A LETTER AND A DISCUSSION.
'Were you very late last night, Aunt Alison? Are you tired?'
The questions came from Frances, who had noticed the unusual silence at
the breakfast-table--not that they were ever very loquacious, for Eugene
had his meals up-stairs and he was the chatterbox of the party--but
without any of her sister's fears or misgivings. So that she looked up
at her aunt in happy freedom from any self-conscious embarrassment.
'I was not later than I am usually on Fridays,' said Miss Mildmay. 'No,
thank you, I am not tired. Will you have some more tea, Jacinth?'
'Yes, please,' said the elder girl. She was growing more and more
nervous, and yet her anxiety to know if Lady Myrtle really had written
already made her remain near her aunt as long as possible.
Miss Mildmay had apparently finished her own breakfast, for after
handing Jacinth her cup, she took up a little pile of letters which lay
beside her, and drew out one, which she unfolded and glanced at with a
peculiar expression on her face.
'Have you--have you nothing to tell me--no message to give me?' she said
at last, still fingering the letter.
She spoke to both girls, but it seemed to Jacinth as if her words were
more specially addressed to her, and she started, while a flush rose to
her face. And suddenly she remembered--or realised rather--that Lady
Myrtle _had_ given them a message for their aunt; though, oddly enough,
in spite of her thoughts having been so much absorbed with the adventure
of the day before, it had never once occurred to her during that silent
breakfast that she should have spoken of it to her aunt--should, in
fact, have related all that had passed. There had been no reason for her
not doing so--the old lady had specially desired it--it was only that
her strong impression that Miss Mildmay had something to say to them had
made her wait.
'Of course,' she exclaimed nervously. 'I really don't know what we've
been thinking of _not_ to tell you. For we _have_ a message for
you.--Frances, why didn't you remind me?'
Frances stared. It was seldom her way to take the initiative, she was so
accustomed to follow Jacinth's lead; and just now she had been quite
contentedly waiting to speak of their visit to Robin Redbreast till her
sister saw fit to do so.
'I--I didn't know. I thought'----began Frances confusedly.
Miss Mildmay turned upon her sharply.
'Have you been planning together not to speak of this--this curious
affair to me?' she said. 'I don't pretend not to know all about it. I
do,' and she touched the letter, 'by this, but I must say I think I
should not have heard of it _first_ from a stranger. There is one thing
I cannot and will not stand, I warn you, girls, and that is any approach
to want of candour.'
'Aunt Alison,' exclaimed Jacinth in hot indignation, 'how can you? Did
you not hear me ask Frances why she had not reminded me to tell you?'
'No, I cannot understand that,' said her aunt, still coldly. 'It is
quite impossible that you had _forgotten_ about it, when it only
happened'----She glanced at the letter and hesitated. 'When was it, it
happened?'
'Only yesterday,' said Jacinth quietly. 'No, _of course_, I hadn't
forgotten. But I had forgotten that I had a message for you that I
should have given immediately I saw you. That I _had_ forgotten, and if
you don't believe me, I can't help it.'
Her voice choked, and the tears rushed to her eyes, though with a strong
effort she kept them from falling.
Frances glanced at her, her face working with sympathy.
Miss Mildmay seemed perplexed.
'Only yesterday!' she said. 'I don't see how I have got this letter so
quickly. I thought it was at least the day before.'
'No,' said Frances, 'it was only yesterday. We went a long walk in the
afternoon, and of course we didn't see you till this morning. We
couldn't have told you till just now, and I thought--I think--I thought
Jass was waiting to speak to you alone after breakfast.'
'It wasn't that,' said Jacinth. 'If you want to know exactly why I
didn't begin about it at breakfast, Aunt Alison, it was because I had a
sort of idea or fancy that you had heard already from Lady Myrtle. I
thought you looked just a little annoyed, and I kept expecting you to
say something about it, and then, of course, I would have told you
everything there was to tell.'
Miss Alison Mildmay was severe, but she was not distrustful or
suspicious, and the candour of the two girls was unmistakable.
'I am sorry,' she said, 'to have judged you unfairly. Tell me the whole
story now, and then I will read you what this eccentric old lady says.'
She smiled a little.
'That was just what she said you'd call her,' broke in Frances. 'But she
said her letter would make you understand.'
