IN DISGRACE
HAREBELL had her tea in the schoolroom alone, as she very often did.
Andy waited upon her.
"There be visitors in the drawin'-room," he said. "'Tis like old times,
gentlemen a-comin' here! For years we've had nothing but ladies, and a
few on them. Sir Robert Ferguson and his lady have been to tea, and the
Colonel be quite spry. What have you been a-doin' to-day? Somethin' to
get a scoldin' for! Mistress says to me, 'Tell Miss Harebell to go to
her bedroom after she has finished her tea, and stay there till I come
to her.'
"Then she knows," said poor Harebell with a deep sigh. "Did she look
very angry, Andy?"
"Very cold and quiet," said Andy. "What have you been doin'?"
But Harebell for a wonder would not tell him.
"Mayn't I go and see Chris?" she asked.
"Best not. I've given you the message exack'ly as it were given me!"
Harebell's tea almost choked her. She left it unfinished and went
upstairs.
"It's no good," she said to herself as she sat down disconsolately in
her little chair by the window, "to say I'm not frightened of Aunt
Diana, because I am; and she'll say I've disobeyed her, and so I did.
And I never, on my word and honour, meant to be naughty to-day. God
knows about me; that is one comfort. He knows I didn't mean to be
naughty. And as for Peter, he's the wickedest, meanest boy I ever knew,
and I don't think I shall ever be friends with him again!"
When she heard her aunt's step at last, she stood up with a beating
heart.
To her aunt, as she came into the room, Harebell looked the picture of
guilt.
Mrs. Keith's face was very hard and stern. "I have come," she said,
"to have some explanation from you of your conduct this afternoon. You
not only directly disobeyed me, and went off to see that drunken man,
but you told your uncle a lie, and said that you had my permission to
do so. Do you remember what I told you when you first came here about
lies?"
"Yes," said Harebell miserably. "I remember quite well, but I haven't
told a lie, I really haven't."
"Don't try to cover up one lie with another; that is only making
matters worse."
Harebell was silent. What could she say?
"Have you anything to say for yourself?"
"I don't know," faltered Harebell; "it was—was a mistake. I—I thought
you'd given me leave."
"How can you have the face to say such a thing to me? You know I did
not."
"I didn't tell a lie," Harebell murmured.
Her aunt looked at her with an expression of disgust. "I suppose I
was foolish to think that you were a truthful child. My eyes are open
now. If you had only frankly confessed, I might have regarded it
more leniently. However, I keep my word, I shall send you to school
after the summer holidays. Never will I have a child in my house who
deceives, or tries to deceive me."
Harebell began to cry.
"Oh," she sobbed in the depths of her despair, "if you were God, you'd
understand!"
"Don't add hypocrisy to lies," said her aunt sharply. "You are not to
come downstairs to-night. Go to bed, and remember that I might have
forgiven your disobedience—but I will never forgive lying!"
She left the room.
Harebell flung herself on the floor.
"I shall never, never be happy again! I'm not a liar, I'm not even
disobedient; it's all a muddling mistake, and it's Peter, and not me,
who ought to be punished!"
She began to feel justly angry with Peter.
"He'll go on living and people will think him a good boy, and I shall
be thought a liar for ever and ever! And school is a prison, and—oh, I
never thought of it! I shall have to leave my darling Chris! My heart
will be broken. I wish I could die!"
She lay there sobbing her heart out, and Goody, entering the room
later, was much astonished and alarmed.
Harebell raised a white tear-stained face to her.
"I ought to be in bed," she said slowly. "Aunt Diana said I was to go.
She thinks I've told a lie, and I haven't, Goody, and I'm to be sent to
school in disgrace."
"Dearie me! What an upset! You must get hold of the Colonel. He'll put
things right."
A gleam of hope stole into Harebell's eyes; then it died away.
"He thinks I told him a lie. He won't help me. I'm what you call
doomed, Goody."
She began to undress. She would give no explanation to Goody, for fear
of inculpating Peter.
She heard a carriage come to take her uncle and aunt to dinner at the
Rectory.
She wondered if her aunt would tell them all there of her wickedness;
and if so, how Peter would feel when he heard it. She began to hope
that perhaps his conscience would compel him to confess and to clear
her. But she remembered that Nan said once that Peter never owned
himself to be in the wrong.
