A Bevy of Girls

“Good old girl! I said you’d have the spunk to do your duty,” he whispered in her ear, and he patted her on the shoulder.

She felt a strange sense of comfort; she had hardly thought of him during the journey; once he had been all in all to her, but circumstances had divided them. He had been angry with her, and she had felt his anger very much. He had preached duty to her until she was sick of the word and hated the subject. She had rejected his advice. Now he was here, and he approved of her, so things would not be quite so bad. His love was worth that of a hundred schoolgirls.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she whispered back, and he saw the pent-up emotion in her at once.

“Marcia, come upstairs,” said Nesta. “I want to see you. You needn’t go to Mummy yet. She said you weren’t to be worried. Mummy is too delighted for anything. We have put a new dressing gown on her, and she looks so smart, and we’ve tidied up the room.”

“Of course,” said Ethel, “we’ve, tidied up the room.”

“We have,” said Molly, “and we’ve put a white coverlet over the bed, and Mummy looks ever so pleased. She says you’ll read to her for hours and hours.”

“Of course you will, Marcia,” said Nesta. “It does so tire my throat when I read aloud for a long time.”

“And mine!” said Molly.

“And mine!” said Ethel.

“You know Ethel and Molly are out now,” said Nesta. “They’re asked a good deal to tea parties and dances.”

“Yes, we are,” said Molly; “we’re going to a dance to-morrow night.”

“Yes, yes!” said Ethel, skipping about. “I want to show you our dresses.”

“They made them themselves,” said Nesta.

“We did; we did, wasn’t it clever of us?” said the other two, speaking almost in a breath.

“They’re awfully fashionable looking,” went on Nesta – “the dresses I mean.”

Molly giggled in her commonplace way. Ethel did not giggle, but she laughed. Nesta squeezed Marcia’s arm.

“You dear darling, what a tower of strength you are,” she said. “We thought of course you wouldn’t come.”

“We thought you’d be much too selfish,” said Molly.

“Yes, we did truly,” said Ethel.

“We were certain you wouldn’t do it,” said Nesta. “We said: ‘She’ll have to give up, and why should she give up?’ That’s what we said; but Horace said you’d do it, if it was put to you strongly.”

“Put to me strongly?” said Marcia. “Oh, girls, I have had a long, tiring journey, and my head aches. Is this my room? Would you think me frightfully unkind if I asked you for a jug of hot water, and to let me be alone for ten minutes?”

“Oh dear, dear, but don’t you want us three in the room with you? We have such a lot to tell you.”

“Darlings, you shall come in afterwards. I just want ten minutes to rest and to be quiet.”

“Girls, come downstairs at once,” said Horace from below.

The girls hurried off, glancing behind them, nodding to Marcia, kissing their hands to her, giggling, bubbling over with irrepressible mirth. Oh, it did not matter to them; their prison doors were open wide.

“So,” thought Marcia, “they are going to put it all on me in the future, even Horace. Oh, how can I bear it?”

Chapter Two

Share and Share Alike

The next morning Marcia commenced her duties. She had said to herself the night before that the prison doors were closing on her. They were firmly closed the next morning. She saw her stepmother for a few minutes on the night of her arrival. She was a tall, very lanky, tired-looking woman, who was the victim of nerves; her irritability was well-known and dreaded. Marcia had lived with it for some years of her life; the younger girls had been brought up with it, and now, when they were pretty and young, and “coming out,” as Molly expressed it, they were tired of it. The invalid was not dangerously ill. If she would only exert herself she might even get quite well; but Mrs Aldworth had not the least intention of exerting herself. She liked to make the worst of her ailments. As a matter of fact she lived on them; she pondered them over in the dead of night, and in the morning she told whoever her faithful companion might happen to be, what had occurred. She spoke of fresh symptoms during the day, and often sobbed and bemoaned herself, and she rated her companion and made her life a terrible burden. Marcia knew all about it. She thought of it as she lay in bed that first night, and firmly determined to make a strong line.

“I have given up Frankfort,” she thought, “and the pleasures of my school life, and the chance of earning money, and some distinction – for they own that I am the best English mistress they have ever had; I have given up the friendship of those dear girls, and the opera, and the music, and all that I most delight in; but I will not – I vow it – give up all my liberty. It is right, of course, that I, who am not so young as my sisters, should have some of the burden; but they must share it.”

She went downstairs, therefore, to breakfast, resolved to speak her mind. The girls were there, looking very pretty and merry. Nesta said eagerly:

“Molly, you will be able to go to the Chattertons to-day.”

“I mean to,” said Molly. “Ethel, you mustn’t be jealous, but I am coming with you.”

“And she’s got a charming new hat,” said Nesta.

“I know,” said Ethel. “She trimmed it yesterday with some of the ribbon left over from my new ball dress.”

“She’ll wear it,” said Nesta, “and she’ll look as pretty as you, Ethel.”

Ethel shook herself somewhat disdainfully.

“And I’m going to play tennis with Matilda Fortescue,” continued Nesta. “Oh, hurrah! hurrah! Isn’t it nice to have a day of freedom?”

“What do you mean, girls?” said Marcia at that moment.

Her voice had a new quality in it; the girls were arrested in their idle talk.

“What do we mean?” said Nesta, who was far and away the most pert of the sisters. “Why, this is what we mean: Dear old Marcia, the old darling, has come back, and we’re free.”

“I wish to tell you,” said Marcia, “that this is a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” said Molly. “Do you mean to insinuate that you are not our sister, our dear old sister?”

“I mean to assure you,” said Marcia, “that I am your sister, and I have come back to share your work and to help you, but not to take your duties from you.”

“Our duties!” cried Molly, with a laugh. “Why, of course we have heaps of duties – more than we can attend to. We make our own clothes, don’t we, Nesta?”

“And beautifully we do it,” said Nesta. “And don’t we trim our own hats?”

“Yes, I’m not talking about those things. Those are pleasures.”

“Pleasures? But we must be clothed?”

“Yes, dears; but you will understand me when I speak quite plainly. Part of your duty is to try to make your poor mother’s life as happy as you can.”

“But you will do that, darling,” said Nesta, coming close up to her sister and putting her arms round her neck.