CHAPTER VIIIAs Lallie was late for breakfast Tony only saw her for a few minutes before he had to go to College. He did not get back to the house again till nearly lunch time, when he met her at the front door, radiant, smiling, her arms full of books."See, Tony!" she exclaimed joyously. "I've been into the town--such a pretty town it is too, with a band playing in the promenade and all. And I found a library, and I've paid my subscription for three months; three volumes at a time; and I've chosen three books, and here they are!"Tony followed her into the hall and Lallie held up the books, backs outwards, for his inspection."How did you choose them?" he asked."Well, I chose this one because there was such a pretty lady in the front, and I liked the cover. And I chose this one because I've read other books by the same author, and liked them. And I chose this one because the very nice lady at the library pressed it upon me and said it was 'being very much read.'"Only one good reason, Lallie, out of the three. I'm afraid that pretty cover, with the pretty lady inside, is misleading. I, in my character of chaperon----""As Uncle Emileen, you mean, Tony?""Exactly so. I, in my character of Uncle Emileen, must veto that one, though I haven't read it myself. I'm pretty sure your father wouldn't like it.""I'm quite sure he wouldn't, if you say so. He's awfully particular, is Dad; but he's particular in a funny sort of way. He'll let me read things that would make the hair of the entire Emileen family stand straight on end--if only they are sincere and well written; and then again, he falls foul of wishy-washy novels that Aunt Emileen would consider quite harmless.""I don't think he would consider this either well-written or sincere, so you'd better give it to me.""Dad says 'tis women mostly who write the dirty books--what a pity! But I think he must be wrong, don't you, Tony?"Tony shook his head mournfully."A great pity," he repeated."I expect they do it just for the fun of shocking people. I like doing that myself.""I've no doubt of it. All the same, I hope you'll choose some other method of scandalising society; and you'd better hand that particular volume over to me.""And here have I walked all the way up from the town, fondly clasping that pernicious volume--Aunt Emileen's phrase, not mine--and lots of people stared hard at me, and I thought it was my nice new hat they were admiring. Here, take it, Tony, and you can come with me to return it, and then they'll think I got it for you, you old sinner."Tony glanced nervously around lest there should be any eavesdropper to hear him called an "old sinner"; but the doors were all shut and the hall empty."Certainly I'll come with you to-morrow; I couldn't possibly come to-day, I was so busy. Why are you always in such a hurry, Lallie? I subscribe to that library; no one ever gets out any books except Miss Foster; and there you go paying another subscription. What waste! And why did you go by yourself?""And who was there to go with, pray? P--Mr. Johns was in College. You were in College. I don't know where Mrs. Wentworth was, but anyway I didn't meet her.""What about Miss Foster?""Miss Foster went out while I was practising, and when she came in, I went out. Sort of 'Box and Cox,' you know.""Try and go with Miss Foster to-morrow, Lallie, it would be so much better."Lallie had already started to go upstairs; she paused about six steps up and leant over the banisters to look at Tony, exclaiming reproachfully:"But you promised you'd go with me yourself to-morrow!""So I will, but other days--remember."Lallie went up three more steps, and again paused and looked down."For a dear, kind, nice, middle-aged man, Tony, you're rather obtuse," she said. And with this cryptic speech she ran up the whole flight of stairs and vanished from his sight.What could the child mean?Lallie had made up her mind overnight that she would not bother Tony with any complaints about Miss Foster, so she did not tell him that directly after breakfast that lady had suggested to her that she should practise "while I am out of the house." Nor had Miss Foster made any suggestion that Lallie should accompany her during her morning's shopping. When Miss Foster came in, Lallie went out; and having in the meantime come to the conclusion that she must find amusement for herself and in no way depend upon her hostess, she found her way into the town and to the library.By the end of a week Miss Foster had made it abundantly clear to every one concerned, except the busy and optimistic master of the house, that she felt no desire whatever for the society of Lallie Clonmell.By mutual consent they kept out of each other's way as far as was possible. Miss Foster took every opportunity of letting Lallie see that she had no intention of acting the part of Aunt Emileen towards her; and whatever Tony might be, Lallie was not obtuse. Subtly, but none the less unmistakably, did Miss Foster impress upon her that to be the chaperon of stray young ladies did not come within the scope of the duties which she had undertaken to fulfil at B. House. She never offered to take the girl anywhere except to chapel or to the football field, where it was practically impossible that they should go separately. Moreover, Miss Foster considered it a real grievance that during the services in chapel, Lallie persisted in singing psalms, canticles, and hymns with her usualbrioand enthusiasm; and the wonderfully sweet, full voice caused many upward glances at the gallery reserved for the masters' families.Lallie had philosophically determined to make the best of a difficult situation; but like that friend of Dr. Johnson, who "would have been a philosopher but that cheerfulness kept breaking in," so, in her case, cheerfulness made extraordinarily frequent irruptions in the shape of the older boys and younger masters to an extent that sometimes threatened to be indecorously hilarious.Not once had Miss Foster invited Lallie to accompany her when she went shopping in the morning. In fact, her daily suggestion after breakfast that her guest should "get her practising over before lunch" had become a sort of ritual. Thus it came about that Lallie took to going out by herself between twelve and one, the fashionable hour for promenading in Hamchester; and invariably her steps were bent towards the very promenade she had so admired on her first visit to the library.Tony, who generally played fives or coached football teams after morning school until lunch time, was under the impression that she was safe in Miss Foster's care; nor had he the remotest idea that Fitzroy Clonmell's cherished only daughter, who had never in her life before walked unattended in the streets of a town, tripped off alone every morning to sun herself in the famous Hamchester promenade, where the band plays daily and the idle and well-dressed inhabitants walk up and down, gossip, or flirt as best pleases them.The promenade at Hamchester is a long, straight street; very wide, possessed of a really fine avenue of trees, with shops on one side, and on the other public gardens and a terrace of tall Georgian dwelling-houses. The library made an excellent object for Lallie's daily walk, and if she reached the promenade unattended, she was not long permitted to stroll along in mournful solitude. Before she had been three weeks in Hamchester she knew every prefect in the whole alphabet of College houses, and for prefects, the promenade was not out of bounds.The gallant Cripps, no longer in quarantine, often found his way thither, to the despair of the fives-playing community. Berry, head prefect of B. House, had strained a muscle in his shoulder, and was off games for the time being, and he also fell in with Lallie with surprising frequency; and if it so happened that no boys she knew were "down town" between twelve and one, "young Nick" was almost certain to fly into town on a bicycle, which he recklessly left outside a shop while he walked up and down, and discussed the Celtic Renaissance or more frivolous topics with this sweet-voiced, frank, and friendly Irish maid.From the very beginning Mrs. Wentworth had done her best for Lallie in the way of asking her to lunch and to tea, but she had a houseful of visitors during the girl's first weeks under Tony Bevan's roof, and had really very little time for outsiders. She had gauged pretty accurately Miss Foster's mental attitude towards Lallie; but when Miss Foster declared to her that she "accepted no responsibility whatever with regard to Miss Clonmell," little Mrs. Wentworth thought that this was only "Miss Foster's way"; and never dreamt that the lady could or would evade a relationship towards her young guest that seemed natural and inevitable.Therefore it came upon Mrs. Wentworth with quite a shock when three mornings running in succession, while doing the ever-necessary shopping, she came upon Lallie leisurely strolling up and down the promenade, a tall youth on either side of her, all three manifestly with no sort of object in their stroll except the society of one another; and wherever Lallie was, "cheerfulness kept breaking in": in this case the attendant swains laughed with a heartiness and vigour that caused most passers-by to regard the trio attentively. Small and upright; clad in an admirably fitting suit of Lincoln green--she was very fond of green--with trim short skirt that liberally displayed her slim ankles and very pretty feet, she would have been noticeable even without her hilarious escort; and Mrs. Wentworth, whose motherliness in no way stopped short at Pris and Prue, acted promptly and without hesitation.From the steps of a shop she watched the gay green figure and attendant swains pass, walk to the end of the avenue, turn and come back again, when Mrs. Wentworth descended into the arena and met Lallie face to face."Lallie, how fortunate! You are the very person I most wanted at this moment. How do you do, Mr. Berry! I hope your shoulder is less painful? Good morning, Mr. Cripps. Lallie, do come with me and help me to choose linen for the children's smocks. You have such a good eye for colour."Lallie dismissed her companions with a cheerfully decided "Don't wait for me, either of you; I'll be ages. And I want to walk home with Mrs. Wentworth."The two ladies vanished into a shop, and Cripps and Berry were left outside, looking rather foolish and disconsolate."D'you think she cut in on purpose?" asked Cripps."Highly probable," said Berry. "I thought this sort of game was a bit too hot to last. I confess I've often wondered Germs or old Bruiser didn't put a stop to it." "Germs" was Miss Foster's nickname amongst the boys."Germs hates her; any one can see that.""All the more reason for her