“Here is some paper,” said Nancy, “and here is a pencil. Write the words down, Augusta, and let me keep the paper.”
“Here is some paper,” said Nancy, “and here is a pencil. Write the words down, Augusta, and let me keep the paper.”
“Here is some paper,” said Nancy, “and here is a pencil. Write the words down, Augusta, and let me keep the paper.”
“You will never show any one?” said Augusta.
“Indeed—indeed I won’t.”
“And if I do this for you, will you do something for me?”
“If I can.”
“Very well.” Augusta spoke in quite a cheerful tone. “I will do what you wish and sign the paper, and you can keep it and show it to me to remind me of my promise when we get back to London. In the meantime you mustn’t talk any more of this nonsense. You mustn’t worry me from morning to night as you have been doing ever since I have had the pleasure of knowing you. And there is still something more.”
“I won’t talk of it; and I’ll be very, very grateful,” said Nancy.
“Well; child, so far so good; but now for my real condition. Do you know, Nancy, that you—you little wretch!—have just got me into a most horrible scrape?”
“How?” asked Nancy, fixing her wondering eyes on Augusta’s face.
“You have, you monkey—you have. This is what you have done. When I was talking to you just now in the shrubbery, and giving you some plain words with regard to your conduct, you put on the airs of a martyr, and, lo and behold, little Miss Martyr! somebody listened, and somebody was very angry.”
“Whom?” asked the child.
“No less a person than my aunt Jessie. You ran away in one of your fits of passion and left me to face the brunt of the storm. Didn’t I get it, too? Oh, Aunt Jessie was in a rage! She spoke of you as if you were a poor, half-murdered angel. I declare it was sickening to hear her. And there is worse to follow. You know what we all think of Uncle Peter and his scheme, and how anxious we are to get the best that he can give us; and I want the Royal Cross that he has promised to the most victorious.”
“Oh no, Augusta,” said Nancy, with a faint and quickly suppressed smile; “you can’t mean that you are going in for that.”
“And why not, miss? I mean to go in for it.”
“Well, but the Royal Cross is for valour and noble conduct, and—Augusta, you can’t mean it.”
“You are a nice child!” said Augusta, her eyes flashing with fury. “How dare you speak to me like that, you poor little charity-girl, kept here by Aunt Jessie—kept here out of kindness”——
“Oh, don’t! You dare not say that! It is not true.”
“Well, I won’t. But really, Nancy, you have the power of nearly driving me mad; a more irritating creature I have never come across. But now, what I want you to do is this. Aunt Jessie is angry, and she is going to give me a bad mark to-night in the orderly-book; and if I get it I am done for, for a bad mark for conduct will be talked about and commented on, and my chances of the great prize will be practicallynil. Now, I want you, Nancy, to tell her that I was not to blame this morning, or at leastscarcelyto blame; that you were very naughty and irritating, and it was no wonder I got cross. You must do everything in your power to prevent her giving me a bad mark. And remember another thing, Nancy; if she asks you what was the matter, you are not to let outanything. Simply say: ‘Augusta is rather quick-tempered, and I worried her and talked nonsense. I was to blame, and not Augusta, and she ought not to have a bad mark.’ Do you promise? Surely you can do nothing else when you have got me into this horrid scrape.”
Nancy thought hard for a minute.
“I do want to get that paper signed!” she said to herself. “It will make things quite right when we get back to London, for Gussie cannot go back from her own written promise; and then, too, I need tell no lie to Mrs. Richmond.” So after a moment she said:
“Very well; I will do my best. Of course, I can’t promise to succeed, but I will do my best.”
“That is all right,” said Augusta. “Here, give me that half-sheet of paper.”
Nan did so.
Augusta wrote quickly, finishing with a dashing signature.
“There!” she said; “keep it carefully. Don’t, for goodness’ sake, let any one see it. And now, run off as fast as you can and find Aunt Jessie.”
Mrs. Richmond had just finished lunch, and was preparing to go out for a drive, when Nancy, her cheeks flushed and her eyes very bright, rushed into the room.
“Well, my dear child,” said the good lady, drawing the little girl towards her, “and what do you want now? I am so glad to see my dear little Nancy with that bright face! I was sorry that you were troubled this morning, my dear. I have promised Augusta not to say anything about it, nor will I; but I conclude from your face now that the trouble, whatever it was, is over.”
“Yes,” said Nancy, “it is quite over.”
“And you are really happy, my darling?”
“I am, Mrs. Richmond. I cannot help it; you are so kind to me.”
“Come close to me, dear; I want to say something to you.” As Mrs. Richmond spoke she drew Nancy to her side, and put her arm round the little girl’s waist and kissed her. “Why do you call me Mrs. Richmond?” she said. “I want to be as a mother to you.”
“Oh!” said Nancy, with a gasp.
“I know, dear, that your own dear and sweet mother is no longer here. But my wish is, as far as possible, to take her place. I cannot really take her place, I know, Nancy, but I can at least be to you a good and kind and loving aunt. Now, Nancy, what I wish is this—I want you to promise to call me Aunt Jessie. Will you, dear?”
“I will if I may,” said Nancy, with her eyes shining; “I’d like to just awfully.”
“That is all right. And will you give your Aunt Jessie a kiss?”
Nancy flung her arms round Mrs. Richmond’s neck.
“How much I love you! How very, very good you are to me?” she said.
“What is it you specially want to say to me, Nancy?”
“It is about Augusta,” said the child. “I think perhaps I made too much fuss this morning. I know Augusta was—— I mean that it sounded cruel, but—— I don’t know how to express it. If you would not mind, Aunt Jessie, justquiteforgiving her.”
“What do you mean by quite forgiving her, little woman?”
“She is in great trouble. She spoke to me about it. We are good friends now, she and I. She spoke to me, and I told her I would come and plead for her. If, Aunt Jessie, you would quite forgive her!”
“Well, dear child, I have quite forgiven her; we will let bygones be bygones.”
“If that is the case, you won’t give her a bad mark in the orderly-book?”
A look of great surprise came over Mrs. Richmond’s face when Nancy said this. She rose and said hurriedly:
“I am going for a drive, and cannot talk any more; but tell Augusta she ought not to have sent you.”
“Are you angry?” asked Nancy.
“Not with you, but with Augusta.”