'Oh yes, of course it does, to a certain extent,' replied her aunt. Then
her eyes fell on the envelope--'Miss Alison Mildmay.'
'Considering I have lived twenty years at Thetford,' she said, rather
bitterly, 'I think it, to say the least, unnecessary to address me like
this, though of course I don't deny that it is, strictly speaking,
correct.'
Jacinth glanced at it.
'I am sure'--she began. 'You don't think _I_ had anything to do with
it?'
'Oh no, I don't suppose you ever thought of it. But Lady Myrtle Goodacre
has never seen fit to call upon me, so it is all of a piece. I really
must not waste any more time, however; I have a dozen things waiting for
me to do. You say it was yesterday afternoon?'
'Yes,' said Jacinth. 'We went a long walk--to Aldersmere, and coming
back, Eugene was tired and very thirsty, and he begged us to let him ask
for a drink just as we were getting near Robin Redbreast, and the old
lady heard us talking over the wall'----
'And she heard Jass's name,' interrupted Frances, 'and'----
'Let Jacinth tell it, if you please, Frances,' said Miss Mildmay.
So Jacinth took up the story again, and related all that had happened.
Her aunt listened attentively, her face softened.
'I don't think I need read you what Lady Myrtle has written, after all,'
she said, when Jacinth had finished speaking. 'I understand it well
enough, and I have no doubt your father and mother would like you to go
to Robin Redbreast now and then; of course, not to any extreme, or so as
to interfere with your lessons or regular ways.'
'Does Lady Myrtle ask you to go to see her too?' inquired Jacinth, half
timidly.
'Oh dear, no,' replied Miss Mildmay: 'she is straightforward enough. She
does not pretend to want to make _my_ acquaintance, and after all why
should she? She has had plenty of time to do so if she had wished it
during all these years; and honestly,' and here again she smiled quite
naturally, 'I don't want to know her. I have no time for fresh
acquaintances. And her interest in you children, Jacinth especially, has
nothing to do with our side. It is entirely connected with the
Morelands.'
'I wonder how she and our grandmother came to be such friends,' said
Jacinth. 'Lady Myrtle's old home was near here, and the Morelands didn't
belong to this neighbourhood.'
'No, but the Elvedons have another place in the north near your
grandmother's old home,' said Miss Mildmay, who was very well posted up
in such matters. 'They have never lived all the year round at Elvedon, I
fancy, and now of course it is let.'
'Lady Myrtle's name used to be Harper, she told us,' said Frances, who
never cared to be very long left out of the conversation, 'and there are
some girls called Harper at our school. But Jacinth says it's quite a
common name.'
'No, Frances, I didn't say that,' said Jacinth. 'I said it wasn't an
_un_common name; that sounds quite different.'
'Possibly the Harpers at Miss Scarlett's may be some
connection--distant, probably--of the Elvedons,' said Miss Mildmay,
carelessly. 'But of course it is not, as Jacinth says, an uncommon
name.'
But her remark set Frances's imagination to work.
'They are very, _very_ nice girls--the nicest at the school,' she said.
'Their names are Bessie and Margaret. If you could only see them, Aunt
Alison! I do _so_ wish you would let us ask them to tea some Saturday.'
'Nonsense, child,' said Miss Mildmay, impatiently. 'I cannot begin
things of that kind, as you might understand. You have companionship at
school, and when you are at home you must be content with your own
society. Now you must leave me: I have to see the cook, and I have made
myself late already.'
'Frances,' said Jacinth on their way up-stairs to their own little
sitting-room, 'I do think you are the _silliest_ girl I ever knew. Just
after all that discussion--and I can tell you I was shaking in my shoes
for ever so long--just when it had ended so well, you must go and vex
Aunt Alison by wanting to have the Harpers here at tea. I think you are
absurd about those girls, as you always are about new friends. _I_ don't
want them here at tea, or at anything.'
'Well, I do, then, or rather I did,' said Frances doggedly. 'That's just
all the difference. No girls have as dull a life as we have.'
'It's a very silly time for you to begin complaining, just when we have
a chance of some amusement and change,' said Jacinth. 'I'm almost sure
Lady Myrtle will ask us to spend the day, or something like that, very
soon.'
