PERSIAN CATS.
Lady Kathleen Peterham had not much difficulty in inducing Bridget to
return with her to Eastcliff. The young girl was in a state of intense
nervous excitement. She was making up her mind to face disgrace.
All through the triumph and supposed pleasure of the Fancy Fair she
kept seeing the indignant face of Mrs. Freeman when she heard of the
wicked trick which she and Janet had played upon her. She saw her Aunt
Kathleen with her shocked, incredulous, unbelieving expression; and
last, but not least, she saw her gray-headed old father when the news
reached him that the last of the O'Haras--the very last of all the
race--had stooped to dishonor.
These thoughts took away Biddy's enjoyment. She became so wretched at
last that she almost wished for the crucial hour to be over.
Janet came up to her as the last of the guests were departing.
"It's all right," she whispered. "I have not time to explain matters
now, but you have nothing whatever to fear. Leave things in my hands,
and don't be nervous, for I assure you everything will be as right as
possible."
Bridget had no time to ask Janet to explain her strange words, for the
next moment she had turned away to say something with eagerness to
Lady Kathleen.
Lady Kathleen nodded, and looked intensely wise and affectionate.
An hour later Bridget found herself driving away from Mulberry Court,
her last frantic endeavors to see Mrs. Freeman by herself having proved
utterly fruitless.
"I can't make out what's the matter with you, Biddy!" said her aunt.
"Why are you flushing one moment and growing pale the next? I hope to
goodness you haven't caught anything. You look quite feverish."
"Oh, I'm all right, Aunt Kathie!" said Bridget. "Please don't worry
about my looks; they don't signify in the least."
"Your looks don't signify, Bridget? That's a strange thing to say
to me, who was born a Desborough. You are a Desborough yourself,
Bridget, on your poor mother's side, and have we not been celebrated
for our beauty through a long line of distinguished ancestors? Never
let me hear that kind of nonsense fall again from your lips, Biddy.
Heaven-born beauty is a gift which ought not to be lightly regarded."
"I have a headache, then," said Bridget. "I suppose I needn't talk if I
don't want to?"
"Of course you needn't, pet; and when we go back to the hotel you shall
go straight to bed. Oh, how pleased your father will be when we get
back to the Castle!"
In reply to this speech Bridget burst into a sudden flood of tears.
"I can't bear it!" she sobbed. "Oh, Aunt Kathie, I have been so
naughty! I wanted to see Mrs. Freeman to tell her everything; but she
had just had some bad news, and no one would let me go near her. Oh,
I am so miserable! I do hate school most dreadfully. Aunt Kathie, you
wouldn't love me if you knew what a bad girl I have been."
"Now, my pet, that is nonsense. I'd just love you through everything.
I suppose you have got into a little school scrape? Bless you, Biddy,
all the girls do that. Now dry your eyes, and let us think no more
about trifles of that sort. Here we are at the hotel, and your holidays
have begun. I promise you, you'll never have gayer ones. I have a nice
little surprise in store for you, but you are not going to get it out
of me to-night."
Bridget did not betray any inordinate curiosity with regard to her
aunt's surprise. She cheered up a little, and after a slight supper
retired to bed.
In the meantime, Janet May was in her own room at the Court, busily
concluding her packing.
The girl who shared her room with her had left that evening. Janet,
therefore, had the apartment to herself.
Two letters had come by that evening's post; one which brought to her
at least some days of respite, for she was now quite sure that nothing
further would be done with regard to Miss Dent's discovery for a week
or ten days. It was even possible that the thing might remain in
abeyance until the school reassembled.
In any case Janet had now time to breathe.
Two letters had, however, come by the post, and while one gave her
relief, the other added to her perplexities.
The other letter was from her sister Sophy.
DEAR JANET [this sister had written] I am waiting anxiously for
the moment when the post will bring me your letter with a couple
of pounds in it. I simply cannot do without it, as Miss Simpkins
has turned me out of doors. I am writing from a little stationer's
shop quite close, and I have bribed Annie, the housemaid, to bring
me your letter the instant it comes. I have exactly one shilling
in my pocket, so you may suppose that I am brought to a low ebb.
