A Very Naughty Girl

“Some people who are not good, who are not honorable, go to church,” she thought to herself. “It is very sad and very puzzling.”

CHAPTER XXI. – THE TORN BOOK

On the following morning Audrey and Evelyn started off for school. On the way Audrey turned to her companion.

“I wonder if anything has been discovered with regard to the injured book?” she said.

“Oh, I wish you would not talk so continually about that stupid old fuss!” said Evelyn in her crossest voice.

“It is useless to shirk it,” was Audrey’s reply. “You do not suppose for a single moment that Miss Henderson will not get to the bottom of the mischief? For my part, I think I could understand a girl doing it just for a moment in a spirit of revenge, although I have never yet felt revengeful to any one – but how any one could keep it up and allow the school to get into trouble is what puzzles me.”

“Were you ever at school before, Audrey?” was Evelyn’s remark.

“No; were you?”

“I wish I had been; I have always longed for school.”

“Well, you have your wish at last. How do you like it?”

“I should like it fairly well if I were put into a higher form, and if this stupid fuss were not going on.”

“Why do you dislike the subject being mentioned so much?”

Evelyn colored slightly. Audrey looked at her. There was no suspicion in Audrey’s eyes; it was absolutely impossible for her to connect her cousin with anything so mean and low. Evelyn had a great many objectionable habits, but that she could commit what was in Audrey’s opinion a very grave sin, and then tell lies about it, was more than the young girl could either imagine or realize.

The pretty governess-cart took them to school in good time, and the usual routine of the morning began. It was immediately after prayers, however, that Miss Henderson spoke from her desk to the assembled school.

“I am sorry to tell you all,” she began, “that up to the present I have not got the slightest clue to the mystery of the injured book. I have questioned, I have gone carefully into every particular, and all I can find out is that the book was left in classroom No. 4 (which is usually occupied by the girls of the Fourth Form); that it was placed there at nine o’clock in the morning, and was not used again by Miss Thompson until school was over – namely, between five and six o’clock in the evening. During that time, as far as I can make out, only one girl was alone in the room. That girl was Evelyn Wynford. I do not in any way accuse Evelyn Wynford of having committed the sin – for sin it was – but I have to mention the fact that she was alone in the room during recess, having failed to learn a lesson which had been set her. During the afternoon the room was, as far as I can tell, empty for a couple of hours, and of course some one may have come in then and done the mischief. I therefore have not the slightest intention of suspecting a girl who only arrived that morning; but I mention the fact, all the same, that Evelyn Wynford was alone in the room for the space of twenty minutes.”

While Miss Henderson was speaking all eyes were turned in Evelyn’s direction; all eyes saw a white and stubborn face, and two angry brown eyes that flashed almost wildly round the room and then looked down. Just for an instant a few of the girls said to themselves, “That is a guilty face.” But again they thought, “How could she do it? Why should she do it? No, it certainly cannot be Evelyn Wynford.”

As to Audrey, she pitied Evelyn very much. She thought it extremely hard on her that Miss Henderson should have singled her out for individual notice on this most painful occasion, and out of pity for her she would not once glance in her direction.

Miss Henderson paused for a moment; then she continued:

“Whoever the sinner may be, I am determined to sift this crime to the bottom. I shall severely punish the girl who tore the book unless she makes up her mind to confess to me between now and to-morrow evening. If she confesses before school is over to-morrow evening, I shall not only not punish but I shall forgive her. It will be my painful duty, however, to oblige her to confess her sin before the entire school, as in no other way can the rest of the girls be exonerated. I give her till to-morrow evening to make up her mind. I hope she will ask for strength from above to enable her to make this very painful confession. I myself shall pray that she may be guided aright. If no one comes forward by that time, I must again assemble the school to suggest a very terrible alternative.”

Here Miss Henderson left the room, and the different members of the school went off to their respective duties.

School went on much as usual. The girls were forced to attend to their numerous duties; the all-absorbing theme was therefore held more or less in abeyance for the time being. At recess, however, knots of girls might be seen talking to one another in agitated whispers. The subject of the injured book was the one topic on every one’s tongue. Evelyn produced chocolates, crystallized fruits, and other dainties from a richly embroidered bag which she wore at her side, and soon had her own little coterie of followers. To these she imparted her opinion that Miss Henderson was not only a fuss, but a dragon; that probably a servant had torn the book – or perhaps, she added, Miss Thompson herself.