'I don't want to go. It's you she cares for, and you may keep her to
yourself,' said Frances, waxing more and more cross. 'I wish I was a
boarder at school. I'd like it far better than being always scolded by
you.'
It was not often that Frances so rebelled, or that their small squabbles
went so nearly the length of a quarrel. But this morning there seemed
disturbance in the air; and to add to it, when Frances had finished her
English lessons, and was about to begin her French translation, she
found, to her dismay, that she had forgotten to bring an important book
home with her.
'What _shall_ I do?' she exclaimed, forgetting, in her distress, the
unfriendly state of feeling between herself and her sister. 'I really
must have it, or I shall miss all my marks in the French class, and you
know, Jacinth, I had set my heart on getting the prize.'
Jacinth's sympathy was aroused. She herself was in a higher class than
her sister, but she was greatly interested in Frances's success. For
Frances was rather a giddy little person. Till the companionship and
emulation at school had roused her, she had never bestowed more
attention on her lessons than was absolutely unavoidable.
'I don't know what to do,' said the elder girl after some reflection. 'I
don't see how you are to get the book till Monday.'
For there was a strict rule at the school, that day-scholars were
neither to go there nor to send messages from their homes, out of school
hours. So that forgettings of books required for preparation, or other
carelessnesses of the kind, became serious matters.
'If I don't get it till I go to school on Monday, I needn't get it at
all,' said Frances. 'There's no comfort in telling me that. You know the
class _is_ on Monday morning, so I've as good as lost my chance already,
and I needn't bother about it any more. I'll never try for a prize
again, I know that.'
She began to hum a tune in a would-be-indifferent, reckless way, but
Jacinth knew that this was only bravado, and that it would be followed
by great vexation of spirit, and she felt sorry and anxious.
'I'll tell you what, Frances,' she said at last, after sitting for some
time, her head resting on her hand, her own work at a standstill for the
moment--'I'll tell you what: the only plan is this--for you to go
straight to Miss Scarlett herself and tell her all about your having
forgotten the book, and how anxious you are about the prize. I daresay
she'd let you go to your shelf and fetch it; she would see you had not
broken her rule.'
It was a good idea, and Frances recognised this, but all the same she
did not like it at all.
'I'd have to go to the front-door,' she said reluctantly, as she sat
drumming her fingers on the table, 'and I can't go alone.'
'There's no need for you to go alone: take Phebe. Aunt Alison wouldn't
mind your taking her in the morning for once. I'll help her to put away
our things from the laundress, or whatever it is she's busy about. And I
think you'd better go at once, Frances, if you're going.'
'Aunt Alison won't be in till dinner-time, so I can't go till after
then,' said Frances.
'Yes, you can,' Jacinth persisted. 'You know you can. I undertake to put
it all right with Aunt Alison. Do go at once. If I have half an hour
quietly to myself, I shall have finished my lessons by the time you come
in--it won't take you more than half an hour--and then I can help
Phebe.'
'If I could see Miss Marcia Scarlett I shouldn't mind so much,' next
said Frances, still irresolutely.
Jacinth's patience began to give way.
'You are too bad, Frances,' she said. 'You are spoiling my work and
losing any chance you have of getting the book. If you wait till the
afternoon, most likely all the Miss Scarletts will be out or engaged,
and I rather think--yes, I am sure the boarders told me that the
school-books are locked up at noon on Saturday till Monday morning. Ask
for Miss Marcia, if you like; you've just as good a chance of seeing her
as the others. But you must decide. Are you going or not?'
Frances got up slowly from her seat and moved towards the door.
'I suppose I must,' she said in a martyrised tone. 'You do scurry one
so, Jacinth.' And then when, having borne this certainly unmerited
reproach in silence, Jacinth with relief heard the door close on her
sister and began to hope she was going to have a little peace, it was
opened again sufficiently to admit Frances's fluffy head, while she
asked, in a half-grumbling, half-conciliatory tone, if she might take
Eugene.
'Of course,' said Jacinth; 'a little fresh air in the morning is always
good for him.'
