The School Queens

“Martin,” she said.

“Spelt with a ‘y’? We know some awfully nice Martyns. They live about twenty miles away from Meredith Manor. I wonder if your Mr. Martyn is related to them.”

“Oh, very likely,” said Maggie.

“Then perhaps you will go to stay with them – your mother, and your – your mother’s husband, and you too; and we’ll all meet. They live at a place-called The Meadows. It isn’t as old or as beautiful as our Manor, but it’s a sweet place, and the girls are so nice you’ll be sure to like them.”

“Yes, I dare say I shall,” said Maggie, who didn’t care to contradict Merry’s innocent ideas with regard to her mother’s marriage.

“Well, I am glad,” said Merry, “that your dear mother has married a rich gentleman. Has he a country place of his own?”

“Of course he has,” said Maggie, who felt that she could at least utter these words with truth.

“And is it far, far from London, or quite in the country?”

“It is,” said Maggie, “in – in the Norwood direction.”

This remark made no impression whatever on Merry, who had not the least idea where the Norwood direction was. But by-and-by, when she parted from Maggie and joined her sister and Aneta, she said, “I have a piece of rather good news to tell about dear Maggie Howland. She won’t be poor any more.”

“That is a word we never discuss at school,” said Aneta.

“Well, we needn’t after to-night,” said Merry with a slight touch of irritation in her manner. “But although I haven’t the faintest idea what poverty means, I think poor Maggie knows a good deal about it. Well, she won’t have anything to do with it in future, for her mother has just married again.”

“Oh!” said Aneta, with a show of interest.

“Yes; and a very nice gentleman he must be. He is a cousin of the Martyns of The Meadows. You know how you liked them when we spent a day there during these holidays – didn’t you, Aneta?”

“Yes,” said Aneta, “most charming people. I felt quite sorry that the Martyn girls were too old for school. I wonder they didn’t mention the fact of their cousin being about to marry Mrs. Howland; for you know we were talking of Maggie to them, or at least you were, Merry.”

“Of course I was,” said Merry in a determined voice. “I am very, very fond of Maggie Howland.”

“Perhaps we had better go to bed now,” said Aneta. “I may as well tell you, girls, that we have to get up at half-past six. Lucy comes to us and wakes us at that hour, and we are expected to be downstairs at seven. Lucy will tell you, too, girls, that it is expected of us all that we shall keep our rooms in perfect order. Now, shall we say good-night?”

The Cardews kissed their cousin and went to their own pleasant room.

As soon as they were there Merry said, “Cicely, I am glad about poor Maggie.”

“And so am I,” said Cicely.

“When we write home we must be sure to mention to mother about Mr. Martyn. I don’t think dear Maggie knew anything about The Meadows; so perhaps, after all, he is a somewhat distant cousin; but it is such a comfort to know that he is rich and a gentleman.”

“Yes,” said Cicely. Then she added, “I don’t think Aneta wants you to make too great a friend of Maggie Howland.”

“Oh, nonsense!” said Merry, coloring slightly. “I am never going to give Maggie up, for I love her dearly.”

“Of course,” said Cicely, “it would be very mean to give her up; but you and I, as Aneta’s cousins, must be on her side in the school. What I am afraid of is that Maggie will try to induce you to join her set.”

“That shows how little you know her,” said Merry, roused to the defensive. “She explained everything to me this afternoon, and said that I certainly must belong to Aneta.”

“Did she? Well, I call that splendid,” said Cicely.

CHAPTER XVI.

BO-PEEP

When Aneta found herself alone that evening she stayed for a short time thinking very deeply. She felt a queer sense of responsibility with regard to the Cardews. If Maggie imagined that it was through her influence they had come to Aylmer House, Aneta was positive that they would never have entered the school but for her and her aunt, Lady Lysle. Besides, they were her very own cousins, and she loved them both dearly. She was not especially anxious about Cicely, who was a more ordinary and less enthusiastic girl than Merry; but about Merry she had some qualms. There was no doubt whatever that the girl was attracted by Maggie; and, in Aneta’s opinion, Maggie Howland was in no sense of the word a proper companion for her.

Aneta, as she sat calmly by her open window – for it was not necessary to hurry to bed to-night – thought much over the future which spread itself immediately in front of her and her companions. She was naturally a very reserved girl. She was born with that exclusiveness and reserve which a distinguished class bestows upon those who belong to it. But she had in her heart very wide sympathies; and, like many another girl in her position, she could be kind to the poor, philanthropic to the last degree to those in real distress, denying herself for the sake of those who wanted bread. Towards girls, however, who were only a trifle below her in the social scale she could be arbitrary, haughty, and strangely wanting in sympathy. Maggie Howland was exactly the sort of girl who repelled Aneta. Nevertheless, she was a member of the school; and not only was she a member of the school, but a very special member. Had she even been Janet Burns (who was so clever, and as far as learning was concerned carried all before her), or had she been as brilliant and witty as Kathleen O’Donnell, Aneta would not have troubled herself much over her. But Maggie was possessed of a curious sense of power which was hers by heritage, which her father had possessed before her, and which caused him – one of the least prepossessing and yet one of the most distinguished men of his day – to be worshipped wherever he went. This power was greater than beauty, greater than birth, greater than genius. Maggie had it, and used it to such effect that she and Aneta divided the school between them. Aneta was never quite certain whether some of her special friends would not leave her and go over to Maggie’s side; but she felt that she did not greatly care about this, provided she could keep Merry and Cicely altogether to herself.

After thinking for a little time she sprang to her feet, and going to the electric bell, sounded it. After a short delay a servant appeared.

“Mary,” said Aneta, “will you have the goodness to ask Miss Lucy if I may speak to her for a minute?”

“Yes, miss,” replied Mary, closing the door behind her in her usual noiseless fashion.

In a very few minutes Miss Johnson entered Aneta’s room.

“I was just thinking of going to bed, dear,” said that good-natured young woman. “Can I do anything for you?”

“I only want to say something to you, Lucy.”

“What is it, my love? I do not like to see that our dear Aneta looks worried, but your face almost wears that expression.”

“Well,” said Aneta, “it is just this: I am a trifle worried about a matter which I hope I may set right. It is against the rules for girls to leave their rooms after they have gone to them for the night, and it would never do for me to be the first to break a rule at Aylmer House. Nevertheless, I do want to break it. May I, Miss Lucy?”

“Well, Aneta, I do not think that there’ll be the slightest difficulty, for we don’t really begin school till to-morrow. What do you wish to do, dear?”

“I want to go and visit one of my schoolmates, and stay with her for a time.”

“Of course you may go, Aneta. I give you permission; but don’t remain too long, for we get up early to-morrow, as to-morrow school really begins.”

“I won’t remain a minute longer than I can help. Thank you, Lucy,” said Aneta.

Miss Johnson kissed her pupil and left the room.

A minute later Aneta Lysle was running down the corridor in the direction of the bedroom occupied by Maggie Howland. It was some distance from her own room. She knocked at the door. She guessed somehow that Maggie would be still up.

Maggie said, “Come in,” and Aneta entered.

Maggie was in a white dressing-gown, with her thick, handsome hair falling below her waist. Her hair was her strongest point, and she looked for the time being almost pretty.

“What do you want, Aneta?” she said.

“To speak to you, Maggie.”

“But it’s against the rules,” said Maggie, drawling out her words a little, and giving Aneta a defiant glance.

“No,” said Aneta. “I asked for permission to come and see you, and I have obtained it.”