“Why,” said Evelyn, “should not Miss Thompson greatly dislike Miss Henderson, and tear the outside page out of the book just to spite her?”

But this theory was not received as possible by any one to whom she imparted it. Miss Thompson was a favorite; Miss Thompson hated no one; Miss Thompson was the last person on earth to do such a shabby thing.

“Well,” said Evelyn crossly, “I don’t know who did it; and what is more, I don’t care. Come and walk with me, Alice,” she said to a pretty little curly-headed girl who sat next to her at class. “Come and let me tell you about all the grandeur which will be mine by and by. I shall be queen by and by. It is a shame – a downright shame – to worry a girl in my position with such a trifle as a torn book. The best thing we can all do is to subscribe amongst ourselves and give the old dragon another Sesame and Lilies. I don’t mind subscribing. Is it not a good thought?”

“But that will not help her,” said Alice; while Cherry, who stood near, solemnly shook her head.

“Why will it not help her?” asked Evelyn.

“Because it was the inscription she valued – the inscription in her brother’s writing; her brother who is dead, you know.”

Evelyn was about to make another pert remark when a memory assailed her. Naughty, heartless, rude as she was, she had somewhere a spark of feeling. If she had loved any one it was the excitable and strange woman she had called “mothery.”

“If mothery gave me something and wrote my name in it I’d be fond of it,” she thought; and just for a moment a prick of remorse visited her hard little heart.

No other girl in the whole school could confess the crime which Evelyn had committed, and the evening came in considerable gloom and excitement. Audrey could talk of nothing else on their way home.

“It is terrible,” said Audrey. “I am really sorry we are both at the school; it makes things so unpleasant for us. And you, Evelyn – I did pity you when Miss Henderson said to-day that you were alone in the room. Did you not feel awful?”

“No, I did not,” replied Evelyn. “At least, perhaps I did just for a minute.”

“Well, it was very brave of you. I should not have liked to be in your position.”

Evelyn turned the conversation.

“I wonder whether any one will confess to-morrow,” said Audrey again.

“Perhaps it was one of the servants,” remarked Evelyn. Then she said abruptly, “Oh, do let us change the subject!”

“There is something fine about Evelyn after all,” thought Audrey; “And I am so glad! She took that speech of Miss Henderson’s very well indeed. Now, I scarcely thought it fair to have her name singled out in the way it was. Surely Miss Henderson could not have suspected my little cousin!”

At dinner Audrey mentioned the whole circumstance of the torn book to her parents. The girls were again dining with the Squire and Lady Frances. The Squire was interested for a short time; he then began to chat with Evelyn, who was fast, in her curious fashion, becoming a favorite of his. She was always at her best in his society, and now nestled up close to him, and said in an almost winsome manner:

“Don’t let us talk about the old fuss at school.”

“Whom do you call the old fuss, Evelyn?”

“Miss Henderson. I don’t like her a bit, Uncle Edward.”

“That is very naughty, Evelyn. Remember, I want you to like her.”

“Why?”

“Because for the present, at least, she is your instructress.”

“But why should I like my instructress?”

“She cannot influence you unless you like her.”

“Then she will never influence me, because I shall never like her,” cried the reckless girl. “I wish you would teach me, Uncle Edward. I should learn from you; you would influence me because I love you.”

“I do try to influence you, Evelyn, and I want you to do a great many things for me.”

“I would do anything in all the world for him,” thought Evelyn, “except confess that I tore that book; but that I would not do even for him. Of course, now that there has been such an awful fuss, I am sorry I did it, but for no other reason. It is one comfort, however, they cannot possibly suspect me.”

Lady Frances, however, took Audrey’s information in a very different spirit from what her husband did. She felt indignant at Evelyn’s having been singled out for special and undoubtedly unfavorable notice by Miss Henderson, and resolved to call at the school the next day to have an interview with the head-mistress. She said nothing to Audrey about her intention, and the girls went off to school without the least idea of what Lady Frances was about to do. Her carriage stopped before Chepstow House a little before noon. She inquired for Miss Henderson, and was immediately admitted into the head-mistress’s private sitting-room. There Miss Henderson a moment or two later joined her.

