Girls of the True Blue

“It looks like it,” said Miss Roy.

She did not want Augusta to share her discovery. But that young lady was a great deal too astute to be easily hoodwinked.

“Why, what is it?” she said. “What can be the matter?”

Then she went up to the cage, and made precisely the same discovery Miss Roy had made.

“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Augusta. “How downright wicked!”

“I will put it right,” said Miss Roy, trembling a little. “Leave me the groundsel. Go – please go.”

A voice below shouted Augusta’s name, and she ran off. Miss Roy attended to the suffering bird, giving him seed and water and a nice bunch of groundsel. He began to eat and drink at once, and before she left the room she had the satisfaction of seeing that he was much revived.

“I will see to this matter myself,” she said under her breath. “There must be no dumb creature in this house liable to such neglect. Alas, how little one knows any one! Mrs. Richmond may have given that bad mark for just such another act of carelessness. It seems to explain things. But who would have thought it of Nancy?”

At lunch that day Augusta suddenly looked up and fixed her bright eyes on Nancy.

“I have a crow to pluck with you,” she said.

“What is it?” asked the little girl.

“Come, Augusta,” said the Captain, “none of this! I am sure Nancy has not done anything wrong.”

“Oh, hasn’t she? You ask Miss Roy. – Miss Roy, don’t you think the little favourite wants a word of caution?”

“You ought not to call Nancy by that silly name,” said Miss Roy; but she looked uneasy and troubled.

Augusta said nothing more, but nodded in a very knowing way to Nancy. Immediately after dinner she rushed up to the child, slipped her hand through her arm, and pulled her aside.

“Well, Nancy,” she said, “it will be all up with you if you are not careful.”

“What do you – what do you mean, Augusta?”

“Listen. I don’t think Miss Roy is going to tell. She really is kind, and I don’t fancy she will tell; and if she doesn’t, the Captain, who has now charge of the orderly-book, will know nothing about it.”

“Oh Augusta, you are so mysterious! What are you talking about?”

“I am surprised at you,” said Augusta. “I hate cruelty myself.”

“And you think that I am cruel!” said Nancy. “What next?”

“I don’t trouble myself to think about what I know,” said Augusta. “A girl who had any love for dumb creatures would not starve her pet bird.”

“My canary! I starve my canary! What do you mean?”

“Ask Miss Roy. She went into your bedroom and found poor old Sunbeam anything but sun-shiny – all ruffled up and dull and drooping. The reason was not far to seek. There was no water in his trough and no seed in his drawer. Now then, Miss Nancy, what do you say to that?”

“That it is a lie – an awful lie,” said Nancy, her gentle face quite transformed with rage. “What do you mean? I fed my bird this morning. I gave him water, and plenty of seed, and a lump of sugar. What are you talking about?”

“Ask Miss Roy, my dear, if you don’t believe me. I happened to come into the room with some groundsel. I had been getting some to give the birds in the aviary downstairs, and I thought of Sunbeam. Miss Roy was in the room, and before she could stop me I had discovered what was wrong. Make what use you can of my information. Speak to her about it. She saw with her own eyes. Who else is responsible for the bird? Why, what is the matter, Nancy? Where are you going to?”

“To Miss Roy. I cannot stand this. I have an enemy, and I can’t make it out. Oh, I am a very unhappy girl! Augusta, what have I done to you? Why do you make my life so miserable?”

“Make your life miserable!” said Augusta, who by no means wished to bring things to a crisis. “I am sure I am very far from doing that. Do you think I would really tell the Captain? You may be sure Miss Roy won’t; and I will go to her this minute, if you like, and beg her not to. Now, am I not kind?”

“Don’t go; I would rather speak to her myself. I would rather brave things out;” and Nancy suddenly rushed away from Augusta. She went into the house and looked for Miss Roy, whom she found in the schoolroom.

“Miss Roy, I want to say something,” cried the little girl, the colour mantling her cheeks.

“What is it, Nancy?” said Miss Roy just a trifle coldly, for the incident of the starving bird had troubled the governess a great deal.

“Augusta told me,” continued Nancy; “and it is not true. There is not a word of it true. Oh, what is to be done? I did feed my canary this morning. I gave him water and seed, and cleaned out his cage. I have never neglected my bird yet – never.”

“My dear Nancy, I am sorry even to appear to doubt you, but I saw with my own eyes that the bird was without seed. Seeing is believing, you know.”

