Chapter 15. Two Sides

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_ CHAPTER XV. TWO SIDES

Mrs. Ward's school reopened on the 20th of September. For two or three days beforehand the immaculate and beautiful house was being made, if possible, still more immaculate and still more lovely. The window-boxes were refilled with flowers; the dainty little bedrooms were supplied with fresh curtains to the windows and fresh drapery for the beds.

Mrs. Ward herself arrived at the school about a week before her pupils made their appearance. She had much to settle during this week. She had, in short, to prepare her plan of campaign for the ensuing term: to interview her different masters and mistresses, to consult with her resident English governess (a charming girl of the name of Talbot), to talk over matters with Fraeulein Beck, and to reassure Mademoiselle Laplage, who was very lively, very conscientious, but at the same time very nervous with regard to her own powers. "Les jeunes filles Anglaises sont bien capables et bien distinguees mais--ma foi! comme elles me fatiguent les nerfs!" Mademoiselle Laplage would say; and, although she had been at Aylmer House for three terms, she always doubted her powers, and made the same speech over and over again at the beginning of each term. In addition to Miss Talbot, there was a very cheery, bright girl of the name of Johnson, who looked after the girls' wardrobes and helped them, if necessary, with their work, saw that they were punctual at meals, and occasionally took an English class. She was a great favorite with all the girls at Mrs. Ward's school. They called her Lucy, instead of Miss Johnson. She was quite young--not more than twenty years of age.

These four ladies resided at Aylmer House; but masters and mistresses for various accomplishments came daily to instruct the girls. Mrs. Ward loved her teachers almost as much as she loved her girls, and they each and all adored her.

Miss Talbot was an exceedingly clever woman, close on thirty years of age. She had taken very high honors at Cambridge, and was a person of great penetration of character, with a genius for imparting knowledge.

Unlike most head-mistresses, Mrs. Ward seldom changed her staff of teachers. She had the gift of selection to a marvellous degree, and never was known to make a mistake with regard to the choice of those women who helped her in her great work of education.

Summer was, of course, over when the girls assembled at Aylmer House. Nevertheless, there was a sort of afterglow of summer, which was further intensified by the beautiful flowers in the window-boxes and by the fresh, clean, fragrant atmosphere of the house itself.

The two Cardews and the two Tristrams came up to Aylmer House by an early train. Mr. Tristram brought them to school, Mr. and Mrs. Cardew at the last moment feeling unequal to the task of parting with their darlings in the presence of their companions. The real parting had taken place the previous night; and that pain which Merry had felt at intervals during the end of the summer vacation was sharp enough to cause her to cry when she lay down to sleep on the night before going to school. But Merry was brave, and so was Cicely; and, although Merry did hate beyond words the thought of not seeing her beloved father and her dear mother until Christmas, she thought also that very good times were before her, and she was resolved to make the best of them.

Molly and Isabel, who were quite accustomed to going to school, had no pangs of heart at all when they bade their mother good-bye. As to Peterkins and Jackdaw, as they were also going to school on the following day, they scarcely observed the departure of their sisters, only saying, when Belle hugged one and Molly the other, "What a fuss you girls do make! Now, if Spot-ear and Fanciful were to fret about us there'd be some reason in it. But mother's going to look after them; and mother's a brick, I can tell you." The girls laughed very merrily, and asked what message her two adorers would like to send to Maggie.

The two adorers only vouchsafed the remark, "Don't bother; we're going to be with boys now, and boys are worth all the girls in creation put together."

The journey to town was taken without any special adventure, and at about three o'clock in the afternoon an omnibus containing the four girls, accompanied by Mr. Tristram, with their luggage piled on the roof, stopped at Aylmer House.

Aneta had already arrived; and as the girls entered with a new feeling of timidity through the wide-open doors they caught a glimpse of Maggie in the distance. There were other girls, absolute strangers to them, who peeped for a minute over the balusters and then retired from view. But, whatever the four strangers might have felt with regard to these interesting occurrences, every other feeling was brought into subjection by the appearance of Mrs. Ward on the scene.

