The Little School-Mothers

“It would be a brave thing to do, certainly,” said Mr Durrant. “But then it has not happened, Ralph, so don’t let your imagination run away with you.”

“No father,” said Ralph; “I won’t let my ’magination run ’way with me. I don’t quite know what it means, father; but – I won’t let it, – ’cause then I shouldn’t be close to you, father; and I love you best, and then Harriet, and then Robina.”

“Robina is a very fine girl,” said his parent. “I like her very much; I am glad she is your friend.”

“So does I like her: she was my school-mother. I like Harriet too, father: I like her awfu’ much. I mustn’t tell you nothing at all, but I like Harriet best of all my school-mothers.”

Mr Durrant thought for a short time over Ralph’s little speech to him. It puzzled the good man not a little. He did not, however, lay it deeply to heart. The boy was under the influence of Harriet, and, truth to tell, Mr Durrant did not take to that young lady. He was, however, sufficiently interested in her to pay her a visit that same evening in her own room.

She was a good deal startled and somewhat nonplussed when he first knocked at the door, then bent his tall head and entered the room.

“Well, Harriet,” he said, “I thought I would find out for myself how you are. I hope you are progressing well, and will soon be able to join the rest of us. It was strange how you and Ralph both caught cold the same day: it was very unlucky. How are you to-night, my dear girl?”

“Better,” said Harriet, changing colour as she spoke, for she was rather weak from her illness and was much excited by Mr Durrant’s visit. “I am better,” she continued; “I hope to be quite well by next week.”

“So do I hope you will be quite well, for time is speeding very fast, Harriet: the summer holidays go almost before we know they are with us. Now I have many expeditions in my mind’s eye – expeditions in which I want you and Ralph to join. This is Saturday night. To-morrow is Sunday. To-morrow, I am going to leave home for a day or two, but on Monday I shall be back again. I hope by then to find you quite well and enjoying yourself with the rest of your school-fellows. Everything that man can do will be done for your pleasure, and I trust I shall find my little party without any invalids amongst them waiting to welcome me back on Monday evening at the latest.”

“And what is going to happen on Tuesday?” asked Harriet, whose eyes began to sparkle now, for she had suddenly lost her fear of Mr Durrant.

“The weather is so fine at present,” was his reply, “that I have chartered a yacht and am going to take you all for a cruise. What do you say to that? You are not likely to be sea-sick, are you?”

“Never was sea-sick in the whole course of my life,” said Harriet, dimpling all over her face now with anticipation.

“I thought I’d discovered something to please you. The sea breezes will put colour into those pale cheeks. Ponies, donkeys, governess carts will all be left behind, and for one long perfect week we shall coast round the Isle of Wight, and other parts of this perfect country. What do you say? I have already mentioned the matter to the others, and I find that they are, without a single exception, good sailors.”

“I will be well enough, whoever else isn’t,” said Harriet, stoutly. “It’ll be lovely, lovely. You know I have spent all my early days at the seaside.”

“Have you? Then of course you are accustomed to yachting.”

“I am accustomed to going out in the fishing boats: I often did so at Yarmouth: I used to make great friends with the sailors.”

“Then that will be capital, my dear. Now I am leaving early to-morrow. You won’t guess where I am going, will you?”

“How can I guess, Mr Durrant?”

“To no less a place than Robina’s home.”

“Robina’s home,” said Harriet. She felt herself turning red, and one of her hands which had been lying idle on her lap, clenched itself tightly. “Why to Robina’s home?” she asked.

“That is just it. I have a little scheme in my head; why should not I tell you? I have told her – why should not you also be in the secret?”

“Oh, please, please tell me?” said Harriet. “I love secrets,” she added.

“Most girls do. Well, this is the state of things. You know that my first intention was to send Ralph back to Mrs Burton’s school with you and the other school-mothers. He was to be primarily under Robina’s care, and the rest of you were of course to be good to him. Dear, kind Mrs Burton had consented to the arrangement, and everything was going well, when, lo and behold! I was obliged to change my plans.”

“Oh!” said Harriet: “to change your plans – how? why?”

