book.”“Well, they don’t to me, anyway. That’s just it! What’s the use of being pretty if one is buried alive? Think of it, Dreda! nothing has happened all these six long weeks, except old ladies coming to call, and going to tea with mother at the vicarage. I should think there never was such a dull place. We didn’t notice before, because it was holiday time, and the house was full, but it’s awful for a permanency. The nearest interesting girl lives four miles off, the others are too boring for words. I asked one of them if there were ever any dances, and she laughed and asked whom we should dance with. There are only three young men within a radius of miles. There might perhaps be a Hunt Ball at C— next autumn. ... And I thought I should have a London season!”Dreda meditated, hunched up in her chair, her chin resting upon her hand. For the moment the scarcity of dances did not affect herself, but she loyally endeavoured to regard the situation from her sister’s point of view.“Are the three young mennice?”“Oh, my dear, what does it matter? There aren’t enough of them to count. Bob Ainslie is one; he used to come over to umpire for the boys’ cricket matches. You remember him—freckles and stick-out ears. He has a moustache now. I expect he’s quite nice, but he isnotexciting. Another is Frank Ross, at the Manor House—I believe he is generally in town. And that nice old Mrs Seton has a son, too. He’s handsome; I’ve seen him riding along the lanes; but, of course, he doesn’t pay afternoon calls. What are you to do in a neighbourhood where there are no nice girls, and two and a half young men?”“Improve your mind!” returned Dreda glibly. “Providence evidently doesn’t mean you to move in the social round. Perhaps if you had, you’d have grown proud and worldly. I think myself youwould, for I saw symptoms of it before we left town. Perhaps you’ve got to be chastened—” Dreda stopped short with a hasty remembrance that she had promised to sympathise, not exhort, and added hurriedly: “Maud’s enough to chasten anyone! It’s sickening for you, dear, for you would have had lots of fun, and been the belle wherever you went. Let’s pretend the Hunt Ball is to-night, and you are going to make yourdébut, a radiant vision in white satin—no, satin’s too stiff!—silver tissue. Yes, yes! Silver tissue—how perfectly lovely!—and a parure of matchless diamonds flashing like a river of light upon your snowy neck.”“Débutantesdon’t wear diamonds, and it’s not snowy. These boned collar bands leave horrid red marks. An antique medallion of crystal and pearl swung on a silver chain—”Dreda pranced up and down on her chair in delighted appreciation.“Yes! Yes! You’re splendid, Ro; you know just what to say! And a feather fan, with a tiny mirror let into the sticks; dear little silver shoes with buckles, and a single white rosebud tucked in your hair below your ear. That’s the place they always put it in books. It would fall out before the first waltz was over, but no matter! Then your opera cloak. That must be white, too—ermine, I think, or perhaps white fox, worth hundreds and hundreds, that a Russian prince had sent you in token of his devotion. Oh, my dear, my dear; what anangelyou would look!”Rowena laughed gaily. Her cheeks had grown pink, and her blue eyes sparkled with enjoyment.“Dreda, Dreda! What a mad hatter you are! Wheredidyou get such ridiculous ideas?”But it was evident that the ideas, ridiculous though they might be, were by no means unpleasing, and Dreda was about to venture forth on a fresh flight of imagination when, to the annoyance of the sisters, the door opened and Maud, the stolid and unimaginative, stood on the threshold.“No admittance, Maud. Go away! We’re having a private talk.”“I can’t go away. It’s business. Something awful’s happened!” announced Maud calmly. “A man’s called, and Mason said mother was in, and she’s out, and he’s in the drawing-room, and it’s rude to send him away. I came to tell you.”“Aman! What man?”“The Seton man. The young one with the nose.”The two elder girls exchanged quick, eloquent glances.“Are yousuremother is out? She was in half an hour ago.”“She’s out now. She went across the fields to bandage the hand of the baby that the kettle scalded in the white cottage in the dip. You’ll have to see him instead.”Rowena turned a face of despairing resignation upon her sister.“In this blouse! A flannel blouse. Oh, Dreda—the contrast. Think of the silver tissue!”Dreda looked, and her face was eloquent. Truth to tell, the flannel blouse, though neat and tidy, as were all Rowena’s garments, could by no manner of means be called becoming. It did seem tragic to appear to an interesting stranger under such disadvantageous circumstances.“You must change it!” she cried hastily. “Put on your blue dress; you look ripping in that. I’ll go in for a minute, and tell him to stay while I run for mother; by that time you’ll be ready, and can talk till she gets back. I’ll tell Mason to get tea. Fly! You are so quick, you can be ready in five minutes.”Rowena flew, and Dreda smoothed her hair with her hands and prepared to leave the room in her wake, but Maud’s square figure blocked the way, and Maud’s voice demanded instantly:“And what shallIdo?”“You? Nothing! It’s not your affair. Go up to the nursery and keep quiet.”Maud gurgled with indignation. Not her business, indeed! She who had been first on the scene, and had carried the message! Dreda was hateful! Simply hateful! After pretending to be so good, too. “Nursery, indeed!I’llshow her!” growled Maud eloquently.Guy Seton was standing before the fire as the door opened in Etheldreda’s impetuous hand, and the man and the girl stared at each other in mutual admiration and approval. “Fair hair, clean shaven, twinkly eyes, big shoulders, Norfolk suit, gaiters. I dolovemen in country clothes,” decided Dreda in a mental flash. “Halloa! whom have we here? A schoolgirl daughter. What a pretty, bright-looking girl!” thought the young man almost as quickly. Then they shook hands and Dreda plunged into explanations.“How do you do? It’s so stupid. Mother’s out! The maid didn’t know, but she has gone across the fields to see a little boy who upset the kettle. Burnt, you know! Mother dresses it. If you will sit down and wait a few minutes, I’ll run and bring her back.”Mr Seton smiled, a delightful twinkly smile.“Oh, please don’t hurry her. I should be so sorry. You mustn’t trouble about me. I can call another day.”But this was not at all what Dreda desired, and her voice took a tone of keen personal entreaty as she replied:“Oh, please don’t go away! Mother can finish the dressing and be back in ten minutes from now, and I’ve ordered tea, and my sister will give it to you while you wait. We have so few callers, and it’s such a dull, wet day. Dopleasestay and have tea!”At that the smile gave place to a laugh. Mr Seton found it altogether delightful to be welcomed in so appreciative a fashion, and told himself that it was a treat, indeed, to meet a girl so natural and unaffected. He made no further demur, but when Dreda left the room sat down in a comfortable chair and stretched his long legs towards the fire, smiling to himself with obvious enjoyment of his recollections. It was indeed a grey wintry afternoon, and he was by no means averse to sitting by this cheery fire, looking forward to tea and further conversation with “Miss Golden-locks.”And the sister who was to entertain him meantime—that must be Miss Saxon, the grown-up daughter of whom he had heard, though he did not know her by sight. He did not care for grown-up girls as a rule, they were too self-conscious and self-engrossed—schoolgirls were far more fun. Then the door creaked once more, and he started to his feet to behold a square, stolid form advancing towards him, and to receive a pompous greeting from Maud, who had waited only until Dreda was safely out of the house, and had then hurried into the drawing-room determined to enjoy “her turn” before Rowena arrived.“How do you do? My mother will soon be here. My sister has gone to fetch her. I hope you are quite well.”“Perfectly so, thank you. I hope you are the same. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?” inquired Mr Seton, with a sudden change of demeanour which said much for his powers of adaptability. With Dreda he had been all candour and friendliness; confronted with Maud he became at once a solemn model of decorum.“I am Maud—Maud Saxon. We are all named to match, because we are Saxons by name as well as appearance. You are the Mr Seton who lives in the grey house at Fenley. I have seen you on the roads riding a grey cob with a white nose.”