to interfere on every possible occasion, I should have thought.""My dear chap," said Berry in superior tones, "you only perceive the obvious. I confess I can't make out Germs. She's anxious enough to interfere as a rule, but about Miss Clonmell, I'm hanged if I can see what she's playing at. It's a deep game, anyhow. She'd give her eyes to get rid of her; I'd stake my oath on that. Poor little girl! It must be jolly dull shut up all day with old Germs. However, we'll continue to do our best for her, anyhow.""I jolly well shall," said Cripps, and he said it with the air of one who registers a solemn vow.Mrs. Wentworth and Lallie chose the linen for the smocks: light blue, the colour of her eyes, for Pris, dark blue for Prue; and Lallie's favourite green for Punch. She insisted on being allowed to make the one for Punch herself, and was so keenly interested and absorbed by the whole affair that Mrs. Wentworth found it very hard to broach the subject she had most at heart. The girl was so frankly affectionate, so manifestly delighted to be with her friend again, that the kindly lady suffered pangs of self-reproach that she had not made time somehow to see more of her. In considering young people generally, Mrs. Wentworth was in the habit of saying to herself, "Suppose it were Pris or Prue"; and it was marvellous how lenient in her judgment this supposition always made her.As they left the town behind them and reached the quiet road leading to B. House, she took the bull by the horns, saying:"Lallie, dear, do you think your father would like you to walk up and down the promenade all alone at the very busiest time?""But I'm hardly ever alone, dear Mrs. Wentworth. I may say never. I always meet one or two of the boys or somebody, and we walk up and down together."Lallie so evidently considered her explanation entirely satisfactory, and turned a face of such guileless innocence and affection towards her mentor, that Mrs. Wentworth found it difficult to go on with her sermon. However, she steeled her heart and continued:"That's just it, my dear; I fear he wouldn't like it at all.""Not like me walking with the boys? Oh, you're really quite wrong there; hemeantme to be friends with the boys, that's why he sent me to Tony. He thinks all the world of the boys, and I agree with him; such a dear nice set they are. Don't you think so yourself, Mrs. Wentworth?""I do, I do, indeed," Mrs. Wentworth heartily assented; "but--the promenade of a large town is not quite the proper place for you to meet the boys, and I am sure that there your father would agree with me.""Would you rather I walked with them in the country roads? I'm quite willing. I'm by no means wedded to the promenade. The trombone in the band played rather out of tune to-day, and it jarred me dreadfully. We'll go into the country next time.""No, no, that wouldn't do at all. Lallie, I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid--that you oughtn't to walk about with the boys at all unless I or Miss Foster or Mr. Bevan can be with you.""Dear Mrs. Wentworth, would you rather I went about with the young masters?" Lallie asked sweetly. "They've really got more time, and I like them nearly as well. I'll tell one of them to come country walks with me if you prefer it.""Certainly not," Mrs. Wentworth said decidedly. "You mustn't do that on any account----""Then where am I to walk?" Lallie interrupted piteously. "Round and round the College field? And it's often so wet. I must get some exercise.""Of course you must," Mrs. Wentworth concurred heartily. "You must come out with me; and sometimes, perhaps, you'll take out the children: they love you so dearly. But what you must not do--I really mean it--is to walk up and down that promenade as you were doing to-day"--Mrs. Wentworth said nothing about the other days--"because, rightly, or wrongly, the nicest girls here don't do it; and as you are so very nice I can't let you. Lallie I don't want to be interfering and tiresome, but don't you think it would look better--it would at all events be natural and right as you are both in the same house--if you sometimes went about with Miss Foster?"Lallie sighed deeply."I was in quarantine when I came," she said, "and it seems to me that I've never got rid of the infection. But I'll try to do as you say, for you're a dear darling and I love you; but it seems to me that unless I can hire an aeroplane and go up alone in that, I'm certain to meet somebody, and they always turn and go back with me."CHAPTER IXMiss Foster really was a much-tried woman. Just as she had settled comfortably into her groove, just as she had got the domestic arrangements in B. House to run on oiled wheels exactly in the direction she desired, just as the whole household had learnt that her will was law and her methods the only possible methods, there came this girl--this most upsetting, disorganising, disturbing girl: a girl as impossible to ignore as to coerce; a girl whose all-pervading presence was made manifest in every corner of the house.Miss Foster was above all things orderly. She made a fetish of tidiness, and her drawing-room was its temple. She had arranged it entirely to her own liking, and the furniture was as the fixed stars in the fabric of the firmament. It really pained and distressed her should a fidgeting guest move a chair ever so little out of its own proper orbit, and she quite longed for such an one to depart that she might promptly push the errant piece of furniture back into its original position. In her eyes the drawing-room was perfect, incapable of improvement, and any alteration therein must of necessity be for the worse.Imagine her feelings then when she came back to find a grand piano and a harp added to its effects! Even this she might have borne had the harp remained quietly in some inconspicuous corner; but it proved a restless and ubiquitous instrument, and she never knew where she might find it next.Lallie could not move it herself, and she would ring for one of the maids to help her; and once moved would leave it where it was, even though three chairs and a sofa had been displaced to make room for it. Before her arrival the drawing-room had never been used in the morning unless for the reception of some lunching parent. The fire had been lit at two precisely, and up to three o'clock Miss Foster rarely entered the room unless to arrange the two vases of flowers that always graced the mantelpiece. Miss Foster was of the opinion that there was something irregular, Bohemian, almost disreputable, in using a drawing-room for any other purpose than that of receiving friends; and it seemed to her to emphasise the unpleasant fact of Lallie's Irish origin, that now the girl invaded this sacred room directly after breakfast, and that the fire was lit before by Tony Bevan's orders.Lallie practised there, sewed there, even cut things out there upon the gate table that hitherto had never been unfolded except for afternoon tea.She would leave her green silk work-bag hanging on the backs of chairs or slung carelessly upon any excrescence that happened to be handy, such as the bell or the knob of a Chippendale tallboys. She left books about on unaccustomed tables, and had been known to fling the newspaper outspread and sprawling, loose and flagrant, upon the Chesterfield that stood in stately comfort at a convenient distance from the hearth.Everywhere there were traces of Lallie. When she sewed, and she was always sewing if she wasn't knitting, she dropped bits of thread and snippets of material upon the carpet, sometimes even pins.A large old-fashioned footstool was placed in the very centre of the hearthrug right against the tall brass fender. Miss Foster liked it there, and it had never been moved or even used except when some unusually bold boy would sit thereon and warm his back when he came to tea. Lallie was for ever moving that stool. Nearly all the chairs in the drawing-room were rather high, and she liked a footstool. It never occurred to her that the footstool was to be considered in any other light than as a footstool, and she dragged it about to whatsoever chair she wanted to sit in, sometimes curling up the edge of the hearthrug in her course."A footstool by the hearth so prim,An oaken footstool was to himAnd it was nothing more"--Only in this case the him was a her, which made such insensibility even more unpardonable in Miss Foster's eyes."Why do you always move the footstool, Miss Clonmell?" she asked one day."Because the chairs are so tall and my legs are so short," Lallie answered."The chairs are of the usual height. Chairs are not nowadays manufactured for pigmies," Miss Foster said severely."Did they use to be?" Lallie demanded with interest."No one has ever complained of the chairs in this house before," Miss Foster continued, ignoring Lallie's question."I never complained of them, Miss Foster. They're very nice chairs as chairs go: a bit straight and stiff, perhaps, but quite endurable if one has a footstool. Tony has comfortable chairs in his room. I wonder how men always manage to get such comfortable chairs? It's the same at home; Dad has always the best of the chairs in his den, though I must say we have a good many that are pretty decent.""The hearth does look so naked without that stool," Miss Foster lamented."I'll try to remember to put it back when I've done with it," Lallie said, with undiminished sweetness; "but I'm not very good at putting things back.""That I have already observed, Miss Clonmell, and it is a pity. No untidy person has ever achieved real greatness.""Are you sure, Miss Foster? That's rather a sweeping assertion.""I believe it to be a fact," Miss Foster replied coldly, "although it is quite possible you may be able to bring forward one or two examples to the contrary.""I'm trying to think of all the lives of great men that ever I've read, and I can't remember if it said they were tidy or not. I've an idea some of them were not. Goldsmith now----""Goldsmith was Irish," Miss Foster interrupted."So was Wellington; so's Lord Roberts."Miss Foster, without being at all sure of her facts, longed to point out that orderliness was a striking characteristic of both these heroes, but the fact of their nationality deterred her."I fear," Lallie went on, "that Shakespeare must have had a niggly sort of mind in some ways in spite of his genius, because he left his wife the second-best bed. If he'd been an ordinary, careless, good-natured kind of man he'd never have remembered to specify which bed. Perhaps, though"--and here Lallie spoke more cheerfully, as though she suddenly perceived a rift in this cloud resting upon Shakespeare's memory--"it was his wife who was so tiresome and finnicky, always pestering him