Girls New and Old

"No, indeed, you must not do anything of the kind," said Kate, rising suddenly.

She came a step or two forward as she spoke; she held her copy of Homer in one hand. The book was somewhat heavy; as Kate pushed a chair forward it slipped and fell.

"Excuse me," said Mr. Danvers, "but that is not the way to treat a valuable book."

He stooped, placed it on the table, then looked full at Kate.

"You don't mean to say you are reading Greek?" he said.

"Yes, indeed I am," answered Kate; "and I have just come to a most difficult passage; I am making an awful mess of it. Maurice tells me that you are devoted to the classics; perhaps, while you are waiting, you will construe this passage for me."

"With pleasure; show me your translation."

"Oh, it is too poor for you to look at!"

"Show it to me; I can soon tell you if you have gone wrong."

Kate held up her exercise book.

"Take a chair, won't you?" she said.

Without a word Mr. Danvers dropped into the one she had been using. He absolutely forgot that she was a girl; he began to read her translation, pursing up his lips as he did so.

"Good, so far," he said. "Oh, here is a wrong quantity; disgraceful, careless! Aren't you ashamed of yourself to do work of this sort? What will the boys of England come to?"

"But you are scolding a girl of Ireland," said Kate, in a gentle tone.

Mr. Danvers glanced up at her.

"I beg your pardon, miss," he said; "really, women ought not to meddle in matters too deep for them."

"But you will be good-natured and help me, won't you? You may as well do that as nothing, while you are waiting for Maurice; I felt sure I had gone wrong in that line. Will you show me? I shall be so grateful."

"Well, I can't see Homer murdered," exclaimed Mr. Danvers; "so here goes."

"Matilda," said Kate, facing round and looking at Matilda, who was standing in some perplexity near the door, "you are going out, are you not?"

"Yes," said Matilda.

"If you see Maurice, will you kindly tell him that Mr. Danvers has come?"

"Yes," replied Matilda again. She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"What an awkward, hideous little oddity!" she said to herself. "If people grow like that from the study of Greek, preserve me from wearing myself out with it. What a flirt Kate O'Connor is! pretending she wants to be helped with her stupid, musty old Homer! she just dropped the book on purpose. Well, I wish her joy of her prize in that old scarecrow. Yes, I may as well go out. I could not read 'The Golden Butterfly' in the same room with that parchment creature. To see Kate pretending to be so eager, and that old man falling into the trap so easily, is too much for my nerves. Perhaps he would not if he knew that she was only a peasant girl; perhaps he will know it some day. Now then, to find Maurice, and put a stop to this flirtation."

Matilda hastily donned a handsome sealskin jacket, and, wrapped from head to foot in the warmest furs, sallied forth into the cold January atmosphere. She walked as far as the shore, but, look to right and look to left as she would, she could not see a sign of any of her companions. The short gleam of sunshine had long ago disappeared; fresh banks of heavy clouds had come up from the north, and were covering the entire sky. Presently the snow began to fall; it fell faster and faster, thicker and thicker; it covered Matilda's sealskin jacket; it beat pitilessly against her cheeks, and even got into her eyes. She had forgotten to bring out an umbrella, and was therefore exposed to the full fury of the weather; she was quite a mile from home, too. What was to be done?

She by no means liked her present predicament; physical hardship of any sort was repellent to her. She walked on, buffeted by the weather, and feeling herself a truly wretched girl, when, to her relief, she saw a little shelter which had been put up along the shore, and which she had forgotten all about. She ran to it, sat down inside the glass-covered inclosure, and drew a long breath of relief. Part of this shelter was under repair, and was covered with scaffolding, canvas, and heavy boards. Matilda had scarcely seated herself in the glass part of the shelter before she heard footsteps approaching. She also heard voices which she immediately recognized; they were those of Maurice, Jimmy, and the other boys.

