Girls of the Forest Part 13

"Bother!" said Pauline.

She frowned, and the thought of the gooseberries and the hard crusts that used to const.i.tute tea on many days when there was no Aunt Sophia came back to her with a sense of longing and appreciation of the golden past.

Nevertheless the girls were hungry, and the tea was excellent; and when Miss Tredgold had seen that each plate was piled with good things, and that every girl had her cup of tea made exactly as she liked it, she began to speak.

"You know little or nothing of the world, my dear girls, so during tea I intend to give you some pleasant information. I attended a tea-party last year in a house not far from London. You would like to hear all about it, would you not?"

"If you are sure it is not lessons," said Briar.

"It is not lessons in the ordinary acception of the word. Now listen.

This garden to which I went led down to the Thames. It was the property of a very great friend of mine, and she had invited what I might call a select company. Now will you all listen, and I will tell you how things were done?"

Miss Tredgold then proceeded to tell her story. No one could tell a story better. She made her narrative quite absorbing. For these girls, who had never known anything of life, she drew so vivid and fascinating a picture that they almost wished to be present at such a scene as she described.

She spoke of the girls of the London world in their pretty dresses, and the matrons in their richer garments; of the men who moved about with polite deference. She spoke of the summer air, the beautiful appearance of the river, the charming punts and boats which disported themselves on the bosom of the waters.

"It must have been pretty; but rather stiff, wasn't it?" said Verena.

"To you, my dear, it would have been stiff, for you are not yet accustomed to self-restraint, but to those who belong to that world it was nothing short of enchantment."

"But you were in fetters," said Pauline; "and I should hate fetters however jolly they looked."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, you know you are putting them on us."

"Hush, Paulie!" said Verena.

"You are, Aunt Sophy; and you can't be angry with me if I speak. I can't imagine any one getting accustomed to fetters; it is quite beyond me."

She shrugged her shoulders, and looked with her downright face full at Miss Tredgold.

"Never mind," said that lady after a pause. "I can't expect you to understand everything all at once; but my description of a real bit of the world can do you no harm. The world has its good points; you will find that out presently. Perhaps you may not like it, but some people do.

In your case there is no saying. To-morrow I will tell you another story, but it shall be of the graver and sadder side of life. That story will also introduce the n.o.bler side of life. But now the time has come for me to ask you a question, and I expect an answer. The time has come for me to ask a very straight question.--Verena, you are the eldest; I shall speak to you."

"Yes?" said Verena.

She felt herself coloring. She said afterwards she knew exactly what was coming. Pauline must have known also, for she pinched Verena's arm.

"Yes?" repeated the young girl.

"You are surprised at the story I have just related to you," continued Miss Tredgold. "You think that the courtly grace, the sweet refinement, the elegant manners, the words that speak of due knowledge of life and men and women, represent a state of fetterdom; but you must also have felt their charm."

"To a certain extent," said Verena slowly, "what you have said excited me."

"You feel it possible that, under certain circ.u.mstances, you, too, could belong to such a group?"

"Perhaps," said Verena.

"There is not a doubt of it, my dear. A few years' training, a little of that discipline which you call fetters, pretty manners, and suitable dress would make you quite the sort of girl who would appear amongst my cultivated friends in the garden by the River Thames. But now for my question: Could your friend, Nancy King, ever figure in such an a.s.sembly?"

"It would not perhaps be her world," said Verena.

"You have answered me. Now I am going to say something that may annoy you; nevertheless I must say it. Your acquaintanceship with that girl as a friend must cease, and absolutely. She is not your equal. You are not to know her as a friend. If you meet her, there is no reason why you should not be civil, but civility and friendship are different things. If the time comes when she is in need or in trouble, I should be deeply sorry to think you would not help her, but as a friend she is to cease to exist for you. This is my firm command to all of you girls. There are to be no two voices on the subject. You may not agree with me now, and you may think me hard, but I insist on having my own way. You cease to know Nancy King as a friend. I shall myself write to that young person and forbid her to visit here. I will try not to hurt her; but there are certain distinctions of cla.s.s which I for one must insist upon preserving. She is not a lady, she was not born a lady, and she never can be a lady; therefore, my dear nieces, you are not to know her."

