Twenty yards farther Elma came to a halt, eyes and lips opened wide in
gaping astonishment at the sight of the trespasser.
"Cornelia! You are sitting on the grass."
"That's so! Why shouldn't I, if I've a mind?"
"It's forbidden!"
"Oh, shucks!" cried Cornelia, impatiently. "Who by?"
Elma waved her hand vaguely towards the crescent of houses.
"Everybody--all of them! It's a rule. They all agreed."
"Suppose they did! I guess it would take more than ten old ladies to
prevent me doing what I want. What's the good of grass, anyway, if you
can't enjoy it? It's lovely up here. I'm as cool as an otter. You
look pretty warm after your walk. Step over, and come right here by
me." She patted the ground beside her, and smiled in her most
irresistible fashion. "We'll have the loveliest talk--"
Elma hesitated, fascinated but dismayed.
"I daren't. It's breaking the rules. What would they say?"
"That's what we've got to find out. They can't kill us, anyway, and
we'll have had a good time first. You've got to pay your bills in this
wicked world. Now, then--hustle!"
"I can't!" faltered Elma, and lifted one foot over the wire arch, "I
daren't!" and stepped completely over, lifting her skirt behind her.
The deed was done! A tingle of excitement ran through her veins, she
reared her head and laughed aloud, looking with bright, unashamed eyes
at the curtained windows. The moment of revolt had come; a moment long
desired in the depths of a meek, long-suffering heart, and prepared for
by many a seething inward struggle. Cornelia had applied the match, and
the tow blazed. Elma laughed again, and seated herself beneath the
tree. Cornelia had tossed her hat on the ground and clasped her hands
round her knees in comfortable, inelegant position. Elma did the same,
and the American girl, watching her, was at a loss to account for the
reckless radiance of her smile. The sunshine flickered down between the
branches on the sweet pink and white face, the pansy blue eyes, and long
slender throat; it shone alike on the ill-fitting gown, the clumsy
shoes, the carelessly arranged hair. Cornelia's golden eyes travelled
up and down, down and up, in earnest, scrutinising fashion. She met
Elma's glance with a shake of the head, forbearing, yet reproachful.
"Say! You don't know how to prink, do you?"
"Prink?" Elma was doubtful even as to the meaning of the word. She
arched her brows in inquiry, whereat Cornelia laughed aloud.
"You are real, genuine English! You make me think of roses, and cream,
and honey, and mountain dew, and everything that's sweet and wholesome,
and takes no thought of the morrow. If you lived over with us, we'd fix
you up so your own mother wouldn't know you, and there'd be paragraphs
about you in the papers every single day, saying what you did, and what
you were wearing, and how you looked when you wore it."
"`Miss Elma Ramsden sat on the grass, attired in a blue rag, with
freckles on her nose.'"
"My, no!" Cornelia chuckled. "They spread it pretty thick when they
once begin. You'd have every adjective in the dictionary emptied over
you. `The irresistible Elma,' `Radiant Miss Ramsden,' `The beauteous
English Rose.' Half the time it's only bluff, but with you it would be
a true bill. You _are_ beautiful. Do you know it?"
The pink flush deepened in Elma's delicate face.
"Am I?" she asked wistfully. "Really? Oh, I hope you are right. I
should be so happy if it were true, but--but, I'm afraid it can't be.
No one notices me; no one seems to think I am--nice! I'm only just Elma
Ramsden--not radiant, nor irresistible, nor anything of the kind. Plain
Elma Ramsden, as much a matter of course as the trees in the park.
Since you came here, in one fortnight, you've had more attention than
I've had in the whole course of my life."
"_Attention_?" echoed Cornelia, shrilly, and rolled her eyes to the
firmament. "Attention? You ken sit there and look me in the face, and
talk about the `attention' that's been paid me the last two weeks!
You're crazed! Where does the attention come in, I want to know? I
haven't spoken to a single man since the day I arrived. You don't call
a dozen old ladies clucking round _attention_, do you? Where _are_ all
the young men, anyhow? I have been used to a heap of men's society, and
I'm kind of lost without it. I call attention having half a dozen nice
boys to play about, and do whatever I want. Don't you ever have any
nice young men to take you round?"
