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A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 15. A Drive To The Rectory |
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_ CHAPTER XV. A DRIVE TO THE RECTORY Rosamund was wonderfully wise for her years. She did not make a great fuss over Irene's tears. She did not soothe or pet her overmuch; she merely said, "I am glad you have come to your senses," and then she got up and began to prepare for lunch; so that Irene, feeling like a beaten child, and yet with a sense of happiness which she had never experienced before in the whole course of her life, went off to her own room, smoothed out her tangled hair, tidied her dress, and came down to lunch also, looking quite like a little ordinary Christian child--the sort of child who might have been first to a kindergarten and then at a good school--not the wild, obnoxious, terrible little creature whom every servant and every governess alike dreaded. James was looking fat and strong, because for the last fortnight Irene had not taken the slightest notice of him. The other servants were becoming happy once more. They all worshiped Rosamund; and, truth to tell, Rosamund could not but enjoy her meed of popularity. Still, to-day she was feeling rather nervous. Nevertheless, she was quite determined to carry out her scheme. As soon as lunch was over, therefore, she went up to Miss Frost. Irene had danced away into the garden. She was the sort of girl who, having once made up her mind to do a thing, did it thoroughly. Now, she hated the Leaves beyond measure; she dreaded Miss Carter beyond measure; but she dreaded Rosamund still more. Accordingly, she secured a basket and a pair of scissors, and cut and cut from the choicest flowers until her basket was full. One of the gardeners came out and began to remonstrate with Irene on picking so many roses with buds attached to them; but Irene told him in a very tart voice to mind his own business, and in some fear the man withdrew. Then she went into the fruit-house and secured the earliest peaches which were coming into their finest bloom. And having collected what she considered her peace-offering, she sat down on a little wooden bench to wait for Rosamund and her governess. Meanwhile Rosamund was having a talk with Miss Frost. "Do you know where we are going to-day?" she asked. "No," replied Miss Frost. "Well, you have got to do exactly what I wish. I am most anxious that Irene should have other friends besides me." "Oh, she will never, never under any circumstances have a friend in the very least like you," said Miss Frost. "You have made her! You have saved her! You are her idol! I am sure we all love you most dearly; but as to Irene, it is wonderful the influence you have over her." "We needn't talk of that now," said Rosamund. "I can't give up every one in the whole world for Irene. Besides, although I shall always be a great friend of hers, I do not think it would be good for her to have me always by her side. I want her to make fresh friends, and I have been considering that in the whole neighborhood there are no people quite so nice as the Singletons for her to know." "The Singletons! Why, it is there that unfortunate Miss Carter is--that poor woman who nearly lost her life in order that Irene might get rid of her. Oh, how often have I heard that terrible story! I have seen the girl in church. They look nice, but very stand-off and distant. You know Irene will never go to church. We cannot make her; but I go when I can in the evenings, and I always see the Singletons there with Miss Carter. But for my own little brother Hughie and my little sister Agnes, I would never have stayed here as I have done." "But now it is all right, dear Miss Frost. Anyhow, Irene has consented to come with me to see the Singletons this afternoon, so don't make a fuss; and if you see Miss Carter, will you tell her that Irene is so much changed that you are able to stay? And, please, don't say anything against her, will you, dear Frosty?" "I say a word against her? No, that I won't." "And don't say too much about me. I want her to get all the credit she can. The fact is, she has become so exceedingly naughty because people talk so much of her naughtiness, and she is rather proud of it. Now, I want her to be thoroughly ashamed of it; and when that takes place, and she loses all sense of satisfaction in terrifying people to death and in getting rid of servants and governesses, she will become an ordinary girl--or rather, I should say, never an ordinary girl, but a girl very much above the