“Then you won’t do what I ask”——
“I cannot, and Augusta knows the reason why. When you four girls enrolled yourselves as soldiers in Captain Richmond’s battalion you were in earnest; it was not a joke. Augusta behaved badly to-day, and she deserves the punishment which a bad mark in the orderly-book will bestow. Say no more about it, Nancy. Run away and play; you are looking quite pale and ill.”
As Mrs. Richmond uttered the last words she left the room.
Nancy stood still for a moment with her hands clasped; then she went very slowly in the direction of the seashore. The children were to have tea in the tent this afternoon, and Kitty and Nora were busy bringing down baskets of picnic things: cups and saucers, plates, knives and forks, cakes innumerable, jam, bread and butter, &c. When they saw Nancy they shouted to her to come and help them. The three children went quickly down the steep path through the shrubbery, and soon found themselves by the sea. The tide was half out, and the whole place looked perfect. There was a gay town not far from Fairleigh, and at this time of the year the sands were strewn with children and nurses—in short, with the usual holiday folks. But the part of the shore just beside Mrs. Richmond’s place was considered more or less to belong to her young people, and as a rule no other children came there to play. To-day, however, as the girls, heavily laden with the materials for their afternoon picnic, approached, they saw Augusta talking to two rather showily dressed girls, whose long golden hair hung down their backs. Augusta seemed in high spirits, and her gay laughter floated on the breeze.
“Who can she be talking to?” said Kitty. “I never knew such a girl for picking up friends.”
“Well, don’t mind her now,” said Nora, going into the tent and making preparations. “We are going to boil the kettle on the sands and have real, proper tea.—Nancy, if you have nothing better to do, you might go along by the shore and pick up bits of firewood.”
Nancy ran off immediately.
“What can be the matter with her?” Nora said. “Her eyes look as if she had been crying. I wonder if Gussie has been worrying her again.”
Before Kitty had time to reply, Gussie was seen coming towards them. “Kitty,” she said, raising her voice, “I want to introduce Miss Aspray and her sister. They are so anxious to know us, and they seem so very nice! You know, of course, who they are—the Americans who live at the corner of our street.”
“But what would mother say?” asked Nora. “You know, Augusta, she doesn’t want us ever to make acquaintance with people that she herself does not know.”
“Oh! I can’t help that now,” said Augusta. “Here they are coming to meet us. Don’t you think we might ask them to tea?”
The two girls now approached the tent. Flora, the elder, looking prettier and more full of spirit than any one Kitty had seen for a long time, held out her hand.
“How do you do, Miss Richmond?” she said. “Constance and I know you quite well by sight. We have often looked at you four girls with great envy; and just now, when we found Miss Duncan standing by herself on the sands, it seemed almost too good to be true. She seemed to us, in this outlandish, out-of-the-way spot, to be quite an old friend. May we join you; or will you join us? Mother is having a grand picnic on the rocks round the other side of the bay, and I know she will be delighted to see you all. Will you come or not?”
Augusta’s eyes were sparkling, and she evidently longed to accept the Asprays’ invitation. But Nora, drawing herself up, said in her very quiet tone, “We shall be pleased if you will join us. We are just having tea on the sands; it is not a regular picnic.”
“But quite too lovely!” said Constance. “Of course we will stay—only too glad. And is this your tent? How charming!” As she spoke she entered the tent, and flung herself down on a large cushion covered with an Oriental brocade. “Dear, dear!” she said, “you do seem to enjoy things.”
“Of course we do,” said Kitty, viewing her with some disfavour. “Why else should we come to the seashore?”
“Do you live in that nice place which I see through the trees?”
“Yes,” answered Nova. “It is our own place. We come here every year.”
Just then Nancy appeared, holding a lot of brushwood in the skirt of her frock. She coloured and started when she saw the Asprays, who had now both taken possession of the tent.
“Nancy,” said Kitty, going up to the little girl and putting her arm round her waist, “Augusta has met the two Miss Asprays, and has invited them to tea here.—Miss Aspray, may I introduce my great friend, Nancy Esterleigh?”
The elder Miss Aspray coloured brightly when Kitty made this remark. The younger shrugged her shoulders and poked her sister in the side. Augusta’s eyes sparkled, and Nancy turned very white.
“How do you do?” she said in a low voice.
“Why, if it isn’t—— Yes, it is, Constance.”
“It is what?” said Constance. “I do wish you would mind your manners, Flora.”
“But it is quite too funny!” said Flora.— “Why, little girl, don’t you remember us? How is your dog? Does he bite as well as ever? Is he as vindictive as he was on a certain day in a florist’s shop? Oh, if you only knew how poor Constance’s ankle ached after his very gentlemanly attentions! And you, my dear, were not quite as sympathetic as might have been expected.”
“Explain—explain!” cried Augusta. “This sounds most interesting.”
“Let me tell,” said Nancy. She turned suddenly, faced the group, and told her little story. “I was sorry,” she said in conclusion, “and I would have said so, only you were both so terribly angry, and you seemed to think—— But there! I won’t say any more.”
“No, no,” said Kitty; “of course you won’t say any more. And the Miss Asprays are our guests, remember.—Now then, let us hurry with tea.”
The girls, their party augmented to six, had on the whole a jolly time. Nancy was only too glad to bustle about in order to keep her excited heart quiet. Were these the girls with whom she might have to spend her life? Were these the girls whose father had a right to maintain her and adopt her as his own child? Oh, how thankful she was that Mrs. Richmond had already adopted her!
“I would rather be a charity-child with Mrs. Richmond,” thought the little girl, “than have the greatest right in the world to live with the Asprays, for, oh dear! I don’t like them a bit—no, not a bit. What a comfort it is that I have got that promise in writing from Augusta!—for now I need never leave my darling Aunt Jessie. Yes, she asked me to call her Aunt Jessie; and how much I do love her!”
While these thoughts were passing through Nancy’s head, she was busy spreading bread and butter and opening pots of jam. She was kneeling on the sands to perform these offices, and happened to be a little away from the rest of the party.
Suddenly Augusta approached with the excuse of wanting to borrow a knife from her.
“Well,” she said in a whisper, “and what do you think of them? You would like awfully to live with them, wouldn’t you?”
“No, no,” said Nancy, shaking her head.
“No, no,” echoed Augusta, mimicking her. “And why not, my little beauty?”
“Don’t tease me, Gussie; you know what I mean.”