“Very probably. He is a great treasure. Are you interested in horses? Perhaps you ride yourself!”“I did once, but I don’t now. We’rerejuiced!” announced Maud, rolling out the new word with an enjoyment at which the hearer had much ado to retain his composure. “We used to keep five horses, and ride in the Row, but horses cost too much now. Stables and grooms, and things to eat, and, of course, they may die. We’ve got nothing now except the car, and that saves money, for you can bring home the stores from the station, and drive Dreda to school, and save the fares.”“Just so,” said Mr Seton dryly. “Gars are most useful. Especially in the country.” Maud had taken possession of a chair at the opposite side of the fireplace, and as he looked at her square, solemn face, he prayed that it would not be long before Mrs Saxon and her elder daughter returned. “Do you also go to school?”“No,” Maud pursed her lips with an injured air. “Dreda was going to a finishing school in Paris this term, and I had a resident governess. Then—we were ‘rejuiced,’ and she had to go to a cheaper one at Horsham. That was hertrial. There are horrid girls there, and she’s misunderstood, and when she came home she was so quenched you wouldn’t know her, but after a day she was just as bad as ever. And our governess went away, and Rowena teaches me, to save expenses. She hates it, and so do I. She hasn’t enough patience for training the young.”Guy Seton privately thought that quite a large stock of patience would be required to train this particular specimen of the young. He was embarrassed by the personal note of Maud’s confessions, and cast about in his mind for a means of changing the conversation. The elder sister! Was she in the house? Could she be expected to appear?“Is Miss Saxon at home? I should like to see her before I go.”Maud nodded solemnly.“She’s coming! She’s changing her dress. She had on a flannel blouse, and rushed upstairs to put on her best frock when she heard you were here.”“You little wretch!” cried Guy Seton, mentally. The colour mounted to his face in mingled anger against the offender, and sympathy for the absent sister whose efforts on his behalf had been so ruthlessly betrayed, but before he had time to reply in words a sudden sound from behind attracted his attention, and he turned, to behold the blue-robed figure of Rowena standing in the doorway, her face white and set, her wide reproachful eyes fixed on her sister’s face!
It was a very subdued, a very humble, a touchingly affectionate Etheldreda who made her appearance at The Meads a few days later, and her mother and sisters regarded her demeanour with anxious curiosity.
“Poor darling, poor darling! She is so sweet and quiet—I’m glad, of course;veryglad,” repeated Mrs Saxon, with a forced emphasis, which seemed to show that she needed to convince herself of her own sincerity, “but it seems so short a time to have brought about such a change. I’m afraid she has been unhappy!”
Rowena stared thoughtfully at the fire. Her face looked older, the cheeks less rounded, the red lips dropping at the corner. She was a beautiful girl, but the old sparkle had given place to an air of weary endurance sad to see on a young face. At the moment when she had expected most of life, she had been obliged to give up her dreams, and to accept in their place a monotonous, uneventful existence, which left too much time for the indulgence of her own thoughts. The weather was depressing, visitors few and far between, and, from a girl’s point of view, lacking in interest when they did arrive. Maud was stupid and obstinate, Dreda and the boys at school, and the parents depressed. Lessons, walking, and practising occupied the days until four o’clock, then the curtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and each afternoon afresh Rowena counted up the long hours which must elapse before bedtime, and asked herself how she could get through the time. Poor Rowena! She had counted the days until Dreda’s return, and now felt yet another pang of depression at meeting this subdued edition of her lively sister. She sighed in melancholy, long-drawn fashion, while Maud wriggled and grimaced.
“I expect she’smisunderstood. There’s lots of people are, besides the book. I know One who is. She’s misunderstood by people who think they know best, and are always scolding and finding fault. ‘’Tis better far to rule by love than fear.’Ishall, when I’m big. You could do something then, but when people are always grumbling, it’s no use trying. I expect Dreda has some one like that, and it’s broken her spirit. If you don’t let her leave, she’ll pine away and die!”
“Is that what you contemplate doing yourself beneath the persecution of the people, or person, to whom you so eloquently refer? I must give you a lesson in nominatives to-morrow, my dear. They are evidently another point which is misunderstood,” retorted Rowena with cutting composure. It was one of the little encounters which was daily, almost hourly, taking place between the two sisters, whose widely differing dispositions seemed to jar more than ever in the close relationship of teacher and pupil. Mrs Saxon was greatly troubled by the continual friction, and she, like her daughter, had been anxiously looking forward to Dreda’s visit as a healthful enlivening influence which could not fail to do good. And now Dreda was so mysteriously subdued and silent! What had happened to change the child so strangely in six short weeks?
As for Miss Dreda herself, she was not only conscious of, but felt an acute enjoyment in observing the anxiety of her relatives on her behalf, and, like a true actress, warmed to her part under the consciousness of an audience. The more intently did her mother’s eyes regard her, the more meek and downcast became her air; she figuratively turned the other cheek to Maud’s tactless sallies, and played humble handmaid to Rowena’s lightest wish. For one whole day—and then of a sudden weariness fell upon her. She reflected with horror that only two more days of the exeat remained, and determined to waste not another moment in repining. Within five minutes’ time from the forming of this decision Maud was dumbfounded to find herself brutally snubbed, while a request from Rowena was received with a callous exhortation to “Do it yourself!”
“I was wondering how long it would last,” said Rowena, with a smile. “It was really an admirable impersonation, but what was the idea, Dreda? I can’t quite see what you were driving at, but I suppose there was some reason behind!”
“Yes, there was; several reasons! I’ve recovered, Rowena, because I am young and elastic, and time is a wonderful healer—but I’ve been through awful difficulties! Treachery and humiliation, and things turning to dust and ashes when you expected to enjoy them most. Talk of martyrdoms!”—Dreda rolled her eyes to the ceiling—“I look back, my dear, to the time when I lived quietly at home, and I can’t believe it was the same person!”
“Rubbish! Bunkum! Bosh! What high-falutin’ you talk, Dreda! You’re not changed a bit, and I’m glad of it, for, oh, my dear, Ihavemissed you! I’ve beensodull! Come down from your stilts and talk sensibly. I’m aching for a good old talk.”
Dreda beamed with delight. Here was appreciation! No sign of superiority, no condescension from a young lady in long frocks and done-up hair towards a schoolgirl fledgling, but an open avowal of need, an invitation to a heart-to-heart talk on a basis of affectionate equality. She clasped her hands together in the intensity of her delight, and hitched her chair nearer her sister.
“Yes, yes, let’s talk, let’s—let’sgrumble! We’re both in the dumps, and it’s so cheering to grumble and get it off your mind. Go on, you’re the eldest—you’ve the first turn. Is it Maud?”
“Oh, Maud! Maud is enough to drive anyone crazy; but she’s only a part.”
“What’s the rest?”
Rowena leant her head on her hand and stared out of the window. The garden was dank and deserted, the country beyond showed no sign of habitation; the wind moaned among the tall, bare trees.
“Dreda,” she asked unexpectedly, “am I pretty?”
Dreda’s grey eyes widened with surprise.
“What in the world has that to do with it?” she asked curiously. “Pretty? Yes, of course. Awfully, when you’re in a good temper. We all are. It’s in the family. Do you know what Susan calls us?—the youngest Currant Bun, you know—‘The Story-Book Saxons.’ Isn’t it a jolly name? Because, she says, we look as if things would happen to us like they do to people in a book.”