Mrs. Ward looked quite as stately as Mrs. Cardew, with her beautiful face still quite young; with her most kind, most gentle, most protective manner; with the glance of the eye and the pressure of the hand which spoke untold volumes of meaning. Merry felt her loving heart rise in sudden adoration. Cicely gave her a quick, adoring glance. As to Molly and Isabel, they were speechless with pleasure.

"You have come, dears," said Mrs. Ward. "Welcome, all four!--These are your girls, Mr. Tristram"--she singled out Molly and Isabel without being introduced to them. "I know them," she said with a smile, "from their likeness to you. And these are the Cardews. Now, which is Cicely and which Merry? Ah, I think I can tell. This is Merry, is she not?" and she laid her hand on the pretty girl's shoulder.

"Yes, I am Merry," replied Meredith Cardew in a voice which almost choked her.

"And you, of course, are Cicely," said Mrs. Ward. "In this house all the girls speak to each other by their Christian names; and you will be Cicely and Merry to me, as Molly and Isabel Tristram will be Molly and Isabel to me. You know Aneta, of course. She is hovering near, anxious to take possession of you. Go with her, dears. I think all my girls have now come.--Is it not so, Miss Talbot?"

"Yes, Mrs. Ward," replied Miss Talbot.

"Miss Talbot, may I introduce my four new pupils to you, Cicely and Merry Cardew, and Molly and Isabel Tristram?--You will have a good deal to do with Miss Talbot, girls, for she is our English teacher, and my very great friend."

Miss Talbot blushed slightly from pleasure. She said a gentle word to each girl, and a minute afterwards they had, so to speak, crossed the Rubicon, and were in the heart of Aylmer House; for Aneta had seized Merry's hand, and Cicely followed immediately afterwards, while Molly and Belle found themselves one at each side of Maggie Howland.

"Oh, this is delightful!" said Maggie. "We have all met at last. Isn't the day glorious? Isn't the place perfect? Aren't you in love with Mrs. Ward?"

"She seems very nice," said Molly in an almost timid voice.

"How nice Merry and Cicely look!" continued Maggie.

"You look nice, yourself, Maggie. Everything is wonderful," said Molly; "not a bit like the school in Hanover."

"Of course not. Who could compare it?" said Maggie.

Meanwhile Aneta, Cicely, and Merry had gone on in front. But as they were ascending the broad, low stairs, Merry turned and glanced at Maggie and smiled at her, and Maggie smiled back at Merry. Oh, that smile of Merry's, how it caused her heart to leap! Aneta, try as she would, could not take Merry Cardew quite away from her.

Cicely and Merry had a bedroom together. Two little white beds stood side by side. The drugget on the floor was pale blue. The room was a study in pale blue and white. It was all exquisitely neat, fresh, airy, and the smell of the flowers in the window-boxes came in through the open windows.

"Why," said Cicely with a gasp, "we might almost be in the country!"

"This is one of the nicest rooms in the whole house," said Aneta. "But why should I say that," she continued, "when every room is, so to speak, perfect? I never saw Mrs. Ward, however, more particular than she was about your bedroom, girls. I think she is very much pleased at your coming to Aylmer House."

Cicely ran to the window and looked out.

"It is so nice to be in London," she said; "but somehow, I thought it would be much more noisy."

Aneta laughed.

"Aylmer House," she said, "stands in the midst of a great square. We don't have huge traffic in the squares; and, really, at night it is as quiet as the country itself."

"But hark! hark!" said Merry, "there is a funny sound after all."

"What do you take it for?" asked Aneta.

"I don't know," said Merry. "I could almost imagine that we were by the seaside, and that the sound was the roar of the breakers on the beach."

"It is the roar of human breakers," said Aneta. "One always hears that kind of sound even in the quietest parts of London. It is the great traffic in the thoroughfares not far away."

"It is delightful! wonderful!" said Merry. "Oh, I long to know all the girls! You will introduce us, won't you, Aneta?"

"Of course; and you must be very quick remembering names. Let me see. You two, and Molly and Isabel, and Maggie Howland, and I make six. There are twenty girls in the house altogether, so you have to make the acquaintance of fourteen others."