“And you believe that I could be so cruel?” said Nancy.

“Seeing is believing,” repeated Miss Roy.

“I didn’t do it. Oh, you will drive me wild! I did not think that you would turn against me.”

“No one attends to the bird except yourself. Who in this house would be so wicked and malicious as to take away the seed and water? No, my dear Nancy; you forgot. It was unlike you, and I am disappointed in you. But I have decided not to tell Uncle Peter; I will give you another chance. Had I been in charge of the orderly-book I should have been obliged to enter this circumstance in the book; but as I am not I do not hold myself responsible. Go away now, dear. Don’t keep me. Try and be more careful another time.”

Nancy stood perfectly still. Her face, which had been red with anger, was now white. She turned abruptly and walked out of the room.

“It is all most unaccountable,” thought the governess to herself. “But to suppose for a single instant that any one could have removed the seed and water is not to be thought of. Yes, I am sorry for Nancy. She forgot the bird: such things have happened even with tender-hearted and considerate children. She forgot the bird, and has not the courage to own to her fault. Poor, poor child; I fear that remark in the orderly-book is correct.”

Meanwhile Nancy went up to her room. Never before had such mad passion seized her. She felt like a wounded creature in a trap. But of one thing she was resolved.

“My dicky-bird, my darling, shall not run such a risk again,” she thought. “Oh, of course it must be Augusta! No one else could do such a fiendish thing. But my darling shall not suffer. I know who will care for him.”

She put on her hat, took the cage down from the hook, threw a handkerchief over it, and went out.

About a mile away there lived a woman with a sick child. Nancy and the two Richmond girls had visited this woman once or twice. And Nancy had spoken to little Grace of her bird. Grace had been deeply interested.

“Oh, if only my poor little Grace could have a bird all to herself!” said her mother. “But there! I cannot afford it. I offered to buy her a linnet – one can get linnets quite cheap – but she would not have it. ‘No, mother,’ she said, ‘I would not take the liberty from an English bird. It is a canary I want. I’d like to have one more than anything else in the world.’”

Nancy had made up her mind now to give her treasured bird to Grace. She was relieved to see that no one was about. She walked slowly for fear of spilling the water in the cage. Presently she entered the woods, and setting the cage down on the ground, she removed the handkerchief, and threw herself on her face and hands close to the bird. She pressed her pretty, gentle face up against the bars of the cage, whistling softly to Sunbeam. He sidled up to her, and presently printed a soft kiss from his beak on her rosy lips.

“They say that I starve you, darling,” said Nancy. “You know better, don’t you? But you sha’n’t ever run such an awful risk again, my own little bird. You sha’n’t be at the mercy of any cruel girl. I would sooner part from you. You will soon forget me, my little dicky-bird, but I will never, never forget you. Come, you shall go to a good home – to a little girl who will be kind to you.”

She walked on through the wood holding the cage, and presently she reached Mrs. Hammond’s cottage. The day was hot with a languorous sort of heat. There was little or no wind, and thunder rumbled in the sky.

Grace had been very tired all that morning; her back ached, and life seemed weary. She had refused her dinner, and had turned away from all her mother’s attempts at consolation. When Nancy’s tap was heard on the door, Mrs. Hammond threw down her sewing and went to open it. A pale little girl with bright eyes, holding a cage in her hand, stood without.

“Why, if it ain’t one of the dear little ladies from Fairleigh!” cried the widow. “My Grace is very poorly to-day, but a sight of you will do her a lot of good, miss.”

“I have brought a bird for her – my own bird. May I go in and see her at once?” said Nancy.

“A bird!” cried the mother. “Oh, won’t it be just heaven to her? Yes, she is very poorly, and so dull; but a bird all her own – Oh, I say, miss! come this way at once. – Grace, here is somebody to cheer you up,” continued Mrs. Hammond. – “Come right in, miss; I will stay in the kitchen while you talk to her.”

So Nancy entered with Sunbeam in his pretty coloured cage.

Grace, who had been lying down, started up in her delight.

“For me! It can’t be,” she exclaimed. “You have brought him to see me, miss. Oh, ain’t he just pretty?”

“I have brought him to give him to you,” cried Nancy. “He is your very own from this minute. You will be kind to him, won’t you?”

“Kind to him! Oh miss – oh miss!”

“You will never forget his water nor his seed?”

“As if I could, miss!”

“And you won’t let the cats get to him?”