“I will tell you why, dear Harriet, and I am sure you will sympathise with me. I know you have a great regard for my little boy, and I believe he returns your regard; therefore anything connected with his future will be of interest to you. Mrs Burton cannot receive Ralph at her school as she at first promised to do. She will herself give you her reasons for this, but I need not trouble you about them at the present moment. Suffice it to say that Ralph cannot go back to Abbeyfield, and therefore I have to make other arrangements for him.”

“Yes,” said Harriet, in a breathless sort of voice. “Dear Ralph! He is such a sweet little boy. Have you made your arrangements, Mr Durrant?”

“I am going to South Africa early in October,” was his reply, “and cannot take my dear little son with me: he must remain in England. Now, this house is quite to my liking. It is large, and airy and well drained and not far from the seaside. I know a lady, a special friend of mine, who will come to look after Ralph, and he can have the best masters at Eastbourne and a daily tutor who will come out here to instruct him. But all these advantages are not sufficient. He must have a companion. There is in my opinion no companion so suitable for all that Ralph requires as Robina Starling; and I am going to see her father to-morrow in order to make arrangements for her to remain with him.”

“And not go back to Abbeyfield?” said Harriet.

Her voice was low. It was getting dusk too, and Mr Durrant could not very well see her face.

“Robina would not go back to school?” she repeated.

“In that case, no; but she would lose nothing thereby; for I should make it a personal matter, and would see that her education was thoroughly finished at my expense. She is a clever girl, and I can give her not only the very best masters, to develop what talent she possesses, but would eventually send her to Girton, where I understand she greatly longs to go.” Harriet was quite silent. “You approve, don’t you?” said Mr Durrant, scarcely knowing why he asked the question.

Harriet gave a little gasp.

“You are very, very good,” she said: “you have done a great deal for the girl that Ralph likes best. Is the girl who is to stay with him while you are away to be the girl he likes best, or the girl you like best? Hitherto, it has been the girl he likes best. Is that to be the case still?”

“I hope so, indeed I trust that he will like Robina best.”

“Because you do,” said Harriet.

“Yes, Harriet,” said Mr Durrant. “I like her; she is honest, and honourable. She has never, to my knowledge, done an underhand thing: I could not stand underhand ways in the companion who has to be so much in the society of my little son. I love honour before all things – honour and truth: they are the pillars in which the whole character must be raised to any sort of strength or perfection. I believe Robina to be both honourable and truthful.”

“Yes,” said Harriet: “you would not let her have the charge of Ralph if she had not these qualities.”

“Certainly not: but she has. I will wish you good-night now. I hope you will be quite well on Monday evening when I return from my visit to the Brown House.”

Mr Durrant left the room, and Harriet lay back in her deep, easy chair, lost in thought. Once again she said to herself:

“That horrid girl is about to supplant me. I wonder, oh, I wonder!”

She thought long and hard.

Book Two – Chapter Eight

Mr Durrant Visits Brown House

Mr Durrant arrived at the Brown House on Sunday afternoon. It was a day when few visitors were expected. Mr Starling, having gone to church in the morning, invariably spent the afternoon lying back in a cosy corner of the green-house, smoking and reading a Sunday newspaper. He was by no means an irreligious man, but he liked his ease on Sunday, being under the supposition that he worked extremely hard during the week days. Mrs Starling spent Sunday afternoon lying down and imagining herself a little worse than usual. Miss Felicia sat in the drawing-room, and Violet and Rose played on the lawn.

They were quite good little children and never made any unruly noise – that is, except when Robina was at home. Robina brought a disturbing element into their young lives: but now that she was gone, and Bo-peep was gone, the entire Starling family had settled down into their ordinary habits.

The day was an intensely hot one, and when Mr Durrant appeared on the scene, he stood still for a minute to wipe the moisture from his brow.

“Hallo, little ’un!” he said to Rose who, not at all shy, toddled up to him.

“What’s ’oo want, g’ate big man?” was her inquiry.

“I want your father, or your mother, or your aunt,” was Malcolm Durrant’s reply. “I want some one who can tell me something. Now I know you can’t, because you’re too small.”

“There’s my auntie in the drawing-room,” said Violet at that moment. Violet by no means wished Rose to monopolise the stranger. “She’ll say ‘Don’t’ if you has mud on your boots: but you hasn’t, they is quite clean.”