Girls New and Old

"I don't think you will eavesdrop," continued Kate, "for the simple reason that we shan't allow it."

"Besides, we have a detective in the service," continued Cecil, in a calm voice. "My brother Jimmy is a detective. You can never get over Jimmy; so don't you begin to try."

"Perhaps, under the circumstances, you'd rather not come," resumed Kate, in her mocking tone. "You see, you have forced yourself into the company of by no means congenial spirits: it is not too late to back out of it. You've only to say the word, and we shall be – I'm sure I speak for us all —so grateful to you."

"I think you are rather hard," said Molly, who quite pitied Matilda's look of confusion.

"Well, what will you do?" continued Kate.

Matilda looked up at these words. If ever there was a look of concentrated hate on any face, it shone now on hers, as she returned Kate's glance.

"I will come," she said, in a low voice; under her breath she added, "If for no other reason than to spite you."

"Very well," said Cecil; "you promise to conform to the first condition?"

"Yes, yes."

"Oh, please say no more about that," interrupted Molly.

"The second condition," said Cecil, "is also essential to the happiness of the larger number of our party. Independent of you, Matilda, the party will consist of three girls and four boys; these seven individuals having, to a certain extent, the same tastes, the same aims in life, the same aspirations. Now, while with us, you, who are in the minority, are on all occasions to submit to the vote of the majority. During this holiday, which but for you would be perfectly delightful, our wishes are to be carried out, not yours. Do you agree to this?"

"Yes, yes – I must!"

"I think that is all," said Cecil. "Isn't it, Kate?"

"Yes, that is all," answered Kate; "only if Matilda still wishes to stay at St. Dorothy's during Christmas vacation, she can do so."

"No; I will go with you," said Matilda. She turned toward the door, opened it, and went quickly out. In the passage outside her face changed, she clenched her hands and stamped her feet.

"If I don't make Kate O'Connor eat humble pie, if I don't punish Cecil Ross for speaking to me as she has done, my name is not Matilda Matthews!" she muttered. "Yes, I will go, if only to spite them both. I will find out a way of revenge. How dared they speak to me as they did? Molly Lavender is well enough; she is a weak, goody-goody little thing of no character; I've nothing to say against her – at least not now. But oh, Cecil, you owe me a fine arrear of debts! And as to you, Kate, you will be sorry some day that you pitted your strength and will against mine. When first I thought of this plan I meant to be pretty good, if you would let me go; but now I won't be good; I'll only pretend to be good. Not eavesdrop, indeed! Oh, won't I, though, if necessary!"

Matilda hurried back to her room to write to her mother. Cecil and Kate looked at Molly.

"Well, are you happy now, Molly Lavender?" asked Kate.

"I think I am," replied Molly. "I think Matilda will try not to make herself too obnoxious."

"She'll be the snake in the grass, but we're in for her now," said Kate. "Don't let us waste any more time over her at present. Where shall we go? That is the next point to be considered."

The girls then drew their chairs to the little table in Molly's room, and, with a map of England and a gazetteer before them, began to plan out their holiday.

CHAPTER XXI.

GIRLS AND BOYS

BREAKING-UP day came quickly round, and a merry party assembled at the railway station to go off to a small watering-place which went by the name of St. Jude's, and was within three miles of Whitby. Even Matilda was on her best behavior. To her relief, she discovered that Kate and Cecil meant to treat her with an easy sort of good-nature until, as they expressed it, she broke her compact.

"When you do that, we will boycott you," said Kate, in her frank way; "as long as you keep it, we will do nothing to make you miserable. Now, come along and take your seat in the carriage."

"But surely we are not going to travel third class?" began Matilda.

"Yes, we are," answered Kate; "because the majority of us prefer to save our money. Now, hop in. No, you are not to take the corner, that is Molly's seat; don't you see her umbrella there?"

