Almost immediately after early dinner, two waggonettes came up to the
door, and the girls of the sixth form and the girls of the third form,
with their governesses and Mrs Burton herself, started off for a long
and happy day in some distant woods. They were to visit the ruins of
Chudleigh Castle and go up to the top of Peter's Tower--a celebrated
place in the neighbourhood--and afterwards they were to have tea on the
grass; and, best of all, they need not return home until the moon came
up.
The moonlight drive home would be the most fascinating part of the whole
expedition. For days and days this picnic to Chudleigh Castle had been
talked about; and Harriet, with the others, had enjoyed it in
anticipation. Now, she had to stand by, gloomily holding Ralph's hand,
while the carriages were packed with radiant, happy girls, and, what was
still harder, she had to listen to their gay shouts, and, in particular,
to their badinage at her expense.
"I hope you'll enjoy yourself, Harriet," said Rose Amberley.
"I hope you and Ralph will have fun, my dear," said Agnes Winter, one of
the sixth form girls, whom it was a great honour to know, and whom
Harriet secretly adored. Even her own special chum, Jane, was looking
flushed and pleased--disgustingly flushed and pleased, thought Harriet.
And there was that little weak Vivian giggling in the silly way she
always did, and casting covert glances at her, and, of course, laughing
at her in her sleeve. And there was that odious Robina, not looking at
her at all, but calmly taking her seat, and making others laugh whenever
she spoke to them. Oh, it was all distracting, and for the time being
so angry was Harriet that even the prospective pony lost its charm.
At last the waggonettes started on their journey. The sound of their
wheels ceased to be heard. Stillness followed commotion; gay laughter
was succeeded by--in Harriet's opinion--a sort of void. Again Ralph
tugged her arm.
"Now," he said, "now it's gipsies, isn't it?"
"It's nothing of the kind, you horrid, little troublesome thing," said
Harriet. "I am not going to take you to see the gipsies to-day--no, nor
_any_ day, for the present. Oh, stop that blubbering, or I'll smack
you."
"You did once before," said Ralph steadily, and he looked her full in
the face, tears arrested in his eyes, and his own colour coming and
going.
Harriet immediately saw that she had gone too far. She altered her
tone.
"Please forgive me, Ralph," she said. "I know I am cross; I wanted so
very much to go to that picnic, and I can't because of you."
"I don't understand," said Ralph. "_I_ wouldn't mind."
"Yes," said Harriet crossly; "that's not the question. You are
considered a baby, and you must be treated as one."
"I _aren't_ a baby!" said Ralph, in great indignation. "Father said I
am a real manly boy."
"Well, prove yourself one," said Harriet. "Don't cry when I speak a
little sharply, and don't worry me about the gipsies. I will take you
to see them when I can, because I promised to take you; but you're not
to remind me of them, for if you do I'll be very angry."
"I won't ever, ever speak of them again," said Ralph, gulping down a
sob.
"Well, that's all right," said Harriet. She moved restlessly across the
lawn. Curly Pate and the other small children were tumbling about on
the grass. Ralph looked longingly at Curly Pate. Curly Pate clapped
her pretty hands, and ran to meet him.
"I keen--oo king!" she said.
Harriet stood by restlessly. How contemptible it all was! Those silly
little children, that tiresome Miss Ford, the empty house, the empty
gardens, and the pleasure party far away--the pleasure party with some
of its members laughing in their sleeves at her! Yes, she knew that
fact quite well. That detestable little Jane was laughing. She saw the
laughter hidden behind her smug face. And that horrid Vivian, she was
all one giggle, and last, but not least, there was the detestable
Robina--on this day of all days to laugh at Harriet seemed the final
straw! She had had her great moment of victory; she had proved to
Robina that she was the favourite--was the chosen one, was the beloved
of the little boy about whom the school chose to make such a fuss. But
oh, dear! there was reaction after triumph, and this reaction took place
when Harriet found what were the duties imposed upon her by motherhood.
