A FALLEN QUEEN.
Next morning Nellie set out for school in apparently the best of
spirits, returning Aunt Judith's encouraging smile with one as bright
and hopeful, and shouting a merry farewell as she ran lightly down the
garden path and closed the little gate behind her.
Arriving fully ten minutes before the hour, she found several of the
girls already assembled in the large class-room, gathered as usual in
knots, and talking gaily to one another.
"Good-morning," said Agnes Drummond, coming forward and holding out her
hand in a friendly manner. "You are going to be a punctual pupil, Miss
Latimer." And the other scholars, not being overpowered as yet by
Ada's presence, nodded blithely and allowed their new school-mate to
join in the general conversation.
While girlish tongues were busy and the room was filled with the hum of
merry voices, the great bell rang loudly, and at the same moment Winnie
came rushing in, crying half breathlessly as she did so, "Just in time,
girls; not a minute too soon. Good-morning, everybody. Do I look as
if I had been having a good race?" and she turned her piquant face
round for a general survey.
"A species of milk-maid bloom," said Ada Irvine, catching the words as
she leisurely entered the room, "which makes you appear more suited to
your friend of the dairy-maid type;" and Miss Irvine looked insolently
at Nellie's fresh bright face as she spoke. The soft tints on the
smooth, rounded cheek deepened, and the girl bit her lip hard to keep
back the angry words.
Not so Winnie, however. Turning a pair of great, serious eyes on her
haughty school-mate's fair, placid countenance, she said with an air of
prophetic solemnity,--
"Ada Irvine, you will yet be rewarded for all your contemptuous
speeches. Mark my words, and see if you don't get smashed up in a
railway accident, or fall a victim to that delightfully disfiguring
disease--small-pox. Serve you right too. Every dog has its day: you
are enjoying yours at present, and can say and do as you please;
but--ugh! I'm disgusted at you," and Winnie "tip-tilted" her little
nose with the most charming grace imaginable.
Ada smiled loftily.
"I would not be vulgar, if I were you," she remarked calmly. "I
suppose you learn all those choice proverbs from your aristocratic
brother. Ah, there is Mrs. Elder coming to open the school. Do alter
your expression, my dear; you are regarding me with such loving eyes, I
am sure she will think you are too affectionate," and Ada swept to her
seat with a mocking laugh.
The lessons commenced, and Nellie, thoroughly prepared, almost forgot
the morning's annoyance in the joy at finding herself slowly rising to
the head of the class, where Miss Irvine sat with all the dignity of an
enthroned queen.
Ten minutes' respite; then came the English, conducted by Mr. King, the
most thorough and rigid master in the school. A question was asked--a
question calculated to tax severely the skill and ingenuity of the
active brain. Ada hesitated for one moment, then made a fatal blunder;
and Nellie, answering correctly, slipped quietly into the seat of the
deposed sovereign. Winnie's delight was indescribable. One triumphant
glance after another flashed upwards to the fallen queen's angry face,
and her bright eyes fairly danced with wicked joy when, at the close of
the class, Mr. King said a few words of commendation on Miss Latimer's
abilities.
"Nellie, Nellie! I'm proud of my friend to-day, She's a regular brick,
and deserves any amount of hugging and petting. Oh joy, joy! how did
you manage it, dear? You have taken the wind out of Ada's sails and
gained a feather in your cap, I can assure you. It all seems too good
to be true. The queen dethroned at last!" and Winnie catching Nellie
round the waist, danced her up and down the schoolroom in a regular
madcap whirl.
"You'll be late for dinner if you don't hurry home at once, Win," said
one of the elder girls, crossing over to the fire and seating herself
by its cheery blaze with a tempting book and box of caramels. "There,
run away and don't waste your precious time in speaking uncharitable
words, dear. Recess will soon be over;" and Elsie Drummond looked
kindly down on the little figure dancing before her with such evident
delight.
"I'm just going," replied Winnie, stopping to bestow a smile on the
elder girl's pleasant face. "But you can't understand why I am so
happy. You don't belong to our set, and therefore know very little
about Ada's conceit and--yes, I shall say it--priggish ways. She's
just as horrid as can be, and I hate her," wound up the malicious
monkey, quite reckless of the character of her language.
"Agnes owns rather a sharp tongue, dear, and I hear many a tale from
her," replied Elsie, referring to her younger sister; "but I think,
Win, if you wish to be a true friend to Nellie, you will refrain from
expressing your joy at her success too openly, at least in Ada's
presence. Such unconcealed delight will, believe me, dear, do more
harm than good."
