The School Queens

“Oh, well,” said Molly, “of course Belle and I are very fond of you both, naturally.”

“Naturally!” echoed Cicely. But then she added, “How queer you look, Molly, as though you were keeping something back!”

“Well, yes, I am,” said Molly; “but I’ll have it out in a minute.”

“Oh, please, be quick!” said Merry. “Anything a little bit out of the common is very interesting. – Isn’t it, Cicely?”

“Very,” said Cicely; “more particularly in the holidays. When we are busy with our lessons things don’t so much matter, you know. – But do be quick, Molly; what is it?”

“Well,” said Molly, “you’ve asked us to spend the afternoon with you.”

“Of course, and you’re both coming, surely?”

“We are – certainly we are – that is, if you will allow us to bring”–

“To bring”–interrupted Cicely. “Oh Molly, do speak!”

“Well, I will; only, don’t jump, you two girls. To bring Maggie Howland!”

Cicely’s face grew very pink. Merry, on the contrary, turned a little pale. They were both silent for a brief space. Then Merry said excitedly, “Maggie Howland —the Maggie Howland?”

“Yes, the Maggie Howland; the one who has got the power, the charm, the fascination.”

“Oh, oh!” said Cicely. “But why is she with you? How has it happened?”

“She is not absolutely with us yet; and as to how it happened I cannot exactly tell you. We had a telegram from her late last night asking if she might come to-day to spend a week or fortnight, and of course we wired back ‘Yes.’ We are delighted; but of course you may not like her, girls.”

“Like her! like her!” said Cicely; “and after all you have said too! We shall be certain to more than like her.”

“She’s not a bit pretty, so don’t expect it,” said Molly.

“We were brought up,” said Merry a little stiffly, “not to regard looks as anything at all.”

“Nonsense!” replied Molly. “Looks mean a great deal. I’d give I don’t know what to be beautiful; but as I am not I don’t mean to fret about it. Well, Maggie’s downright plain; in fact – in fact – almost ugly, I may say; and yet – and yet, she is just Maggie; and you are not five minutes in her society before you’d rather have her face than any other face in the world. But the immediate question is: may she come this afternoon, or may she not?”

“Of course – of course she may come,” said Cicely; “we’ll be delighted, we’ll be charmed to see her. This is pleasant news!”

“I think, perhaps,” said Merry, “we ought to go and ask mother. Don’t you think so, Cis?”

“Of course we ought,” said Cicely. “I forgot that. Just stay where you are, Molly, and I’ll run to the house and find mother. It’s only to ask her, for of course she will give leave.”

Cicely ran off at once, and Merry and Molly were left alone.

“I know you’ll be delighted with her,” said Molly.

“It will be very delightful to see her,” replied Merry.

“You must expect to be disappointed at first, all the same,” continued Molly.

“Oh, looks do not matter one scrap,” said Merry.

“Isabel and I are going to her school; you know that, don’t you, Merry?”

“Yes,” said Merry with a sigh. “What fun you do have at your different schools! Don’t you, Molly?”

“Well, yes,” said Molly rather gravely; “but it isn’t only the fun; we see a lot of the world, and we mix with other girls and make friends.”

“Mother prefers a home education for us, and so does father,” remarked Merry. “Ah! here comes Cicely. She is flying down the terrace. Of course mother is delighted.”

This proved to be the case. Mrs. Cardew would welcome any girl introduced to her daughters through her dear friend Mr. Tristram. She sent a further invitation for the three young people to remain to an impromptu supper, which was pleasanter than late dinner in such hot weather, and asked if Mr. and Mrs. Tristram would join them at the meal.

“Hurrah!” cried Molly. “That will be fun! I must be off now, girls. We’ll be with you, all three of us, between four and five o’clock.”

CHAPTER II.

SPOT-EAR

Isabel took great pains arranging Maggie Rowland’s bedroom. At the Castle (or Manor) there were always troops of servants for every imaginable thing; but at the rectory the servants were few, and the girls did a good many odds and ends of work themselves. They were expected to dust and keep in perfect order their exceedingly pretty bedrooms, they were further required to make their own beds, and if a young visitor arrived, they were obliged to wait on her and see to her comfort. For the Tristrams had just an income sufficient to cover their expenses, with nothing at all to put by. Mr. Tristram had his two little boys to think of as well as his two girls. His intention was to give his children the best education possible, believing that such a gift was far more valuable to them than mere money. By-and-by, when they were old enough, the girls might earn their own living if they felt so inclined, and each girl might become a specialist in her way.

Molly was exceedingly fond of music, and wished to excel in that particular. Isabel, on the contrary, was anxious to obtain a post as gymnasium teacher with the London County Council. But all these things were for the future. At present the girls were to study, were to acquire knowledge, were to be prepared for that three-fold battle which includes body, soul, and spirit, and which needs triple armor in the fight.

Mr. Tristram was a man of high religious principles. He taught his children to love the good and refuse the evil. He wanted his girls to be useful women by-and-by in the world. He put usefulness before happiness, assuring his children that if they followed the one they would secure the other.

Belle, therefore, felt quite at home now as she took out pretty mats and laid them on little tables in the neat spare room which had been arranged for the reception of Maggie Howland. She saw that all the appointments of the room were as perfect as simplicity and cleanliness could effect, and then went out into the summer garden to pick some choice, sweet-smelling flowers. She selected roses and carnations, and, bringing them in, arranged them in vases in the room.

Hearing the sound of wheels, she flew eagerly downstairs and met her friend as she stepped out of the little governess-cart.

“Well, here I am!” said Maggie. “And how is Belle? How good-natured of you all to have me, and how delightful it is to smell the delicious country air! Mother and I find town so hot and stuffy. I haven’t brought a great lot of luggage, and I am not a bit smart; but you won’t mind that – will you, dear old Belle?”

“You always talk about not being smart, Maggie; but you manage to look smarter than anyone else,” said Isabel, her eager brown eyes devouring her friend’s appearance with much curiosity. For Maggie looked, to use a proverbial phrase, as if she had stepped out of a bandbox. If she was plain of face she had an exceedingly neat figure, and there was a fashionable, trim look about her which is uncommon in a girl of her age; for Maggie was only just sixteen, and scarcely looked as much. In some ways she might almost have been a French girl, so exceedingly neat and comme il faut was her little person. She was built on a petite scale, and although her face was so plain, she had lovely hands and beautiful small feet. These feet were always shod in the most correct style, and she took care of her hands, never allowing them to get red or sunburnt.

“Where’s Molly?” was her remark, as the two girls, with their arms twined round each other, entered the wide, low hall which was one of the special features of the old rectory.

“She has gone up to see the Cardews.”

“Who are the Cardews?”

“Why, surely, Mags, you must have heard of them?”

“You don’t mean,” said Maggie with a laugh, and showing a gleam of strong white teeth, “the two little ladies who live in a bandbox?”

“Oh, you really must not laugh at them,” said Isabel, immediately on the defensive for her friends; “but they do lead a somewhat exclusive life. Molly has gone up to the Castle, as we always call Meredith Manor, to announce your arrival, and to ask permission to bring you there to a tennis-party this afternoon; so you will soon see them for yourself. Now, come in and say good-morning to the mater; she is longing to see you.”

“Hello, Peterkins!” called out Maggie at that moment, as a small boy with a smut across his face suddenly peeped round a door.

“I’m not Peterkins!” he said angrily.

Maggie laughed again. “I am going to call you Peterkins,” she said. “Is this one of the little brothers, Belle?”