NOT MISSED.
Jane Macalister was the governess. She was old--at least the Lorrimers
considered her old--she wore spectacles, and her hair was slightly
tinged with grey. She had a queer mixture of qualities. She was
affectionate and narrow; she was devoted to her pupils, and thought she
could best show her devotion by an unceasing round of discipline.
Fortunately, both for her and the little Lorrimers, this discipline
never extended beyond the hours devoted to lessons. It never showed its
stern visage in play hours, nor at meals, nor at night, nor on half
holidays, nor on Sundays. During all these times, Jane was the
intelligent and much belaboured companion. She was at everyone's beck
and call. She was to be found here, there, and everywhere--darning the
rent in Molly's frock, or helping Nora with her drawing, or trying to
find a story-book for Nell which she had not already read at least six
times, or healing the small squabbles with which Boris and Kitty helped
to beguile the weary hours. Mrs. Lorrimer consulted her with regard to
the cook and the servants generally. The Squire would shout to her to
spare him a quarter of an hour in the study to see if he had totted up
his accounts right. In short, Jane Macalister was as much part and
parcel of the Lorrimer household as if she were really one of
themselves. She was by no means educated up to the standard of the
latter half of the nineteenth century, but what she did know, she knew
thoroughly. She was methodical and helpful. The kind of person whom Mrs.
Lorrimer was fond of quoting as invaluable. The children, one and all,
loved her as a matter of course, but, in school hours, their love was
certainly mingled with awe. In school hours, Jane allowed no relaxing of
the iron rod.
Kitty and Boris, having just heard the dismal sound of the schoolroom
bell, started from their fascinating occupation of feeding the white
rats and ran as fast as their small feet could carry them in the
direction of the house. They went in by a side entrance, and with
panting breath and hot little steps began to mount the spiral staircase
which led to the schoolroom in the tower. They were late already, and
they knew that they could not possibly escape bad marks for
unpunctuality. They pushed open the green baize door which admitted them
to the sanctum of learning and came in. All the other children whom Miss
Macalister taught were already in the room. Kitty and Boris were the
sole delinquents--the only ones in disgrace; even Elinor was present.
Their faces fell when they saw her. They had built great hopes on having
at least Elinor's company in their disgrace. The swift thought had
darted through both their minds that she would be safe to be extra
naughty that morning, and in consequence would divert some of the storm
of Jane Macalister's wrath from their devoted heads; but no, there she
sat in her accustomed place, her hymn book open on her knee, marks of
tears on her cheeks, it is true, but in all other respects she looked a
provokingly model Elinor.
It was too bad; Kitty made a face at her across the schoolroom, and
even Boris gave her a reproachful glance.
Jane Macalister fixed two awful spectacled eyes upon the culprits, and,
scarlet blushes tingling in their cheeks, they took possession of their
vacant chairs.
The children all sang their usual hymn, although Elinor's voice was a
little husky and Boris held his book upside down.
"_All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all._"
"I wonder if He really made that dreadful horsey man," thought Nell, as
she looked out of the window.
Boris smothered a sigh as he reflected again over the problem which had
often before puzzled his small head--Why God, when he made everything so
beautiful, had forgotten to give Jane Macalister a beautiful temper in
school hours?
The singing was followed by the Bible reading, and then lessons began.
Molly and Nora acquitted themselves admirably, as was their wont--Nell's
dark grey eyes grew full of interest as she read the fascinating story
of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold" in her history book--Kitty worked at
her sums with fierce persistence and tried to fancy herself at
boarding-school, going up rapidly to the top of her class, while Boris
made more mistakes than ever over his dictation, and inked his fingers
unmercifully.
"What was the use of fussing over such a stupid, useless thing as
spelling?" This was his thought of thoughts.
The day was a warm one. Jane Macalister was icily cold, however, as
unapproachable as an iceberg. Boris watched her with anxiety. He knew
well that there was no chance for him and Kitty; they would both be
punished for being late for prayers.
Oh, dear, oh, dear; _why_ was Jane so unbeautiful, so unapproachable in
school hours?
"I know she'll keep Kitty and me in during the whole of the play hour,"
he muttered to himself. "I'm certain of it, because the tip of her nose
is getting red; that's a sign that she's worried, and when she's worried
she's twice as bad as she is at any other time."
"What noise is that? Oh!--I say--Miss Macalister----"
Jane Macalister was always spoken to in this correct fashion during
school hours.
"I say, there's a visitor!" burst from the eager lips of the little boy.