Miss Simpkins is the very crossest old cat that ever breathed,
and I could not help giving her cheek this morning, so she turned
me out, and refused to pay me my week's salary. It isn't worth
fighting with her, and, of course, I am willing to admit that there
were faults on both sides. The stationer's wife will give me a bed
to-night, but what _am_ I to do afterward? Of course, the money
will come from you, you dear, and then I shall immediately start
for Margate, and look for you to meet me there. Mrs. Dove, the
stationer's wife, knows of a nice little room, which we could share
together, for ten shillings a week--that is dirt cheap, as you must
know. The address is Mrs. Dove's, 9 Water Street, South Parade.
It's a top room--I suppose that means an attic; but, never mind; as
Mrs. Dove says, "the higher up you are, the better the air."
Your devoted sister,
SOPHY.
P. S.--Oh, you cruel, cruel Janet! You heartless monster! The post
has come and your letter, and _no inclosure_. Mrs. Dove will let me
sleep here to-night--she is a kind soul; but, remember, I have only
got one shilling in the world, and I vow I will never ask Aunt Jane
to help me.
Very early the next morning Janet rose, and going downstairs met one of
the servants in the hall.
"I'm going to walk to Eastcliff," she said. "I have got all my boxes
packed and directed. They are to be sent by the carrier to-day to the
railway station, where they are to be left for me until I send further
orders. They will be put into the booking office of course."
"Very well, miss," said the servant, "but you'll want some breakfast of
course."
"No, no, I am in a great hurry; I can't possibly wait."
"Have you seen Miss Delicia, Miss May?"
"It's all right," repeated Janet, not heeding this remark. She walked
through the hall as she spoke, opened the door herself, and let herself
out.
She was neatly dressed in pale gray alpaca; her little sailor hat, with
a plain band of white ribbon round it, looked neat and girlish; she
carried a thin dust cloak on her arm.
No one could look nicer or sweeter than Janet. She had a sort of good
heroine air about her, and this fact struck Lady Kathleen Peterham
most forcibly when about eight o'clock that morning the young lady was
admitted into her bedroom.
Lady Kathleen was not an early riser.
She was, indeed, sound asleep when her maid brought her a little note
on a silver salver. The note contained a few piteous lines from Janet.
I am in great trouble and perplexity [she wrote]; will you see me
for one minute?
"The little dear, of course I'll see her," said Lady Kathleen. She had
herself arrayed in a rose-colored silk dressing gown, and was sitting
up in the shaded light when Janet tripped into the room.
"Oh, how kind of you to let me come," said the girl.
"My love," said Lady Kathleen, "I was expecting you between ten and
eleven. I have not broken the news of our charming arrangement yet to
Biddy; I know well how delighted she'll be when I do tell her. Why
have you come so early, little Mayflower, and what is all this trouble
about? You look very nice, my love, notwithstanding your perplexities."
"I am very anxious," said Janet; and then she proceeded to tell a
long and pathetic story about Sophy; Sophy was so pretty, but also so
willful; she was older than Janet, but she also leaned upon her. She
had just been turned out of her situation owing to the cruelty of her
employer, and--and--of course Janet could not go to Ireland and leave
her dear older sister in such a plight; she had saved a few shillings,
and she was going to take the very next train to Bristol to see her.
The words that Janet hoped Lady Kathleen would utter fell at once from
the good lady's lips. "My darling," she said, "you and this naughty,
pretty little sister of yours shall both come to Castle Mahun. My
brother-in-law, dear fellow, will give you the best of Irish welcomes;
of course he will, you sweet little brave soul; why it's a heroine you
are, and no mistake."
Janet replied in a very humble and pretty manner to these gratifying
words of praise, and soon a plan which she had already sketched out in
her own mind was proposed to her by Lady Kathleen.
"You and your sister can cross over from Bristol to Cork," she said.
"From there it is only a short distance to Castle Mahun. Biddy and I
will start for home to-day, and we'll expect you in a day or two after.