Now, Matilda had not made friends with the Ross boys. Maurice she would have tolerated had he shown her any special attention; the other three she cordially detested. She did not at all wish them to find her now, covered with snow, and looking blue, and miserable. She knew that Jimmy would immediately speak about her nose. Matilda's nose was a source of anxiety to herself, for the slightest thing made it red and swollen; the horror of a chilblain on this prominent portion of her face had been one of her terrors since her early childhood. Jimmy would be sure to tell her that the first signs of a chilblain were approaching. Scarcely considering what she was doing, she rushed into the dark part of the shelter, pulled forward some tarpaulin and matting, and, crouching down behind some boards, was completely lost to view. She resolved to stay in this hiding-place until the boys had left the shelter. She had scarcely made herself secure before they all entered. They stood by the entrance watching the storm and chattering hard to one another.

"How jolly!" said Jimmy; "we'll be able to snowball if this snow goes on much longer. I'm glad we are in for a downright good fall of snow. Isn't it fine to see it scudding as it does right across the sea? I should not be a bit surprised if we had a wreck to-night!"

"Oh, I say!" exclaimed Charlie, "if that isn't Molly and Cecil just turning the promontory; what a long walk they have taken! Do look at Cecil; see how her dress is blown by the wind – oh, and Molly's umbrella is inside out. What a mess they'll be in; why, this snow will wet them through. What is it, Maurice? Did you say anything?"

"I am going to meet them," said Maurice; "you stay quiet, if you can, you three, and don't be up to any larks. I'll bring the girls in here; they'll be sure to miss this little shelter if I don't point it out."

"Let me go with you," said Charlie.

"No, no! stay where you are; you are wet through as it is."

Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, Maurice ran as fast as he could in the direction from where his sister and her friend were approaching him.

Meanwhile, the three younger boys were alone in the shelter – that is, they supposed themselves to be alone but they little knew that Matilda, breathing hard and feeling terrified, was within earshot. She had scarcely concealed herself in her little shelter before she repented of her own rash act. Suppose by any chance she was discovered! Those awful boys would think as little of reconnoitering the dark part of the shed as they would of breathing or whistling. The three younger boys were about the most mischievous, most restless creatures Matilda had ever come across – they were never still for an instant. Oh, suppose they discovered her! Cruelly as Matilda hated both Cecil and Kate, she also feared them. She knew that no words of hers would prevent the rest of her companions believing that she had hidden herself for the purpose of eavesdropping. They would certainly keep their word if she were discovered, and boycott her on the spot.

Matilda would not have minded being boycotted by such girls as Kate and Cecil were she at school. But here at St. Jude's this state of things would make her a very miserable girl indeed; she reflected that, under such circumstances, she might have had a better time with the cook and housemaid at St. Dorothy's. Well, there was no help for it now: she must stay as mute as a mouse, and take her chance of not being discovered.

Luckily for her, Jimmy, with a shout, suddenly discovered a large crab, which had found its way into the shelter. He dropped on his knees and began eagerly to examine his captive. Soon the three boys began to wrangle over their prey, and Matilda breathed a gentle sigh of relief. The noise of approaching footsteps was again heard above the gale, and Maurice and the two girls entered the little shelter. The entire party now stood by the entrance watching the snow and commenting about it. By Cecil's request, Jimmy ran out with the poor crab, and deposited it in the nearest pool of water; he then returned to the shelter. They all remained there until the heavy snow-shower had slightly abated; then the boys decided to go to the house to fetch Cecil's and Molly's waterproofs. They ran off quickly, and the girls seated themselves on the bench at the back of the shelter.

"You might as well read me that letter now, Cecil," said Molly.

"Very well," answered Cecil; "there are sure to be no eavesdroppers about to-day, are there?"

"Scarcely, seeing that we left Matilda snugly ensconced at home with her book."

"Oh, did you?" muttered that young lady, from her hiding-place.

"I think it is awfully kind of Miss Forester to write to me. Don't you, Molly?" said Cecil.

"Yes; but, after all, it is just the thing she would do. She takes an immense interest in you; she is very proud of you."

"I intend to make her proud of me," said Cecil, drawing herself up and looking straight ahead of her. "If ever a girl has made up her mind simply to grind, to find no obstacle too difficult to overcome, I am that girl. Miss Forester suggests that I should try for the great scholarship in June. I mean to try."

"Well, I wish you success," said Molly; "you are clever enough for anything. Now, then, do read the letter; those boys will be back in no time."

