The Girls and I: A Veracious History

Anne was listening so eagerly that her eyes almost looked as if they were going to jump out of her head.

'What is it like – the brooch, I mean – didn't you say it was a brooch?' she asked in a panting sort of voice.

Ludovic Barry stared at her.

'It's because they've lost one,' said Flossy quickly, 'at least their mother has, and they would give anything to find it. It's a – I forget the word – a family treasure, you know.'

'An heirloom,' I said. 'Yes, that's the worst of it. But, Anne, don't look so wild about it,' I went on, laughingly. 'What is the brooch like, that your cousins have found? Is it diamonds?' I went on to the Barrys.

'I think so,' said Ludo. 'It's some kind of jewels. But the Nearns are quite small children; they wouldn't know, and I don't suppose they've seen it. They'd only heard their mother and the servants talking about it. We can easily find out, though. I'll run round there – they live in our Square – when we go home.'

'No, Ludo, I'm afraid you can't, for mamma heard this morning that – '

At that very moment we were interrupted by another dance beginning. And when it was over it was time for us all to go. Flossy Barry didn't finish her sentence. I saw her saying something to her brother, and then she came up to us.

'I'll find out about the found brooch,' she said. 'I won't forget. And if it's the least likely to be yours, I'll ask mamma to write to your mamma. That'll be the best.'

'Thank you,' I said. She was a nice, kind little girl, and I was sure she wouldn't forget. But Anne looked disappointed.

'I don't see why she tried to stop her brother going about it at once,' she said.

'Perhaps there was some reason,' I said. 'And Anne, if I were you, I wouldn't say anything about it to mums. Raising her hopes, you know, very likely for nothing, for it's such a chance that it's our brooch – ours has been advertised so, these people would have seen the notices.'

Anne did not answer.

Flossy had a reason, and a good one, for what she said to her brother. But she had been told not to speak of what her mother had heard, as Mrs. Barry said it was not certain. The 'it' was that these little cousins of theirs had got the whooping-cough, or rather Lady Nearn, their mother, was afraid they had, and so she had told the Barrys they mustn't come to the house.

Of course we only heard all that afterwards.

We walked home from the dancing with Miss Stirling. She came with us sometimes, and sometimes mother, and now and then only nurse. For as the class was on Saturday afternoon, it wouldn't have done for Miss Stirling always to take us, as it was giving up part of her holiday. That first day mother was busy or engaged, otherwise she would have come herself.

It was getting dusk already as we went home; it was a dull afternoon, looking as if it was going to rain.

'I do hope it's not going to be wet to-morrow,' said Hebe. 'I like it to be fine on Sunday.'

Anne started at this. She had been walking very silently, scarcely talking at all.

'Is to-morrow Sunday?' she said. 'I'd quite forgotten. Oh, I do wish it wasn't. There's no post on Sunday, you know, Jack.'

She was next me, and I don't think any one else heard what she said.

'What do you mean?' I said. 'There's never any post on Sunday in London. What does it matter?'

'About the brooch, of course,' she answered. 'You see, if Flossy tells her mother what we said, and they send to find out, perhaps Mrs. Barry would write to mums to-night; and if it wasn't Sunday, the letter would come to-morrow morning.'

I felt quite provoked with her.

'Anne,' I said, and I daresay I spoke rather crossly, 'you're really silly. It's just as unlikely as it can be that it's mums' thing, and you'd much better put out of your head that it could be. You'll get yourself into a fidget, and then mums will think there's something new the matter, and – '

'I'm not going to tell her anything about it, I've said so already,' interrupted Anne, rather crossly too. 'I'm always being told to put things out of my head now; it would have been better if they hadn't been so much put in my head. I wouldn't have been half so miserable all this time if you hadn't all gone on so about it's being my fault that the horrid thing was lost,' and she gave a little sob, half of anger, half of unhappiness.

I was very sorry for her, and I was vexed with myself for having begun about it at the dancing class just when Anne might have forgotten it a little.

'If – just supposing Mrs. Barry thought it was it, she'd very likely send a note round to say; Rodney Square is quite near us,' said Hebe, who always thought of something cheering to say.

'Rodney Square,' Anne repeated, 'yes, that's close to here.'

For by this time we were almost at our own house.

Miss Stirling said good-bye to us as soon as the door was opened, and we all five went in together.

Mother was out; we knew she was, but yet it seemed rather dull to be told she hadn't come in. I always think it's dreadfully dull to come home and find one's mother out.

I didn't go upstairs. I had some lessons to finish, though it was Saturday afternoon, and so had Hebe, because you see we'd been longer at the dancing than if we'd just gone a walk. So we two went straight into the schoolroom, and Hebe took off her hat and jacket and put them down on a chair. The other three went on upstairs, and we didn't think any more about them.

What happened when they got up to the nursery we heard afterwards. Nurse was not there, and the room was rather dark.

'Why isn't the gas lighted?' said Maud. 'It looks so dull,' and she ran out of the room and down the passage to nurse's own room, calling out, 'Nurse, nurse, where are you? We've come in.'

Maud was very fond of nurse, and of course being the youngest she was nurse's pet. She's married now – our old nurse, I mean. She left us last Christmas, and we've got a schoolroom-maid instead, who doesn't pet Maud at all of course, but I don't think Maud minds.

'Nurse, where are you?' she called out.

Nurse was in her room; she had a fire, and she was ironing some things.

'Come in here, dearie,' she answered. 'I didn't think it was so late. I'll have done in a moment, and then I'll light the gas and see about tea.'

So Maud went in to nurse's room and began telling her about the dancing. And thus Anne and Serena were left by themselves in the half-dark nursery.

Anne stood staring in the fire for a minute without speaking. All this, you understand, they told us afterwards.

'Won't you come and take your things off, Anne?' said Serry.

But, instead of answering, Anne asked her another question.

'Do you know the number of the Barrys' house in Rodney Square?' it was.

'No,' said Serena. 'But I know the house. It is a corner one, and it has blue and white flower-boxes. What do you want to know about it for?'

Anne looked round – no, there was no sign of nurse; she and Serena were alone.

'Serry,' she said in a whisper, 'I've thought of something,' and then she went on to tell Serry what it was.

That's all I'll tell just now; the rest will come soon. Till you try, you've no idea how difficult it is to tell a story – or even not a regular story, just an account of simple things that really happened – at all properly. The bits of it get so mixed. It's like a tangle of thread – the ends you don't want keep coming up the wrong way, and putting themselves in front of the others. I must just go on as well as I can, and put down the things as straight as they'll come.

Well, Hebe and I had about finished the lessons we wanted to get done. It was partly that Monday was going to be mother's birthday, and we wanted to have a clear evening. Hebe and I always agree about things like that; we like to look forward and arrange comfortably. Well, we had just about finished, and I was getting up to begin putting away the books, when the door opened and nurse came in looking just the least little bit vexed. For she is good-natured.

She glanced round the room before she spoke, as if she was looking for some one not there.