KATHLEEN TAKES RUTH TO TOWN.
When Kathleen ran upstairs her heart was bubbling over with the first
real fierce anger she had almost ever felt in her life. She was a
spirited, daring girl, but she also had a sweet temper. Now her anger
was roused. Her heart beat fast; she clenched one of her hands.
"Oh, if I had Alice here, wouldn't I give it to her?" she said to
herself. "If I had that detestable Miss Ravenscroft here, wouldn't I
give her a piece of my mind? How dare she order me about? Am I not
Kathleen O'Hara of Carrigrohane? Is not my father a sort of king in old
Ireland? And what is she? I'll prove to her that I defy her. I will go
to see Aunt Katie O'Flynn; nothing shall keep me back."
Carried away by the wild wave of passion which consumed her, Kathleen
dressed hastily for her expedition. She was indifferent now as to what
she wore. She put on the first head-dress which came to hand, buttoned a
rough, shabby-looking jacket over her velvet dress, snatched up her
purse which lay in a drawer, and without waiting for either gloves or
necktie, ran downstairs and out of the house.
"I will go. I haven't the slightest idea how I am to get there, but I
will go to Aunt Katie O'Flynn. I shall be in the train and far enough
away before they have discovered that I have gone," was her thought.
From Mrs. Tennant's house to the station was the best part of a mile,
but Kathleen was fleet of foot and soon accomplished the distance. She
was just arriving at the station when she saw Ruth Craven coming to meet
her. Ruth had enjoyed her hour with Miss Renshaw, and was altogether in
high spirits. Kathleen stopped for a minute.
"Oh, Ruth," she said, "will you come to town with me? It would be so
nice if you would. I am going to meet Aunt Katie O'Flynn. It would not
be a bit wrong of you to come. Do come--do, Ruthie."
"But I can't in this dress," said Ruth, who felt suddenly very much
tempted.
"Of course you can. Why, Aunt Katie is such a darling she'll take us out
if we want things and buy them on the spot. And what does dress matter?
We'll be back in no time. What time does your grandmother expect you
home?"
"Oh, I don't know. I told granny I did not exactly know what time I
should be back, but she certainly wouldn't expect me to be out late."
"Never mind; you are doing me a kindness. I must go to see Aunt Katie,
and it isn't convenient for the Tennants to go with me. If we go
together it won't be a bit remarkable. Do come, Ruthie. You hurt my
feelings awfully this morning; you needn't hurt them again."
"Very well," said Ruth. "I don't know London at all, and I should like
to go with you."
The two girls now turned into the railway station. Kathleen gave a
puzzled glance around her for a minute, then walked boldly up to a
porter, asked him to direct her to the proper place to book for London.
He showed her the right booking-office, and she secured two first-class
single tickets for herself and Ruth. The girls were directed to the
right platform, and in process of time found themselves in the train. It
so happened that they had a compartment to themselves. Kathleen had now
quite got over her burst of anger, and was in the highest spirits.
"This is fun," she said. "It is so awfully nice to have met you! Do you
know that Miss Ravenscroft--the Great Unknown, as we Wild Irish Girls
call her--had the cheek to send me a letter?"
Ruth looked attentive and grave.
"She wanted me to go and see her at six o'clock. Well, it is half-past
six now, and she will have to whistle for me. Ruth, darling, you don't
know how pretty you look; and even though you have deserted me, and
won't join my darling, beloved society, yet I shall always love you."
Here Kathleen seated herself near Ruth and flung one arm around her
waist.
"But," said Ruth, disentangling herself from Kathleen's embrace, "you
don't mean that Miss Ravenscroft--Miss _Ravenscroft_--wanted you to go
and see her and you didn't go?"
"No, I didn't go. Why should I go? Miss Ravenscroft has nothing whatever
to do with me."
"Oh, Kathleen! she is your mistress--the head-mistress of the Great
Shirley School."
"Well, and what about that? Aunty--my darling, my own dear, sweet aunt
Katie O'Flynn--sent me a telegram to meet her in town. She is at the
Hôtel Métropole. Ruth, do you know where it is?"
"I haven't the most remote idea."
"Oh, well, we'll get there somehow. Never mind now; don't look so
worried. I shall be sorry I asked you to come with me if you look any
graver."