Cecil took it out of her pocket; she opened it, drew a little closer to Molly, and began to read aloud:

"My Dear Cecil:

"I wish to consult you and Molly about your friend Kate. I know, in doing so, that you will regard every word I say as absolutely sacred, and not breathe the contents of this letter to any of your companions. You know that poor dear Kate O'Connor has lost her little money; you also know that at the present moment she is quite unaware of the sad fact that she is practically penniless. Having regard to her peculiar temperament, to a certain pride which in many ways is scarcely wrong, and which she inherits, doubtless, from her Irish ancestors, I am inclined to believe that the wisest course to pursue would be to keep her in ignorance of the calamity which has fallen upon her. The other day I had the pleasure of a long interview with a great friend of mine, a Mrs. Percival. She is very rich, and has often given large donations toward the expenses here. I told her Kate's story, and she suggested the scheme which I now write to you about. It is simply this, that Kate is not to be told that her money is gone, and that Mrs. Percival will pay her fees here, and allow her sufficient money to dress properly, and also for minor expenses. Fortunately, Kate's little money in London has always been paid into my bank, and I can still provide her with funds without arousing her suspicion in any way. Hers is a very peculiar temperament; she has many of the attributes of genius, but I doubt if she has the capacity, or even mental power, for a sustained strain of hard work.

"I regard you, Cecil, and Kate O'Connor, as quite the cleverest girls at present at St. Dorothy's; but, although you are both undoubtedly brilliant, you are essentially different; you have got the capacity for work. If you avail yourself of the privileges which are now accorded to you, you can acquire knowledge to a great extent, and use that knowledge very brilliantly in the future. Kate, on the other hand, has a more delicate organism; hers are more the gifts of fancy. She is endowed with imagination of a high order; she is intellectual without being logical. In the future, it is possible that she may earn her bread by writing; she may either take up fiction or some other branch of literature. If she avails herself of the advantages of this school, she will do her work in the future, whatever it is, well – even brilliantly; but I do not think she will ever be profound in argument or very deep in thought. Be that as it may, she is sufficiently above the common to have an assured future, if nothing happens to wreck her prospects at the present juncture. Her accident has weakened her, and her working-powers will not return to their old strength for a year, or even two years. To shock her pride and hurt her now might injure her fatally. I am inclined, therefore, although it is contrary to my usual rule, to act on Mrs. Percival's advice, to allow her to assist Kate without telling Kate anything about it. When that part of her education which can be conducted at Redgarth is over, she will be strong enough and brave enough to learn the truth. I will then propose to her a scheme by which she can pay Mrs. Percival back the debt which she will owe her. You two girls are Kate's greatest friends, and I honor your friendship for her and one another sufficiently to consult you on this point. I shall be glad to get your unreserved opinions. Write to me to my London address, which heads this paper.

"Yours, with affection,"Janet Forester."

"What do you think of it?" said Cecil, when she had finished reading.

"There is only one thing to think," answered Molly. "Miss Forester's scheme must be carried out. There can be no second opinion, surely, on that point. All through these happy days, when I have looked at Kate, and listened to her merry laugh, and seen the health coming back to her cheeks and brightness to her eyes, I could never forget the shock which was awaiting her. Now, that shock need never come. Oh, what a good, splendid woman Miss Forester is!"

"Nearly as good as your grandmother, Molly," replied Cecil.

"I meant to apply to grannie as a dernier ressort," said Molly; "but this is much better. Of course, Cecil, you and I have only one thing to say – we think the scheme first-rate. Let us write to Miss Forester in time to catch the mail for London."

"The snow is nearly over; we may as well go back now," said Cecil. "We need not wait for Maurice. But oh, there he is – and how fast he is running! What can be the matter?"

"I say, girls, what do you think?" exclaimed Maurice, rushing up to the two as he spoke, and laughing heartily. "I found that charming Irish Kitty tête-à-tête with Mr. Danvers. There was the old boy, with his hair redder than I have ever seen it, pushed up like a brush from his forehead, his eyes sparkling, his glasses stuck awry on his nose, gesticulating and arguing and scolding Kate O'Connor at the top of his voice. He said that she was a disgrace to any English school; that no boy of ordinary capacities would construe so shamefully; that her quantities were false, her accent vile; that, in short, as a lad of spirit, she ought to give up murdering poor Homer in the future. And there stood Kate in front of him, arguing also, and defending herself. You never heard such a noise as the two were making in all your life. We four lads burst in on the scene, and the fact of our presence woke Mr. Danvers up. He got out of the room somehow, without so much as looking at Kate. When he reached the street, he mopped his forehead and said to me: 'Tell me, Maurice, – for really, in the confusion of the moment, and the cruelty of seeing one of the finest passages in Homer absolutely riddled through with errors, I can't be certain of what I said, – but did I speak to that young person as if she were a boy?'

