Two days later Mr and Mrs Chester started on their tour of inspection,
and Rhoda reflected that she could not employ herself better during
their absence than by preparing, so far as might be, for the life ahead.
She went upstairs to her own sitting-room, and made a sweeping survey
of her treasures. The books in the hanging cases must, of course, be
left behind, since they were too numerous to carry. She looked lovingly
at their bright gold and leather backs, and took down a special
favourite here and there, to dip into its contents. The Waverley novels
ran in a long, yellow line across one shelf; Dickens, clad in red, came
immediately beneath; and a whole row of poets on the bottom shelf.
Wordsworth was a prize from Fraulein, but his pages were still stiff and
unread; Longfellow opened of himself at "Hiawatha"; while Tennyson, most
beloved of all, held half a dozen markers at favourite passages. His
portrait hung close at hand, a copy of that wonderful portrait by Watts,
which seems to have immortalised all the power and beauty of the
strange, sad face. Rhoda nicked a grain of dust from the glass surface,
and carefully straightened the frame against the wall, for this picture
was one of her greatest treasures, and respected accordingly. Another
case held books of stories, ranging from the fairy tales of childhood to
the publications of last year; a third was devoted to bound volumes of
magazines, and a fourth to the less showy and interesting school-books.
"It's no use taking _you_!" said Rhoda scornfully. "I expect you are
quite out of date. You can stay here and rest, and when I come back
I'll point out your errors, and send you into the lumber-room to make
room for the new ones!" Then she turned her attention to the
mantelpiece, on which reposed a quite extraordinary number of miniature
jugs. Jugs, jugs everywhere, and nothing but jugs; blue jugs, yellow
jugs, brown jugs, red jugs; Worcester jugs with delicate white figures
against a background of blue; jugs worth a penny sterling at the village
emporium; plain jugs, iridescent jugs; jugs with one handle, with two,
with three, with none at all. Their variety was as puzzling as their
number, but Rhoda gazed at them with all the pride of the collector.
"Jugs"--unrivalled by postcards, stamps, or crests--had been her mania
for a year on end, and the result was dear to her heart. To find a new
jug to add to the collection had appeared one of the chief objects in
travelling; an expedition to town had been a failure or success,
according as it discovered jugs or no jugs.
In her anxiety for their safety she had even volunteered to dust her own
mantelpiece, and now, alas! she must leave them to the tender mercies of
Mary and her assistants! It was a painful reflection, and after a
moment's consideration she determined not to risk it, but to store the
darlings away in some safe hiding-place until her return.
No sooner said than done. Each little jug was wrapped in a separate
roll of tissue paper, fitted into a drawer of the writing-table, and
securely locked against invasion. The process of "putting away" thus
begun extended itself indefinitely. The photographs in their various
frames must be arranged and divided; nice relations and very dearest
friends, to be taken to school, disagreeable or "middling" relations,
and merely "dearest friends," to be laid aside in another drawer;
fragile ornaments to be hidden, in case they were broken; silver and
brass in case they tarnished; letters to be destroyed, to be tied up in
packets, to be answered before leaving home; pieces of fancy work to be
folded away, in case sacrilegious hands should dare to put them to any
other use than that for which they were intended.
Rhoda set to work with the energy of ten women, and worked away until
the once tidy room had become a scene of wildest confusion; until sofa,
table, and chairs were alike piled high with bundles. Then of a sudden
her energy flagged, she grew tired and discouraged, and wished she had
left the stupid old things where she had found them. It occurred to her
as a brilliant inspiration that there was no possible hurry, and that
sitting under the trees reading a book, and drinking lemon squash, was a
much more agreeable method of spending a hot summer's day than working
like a charwoman. She carried her latest book into the garden
forthwith, ordered the "squash," and spent an hour of contented idleness
before lunch.
The story, however, was not interesting enough to tempt a second reading
during the afternoon, for the heroine was a girl of unimpeachable
character, who pursued her studies at home under the charge of a daily
governess, and such a poor-spirited creature could hardly be expected to
commend herself to a girl who had decided for two whole days to go to
the newest of all new schools, and already felt herself far removed from
such narrow experiences. Rhoda cast about in her mind for the next
diversion, and decided to bicycle across the park to call upon the
Vicar's daughter the self-same Ella Mason who had been her informant on
so many important points. Ella would be indeed overcome to hear that
Rhoda herself was to be a "Hurst" girl, and there would be an increased
interest in hearing afresh those odd pieces of information which had
fallen from the cousin's lips.