“No, indeed, I don’t. I like the Asprays immensely. How stylish and handsome they both are, and so well dressed! I trust we shall see a great deal of them. They are going to stay at Fairlight for a month, and they say a great many friends are going to be with them—American friends—gentlemen and ladies also. I know that they mean to see a good deal of us—of me in especial. So, little Nancy, as you are my special friend, you must be extremely nice to Flora and Constance Aspray, and pay them a considerable amount of attention.”
“What do you mean, Gussie?”
“What I say, little woman. Now, for instance, when we are all taking tea in the tent, you are to see that Constance and Flora get the strongest cups of tea, the most cream, and the most richly buttered of the scones, and the thickest pieces of cake. I am rather famous for reading character, and I am positively sure that these two girls are possessed by greediness. You will remember my injunctions, won’t you, Nancy?”
“I don’t mind helping them to the nice things if they really want them, Augusta. But, oh! please, Gussie, you won’t say anything about me—I mean anything special?”
Augusta laughed. “I am not at all sure,” she said; “it all depends on your behaviour. And, oh, by the way, have you seen Aunt Jessie?”
“Yes—yes, I have; and I am ever so sorry!”
“What! you have not succeeded?”
Nancy shook her head.
Augusta’s face grew black with anger; she also looked seriously alarmed.
“You must talk to her again,” she said. “I cannot have that bad mark entered in the orderly-book. Do you hear? I cannot!”
“I am very sorry, Augusta. You had better speak to Aunt Jessie yourself, for I can do nothing.”
“I don’t believe you have pleaded with her. You had got what you wanted, and did not care twopence for me and my fate. It is just like you—just.”
“No; that is not true,” answered Nancy. “I did my very, very best; and I am terribly sorry. I tell you what it is, Gussie, I would take that bad mark for myself—I would gladly—if only you need not have it.”
“Oh! it is all very fine to talk,” said Augusta; “but acts tell more than words.”
“What are you two chattering about?” suddenly burst from Nora’s lips. “The kettle has boiled, and the tea is made, and we are all waiting for the bread and butter.”
Nancy rose at once, and Augusta followed her. The picnic tea commenced, and no one noticed in the general mirth that one girl was looking perturbed, cross, and anxious, and that another was strangely silent and depressed. The Asprays, whatever their faults, were the gayest of the gay, and very merry and witty. Nora was not inclined to be too cordial to girls whom her mother did not know, but Kitty quickly succumbed to their charm. The picnic tea came to an end, and when the Asprays took leave, it was with warm assurances that they would soon come again, and that their mother should call on Mrs. Richmond if Mrs. Richmond did not first call on her—in short, that during their stay at Fairlight, the Richmonds of Fairleigh and they themselves must be bosom friends.
The children returned to the house only just in time to dress for late dinner, for while in the country Mrs. Richmond had the four young people to dine with her. As they walked up through the shrubbery the one topic of conversation was the guests who had just picnicked with them.
“I don’t believe mother will like it,” said Nora. “We ought not to have done it without asking her permission. It was your fault, Augusta; you should not have done it.”
“Nonsense!” said Augusta. “I could not help myself. Americans are not so frightfully formal and stuck-up as we English. For my part, I think the Asprays are the most charming girls? Nancy, don’t you agree with me?”
“I don’t know anything about them,” replied Nancy.
“Well, dear, you can know all about them if you like,” said Augusta in a very marked tone.
Kitty opened her eyes in bewilderment. What did Augusta mean? Nancy was colouring again painfully. As they reached the house the first thing they saw was a pile of travelling-cases in the hall.
“Uncle Peter must have come,” cried Kitty. “Now everything will be all right. How glad I am!” But the next moment she saw her mother, whose face was very grave and disturbed.
“My darlings,” she said, “since you went out I have had a telegram from my special friend in the north, Mrs. Rashleigh. She has just lost her only son, and is in the most terrible grief. She has begged me to go to her. I shall have to go up to town to-night, and shall go down to Yorkshire to-morrow. I am terribly sorry to leave you four to your own devices, particularly as Miss Roy is away. But fortunately Uncle Peter arrives in the morning, and I have no doubt that you will all be as good as possible under your uncle’s care.”
“Isn’t Uncle Peter coming to-night?” said Nancy, speaking very slowly, and with great anxiety in her tone.
“Oh, you thought so because his luggage has arrived!” said Mrs. Richmond. “No. I have had a wire from him. He has sent his luggage on, but is staying with an old friend at Tiverton till the morning.”
“Oh mother, how we shall miss you!” here exclaimed Kitty.
“And I you, my darlings; but I am so shocked at my dear friend’s trouble that I cannot really stay away from her. Now, my own two little girls, will you come upstairs and help mother to finish her packing?”
Kitty and Nora both quickly complied. Their mother’s room was in a great state of confusion. Her maid was strapping boxes and writing labels, and looking very much put out. Mrs. Richmond tied on her bonnet; then she turned to the girls.
“You will find the orderly-book,” she said, “in the chiffonier in the drawing-room; here is the key. I have just entered your marks for to-day. When Uncle Peter comes, give him the book. He will be responsible for it and for you until I come back. Now I hear the wheels of the carriage on the gravel. I must be off.”
“Oh mother! one word first,” said Nora.
“It must be a very brief word, then, Nora, or I shall miss my train”——
“We met the Asprays on the beach, mother.”
“The Asprays, dear? I don’t understand.”
“If you please, mum,” said the parlour-maid at this moment, “Harris says that unless you come at once you won’t catch your train.”
“I am quite ready,” said Mrs. Richmond. “Come, Merton, you cannot waste any more time over the packages.—Darlings, the Asprays, whoever they are, must keep. Good-bye, my pets—good-bye.”
In two minutes more the carriage was bowling down the avenue, Mrs. Richmond was gone, and the four girls looked at each other.
“It is most provoking,” said Nora. “She never told us anything about the Asprays. What are we to do?”
“To do!” said Augusta. “To take all the fun we can out of them. What else could we do?”
“All the same, I don’t think they are a bit the sort of girls that mother would like,” said Kitty. “But there! it doesn’t matter, for when Uncle Peter comes he will know what we ought or ought not to do.”
The rest of the evening passed somewhat sadly. Not only Kitty and Nora, but Nancy, too, missed the gentle presence of kind Mrs. Richmond. Augusta’s mind, too, was full of many things, and she was as silent as her cousins. Nancy was the first to suggest an early retirement to bed, and the others quickly followed her example.