Molly would have given up her coveted corner to Matilda, but a glance from Kate prevented this. The four girls found themselves rather crowded, and Matilda, under different circumstances, would have shown a good deal of selfishness and ill-nature; but the infection of three perfectly happy people was too much for her, and she found herself joining in the mirth, and even adding her quota to the jokes, before the journey had come to an end. Late in the evening the girls arrived at Whitby, where they were met not only by the boys, but by a large, roomy wagonette, into which they all tumbled helter-skelter. The luggage was crowded up on the driver's seat, and squeezed into every imaginable corner, and soon the happy party started on their way. It wanted but three days to Christmas; the moon was at the full, the stars shone brightly, there was a keen frosty feel in the air. It was impossible on such an occasion to be anything but merry and cheerful; the boys cracked jokes; Maurice sat close to Cecil with his arm round her waist; Jimmy made himself comfortable by leaning against Molly, and finally dropping his curly head on her shoulder; and Charlie and Teddy, after a little demur, began to devote themselves to Matilda. They did not much care for her look, but they thought it would be fun to draw her out. Accordingly, they sat at each side of her, and regaled her with false information with regard to the scenery and the country generally. The boys were keen naturalists; Matilda had lived all her life, except when at school, in London.

"Isn't the air delicious?" said Teddy. "Rather too warm, if anything."

"Why, I am perfectly shivering," answered Matilda. "I wish you could feel my hands. Oh, this is much worse than London!" she continued. "Fancy driving in an open conveyance in the month of December; my chilblains will get much worse from this biting, frosty air."

"Do you suffer from chilblains?" asked Charlie, in a sympathetic voice. "Did you ever have one on your nose?"

"No," said Matilda, with a little cry. "Oh, horrors! do people get them on their noses in the country?"

"Well, I don't, because I'm acclimatized," said Charlie; "but one of the fellows in my form generally gets one in the beginning of the winter; it worries him a good bit. He used to live in London, and he never suffered there – he says it is the change to the country. Is your nose cold now? If it is, I'll get out and bring in a little snow. If you rub it hard with snow, you may not suffer; if you don't – "

"Oh, what will happen?" asked Matilda.

"It may be frost-bitten; that's much more serious than chilblains. Perhaps I'd better get the snow."

"Charlie, what are you talking about?" interrupted Maurice. "Please don't mind a word he says, Miss Matthews; it isn't a bit colder here than in London, and people don't get chilblains on their noses, if they take exercise enough. Come along, Teddy and Charlie, you both change places with me and talk to Cecil for a bit; she has no end of things to tell you. I will sit near you, Miss Matthews, and point out some of the beauties of the country."

The transfer was quickly made, and Matilda found her fears soothed and her vanity agreeably tickled by Maurice's courteous attentions. The short drive came quickly to an end; the lodgings were found to be perfection; a boisterous supper ensued, after which Cecil, Kate, Molly, and the boys ran down to the shore. Matilda, who was very nervous on the subject of chilblains, elected to stay at home, and Maurice, with a wistful glance at his sister and her friends, offered to remain with her, but Molly put a stop to that.

"You are the grown-up one of the party," she said, with a smile at the handsome lad; "we want you to protect us. I think, Matty, you will find a book in my bag, if you like to open it."

"Thanks," said Matilda, "but I am so sleepy I shall go straight to bed; I hope the servant has put a hot bottle in my bed. I suppose there is no objection to my ordering a fire in my room, is there, Molly?"

"Oh, none whatever," replied Molly; "if Miss Pantry does not object to the trouble."

"I can pay for what I require," said Matilda, in a gruff tone.

She walked deliberately to the bell and rang it. The servant, a good-natured, round-cheeked girl, soon answered the summons.

"Will you light a fire in my bedroom directly?" said Matilda, "and have the goodness to let me know when it has blazed up bright and cheerful."

"Well, girls, come on if you are coming," said Maurice.

The others left the house, and Matilda was alone.

"What in the world did you bring her for?" said Jimmy, the moment they got outside.

"Now, look here, Jimmy," said Cecil, "we are not going to begin that sort of conversation at the very commencement of our holidays. Matilda is here, and we must make the best of her. But for Molly, we should none of us be having this delightful treat; Matilda is Molly's guest, and I expect her to be treated civilly."

"I wouldn't be rude to a lady for the world," said Teddy, drawing himself up.

"Nor I," burst from Charlie's lips; "only she doesn't seem to be your sort, Molly, nor yours, Cecil, nor yours, Miss O'Connor."

"Race me to the shore, Jimmy," said Kate suddenly.

The moonlight covered the wide white road, the smell of the sea came to Kate's nostrils, the grand sound of the sea to her ears.

