Girls of the Forest Part 11

"Well, that's exactly what I heard," said Nancy. "Oh, how hot it is! Pen, for goodness' sake run and fetch me a cabbage-leaf to fan my face."

Penelope ran off willingly enough. Nancy turned to the others.

"I sent her off on purpose," she said. "If we can't come to you, you must come to us. We three girls at The Hollies, and my two boy cousins, Tom and Jack, have the most daring, delightful scheme to propose. We want to have a midnight picnic."

"Midnight picnic!" cried Verena. "But we can't possibly come, Nancy."

"My good girl, why not? You know I talked about it last year. We want to have one on a very grand scale; and there are a few friends at Southampton that I would ask to join us. You won't have any expense whatever. I'll stump up for the whole. Father gives me so much money that I have at the present moment over five pounds in the savings-bank. We will light fires in a clearing not far from here, and we will have tea and supper afterwards; and we shall dance--dance by the light of the moon--and I will bring my guitar to make music. Can you imagine anything in all the world more fascinating?"

"Oh, Nancy, it does sound too lovely!" said Briar. "I'd just give the world to go."

"Well, then, you shall come."

"But Aunt Sophy would not hear of it," said Verena.

"Nonsense!" cried Briar; "we must go. It would be such a jolly treat!"

Nancy favored the eight girls with a sharp glance.

"I have heard of that dreadful old body," she said. "Father told me. He said you'd be frumped up like anything, and all the gay life taken out of you. I came over on purpose. I pity you from the very bottom of my heart."

"But, Nancy, you can't think how things are changed," said Pauline. "All our time is occupied. Lessons began to-day. They are going to take hours and hours."

"But these are holiday times," said Nancy. "All the world has a holiday in the middle of the summer."

"That's true enough," said Verena; "but then we had holidays for over a year, and Aunt Sophia says we must begin at once. She is quite right, I'm sure; although of course we scarcely like it. And anyhow, Nancy, she won't allow us to go to a midnight picnic; there's no use thinking about it."

"But suppose you don't ask her. Of course, if she's an old maid she'll refuse. Old maids are the queerest, dumpiest things on the earth. I'm really thankful I'm not bothered with any of them. Oh! here comes Pen.

It's nonsense to have a child like that out of the nursery. We'd best not say anything before her. Verena and Briar, will you walk down to the gate with me? I thought perhaps we might have the picnic in a week. It could be easily managed; you know it could."

"Oh, we must go!" said Pauline.

"I'm going," said Josephine.

But Verena was silent.

"Here's your cabbage-leaf. How red your face looks!" said Penelope.

Nancy turned and gazed at her. She was a bold-looking girl, and by no means pretty. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the leaf angrily from Penelope's hand, saying:

"Oh, my dear, go away! How you do worry, jumping and dancing about! And what a stupid, good-for-nothing leaf you've brought! Fetch me one that's not completely riddled with caterpillar holes."

Penelope's black eyes flashed fire, and her face flushed.

"If I could, I would just," she said.

"If you could you would what?" said Nancy.

"I know--I know! And I'll do it, too."

A provoking smile visited the lips of the child. She danced backwards and forwards in an ecstasy of glee.

"I can punish you all fine," said Penelope; "and I'll do it, too."

She vanished out of sight. Now, it must be admitted that Penelope was not a nice child. She had her good points, for few children are without them; but in addition to being thoroughly untrained, to never having exercised self-control, she had by nature certain peculiarities which the other children had not. It had been from her earliest days her earnest desire to curry favor with those in authority, and yet to act quite as naughtily as any one else when she thought no one was looking. Even when quite a tiny child Penelope was wont to sit as still as a mouse in nurse's presence. If nurse said, "Miss Penelope, you are not to move or you will wake baby," then nurse knew that Penelope would not stir. But if this same child happened to be left with baby, so strong would be her jealousy that she would give the infant a sharp pinch and set it howling, and then run from the room.