He started to his feet as he spoke, upsetting the ink-pot over his own
copybook and also over Kitty's white-frilled pinafore.
"Boris, you are incorrigible!" exclaimed Jane. "You lose all your
conduct marks for the week, and must stay indoors for an hour and learn
a piece of poetry after lessons."
Boris got very red and tried to smile. The blow had fallen, so he wasn't
going to whimper over it. He would stand up to his punishment like a
man. He meant to be a soldier some day, and felt exactly now as if he
were facing the guns. He met Elinor's full, troubled grey eyes, and
seated himself slowly once more in his chair.
The steps had come nearer, the schoolroom door was burst open, and Nan
Thornton rushed in.
"Here I am," she said. "I have come to torment you, Miss Macalister, and
to beg off lessons at once. How do you do, children? How are you, Kitty?
How are you, Boris? How do you do, Nell? Molly and Nora, I'll kiss you
when I can get breath. Oh, what a climb those stairs are! Why do you
have lessons in the tower? All the same, it's lovely when you _are_
here. What a view! What a darling, darling, heavenly, scrumptious,
_ripping_ view. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I am out of breath. Jane, aren't you
glad to see me? Aren't you glad to know that all the children are to
have a holiday immediately? Shut up your books, young 'uns, and let's be
off. You don't mind, do you, Jane?"
Certainly Jane Macalister did mind. The icy expression grew more marked
on her face. Boris gave her a glance, felt that he was very close to the
guns, and lowered his eyes. Nan began dancing about the room. Nan was in
white--white hat, white frock. Her fluffy golden hair surrounded her
like a cloud. Boris felt that she was something like a very naughty and
very beautiful angel. Why was she tempting them all when Jane Macalister
was like ice?
"I think, Nan," said Miss Macalister--"(how do you do, my dear? Of
course I'm glad to see you)--I think I must ask you to leave the
schoolroom for the present. Recess will be at half-past eleven, and then
you can talk to all the children except Boris, who I grieve to say will
have to undergo punishment. As to holidays, the summer holidays will
begin in a fortnight, until then I cannot permit any such indulgence. Go
away, Nan, for the present. Molly, I can attend to your German now.
Bring your exercise book with the grammar and history."
Nan was not accustomed to being vanquished, but she was very near defeat
then. The next moment she would have found herself ignominiously outside
the baize door if other steps had not approached, and Hester, looking
cool and sweet, Annie, all radiant and laughing, and Mrs. Lorrimer, with
her usual gentle motherly expression, had not appeared on the scene.
"Jane," said the mother, smiling round with her blue eyes at each of the
children, "Hester wants us to get up a hasty picnic to Friar's Wood. The
day is perfect, and this is the first of Nan's holidays, so I hope you
will not object, particularly if the children promise to work extra well
to-morrow."
Jane began to close up all the books hastily. Nan's petition was not to
be listened to for a moment. Mrs. Lorrimer's was law, and must be
cheerfully obeyed.
"Certainly," she said, in a pleasant tone, dropping her frozen manner as
if by magic. "It is a _perfect_ day for a picnic. Leave the schoolroom
tidy, my loves, and then go and get ready. You'd like me to see the
cook, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lorrimer? I can help her to cut sandwiches and
to pack plates and dishes."
"Jane, you're an angel," said Mrs. Lorrimer.
Jane Macalister kissed Hester, was introduced to Annie, and then rushed
down the spiral stairs, intent on housekeeping cares.
The Lorrimer boys and girls surrounded Hester and Annie. Nan flitted in
and out of the group, and was here, there, and everywhere. All was
excitement and laughter. Presently the children left the schoolroom in a
body.
No, there was one exception. Boris stayed behind. He looked wistfully
after the others as they streamed away. Miss Macalister had not said a
word about remitting his punishment, and he must be true to his colours.
He found it very difficult to keep back his tears, but he would indeed
think badly of himself if even one bright drop fell from his round blue
eyes.
It would have comforted him if Kitty had noticed him. Kitty might have
stayed if only to bestow a kiss of sympathy on him, but she was whirled
on with the others. No one gave him a thought. He was only Boris, one of
the younger children. He was alone in the schoolroom.
