The Little School-Mothers

“Now, Robina,” she said on the present occasion, the moment the little girl entered the house – “don’t make so much noise: walk quietly; go up to your room, and don’t slam the door; also —don’t neglect to put your boots outside on the mat, so that Fanny may take them down in good time to get them cleaned. And, Robina —don’t forget to wash your hands and brush your hair, and don’t on any account fail to remember that your mother has a bad headache and cannot have noise or excitement in her room.”

“I am not going to make any noise; and I will try not to be excited,” said Robina. “I have been very happy at school, Aunt Felice, and people haven’t said such a lot of ‘don’ts’ to me. I think it is ‘don’t’ makes me so naughty when I am at home.”

“Well —don’t oblige me to say ‘Don’t,’” was Aunt Felicia’s remark.

Robina ran upstairs. She was never cross at school. Why did she feel irritation the very moment she got home? She had looked forward very much to her holidays. She had all sorts of schemes in her practical little brain for improving and rendering life agreeable to little Violet and little Rose, her two small sisters.

She had quite expected that Violet and Rose would be waiting to welcome her. She had pictured them to herself all during the long, hot journey to Wales.

Violet was five years old, and a very pretty little girl. Curly Pate had always more or less reminded Robina of Violet. And then there was Rose, who was not yet four years old, and who was a very delicate little child and rather fractious. Rose in some sort of intangible manner recalled Harriet to Robina’s memory; for she was lanky, and thin, and had poor little weak legs, and a weak sort of crying voice, and people said that she took after her mother, and would never be specially good for anything.

Before she went to school, Robina had much preferred to play with Violet, and had often left Rose more or less out in the cold. But now she resolved to correct all this, and to try to get to understand little Rose, and to add to the happiness of her life.

“For if I don’t,” thought Robina, “she may grow up like Harriet: she may even learn to be deceitful, and that would never do. Oh, I know – I know quite well the person who is better than all the rest of us put together at the school, and that person is Ralph. Who else would have changed Harriet, and made her so that she could even bear to allow me to be Ralph’s school-mother, and yet to love little Ralph all the time? I must own that I do not love Harriet even now; but I suppose it is wrong of me; anyhow, I see that there are possibilities of good in her; and I will be very good to little Rose during the fortnight that I am at home because of Harriet.”

But Violet and Rose were both in bed, although they had pleaded very hard indeed to be let stay up, and Mrs Starling was not considered well enough to be disturbed by Robina that evening. Robina’s father was not at home, and there was no one, therefore, to welcome the little girl except Aunt Felicia.

“It is dull,” thought Robina. “I am glad that I am going to Sunshine Lodge in a fortnight: I wonder if the invitation has come yet. How jolly we shall all be when we are there! If mother were really glad to see me, and if Rose and Violet were up, I should be a very happy girl this evening; but as it is – ”

Robina entered her rather bare and decidedly ugly bedroom, tossed her hat on the bed, went to the small cracked looking-glass in order to see how to put her thick hair straight, and then was preparing to run downstairs again, when she saw the nursery room door very softly opened, and a little figure peeped out.

“I am in my nighty, and so is Rose; but we’re both ’ide awake,” said Violet’s voice. “Oo’s come back, Wobbin. Come and kiss us; do, do!”

“Oh, you darlings! you pets!” said Robina.

She went noisily into the nursery, and alack! and alas! the next minute the door slammed after her. Violet’s little rosy face turned pale, and the real Rose began to cry.

“Aunt Felice will come up and scold!” said Violet. “Oh, put us into bed, do! and don’t go away – please, please, Wobina!”

“No, I won’t,” said Robina. “I don’t mind a bit whether I’m scolded or not. Of course, I didn’t mean to slam the door. You little darlings, both of you! You sweet pets! Here I am back again, and won’t we have good times! I have some chocolates for you in a corner of my school trunk: I bought it out of the savings of my pocket-money; and it is right good, I can tell you.”

“All keemy in middle?” enquired Rose, in a voice of great eagerness.

“Yes,” said Robina, “and browny outside.”

“Can’t us have some now?” asked Violet.