Goody went away at last, and she was left alone in bed.
It was hours before she slept, and when she did, she dreamt that a
school-mistress with flaming red curls and bony hands was pushing her
down some steep steps into a dark cellar!
When the morning came, she wondered at first what awful thing had
happened to her. The birds were singing. It was a lovely sunshiny
morning in June, and when she remembered the trouble in which she was,
she felt that some help would come to her.
"Aunt Diana won't really send me away. Peter will be sorry and tell."
Yet as she dressed, fear overcame hope. She ran softly downstairs and
made her way to the stable. Chris neighed in delight when he heard her
step, and rubbed her all over with his nose. Of course he was told all,
and Harebell clasped him passionately round the neck.
"If they send me away from you, I shall die," she assured him.
Then the prayer bell rang, and she slowly went into the house. Her
uncle did not come down to breakfast, but had it in his room. He was
still quite an invalid. Mrs. Keith hardly spoke to her, but as she was
leaving the breakfast-table, she said:
"Are you ready to confess the lie you told? Are you sorry?"
Harebell looked at her aunt nervously.
"I feel," she said, "if I said I had told a lie, that would be a lie."
"You will be in disgrace till you do confess," said her aunt shortly.
Harebell went to the Rectory with a heavy heart.
She could hardly say "Good Morning" to Peter. Nan asked her at once
what was the matter, and Harebell looked Peter straight in the face as
she said:
"I'm in disgrace. Aunt Diana says I've told a lie, when I haven't. I'm
going to be sent away to school, and I shall never come back again!"
"Oh yes, you will," said Peter fast and eagerly, whilst his cheeks got
hot and red. "School is awfully jolly; and you always come home in the
holidays. I wish I could get sent to school. No such luck for me."
"School is enchanting," said Nan. "A girl in the next village goes to
a boarding-school, and she loves it. I don't pity you, if you go to
school, Harebell."
"And how can I part with Chris?"
"You'll have him in the holidays," said Peter; "and p'raps dad will
keep him for you when you're away, and we'll exercise him for you!"
This was too much for Harebell. She turned upon Peter in a blazing fury.
"I hate you! I'd like Chris to kick you off and tread on you, if you
ever dare to ride him. He knows all about you. I've told him. And I've
told God, too, and I'll never play with you again, and I won't speak to
you, and if you leave any of your birds' eggs about, I will smash them
in bits!"
"My dear child!"
Mrs. Garland had come into the room unnoticed.
Harebell's fury was stayed. She hung her head.
Nan was looking quite frightened; Peter red and uncomfortable.
"What has Peter done to provoke such an outburst?" Mrs. Garland said.
Harebell flung herself into her arms.
"I can't say, but I never tell lies, do I? Do I? Aunt Diana says I do."
"And does Peter say you do?"
Mrs. Garland looked at her small son very keenly.
"No—no!" he stammered. "I never said she did. It isn't my fault!"
"She's going to be sent to school, and she doesn't like it," said Nan.
"Her aunt is angry with her."
Mrs. Garland tried to discover what had happened, but neither Peter nor
Harebell would tell her, and Nan was as much in the dark as she was.
Miss Forster interrupted them, and lessons began. Harebell naturally
did hers very badly, but Miss Forster saw she was much upset and made
allowances. When twelve o'clock came, they went into the garden to
play. Harebell left the others, and wandered round the paths in the
shrubbery, feeling very miserable.
"I'm not a bit like a child who is inside the Door," she told herself.
"I've been in a temper with Peter, and I'm sure I oughtn't to be. Jesus
Christ wasn't angry when He was ill-treated, and I know He doesn't
want me to be. But it's very hard not to call Peter names. He is the
meanest—sneakiest—oh, I mustn't! But how can I love him when it's all
his fault, and not mine at all!"
It was a hard struggle with Harebell. Her sense of justice was great,
and her punishment she knew was not deserved. But before she left the
Rectory she went up to Peter.
"I'm sorry I said I would like to smash your eggs. I won't. I'll try
and forgive you. But you're making me awfully miserable, and you know
you are."
Peter walked away from her.
"You're making a fuss about nothing," he said; "you chose to think I
meant what I didn't mean. It was only a mistake."