He looked at the clock; it pointed to half past eleven; he would not be
free until half past twelve. Picnics at the Towers were hastily
improvised affairs. Long before his hour of punishment was over the
others would all be off and away. It was scarcely likely that any of
them would even miss him. Kitty would be in such a frantic state of
excitement at having Nan Thornton to talk to, that she would not have
room in her heart to bestow a thought on him. He could not walk all the
way to Friar's Wood, the day was too hot. How delicious it would be
there in the shade. How interesting to watch the squirrels in the trees,
and the rabbits as they darted in and out of their holes. Well, well,
there was no use fretting. His heart felt sore, of course, but he
wouldn't be half a boy in his own opinion if he didn't take his
punishment without a murmur.
He drew his chair up to the table, pushed his ink-stained fingers
through his curly brown locks, and looked around him.
Miss Macalister had forgotten to set him any task, but he supposed he
could set himself something.
He was just wondering what would be the least irksome form of punishment
he could devise, when a small head was pushed in at the door, and a
voice, in accents of extreme surprise, shouted his name.
"Why, Boris, what are you doing? They'll be off if you don't look
sharp."
"I'm not going, Nell," said Boris; "but please don't fuss over it, it's
nothing."
"_Nothing!_" said Nell, coming into the room and seating herself by the
side of her little brother. "Don't you love picnics?"
"I _adore_ them," said Boris.
He shut up his lips as he spoke and winked his eyes.
"Don't make a fuss," he said again after a pause. "Do you think I might
learn a bit of the 'Ancient Mariner' for my punishment task? I like that
old chap, he's so grisly."
"It's a splendid poem," said Nell with enthusiasm, "particularly that
part about--
_'Water, water everywhere,
And not a drop to drink.'_
Can't you picture it all, Boris? The sea like a great pond, and the
thirsty old mariner looking at it, and longing, and longing, and longing
to drink it, and the dead people lying round. Sometimes at night I think
of it, and then afterwards I have a good, big, startling dream. A dream
that's not _too_ frightful is almost as good as a story-book. Don't you
think so?"
"No, I don't," said Boris. "I hate dreams. Perhaps I'd better learn the
first six verses of the 'Ancient Mariner,' and perhaps I'd better begin
at once. Jane Macalister is very stern, isn't she, Nell?"
"Awful in lesson times," said Nell.
"Well, the only way I can bear it," said Boris, "is this--I think of her
as the general of an army. I don't mind obeying her when I think of her
in that way. Soldiers have to promise obedience before anything else,
and I'm going to be a soldier some day. I'd better not talk now, Nell,
for I must get the first six verses of the 'Ancient' into me in an hour,
and I can't if you keep chattering. The general was rather sharp with me
this morning, I must say, for all my conduct marks are gone, too, and I
won't get sixpence on Saturday, and I'll have nothing to subscribe to
mother's birthday present; still, of course, 'tis 'diculous to fuss.
You'd best go, Nell. Why aren't you ready for the picnic?"
"I'm not going," said Nell. "I have a headache, and a drive in the sun
would make it worse. Besides, Nan Thornton does chatter so awfully."
"Chatter," repeated Boris; "you don't mean to say you mind her
chattering?"
"Yes, I do, when I have a headache."
"Well, I think she's sweet," said Boris.
"You had better learn your 'Mariner,' Boris, and I'll sit in the window
and look out."
The schoolroom was so high up in the tower that people who sat in one of
its windows had really only a bird's-eye view of what went on below.
Boris, in his rather tumbled sailor suit, sat with his back to Nell. He
kicked the rungs of the chair very often with his sturdy legs. His inky
fingers took fond clutches of his curls, his lips murmured the rhyme of
the "Ancient Mariner" in a monotonous sing-song. Nell pushed open the
lattice window and looked out. There was a waggonette drawn by a rather
bony old horse standing by the side entrance; behind the waggonette was
a pony-cart, a good deal the worse for wear. The pony, whose name was
Shag, stood very still and flicked his long tail backwards and forwards
to keep the flies away. Nell saw Miss Macalister and two of the servants
come out with those flat delicious picnic baskets which she knew so
well, and which had so often made her lips water in fond anticipation;
they were placed with solemnity in the waggonette. Then Molly and Nora,
in their white sun-bonnets, took their places, and Hester and Annie sat
opposite to them, and Mrs. Lorrimer took the seat of honour, and two or
three of the smaller children were packed in heterogeneously, while Nan
and Kitty and Miss Macalister bundled themselves into the pony-cart.
Nell's heart beat high as she watched. Was no one going to think of her
and Boris? Was no one going to miss them?
Apparently no one was.
The gay cavalcade got under weigh and disappeared from view down the
long and lovely beech avenue.
Nell did not wish to go to the picnic, not to-day with her heart so
sore, but it made that heart feel all the sorer not to be missed.