"NO SENSE OF HONOUR WHATEVER."
LOTTIE MEDLAND'S recovery from the serious illness which followed her
accident was a slow one, and it was fully a month before she was able
to come downstairs again, so that it was well on in November when she
at last returned to her work at the factory, looking a pale, fragile
girl, whose blue eyes had lost their old furtive, restless expression,
and were grave and sad. Her former acquaintances declared she had
altered wonderfully, and they soon discovered that the alteration was
not only in her outward appearance.
"Bless me, child, how like you are growing to Malvina," Mrs. Medland
observed, as she glanced at Lottie across the tea-table one evening,
at the conclusion of what had been for both a hard day's work. "I'm
glad to see it," she proceeded, as a flush of gratification rose to
her daughter's wan cheeks, "and I'm not the only one who's noticed it,
for Miss Ann remarked it to me the last time I saw her. I don't think
it's so much that you're pale and thin, though may be that has
something to do with it, for of course poor Malvina always looked more
or less ill; no, I think, as Miss Ann said, that the likeness lies
in the expression of your face—a certain look which one catches now
and again."
"I am glad Miss Ann can see a likeness in me to Malvina," Lottie said
softly. "Oh, mother, how good and considerate Miss Ann has been to me!
I quite thought she'd turn from me in horror when she knew what
a wicked girl I'd been, and, instead of doing that, she's been kinder
than ever. And you, too, mother, you've never reproached me, never
even scolded me—"
"Because I saw you were really repentant, Lottie," her mother
interposed, "and you were so ill that I feared at one time I was
to lose both my daughters. I thank God for sparing you to me, my dear
child!"
"Oh, mother! And I have been such a trouble to you and such a
disgrace! But I'll try to make amends, indeed I will! Please God
I'll be a better daughter to you in the future, and I'll try to show
people their goodness to me hasn't been thrown away. Bad girl as I've
been, I've had the best friends in the world—Dr. Elizabeth, and
Mrs. Reed and Miss Ann, and that pretty Miss Violet who has always
a pleasant word for me whenever we meet. I told Dr. Elizabeth once
that I'd never bet again; I meant to keep my word, but—I soon broke
it. I'm not going to make any promise now, but I shall pray—oh, so
earnestly—that I may be helped to turn away from temptation."
There was silence between mother and daughter for a few minutes.
At length Mrs. Medland wiped away the glad tears which had risen
to her eyes, and said in a voice which faltered with emotion:—
"Oh, Lottie, how I wish Malvina had lived to see you turn over a new
leaf! She used to worry about you so much, my dear!"
"I know, I know!" cried Lottie distressfully. "When I was upstairs
ill, I was always thinking of Malvina," she continued in a tremulous
tone, "how she used to lie there suffering—oh, much worse than I ever
suffered—so patient and uncomplaining, and I used to feel I never
could be happy again; but one day I thought, maybe, where she has gone
she may be able to look down on us here, and if so she knows that I
have really and truly repented of my wickedness, and she will be glad.
As Miss Ann says, we can't tell how much the dead know. I mean to try
to be more like Malvina in future, and I hope I'll never willingly
give you trouble again." The girl's voice was intensely sincere.
It was a hard task for Lottie to walk the straight path, for it was
most difficult for her to turn her back on her former companions,
who could not understand why her illness should have sobered her to
such a marked extent, and the vice of gambling had taken such strong
hold of her that it offered many temptations still; but she stood firm
in her determination to lead a better life. She had had plenty of time
for serious thought during her recent illness, and in that little room
upstairs, where she had been obliged to spend long days alone whilst
her mother had been at work, she had truly been brought to repentance,
and had sought forgiveness of the Saviour in whom her sister had so
completely trusted. It had therefore not been resting entirely on her
own strength that she had taken up her daily life again. In Malvina's
Bible she had found a verse marked with a pencil line, and, during her
sickness it had been continually in her mind:—
"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of them
is forgotten before God?"
"And if He watches over and cares for the sparrows," Lottie had
thought, "then surely He will not fail to help me," and she had
understood why her dead sister had loved the little brown birds, and
a sense of sweet comfort had crept into her aching heart.
Ann Reed had paid Lottie several visits during her illness. She had
told her that Dr. Reed had purchased the tortoise-shell purse from the
pawnbroker and caused it to be returned to its rightful owner, and
that he had made good the stolen money. Lottie had said very little
on hearing this, though she had wept many tears and sobbed bitterly;
in her heart of hearts she had been intensely grateful, but she had
been quite incapable of putting her feelings into words.
By Violet's desire, Ann had not mentioned to either Lottie or
Mrs. Medland that an innocent person had been suspected of the theft
of the purse.
"I don't wish either of them to know I've had to suffer for Lottie's
dishonesty," Violet had said decidedly; "they would feel so dreadful
about meeting me again if they knew." And Ann had gladly held her
peace on the point.