Fairleigh was a large, rambling, old-fashioned house. It had belonged to the Richmonds for many generations, and had been added to and altered from time to time. The bedrooms were numerous but small. Augusta had been given a very tiny room leading out of Mrs. Richmond’s larger bedroom. Kitty, Nora, and Nancy had also bedrooms apiece, but their rooms were in the opposite wing of the house.
Augusta was tired and her head ached. The day through which she had just lived had been anything but to her taste. It is true there had been a certain amount of excitement, which had carried her through the long hours. But her mind was ill at ease. That bad mark in the orderly-book came between her and her rest. To receive a bad mark for conduct in Captain Richmond’s orderly-book would, she knew, be all but fatal for her chance of the Royal Cross. He was anxious and particular with regard to physical training and intellectual training, but first of all came conduct—conduct straight and conduct honourable. Augusta admired him very much, but at the same time she was afraid of him; for the Captain had a look in those blue eyes of his which caused her own to drop. She had an uncomfortable sensation when she saw him looking at her that he was reading right down into her heart. When he saw the bad-conduct mark he would not rest until he found out all particulars with regard to it. Mrs. Richmond, if she had given it at all, had given it for cruelty—for cruelty to Nancy, who was a special favourite of the Captain’s. But had Mrs. Richmond given that mark? That was the question which tormented Augusta and kept her from sleep. She got into bed, it is true, but instead of dropping off, as was her usual custom, into happy and healthy slumber, she tossed from side to side, thinking and thinking of Captain Richmond, and the bad mark. He would arrive in the morning, and would naturally inquire how his battalion was progressing—how his soldiers were conducting themselves. He would be very jolly, very agreeable, and a great acquisition, but at the same time he would come on Augusta at that moment of her career as a sort of Nemesis. “Notwithstanding all his agreeableness,” she said to herself, “I do wish he would not come just now. He is certain to make a fuss, too, about the Asprays; and from what Flora and Constance tell me, we are likely to have a splendid time with them—that is,Ishall have a splendid time. Brilliant, handsome, gay sort of girls like Constance and Flora are not likely to meet with my painfully old-fashioned cousins’ approval. And as to Nancy, of course, she doesn’t count. ButIshould enjoy their society, and if Uncle Peter were not comingIshould have it. Oh! I know they won’t suit him. Dear, dear! what a nuisance and worry everything is!”
At this juncture in her thoughts Augusta dropped into an uneasy doze, but she awakened in an hour or two to see the moonlight streaming into her room, and to find herself more awake than ever.
“I wonder if Aunt Jessie has given me that bad mark,” she thought. “I do wish I could see for myself. It is quite possible that in the hurry of her departure she forgot to make the entry. What a rare bit of luck it would be if such were the case!—for she is certain to forget all about it when she returns. I wish I could see the book; it would be such a tremendous rest to my mind?”
The more Augusta thought over this suddenly conceived idea, the more she longed to put it into execution. Sleep would not again visit her. It was dull beyond words to lie awake all night. Now that Mrs. Richmond was away, she was in a part of the house quite away from the rest of the family. If she got up no one would hear her. She would get up. She would go downstairs and examine the orderly-book, and find out the truth for herself.
She jumped out of bed, put on her dressing-gown and slippers, and going very softly up the three steps which communicated with Mrs. Richmond’s room, opened the door and went in. This room was also bright with moonlight. Augusta crossed the room and opened the door which led on to the landing, and a moment later found herself in the drawing-room. She knew where Mrs. Richmond kept the orderly-book. There was a very pretty old Sheraton chiffonier in one corner of the room, which contained many old-world drawers and queer hiding-places. Its legs were thin and spindly. It was a frail piece of furniture, but very good to look at. Mrs. Richmond was charmed with it, and as it was a recent acquisition she made use of it to keep her letter-paper and writing materials, and many other things, besides the orderly-book. But Augusta had quite forgotten that the drawer in which this book was always kept was locked, and she tugged and tugged now with a feeling of great irritation. To go so far and risk so much and to meet failure after all was anything but to her mind. She could be at times almost reckless in her desire to carry out her own wishes. She entered the dining-room now, opened a drawer in the sideboard, and taking out a stout knife, she returned to the Sheraton chiffonier. The chiffonier was old, and the locks not of the strongest. A little manipulation with the knife caused the hasp to go back, and without seriously injuring the piece of furniture, Augusta managed to open the drawer.
While upstairs she had not dared to strike a match, but in the drawing-room she was too far away to run any risk of being overheard. Accordingly she lit a couple of candles, and taking the heavy book, she laid it on Mrs. Richmond’s desk. Never before had she been permitted to see the entries made in the orderly-book, and she was deeply interested now. In particular the pages devoted to “Augusta Duncan” claimed her attention. After all she need not have been nervous, for Augusta had done well—very well—and, oh, wonder of wonders, delight of delights! there were so far no bad marks set against her name. On the contrary, the words “Good—good—good” appeared as she turned page after page.
“What a blessing!” she said to herself. “Aunt Jessie did forget; and now I can face the whole world with an easy mind.”
She was about to shut the book when it occurred to her to see what sort of marks the other girls had got. Captain Richmond had so arranged his orderly-book that day by day each girl had a page devoted to herself. These pages might be filled up or left blank according to the wishes and inclination of the person who entered the daily record. But for Kitty, for Nora, for Augusta, and for Nancy there was for each day a complete and separate page. Upon that page stood the record of the young life which had been lived during that special day. Now, the day which had just gone by was the 24th of August. Augusta amused herself reading the different remarks with regard to her cousins. Both Nora and Kitty had scored high. Their industry was considerable; they had risen early; they were neat in their persons and with regard to their rooms. Finally, the conduct of each girl was excellent. Yes, that was the word.
Augusta turned back to the page which recorded her own life on this special day. She too had “excellent” put against her conduct. She had not noticed this before.
“It is too funny!” she thought. “Nancy must have been very persuasive although she knew it not. Aunt Jessie has never spoken of my conduct before as excellent. Dear, dear! I could hug the dear old aunty were she here. Why, she could not have said better of Nancy herself. She was evidently in a hurry, for she has not filled up the page. But my conduct is excellent. I declare it is a huge joke. Well, this sets my mind absolutely at rest. I will just glance at Nancy’s page. If Aunt Jessie considered my conduct excellent to-day, what will she have to say with regard to the little favourite?”
