The Little School-Mothers

“I don’t know what opportunity is,” said Ralph.

“Oh, well – I can’t tell you – you’re a baby. Anyhow, don’t do it again, do you hear?”

“Very well, Harriet,” said Ralph.

It was just at that moment, and before a single word could be said with regard to the afternoon of that half-holiday, and the gipsies and all the great, great fun which Ralph so looked forward to, that Miss Ford came up to Harriet, and drew her a little aside.

“Mrs Burton wishes me to say, Harriet, that she will not expect you to join the picnic to-day on account of Ralph Durrant.”

“And why not, pray?” asked Harriet, turning very red.

“Because they are going too far away, and he would not be back in time for bed, so you are to stay at home to look after him.”

“Well, I like that,” said Harriet. “I won’t do anything of the kind.”

“Oh, you needn’t stay, really, Harriet,” interrupted Ralph, who gave up all thought of the gipsies on the spot. “Do please go, Harriet. I don’t mind being left.”

Harriet looked eagerly at him.

“Don’t you?” she said. “Oh, I am sure you don’t; you are a very good little boy.”

“But, I am afraid,” said Miss Ford, “that is not the question. Ralph’s school-mother accepts certain duties, which she must perform, and you can’t go to the picnic, Harriet, for Mrs Burton forbids it. She says you are to stay at home and look after Ralph, and make him as happy as possible.”

Harriet, who never denied herself, was suddenly forced to do so, and in the most disagreeable, unexpected way. She almost hated Ralph at that moment. His brown eyes did not in the least appeal to her, and when he snuggled to her side, and tried to take her hand, she pushed him almost roughly away.

“I hate being pawed!” said Harriet. “You must understand that, Ralph, if you are to be with me always. Very well, Miss Ford,” she continued, turning to the teacher. “I must do what is right, of course.”

“Of course, you must,” said Miss Ford, and she marched away, saying to herself that she pitied Ralph, and wondering – as, indeed, everyone else was wondering – why Harriet had been chosen as his school-mother.

Book One – Chapter Nine

A Visit to the Fair

Almost immediately after early dinner, two waggonettes came up to the door, and the girls of the sixth form and the girls of the third form, with their governesses and Mrs Burton herself, started off for a long and happy day in some distant woods. They were to visit the ruins of Chudleigh Castle and go up to the top of Peter’s Tower – a celebrated place in the neighbourhood – and afterwards they were to have tea on the grass; and, best of all, they need not return home until the moon came up.

The moonlight drive home would be the most fascinating part of the whole expedition. For days and days this picnic to Chudleigh Castle had been talked about; and Harriet, with the others, had enjoyed it in anticipation. Now, she had to stand by, gloomily holding Ralph’s hand, while the carriages were packed with radiant, happy girls, and, what was still harder, she had to listen to their gay shouts, and, in particular, to their badinage at her expense.

“I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, Harriet,” said Rose Amberley.

“I hope you and Ralph will have fun, my dear,” said Agnes Winter, one of the sixth form girls, whom it was a great honour to know, and whom Harriet secretly adored. Even her own special chum, Jane, was looking flushed and pleased – disgustingly flushed and pleased, thought Harriet. And there was that little weak Vivian giggling in the silly way she always did, and casting covert glances at her, and, of course, laughing at her in her sleeve. And there was that odious Robina, not looking at her at all, but calmly taking her seat, and making others laugh whenever she spoke to them. Oh, it was all distracting, and for the time being so angry was Harriet that even the prospective pony lost its charm.

At last the waggonettes started on their journey. The sound of their wheels ceased to be heard. Stillness followed commotion; gay laughter was succeeded by – in Harriet’s opinion – a sort of void. Again Ralph tugged her arm.

“Now,” he said, “now it’s gipsies, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing of the kind, you horrid, little troublesome thing,” said Harriet. “I am not going to take you to see the gipsies to-day – no, nor any day, for the present. Oh, stop that blubbering, or I’ll smack you.”

“You did once before,” said Ralph steadily, and he looked her full in the face, tears arrested in his eyes, and his own colour coming and going.