"I never can possibly remember their names," said Merry.

"You will have to try. That's the first thing expected of a schoolgirl--to know the names of her schoolfellows."

"Well, I will do my best."

"You had better do your best; it will be a good occupation for you during this first evening. Now, are you ready? And shall we go down? We have tea in the refectory at four o'clock. Mademoiselle Laplage presides over the tea-table this week."

"Oh, but does she talk English?"

"Of course not--French. How can you learn French if you don't talk it?"

"I shall never understand," said poor Merry.

"Well, I've no doubt she will let you off very easily during the first few days," said Aneta. "But afterwards she is just as particular as woman can be."

The girls went downstairs, where a group of other girls--most of them wearing pretty white dresses, for they were all still in full summer attire--met in the wide, pleasant hall. Aneta performed the ceremony of introduction.

"Henrietta and Mary Gibson, may I introduce my special friends and cousins, Cicely and Meredith--otherwise Merry--Cardew?"

Two tall, fair, lady-like girls responded to this introduction with a hearty shake of the hand and a hearty welcome to the new-comers.

"Here is Rosamond Dacre," continued Aneta, as a very dark, somewhat plain girl appeared in view.--"Rosamond, my friends and cousins, Cicely and Merry Cardew."

Rosamond shook hands, but stiffly and without any smile. The next minute a laughing, merry, handsome little girl, with dark-blue eyes, very dark curling eyelashes, and quantities of curling black hair, tumbled rather than walked into view.

"Ah Kathleen--Kitty, you're just as incorrigible as ever!" cried Aneta:--"Girls, this is our Irish romp, as we always call her. Her name is Kathleen O'Donnell.--Now then, Kathleen, you must be good, you know, and not too terribly Irish. I have the honor to present to you, Kathleen, my cousins Cicely and Merry Cardew."

Kathleen did more than smile. She laughed outright. "I am delighted you have come," she said. "How are you? Isn't school glorious? I do love it! I have come straight from Glengariff--the most beautiful part of the whole of Ireland. Do you know Ireland? Have you ever seen Bantry Bay? Oh, there is no country in all the world like it, and there is no scenery so magnificent."

"Come, Kitty, not quite so much chatter," said Aneta.--"Ah, there's the tea-gong."

The girls now followed Aneta into a pleasant room which looked out on to a small garden. The garden, compared to the great, sweeping lawns and lovely parterres of Meredith Manor, was insignificant. Nevertheless, with the French windows of the refectory wide open, and the beds full of hardy flowers--gay geraniums, late roses, innumerable asters, fuchsias, etc.--it appeared as a fresh surprise to the country girls.

"It isn't like London," thought Merry.

At tea she found herself, greatly to her relief, at Maggie's side. There was also another piece of good fortune--at least so it seemed to the Cardews, whose conversational French was still almost nil--Mademoiselle Laplage was unexpectedly absent, the good lady being forced to remain in her room with a sudden, overpowering headache, and pleasant, good-natured Lucy--otherwise Miss Johnson--took her place.

"Perfect freedom to-day, girls," said Miss Johnson.

"Ah, good Lucy! thank you, Lucy!" exclaimed Kathleen.

"That's right, Lucy! Hurrah for Lucy!" cried several other voices.

"No discipline at all to-day," continued Lucy. "School doesn't begin until to-morrow."

Cicely was seated near Aneta, with Kathleen O'Donnell at her other side. Just for a minute Aneta's eyes traveled across the table and fixed themselves on Maggie's face. Maggie found herself coloring, and a resentful feeling awoke in her heart. She could not dare to oppose Aneta; and yet--and yet--she was determined at any cost to keep the love of Merry Cardew for herself.

Meanwhile Merry, who was equally delighted to find herself by Maggie's side, began to talk to her in a low tone.

"You don't look very well, Mags," she said--"not nearly as robust as when I saw you last; and you never wrote to me after that first letter."

