CHAPTER XXIII.—“PRIZE-DAY COMES IN A MONTH.”
The next day at breakfast Kitty began to talk of the lost key.
“It is most provoking,” she said. “What shall we do without having our orderly-book properly signed? I cannot find the key anywhere.”
“I have spoken to the servants,” interrupted Nora, “and they have searched mother’s room, and even taken up the rugs and shaken them. I know for a positive fact,” she added, “that neither Kitty nor I took the key from mother’s room.”
“What did I hear you say about the orderly-book?” asked Captain Richmond.
“Why, Uncle Peter, how funny of you, and what a peculiar expression your eyes have! The orderly-book is locked up in the Sheraton chiffonier; and we cannot get it from a locked drawer, can we?”
“No, unless we break the lock or find that the drawer is already open.”
“But it can’t be; mother always kept it locked, and when she gave us the key she spoke about its being locked.”
“She thought she locked it,” said Captain Richmond; “but as a matter of fact I found it open. I read the orderly-book last night.”
There was something very grave in his tone, and Kitty stopped talking and stared at him with knitted brows. Nora went calmly on pouring out tea. Augusta got very red, and as she helped herself to a piece of toast her hand trembled; while Nancy, with her wide-open, innocent dark eyes, looked full into the Captain’s face.
He did not return Nancy’s gaze.
“I hope we have all been good enough soldiers to satisfy you, Uncle Peter,” said Kitty. “You won’t tell us what you think, will you?”
“No,” he answered—“not now; prize-day comes in a month.”
“Oh, Uncle Pete, what shall we do on prize-day? We must have a gay time.”
“The prizes will be given in the evening. The greatest prize—the Royal Cross—will be presented with the others. But do not ask me to tell you any more; that would be giving myself away.”
He got up as he spoke and left the room. When he got to the hall he stood still for a moment, raised his hand, and pushed his short, crisp hair up on his head. He then turned in the direction of the drawing-room. There was a very wide and spacious hall to the Fairleigh house. The dining-rooms opened into one end, the great drawing-room, the library, and morning-room into the other. Captain Richmond strolled now through the big drawing-room. The French windows were wide open; the sunlit lawn blazed outside. The sun-blinds had been already drawn down, and the cool effect of the room itself compared to the heat on the lawn was most refreshing. Captain Richmond opened the drawer of the chiffonier and examined it carefully. His practised eye easily detected the marks of a tool which had forced the lock. He saw also that the lock itself was poor and of a very simple make. He pushed the drawer in and sat down by the window. Who could possibly have meddled with the lock? He took up the newspaper, opened it, and pretended to read it, but in reality his thoughts were far from the news of the day. He continued wondering over the open drawer, over the lost key, and most of all did his thoughts puzzle over the orderly-book itself.
Nancy, whom he had trusted, had failed him; she had been guilty of the sin of all others most terrible and grave in his eyes—the sin of cruelty. That gentle, kind, and loving child guilty of so grave a fault! He could scarcely believe it.
Just at this juncture in his thoughts the door opened and Augusta came in. Augusta was in reality very nervous and troubled, and she had come now, as she expressed it, to take the bull by the horns.
“Well, Uncle Peter,” she said; and she chose a seat opposite to that in which the Captain was sitting. “Oh, how hot it is outside,” she continued, “and how beautifully cool here! I have brought my knitting. I am making a tie for you, Uncle Peter. May I work here while you read the paper?”
“Of course, Augusta; just as you like,” answered Captain Richmond.
Augusta took her work from its bag and began slowly to knit. Presently she dropped a stitch, which caused her to utter an exclamation of annoyance.
“What is it?” said the Captain; and he flung down his newspaper and looked at her.
“I have dropped a stitch in my knitting. But it doesn’t matter; Nancy will find it for me by-and-by.”
“Has Nancy such good sight?”
“Yes. My eyes ache very often. And Nancy is very good-natured; she always does what I ask her.”
