The Little School-Mothers

She got up as she spoke and walked to the other side of the deck. This conversation took place on Monday evening. It was overheard by no one. The other girls were absorbed in their own interests, and Ralph was with his father. Robina was reading by herself.

The week on board the yacht had not been a success as far as she was concerned. Had she listened, as once before she was forced to listen to a conversation between Harriet and Jane, she might have made up her mind to a line of conduct which was now far from her thoughts.

As Jane lay down in her little berth in her pretty state cabin on that last night on board the “Sea-Gull” she could not help thinking over again of Harriet’s graphic narrative; and she could not help reflecting on her own most awful feelings, had anything really happened to Ralph. Had anything really happened! Poor Jane trembled from head to foot. She knew only too well what that “anything” would have been. There would no longer have been in this wide world a little boy called Ralph – a little brown-eyed boy with brown hair, and the sweetest smile in the world, and the most gallant spirit. He would have gone away. No little school-mother would have been needed to look after him. Harriet herself might or might not be dead; but if Ralph had been drowned that time, poor little Jane felt that she would have gone mad. Five pounds! They were not so much after all. She felt dreadful: she could not sleep. In the visions of the night, ugly things seemed to come and visit her. She started up, pressing her hands to her eyes. Could she go on with this? Could she allow a girl like Harriet to be companion, friend, and to a certain extent protector of such a very precious little boy as Ralph. Oh! how in her heart of hearts Jane did admire Robina! How earnestly she wished that it had been her lot to have Robina as her friend!

“She would have made me strong,” thought poor Jane. “She is never a scrap afraid. Now I am always afraid. Perhaps it will be better for me at school if Harriet is not there. Of course I am fond of Harriet: I ought to be, for she and I are chums; and a girl must be a mean sort to forsake her chum. But still – oh! she does make me feel wicked! I almost wish I had not earned that five pounds. I don’t think it will bring any luck to Bobbie and Miriam.”

Jane tried to force her thoughts to dwell upon the very shabby condition of her little brother and sister; but, notwithstanding all her efforts, she could not manage to do this. Miriam’s lack of nice clothes, and Bobbie’s lack of shoes and socks could not appeal to her, for were not their consciences quite contented and calm and happy? After all, was there anything, anything so nice in the whole world as a contented conscience?

The next day, when all the children went back to Sunshine Lodge, Jane was greeted by a letter from the aunt who had charge of little Miriam and Bobbie. It was a wonderfully cheerful letter. The aunt – Polly by name – assured Jane that the children were particularly well, and that a kind lady had taken a fancy to them and had given them a lot of clothes. These clothes belonged to some of her own children who had outgrown them, but they were of such good quality and so well made that both Bobbie and Miriam looked almost stylish in them. Bobbie had got shoes, and Miriam pretty frocks; and, in short, for a time at least, the little ones wanted for nothing.

Jane felt as she read this letter that she quite hated it. It seemed to take the ground from under her feet. Her five pounds could have been done without. Ralph’s life need not have been risked, and Jane herself need not have been so fearfully deceitful, and need not have told a lie.

“Oh dear, oh dear!” she said to herself. Her face looked so comical in its distress that Vivian Amberley, who was standing near, asked her if anything was the matter.

“Oh yes,” said Jane; “I have had a letter about the children.”

“Are they ill?” asked Vivian.

“No, no,” answered Jane. “They never were better; and they have got such a lot of beautiful clothes – oh dear, oh dear!”

She gave a deep sigh, and went away.

“Well,” said Vivian, turning to her companion; “I never heard of such a funny reason as that for Jane to be so dismal. The children are well, and have got a lot of new clothes! What can be up?”

“It’s something to do with Harriet, of that I am sure,” said Frederica.

Vivian lowered her voice. “I can’t make out what is wrong,” she said.

“There is something wrong: we all feel it,” said Patience. “Why, look at Robina.”

Robina was not present, so no one could look at her. Patience went on excitedly:

“From the very first, there has been something up with Robina, and she looks worse than ever now. You know what a thoroughly jolly girl she is. She won’t tell us why, but she is not enjoying herself.”

“I suppose she is excited,” said Frederica, “about Mr Durrant’s decision. He is quite certain sure to choose her as school-mother for Ralph.”

“Quite certain sure?” repeated Patience. “You know very little when you say that. I am equally certain that he won’t choose her. Anyhow, we are all to know to-morrow morning. This is Tuesday: he will tell us what he has decided after breakfast to-morrow. It is exciting, isn’t it?”

“Well,” said Rose, “I do love Mr Durrant, but I think he’ll be an awful goose if he chooses that Harriet to be Ralph’s school-mother.”

“She is very brave, whatever she is,” said Vivian. “She was magnificent that time when she got into the dangerous current and tried to save Ralph. That sailor said it was touch and go, and that although he brought them back to shore, Ralph might have been drowned but for Harriet.”

“Yes, it was brave enough,” said Frederica then; “but somehow I don’t like the state of things. There’s something up with Jane, there’s something up with Harriet. Now I don’t care twopence either for Jane or Harriet, but there’s something up with Robina, and I love Robina.”

“We all love her! Who could help it?” said the others.

“There is one good thing,” said Rose; “if by any chance she is not elected to be Ralph’s school-mother, she will be back with us at Mrs Burton’s school next term. How splendid it would be if Harriet was not always making mischief! How queer Harriet is!”

