The Little School-Mothers

The next day both Harriet and Ralph were ill, but Harriet was much worse than Ralph. To be in bed, to be unable to get up and enjoy the fresh air and the sunshine was a trial very hard for so small a boy as Ralph to bear; but when he was told that Harriet was worse than he, and that the doctor had to be sent for, he submitted to his own illness with a good grace. It was Robina who brought him the tidings.

“Harriet is really ill,” she said; “but Dr Fergusson says that you will very soon be all right again; you have only caught a little cold: I wonder how you managed it.”

“Oh, I know quite well all about it,” said Ralph.

“Do you, dear? then you ought to tell us,” said Robina.

Ralph’s soft brown eyes flashed with anger.

“Does you think I’d be so mean?” he said.

Robina looked at him in surprise. After a long time he made the following remark:

“Harriet is quite the most noble girl in the world. If it was not for Harriet, there’d be no me at all.”

Robina burst into a merry laugh.

“Oh, Ralph; you funny little boy!” she said; “what are you talking about?”

“You don’t understand Harriet,” was Ralph’s next speech, and he looked at Robina without the favour he used to bestow upon her. She was his school-mother and, of course, the one he loved best; but still she had never saved his life.

“I wish I could see my darling Harriet,” he said, after a pause. “I wish I could see her all by my lone self. I want to talk to her. We has a great secret atween us.”

The doctor, however, had forbidden Ralph to leave his bed that day, and certainly Harriet could not leave hers. In consequence, the children did not meet for a few days, and then it was rather a pale little boy who rushed into the arms of a thin, pale girl who, weak from the somewhat severe attack she had gone through, was seated in an easy chair not far from an open window.

“Now go ’way, all of you,” said Ralph, “I want to talk to my ownest school-mother. I has a great secret to talk over with her.”

The others obeyed without any protest. Robina, when she left the room, turned to Jane.

“I am sure of one thing,” she said: “something must have happened that day when Ralph and Harriet were left alone together. They were both quite well even although Harriet was cross when we started on our expedition to the beach; but they both got ill that very night, and since then, Ralph has altered: he is devoted to Harriet.”

“Perhaps he has learned to love Harriet best,” said Jane.

In spite of herself, there was a tone of triumph in her voice, for was not Harriet her friend, and did not every one else adore Robina?

“Would you mind?” she asked, fixing her round black eyes now on Robina’s face.

“Mind?” replied Robina. “Yes,” she said, after a little pause, “I don’t like to own to such a horrid feeling, but I am proud of Ralph’s love.”

She turned away as she spoke. She was going to her own room. In order to reach it, she had to pass the tiny chamber where Ralph slept. She found one of the maid-servants coming out. The woman had in her hand a little white drill suit all soaked through and much stained with the green weed which grows on ponds.

“I have just found this, miss,” she said, “in the cupboard in Master Ralph’s room. I wonder how it came there. Surely, little Master Ralph has not had a ducking in the pond.”

Robina felt the colour rushing into her face. For a minute, a sense of triumph filled her. Then she said, gently:

“Send that suit to the wash, please, Maria; and,” she added, “do not say anything about it.”

“There are stockings too, miss, all sopping, and shoes.”

“You can have the shoes dried, can’t you?” said Robina.

“Oh, yes, miss, certainly.”

“Well, send all the other things to the wash.”

“Yes, miss,” said the girl. “Perhaps,” she added, after a pause, “these things account for little Master Ralph not being well for the last few days.”

“They may or may not, Maria: anyhow, we won’t talk about that,” said Robina.

She went downstairs. Her heart was beating fast. The fierce desire to drag the truth from Harriet at any cost, which had overpowered her for a minute, had passed away. Her face was pale. She sat down on the nearest chair.

“Are you tired, my dear?” said Mr Durrant, approaching her at this minute, and sitting down by her side.

“No; not really tired,” she answered.

“I am glad to find you all by yourself, Robina; there are many things I want to say to you.” Robina waited expectantly. “You and Ralph are capital friends, aren’t you?”

“I hope so, indeed – indeed I love him dearly,” said Robina.

