VISIT TO LADY JANE.
Rosamund made herself altogether charming during the ensuing meal. She
was so clever that even Lucy's watchful eyes could detect nothing
unusual about her. The professor was charmed with her intelligent
remarks, her interest in the architecture of the very old church where
they had just enjoyed the service, and her eagerness to acquire a more
profound knowledge of church architecture in general. This was one of
his own special hobbies, and he promised to lend Rosamund books on the
subject, and even invited her to go into his library in the course of
the afternoon to look at some illustrations which he thought would
interest her.
"But I like to spend Sunday quietly and alone," said Rosamund, raising
innocent eyes to the professor's face. "Will it matter if I come to see
your illustrations and your books to-morrow?"
He gave her a paternal glance of almost affection.
"You shall certainly spend your Sunday as you like best, my dear," he
said. "For my part, I love to see spirited and happy girls like yourself
devoting themselves to periods of thought and meditation. In no other
possible way can they attain to true knowledge of what Sunday means."
Jane Denton looked at her friend in some astonishment, but Rosamund
calmly returned her gaze.
When the meal came to an end the girls scattered here and there, and
Jane ran up to Rosamund to know what she meant to do.
"To stay quietly by myself," was Rosamund's answer, "so for goodness'
sake don't interfere with me, Janey. I am going to my room, to begin
with. I want to have a good long think, and----But don't question me,
and keep the others away--won't you?--there's a dear."
Jane promised readily enough, and Rosamund went to her room. There from
her window she watched the whole party disappearing in different
directions: some to the neighboring woods, three girls together to the
bank of the river, others with books into hammocks or cosy seats in the
pretty garden. The two teachers had gone for a walk some miles into the
country. The professor was in his study, where Mrs. Merriman kept him
company.
"Now is my time," thought Rosamund.
She changed her dress for one of the prettiest she possessed--a
pale-blue muslin, beautifully made. She put on a large, black, shady
hat, and catching up her gloves and parasol, started on foot to Lady
Jane's place. She had not an idea where to go, but trusted to find the
way by making inquiries. Once she was safe out of the neighborhood of
those odious girls, as she was pleased to call them, she thought all
would be easy enough. She soon reached the high-road, which was far more
dusty than she had anticipated, and did not suit her pretty
patent-leather shoes.
Presently she met a girl on her way to Sunday-school in the village, and
asked her the direct road to Lady Jane Ashleigh's.
"Oh, my!" was the girl's response; "won't you find Miss Irene in a
tantrum this afternoon! Do you mean to say you are going there? And on
Sunday, too!"
"Yes," said Rosamund, forgiving the girl's apparent impertinence on
account of the interest which her remarks aroused. "But who is Miss
Irene?"
"Lady Jane's daughter, bless you! Why, I live there as kitchen-maid,
and I tell you the tantrums of that young lady is enough to upset the
nerves of the stoutest person. I have come out now, and glad I am to be
away. You are a strange young lady, I take it, from your appearance. You
had best not go there if you want rest."
"But I am going there," was Rosamund's reply, "so please tell me how;
and what is the name of Lady Jane's place, for she did not tell me?"
"Why, anybody here must know The Follies, and the place is true to its
name as place can be. Oh, Lady Jane is well enough, but it is Miss
Irene. Well, I wish you luck. You walk straight down this road for a
mile or so, and turn in at the first gates you come to, and there you
will be; and I 'opes you'll enjoy yourself."
The girl dropped a somewhat impertinent curtsy and marched on her way.
Rosamund also went on, feeling more interested and pleased than ever.
"Irene--what a pretty name!" she said to herself. "And from all accounts
she seems to be what old people would call a difficult young person, and
to young people she is doubtless delightful. Anyhow, I expect I shall
have some fun; and as my absence is certain to be found out, and I am
certain to get into a row when I go back to the horrid Merrimans', I may
as well enjoy myself while I can."
