Girls of the Forest Part 12

"Queer little child, Penelope," thought Miss Tredgold when her small niece had left her.

She sat with her pen suspended, lost in thought.

"Very queer child," she soliloquized; "not the least like the others. I can't say that I specially care for her. At present I am not in love with any of my nieces; but of all of them, Penelope is the child I like the least. She tells tales; she tries to curry favor with me. Is she truthful? Is she sincere? I have a terrible fear within me that occasions may arise when Penelope would prove deceitful. There! what am I saying? A motherless child--my own niece--surely I ought to love her. Yes, I do love her. I will try to love them all. What did she say about a girl sitting on the lawn with my girls? It is nice to talk of the Dales as my girls; it gives me a sort of family feeling, just as though I were not an old maid. I wonder what friends my girls have made for themselves round here. Nancy King. I don't know any people of the name of King who live about here. If Henry were any one else he would probably be able to tell me. I will go and see the girl for myself."

Miss Tredgold left the room. She had a very stately walk. The girls always spoke of her movements as "sailing." Miss Tredgold now sailed across the lawn, and in the same dignified fashion came up to the secluded nook where the girls, with Nancy King in their midst, were enjoying themselves. They were all talking eagerly. Nancy King was seated almost in the center of the group; the other girls were bending towards her. As Miss Tredgold appeared in view Josephine was exclaiming in her high-pitched, girlish voice:

"Oh, I say, Nancy! What screaming fun!"

When Josephine spoke Lucy clapped her hands, Helen laughed, Verena looked puzzled, and Pauline's expression seemed to say she longed for something very badly indeed.

"My dears, what are you all doing?" suddenly cried Aunt Sophia.

She had come up quietly, and they had none of them heard her. It was just as if a pistol had gone off in their ears. The whole nine jumped to their feet. Nancy's red face became redder. She pushed her gaily trimmed hat forward over her heated brows. She had an instinctive feeling that she had never before seen any one so dignified and magnificent as Miss Sophia Tredgold. She knew that this was the case, although Miss Sophia's dress was almost dowdy, and the little brown slipper which peeped out from under the folds of her gray dress was decidedly the worse for wear. Nancy felt at the same time the greatest admiration for Miss Tredgold, the greatest dislike to her, and the greatest terror of her.

"Aunt Sophia," said Verena, who could be a lady if she chose, "may I introduce our special friend----"

"And crony," interrupted Nancy.

"Our special friend, Nancy King," repeated Verena. "We have known her all our lives, Aunt Sophia."

"How do you do, Miss King?" said Miss Tredgold.

She favored "the young person," as she termed Miss King, with a very distant bow.

"Girls," she said, turning to the others, "are you aware that preparation hour has arrived? Will you all go quietly indoors?--Miss King, my nieces are beginning their studies in earnest, and I do not allow the hour of preparation to be interfered with by any one."

"I know all about that," said Nancy in a glib voice. "I was at a first-rate school myself for years. Weren't we kept strict, just! My word! we couldn't call our noses our own. The only language was _parlez-vous_. But it was a select school--very; and now that I have left, I like to feel that I am accomplished. None of you girls can beat me on the piano. I know nearly all the girls' songs in _San Toy_ and the _Belle of New York_. Father loves to hear me when I sing 'Rhoda PaG.o.da.'

Perhaps, Miss Tredgold, you'd like to hear me play on the pianoforte. I dote on dance music; don't you, Miss Tredgold? Dance music is so lively; it warms the c.o.c.kles of the heart--don't it, Miss Tredgold?"

"I don't dance, so it is impossible for me to answer," said Miss Tredgold. "I am sorry, Miss King, to disturb a pleasant meeting, but my girls are under discipline, and the hour for preparation has arrived."

Nancy shrugged her capacious shoulders.

"I suppose that means _conge_ for poor Nancy King," she said. "Very sorry, I'm sure. Good-day, madam.--Good-bye, Renny. I'll look you up another day.--Good-bye to all. I'm off to have a bit of fun with my boy cousins."

Nancy swung round and left the group. She walked awkwardly, switching her shoulders and swaying from side to side, a dirty train trailing after her.

"May I ask who your friend really is?" said Miss Tredgold when she had watched the departure of this most undesirable acquaintance.

"She is Nancy King, Aunt Sophia. We have known her all our lives," said Verena.

"My dear Verena, I have heard that statement before. Nevertheless, the fact that you have known that young person since you were little children does not reply to my question. Who is she? Where does she come from? Who is her father? I don't remember to have heard of any gentlefolks of the name of King residing in this part of the New Forest."

"She is not gentlefolk," said Pauline.

Pauline came a step nearer as she spoke. Her eyes were bright, and there was a red spot on each cheek.

"But although she is not born a lady, she is our friend," she continued.