“We ain’t got a cat, miss. He shall stay with me morning and night. Oh, Miss Nancy, I’ll get well now; I feel that I will. Oh, the joy of having him! How can I thank you? But there! I can’t even try to.”

“Don’t try, Grace; your face is thanks enough. No, I won’t stay. He will want lots of water; and here is a whole canister of seed – every sort. You must dry his cage after he has his bath. I give him his bath every morning before I clean and feed him. – Good-bye, my Sunbeam.”

Nancy bent towards the cage. Her curly hair fell across her face, and even the little sick girl did not notice the tears in her eyes. She ran out of the cottage before Mrs. Hammond could interrupt her.

CHAPTER XXVII. – “WAS THAT THE REASON?”

After breakfast the next morning Miss Roy felt a strong desire to go into Nancy’s bedroom. The fact was, she had dreamt of the starving bird the night before. She quite longed to see for herself that the little prisoner was attended to, that he was bright and cheerful and happy. But she scarcely liked to do this, for it seemed like doubting Nancy.

Nancy was avoiding Miss Roy. She was spending most of her time in the open air, and very often she would go away quite by herself. As she complained of nothing, however, and ate her meals all right, no one remarked on her strange conduct. Miss Roy said to herself that Nancy was repenting of what she had done.

“I shall try to find out from her if she has ever neglected the bird before,” she thought.

The morning pursued the even tenor of its way. The four girls went out on the water with Captain Richmond; and Miss Roy, at last overcome by her desire to see the canary, went into Nancy’s bedroom. She uttered an exclamation when she saw the hook on which the cage used to hang. What could have happened? Where was the bird? She went downstairs to see if it had been removed to the schoolroom. It was not there. She then questioned the housemaid, but beyond the fact that she had not seen the bird when she went to draw down the blinds on the previous evening, the girl could tell her nothing.

“This must be inquired into,” said Miss Roy to herself; and when the girls came in she spoke to Nancy, doing so openly before the others.

“Nancy,” she said, “I happened to go into your bedroom, and I could not see your bird there. What have you done with Sunbeam?”

Augusta immediately fixed her bold eyes on Nancy’s face. The other girls looked up, wondering. They knew how passionately Nancy adored her bird.

“Well, Nancy, why don’t you speak?” said her governess.

Just then Captain Richmond appeared.

“Why, Miss Roy,” he said, “what is this solemn conclave? I heard you ask Nancy something. – What is it, Nancy?”

“You asked me about my bird,” said Nancy, raising her head and speaking bravely. “I have given him away.”

“Nancy! you have given Sunbeam away?” cried Kitty.

“Yes. I took him yesterday to a little girl – you know her, Nora – you remember her, Kitty – Grace Hammond. She wanted a bird, and I gave her Sunbeam. He was my own, and I could do what I liked with him. Don’t keep me, please.”

She pushed past the girls. Her manner was almost rude. Before any one could utter an additional word she had left the room.

“What does this mean?” said Captain Richmond.

“I think it is very generous of Nancy,” here exclaimed Augusta.

But no one else applauded Nancy for her generosity. There was a weight in the air which every one felt.

Immediately after lunch Captain Richmond went away to pay a round of calls. Miss Roy retired to her own room – she happened to have a very acute headache – and the four girls were alone.

Kitty fixed her eyes on Nan. Nan shuffled uncomfortably with her feet.

“Where are you going?” cried Nora. “It is such a lovely day,” she continued, “can we not all go for a ramble on the seashore?”

“I am not going with you,” replied Nancy. Her tone was almost rude. She left the room, slamming the door after her.

Augusta raised her brows. Getting up daintily, she went out by the open window. The two little Richmond girls thus found themselves alone.

“Oh Kit,” cried Nora, “what can be happening? I am quite unhappy; I don’t like this at all.”

“Come out, Nora,” answered Kitty; “we can talk better in the open air.”

They went out, linking their arms round one another, and paced slowly up and down. Augusta was lying lazily in a hammock near by. She watched them.

“How they love each other!” she said to herself. “I never saw such affectionate sisters. But they are a dull little pair all the same. They are the sort of girls who will never do anything very wrong, and perhaps, on the other hand, never do anything very good. I know the sort. They will be medium all their days – medium pretty, too. Even Nan is better fun than Kitty and Nora. Now they are discussing her. I see it by the way Kitty nods her head, and Nora looks at her and then looks away again; and they are twining their arms tighter round each other. They are very sorry for Nan, but they don’t understand her. Even I understand that poor, miserable mite better than they do. I have a hold over my little lady, and I must tighten the knot – and very quickly, too, for Miss Nancy must help me to-morrow night. But now to find out what they are really saying, for Nancy will have to be protected by me in one sense in order that I may use her in another.”