Oh, my dear, you want a little money; I know you're poor, darling, and
I am rich, so where are the odds? It's no worry to me, but a pleasure
to help you. Give me your address in Bristol, and I'll send you a
postal order before Biddy and I leave Eastcliff to-day."
Janet's eyes fell, and her heart sank a trifle.
It would have been so much nicer to have got the money now; she did not
want to spend Biddy's two pounds if she could help it. Her intention,
indeed, had been to get a postal order to send off to Pat Donovan
before she left Eastcliff, but Lady Kathleen, who had risen to all
Janet's other suggestions, failed her in this.
There was no help for it, therefore, she must spend part of the two
pounds in taking her railway ticket to Bristol, and could only trust
that Biddy would never hear of the non-reception of her gift.
Janet bade Lady Kathleen an affectionate good-by and tripped off on her
errand of sisterly mercy.
She sent a telegram to Sophy, and found her standing on the platform at
Bristol waiting to receive her.
Sophy was smaller than Janet, a plump, softly rounded little person,
with wide-open eyes of heavenly blue, rosebud lips, and masses of
shining golden hair. At the first glance people as a rule fell in love
with Sophy; how long they continued in this state of devotion was quite
another matter, but the impression she made with those large-eyed
innocent glances was always favorable, and served her in good stead as
she fought her way through the world.
She was not nearly as clever as Janet, but that very fact added to
her charms, for she had a way of confiding her troubles, of looking
pathetic and asking such touchingly simple questions with regard to
her future that, unless the person she addressed was very suspicious
indeed, the little good-humored pretty creature was taken at once to
the heart of her sympathizer.
"Oh, here you are, Janey," she exclaimed, rushing up to her sister now
and clasping a plump little hand affectionately through her arm.
She was really fond of Janet, and Janet really cared for her, but as
the two were perfectly open with each other it was unnecessary in
Janet's opinion to waste time in sentiment.
"Yes, I have come," she said, "and very troublesome it is to me to have
to come. Why couldn't you keep your situation, Sophy?"
"Oh, my darling," exclaimed Sophy, "if you had been me! you don't
know--you can't possibly know what Miss Simpkins is like. She is
full of the most awful fads, and she fusses so about the cats. There
were four cats when I first went to her, and now there are six, all
Persians, and every one of them affected with the most terrible
bronchitis. They have to be doctored and medicined and their hair
combed out, and watched like any number of babies. I do think, Janey,
I really do think that I might have a higher vocation in life than
looking after Persian cats."
"That's stuff," said Janet. "Don't you prefer looking after Persian
cats to living with Aunt Jane?"
"I am not quite sure, Janet."
"But I am!" said Janet, favoring her sister with a quick, angry glance.
"I wouldn't eat the bread of dependence for anybody; but now let's come
back to Mrs. Dove's and have a talk."
"Is there any money, Janey?" whispered Sophy, in an appealing tone.
"I told you that I had only a shilling, and it is absolutely true. I
ought to pay something for my bed, and she gave me some tea and a nice
new laid egg, lightly boiled, for breakfast. If I pay her the whole
shilling it will be cheap; very cheap, for what she has done for me. I
do trust and hope you have brought a little money with you, Janet!"
"I have brought a little. It was very hardly come by, I can tell you,
and will have to go a tremendous long way. I may get into an awful
scrape about that money, and I really don't see why I should run such
risks for your sake."
"O Janey, Janey, and you know I'd do anything in the world for you."
Sophy's lovely eyes slowly filled with tears. Janet gave her a quick
half-contemptuous, half-affectionate glance.
"There," she said, "you needn't fret; I daresay everything will be all
right, and I have something very jolly to tell you in a minute or two.
Only let us get to your lodgings first, for we can't talk comfortably
in this noisy street."
The girls presently reached the poky little house where Sophy had spent
her night. They went up at once to a tiny room with a sloping roof, and
there Janet proceeded to administer a very sound lecture to her sister.
"I have something unpleasant to talk about before I say anything nice,"
she began. "You must first hear me out, whether you like it or not, for
if you cry until your eyes are sunk into your head it won't make the
least bit of difference to me. Speak I will, for it is for your good
and mine."