Augusta turned the leaves of the book, and soon arrived at Nancy’s page. It looked strangely empty. There were no remarks about early rising, nor intelligence, nor order, nor neatness. There were only blanks there, and under the heading “Conduct” Augusta read, “Bad conduct—guilty of cruelty.”
Augusta nearly fell back as she read the words.
Augusta nearly fell back as she read the words.
Augusta nearly fell back as she read the words.
She nearly fell back as she read the words. The colour rushed in a crimson tide to her face, and just for an instant she felt strangely giddy. Then she shut the book, and putting it back into the chiffonier, stole softly and quietly upstairs to bed. She knew, of course, exactly what had happened. Aunt Jessie in her hurry had made an extraordinary and inexplicable mistake. She had written Nancy’s record on Augusta’s page.
“Well, I never!” said Augusta to herself. She quite panted in her excitement and flurry. When she first lay down in bed she was cold and trembling, and her impulse was to explain the matter to every one and clear Nancy.
But, alas! to do this required some nobility of nature, and Augusta was not noble enough. To expose herself, to show herself in her true light in the eyes of Captain Richmond, was more than she could stand; and she had not been half-an-hour in bed before she began to congratulate herself on her lucky—most lucky—escape.
“They will never, never know that I know,” she said to herself. “I have but to remain quiet and allow things to run their course. No chance of the Royal Cross for you, little Miss Nancy; but there are great chances of my obtaining the longed-for prize. I am in luck. I declare I am quite sleepy, the relief is so great.”
She turned on her side, and a moment later was sleeping as innocently as a baby.
At breakfast next morning the children were in high spirits.
Augusta had awakened without any headache or any pricks of conscience. “Let Uncle Peter come now,” she said to herself; “I won’t be afraid of him.”
It happened to be a lovely morning, and the windows of the pretty breakfast-room were wide open. The gardener was mowing the grass on the tennis-lawn; the roses and other climbing flowers peeped in at the lattice-window, and sweet summer scents filled the room.
“Poor, poor darling mother,” exclaimed Kitty as she seated herself at the breakfast-tray; “how awfully fagged she must be! I do hope she will soon come back.”
“We ought not to wish her to come back too soon,” said Nora, who always happened to say just the right thing; “for if Mrs. Rashleigh is very sad mother can comfort her.”
“Do see what you are doing!” cried Augusta at that moment. “You have overfilled the teapot, and the tea is running out on the tray.”
Kitty laughed gleefully, and soon rectified her mistake, and the meal progressed, accompanied by gay remarks of all sorts.
“Uncle Peter ought to be here by eleven o’clock,” said Nora. “The train arrives at Fairlight at half-past ten; he is sure to come by it.”
“What are we to do to-day?” asked Augusta. “Have we any plans, girls? I think we might”——
“Oh! I know what you are going to say,” exclaimed Nora. “You want to go to see those tiresome Aspray girls. But we can’t do anything until Uncle Peter arrives. He will direct us, and we will do exactly what he wishes.”
“Tiresome man!” muttered Augusta under her breath. Aloud she said: “Pass me that brown scone, Nancy. And for goodness’ sake, child, don’t open your eyes so wide whenever I speak to you!”
“I tell you what it is,” said Nora—“I have lacked courage to say it for some days, but I will say it now—I do wish you would not scold Nancy whenever you speak to her.”
“I don’t; I know I don’t,” said Augusta.—”Do I scold you whenever I speak to you, Nancy,mignon?”
“Idon’t mind,” said Nancy; and before anything else could be said the servant entered, bearing a note and also a telegram on a salver. She handed the telegram to Nora, and the note to Augusta.
“The messenger is waiting, miss,” said the girl, speaking to Nora.
“What can it mean?” cried Nora; while Kitty craned her neck forward to watch her sister as she read.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Nora; “how very provoking! It is from Uncle Pete. He says he cannot arrive before dinner-time.—There is no answer, thank you, Ellen.”
Ellen left the room, and Augusta now turned her attention to her note. She tore it open, and the next moment she exclaimed in great excitement:
“Oh, I say, this is jolly! Here is a line from Flora Aspray. They want us to join them all for a big picnic. They are going to Fairlight Towers—you know, that charming old ruin that we have always wanted to see. They are starting at eleven o’clock, and they ask us to meet them at the crossroads. They say they will have carriages enough to take us all, and we shall be back soon after dusk. Isn’t it quite too heavenly? Of course we will go—eh, Nora?—eh, Kitty?”
“I wish Uncle Peter were here,” said Kitty; “he would tell us whether it were right or wrong.”
“What folly! If Aunt Jessie were at home she would certainly allow us to go. Anyhow, I intend to go, whether you are silly or not.”
“I am sure it is not right, and I am sure mother would not like it,” said Kitty again. “May I look at Flora’s letter, please, Gussie?”
Augusta handed the letter across to her cousin.
“There is no mention of Mrs. Aspray. Flora seems to have asked us quite from herself,” said Kitty. “What do you say, Nora? What do you say, Nancy?”
“I don’t want to go at all. To be frank with you, Gussie, I don’t care for those girls,” said Nora.
“Well, you do like to spoil one’s pleasure whenever you can. I suppose there is nothing for it but for Nancy and me to go alone.”
“Must I go with you?” cried Nancy.
“Yes—certainly,” replied Augusta.
“She sha’n’t go unless she wishes to,” here interposed Kitty. “Why do you bully her? I think you are very unkind.”
“And I think you are all perfectly hateful!” said Augusta, who was red with passion. “Well,” she added, “have it your own way. I shall go by myself; I do not intend to miss the fun.”
She marched out of the room as she spoke, and the three other girls glanced at one another.
“Perhaps I had better go with her,” said Nancy. “What do you think, Kitty? It doesn’t matter so much for me, you know; I am not your real sister. I mean that Aunt Jessie would be more particular about you and what you did than about what I do.”
“You may go, of course, if you like,” said Kitty; “but you shall not go if you do not like. Gussie shall not make your life a burden to you.”
“I think I’ll go,” said Nancy. She rose very slowly and left the room.
“What a darling little thing she is!” said Kitty; “always so self-denying and so anxious to please others. Now, I know she is merely doing this to please Gussie; and why Gussie should be humoured at every turn is more than I can understand. Nancy would have enjoyed a long, quiet, happy day with us; and why should she make herself perfectly miserable?”