So Augusta slipped out of her hammock, and approached the little girls.

“What a wonderful confab!” she said. “Shall I guess what it is all about?”

“Oh no, Gussie; I wish you would go away,” exclaimed Nora. “Kitty and I are having quite a private talk all by ourselves.”

“But do let me guess what it is about,” answered Augusta. “Now then, see if I am not right. You are talking about the little favourite and her pet canary.”

“Yes; but what has that to do with you?” answered Kitty.

“My dear Kit, what a way to speak to your cousin! Now, let me tell you that it has a great deal to do with me. If I were you I would not worry Nancy; she has reasons for what she has done.”

“But why give her canary away?” said Kitty. “Nora and I subscribed together and gave it to her, and she seemed so pleased. It was rather difficult to get enough money, but when we saw how awfully delighted she was, we felt that that made up for everything.”

“It was good-natured of you,” said Augusta. “I forgot that you had given it to her. Poor old Nan!”

“But why do you call her poor old Nan? I don’t see that she is to be pitied at all. We have always been very fond of her, but we cannot see that she has done right in giving away her bird.”

“Dear me,” said Augusta, “what a fuss! If you gave her the bird it was her own, to do what she liked with. She took a fit of pity for that poor sick girl, Grace Hammond, and gave her the bird. Grace wants the bird far more than Nancy does, for she lies on her back most of the day in a shabby little room. I think it was extremely kind and self-sacrificing of Nan, and she ought to be petted, not scolded.”

“I never thought of that,” said Nora. “Of course, Gussie, you are right. Dear old Nan! Yes, it was sweet of her, and I suppose she felt it awfully.”

“Couldn’t you see for yourselves? Why, she scarcely ate any lunch, and ran off to her room soon afterwards. Oh, for goodness’ sake,” added Augusta, “don’t make a mystery out of nothing! She gave the bird because the girl was ill and wanted it, and there the matter ends.”

Augusta ran off, and Kitty and Nora owned that they felt considerably cheered.

When they saw Nancy next, Kitty ran up to her, kissed her, and said:

“We are neither of us angry now.”

“What do you mean?” answered Nancy.

“About the bird, you know.”

“But were you angry with me, Kitty?”

“Why, yes, Nancy; we both were a little. We gave it to you, you know, and we had to save up a good bit to get a really nice one.”

“I forgot about that,” said Nancy.

“But you did quite right, Nancy,” said Nora; “and we are not a scrap angry now. We are so glad that the little girl should have it; she must have wanted it far more than you did. It was very brave of you to give it to her, Nan, and we both love you more than ever.”

“But I didn’t give it to Grace to comfort her – not for a single moment,” said Nancy; and then she stopped short and faced the two little Richmond girls, and said emphatically: “Don’t let us talk any more about Sunbeam, for if you do I shall break my heart. Oh, how you do stare, Kitty! You look quite silly with your mouth open. Come, who will race me to the end of the avenue?”

Away the three went, flying as if on the wings of the wind. They came bang up against Captain Richmond, who was returning from his calls.

“Hullo!” he said. “Well won, Nancy; you are considerably ahead of the others. Is it a race or what?”

The three were now all laughing heartily; but when she got back her breath, Nancy’s face looked paler than its wont. The Captain noticed it, and holding out his hand, clasped hers.

“Come here,” he said. “Are you fretting about your bird? What is wrong?”

Tears filled Nancy’s eyes; she could not speak.

“Don’t question her, please, Uncle Pete,” said Kitty. “She has been quite, quite darling and sweet about Sunbeam. But she must not be questioned. Only if you stoop down I will tell you in a whisper. – Go on, Nancy; walk on with Nora.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” said Nancy in an imploring voice; but she took Nora’s hand and walked on in front.

“Stoop, Uncle Pete; she must not hear,” said Kitty. “She gave her darling Sunbeam, whom she loves so passionately, to that little sick girl in the wood – Grace Hammond – because the little girl wants the bird more than she does.”

“Was that the reason? Oh, how pleased I am!” said the Captain.

CHAPTER XXVIII. – “IS WRONG RIGHT?”