She heard no more except, ten minutes or so later, the closing of the
front-door, and the next three-quarters of an hour passed, rapidly, so
absorbed was she in her own work, till the old church clock striking
twelve--for St Blaise's in the Market Square was but a stone's-throw
from Miss Mildmay's house--made her look up suddenly, and at that moment
came a rushing of eager feet across the stone-tiled hall, quickly
followed by Frances's voice in great excitement.
'Jacinth, Jass!' she exclaimed, and almost before the elder girl had
time to say to herself, 'I do hope nothing has gone wrong,' her sister's
bright face reassured her.
Frances was like a veritable April day--gloom and sparkle, tears and
laughter, succeeded each other with her as swiftly as the clouds rushing
before the wind alternately veil and reveal the sun's bright face,
though underneath all this fitfulness and caprice lay a sturdy
foundation of principle and loyalty which circumstances, so far, had
scarcely brought out, and which Jacinth certainly did not as yet realise
or appreciate.
'Oh Jass,' exclaimed the little girl, 'I am so glad I went. _Such_ a
nice thing has happened! I saw Miss Marcia--I asked for her at the door,
and she was crossing the hall; wasn't it lucky? She _was_ so kind about
the book, and she took me herself to the big schoolroom to fetch it.
None of the girls were there--it looked so funny all empty, you can't
think--they were out in the garden. And Jass, to-day they 're going to
have their last out-of-doors tea for this year, you know, as it's
getting cold. They have tea in the garden every fortnight all through
the fine weather. And she invited _me_, Jass--just fancy! She said she
was sure you wouldn't mind, as it's quite an extra thing to invite a
day-scholar, you see, and'----
Here Frances was forced to take breath, and Jacinth got a chance of
putting in a word.
'Of course I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm very glad indeed, _very_ glad
for you to have a little fun. And we couldn't have gone much of a walk
this afternoon, as Eugene is still tired with yesterday.'
'And you think Aunt Alison will let me go?' said Frances.
'Oh yes, I'm sure she will. If you will get on with your lessons now,
Frances, so as to be able to say at dinner that you have quite finished,
I will go down-stairs and watch for Aunt Alison. She will be in by one,
to-day, and I'll ask her for you.'
'Oh thank you, Jass,' said Frances gratefully. 'Yes, I'll hurry up.
But--Jass'----
'Well?'
Francie's face grew very grave.
'It's about my things, Jass. What do you think I should wear? I'm so
afraid Aunt Alison will be vexed if I put on my best things--and of
course black frocks do get spoilt if one runs about much--and yet my
every-day frock is so shabby now, and--I don't want the girls to think
we're never properly dressed.'
Jacinth considered. They were still in deep mourning, for Miss Mildmay's
ideas on such subjects were 'old-fashioned,' and she quite recognised
that the late Mrs Denison's memory should be treated with the fullest
respect. But Jacinth sympathised with Frances's feelings.
'I was looking at our dark-gray frocks with Phebe the other day,' she
said. 'The ones we had new just before--before our mourning. You know
they were got for half-mourning because of old Sir George
Mildmay's--papa's uncle's--death, and they look quite fresh and nice. I
don't think you've grown much, Francie--and oh, by-the-bye, I believe
there's a tuck that could be let down.'
'Yes,' said Frances, 'there are little tucks--a lot--above the hem.'
'Then I'll run up and tell Phebe to get them out, yours at least. I'll
explain to Aunt Alison; and if I lend you my wide black sash, I'm sure
it will look quite mourning enough.'
'Oh Jass,' exclaimed Frances, '_how_ good of you!'
The honour and glory of Jacinth's best black sash was almost too much
for her.
'Really, I should never be cross to Jass. She is so very, very kind and
unselfish,' thought the grateful little girl.
The gray frock was looked out and soon got ready. It was lying on a
chair in the girls' room when Jacinth, a little before half-past one, at
last heard her aunt's step in the hall, and ran forward to meet her,
primed with her request.
Miss Mildmay was still in a somewhat conciliatory mood, and she listened
to Jacinth's story with as much kindliness as was in her nature to show.
'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose she may as well go, though you know, my
dear, I cannot encourage any schoolgirl friendships. It would be
impossible for me to invite other children here, and yet I could not
accept attentions for you which I could not return.'
'But this is different, being at Miss Scarlett's, where we go to school.