"'You certainly did, sir,' I replied.

"'Merciful Heavens!' he answered; 'I have a respect for ladies. I respect them in the distance. It is unworthy and ungentlemanly of any man to be rude to a lady; but when a woman puts herself out of her place, when she wounds a scholar, even a humble scholar, in his tenderest sensibilities – Maurice; my lad, the air of this place is not what it was. I doubt that St. Jude's will agree with me. Can you get me a time-table?'

"'Nothing of the kind,' I answered. 'You've come here now, and you shall stay. There's another girl of our party, – Iphigenia, you'll compare her to, – she shall read a passage of Homer translated into better and purer English than any fellow at Hazlewick could attempt. Now, look here, sir; you've come and you must stay! Jimmy and Charlie and Teddy, come along here this minute!'

"I got them to surround him, Cecil," continued Maurice; "so there is no fear of his escaping; and now do hurry home."

They all set off at a quick pace, and Matilda, icy cold, was able to creep out of her hiding-place. She was very white when she did so, and was trembling a good bit. She had had a narrow escape of a very unpleasant adventure, and at first all her feelings were simply those of congratulation. After a time, however, as her frozen blood began to circulate once more in her veins, other thoughts came to visit her.

"So Kate is not to know," she said to herself. "Kate is to be educated on charity. The peasant girl, who is truly now a pauper, and whom I cordially hate, is to receive the bounty of a complete stranger, and to know nothing about it. Perhaps I can put a spoke into that delightful little arrangement. I must work cautiously. I hate Kate, I hate Cecil! I have no special love for Molly; my turn has come, I fancy, to pay off some old scores."

Matilda hurried back to the house. She crept softly upstairs, reached her bedroom without anyone seeing her, and came down to early dinner looking subdued and dull.

"Did you enjoy your walk?" asked Kate, as she helped her to some soup.

"It was so cold that I did not care to go out," said Matilda, without a moment's hesitation.

"And did you really spend the last couple of hours in your room! You must be simply frozen."

"I did not wish to disturb you and Mr. Danvers," said Matilda, with one of her sly looks.

Kate burst into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, my dears," she said, turning to the rest of the party, "I never had such a completely jolly time in the whole course of my life; the awful way that little man did rate me! 'You are a young scoundrel, sir!' he said. 'How dare you profane your lips with the words of the greatest scholar, the most magnificent intellect of all time, when your gross ignorance – ' Oh, but I need not go on, I was annihilated, simply annihilated, and I could not stop him. He kept on glaring at me, and assuring me that I was worthy of being expelled from any boys' school in the kingdom. It was a relief when Maurice came in. But oh, how funny he was, and how thoroughly I like him, notwithstanding the fact that I never was so scolded before in the whole course of my life!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

A LOST LETTER

IT is a trite saying that the powers of evil help those who are on their side. That night, by a misadventure, Cecil dropped the letter which Miss Forester had written to her. By a more cruel misadventure Matilda picked it up. Cecil and Molly had both written to Miss Forester; their letters had reached the post in time to catch the London mail. Their minds were quite light and happy on the subject. To make all safe, Cecil intended to destroy Miss Forester's letter before she went to bed that night. Kate's bedroom was on the drawing-room floor, but Matilda, Molly, and Cecil slept on the floor above. Cecil carried her portfolio under her arm; it was packed with letters, slips of paper, and small documents of all kind. Miss Forester's letter, among others, had been crowded into this overfull receptacle; it slipped out, no one knew how. Quick as thought, Matilda put her foot on it. Cecil did not notice the circumstance. Matilda slipped the letter into her pocket, reached her bedroom, and danced about.

"Now I have it," she said to herself; "now I am safe; no one can accuse me now of having eavesdropped. I am safe; I know exactly what to do in the future."

