IN SPITE OF OPPOSITION.
But although Mrs. Ellsworthy wept and lamented, although she tried
both persuasions and scoldings, and finally left the cottage in a
state of deep offence, vowing within herself that she would never
trouble her head again over the affairs of such silly and obstinate
girls, she could not in the least shake Primrose's quiet resolve.
Primrose said over and over again: "Two things are absolutely
indispensable--we must be independent, and we must keep together. I
can think of no better plan than this--it may fail, but we can but try
it--we are certainly going to try it."
Mrs. Ellsworthy kept up her offence for twenty-four hours, then she
began to soften, and to agree with her husband, whose solitary remark
was, "My dear, you cannot coerce the children, and upon my word it's a
plucky notion, and if those girls are brave enough to carry it out
they must have real stuff in them."
"They may have plenty of stuff, and the plan may be as plucky as you
like, Joseph," replied his excitable little wife. "I am quite willing
to admire it in the abstract, but I am quite determined, if I have any
influence whatever, to prevent them carrying it through."
Then she went off to Miss Martineau, invading the schoolmistress in
the sacred hour when she was engaged with her pupils. Mrs. Ellsworthy
carried Miss Martineau away from her school, and shutting the door of
that lady's little parlor, clasped the governess's thin hands, and
poured her troubles into her ears.
"Joseph calls it plucky," said Mrs. Ellsworthy at the end of her
narrative.
But Miss Martineau's face was perfectly aghast.
"Plucky!" she ejaculated. "Dear Mrs. Ellsworthy, pardon me, but your
husband is a man--what can a man know about the intricate workings
which go on within the breast of a perverse girl? Plucky!--I call it
wicked--I call it wanting in all decorum, in all right sense. Primrose
Mainwaring has disappointed me deeply; she showed undue temper when I
spoke to her here the other day--oh yes, this thing must be prevented
by main force, if necessary."
Miss Martineau's pupils could not imagine what was the matter with her
that morning. She was known to be a most strict disciplinarian, she
was reported to have the sharpest eyes, and the quickest ears; her
pupils believed that nothing ever could pass Miss Martineau's
observation; nevertheless, after Mrs. Ellsworthy's visit she was
_distrait_, she was indifferent to mistakes, and she allowed her
naughtiest and most troublesome scholar to gabble through her French
translation without once correcting her. School over, Miss Martineau
discovered that she had no appetite for her dinner; she left quite a
nice little repast, cooked in French style, untasted on the table, and
hurrying up to her bedroom, put on her mantle and poke bonnet and went
out. She had made up her mind to visit the Mainwarings, and to
expostulate with these headstrong and naughty girls on their daring
scheme. "Wicked, I call it," she ejaculated many times under her
breath!--"a wicked scheme, wicked, and a tempting of Providence. Oh,
my poor orphan children, I must do my utmost to prevent your having
your own perverse way in this matter!"
She arrived at Woodbine Cottage to find the neat little house already
in sad confusion. Hannah favored her with an expressive look, and a
grave shaking of her head.
"I don't know if they'll see you," she said--"they won't see you if it
is on a lecturing errand you've come, ma'am. Their minds is made up,
ma'am, and obstinate is no word for them. Dear Miss Martineau, you
means well, and you has known them most of their lives, poor darlings,
so sit you down in the hall, and I'll see if I can get them to have a
word with you."
Jasmine, however, had heard her old governess's voice, and now running
out, looking extremely untidy but very pretty, she exclaimed in her
eager tones--
"Now, you dear Miss Martineau, say you're not--do say you're not!"
"Not what, my dear?" asked the governess, who really felt quite angry
with Jasmine at this moment. "If you mean that I am not displeased--I
am displeased; and if you mean that I am not to oppose you, my dear, I
should not be doing my solemn duty, the duty which I owe to your poor
dead mother, if I did not oppose you to the very uttermost. My dear,
Mrs. Ellsworthy has told me all about your mad scheme; my poor child,
it cannot be allowed for a moment."
"Come into the drawing-room and hear what Primrose has to say,"
answered Jasmine, in quite a meek and unruffled voice. "Primrose is
very busy, for she is dusting and packing all our books and little
knick-knacks. Do you know, Miss Martineau, that just when I heard your
ring at the hall-door I came across a pincushion which you gave me
ages and ages ago. You gave it to me when I could say, _Le thé est
chaud_ with a Parisian accent. It was such a pretty pincushion made
of pink silk, and dotted over with steel beads to look like pins. Just
when you were ringing the bell I had it in my hand, and I felt so soft
and loving towards you, and of course I had to run out to see you,
and--; Primrose, dearest, here is Miss Martineau. She is dreadfully
opposed, and she says she won't let us go."
Primrose was bending over a battered old trunk which had been hauled
down from the lumber-room. She was filling it with books, and her fair
face was slightly flushed, and her eyes were brighter than usual.