“Well, they don’t to me, anyway. That’s just it! What’s the use of being pretty if one is buried alive? Think of it, Dreda! nothing has happened all these six long weeks, except old ladies coming to call, and going to tea with mother at the vicarage. I should think there never was such a dull place. We didn’t notice before, because it was holiday time, and the house was full, but it’s awful for a permanency. The nearest interesting girl lives four miles off, the others are too boring for words. I asked one of them if there were ever any dances, and she laughed and asked whom we should dance with. There are only three young men within a radius of miles. There might perhaps be a Hunt Ball at C— next autumn. ... And I thought I should have a London season!”
Dreda meditated, hunched up in her chair, her chin resting upon her hand. For the moment the scarcity of dances did not affect herself, but she loyally endeavoured to regard the situation from her sister’s point of view.
“Are the three young mennice?”
“Oh, my dear, what does it matter? There aren’t enough of them to count. Bob Ainslie is one; he used to come over to umpire for the boys’ cricket matches. You remember him—freckles and stick-out ears. He has a moustache now. I expect he’s quite nice, but he isnotexciting. Another is Frank Ross, at the Manor House—I believe he is generally in town. And that nice old Mrs Seton has a son, too. He’s handsome; I’ve seen him riding along the lanes; but, of course, he doesn’t pay afternoon calls. What are you to do in a neighbourhood where there are no nice girls, and two and a half young men?”
“Improve your mind!” returned Dreda glibly. “Providence evidently doesn’t mean you to move in the social round. Perhaps if you had, you’d have grown proud and worldly. I think myself youwould, for I saw symptoms of it before we left town. Perhaps you’ve got to be chastened—” Dreda stopped short with a hasty remembrance that she had promised to sympathise, not exhort, and added hurriedly: “Maud’s enough to chasten anyone! It’s sickening for you, dear, for you would have had lots of fun, and been the belle wherever you went. Let’s pretend the Hunt Ball is to-night, and you are going to make yourdébut, a radiant vision in white satin—no, satin’s too stiff!—silver tissue. Yes, yes! Silver tissue—how perfectly lovely!—and a parure of matchless diamonds flashing like a river of light upon your snowy neck.”
“Débutantesdon’t wear diamonds, and it’s not snowy. These boned collar bands leave horrid red marks. An antique medallion of crystal and pearl swung on a silver chain—”
Dreda pranced up and down on her chair in delighted appreciation.
“Yes! Yes! You’re splendid, Ro; you know just what to say! And a feather fan, with a tiny mirror let into the sticks; dear little silver shoes with buckles, and a single white rosebud tucked in your hair below your ear. That’s the place they always put it in books. It would fall out before the first waltz was over, but no matter! Then your opera cloak. That must be white, too—ermine, I think, or perhaps white fox, worth hundreds and hundreds, that a Russian prince had sent you in token of his devotion. Oh, my dear, my dear; what anangelyou would look!”
Rowena laughed gaily. Her cheeks had grown pink, and her blue eyes sparkled with enjoyment.
“Dreda, Dreda! What a mad hatter you are! Wheredidyou get such ridiculous ideas?”
But it was evident that the ideas, ridiculous though they might be, were by no means unpleasing, and Dreda was about to venture forth on a fresh flight of imagination when, to the annoyance of the sisters, the door opened and Maud, the stolid and unimaginative, stood on the threshold.
“No admittance, Maud. Go away! We’re having a private talk.”
“I can’t go away. It’s business. Something awful’s happened!” announced Maud calmly. “A man’s called, and Mason said mother was in, and she’s out, and he’s in the drawing-room, and it’s rude to send him away. I came to tell you.”
“Aman! What man?”
“The Seton man. The young one with the nose.”
The two elder girls exchanged quick, eloquent glances.
“Are yousuremother is out? She was in half an hour ago.”
“She’s out now. She went across the fields to bandage the hand of the baby that the kettle scalded in the white cottage in the dip. You’ll have to see him instead.”
Rowena turned a face of despairing resignation upon her sister.
“In this blouse! A flannel blouse. Oh, Dreda—the contrast. Think of the silver tissue!”
Dreda looked, and her face was eloquent. Truth to tell, the flannel blouse, though neat and tidy, as were all Rowena’s garments, could by no manner of means be called becoming. It did seem tragic to appear to an interesting stranger under such disadvantageous circumstances.
“You must change it!” she cried hastily. “Put on your blue dress; you look ripping in that. I’ll go in for a minute, and tell him to stay while I run for mother; by that time you’ll be ready, and can talk till she gets back. I’ll tell Mason to get tea. Fly! You are so quick, you can be ready in five minutes.”
Rowena flew, and Dreda smoothed her hair with her hands and prepared to leave the room in her wake, but Maud’s square figure blocked the way, and Maud’s voice demanded instantly:
“And what shallIdo?”
“You? Nothing! It’s not your affair. Go up to the nursery and keep quiet.”
Maud gurgled with indignation. Not her business, indeed! She who had been first on the scene, and had carried the message! Dreda was hateful! Simply hateful! After pretending to be so good, too. “Nursery, indeed!I’llshow her!” growled Maud eloquently.
Guy Seton was standing before the fire as the door opened in Etheldreda’s impetuous hand, and the man and the girl stared at each other in mutual admiration and approval. “Fair hair, clean shaven, twinkly eyes, big shoulders, Norfolk suit, gaiters. I dolovemen in country clothes,” decided Dreda in a mental flash. “Halloa! whom have we here? A schoolgirl daughter. What a pretty, bright-looking girl!” thought the young man almost as quickly. Then they shook hands and Dreda plunged into explanations.
“How do you do? It’s so stupid. Mother’s out! The maid didn’t know, but she has gone across the fields to see a little boy who upset the kettle. Burnt, you know! Mother dresses it. If you will sit down and wait a few minutes, I’ll run and bring her back.”
Mr Seton smiled, a delightful twinkly smile.
“Oh, please don’t hurry her. I should be so sorry. You mustn’t trouble about me. I can call another day.”
But this was not at all what Dreda desired, and her voice took a tone of keen personal entreaty as she replied:
“Oh, please don’t go away! Mother can finish the dressing and be back in ten minutes from now, and I’ve ordered tea, and my sister will give it to you while you wait. We have so few callers, and it’s such a dull, wet day. Dopleasestay and have tea!”
At that the smile gave place to a laugh. Mr Seton found it altogether delightful to be welcomed in so appreciative a fashion, and told himself that it was a treat, indeed, to meet a girl so natural and unaffected. He made no further demur, but when Dreda left the room sat down in a comfortable chair and stretched his long legs towards the fire, smiling to himself with obvious enjoyment of his recollections. It was indeed a grey wintry afternoon, and he was by no means averse to sitting by this cheery fire, looking forward to tea and further conversation with “Miss Golden-locks.”
And the sister who was to entertain him meantime—that must be Miss Saxon, the grown-up daughter of whom he had heard, though he did not know her by sight. He did not care for grown-up girls as a rule, they were too self-conscious and self-engrossed—schoolgirls were far more fun. Then the door creaked once more, and he started to his feet to behold a square, stolid form advancing towards him, and to receive a pompous greeting from Maud, who had waited only until Dreda was safely out of the house, and had then hurried into the drawing-room determined to enjoy “her turn” before Rowena arrived.