about not using the best things, so he left her the second-best bed as a punishment."Miss Foster made no reply, but opened theSpectatorwith a flourish and held it up in front of her as a screen."Don't you think that is possible, Miss Foster?" Lallie persisted."I must refuse to discuss any such absurd contingency. I have already told you that I believe disorderly personal habits to be incompatible with true greatness of character."Lallie sighed deeply."It sounds like a police court case," she said sadly. "'Lallie Clonmell, having no visible means of subsistence, and giving no address, was yesterday arrested as being of "disorderly personal habits."' Well, Tony would come and bail me out if the worst came to the worst. And yet I'm considered very tidy and managing at home; quite a sort of Mrs. Shakespeare, in fact. Everything depends on environment."Miss Foster made no answer. Literally and figuratively she had wrapped herself up in theSpectator.But the harp, the piano, the bits of cotton dropped on the floor were mere venial offences compared to the sin of making dirty footmarks upon the stair carpet.The front staircase at B. House is imposing, wide, and Y-shaped. The first broad flight of steps starts from the centre of the large square hall. Half way up it branches into two, terminating at opposite ends of the landing upon which open the chief bedrooms, and the assistant-master's sitting-room. It is a handsome staircase of polished oak--no other house in Hamchester College has one half so fine--and it was at that time carpeted with a particularly soft and thick, self-coloured, art-blue carpet that matched the walls.When the master of the house found how conspicuous were muddy or dirty footmarks on this same carpet, and how such defacement distressed Miss Foster who had chosen it, he always used the boys' staircase whenever he went to his room to change. So did Mr. Johns. Till Lallie came no one save Miss Foster ever used the front staircase at all, and she was most careful never to ascend by it if her boots were either muddy or dusty. She therefore saw no reason why Lallie should not show equal forethought, especially as there was no chance of her guest meeting any of the boys on the back staircase, as they were never allowed to go up to the dormitories during the day.Alas! Lallie showed no disposition to consider the welfare of the carpet, but ran lightly up to her room by the front stairs no matter how dirty her boots, and she often left the clear impression of a small sole on every step.The third time this occurred Miss Foster met her just outside her bedroom door, and remarked with some acerbity:"Haven't you discovered the other staircase yet, Miss Clonmell? It really is the shortest way to your room.""I like these stairs best, thank you. I'm not used to wooden stairs; my feet make such a patter it disturbs me.""But look at the marks your feet have made on the carpet," Miss Foster expostulated indignantly.Lallie went to the top of the stairs and looked down."They're very little marks," she said consolingly. "My worst enemy couldn't say I've big feet.""Quite large enough to make ugly and distressing stains when the feet happen to be muddy. Don't you see howeverymark shows on that plain carpet?""Yes, it must be tiresome," Lallie said coolly, as though she and the footmarks had nothing whatever to do with one another. "It's a pity Tony went and chose a colour like that where people have always to be going up and down, but it's just like a man not to think of these things."Miss Foster was really angry."There is no necessity for any one to go up and down with dirty feet, Miss Clonmell."Lallie's cheeks flushed pink, and the eyes that met Miss Foster's were bright with defiance as she said softly and distinctly:"When Mr. Bevan asks me to use the back staircase I'll do it; so far, he has not so much as suggested it," and with her head in the air Lallie marched across the landing to her room and shut the door very quietly, with ostentatious care that it should latch effectively.It was a declaration of war, and, as such, Miss Foster received it.That evening Miss Foster unbosomed herself in a letter to her favourite niece--the niece whose wedding she had attended when Lallie, as she described it, "sneaked in" during her absence."That girl's presence becomes more and more irksome every day, and I really do feel that her prolonged stay is likely to be a serious menace to the peace of B. House. You know how undesirable and unwholesome it is for manly boys to have anything whatever to do with girls of that sort, the sort that is always polite and pleasant, making them think far too much of themselves. It isn't exactlywhat she saysthat one can object to, though any conversation I have overheard is always extremely foolish, but she has a way of looking up under her eyelashes--I do dislike very thick black eyelashes in a grown-up person, they give such a made-up look to the face--that is most objectionable. She is not a pretty girl, quite pale and insignificant, and so small; but as I say she flatters men, and young and old they all seem perfectly silly about her, and therefore she is a most dangerous and disturbing influence. It is particularly trying for me, for the tone of B. House has always been so high ever since I came here; and I cannot but feel that this girl has imported an atmosphere of noisy frivolity and insubordination that must lead to moral deterioration. So far I have not discovered anything with regard to the boys that one can exactly complain of, but I have no doubt whatever that she is sly and underhand. The Irish are proverbially untrustworthy, and she seems to me to embody all the worst characteristics of that stormy and unreliable race."People here make a great fuss about her singing and playing, but I never was an admirer of loud voices, and particularly dislike her theatrical and affected way of singing. 'Dramatic' they call it, but to my thinking it is simply unladylike! I have no patience with people who can work themselves up into a state about nothing at all. I can appreciate a good concert now and then as much as anybody; but to have constant shouting and thrumming going on in my drawing-room is a very real trial. It's not only herself, but other people come to sing duets and practise their songs. Young masters who never entered the house before come now and bawl for hours, because they say she is such a beautiful accompanist. They come toflirtwith her, that's what they come for; and dear, innocent Mr. Bevan never seems to see it. It is extraordinary how blind men are to the wiles of a designing girl."As you may imagine a girl of any sort is rather a white elephant in a house like this, but had she been a nice, sensible, ordinary girl, with no nonsense about her, I would have managed. As it is, I don't know what may happen. Goodness knows how many other instruments she can play. I always enter the drawing-room in fear and trembling lest a drum and a trombone be added to the existing collection."Mrs. Wentworth has chosen to make a great fuss of her, and she, in her turn, makes a great fuss of the children. As you know I am not one of those who go about raving over Mrs. Wentworth. I could not truckle like some of them to that commonplace little woman. I am surprised that Dr. Wentworth has not himself suggested the desirability of Miss Clonmell's departure before this. But men are curious. They will let an abuse continue till it becomes absolutely intolerable rather than interfere with one another. It has struck me again and again since I came here how procrastinating men are, how extremely unwilling to speak the word in season. Well, I intend to do my part, cost what it may; my vigilance shall be untiring; and when I find, as I have no doubt I shall find, that that girl has overstepped the limits of propriety I shall go straight to Mr. Bevan with the facts.Thenhe cannot refuse to act firmly in the interest of the House. So far we have been free from any infectious disease. If only the other houses were as carefully disinfected and watched as this one, such illnesses might be stamped out altogether. Yet whenever I suggest my methods to those in charge of other houses I receive but scant sympathy or even thanks."CHAPTER XMeanwhile, Tony was daily getting more and more used to Lallie's presence. The pleasant, almost exciting sense of novelty had worn off, giving place to a still pleasanter feeling of familiar security.She would be there when he got back, this girl with the soft full voice and delightful welcoming manner, and he found himself watching the clock like the laziest boy in his form during the last hour of afternoon school.For years past, although he lived in a crowd and possessed troops of friends, he had been rather a lonely man, and his loneliness was accentuated rather than lessened when he came into possession of B. House."Truly you may call it a 'house,'" he said to a congratulating college friend. "It's far less of a home than my old diggings. I don't feel as though a single stick of the furniture really belongs to me except my old arm-chair and my desk."Now, however, he thought more fondly of B. House; particularly of his study, where he knew that he would find a bright fire, the little tea-table drawn up beside his chair, and the brass kettle singing merrily over the spirit lamp. Not that these things were new. There had always been tea laid for him in his study when he came in at half-past five; but now it was Lallie who made the tea, not Ford, and Lallie made excellent tea. Moreover, she always had a great deal to ask and to tell. She took the deepest interest in all College matters, and absolutely declined to regard anything from a tutorial standpoint; and this in itself was restful and refreshing to Tony.To her, Tony Bevan was above all the old friend tried by time; "the best of good sorts," "the decentest old thing." That he happened also to be a schoolmaster was perhaps unfortunate, but she generously declined to let this regrettable fact influence her attitude towards him.She knew well that he wanted her above all things to be happy, and with him she always was happy. Furthermore she had loyally kept her resolution not to worry Tony with any knowledge of the friction that existed between herself and Miss Foster. He was not much at B. House, and being of a good-natured and tolerant disposition himself, he always gave other people credit for being similarly well disposed until he had ample proof to the contrary. Besides, in his presence Lallie and Miss Foster almost unconsciously adopted a manner towards one another that was at least free from signs of open hostility.When Lallie had been a week at B. House she took her host's personal