"She is the daughter of Farmer King, who keeps a very jolly house; and they have plenty of money. We have often and often been at The Hollies."

"Oh! we get delicious apples there," interposed Adelaide; "the juiciest you ever tasted--the cherry-and-brandy sort."

"I have never heard of that special apple, and I dislike its name," said Miss Sophia.--"Now come into the house, all of you."

She did not question them further. She walked on in front.

"I can't stand too much of this," whispered Briar to Verena.

But Verena said "Hush!" and clasped Briar's little hand as it lay on her arm.

They entered the house and proceeded to the pleasant schoolroom.

"It is now four o'clock," said Miss Tredgold. "At five tea is served. As the evening is so fine, I have ordered it to be laid under the cedar-tree on the lawn. For the next hour I expect close attention to lessons. I shall not stay in the room, but you, Verena, are monitress during my absence. Please understand that I expect honor. Honor requires that you should study, and that you should be silent. Here are your books. Prepare the lessons I shall require you to know to-morrow morning. Those girls who have not made due preparation will enter into Punishment Land."

"What in the world is that?" burst from the lips of the irrepressible Briar.

"Don't ask me," answered Miss Tredgold. "I hope you may never have a personal acquaintance with that gloomy country. Now farewell. For an hour fix your attention on your tasks; and adieu."

Never before had the Dale girls found themselves in such a quandary. For a whole long hour they were prohibited by a code of honor from speaking.

They were all just bursting with desire to launch forth in a fiery torrent, but they must none of them utter a single word. Verena, as monitress, could not encourage rebellion. There are some things that even untrained girls, provided they are ladies, understand by intuition. The Dales were ladies by birth. Their home had belonged to their father's family for generations. There was a time in the past when to be a Dale of The Dales meant to be rich, honored, and respected. But, alas! the Dales, like many other old families, had gone under. Money had failed; purses had become empty; lands had been sold; the house had dwindled down to its present shabby dimensions; and if Miss Tredgold had not appeared on the scene, there would have been little chance of Mr. Dale's ten daughters ever taking the position to which their birth ent.i.tled them. But there are some things which an ancient race confers. _n.o.blesse oblige_, for one thing. These girls were naughty, rebellious, and angry; their hearts were very sore; their silken chains seemed at this moment to a.s.sume the strength of iron fetters; but during the hour that was before them they would not disobey Miss Tredgold. Accordingly their dreary books were opened. Oh, how ugly and dull they looked!

"What does it matter whether a girl knows how to spell, and what happened long, long ago in the history-books?" thought Briar.

"Aunt Sophia was downright horrid about poor Nancy," was Pauline's angry thought. "Oh! must I really work out these odious sums, when I am thinking all the time of poor Nancy?"

"I shall never keep my head if this sort of thing goes on for long,"

thought Verena as she bent over her page of English history. "Oh, dear!

that midnight picnic, and Nancy's face, and the dancing in the glades of the Forest. It would have been fun. If there is one thing more than another that I love, it is dancing. I think I could dance for ever."

Verena could not keep her pretty little feet still. They moved restlessly under her chair. Pauline saw the movement, and a wave of sympathy flashed between the sisters. Pauline's eyes spoke volumes as they encountered the soft brown ones of pretty Verena.

But an hour--even the longest--is quickly over. Five o'clock struck, and quick to the minute each girl sprang to her feet. Books were put away, and they all streamed out into the open air. Now they could talk as much as they liked. How their tongues wagged! They flew at each other in their delight and embraced violently. Never before, too, had they been so hungry for tea; and certainly never before had they seen such a delightful and tempting meal as that which was now laid for them on the lawn. The new parlor-maid had brought it out and placed it on various little tables. A silver teapot reposed on a silver tray; the cups and saucers were of fine china; the teaspoons were old, thin, and bright as a looking-gla.s.s. The table-linen was also snowy white; but what the girls far more appreciated were the piles of fruit, the quant.i.ties of cakes, the stacks of sandwiches, and the great plates of bread-and-b.u.t.ter that waited for them on the festive board.

"Well!" said Briar. "Did you ever? It looks just like a party, or a birthday treat, or something of that sort. I will say there are some nice things about Aunt Sophia. This is certainly better than squatting on the ground with a basket of gooseberries and a hunch of bread."

"I liked the gooseberries," said Pauline, "but, as you say, Briar, this is nice. Ah! here comes the aunt."

Miss Tredgold sailed into view. She took her seat opposite the hissing urn and began to pour out cups of tea.

"For a week," she said, "I take this place. At the end of that time Verena occupies my throne."

"Oh, I couldn't!" said Verena.

"Why in the world not, Renny? You aren't quite a goose."

"Don't use those expressions, Pauline; they are distinctly vulgar," said Miss Tredgold.