“Augusta has a power over her which I can never understand,” replied Nora. “She does very wrong indeed to accept the Asprays’ invitation; but perhaps it is as well, since she insists on going, that Nancy should go with her. She won’t be quite so daring and so unladylike if Nancy is by.”
“Oh dear!” cried Kitty, “do you really think our cousin Augusta unladylike?”
“When she does underhand things I do,” replied Nora. “But there, Kit! don’t let us worry any more. We have a lot to do, and on this day of all days we must not be idle, with dear Uncle Peter coming in the evening.”
“Do you know,” exclaimed Kitty, “that I cannot find the key of the chiffonier where the orderly-book is kept. Mother put it into my hand just when she was going, and I can’t imagine where I placed it. Let us go up and search mother’s room. It will never do for the key to be lost just when Uncle Peter arrives.”
The girls ran upstairs and began to search in their mother’s room, but nowhere, high or low, could they find the missing key. They questioned the servants, and begged them to have a good search for it, and presently, absorbed by other matters, forgot the circumstance.
Meanwhile Augusta was putting on her gayest and most becoming costume.
When Nancy put her sad little face round the door and said “I am going with you, Gussie,” just for a moment Augusta’s conscience did give her a sharp prick.
“You are good-natured,” she said, “and I won’t forget it. Put on something nice. Wear your pretty white dress and your white hat. You look so nice all in pure white!”
Nancy nodded and went off to her room.
“She is a good-natured little soul,” thought Augusta. “It will be much nicer for me to go with her than alone. If by any chance anything is said, she must naturally take her share of the blame. What a blessing that tiresome captain put off his visit till to-night! I only wish, for my part, he would put it off altogether. Now, do I look best in pink or blue? Pink, I think. Pale pink suits almost any one. My white hat with the blush-roses will look sweet with this frock. I don’t want those handsome girls to outshine me. Now I fancy I’ll do. I shall be quite as smart as they are, and that is all I am going to trouble my head about.”
At a quarter to eleven Augusta and Nancy left Fairleigh, and walked down the dusty road until they came to the cross-roads where they were to wait for the Asprays’ picnic party.
Punctual almost to the moment, a wagonette, a pony-carriage, and a phaeton appeared in sight. The gaily dressed party shouted welcomes to the two girls; and Mrs. Aspray, an exceedingly stout woman with a timid face and a good-natured expression, bent forward and held out her hand to welcome Augusta and Nancy.
“Why, I thought there were four of you,” she said. “Florrie said four.—Didn’t you, Flo? You mentioned four girls; I am certain of it.”
“Yes, mother,” replied Flora; “but you can see for yourself that there are only two waiting for us at the cross-roads.”
“I am so sorry,” here interrupted Augusta, speaking in her most ladylike, company, and grownup manner, “but my cousins, Kitty and Nora, are both suffering from bad colds, otherwise they would have been delighted to come.”
Nancy’s face first grew red and then white when Augusta told this falsehood. She was about to say something, but receiving a sharp nudge on her elbow from the irrepressible Augusta, she held her peace.
Room was made for the two girls in the wagonette, and the party proceeded gaily on their way. The day was a perfect one—neither too hot nor too windy; the great heat of the summer’s sun was tempered by refreshing breezes. The destination of the party was an old castle which hung over the sea at the edge of a great promontory. The castle was one of the show-places of the neighbourhood, and picnic parties there were very common.
The custodian was very pleased to receive the Asprays and their friends, and he told Mrs. Aspray that they could all have dinner in the great stone hall where once upon a time, many ages ago, the monks of the order of Ethelbert used to feed.
Augusta was in wild spirits, and Nancy tried hard to enjoy herself. There were one or two quiet, gentle sort of girls who attached themselves to her, and they walked about, examining the old place and trying to piece together its past history.
Augusta meanwhile scarcely left Flora’s side. She liked her even better than Constance. Flora was so gay, so hearty in her manner—so daring, too. She was absolutely astonished when Augusta told her that she, in her own sheltered life, had to conform to rules and to obey conditions.
“But you are too old,” said Flora. “Why, you are seventeen, are you not?”
“No,” answered Augusta; “I am only just sixteen.”
“As if that mattered! Why, in America we often marry as young as sixteen, and we certainly do exactly what we like. Oh! I am so anxious to introduce you to a great friend of ours—Mr. Archer. I did so hope he would be here to-day! He is an American, and such fun! He will put you up to a wrinkle or two. We heard from him this morning, and he will arrive to-morrow. I know you would admire him; and what is more to the point, I am certain he would like you. You are exactly the sort of English girl to take his fancy.”
Augusta blushed when Flora talked about Mr. Archer and the extreme likelihood of his taking a fancy to her.
“I don’t suppose he would for a minute. And I don’t know—this is quite between ourselves—that I shall see much more of any of you.” she answered.
“What do you mean by that? Don’t you like us?” asked Flora bluntly.
“Need you ask?” replied Augusta. “I cannot express to you what a blessing it is to me having people like you close to us; but the Richmonds have very funny ideas, and the fact is, as my aunt has not called on your mother—— Oh, you understand, don’t you?”
“But your aunt is away. How can she call on mother? She would, naturally, if she were at home.”
“Yes—yes; I know.”
“And being away,” continued Flora, “the necessary formalities cannot be gone through. Surely we can all have fun together. There is Constance.—Constance, I want to say a word to you.”
Constance danced up to her sister.
“Here is Miss Duncan,” continued Flora, “hinting to me that she won’t be able to see much of us in future. Don’t you think that would be a vast pity, Connie? And with David Archer coming, too!”
Constance laughed.
“You will like him immensely if you see him,” she said, staring full at Augusta.
Once more the colour rushed into her guest’s face.
“Well,” said Augusta, “I must do my best. You may be sure I should like to come. I have said so to your sister already. But there is a Captain Richmond coming this evening—I call him Uncle Peter, although he is not my real uncle—and he is awfully particular, and may prevent me.”
“Captain Richmond!” cried both the girls.
“Is he young, and is he nice?” questioned Flora.
“Yes; I expect you would think him both young and good-looking. As to his being nice, I expect he is that too, only he might not fulfil your ideas.”
