Girls of the True Blue

Miss Roy had taken her place with the children. She looked grave and earnest, too, and Augusta for a wild moment wished she was out of it. Then the Captain raised his eyes. He had been arranging the paper before him, and trying the pen to see if it would write smoothly. Now he began to address the little group in front of him.

“I have been thinking over our scheme,” he said in his most pleasant voice; “and if you are all determined, I want you to take, not an oath to me – nothing of that sort – but to take a promise, by which you will be enrolled. The regiment in which you will be members we will call the Royal True Blue. I am its captain, general, or what you will; and, as far as possible, the rules which will guide your conduct will be much the same rules as a real regiment which serve our King would have. Loyalty will be its motto. There are three ways in which the soldiers can serve in the Royal True Blue. They can serve by keen attention to intellectual matters, by keen attention to physical matters, and by keen attention to morals.”

Miss Roy nodded her head as each of these remarks fell from the Captain’s lips.

“I quite agree with you,” she said; and then she coloured slightly.

The Captain looked at her and gave a smile.

“There will be,” he said, “different grades, of course; month by month the soldiers will rise to higher and higher responsibilities. There will be an orderly-book, in which Miss Roy, in my absence, must write down the events of every day truthfully, exactly as they occur to her. Neglect of the different heads under which the soldiers serve will merit punishment; careful attention to these details will merit rewards. I shall visit the soldiers’ camp at least every month, have a consultation with Miss Roy, who will be my sergeant, and measure out my rewards and punishments accordingly. I should like this scheme to continue until the end of the summer holidays, when to the victorious soldier I will award, if she deserves it, something similar to the Victoria Cross. It will be a cross made of silver, tied with blue ribbon, and will be as far as possible an imitation of the cross which her late beloved Majesty gave to her most distinguished soldiers. Perhaps you all understand what alone wins a Victoria Cross? It is given ‘for valour’ – for valour, as a rule, in the field of battle. Now, as you are all soldiers you must have a field of battle. Your battlefield is in this house; wherever you are together, whether you are in the country or in town; in your school; in your own rooms, when you lie down and when you rise up: at all times you soldiers of the Royal True Blue will be in the battlefield, and doubtless a time for valour will arrive – when one of you will endanger herself for the sake of another. It is possible that none of these soldiers will win the Royal Cross, but I mean to hold it out as an incentive – the very best I can give. And now, children, I have lectured enough; will you each in turn come forward and make the necessary promise?”

“Oh, this is dreadful!” said Augusta; she squeezed Nan’s hand in her excitement. “I – I do not think I can.”

“But I can,” said Nan. “I can; I mean to.”

“What is it, Augusta – are you frightened?” said the Captain. “Oh, come! you promised to join; do not draw back now. You do not know what a world of good it will do you. This scheme means bracing; it means a strong effort to do the right. Come! if you live in this house you will have a dull time if you are not a soldier.”

“All right,” said Augusta; “but I will not be the first to take the promise.”

“Then you shall be the first, Kitty,” said the Captain; “that is only right, for it is your scheme.”

Kitty rose from her chair and came forward. Captain Richmond had some small pieces of blue ribbon fastened with silver mottoes. He held one of these up, and Kitty approached. He took her hand, looked solemnly into her eyes, and said:

“Are you willing to serve in the Royal True Blue as a soldier of the King of Heaven? Are you willing to obey the rules of the regiment, to be loyal and true, to shun what is deceitful and wrong? Are you willing?”

“Yes,” said Kitty.

Then the Captain bent forward and kissed her.

“This is our seal of consecration,” he said; “and here is your motto. Wear it openly when you like, or when you do not care to show it to the world keep it safely hidden, but never lose it. On the day it is taken from you you are disgraced; you lose this ribbon as a soldier loses his sword – only by public disgrace.”

Kitty went back to her seat trembling and with tears in her eyes. The same promise was exacted from the others, and then Captain Richmond looked at the four.