“How do you do? My mother will soon be here. My sister has gone to fetch her. I hope you are quite well.”
“Perfectly so, thank you. I hope you are the same. To whom have I the pleasure of speaking?” inquired Mr Seton, with a sudden change of demeanour which said much for his powers of adaptability. With Dreda he had been all candour and friendliness; confronted with Maud he became at once a solemn model of decorum.
“I am Maud—Maud Saxon. We are all named to match, because we are Saxons by name as well as appearance. You are the Mr Seton who lives in the grey house at Fenley. I have seen you on the roads riding a grey cob with a white nose.”
“Very probably. He is a great treasure. Are you interested in horses? Perhaps you ride yourself!”
“I did once, but I don’t now. We’rerejuiced!” announced Maud, rolling out the new word with an enjoyment at which the hearer had much ado to retain his composure. “We used to keep five horses, and ride in the Row, but horses cost too much now. Stables and grooms, and things to eat, and, of course, they may die. We’ve got nothing now except the car, and that saves money, for you can bring home the stores from the station, and drive Dreda to school, and save the fares.”
“Just so,” said Mr Seton dryly. “Gars are most useful. Especially in the country.” Maud had taken possession of a chair at the opposite side of the fireplace, and as he looked at her square, solemn face, he prayed that it would not be long before Mrs Saxon and her elder daughter returned. “Do you also go to school?”
“No,” Maud pursed her lips with an injured air. “Dreda was going to a finishing school in Paris this term, and I had a resident governess. Then—we were ‘rejuiced,’ and she had to go to a cheaper one at Horsham. That was hertrial. There are horrid girls there, and she’s misunderstood, and when she came home she was so quenched you wouldn’t know her, but after a day she was just as bad as ever. And our governess went away, and Rowena teaches me, to save expenses. She hates it, and so do I. She hasn’t enough patience for training the young.”
Guy Seton privately thought that quite a large stock of patience would be required to train this particular specimen of the young. He was embarrassed by the personal note of Maud’s confessions, and cast about in his mind for a means of changing the conversation. The elder sister! Was she in the house? Could she be expected to appear?
“Is Miss Saxon at home? I should like to see her before I go.”
Maud nodded solemnly.
“She’s coming! She’s changing her dress. She had on a flannel blouse, and rushed upstairs to put on her best frock when she heard you were here.”
“You little wretch!” cried Guy Seton, mentally. The colour mounted to his face in mingled anger against the offender, and sympathy for the absent sister whose efforts on his behalf had been so ruthlessly betrayed, but before he had time to reply in words a sudden sound from behind attracted his attention, and he turned, to behold the blue-robed figure of Rowena standing in the doorway, her face white and set, her wide reproachful eyes fixed on her sister’s face!
Chapter Sixteen.It was an awkward moment for all three occupants of the room. The young man stood, flushed and silent, looking from one sister to the other, conscious of an increasing anger towards Maud, and a kindly and chivalrous sympathy for the confusion of her sister. Poor girl! She was too young, had too little experience of the world to carry off the situation with a laugh. A young woman of society would have seized the opportunity for cementing a friendship, would have swept gaily forward holding out her skirts, and laughingly demanding his approval, but Rowena could do none of these things, her utmost efforts could succeed only in hiding the signs of confusion beneath a frosty coldness of demeanour.How unnatural was this manner was plainly demonstrated by the behaviour of the offender herself. At the first moment of Rowena’s appearance Maud had appeared embarrassed indeed, but with a fearful joy mingling with her shame, the joy of one who has greatly dared, and is prepared to endure the consequences; but when Rowena swept forward, calm and stately, when she seated herself and began to talk polite nothings, with never so much as a word or a glance in her own direction, then, visibly and unmistakably, terror fell upon Maud’s childish heart—she made a bee-line for the door, and slunk hastily out of sight.“Little wretch!” soliloquised Guy Seton once more. “Lands me into this pleasant position, and then sneaks away, and leaves me to fight it out alone! Poor little girl!”—this last epithet obviously didnotrefer to Maud! “Hard lines to arrive at such an awkward moment. Furious, of course, with the whole three—the child for speaking, with me for hearing, with herself for having given the opportunity! Such a pretty frock, too; and she is ripping in it! Jolly good of her to have taken the trouble, but now I suppose she’ll hate the sight of me, and bear me a lasting grudge. Hope to goodness Golden-locks is not long in coming back!”“Quite a chilly wind. We are so very exposed and open in this house!” Rowena was saying in high, artificial tones. She hailed the arrival of tea with evident relief, and the conversation flowed on a trifle more easily when there was something definite to do; nevertheless both heaved sighs of joy as the sound of Dreda’s high, cheery voice was heard from without, and she entered the room by her mother’s side.Guy Seton privately expected Rowena to follow Maud’s example and quietly disappear, so he admired all the more the pretty little air of dignity with which she stuck to her post and forced herself to take her natural part in the conversation.“Plucky little girl! Stands to her guns, and won’t allow herself to run away,” he told himself approvingly, as he proceeded to unfold the object of his visit.“We are arranging a small frolic for Friday in the shape of a paper-chase. Everybody within five miles is coming on horseback or bicycles, as suits them best, and we ought to have a good run. We start at eleven prompt from our gates, and return for a scramble luncheon at about two. I hope you will all come!”His glance wandered from Dreda to Rowena—the first he felt sure would accept with enthusiasm; the latter he feared would politely refuse; but Rowena smiled again, her set meaningless little smile, and allowed a subdued murmur of thanks to mingle with Dreda’s rhapsodies. It was cleverly done, for without being in any way committed she had escaped drawing attention upon herself by a refusal; nevertheless as he met her eye, and held her limp, unresponsive hand in his at parting, Guy Seton felt more convinced than ever that whoever else might honour his paper chase, Miss Rowena Saxon would not be among the number!He walked down the drive twirling his stick in a threatening manner, his face grim and set. It was bad luck indeed to make such a bad beginning with one of the prettiest and most attractive-looking girls he had ever met, and a near neighbour into the bargain. He had a momentary vision of Rowena spinning along on a bicycle, her fair face flushed with exercise, her sweet eyes alight with interest and excitement; and of a sudden it seemed a dull, senseless thing to fly over the country-side, with ordinary everyday neighbours and friends.Howordinary and everyday they seemed, when contrasted with Rowena’s stately young grace! And now she was prejudiced against him for ever, and at this very moment was probably denouncing her sister’s stupidity, and vowing never willingly to meet him again!Rowena, however, was doing nothing of the kind. Calm and composed, she sat on beside her mother and Dreda, and declared that the idea of a paper-chase failed to attract her, and that she had no intention of tiring herself out, and running needless risks by riding breathlessly across country on so stupid and frivolous an aim! Mrs Saxon was both puzzled and disappointed, while Dreda expostulated in her usual violent fashion.“Rowena, how mad! How idiotic! What are you raving about! What’s the use of grumbling and growling because there’s nothing to do, and no one to see you, and then the moment anyone appears—such a dear, too, with such sweet, twinkly eyes!—to behave like a cold-blooded frog, mincing your words, and looking as if you were made of ice, and then saying you won’t go, when it’s a chance of no end of fun, and seeing everyone there is to be seen! Idiotic!”“Dreda! Dreda, dear, really is it necessary to be quite so violent?” Mrs Saxon shook her head in smiling reproach, and Rowena tilted her chin in air, but Dreda refused to be suppressed.“Oh, mum, dear,letme speak as I like! We have to be so proper at school. You can’t say a word of slang while the govs. are about, and ordinary language is sotame. You can’t make a really good effect with ordinary words. Suppose I said to Rowena: ‘Your conduct, my dear, is inconsistent, with your sentiments as expressed in conversation,’ she wouldn’t mind a bit, but when I call her a frog she’s furious. Look how she’s wagging her head! You can always tell by that when she’s in a bait.”