The school-room was a long, bare apartment running along one side of
the house, and boasting three tall windows, through which the sun
poured in on a shabby carpet and ink-stained tables. Everything looked
well worn and, to a certain extent, dilapidated, yet there was an air
of cheerful comfort about the whole which is not often found in rooms
of the kind. Mrs. Asplin revelled in beautiful colours, and would
tolerate no drab and saffron papers in her house; so the walls were
covered with a rich soft blue; the cushions on the wicker chairs rang
the changes from rose to yellow. A brilliant Japanese screen stood in
one corner, and a wire stand before the open grate held a number of
flowering plants. A young fellow of seventeen or eighteen was seated
at one end of the table employed in arranging a selection of foreign
stamps. This was Maxwell, the Vicar's eldest surviving son, who was
to go up to Oxford at the beginning of the year, and was at present
reading under his father's supervision. His sister Mellicent, was
perched on the table itself, watching his movements, and vouchsafing
scraps of advice. Her suggestions were received with sniffs of scornful
superiority, but Mellicent prattled on unperturbed, being a plump,
placid person, with flaxen hair, blue eyes, and somewhat obtuse
sensibilities. The elder girl was sitting reading by the window,
leaning her head on her hand, and showing a long, thin face, comically
like her father's, with the same deep, straight lines running down her
cheeks. She was neither so pretty nor so even-tempered as her sister,
but she had twice the character, and was a young person who made her
individuality felt in the house, while Maxwell was the beauty of the
family, with his mother's crisp, dark locks, grey eyes, and rich
brunette colouring.
These three young people were the Vicar's only surviving children, but
there were two more occupants of the room, the two lads who were being
coached to enter the University at the same time as his own son. Number
one was a fair, dandified-looking youth, who sat astride a cane deck
chair, with his trousers hitched up so as to display long, narrow feet,
shod in scarlet silk socks and patent leather slippers. He had fair
hair, curling over his forehead; large, bold, blue eyes, an aquiline
nose, and an air of being very well satisfied with the world in general
and himself in particular. This was Oswald Elliston, the son of a
country squire, who had heard of the successes of Mr. Asplin's pupils,
and was storing up disappointment for himself in expecting similar
exploits from his own handsome, but by no means over-brilliant son. The
second pupil had a small microscope in his hand, and was pouring over a
collection of "specimens," with his shoulders hitched up to his ears,
in a position the reverse of elegant. Every now and then he would bend
his head to write down a few notes on the paper beside him, showing a
square-chinned face, with heavy eyebrows and strong, roughly-marked
features. His clothes were well-worn, his cuffs invisible, and his hair
ruffled into wild confusion by the unconscious rubbings of his hands,
and this was the Honourable Robert Darcy, third son of Lord Darcy, a
member of the Cabinet, and a politician of world-wide fame.
The servants at the vicarage were fond of remarking, apropos of the
Honourable Robert, that he "didn't look it," which remark would have
been a subject of sincere gratification to the lad himself had it been
overheard, for there was no surer way of annoying him than by referring
to his position, or giving him the prefix to which he was entitled.
The young folks looked up inquiringly as Mr. and Mrs. Asplin entered
the room, for the hour after tea was set apart for recreation, and the
elders were usually only too glad to remain in their own quiet little
sanctum. Oswald, the gallant, sprang to his feet and brought forward a
chair for Mrs. Asplin, but she waved him aside, and broke impetuously
into words.
"Children! we have news for you. You are going to have a new companion.
Father has had a letter this afternoon about another pupil----"
Mellicent yawned, and Esther looked calmly uninterested, but the three
lads were full of interest. Their faces turned towards the Vicar with
expressions of eager curiosity.
"A new fellow! This term! From what school, sir?"
"A ladies' boarding-school at Brighton!" Mrs. Asplin spoke rapidly,
so as to be beforehand with her husband, and her eyes danced with
mischievous enjoyment as she saw the dismay depicted on the three
watching faces. A ladies' school! Maxwell, Oswald, and Robert had a
vision of a pampered pet in curls, and round jacket, and their backs
stiffened in horrified indignation at the idea that grown men of
seventeen and eighteen should be expected to associate with a "kid"
from a ladies' school!
The Vicar could not restrain a smile, but he hastened to correct the
mistake. "It's not a 'fellow' at all, this time. It's a girl! We have
had a letter from Arthur Saville's mother asking us to look after her
daughter while she is in India. She will come to us very soon and stay,
I suppose, for three or four years, sharing your lessons, my dears, and
studying with you----"
"A girl! Good gracious! Where will she sleep?" cried Mellicent, with
characteristic, matter-of-fact curiosity, while Esther chimed in with
further eager inquiries.
"What is her name? How old is she? What is she like? When will she
come? Why is she leaving school?"
"Not very happy. Peggy. In the little box room over the study. About
fifteen, I believe. Haven't the least idea. In a few weeks from now,"
said Mrs. Asplin, answering all the questions at once in her impulsive
fashion, while she walked round the table, stroked Maxwell's dark
curls, bent an interested glance at Robert's collection, and laid a
hand on Esther's back to straighten bowed shoulders. "She is Arthur's
sister, so she is sure to be nice, and both her parents will be in
India, so you must all be kind to the poor little soul, and give her a
hearty welcome."