The news that Agnes Hosking's purse had been found had been received
with much thankfulness by the Wyndham family; and when, towards the
end of November, Dr. Reed and his wife stopped a few days in London
on their way home from their holiday in Devonshire and spent an
afternoon with the Wyndhams at Streatham, they were able to give the
assurance, when questioned, that Violet was now quite happy
at Helmsford College, and on the best of terms with most of her
school-fellows.
"I hope you will let her remain with us until her education is
completed, at any rate," Mrs. Reed said earnestly to Mrs. Wyndham;
"for I do not know what Ann would do without her now. The two girls
are wonderfully good friends. One of these days you must let Ruth come
and stay with us, will you?"
"Oh, what a treat that would be, and how I should enjoy it!" cried
Ruth, before her mother had time to reply, her sensitive face flushing
brightly at the anticipation of such an unlooked for pleasure. Then
she remembered how, a year before, Dr. Reed had spoken of her visiting
Barford and nothing had come of it. That, however, had not been the
kind doctor's fault.
"I am sure we should be delighted for Ruth to have such a nice
change," Mrs. Wyndham said with a smile. "But you must not keep her
too long," she went on somewhat plaintively, "for things will be sure
to go wrong if she is not here to look after them. My husband relies
upon her as much as I do. She is our right hand, Mrs. Reed."
"So I have heard," rejoined Mrs. Reed. "I think it is very nice to
know that one is of importance, especially in one's own home," she
added, with a kind look at Ruth who blushed more rosily than ever.
Thus it came about that when Dr. and Mrs. Reed returned to Barford,
they brought Violet the news that, if all went well, during the
Christmas holidays she was to have a visit from her elder sister.
Violet's delight was boundless on hearing this, as also was Ann's,
and various were the plans the two girls discussed, during the
following weeks, as to the way in which Ruth was to be entertained.
More than two-thirds of the winter term had now slipped by without
either Ann or Violet having exchanged half a dozen words with Agnes
Hosking; they avoided her all they possibly could, nevertheless they
were brought more or less in contact with her every day from the fact
of her being in the same class at school as themselves. Agnes was not
a favourite with the teachers, for she was an indolent girl; she saw
no reason why she should work hard as most of the other pupils were
doing, for, as she had given everyone at Helmsford College to
understand, there never would be any need for her to earn her living.
So she idled away the precious hours until those in authority lost
patience with her, and, as is generally the way in big schools, the
governesses gave their best attention to those more likely to benefit
by their instructions.
"Really, Agnes Hosking shows quite a genius for idling," Clara Garret
remarked to Violet Wyndham one afternoon subsequent to school hours.
The two girls were alone in one of the class rooms, Violet waiting
for Ann Reed who was receiving a music lesson from a visiting master.
"Yes, hasn't she?" said Violet. "I wonder what sort of report she will
have sent home at the end of the term; I should like to see it."
"You never speak to her, Violet, do you?"
Violet shook her head. "No," she replied; "once, at the beginning
of the term, a day or so after she had regained her purse, she tried
to enter into conversation with me, but I wouldn't have it. She began
to mumble something about being sorry if she'd hurt my feelings in any
way, but I simply turned my back on her, and she hasn't attempted
to speak to me since."
"Ann Reed doesn't have anything to do with her either, does she?"
"No. Clara, you can't think how bitter I feel against Agnes still,
even now my character has been fully cleared."
"It's only natural you should be resentful, I know I should be.
I don't think Agnes has had a very happy time this term, she's had
the cold shoulder shown her by several girls whose good opinion
she valued."
"Serve her right!" cried Violet vindictively.
"Still the fact of her having money gives her a hold over some who
would otherwise taboo her." Clara paused, and looked thoughtful;
then, with some hesitation, proceeded to ask: "Violet, do you consider
it very wrong to play cards for money?"
"Why, of course I do, don't you? It's gambling!" was the decisive
answer.
Clara nodded. "I agree with you," she said; "if I tell you something
will you promise to keep it to yourself—it's something I haven't told
even to Cicely."
"Then why are you going to tell me?" Violet asked, rather surprised.
"Because I feel I must get the advice of someone, and I know you are
to be trusted—so is Cicely, of course, but she isn't strong and she'd
be worried and say I ought to confide in Miss Orchardson. The fact is
I've found out—but you'll promise to keep this secret, won't you?"
"Yes," assented Violet, her curiosity now thoroughly aroused.
"Well," said Clara, "I've very good reason to believe that gambling
goes on at Helmsford College."
"Clara!" Violet's voice was shrill with astonishment.
"Hush! Don't speak so loud as that. Listen, and I'll tell you what
I've discovered. You know Cicely and I have a small room to ourselves?
Well, Agnes Hosking sleeps in a big room next to ours with three other
girls—the two Pelhams and Kitty Majendie—and they sit up late at night
playing cards—for money. Oh, no wonder you look incredulous, but it's
true!"