"How do you do, Miss Martineau?" she said, rising to her feet. "It is
very kind of you to call. I feel sure you are annoyed, and think us
girls rather silly, but I'm afraid we must do what we think right
ourselves in this matter. We have taken our first steps, and now that
we have quite and absolutely made up our minds, mean to leave Rosebury
as quickly as possible. It is very kind of you to be interested in us,
and I am sorry that I spoke bitterly the other day, but the plan which
was to divide us girls was of course impossible, and we could not
listen to it for a moment. We have made our own little scheme, and
perhaps we shall not fail. Daisy, darling, hand me dear old 'Sandford
and Merton,' I have just got a nice corner for it here."
Primrose went down again on her knees, and serenely continued her
packing, while Miss Martineau, standing over her, then and there gave
way to a burst of passion.
She was well aware that she lost ground with her pupils by not
controlling her temper, but as she said afterwards, she really could
not help herself. Such coolness, such perversity, such a headstrong
flying in the face of their elders, she had never encountered in three
young girls before.
Poor Daisy quite sobbed, and even Jasmine felt a little frightened at
Miss Martineau's bitter and angry words; but no language she could
use, no threats of the direst failure she could utter, had power to
shake Primrose's resolve.
"We have no guardian, and we can go if we please, and we have really
made up our minds to go," replied that perverse young lady.
As a last resource Mr. Danesfield was appealed to, but he, being an
old bachelor and not quite at home with girls, although in his heart
he was very fond of them, declined to interfere.
"I gave Primrose Mainwaring some uncalled-for advice when she came to
see me the other morning," he said. "She is perfectly at liberty to
choose her own life, and I, for one, am not going to add to her
troubles by needlessly opposing her. Very likely the girls will get on
in London--they are spirited girls, and they may do better for
themselves by struggling for independence than by living with the
Ellsworthys. I always did maintain that work hurts no one."
So Primrose carried out her little plans, and made all arrangements,
and her friends, when they found she would not yield, came round her,
and began to counsel her as to the best place to go to.
Mrs. Ellsworthy was, after all, the first to forgive the girls. She
felt very indignant, and stayed away for more than a week; but one
evening, when the day's packing was over, and the three, rather tired
but quite cheerful and full of hope, were sitting down to their tea,
her carriage was seen to draw up to the door, and the little lady,
bustling and good-natured as ever, entered the drawing-room.
"My dears," she said, holding out a hand each to Primrose and Daisy,
but imprinting a kiss on her favorite Jasmine's brow, "my dears--Oh,
of course, I am still very angry! I see, too, that you are at that
horrid packing; but if you must go, there is a Mrs. Moore--such a good
soul, a widow, and quite a lady--indeed, I may say highly connected.
She lives in Kensington, and I have written to her. My dears, she
would be charmed to take you all into her family. She would give you
comforts--oh! I don't mean luxuries, but the necessary comforts that
young girls who are using their brains require. She would feed you
well, and chaperone you when you went out, and, in short, see to you
all round. I know her house so well. It is very pretty--indeed,
charming--and she would take you in for a pound a week between you.
She would give you board and lodging, and all you require, for a pound
a week. I hope, my dear Primrose, you don't consider that too dear. It
is, I believe"--here Mrs. Ellsworthy coughed slightly--"considered
cheap for Kensington."
This torrent of words, poured forth with rapidity and yet with
distinctness, rather astonished the girls. They were afraid they had
lost Mrs. Ellsworthy for their friend, and they, every one of them,
hailed this overture of kindness with delight. Innocent Primrose never
even suspected that a pound a week for the lodging and maintenance of
three girls was at all unusually cheap. She little guessed that Mrs.
Ellsworthy had written to her special friend, Mrs. Moore, telling her
the girls' story, begging of her to give them a home, to provide them
with every comfort, and even luxury, and asking her to look to her,
Mrs. Ellsworthy, for the necessary payment.
Jasmine began to dance about, and to say, softly--
"Oh! this is too delightful! You darling Mrs. Ellsworthy, you are
beginning to approve of our scheme. Oh, yes; I know you are, although
you were too proud to say so. Now, is it not a little bit wrong of you
to be proud after the way you lectured Primrose? Well, Primrose, shall
we go to Mrs. Moore? I don't know anything about Kensington, but I
suppose it is as good as any other place. I don't suppose, either, a
pound a week is too much for the three of us. Shall we go to Mrs.
Moore, Primrose?"
Daisy also joined her voice in favor of going to Mrs. Ellsworthy's
friend, and after all, but for that obstinate young person Primrose,
the good little lady might have had her way, but Primrose, although
she was quite ignorant of fashionable localities or of any London
expenses, was very firm, very firm indeed, when she made up her mind.
"It is most kind of you to call and say all this to us," she answered.
"Oh, yes, we would come if we had not quite decided on an altogether
different plan. That being the case we cannot go to Mrs. Moore--thank
you so much."
When Jasmine heard her sister speak her face first fell and then
brightened up considerably. "How stupid of me to forget!" she said.
"Oh, yes, we have made a lovely plan, and of course we could not go to
anybody whom anybody knew. Oh, no, of course not. I cannot think how I
came to forget."