“I am very proud of my battalion,” he said, “and I think you will all do well, soldiers of the Royal True Blue. Now, I want to give you a few directions. There are three distinct paths in which the soldiers must walk. First, there is the path of intellect. Now, that means great attention to your lessons at school; it means diligent reading. I do not mean that kind of slippery reading which goes on when one is thinking of a hundred things at the same time: I do not mean the reading of silly novels. I mean the reading of good books, stimulating, with nice thoughts in them. There is nothing to my mind like the life of a soldier, and there is nothing more splendid than to read accounts of what brave soldiers have done; and as you five are now soldiers, you might, during the months that you servo under me, read as many books about soldiers as possible. I can furnish you with a list. I believe such reading will do you a lot of good. This, of course, is not a command of mine; it is a suggestion which you may like to carry out. In the orderly-book there will be careful reports of your transgressions in intellectual respects; the number of bad marks at school, the getting down to the bottom of your form, lateness also in attending your different classes, will all mean marks against you. On the other hand, diligence in learning, briskness and anxiety to excel, will mean good marks. I will explain the marks to my sergeant, Miss Roy, presently. So much for intellect. Now we come to the physical part of the scheme. I believe very strongly in physical exercise. I do not mean the sort of exercise which tires one to death – over-cycling, for instance, or playing lawn-tennis too long – but I do mean steady exercise every day; and part of your duties will be your drill. I will speak to Mrs. Richmond, and she will get a real army sergeant to come here daily to drill you. You will feel as you are marching, and turning from right to left, and going through the different manœuvres that you are real soldiers, and it will do you a world of good. Other exercise ought also to be taken, and under this head I would advocate early rising. I would also advocate order and neatness. Each day ought to be planned out, and there ought to be very little time for idling, for a real soldier in the enemy’s country has to be on the alert morning, noon, and night. He ought never to be away from his post; he ought to watch for the approach of the enemy at every corner, at every unexpected point. We now come to the third head, which surely is the most important of all, for in my regiment, the Royal True Blue, I want to have soldiers worthy of the name: a coward would be detestable to me; a liar could not be borne. I want my soldiers to be straight, to be upright, to be honourable; I want them to walk in the middle of the road.”

“Oh! oh!” suddenly came from Nan’s lips.

The Captain gave her a long, penetrating glance. She coloured, and dropped her head.

“It can be done,” he said, “but it is not specially easy; and I hope it will be done. And now, surely we have had enough morality and enough solemn talk even for the soldiers of the True Blue. I propose an entertainment this evening. I have consulted with your mother, and she gives me leave to take you all to the theatre – yes, every single one of you – to see a fine play about a soldier and how he acted under difficulties.”

The wild delight of the children at this last announcement can be better understood than explained. Captain Richmond knew what he was about; he knew that the eager young minds had gone through sufficient strain. The girls rushed off to their rooms, and the Captain and Miss Roy were alone.

“It is very good of you to join this,” he said, turning to the governess.

“I like it,” she replied. “Whether the children can stand this somewhat severe discipline remains to be proved.”

“I believe they can; they have all character,” replied the Captain. “I shall be deeply interested to know how this experiment progresses. I will give you your orderly-book to-morrow, and explain to you how the marks are to be put down. There is only one thing, however, Miss Roy – there must be no favouritism; you must be as strict and as severe with your favourite, Kitty, as you are with Augusta, whom I do not think you much care about.”

“I do not,” replied Miss Roy. “I do not understand her. She is popular with most people; Mrs. Richmond is very much attached to her, and Kitty and Nora are fond of her.”

“But Nan is not,” said the Captain.

“No,” replied Miss Roy; “Nan is afraid of her.”

“I have seen that from the first,” replied Captain Richmond; “and, to tell you the truth, in planning my rules I thought a good deal both of Nancy and Augusta. This thing will try them both pretty stoutly; I have no doubt that in the end all will be well. And now, one more word in your ear: I do not think I ever met a dearer little girl than Nancy Esterleigh.”

“She is a sweet child,” replied Miss Roy; “and she was very, very happy with us before Augusta came.”

The children, now all dressed for their evening’s entertainment, came into the room. Captain Richmond had ordered a carriage; it was now at the door, and the happy party, including Miss Roy, started off for their evening’s pleasure.

