"I think, so far as I can judge of my own motives, that that is a
truthful statement of the case! I have often wished I knew someone like
you--full of life and spirit; but there are not many girls in this
neighbourhood, and I met no one suitable until you came. It is a great
deal to ask, but if you would spend a little time with me sometimes I
should be infinitely grateful."
"Oh, don't be grateful, please, until you realise what you have to
endure. Nothing worth having can be gained without suffering," I said
solemnly. "I shall lead you a terrible dance, and you must promise
implicit obedience. I'm a terrible bully when I get the chance."
I privately determined that I'd teach her other things besides play, and
we agreed to meet next morning at eleven o'clock to take our first walk.
Mother was much amused when I told her of our conversation.
"You'll soon grow tired of her, darling; she is impossibly dull, but a
good creature who can do you no harm. You can easily drop her if she
bores you too much."
But I don't expect to be bored, I expect it will be very amusing.
_Next Day_.
It was! She was there to meet me with a mushroom hat over her face,
looking as solemn as ever, and never in all my life did I see a poor
creature work so hard at trying to enjoy herself. She runs like an
elephant, and puffs like a grampus; says, "One, two, three," at the edge
of the streams, then gives a convulsive leap, and lands right in the
middle of the water. She was splashed from head to foot, and quite pink
in the cheeks imagining she was going to be drowned, and in the next
hedge her hat caught in a branch, and was literally torn from her head.
Then we sat down to consider the situation, and to collect the fallen
hairpins from the ground.
She has a great long rope of hair, and she twists and twists and twists
it together like a nurse wringing out a fomentation, so I politely
offered to fasten it for her, and loosened it out and pulled it up over
her forehead, and you wouldn't believe the difference it made. We found
some wild strawberries, and ate them for lunch, and I wreathed the
leaves round her head, and when her fingers were nicely stained with the
juice, and she looked thoroughly disreputable, I held out the little
looking-glass on my chatelaine, and gave her a peep at herself, and
said--
"That's the result of the first lesson! What do you think of the effect
on your appearance?"
"I beg your pardon! I'm quite ashamed. What have I been doing?" she
cried all in a breath, and up went both hands to drag her hair back, and
tear out the leaves, but I caught them in time and held them down.
"Implicit obedience, remember! I like you better as you are. It's such
pretty hair that it's a sin to hide it away in that tight little knot.
Why shouldn't you look nice if you can?"
That began it, and we had quite a solemn discussion, something like
this--
Rachel, solemnly: "It does not matter how we look, so long as our
characters are beautiful!"
Una: "Then why was everything on the earth made so beautiful if we were
not intended to be beautiful too? How would you like it if everything
was just as useful, but looked ugly instead of pretty? When you have
the choice of being one or the other it's very ungrateful to abuse your
talent!"
"Beauty a talent! I have always looked upon it as a snare! How many a
woman's life has been spoiled by a lovely face!"
"That's the abuse of beauty, not the use!" I said, and felt quite proud
of myself, for it sounded so grand. "Of course, if you were silly and
conceited, it would spoil everything; but if you were nice, you would
have far more influence with people. I used to notice that with the
pretty girls at school, and, of course, there's mother--everyone adores
her, and feels repaid for any amount of trouble if she will just smile
and look pleased."
"Ah, your mother! But there are not many like her. You spoke of having
a choice, but in my own case, for instance, how could I--what could I
do?"
"You could look fifty thousand times nicer if you took the trouble. I
thought so the first time I saw you, and now I know it. Look in the
glass again; would you know yourself for the same girl?"
She peered at herself, and gave a pleased little smirk just like a human
being.
"It's the enjoyment lesson, and the red cheeks--but oh, I couldn't--I
really couldn't wear my hair like that! It looks so terribly as if I--I
_wanted_ to look nice!"
"Well, so you do, don't you? I do, frightfully! I'd like to be
perfectly lovely, and so charming that everyone adored me, and longed to
be with me."
"Ah, that's different," she said softly, and her eyes went shiny and she
stared straight ahead at nothing, in the way people do who are thinking
nice thoughts of their own which they don't mean you to know. "To be
loved is beautiful, but that is different from admiration. We love
people for their gifts of mind and heart, not for their appearance."
She meandered on for quite a long time, but I really forget all she
said, for I was getting tired of moralising, and wondering what excuse I
could make to leave her and fly off home across the fields. Then
suddenly came the sound of footsteps at the other side of the stile, and
who should come jumping over just before our very faces but Will Dudley
himself on his way home to lunch. He stared for a moment, hardly
recognising the two hat-less, dishevelled mortals squatted on the grass,
and then came forward to shake hands. The funny thing was that he came
to me first, and said, "How do you do?" and then just shook hands with
Rachel without ever saying a word. She didn't say anything either, but
I could see she was horribly embarrassed, thinking of her hair and the
strawberry leaves, and he looked at her and looked again as if he could
not understand what had happened.
I thought it would be fun to tell him all about it when we reached the
cross-roads, and Rachel left us alone. I was glad she was going another
way, because it's rather a nuisance having a stranger with you when you
want to talk, and I knew Mr Dudley very well by this time. He would be
so amused at the idea of the enjoyment lesson. I was looking forward to
our talk; but oh, dear, what horrid shocks one does get sometimes! I
shall never, never forget my feelings when we got to the corner, and he
held out his hand to me--me--Una Sackville, and walked calmly off with
Rachel Greaves.
It was not as if he had been going in her direction; his way home was
with me, so why on earth should he choose to go off with her? Are they
lovers, or friends, or what? Why did he take no notice of her at first,
then suddenly become so anxious for her society? It's not that I care a
scrap, but it seemed so rude! I've been as cross as two sticks all day.
Nothing annoys me more than to be disappointed in my friends!
Eleven o'clock. I was comfortably settled in bed when I suddenly
remembered resolution number two. The real reason that I am annoyed is
that I am conceited enough to think I am nicer than Rachel, and to want
Mr Dudley to think so too. How horrid it looks written down! I
believe it will do me heaps of good to have to look at plain truths
about myself in staring black and white. Perhaps Lorna is right after
all, and I have a greed for admiration! I'll turn over a new leaf and
be humble from this day.