BO-PEEP.
When Aneta found herself alone that evening she stayed for a short
time thinking very deeply. She felt a queer sense of responsibility
with regard to the Cardews. If Maggie imagined that it was through her
influence they had come to Aylmer House, Aneta was positive that they
would never have entered the school but for her and her aunt, Lady
Lysle. Besides, they were her very own cousins, and she loved them
both dearly. She was not especially anxious about Cicely, who was a
more ordinary and less enthusiastic girl than Merry; but about Merry
she had some qualms. There was no doubt whatever that the girl was
attracted by Maggie; and, in Aneta's opinion, Maggie Howland was in no
sense of the word a proper companion for her.
Aneta, as she sat calmly by her open window--for it was not necessary
to hurry to bed to-night--thought much over the future which spread
itself immediately in front of her and her companions. She was
naturally a very reserved girl. She was born with that exclusiveness
and reserve which a distinguished class bestows upon those who belong
to it. But she had in her heart very wide sympathies; and, like many
another girl in her position, she could be kind to the poor,
philanthropic to the last degree to those in real distress, denying
herself for the sake of those who wanted bread. Towards girls,
however, who were only a trifle below her in the social scale she
could be arbitrary, haughty, and strangely wanting in sympathy. Maggie
Howland was exactly the sort of girl who repelled Aneta. Nevertheless,
she was a member of the school; and not only was she a member of the
school, but a very special member. Had she even been Janet Burns (who
was so clever, and as far as learning was concerned carried all before
her), or had she been as brilliant and witty as Kathleen O'Donnell,
Aneta would not have troubled herself much over her. But Maggie was
possessed of a curious sense of _power_ which was hers by heritage,
which her father had possessed before her, and which caused him--one
of the least prepossessing and yet one of the most distinguished men
of his day--to be worshipped wherever he went. This power was greater
than beauty, greater than birth, greater than genius. Maggie had it,
and used it to such effect that she and Aneta divided the school
between them. Aneta was never quite certain whether some of her
special friends would not leave her and go over to Maggie's side; but
she felt that she did not greatly care about this, provided she could
keep Merry and Cicely altogether to herself.
After thinking for a little time she sprang to her feet, and going to
the electric bell, sounded it. After a short delay a servant
appeared.
"Mary," said Aneta, "will you have the goodness to ask Miss Lucy if I
may speak to her for a minute?"
"Yes, miss," replied Mary, closing the door behind her in her usual
noiseless fashion.
In a very few minutes Miss Johnson entered Aneta's room.
"I was just thinking of going to bed, dear," said that good-natured
young woman. "Can I do anything for you?"
"I only want to say something to you, Lucy."
"What is it, my love? I do not like to see that our dear Aneta looks
worried, but your face almost wears that expression."
"Well," said Aneta, "it is just this: I am a trifle worried about a
matter which I hope I may set right. It is against the rules for girls
to leave their rooms after they have gone to them for the night, and
it would never do for me to be the first to break a rule at Aylmer
House. Nevertheless, I do want to break it. May I, Miss Lucy?"
"Well, Aneta, I do not think that there'll be the slightest
difficulty, for we don't really begin school till to-morrow. What do
you wish to do, dear?"
"I want to go and visit one of my schoolmates, and stay with her for a
time."
"Of course you may go, Aneta. I give you permission; but don't remain
too long, for we get up early to-morrow, as to-morrow school really
begins."
"I won't remain a minute longer than I can help. Thank you, Lucy,"
said Aneta.
Miss Johnson kissed her pupil and left the room.
A minute later Aneta Lysle was running down the corridor in the
direction of the bedroom occupied by Maggie Howland. It was some
distance from her own room. She knocked at the door. She guessed
somehow that Maggie would be still up.
Maggie said, "Come in," and Aneta entered.
Maggie was in a white dressing-gown, with her thick, handsome hair
falling below her waist. Her hair was her strongest point, and she
looked for the time being almost pretty.
"What do you want, Aneta?" she said.
"To speak to you, Maggie."
"But it's against the rules," said Maggie, drawling out her words a
little, and giving Aneta a defiant glance.
"No," said Aneta. "I asked for permission to come and see you, and I
have obtained it."