“I should like to see him,” said Flora. “Now, I tell you what, Gussie (oh! you must let me call you Gussie—‘Miss Duncan’ is far too stiff), you must manage—quite by accident, you know—to meet us to-morrow, or next day, with your dear, particular Captain Richmond; then you will be forced, you know, to introduce us, and we will introduce you to David Archer.”
“All right. I will see what I can do,” answered Augusta.
A shout from another member of the party caused the three girls to look up.
Mr. Aspray, a very stout man with a pale face, was calling to them to hurry down and help to make tea, and no further private conversation was possible. But as the carriages drew up at the crossroads for the two girls to alight, Flora whispered in Augusta’s ear:
“Don’t forget, Gussie. Constance and I will be walking in the Fairleigh woods to-morrow. Now, be as clever as you look, and do what we want.”
It was quite dusk when Augusta and Nancy found themselves once more back at Fairleigh. From the moment they left the cross-roads to the time they reached the house neither of the girls spoke.
Augusta was full of the delights of the past day, and was turning over in her mind what possible stratagems she might employ to enable her to see more of the Asprays.
Nancy was equally busy wondering if Uncle Peter had yet arrived; and when they turned the corner and saw Kitty and Nora each hanging on the arm of the Captain, she uttered a glad cry and ran forward.
“Ah! here you are. Good-evening, little niece Nancy.—And how are you, Augusta?”
“I am so sorry we were not here when you arrived, Uncle Peter!” said Augusta. “We were away at a picnic.”
“I told Uncle Peter you were having a gay time and I did not know when you would be back,” remarked Nora, “but we waited supper for you all the same. Shall we go in now?—for I am sure Uncle Peter must be very hungry.”
“Hungry is no word for it,” cried Captain Richmond. “I am starving. Don’t stay long tittivating, girls, but come down as soon as ever you can, for the patience of a hungry man has its limits.”
The four girls ran upstairs laughing merrily.
“Isn’t he nice?” thought Nancy to herself. “Doesn’t he make the whole house seem breezy and happy? I am glad that he has come. Gussie won’t dare to tell any more lies now. And I hope—oh! I do hope she won’t often expect me to go with her to see the Asprays. Oh, to think that I might have had to live with them! I should indeed have been a most miserable girl. I would not exchange such darlings as Nora and Kitty for Flora and Constance Aspray.”
“Are you ready?” cried Kitty at that moment, tapping at the door of the little girl’s room.
“Yes. Just come in, please, Kitty,” cried Nancy.
Kitty entered. She wore a white dress with a pale-blue sash, and she looked most sweet and charming.
“Oh, you darling!” said Nancy, running up to her. “I must kiss you—I must. Oh, how different you are! Oh, it is such a relief to get home again!”
“What queer, broken sentences, Nancy!” exclaimed Kitty. “Why is it such a relief to get home; and who am I different from?”
“The Asprays,” said Nancy.
“Then you had not a happy day?”
“Oh, never mind! I suppose I ought to have had.”
“You need not see any more of them; you may be sure of that, Nancy. Uncle Peter was rather surprised at your both going. I think Uncle Peter is what you call punctilious—yes, that is the word. I am sure he won’t let us have anything to say to them until mother returns. But now let us hurry down to supper. Do you know, Nancy, that he is nicer than ever, and he has got no end of lovely schemes. I can see that we are going to have a most heavenly time.”
“Did he—did he say anything,” said Nancy slowly “did he say anything about our battalion?”
“No; not a single word. I expected him to, and so did Nora; but I could see that it was in the back of his head all the time. I expect the grand prize-day, when the best girl receives the Royal Cross, will take place before we return to town. And, oh, Nancy darling! I have a shrewd suspicion that you will win.”
“I!” said Nancy. “Certainly not.Iam not better than you or Nora.”
“In some ways you are better. You are more patient; and then, you have more to put up with. Uncle Peter is the sort of man to take all that into consideration. He is very just—very justindeed—and he is quite safe to give the cross to the person who has really earned it.”
“Whatareyou two chattering about?” now came from Augusta. “We are all waiting downstairs. Do hurry up.”
The girls flew down, their arms encircling each other.
“Oh,” thought Nancy to herself, “how sweet, how delightful is Kitty! How happy she makes me!”
The dining-room table was prettily laid; the supper was good and abundant; Uncle Peter had a joke for every one. Never was there a more delightful meal. When the Captain assured the girls he felt quite like a paterfamilias with four grown-up daughters, they considered it the hugest fun in the world, and laughed with uncontrolled delight. But the gayest of meals come to an end, and once again the little party went out and paced up and down on the moonlit lawn.
It was now Nancy’s turn to clasp her hand inside Captain Richmond’s arm, and with Nora on the other side, to walk backwards and forwards in front of the old house. Meanwhile Kitty and Augusta fell behind the others.
“I hope you had a good time, Gussie,” said her cousin.
“You mean to-day,” said Augusta. “There is only one word for to-day—it wasripping. Yes; I can call it nothing else. Oh Kit, you will help me, won’t you?”
“In what way, Gussie?”
“I want to see some more of them—oh, so badly! You won’t put an obstacle in my way, will you?”
“I am not the one to do it,” answered Kitty; “but, of course, you can understand, Gussie, that we have all got to obey the Captain.”
“I wish he hadn’t come,” said Augusta suddenly.
“You wish that Uncle Peter—darlingUncle Peter—hadn’tcome?”
“Yes; but you need not cry it out quite so loud. I don’t, of course, wanthimto hear. I am sorry he has come because he is sure to be very strict and proper, and perhaps he won’t like the Asprays.”
“I don’t believe he will have anything to do with them. Oh dear! there is ten o’clock striking, and we must go to bed.”
“Girls,” said the Captain as they re-entered the house, “this night has been pure pleasure; but, you know, business awaits us to-morrow, and before I retire for the night I should just like to run my eye over the orderly-book. Can you get it for me, Nora? Your mother must have left it where you could find it.”
Nora’s face turned white and then pink.
“I am so dreadfully sorry, Uncle Peter,” she exclaimed, “but we have lost the key of the drawer in mother’s chiffonier in which she keeps the orderly-book. It is altogether my fault and Kitty’s. Mother was going off in a great hurry, and she gave us the key, and we can’t find it high or low.”
“You had better have a good search for it to-morrow,” answered the Captain. “Never mind about it now. Good-night to you all. We will begin brisk and early to-morrow, soldiers of the True Blue.”
