It was now early in September, and although the weather was quite warm,
the days were of course shortening considerably. Mrs Burton's school
was to re-open on the fifteenth of September. It was now the fourth day
of the month; there was, therefore, practically ten days' holiday still
remaining for the girls.
These last few days, as all school-girls know, are very precious: each
one, as it arrives, seems more valuable than its predecessor. More and
more pleasures seem to crowd into these last hours, more and more things
are there to talk about, more and more matters to arrange. There is at
once pain and pleasure mingled in each young breast: the pain of parting
from the beloved friends who have been with one during the long summer
vacation, the pain of giving up pleasure for discipline, of giving up
freedom for a certain amount of restraint. But the girl who really
longs to do her best in life does not go back to school with unmixed
sensations of regret. Healthier feelings than these visit her heart.
She will accomplish much in the weeks that lie before her. She will get
to the other side of this and that difficulty. She will take an
honourable place in the report which is sent to her parents at the end
of the term. She will enjoy the healthy life of routine and wholesome
discipline.
The young girls who were inmates now of Sunshine Lodge were all of them,
with the exception of Harriet Lane and Jane Bush, healthy-minded. They
liked their pleasant school life: they were devoted to their parents and
guardians: but they were also devoted to Mrs Burton and to the teachers
in that delightful home of culture, Abbeyfield School. They therefore
talked much of their future as they wandered about now in the dusk
before coming in to late supper; and for a time even Robina and Harriet
and Jane and little Ralph were forgotten.
Had not Patience to make the very most of her last term at school? and
how soon would Cecil Amberley be moved from the third to the sixth form?
What would be the big prize to be competed for next Christmas? What
would the new French Mademoiselle be like? and would their dear old
Fraulein return once more to the school? Such and such questions
occupied them: but by-and-by it was time to go indoors to dress for
supper, and when they entered the house a shadow seemed to fall over
their bright young spirits and they looked one at the other
questioningly.
"How selfish I am?" whispered Patience Chetwold to her sister. "I
forgot in the excitement of our chat all about poor Robina. Girls, we
must stick to our promise and worry out this thing to the very bottom."
"But if Robina has spoken to Mr Durrant, what is there to be done?"
remarked Rose. "Mr Durrant is a very determined man, and hates
anything that he considers small and mean: he will not like our
interfering. You see," continued Rose, "we have been out of this matter
from the very first; the whole thing has rested between Harriet and
Robina."
"Yes," said Patience; "and very, very cleverly has Harriet played her
cards. Well, all that I can say is that if I can circumvent that horrid
sly creature in favour of poor dear true-hearted Robina, I shall do so.
But now, let us run upstairs and get tidy for supper. This may be
Liberty Hall, girls, but Mr Durrant likes form and ceremony as much as
anyone I know; and if the girls of Sunshine Lodge--as he calls us--don't
make a presentable appearance at the last meal in the day, he is always
somewhat annoyed." The different girls went off immediately to their
rooms, where they arrayed themselves in pretty evening dress. The
shortness of the evenings by no means took from the pleasure of being at
Sunshine Lodge; in fact, of late, the evenings had been almost the most
delightful part of the day. With such a host as Mr Durrant it was
quite impossible to be dull. He was the best story teller and the best
comrade in the world. He had a way of making every child with whom he
came in contact feel perfectly at home with him. But, at the same time,
that child would not dare to take an undue liberty. He expected the
child to be happy--very, very happy--but he also expected and insisted
on instant obedience.
"When I put my foot down, it is down," he was heard to say; "when I
order a thing to be done, that thing is to be done; there is no walking
round it, or squeezing out of it, or circumventing it in any way
whatsoever. My object is the pleasure of all these young people; but I
am the captain of this ship--if I may be permitted to use the simile--
and the general in this battlefield. The captain must be obeyed, or the
ship founders; and the general must give his orders, or the battle is
lost."
The girls knew all these things, and the very fact that there was unseen
discipline at Sunshine Lodge gave the final zest to their enjoyments.
Ralph would not have been the charming boy he was, but for this
admirable trait of his father's. Ralph, from his earliest days had
obeyed at a word, at a nod. When he was told to go to bed, he went. He
was never heard to plead for one minute or two minutes more. When he
was ordered to get up, he rose. When he was expected to attend to his
lessons, he did so. All the same, Ralph felt himself free as a little
bird in the air, and happy as any child will be who clings to his
beloved father's hand. Even when parted from his father, Ralph had
metaphorically clung to that strong brown hand. When he found things
difficult in his little life, he remembered it,--how firm it was, how
supporting. Even when his father was not present, he did instinctively
what that father wished.
