The School Queens

Soon after breakfast she flew up to her room, put on that strangely becoming brown hat, which would have suited no other girl but herself, and went off to the Manor. She was met at the gate by Merry, who was anxiously waiting for her appearance.

“I am so sorry that Cicely isn’t here too,” said Merry; “but mother wanted Cicely to drive into Warwick with her this morning. We’re going for a long motor-ride this afternoon. Don’t you love motors?”

“I have never been in one in my life,” replied Maggie.

“Oh dear!” said Merry; “then you shall come with us, although I know I can’t ask you to-day, but perhaps to-morrow we could manage.”

“I must not be too much away from Molly and Isabel, for it would not be kind – would it, Miss Cardew?”

“Do call me Merry. ‘Miss Cardew’ sounds so stiff, and you know I feel that I have known you all my life, for Molly and Isabel have always been talking about you. Mother was so pleased when she heard that you wanted to see the old house; and, do you know, Maggie–You don’t mind my saying Maggie?”

“Of course not, Merry – dear Merry.”

“Well – would you believe it? – father is going to show you the manuscript-room himself. I can tell you that is an honor.”

“I am so delighted!” said Maggie. “Your father is a most charming man.”

“Indeed, that he is,” said Merry; “but I never saw him get on so well with a young girl before.”

“Oh,” said Maggie in her modest way, “it was just that I wanted to listen to him; what he said was so very interesting.”

The girls were now walking up the avenue.

“Please,” said Merry suddenly, “tell me more about your school – I mean that new, wonderful school you are at in London.”

“Aylmer House?” said Maggie.

“Yes, Aylmer House. Mother was talking about it this morning. She was quite interested in it.”

“Your mother was talking about it?”

“Yes. It seems Mr. Tristram had been praising it to her like anything last night.”

“Well, he can’t say too much in its favor,” said Maggie. “Any girl who didn’t get good from it ought to be ashamed of herself.”

“What is that you are saying, Miss Howland?” said the voice of Mr. Cardew at that moment.

“Oh father! I never saw you,” cried Merry.

Mr. Cardew came up and shook hands with Maggie. “I was walking just behind you on the grass,” he said, “and I heard your enthusiastic remarks with regard to the school that the young Tristrams are going to. I am heartily pleased; I take a great interest in the Tristrams.”

“Oh sir,” said Maggie suddenly, “I only wish – oh! I hardly dare to say it – but I only do wish that your girls were coming too!”

Merry turned crimson and then grew pale. “Father doesn’t approve of schools,” she said in a faint voice.

“As a rule, I do not,” said Mr. Cardew decidedly; “but of course I am bound to say there are schools and schools. You shall tell me all about your school presently, Miss Howland. And now, I will allow my daughter to entertain you.”

“But, father darling, you promised to show Maggie the manuscript-room yourself.”

“Are you interested in black-letter?” said Mr. Cardew.

“I am interested in everything old,” replied Maggie.

“Well, then, I will show you the manuscript-room with pleasure; but if you want to go over the Manor you have a heavy morning’s work before you, and Merry is an excellent guide. However, let me see. I will meet you in the library at a quarter to twelve. Until then, adieu.”

CHAPTER V.

“WHAT DID YOU TALK ABOUT?”

Maggie and Merry had now reached the great porch which overshadowed the entrance to the old house. The next instant they found themselves in the hall. This, supported by graceful pillars, was open up to the roof of the house. It was a magnificent hall, and Merry began enthusiastically to explain its perfections. Maggie showed not a pretended but a real interest. She asked innumerable and sensible questions. Her queer, calm, narrow eyes grew very bright. She smiled now and then, and her face seemed the personification of intelligence. With that smile, and those gleaming white teeth, who could have thought of Maggie Howland as plain?

They went from the hall into the older part of the house, and there Merry continued her duties as guide. Never before had she been in the company of so absolutely charming a companion. Maggie was the best listener in the world. She never interrupted with tiresome or irrelevant questions. When she did speak it was with the utmost intelligence, showing clearly that she understood what she was being told.

By-and-by they found themselves in the picture-gallery. There Merry insisted on their sitting down for a time and taking a rest. She touched a bell as she spoke, and then motioned Maggie to recline in a deep arm-chair which faced the picture of a beautiful lady who was the grandmother of the present Mrs. Cardew.

“That lady’s name,” said Merry, “was Cicely Meredith, and she was the wife of the last Meredith but one who owned the Manor. It was little supposed in those days that my darling mother would inherit the place, and that Cardews should live at Meredith Manor after all. Ah, here comes Dixon! – Dixon, will you put our lunch on that small table? Thank you very much.”

One of the servants in the Cardew livery had appeared. He was bearing a small tray of tempting drinks, fruit, and cake.

“Now, Maggie, eat; do eat,” said Merry.

“I declare I am as hungry as a hawk,” said Maggie, and she munched cake and ate fruit and felt that she was, as she expressed it to herself – although she would not have used the words aloud – in clover.

Nevertheless, she was not going to lose sight of that mission which she had set herself. She turned and looked thoughtfully at Merry. Merry had a pretty profile, with the short upper-lip and the graceful appearance of a very high-bred girl.

“Do you,” said Maggie after a pause, “happen to know Aneta Lysle?”

“Why, of course,” said Merry. “Do you mean Lady Lysle’s niece?”

“Yes,” replied Maggie.

“I don’t know her well, but she has stayed here once or twice. Is she a friend of yours, Maggie?”

“Oh no; scarcely a friend, although we are schoolfellows.”

“How stupid of me!” said Merry, speaking with some warmth. “Of course, I quite forgot that she is at Mrs. Ward’s school. She is older than you, isn’t she, Maggie?”

“Yes, a year older, as days are counted; but she appears even more than her age, which is just seventeen. Don’t you think her very beautiful, Merry?”

“Now that I recall her, I do; but she never made a special impression on me. She never stayed here long enough.”

“Nevertheless, she is a sort of cousin of yours?”

“Yes, Lady Lysle is mother’s cousin; but then one doesn’t love all one’s relations,” said Merry carelessly. “Have another piece of cake, Maggie.”

“Thanks,” said Maggie, helping herself. “How delicious it is!”

“And put some more cream over your raspberries. The raspberries at Meredith Manor are celebrated.”