ordinary. You know you must help me." "I will, on one condition," said Miss Frost. "This expedition frightens me very much. I will do anything you wish on one condition." "And what is that?" "That you don't leave The Follies at present." "I have no intention of leaving it before the holidays. The holidays will take place at the end of July, and then mother will be sure to want me to join her; but still we have a few weeks left, and there is already a great improvement in Irene. Now, please, go upstairs and get ready, for the governess-cart will be round in a few minutes." The cart did come round, and, without a word, Irene herself stepped into it. She not only stepped into it, but she took the reins with a determined hand. "I mean to drive Bob," she said. "I suppose no one objects." She looked back with her bright, dancing eyes, first at Rosamund and then at Miss Frost. "Certainly; he is your pony," said Rosamund. "You have every right to drive him." Miss Frost did not speak. They both entered the governess-cart, and Irene, making a cracking noise with the whip, as she had learned from one of the grooms, started off at a break-neck speed down the somewhat steep avenue. Poor Miss Frost felt inclined to cry out, but Rosamund took one of her hands and pressed it. After a minute Rosamund's hand was lightly laid on Irene's arm. "Irene, pull Bob in; he is going much too fast for safety. You don't want his knees to be broken, and we don't want to be tossed out of the cart. Do what I wish you to do instantly." Irene's eyes wore for a moment almost a wicked expression; then they softened. She put on a check with some vigor, and soon Bob was trotting along the country roads like an ordinary pony. Many people looked at the three as they saw them in the cart. Never in the entire memory of man had Irene been seen driving with any of her family. There were times when she had gone herself to the stables, had harnessed Bob, who was a very wild and spirited little pony, and had driven off at a furious rate all by herself. She had then left the beaten track, and gone on the moors, bringing home the pony and cart much dilapidated from the exercise. But, strange to say, the wild child herself never seemed to come to any grief. A mad desire to go right away from the Leaves, to dash on to the moors, and defy Rosamund and Miss Frost, had just for a moment taken possession of her. But again gentler thoughts had come to her, and by-and-by she found herself driving in at the gates of the Rectory. Now, it so happened that on this very day Mr. Singleton was giving a feast to the poor children of the neighborhood; and when the governess-cart, containing Rosamund, Miss Frost, and Irene, arrived on the premises, there were no less than a hundred children enjoying tea on one of the lawns. In consequence, Maud, Alice, Bertha, Mary, Ivy, and Jasmine, and last, but not least, Miss Carter herself, were all busily engaged, when the sound of wheels caused them to raise their heads. Miss Carter gave utterance to one piercing scream, laid the cup which she had been filling from a huge urn hastily on the table, and disappeared from view. Maud, in some astonishment, her face rather pale, but her eyes bright and resolute as usual, came forward to greet her visitors. "How do you do?" she said to Rosamund. Then she looked at Irene, whom she had never spoken to before. "This is my great friend Irene Ashleigh," said Rosamund; "and this is her governess, Miss Frost. We have come to pay you a visit. I see you are busy. That is quite delightful. May we help you?" "Of course you may, if you will." Maud held out a gracious hand to Irene, whose little mouth, satirical enough at first, broke now into a gentle smile, while her eyes became tranquil and even happy. She had enjoyed a moment of exquisite bliss when she saw Miss Carter, after that first terrified glance, hurry into the house. "I can stand the Leaves," she said to herself, "but I hope Carter will keep out of the way." They all three got out of the cart. A groom came to take the pony to the stables, and the girls and Miss Frost were invited to help the Singletons to entertain their guests. "We are ever so short of hands," said Maud, "and your coming is quite a blessing. You know, of course, that no one from Sunnyside can come near the place. Mrs. Brett won't allow the girls even to come over from Dartford, which father says is a pity; but still, one must err on the safe side. Isn't it jolly, Jane being quite out of danger? She is to go away at the end of the week, and next week the house will be disinfected, and then