his hand; then, striking an attitude, he extended his long arms: "Come,
fair damsel, come, we'll fly to other climes,--the attic or the cellar,
_anywhere_, so it be not to the Ervengs'." He made a sudden snatch at
me, but I was prepared,--I know him of old!--and, dodging under his arm,
darted round the table and soon put a wide distance between us.
"Then nobody's going," asserted Jack; he sat on the edge of the
schoolroom table, grinning and hugging his knees, which were drawn
up to his chin.
"Not a one!" "No, _sir_!" "No, _indeed_!" answered Phil, Felix, and I,
in one breath.
"I do think you are all the rudest, most unmannerly creatures!"
exclaimed Nora, indignantly. "These people have been polite enough to
invite us to their house, have taken the trouble to prepare for us, when
really the attention should have come from us to them, and here you all
act as if they had insulted us. Positively, you are a most uncouth set.
_I_ am very much pleased with Mrs. Erveng's invitation, and I am going,
if no one else does. Rude things!"
She started for the door; but Phil got before her, and salaamed to the
floor. "What _would_ we do without you, O most noble and elegant
Eleanora!" he cried, as he bobbed up and down; and limping over, Fee
stared at her through and under and over his glasses. "Friends," he
exclaimed, turning to us and putting on an expression of intense
astonishment, "allow me to call your attention to this remarkably
healthy variety of a well-known plant, Miss"--with a wave of his hand
toward Nora--"Miss Prim Rose."
"You think that's very smart, don't you?" Nora said, getting red, and
tossing her head. Jack flew down from the table, and over to Nora's
side, calling out, "Now you just stop teasing her, Felix!" and Phil
threw an arm round her, and pulled her down on his lap, saying, "Don't
ruffle yourself over such trifles, old lady; keep cool!"
I laughed, and Nannie put in quickly, "Nora is quite right: it _was_ our
place, as old residents, to call first on the Ervengs,--particularly
under the Fetich circumstances; and when they are kind enough to
overlook our remissness, and invite us to visit them, we ought at least
to appreciate the attention, not rail at it. Anyway, it was papa who
decided which of us should go. I would certainly have been included in
the number had I not something to do for him this afternoon and evening;
I would have liked to go. So do behave yourselves!"
"Nancy Lee on etiquette," said Felix, with a grimace, while Nora
struggled away from Phil's encircling arm with a sharp, "Of _course_ I
am right!" and stalked out of the room, her nose in the air.
Now perhaps you think because we said all this that we didn't go to the
Ervengs'; well, we did, the whole four of us, and that very afternoon.
Though we fret and fume over things beforehand, we generally end by
doing just as papa says about them. One reason for this is that, when
it comes to the point, none of us are willing to tell him that we won't
obey. Papa's very gentle, but he expects us to do as he says, and dear
mamma always made us mind; so, as I said, it generally ends by our
following orders. Still, sometimes it is a great satisfaction to "spunk
up" beforehand, as Phil calls it, and just speak out our minds in the
bosom of our family. And after that,--it's the funniest thing! but do
you know, we'll almost always turn right round and do just what we said
we wouldn't do, as meek as lambs. I don't know if all large families are
like this, but it's our way.
Well, to go back to the tea. Nora was very glum on the way over,--she
usually is when she's on her high horse,--but the boys seemed to be in
great spirits, for they just giggled to the Ervengs' very door, and
barely had a straight face when Buttons appeared. I fancied that he
looked curiously at me, and I wondered uncomfortably if he knew that
Phil and I were the two fat old black-robed ladies he had admitted the
other day.
Mr. Erveng was out, for which Phil and I weren't sorry; but Hilliard
met us in the hall and took us upstairs to his mother's sitting-room,
where she was lying in an invalid's chair with a white shawl round her
shoulders. She's very pretty,--Hilliard isn't a bit like her,--but she
looks very delicate and fragile; why, her hands are like _mites_, and
she's very, _very_ gentle, and speaks in a low voice. She welcomed us
very cordially, and said she thought it was so kind of us to come,--here
I thought of our remarks at home, and didn't dare look at Phil and
Fee,--and she and Nora seemed to get on nicely.
[Illustration: "HILLIARD SHOWING HIS MICROSCOPE AND HIS 'SPECIMENS.'"]