So she hurried her footsteps, and presently found that the kitchen-maid
at The Follies had given her correct instructions. There, directly
before her, were massive gates leading into the winding avenue,
sheltered by tall trees, beech and elm. The place looked cool and
soothing. Oh, what a contrast it made to the hot and dusty road over
which Rosamund had traveled! When she found herself inside she stepped
on the grass in order to get some of the dust off her pretty patent
shoes. She shook out her pale-blue muslin dress, arranged her hat
becomingly, and went up the drive, looking as dainty and as unlike
an-ordinary English school-girl as girl could look. She knew, the value
of appearances, and was determined to make the best of them. Of course,
her mother had told her much of Lady Jane. Lady Jane was her mother's
greatest friend when they were both girls together; and when she had
married a certain Mr. Ashleigh, a man of great wealth, although their
acquaintance had very much dropped into the background, yet still the
stories about the beautiful and willful Lady Jane had delighted Rosamund
when she was a little girl herself. Now, it seemed that Lady Jane was
blessed with a daughter, and as naughty as she must have been in her own
early days. This made matters exceedingly interesting to Rosamund.
She reached the front door and rang the ponderous iron bell which hung
from a chain by the side of a Gothic column, and a man-servant in
livery, with powdered hair, appeared in reply to her summons.
"Is Lady Jane Ashleigh within?"
"Yes, madam," he replied respectfully, and he motioned Rosamund into a
large, cool hall, beautifully furnished with all sorts of antique
specimens of oak and Sheraton furniture. From here he took her into a
little room rendered beautifully cool by green silk blinds, which were
partly let down at the windows, one of which was altogether open and
looked out on a flower-garden partly sheltered by trees. Here Rosamund
saw, just for a brief moment, a girl in red, swinging backward and
forward idly in a swing suspended from two stalwart boughs. The girl had
somewhat wild eyes, a very bright face, and a mischievous expression
round her lips. When she saw Rosamund she leaped from the swing, and
disappeared from view, and the next moment Lady Jane sailed into the
room. The contrast between the girl in red and the lady in deep mourning
who now appeared puzzled the girl a good deal; also the extreme calm
and graciousness of Lady Jane's bearing, the absence of all that
wildness in the eyes which Rosamund's own mother had explained so fully.
In short, the graciousness of a perfectly balanced nature seemed to
surround this charming woman. She thanked Rosamund for coming, and
sitting down near her, proceeded to question her with regard to her
mother.
"It is years since we met," she said, "but I have never forgotten her.
She was my favorite school-fellow. Our paths in life led very much apart
afterward, for I married my dearly beloved husband and lived in the
country, whereas she traveled a good deal over the world. But still we
did contrive to correspond from time to time, although we have not met,
I verily believe, since your birth, Rosamund. How old are you, my dear?"
"I was fifteen my last birthday," replied Rosamund.
"In some ways you look older than that."
"I am glad," said Rosamund, her eyes brightening. "I want to be
grown-up," she continued. "I want to have done with school."
"Why did your mother think of sending you to Mrs. Merriman's?"
"Oh, there were a lot of reasons. Jane Denton, who is my greatest
friend--although I don't know why I am so fond of her--was coming here,
and her mother knew Mrs. Merriman, and mother hates ordinary schools,
and she thought this would just do. And then all of a sudden she
remembered that you lived near, although she did not say anything to me
about that, or you may be sure I should have been quite interested. I am
so glad to see you, Lady Jane! And, please, when am I to be introduced
to Irene?"
Rosamund was sorry the moment she had said these words, for over Lady
Jane's face there passed an expression of absolute pain. After a
moment's pause, she said, "Who has told you about my little daughter?"
"Does it pain you for me to speak about her?"
"Answer my question, dear. Who has told you?"
"I think it might have been your kitchen-maid. I will explain to you the
very truth, Lady Jane. You know you asked me to come here to-day, and
you said you would send me back to-night, and I was so pleased; but when
I spoke about it to Mr. Merriman, he said at once that he did not allow
girls to visit friends on Sunday, and that that was one of his strictest
rules."
"And yet you came?" said Lady Jane, her eyes darkening.