"I have a great deal I want to tell you," said Maggie in a low tone. "Lucy is quite right; there are no lessons of any sort this evening. Mrs. Ward always gives us the first evening to settle and to get perfectly at home in, so we shall be able to chatter to our heart's content. This is going to be a glorious night, and we can walk about in the garden."

"But won't there be a lot of other people in the garden?" asked Merry.

"Why, of course," said Maggie in a surprised tone. "I suppose we'll all be there."

"We can't talk any secrets, if that is what you mean," said Merry, "for the garden is so very small."

Maggie laughed. "That's because you are accustomed to Meredith Manor," she said. "Anyhow," she continued, dropping her voice, "I must talk to you. I have a great, great deal to say, and you'll have to listen."

"Of course I will listen, dear," said Merry.

Rosamond Dacre now joined in, and the conversation became general. Henrietta and Mary Gibson had a very agreeable way of describing things. Maggie felt herself reinstated in the life she loved; Merry, the girl she cared for best, was by her side, and she would not have had a single thorn in the flesh but for the presence of Aneta.

It has been said that in this school there were two girls who held considerable sway over their companions. One of them was Aneta Lysle, the other Maggie Howland. Aneta had, of course, far and away the greater number of girls under her spell, if such a word could describe her high and noble influence over them. But Maggie had her own friends, among whom were Rosamond Dacre, Kathleen O'Donnell, Matty and Clara Roache, and Janet Burns. All these girls were fairly nice, but not so high-bred and not so noble in tone as the girls who devoted themselves to Aneta. Kathleen was, indeed, altogether charming; she was the romp of the school and the darting of every one. But Rosamond Dacre was decidedly morose and sulky. She was clever, and on this account her mistresses liked her; but she was a truly difficult girl to deal with, being more or less shut up within herself, and disinclined to true friendship with any one. She liked Kathleen O'Donnell, however, and Kathleen adored Maggie. Rosamond was, therefore, considered to be on Maggie's side of the school. Matty and Clara Roache were quite ordinary, everyday sort of girls, neither very good-looking nor the reverse, neither specially clever nor specially stupid. Their greatest friend was Janet Burns, a handsome little girl with a very lofty brow, calm, clear gray eyes, and a passionate adoration for Maggie Howland. Matty and Clara would follow Janet to the world's end, and, as Janet adhered to Maggie, they were also on Maggie's side.

Maggie naturally expected to add to the numbers of her special adherents her own two friends, the Tristrams. She felt she could easily have won Merry also to join, the ranks of adorers; but then it suddenly occurred to her that her friendship for Merry should be even more subtle than the ordinary friendship that an ordinary girl who is queen at school gives to her fellows. She did not dare to defy Aneta. Merry must outwardly belong to Aneta, but if her heart was Maggie's what else mattered?

When tea was over several of the girls drifted into the garden, where they walked in twos, discussing their holidays, their old friends, and the time which was just coming. There was not a trace of unhappiness in any face. The whole atmosphere of the place seemed to breathe peace and goodwill.

Aneta and Cicely, with some of Aneta's own friends, two girls of the name of Armitage--Anne and Jessie--and a very graceful girl called Sylvia St. John, walked up and down talking quietly together for some little time.

Then Cicely looked eagerly round her. "I can't see Merry anywhere," she remarked.

"She is all right, dear, I am sure," said Aneta. But Aneta in her inmost heart did not think so. She was, however, far too prudent to say a word to make her cousin Cicely uneasy.

Meanwhile Maggie and Merry had found a cosy corner for themselves in one of the conservatories. They sat side by side in two little garden-chairs.

"Well, you've come!" said Maggie. "I have carried out my design. My heart's desire is satisfied."

"Oh, how sweet you are, Maggie!" said Merry. "I have missed you so much!" she added. "I have so often wished for you!"

"Do you really love me?" asked Maggie, looking at Merry in her queer, abrupt manner.

"You know I do," said Merry.

"Well," said Maggie, "there are a great many girls in the school who love me very dearly."

"It is easy to perceive that," said Merry. "Why, Maggie, at tea-time that handsome little Irish girl--Kathleen you call her--couldn't take her eyes off you."