“Really, Dreda!” cried Rowena in her turn. She rose from her seat, and sailed haughtily out of the room, disdaining to bandy words with so outspoken a combatant. In truth, she herself was bitterly disappointed in being forced—as she thought—to refuse Mr Seton’s invitation, the possibilities of which appealed to her even more strongly than to her sister. To meet a party of young people, to wheel gaily along in the brisk, keen air, laughing and jesting as in the old happy days; to return tired and hungry to the hospitable scramble luncheon—to sit around the fire rested and refreshed, feeling as if those few hours of intimate association had been more successful in cementing friendships than many months of ordinary association. Oh, how temptingitsounded! What a blessed change from the level monotony of the last few months! And she needs must give it up, and stay quietly at home, darning stockings, or writing orders to the “Stores,” because Maud’s blundering tongue has laid her dignity so low, that everything else must needs be sacrificed to its preservation!Rowena is putting on her best dress—she had on a flannel blouse, and she ran to change it because you were here! One would need to be nineteen once more to realise the shame, the horror, the distress with which poor Rowena recalled those thoughtless words! She pressed her hands against her cheeks, and gave a little groan of distress. It was characteristic of her that the one thing she now asked was that no one else should know of her humiliation; her mother might remonstrate, and Dreda declaim to her heart’s content, but nothing on earth should induce her to disclose the real reason of her refusal. As for Maud, having done the mischief, she might be trusted to keep quiet for her own sake; and even with her, Rowena would have kept silence if she had been allowed. Beyond an added touch of dignity, there was no change in her manner towards her younger sister, but, strange to say, the culprit was by no means satisfied to escape so easily. Maud suffered from an insatiable desire to be observed, and—so to speak—live in the public eye. If she could be observed with admiration, so much the better, but given a choice between being disgraced or ignored, she would not have hesitated for the fraction of a moment. Better a hundred times to be scolded and denounced than to be passed by in silence as if one were a stick or a stone. So it happened that when Rowena treated her with stately indifference, Maud found it impossible to keep silent.“You might as well say it out!” she declared, wriggling about in her seat, and pouting her lips with an air of offence. “I hate people who bottle things up when all the time you see them fizzling inside. I suppose you’re furious with me about what I said.”Rowena drooped her eyelids, and smiled a smile of haughty detachment.“It is a matter of perfect indifference to mewhatyou say.”“It was quite true!”“Perfectly true. I should be the last person in the world to accuse you of imagination.”“Youwerefurious. You went white with rage, and he saw it as well as me. Now, I suppose you’ll tell mother, and stop me going to the chase.”“I should not dream of interfering with your plans. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me whether you go or stay.”“But,”—Maud’s eyes positively bulged with excitement—“I might say something else. You never know.”“Possibly you might. What then? Do you really imagine, my dear Maud, that anyone notices whatyousay!”Maud wriggled and spluttered, trying in vain to think of something scathing to say in return. Compared with this lofty indifference the most violent denunciations would have been enjoyable. “Nobody noticed what she said!” Rowena could not have launched an arrow which would have rankled more bitterly. For the remaining hours of that day Maud crept about with a melancholy hang-dog expression, taking little or no part in the general conversation.The next morning Rowena held firmly to her decision, and the two younger girls were obliged to start without her, Maud unfeignedly relieved, Dreda irritated and perplexed. Something must have happened to account for so unreasonable a change of front, something that had been said or done during that quarter of an hour during which she herself had been absent from the drawing-room. So much was certain, but what could it be? Rowena refused to be questioned, and Dreda was all unsuspicious of the fact that Maud had ventured to interview the visitor on her own account, and so had no suspicions in her direction. The first doubt arose when Guy Seton shook hands with both sisters as with old friends; this fact, combined with Maud’s blushing discomfiture, gave Dreda a flash of insight, but for the moment she was more occupied with the young man’s very evident disappointment at Rowena’s absence.“Is Miss Saxon not coming?”“No. I’m so sorry. She sent apologies.”“Is she quite well?”“Oh, yes, thanks.” Dreda was too honest to plead the conventional headache. “She said two were enough. She is going to bicycle to Smitton this morning for some stupid messages. I did my best to make her come.”“I’m sure you did,” said the young man kindly. Dreda, looking at him, saw him murmur “Smitton” below his breath, and knit his brows in thought. A minute later he walked away to speak a few farewell words to the hares, who were mounted on horseback, bearing fat bags of paper fragments on their saddles, after which he returned with a smiling face to keep Dreda entertained until “The Meet” had begun to assemble. Excitement and anxiety not to be late had caused the sisters to arrive before their time, but Dreda could not regret the fact, for it was so interesting to watch the new arrivals on horseback and bicycles; to greet old acquaintances, be introduced to new, and finally to meet a beam of welcome from Susan’s brown eyes as the Currant Buns wheeled up in a line. Even the sober Mary had condescended to join the chase.“Fresh air is a tonic. With so much mental exercise on hand I considered it would be a saving of time to spend a day in the open,” she said confidentially to Dreda, as she polished her glasses on a large pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them over the red rim on her nose. Dreda sidled carefully away from her side, and when the moment came for the start, was delighted to find Guy Seton riding determinedly by her side.“I thought you would be on horseback,” she said, then looking at him with faintly curious eyes: “Why aren’t you, when you have a horse all ready? It’s somuchmore interesting than bicycling.”“Sometimes,” said Guy, smiling. He waited a moment or two, and then added tentatively: “If you are fond of riding, and would accept a mount sometimes, I’d be delighted to give you one. Our horses have not half enough exercise. I’ve a nice quiet mare—”“Oh, thanks, but give me spirit! None of your quiet mares for me. But I am at school; there’s no chance for a free day for another three months. This is only the exeat; we go back to-morrow, worse luck!”“To-morrow! That’s very soon. I’m glad I arranged the chase for to-day. You are at Horsham, aren’t you?”Dreda turned her head quickly.“Yes! Who told you?”“Your sister. The young one—the one who is here to-day.”“Oh, Maud! Did she come into the drawing-room with Rowena yesterday?”“Before then. She amused me after you left until Miss Saxon arrived.”“Oh–h!” Dreda’s face clouded uneasily. How had Maud amused him? What had she said? In what fashion had she managed to prejudice Rowena against so amiable and kindly a neighbour, for she had now not a moment’s doubt that Maud was the cause of the trouble. She determined to put a few leading questions.“What else did she tell you? She’s a dreadful child. We never know what she is going to say next. I don’t believe she knows herself. What did she say?”“Oh, nothing particular! G–general information—don’t you know—general information,” stammered Guy Seton uncomfortably. But Dreda was not to be put off the scent. She stared at him fixedly, noted his rising colour, and nodded in quiet conviction.“I know! I can guess one thing at least. She told you we wererejuiced.”“I—I—” he began to stammer again, but the corners of his mouth twitched, and the next moment they were laughing together in hearty, youthful enjoyment.“Too bad of you! Why are you so abnormally sharp? Have pity on my embarrassment,” he pleaded, while Dreda shook her yellow mane in derision.“You are not embarrassed a bit! You laughed before I did! It’s easy to guess, because that’s Maud’s favourite subject at present. She overheard the servants talking, and took a fancy to the word, and now she drags it in on every possible occasion. What else did she say? Anything about me?”