appearance firmly in hand. In the morning she flew after him to brush his coat before he went up to College. She exclaimed indignantly at the "bagsomeness" of his trouser knees. Finding that he did not possess any form of trouser-press she insisted on his going with her into the town to buy one. And when it was sent home, she folded the offending garments and placed them in it herself. She objected to ties that looked "like a worn-out garter," and said so. She even suggested that certain old and well-loved coats might be sent to the Mission, but here Tony was firm in his opposition. He would buy a new suit to please her, but part with his old coats he would not; and Lallie was far too diplomatic to press the matter.She tried always to be at home to make tea for him when he came in at half-past five, and cut short many a tea-party to keep this tryst. She was in great demand at other houses, especially the houses where the heads were musical.She was waiting for Tony on the evening of the footprint encounter with Miss Foster, and when she had fed and warmed and cosseted him generally she sat down in the big chair opposite his and faced him squarely, announcing:"Hunting begins this week, Tony.""Does it really? How the year is getting on.""Tony, dear, don't you think I might hunt if I took out one of the men from the riding school as groom--just one day a week?"Tony shook his head."If your father had wanted you to hunt I am sure he would have suggested it, and he would probably have made arrangements for you to have a couple of the horses over; but he has never so much as mentioned it, and I can't let you do it on my own responsibility. I don't believe he'd like it for you here either. It isn't as if I could go with you.""Much good you'd be if you could go with me. You know, Tony, you are not at your best across a horse. As for Dad not having made arrangements--this Indian trip was got up and settled in such a tremendous hurry, he had no time to think about me at all. Listen to me now! How would you feel if when they began to mow the grass in May, and the good smell was in the air, and you saw all the others in their flannels, and heard all round you the nice deep ring of the cricket balls--and you mightn't play a stroke, and your arm as strong and your eye as true as ever it was. How would you like it?""I shouldn't like it at all; but----""Well, then, think of me. The smell of the wet dead leaves and the south wind blowing the soft rain against my face is just as full of association for me. And I never go out but I see long strings of horses in their nice new clothing, the dear darlings! And me, ME, that has gone hunting on the opening day ever since I could sit a fat little Shetland pony, ME to stay pokily at home! Tony, I simply can't! You must let me.""Lallie, the two cases are not analogous. You can go out riding whenever you like, provided you take a man; but hunting, no. Not without your father's permission. Especially here, you are too young--too----""Too what? You can't say I'm timid. You can't say I couldn't ride any mount they choose to give me at that old school. Look here, Tony, suppose they said, 'You may play cricket--oh, yes, at the nets with a wee little junior boy to bowl to you; but no matches, no playing with people who play as well as you do'--would you say 'Thank you'? And that's precisely what you offer me. Let me tell you I ride just as well as you play cricket--blue and all; and to please you I've even gone pounding round that ridiculous racecourse with half a dozen other girls who sit a horse like a sack of potatoes, who'd be off at every bounce but for the pommel. D'you think I call that riding? Oh, Tony, dear, if I could just have one good gallop across country after the hounds, I'd be a better girl--much nicer and easier to get on with.""I don't find you particularly hard to get on with as it is.""Other people do, though"--Lallie's conscience pricked her as to Miss Foster--"and I dare say I'm often a great nuisance; but once let me work the steam off on the back of a good horse and I'd be an angel. Just you let me go out with the hounds on Thursday and you'll see.""Lallie, my child, don't. I would if I could, but I simply dare not. Your father would never forgive me. It was quite different last winter when he was there himself to look after you.""My dear, good man, a hunting field isn't like the 'croc' of a girls' school. No one can 'look after' anybody else. You either ride straight or you potter, or you rush your fences and get in people's way. But whatever you do you're on your own. If you come a bad smash there's always a hurdle to lay you on, and a doctor and a farmhouse somewhere about. If you think Dad kept me in his pocket three days a week throughout the hunting season all these years, you've a more fertile imagination than I gave you credit for, and Dad would be the first to disillusion you. We went to the meets together, and after that we saw precious little of one another.""What about riding home?""Hardly ever did we come home together. Sometimes he got home first, sometimes I did; and whichever of us was first in got the bath, and the other was pretty sure to come pounding at the door before the early bird was out of it. Youcan'tchaperon people out hunting. Why, by the time I'd been out three times here, I'd know the whole field, and you'd be perfectly happy knowing I was among friends."Lallie sat forward in her chair gazing eagerly at Tony, who said nothing at all; but from the expression of his face it might have been gathered that this prediction of her speedy intimacy with all the field gave him no satisfaction whatever."Well, Tony?" she demanded impatiently."I'm sorry, but it's impossible. You can write to Fitz if you like and ask him to cable his opinion.""No, indeed. I'll write and tell him that unless he cables forbidding me, I'm going to hunt. Dad will always do the easiest thing, and I know will never bother to cable forbidding me to do a thing I've done for years."Lallie's voice was almost defiant, and poor Tony looked very pained, but he said nothing; and after a minute's silence she continued in a more conciliatory tone:"Then in a fortnight's time from next mail if I don't hear, I may hunt?""You must give him three weeks, for he may be up country, and his mail takes days to reach him after the agent gets it.""And by that time there'll be a frost; I didn't think it of you, Tony, I really didn't. In this matter you out-Emileen Aunt Emileen herself."Tony rose."You have my leave to depart," he said, opening the door for her; "I've a lot of letters to write, and those chaps are coming to bridge after dinner, so I must do them now.""Well, I think you're horrid, and if a slate falls on my head and kills me when I'm out walking, just you reflect how nice and safe I'd have been if I'd had my own way and been out in the open country.""I'll risk the slate," Tony remarked unfeelingly; but still he would not look at Lallie, who stood in the doorway gazing reproachfully at him."And you're going to play bridge and have a nice time while I sit solemnly in the drawing-room making a waistcoat for you, ungrateful man. You've never asked me to take a hand, and I play quite well.""You see, this is a club; we meet at each other's houses--there are no ladies----""Of all the monastical establishments I've ever come across this is the strictest, and you call Ireland a priest-ridden country.""Lallie, I must write my letters."At that moment Mr. Johns came into the hall, bearing a large and heavy book."Well, you deny me everything that keeps me out of mischief--on your own head be it," said Lallie rapidly, in low tones of ominous menace. Then, turning to the newcomer, she smiled a radiant welcome, exclaiming joyously: "You've brought your snapshots to show me! How kind of you! I'm badly in need of something to cheer me up. Come into the drawing-room, for Mr. Bevan is busy and Miss Foster's out, so we'll have it all to ourselves."With quite unnecessary violence Mr. Bevan rang the bell for Ford to take away tea. Yet, when Ford, looking rather aggrieved, had responded to his noisy summons and removed the tea-things with her customary quiet deftness, he did not sit down at once to deal with his correspondence. Instead, he went and stood in front of the fire staring at the Greuze girl who was so like Lallie.He ran his fingers through his smooth thick hair--a sure sign of mental perturbation with Tony--and he made the discovery that he was furiously angry; not with Lallie, the wilful and inconsequent, but with the unoffending Mr. Johns."Confound the fellow and his snapshots!" thought Tony; "if there's one kind of hobby more detestable than another it's that of the ardent amateur photographer. A man given up to it is almost as bad as the chap who wears cotton-wool in his ears, and is always taking medicine. There were these two" (with the second-sight vouchsafed to most of us upon occasion, Tony was perfectly correct in his surmise) "sitting side by side on the sofa with their heads close together, and that great heavy book spread out on their joint knees. Heavens! he would be proposing to snapshot Lallie next" (which is precisely what Mr. Johns was doing at that moment). "He, Tony, would not have it. He would interfere, he would--" Suddenly, exclaiming aloud, "What an ass I am!" he sat down at his desk with the firm determination to attend to his letters. He drew a neatly docketed bundle towards him, and selected the top one. It was that of Uridge Major's father, who wrote pointing out what a steadying effect it would have upon the boy were he made a prefect that term. Tony dealt diplomatically with this, but instead of going methodically through the bundle as he had fully intended to do he drew from his pocket a letter he had received from Fitzroy Clonmell last mail. It consisted of two closely written sheets; the first mainly descriptive of the sport they were enjoying, and duly concluded with the pious hope that his daughter was behaving herself. This was manifestly intended to be shown to Lallie. It was the second sheet that Tony read and re-read when he ought to have been allaying the misgivings of anxious-minded parents.
CHAPTER VIII
As Lallie was late for breakfast Tony only saw her for a few minutes before he had to go to College. He did not get back to the house again till nearly lunch time, when he met her at the front door, radiant, smiling, her arms full of books.
"See, Tony!" she exclaimed joyously. "I've been into the town--such a pretty town it is too, with a band playing in the promenade and all. And I found a library, and I've paid my subscription for three months; three volumes at a time; and I've chosen three books, and here they are!"