Elma's dissent was tinged with shocked surprise, for she had been
educated in the theory that it was unmaidenly to think about the
opposite sex. True, experience had proved that this was an
impossibility, for thoughts took wing and flew where they would, and
dreams grew of themselves--dreams of someone big, and strong, and
tender; someone who would _understand_, and fill the void in one's heart
which ached sometimes, and called for more, more; refusing to be
satisfied with food and raiment. Sometimes the dream took a definite
shape, insisted on the possession of grey eyes and wide square
shoulders, associating itself with the personality of a certain young
squire of racing, bridge-playing tendencies, at whom all Park dwellers
glanced askance, refusing to him the honour of their hospitality!
There remained, however, certain functions at which this outlaw must
annually be encountered; functions when one was thrillingly conscious of
being signalled out for unusual attention. One remembered, for example,
being escorted to eat ices, under the shade of an arbour of crimson
ramblers; of talking with tongues about the weather, and the flowers,
and the music; while grey eyes looked into blue, and said unutterable
things. Oh, the beauty of the sky seen through those rosy branches!
Oh, the glory of the sun! There had never been such a summer day
before. ... Elma trembled at the remembrance, and then blushed at her
own audacity. It was terrible to have to acknowledge such things to
one's inmost heart, but to put them into words--! She pursed her lips,
and looked demurely scandalised by her companion's plain speaking.
"Do you know, Cornelia,"--she had been commanded to use the Christian
name, but it still came with a certain amount of hesitation--"if I were
you I would not talk like that before your aunt. We--we don't do it
over here! It is not considered--nice--for a girl to talk about young
men."
Cornelia smiled slowly. Her beautiful lips curved upwards at the
corner, giving an air of impish mischief to her face. She nodded her
head three times over, and hitched a shoulder under the muslin gown.
"We-ell?" she drawled in her most pronounced accent, "if I've got to
think of 'em, I might as well talk of 'em, and I'm _bound_ to think of
'em!" She relaxed the grasp of her knees, and lay back against the
trunk of a tree, chuckling softly in retrospective triumph. "I've had
such heaps of fun! I just love to carry on, and have half-a-dozen boys
quarrelling over me, and hustling to get the first chance. I've had as
many as ten bouquets before a ball, and I wore an eleventh, which I'd
gotten for myself, and they were all clean crazed to find out who'd sent
it. Poppar says I'll be an old maid yet, but it won't be for want of
asking. There's one young man who's just daft about me--he's young, and
he's lovely, and he's got ten million and a hef dollars, and I've
_tried_ to love him." She sighed despairing. "I've tried hard, but I
_ken't_!"
Elm a struggled between disapproval, curiosity, and a shocking mingling
of something else, which was not, could not possibly be, _envy_ of such
adventures! The lingering doubt served to add severity to her
indictment.
"It's very wicked to flirt!"
Once again Cornelia flashed her impish smile.
"It's vurry nice! I don't see a mite of use in being young if you ken't
have some fun. You grow old fast enough, and then there's nothing else
to it but to sit round and preach. Your mother and Aunt Soph have just
_got_ to preach, but I wouldn't start yet awhile if I were you. You'd
be just the prettiest thing that was ever seen if you knew how to fix
yourself up, but you _don't_, and you seem to me to mope along the whole
blessed time, without a bit of fun to perk you up. Say! don't you feel
a bit tired of it sometimes? Don't you ever have a kind of feeling that
you want to _do_ something for a change?"
"Sometimes! Do I ever!" Elma echoed the words with startling emphasis.
"Always, always! It is here,"--she pressed her hands on her
breast--"stifled up here all the time--a horrible, rebellious longing to
get out; to be free, to do--I don't know what--really I don't--but
something _different_! I've lived in Norton all my life, and hardly
ever been away. Mother hates travelling in winter, and in the summer
she hates to leave the garden, and I'm so strong that I don't need
change. I never went to school like other girls. Mother disapproves of
school influences, so I had governesses instead. It's awful to have a
resident teacher in the house, and be an only pupil; you feel
governessed out of your life. And now I have no friends to visit, or to
visit me, only the Norton girls, for whom I don't care. It seems
ungrateful when I have so much to be thankful for, but I feel _pent_!
Sometimes I get such a wicked feeling that I just long to snap and snarl
at everybody. I'm ashamed all the time, and can _see_ how horrid I am,
but--"
She broke off, sighing deeply, and Cornelia crouched forward, clasping
her knees as before, and bending her chin to meet them, her eyes ashine
with eagerness and curiosity.