Just then, Harriet herself appeared. She was walking with Jane by her side. Whether it was her immersion in the sea, and the excitement of Jane through which she had lived, or whether it was that she was really feeling things more than she cared to own, she looked paler than ever, her blue eyes lighter, and the shadows under them more intense: her long straight hair seemed to grow longer and more lanky, and her narrow figure taller. She hardly glanced at the other girls, but went past them, accompanied by Jane.

“There they go,” said Frederica: “they are going to have a big confab now somewhere. Why will Harriet never join the rest of us and be jolly and merry? We are meant to have such a beautiful time at Sunshine Lodge, but she really takes the fun out of things: her queer melancholy face and her odd ways of going on would depress any party. I know Mr Durrant feels it, and that he is dreadfully puzzled what to do.”

“Oh! Here is Robina!”

These words were uttered by two or three of the girls who ran up to Robina at that moment. Robina also was looking ill at ease, but her face by no means wore the expression which characterised either Jane’s or Harriet’s. The frank look could never leave her grey eyes. She always held herself very erect, and her fine young figure, in consequence, showed on every occasion to the best advantage. She wore a pretty white frock now, and her fine brown hair fell in masses far below her waist.

“Dear Robina!” said Rose, running up to her and taking her hand. “Do sit down and be cosy with us all. Isn’t it nice to be back again at Sunshine Lodge! We have ten more happy days to spend here before school begins.”

“I haven’t,” said Robina, gently; “I am going away to-morrow.”

“You are going away to-morrow!” cried several voices; while others said, “What?” and others again exclaimed: “Oh Robina! what do you mean?” and yet others cried, “No, no, we can’t stand this, we are no: going to allow it; we couldn’t live without you, Robina!”

“You are all sweet,” said Robina, “and I love you very much; and perhaps – I am not quite sure what may happen now – but perhaps I may meet you again at Abbeyfield. But that is not the point. I am leaving here to-morrow: I am going home.”

“But Robina, Robina, why? tell us why.”

“There is no special secret,” said Robina. “I did not mean to say anything about it to you – at least, not quite so soon; but as I have met you, I may as well say I have made up my mind – I love Ralph very dearly, but I am not going to be his school-mother. I mean,” she added proudly, “that I shan’t compete. I haven’t the slightest doubt that the decision will be made against me, but now, whether it is made for or against me, I shan’t compete. I am just going to tell Harriet that she need not have any fear, and then I shall speak to Mr Durrant and I will ask him to let me go back to father and mother. I can’t explain any more than that. It – it isn’t exactly my fault: I am puzzled a good deal; and perhaps if I were one of you, I could do differently, but being myself, there is nothing for it but to withdraw.”

“But there is something for it,” said Patience Chetwold. “You are withdrawing because you know something, and because you won’t say it, and is that right or fair either to Mr Durrant or Ralph? Robina, before you leave us, you have got to answer one question, and to answer it truthfully.”

“Well, what is it?” said Robina.

“You have never told a lie, and you know that,” said Patience.

“I don’t think I ever have,” said Robina, thoughtfully. “No, I am sure I never have told even the tiniest little half lie.”

“Very well,” said Patience, in a voice of triumph; “you will tell the truth now.”

“Or be silent,” said Robina.

“Oh well, we will take your silence for what it is worth. Anyhow,” said Patience, “have I the permission of the rest of you girls to ask Robina a question in all our names?”

“Certainly, certainly!” they said; and they crowded round Patience, who placed herself in the middle of the group.

Patience was a tall, fair-haired girl with a great deal of quiet power and dignity in her own way.

“This is a question which appeals to all us school-mothers,” she said. “We all feel ourselves more or less responsible for little Ralph. Mr Durrant put him, as it were, under our charge when he brought him to Abbeyfield School. Ralph chose Harriet to be his favourite school-mother. Then we all know what happened, and Harriet, as we hoped, repented, and we were glad; and you, Robina, were chosen as the real school-mother, and you won the pony, and we were glad of that too. But now things are changed. Still that fact does not alter the other fact that we are still Ralph’s school-mothers, and that we are bound, if necessary, to protect him.

“Mr Durrant is one of the nicest men in all the world, and he has asked us here for love of Ralph, and has given us the most glorious time, and has done all that man could for our pleasure; and is this the return we will make him – to allow him to choose a girl like Harriet to be school-mother to Ralph? for of course we know – and he has said so – that the choice lies between you, – Robina, and Harriet; and now you, just before the moment of decision, back out of the whole thing and say you won’t be Ralph’s school-mother, and that you are going home. The rest of us think that a very cowardly and wrong thing to do: therefore we demand from you, as being ourselves Ralph’s school-mothers, an answer to our question.”

“Yes, yes!” here interrupted the others. “You have put the case very well, Patience; and the question you are about to ask ought to be answered.”

“Our question is this,” said Patience, raising her voice a little. “Are you, or are you not, prepared to say that Harriet, as far as you know, will be a kind and truthful and honourable school-mother to Ralph? Are you happy in giving Ralph up yourself to Harriet’s care? or do you know anything against her?”

“I can’t say, and I won’t say,” replied Robina, turning very red. “There are things that even a girl placed in my position cannot do.”

“Very well,” said Patience, “you have answered. You can go now, Robina, and tell Harriet your decision. But between now and to-morrow morning, when the great decision is publicly made, we, the rest of the school-mothers, will have something to say with regard to the matter.”