Tony followed her into the hall and Lallie held up the books, backs outwards, for his inspection.
"How did you choose them?" he asked.
"Well, I chose this one because there was such a pretty lady in the front, and I liked the cover. And I chose this one because I've read other books by the same author, and liked them. And I chose this one because the very nice lady at the library pressed it upon me and said it was 'being very much read.'
"Only one good reason, Lallie, out of the three. I'm afraid that pretty cover, with the pretty lady inside, is misleading. I, in my character of chaperon----"
"As Uncle Emileen, you mean, Tony?"
"Exactly so. I, in my character of Uncle Emileen, must veto that one, though I haven't read it myself. I'm pretty sure your father wouldn't like it."
"I'm quite sure he wouldn't, if you say so. He's awfully particular, is Dad; but he's particular in a funny sort of way. He'll let me read things that would make the hair of the entire Emileen family stand straight on end--if only they are sincere and well written; and then again, he falls foul of wishy-washy novels that Aunt Emileen would consider quite harmless."
"I don't think he would consider this either well-written or sincere, so you'd better give it to me."
"Dad says 'tis women mostly who write the dirty books--what a pity! But I think he must be wrong, don't you, Tony?"
Tony shook his head mournfully.
"A great pity," he repeated.
"I expect they do it just for the fun of shocking people. I like doing that myself."
"I've no doubt of it. All the same, I hope you'll choose some other method of scandalising society; and you'd better hand that particular volume over to me."
"And here have I walked all the way up from the town, fondly clasping that pernicious volume--Aunt Emileen's phrase, not mine--and lots of people stared hard at me, and I thought it was my nice new hat they were admiring. Here, take it, Tony, and you can come with me to return it, and then they'll think I got it for you, you old sinner."
Tony glanced nervously around lest there should be any eavesdropper to hear him called an "old sinner"; but the doors were all shut and the hall empty.
"Certainly I'll come with you to-morrow; I couldn't possibly come to-day, I was so busy. Why are you always in such a hurry, Lallie? I subscribe to that library; no one ever gets out any books except Miss Foster; and there you go paying another subscription. What waste! And why did you go by yourself?"
"And who was there to go with, pray? P--Mr. Johns was in College. You were in College. I don't know where Mrs. Wentworth was, but anyway I didn't meet her."
"What about Miss Foster?"
"Miss Foster went out while I was practising, and when she came in, I went out. Sort of 'Box and Cox,' you know."
"Try and go with Miss Foster to-morrow, Lallie, it would be so much better."
Lallie had already started to go upstairs; she paused about six steps up and leant over the banisters to look at Tony, exclaiming reproachfully:
"But you promised you'd go with me yourself to-morrow!"
"So I will, but other days--remember."
Lallie went up three more steps, and again paused and looked down.
"For a dear, kind, nice, middle-aged man, Tony, you're rather obtuse," she said. And with this cryptic speech she ran up the whole flight of stairs and vanished from his sight.
What could the child mean?
Lallie had made up her mind overnight that she would not bother Tony with any complaints about Miss Foster, so she did not tell him that directly after breakfast that lady had suggested to her that she should practise "while I am out of the house." Nor had Miss Foster made any suggestion that Lallie should accompany her during her morning's shopping. When Miss Foster came in, Lallie went out; and having in the meantime come to the conclusion that she must find amusement for herself and in no way depend upon her hostess, she found her way into the town and to the library.
By the end of a week Miss Foster had made it abundantly clear to every one concerned, except the busy and optimistic master of the house, that she felt no desire whatever for the society of Lallie Clonmell.
By mutual consent they kept out of each other's way as far as was possible. Miss Foster took every opportunity of letting Lallie see that she had no intention of acting the part of Aunt Emileen towards her; and whatever Tony might be, Lallie was not obtuse. Subtly, but none the less unmistakably, did Miss Foster impress upon her that to be the chaperon of stray young ladies did not come within the scope of the duties which she had undertaken to fulfil at B. House. She never offered to take the girl anywhere except to chapel or to the football field, where it was practically impossible that they should go separately. Moreover, Miss Foster considered it a real grievance that during the services in chapel, Lallie persisted in singing psalms, canticles, and hymns with her usualbrioand enthusiasm; and the wonderfully sweet, full voice caused many upward glances at the gallery reserved for the masters' families.
Lallie had philosophically determined to make the best of a difficult situation; but like that friend of Dr. Johnson, who "would have been a philosopher but that cheerfulness kept breaking in," so, in her case, cheerfulness made extraordinarily frequent irruptions in the shape of the older boys and younger masters to an extent that sometimes threatened to be indecorously hilarious.
Not once had Miss Foster invited Lallie to accompany her when she went shopping in the morning. In fact, her daily suggestion after breakfast that her guest should "get her practising over before lunch" had become a sort of ritual. Thus it came about that Lallie took to going out by herself between twelve and one, the fashionable hour for promenading in Hamchester; and invariably her steps were bent towards the very promenade she had so admired on her first visit to the library.
Tony, who generally played fives or coached football teams after morning school until lunch time, was under the impression that she was safe in Miss Foster's care; nor had he the remotest idea that Fitzroy Clonmell's cherished only daughter, who had never in her life before walked unattended in the streets of a town, tripped off alone every morning to sun herself in the famous Hamchester promenade, where the band plays daily and the idle and well-dressed inhabitants walk up and down, gossip, or flirt as best pleases them.
The promenade at Hamchester is a long, straight street; very wide, possessed of a really fine avenue of trees, with shops on one side, and on the other public gardens and a terrace of tall Georgian dwelling-houses. The library made an excellent object for Lallie's daily walk, and if she reached the promenade unattended, she was not long permitted to stroll along in mournful solitude. Before she had been three weeks in Hamchester she knew every prefect in the whole alphabet of College houses, and for prefects, the promenade was not out of bounds.
The gallant Cripps, no longer in quarantine, often found his way thither, to the despair of the fives-playing community. Berry, head prefect of B. House, had strained a muscle in his shoulder, and was off games for the time being, and he also fell in with Lallie with surprising frequency; and if it so happened that no boys she knew were "down town" between twelve and one, "young Nick" was almost certain to fly into town on a bicycle, which he recklessly left outside a shop while he walked up and down, and discussed the Celtic Renaissance or more frivolous topics with this sweet-voiced, frank, and friendly Irish maid.
From the very beginning Mrs. Wentworth had done her best for Lallie in the way of asking her to lunch and to tea, but she had a houseful of visitors during the girl's first weeks under Tony Bevan's roof, and had really very little time for outsiders. She had gauged pretty accurately Miss Foster's mental attitude towards Lallie; but when Miss Foster declared to her that she "accepted no responsibility whatever with regard to Miss Clonmell," little Mrs. Wentworth thought that this was only "Miss Foster's way"; and never dreamt that the lady could or would evade a relationship towards her young guest that seemed natural and inevitable.
Therefore it came upon Mrs. Wentworth with quite a shock when three mornings running in succession, while doing the ever-necessary shopping, she came upon Lallie leisurely strolling up and down the promenade, a tall youth on either side of her, all three manifestly with no sort of object in their stroll except the society of one another; and wherever Lallie was, "cheerfulness kept breaking in": in this case the attendant swains laughed with a heartiness and vigour that caused most passers-by to regard the trio attentively. Small and upright; clad in an admirably fitting suit of Lincoln green--she was very fond of green--with trim short skirt that liberally displayed her slim ankles and very pretty feet, she would have been noticeable even without her hilarious escort; and Mrs. Wentworth, whose motherliness in no way stopped short at Pris and Prue, acted promptly and without hesitation.
From the steps of a shop she watched the gay green figure and attendant swains pass, walk to the end of the avenue, turn and come back again, when Mrs. Wentworth descended into the arena and met Lallie face to face.
"Lallie, how fortunate! You are the very person I most wanted at this moment. How do you do, Mr. Berry! I hope your shoulder is less painful? Good morning, Mr. Cripps. Lallie, do come with me and help me to choose linen for the children's smocks. You have such a good eye for colour."
Lallie dismissed her companions with a cheerfully decided "Don't wait for me, either of you; I'll be ages. And I want to walk home with Mrs. Wentworth."
The two ladies vanished into a shop, and Cripps and Berry were left outside, looking rather foolish and disconsolate.
"D'you think she cut in on purpose?" asked Cripps.
"Highly probable," said Berry. "I thought this sort of game was a bit too hot to last. I confess I've often wondered Germs or old Bruiser didn't put a stop to it." "Germs" was Miss Foster's nickname amongst the boys.
"Germs hates her; any one can see that."
"All the more reason for her to interfere on every possible occasion, I should have thought."