The day arrived when Augusta was to go to the Cinderella dance at the Asprays’. All her plans were made. She was to go unknown to her family. She was to return equally unknown. As far as she was concerned, not a single member of the Richmond family was ever to discover this escapade.

How delicious the whole thing sounded! How she would enjoy herself! She was to be daring and disobedient: she was to defy all the laws which ruled her life. She was to slip away under cover of the darkness, and come back again in the small hours, and no one was to know. She was to wear her prettiest dress, and dance, and be merry; and no one was to find out. And all the time she would pose as the best of girls – the noblest member of Captain Richmond’s battalion – the soldier who on the great day of the prize-giving would be presented with the Royal Cross.

“Some day, perhaps, I will tell them,” she said to herself – “some long, happy, delicious day in the future, when I have been to Paris and got all my fun out of that; when I am engaged to a sort of prince, when my trousseau is being made, when my wedding presents are arriving. When life can scarcely present me with anything more, then, perhaps, I will tell how I slipped out and went to a dance in the dead of night, and came back, and no one ever found out. I will tell then of my pleasure. But, oh, the present fun – the present fun!”

Now, for a long time Augusta had made up her mind that she would tell her secret to no one; but on looking into matters she feared it would be absolutely impossible for her to get back again into the house if she had not a confederate. The right person to share it – the only one, indeed, who could possibly help her – was Nan. Nan must make things possible for her. She thought she knew a way of making her do this.

Accordingly, after breakfast on the auspicious day, Augusta called the little girl into her room.

“Come here, Nancy,” she said. “Come close to me; I want to look at you. Do you know that you are an extremely pretty girl? When you are grown-up you will be very much better-looking than either Kitty or Nora. I only wish I had a face like yours. Such splendid eyes, and such thick hair, and – Why, what is the matter?”

“Only I hate being flattered,” answered Nancy.

“Oh, as to that,” replied Augusta, giving her head a toss, “I am the last person to flatter any one; but you are so strange, Nancy, one doesn’t know how to take you. However, to the point. I am in reality, although you don’t think it, your very good friend. I am always taking your part —always, Nancy. Oh! it is useless for you to shake your head and look so glum and obstinate; it is a fact. And now – Why, child, how you stare!”

“What do you want me to do, Augusta?” said Nan.

Augusta could not help bursting out laughing.

“What a cute young un it is!” she said. “You are quite right, Nancy mine; I do require a little favour, which I hope you will grant – just a tiny thing, Nancy. Will you grant it to your own poor Gussie who loves you so much?”

“Tell me what it is, Augusta.”

“Oh, how downright we are! Well, listen; it is for your private ear, little Nan. Your dear Augusta is disposed to have a bit of a spree – just a tiny morsel of adventure on her own account – something not a bit wrong, but something that no one in the house, except sweet Nancy, is to know about. Will Nancy help Augusta, or will she not?”

“I would rather not, Gussie. I would rather not, really. I know it is not right. I am so tired – oh, so dreadfully tired! – of doing naughty things for you. Please don’t ask me; and please don’t do it, Gussie – please, please don’t.”

Augusta laughed again.

“What a sweet, touching little plea!” she said. “But just too late, my dear. Augusta is going to have her fun, and whether you help or not, she intends to go through with it. You can make things easy for me, and I shall get into no scrape, and be your humble and devoted servant for ever after; or you can refuse, and I shall still do the naughty thing – although, in that case, with a certain amount of risk. Will you subject me to that, Nancy, when you alone can make it quite safe?”

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t,” replied Nancy. “If you choose to be very naughty, why should I be naughty too?”

“Oh darling, you are quaint; you really are the most naïve creature I have ever come across. Now let me explain. I shall really not be naughty at all. It is not as if my own father and mother or Aunt Jessie were here. I owe no oath of fealty to that delightful model, Uncle Peter; if he disapproves, that is his own lookout. In short, Nancy, this is it (I will let the cat out of the bag): I want to go to-night to a small dance – the most harmless, childish little dance – at the Asprays’. Flora and I have arranged everything, and I am to meet her at the other side of our wood. She drives me to their house in a dogcart, and will bring me back again. And what I want you, sweet Nancy, to do is to open the door for me – the hall door, darling – yes, no less. I shall fling some gravel up to this window – for you must sleep here to-night, Nancy – and when you hear it you must patter, patter, patter downstairs on your ten little pink toes and open the door for your darling, who will slip in and bless you ever after.”