everything will be as it was before." As she spoke she glanced at Irene, who dropped a little behind, keeping hold of Miss Frost's hand. "Frosty," she said, "can you bear a little pain?" "I suppose so, dear," said poor Miss Frost in a timid voice. "I mean this: I must have some outlet for my feelings, and if a Leaf comes too near me I will just squeeze your hand. I won't really hurt you if I can help it, but if I can squeeze your hand I'll be civil to the Leaf; if not, I'll be awfully rude. Do you understand, and will you endure it?" "I will try to," said Miss Frost; "but I have got very thin hands, Irene." "Indeed you have, exceedingly bony and exceedingly ugly; but that can't be helped. Just let me hold this hand for the present." "Do you mind," said Miss Frost after a moment's pause--"do you mind if I take off the rings I have on this hand and put them on the hand you are not going to squeeze? If you were to squeeze it with the rings on I might be forced to cry out, and then all would be up." "You may do that, and then I'll be quite comfortable." Miss Frost did so, and Maud and Rosamund walked on a little in front. "I can't tell you how astonished I am," said Maud, dropping her voice, "to see her here. We heard of your extraordinary behavior--I mean your noble behavior, for father said you were most noble; but to think of your bringing her here! How did you induce her to come?" "She will one day be a splendid girl, one of the best in the world," said Rosamund; "and the fact is, I wanted your help. I can't quite manage her alone. I want your help, dear. Will you give it?" Maud's frank blue eyes looked into Rosamund's dark ones, and over Maud's face there came a softened gleam. "When I look at you I can believe almost anything," she said. "But to think of that girl ever being what you say! Did she not nearly kill our Cartery dear?" "I know that; but remember she is very young, and could not realize what she was doing. However, I ask you to trust me, and to help me now with the task I have undertaken. I mean to reform her, and to give her back to her mother, not, as she considers herself, a changeling, but a beautiful, strong, and splendid character, the sort of woman God meant her to be." "Then I think you are very noble," said Maud, "and I will help you all I can; but you must not expect poor Cartery to appear too. That is more than can be endured. She has rushed into the house, and is probably in hysterics. Yes, I am sure she is, for Bertha has disappeared too, and Bertha is her devoted slave." "Never mind about Miss Carter now. Let us attend to our duties. I will manage Irene. Shall she and I take a table and help to give these children as much food as they want?" This plan worked fairly well for a short time, until it was gradually whispered that the person who was helping them to slices of cake and bunches of bread-and-butter was no less than that dreaded creature Miss Irene Ashleigh of The Follies. Then the boys and girls shrank away, for had they not heard of her pranks, and might they not expect toads and frogs to come out of their mouths, and other horrors to happen if Miss Irene had anything to do with them? They therefore began to decline Irene's cake, and to say, "No, thank you, miss," in a very timid voice when delicious-looking pieces of bread-and-butter and jam were offered to them. On the other hand, when Rosamund offered any food it was gratefully accepted. Rosamund felt the situation was growing critical. She by no means wanted an exhibition of Irene's wrath. The girl was really making a very great effort to control herself, and must not be tried too far. Accordingly, when one little girl refused a slice of bread-and-jam from Irene, and eagerly held out her hand to take it from Rosamund, Rosamund motioned Irene back again. "That bread-and-jam is much nicer than this," she said. "If you don't take that you won't get any other;" and she insisted on the child taking a slice from the plate which Irene offered. The little girl turned crimson. She put the bread-and-jam upon her plate, but evidently did not intend to eat it. Irene's face was changing color from moment to moment. She liked Maud; Alice, Mary, Ivy, and Jasmine were as nothing to her. Bertha was nowhere to be seen, and where was "Cartery dear"? That one glimpse she had caught of the terrified woman, who had disappeared like a flash into the house, had whetted Irene's desire to behold her again. Accordingly, when Rosamund's back was turned she slipped away toward the house. In a moment she was in the house, and in another moment she had climbed