“I am sorry to trouble you,” began Lady Frances at once, “but I have come on a matter which occasioned me a little distress. I allude to the mystery of the torn book. Audrey has told me all about it, so I am in possession of full particulars. Of course I am extremely sorry for you, and can quite understand your feelings with regard to the injury of a book you value so much; but, at the same time, you will excuse my saying, Miss Henderson, that I think your mentioning Evelyn’s name in the way you did was a little too obvious. It was uncomfortable for the poor child, although I understand from my daughter that she took it extremely well.”

“In a case of this kind,” replied Miss Henderson quietly, “one has to be just, and not to allow any favoritism to appear.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Lady Frances; “it was my wish in sending both girls to school that they should find their level.”

“And I regret to say,” answered Miss Henderson, “that your niece’s level is not a high one.”

“Alas! I am aware of it. I have been terribly pained since Evelyn came home by her recklessness and want of obedience; but this is a very different matter. This shows a most depraved nature; and of course you cannot for a moment have suspected my niece when you spoke of her being alone in the room.”

“Had any other girl been alone in the room I should equally have mentioned her name,” said Miss Henderson. “I certainly did not at the time suspect Miss Wynford.”

“What do you mean by ‘did not at the time’? Have you changed your opinion?”

Lady Frances’s face turned very white.

“I am sorry to say that I have.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you will pardon me for a moment I will explain.”

Miss Henderson left the room.

While she was absent Lady Frances felt a cold dew breaking out on her forehead.

“This is beyond everything,” she thought. “But it is impossible; the child could never have done it. What motive would she have? She is not as bad as that; and it was her very first day at school.”

Miss Henderson re-entered the room, accompanied by Miss Thompson. In Miss Thompson’s hand was a copy of the History of England that Evelyn had been using.

“Will you kindly open that book,” said Miss Henderson, “and show Lady Frances what you have found there?”

Miss Thompson did so. She opened the History at the reign of Edward I. Between the leaves were to be seen two fragments of torn paper. Miss Thompson removed them carefully and laid them upon Lady Frances’s hand. Lady Frances glanced at them, and saw that they were beyond doubt torn from a copy of Ruskin’s Sesame and Lilies. She let them drop back again on to the open page of the book.

“I accuse no one,” said Miss Henderson. “Even now I accuse no one; but I grieve to tell you, Lady Frances, that this book was in the hands of your niece, Evelyn Wynford, on that afternoon. – Miss Thompson, will you relate the entire circumstances to Lady Frances?”

“I am very, very sorry,” said Miss Thompson. “I wish with all my heart I had understood the child better, but of course she was a stranger to me. The circumstance was this: I gave her the history of the reign of Edward I. to look over during class, as of course on her first day at school she had no regular lessons ready. She glanced at it, told me she knew the reign, and amused herself looking about during the remainder of the time. At recess I called her to me and questioned her. She seemed to be totally ignorant of anything relating to Edward I. I reproved her for having made an incorrect statement – ”

“For having told a lie, you mean,” snapped Lady Frances.

Miss Thompson bowed.

“I reproved her, and as a punishment desired her to look over the reign while the other girls were in the playground.”

“And quite right,” said Lady Frances.

“She was very much annoyed, but I was firm. I left her with the book in her hand. I have nothing more to say. At six o’clock that evening I removed Sesame and Lilies from its place in the classroom, and took it away to continue the preparation of a lecture. I then found that several pages had been removed. This morning, early, I happened to take this very copy of the History, and found these fragments in the part of the book which contains the reign of Edward I.”

“Suspicion undoubtedly now points to Evelyn,” said Miss Henderson; “and I must say, Lady Frances, that although a matter of this kind pertains entirely to the school, and must be dealt with absolutely by the head-mistress, yet your having called, and in a measure taken the matter up, relieves me of a certain responsibility.”

“Suspicion does undoubtedly point to the unhappy child,” said Lady Frances; “but still, I can scarcely believe it. What do you mean to do?”

“I shall to-morrow morning have to state before the entire school what I have now stated to you.”

