AFTER THE BIRTHDAY.
The usual effects of a holiday were visible the next morning. The
children were all a little tired and out of sorts. It was difficult
for the schoolroom party to get into harness again, and even Eric and
the nursery children were somewhat captious and discontented.
"Father's birthday is the farthest off of all now," said little Molly,
the five-year-old darling. "There's no birthday like father's, and
it's the farthest off of all. I'm dreadful sorry."
"Oh, shut up," said Eric. "Who wants to hear that dismal dirge."
"Molly says that about the birthdays always the next morning,"
volunteered Dick, who was a year older, and who wanted to curry favor
with Eric by agreeing with him. "Molly _is_ a silly, isn't she?" he
added, fixing his big blue eyes admiringly on his brother.
"You're a greater," snapped Eric. "Who cried yesterday when the ant
stung him, and who would eat too much plumcake?"
Dick looked inclined to cry again, and Molly laughed maliciously.
Altogether the atmosphere was charged with electricity, and the
entrance of Ermengarde, her face considerably disfigured with the scar
she had received when she fell the night before, was hailed with
naughty delight by the children.
A torrent of questions assailed her. Had she fought with Marjorie in
the night, and had Marjorie come off victorious? Oh, brave Marjorie,
to dare to assail the acknowledged beauty of the family! What _had_
happened to Ermie? Surely she had not inflicted the wound on herself?
Basil was seated in his usual place near the head of the table. He had
scarcely heard the little scrimmage of words which was going on on all
sides. Basil was in a brown study, and, as Eric expressed it, as cross
as a bear with a sore head.
When Ermengarde entered the room, he glanced at her for a second; but
contrary to his wont, he took no notice when the children began to
laugh and gibe.
Ermengarde's place beside Basil was empty. She seated herself, and as
the children continued to make remarks and to laugh, turned her head
impatiently away. Their quips affected her in reality only as
pin-pricks, but she was very much afraid that Miss Nelson would
notice the disfiguring cut on her brow.
"Do be quiet, children," said Marjorie. "Eric, can't you see that
Ermie has a headache? Can't you keep them from making so much noise,
Eric?"
"Quiet then, young 'uns," said Eric. "Can't you see that the Prime
Minister of her Royal Highness has uttered a mandate?"
The children laughed noisily, and at that moment Miss Nelson, who had
been absorbed over the contents of a particularly interesting letter,
raised her head with a start.
"Gently, little ones! What is all this noise about?" she said. "Molly
and Dick, you must have breakfast with nurse, if you can't behave
better in the schoolroom. Good-morning, Ermengarde, my dear. I am
sorry I shall be obliged to give you a bad mark for being late at
breakfast. Why, my dear child," changing her note to one of concern,
"what has happened to you? You have got quite an ugly scar your
forehead. How did you get it?"
"I fell," said Ermengarde, in a low voice.
"You fell--where?"
Ermengarde felt that Basil had ceased to use his knife and fork, while
he listened for her reply. She seized a cup of scalding tea, and
choked over its contents.
"Where did you fall my dear?" asked the governess kindly.
"Please, ma'am, Ermengarde and Maggie had a stand-up fight in the
middle of the night," interrupted Eric. "Oh, my stars!" he added,
_sotto voce_, "if fight and night ain't a rhyme made unbeknown. Now I
can wish."
"Shut up!" growled Basil.
"Eric, be quiet," said the governess.
She turned again to Ermengarde. Her manner was very gentle.
"Where did you fall, dear?" she said, "You have given yourself a very
nasty cut, and should have come to me for some dressing for it. But
where did it happen, my love?"
"In the park," said Ermengarde, in a low voice. "I fell over a bramble
and cut myself."
"I never saw you fall, Ermie," said Marjorie. "Was it when we all had
that race, just when the fireworks were over? How brave of you not to
make a fuss! it must have been then."
"You don't look well, dear," continued the governess. "Your eyes have
red rings round them, and you are paler than such a healthy little
girl ought to be. Have you a headache?"