"My dear chap," said Berry in superior tones, "you only perceive the obvious. I confess I can't make out Germs. She's anxious enough to interfere as a rule, but about Miss Clonmell, I'm hanged if I can see what she's playing at. It's a deep game, anyhow. She'd give her eyes to get rid of her; I'd stake my oath on that. Poor little girl! It must be jolly dull shut up all day with old Germs. However, we'll continue to do our best for her, anyhow."
"I jolly well shall," said Cripps, and he said it with the air of one who registers a solemn vow.
Mrs. Wentworth and Lallie chose the linen for the smocks: light blue, the colour of her eyes, for Pris, dark blue for Prue; and Lallie's favourite green for Punch. She insisted on being allowed to make the one for Punch herself, and was so keenly interested and absorbed by the whole affair that Mrs. Wentworth found it very hard to broach the subject she had most at heart. The girl was so frankly affectionate, so manifestly delighted to be with her friend again, that the kindly lady suffered pangs of self-reproach that she had not made time somehow to see more of her. In considering young people generally, Mrs. Wentworth was in the habit of saying to herself, "Suppose it were Pris or Prue"; and it was marvellous how lenient in her judgment this supposition always made her.
As they left the town behind them and reached the quiet road leading to B. House, she took the bull by the horns, saying:
"Lallie, dear, do you think your father would like you to walk up and down the promenade all alone at the very busiest time?"
"But I'm hardly ever alone, dear Mrs. Wentworth. I may say never. I always meet one or two of the boys or somebody, and we walk up and down together."
Lallie so evidently considered her explanation entirely satisfactory, and turned a face of such guileless innocence and affection towards her mentor, that Mrs. Wentworth found it difficult to go on with her sermon. However, she steeled her heart and continued:
"That's just it, my dear; I fear he wouldn't like it at all."
"Not like me walking with the boys? Oh, you're really quite wrong there; hemeantme to be friends with the boys, that's why he sent me to Tony. He thinks all the world of the boys, and I agree with him; such a dear nice set they are. Don't you think so yourself, Mrs. Wentworth?"
"I do, I do, indeed," Mrs. Wentworth heartily assented; "but--the promenade of a large town is not quite the proper place for you to meet the boys, and I am sure that there your father would agree with me."
"Would you rather I walked with them in the country roads? I'm quite willing. I'm by no means wedded to the promenade. The trombone in the band played rather out of tune to-day, and it jarred me dreadfully. We'll go into the country next time."
"No, no, that wouldn't do at all. Lallie, I'm afraid--I'm very much afraid--that you oughtn't to walk about with the boys at all unless I or Miss Foster or Mr. Bevan can be with you."
"Dear Mrs. Wentworth, would you rather I went about with the young masters?" Lallie asked sweetly. "They've really got more time, and I like them nearly as well. I'll tell one of them to come country walks with me if you prefer it."
"Certainly not," Mrs. Wentworth said decidedly. "You mustn't do that on any account----"
"Then where am I to walk?" Lallie interrupted piteously. "Round and round the College field? And it's often so wet. I must get some exercise."
"Of course you must," Mrs. Wentworth concurred heartily. "You must come out with me; and sometimes, perhaps, you'll take out the children: they love you so dearly. But what you must not do--I really mean it--is to walk up and down that promenade as you were doing to-day"--Mrs. Wentworth said nothing about the other days--"because, rightly, or wrongly, the nicest girls here don't do it; and as you are so very nice I can't let you. Lallie I don't want to be interfering and tiresome, but don't you think it would look better--it would at all events be natural and right as you are both in the same house--if you sometimes went about with Miss Foster?"
Lallie sighed deeply.
"I was in quarantine when I came," she said, "and it seems to me that I've never got rid of the infection. But I'll try to do as you say, for you're a dear darling and I love you; but it seems to me that unless I can hire an aeroplane and go up alone in that, I'm certain to meet somebody, and they always turn and go back with me."
CHAPTER IX
Miss Foster really was a much-tried woman. Just as she had settled comfortably into her groove, just as she had got the domestic arrangements in B. House to run on oiled wheels exactly in the direction she desired, just as the whole household had learnt that her will was law and her methods the only possible methods, there came this girl--this most upsetting, disorganising, disturbing girl: a girl as impossible to ignore as to coerce; a girl whose all-pervading presence was made manifest in every corner of the house.
Miss Foster was above all things orderly. She made a fetish of tidiness, and her drawing-room was its temple. She had arranged it entirely to her own liking, and the furniture was as the fixed stars in the fabric of the firmament. It really pained and distressed her should a fidgeting guest move a chair ever so little out of its own proper orbit, and she quite longed for such an one to depart that she might promptly push the errant piece of furniture back into its original position. In her eyes the drawing-room was perfect, incapable of improvement, and any alteration therein must of necessity be for the worse.
Imagine her feelings then when she came back to find a grand piano and a harp added to its effects! Even this she might have borne had the harp remained quietly in some inconspicuous corner; but it proved a restless and ubiquitous instrument, and she never knew where she might find it next.
Lallie could not move it herself, and she would ring for one of the maids to help her; and once moved would leave it where it was, even though three chairs and a sofa had been displaced to make room for it. Before her arrival the drawing-room had never been used in the morning unless for the reception of some lunching parent. The fire had been lit at two precisely, and up to three o'clock Miss Foster rarely entered the room unless to arrange the two vases of flowers that always graced the mantelpiece. Miss Foster was of the opinion that there was something irregular, Bohemian, almost disreputable, in using a drawing-room for any other purpose than that of receiving friends; and it seemed to her to emphasise the unpleasant fact of Lallie's Irish origin, that now the girl invaded this sacred room directly after breakfast, and that the fire was lit before by Tony Bevan's orders.
Lallie practised there, sewed there, even cut things out there upon the gate table that hitherto had never been unfolded except for afternoon tea.
She would leave her green silk work-bag hanging on the backs of chairs or slung carelessly upon any excrescence that happened to be handy, such as the bell or the knob of a Chippendale tallboys. She left books about on unaccustomed tables, and had been known to fling the newspaper outspread and sprawling, loose and flagrant, upon the Chesterfield that stood in stately comfort at a convenient distance from the hearth.
Everywhere there were traces of Lallie. When she sewed, and she was always sewing if she wasn't knitting, she dropped bits of thread and snippets of material upon the carpet, sometimes even pins.
A large old-fashioned footstool was placed in the very centre of the hearthrug right against the tall brass fender. Miss Foster liked it there, and it had never been moved or even used except when some unusually bold boy would sit thereon and warm his back when he came to tea. Lallie was for ever moving that stool. Nearly all the chairs in the drawing-room were rather high, and she liked a footstool. It never occurred to her that the footstool was to be considered in any other light than as a footstool, and she dragged it about to whatsoever chair she wanted to sit in, sometimes curling up the edge of the hearthrug in her course.
"A footstool by the hearth so prim,An oaken footstool was to himAnd it was nothing more"--
"A footstool by the hearth so prim,An oaken footstool was to himAnd it was nothing more"--
"A footstool by the hearth so prim,
An oaken footstool was to him
And it was nothing more"--
Only in this case the him was a her, which made such insensibility even more unpardonable in Miss Foster's eyes.
"Why do you always move the footstool, Miss Clonmell?" she asked one day.
"Because the chairs are so tall and my legs are so short," Lallie answered.
"The chairs are of the usual height. Chairs are not nowadays manufactured for pigmies," Miss Foster said severely.
"Did they use to be?" Lallie demanded with interest.
"No one has ever complained of the chairs in this house before," Miss Foster continued, ignoring Lallie's question.
"I never complained of them, Miss Foster. They're very nice chairs as chairs go: a bit straight and stiff, perhaps, but quite endurable if one has a footstool. Tony has comfortable chairs in his room. I wonder how men always manage to get such comfortable chairs? It's the same at home; Dad has always the best of the chairs in his den, though I must say we have a good many that are pretty decent."
"The hearth does look so naked without that stool," Miss Foster lamented.
"I'll try to remember to put it back when I've done with it," Lallie said, with undiminished sweetness; "but I'm not very good at putting things back."
"That I have already observed, Miss Clonmell, and it is a pity. No untidy person has ever achieved real greatness."
"Are you sure, Miss Foster? That's rather a sweeping assertion."
"I believe it to be a fact," Miss Foster replied coldly, "although it is quite possible you may be able to bring forward one or two examples to the contrary."
"I'm trying to think of all the lives of great men that ever I've read, and I can't remember if it said they were tidy or not. I've an idea some of them were not. Goldsmith now----"
"Goldsmith was Irish," Miss Foster interrupted.
"So was Wellington; so's Lord Roberts."
Miss Foster, without being at all sure of her facts, longed to point out that orderliness was a striking characteristic of both these heroes, but the fact of their nationality deterred her.