She went to bed, hugging the precious letter in her hand; she slept with it under her pillow, put it away in a locked drawer early the next morning, and came down to breakfast in high spirits. When she entered the room, she heard Cecil mentioning the fact that she missed a letter.

"I must have dropped it last night," she said. "I have searched everywhere for it."

"Whose letter is it?" asked Molly, looking up innocently.

"It is one Miss Forester wrote to me."

"Oh, have you heard from Miss Forester?" inquired Kate. "Is there any news? Did she say anything about me?"

"She hopes you are getting better," said Cecil calmly. "She is very anxious that we should work specially hard next term."

"I hope she will allow me to work," said Kate. "I am sure I long for it with all my heart and soul. After what Mr. Danvers said yesterday, I suppose I ought to give up classics."

"Nothing of the kind," interrupted Maurice. "Cecil, will you give me a cup of coffee? Old Danvers scolds everyone about their classics," he continued. "He is the best loved and most feared master in the whole of our school. He is a splendid chap; but Homer is his red rag; he worships Homer to such an extent that it is like touching a raw spot if, in translating the old Greek hero, you make the slightest mistake. Danvers is a wonderful linguist. By the way, do you know Irish, Kate?"

"A little," replied Kate.

"Well, you talk to him about the Celts, if ever you have an opportunity; just open out to him on the subjects you do know a lot about. He'll forget that you are a girl in less than three minutes, and then he'll become perfectly delightful. Cecil, what in the world are you frowning about?"

"I am fretting about my letter," said Cecil. "I can't imagine where it has got to. Did you happen to see it, Matilda?"

"I saw you carrying up a lot of letters last night," said Matilda.

"Oh, yes, to be sure, and you were just behind me. I didn't drop a letter by any chance, did I?"

"Not that I know of," replied Matilda calmly.

"Well, you certainly would have seen it if I had."

"I probably should. Will you pass me the toast, Molly; and the marmalade, Jimmy? You might have dropped it without my seeing it, of course, Cecil. If I had seen it, I'd have naturally given it back to you."

"Yes, of course you would. Well, I must have a good search for it."

"You know you tore up a lot of letters, and put them in the waste-paper basket," said Molly.

"Yes, but not Miss Forester's. I thought I'd read that once again before I consigned it to the flames."

"We'll have a good search for it after breakfast," said Molly.

They did; they all joined in the search; even Kate, who was never to know the contents of that important letter; even Matilda, who knew exactly where she could put her hand on it. But, search high and low, inquire as they would, they could not find it, and finally Cecil had to yield to Molly's oft-repeated idea that she had, without knowing it, burnt it, with a lot of other waste paper, the night before.

"I suppose I did," said Cecil, with a sigh. "It seems the only solution of the mystery, but I never knew that I was subject to such a complete lapse of memory."

"Well, come out now, and let us forget all about it," said Maurice. "The day is sunshine itself, and we can go for a real good long walk, and I'll get Danvers to follow us. We'll make for those caves where the skeletons are. Danvers is mad on the subject of skeletons. We'll all meet there, and I'll undertake that, after five minutes' time, he'll absolutely forget that there are any girls in the party."

"Kitty you must come out to-day," said Cecil. "You are not even to look at that blessed Homer of yours; you must spend the entire day until dark in the open air."

"I am more than willing," replied Kate, with a laugh.

"Are you coming, Matty?" asked Molly.

"I suppose I had better; can't we go into the town, though? I don't care a bit for caves nor skeletons. I shall probably dream of the skeletons to-night."

"Minority must yield to majority," said Kate, with a laughing glance at Matilda.

Matilda colored.

"You shall pay for this, my beauty," she said, under her breath. "All right," she remarked, in a gentle tone, aloud. "I had better go and get ready then."

She slipped out of the room as she spoke.

"How mild and good she is getting!" said Kate, with a laugh.

"Too good," interrupted Cecil. "When that sort of girl turns good, one has to look out for storms."

"You'd better set me on her," said Jimmy.

"For shame!" cried Molly. "I think it is mean to doubt anyone when they are trying to behave properly. Matilda has certainly not been nearly so troublesome as we expected; for my part, I don't mind her being here a bit."