Very soon Hilliard carried the boys off to show them his microscope and
his "specimens," and what he called his home-gymnasium. I should have
loved dearly to go, too, but nobody asked me; so there I had to sit
primly on a chair and listen while Mrs. Erveng and Nora talked of books
and pictures and music and all sorts of things. And while they talked I
looked around the room; Nora said afterward that I stared at everything,
until she was ashamed,--but what else was there for me to do? And it was
such a pretty room! furnished in light blue, with touches of yellow here
and there; some lovely pictures hung on the walls, a graceful bronze
Mercury stood on a pedestal between the curtains of one of the windows,
growing plants were scattered about, and everywhere were books and
flowers. It was all very sweet and lovely: it matched well with Mrs.
Erveng, who looked daintiness itself lying back on her silken cushions,
and I ought to have enjoyed it; but in some way or other it made me feel
uncomfortably big and clumsy and overgrown, and I couldn't get over the
feeling. Nora, however, didn't seem to be troubled in this way; I
couldn't but notice how pretty she looked, and how well she talked.
You mustn't think that Mrs. Erveng slighted me, for she didn't,--she was
very polite; but I had a feeling all the time that she just looked upon
me as a great rough tomboy,--thinking of that horrid Fetich affair! for
she certainly didn't treat me as she did Nora, and there are only
fourteen months between us, if Nora _is_ so tall, and acts so grown up.
At home we make great fun of Nora's airs and graces, and even that night
Phil nudged me, when no one was looking, and whispered, "Do see the
frills Nonie's putting on!" but all the same I think both Felix and he
were very glad that she could carry off things so well.
We had tea in the cosiest little room on the same floor, and we couldn't
but notice how Hilliard waited on his mother,--just like a girl would
have done; indeed, he was very much more gentle and helpful than I
could have been, I am afraid,--though Fee used to be like that with
mamma. After tea Nora played; I was asked, too, but I could no more
have got through a piece without breaking down than I could have flown.
She didn't feel so, though, and did splendidly; she is really a fine
pianist, Miss Marston says. After that we sang college songs, and about
nine o'clock, or a little after, we four went home.
"Unfortunately, I am not able to return any visits," Mrs. Erveng said,
when we were leaving, "but if you or your sisters will take pity on my
loneliness, and come over to see me whenever you can spare an afternoon
or evening, I shall consider it very friendly, and I shall be very glad
to see you."
She looked at Nora, and Nora answered very sweetly, "Thank you for our
pleasant evening, Mrs. Erveng; we shall be glad to come again." Now I
never would have thought of saying that! Then we all bade good-night
and went home.
Hilliard walked to our door with us, and as he shook hands for
good-night he said to me, "I'm very glad you came over; mother and I
enjoyed it. I hope you'll come again; you see we get very quiet
sometimes, just she and father and I."
I was surprised that he didn't say this to Nora, for he had talked
almost entirely to her,--very little to me during the evening; but I
suppose he did it so I shouldn't feel slighted,--as if I cared!
Phil admits that he likes Hilliard better than he did, and Felix, who
had a long talk with him, says "he's bright, and 'way up in the
classics." Well, he may be all that, but all the same I think he's a
poke. I don't like him very much. I have a feeling that he went home
and told his mother what I said about making faces and sliding down
banisters, and that--with the Fetich affair--she thinks I'm a great
rough girl. I don't really care, you know, for I have other friends who
like me and think I am nice,--Murray and Hope Unsworth and Helen Vassah
are always glad to have my company,--but still it _isn't_ comfortable,
now that I'm growing older, to be treated as if I were a child.
I didn't say much while Nora and the boys were giving Nannie an account
of our evening,--they had enjoyed it; but later, when we were alone
up in our room, it all came out. She said: "What's wrong, Miss
Elizabeth?"--that's one of her pet names for me. "You look as sober
as a judge; didn't you enjoy yourself this evening?" And then I told
her all about it, though really there wasn't much to tell when we came
to it, for Mrs. Erveng had been very polite and nice, and the boy had
treated me politely, too. I was afraid Nannie would think I was making
a mountain out of a molehill, as nurse says. But that's one of the
lovely things about Nannie,--she understands just how things are, and
so quickly.
