The School Queens Part 18

"That's a good notion, isn't it?" said Jackdaw.--"I say, Andrew, she wants to be starving hungry when the picnic begins!"

Maggie resumed her seat, and the boys went on whispering together, and kicking each other at intervals, and rather upsetting that very stolid personage, Mr. Charles, the Meredith Manor coachman.

The picnic was a perfect success. When people are very happy there is no room for discontent in their hearts, and all the members of that party were in the highest spirits. The Cardew girls had no time yet for that period of regret which must invariably follow a period of intense excitement. They had no time yet to realize that they must part with their father and mother for the greater portion of the year.

To children so intensely affectionate as Cicely and Merry such a parting must mean considerable pain. But even the beginning of the pain did not come to them on that auspicious day, and they returned to the house after the picnic in the highest good-humor.

Mr. and Mrs. Tristram, however, were wise in their generation; and although Cicely and Merry begged and implored the whole party to come to the Manor for supper, they very firmly declined. It is to be regretted that both Jack and Andrew turned sulky on this occasion.

As the rectory girls and Maggie and the boys and Mr. and Mrs. Tristam were all going homewards the two girls and Maggie fell behind.

"Isn't this real fun? Isn't it magnificent?" said Molly Tristram.

"It's a very good thing indeed for your friends Cicely and Merry,"

said Maggie. Then she added, "Didn't I tell you, girls, that you would win your bracelets?"

Belle felt herself changing color.

"We don't want them a bit--we really don't," said Molly.

"Of course we don't want them," said Isabel.

"You'll have them all the same," said Maggie. "They are my present to you. Surely you won't refuse my present?"

"But such a very rich and handsome present we ought not to accept,"

said Molly.

"Nonsense, girls! I shall be unhappy unless you wear them. When I return to mother--which, alas! I must do before many days are over--I shall send you the bracelets."

"I wish you wouldn't, Maggie," said Belle Tristram; "for I am certain father and mother would not like us to wear jewelry while we are so young."

"Well, then," said Maggie, "I will give them to you when we all meet at Aylmer House. You must take them; you know you promised you would.

You will hurt me most frightfully if you don't."

As Molly and Isabel certainly did not wish to hurt Maggie, they remained silent, and during the rest of the walk the three girls scarcely spoke. Meanwhile Cicely and Merry entered the Manor House and waited impatiently for the return of their father and mother.

"We must get everything extra nice for them," said Cicely to her sister. "I do think it is so wonderfully splendid of them to send us to school."

The sun had already set, and twilight had come on; but it would be quite impossible for Mr. and Mrs. Cardew to arrive at the Manor until about ten o'clock. What, therefore, was the amazement of the girls when they heard carriage-wheels in the distance!

"Father and mother could not possibly have done their business and caught the early train," said Merry in some excitement. "Who can be coming now?"

The next moment their doubts were set at rest, for Aneta Lysle entered the hall.

"I came to-day after all," she said. "Auntie thought it would be more convenient. You got my telegram, didn't you?"

These words were uttered while her two cousins, in rapture and delight, were kissing her.

"No, no," said Merry, "we got no telegram; but, oh, Aneta! we are glad to see you."

"Here's the telegram on the hall-table," said Aneta, and she took up a yellow envelope. This was addressed to "Cardew, Meredith Manor." "Yes, I know this must be from me," said Aneta. "But why didn't you open it?"

"Well, the fact is," said Cicely, "father and mother were in London, and the rest of us were out on a picnic. But it doesn't matter a bit; you've come, and the sooner the better. Oh, it is nice to see you again! But how tall you are, Neta, and how grown up you look!"

"I am seventeen, remember," said Aneta. "I don't feel grown-up, but auntie says I look it."

"Oh, come into the light--do," said Merry, "and let's see you! We've heard so very much of you lately, and we want to look at your darling face again."

"And I want to look at you both," said Aneta in her affectionate manner.

The servants had conveyed Miss Lysle's luggage into the house, and now the three girls, with their arms twined round each other, entered the same big drawing-room where Mr. Cardew had given his wonderful news of the night before. There was a blaze of electric light, and this, judiciously softened with rose-colored silk, was most becoming to all those who came under its influence. But the strongest glare of light could not disfigure any one so absolutely beautiful as Aneta Lysle.

Her delicate complexion, the wonderful purity and regularity of her features, her sweet, tender young mouth, her charming blue eyes, and her great luxuriance of golden hair made people who looked at her once long to study that charming face again and yet again.

There was no vanity about this young girl; her manner, her expression, were simplicity itself. There was a certain n.o.bility about her fine forehead, and the shape of her head was cla.s.sical, and showed undoubted talent. Her clear, musical voice was in itself a charm. Her young figure was the very personification of grace. Beside her, Cicely and Merry felt awkward and commonplace; not that they were so, but very few people could attain to Aneta Lysle's incomparable beauty.

"Well, girls," she said, "you do look sweet, both of you!"

"Oh Neta, what a darling you are!" said Merry, who worshipped beauty, and had never come across any one so lovely as her cousin. "It's two years since we met," she continued, "and you have altered, and not altered. You're more grown-up and more--more stately, but your face is the same. Whenever we want to think of the angels we think of you too, Neta."

"That is very sweet of you, darlings; but, indeed, I am far from being an angel. I am just a very human girl; and, please, if you don't mind, we won't discuss my looks any more."

Cicely and Merry both save their cousin a thoughtful glance. Then they said eagerly, "You must come to your room and wash your hands, and get refreshed for supper, for of course you are starving."

"I shall like to have something to eat," said Aneta. "What room am I to have, girls?"

"Oh, the white room, next to ours; we arranged it all this morning,"

said Cicely.

"Well, come along at once," said Aneta.

Soon the three girls found themselves in the beautiful bedroom which had been arranged for Aneta's reception. As soon as ever they got there Cicely clasped one of her cousin's arms and Merry the other.

"We have news for you--news!" they said.

"Yes?" said Aneta, looking at them with her bright, soft eyes.

"Most wonderful--most extraordinary--most--most beautiful!" said Merry, speaking almost with pa.s.sion. "We're going to your school; yes, to yours--to Aylmer House, in September. Could you have believed it?

Think of father consenting, and just because I felt a little discontented. Oh, isn't he an angel? Father, of all people, who until now would not hear of our leaving home! But we're going."

"Well," said Aneta, "I am not greatly surprised, for I happen to know that your father, Cousin Cyril, came to see auntie yesterday, and afterwards he went to visit Mrs. Ward, and after his visit we saw Mrs.

Ward; and, although he had not quite made up his mind then whether he would send you or not, we quite thought he would do so. Yes, this is splendid. I'll he able to tell you lots about the school; but, after all, it isn't the school that matters."

"Then what matters, Aneta?"

"It's Mrs. Ward herself," said Aneta; "it's she who makes the whole thing so perfect. She guides us; she enlightens us. Sometimes I can scarcely talk of her, my love for her and my pa.s.sion for her are so deep."

Cicely and Merry looked thoughtful for a minute.