"Yes, I know; I've been there myself. I was there this morning after
just two weeks. I don't begin to have your endoorance, my dear, but you
take a straight tip from me. When you feel the symptoms coming on,
don't you go trying to be sweet and forbearing, and bottling up all the
froth; it's not a mite of use, for it's bound to rise to the top, and
keeping don't improve it. Just let yourself go, and be right-down ugly
to _somebody_--anyone will do, the first that comes handy--and you'll
feel a heap better!" She sighed, and turned a roguish glance towards
the shrouded windows of The Nook. "I was ugly to Aunt Soph before I
came out!"
Already Elma had mastered the subtleties of Americanese sufficiently to
understand that the terms "lovely" and "ugly" had no bearing on outward
appearance, but were descriptive of character only. Her eyes widened,
partly in horrified surprise at listening to a doctrine so diametrically
opposed to everything which she had previously heard, and partly in
pure, unadulterated curiosity to know the cause of the rebellion.
"To Miss Briskett? Oh, how had you the courage? I should never have
_dared_. What was it about?"
"Teas!" replied Cornelia, shortly. "I've attended tea-parties regularly
for the last ten days, and met the same people every single time, and
now I've struck. I've had about enough teas to last the rest of my
natural life, but Aunt Soph seemed to think I was bound to go wherever I
was asked. Two more old ladies sent invitations to-day."
"I know--at lunch-time. We got ours, too. You can't refuse, Cornelia,
if you haven't another engagement."
"Can't I just? You bet I can. Besides, what's to hinder having an
engagement if I want to? Say! let's fix one up right here. I'd be
delighted to have you come a drive with me to show me the country,
Thursday afternoon at a quarter after four. We could hire something, I
suppose, to drive in, and find a place to have tea on the way. We'd
have a high old talk, and you'd enjoy it a heap more than the tea-
party."
"Oh, I know that, but I don't know if I ought,--Mrs Nevins' invitation
came first."
"Shucks!" cried Cornelia, "you've got too much conscience--that's what's
the matter with you. You'll never have much of a time in this world if
you don't take the pick of a choice. What's two hours, anyway? You go
right home, and write nice and pretty to say you're real sorry you've
got another engagement. Your mother can trot along with Aunt Soph.
They'll enjoy themselves a heap better sitting round without us, talking
over the perversities of the young. They were all tame angels when they
were girls, and never did anything they ought not to have done. My!"
She twisted her saucy nose, and rolled her eyes heavenwards. "I'm
thankful I struck a livelier time! As for you, Elma Ramsden, you're
going to be equal to any one of them, if nothing happens to shake you
up. I guess it's my mission to do the shaking, so we'll start fair from
now on. You're engaged to me Thursday afternoon. D'you understand? I
guess we'd better go home and break the news before the answers are
written."
She rose to her feet, and Elma followed her example, shaking her skirts
and fastening on the shady mushroom hat. No further protestations rose
to her lips, so it might be taken for granted that silence gave consent,
but half-way down the path she spoke again, in tentative, hesitating
fashion.
"I don't mind about Mrs Nevins. She is rich and strong, and enjoys her
life; but Miss Nesbitt is different. She's an old maid, and poor. She
belongs to a good family, so she is asked out with the rest, but she
hardly ever gives a tea--not once in a year. It will be a great event
to her; she'll be beginning to make preparations even now; baking cakes,
and cleaning the silver, and taking off the covers of the drawing-room
chairs. It is all in your honour. She'll be disappointed if you don't
go."
Cornelia turned upon her with a flash of reproof. "Why couldn't you
tell me that before, I want to know? Pretty mean I should have felt,
backing out of a thing like that! I wouldn't disappoint the old dear
for a fortune. Is it the one with the flat hair, and the little
ringlets dangling at the sides? They are too 'cute for anything, those
ringlets. Yes! I guessed she was the one, for I noticed her clothes
looked all used up. Don't you worry! I'll take tea with Miss Nesbitt
as often as she wants, and behave so pretty you'll admire to see me.
That's an olive branch to carry in to Aunt Soph--eh? I reckon she'll be
pretty dusty."
"I reckon she will." Elma glanced with a half-fearful smile at her
companion's unruffled face. "I wouldn't be in your shoes for a hundred
pounds. Miss Briskett is formidable enough when she is pleased; but
when she is angry--! Cornelia, aren't you frightened?"
Cornelia's joyous peal of laughter floated away on the air, and caught
the ears of the industrious Morris, who was sweeping the path a hundred
yards away. He turned to lean on his brush and stare, while Elma
glanced nervously at the curtained windows.
"I never was scared in my life that I know of, and I'm not going to
begin with my very own aunt. I rather like a fizzle now and then--it
freshens one up. Don't you worry about me! I'm quite able to stand up
for myself."