"Oh, I can almost believe myself back in Ireland again," she said, with a sort of panting sigh. "I must run, or the delight of it all will be too much for me. Come along, Jimmy, I see by the shape of your legs you are a good runner. Now, one, two, and away."

Kate's running was almost as swift as the wind. Jimmy, Teddy, and Charlie eagerly joined in the race; Molly, Cecil, and Maurice walked behind.

"Oh," said Molly, "what good this will do Kate! she is a different creature already. I do hope Matilda will go to bed early every night. Perhaps she will if we make her room thoroughly comfortable."

"If I thought that – " said Maurice, with a smile.

"Why, what would you do, dear?" asked his sister.

"I'd see to the lighting of that fire myself; but look here, Ceci, the boys must not tease her too much. You know Charlie and Teddy are little imps of mischief, and Jimmy is so clever, there's no being up to him when he is bent on sport, as he calls it. The best and the worst of it is, that Matilda will never see when they are poking fun at her. Did you hear them to-night about chilblains? I know perfectly well what they'll do. They'll be as polite as little angels until they find out all her weak points, and then, woe betide her, more especially if she has a secret fear."

"You must talk to them," said Cecil. "Matilda is Molly Lavender's guest, and it will be very shabby of us to give her a bad time."

"But you don't really like her, do you, Molly?" asked Maurice.

"Not really," answered Molly.

"She is the thorn in the rose," said Cecil, with a sigh. "You know we can never expect perfection here, Maurice, old boy, and our holiday would be too good were it not for Matilda. Well, now, let us talk of something else; you must have a lot to tell me. How have you got on with Mr. Danvers? Is the poor, good-natured man still in the land of the living?"

"I should rather think he is! He's the best fellow going," said Maurice, with enthusiasm. "I wish I could tell you half what he has done for me, Cecil. He coaches me in Greek and Latin every evening before he goes to bed, and I have got on like a house on fire. I shall be in the sixth next term. In short, I am nearly safe to win that scholarship."

"You must have worked very hard, Maurice," said Cecil.

"Well, I did put on the screw a good bit, but how could I help it when I thought of you pegging away?"

"And how are the other boys doing?" asked Cecil.

"Jimmy and Charlie are doing famously; Teddy's idle. Mr. Danvers says there's no real work in him; but then he is young yet, and you can't expect us all to have old heads on young shoulders, can you, Cecil?"

"No, no; I'm perfectly content with you as you are," answered Cecil. "I wish I could thank Mr. Danvers for what he has done for you."

"Well, you will have an opportunity, for he has actually promised to come to St. Jude's before the new year – that is, provided you will promise me beforehand never to invite him either to dinner or tea. He's awfully shy of women, and we'll have to humor him with regard to all his little pet weaknesses."

"But I want really to get to know him," said Cecil.

"Well, perhaps you will if you are careful. You must just make his acquaintance without seeming to make it. If once he caught sight of a girl like Matilda, he would fly the place – I know he would. Now, that Irish girl, Kate – what do you call her?"

"Kate O'Connor."

"Kate O'Connor, well, she'd be just his sort; he'd compare her to one of his Greek heroines, Iphigenia or Persephone. He doesn't mind thinking of women, and even talking of them, if he can compare them to Greeks, but the modern English sort! oh, we will try to keep him from talking about them. He once saw you, Cecil; he said you had the patient sort of look which Penelope used to wear – that was his sole remark about you; he shut up his lips then, and rumpled his hair, and went to the stove to cook some bacon. By the way, he's the best cook I ever came across in all my life. I wish you could taste his toffee."

"Toffee!" cried Cecil. "Can Mr. Danvers stoop to toffee?"

"Oh, can't he? We were doing it up in the back bedroom. He caught us over it one night with a saucepan with a hole in the bottom – the smell was awful; the stuff was going through on to the fire. His whole face got scarlet; he rushed downstairs, and brought up a china-lined saucepan of his own. Teddy had to fly for half a pound of butter, a pound of moist sugar, and a quarter of a pound of almonds. He stood over that toffee until it was cooked to perfection, and then he poured it out on to a large tin, and the next day, when it was cold, he cut it up and gave it to us. He was more excited than any of us over it."

"I tell you what it is," said Molly; "Mr. Danvers shall make toffee for us – yes, for us – when he comes to St. Jude's; we'll manage it somehow."