The happy little party at Sunshine Lodge came downstairs on this special
evening with a certain feeling of expectancy. The Chetwolds and the
Amberleys were very much concerned to know if anything decisive had yet
taken place; if Robina had met Mr Durrant and had told him her
decision, if Harriet knew, and if when they all met--first of all in the
pleasant drawing-room and then in the still more delightful
dining-room--they would see Robina's proud calm face looking a little
prouder and a little more resolved than usual, and Harriet's queer pale
face somewhat triumphant in its expression and Jane looking queer and
frightened and worried as she had always done of late.
But when they all did come downstairs, the first thing they noticed was
that although Robina was in the room, and Harriet and Jane, Mr Durrant
was absent. Robina was seated in a distant corner where the electric
light fell full on the pages of her open book. She wore a white frock,
but had not taken otherwise much pains with her appearance. Robina did
not even look up when her companions entered the room. Harriet, dressed
in all the finery she could lay hands on, was standing by a table
talking in a low tone to Jane. Ralph, who, as a rule, never sat up to
supper, was also present on this occasion. He was dancing about in that
radiant fashion he had, flying excitedly from one object of interest to
another.
"Oh, what do you think, Patience?" he said. "I's got to sit up to
supper to-night!"
"Have you, indeed, Ralph?" replied Patience in some surprise, "but it's
rather late for you, isn't it?"
"It's not at all too late," said Harriet, just raising her eyes and
glancing defiantly at Patience and then turning to Ralph. "In the
absence of your father, Ralph, I give you leave to sit up," she said.
"Sankoo, Harriet," said Ralph, taking her hand, and giving it a most
affectionate squeeze. "Oh! I _is_ glad!" he said. "I feel quite a
grown-up person to-night."
Robina did not take the slightest notice, but Frederica now enquired
eagerly if Mr Durrant were really absent.
"Yes," said Jane; "when we came in, expecting to find him here as usual,
we were told that he was obliged to go suddenly to London, but would be
back here by a very early train in the morning."
"John told us," continued Harriet, "that Mr Durrant will return in time
for breakfast; we must spend this evening as best we can without him."
Here she glanced at Robina. Ralph, who had been pulling excitedly at
Harriet's hand without receiving any attention, now left her and ran up
to Robina.
"Is you sad about anything, Robin?" he asked.
"Oh, no," replied Robina. She laid down her book and looked full at
him. He looted full back at her.
"Don't," he said suddenly, in a low voice.
"Why did you ask me that?" she responded.
Her tone was dropping to a whisper.
"Your eyes hurt," said the little fellow; "they go inside me and--and--
burn something."
He touched his little breast. Robina bent forward and without a
moment's warning gave him a quick and passionate kiss.
"Hypocrite!" whispered Harriet under her breath. She called Ralph to
her.
"Come here," she said.
He went slowly and with manifest unwillingness.
"Sit there for a minute," said Harriet.
She stalked across the room and stood in front of Robina's chair.
"Did you mean," she said, in a very low voice, "to do what you said you
would just now?"
"Did I mean it?" replied Robina. "Yes; I meant it."
"But Mr Durrant is away," continued Harriet.
"Yes."
"You will see him in the morning, will you not--I mean as soon as he
comes back?"
"Yes," said Robina again.
None of the others could hear this low-voiced conversation, but Harriet
went back to the centre of the room with a satisfied expression. Ralph,
who had been watching the two girls, now said in a tone of excitement:
"Has you found out what is wrong with Robin?"
"There is nothing whatever wrong with her: don't be a goose, Ralph,"
said Harriet.
But Ralph's longing brown eyes went straight to the sorrowful girl
seated by herself in the distant corner. His little child fancy
returned to her in her trouble. Harriet, however, who felt now quite
sure of her own position, was not going to permit Ralph to forsake her.
She sat down in a chair and called him to her side.
"Who allowed you to sit up to supper?"
"Why, you, in course, Harriet."
"Which of the school-mothers do you love best?"
"Harriet," said Ralph, glancing again at Robina's bowed head: "I has
said it so often."