She must take care of her little boy while the others went out
a-pleasuring.
By this time, however, Ralph had forgotten all about her. He and Curly
Pate had gone away to a little distance. Curly Pate was on her knees
picking daisies, and Ralph was standing over her, after the fashion of
kings when they choose to govern their queens and give directions.
"Longer stems, Curly; bigger flowers, Curly. Oh, you silly! not that
one--that one with the red all round, it's broader. Now, then--_I'll_
show you how to pick them."
"Peese, king! peese!" replied the impatient queen.
Harriet was not interested in the small children, and just at that
moment something occurred.
A girl from the neighbourhood, of the name of Pattie Pyke, was seen
walking down the avenue. She was the doctor's daughter, and was the
only girl who was ever allowed to come to the school to take lessons.
She joined the third form twice a week for German lessons, but was never
with them during recreation. In consequence, she was scarcely counted
at all in the school life. Harriet and she, however, had managed to
take up a sort of acquaintanceship which never until this moment had
developed into friendship. Pattie was a plain girl, large for her age,
stoutly built, and with a face covered with freckles. She had small
blue eyes and a snub nose. Her hair was somewhat inclined to be
carroty, and she had white eyelashes and eyebrows. Notwithstanding
this, she was a pleasant girl enough, and had plenty of ability.
"Hallo!" she said now, when she saw Harriet. "Why, I thought, of
course, you'd be off to the picnic!"
"Well, I'm not, you see," answered Harriet ungraciously; "I am here."
Pattie drew nigh. The real desire of her life was to make friends with
one of the school-girls. She was always imploring her father to send
her to the school as a boarder, but hitherto he had been deaf to her
entreaties.
"I was coming to the school with a note," said Pattie; "Father told me
to leave it. I did not think I'd meet one of you. I am surprised to
see you."
"Well, you need not be. You were not at school this morning, or you
would know why I am here."
"No, I had a cold, and Father thought I had best not go. He is so
awfully particular, for fear of my giving anything to the rest of the
girls. I am better now, but I must not be out long; my throat is rather
sore."
"You look quite well," said Harriet.
"It's only my throat that's a little bad. Please, do tell me about this
morning."
"And the great triumph for me," said Harriet. "Ralph, don't go out of
sight!"
She shrieked these words to Ralph, who immediately paused, turned, and
looked at her, then came in her direction, holding Curly Pate's hand.
"Do you see that child?" said Harriet.
"Yes--the little darling!" cried Pattie. "Little Ralph Durrant. Father
raves about him; he says that he will be the richest man in England some
day."
"Oh, well," said Harriet; "he is a very troublesome little boy now.
But, nevertheless, I am pleased. His father has made a most ridiculous
proposal. He said that Ralph was to choose one of us to be his
school-mother--I can tell you it was thought a great honour--and he
chose me."
"You?" cried Pattie.
"Yes; are you surprised?"
"Oh, no!" answered Pattie; but she was, nevertheless.
"Well, I am the chosen one, and I can tell you I had my triumph. Those
other girls, especially that new girl, Robina Starling, was sure that
one of them would be cock-o'-the-walk; but not a bit of it--my little
boy chose me."
"That was nice for you," said Pattie; "only I should not have thought
you would have cared to be bothered by a child."
"It's not that," said Harriet, lowering her voice; for, really, under
the circumstances, any sympathiser was better than none. "A good deal
depends on it. I will explain to you another time. Of course, there
are drawbacks. I have the charge of that small person, and in
consequence can't enjoy myself at the picnic to-day."
"Oh, what a pity!" said Pattie.
"It is, isn't it?"
"And you are all alone this lovely, lovely day?"
"It is true," said Harriet. "Well, I suppose I must take the rough with
the smooth."
"I tell you what," cried Pattie, in some excitement. "Couldn't you come
home and have tea with me? It would be such fun! You might bring Ralph
with you, you know. Of course, you would be allowed to come, and it is
only a stone's throw away."