In the play a soldier received the Victoria Cross. He was one who had been snubbed and looked down upon, and always shoved into the cold: he had been overlooked when others were promoted; when others were ordered to the front, he was expected to stay behind in England; the girl he loved was given to a man over his head. Everything seemed to be against him, but never once through all these trying circumstances did he lose his brightness, his freshness, his courage. He had a gay and cheerful word for each comrade and for each friend, and in the end his chance came: he managed to get to the front – how, it does not matter; he rescued another at the risk of his own life – how, does not matter either; the thing that matters is that he received that decoration of all others the most thrilling, the most ennobling, the Cross of the Order of Victoria.

Nan’s little face turned white with excitement as she watched the progress of the play; and at last, when the happy soldier was decorated for valour in the field, she burst into tears.

Captain Richmond took her hand, and bent and whispered to her:

“Odds against, but he won,” was his remark. “Cheer up, Nancy; you too can win.”

“Even if the odds are against me?” she whispered back.

“Ah! of course. Look well to the front, soldier of the True Blue.”

CHAPTER XVI. – TIGHTENING HER CHAIN

In about a week’s time Captain Richmond went away. By then the brigade of the Royal True Blue was in full working order: the rules had been carefully drawn up, the orderly-book was given to Miss Roy, the drill-sergeant had arrived, and the soldiers were enjoying the life. The vigorous eyes of the Captain kept everything in order; he promised to come once a month to see his soldiers, and left them, having won every heart in his little brigade. It was now towards the end of June, and in a month’s time the entire party would go into the country. This was the last month of school, and the girls were busy. Nan was working with tremendous diligence for a prize; she did not much care about it before she became a soldier, but now she was keen in order to ensure the marks which Miss Roy would give her if she were successful.

“Suppose you do win the prize,” said Augusta, “what will it mean to you? Nothing whatever but a stupid book. For my part, I think the prize-books at school are all too dull for anything – a dreadful old Macaulay’s History of England, or Tennyson’s Poems, or something of that sort. I do not see why the girl who wins the prize should not be consulted.”

“But we do not win it just for the sake of the book,” said Nan, colouring and trembling a little.

“Well, I do. I am not going in for a prize this term, of course; I cannot. – Miss Roy, I am sure our captain would not like Nan to read so hard as to make her eyes ache. Do you know what I found her doing last night?”

“Oh! please – please do not tell; it is not right,” said Nan.

“I will, for I must. We are supposed not to read after we get to bed, but there was Nan reading away by the light of a night-light. She had borrowed it from nurse, I believe. She was half-sitting up in bed devouring her book, and the night-light was on a little table near. I found her. – I did, you know, Nan; and I said I would tell.”

“It was not at all right, Nan,” said Miss Roy; “and it must not happen again.”

“But I wanted to work up my lesson; I was not at all sure of my French,” replied Nan. “And the prize will be given in ten days now. There is so little time!”

“You must remember,” said Miss Roy, “that in the orderly-book, even though you do get high marks for intellect, your merit marks will go down if this sort of thing occurs again. Nan, it was a distinct act of disobedience. – But at the same time, Augusta, I would rather you did not tell tales.”

Augusta flushed with indignation.

“I thought you would like to keep the house from being burnt down,” she said. “Of course, in future Nan can do as she pleases.”

Miss Roy said nothing more, and Augusta left the room.

“What is the matter, Nan?” said her governess suddenly. “I often wonder, my dear, why you look so sad and troubled.”

“You would if you were me,” said Nan then.

“Why? Is it because your mother has died, my poor little girl? I have great sympathy for you.”

“No; it is not only that,” said Nan, making a great effort to be honest. “It is because I have a load at my heart, and I cannot ever tell you; and if all was known I ought not to be a soldier of the Royal True Blue at all – I ought not – but I cannot draw back now.”

“The past is past,” said Miss Roy. “Go straight forward in the future; try and believe that the future is yours, that you can be a very brave and a very good girl.”

“But is the past past?” asked Nan.

“There may come a day when you will be able to tell me all about it; go straight forward now into the future. And, Nancy, my dear, nothing has been said, but I cannot help using my eyes. Do not be afraid of Augusta; give her back in her own coin. Show her that you are not in the slightest degree under her control.”

