The Girls and I Part 4

'That will do very well.'

'But do persuade father to let Maud come too,' we all said.

It wasn't till afterwards that I thought to myself that I would look absurder than ever--the only boy to _four_ sisters! It was bad enough the year before with three.

CHAPTER IV

AT THE DANCING CLa.s.s

It's funny to think what came of our going to that first dancing cla.s.s.

If Anne hadn't run down to the pantry, the note wouldn't have been found--perhaps not for months, if ever. And though Mrs. Liddell would have written again the next week most likely, it wouldn't have been in time for us to go to the first cla.s.s, and everything would have come different.

We did go--all five of us. Father was quite willing for Maud to come too. I think he would have said yes to anything mother asked just then, he was so sorry for her; and he was beginning himself, as the days went on, to feel less hopeful about the diamond ornament being found. And you see mums couldn't put it off her mind, as she kept telling Anne _she_ should do, for it was quite dreadful to her to think of grandfather's having to hear about it. She was so really sorry for him to be vexed, for she had thought it so kind of him to lend it to her.

There were several children we knew at the dancing cla.s.s. Some, like the little Liddells themselves, that we hadn't seen for a good long while, as they always stayed in the country till after Christmas, and some that we didn't know as friends, only just at the dancing, you see.

It was rather fun. We always found time for a good deal of talking and laughing between the exercises and the dances, for they took us in turns--the little ones, like Serena and Maud, who were just beginning, and the older ones who could dance pretty well, and one or two dances at the end for the biggest of all or the furthest on ones. Anne and Hebe were among these, but Hebe danced much better than Anne. Most of the exercises and the marching we did all together. And the mammas or governesses sat at the other end of the room from all of us.

There were some children there called Barry that we didn't know except meeting them there. But I was glad to see them again, because two of them were boys, one a little older and the other a little younger than me. And they had a sister who was a twin to the younger one. They were nice children, and I liked talking to them, and the girl--her name was Flossy--was nice to dance with. I could manage much better with her than with our girls somehow.

They put me to dance the polka with Flossy. She's not at all a shy girl, and I'm not shy either, so we talked a good deal between times, and after the polka was done we sat down beside Anne and Hebe, and I went on talking. I was telling Flossy about losing the diamond thing, and she was _so_ interested. It wasn't a secret, you see. Father said the more we told it the better; there was no saying how it might be traced through talking about it.

Only I was sorry for Anne. I had rather forgotten about her when I begun about it to Flossy, and I hadn't told about Anne's having meddled with the pin; and when Flossy went on talking, I felt as if Anne would think me unkind.

But Anne's not like that. She only sat looking very grave, and when I had answered Flossy's questions, she just said--

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'I'd give anything, I'd almost give myself, to find it.'--c. iv. p. 48.]

'Isn't it dreadful to have lost it? I'd give anything, I'd almost give myself, to find it.'

That's the queer sort of way Anne talks sometimes when she's very tremendously in earnest.

Flossy looked rather surprised.

'What a funny girl you are,' she said. 'I don't think your mother would agree to give _you_, even to get back her brooch! But, do you know, there's something running in my head about losings and findings that I've been hearing. What can it be? Oh yes; it was some of our cousins yesterday-- Ludo,' and she called her brother, the twin one, 'Ludo, do you remember what the little Nearns were telling us, about something they'd found?'

'It wasn't they that found it. It was lying on their doorstep the day of the Drawing-room; they'd had a party, and it must have dropped off some lady's dress. But their mother had sent to all the ladies that had been there, and it wasn't theirs.'

Anne was listening so eagerly that her eyes almost looked as if they were going to jump out of her head.

'What is it like--the brooch, I mean--didn't you say it was a brooch?'

she asked in a panting sort of voice.

Ludovic Barry stared at her.

'It's because they've lost one,' said Flossy quickly, 'at least their mother has, and they would give anything to find it. It's a--I forget the word--a family treasure, you know.'

'An heirloom,' I said. 'Yes, that's the worst of it. But, Anne, don't look so wild about it,' I went on, laughingly. 'What is the brooch like, that your cousins have found? Is it diamonds?' I went on to the Barrys.

'I think so,' said Ludo. 'It's some kind of jewels. But the Nearns are quite small children; they wouldn't know, and I don't suppose they've seen it. They'd only heard their mother and the servants talking about it. We can easily find out, though. I'll run round there--they live in our Square--when we go home.'

'No, Ludo, I'm afraid you can't, for mamma heard this morning that----'

At that very moment we were interrupted by another dance beginning. And when it was over it was time for us all to go. Flossy Barry didn't finish her sentence. I saw her saying something to her brother, and then she came up to us.

'I'll find out about the found brooch,' she said. 'I won't forget. And if it's the least likely to be yours, I'll ask mamma to write to your mamma. That'll be the best.'

'Thank you,' I said. She was a nice, kind little girl, and I was sure she wouldn't forget. But Anne looked disappointed.

'I don't see why she tried to stop her brother going about it at once,'

she said.

'Perhaps there was some reason,' I said. 'And Anne, if I were you, I wouldn't say anything about it to mums. Raising her hopes, you know, very likely for nothing, for it's such a _chance_ that it's our brooch--ours has been advertised so, these people would have seen the notices.'

Anne did not answer.

Flossy had a reason, and a good one, for what she said to her brother.

But she had been told not to speak of what her mother had heard, as Mrs.

Barry said it was not certain. The 'it' was that these little cousins of theirs had got the whooping-cough, or rather Lady Nearn, their mother, was afraid they had, and so she had told the Barrys they mustn't come to the house.

Of course we only heard all that afterwards.

We walked home from the dancing with Miss Stirling. She came with us sometimes, and sometimes mother, and now and then only nurse. For as the cla.s.s was on Sat.u.r.day afternoon, it wouldn't have done for Miss Stirling always to take us, as it was giving up part of her holiday. That first day mother was busy or engaged, otherwise she would have come herself.

It was getting dusk already as we went home; it was a dull afternoon, looking as if it was going to rain.

'I do hope it's not going to be wet to-morrow,' said Hebe. 'I like it to be fine on Sunday.'

Anne started at this. She had been walking very silently, scarcely talking at all.

'Is to-morrow Sunday?' she said. 'I'd quite forgotten. Oh, I do wish it wasn't. There's no post on Sunday, you know, Jack.'

She was next me, and I don't think any one else heard what she said.

'What do you mean?' I said. 'There's never any post on Sunday in London.

What does it matter?'

'About the brooch, of course,' she answered. 'You see, if Flossy tells her mother what we said, and they send to find out, _perhaps_ Mrs. Barry would write to mums to-night; and if it wasn't Sunday, the letter would come to-morrow morning.'

I felt quite provoked with her.

'Anne,' I said, and I daresay I spoke rather crossly, 'you're really silly. It's just as unlikely as it can be that it's mums' thing, and you'd much better put out of your head that it could be. You'll get yourself into a fidget, and then mums will think there's something new the matter, and----'

'I'm not going to tell her anything about it, I've said so already,'

interrupted Anne, rather crossly too. 'I'm always being told to put things out of my head now; it would have been better if they hadn't been so much put _in_ my head. I wouldn't have been half so miserable all this time if you hadn't all gone on so about it's being my fault that the horrid thing was lost,' and she gave a little sob, half of anger, half of unhappiness.