She felt a thrill of relief on hearing that her friend was at home, and
in finding her alone in the morning-room, which looked so bare and
colourless to eyes accustomed to the splendours of the Chase. Something
of the same contrast existed between the two girls themselves, for while
Rhoda sat glowing pink and white after her ride, Ella's cheeks were as
pale as her dress, and her eyes almost as colourless as the washed-out
ribbon round her waist. She was not a beauty by any means, but
unaffectedly loving and unselfish, rejoicing in her friend's news,
though it would deprive her of a favourite companion, and she was all
anxiety to help and encourage. She knitted her brow to remember all
that the cousin had said of Hurst Manor, wishing only that she had
listened with more attention to those pearls of wisdom.
"Yes, she said that they did a great deal of Latin. All the girls learn
it, and it seems to be looked on as one of the most important subjects.
They translate Horace and Livy and all kinds of learned books."
"Humph! I shan't!" declared Rhoda coolly. "I don't approve of Latin
for girls. It's silly. Of course, if you intend to teach, or be a
doctor, or anything like that, it may be useful, but for ordinary stop-
at-home girls it's nonsense. What use would Latin be to _me_, I should
like to know? I shall take modern languages instead. I can read and
write French fluently, though it doesn't come quite so easy to speak it,
and German, of course, is second nature after jabbering with Fraulein
all these years. I should _think_ in German if I would allow myself,
but I won't. I don't think it is patriotic. There is not very much
that any one can teach me of French or German!"
"Then what is the use of studying them any more?" inquired Ella, aptly
enough; but Rhoda was not a whit discomposed.
"My dear, it is ever so much pleasanter doing things that you
understand! The first stages are such a grind. Well, what next? What
other subjects are important?"
"Mathematics. Some of the girls are awfully clever, and are ever so far
on in Euclid. I did one book with father; but it worried me so, and I
cried so much one day when he altered the letters and put the whole
thing out, that he grew tired, and said I could give it up. You didn't
do any with Fraulein, I think?"
"No; it's a nuisance. I wish I did now; but I'll have to begin at once,
that's all! I'll get Harold's old books and cram up before I go, so
that I can just bring in an expression now and then, as if I knew all
about it. Girls are so patronising if they think you are a beginner...
I'm pretty well up in history, and can say reams of poetry, and play,
and draw, and paint in water colours--"
"Ye-es!" assented Ella feebly. She was afraid to say so much in words,
but her conviction was that her friend's methods of work would seem
strangely antiquated when contrasted with the vivid strength of the new
_regime_. She recalled Rhoda's mild copies of village scenes, with
cottages in the foreground, trees to the rear, and a well-regulated
flight of swallows on the sky line, and mentally placed them beside her
cousin's vigorous sketches on the Slade system, where two or three lines
seemed to do the work of a dozen, and prettiness was a thing abhorred!
She remembered the lessons in theory and harmony, and trembled for her
friend's awakening. "Yes," she repeated. "Oh, of course; and then
there are other things besides lessons--a girl can make herself popular
by being pleasant and obliging, and the outdoor life is so fascinating.
Games every day, just as if you were boys, and each one trying to get
into a higher team, and as keen and enthusiastic as she can be. You
_will_ enjoy the games, Rhoda!"
"Now that's just one thing I wanted to talk to you about!" cried Rhoda
earnestly. "I'm glad you reminded me. Of course, tennis and croquet
are all right. I can play a _very_ good set, and beat most ladies at
croquet. One time this summer I made five hoops in one turn, and took
my partner with me, but of course I don't do that _every_ day of the
week. I'm all right for summer games, but winter is coming on, and I
shall have to play that horrid old hockey, and I haven't the remotest
idea how it is done. I've never seen a match, but you have, and I want
you to tell me all about it, so that I may know what to do, and not make
an idiot of myself. You went to the Betham ground when you were staying
there, and saw the girls' team play. Go on! Describe it! Tell me all
about it, and everything they did!"
Ella drew a deep breath, and looked awed and important.
"Well! it was a county match, and one team wore white blouses and the
other pink. They had on blue skirts, very short, and awful feet! Some
had great pads on each ankle, and some had leggings, and some had
nothing at all. I should have swathings of cotton wool a foot wide, for
it made my ankles ache just to see the sticks swinging about! It was an
icy day; the wind went through us like knives and scissors, and we stood
on little planks of wood and shuddered, with furs up to our ears, but
they wore no hats or jackets, and their sleeves went flap, flap, as thin
as possible. There was only one pretty one among them, all the rest
looked--hideous! There was a goal at one end, _here_, and another,
_here_." Ella drew a rough map of the ground on the back of an
envelope, and Rhoda looked on with breathless interest. "This team
wanted to make a goal _here_, and the other side tried to prevent them.