"But you make me feel grave, Kathleen," said Ruth. "Oh, Kathleen, I
can't tell how you puzzle me. Of course, I know that you are very pretty
and fascinating, and that lots and lots of girls love you, and will
always love you. You are a sort of queen in the school. Perhaps you are
not the greatest queen, but still you are a queen, and you could lead
the whole school."
"That would be rather fun," said Kathleen.
"But you'd have to change a good bit. You'd have to be just as
fascinating, just as pretty, but different somehow--I mean--"
"Oh, do tell me what you mean, and be quick. We'll be in London before
long."
"You wouldn't disobey Miss Ravenscroft if you were to be our real
queen."
"Then I'll not be your queen, darling, for I shall disobey Miss
Ravenscroft when it comes to a case of obliging her or dear, darling,
precious aunty."
Ruth said no more. In her heart of hearts she was very much distressed.
She was sorry for her own sake that she had met Kathleen, and that she
was going with her to London; but on the other hand she was glad that
she was with the girl, who by herself might have got into a serious
scrape.
Finally the two found themselves standing, very forlorn and slightly
frightened, on one of the big platforms at Charing Cross.
"Now what are we to do?" said Kathleen.
"We must ask the way, of course," was Ruth's answer. "Here is a porter
who looks kind."
She went up to the man.
"Have you any luggage in the van, miss?" was the immediate inquiry.
"No," she answered.
Ruth was quietly although shabbily dressed; but she had on gloves, a
neat hat, and a neat necktie. Kathleen had on a very shabby coat, a most
unsuitable cap of bright-blue velvet on her clustering masses of curls,
and no necktie and no gloves.
"What could be the matter with the pretty young lady?" thought the man.
Ruth spoke in her gentle tones.
"We want to go to see a lady at the Hôtel Métropole," she said. "Which
is the Hôtel Métropole?"
"Oh, miss, it is quite close. You have only to go out of the station,
take the second turning to your left, walk down Northumberland Avenue,
and you'll be there."
"But where is Northumberland Avenue? We don't know anything about
London," interrupted Kathleen.
"If you will allow me to put you two ladies into a cab, the cabman will
take you to the Hôtel Métropole. It's only a step away, but you'd better
drive if you don't know your London."
"We have never been in our London before," said Kathleen in a voice of
intense pleasure.
They now tripped confidently along by the side of the porter. He took
them into the yard outside the station, and called a four-wheeler.
"No, no; one of those two-wheeled things," said the little girl.
A hansom was summoned, and the children were put in. The driver was
directed to take them to the Métropole, and they started off.
"Ah!" said Kathleen, looking with great appreciation around her--"ah!
the lights--aren't they just lovely? And see--see that water. That must
be the Thames. Oh, Ruth, mayn't we stand up in the hansom? We could see
ever so much better standing."
"No; sit down," implored Ruth.
"Why? Surely you are not frightened. There never was any sort of
conveyance that would frighten me. I wish I might drive that horse
instead of the stupid old Jehu on the box. Isn't London a perfect place?
Oh, this is lovely, isn't it, Ruth?"
"Thank goodness I'm not always bothered by that dreadful speaking voice
inside me that you seem to have got," said Kathleen.
Here the cab drew up with a jerk at the Métropole.
"How much are we to pay you?" asked Kathleen.
The man was honest, and asked the customary shilling. A porter was
standing on the steps of the hotel. He flung the doors wide, and the two
entered. Presently a man came up and asked Kathleen what she wanted. The
hour was just before dinner, and the wide hall of the hotel was full.
Both men and women turned and stared at the children. Both were
extremely pretty, Kathleen almost startlingly so. But what about the
gloveless little hands and the untidy neck and throat?
"Please," said Kathleen, "we have come to see my aunt, Miss O'Flynn. She
is here, isn't she?"
The man said he would inquire, and went to the bureau.
"Yes," he said after a minute's pause. "Will you come to the
drawing-room, young ladies?"
He conducted the children down some wide passages covered with thick
Turkey carpets, opened the folding doors of a great drawing-room, and
left them to themselves. There was a minute or two of agonized terror on
the part of Ruth, of suspense and rapid heart-beating as far as Kathleen
was concerned, and then a deep, mellow, ringing voice was heard, and
Miss Katie O'Flynn entered the apartment.
"Why, I never!" she cried. "The top of the morning to you, my honey! God
bless you, my darling! Oh, it is joy to kiss your sweet face again!"