"Yes," confessed Ermengarde. She could at least be truthful here, for
her head ached considerably.
"You shall have some of my eau de Cologne to use if you like,
darling," whispered Marjorie.
"Now, children," said Miss Nelson, rising from the breakfast-table,
and making one of those prim little speeches which Ermengarde
detested, "having had our day of pleasure, we will return with greater
zest to our usual employments. Little ones, go quietly up to nurse. No
noise, please. Leave the breakfast-room hand in hand. Boys, I must
request of you not to disturb your sisters with any hammering or noisy
carpentering this morning."
"Please, are the ferrets far enough away for me to have a quiet little
game with them?" asked Eric meekly. He pulled his forelock as he
spoke, and put on the air of a charity-schoolboy.
Miss Nelson favored him with the shadow of a smile, and continued;
"Ermengarde, Marjorie, and Lucy, we will meet in the schoolroom for
our usual morning work in half an hour. Ah, what is the matter,
George?"
The old butler had entered unobserved.
"If you please, ma'am," he said in his most respectful tones, "my
master's compliments, and he would be obliged if you and Miss Wilton
would come to him for a few minutes to the study before you begins the
morning work."
"Certainly, George. Tell Mr. Wilton we will be with him in a minute or
two."
The governess flushed up a little at this unexpected summons, but the
color which came into her faded cheeks was nothing at all to the
brilliant red which suffused Ermengarde's face. She darted an angry
inquiring look at Basil, who for the first time met her glance with a
proud cold gaze. He turned on his heel, and leisurely left the room,
the other children following his example.
"Come, Ermie, we may as well see what your father wants with us," said
Miss Nelson cheerfully. "My love, I am sorry you have a headache, and
that you fell that time without letting anyone know."
"Please, I would much rather not go to father to the study," said
Ermengarde, backing a pace or two. She looked really frightened.
"You think your father will be vexed about that cut on your brow,
dear? But I can explain that. You have really been brave, not to make
a fuss, nor to spoil the pleasure of the other children. Come, my
dear, we must not keep your father waiting."
Miss Nelson took Ermengarde's hand; it lay cold and irresponsive in
her clasp. They left the breakfast-room together, and a moment later
were in Mr. Wilton's presence.
The father who was the heart and soul of the birthday, who was
everybody's playmate, and hail-fellow-well-met even with the youngest
of his children, was a totally different person from Mr. Wilton, owner
of Wilton Chase, and the master, not only of his extensive property,
but of poor timid Miss Nelson and of wondering Ermengarde. Mr. Wilton
could be the jolliest of companions if he pleased, but he also could
be stern, with a severity which Basil inherited. At such times his
face was scarcely prepossessing. He came of a proud race, and pride,
mixed with an almost overbearing haughtiness of manner, made him a
person to be dreaded at such moments.
As soon as Miss Nelson and Ermengarde entered the study, they saw that
Mr. Wilton had put on the manner which made him to be feared. Miss
Nelson, who had thawed under the genial sunshine of the day before,
now froze, and her speech instantly became broken, nervous, and ill at
ease. Ermengarde frowned, turned her head away, and got that blank
look over her face which always made her such a difficult child to
deal with.
"Good-morning, Miss Nelson," said Mr. Wilton, "I have sent for you and
Ermengarde together, in order that I may ask for an explanation. I did
not moot the question yesterday, although the circumstance which
aroused my displeasure occurred the day before. Pray take this chair,
Miss Nelson."
Mr. Wilton did not offer Ermengarde any seat. Beyond a brief glance,
he did not look at her. The little girl stood silent by her
governess's side. Whatever was coming she owned now to a sense of
relief. Her father was alluding to something which had occurred the
day before yesterday. Basil had therefore not betrayed her--the worst
was not known. She roused herself from a brief revery to hear her
father speaking.
"Some time ago, Miss Nelson, I made a request to you, and I gave
Ermengarde a very strict command. I find that my command has been
defied by Ermengarde, and I wish to know if there has been any
negligence on your part."