"All right, say it once more, or you go to bed."
"I love you," said the child.
"Put your arms tight around me, and kiss me, as you did round Robina
just now."
"No," said Ralph. He put both his little hands to his sides, standing
still very near Harriet, but not touching her.
"If you refuse, you go to bed."
"All wight, Harriet," replied the little chap.
"Then you won't kiss me--you, who love me so dearly--you _won't_ kiss
the Harriet who saved your life?"
"Oh--'course I love you," said Ralph, "does you want me to kiss you like
that? I only kiss when I--I--can't help it. I am not a sort of kissing
boy at all. I am like father--I think just a look is enough, and a sort
of smile now and then, and a sort of feel--oh, you know it--down--deep,
deep here. I doesn't kiss father much; he doesn't think it man-like for
boys to kiss."
"Kiss me the way you kissed Robina, and do it at once," said Harriet,
"or you go to bed."
"No," said Ralph again.
The other girls were scarcely listening, but this little scene between
the two was drawing general attention. Patience, in particular, guessed
that there was some struggle going on between Harriet and Ralph, and
although she pretended to talk to her companions, she could not help
listening.
"Kiss me," repeated Harriet, guessing that she was drawing the attention
of the room, and getting excited in her determination to win the
victory. "Kiss me, or you go to bed!"
"No," said Ralph again. Then he added, now putting his two hands behind
him, "I won't ever kiss you, Harriet, because you threat me--that isn't
me at all. I wouldn't be a man-like boy if I did things 'cause o'
threats."
"Well," said Harriet, who was terribly afraid of not scoring the victory
in this encounter, and being forced therefore to change her tactics,
"kiss me because twice I risked my life for you and because I want your
kiss. Do you remember when you went down beneath the soft wave and when
you came up again and I caught you and--and--saved you?"
"Yes, yes!" said Ralph in a ferment of admiration. "Dear Harriet!" His
arms went tightly round her neck. He kissed her twice. "And now I's
going to bed," he said.
"What in the world do you mean by that, you little silly?"
"'Cause you said I was to go to bed if I didn't kiss you. I didn't kiss
you 'cause of your threat; I kissed you 'cause you 'minded me of the
great thing you had done. But I is going to bed, all the same."
"No, you sit up because I order it; now don't be a goose, and don't paw
me any more."
Harriet stood up, yawning as she did so. Ralph sunk on to the next
chair. He felt very despondent, he knew not why. Again he could not
help glancing at Robina and wishing that she would not keep on reading.
He found himself watching her. What a long time she was before she
turned a page. Ralph thought he would count the seconds. He knew the
clock, and glanced at it. Five whole minutes passed. Still Robina sat
with her head of thick hair bent and without a page being turned. Ralph
would have given worlds to say: "Is that a very difficult book, Robina,
and can't you read it any quicker than I can read my `Reading without
Tears' book?" But somehow or other, Harriet's presence prevented his
approaching Robina.
The next minute, there came the welcome relief of hearing that supper
was served, and all the girls trooped into the dining-room.
Ralph had a high chair close to Harriet's side; who told him at once
carelessly that he might eat anything he liked for supper, and then
devoted herself to telling amusing stories to two of the Amberleys and
to Jane. But Ralph was not hungry. He was sleepy, and really wanted
his bed. He was thinking very hard of his father. If only father were
at home, things would be quite different. He would have said good-night
long ago, and father would have come just before going downstairs, and
would have kissed him, and would have said, "Good-night Ralph, old boy,
sleep well, and dream good dreams, and remember to-morrow morning that
you are some hours older than when you went to sleep, and ought to be
some hours wiser." And then father would go away, and Ralph would
whisper to himself the old childish charm which his nurse had taught
him--his nurse who died long ago, and which he had never forgotten:
"Matthew, Mark, Luke and John
Bless the bed I lie on.
Four corners to my bed:
Five angels be there spread.
Two at my head:
Two at my feet:
One at my heart, my soul to keep..."
And then in a few minutes he would have been sound asleep. He nodded
his head once or twice now, and finally upset a cup of chocolate which
had been placed by his side. Some of the chocolate streamed over
Harriet's white dress. She did not possess many clothes, and was
consequently exceedingly angry. She tried to keep in her anger as best
she could, but showed it notwithstanding all her efforts, by the colour
in her cheeks and the way her pale blue eyes flashed.