A little lady, all smiles and dimples, all curls and necklaces and gay
clothing, extended two arms wide and clasped them round Kathleen's neck.
"Ah, aunty!" said Kathleen, "this is good. And I ran away to see you. I
did, darling; I did. I have got into the most awful scrape; nobody knows
what will happen. See me--without gloves and without a necktie. And this
dear little girl, one of my chosen friends, Ruth Craven, has come with
me."
"Ah, now, how sweet of her!" said Miss O'Flynn, turning to Ruth.--"Kiss
me, my darling. Why, then, you are as welcome as though you were the
core of my heart for being so kind to my sweet Kathleen.--Come to the
light, Kathleen asthore, and let me look at you. But it isn't as rosy
you are as you used to be. It's a bit pale and pulled down you look. Do
you like England, my dear? If you don't like it all at all, it's home
you will come with me to the old castle and the old country. Now then,
children, sit by me and let's have a talk. We'll have a good meal
presently, and then I have a bit of a thought in the back of my head
which I think will please you both. Sit here anyway for the present, and
let us collogue to our hearts' content."
Miss Katie O'Flynn and her two young charges, as she told the girls she
considered them, drew a good deal of attention as they sat and talked
together. The little lady was not young, but was certainly very
fascinating. She had a vivacious, merry smile, the keenest, most
brilliant black eyes in the world, and a certain grace and dignity about
her which seemed to contrast with her rapid utterances and intensely
genial manner.
Dinner was announced, and the three went into the great dining-room.
Miss O'Flynn ordered a small table, and they sat down together. Ruth
felt unhappy; she keenly desired to go home again. She was more and more
certain that she had done wrong to listen to Kathleen's persuasions. But
Kathleen was enjoying herself to the utmost. She was an Irish girl
again, sitting close to one of her very own. She forgot the dull school
and the dreadfully dreary house where she now lived; she absolutely
forgot that such a person as Miss Ravenscroft existed; she ceased almost
to remember the Society of the Wild Irish Girls. Was she not Kathleen
O'Hara, the only daughter of the House of O'Hara, the heiress of her
beloved father's old castle? For some day she would be mistress of
Carrigrohane Castle; some day she would be a great lady on her own
account. Now Kathleen's ideas of what a great lady should be were in
themselves very sensible and noble. A great lady should do her utmost to
make others happy. She should dispense _largesse_ in the true sense of
the word. She should make as many people as possible happy. Her
retainers should feel certain that they dwelt in her heart. She should
love the soil of her native land with a passion which nothing could
undermine or weaken. The sons of the soil should be her brothers, her
kinsmen; the daughters of the soil should be her sisters in the best
sense of the word. But not only should the great lady of Carrigrohane
love her Irish friends, but men and women, both youths and children, but
she should love others who needed her help. There never was a more
affectionate, more generous-hearted girl than Kathleen; but of
self-control she had little or no knowledge, and those who crossed her
will had yet to find that Kathleen would not obey, for she was fearless,
defiant, resolute--in short, a rebel born and bred.
Ruth sat silent, perplexed, and anxious in the midst of the gay feast.
Kathleen and Aunt Katie O'Flynn laughed and almost shouted in their
mirth. Occasionally people turned to glance at the trio--the grave,
refined, extremely pretty, but shabbily dressed girl; the radiant
child, and the vivacious little lady who might be her mother but who
scarcely looked as if she was. It was a curious party for such a room
and for such surroundings.
"I think--" said Ruth suddenly. "Forgive me, Kathleen, but I think we
ought to be looking out a train to go back by."
"Indeed, and that you won't," said Miss O'Flynn. "You are going to stay
with me to-night. Why, do you think I'd let this precious darling child
back again in the middle of the night? And you must stay here too--what
is your name? Oh, Ruth. I can get you a room here, and you shall have a
fire and every comfort."
"I at least must go home," said Ruth. "My grandfather and grandmother
will be sitting up for me."
"Oh, nonsense, child!" said Miss O'Flynn. "I can send a commissionaire
down to tell your grandfather that I am keeping you for the night."
"Of course, Ruth," said Kathleen. "Don't be silly; it is absurd for you
to go on like that. And for my part I should love to stay."
"I am sorry, Kathleen," said Ruth, "but I must go home. Perhaps one of
the porters can tell me when there is a train to Merrifield. I must go
back, for grandfather would be terrified if I didn't go home. You, of
course, must please yourself."