"Yes, I came," replied Rosamund, "for I simply couldn't stand it. Why
should I be coerced and told that things were wrong by a man like Mr.
Merriman?"
"A great scholar and a noble gentleman," said Lady Jane quietly.
Rosamund felt herself coloring, and a sense of annoyance swept over her.
"Well, anyhow, I came," she said; "and I suppose you are not going to
send me back now that I have braved the displeasure of every one to come
to you?"
"I will drive you back myself after we have had tea together; and you
must come and spend a week day with me. It was wrong to come, dear, and
it was a pity. When you get to know Mr. Merriman well you will
understand that when he says a thing he means it. I will try and
intercede for you on this occasion. I myself do not think it at all
wrong that you should come and minister to the wants of a lonely woman
on Sunday. I noticed your bright face in church; and although you are
not very like your mother, you have got something of her expression, and
many of the tones of her voice, and it gives me pleasure to converse
with you."
"But why should you be lonely when you have got"----
Just at that moment there was a noise outside, followed by a fierce
scuffle and the banging about of furniture, and the room door was
opened, and the girl whom Rosamund had seen swinging at the other end of
the sunlit lawn appeared on the scene. She was one of the most beautiful
girls Rosamund, who thought herself very good-looking, had ever beheld
in her life, but her eyes were wild and almost unsteady. Her laugh was
harsh and her voice unpleasant.
"Irene," said Lady Jane, turning pale, "what is the matter with you?
Won't you behave?"
The girl gave a laugh, flung herself into a chair, then drew herself a
little closer, and stared full at Rosamund.
"Never mind mother," she said. "Who are you?"
"My name is Rosamund Cunliffe," was Rosamund's reply.
She spoke steadily. There was a certain calm about her voice which
seemed to exercise a beneficent influence over the queer girl.
"And my name is Irene Ashleigh. Won't you come out, and I'll swing you?
You'd like to have a good swing this hot day, wouldn't you?"
"If you will promise, Irene, to be very careful," began Lady Jane; but
Irene's only reply to this was to jump up as suddenly as she had seated
herself, take Rosamund's hand, and pull her through the open French
window.
"Never mind mother," she said again. "She is nothing but an old croak.
There's a bit of spirit about you. Oh! they all tell stories about me;
but I'm not half bad, only I think I'm a changeling. Did you ever think
you were a changeling?"
"Of course not. I don't know what you mean."
"I'll explain to you. I quite like your look. May I put my arm round
your waist?"
"If it pleases you," said Rosamund.
"How stiffly you speak! But I like you all the same. You are what might
be called a good old sort, and there's nothing prim about you. Do you
know why I came into the room just now?"
"I'm sure I cannot tell."
"Well, I'll let you know. I was listening at one of the windows, and I
heard you tell mother--dear old puritanical mother--that you had crept
away without leave from the learned professor, and had got into
difficulties. Oh, didn't I just love you for it! There's a Miss Frost
here who tries to teach me; but, bless you! she can't knock much
learning into me. She is as terrified of me as she can be, is old
Frosty. She and I had a squabble in the passage; she said I was not to
come in because I had my red dress on. You know, it's only a year since
father died, and mother is in deep mourning still; but I will wear
red--it is my sort of mourning. I suppose we can all do as we please.
Well, when I discovered that you were one of the naughty sort, I thought
I'd have a nearer view of you, and I like you very much. You are pretty,
you know, quite pretty. Not so pretty as I am! Now, look me full in the
face. Did you ever see any one prettier?"
"Irene, you do talk in a wild way!"
"It is rather cheeky of you to call me Irene; but I don't much mind. I
like you to be cheeky. Well, here's the swing. How high up do you want
me to push you?"
"Not any way at all just at present. Let us walk about and talk before
you swing me. I must know something about you. How old are you?"
"I'm sure I don't know--I've forgotten. Oh, by the way, you didn't
understand me when I said I was a changeling."
"I didn't, and I don't. But why do you talk in that silly way?"