"Oh, nonsense, Elsie," was the impetuous reply. "I must sing and dance
my joy, it's such a splendid opportunity. Why shouldn't I crow over
the nasty proud thing? She needs somebody to ruffle her, and I can do
that part better than any one else in the school.--You don't mind my
having a little fun, do you, Nellie? she's such a cross-patch, you
know."
Now, as was quite natural under the circumstances, Nellie did feel not
a little elated over her success. It was a triumph certainly, and
girl-like she found it both palatable and pleasant to rejoice over a
fallen enemy. At the same time, however, she saw the force of Miss
Drummond's caution, and the wisdom of yielding to her advice, so
turning to Winnie she answered gently,--
"Please say no more about it; it was all chance, and Ada may gain her
old seat to-morrow again, though I mean to try to prevent her from
doing so."
But the words were simply wasted on the incorrigible child, who resumed
her fantastic war-dance as she replied,--
"No, no; I shall not make any false promise. I mean to be a true,
loyal friend, Nell; but if a nice little malicious speech comes gliding
softly to the very tip of my tongue, I must let the words out,
otherwise there will be choking. Prepare then for sudden squalls," and
with a mischievous laugh Winnie vanished from the room, and was soon
running along the road in the direction of home.
"The old story--late again," said Dick, looking up from his well-filled
plate as she entered and sat down opposite him at the table. "You'll
never have time to cram down cabinet pudding and tart to-day, I'll be
bound;" and the boy grinned teasingly on the bright face before him.
"Won't I, though?" answered Winnie, nodding her head blithely, and
eying the contents of the plate brought to her by Jane the parlour-maid
with decided relish. "Don't imagine you'll get my share to-day, Dicky
boy, for I'm as hungry as a hawk. I have something to tell you,
however, so please listen;" and between mouthfuls she told in a
rambling style the story of Nellie's triumph and Ada's defeat, ending
with the following words, "Do you know, Dick, when I saw Ada sitting
below Nellie and looking so crestfallen, I could have risen there and
then and danced for joy before her. Will you believe me, I felt so
glad I could hardly restrain my feet till the hour was up, and whenever
liberty was proclaimed, didn't they go well at the Irish jig! Oh
dear!" and Winnie's face was all aglow as she waited her brother's
commendatory remarks on such behaviour.
Dick coughed, blew his nose violently, filled out some water into his
glass, quaffed the draught, cleared his throat, and then said gravely,
"I'll tell you what to do, Win. This evening, after we have finished
studying, I'll teach you a splendid double-shuffle which you will
rehearse to-morrow (with added grace, of course,) in front of the
lovely Ada, and before all the class--Mr. King included. My eye, what
glorious fun!" and vulgar Dick looked across at his sister with beaming
face.
"I dare hardly attempt that," she replied dolefully, "though I should
dearly love doing so. But you see, Dick" (with energy), "Mrs. Elder
detests me so much, and I have been caught in so many faults lately,
that such an awful one as you propose would prove fatal. Your
delightful plan must be abandoned, I am sorry to say."
"Well, perhaps after all you are right," replied the boy, changing his
teasing tone into a serious one. "I daresay Miss Ada's rage would only
increase in fury if she saw you performing a triumph-dance and
rejoicing so extravagantly over her defeat. I remember a few years ago
something of the same kind occurring in our school, and wasn't there a
blow-up at the end! I was one of the little chaps then, but I managed
to keep my eyes and ears open, and knew more about the whole affair
than any one guessed."
"Tell me the story, Dick," interrupted Winnie, holding a spoonful of
tart suspended betwixt her mouth and plate, and speaking eagerly; "do,
there's a dear boy." But Dick shook his shaggy head, and answered,--
"Not just now, Win. Our time is almost up. Finish your pudding, old
girl, and let us away. By-the-by, don't expect me home till after five
this afternoon;" and the boy's bright face clouded as he made this
statement.
"Why not?" was the inquiry. "We were going to have such splendid fun
together. Is there anything wrong?"
"Kept in," uttered in a growling tone. "Lessons as usual badly
prepared--denounced for my stupidity, and ordered to remain after hours
and work up. See what it is to have a dunce of a brother, Win," and
Dick, curling his lip sneeringly, endeavoured to hide his wounded
feelings by putting his hands in his pockets and trying to look
perfectly indifferent.