"Oh, Kitty," said Maggie. "Yes, she is on my side."

"What do you mean by your side?"

"Well, of course I have told you--haven't I?--that there are two of us in this school who are more looked up to than the others. It seems very conceited for me to say that I happen to be one. Of course I am not a patch on Aneta; I know that perfectly well."

"Aneta is a darling," said Merry; "and she is my own cousin; but"--she dropped her voice--"Maggie, somehow, I can't help loving you best."

"Oh," said Maggie with a start, "is that true?"

"It is! it is!"

Maggie was silent for a minute. At the end of that time she said very gently, "You won't be hurt at something I want to tell you?"

"Hurt! No," said Merry; "why should I be?"

"Well, it is just this: Aneta is frightfully jealous of me."

"Oh! I don't believe it," said Merry indignantly. "It isn't in her nature to be jealous. It's very low-minded to be jealous."

"There is no school," said Maggie, "where jealousy does not abound. There is no life into which jealousy does not enter. The world itself is made up of jealous people. Aneta is jealous of me, and I--I am jealous of her."

"Oh, Maggie dear, you must not, and you ought not to be jealous of Aneta! She thinks so kindly, so sweetly of every one."

"She loves you," said Maggie. "You just go and tell her how much you care for me, that you love me better than you love her, and see how she will take it."

"But I wouldn't tell her that," said little Merry, "for it would hurt her."

"There!" said Maggie with a laugh; "and yet you pretend that you don't think her jealous."

"She will never be jealous of me, for I'll never give her cause--dear Aneta!" said Merry.

Maggie was again silent and thoughtful for a few minutes. "Listen to me, Merry," she said. "In this school the girls follow the queens. If I wanted to make Aneta Lysle really mad with jealousy I'd get you over to me; but--don't speak for a minute--I won't get you over to me. You shall stay at school and be on Aneta's side."

"I suppose--I suppose I ought," said Merry in a faint voice.

"You must--you must be on Aneta's side of the school, and so must Cicely; but you can, all the same, love me best."

"Can I?" said Merry, brightening up. "Then, if I can, I sha'n't mind a bit."

Maggie patted her hand very gently. "You can, Merry; and you can help me. You will always take my part, won't you?"

"Indeed--indeed I will! But it won't be necessary."

"It may be," said Maggie very earnestly. "Promise that, if the time comes, you will take my part."

"I promise, of course. What can be the matter with you, Maggie? You don't look a bit yourself."

Maggie did not at once reply. "I shall have a great deal to do this term," she said after a pause; "and my party in the school won't be so weak after all. There'll be Rosamond Dacre----"

"I didn't very much like Rosamond," said Merry, speaking in a low voice.

"Oh, she is excellent fun when you know her," said Maggie; "but as she won't be on your side, nor in your form, you are not likely to have much to do with her. Then Matty and Clara are first-rate, and they're mine too; and Kathleen O'Donnell is a perfect brick; and Janet Burns, she's as strong as they make 'em. Of course the Tristrams will belong to me. Let me see: Tristrams, two; Rosamond, three; Kathleen, four; Matty and Clara, six; Janet, seven. Ah, well, I am quite in the minority. Aneta carries off eleven girls as her share."

"Don't be sad about it, Maggie. Surely we might all be one in the school! Why should there be parties?" said Merry.

"Little you know, Merry, how impossible school-life would be without parties, and great friends, and medium friends, and favorites, and enemies. Why, Merry, school is a little world, and the world is made up of elements such as these."

"Tell me," said Merry after a pause, "what you did after you left us."

Maggie colored. "Oh, stayed for a time in that horrid Shepherd's Bush."

"In those fusty, musty lodgings?" said Merry.

"Yes, and they were fusty, musty."

"Oh dear! I am sorry for you. We had such a glorious time!"

"I know it, dear; but glorious times don't come to girls like me."

"Why, are you so very, very sad, Maggie? Oh, now I know--of course I know. I didn't like to write to you about it, for it seemed to me quite--you will forgive me, won't you?--quite dreadful that your mother should have married again. Is she married yet, Maggie?"