"Well, I seriously think I am, for if you had seen father when he was
alive you'd have said if there was a dear--I was very fond of dad--if
there was a dear, sober, conscientious old man--he was a good bit older
than mother--you'd have pronounced that he was he."
"That is very funny English, Irene."
"Oh, never mind! I like to talk in a funny way. Anyhow, you'd have said
that he was he. And then there is mother. You see how good she looks.
She is very handsome, I know, and every one adores her, and so does her
loving daughter Irene; but, all the same, I was made in a sort of
fashion that I really cannot keep indoors. No rain that ever was heard
of could keep me in, and no frost, either. And I have lain sometimes on
the snow for an hour at a time and enjoyed it. And there's scarcely a
night that I spend in bed. I get out, whatever poor old Frosty may do to
keep me within bounds. I can climb up anything, and I can climb down
anything, and I like to have a boat on the lake; and when they are very
bad to me I spend the night there in the very centre of the lake, and
they can't get at me, shout as they may. No, I never take cold."
"The only thing I am keen about is to be allowed to wear colors that I
like. I love gay colors--red one day, yellow the next, the brightest
blue the next I hate art shades. I am not a bit æsthetic. Once they took
me to London, but I ran away home. Oh, what a time I had! I am a wild
sort of thing. Now, do you suppose that any mother, of her own
free-will, would have a daughter like me? Of course I am a changeling. I
suppose I belong to the fairies, and my greatest wish on earth is to see
them some day. Sometimes I think they will meet me in the meadows or in
the forest, which is two miles away, or even in the lake, for I suppose
fairies can swim. But they have never come yet. If they came I'd ask
them to let me go back to them, for I do so hate indoor life and
civilization and refinement. And now you see the sort I am, and if you
are the sort I somehow think you are, why shouldn't we be friends?
Perhaps you are a changeling, too. You know that dress doesn't suit you
one bit; it is too grand and fine-ladyish; and you ought to let your
hair stream down your back instead of having it tied behind with that
ribbon. And you ought to have a hole in your hat instead of that grand
black feather. And--oh, good gracious!--what funny boots! I never saw
anything like them--all shiny, and with such pointed toes. How can you
walk in them? I as often as not go barefoot all day long; but then I am
a wild thing, a changeling, and I suppose, after all, you are not."
Rosamund felt herself quite interested while Irene was delivering
herself of this wild harangue. She looked back at this moment, and saw
Lady Jane standing in the French window. Irene's arm was still firmly
clasped round Rosamund's waist. Rosamund could just catch a glimpse of
the expression of Lady Jane's face, and it seemed to signify relief and
approval. Rosamund said to herself, "We all have our missions in life;
perhaps mine is to reclaim this wild, extraordinary creature. I
shouldn't a bit mind trying. Of course, I don't approve of her; but she
is lovely. She has a perfect little face, and she is just like any
savage, quite untrained--a sort of free lance, in fact. Irene," she said
aloud, "I am not going to let you swing me just now; but you may sit
near me, and I will tell you something which may alter your views about
your being a changeling."
"What do you mean by that?" said Irene, and she looked doubtful. "I
cannot sit long," she continued. "Be as quick as ever you can."
"Yes, I will, and afterward"----
"Afterward I will go into the house and get Frosty to give us tea, and
we will take it in the boat together. We will get into the very middle
of the stream, where no human being can call us back, and we will have a
right good time."
"Will you ask your mother's leave first?"
"Indeed I won't. I never ask her leave. I never ask any one's leave. I
never trouble mother much, because she cries so badly when I vex her;
but I don't mind how hard Frosty cries. Frosty is terribly afraid of me,
but she has stayed with me longer than any other governess. They mostly
go at the end of a week or a fortnight; but Frosty has been with me for
close on four months. She is very worried. She was quite fat when she
came, and now she is a sort of walking skeleton, and it is all owing to
me, because I do work her so hard and terrify her so; and she can't
teach me anything, however hard she tries. I tell you I'm a changeling,
and changelings can't be taught. She told me the other night that she
believed me. She looked as white as a sheet when she said the words, and
I did laugh so, and clapped my hands. I woke mother, and mother came
into the room; and Frosty told mother what I had said, and poor mother
cried. I said, 'Never mind, mother. I am fond of you, but I like
frightening Frosty.'