They whacked with their sticks, and off went the ball, and each side
flew after it, trying to send it the way they wanted, and one poor,
wretched girl stood before each goal to prevent the enemy's ball from
entering. I expected they would both die of consumption the next day,
but I met them out at tea, quite spry and lively, and they said they
didn't feel cold a bit. I didn't believe them, but that's nothing. An
umpire marched about in leggings, and blew a whistle, and called out
`Off side! Off side!'"
"And what did he mean by that?"
Ella hesitated, uncertainly. Her knowledge of the game was of the
slightest, but she was anxious to help her friend, and gallantly tried
to recall odd explanations.
"Oh, well, I think one of the wrong side hit, you know, and there is a
rule that you may not send the ball straight forward to one of your own
side, but must hit it back to some one behind you."
"But that's silly! If you want to get on as fast as you can, why on
earth must you go _back_? If they never hit forward, how can they win.
Do you mean to say they _never_ send it forwards towards the goal?"
"Oh, yes, yes! One girl was splendid. She hit magnificently. She ran
like a man, and sent it flying before her, and made three goals
herself."
"Then how--why--what--what in the world did you mean by saying that you
_mustn't_ do it?" demanded Rhoda sternly, and Ella made a gesture as of
tearing her hair in confusion.
"I don't know! It isn't easy to understand a game when you see only one
match. I was confused myself, but I know each side tries for a
different goal, and there are `backs' and `half-backs' and `forwards,'
just as at football, and, whatever you do, you must not raise your stick
above your waist. It's a murderous-looking game, anyhow. I wondered
that they weren't all killed; and one girl's hand was bleeding horribly.
I asked her if it was very painful, and she stared and said, `Oh, I
hadn't noticed it!' and mopped it up with her handkerchief. Awfully
callous, I call it."
"Oh, I don't know!" replied Rhoda, airily. "Those flesh wounds don't
hurt. I should never think of taking any notice of a little thing like
that. Well, I can't say I am very much wiser for your instructions, my
dear, but I will pump Harold and see what I can get out of him. I have
no doubt I could hit all right, for I have a quick eye, and if you can
play one or two games it helps you with the rest. But I should be
pretty mad if I made a hit and they whistled at me and made me come
back. I like to know what I am about."
"You had better be a goal-keeper," advised Ella, wisely; "you have no
running to do until the ball comes your way, and then at it you go,
tooth and nail! Stop it somehow--anyhow--with your hands, your feet,
your skirt, your stick. I believe there is an etiquette about it, don't
you know, as there is about all those things, and that it's more swagger
to stop it one way than another, but the main thing is to stop it
_somehow_, and that you simply must do!"
"Humph! If you can! What happens if you can't?"
"Emigrate to Australia by the first boat! I should think so, at least,
to judge by the faces of the other girls when one poor creature _did_
let a ball in. Feerocious, my dear! there was no other word for it. My
heart ached for her. But it was a stupid miss, for it looked so easy.
I felt sure I could have stopped it."
"It's all a matter of nerve. If you lose your head you are sure to play
the fool at a critical moment. Fraulein was like that. The moment the
game went against her she began to hop about, and puff and pant, and
work herself into such a fever that she couldn't even see a ball, much
less hit it. I kept calm, and so of course I always won."
It did strike Ella that victory under such circumstances would be easily
gained, but she was too loyal to say so, and Rhoda leant back against
the cushions of the sofa, and continued to discourse on games in
general, and school games in particular, with an air of such intimacy
and knowledge that no one would have suspected that the object of her
visit had been to listen, rather than to teach.
Ella listened meekly to a recital of what her friend intended to do, and
be; of the examinations she would pass, the honours she would gain; the
influence she would exercise over her fellows; and sighed to think of
her own limitations, and the impossibility of such a career ever falling
to her lot. And then Rhoda rose, and put on her gloves preparatory to
saying good-bye.
"I shall come down to see you again, of course, but I shall be very
busy. I am going to have a complete new outfit, and everything as nice
as possible."
"Ye-es," said the Vicar's daughter.
"I shall have all my best skirts lined with silk."
"Ah!" sighed Ella, and felt a pang of keenest envy. She had never
possessed a silk lining in her life. It seemed to her at times that if
she could only hear herself rustle as she walked, there would be nothing
left to wish for in life!
"They will think you are a Princess!" she said, and Rhoda smiled, and
did not attempt to deny the impeachment.