He was feeling miserable too, but he would not allow it, and tried to
make excuses for himself.
"Such a fuss!" he repeated to himself. "It isn't worth thinking about.
I'm sure Mrs. Keith won't really send her to school. She'll forget all
about it in a few days."
When Harebell went home she found her uncle pacing the garden paths. He
called her to him cheerily, and wished her "Good morning" as usual.
Harebell looked up at him wistfully. She longed to confide in him.
"Well," he said, "how have the lessons gone?"
"Very badly," said Harebell, shaking her head. "I've an extra lesson
to learn for not attending; but my soul was in such a state, that I
couldn't work at sums, so they got jumbled up."
Her uncle sat down on the garden seat and drew her to him.
"Tell me about it, little woman."
Harebell worked her fingers in and out of his coat buttonhole nervously.
"Do you think I told you a lie yesterday? I didn't. It was a mistake,
not a lie, and Aunt Diana won't believe me."
"How was it?"
Harebell was silent.
"I can't explain myself—but I'm telling true. And if—"
Here she got excited and waved her hands about.
"If Aunt Diana was to burn me, or flog me, or drown me, I couldn't say
anything but that I didn't tell a lie!"
"Try and explain," said her uncle gently. "Your aunt has such a horror
of deceit and lying that perhaps she did not give you time to speak."
"I can't tell her. She won't believe me. But oh, Uncle Herbert, I can't
live without Chris. If she sends me away from him, I shall die. I shall
never live to come back. Please don't let her send me away to school."
"I hope that will not be necessary."
Mrs. Keith came up to them.
"Harebell, go into the house. Until you confess your fault you are in
disgrace."
Harebell turned disconsolately away. Colonel Keith said something to
her aunt, which she could not hear, but she heard her aunt's clear cold
voice reply:
"It is her mother over again! I warned her when she came to me. There
is no mistake. She disobeyed, told a lie, and sticks to it. I will not
undertake the charge of her any more. I shall send her to a strict
school, for I will not be responsible for her training."
With despair in her heart, Harebell crept indoors.
The following days were very unhappy ones. She grew very quiet, moped
about the house, lost her appetite, did not sleep at nights, and
got a peaked white look upon her face. But as time passed, she grew
accustomed to her aunt's cold displeasure, and as no more was said,
began to hope that perhaps she would not carry out her threat.
The summer holidays came. The Rectory children went away to the seaside
with their parents.
For over a month, Harebell had not been allowed to ride out on Chris;
but now, owing to her uncle's intercession, she was permitted to begin
her rides again.
Mrs. Keith hardly ever took any notice of her, but at last one day she
called her to her.
"I have made all arrangements about school, and you will go next
Monday. Goody will take you. The school is at Eastbourne."
Harebell looked at her aunt with frightened miserable eyes.
Then her aunt said in a gentler tone:
"You have still four days before you. If you will frankly confess, and
express real sorrow for the lie you told, I may be induced to forgive
you. Your uncle has made me promise that I will."
Harebell's lips quivered, but she said nothing. She knew there was no
hope now. Peter was away, and was not coming home till after Monday.
Unhappy as she was, the thought never crossed her mind that she might
break her promise to Peter.
The four days gradually slipped away.
She watched Goody pack her clothes; Miss Triggs had come round to make
her some new frocks, but she, as well as Andy and Goody, considered
that going to school was nothing so very bad after all. The only
comfort that came to her was hearing from Miss Triggs that Tom was
getting on splendidly; he had signed the pledge and was keeping it.
"He's a first-class workman, Tom is, when he's sober, and we've heard
his master thinks no end of him."
Harebell was nearly desperate when Sunday came, and when she laid her
head on her pillow in the evening a tempting plan came into her head.
This was to get up very early on Monday morning, saddle Chris, and ride
off with him out of reach of all the people who were taking part in
sending her to school.
"I shall go along and get my food in farmhouses where they make nice
hot bread and have cream with their porridge. I have five shillings of
my own, and that will last a long time. I will get lost where no one
can find me. And then Peter will be sorry and confess what he did, and
aunt will be sorry too!"
The more she thought about this the more easy and delightful it seemed
to be.
"Aunt Diana wants to get rid of me, and, if I go away, she'll be glad!"
Then, after a good deal more thinking, she fell asleep.