"Then Frosty went away to her own room, and I thought, of course, she
would give notice the next day, but she didn't. She is very poor, and
has to earn her own bread somehow. I expect that is why she stays."
"Well," said Rosamund stoutly, "I will say this, Irene, that you
are--whether changeling or not--an exceedingly naughty girl. There,
now!"
Irene opened those deep sapphire-blue eyes, which were one of her
greatest charms, to their fullest extent; her little mouth pouted, and
some pearly teeth showed beneath. She clinched her small hands, and then
said stoutly, "Hurrah! I admire your courage. They never dare tell me I
am naughty. I rule the house; they are all quite terrified of me."
"Well, I am not a scrap afraid of you," said Rosamund.
"Aren't you? What a relief! Well, come on; I can't sit still any longer.
I have got to order our tea to be sent to the boat, and we will get into
mid-stream and keep all the world at bay. Can't you tell me there what
you wanted to say?"
"No; I will tell you now, and I am not at all sure that I am going in
the boat with you, for Lady Jane said I had done wrong to come here; and
if I did wrong to come, I suppose I must try and do right, for I can't
talk of your faults while I have such a lot of my own."
"Oh, hurrah! You are nicer than ever. I am glad you are full of faults
too. Do say why you think I am not a changeling."
"Because my mother told me that long ago your mother was rather naughty,
although she is so good now. So I think, perhaps, when you are her age
you will be good too."
"Oh, horror! Heaven preserve us!" cried Irene. "That is the final straw.
Ever to sink into the apathy of my beloved mother would be beyond
endurance. But there, I am off to Frosty, and you will have to come into
the boat with me."
Irene flew fleet as the wind from Rosamund's side. Notwithstanding her
exceedingly ugly red dress, its shortness, its uncouth make, she ran as
gracefully as a young fawn. Soon she had disappeared round the corner,
and as soon as she had done so Lady Jane was seen tripping across the
grass. She motioned Rosamund to her side.
"She took to you," she said. "She seems to like you. Are you going to
be good to her?" said the lady, her lips trembling as she spoke.
"If I can. Oh, I know she is very naughty; but she is so beautiful!"
said Rosamund, with sudden enthusiasm, her own pretty dark eyes filling
with tears.
"You are a sweet girl!" said Lady Jane. "Perhaps God has sent you here
to effect the means of reform. Only sometimes I fear----But here she
comes. She must not see me talking to you. If she thought that we were
in league all would be lost."
Before Rosamund could reply, or even ask Lady Jane if she might go into
the boat with Irene, that young lady had darted to her side.
"Now, what were you saying to the Mumsy-pums? I don't allow any one to
talk in a confidential way to my Mumsy-pums except myself. Now, I was
just watching you, and you kept nodding your head all the time. What
were you saying? I know you were talking about me. What was the dear
Pums saying with regard to her changeling? Was she running me down--eh?"
"No, nothing of the sort," said Rosamund stoutly.
"Then I know," said Irene, knitting her black eyebrows till they almost
met in her anxiety to express herself clearly; "she was telling you to
have a good influence over me. She always begins like that with the new
governesses. She has an interview with them the morning after they
arrive. They are generally by that time reduced to a state of pulp, and
she has them, as she thinks, alone. But I generally contrive to listen.
I am a great eavesdropper. Oh, I am not a bit ashamed of it--not a
bit--so you needn't begin to preach. She tells them to try and reform
me. She says money is no object if only I can be reformed. As though a
changeling could be reformed! She has been asking you to reform me,
hasn't she? I know her little ways, dear, good old Mumsy-pums. But she
can't reform a changeling. Now the boat is ready, and Betty is toiling
for dear life with our tea-tray. I darted into the kitchen, where she
was having a Sunday doze. I sprang upon her back, and she gave such a
shriek as though something awful had happened; and I said, 'Tea in a
twinkling, or I'll dress up and frighten you when you are in bed
to-night.' Oh, didn't she hop round as though she were walking on
red-hot irons! And there she is now, panting down the path with our tea.