She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, and taking one of my hands
in hers, kept smoothing it while she talked. "It means this, dear," she
said, "that you are getting to be quite grown up, and that the time has
come for you to put away rough, hoidenish ways, and to begin to be
gentle and dignified, like the true lady that we all know you are at
heart. You see we are accustomed to your ways, and while we may tease
and scold one another here at home, we also make allowances for the
different ones as an outsider would never do, because we love one
another--see? Mrs. Erveng and Hilliard simply know you as a tall girl
who looks quite a young lady, and naturally they are surprised when you
act like a tomboy. You know, Betty, you are nearly as tall as Nora; now
just imagine her sliding down the banisters, wrestling with the boys,
climbing the fence in the yard, hanging to the tops of the doors, and
making the horrible faces that you do!"
But my imagination couldn't picture such an impossibility as Nora and I
acting alike. "I couldn't--I _couldn't_ be like Nora," I declared,
sitting up in bed. "I know she's got nice manners and all that,"--I had
never really thought so till that evening,--"but, oh! I _couldn't_ be as
prim and--and--proper as she is--" Here my voice began to shake, and I
got so sorry for myself that the tears came.
Then Nannie put her arms round me, and gave me a hug. "You needn't be
like anybody but yourself," she said,--"the nicest, gentlest, and best
part of yourself. Give up one hoidenish way at a time; that will be
easier than trying to do all at once, you know. Suppose you begin by
walking down the stairs to-morrow morning to breakfast, instead of
sliding down on the banisters, as you usually do."
"Oh, but you don't _know_ how awfully hard that'll be to do," I said
tearfully; "our banisters are so broad and smooth, and one goes so
swiftly down them,--almost like flying--"
"I don't suppose it will be easy to give up the habit," broke in Nannie,
wiping my eyes with her handkerchief; "but all the same, Miss Elizabeth,
I am confident that if you really make up your mind to stop sliding,
you'll do it. You can't keep up such a tomboyish trick all your life,
and now is a good time to begin, _I_ think. Dear mamma used to say that
everybody had to have some responsibility or other; why not begin to
take up yours now? Helen Vassah is only about six months older than you
are, and here she has the responsibility of being little Paul's
godmother. And there's Hope Unsworth a little younger than you; you know
how she helps her grandmother in her charitable work. They are certainly
not 'prim or proper;' they are full of fun, yet they wouldn't either of
them ever think of doing the rough things that you do,--now would they?"
I had to admit that I knew they wouldn't.
"Then," said Nannie, "don't you do them either. Take yourself as your
responsibility, and show us what you can accomplish in that line. Will
you, dearie?" She snuggled her head close up to mine on the pillow as
she said this.
"Oh, _dear_!" I sighed, "I do wish Jack had been I, and I'd been Jack!"
"Even then you would have had to stop such childish tricks some time or
other before you grew up. With all his larks, Phil doesn't do them; and
think of papa's coming down to breakfast on the banisters!" Nannie and I
had to laugh at the very thought.
"Well," I said presently, "perhaps I'll try; but that conceited boy'll
think he's made me do it."
"Oh, no, he won't!" Nannie said, in a tone of conviction that was very
comforting. "If he does think now that you're inclined to be a hoiden,
why, he'll soon change his mind, when he finds what a nice, sweet little
lady you are from day to day. _Don't_ look so dismal, Miss Elizabeth;
there's lots of fun left for you!"
"I'll try; but I _know_ I'll forget, time and again," I said, sighing
heavily.
"I don't think there'll be so very many slips," Nannie answered
cheerfully; "but if there should be, we'll just do as Rip Van Winkle
did,--'we won't count' them."
"And will you promise not to tell anybody that I'm trying--not a single
creature--not even Felix or Jack?" I asked anxiously.
"I _will_ promise not to tell anybody--not a single creature--not even
Felix or Jack," Nannie replied, laughing. "Does that satisfy you? Now,"
she added, "I'm going to say my prayers here beside you, and I'm going
to ask our Lord to help you keep your word; you'll ask, too, won't you?"
I nodded, and as she knelt down slipped my hand into hers; a few minutes
after I was asleep.
IX.
MAX'S WARD.
TOLD BY BETTY.
No less than three birthdays in our family fell in the next week: first
Fee's and Nannie's,--which I suppose I ought really to count as one, as
they are twins,--and then Nora's. As these birthdays _will_ always come
together, and to avoid hurting people's feelings, as Jack would say, we
celebrate them alternately,--Fee's and Nannie's one year, and Nora's the
next; and this was Nora's year. We had had several performances lately,
so Fee said he'd try to think of something else, if we'd all promise to
do just as we were told. Of course we promised; then he and Phil invited
the Unsworths and Helen Vassah and that boy across the way,--I didn't
want _him_, but all the others did, so he was asked. Hope was at her
grandma's, so she couldn't come; but Murray and Helen did, and, _of
course_, Hilliard.
