A World of Girls: The Story of a School

Down in the valley about fifty yards away were the ten or twelve little children who formed the infant portion of the school. Miss Danesbury was sitting at some distance off quietly reading, and the children, decked with flowers, and carrying tall grasses and reeds in their hands, were flying round and round in a merry circle, while in their midst, and the centre of attraction, stood Annie, whose hat was tossed aside, and whose bright, curling hair was literally crowned with wild flowers. On Annie’s shoulder stood little Nan, carefully and beautifully poised, and round Nan’s wavy curls was a starry wreath of wood-anemones. Nan was shouting gleefully and clapping her hands, while Annie balanced her slightest movement with the greatest agility, and kept her little feet steady on her shoulders with scarcely an effort. As the children ran round and round Annie she waltzed gracefully backwards and forwards to meet them, and they all sang snatches of nursery rhymes. When Cecil and Hester appeared they had reached in their varied collection —

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.”

Here Nan exclaimed, in her clear, high-pitched voice —

“Me no fall, Annie,” and the small children on the ground clapped their hands and blew kisses to her.

“Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t Annie sweet with children?” said Cecil, looking round to Hester with all the admiration she felt for her friend shining in her face. The expression, however, which Hester wore at that moment really startled Cecil: she was absolutely colourless, and presently she called aloud in a harsh, strained voice —

“Be careful of her! How wicked of you to put her like that on your shoulder! She will fall – yes, I know she will fall; oh, do be careful!”

Hester’s voice startled the children, who ceased sinking and dancing: Annie made a hasty step forward, and one little voice alone kept singing out the words —

“Humpty Dumpty got a great fall!” when there was a crash and a cry, and Nan, in some inexplicable way, had fallen backwards from Annie’s shoulders.

In one instant Hester was in the midst of the group.

“Don’t touch her,” she said, as Annie flew to pick up the child, who, falling with some force on her head, had been stunned; “don’t touch her – don’t dare! It was your doing; you did it on purpose – you wished to do it!”

“You are unjust,” said Annie, in a low tone. “Nan was perfectly safe until you startled her. Like all the rest you are unjust. Nan would have come to no harm if you had not spoken.”

Hester did not vouchsafe another word. She sat on the ground with the unconscious and pretty little flower-crowned figure laid across her lap; she was terrified, and thought in her inexperience that Nan must be dead.

At the first mention of the accident Cecil had flown to fetch some water, and when she and Miss Danesbury applied it to little Nan’s temples, she presently sighed, and opened her brown eyes wide.

“I hope – I trust she is not much hurt,” said Miss Danesbury; “but I think it safest to take her home at once. Cecil, dear, can you do anything about fetching a waggonette round to the stile at the entrance of the wood? Now the puzzle is, who is to take care of the rest of the little children? If only they were under Miss Good’s care, I should breathe more easily.”

“I am going home with Nan,” said Hester, in a hard voice.

“Of course, my love: no one would think of parting you from your little sister,” said the governess soothingly.

“If you please, Miss Danesbury,” said Annie, whose face was quite as pale as Hester’s, and her eyes heavy as though she longed to cry, “will you trust me with the little ones? If you do, I will promise to take them straight to Miss Good, and to be most careful of them.”

Miss Danesbury’s gentle and kind face looked relieved.

“Thank you, Annie – of course I trust you, dear. Take the children at once to the meeting-place under the great oak, and wait there until Miss Good appears.”

Annie suddenly sprang forward, and threw her arms round Miss Danesbury’s neck.

“Miss Danesbury, you comfort me,” she said, in a kind of stifled voice, and then she ran off with the children.

Chapter Twenty Three

“Humpty Dumpty Had A Great Fall.”

All the stupor and languor which immediately followed Nan’s fall passed off during her drive home; she chatted and laughed, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. Hester turned with a relieved face to Miss Danesbury.

“My little darling is all right, is she not?” she said. “Oh, I was so terrified – oh, how thankful I am no harm has been done!”

Miss Danesbury did not return Hester’s full gaze; she attempted to take little Nan on her knee, but Nan clung to Hetty. Then she said —

“You must be careful to keep the sun off her, dear – hold your parasol well down – just so. That is better. When we get home, I will put her to bed at once. Please God, there is nothing wrong; cut one cannot be too careful.”

Something in Miss Danesbury’s manner affected Hester strangely; she clasped Nan’s slight baby form closer and closer to her heart, and no longer joined in the little one’s mirth. As the drive drew to a close, Nan again ceased talking, and fell into a heavy sleep.