“Er—er—”“She did! I know she did. Don’t try to deny it. Was it—nice?”“Er—” stammered Guy Seton once more, whereupon Dreda drew herself up with sudden dignity.“You shouldn’t haveallowedit! She is only a child; you should not have allowed her to talk personalities—”“But I tried to stop her—I did, indeed! I was most uncomfortable. I tried to change the conversation, but it was no good. Please don’t scold me, I’ve suffered enough as it is!”“Howhave you suffered?” Dreda’s eyes widened eagerly. Now she was on the track of the mystery, and determined to push her inquiries until all was made plain. “Whomade you suffer?”“Miss Sax—,” said Guy involuntarily, and then quickly drew himself up. “I mean—it’s rather awkward for a fellow, don’t you know, to listen to things that he ought not to hear—that are not his business—that would annoy other people if they happened to overhear.”He flushed as he spoke, and Dreda beamed at him with undisguised approval. He was so boyish and honest, so blunderingly transparent, that she felt quite elderly in comparison—a very Sherlock Holmes of diplomacy!“And what was it that Rowenadidoverhear? Oh, I guessed there was something! She would never have refused to come to-day unless something had happened to offend her. She has such a dull time of it, poor dear, and she loves a change. What did Maud say?”“Miss Dreda, if your sister didn’t tell you herself, do you think I ought to repeat a thing that has already annoyed her?”“Certainly you ought. It’s my business to know, so that I can make things right. I could easily explain—”Guy gave a short, irritated laugh.“There’s nothing to explain! Your young sister made an indiscreet remark which Miss Saxon overheard as she came into the room. It is only human nature, I suppose, to vent her annoyance upon me, but it’s hard luck all the same, for I could not help myself, and it was horribly embarrassing for me too!”“Butwhatdid she say?”Then with another twitch of the lips Guy repeated Maud’s betrayal, at which Dreda was at once horrified and amused.“The little wretch! I shouldn’t have minded a bit myself, but when you are grown up it’s different! Poor old Ro! It was my fault, for I made her do it. I wanted you to see her in that jolly blue.”“Thanks, so much! It was worth seeing; but it’s a pretty big price to pay if your sister is prejudiced against me for life. Perhaps you had better not refer to the subject directly. If I read her aright the less that is said about it the better she will be pleased; but if you get a chance you might speak a good word for me sometimes. I’m not such a conceited fool as to imagine that she took any more trouble for me than she would have done for any other caller who happened to come along, and I’ve a wretched sort of memory. If I choose to forget a thing, it’s surprising how easily I can do it. It would be so jolly if she could manage to forget it too, and start afresh.”“Leave it to me!” cried Dreda, with the air of a young oracle. She had not the slightest idea what she was about to do, but, as ever, had not the slightest doubt of success in tackling a difficult situation. For the moment, however, she felt that she had devoted enough attention to Rowena’s affairs, for the excitement of the paper-chase increased with every mile as the track was discovered, only to be lost again and again, forcing the cavalcade to wheel about in all directions searching for the little snow-like flakes of paper which were again to guide them forward.When a couple of hours had passed Dreda was quite oblivious that the circling paths had led the chase to the little village of Smitton, and was therefore overcome with surprise to come face to face with no less a person than Rowena herself at the corner of the high road. Rowena would have passed by with a bow, but she was instantly surrounded by a little party of friends, all eager to greet her, and to inquire why she had not joined the chase. Guy Seton dismounted with the rest, and stood silently in the background until the first rush of inquiries were over, when, meeting Rowena’s eye, he made a simple straightforward request.“As you have finished your messages, Miss Saxon, won’t you join us for the rest of the morning? We could send a wire from the post office if you think Mrs Saxon would be anxious. Please say yes!”There was nothing extravagant about the manner of his invitation, perhaps in courtesy he could hardly have said less, but there was a transparent sincerity about those last three words which it was impossible to ignore. Rowena hesitated. Poor Rowena! What a morning of heartache and disappointment it had been. Ten minutes ago, five minutes ago, she had been wheeling along her solitary way, all melancholy and dejection, and behold, one turn of the road and she was in the midst of a merry cavalcade, and the chance which she had thrown away was once more within her grasp.She hesitated, and half a dozen voices answered in her stead. Of course, she must come! Of course! After this fortunate meeting she could not be allowed to escape. She could not be so cruel as to refuse, and then once again Guy Seton’s voice repeated those three quiet words: “Please say yes!”Well, she was only longing to accept, and having been duly entreated, gave way with a blush and a smile which made her look as pretty as a picture. The cavalcade carried her off in triumph, and Guy Seton kept discreetly in the background, waiting until time should give him his opportunity. His acquaintance with this charming girl had had an unfortunate beginning; he was determined that no haste or imprudence on his own part should give it a second check, but that afternoon Master Leonard Merrick, the hare, went home, made happy by a tip the amount of which was truly princely in his schoolboy estimation!
It was an awkward moment for all three occupants of the room. The young man stood, flushed and silent, looking from one sister to the other, conscious of an increasing anger towards Maud, and a kindly and chivalrous sympathy for the confusion of her sister. Poor girl! She was too young, had too little experience of the world to carry off the situation with a laugh. A young woman of society would have seized the opportunity for cementing a friendship, would have swept gaily forward holding out her skirts, and laughingly demanding his approval, but Rowena could do none of these things, her utmost efforts could succeed only in hiding the signs of confusion beneath a frosty coldness of demeanour.
How unnatural was this manner was plainly demonstrated by the behaviour of the offender herself. At the first moment of Rowena’s appearance Maud had appeared embarrassed indeed, but with a fearful joy mingling with her shame, the joy of one who has greatly dared, and is prepared to endure the consequences; but when Rowena swept forward, calm and stately, when she seated herself and began to talk polite nothings, with never so much as a word or a glance in her own direction, then, visibly and unmistakably, terror fell upon Maud’s childish heart—she made a bee-line for the door, and slunk hastily out of sight.
“Little wretch!” soliloquised Guy Seton once more. “Lands me into this pleasant position, and then sneaks away, and leaves me to fight it out alone! Poor little girl!”—this last epithet obviously didnotrefer to Maud! “Hard lines to arrive at such an awkward moment. Furious, of course, with the whole three—the child for speaking, with me for hearing, with herself for having given the opportunity! Such a pretty frock, too; and she is ripping in it! Jolly good of her to have taken the trouble, but now I suppose she’ll hate the sight of me, and bear me a lasting grudge. Hope to goodness Golden-locks is not long in coming back!”
“Quite a chilly wind. We are so very exposed and open in this house!” Rowena was saying in high, artificial tones. She hailed the arrival of tea with evident relief, and the conversation flowed on a trifle more easily when there was something definite to do; nevertheless both heaved sighs of joy as the sound of Dreda’s high, cheery voice was heard from without, and she entered the room by her mother’s side.
Guy Seton privately expected Rowena to follow Maud’s example and quietly disappear, so he admired all the more the pretty little air of dignity with which she stuck to her post and forced herself to take her natural part in the conversation.
“Plucky little girl! Stands to her guns, and won’t allow herself to run away,” he told himself approvingly, as he proceeded to unfold the object of his visit.
“We are arranging a small frolic for Friday in the shape of a paper-chase. Everybody within five miles is coming on horseback or bicycles, as suits them best, and we ought to have a good run. We start at eleven prompt from our gates, and return for a scramble luncheon at about two. I hope you will all come!”