"My dear sir, to what do you allude?" asked Miss Nelson.
"To something which you cannot have forgotten, for I spoke seriously
to you on the subject. I said that Ermengarde was to hold no
intercourse with a little girl called Susan Collins. I had my reasons
for this, quite independent of the fact that the child belongs to a
lower class of life. I know that she is the daughter of a vain and
silly mother, and, even if she were her equal by birth, would be the
worst possible companion for Ermengarde. Did I not make my wishes on
this point very plain to you. Miss Nelson?"
Miss Nelson rose from her seat.
"Certainly, my dear sir; most certainly," she said; "and I--I agree
with you. I more than agree with you. Susan is not a companion for
Ermengarde. I have been careful about your wishes, Mr. Wilton; I
respect them, and my own fully coincide with them. I only--I only gave
Ermengarde permission to go to Susan for five minutes yesterday
because the child was feverish and badly hurt after her accident."
"Her accident! Yes, poor little girl, I have heard of that; but I was
not alluding to yesterday, nor to anything that occurred then. Please
sit down again, Miss Nelson; I see you are not to blame. Ermengarde,
come here. Who were you walking with the day before yesterday, between
eleven and twelve o'clock, in the Nightingale Grove?"
Ermengarde's face turned first white and then crimson. Her eyes sought
the ground. She bit her lips and clasped her hands nervously.
"Answer me at once," said Mr. Wilton, in his sternest voice.
The little girl made an effort to speak. Suddenly she did a thing
which astonished both her father and the governess. She flew to Miss
Nelson's side, and clasped her arms round her neck.
"Do tell him not to be angry with me! I'm so awfully miserable," she
sobbed.
"Tell your kind father the truth, my dear. Speak up; be brave,"
whispered the governess back, touched in spite of herself by any token
of softness from Ermie.
Ermengarde gulped down her sobs. She raised her head, and spoke with a
violent effort.
"I was with Susan Collins in the Nightingale Grove," she said.
"Contrary to my express command?" queried Mr. Wilton.
"Yes, father."
"Is this the only time you have held forbidden intercourse with this
little girl, Ermengarde?"
"No, father. I saw her once or twice before."
"Since I told you not?"
"Yes."
"Did Miss Nelson ever know of this?"
"No, she never knew."
"Don't you think you are very naughty and disobedient; that you have
acted disgracefully?"
The sulky look came over Ermengarde's face.
"There is no harm in Susy," she said.
Mr. Wilton stamped his foot.
"That is not the point," he said. "Is there no harm in you? can you
disobey me with impunity, and cast your father's sternest commands to
nought? Ermengarde, I am stung by this. You have hurt me deeply."
Again Ermengarde saw Basil in her father's face. She was frightened
and tired, and burst out sobbing afresh.
"I won't go with Susy any more," she said. "And I--I'm sorry--I'm
really sorry."
Miss Nelson put her hand affectionately on her pupil's shoulder.
"I need not say, sir," she said, turning to Mr. Wilton, "how shocked I
am at all this, and at--at Ermengarde's willful disobedience; but,"
here she paused, and pressed her hand a little firmer upon the weeping
girl's shoulder, "if it is any use, and because I was their mother's
friend, I, too, would like to add my promise to Ermengarde's, and
assure you that this shall never occur again."
Mr. Wilton glanced round impatiently at the clock.
"Thank you, Miss Nelson," he said. "I believe you, of course; and I am
sure that you will now have your eyes opened, and will probably take
steps to insure my desires being carried into effect. As to
Ermengarde, I will believe her promises when she has proved them to be
worth anything. She is the first Wilton I ever heard of who stooped to
deceit. In the meantime I feel it is my duty to punish you,
Ermengarde. This morning I had a letter from the Russells--Lily
Russell's father and mother. They have asked me to come to them for a
week, and to bring two of you with me. I intended to take you and
Basil. Now I shall take Marjorie and Basil. Perhaps, when you are
having a dull time at home, you will reflect that it is not always
worth while to disobey your father. You can go back to your lessons
now."