No one could cry more copiously than Sophy on occasions, but she also
had a certain power of self-control. If her tears could effect no
object there was not the least use in her spoiling her pretty eyes, so
she sat very still now on the edge of the small hard bed, and gazed at
Janet, who sat opposite to her on a cane-bottomed chair.
"The first thing to be done is this," said Janet; "I must see Miss
Simpkins, and ask her if she will take you back after the holidays are
over."
"I won't go!" said Sophy, clenching her fist.
"That is nonsense, Sophy; you will either have to go to Miss Simpkins
or to Aunt Jane. Aunt Jane will half starve you, and give you no money
at all; Miss Simpkins will feed you well--I know she does that, or
you'd be sure to tell me the contrary--then Miss Simpkins gives you
fifteen pounds a year. That being the case, there is no choice at all
between the two posts. Miss Simpkins's, notwithstanding the Persian
cats, is much the best place for you to live at."
"Oh, you don't know," said Sophy; "it's the most horrid life. Besides,
she wouldn't have me again; I know she wouldn't. We were both
frightfully impertinent to each other. We were like two cats ourselves.
Miss Simpkins was the old tabby, and I was the angry, snarling kitten.
I have claws, you know, Janet, although I do look so velvety."
"I know perfectly well that you have claws, my dear, but you must keep
them sheathed. As to going back to Miss Simpkins, I shall see her
myself, and I am sure I can manage that part. You have got to come with
me there after we have finished our present conversation, and you have
got to beg her pardon in the most humble and proper fashion."
"I really don't know how I am to do it, Janey."
"But I do, love; you must just lean on me, and do exactly what I
advise; it won't be for the first time."
"I know that," said poor Sophy, "and you are three years younger than
me, and all. I didn't think you'd be such an awful tyrant; it seems
rather hard to bear from one's younger sister."
"But I am older in mind, darling."
"Yes, yes, and much cleverer; but after all a worm _will_ turn. Suppose
I refuse to go back to Miss Simpkins?"
"Then, my love, I will try and screw together sufficient money to send
you back third class to Aunt Jane's."
"Oh, I can't; I won't do that; it would be too horrible!"
"Listen to me, Sophy. I always said I would help you. You are very
pretty, but you are not clever. You have not been educated up to the
required standard; you have no chance whatever of getting a situation
as governess. In these days it is the most difficult thing in the world
for lady-girls who are not educated, and have not got special talents,
to find anything at all to do. You are in great luck in getting this
situation as companion, and I am absolutely determined that you shall
not lose it. In two years' time I shall have left school. My object
then is to get a good situation as English and musical teacher in one
of the high schools. When I have got such a post, I may want you to
live with me, Sophy, as housekeeper; there is no saying. You would like
that, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, shouldn't I! What larks we'd have."
"Yes, we'd have a jolly time together; but there's not the least use in
thinking about it if you don't do what I tell you now. Put your hat on
straight, Sophy, and don't let your hair look quite so wild and fluffy,
and we will go across to Miss Simpkins's without delay. I have a very
jolly plan to propose to you after you have made your peace with the
old lady and the Persian cats, but not even a hint with regard to it
shall drop from my lips until you have been a good girl."
"Oh, dear, oh, dear," said Sophy, "I don't know how I am ever to face
the old tabby cat again."
"That's a very improper way to speak of your employer, and I'm not
going to laugh. Come; are you ready?"
"I wish you weren't such a Solon, Janet."
"It is well I have got some brains; I don't know where you and I would
be if I hadn't. Now, come along."
"But I am not to go back and live with her to-day?"
"No, no, I'll manage that; you shall have your bit of fun first, poor
Sophy. Now come at once, we have not a moment of time to lose."
Sophy straightened her hat very unwillingly, brushed back her
disordered locks with considerable rebellion in each movement, but
finally followed Janet down into the street and across the narrow road
into the fashionable locality where Miss Simpkins and the Persian cats
resided.
Miss Simpkins lived in a small house, which was kept scrupulously clean
and bright. There were flower boxes in all the windows, and the shining
brass knocker and handles of the door reflected the faces of the two
girls like mirrors.
