Regiment Of Women Part 26

"A party! Agatha is a c.o.o.n. There was only Daffy there! I wonder she didn't ask you."

Louise said nothing. Her face was expressionless.

"Mean old thing!" Cynthia grew indignant as the situation dawned on her.

"She can't ask every one. There was no reason whatever to ask me." But Louise's voice had a suspicious quiver in it, which Cynthia, with unusual tact, ignored.

"Well--about the roses? They were beauties, kid!"

"Oh, I brought 'em round, going to school. I thought she'd started, but she hadn't. She opened the door. So there I was, stuck." Louise began to laugh. "I'd meant to leave them, just without any name."

"I see." Cynthia twinkled.

"She was rather--rather breakfasty, you know--and I got fl.u.s.tered and forgot to wish her 'many happy.' Wasn't it lucky? I was thankful afterwards. I only said they were out of the greenhouse and I thought she'd like them. She did, too." Louise smiled to herself.

"Well?"

"That's all."

"But where did the lie come in?"

"Oh! Oh--well--I'd bought them, you see. As if Mamma would let me pick flowers. Besides, we haven't even got a greenhouse. But I had five shillings at Christmas, and sixpence in the pudding--and sixpence a week pocket-money--and I never have anything to buy. I could well afford it,"

said Louise, with dignity.

"That's not a lie," said Cynthia, disappointed. "It's barely an--an evasion."

"I didn't mean to--evade. I was only afraid she'd be cross, and yet I couldn't resist getting them. Do you know the feeling, when you ache to give people things? But it was a lie, of course."

"Oh, well! You needn't mind. She tells plenty herself--acts them, at least----"

Louise caught her up.

"There! That's it! That's one of the things! You're always hinting things! Why do you? I won't have it! Of course, I know you're only in fun, but if anybody hears you----"

"I'm not! Oh, but it's no use talking! You think she's a G.o.d almighty.

What's the use of my telling you that she's a conceited----"

"She's not!"

"Oh, she's a right to be. She'd be a peach if I had the dressing of her----"

"She doesn't like American fashions. We don't want her to. We like her as she is."

"And she knows it--you bet your bottom dollar! There's not much she doesn't know. Why, she simply lives for effect! She's the most gorgeous hypocrite----"

"You're a beastly one yourself--you pretend you like her----"

"But I do! I admire her heaps! But I understand her. You don't. She likes to be top dog. She'll do anything for that. She likes to know every woman and child in the school is a bit of putty, to knead into shape. I know! I've met her sort before--only generally it was men they were after. And yet it bores her too----" parenthesised Cynthia shrewdly. "That's why she likes me. I don't care two pins for her tricks. That stings her up a bit. She'll be mighty bored when I go."

Louise listened, angry, yet fascinated. It gave her a curious pleasure to hear Miss Hartill belied. She would hug herself for her own superior discernment. A phrase from a half-digested story often recurred to her: "One doesn't defend one's G.o.d! One's G.o.d is a defence in himself." But Cynthia was going too far--abandoning innuendo for direct a.s.sault. She struck back.

"It's easy to say things. Just saying so doesn't make it so. And if it did, I shouldn't believe it."

"Oh! I can prove it." Cynthia laughed. "Have you noticed the Charette comedy?"

"Mademoiselle? Oh, she hates Miss Hartill. But she's French, of course."

"Does she just? H'm----!"

"Well, there was a French girl--she left last term--she told Marion that Mademoiselle had said things to her about Miss Hartill. Agatha told me.

Agatha loathes Mademoiselle. Of course, Mademoiselle is rather down on her."

"I don't wonder. You know how Agatha hazes her in cla.s.s."

"I can't stand Agatha." Louise shook herself. "Last French Grammar it was awful--silly, you know, not funny. One simply couldn't work.

Mademoiselle kept her in. I suppose Agatha didn't like that. She's been a lamb since, anyway. About time too!"

"Shucks! It wasn't being kept in. It was Clarissa. Oh, my dear, it was fun! There was poor little Mademoiselle, storming away in her absurd English, and Agatha cheeking her for all she was worth."

"How did you hear?"

"Why, I was in the studio! Agatha didn't know we were there, of course.

The gla.s.s doors were open. You know, Daffy gives me extra drawing. And just when Agatha was in full swing, and Mademoiselle speechless with rage, Miss Hartill turned up--wanted Daffy."

"Oh, go on!" Louise cried breathlessly.

"It really was funny, you know. Miss Hartill was talking to Daffy and the row going on next door--you couldn't help hearing--and suddenly Daffy said--Daffy had been fidgeting for some time--'Listen!' and Clarissa said, 'Oho-o!' You know her way, with about ten o's at the end; and Daffy said, 'There! Now do you believe me?' kind of crowing. And Miss Hartill, she just smiled, like a cat with cream, and said, 'All right, Alwynne! All right, my dear!' and went into the next room. Say, it was exciting! She didn't raise her voice, but she just let herself go, and in about two minutes Agatha came out like a ripe cheese--literally crawling. I wish she hadn't shut the door. I couldn't hear any more. I could see, of course, and you bet I watched out of the tail of my eye. Daffy never noticed me."

"What happened then?"

"Oh! They stood and talked, and Mademoiselle was scarlet and seemed to be pitching into Miss Hartill, as far as I could see, and Miss Hartill was letting her talk herself out, and sometimes she smiled and said something; that always started Mademoiselle off again. And at last Mademoiselle went and sat in one of the window-seats, and I couldn't see her face, but I imagined she was howling. French people always do.

Clarissa went and patted her shoulder."

"She is a dear!" Loyally Louise bit back her instant jealousy.

"Oh, she was enjoying herself," said Cynthia coolly. "You should have seen her face. Sort of smiling at her own thoughts. Have you ever seen a spider smile?"

Louise disdained an answer.

"Nor have I! Have a candy? But I bet I know what it looks like."

"Well, what happened?" demanded Louise impatiently.

"Oh, it was annoying! Daffy came and sat down in my place, to correct. I couldn't see any more. Only when Miss Hartill came out (she didn't notice me, I was putting away the group), she said to Daffy, 'She's coming to tea on Friday.' And Daffy said, 'Clare, you're a wonder!' And Miss Hartill said, 'I didn't do it for her, Alwynne!' And Daffy got pink. Clarissa did look pleased with herself."

"Well, so she ought! Wouldn't you be--if you could make people happy?"

Cynthia threw up her hands. "Happy! Oh, Momma! Are you happy?"