"I fear," Lallie went on, "that Shakespeare must have had a niggly sort of mind in some ways in spite of his genius, because he left his wife the second-best bed. If he'd been an ordinary, careless, good-natured kind of man he'd never have remembered to specify which bed. Perhaps, though"--and here Lallie spoke more cheerfully, as though she suddenly perceived a rift in this cloud resting upon Shakespeare's memory--"it was his wife who was so tiresome and finnicky, always pestering him about not using the best things, so he left her the second-best bed as a punishment."
Miss Foster made no reply, but opened theSpectatorwith a flourish and held it up in front of her as a screen.
"Don't you think that is possible, Miss Foster?" Lallie persisted.
"I must refuse to discuss any such absurd contingency. I have already told you that I believe disorderly personal habits to be incompatible with true greatness of character."
Lallie sighed deeply.
"It sounds like a police court case," she said sadly. "'Lallie Clonmell, having no visible means of subsistence, and giving no address, was yesterday arrested as being of "disorderly personal habits."' Well, Tony would come and bail me out if the worst came to the worst. And yet I'm considered very tidy and managing at home; quite a sort of Mrs. Shakespeare, in fact. Everything depends on environment."
Miss Foster made no answer. Literally and figuratively she had wrapped herself up in theSpectator.
But the harp, the piano, the bits of cotton dropped on the floor were mere venial offences compared to the sin of making dirty footmarks upon the stair carpet.
The front staircase at B. House is imposing, wide, and Y-shaped. The first broad flight of steps starts from the centre of the large square hall. Half way up it branches into two, terminating at opposite ends of the landing upon which open the chief bedrooms, and the assistant-master's sitting-room. It is a handsome staircase of polished oak--no other house in Hamchester College has one half so fine--and it was at that time carpeted with a particularly soft and thick, self-coloured, art-blue carpet that matched the walls.
When the master of the house found how conspicuous were muddy or dirty footmarks on this same carpet, and how such defacement distressed Miss Foster who had chosen it, he always used the boys' staircase whenever he went to his room to change. So did Mr. Johns. Till Lallie came no one save Miss Foster ever used the front staircase at all, and she was most careful never to ascend by it if her boots were either muddy or dusty. She therefore saw no reason why Lallie should not show equal forethought, especially as there was no chance of her guest meeting any of the boys on the back staircase, as they were never allowed to go up to the dormitories during the day.
Alas! Lallie showed no disposition to consider the welfare of the carpet, but ran lightly up to her room by the front stairs no matter how dirty her boots, and she often left the clear impression of a small sole on every step.
The third time this occurred Miss Foster met her just outside her bedroom door, and remarked with some acerbity:
"Haven't you discovered the other staircase yet, Miss Clonmell? It really is the shortest way to your room."
"I like these stairs best, thank you. I'm not used to wooden stairs; my feet make such a patter it disturbs me."
"But look at the marks your feet have made on the carpet," Miss Foster expostulated indignantly.
Lallie went to the top of the stairs and looked down.
"They're very little marks," she said consolingly. "My worst enemy couldn't say I've big feet."
"Quite large enough to make ugly and distressing stains when the feet happen to be muddy. Don't you see howeverymark shows on that plain carpet?"
"Yes, it must be tiresome," Lallie said coolly, as though she and the footmarks had nothing whatever to do with one another. "It's a pity Tony went and chose a colour like that where people have always to be going up and down, but it's just like a man not to think of these things."
Miss Foster was really angry.
"There is no necessity for any one to go up and down with dirty feet, Miss Clonmell."
Lallie's cheeks flushed pink, and the eyes that met Miss Foster's were bright with defiance as she said softly and distinctly:
"When Mr. Bevan asks me to use the back staircase I'll do it; so far, he has not so much as suggested it," and with her head in the air Lallie marched across the landing to her room and shut the door very quietly, with ostentatious care that it should latch effectively.
It was a declaration of war, and, as such, Miss Foster received it.
That evening Miss Foster unbosomed herself in a letter to her favourite niece--the niece whose wedding she had attended when Lallie, as she described it, "sneaked in" during her absence.
"That girl's presence becomes more and more irksome every day, and I really do feel that her prolonged stay is likely to be a serious menace to the peace of B. House. You know how undesirable and unwholesome it is for manly boys to have anything whatever to do with girls of that sort, the sort that is always polite and pleasant, making them think far too much of themselves. It isn't exactlywhat she saysthat one can object to, though any conversation I have overheard is always extremely foolish, but she has a way of looking up under her eyelashes--I do dislike very thick black eyelashes in a grown-up person, they give such a made-up look to the face--that is most objectionable. She is not a pretty girl, quite pale and insignificant, and so small; but as I say she flatters men, and young and old they all seem perfectly silly about her, and therefore she is a most dangerous and disturbing influence. It is particularly trying for me, for the tone of B. House has always been so high ever since I came here; and I cannot but feel that this girl has imported an atmosphere of noisy frivolity and insubordination that must lead to moral deterioration. So far I have not discovered anything with regard to the boys that one can exactly complain of, but I have no doubt whatever that she is sly and underhand. The Irish are proverbially untrustworthy, and she seems to me to embody all the worst characteristics of that stormy and unreliable race.
"People here make a great fuss about her singing and playing, but I never was an admirer of loud voices, and particularly dislike her theatrical and affected way of singing. 'Dramatic' they call it, but to my thinking it is simply unladylike! I have no patience with people who can work themselves up into a state about nothing at all. I can appreciate a good concert now and then as much as anybody; but to have constant shouting and thrumming going on in my drawing-room is a very real trial. It's not only herself, but other people come to sing duets and practise their songs. Young masters who never entered the house before come now and bawl for hours, because they say she is such a beautiful accompanist. They come toflirtwith her, that's what they come for; and dear, innocent Mr. Bevan never seems to see it. It is extraordinary how blind men are to the wiles of a designing girl.
"As you may imagine a girl of any sort is rather a white elephant in a house like this, but had she been a nice, sensible, ordinary girl, with no nonsense about her, I would have managed. As it is, I don't know what may happen. Goodness knows how many other instruments she can play. I always enter the drawing-room in fear and trembling lest a drum and a trombone be added to the existing collection.
"Mrs. Wentworth has chosen to make a great fuss of her, and she, in her turn, makes a great fuss of the children. As you know I am not one of those who go about raving over Mrs. Wentworth. I could not truckle like some of them to that commonplace little woman. I am surprised that Dr. Wentworth has not himself suggested the desirability of Miss Clonmell's departure before this. But men are curious. They will let an abuse continue till it becomes absolutely intolerable rather than interfere with one another. It has struck me again and again since I came here how procrastinating men are, how extremely unwilling to speak the word in season. Well, I intend to do my part, cost what it may; my vigilance shall be untiring; and when I find, as I have no doubt I shall find, that that girl has overstepped the limits of propriety I shall go straight to Mr. Bevan with the facts.Thenhe cannot refuse to act firmly in the interest of the House. So far we have been free from any infectious disease. If only the other houses were as carefully disinfected and watched as this one, such illnesses might be stamped out altogether. Yet whenever I suggest my methods to those in charge of other houses I receive but scant sympathy or even thanks."
CHAPTER X
Meanwhile, Tony was daily getting more and more used to Lallie's presence. The pleasant, almost exciting sense of novelty had worn off, giving place to a still pleasanter feeling of familiar security.
She would be there when he got back, this girl with the soft full voice and delightful welcoming manner, and he found himself watching the clock like the laziest boy in his form during the last hour of afternoon school.
For years past, although he lived in a crowd and possessed troops of friends, he had been rather a lonely man, and his loneliness was accentuated rather than lessened when he came into possession of B. House.
"Truly you may call it a 'house,'" he said to a congratulating college friend. "It's far less of a home than my old diggings. I don't feel as though a single stick of the furniture really belongs to me except my old arm-chair and my desk."
Now, however, he thought more fondly of B. House; particularly of his study, where he knew that he would find a bright fire, the little tea-table drawn up beside his chair, and the brass kettle singing merrily over the spirit lamp. Not that these things were new. There had always been tea laid for him in his study when he came in at half-past five; but now it was Lallie who made the tea, not Ford, and Lallie made excellent tea. Moreover, she always had a great deal to ask and to tell. She took the deepest interest in all College matters, and absolutely declined to regard anything from a tutorial standpoint; and this in itself was restful and refreshing to Tony.
To her, Tony Bevan was above all the old friend tried by time; "the best of good sorts," "the decentest old thing." That he happened also to be a schoolmaster was perhaps unfortunate, but she generously declined to let this regrettable fact influence her attitude towards him.
She knew well that he wanted her above all things to be happy, and with him she always was happy. Furthermore she had loyally kept her resolution not to worry Tony with any knowledge of the friction that existed between herself and Miss Foster. He was not much at B. House, and being of a good-natured and tolerant disposition himself, he always gave other people credit for being similarly well disposed until he had ample proof to the contrary. Besides, in his presence Lallie and Miss Foster almost unconsciously adopted a manner towards one another that was at least free from signs of open hostility.