You didn't mind our going to the breaking-up party before the midsummer
holiday,' said Jacinth, trembling a little at the irresolution in her
aunt's face.
'Oh, I don't mean to stop her going,' said Miss Mildmay. 'It is very
nice of you to be so eager for Frances to have the little pleasure. But
just warn her, if you can, not to get too intimate with the other girls.
It will only cause trouble and annoyance. Frances is an impulsive
little creature, but she is old enough to understand that she should be
discreet. The worst of any girls' school, even the best, is the chatter
and gossip that go on.'
'I have often warned Frances about that kind of thing,' said Jacinth.
'The girls are all very nice and lady-like, but of course we don't see
very much of them; it is not as if we were boarders. Francie is more
sensible about making friends than she was at first. The only two she
really likes _very_ much are the Harpers--Bessie and Margaret
Harper--the girls she was speaking of to you.'
'They are nice girls, I believe,' said Miss Mildmay. 'Miss Scarlett told
me about them. I don't think we need discourage her friendship with
them. After all, any gossip one would dislike is more probable with the
other day-scholars, and you have not much to do with them, I think.'
'There are so few compared with the boarders,' said Jacinth, 'and
they're all great friends together. I don't think any of them are
particularly interesting. Thank you so much, Aunt Alison, for letting
Frances go. I'll run and tell her, she will be so delighted.'
And so she was, delighted and grateful, so that she took in good part
the little lecture Jacinth proceeded to give her in accordance with her
aunt's wish.
'I _am_ careful, I really am, Jass,' she maintained. 'I don't care a bit
for any of the day-scholars. They are rather common just because they
think they're not, and they do _so_ look down on Miss Green's scholars.
It's quite absurd. The only girls I really care for are the Harpers,
and--well, a little for Prissy Beckingham, though she's rather silly.'
'It's the day-scholars Aunt Alison doesn't want you to be great friends
with,' said Jacinth. 'In a little place like this, there's always a lot
of chatter. She knows the Harpers are nice girls.'
'Well, that's all I want,' said Frances, with satisfaction. 'I don't
want a lot of friends. Bessie and Margaret are quite enough for me--and
you, Jass. If I hadn't any one but you I should be content, especially
when you're so very kind to me as you've been to-day.'
And at the appointed time, Frances made her appearance dressed for her
garden party, in great spirits, very conscious of the grand effect of
her sister's best black silk sash.
'And what are you going to do with yourself, Jacinth?' inquired her
aunt, who happened to be crossing the hall at the moment that the two
girls came running down--Frances ready to start. 'Are you and Eugene
going a walk? or have you lessons to do still?'
'No, I finished them all this morning, and Eugene is tired. I don't
quite know what I'm going to do,' said Jacinth.
She was not the least of a complaining nature; she had no thought of
complaining just then, but as Miss Mildmay's glance fell on the young
figure standing there so interested in her sister's pleasure, it struck
her almost for the first time, in any thorough way, that the life with
her here at Thetford was somewhat lonely for her nieces, and that it was
not by any means every girl of Jacinth's age who would accommodate
herself to it so contentedly.
'It is always a pity when parents and children have to be separated,'
she said to herself. 'It is unnatural. It should not have to be. From
the effects of such a separation in my childhood, I believe I have
suffered ever since. It made me hard and unable to understand family
life as I might have done.'
And her tone was unusually kind and gentle when she spoke again.
'Would you care'----she began. 'I scarcely think you would, but would
you care to come with me for once in a way to our girls' club? I shall
be there all the afternoon giving out the lending-library books, and a
good many volumes need re-covering. I could find you plenty to do, and
we can have a cup of tea there.'
'Oh, I should like to come--very much,' said Jacinth, eagerly.
Miss Mildmay seemed pleased.
'Well, I think I had better make sure of you while I can have you for
this one Saturday afternoon,' she said. 'In future I shall not be
surprised if you spend Saturdays often with your old lady at Robin
Redbreast. I have written to her, Jacinth. I am just going to post the
letter.'
'Oh, thank you,' said the girl.--'Good-bye, Francie; you see I shall not
be dull without you,' and the two kissed each other affectionately.
Then Frances, escorted by Phebe, set off, and Jacinth ran up-stairs to
get ready for her expedition with her aunt.