"Oh Ralph, how careless and awkward you are! Really, you must not do
this sort of thing again."
"I is seepy: I really want to go to bed," said Ralph. "I am awfu'
sorry, Harriet, and when you saved my life and all! Oh, let me sop it
up."
He took his own table-napkin and tried to repair the mischief, but
Harriet pulled her dress roughly out of his hands and, telling the other
girls that she must go away to wash the stains out, left the room.
"Now, Ralph," said Patience, when this had happened; "if I were you I
would go straight off to my by-by downy nest; you know you are just
longing to be in it."
"I is," said Ralph, "but I mustn't go, must I, Robina?"
He looked straight at Robina for guidance.
"I don't know," replied Robina, just glancing at him, and then looking
away.
"But Robina, do tell him to _go_," said Patience. "If any two people at
the present moment are supposed to have authority over Ralph, you and
Harriet are those individuals. Harriet has gone away to mop her dress,
and Ralph looks quite white with fatigue."
"I cannot interfere," said Robina.
"Very well," said Patience; "then I will: I am a school-mother too.
This sort of thing has got to end. Come, Ralph, I shall take you to
bed."
"But won't Harriet be--be--angry?" said the little fellow, his lips
quivering.
"You leave the matter to me," said Patience. She looked strong and
determined. "Your father would wish it," she said; and at these words
and at the cool feel of her hand, Ralph yielded to his own inclinations
and left the room with her.
When they got upstairs, however, he asked her once or twice rather
piteously if she thought Harriet would mind.
"I will see that she doesn't," said Patience. "You leave it to me,
Ralph."
"Oh but," said Ralph, as he got into his little pyjamas, "she has been
so awfully brave, you know--saved my life, you know."
"Yes, I know all that," said Patience, "and I know of course that you
are very grateful to her; but I do wonder something, Ralph."
"What is that?" asked the child.
"If you understand the difference between very grateful to a person and
loving a person very dearly?" Ralph looked immensely puzzled.
"I mean this," said Patience, wondering at her own audacity. "You say
that Harriet saved your life."
"Yes," said Ralph, with great determination. "Her did."
"But before she saved your life, you didn't care for her so very, very
much, did you?"
"Not so awfully as all that," said Ralph, considering his words.
"But afterwards?" continued Patience.
"Couldn't help it arterards," said Ralph. "Her did it twice, you know."
Patience did not know, but she was determined to treasure up the
information given unwittingly by Ralph.
"Well," she said after a minute's pause, "I understand of course quite
well that you are awfully obliged to her and all that, and that perhaps
you do love her. But you don't love her better than your father, do
you?"
"Better nor father?" said Ralph. "In _course_ not?"
"But did he ever save your life?"
"No," said Ralph; "but then he _is father_."
"I see quite well, my wise little man," said Patience, tucking him up
and kissing him. "Now Robina never saved your life: but you--you love
her notwithstanding that?"
"Awful much!" said Ralph.
"I saw you kiss her to-night," said Patience.
"Cause I love her so much," said Ralph.
"Good-night now, Ralph. Sleep very sound."
"Wait till I say my `Matthew, Mark,'" said Ralph.
He closed his eyes, repeated the old song rapidly and, before the last
words had come to an end, was asleep.
Patience went downstairs. By this time Harriet had returned. She had
been forced to remove the poor chocolate-stained white frock and to put
on another, which did not make her look half so well dressed. She was
still feeling cross and sore. As soon as she entered the room, her
first exclamation was, "Where is Ralph?"
"Gone to bed," said Frederica Chetwold.
"Gone to bed?" said Harriet. "Who has given Ralph leave to go to bed?"
"Patience took him to bed. You had better not interfere about it," said
Frederica: "for if you do," she continued, "we'll all tell Mr Durrant
in the morning. You are not school-mother yet, so don't be over sure of
things."
At that moment, Robina got up and left the room. Harriet sank down in a
chair. She was trembling with suppressed passion.
"I wonder," she said, after a pause, "why you all dislike me as you do.
Of course," she added, "there can be but one explanation, and that is,
jealousy."
"Not at all," said Patience. "As a matter of fact, I don't believe
there is a girl amongst us who would change with you; for to change with
you, Harriet Lane, would be to possess your nature, and that is what
none of us wish for. But we are quite determined to see justice done to
Ralph."