His glance wandered from Dreda to Rowena—the first he felt sure would accept with enthusiasm; the latter he feared would politely refuse; but Rowena smiled again, her set meaningless little smile, and allowed a subdued murmur of thanks to mingle with Dreda’s rhapsodies. It was cleverly done, for without being in any way committed she had escaped drawing attention upon herself by a refusal; nevertheless as he met her eye, and held her limp, unresponsive hand in his at parting, Guy Seton felt more convinced than ever that whoever else might honour his paper chase, Miss Rowena Saxon would not be among the number!
He walked down the drive twirling his stick in a threatening manner, his face grim and set. It was bad luck indeed to make such a bad beginning with one of the prettiest and most attractive-looking girls he had ever met, and a near neighbour into the bargain. He had a momentary vision of Rowena spinning along on a bicycle, her fair face flushed with exercise, her sweet eyes alight with interest and excitement; and of a sudden it seemed a dull, senseless thing to fly over the country-side, with ordinary everyday neighbours and friends.Howordinary and everyday they seemed, when contrasted with Rowena’s stately young grace! And now she was prejudiced against him for ever, and at this very moment was probably denouncing her sister’s stupidity, and vowing never willingly to meet him again!
Rowena, however, was doing nothing of the kind. Calm and composed, she sat on beside her mother and Dreda, and declared that the idea of a paper-chase failed to attract her, and that she had no intention of tiring herself out, and running needless risks by riding breathlessly across country on so stupid and frivolous an aim! Mrs Saxon was both puzzled and disappointed, while Dreda expostulated in her usual violent fashion.
“Rowena, how mad! How idiotic! What are you raving about! What’s the use of grumbling and growling because there’s nothing to do, and no one to see you, and then the moment anyone appears—such a dear, too, with such sweet, twinkly eyes!—to behave like a cold-blooded frog, mincing your words, and looking as if you were made of ice, and then saying you won’t go, when it’s a chance of no end of fun, and seeing everyone there is to be seen! Idiotic!”
“Dreda! Dreda, dear, really is it necessary to be quite so violent?” Mrs Saxon shook her head in smiling reproach, and Rowena tilted her chin in air, but Dreda refused to be suppressed.
“Oh, mum, dear,letme speak as I like! We have to be so proper at school. You can’t say a word of slang while the govs. are about, and ordinary language is sotame. You can’t make a really good effect with ordinary words. Suppose I said to Rowena: ‘Your conduct, my dear, is inconsistent, with your sentiments as expressed in conversation,’ she wouldn’t mind a bit, but when I call her a frog she’s furious. Look how she’s wagging her head! You can always tell by that when she’s in a bait.”
“Really, Dreda!” cried Rowena in her turn. She rose from her seat, and sailed haughtily out of the room, disdaining to bandy words with so outspoken a combatant. In truth, she herself was bitterly disappointed in being forced—as she thought—to refuse Mr Seton’s invitation, the possibilities of which appealed to her even more strongly than to her sister. To meet a party of young people, to wheel gaily along in the brisk, keen air, laughing and jesting as in the old happy days; to return tired and hungry to the hospitable scramble luncheon—to sit around the fire rested and refreshed, feeling as if those few hours of intimate association had been more successful in cementing friendships than many months of ordinary association. Oh, how temptingitsounded! What a blessed change from the level monotony of the last few months! And she needs must give it up, and stay quietly at home, darning stockings, or writing orders to the “Stores,” because Maud’s blundering tongue has laid her dignity so low, that everything else must needs be sacrificed to its preservation!Rowena is putting on her best dress—she had on a flannel blouse, and she ran to change it because you were here! One would need to be nineteen once more to realise the shame, the horror, the distress with which poor Rowena recalled those thoughtless words! She pressed her hands against her cheeks, and gave a little groan of distress. It was characteristic of her that the one thing she now asked was that no one else should know of her humiliation; her mother might remonstrate, and Dreda declaim to her heart’s content, but nothing on earth should induce her to disclose the real reason of her refusal. As for Maud, having done the mischief, she might be trusted to keep quiet for her own sake; and even with her, Rowena would have kept silence if she had been allowed. Beyond an added touch of dignity, there was no change in her manner towards her younger sister, but, strange to say, the culprit was by no means satisfied to escape so easily. Maud suffered from an insatiable desire to be observed, and—so to speak—live in the public eye. If she could be observed with admiration, so much the better, but given a choice between being disgraced or ignored, she would not have hesitated for the fraction of a moment. Better a hundred times to be scolded and denounced than to be passed by in silence as if one were a stick or a stone. So it happened that when Rowena treated her with stately indifference, Maud found it impossible to keep silent.
“You might as well say it out!” she declared, wriggling about in her seat, and pouting her lips with an air of offence. “I hate people who bottle things up when all the time you see them fizzling inside. I suppose you’re furious with me about what I said.”
Rowena drooped her eyelids, and smiled a smile of haughty detachment.
“It is a matter of perfect indifference to mewhatyou say.”
“It was quite true!”
“Perfectly true. I should be the last person in the world to accuse you of imagination.”
“Youwerefurious. You went white with rage, and he saw it as well as me. Now, I suppose you’ll tell mother, and stop me going to the chase.”
“I should not dream of interfering with your plans. It is a matter of perfect indifference to me whether you go or stay.”
“But,”—Maud’s eyes positively bulged with excitement—“I might say something else. You never know.”
“Possibly you might. What then? Do you really imagine, my dear Maud, that anyone notices whatyousay!”
Maud wriggled and spluttered, trying in vain to think of something scathing to say in return. Compared with this lofty indifference the most violent denunciations would have been enjoyable. “Nobody noticed what she said!” Rowena could not have launched an arrow which would have rankled more bitterly. For the remaining hours of that day Maud crept about with a melancholy hang-dog expression, taking little or no part in the general conversation.
The next morning Rowena held firmly to her decision, and the two younger girls were obliged to start without her, Maud unfeignedly relieved, Dreda irritated and perplexed. Something must have happened to account for so unreasonable a change of front, something that had been said or done during that quarter of an hour during which she herself had been absent from the drawing-room. So much was certain, but what could it be? Rowena refused to be questioned, and Dreda was all unsuspicious of the fact that Maud had ventured to interview the visitor on her own account, and so had no suspicions in her direction. The first doubt arose when Guy Seton shook hands with both sisters as with old friends; this fact, combined with Maud’s blushing discomfiture, gave Dreda a flash of insight, but for the moment she was more occupied with the young man’s very evident disappointment at Rowena’s absence.
“Is Miss Saxon not coming?”
“No. I’m so sorry. She sent apologies.”
“Is she quite well?”
“Oh, yes, thanks.” Dreda was too honest to plead the conventional headache. “She said two were enough. She is going to bicycle to Smitton this morning for some stupid messages. I did my best to make her come.”
“I’m sure you did,” said the young man kindly. Dreda, looking at him, saw him murmur “Smitton” below his breath, and knit his brows in thought. A minute later he walked away to speak a few farewell words to the hares, who were mounted on horseback, bearing fat bags of paper fragments on their saddles, after which he returned with a smiling face to keep Dreda entertained until “The Meet” had begun to assemble. Excitement and anxiety not to be late had caused the sisters to arrive before their time, but Dreda could not regret the fact, for it was so interesting to watch the new arrivals on horseback and bicycles; to greet old acquaintances, be introduced to new, and finally to meet a beam of welcome from Susan’s brown eyes as the Currant Buns wheeled up in a line. Even the sober Mary had condescended to join the chase.