"I wish I could; I'd like it very much," said Harriet.
"Do come," said Pattie. "We'll manage afterwards to go out and see the
fair in the village."
"Oh. I am sure I wouldn't be allowed to take Ralph to the fair."
"He need not come; indeed, we wouldn't want him. We'd manage somehow to
leave him behind; there are lots of people at home to look after him.
Oh, do, do come. You need not say a word to anybody."
Harriet thought for a minute. After all, Miss Ford had no control over
her. Miss Ford had only the charge of the little children; there was no
one's leave to be asked. She was the school-mother of Ralph. Of
course, it must never be told, for it was against the strict rules of
the school that any girl should venture out of the grounds without
leave. It is true that Harriet had gone in the spring cart to town last
week; but, after all, she had got leave to do that, for she had run to
the house to ask for it. "If Mrs Burton was at home, I know she would
not mind," said Harriet eagerly. "But I can't ask her leave, as she
isn't here. If we go, we must be back quite early; we must be back
before old Ford misses us. That's the nuisance!"
"You can manage that," said Pattie. "It's early now. We'll go straight
home, and have tea. Then Mother or someone will look after that little
Ralph of yours, and you and I will just run down to the fair, and see
what is to be seen. Do, do come, Harriet! I should so love to have
you!"
"All right," said Harriet.
She looked around her. Miss Ford was nowhere in sight. So much the
better. Ralph was called sharply back to her side. He came, Curly Pate
trotting after him.
"I _ont_ my king," called the school baby.
"Then you will do without him," said Harriet roughly. "Go back to your
play, you little silly. Run back at once."
Curly Pate burst into loud screams and yells, and Ralph, forgetting his
allegiance to Harriet, flung his arms round her and comforted her
valiantly.
In the midst of this scene, Miss Ford hurried up.
"What is the matter?" she asked.
"Ralph and Pattie and I are going away for a little by ourselves," said
Harriet. "Curly Pate wants to come with us; but we don't want her."
"Yes, I want her," said Ralph.
"Why can't the child go with you?" asked Miss Ford.
"No, she can't," said Harriet, looking very cross. "Very well,
darling," said Miss Ford, catching the child in her arms and kissing
her. "I've got something so nice to show you."
She carried the weeping baby away, and Ralph, with a great pain at his
heart, followed Harriet. His school-mother! Oh, yes, she was that.
But did he like her? He was not sure. She puzzled him extremely. She
was not half as interesting as on that wonderful day when she had
devoted herself to him, and told him stories about the gipsies.
As soon as ever Miss Ford had turned the corner, and had carried the
weeping Curly Pate out of sight, Harriet turned to Pattie.
"Now we must be very quick," she said. "If you don't mind, we will run
all the way."
"Where is we going?" asked Ralph.
"We are going to have a jolly time," replied Harriet. "Now, Ralph, you
clearly understand; you are going to be put on your honour."
"Yes," said Ralph, looking important; "Father says that sometimes."
"`Your honour' means this," continued Harriet: "You will never tell
anybody what we are doing."
"Course not," replied Ralph. "I aren't a tell-tale."
"He isn't, either," said Harriet, looking at Pattie. "He is quite a
good little boy, when he chooses. Well, then, we are ready, and I hope,
Pattie, you are prepared to give us a very good time."
Pattie answered at once that she was. In her heart of hearts, however,
she was doubtful. Her father and mother were poor. Dr Pyke's practice
was not a large one, and he found it difficult to make both ends meet.
Then, there were numerous little Pykes at home--Pykes of all ages, from
Pattie, whose years numbered twelve, to the baby, who was only three
months old. It seemed to Pattie that the children swarmed everywhere.
Still, she had a whole shilling stowed away in her purse in the corner
of a drawer in her bedroom, that could be spent at the fair, and it was
grand and delightful to bring a girl from Mrs Burton's to tea with her,
and she also felt sure that little Ralph would have a welcome.