He gave the little party a military salute, and going to the drawing-room, he shut the door.
The girls went upstairs, Augusta thanking her stars that the key was lost.
“So much the better for my purposes,” she said to herself. “It will never occur to him to try that special drawer; if he did it would open fast enough. What a bit of luck that Kitty and Nora should have lost the key!”
The girls had now reached the broad landing which led by different corridors to their bedrooms. Here they said good-night, and Augusta quickly entered her own room. She felt excited and not at all disposed to sleep. The Asprays had fascinated her, and the thought of meeting that delightful American, Mr. David Archer, the man whom Flora had assured her would take a great fancy to her, very nearly turned the silly girl’s head.
“I wonder if I am really handsome,” she said to herself. “I wonder if there is something remarkable and fascinating about me. I should like so much to know! Perhaps if I met him he would tell me. I wonder if he would. It would be very nice to be pretty; pretty girls have such a jolly time. Now, Nancy is pretty. It is horribly unfair, but although she is nothing but a charity-child, she has far and away the most charming face of any of us. What would I not give for her complexion, and those beautiful wide dark eyes of hers, and that thick, thick ebony-black hair? But I dare say I am very passable myself. I observed Flora looking at me quite with approbation to-day. I shall light some candles and see how I look before I go to bed.”
Augusta accordingly lit two candles which stood in heavy oak stands on the mantelpiece. These she placed one on each side of her looking-glass, and then, drawing the glass forward, she sat down and stared into her face. But the glass was somewhat dim from age, and the light altogether inefficient.
“Why, I see nothing but a blur,” thought the girl; and then it occurred to her to go into her aunt’s room and fetch some more candles from there.
The thought had no sooner come than she acted on it, bringing in a heavy pair of candlesticks with tall wax candles in them. Just as she reached her own door her foot knocked against something metallic. She stooped and picked up a little key.
“The lost key,” she murmured under her breath; and then she slipped it into her pocket.
With the aid of the four candles Augusta got a good view of her features. Her face was well shaped, and her eyes of a nice colour. She was altogether, as she expressed it, “more than passable.”
“If only I grow tall, and have a good figure, and am dressed as I ought to be, I shall be a success,” she said to herself. “Those two years in Paris will do wonders for me. Parisian polish is so effective! Yes, I shall have a good time when I do go into society. But, dear, dear! why should I wait for two or three years to have a good time when I may have it now? What fun to talk to a man like David Archer! Flora will do her best for me if I introduce Uncle Peter to them. I suppose they think they will fascinate Uncle Peter, but they don’t know him. Yes, he is a charming man, only I do wish he were not quite so awfully good.”
Augusta put out her candles and got into bed. As she laid her head on the pillow she remembered that she had just found the missing key.
“I am in luck,” she said to herself—“in rare luck. The first thing to-morrow I shall lock the chiffonier, and then I can throw the key down—the well in the garden. That orderly-book won’t be found then until Aunt Jessie returns.”
But man proposes, God disposes. This trite proverb proved its right to existence just at the time when Augusta thought all things were moulding themselves in her favour. For while the four girls slept peacefully in their different rooms, Captain Richmond thought and pondered in the drawing-room. He paced up and down until he had finished his cigarette. He then went and stood by the window, which was open.
He was thinking of his girls, and wondering how his battalion had behaved. In particular his thoughts were occupied with Nancy. He had taken a great fancy to Nancy when he had met her in London. He was sorry for her, and he thought he understood her character. His own nieces had always been to him as an open book, but Nancy puzzled while she interested him. “As to Augusta—I cannot make her out. Quite down in the bottom of my heart I don’t like Augusta,” said the Captain to himself. “It is very uncharitable of me not to like her, for I know nothing whatever to her discredit. But one is not accountable for these sort of feelings. Why do I like Nancy so much? Why am I certain that she is straight and noble and sweet and generous? I do believe that it was mostly on account of Nancy I thought of my little scheme to enroll the girls in my battalion. Well, I suppose as that key is lost I had better go to bed. We shall have a good time to-morrow. Yes, I must make those children happy. Jessie has entrusted them to my care, and they sha’n’t see more of those objectionable Asprays than I can help.”
The Captain was about to leave the room, having first shut the window and fastened the shutters, when his attention was attracted by the chiffonier. He was fond of Sheraton furniture, and saw at once that this was a particularly fine specimen. During his last visit to Fairleigh this handsome piece of furniture had not been in the drawing-room. He went up to it now, put down his candle, and looked it over with great care.
“I wonder where Jessie picked it up,” he said to himself, “and what she paid for it. It is certainly genuine. And how particularly fine these brass mountings are.” The chiffonier contained many drawers, some shallow and some deep. Each drawer was opened by a small brass handle, the lock being just above the handle. Captain Richmond took hold of one of the handles and pulled the drawer, which immediately slid out, and there, staring him in the face, was the well-known orderly-book.
“What a piece of luck!” he cried. “I am not a bit sleepy. So Jessie never locked the drawer. As I have found the book I may as well run my eye over its contents to-night. I shall make a more careful examination to-morrow, but I am curious to know how my soldiers have got on.”
The Captain lit another pair of candles, and drawing a comfortable chair forward, seated himself and opened the book. His practised eyes ran quickly over the pages. Augusta’s entries were very much what he had expected; they were fairly good without being anything remarkable. His own two nieces were also creditable soldiers—neat, punctilious as to behaviour, early risers, well forward in their athletics, and each girl bore marks of excellent conduct.
“Now for Nancy,” thought the Captain.
Nancy’s pages came last, as she was the youngest girl of the four. As Captain Richmond read the entries, made first by Miss Roy and then by his sister-in-law, he smiled to himself.
“Well done, Nancy!” he said more than once. “Brave little soldier. I rather gather that you had a tussle with yourself on this day, and that you conquered again on this day. Strange that I should read between the lines! I was not mistaken in my estimate of your character, little Nancy. But, oh! what have we here?”
The Captain was now reading the brief entry made in Mrs. Richmond’s writing on 24th August. He read the few remarks, once in puzzled bewilderment, twice in incredulity, and a third time with the colour mounting to his face and apprehension in his eyes.
“It can’t be true,” he said to himself. “Nancy guilty of cruelty!Impossible.”
He shut the book as if he were thoroughly dissatisfied, and returning it to its drawer, he went up to bed.