“And so does he love you. I cannot tell you, Robina, how thankful I am that he has made a girl of your sort one of his greatest friends; he might so very easily have chosen otherwise. There is Harriet Lane, for instance. Poor Harriet, I don’t want to speak against her, but she is not your sort, my dear. Now I like an open mind, generous – if you will have it, a manly sort of girl, one with no nonsense in her: one, in short, who will help Ralph to be the sort of man I desire him to be by and by. You, my dear, as far as I can tell, are that sort of girl. You have no fear in you. You have, I think, an open mind and a generous disposition. Compared to Ralph, you are old, although of course in yourself you are very young. I shall have to leave my little boy immediately after the summer holidays. My wish was to send him to school – to Mrs Burton’s school – where he could have had a little discipline, school life, and the companionship of many young people. But I have received a letter from Mrs Burton which obliges me to alter my plans.”

“Oh,” said Robina, speaking quickly, “I am very, very sorry – ”

“So am I, dear, more sorry than I can express. I am terribly upset about this letter, and I do not think it wrong to confide my trouble to you.” Here Mr Durrant drew his chair close to Robina’s side.

“You see, my dear child, I treat you as though you were grown-up.”

“Please do, Mr Durrant,” said Robina, “for there is nothing I would not do for you.”

“Well, this is the position,” said Mr Durrant. “Mrs Burton won’t be able to conduct her own school for the next term. She has induced a lady, a great friend of hers, to take the school over, and her hope is that she may be able to return to it herself after Christmas. Even this, however, is doubtful. Mrs Burton’s friend, Miss Stackpole, has had much experience of schools, but she is a maiden lady; and, in short, will not admit dear little Ralph as one of her pupils. Mrs Burton is obliged to spend the next term with her only sister, who is dangerously ill, and must undergo a serious operation. My plans, therefore, for Ralph are completely knocked on the head. I cannot possibly take him with me to South Africa. I have undertaken an expedition to that country which is full of adventure and danger. No young child could accompany me. I cannot bear to send Ralph to the ordinary boys’ school; and, in fact, my dear Robina, it has occurred to me that if I could possibly get a lady, trustworthy, kind, sensible, to keep on this house, I might induce you to stay with her as Ralph’s companion. Were this the case, I would myself undertake all your future education. You should have the best masters, the best mistresses that money could secure, and eventually, if you wish it, you should go to Newnham or Girton. I would see your father, my dear Robina, on the subject, and arrange the matter with him. You would have a right good time, for the lady I have in my mind’s eye is a certain Miss Temple, a cousin of my own, a very gentle and sweet woman, who would do all she could for your comfort and happiness, and would not unduly coerce you. Being Ralph’s school-mother, and the girl he has chosen above all others as his special friend, I doubt not that he would love the arrangement. As to your fees at Mrs Burton’s school, those can, of course, be managed. What do you say, Robina? Are you willing to continue at Sunshine Lodge as my dear little boy’s greatest friend – in fact, as his little school-mother?”

“Oh, I should like it!” said Robina. “But does it not depend on Ralph?” she continued.

Mr Durrant moved rather impatiently. “I have never coerced Ralph in the least,” he answered. “My endeavour has been from his birth to allow my dear little boy to choose for himself. I believe in the young, clear judgment of extreme youth. I think that little children can penetrate far. Of all your school-fellows he chose you, Robina; and who, my dear child, could have been more worthy?”

“But I am full of faults,” said Robina, tears springing to her eyes; “you don’t really know me. At home I am often blamed. My Aunt Felicia doesn’t think highly of me. You ought to go to my home and ask my own people what they really think with regard to me.”

“It is my intention to do so. I must talk to your father and mother about this plan; but somehow, I do not think they will disappoint me, and as a matter of fact I do not believe any little girl could better help my little son than you can.”

“Only suppose – suppose,” said Robina, “that he prefers Harriet.”

“Harriet?” cried Mr Durrant; “but there is surely no chance of that?”

“I don’t know, I am not sure. He likes Harriet certainly next best after me; he may even like her better.”

“I think not: you are without doubt the favoured one. Robina, we are all alone now. Harriet Lane is your schoolfellow. Tell me honestly what you think about her.”

Robina sprang to her feet.