"You must look like a Greek goddess, or he won't," said Maurice; "and I am not sure that you are quite the style."

"Oh, yes, she is," said Cecil, with a laugh; "she'd make a lovely little Alcestis."

"No, I shouldn't," answered Molly, with a laugh. "I am much – much too modern; I'll allow you, Cecil, and Kate, to do the Greek heroines to perfection, but I shall stick to just being a modern English girl. Who knows but that I may conquer Mr. Danvers' prejudices, and get him to drop his dislike to the English girl of the latter half of the century."

CHAPTER XXII.

MATILDA'S OPPORTUNITY

THE first week in the country passed off without flaw or disturbance of any kind. Matilda was true to her promise; no one could catch her even attempting to eavesdrop; she interfered with none of the arrangements of the others, but plodded along, not adding her quota of merriment or joy, but still behaving much better than anyone expected.

"It is too good to last," thought Kate, who knew her well.

But Cecil and Molly began to believe that they had been overhard on Matilda. As the days wore on they tried to draw her out. They were intensely happy themselves, and they wanted all their companions to share their pleasure. Christmas had passed delightfully, and New Year's day drew on, arrived, and sank into the annals of the past. A day or two after the new year, Maurice was much delighted to receive a letter from Mr. Danvers, to tell him that he had taken rooms in the next terrace to theirs, and might be expected to arrive that evening.

"I do not wish you to pay any attention to this letter," said the schoolmaster. "I am simply coming to St. Jude's because I have heard of the famous air of the place, and I really want to get braced up a little. Do not on any account acquaint the ladies of your party of my intended arrival. You can drop in to see me if you like some evening, and if we should happen to meet in any of our walks, I shall, of course, be pleased to see you. I hope the other lads are well. By the way, you might coach Teddy up a little in his Latin; we ought to get him into Cæsar next term; do your best, Maurice.

"Your sincere friend,"John Danvers."

"Who is your letter from, Maurice?" asked Molly.

"He said I wasn't to tell you anything about it," said Maurice, looking up with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, we know what that means," said Cecil. "Mr. Danvers is coming at last – how glad I am!"

"You really must not force yourself on him," said Maurice, a pucker coming between his brows; "he honestly hates all women, and poor old chap, his prejudices must be humored. He didn't wish me to let you know that he was coming. I may drop in on him some day, if I fancy."

"I say!" exclaimed Teddy; "much chance he has of getting rid of us in that style."

"He wants you to attack your Cæsar," said Maurice, fixing his eyes on his brother.

"Oh, perhaps, after all, we'd better not bother him too much," was the quick reply. "I say, Charlie and Jimmy, let's run off for a scamper; it's a splendid day. How the wind does blow!"

"It's snowing as fast as ever it can," said Matilda, shivering as she spoke. "If you call this a splendid day, I must say I don't admire your taste; for my part, I am going to sit over the fire. Mother sent me down a copy of 'The Golden Butterfly' this morning; it looks interesting, and I shall spend my time reading it."

"It is not a bit too cold for a walk," said Cecil. "Who will come with me?"

"I, for one," cried Molly. "Are you coming, Kate?"

"No," answered Kate; "my head aches."

When she said this, Matilda raised her eyes and gave her a quick and furtive glance, which nobody noticed. Molly and Cecil ran off to put on their warmest wraps, and were presently seen battling with the wind, and going off in the direction of the sea. The four boys had all disappeared, and Kate and Matilda found themselves alone in the snug little parlor. Matilda piled coal on the fire until it blazed and crackled merrily; she then drew forward the only really comfortable chair, seated herself in it, put her feet on the fender, rested her head against the cushions, opened her novel, and prepared to read. Kate collected some books, sat down by the center table, leaned her elbows upon it, pressed one of her hands against her cheek, and tried, with the help of a lexicon, to translate, as best she could, a somewhat difficult passage of Homer. She soon became absorbed in her task; her brow cleared, her eyes grew full of light, her lips moved softly as the beautiful meaning of the grand old text began to unfold itself before her. Matilda, who was no reader, who was incapable of even thoroughly enjoying a novel, uttered a profound yawn, slightly turned her head, and looked at Kate.

"What in the world are you doing?" she said, in an abrupt voice.

"Don't speak to me for a minute," said Kate.