“It might be best for me to remove Evelyn, and let her confess to you in writing.”

“I do not think that would be either right or fair. If the girl is taken away now she is practically injured for life. Give her a chance, I beseech you, Lady Frances, of retrieving her character.”

“Oh, what is to be done?” said Lady Frances. “To think that my daughter should have a girl like that for a companion! You do not know how we are all to be pitied.”

“I do indeed; you have my sincere sympathy,” said Miss Henderson.

“And what do you advise?”

“I think, as she is a member of the school, you must leave her to me. She committed this offense on the very first day of her school-life, and if possible we must not be too severe on her. She has not been brought up as an English girl.”

Lady Frances talked a little longer with the head-mistress, and went away; she felt terribly miserable and unhappy.

CHAPTER XXII. – “STICK TO YOUR COLORS, EVELYN.”

Evelyn met Jasper, as arranged, on Tuesday evening. She found it quite easy to slip away unnoticed, for in truth Lady Frances was too unhappy to watch her movements particularly. The girls had been dining alone. Audrey had a headache, and had gone to bed early. Evelyn rushed up to her room, put on a dark shawl, which completely covered her fair hair and white-robed little figure, and rushed out by a side entrance. She wore thin shoes, however, being utterly reckless with regard to her health. Jasper was waiting for her. It took but an instant for Jasper to clasp her in her arms, lifting her off the ground as she did so.

“Oh, my little darling,” cried the affectionate woman – “my sweet little white Eve! Oh, let me hug you; let me kiss you! Oh, my pet! it is like cold water to a thirsty person to clasp you in my arms again.”

“Do not squeeze me quite so tight, Jasper,” said Evelyn. “Yes, of course, I am glad to see you – very glad.”

“But let me feel your feet, pet. Oh, to think of your running out like this in your house-shoes! You will catch your death! Here, I will sit down on this step and keep you in my arms. Now, is not that cozy, my fur cloak wrapped round you, feet and all? Is not that nice, little Eve?”

“Yes, very nice,” said Evelyn. “It is almost as good as if I were back again on the ranch with mothery and you.”

“Ah, the happy old days!” sighed Jasper.

“Yes, they were very happy, Jasper. I almost wish I was back again. I am worried a good bit; things are not what I thought they would be in England. There is no fuss made about me, and at school they treat me so horribly.”

“You bide your time, my love; you bide your time.”

“I don’t like school, Jas.”

“And why not, my beauty? You know you must be taught, my dear Miss Evelyn; an ignorant young lady has no chance at all in these enlightened days.”

“Oh! please, Jas, do not talk so much like a horrid book; be your true old self. What does learning matter?”

“Everything, love; I assure you it does.”

“Well, I shall never be learned; it is too much trouble.”

“But why don’t you like school, pet?”

“I will tell you. I have got into a scrape; I did not mean to, but I have.”

“Oh, you mean about that book. Sylvia told me. Why did you tell Sylvia, Evelyn?”

“I had to tell some one, and she is not a schoolgirl.”

“She is not your sort, Evelyn.”

“Is she not? I like her very much.”

“But she is not your sort; for instance, she could not do a thing of that kind.”

“Oh, I do not suppose many people would have spirit enough,” said Evelyn in the voice of one who had done a very fine act.

“She could not do it,” repeated Jasper; “and I expect she is in the right, and that you, my little love, are in the wrong. You were differently trained. Well, my dear Eve, the long and short of it is that I admire what you did, only somehow Sylvia does not, and you will have to be very careful or she may – ”

“What – what, Jasper?”

“She may not regard it as a secret that she will always keep.”

“Is she that sort? Oh, the horrid, horrid thing!” said Evelyn. “Oh, to think that I should have told her! But you cannot mean it; it is impossible that you can mean it, Jasper!”

“Don’t you fret, love, for I will not let her. If she dares to tell on you, why, I will leave her, and then it is pretty near starvation for the poor little miss.”

“You are sure you will not let her tell? I really am in rather a nasty scrape. They are making such a horrid fuss at school. This evening was the limit given for the guilty person – I should not say the guilty person, but the spirited person – to tell, and the spirited person has not told; and to-morrow morning goodness knows what will happen. Miss Henderson has a rod in pickle for us all, I expect. I declare it is quite exciting. None of the girls suspect me, and I talk so openly, and sometimes they laugh, too. I suppose we shall all be punished. I do not really know what is going to be done.”