the stairs. Compared to The Follies, the Rectory was small, although it was really quite a large house. It did not take long for Irene to peep into each empty bedroom, until at last she found one occupied. It was occupied by a woman who was being devotedly attended to by Bertha Singleton. Bertha was bathing her head with aromatic vinegar, and soothing her with loving words. But the next moment the poor woman uttered a cry, for Irene herself was in the room. "Oh, do go away! Don't, I beseech of you, do anything to me. Do go away!" cried the terrified woman. Instead of going away, Irene marched straight to the bed. "Look here, Miss Carter," she said; "you have been exceedingly silly in running away from me as you have done. As to me, I was a perfect fiend that time at The Follies. I wanted to get rid of you, and I could think of no other way. But now that Rosamund is here I see things from a different point of view. Will you trust me?" "I don't know," said poor Miss Carter, looking at Irene with those absolutely terrified eyes which the girl detested. Perhaps she would have given up her efforts to make friends with Miss Carter had she not at that moment glanced out of the window and seen Rosamund resolutely doing her duty, and looking unlike any one else--even Maud, who was sweet enough to attract any one's attention. "I am going to confess the simple truth," said Irene; and she came back and stood at the foot of the bed. "I have been a very wicked, bad girl. I used to think that I wasn't to blame, because I was a changeling; but Rosamund says I am not a changeling, and that I am just like anybody else, and ought to be good. I don't expect I'll ever be specially good; but anyhow, I want to be good. At least I sometimes want to be good. I once hated you all"--here she turned to Bertha. "I used to think you so affected, and I used to call you the Leaves. You don't mind, do you?" "Not in the least," said Bertha; "it doesn't matter to us. But why should you call us Leaves?" "Because you wear green. You have a green sash on now, and a green ribbon round your hat." "Mother was fond of green, and mother is dead," said Bertha. A kind of dewy moisture came to her eyes which did not amount to tears. "Well, if that is the reason, _pax_!" said Irene. Suddenly she held out her hand. Now, naughty as she was, there was no one who could be quite so charming as Irene when she chose; and the next minute, Bertha had not only shaken that hand, but had drawn Irene forward and kissed her on her lips. "You are so very beautiful," she said. "I never saw you before. If you were good you'd be delightful. You'd be such a help to us all. We want some one lovely just to look at. Oh! wouldn't it be sweet, Cartery dear, to try and make pictures of her little face?" "That will do. I hate people to praise me," said Irene. "I am not at all good at present; and if I am beautiful, why, there's an end of it. What I want to say now is this: Miss Carter, will you forgive me?" "I--I'll try to." "Are you still very much afraid of me?" "I confess that I am." "It's rather silly of you, isn't it? For you are quite protected from me." "I know that; but you gave me a great shock." "Dear Cartery," said Bertha, "she did, to be sure; but she is changed, and you never told us she was so beautiful." "You don't think much of a beautiful face, my dear, when you are being dashed to pieces on the rocks," said Miss Carter. "Oh yes! oh yes! but still, she is never going to do anything of that sort again. Are you, Irene dear?" "I haven't any present intention of doing so, Bertha dear," replied Irene in a deliberate tone. "Now, Miss Carter, I want to know if you will forgive me. It will help me to be good if you will forgive me. Will you?" "Then I will," said Miss Carter. "Then there is only one way to prove it. You must get right up off your bed and come downstairs with me, and let me rest on your arm, and come out with me on to the lawn, where all the children are having their tea, and you and I between us are to offer them bread-and-jam and cakes and biscuits. Will you or will you not?" "Of course you will, Cartery dear." "Are you certain that you mean what you say?" said Miss Carter. "I have got a sort of headache." "Oh no, you haven't," retorted Bertha. "You are always imagining things, Cartery dear." "Will you come or will you not, Miss Carter?" said Irene. "Is it to be peace or is it to be war? I offer peace now. Do you accept it?" "I do," said Miss Carter; and she got off her bed, and went downstairs by Irene's side. _ |
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