“I will try,” said Robina. “You lie quite still, and pretend to be asleep, and I’ll bring you some in a minute or two. Aunt Felice couldn’t have heard the door slam, or she would be up here on the landing by now. Oh dear! oh dear! I’ll creep out ever so quietly. Now, mum’s the word. Stay as still as mice, you two, until I return.”

Two eager pairs of eyes in the midst of two small wide awake faces followed Robina as she went to the nursery door. She opened it softly, and shut it behind her. In a minute or two, she was back with the chocolates, and each little child was made intensely happy. Robina promised all sorts of good things on the morrow – pick-a-back was one; and oh! there was a wonderful secret: something amazing was going to happen: for of course Robina knew well that the pony with the side-saddle and the habit would arrive early the next day. He could not be objected to, for part of the prize was that all his expenses were to be paid.

There was an old stable at the back of the house where he could lodge, and the services of a special man were to be secured to look after him. The thought of the pony comforted Robina immensely on that first evening at home. When she sat opposite to Aunt Felicia at supper, it occurred to her to mention it.

“Aunt Felice,” she said, “I have got a great piece of news for you.”

“What is that, my dear Robina? Don’t put your elbow on the table; it is so unladylike; and I wish, my dear, you would not have that habit of opening your mouth when you are not speaking. You ought to say the old phrase, ‘Papa, potatoes, prunes and prism’ constantly to yourself. There is nothing for keeping the mouth in a nice shape like uttering the word ‘prism.’”

“I can’t, really, Aunt Felice. I am not made that way,” said Robina. “I can’t be worried about my mouth.”

“There you are,” said Aunt Felice, “always so headstrong, rough, and disagreeable. Now, don’t frown! It really makes you look like a fright. Your poor mother quite dreads the thought of having you in the house; you are so undisciplined and wayward.”

“I was thought quite a good girl at school,” said Robina.

“Then that was because none of them really knew you.”

“I think they knew me very well. You have to be your real self at school, Aunt Felice.”

“Then may I ask, miss, if that is the case, why you are not your real self at home?”

“I am afraid I have got two selves, and I am my worst self at home, because I am rubbed the wrong way.”

“Indeed!” said Miss Jennings. “That is nice hearing. And who rubs you the wrong way?”

“I know you will be very angry with me, Aunt Felicia; but you do.”

“Robina: this is really more than I can stand. You don’t speak in that impertinent way to me any more: you have no respect for those older and better than yourself, Robina. I don’t say for a moment that you have not your good points. You are a clever, strong, intelligent child, but you are too independent: that is what is the matter with you.”

Robina fidgetted.

“Don’t push your things about on your plate like that!” said Miss Felicia: “and oh! don’t kick me with your long legs under the table! You really are most objectionable in your manners – such a rough sort of girl.”

“Come, Auntie,” said Robina suddenly, “I have been thinking a lot of my return home. I have never been to school before, and these are my very first holidays, and anyhow, there is jolly good news – ”

“Don’t say jolly! It is a most unladylike expression.”

“Oh, I must talk a little slang. I can’t be too proper. Besides, ‘jolly’ is accepted now as the most correct English. ‘Awfully jolly’ is a lovely phrase.”

“It is a misnomer, and abominable. Don’t ever say ‘awfully jolly’ in my presence.”

“I will try not to,” said Robina aloud. To herself, she whispered: “I won’t be tempted: things never are awfully jolly when she is about.”

“May I tell you the nice thing that has happened?” she said, after a pause.

“Don’t spill that jam, Robina. See, you are dropping the juice on the table-cloth. Now then, what is your news? I don’t suppose it is worth anything.”

“To begin with: I am going away on a visit in a fortnight.”

“Indeed?” said Miss Jennings. “That is so likely: little girls do go away on visits without the permission of their elders. That is the modern tendency, I am well aware, but it has not taken root in this house so far.”

“Mr Durrant has invited me,” said Robina, “and I know father and mother will let me go: I am not a bit afraid on that point. Mr Durrant will manage it.”

“Who is Mr Durrant?”

“He is the Durrant, you know: everyone speaks of him. He is one of the greatest men in England at the present day.”

Miss Jennings stared hard at her niece.

“Up to the present,” she said, “I always did think you were truthful: but I cannot quite believe that the great African explorer, whose thrilling book I could scarcely lay down when once I began to read it, would take any notice of an inconsequent, silly little girl like yourself.”