Miss Danesbury’s face grew graver and graver, and, when the waggonette drew up at Lavender House, she insisted on lifting the sleeping child out of Hester’s arms, and carrying her up to her little crib. When Nan’s little head was laid on the cool pillow, she again opened her eyes, and instantly asked for a drink. Miss Danesbury gave her some milk and water, but the moment she drank it she was sick.

“Just as I feared,” said the governess; “there is some little mischief – not much, I hope – but we must instantly send for the doctor.”

As Miss Danesbury walked across the room to ring the bell, Hester followed her.

“She’s not in danger?” she whispered in a hoarse voice; “if she is, Annie is guilty of murder.”

“Don’t, my dear,” said the governess; “you must keep quiet for Nan’s sake. Please God, she will soon be better. All I really apprehend is a little excitement and feverishness, which will pass off in a few days with care. Hester, my dear, I suddenly remember that the house is nearly empty, for all the servants are also enjoying a holiday. I think I must send you for Dr Mayflower. The waggonette is still at the door. Drive at once to town, my dear, and ask the coachman to take you to Number 10, The Parade. If you are very quick, you will catch Dr Mayflower before he goes out on his afternoon rounds.”

Hester glanced for half an instant at Nan, but her eyes were again closed.

“I will take the best care of her,” said the governess in a kind voice; “don’t lose an instant, dear.”

Hester snatched up her hat and flew downstairs. In a moment she was in the waggonette, and the driver was speedily urging his horses in the direction of the small town of Sefton, two miles and a half away. Hester was terrified now – so terrified, in such an agony, that she even forgot Annie; her hatred toward Annie became of secondary importance to her. All her ideas, all her thoughts, were swallowed up in the one great hope – Should she be in time to reach Dr Mayflower’s house before he set off on his afternoon rounds? As the waggonette approached Sefton she buried her face in her hands and uttered a sharp inward cry of agony.

“Please God, let me find the doctor!” It was a real prayer from her heart of hearts. The waggonette drew up at the doctor’s residence, to discover him stepping into his brougham. Hester was a shy child, and had never seen him before; but she instantly raised her voice, and almost shouted to him – “You are to come with me; please, you are to come at once. Little Nan is ill – she is hurt. Please, you are to come at once.”

“Eh! young lady?” said the round-faced doctor. “Oh! I see; you are one of the little girls from Lavender House. Is anything wrong there, dear?”

Hester managed to relate what had occurred; whereupon the doctor instantly opened the door of the waggonette.

“Jump out, young lady,” he said; “I will drive you back in my brougham. Masters,” addressing his coachman, “to Lavender House.”

Hester sat back in the soft-cushioned carriage, which bowled smoothly along the road. It seemed to her impatience that the pace at which they went was not half quick enough – she longed to put her head out of the window to shout to the coachman to go faster. She felt intensely provoked with the doctor, who sat placidly by her side reading a newspaper.

Presently she saw that his eyes were fixed on her. He spoke in his quietest tones.

“We always take precisely twenty minutes to drive from the Parade to Lavender House – twenty minutes, neither more nor less. We shall be there now in exactly ten minutes.” Hester tried to smile, but failed; her agony of apprehension grew and grew. She breathed more freely when they turned into the avenue. When they stopped at the wide stone porch, and the doctor got out, she uttered a sigh of relief.

She took Dr Mayflower herself up to Nan’s room. Miss Danesbury opened the door, the doctor went inside, and Hester crouched down on the landing and waited. It seemed to her that the good physician would never come out. When he did she raised a perfectly blanched face to his, she opened her lips, tried to speak, but no words would come. Her agitation was so intense that the kind-hearted doctor took instant pity on her.

“Come into this room, my child,” he said. “My dear, you will be ill yourself if you give way like this. Pooh! pooh! this agitation is extreme – is uncalled for. You have got a shock. I shall prescribe a glass of sherry at once. Come downstairs with me, and I will see that you get one.”

“But how is she, sir – how is she?” poor Hester managed to articulate.

“Oh! the little one – sweet, pretty, little darling. I did not know she was your sister – a dear little child. She got an ugly fall, though – came on a nasty place.”

“But, please, sir, how is she? She – she – she is not in danger?”

“Danger? by no means, unless you put her into it. She must be kept very quiet, and, above all things, not excited. I will come to see her again to-morrow morning. With proper care she ought to be quite herself in a few days. Ah! now you’ve got a little colour in your cheek, come down with me and have that glass of sherry, and you will feel all right.”