CHAPTER VIII.

MUSIC HATH CHARMS.

The girls were tired when they went to bed. The life of routine had fatigued them; although, of course, it would soon cease to do so.

Notwithstanding, therefore, Miss Tredgold's startling announcement with regard to Nancy King, they slept soundly; and the next morning when nine o'clock struck they all appeared in the schoolroom, their persons neat, their hair carefully brushed, and each pair of eyes beaming with intelligence. Even Penelope looked her very best in a clean brown holland frock, and she went quite creditably through her alphabet, and did not squiggle her pot-hooks quite as much as she had done on the previous day.

Miss Tredgold was in an excellent humor. She praised the girls, told them she was much pleased with their performances, and said further that, if only they would meet her half-way by being attentive and intelligent and earnest in their work, she on her part would do all in her power to make lessons agreeable; she would teach them in a way which would be sure to arouse their interest, and she would vary the work with play, and give them as gay a time as the bright weather and their own happy hearts would permit.

The girls felt quite cheerful; they even began to whisper one to another that Aunt Sophia was developing more and more good points as days went on.

On that afternoon a great excitement was in store, for a beautiful new piano was to arrive from Broadwood's, and Aunt Sophia announced that she meant to play on it for the benefit of the entire household that evening.

"For, my dears," said that good lady, "I have forgotten neither my playing nor my singing. I will sing you old-fashioned songs to-night, and I quite hope that I may lure your father from his retirement. There was a time when he was musical--very musical."

"The dad musical!" cried Briar. "Aunt Sophia, what do you mean?"

"It is true, Rose. In the days long ago, when your mother and he and I spent happy times together, he played his violin better than any other amateur that I happen to know."

"There is an old violin in one of the attics," said Verena. "We have never touched it. It is in a case all covered with dust."

"His Stradivarius," murmured Miss Tredgold. "Oh dear! How are the mighty fallen! My dears, you had better say no more to me about that or I shall lose my temper."

The girls could not imagine why Miss Tredgold's eyes grew full of a certain mistiness and her cheeks were very pink with color. The next moment she looked full at her nieces.

"When your mother died she took a great deal away with her," she said.

"What would you have done, poor children! if I had not been able to come to the rescue? It does seem almost impossible that your father, my brother-in-law, has forgotten to play on his Stradivarius."

"Well, aren't you glad you comed?" said Penelope, marching up and standing before the good lady. "Don't you like to feel you are so useful, the grand piano coming, and all the rest? Then you has us under your thumb. Don't you like that?"

"I don't understand you, Penny. You are talking in a very naughty way."

"I aren't. I are only saying what nursey said. Nursey said last night, 'Well, well, drat it all! They are under her thumb by this time.' I asked nursey what it meant, and she said, 'Miss Penny, little girls should be seen, and not heard.' Nursey always says that when I ask her questions that I want special to know. But when I comed down this morning I asked Betty what being under your thumb meant, and she said, 'Oh, lor', Miss Penny! You had better look out, miss. It means what you don't like, miss.' Then she said, Aunt Sophy, that old ladies like you was fond of having little girls under their thumbs. So I 'spect you like it; and I hope you won't squeeze us flat afore you have done."

Miss Tredgold had turned very red.

"How old are you, Pen?" she said when the loquacious child became silent.

Penelope tossed her head. "You knows of my age quite well."

"Then I will just repeat the remark made by your excellent nurse--'Little girls should be seen, and not heard.' I will add to that remark by saying that little girls are sometimes impertinent. I shall not say anything more to-day; but another time, if you address me as you have just done, I shall be obliged to punish you."