She pushed open the gate of The Nook as she spoke and sauntered up the
path; laughing, bareheaded, radiantly unashamed. Miss Briskett beheld
her approach from her seat in the corner of the drawing-room, and two
spots of colour shone dully on her thin cheek bones. The hands which
held her knitting trembled with indignation, and her eyes welcomed the
culprit with a steely flash.
"Cornelia, are you aware that you are forbidden to trespass on the grass
of this park?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You are also aware, I presume, that to wander alone bareheaded is not
the habit of young ladies in this neighbourhood, and that it is
intensely annoying to me that you should do so?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You _do_ know! You are not ashamed to acknowledge it! Then may I
inquire why you have deliberately chosen to do what you know to be
wrong?"
Cornelia drew up a comfortable chair and seated herself by her aunt's
side, arranging her draperies with a succession of little pulls and
pats. She rested one elbow on the arm of the chair, and leant her chin
upon the upraised palm, a pretty, thoughtful-looking pose into which she
fell naturally in leisure moments. The cat blinked at her through
sleepy eyelids, then, deliberately ignoring the devotion of years, rose
from its place by its mistress's side, stretched itself with feline
grace, and stalked majestically across the rug to nestle against the
soft white skirts. Miss Briskett eyed its desertion over the brim of
her spectacles. Poor lady! her measure of love received was so small,
that she felt a distinct pang at the defection.
"What explanation have you to offer, Cornelia? You knew that you would
annoy me?"
"Why, yes, of course. That's all there was to it! It didn't thrill me
a mite to walk over a strip of lawn, without figging up in my best duds.
I can do that any day I want at home, but I just _had_ to raise Cain
somehow! It's the only way I ken pull round again when I get mad. I
just go right away and do the ugliest thing I can strike, and then I
feel all soothed, and calmed down. You try it yourself, next time; it
beats knitting stockings all into fits! I'm just as sweet as candy now,
so you've got to forgive me, and be friends. I'm sorry I acted so mean,
but you were pretty nippy yourself, weren't you now? I guess we've both
been used to take our own way without any fluster, and it comes pretty
hard to be crossed, but now we've had our fling, we've got to kiss and
make friends. That's so; isn't it?"
She bent forward, pouting her lips to receive the token of peace, but
Miss Briskett drew back in chilly dignity. For the past hour she had
nourished a smouldering resentment, feeling herself the most ill-used of
womenkind, and this calm inclusion of herself in the list of wrong-doers
did not tend to pour oil on the troubled waters. For Cornelia to
acknowledge her deliberate intention to offend, and in the same breath
to offer a kiss of reconciliation, showed a reprehensible lack of proper
feeling. Miss Briskett was a woman of high principles, and made a point
of forgiving her enemies--slowly! As a preliminary process she demanded
an abject apology, and a period of waiting, during which the culprit was
expected to be devoured by remorse and anxiety. Then, bending from an
impeccable height, she vouchsafed a mitigated pardon. "I forgive you,
but I can never forget!" Some such absolution she would have been ready
to bestow upon a tearful and dejected Cornelia, but the pink and white
complaisance of the uplifted face steeled her heart afresh. She shrank
back in her chair, ignoring the outstretched hand.
"Excuse me, my dear, but I do not care to kiss a person who has just
acknowledged that she has deliberately tried to annoy me. I was
naturally displeased at your rejection of my friend's hospitality, but
it is exceedingly impertinent to compare my behaviour to your own. You
seem to forget that I am your hostess, and nearly three times your age."
"Then you ought to be three times better, oughtn't you?" retorted
Cornelia, blandly. "Well, I'll own up that I'm sorry about Miss
Nesbitt, and I'll be pleased to take tea with her as often as she likes,
but I regret that a previous engagement prevents my going Thursday also.
You tell the old lady from me that I'm real sorry to miss the treat,
and if it will ease her mind any to know that I don't think England's a
patch on America, she's welcome to the information. Elma Ramsden and I
have fixed up a drive to see the country, Thursday afternoon."
Miss Briskett's knitting-needles clinked irritably together. A half
concession was little better than none, and the frivolous tone of
Cornelia's remarks spoke of something far removed from the ideal
repentance. Apart from the question of the tea-party, she disapproved
of two young girls driving about the country unattended, but her courage
shrank from the thought of another battle. She dropped her eyelids, and
replied icily--
"As you have already made your arrangements it is useless for me to
offer any objections. You are evidently determined to take your own way
in spite of anything I can say. I can only trust that no harm may come
of the experiment."