The Little School-Mothers

“I want to walk with you in the paddock.”

“Now, what’s up?” said Harriet crossly.

“Come,” said Jane.

Jane’s black eyes were shining, and her short black hair resembled a mop more than ever, and her little round figure seemed rounder. There was quite an agitation about Jane which made her roundness and queer short hair and round black eyes look too comical for words; at least, this was what Harriet said, when she found herself with her friend in the paddock. Harriet was such a contrast to Jane, and looked more lanky and more pale than ever on this occasion.

“Now – what is up?” she said. “You do look precisely like a fat Christmas goose just before he is going to be killed for Christmas dinner. What is up with you now?”

“Only that – I – I – mean – I don’t want to be the school-mother.”

Harriet burst into a peal of laughter. “Isn’t it a case of sour grapes?” she said. “You just know you can’t be the school-mother, so you think you’ll cover your defeat by saying that sort of thing.”

“I want to say more,” whispered Jane. “I am frightened to do what you want; I mean I am frightened to say what isn’t true about the others – and, particularly, about Robina. I don’t want to do it; I thought I would tell you.”

“I always knew you were a sneak,” said Harriet, “but please yourself, of course. It won’t be very nice for you when I send you to Coventry.”

“What do you mean by sending to Coventry?” asked Jane.

“You are a silly! You are frightfully ugly, and you have no brains at all. Coventry means that I won’t speak to you; and what’s more, I’ll get a lot more girls in the school not to speak to you. Perhaps you won’t enjoy that – but please yourself, I don’t care.”

“Harriet, you are cross! You know, you know quite well that I would please you if I could. But – but I do want to be the sort of girl Mrs Burton spoke about.”

“Oh, you are turning goody-goody!” said Harriet. “Then, indeed, I have no further use of you. I am going to take up Vivian Amberley. She is quite a nice little thing – very different from you.”

Jane gave utterance to a very quick sigh. Vivian was perhaps the girl in the third form who had the weakest character. She was not like her two elder sisters: she could be very good with good girls and quite naughty with girls who were not good. Jane had always known this fact, and had always been terribly afraid that Harriet would make use of Vivian, and turn her to her own purposes. In that case, of course, Harriet would never speak to poor Jane again; and Jane did care for her and could be intensely jealous about her. So now she said: —

“I know you are very clever, Harriet, and I suppose you do know best; only I wish that little voice inside of me wouldn’t talk so loud. It keeps me awake at nights, and I get frightened; but if you really, really think – ”

“I think nothing!” said Harriet crossly. “Please yourself. Vivian will help me, if you won’t. I will know what you have done by Monday morning. You can do exactly as you please; and now don’t keep me, for I have got to finish learning my piece to recite on Sunday afternoon.”

Book One – Chapter Six

Beguiled by Promises

There was no doubt that Harriet was clever, but even she felt a little nervous when she went into Ralph’s bedroom to awaken him on Saturday morning.

Ralph had a sweet little room to sleep in. It opened into Miss Ford’s, but the door between the two was shut; for Ralph’s whole endeavour was to be a very manly boy, and manly boys always liked best to sleep alone. He looked very pretty indeed, now, in his sleep, his mop of brown curls pushed back from his forehead, the long black lashes lying like a cloud on his rounded cheeks; his red, red lips slightly parted, a smile on his little face. But Harriet saw no beauty in the sleeping boy.

“Little tiresome thing!” she murmured under her breath. “If it wasn’t for that pony and my determination to win the prize over Robina, wouldn’t I give him a time to-day!”

But the pony was worth winning, and Harriet was clever. She bent down over Ralph, and touched him gently on his arm. He woke with a start, looked at Harriet, coloured brightly, and then said: —

“What’s up?”

“Time for you to rise,” said Harriet. “I am your school-mother for to-day.”

“Oh,” said Ralph. His face turned a little pale, but he did not start.

“You can lie in bed as long as ever you like,” said Harriet; “I don’t care; I’m not going to tell on you; you may be as naughty as you please to-day – you needn’t do any single thing except just what you like.”

“Needn’t I, really?” said the boy.

“Of course, you needn’t,” said Harriet. “Why should you bother to be good?”

“But Father likes me to be good,” said Ralph; “and – and – Mrs Burton does. I love Mrs Burton, don’t you?”

Harriet longed to say “No,” but, shutting up her lips, she nodded her head.

“You are the girl who was so horrid and rude to me the other day,” said Ralph; “you slapped me on my cheek.”

“And you beat me,” said Harriet.

Ralph’s eyes began to twinkle.

“So we’re quits,” said Harriet. “Let’s shake hands; let’s be pals.”

“It’s nice of you to forgive,” said Ralph.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” replied Harriet. “If you but knew me, you’d consider that I am quite the nicest girl in the school.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes; but what do you think, after all, of getting up? I have such a wonderful plan of spending our day together.”

“Have you?” said Ralph.

“A delicious plan; you can’t guess how you will enjoy yourself.”

“Can’t I, really?”

“Hadn’t you better get up. You can wash yourself, you know.”

“Oh, I never washed myself yet,” said Ralph.

“Well, you’ll have to begin some time. I’ll sit and stare out of the window, and you can pop into your tub, and have a good splash; I don’t care a bit if you wet the floor; manly boys can’t be always thinking of those sort of things. Now, then, up you get, and I’ll stare out of the window.”

Harriet suited the action to the word. Ralph saw a long, narrow back and very thin light hair only partly concealing it. He observed that the lanky little figure sat very still. He felt impressed, much more impressed than he had been when kind Frederica and unselfish Patience, and even pretty, pretty Rose Amberley had been his school-mothers. They had been commonplace – quite nice, of course, but nothing special. The lanky person was not commonplace.

He hopped up with a little shout, washed and dressed himself after a fashion, and then went up to Harriet.

“Well, pal,” she said, just glancing at him, “are you ready?”

“Quite,” said Ralph. “I like you to call me your pal. You’re a very big girl compared to me, aren’t you?”

“You’re not a girl at all,” said Harriet; “you’re a very manly boy, and you’re awfully pretty; don’t you know that you are very pretty?”

“No,” said Ralph, turning scarlet, “and boys ought not to be pretty; I hate that.”