These peculiarities continued with her growth. Nurse was fond of her because she was quiet and useful in the nursery, fairly tidy in her habits, and fairly helpful. But even nurse was wont to say, "You never can get at Miss Penelope. You can never see through what is brewing in her mind."

Now, when Aunt Sophia appeared on the scene, Penelope instantly determined to carry out the darling wish of her heart. This was no less than to be removed from the dullness of the nursery to the fascinating life that she supposed the elder children led. To accomplish this she thought it would be only necessary to make a great fuss about Aunt Sophia, to attend to her fads, and to give her numerous little attentions. In short, to show that she, Penelope, cared very much for her new aunt. But Aunt Sophia did not care for Penelope's fusses, and disliked her small attentions. Nevertheless, the small girl persevered, and in the end she did win a triumph, for she was promoted to the schoolroom, with its superior privileges and--alas! alas!--also its undoubted drawbacks. She, who hated lessons, must now try to read; she must also try to write, and must make valiant efforts to spell. Above and beyond all these things, she had to do one yet harder--she had to sit mute as a mouse for a couple of hours daily, with her hands neatly folded in her lap; and by-and-by she had to struggle with her clumsy little fingers to make hideous noises on the cracked old piano. These things were not agreeable to the wild child, and so uncomfortable and restrained had she felt during the first morning's lessons that she almost resolved to humble her pride and return to the nursery. But the thought of her sisters' withering, sarcastic remarks, and of nurse's bitterly cold reception, and nurse's words, "I told you so," being repeated for ever in her ears, was too much for Penelope, and she determined to give a further trial to the schoolroom life. Now it occurred to her that a moment of triumph was before her. In the old days she had secretly adored Nancy King, for Nancy had given her more than one lollypop; but when Nancy asked what the nursery child was doing with the schoolroom folk, and showed that she did not appreciate Penelope's society, the little girl's heart became full of anger.

"I'll tell about her. I'll get her into trouble. I'll get them all into trouble," she thought.

She ran into the shrubbery, and stood there thinking for a time. She was a queer-looking little figure as she stood thus in her short holland overall, her stout bare legs, brown as berries, slightly apart, her head thrown back, her hair awry, a smudge on her cheek, her black eyes twinkling.

"I will do it," she said to herself. "Aunt Sophy shall find out that I am the good one of the family."

Penelope ran wildly across the shrubbery, invaded the kitchen-garden, invaded the yard, and presently invaded the house. She found Miss Sophia sitting by her writing-table. Miss Sophia had a headache; teaching was not her vocation. She had worked harder that day than ever in her life before, and she had a great many letters to write.

It was therefore a very busy and a slightly cross person who turned round and faced Penelope.

"Don't slam the door, Penelope," she said; "and don't run into the room in that breathless sort of way."

"Well, I thought you ought for to know. I done it 'cos of you."

"'I did it because of you,' you should say."

"I did it because of you. I am very fond of you, aunt."

"I hope so; and I trust you will prove your affection by your deeds."

"Bovver deeds!" remarked Penelope.

"What is that you said, my dear?"

"I say, bovver deeds!"

"I confess I do not understand. Run away, now, Penelope; I am busy."

"But you ought for to know. Nancy King has come."

"Who is Nancy King?"

"A girl. She's squatting up close to Renny on the lawn, and her arm is twisted round Pauline's waist. She's big, and dressed awful grand. She has gold bangles on her arms, and tinkling gold things round her neck, and she's here, and I thought course you ought for to know. I thought so 'cos I love you. Aren't you pleased? Aren't I the sort of little girl you could perhaps give a lollypop to?"

"No, you are not, Penelope. I do not wish you to tell tales of your sisters. Go away, my dear; go away."

Penelope, in some wonder, and with a sense of disgust, not only with Nancy King and Miss Tredgold, but also with herself, left the room.

"I won't tell her any more," she thought. "She never seems to like what I do for her. She'd be pretty lonesome if it wasn't for me; but she don't seem to care for anybody. I'll just rush away to nursey this very minute and tell her how I love being a schoolroom girl. I'll tell her I dote on my lessons, and that I never for the big, big, wide world would be a nursery child again."