Harriet immediately saw that she had gone too far. She altered her tone.

“Please forgive me, Ralph,” she said. “I know I am cross; I wanted so very much to go to that picnic, and I can’t because of you.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ralph. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Yes,” said Harriet crossly; “that’s not the question. You are considered a baby, and you must be treated as one.”

“I aren’t a baby!” said Ralph, in great indignation. “Father said I am a real manly boy.”

“Well, prove yourself one,” said Harriet. “Don’t cry when I speak a little sharply, and don’t worry me about the gipsies. I will take you to see them when I can, because I promised to take you; but you’re not to remind me of them, for if you do I’ll be very angry.”

“I won’t ever, ever speak of them again,” said Ralph, gulping down a sob.

“Well, that’s all right,” said Harriet. She moved restlessly across the lawn. Curly Pate and the other small children were tumbling about on the grass. Ralph looked longingly at Curly Pate. Curly Pate clapped her pretty hands, and ran to meet him.

“I keen – oo king!” she said.

Harriet stood by restlessly. How contemptible it all was! Those silly little children, that tiresome Miss Ford, the empty house, the empty gardens, and the pleasure party far away – the pleasure party with some of its members laughing in their sleeves at her! Yes, she knew that fact quite well. That detestable little Jane was laughing. She saw the laughter hidden behind her smug face. And that horrid Vivian, she was all one giggle, and last, but not least, there was the detestable Robina – on this day of all days to laugh at Harriet seemed the final straw! She had had her great moment of victory; she had proved to Robina that she was the favourite – was the chosen one, was the beloved of the little boy about whom the school chose to make such a fuss. But oh, dear! there was reaction after triumph, and this reaction took place when Harriet found what were the duties imposed upon her by motherhood. She must take care of her little boy while the others went out a-pleasuring.

By this time, however, Ralph had forgotten all about her. He and Curly Pate had gone away to a little distance. Curly Pate was on her knees picking daisies, and Ralph was standing over her, after the fashion of kings when they choose to govern their queens and give directions.

“Longer stems, Curly; bigger flowers, Curly. Oh, you silly! not that one – that one with the red all round, it’s broader. Now, then —I’ll show you how to pick them.”

“Peese, king! peese!” replied the impatient queen.

Harriet was not interested in the small children, and just at that moment something occurred.

A girl from the neighbourhood, of the name of Pattie Pyke, was seen walking down the avenue. She was the doctor’s daughter, and was the only girl who was ever allowed to come to the school to take lessons. She joined the third form twice a week for German lessons, but was never with them during recreation. In consequence, she was scarcely counted at all in the school life. Harriet and she, however, had managed to take up a sort of acquaintanceship which never until this moment had developed into friendship. Pattie was a plain girl, large for her age, stoutly built, and with a face covered with freckles. She had small blue eyes and a snub nose. Her hair was somewhat inclined to be carroty, and she had white eyelashes and eyebrows. Notwithstanding this, she was a pleasant girl enough, and had plenty of ability.

“Hallo!” she said now, when she saw Harriet. “Why, I thought, of course, you’d be off to the picnic!”

“Well, I’m not, you see,” answered Harriet ungraciously; “I am here.”

Pattie drew nigh. The real desire of her life was to make friends with one of the school-girls. She was always imploring her father to send her to the school as a boarder, but hitherto he had been deaf to her entreaties.

“I was coming to the school with a note,” said Pattie; “Father told me to leave it. I did not think I’d meet one of you. I am surprised to see you.”

“Well, you need not be. You were not at school this morning, or you would know why I am here.”

“No, I had a cold, and Father thought I had best not go. He is so awfully particular, for fear of my giving anything to the rest of the girls. I am better now, but I must not be out long; my throat is rather sore.”

“You look quite well,” said Harriet.

“It’s only my throat that’s a little bad. Please, do tell me about this morning.”

“And the great triumph for me,” said Harriet. “Ralph, don’t go out of sight!”

She shrieked these words to Ralph, who immediately paused, turned, and looked at her, then came in her direction, holding Curly Pate’s hand.