The birthday fell on a Friday, and as papa is always at home on that
evening, we were afraid he wouldn't allow us to celebrate it; but to
our great joy he told Nannie to tell us that we might have all the fun
we wanted, as long as we behaved ourselves and kept the doors closed, so
the noise would not escape. So right after school hours Phil and Felix
took possession of the schoolroom, and after having got us to give them
all our presents for Nora, they locked themselves in. "We're going to
have a bang-up entertainment, now, you'll see," Felix said, just before
he closed the door,--"something unique, unprecedented, etc.; and no one
is to put even a nose into the banqueting hall"--with a wave of his hand
over his shoulder--"until the doors are thrown open and the music
strikes up. Now remember--"
"Yes, and no snooping or hanging around either!" put in Phil, standing
on tip-toe to rest his chin on Fee's crown and glare at us. Then the
door was locked.
Such a hammering and dragging about of furniture you never heard; and
when every now and then Phil would come out for something or other,
Fee would open the door very cautiously, as if afraid somebody'd see
something, and shut and lock it with a bang when he re-entered. As you
may imagine, our curiosity was excited to the highest pitch to know what
we were going to have. Then just before dinner Jack came running in, in
a great state of excitement; he had been to rehearsal, and had done so
well in the piece he had to sing that Mr. Hawkins had really engaged
him, at fifty cents a week, with the promise of more as he improved.
Jack was almost wild with delight. "Isn't it fine! Isn't it just jolly!
You should have heard me sing; really, it didn't sound bad!" he
exclaimed about twenty times; and the knowing looks and nudges and
winks that he bestowed on me couldn't be counted. No amount of
snubbing could repress him.
It seemed to us as if dinner would never be over; but at last it came to
an end, and Jack and I and the younger children flew upstairs and stood
waiting for the signal to enter the "banqueting hall." In a few minutes
more up came Nora, with Helen and Murray and Hilliard. I was sure Murray
and Helen would enjoy the "festive occasion," for they like the things
that we do; but I didn't know how that boy would take it. He was very
smiling, however; and I heard him tell Nora, as he presented her with a
lovely bunch of roses, that it was "very kind of her to allow him to be
of the party." Just then the schoolroom doors were thrown open, and the
strains of the wedding march from Lohengrin floated sweetly out to us
from violin and piano. At the same moment Phil appeared with a paper
flower in his buttonhole, and arranged us in couples,--Nora and he
going first,--and so we marched into the schoolroom.
I think perhaps I ought to describe the schoolroom to you, for it is
playroom, sitting-room, schoolroom, and everything to us. It's on the
top floor,--so that our noise sha'n't disturb papa,--and takes in the
whole width of the house and half its length, making an immense room.
There are some back rooms on this floor, and the large open space on
each side of the stairs is what we call the attic. Though almost
everything in it is old and shabby, we do have royal times in the
schoolroom, for it is our own, and out of study hours we can do there
as we please. Here are Phil's banjo and his boxing-gloves, and a lot
of what nurse calls his "rubbish"; Fee's easel is in this corner, and
a couple of forlorn, dirty old plaster casts which--unless he has a
painting-fit on him--generally serve as hat-rests for Phil and himself.
Pictures in various stages of completion stand about. Here, too, are
Nannie's and Fee's violins, resting against a pile of old music that Max
gave them before he went away. In the next corner, the other side of the
low, deep-silled windows, hangs Nora's china-shelf, on which are ranged
what the boys call her Lares and Penates,--vases and pretty cups and
saucers that have been given to her. Here, too, are her plants,
conspicuous among which is a graceful fan-leaved palm, known in
the family as Lady Jane.
These are the front corners; and between the windows stand our
book-shelves,--they are in a clumsy, unsteady old case, that rocks from
side to side if you touch it, and is only held together by the wall
against which it leans. The shelves are rather short,--now and then a
shelf slips off its notches and spills our library,--and they are so
narrow that books constantly fall down behind, and lie there until
house-cleaning or a sudden desire for one of those volumes brings them
all to light, and they are restored to their places.