"Justice done to Ralph?" said Harriet.
"Yes: and to Robina. We know what has happened to-night, for Robina
told us."
"Oh, she told you!" said Harriet. "That is so like her."
"Yes; she said she was not going to compete. Now, she must have a
reason for that, and Frederica and I and Rose and Cecil and Vivian are
all absolutely resolved to find out what that reason is. We have been
invited to this house and have been given this happy time, because in a
sort of way we also are Ralph's school-mothers. You expect a great
triumph in the morning, Harriet. Well all I can say is this: look out
for storms."
"It is that horrid, horrid Robina! There is no spiteful thing she would
not do against me," said Harriet. "But Ralph loves me best. I don't
pretend that I don't want the post: I do want it. I haven't a happy
home like most of you: and to be Ralph's school-mother, and to live here
would be of great moment to me. It would mean all my future being
assured. You can't think what it would mean; for you don't any of you
know what it is to be--oh--poor!" Harriet's face turned very pale.
"Ralph does love me, and why should not he? and if Mr Durrant is
contented to choose me, and Robina doesn't want to be school-mother--"
"Robina doesn't want to be school-mother!" interrupted Patience. "You
are either a goose or a liar, Harriet; for you know that in her heart of
hearts, Robina is dying to be school-mother to little Ralph--and not for
your horrid worldly reasons, but because she--she loves him! Oh, we did
think that you repented that time at school, but your conduct since you
came here has puzzled us dreadfully."
Harriet, however, had now recovered herself. This attack on the part of
her school-fellows was unexpected, and at first she was almost thrown
off her usual balance of mind. Her customary self-possession very
nearly deserted her, but now she recovered it.
"After all," she said, "you may think what you please. By this time
to-morrow I shall be established in my position, and I don't think
either Ralph or his father will regret it. As you, Patience, have taken
it upon you to order Ralph to bed--a thing which I imagine you will
never have the power to do again--I shall not disturb him to-night: but
when I am his school-mother, he will do what I wish, please understand:
he will have passed out of your life, Patience, and out of the lives of
all the rest of you, and you need not call yourselves by the ridiculous
name of school-mothers any longer. You will be back to your horrid
school life, and I wish you joy of it. I shall stay here, and be happy.
I wish, however, to say one thing. I think it exceedingly shabby of
Robina to give up the contest at the eleventh hour. It shows that
notwithstanding your high opinion of her she is a coward at heart. She
is so certain that she will be beaten, that she won't wait to witness
her own discomfiture. Ralph choose Robina, indeed! There never was any
chance of that."
"No," said Patience, "and that brings us to another thing. Dear little
Ralph told me that you saved his life--"
"Good gracious!" said Harriet: "didn't you all see me do it?"
"Yes, but he said you saved his life twice. When was the first
occasion?"
Harriet bit her lips.
"Children exaggerate things," she said after a pause. "I did risk my
own life for Ralph at Totland Bay, and the dear little man got
confused."
"I don't think so," said Patience; "he is never confused about things.
Well, at any rate, Harriet, we should like you to explain that remark of
Ralph's to-morrow to Mr Durrant before the great decision is finally
come to."
"Your likings or not likings, Patience Chetwold, will probably not be of
the slightest consequence," said Harriet, leaving the room as she spoke
with her head in the air.
The moment she had gone, the rest of the girls drew close together.
"Now listen," said Patience. "I have talked to that poor child. In his
heart of hearts he doesn't really love Harriet. She would be a cruel
and dreadful girl to leave him with. Didn't you watch her to-night, and
didn't you see how she was forcing him to do something, and how he was
refusing, and how she was making him do it in the end? and didn't you
notice the way he hugged Robina? Oh! it's Robina he loves in his heart
of hearts: he doesn't care for Harriet, but she has got the poor little
darling into her power, and he is such a brave pet, and is so impressed
by his sense of gratitude to her, he will do anything for her. Now,
girls, we have a great deal to do between now and eleven o'clock
to-morrow morning. We have to get our evidence together."
"Oh what, Patience, what?" asked Rose: while the others clustered round
her.
"Let me see," said Patience. "You, of course, Frederica, and you three
Amberley girls will help me. There are five of us in all. Robina must
not lose this chance: Harriet must not get the victory. The person to
approach on the subject is Jane Bush."
Book 2--CHAPTER FIFTEEN.