"But I thought—surely I've heard you say that one of the governesses
always makes a round of the bedrooms every night at ten o'clock in
order to see that the girls are in bed and the lights out?"
"Oh, yes! Miss Wilcocks has charge of the rooms on our landing;
some of the governesses occasionally pay surprise visits, but she
never does. The other night, after she'd been round as usual, I had
a most violent attack of toothache; it came on suddenly just as I was
dropping off to sleep, and, as you may imagine, it made me wide awake
in a minute. I lay still for some time hoping it would pass, but it
didn't, and by-and-by I could stand it no longer and determined to go
to Miss Wilcocks' room and ask her to give me something to ease the
pain—I remembered having heard her say she had some toothache tincture
which she had never known fail to effect a cure. Cicely was asleep,
so I got up very quietly, put on my dressing-gown, and slipped out
into the passage which was all in darkness."
"Well, as I was passing the door of the next room I thought I heard
voices, and it occurred to me that one of the girls might have
something for toothache, and that if so I need not disturb Miss
Wilcocks, so I put my hand on the door handle and turned it, but the
door wouldn't open. That surprised me, because there are no keys
allowed in the bedroom doors here. I listened and still heard voices,
then I gave a gentle knock with my knuckles, and suddenly the voices
ceased."
"I waited to see what would happen, and presently I heard something—
a box it sounded like—dragged from before the door, and the next
minute Agnes Hosking, wrapped in a dressing-gown and shawl, opened
the door to me. She was pale and trembling and looked very frightened,
but as soon as she recognised me her expression changed; she seemed
tremendously relieved and began to laugh in a silly, giggling fashion,
and pulled me into the room and shut the door."
"Yes?" said Violet eagerly, as her companion paused to take breath—
she had been speaking quickly and excitedly.
"Agnes asked me what I wanted, but I didn't answer at once for I was
looking about the room. The three other girls were in bed, but when
they saw who it was that had disturbed them they got out, and they
were all in their dressing-gowns, too; and Kitty Majendie, who had a
pack of cards in her hands, explained that they'd been having a game
of Bridge and said that of course I wouldn't tell on them and they
would trust to my sense of honour to hold my tongue. Then I inquired
if they had any toothache tincture, but they hadn't, so I said
good-night and went back to my own room; and, do you know,
my toothache had actually gone—I believe the shock I had experienced
had driven it away, for it really had been a shock to me to discover
what was going on. The next day I asked Kitty Majendie if they played
for money, and she admitted that they did, though not for high
stakes."
"I should think not!" exclaimed Violet, "but whether they play
for little or much the principle is the same—it is gambling. Oh, how
dreadful it seems! The idea of gambling going on in a school like
this! I wonder what would happen if Miss Orchardson found it out?"
Clara shook her head, she could not tell. "It seems that the Pelhams
started this card playing," she said, "their people are rich, and they
play cards for money at home, and they have a lot of pocket-money,
they have won a good bit from Kitty Majendie and Agnes Hosking.
Kitty is a silly, good-natured little creature, you know, who doesn't
like to decline to play, and Agnes thinks it's rather a fine thing
to do, she says all fashionable people play Bridge."
Violet smiled sarcastically. "Then you have spoken to her about it?"
she said inquiringly.
"Yes. I thought I ought to remonstrate with all four of them, but I
fear I did no good. The Pelhams and Agnes only laughed at me; Kitty,
however, admitted that she couldn't play cards any longer because she
had no money to stake. The question is, what ought I to do? If I tell
Miss Orchardson I shall most probably get all four girls expelled."
"The Pelhams are leaving at Christmas, anyway," said Violet
thoughtfully; "really I hardly know what to advise. I know! Threaten
to tell Miss Orchardson unless they promise you not to touch cards
again whilst they are at school."
"Yes; I might do that certainly, and I will. I am glad I have taken
you into my confidence, Violet; this business has been a real worry
to me. Not a word about it to anyone, mind!"
"Not even to Ann?"
"Well, you may tell Ann if you like, but it must go no further.
Hush, someone's coming!"
It was Agnes Hosking. She entered the room and began to turn over the
books on the table, Clara watching her whilst Violet studiously looked
another way.
"What are you searching for?" Clara inquired presently.
"Only my French exercise book," Agnes answered, "I've missed it.
I have to rewrite an exercise for Mademoiselle. I wish you'd help me
with it, Clara. Do! You understand all about irregular verbs, and I
don't."
"Mademoiselle said no one was to help you," Clara reminded her.
"But she won't know!"
An indignant flush rose to Clara's pale cheeks, and she made
no answer. Agnes glanced from her to Violet, and laughed uneasily;
she had found her exercise book now, and stood with it in her hand,
fluttering its pages.
As neither of her companions spoke, after a minute or so she turned
to leave the room; on reaching the door she overheard Violet say:
"She has no sense of honour whatever."
The remark had not been meant for her ears, so she took no notice
of it, but it had made her wince.