"I do believe you are studying, and that is forbidden!" cried Matilda.

"I wish you would stop talking," cried Kate. She turned the pages of her lexicon quickly, found the word she required, shut up her Homer, and looked at Matilda with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"Now you'll have a headache. How awfully silly you are!" said Matilda. "And you are breaking the rules, too; it was arranged that none of us were to study."

"I am doing nothing underhand," said Kate. "I have been feeling much better, and we agreed that a very little study in the morning could not hurt me."

"For my part," said Matilda, "I wonder you do not grasp the opportunity of having a real rest. If you knew how I detest work?"

"You see, I love it," said Kate. "Perhaps you will allow me to go on with it now. Is not your book interesting?"

"Pretty well; it's about a girl who didn't know anything at all; but all the same she seemed to have an uncommonly jolly time of it. I can't make out what is the use of grinding: it spoils your eyes, and your figure, and your temper, and men don't think a bit the more of you for it. After all, women are sent into the world just to please the men."

"I should like to ask you a question," said Kate. "Why, with your views, did you trouble to come to Redgarth?"

"Simply and entirely," replied Matilda, "because it is the fashion just at present for girls to be educated. Mother took it into her head that I must be in the fashion. I am just going to scrape through somehow, just to please mother. I do hope she will let me leave at the end of the summer term."

"I sincerely hope so, too," answered Kate.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because girls like you are a disgrace to a place like Redgarth."

"Don't you think you are very rude?" said Matilda, flushing deeply.

"I am sorry if I am, but you force me to speak plainly, now and then. Will you stop talking now and let me return to my Homer."

"Yes, I will, after I have said something. I am truly sorry for you, although you are spiteful and unkind to me."

"I don't need your sympathy, thanks," answered Kate.

"All the same, you can't help my giving it to you. I am sorry for you, because it is important for you to work, and I fear, after that bad accident, you won't be fit for much for some time. I had a cousin who fell on her head when she was a girl; she was never any good afterward – she developed epileptic fits. Her brain was badly injured, but not so badly as yours. Now, I won't say any more, but if I were you, I wouldn't work at that dull old Homer longer than I could help. I am giving you a piece of sensible advice; you can take it or not, as you please."

Kate did not utter a word. Matilda sighed, fidgeted, and resumed her novel. She was feeling deeply annoyed. If Kate had flown into a passion, or show any disturbance at her taunting words, she would have felt that she had had her revenge; but Kate was calmness itself; she was once more deep in her books; the poetry of the king of poets was enchanting her: her noble brow looked full of intellect, her lovely eyes were sparkling, her lips were like roses.

"Yes, she's clever," thought Matilda as she watched her. "I don't suppose her brain is much injured – I doubt if it is injured at all. And she's beautiful, too; there's no sort of sense in denying it. How I wish she were ugly, and – yes, and stupid! but she's not – she's graceful, too; she never does an ungraceful thing. How I detest her! how I hate her! What right has a girl of that sort to be at St. Dorothy's? Why, she's nothing whatever but a peasant girl – an Irish peasant girl; but, of course, no one cares for that, just because she happens to have a good-looking face. Oh, dear! I can't stand any more of this stupid novel. I wonder if it is too cold to go out; it isn't snowing at present, the sun is shining. I think I'll go for a run."

Matilda rose to her feet; she yawned and stretched herself as she did so.

"Hadn't you better come out?" she said, fixing her eyes on the student.

"No, thanks!"

"I am going."

"Very well."

"You are sure you would not like to come with me?"

"Yes, quite sure; do you mind shutting the door when you leave the room?"

Matilda had just approached the door, when it was suddenly opened by the rosy-cheeked maid-servant, and a little man with red hair, and spectacles pushed up on his forehead, was ushered into the room.

"I think Mr. Maurice is out, sir, but I will go and look for him," said the maid.

Mr. Danvers – for of course it was he – found himself almost in the arms of Matilda. Matilda backed: she did not admire the little man with his red head and somewhat startled eyes.

"Oh, horrors!" she said, under her breath.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Danvers. "I called to see Maurice Ross; I traveled last night instead of waiting until this morning. I wanted to leave Maurice my address. Will you have the goodness to give it to him? I" – he backed rapidly until he nearly reached the door – "I – I will call another time."