When they reached the house, an ivy-covered house of old-fashioned make,
which stood a little back from the village street, she found the hall
door open.
"Now, then, Harriet, come in," she said, and Harriet and Ralph entered.
An untidy-looking servant was crossing the hall.
"Anastasia," said Pattie, "will you get tea in the drawing-room,
please?"
Anastasia stared at her.
"Indeed, I can't, miss. Your ma is out, and all the older children have
gone to the park with Miss Fry,"--Miss Fry was the much overworked
nursery governess--"and the missis told me," continued Anastasia, "that
I was to wash the handkerchiefs and things this afternoon. I have no
time to bring tea into the drawing-room, and why should I do it? You
always has it in the school-room."
"I'd much rather have tea in the school-room, Pattie," said Harriet.
"And so would I," echoed Ralph.
"You must get your own tea, miss," continued Anastasia, by no means
abashed by the sight of Harriet in her ordinary school frock, and not
particularly struck by the beauty of little Ralph.
"I am ever so sorry," said Pattie, colouring high; "but this is rather
an unfortunate day. One of our maids is out, and Mother's away; and, in
short--do you greatly mind waiting in the drawing-room while I get the
tea?"
"I don't much care about tea at all," said Harriet, who was not a bit
gracious, and who was rather disgusted with the appearance of Pattie
Pyke's home. "You needn't bother, as far as I am concerned."
"And I don't want no tea," said Ralph; "I aren't a bit hungry."
He looked pleadingly and sorrowfully at Pattie, as much as to say:
"Please, please, don't trouble."
Poor Pattie, whose face was scarlet with mortification, insisted on
providing a meal.
"You can't come into the school-room," she said a little crossly. "The
boys do leave it in such a mess. There is the rabbit-hutch in one
corner, and I know Jim and Davie were washing Smut there this afternoon.
You must come into the drawing-room. I will manage to get you some
tea. Don't stare, Anastasia. Go at once, and see that the kettle is
boiling."
Pattie conducted her guests into a small, very hot drawing-room. She
then left them, and, after about a quarter of an hour, reappeared with a
tray containing very poor tea and some stale cake. Oh, how hot was that
little room! It faced due south, and scarcely a breath of air came
through the open bay window. Ralph felt very tired; he did not know
why. He had had a trying morning. Those sums had worried him, and
Harriet's conduct had also worried him, although he was not aware of
that fact at present.
When the tea had come to an end Harriet said quickly:
"Now, the fun is really going to begin; you and I will hurry off to the
fair, Pattie. I can't stay late, as your know, for I must smuggle Ralph
back before Miss Ford misses him. You will stay quietly here, Ralph.
You will be a good boy? I couldn't take you to the fair, even if I
wished it; for, in the first place, I haven't any money."
"But I have a shilling--a whole shilling," said Pattie, feeling all of a
sudden quite grand and important.
"I am very sorry," continued Harriet, speaking in a firm voice; "but I
shall be obliged to borrow my entrance money from you, Pattie. I will
pay you next week, when my pocket-money comes in. There will be enough
for us both to go in and also to have a turn on the merry-go-round--"
"And we must see the fat lady and the man with two heads," said Pattie.
"But why mustn't I see them, too?" asked Ralph, whose little face was
scarlet now, and his voice quite choky with anger and disappointment.
"No, you mustn't, Ralph," said Harriet. "And now I will tell you why!
I, your mother, don't choose it. You have got to obey me, you know. I
am a big girl, and you are a very little boy; you must stay here
quietly, and wait for me. I will return for you before long. Now, be a
good child, and don't cry: it is very babyish to cry."
Ralph stood quite still. The scarlet flush had faded from his face.
After a minute, he said:
"Course it's babyish, and I aren't crying."
"Then that is all right," said Harriet. "Stay here till I fetch you.
Come, Pattie."
The two little girls left the room.
Book 1--CHAPTER TEN.