Again Mrs. Ellsworthy tried persuasion and even entreaty, but again
she had to own herself vanquished by that most obstinate girl
Primrose. "I really cannot make out why I care for them all," she said
to herself as she drove away. "I do care for them, poor children! I
would do anything to help them, but I am simply not allowed. Well,
Primrose, no doubt you would be a great trial to me if you were my
daughter; I could never bear obstinate characters, and yet to a
certain extent I admire you."
Miss Martineau also made up her mind to forgive these naughty girls,
and to give them the benefit of her most sapient counsel. She too
wrote a private letter to a London friend, and arrived at Woodbine
Cottage primed with what she considered valuable information. "Now, my
dears, you must go to Shepherd's Bush--that is the place, and the only
place where you can live within your means. My friend Constantia
Warren has rooms there, and she says--I have written to her, my
loves--she says if you will let her accompany you in your search she
may be able to secure you a clean, respectable bedroom in a fairly
good locality. Constantia is an excellent woman; she is fifty, and
plain in her tastes, and has no nonsense about her. She has promised
me, for my sake, to accompany you to church in the evenings, and to
see that you wear your veils down when you go out, and that you are
back in your bedroom--you can't afford a sitting-room, so don't think
of it--that you are back in your bedroom by five o'clock in the
evening, as all girls who have any idea of what is correct and proper
are of course in by that hour in London. Now, my dears, Constantia
will be a sort of protectress to you three, and I had better write to
her at once. My dears, it is a relief to me to know you will be near
Constantia, for London is a pit--a pit, and a snare."
Miss Martineau had talked herself quite out of breath, and looked
quite pleading, but the same obstacle which had prevented the girls'
acceding to Mrs. Ellsworthy's request now debarred their taking up
their quarters near Constantia Warren.
They spoke of their plans, but would not tell what they were, and Miss
Martineau again went away offended.
"There is no secret in the matter," she said, when talking over the
affair with Mrs. Ellsworthy. "Primrose tries to make a mystery, and
Jasmine likes to look mysterious, but there is not the smallest doubt
that all the girls really want is to have their own way, and to be
beholden to none of us."
"Nevertheless, I love them, and shall always love them," answered Mrs.
Ellsworthy.
"Oh, for the matter of that, so will I always love them, Mrs.
Ellsworthy. It seems to me they want a lot of pity, poor misguided
young things!"
Primrose, Jasmine and Daisy all this time felt wonderfully serene.
They were very sorry to hurt their friends, but it is quite true that
they did want to have their own way. They had made distinct plans, but
they must go to London to carry them out. They thought their wisest
course was to go up to Penelope Mansion for a few days, and make their
final arrangements from there.
"I'd be very lonely in London if I wasn't near Poppy," said Jasmine;
and Primrose too said that she thought their wisest course was to go
up to Penelope Mansion, and make their plans from there.
Accordingly, one afternoon, when Poppy Jenkins had been three weeks in
her new place, she received a letter from Primrose Mainwaring, to
which she sent the following reply. Poppy's spelling need not be
copied, but her language ran as follows:--
Penelope Mansion,
Wright street, off the Edgware Road,
_July 22._
HONORED Miss,--
"Your letter was that gratifying. I am so glad you have put by your
savings, and are coming to visit this vast Babylon. Miss Primrose, it
will do me a sight of good to see your face, and the face of Miss
Jasmine, and the face of Miss Daisy. The ladies here, miss--for I must
own to the truth--are not as beautiful as was to be expected. Neither
in their visages nor in their manners are they beautiful. Sharp's the
word from morn till night here, and many a time I cry. I hasn't had no
moment yet to visit the sights, for aunt's hands are very full, and
she looks most natural to me to assist her, which I do, as in duty
bound. I'm told that there isn't much of the real London to be seen
from Penelope Mansion, so I live in hopes that it is as beautiful as
we pictured it beyond these dull walls. Miss, I has spoken to my aunt,
and she will be very pleased to receive you three, and will put you in
a bedroom to the front of the house. You'll be fretted by the roar
from the continuous multitude which passes these windows all day and
all night, but otherwise the room is cheerful, although somewhat hot.
Miss Primrose, I'll give you all such a welcome.
"Your humble and most devoted friend,
"POPPY JENKINS."
This letter was received by the girls while they were eating their
breakfast. Primrose read it aloud to her sisters, and the effect of
Poppy's words was certainly not enlivening. Jasmine was the first to
recover her spirits.
"Never mind," she said; "Poppy feels a little dull and it is more than
ever our duty to go up to London, and try and cheer her. Poor Poppy!
it is very wrong of her aunt not to let her go out to see the sights,
and you see, Primrose, she really knows no part of London yet, except
Penelope Mansion. Poor Poppy! how she did long to go to see the
wonderful city; but she was a little frivolous, and seemed only to
want to look at the shop windows and to examine the newest fashions.
_We_ go to this grand, great London in a different spirit--we go
determined to conquer, don't we, Queen Rose?"
"We go to do what seems to be our duty," answered Primrose, solemnly.
"Oh, Jasmine! I hope we are doing right--I hope, I pray that God may
help us."
Then a letter was written to Poppy, in which the noisy room was
secured for the following Thursday, and as this was Monday, the girls
were too busy packing to give many mere thoughts to poor Poppy's
somewhat melancholy epistle.