Come along, Rosamund."
"But I don't think I must. I ought not to come," said Rosamund.
She was tempted, fascinated. To feel conscious that she was not one
scrap afraid of this queer girl, to feel conscious also that the girl
herself, notwithstanding her extreme naughtiness, could in the end be
managed by her, brought such a rush of interest into her life that she
forgot everything else for the moment; and, besides, Irene was
exceedingly strong, and although she was much slimmer and not so tall as
Rosamund, she dragged her down the path with a power that it was almost
impossible to resist.
"That will do, Betty. I won't frighten you to-night by dressing up and
making my eyes fiery," said Irene as the cook appeared with the tea.
"Oh, bless me, miss!" replied the cook, "for heaven's sake keep out of
my bedroom. If you will only give me back my key and let me lock my door
I wouldn't have such dreadful nightmares. I wish you would, Miss Irene."
"I give you back your key?" said Irene. "I'd have no fun if I hadn't
power over you. There, that will do. You may sleep sound to-night. I
always keep my word."
The cook departed, red and panting. She was as much afraid of Irene as
any of the other servants. But the place was a good one, the wages
exceedingly liberal, and Lady Jane the kindest and most patient of
mistresses. In short, many of the servants stayed for her sake,
notwithstanding the life of terror which naughty Irene gave them.
The little boat, painted sky-blue and tipped with white, was now pulled
out of the boat-house. Irene put in the basket of provisions, and a
moment later she and Rosamund were skimming across the smooth bosom of
the lake. It was quite a big lake, being a quarter of a mile across and
half a mile long, and in the centre was a rapid current which was
considered, and really was in times of storm, somewhat dangerous. For
this current Irene made, and when they got there she suddenly rested on
her oars, and looking at Rosamund, said, "Are you afraid, or are you
not? If the current gets a little stronger we will be drifted to the
edge of the lake, and at the edge of the lake there is a waterfall, and
over it we will go, and, splash! splash! splash! I took a girl there
once; she was my governess, but I was quite tired of her, and knew the
fright she would get in when I took her out in the boat. I never take
those who are dead sick with fright; but I took her, and she was nearly
drowned--not quite, for I can swim in almost any water, and I held her
up and brought her safe to land. But she left that evening. She was a
poor thing, absolutely determined to stop. I hated her the moment I saw
her face, it was so white and pasty; and she wasn't at all interesting.
She couldn't tell stories; she didn't believe in changelings. She had
never read the _Arabian Nights_. She knew hardly any history; but she
was great at dates. Oh, she was a horror! She was rather fond of
grammar, too, and odds and ends of things that aren't a bit interesting.
And needlework! Oh, the way she worried me to death with her needlework!
She did criss-cross and cross-criss, and every other stitch that was
ever invented. So I said to myself, 'Miss Carter must go,' and I took
her out on a rather stormy day, and we got into mid-current. Mother and
the servants came shouting to us to get out of it; but of course we
couldn't, and poor Miss Carter, how she did shriek! And I said, 'We are
certain to go over the fall; but we won't get drowned, for I won't let
you, if you will promise faithfully to give notice the very instant you
get back to the house.' Oh, poor thing, didn't she promise! Her very
teeth were chattering. She was in a most awful state. Now, we can go
over the waterfall to-day if you don't mind. You wouldn't be frightened,
would you?"
"Frightened? Not I! But I don't intend to go over the waterfall, all the
same."
"Now, what on earth do you mean by that remark?" asked Irene.
"I am quite as strong as you, and if it comes to a fight I can take the
oars. The current is not yet very strong; but I wish to get out of it,
for the see-sawing up and down makes me a little bit sea-sick. I am not
your governess. I am just a girl who has come to live at the Merrimans',
and I can make myself very pleasant to you if you make yourself pleasant
to me, or I can take not the slightest notice of you. There are heaps
and heaps of other girls about. There are all the Singletons."