“Oh, but I am!” thought poor Nancy. “And I can never tell – less now than ever – for to lose that splendid chance of winning the Royal Cross, and to be deprived of my blue ribbon, would break my heart.”

“Nancy,” said Augusta, a few evenings after this, as the two girls were alone in the schoolroom.

Nan was toiling steadily through the books which she had to prepare for her examination; she raised her eyes when Augusta spoke, and a slight frown came between her brows.

“Now, stop that,” said Augusta, petulance in her tone.

“Stop what?” asked Nancy.

“Frowning when I speak to you.”

“Oh, I will – I will! What is it? I wish I did not feel so cross.”

“You are not much of a soldier if you give way to your passions every moment. But now, to the point. I want you to read aloud to me while I am making a copy of this stupid old cast. It is too dull for anything, and I want to finish the story-book which I took from the drawing-room.”

“But I have to go on with my lessons. Don’t you see that I am awfully busy?”

In reply to this Augusta got up and put the book in question into Nan’s hand.

“Read,” she said. “I will let you off in half-an-hour; in half-an-hour I shall have done as much as I can of this horrible drawing. I do positively hate drawing. Now then, start away. If you do not read, there is something I can tell you which you will not at all like to hear.”

“You are always frightening me. I do not see why I should be under your control,” said Nan.

“Get out of it, then, my dear, your own way. Remember what will happen if you do.”

“What?”

“I shall be obliged to tell all that occurred in the attic when the white rat died.”

“All? But you won’t leave out your own part, Augusta?”

“Yes, but I shall. I shall tell that you implored and begged of me to keep it a secret, and that I listened to you. You know what this means, Nan. Your blue ribbon is given back; you are a soldier without his sword, disgraced for life. Now then, do not fret; I am not going to be too hard, but I must be read to, for I am suffering from irritation of the nerves, and nothing soothes me like a real jolly story-book.”

“If I must, I must,” said Nan. She opened the book languidly. “Where is the place?” she asked.

“Page 204. Read from the top, and go straight on until I tell you to stop.”

Nan began. She could read well when she liked, but now her voice was little more than a gabble, for she was thoroughly annoyed and also decidedly cross.

“That will not do at all,” said Augusta. “Read as if you enjoyed it. Is it not a splendid scene? Does not Rudolf speak up to Bertha? Now then, go on. I am sure he will propose to her in the end; I am certain of it.”

Nan read to the bottom of the next page; then she put down the book.

“Where did you get this book from?” she asked.

“What does it matter to you, Nancy? Go on reading – do. Oh, I am just dying to hear what will happen! I adore Rudolf; don’t you?”

“No; I do not like him at all. I don’t like the book. I don’t think Uncle Peter – I mean Mrs. Richmond – would want me to read this book; it is not a nice book.”

“And what do you know about books, whether they are nice or nasty?”

“I don’t like this book. I am sure Mrs. Richmond would not like you to read it. May I go down and ask her?”

For answer to this Augusta rose and snatched the book from Nan’s hand.

“You troublesome little thing!” she said. “You really rouse me to be provoked with you. There! go back to your stupid lessons; but remember, you shall pay for this.”

“I wonder how,” thought Nan. “Oh dear! oh dear!”

She sighed deeply.

“Really, Nancy, your sighs and groans are past bearing. What is the matter with you?”

“You make me very unhappy.”

“I make the house too hot for you; is not that it?”

“No, Augusta, that is not it. I have a right to be here; Mrs. Richmond says so.”

Augusta gave a taunting laugh.

“A right to be here!” she said. “A pretty right; but still, if you like to think so, I am not going to interfere. If you are unhappy in the house with Aunt Jessie and Kitty and Nora you can say so; you have the remedy in your own hands.”

“I! How? What do you mean?”

“You can go to the Asprays, of course.”

“But who are the Asprays?”

“You little goose! don’t you know?”

“No. Please, do tell me.”

“Well, I will, for it is only fair that you should know. Have you never heard that there are other people who would take care of you, and pet you, and adopt you, and bring you up as one of the family besides my poor, darling aunt Jessie?”

“Yes, I have heard of it. Mr. Pryor spoke of some people, but he said they did not live in England.”