"My dear child, leave it to me," said Miss O'Flynn. "You can't possibly
go back--neither you nor my sweet pet Kathleen. Oh, I'll arrange it,
dear; don't you be frightened. You couldn't go so late by yourself; it
wouldn't be right."
Miss O'Flynn, however, had not come in contact with a character like
Ruth's before. She could be as obstinate as a mule. It was in that
light Miss O'Flynn chose to consider her conduct.
"I must go," she said. "I can't by any possibility stay."
"Do, Ruth, for my sake," pleaded Kathleen, tears in her eyes.
"No, Kathleen, not even for your sake. And I think," added Ruth, "that
you ought to come with me. It would be much better for you to see Miss
Ravenscroft in the morning and explain matters to her."
"Nonsense!" said Kathleen, now speaking with decided temper. "That is my
affair. I like you very much, Ruth, but you really need not interfere
with me."
"I should think not indeed," said Miss O'Flynn. "I know nothing about
you, Miss Craven, but you don't understand what a person of consequence
my niece is considered in Ireland."
"That may be," replied Ruth; "but at school Kathleen, sweet and dear as
she is, has to obey the rules just like any other girl.--Please,
Kathleen, do be persuaded and come back with me.--Indeed, Miss O'Flynn,
if you will only believe me, it is considered a very grave offence to
miss morning school or to be late when nine o'clock strikes; and
Kathleen can't be at school in time unless she returns home now."
"I'm not going, so there!" said Kathleen.
"Perhaps some one would tell me when the next train for Merrifield
leaves Charing Cross," was Ruth's next remark.
Before any one could reply to her, however, a servant entered and said
something in a low tone to Miss O'Flynn.
"Well, now," she said, speaking with eagerness, her face all smiles and
dimples, "the way is made plain for you at least, Miss Craven.--Who do
you think has come, Kathleen? Why, the lady who has charge of you."
"Mrs. Tennant? Oh, the dear tired one!" cried Kathleen. "She can never
be cross, and I like her very much.--Where is the lady?" she added,
turning to the waiter.
"She is in the hall, miss."
Kathleen flew out, and before Mrs. Tennant, who was really feeling very
angry, could prevent her, had flung her arms round her neck.
"Thank goodness it is you!" said the young girl. "Now don't be angry,
for you don't know how to manage it. If it was Alice, wouldn't she be in
a tantrum? But you are all right; you haven't an idea of scolding me. I
arrived here as safely as a girl could. And what do you think? I brought
pretty Ruth Craven with me. She didn't much like it, but here she is;
and she's on tenter-hooks to get home, so she can return with you, can't
she?"
"You must come too, Kathleen. You annoyed me very much indeed. You gave
me a terrible fright. I did not know what might have happened to you,
knowing how ignorant you are of London and its ways."
"But I have got a head on my shoulders," laughed Kathleen. "And now that
you have come we must have a bit of fun. I want to introduce you to
aunty. It is Aunt Katie O'Flynn, you know, the lady who sent me the
beautiful, wonderful clothes."
But here Miss O'Flynn herself appeared on the scene. Kathleen did the
necessary introducing, and the two ladies moved a little apart to talk
together. By-and-by Miss O'Flynn called the two girls to her side.
"Mrs. Tennant is not angry with you now, Kathleen. On the contrary, she
loves you very much; and she will take Miss Ruth Craven back with her. I
have been trying to induce her to stay here herself, but she won't; and
as Ruth is anxious to return home, her escort has come very opportunely.
As to you, darling, nothing will induce me to part with you until
to-morrow morning."
"But what will you do about school?" said Ruth.
"That can be managed," said Miss O'Flynn. "It isn't the first time that
Kathleen and I have got up with the sunrise. We'll get up to-morrow
before it, I'm thinking, and take a train, and be in time to have a good
breakfast at Mrs. Tennant's.--Then if you, my dear lady, will put up
with me until lunch-time, I can see more of my Kathleen, and propound
some plans for your pleasure as well as hers. If you must go, Mrs.
Tennant, I am afraid you must, for the next train leaves Charing Cross
for Merrifield at ten minutes past nine."
Mrs. Tennant looked grave, but it was difficult to resist Miss O'Flynn,
and the time was passing. Accordingly she and Ruth left the Hôtel
Métropole, and the aunt and niece found themselves alone.