Silence! Nobody had a word to say in response to this remark, but the
eyes of the young people met furtively across the table, and Mr. Asplin
felt that they were only waiting until their seniors should withdraw,
before bursting into eager conversation.
"Better leave them to have it out by themselves," he whispered
significantly to his wife, then added aloud, "Well, we won't interrupt
you any longer. Don't turn the play-hour into work, Rob! You will study
all the better for a little relaxation. You have proved the truth of
that axiom, Oswald--eh?" and he went laughing out of the room, while
Oswald held the door open for his wife, smiling assent in his lazy
fashion.
"Another girl!" he exclaimed, as he reseated himself on his chair, and
looked with satisfaction at his well-shod feet. "This is an unexpected
blow! A sister of the redoubtable Saville! From all I have heard of him
I should imagine a female edition would be rather a terror in a quiet
household. I never saw Saville; what sort of a fellow was he to look
at, don't you know?"
Millicent reflected.
"He had a nose," she said solemnly. Then, as the others burst into
hilarious laughter, "Oh, it's no use shrieking at me; I mean what I
say," she insisted. "A big nose--like Wellington's. When people are
very clever they always have big noses. I imagine Peggy small, with a
little, thin face, because she was born in India, and lived there until
she was six years old, and a great big nose in the middle."
"Sounds appetising," said Maxwell shortly. "I don't! I imagine Peggy
like her mother, with blue eyes and brown hair. Mrs. Saville is awfully
pretty. I have seen her often, and if her daughter is like her----"
"I don't care in the least how she looks," said Esther, severely. "It's
her character that matters. Indian children are generally spoiled, and
if she has been to a boarding-school she may give herself airs. Then we
shall quarrel. I am not going to be patronised by a girl of fourteen. I
expect she will be Mellicent's friend, not mine."
"I wonder what sums she is in," said Mellicent, dreamily. "Rob! what do
you think about it? Are you glad or sorry? You haven't said anything
yet."
Robert raised his eyes from his microscope, and looked her up and down
very much as a big Newfoundland dog looks at the terrier which disturbs
its slumber.
"It's nothing to me," he said loftily. "She may come if she likes."
Then, with sudden recollection, "Does she learn the violin? Because we
have one girl in this house who is learning the violin, and life won't
be worth living if there is a second."
He tucked his big note-book under his chin as he spoke, and began
sawing across it with a pencil, wagging his head and rolling his eyes
in imitation of Mellicent's own manner of practising, and producing at
the same time such long-drawn, cat-like wails from between his closed
lips as made the listeners shriek with laughter. Mellicent, however,
felt bound to expostulate.
"It's not the tune at all," she said loudly. "Not like any of my
pieces; and if I do roll my eyes, I don't tumble up my hair and pull
faces at the ceiling, as some people do, and I know who they are, but I
am too polite to say so. I hope Peggy will be my friend, because then
there will be two of us, and you won't dare to tease me any more. When
Arthur was here, a boy pulled my hair, and he carried him upstairs and
held his head underneath the shower-bath."
"I'll pull it again, and see if Peggy will do the same," said Rob
pleasantly; and poor Mellicent stared from one smiling face to another,
conscious that she was being laughed at, but unable to see the point of
the joke.
"When Peggy comes," she said, in an injured tone, "I hope she will be
sympathetic. I'm the youngest, and I think you ought all to do what I
want, instead of which you make fun, and laugh among yourselves, and
send me all the messages. For instance, when Max wanted his stamps
brought down----"
Maxwell passed his big hand over her hair and face, and reversing the
direction, rubbed up the point of the little snub nose.
"Never mind, chubby, your day is over! We will make Peggy the
message-boy now. Peggy will be a nice, meek little girl, who will like
to run messages for her betters. She shall be my fag, and attend to me.
I'll give her my stamps to sort."
"I rather thought of having her for fag myself; we can't admit a girl
to our study unless she makes herself useful," said Oswald languidly;
whereupon Rob banged the note-book on the table with clanging decision.
"Peggy belongs to me," he announced firmly. "It's no use you two
fellows quarrelling. That matter is settled once for all. Peggy will be
my fag; I've barleyed her for myself, and you have nothing to say in
the matter."
But Esther tossed her head with an air of superior wisdom.
"Wait till she comes," she said sagely. "If Peggy is anything like her
brother, you may spare yourself the trouble of planning as to what she
must or must not do. It is waste of time. Peggy will be mistress over
us all."
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
[Illustration: A PEACEFUL HOUR.]
* * * * *
HAWKWEED.
BY LIZZIE DEAS.
Somehow these flowers that late in autumn show,
So very rich a glow,
In summer seem to make but poor display,
There are so many flowers more beautiful than they.
I can but think that through the sunlit hours,
These golden-petaled flowers,
With no attempt to shine while earth is bright,
Are yet at work for us absorbing warmth and light.
Of this I'm sure, they do but hide their store
Till we shall need it more;
For see, as summer wanes, what beauty lies--
What consolation, too, within their sun-filled eyes.
Some lovely souls there are that, like these flowers,
Shine least in brightest hours;
Only when shadows fall we learn to know
The beauty they possess, the sunshine they bestow.
[Illustration]
IN THE TWILIGHT SIDE BY SIDE.
THIRD SERIES.
BY RUTH LAMB.