“You hold your tongue and let the whole matter slide. That is my advice,” said Jasper. “I would either do that or I would out with it boldly – one or the other. Say you did it, and that you are not ashamed to have done it.”

“I could not – I could not,” said Evelyn. “I may be brave after a fashion, but I am not brave enough for that. Besides, you know, Jasper, I did say already that I had not done it.”

“Oh, to be sure,” answered Jasper. “I forgot that. Well, you must stick to your colors now, Eve; and at the worst, my darling, you have but to come to me and I will shield you.”

“At the worst – yes, at the worst,” said Evelyn. “I will remember that. But if I want to come to you very badly how can I?”

“I will come every night to this stile at nine o’clock, and if you want me you will find me. I will stay here for exactly five minutes, and any message you may like to give you can put under this stone. Now, is not that a ’cute thought of your dear old Jasper’s?”

“It is – it is,” said the little girl. “Perhaps, Jasper, I had better be going back now.”

“In a minute, darling – in a minute.”

“And how are you getting on with Sylvia, Jasper?”

“Oh, such fun, dear! I am having quite an exciting time – hidden from the old gentleman, and acting the gipsy, and pretending I am feeding him with old fowls when I am giving him the tenderest chicken. You have not, darling, a little scrap of money to spare that you can help old Jasper with?”

“Oh! you are so greedy, Jasper; you are always asking for things. Uncle Edward makes me an allowance, but not much; no one would suppose I was the heiress of everything.”

“Well dear, the money don’t matter. I will come here again to-morrow night. Now, keep up your pecker, little Eve, and all will be well.”

Evelyn kissed Jasper, and was about to run back to the house when the good woman remembered the light shoes in which she had come out.

“I’ll carry you back,” she said. “Those precious little feet shall not touch the frosty ground.”

Jasper was very strong, and Evelyn was all too willing. She was carried to within fifty yards of the side entrance in Jasper’s strong arms; then she dashed back to the house, kissed her hand to the dark shadow under a tree, and returned to her own room. Read had seen her, but Evelyn knew nothing of that. Read had had her suspicions before now, and determined, as she said, to keep a sharp lookout on young miss in future.

CHAPTER XXIII. – ONE WEEK OF GRACE

There never was a woman more distressed and puzzled than Miss Henderson. She consulted with her sister, Miss Lucy; she consulted with her favorite teacher, Miss Thompson. They talked into the small hours of the night, and finally it was resolved that Evelyn should have another chance.

“I must appeal to her honor; it is impossible that any girl could be quite destitute of that quality,” said Miss Henderson.

“I am sure you are doing right, sister,” said Miss Lucy. “Once you harden a girl you do for her. Whatever Evelyn Wynford’s faults may be, she will hold a high position one day. It would be terrible – more than terrible – if she grew up a wicked woman. How awful to have power and not to use it aright! My dear Maria, whatever you are, be merciful.”

“I must pray to God to guide me aright,” answered Miss Maria. “This is a case for a right judgment in all things. Poor child! I pity her from my heart; but how to bring her to the necessary confession is the question.”

Miss Henderson went to bed, but not to sleep. Early in the morning she arose, having made up her mind what to do.

Accordingly, when Audrey and Evelyn arrived in the pretty little governess-cart – Audrey with a high color in her cheeks, looking as sweet and fresh and good and nice as English girl could look, and Evelyn tripping after her with a certain defiance on her white face and a look of hostility in her brown eyes – they were both greeted by Miss Henderson herself.

“Ah, Audrey dear,” she said in a cheerful and friendly tone, “how are you this morning? – How do you do, Evelyn? – No, Audrey, you are not late; you are quite in nice time. Will you go to the schoolroom, my dear? I will join you presently for prayers. – Evelyn, can I have a word with you?”

“Why so?” asked Evelyn, backing a little.

“Because I have something I want to say to you.”

Audrey also stood still. She cast a hostile glance at Miss Henderson, saying to herself:

“After all, my head-mistress is horribly unfair; she is doubtless going to tell Evelyn that she suspects her.”