Maggie nodded.

"Oh, I can sympathize with you, dear Maggie! It must be so fearful to have a stepfather!"

"It is," said Maggie.

"Is he a nice man, Maggie? Or would you rather I didn't speak of him?"

"No; you may speak of him if you like. He is a rich man--he is very rich."

"I am glad of that at any rate," said Merry. "You will never be in fusty, musty lodgings any more."

"Oh no, never! My mother's husband--I cannot speak of him as my stepfather--will see to that."

"What is his name?"

Maggie hesitated. Not for the world would she have let any of her schoolfellows know the real position; but she could not very well conceal her stepfather's name.

"Martin," she said.

"Spelt with a 'y'? We know some awfully nice Martyns. They live about twenty miles away from Meredith Manor. I wonder if your Mr. Martyn is related to them."

"Oh, very likely," said Maggie.

"Then perhaps you will go to stay with them--your mother, and your--your mother's husband, and you too; and we'll all meet. They live at a place-called The Meadows. It isn't as old or as beautiful as our Manor, but it's a sweet place, and the girls are so nice you'll be sure to like them."

"Yes, I dare say I shall," said Maggie, who didn't care to contradict Merry's innocent ideas with regard to her mother's marriage.

"Well, I am glad," said Merry, "that your dear mother has married a rich gentleman. Has he a country place of his own?"

"Of course he has," said Maggie, who felt that she could at least utter these words with truth.

"And is it far, far from London, or quite in the country?"

"It is," said Maggie, "in--in the Norwood direction."

This remark made no impression whatever on Merry, who had not the least idea where the Norwood direction was. But by-and-by, when she parted from Maggie and joined her sister and Aneta, she said, "I have a piece of rather good news to tell about dear Maggie Howland. She won't be poor any more."

"That is a word we never discuss at school," said Aneta.

"Well, we needn't after to-night," said Merry with a slight touch of irritation in her manner. "But although I haven't the faintest idea what poverty means, I think poor Maggie knows a good deal about it. Well, she won't have anything to do with it in future, for her mother has just married again."

"Oh!" said Aneta, with a show of interest.

"Yes; and a very nice gentleman he must be. He is a cousin of the Martyns of The Meadows. You know how you liked them when we spent a day there during these holidays--didn't you, Aneta?"

"Yes," said Aneta, "most charming people. I felt quite sorry that the Martyn girls were too old for school. I wonder they didn't mention the fact of their cousin being about to marry Mrs. Howland; for you know we were talking of Maggie to them, or at least you were, Merry."

"Of course I was," said Merry in a determined voice. "I am very, very fond of Maggie Howland."

"Perhaps we had better go to bed now," said Aneta. "I may as well tell you, girls, that we have to get up at half-past six. Lucy comes to us and wakes us at that hour, and we are expected to be downstairs at seven. Lucy will tell you, too, girls, that it is expected of us all that we shall keep our rooms in perfect order. Now, shall we say good-night?"

The Cardews kissed their cousin and went to their own pleasant room.

As soon as they were there Merry said, "Cicely, I am glad about poor Maggie."

"And so am I," said Cicely.

"When we write home we must be sure to mention to mother about Mr. Martyn. I don't think dear Maggie knew anything about The Meadows; so perhaps, after all, he is a somewhat distant cousin; but it is such a comfort to know that he is rich and a gentleman."

"Yes," said Cicely. Then she added, "I don't think Aneta wants you to make too great a friend of Maggie Howland."

"Oh, nonsense!" said Merry, coloring slightly. "I am never going to give Maggie up, for I love her dearly."

"Of course," said Cicely, "it would be very mean to give her up; but you and I, as Aneta's cousins, must be on her side in the school. What I am afraid of is that Maggie will try to induce you to join her set."

"That shows how little you know her," said Merry, roused to the defensive. "She explained everything to me this afternoon, and said that I certainly must belong to Aneta."

"Did she? Well, I call that splendid," said Cicely. _

Read next: Chapter 16. Bo-Peep

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