A neat but severe-looking servant answered Janet's rather determined
ring. She scowled at Sophy, but replied civilly to Janet's inquiry if
Miss Simpkins was at home.
"Yes, miss," she replied; "my missus is in her morning room, very
particularly occupied."
"I should like to see her for a few minutes," said Janet.
"I am afraid, miss, that if you have come on behalf of that young lady,
the late companion, that you may spare yourself the trouble, for the
missus won't have nothing to say to her nor her belongings."
"I have come on that business," said Janet. "I am much shocked at what
has occurred, and have come to offer apologies. My sister, Miss May,
has behaved with great indiscretion."
Poor Sophy gasped.
Janet did not pay the smallest heed to Sophy's indignant expression.
Her smooth young face looked full of shocked virtue. It impressed the
servant, who nodded back a sympathetic reply, and telling the girls to
wait a minute, walked sedately across the hall and into the morning
room.
She returned in a few moments with the information that Miss Simpkins
would see the younger of the young ladies.
"I can put you, Miss May," she said, turning to Sophy, "into the hall
room while the other young lady talks to my missus."
"Yes, Sophy, go there and wait," said Janet; and Sophy went.
Janet tripped lightly across the tiled hall.
The servant opened the door of the morning room and then turned to
inquire the young lady's name.
"Miss Janet May," was the response.
"Miss Janet May!" shouted the servant, and Janet found the door closed
behind her.
A severe looking woman, primly dressed, was seated by a round mahogany
table. In the center of the table sat a snow-white and very beautiful
Persian cat; a dark tabby of the same species was lapping a saucer of
milk also on the table; some Persian kittens gamboled about the room.
Miss Simpkins was bending over the tabby. She raised her eyes now and
murmured, half to herself, half to Janet, "She has taken exactly a
tenth of a pint of milk! That is a great improvement on yesterday."
"I am sure of it," said Janet, entering into the spirit of the thing
without a moment's delay; "and what an exquisite cat! and oh! what a
beauty that white one is! I do admire Persian cats!"
"Do you, my dear?" said the old lady. "This cat--Cherry Ripe I call
her--has won several prizes at the Crystal Palace. This tabby--his name
is Pompey--will also, I expect, be a prize-winner. These two kittens
that you see on the floor, Marcus Aurelius and Mark Antony, have been
sent to me direct from Persia. They are most valuable animals. The
Persian cat is a curious and remarkable creature. Don't you think so?
so sadly delicate! so fragilely beautiful! so sensitive and refined in
every movement! Breed is shown in each of its actions. These cats are
lovely--almost too lovely--and yet, my dear, whatever care you take of
them, they all suffer more or less from bronchitis! they all swallow
their long hairs when they wash themselves! and they all die young.
Beautiful darlings! it is too touching to think of your inevitable
fate!"
Miss Simpkins, as she spoke, stroked the snow-white Persian with her
long, slender fingers.
Janet murmured some words of rapture, and the old lady asked her to
seat herself.
The subject of Sophy was introduced in a few moments, and here Janet
showed that talent for diplomacy which always marked her actions. Miss
Simpkins found, as she listened to the admirable words which dropped
from the lips of this young girl, her anger fading. After all, Sophy
had some good points. The white Persian cat liked to nestle on her
shoulder, and rub its soft head against her soft cheek. Miss Simpkins
fancied that the cat looked melancholy since Sophy's departure. In
short, knowing well in her heart that she would find it extremely
difficult to get anyone else to take the much-enduring Sophy's place,
she consented to have her back again on trial.
"But not at once," said Miss Simpkins, "for I have just let this house,
furnished, to a friend. I don't really know what your sister will do,
Miss May, but Barker and I and the cats are quite as many as can travel
comfortably together. I shall be back here by the end of September, and
will receive your sister, if she faithfully promises to behave herself."
These terms being quite to Janet's satisfaction, she closed with Miss
Simpkins's offer, and left the house in Sophy's company in high good
humor.
"Now you have behaved well, and you shall hear of the treat I have in
store for you," she said to her sister. "But, first of all, let us
go to one of the shipping offices to find out at what hour the next
steamer sails for Cork."