"Well, sit down, won't you?" said Maggie.
Aneta availed herself of the invitation, and took a chair.
Maggie remained standing.
"Won't you sit too, Maggie?" said Aneta.
"I don't particularly want to, but I will if you insist on it. To tell
the truth, I am a little sleepy. You won't keep me long, will you?"
"That depends on yourself."
Maggie opened her narrow eyes. Then she contracted them and looked
fixedly at her companion. "Have you come here to talk about Merry
Cardew?"
"Yes, about her, and other matters."
"Don't you trust me at all, Aneta?"
Aneta looked full up at the girl. "No, Maggie," she said.
"Do you think when you say so that you speak kindly?"
"I am afraid I don't, but I can't help myself," said Aneta.
Maggie gave a faint yawn. She was, in reality, far too interested to
be really sleepy. Suddenly she dropped into a sitting position on the
floor. "You have me," she said, "in the hollow of your hand. Do you
mean to crush me? What have I done that you should hate me so much?"
"I never said I hated you," said Aneta. "I don't hate you, but I am
exceedingly anxious that you should not have any influence over my two
young cousins who came here to-day."
"I thought we discussed that when you were staying at Meredith Manor,"
said Maggie. "You made me unhappy enough then, but I gave you my
promise."
"I was sorry to make you unhappy, Maggie; and you did give me your
promise; but I have come here to-day to know why you have broken it."
"Broken it!" said Maggie. "Broken it!"
"Don't you understand me?" said Aneta. "You and Merry were together
the greater part of the evening, and even Cicely wondered where her
sister was. Why did you do it?"
"Merry is my friend," said Maggie.
"I don't wish her to be your friend."
"I am afraid you can't help it," said Maggie. She looked a little
insolent, and round her mouth there came a dogged expression. After a
minute she said, "I did want to talk to Merry to-night; but, at the
same time, I most undoubtedly did not forget my promise to you. I
explained to Merry what I think she already knew: that there were two
girls in the school who greatly influence their fellows; in short,
that you and I are the two queens of the school. But I said that,
compared to you, I had a comparatively small number of subjects. Merry
was interested, and asked questions, and then I most particularly
explained to her that, although I knew well she cared for me, and I
cared for her, she was to be on your side in the school. If you don't
believe me, you have but to ask Merry herself."
"I have no reason not to believe you, Maggie," said Aneta, "and I am
relieved that you have spoken as you did to Merry. But now I want to
say something else. I have thought of it a good deal during the
holidays, and I am firmly convinced that this taking sides, or rather
making parties, in a school is pernicious, especially in such a small
school as ours. I am willing to give up my queendom, if you, on your
part, will give yours up. I want us all to be in unity--every one of
us--all striving for the good of the school and for the happiness and
welfare each of the other. If you will agree to this I will myself
speak to Mrs. Ward to-morrow."
"Mrs. Ward!" said Maggie. "What has she to do with it?"
"I want to consult with her, so that _she_ may be the queen of the
school--not one girl or two girls. She is so clever, so young, so
resourceful, that she will more than make up to us for the little we
lose in this matter. But, of course, there is no manner of use in my
resigning my queendom if you won't resign yours."
"I will never do it," said Maggie--"never! Two queens in the school
means little or nothing at all. All it does mean is that I have
special friends whom I can influence, and whom I love to influence,
and you have special friends whom you love to influence. Well, go on
influencing them as hard as ever you can, and I will do the same with
my friends. Your cousins will belong to you. I could, I believe, have
won Merry Cardew to my side, but I am not going to do so."
"It would be very unwise of you," said Aneta in a low tone. "Very
well, Maggie," she added after a pause, "if you won't give up being
queen in the minds of a certain number of girls, I must, of course,
continue my influence on the other side. It's a great pity, for we
might all work together."
"We never could work together," said Maggie with passion. "It is but
to talk to you, Aneta, to know how you despise and hate me."
"I neither despise nor hate you, Maggie."
"Well, I despise and hate you, so I suppose it comes to the same
thing."
"I am very, very sorry, Maggie. Some day, perhaps, you will know me as
I really am."
"I know you now as you really are--eaten up with pride of birth, and
with no sympathy at all for girls a trifle poorer than yourself."