“Fresh air is a tonic. With so much mental exercise on hand I considered it would be a saving of time to spend a day in the open,” she said confidentially to Dreda, as she polished her glasses on a large pocket-handkerchief, and replaced them over the red rim on her nose. Dreda sidled carefully away from her side, and when the moment came for the start, was delighted to find Guy Seton riding determinedly by her side.
“I thought you would be on horseback,” she said, then looking at him with faintly curious eyes: “Why aren’t you, when you have a horse all ready? It’s somuchmore interesting than bicycling.”
“Sometimes,” said Guy, smiling. He waited a moment or two, and then added tentatively: “If you are fond of riding, and would accept a mount sometimes, I’d be delighted to give you one. Our horses have not half enough exercise. I’ve a nice quiet mare—”
“Oh, thanks, but give me spirit! None of your quiet mares for me. But I am at school; there’s no chance for a free day for another three months. This is only the exeat; we go back to-morrow, worse luck!”
“To-morrow! That’s very soon. I’m glad I arranged the chase for to-day. You are at Horsham, aren’t you?”
Dreda turned her head quickly.
“Yes! Who told you?”
“Your sister. The young one—the one who is here to-day.”
“Oh, Maud! Did she come into the drawing-room with Rowena yesterday?”
“Before then. She amused me after you left until Miss Saxon arrived.”
“Oh–h!” Dreda’s face clouded uneasily. How had Maud amused him? What had she said? In what fashion had she managed to prejudice Rowena against so amiable and kindly a neighbour, for she had now not a moment’s doubt that Maud was the cause of the trouble. She determined to put a few leading questions.
“What else did she tell you? She’s a dreadful child. We never know what she is going to say next. I don’t believe she knows herself. What did she say?”
“Oh, nothing particular! G–general information—don’t you know—general information,” stammered Guy Seton uncomfortably. But Dreda was not to be put off the scent. She stared at him fixedly, noted his rising colour, and nodded in quiet conviction.
“I know! I can guess one thing at least. She told you we wererejuiced.”
“I—I—” he began to stammer again, but the corners of his mouth twitched, and the next moment they were laughing together in hearty, youthful enjoyment.
“Too bad of you! Why are you so abnormally sharp? Have pity on my embarrassment,” he pleaded, while Dreda shook her yellow mane in derision.
“You are not embarrassed a bit! You laughed before I did! It’s easy to guess, because that’s Maud’s favourite subject at present. She overheard the servants talking, and took a fancy to the word, and now she drags it in on every possible occasion. What else did she say? Anything about me?”
“Er—er—”
“She did! I know she did. Don’t try to deny it. Was it—nice?”
“Er—” stammered Guy Seton once more, whereupon Dreda drew herself up with sudden dignity.
“You shouldn’t haveallowedit! She is only a child; you should not have allowed her to talk personalities—”
“But I tried to stop her—I did, indeed! I was most uncomfortable. I tried to change the conversation, but it was no good. Please don’t scold me, I’ve suffered enough as it is!”
“Howhave you suffered?” Dreda’s eyes widened eagerly. Now she was on the track of the mystery, and determined to push her inquiries until all was made plain. “Whomade you suffer?”
“Miss Sax—,” said Guy involuntarily, and then quickly drew himself up. “I mean—it’s rather awkward for a fellow, don’t you know, to listen to things that he ought not to hear—that are not his business—that would annoy other people if they happened to overhear.”
He flushed as he spoke, and Dreda beamed at him with undisguised approval. He was so boyish and honest, so blunderingly transparent, that she felt quite elderly in comparison—a very Sherlock Holmes of diplomacy!
“And what was it that Rowenadidoverhear? Oh, I guessed there was something! She would never have refused to come to-day unless something had happened to offend her. She has such a dull time of it, poor dear, and she loves a change. What did Maud say?”
“Miss Dreda, if your sister didn’t tell you herself, do you think I ought to repeat a thing that has already annoyed her?”
“Certainly you ought. It’s my business to know, so that I can make things right. I could easily explain—”
Guy gave a short, irritated laugh.
“There’s nothing to explain! Your young sister made an indiscreet remark which Miss Saxon overheard as she came into the room. It is only human nature, I suppose, to vent her annoyance upon me, but it’s hard luck all the same, for I could not help myself, and it was horribly embarrassing for me too!”
“Butwhatdid she say?”
Then with another twitch of the lips Guy repeated Maud’s betrayal, at which Dreda was at once horrified and amused.
“The little wretch! I shouldn’t have minded a bit myself, but when you are grown up it’s different! Poor old Ro! It was my fault, for I made her do it. I wanted you to see her in that jolly blue.”
“Thanks, so much! It was worth seeing; but it’s a pretty big price to pay if your sister is prejudiced against me for life. Perhaps you had better not refer to the subject directly. If I read her aright the less that is said about it the better she will be pleased; but if you get a chance you might speak a good word for me sometimes. I’m not such a conceited fool as to imagine that she took any more trouble for me than she would have done for any other caller who happened to come along, and I’ve a wretched sort of memory. If I choose to forget a thing, it’s surprising how easily I can do it. It would be so jolly if she could manage to forget it too, and start afresh.”
“Leave it to me!” cried Dreda, with the air of a young oracle. She had not the slightest idea what she was about to do, but, as ever, had not the slightest doubt of success in tackling a difficult situation. For the moment, however, she felt that she had devoted enough attention to Rowena’s affairs, for the excitement of the paper-chase increased with every mile as the track was discovered, only to be lost again and again, forcing the cavalcade to wheel about in all directions searching for the little snow-like flakes of paper which were again to guide them forward.
When a couple of hours had passed Dreda was quite oblivious that the circling paths had led the chase to the little village of Smitton, and was therefore overcome with surprise to come face to face with no less a person than Rowena herself at the corner of the high road. Rowena would have passed by with a bow, but she was instantly surrounded by a little party of friends, all eager to greet her, and to inquire why she had not joined the chase. Guy Seton dismounted with the rest, and stood silently in the background until the first rush of inquiries were over, when, meeting Rowena’s eye, he made a simple straightforward request.
“As you have finished your messages, Miss Saxon, won’t you join us for the rest of the morning? We could send a wire from the post office if you think Mrs Saxon would be anxious. Please say yes!”
There was nothing extravagant about the manner of his invitation, perhaps in courtesy he could hardly have said less, but there was a transparent sincerity about those last three words which it was impossible to ignore. Rowena hesitated. Poor Rowena! What a morning of heartache and disappointment it had been. Ten minutes ago, five minutes ago, she had been wheeling along her solitary way, all melancholy and dejection, and behold, one turn of the road and she was in the midst of a merry cavalcade, and the chance which she had thrown away was once more within her grasp.
She hesitated, and half a dozen voices answered in her stead. Of course, she must come! Of course! After this fortunate meeting she could not be allowed to escape. She could not be so cruel as to refuse, and then once again Guy Seton’s voice repeated those three quiet words: “Please say yes!”
Well, she was only longing to accept, and having been duly entreated, gave way with a blush and a smile which made her look as pretty as a picture. The cavalcade carried her off in triumph, and Guy Seton kept discreetly in the background, waiting until time should give him his opportunity. His acquaintance with this charming girl had had an unfortunate beginning; he was determined that no haste or imprudence on his own part should give it a second check, but that afternoon Master Leonard Merrick, the hare, went home, made happy by a tip the amount of which was truly princely in his schoolboy estimation!