When Lallie had been a week at B. House she took her host's personal appearance firmly in hand. In the morning she flew after him to brush his coat before he went up to College. She exclaimed indignantly at the "bagsomeness" of his trouser knees. Finding that he did not possess any form of trouser-press she insisted on his going with her into the town to buy one. And when it was sent home, she folded the offending garments and placed them in it herself. She objected to ties that looked "like a worn-out garter," and said so. She even suggested that certain old and well-loved coats might be sent to the Mission, but here Tony was firm in his opposition. He would buy a new suit to please her, but part with his old coats he would not; and Lallie was far too diplomatic to press the matter.
She tried always to be at home to make tea for him when he came in at half-past five, and cut short many a tea-party to keep this tryst. She was in great demand at other houses, especially the houses where the heads were musical.
She was waiting for Tony on the evening of the footprint encounter with Miss Foster, and when she had fed and warmed and cosseted him generally she sat down in the big chair opposite his and faced him squarely, announcing:
"Hunting begins this week, Tony."
"Does it really? How the year is getting on."
"Tony, dear, don't you think I might hunt if I took out one of the men from the riding school as groom--just one day a week?"
Tony shook his head.
"If your father had wanted you to hunt I am sure he would have suggested it, and he would probably have made arrangements for you to have a couple of the horses over; but he has never so much as mentioned it, and I can't let you do it on my own responsibility. I don't believe he'd like it for you here either. It isn't as if I could go with you."
"Much good you'd be if you could go with me. You know, Tony, you are not at your best across a horse. As for Dad not having made arrangements--this Indian trip was got up and settled in such a tremendous hurry, he had no time to think about me at all. Listen to me now! How would you feel if when they began to mow the grass in May, and the good smell was in the air, and you saw all the others in their flannels, and heard all round you the nice deep ring of the cricket balls--and you mightn't play a stroke, and your arm as strong and your eye as true as ever it was. How would you like it?"
"I shouldn't like it at all; but----"
"Well, then, think of me. The smell of the wet dead leaves and the south wind blowing the soft rain against my face is just as full of association for me. And I never go out but I see long strings of horses in their nice new clothing, the dear darlings! And me, ME, that has gone hunting on the opening day ever since I could sit a fat little Shetland pony, ME to stay pokily at home! Tony, I simply can't! You must let me."
"Lallie, the two cases are not analogous. You can go out riding whenever you like, provided you take a man; but hunting, no. Not without your father's permission. Especially here, you are too young--too----"
"Too what? You can't say I'm timid. You can't say I couldn't ride any mount they choose to give me at that old school. Look here, Tony, suppose they said, 'You may play cricket--oh, yes, at the nets with a wee little junior boy to bowl to you; but no matches, no playing with people who play as well as you do'--would you say 'Thank you'? And that's precisely what you offer me. Let me tell you I ride just as well as you play cricket--blue and all; and to please you I've even gone pounding round that ridiculous racecourse with half a dozen other girls who sit a horse like a sack of potatoes, who'd be off at every bounce but for the pommel. D'you think I call that riding? Oh, Tony, dear, if I could just have one good gallop across country after the hounds, I'd be a better girl--much nicer and easier to get on with."
"I don't find you particularly hard to get on with as it is."
"Other people do, though"--Lallie's conscience pricked her as to Miss Foster--"and I dare say I'm often a great nuisance; but once let me work the steam off on the back of a good horse and I'd be an angel. Just you let me go out with the hounds on Thursday and you'll see."
"Lallie, my child, don't. I would if I could, but I simply dare not. Your father would never forgive me. It was quite different last winter when he was there himself to look after you."
"My dear, good man, a hunting field isn't like the 'croc' of a girls' school. No one can 'look after' anybody else. You either ride straight or you potter, or you rush your fences and get in people's way. But whatever you do you're on your own. If you come a bad smash there's always a hurdle to lay you on, and a doctor and a farmhouse somewhere about. If you think Dad kept me in his pocket three days a week throughout the hunting season all these years, you've a more fertile imagination than I gave you credit for, and Dad would be the first to disillusion you. We went to the meets together, and after that we saw precious little of one another."
"What about riding home?"
"Hardly ever did we come home together. Sometimes he got home first, sometimes I did; and whichever of us was first in got the bath, and the other was pretty sure to come pounding at the door before the early bird was out of it. Youcan'tchaperon people out hunting. Why, by the time I'd been out three times here, I'd know the whole field, and you'd be perfectly happy knowing I was among friends."
Lallie sat forward in her chair gazing eagerly at Tony, who said nothing at all; but from the expression of his face it might have been gathered that this prediction of her speedy intimacy with all the field gave him no satisfaction whatever.
"Well, Tony?" she demanded impatiently.
"I'm sorry, but it's impossible. You can write to Fitz if you like and ask him to cable his opinion."
"No, indeed. I'll write and tell him that unless he cables forbidding me, I'm going to hunt. Dad will always do the easiest thing, and I know will never bother to cable forbidding me to do a thing I've done for years."
Lallie's voice was almost defiant, and poor Tony looked very pained, but he said nothing; and after a minute's silence she continued in a more conciliatory tone:
"Then in a fortnight's time from next mail if I don't hear, I may hunt?"
"You must give him three weeks, for he may be up country, and his mail takes days to reach him after the agent gets it."
"And by that time there'll be a frost; I didn't think it of you, Tony, I really didn't. In this matter you out-Emileen Aunt Emileen herself."
Tony rose.
"You have my leave to depart," he said, opening the door for her; "I've a lot of letters to write, and those chaps are coming to bridge after dinner, so I must do them now."
"Well, I think you're horrid, and if a slate falls on my head and kills me when I'm out walking, just you reflect how nice and safe I'd have been if I'd had my own way and been out in the open country."
"I'll risk the slate," Tony remarked unfeelingly; but still he would not look at Lallie, who stood in the doorway gazing reproachfully at him.
"And you're going to play bridge and have a nice time while I sit solemnly in the drawing-room making a waistcoat for you, ungrateful man. You've never asked me to take a hand, and I play quite well."
"You see, this is a club; we meet at each other's houses--there are no ladies----"
"Of all the monastical establishments I've ever come across this is the strictest, and you call Ireland a priest-ridden country."
"Lallie, I must write my letters."
At that moment Mr. Johns came into the hall, bearing a large and heavy book.
"Well, you deny me everything that keeps me out of mischief--on your own head be it," said Lallie rapidly, in low tones of ominous menace. Then, turning to the newcomer, she smiled a radiant welcome, exclaiming joyously: "You've brought your snapshots to show me! How kind of you! I'm badly in need of something to cheer me up. Come into the drawing-room, for Mr. Bevan is busy and Miss Foster's out, so we'll have it all to ourselves."
With quite unnecessary violence Mr. Bevan rang the bell for Ford to take away tea. Yet, when Ford, looking rather aggrieved, had responded to his noisy summons and removed the tea-things with her customary quiet deftness, he did not sit down at once to deal with his correspondence. Instead, he went and stood in front of the fire staring at the Greuze girl who was so like Lallie.
He ran his fingers through his smooth thick hair--a sure sign of mental perturbation with Tony--and he made the discovery that he was furiously angry; not with Lallie, the wilful and inconsequent, but with the unoffending Mr. Johns.
"Confound the fellow and his snapshots!" thought Tony; "if there's one kind of hobby more detestable than another it's that of the ardent amateur photographer. A man given up to it is almost as bad as the chap who wears cotton-wool in his ears, and is always taking medicine. There were these two" (with the second-sight vouchsafed to most of us upon occasion, Tony was perfectly correct in his surmise) "sitting side by side on the sofa with their heads close together, and that great heavy book spread out on their joint knees. Heavens! he would be proposing to snapshot Lallie next" (which is precisely what Mr. Johns was doing at that moment). "He, Tony, would not have it. He would interfere, he would--" Suddenly, exclaiming aloud, "What an ass I am!" he sat down at his desk with the firm determination to attend to his letters. He drew a neatly docketed bundle towards him, and selected the top one. It was that of Uridge Major's father, who wrote pointing out what a steadying effect it would have upon the boy were he made a prefect that term. Tony dealt diplomatically with this, but instead of going methodically through the bundle as he had fully intended to do he drew from his pocket a letter he had received from Fitzroy Clonmell last mail. It consisted of two closely written sheets; the first mainly descriptive of the sport they were enjoying, and duly concluded with the pious hope that his daughter was behaving herself. This was manifestly intended to be shown to Lallie. It was the second sheet that Tony read and re-read when he ought to have been allaying the misgivings of anxious-minded parents.