"Japs," said Chrissie, the first time they were alone together, "I'm
sorry we made that silly Miss Green--what's-her-name--cry, and so's
Lell. We were half joking, you know."
The child looked at her with his solemn blue eyes, and Christabel felt
herself blushing. She was naturally truthful.
"At least," she went on, "we didn't mean her to take it like that.
_She_ might have seemed to think it a joke. But we don't want Mummy to
hear about it. Things sound worse when they're tell-taled."
"I'se _not_ a tell-tale," said Jasper stoutly.
"Well, well--I didn't say you were. And I promise that we won't say
those things again, as she minds them so, silly that she is."
"Will you tell her you're solly?" Jasper inquired.
"I don't know--we'll see about it," Chrissie replied, "but any way we
won't make her cry again."
So Jasper contented himself with cherishing most carefully the very best
of his hyacinths, just beginning to show a little colour, as a gift to
Miss Greenall, to be presented as soon as it would be fit for her
acceptance.
"And if Lelly and Chrissie would _werry_ much like to join," he said to
himself in his generous little heart, "we might give it 'atween us all.
I'm sure it's goin' to be a splendid one."
But, alas! before the hyacinth's delicate pink flowers had reached
perfection, and Jasper's kind plan could be carried out, sad things had
come to pass, which I must hasten to tell you about.
The impression made upon Leila and Chrissie by Miss Greenall's distress
was not a lasting one, except in so far as they were more careful in
their way of speaking to her; for they knew that Jasper's eyes were upon
them, and that any rudeness to their teacher would not escape him. But
beyond this, there was no real improvement. They were careless,
unpunctual, and, so far as they dared, disobedient. Still Miss Greenall
went on doing her best, and now and then her patience and gentleness had
some little good, effect. She was able to tell Mrs Fortescue that
things were rather better. "I think I can go on," she said, "if only
Leila was more attentive and Chrissie less heedless."
It really went to her heart--brought up as she had been in neat and
careful ways--to see the children's destructiveness--copy-books blotted
and torn; lesson-books dog-eared and spotted; worse still, frocks and
aprons covered with ink, or ruthlessly smeared with fingers much in need
of soap and water! And in these kinds of carelessness Christabel was
the worst offender, in spite of her occasional good resolutions, always
encouraged by Aunt Margaret, to try to be as neat as "you were, when you
were a little girl," in reply to which, her aunt would smile and assure
her that good habits of no kind come all of themselves to anybody, man
or woman, boy or girl.
It chanced one Sunday morning, when the sisters were, as usual, late in
getting ready for church, and their father's voice had sounded more than
once up the staircase hastening them, that Chrissie could not find her
prayer-book. Go without it she scarcely dared, for this was the sort of
carelessness that Mr Fortescue himself might notice, and when "Daddy"
_did_ "notice," even Chrissie "minded!" Now Leila was the happy
possessor of two prayer-books, one of which was practically new, and
which she kept wrapped up in tissue-paper in a drawer.
"Oh Lell," said Chrissie in despair, as Leila was leaving the room, "do
lend me your best one, or take it yourself and let me have the one like
mine."
"No, indeed, I won't," said Leila, hurrying off, as Mr Fortescue's
voice came again.
"You must run after us. We can wait no longer, children," he called.
Leila was already half-way downstairs.
Chrissie gave a frantic rush round the room again, scrambling under the
beds, pushing aside chairs and tables in search of her book, but all in
vain. And even if she had dared to take her sister's "best one," she
was not sure where to look for it. It would have needed time to find.
"I must go," she thought, "whatever happens." So she dashed off--
narrowly escaping falling downstairs in her hurry.
The others had all started, but the hall-door was left slightly ajar,
and that of the drawing-room stood wide open, and as she ran past it, a
sudden idea struck the child.
"I'll take Aunt Margaret's prayer-book," she thought. "It's just about
the same size as mine, and if I keep it open nobody will see any
difference, unless Lell perhaps, and she surely wouldn't be so mean as
to tell, after being so ill-natured to me."
No sooner said than done, and in another minute Chrissie was racing down
the street, book in hand, to overtake the family party, just turning the
corner.
Leila glanced at her.
"You've found it, then?" she whispered, for Chrissie took care to hold
the book so that its cover did not show. She made no reply, and Leila's
face darkened.
"If you've taken mine after all," she said threateningly, though still
in a low voice, "I'll--"
"I haven't, then," said Chrissie, "I wouldn't touch a thing of yours,
you mean creature."
"I don't believe you," said Leila, catching her arm, so as to see the
book.
"Children," said their mother's voice, warningly.
They started.
"I've got Aunt Margaret's out of the drawing-room," whispered
Christabel. "There now--if it's found out, it's all your fault," and
Leila, startled, made no reply.
Church-time passed, and more than once Mrs Fortescue, glancing at the
children, was pleased to see that Chrissie appeared to be following the
service with unusual attention. She would have been less content had
she known that for this there were two reasons. Firstly, Chrissie was
afraid of closing the prayer-book; secondly, she was interested and
amused by the old-world names she found in it--"His Majesty King
George," "Our gracious Queen Charlotte," etc, etc, the Service for
"Gunpowder's Day," and other now discarded memorials. It was really
quite "entertaining," but I doubt if her idle, careless thoughts took
part in one single prayer all through the morning, if even one "Our
Father," in which surely the very youngest child, as well as the
humblest and simplest worshipper, can fully join, came from her heart.
Poor Chrissie--poor Leila--sterner teaching was preparing for them.
There was some delay in the church porch, as the congregation was
passing out.
"I do believe it's raining," said Mrs Fortescue, and so it was. "I
hope you have your umbrellas, children?" she went on.
Yes--Leila had brought hers; but Chrissie, no! "Really Chrissie," said
her father, "you are too forgetful. Don't you remember my saying at
breakfast that it looked very like rain?"
Chrissie made no reply; for once she had no excuse to offer.
"Give me your umbrella, Leila," said their mother, "and you take mine--
or, yes, Daddy's," as he hold it out, "that is larger still, and run
home together as fast as you can."
The sisters set off, as they were told, Leila, as the taller, holding
the umbrella. But oh, how cross she was! "Too bad's" and "All your
fault's" were hurled at Chrissie, till the rain and the running and the
weight of the rather heavy umbrella, reduced Leila to silence, in spite
of Chrissie's provoking rejoinders.
"My fault indeed! If you had been good-natured for once and lent me
your other prayer-book I wouldn't have been in such a fuss, and then I
wouldn't have forgotten my own umbrella."
They were both out of breath, and certainly out of temper, when at
last--for distances do seem doubled and trebled in such uncomfortable
circumstances--they reached Spenser Terrace, and flinging the wet
umbrella at Harriet to look after, slowly made their way upstairs to
their own room.
Chrissie tore off her hat and coat with her usual haste. They were not
very wet after all, but as she was tossing the jacket aside, something
hard bumped against her knee.
"There's something in one of the pockets," she said, feeling in it as
she spoke. Then out she drew her own prayer-book. "Look here, Lell,"
she exclaimed, restored to good-humour by her triumph. "It was in here
all the time--ever since last Sunday, I daresay."
"I daresay," repeated Leila scornfully. "There never _was_ any one so
careless as you. You'd better run down and put Aunt Margaret's treasure
back in its place before she misses it."
Christabel started. She got red, then white. She glanced at the bed,
where her hat and gloves were lying; she felt in her frock pocket, she
stared at the floor, then in terror and despair she burst out--"Lell,
Lell, what shall I do? I've lost _it_."