One of the other--back--corners is mine; and here I have my
"gymnasium,"--my Indian clubs and dumb-bells; here, too, are my tennis
racket (I love to play!) and two old walking-canes with which (when I
can get him to do it) Jack and I fence,--dear me! I wonder if I shall
have to give _that_ up too, now that I have given that promise to
Nannie! Then comes our sofa: it's an old-fashioned, chintz-covered
affair, with a high back and high arms that stick straight out at each
end, and it's dreadfully shabby now; but all the same there isn't one of
us--except, perhaps, Nora--that would be willing to exchange it for the
handsomest piece of furniture that could be offered us. The times we've
played house and shipwreck, and gone journeys on it, and romped and
pranced all over it, can't be counted! This is Jack's favourite place to
sit and read; and under it, concealed from public view by the deep
chintz flounce that runs around the front and sides of the sofa, are
stored his treasures,--his books and stamp album, a queer-looking boat
that he has been building for ages, and a toy steam engine with which he
is always experimenting, but which, so far, absolutely refuses to "go."
I have frequently offered to share my corner with Jack, and I couldn't
understand why he always refused, until one day I accidentally
over-heard him speaking about it to Nannie.
"You see, Nannie, Betty means well," he said, "but she does hit out so
with those clubs! I'd be sure to get hurt some time or other; and then,
besides, she'd just own my things more than I would myself." Of course
this last part isn't really so, for he hasn't a thing that I'd care for;
but still he sticks to the sofa.
[Illustration: "THE 'QUEEN OF THE REVELS.'"]
Kathie and the twins and Alan have the other corner with their doll's
house, a tail-less hobby horse, known both as the "palfrey" and the
"charger," and blocks and toys without number. We've a piano in the
schoolroom for practising, and in the middle of the floor is a large
table, round which we sit in and out of school hours. This table has no
cover; it is liberally besprinkled with ink stains, and adorned in many
places with our initials, and with circles done in red ink,--goals for
feather-top playing,--and pieces have been hacked out of the edges,
trying the sharpness of sundry new knives. The old table is not at
all ornamental, but we couldn't get on without it, and we older ones
have quite an affection for our old Jumbo. Some pictures--three or four
of them by Felix--are hung up on the walls. And now you know how our
schoolroom looks.
But a grand transformation had taken place: all our stage property had
been utilised; the pictures were draped with red, white, and blue paper
muslin; the "statuary" and plants were arranged about the room with an
eye to a fine effect; great bunches of paper flowers bloomed in every
available place,--even on the gas fixtures! The large table was too
heavy to be pushed aside, but it was covered with Murray Unsworth's big
flag, which gave it quite a festive appearance; while the smaller table
over in the corner, though partially concealed by the dining-room
screen, gave tempting glimpses of "refreshments." Nannie was at the
piano, and beside her was Fee, playing away on his violin with all
his might.
At the farther end of the room, on a dais, was Miss Marston's chair,
covered with red paper muslin, and here, after we had promenaded several
times round the room, Phil seated Nora, announcing her the "Queen of the
Revels," which so struck Jack's fancy that he gave his hand a little
upward jerk, and shouted, "Hurray for we!" And then, though of course we
oughtn't to have done it, being for ourselves, you know, we every one
joined in a "three times three" hurrah! Kathie and the little ones got
so excited that they fairly yelled, and we had some difficulty in
quieting them.
When order was restored, Phil and Felix brought from the closet a large
clothes-basket, piled full of neatly tied-up parcels of all sizes, which
they placed beside Nora. Fee then made a sign to Phil. "Begin!" he
whispered. Phil struck an attitude, with his hand on his heart, and
began, "Fair Queen!" then stopped, looked astonished, put his hand to
his forehead, gazed at the floor and the ceiling, then burst out with:--
"When these you see,
Fair maid, remember we;
As we've remembered you,
And given you your due."
"_That_ isn't what you were to say, you goose!" exclaimed Felix,
wrathfully. "That isn't your speech!"
"Don't talk to me about your old set speeches, when a man can rise to
an occasion like _that!_" remarked Phil, loftily, straightening up and
throwing back the lapels of his coat with a great air. "_Poetry!_--d'ye
mind that, Mr. Wegge? The genuine article, and at a moment's notice! At
last I've struck my vocation."
Of course we laughed uproariously; we were in the mood for it, and
would have laughed if some one had held up a finger at us.