Winnie, on her part, burst forth indignantly,--
"Not another word against yourself, Richard Blake. I won't listen."
Then coming to her brother's side and slipping two soft arms round his
neck, she raised her eyes with the love-light shining so softly in
them, and murmured tenderly, "Don't be downcast, dear old boy--all will
come right some day; and I am just as stupid as you are."
"No, no," cried Dick quickly. "Indolence is your fault, Win, not
stupidity. But I--I can't learn, and that's the simple truth. I've
tried over and over again, but it's no good; and, of course,"
(doggedly) "no one believes that fact."
"I do," said the soft little voice. "But, Dick, people don't know you.
There you go," (with quaint gravity) "hiding that great, kind heart of
yours, and showing only a rough exterior. Our father and mother never
guess bow brave and good and true you are. They'll find all that out
some day, however;" and Winnie looked into her brother's honest
freckled face with all the affection of her loyal, little heart.
"You're a decided goose, Win," was all the answer vouchsafed to her
cheering words, as the boy rose from his chair and prepared to leave
the room; but the twinkle in his eye, and kind, firm pressure of his
hand, when they parted at the street corner, spoke volumes to little
Winnie, and sent her back to school with a happy heart.
She was very thoughtful all that afternoon, however, and so quiet that
when school was over and the two girls stood on the steps of Mrs.
Elder's Select Establishment, Nellie inquired anxiously if her friend
were ill.
"Ill!" repeated Winnie with a light laugh; "not I--only, I've been
a-thinking," and a long-drawn sigh accompanied the words.
"What about?" asked her companion, descending the steps and viewing the
little figure with the great, serious look on its face. "What a
doleful expression, Winnie! You look as if you had, like Atlas, the
whole world on your shoulders."
"Nellie," interrupted the child--for indeed she seemed little more than
such--with the faintest quiver in her voice, "did you ever think, and
think, and think, till your head seemed bursting, and all your thoughts
got whirled together? No? Ah, well, I have; and somehow when I get
into these moods everything becomes muddled, and I find myself all in a
maze. Oh!" and Winnie spoke with passionate vehemence, "often I would
give I don't know how much to find some one who could understand and
explain away my thoughts."
"Why not speak to your mother?" asked Nellie, rather surprised at this
new phase in her friend's character; "surely she should be able to help
you."
But the little girl shook her head despondingly. "No, no, Nellie; my
stepmother is very kind and pretty, but I don't see much of her, and
she would only laugh at me."
They were strolling leisurely along the street now, and the child's
voice had a plaintive ring in it as she continued: "I was very ill
about a year ago--so ill, Nellie, that I had to lie in bed day after
day for a long time. I can't tell what was wrong with me, but I know
the doctor used to look very grave when he saw me; and one day, after
he had gone away, nurse went about my room crying softly to herself. I
was too weak to care or think, and only wondered dreamily what she was
crying for, till my stepmother entered, and I noticed that her eyes
were red too. They imagined I was sleeping, I suppose, for nurse quite
loudly asked, 'Is there no hope?' O Nellie! I shall never forget that
moment, never so long as I live. I seemed to realize that I was
dying--really, truly dying--and the thought was awful. What would
happen to me after death? I could not, I dared not die. Springing
with sudden strength from the bed, I tried to rush anywhere, screaming,
'Save me! don't let me die!' in the most awful agony. Then came a long
blank. I never forgot that time, but I never spoke of it to any one.
Where was the use? I should only have been laughed at, and told to
think about living, not dying."
There was something so pathetic in the way all this was told, there was
such an amount of pathos in the quivering voice, that Nellie's heart
ached and the tears rushed to her eyes.
"Winnie," she began gently, "I know what would do you all the good in
the world--a talk with Aunt Judith. I am sure she would never laugh
away your thoughts or refuse to listen, she is so good and kind; and
when she speaks, one feels as if all one's wicked passions were hushed
away."
Winnie brightened visibly.
"Is that so?" she inquired; "then I should dearly like to see her.
Won't you invite me to spend some afternoon with you, Nellie, and allow
me to see Aunt Judith and your cosy wee home?"
"I shall be only too pleased, Winnie," replied her companion. Then the
two friends parted and went their respective roads--one to a
fashionable home where gaiety reigned supreme and pleasure filled up
every hour; the other to a lowly cottage-dwelling where God's holy name
was hallowed, and the Christ-life showed itself clear and bright in
Aunt Judith's daily walk.