"Oh, for primness!" began Irene. "Oh, those Green Leaves! they are
positively detestable. But you shall have your way, Rosamund. You really
are not afraid, so just you take one oar and I will take the other, and
we will get into smooth water and enjoy ourselves for once. It is a
comfort to talk to some one who hasn't a scrap of fear in her."
"Nobody ought to be afraid of you," said Rosamund, taking up an oar as
she spoke; and with a few vigorous strokes the girls got out of the
current into the still, blue waters of the lake.
Poor Lady Jane, who was watching them from her boudoir window, breathed
a sigh of relief.
"I knew that girl was sent to be a blessing to me," she said to herself;
"and my dear old friend's child, too. Oh, why was I given such a
creature as Irene to bring up and look after? I can no more manage her
than an old hen could manage a fierce young ostrich."
Meanwhile Rosamund and Irene began to enjoy themselves. The tea, as it
was called, consisted of a bottle of cold tea; but the rest of the
provisions were first-rate, the most delicious cakes of all sorts and
descriptions, with a few other dainties in the shape of sandwiches. The
girls ate and talked, and Irene, perhaps for the first time in her life,
became almost rational in her behavior.
"And now," said Irene, "I want you to tell me again what you said about
mother being naughty, because it will give me a most tremendous hold
over her. I wish you would tell me some of the sort of things she used
to do; because if I can say, 'I got it from you, mother, and you are the
one to blame,' it would be an immense pull. I wish you would tell me.
Do, won't you?"
"She never did the sort of things you have done," said Rosamund.
"How in the world do you know that?"
"Well, for instance, she was never cruel."
"I cruel? Well, I like that! I often and often put slugs and snails and
worms, and that sort of thing, out of the path for fear any one should
tread on them. I cruel?"
"You are in one way," said Rosamund. "I am not a scrap afraid of you,
and I say you are cruel when you terrify the servants and your poor
mother, who has no one but you, and"----
"We will get back into the current if you say another word," said Irene.
"No, we won't," replied Rosamund, "for I will keep this oar, and you
cannot wrench it from me."
She grasped it more firmly as she spoke. Irene looked at her for a
moment, and her small, wild, charming face seemed to lighten as though
with sudden passion. Then she broke into a merry laugh.
"I declare it is refreshing to hear you," she said. "Only don't scold me
too much at first. Let us be jolly for a little bit. When will you come
to see me again?"
"That depends on your mother and, I suppose, on the people I am living
with--the Merrimans."
"I don't know them."
"Don't know them? Why, they live quite close."
"I don't know any of the girls round here. There is a Merriman called
Lucy, a horrid prig, isn't there?"
"I must confess that I don't care for her," said Rosamund.
"Ah! then we have something in common. I shall cultivate her just for
the express purpose of finding out her faults, and then we will have
more in common. Only, promise me one thing, Rose."
"What is that?" said Rosamond, suddenly struck by the gentle tone which
the queer child's voice could assume.
"You won't take up with the Leaves. Do let the Leaves alone. Mother is
always harping on them, and bringing them up to me. But the fact is,
they are afraid to come here. They have been invited scores of times;
but they always make excuses at the last moment. I know the reason, for
that terrible Miss Carter, who was nearly drowned, went straight from us
to them, and has remained with them ever since. Of course, she told
them about the boat, and the current in the middle of the lake, and the
waterfall. I have been rather curious to see them, and to give them a
good round fright, every one of them, till they blanch to the color of
ghosts, and then their green dresses wouldn't suit them any longer. But
they wouldn't come. I have got no friends. That is why I am so anxious
to have you as a friend. You don't think me so dreadful, do you?"
"I think you could be splendid; but at the present moment I consider
that you are exceedingly naughty," said Rosamund. "But then, I am not a
bit too good myself, so I suppose that is why I tolerate you. Now, will
you please row back to the shore, for I am afraid I must be returning to
the Merrimans'?"