The Little School-Mothers

“Do you see that child?” said Harriet.

“Yes – the little darling!” cried Pattie. “Little Ralph Durrant. Father raves about him; he says that he will be the richest man in England some day.”

“Oh, well,” said Harriet; “he is a very troublesome little boy now. But, nevertheless, I am pleased. His father has made a most ridiculous proposal. He said that Ralph was to choose one of us to be his school-mother – I can tell you it was thought a great honour – and he chose me.”

“You?” cried Pattie.

“Yes; are you surprised?”

“Oh, no!” answered Pattie; but she was, nevertheless.

“Well, I am the chosen one, and I can tell you I had my triumph. Those other girls, especially that new girl, Robina Starling, was sure that one of them would be cock-o’-the-walk; but not a bit of it – my little boy chose me.”

“That was nice for you,” said Pattie; “only I should not have thought you would have cared to be bothered by a child.”

“It’s not that,” said Harriet, lowering her voice; for, really, under the circumstances, any sympathiser was better than none. “A good deal depends on it. I will explain to you another time. Of course, there are drawbacks. I have the charge of that small person, and in consequence can’t enjoy myself at the picnic to-day.”

“Oh, what a pity!” said Pattie.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“And you are all alone this lovely, lovely day?”

“It is true,” said Harriet. “Well, I suppose I must take the rough with the smooth.”

“I tell you what,” cried Pattie, in some excitement. “Couldn’t you come home and have tea with me? It would be such fun! You might bring Ralph with you, you know. Of course, you would be allowed to come, and it is only a stone’s throw away.”

“I wish I could; I’d like it very much,” said Harriet.

“Do come,” said Pattie. “We’ll manage afterwards to go out and see the fair in the village.”

“Oh. I am sure I wouldn’t be allowed to take Ralph to the fair.”

“He need not come; indeed, we wouldn’t want him. We’d manage somehow to leave him behind; there are lots of people at home to look after him. Oh, do, do come. You need not say a word to anybody.”

Harriet thought for a minute. After all, Miss Ford had no control over her. Miss Ford had only the charge of the little children; there was no one’s leave to be asked. She was the school-mother of Ralph. Of course, it must never be told, for it was against the strict rules of the school that any girl should venture out of the grounds without leave. It is true that Harriet had gone in the spring cart to town last week; but, after all, she had got leave to do that, for she had run to the house to ask for it. “If Mrs Burton was at home, I know she would not mind,” said Harriet eagerly. “But I can’t ask her leave, as she isn’t here. If we go, we must be back quite early; we must be back before old Ford misses us. That’s the nuisance!”

“You can manage that,” said Pattie. “It’s early now. We’ll go straight home, and have tea. Then Mother or someone will look after that little Ralph of yours, and you and I will just run down to the fair, and see what is to be seen. Do, do come, Harriet! I should so love to have you!”

“All right,” said Harriet.

She looked around her. Miss Ford was nowhere in sight. So much the better. Ralph was called sharply back to her side. He came, Curly Pate trotting after him.

“I ont my king,” called the school baby.

“Then you will do without him,” said Harriet roughly. “Go back to your play, you little silly. Run back at once.”

Curly Pate burst into loud screams and yells, and Ralph, forgetting his allegiance to Harriet, flung his arms round her and comforted her valiantly.

In the midst of this scene, Miss Ford hurried up.

“What is the matter?” she asked.

“Ralph and Pattie and I are going away for a little by ourselves,” said Harriet. “Curly Pate wants to come with us; but we don’t want her.”

“Yes, I want her,” said Ralph.

“Why can’t the child go with you?” asked Miss Ford.

“No, she can’t,” said Harriet, looking very cross. “Very well, darling,” said Miss Ford, catching the child in her arms and kissing her. “I’ve got something so nice to show you.”

She carried the weeping baby away, and Ralph, with a great pain at his heart, followed Harriet. His school-mother! Oh, yes, she was that. But did he like her? He was not sure. She puzzled him extremely. She was not half as interesting as on that wonderful day when she had devoted herself to him, and told him stories about the gipsies.

As soon as ever Miss Ford had turned the corner, and had carried the weeping Curly Pate out of sight, Harriet turned to Pattie.

“Now we must be very quick,” she said. “If you don’t mind, we will run all the way.”

“Where is we going?” asked Ralph.

“We are going to have a jolly time,” replied Harriet. “Now, Ralph, you clearly understand; you are going to be put on your honour.”

“Yes,” said Ralph, looking important; “Father says that sometimes.”

”‘Your honour’ means this,” continued Harriet: “You will never tell anybody what we are doing.”

“Course not,” replied Ralph. “I aren’t a tell-tale.”

“He isn’t, either,” said Harriet, looking at Pattie. “He is quite a good little boy, when he chooses. Well, then, we are ready, and I hope, Pattie, you are prepared to give us a very good time.”

Pattie answered at once that she was. In her heart of hearts, however, she was doubtful. Her father and mother were poor. Dr Pyke’s practice was not a large one, and he found it difficult to make both ends meet. Then, there were numerous little Pykes at home – Pykes of all ages, from Pattie, whose years numbered twelve, to the baby, who was only three months old. It seemed to Pattie that the children swarmed everywhere. Still, she had a whole shilling stowed away in her purse in the corner of a drawer in her bedroom, that could be spent at the fair, and it was grand and delightful to bring a girl from Mrs Burton’s to tea with her, and she also felt sure that little Ralph would have a welcome.

When they reached the house, an ivy-covered house of old-fashioned make, which stood a little back from the village street, she found the hall door open.

“Now, then, Harriet, come in,” she said, and Harriet and Ralph entered.

An untidy-looking servant was crossing the hall.

“Anastasia,” said Pattie, “will you get tea in the drawing-room, please?”

Anastasia stared at her.

“Indeed, I can’t, miss. Your ma is out, and all the older children have gone to the park with Miss Fry,” – Miss Fry was the much overworked nursery governess – “and the missis told me,” continued Anastasia, “that I was to wash the handkerchiefs and things this afternoon. I have no time to bring tea into the drawing-room, and why should I do it? You always has it in the school-room.”

“I’d much rather have tea in the school-room, Pattie,” said Harriet.

“And so would I,” echoed Ralph.

“You must get your own tea, miss,” continued Anastasia, by no means abashed by the sight of Harriet in her ordinary school frock, and not particularly struck by the beauty of little Ralph.