“But they do; they live close here. Their name is Aspray. They are Virginians, and have just settled in London. They live within a stone’s-throw of here.”

“And are you certain I could go to them?”

“Certain? Of course I am certain. You can really go any day, but you have a right to go when a few months are up – six or eight months, or something like that. You have a right to go and stay with them, and to make your own choice as to whether you will be Mrs. Richmond’s child or Mr. Aspray’s child in the future; it rests with you altogether.”

Into Nan’s cheeks now there had come a very brilliant colour, and her eyes were large and bright. She stood still, thinking deeply. After a time she got up and left the room; she left her lesson-books behind her. She entered her bedroom and shut the door. In this tiny room Nan often battled out her troubles, and struggled hard to know what was right to be done. She felt much puzzled on this occasion. As to Augusta’s sharp words and tones of authority, she was accustomed to them by this time; she saw there was no chance of her ever getting away from her influence.

“And she is ruining me,” thought the child. “I did hope a fortnight ago that I should do better, that I should be a worthy soldier. But I must write to Uncle Peter; I cannot do right with Augusta always near. What is to be done? What is to be done? Oh, it would kill me to leave the Richmonds now! But what does this mean about the Asprays? I know what I’ll do; I’ll go down and see Mrs. Richmond, and ask her straight out to tell me the truth.”

No sooner had this resolve come to Nan than she ran downstairs.

It was Mrs. Richmond’s at-home day; callers had stayed until late, but they had all gone now. She was preparing to go upstairs to dress for dinner when Nan appeared.

“Ah, Nancy!” said the good woman. “Do you want me, darling?”

“Please, Mrs. Richmond, may I say something?” asked Nan.

“Of course you may, dear.”

Mrs. Richmond sat down and drew Nan towards her.

“Well, Nancy,” she said, “you look well; you have grown, and have got more colour in your cheeks.”

Here she bent forward and kissed Nan on her forehead.

“Oh, I love you so much!” said Nancy; and she put up both her soft arms, and kissed Mrs. Richmond with passionate fervour on her cheeks.

“That is very pleasant to hear, my dear little girl; and I think we may all say with truth that we love you. Now, what is the trouble, dear?”

“Oh, there is a trouble!” said Nan; “and I must ask you a question.”

“You are going to tell me about the trouble?”

“I wish I could, but I cannot. I have only just heard something, and I want you to explain, please, oh, so very badly! Who are the Asprays, Mrs. Richmond?”

“The Asprays!” said Mrs. Richmond. “What Asprays?”

“The Asprays who have the right to adopt me.”

“No, darling – no. You are my little girl, adopted by me. They have no right over you unless you will it.”

“But who are they?”

“Rich people from Virginia.”

“And are they living near us?”

“I believe so; but I do not know them – I mean, we do not visit.”

“And I can go to them if I like?”

“That is true; but then, you would hardly like to go away to strangers – to strangers from those who love you.”

“No,” said Nan in a smothered sort of voice; “I should hate it – hate it.”

Here she squeezed up closer to Mrs. Richmond, who put her arm round the child’s waist and drew her up tightly to her side.

“Who has been talking to my little Nancy? Who has been troubling you in this matter?”

“Please, I would rather not tell.”

“I cannot force you to speak, my darling; but I want you to put the Asprays out of your head.”

“Perhaps I will after you have answered me a few questions.”

“What questions, Nancy?”

“How is it that I can go to them if I like?”

“They are friends of your father’s.”

“And you are?”

“I am a friend of your mother’s.”

“But are they related to my father?”

“No; but Mr. Aspray once made your father a promise that if you were really in difficulties or thrown on the world he would adopt you, because your father had lent him a very considerable sum of money when he was in great difficulties. He could not pay back the money during your father’s life-time, so he gave him a letter instead, which your mother left with me. That letter promises to adopt you, if necessary. That, I understand, is the story. Mr. Aspray made the promise, and if you ask him you could claim it and go to him as his adopted daughter; but from the little I have heard of the family I do not think they would suit you.”

“But still,” said Nan, puckering her brows and looking very anxious, “I should have a sort of right there, should I not?”

“Nancy, my dear, have you no right here?”