"You speak with cruelty, and I am sorry."
To Aneta's astonishment, Maggie's face underwent a queer change. It
puckered up in an alarming manner, and the next moment the girl burst
into tears.
The sight of Maggie's tears immediately changed Aneta Lysle's
attitude. Those tears were genuine. Whether they were caused by anger
or by sorrow she did not stop to discriminate. The next minute she was
down on her knees by the other girl and had swept her young arms round
Maggie's neck.
"Maggie, Maggie, what is it? Oh, if you would only understand me!"
"Don't!--don't touch me!" said Maggie. "I am a miserable girl!"
"And I have hurt you, poor Maggie!" said Aneta. "Oh, I am terribly
sorry! Sit here now, and let me comfort you."
"Oh! I can't, Aneta. You don't understand me--not a bit."
"Better than you think, perhaps; and I am terribly sorry you are
troubled. Oh, perhaps I know. I was told to-night that your mother had
married again. You are unhappy about that?"
Maggie immediately dried her fast-falling tears. She felt that she was
in danger. If Aneta found out, or if Mrs. Ward found out, who Maggie's
stepfather was, she would certainly not be allowed to stay at Aylmer
House. This was her dread of all dreads, and she had so managed
matters with her mother that Mrs. Ward knew nothing at all of Mrs.
Howland's change of name.
"Yes, my mother is married again," said Maggie. "She is a rich woman
now; but the fact is, I dearly loved my own father, and--it hurt me
very much to see another put into his place."
"Of course it did," said Aneta, with deep sympathy; "it would have
driven me nearly wild. Does Mrs. Ward know that your mother is married
again, Maggie?"
"Well, I haven't told her; and, please, Aneta, will you promise me not
to do so?"
"But is there any occasion to keep it a secret, dear?"
"I would so much rather she did not know. She received me here as
Maggie Howland. I am Maggie Howland still; my mother having changed
her name makes no difference, except, indeed, that she is very well
off, whereas she was poor."
"Well, that of course is a comfort to you," said Aneta. "Perhaps
by-and-by you will learn to be glad that your mother has secured the
care of a good husband. I am told that she has married one of those
very nice Martyns who live in Warwickshire. Is that true?"
Maggie nodded. She hated herself after she had given that inclination
of her head; but she had done it now, and must abide by it. To own
Martin the grocer as a stepfather was beyond her power.
Aneta did not think it specially necessary to worry about Maggie's
mother and her new husband. She said that the whole thing was Maggie's
own affair; and, after trying to comfort the girl for a little longer,
she kissed Maggie, and went to her own room. When there, she went at
once to bed and fell fast asleep.
But Maggie sat for a long time by her open window. "What an awful and
ridiculous position I have put myself in!" she thought. "The Martyns
of The Meadows and Bo-peep of Laburnum Villa to be connected! I could
almost scream with laughter if I were not also inclined to scream with
terror. What an awful idea to get into people's heads, and now I have,
confirmed it! Of course I shall be found out, and things will be worse
than ever."
Before Maggie went to bed she sat down and wrote a brief note to her
mother. She addressed it when written to Mrs. Martyn (spelt with a
"y"), Laburnum Villa, Clapham. Maggie had seen Laburnum Villa, and
regarded it as one of the most poky suburban residences she had ever
had the pleasure of entering. The whole house was odiously cheap and
common, and in her heart poor Maggie preferred Tildy and Mrs. Ross,
and the fusty, musty lodgings at Shepherd's Bush.
Her note to her mother was very brief:
"I am back at school, and quite happy. Tell Mr. Martin, if he should
happen to write to me, to spell his name with a 'y,' and please spell
your name with a 'y.' Please tell Mr. Martin that I will explain the
reason of this when we meet. He is so good to me, I don't know how to
thank him enough."
Maggie managed the next day to post this letter unknown to her
fellows, and in course of time a remarkable post-card arrived for her.
It was dated from Laburnum Villa, Clapham, and was written in a
sprawly but business-like hand:
"No 'y's' for me, thank you.--Bo-peep."
Very fortunately, Maggie received her card when none of her
schoolfellows were present; but it was certainly the reverse of
reassuring.