The Captain looked both pleased and relieved.
“You have found Nancy good-natured?” he asked.
“He is thinking of the report in the orderly-book,” Augusta thought to herself. “I won’t do poor little Nancy more harm than I can help.”
“Nan is certainly good-natured,” she said aloud.
“I am glad you like her,” continued the Captain; and he sighed a very little as he spoke.
Augusta fiddled with her knitting. After a time she looked up.
“As we are quite by ourselves, may I speak to you?” she said suddenly.
“Why, of course, Gussie. What is it?”
“Well, you know that father and mother are away?”
“So my sister-in-law has told me.”
“And I am their only child, and I feel being parted from my parents very much.”
“Of course you do,” said the Captain; and he looked with sudden interest at Augusta. Hitherto he had not admired her in any way. “When will your parents be back?” he asked.
“Next year; and when they come back they are going to send me to Paris.”
“To Paris! What for?”
“Oh, Uncle Peter, don’t you know? To be educated—to be finished—to get Parisian French and Parisian deportment and dancing, you know, and all the rest.”
“I am afraid I do not know, Augusta. I am unacquainted with any young ladies who have been educated in the French capital. I have no particular love for the French ways. You see, I am an Englishman to the backbone.”
“But I shall still be an English girl even if I have got a little bit of French polish. Besides, it will so please father and mother! If I go it will be because”—— Here she dimpled and smiled and looked full at the Captain.
“Because of what?”
“Because of you, Uncle Peter.”
“Now I do fail to understand you. What on earth can I have to do with it?”
“You have a great deal more to do with it than you can guess. If my marks are very good—particularly my marks as regards conduct—I shall go. And, oh, I am so anxious to go! And if by any chance I could win the Royal Cross, then indeed I should be safe.”
“And suppose you did win it, would that be your object?”
“Oh! besides that there would be many others; but that too. Can you blame me, Uncle Peter? It would so please my parents!”
“No, I cannot blame you, Augusta; and, without giving myself away in any manner, I may as well say that you have at least as good a chance as the others.”
“Have I indeed? Have I truly? Oh, how very happy you have made me!”
“Continue to behave well, Augusta, and nobody knows what will happen.” He rose as he spoke.
“I am bound,” he thought, “after the excellence of Augusta’s marks, to give her that much encouragement, but surely never before was there man so disappointed.—I am going into the woods,” he said aloud. “Good-bye for the present.”
“Oh! one word, please, before you go. What do you say to our walking through the woods and having a gipsy tea there this afternoon?”
“If your cousins like it, Augusta, I am quite agreeable. Do you prefer the woods to the seashore?”
“Yes; it will be so very hot on the sands to-day,” said Augusta.
“I am, as I said, at your disposal.”
The Captain strolled away, and the moment he had gone Augusta flew to the chiffonier, pulled open the drawer, and looked at it.
“Any one can see that it has been tampered with,” she said to herself. “I am certain by his manner that he has discovered it. But one thing at least is clear—he has not the remotest suspicion of me.—Oh Nancy, what are you doing here?”
“I thought Uncle Pete was here,” said Nancy, who had entered the room and looked with disappointed eyes all over it; “Kitty said he was, and I wanted to talk to him. What are you doing by that drawer, Gussie? Is it not very strange that it should be open—that Aunt Jessie left it unlocked?”
“What are you doing by that drawer, Gussie?”
“Solve the mystery if you can, Nancy,” said Augusta, quite vexed at being discovered. “But if you want your darling Captain, he has just strolled through the woods.”
“Of course I want him,” replied Nancy; “I love him so much.”
She ran out of the open window, and was soon seen flitting across the lawn in the direction of the cool and sheltered woods. Captain Richmond was not far off. Nancy called his name, and he whistled to her to come to him. She ran quickly to his side.
“It is so lovely to have you here!” she exclaimed. “And, oh, Uncle Pete, I have tried! It has been very hard, but I have tried.”
Her eyes were raised to his face. There were dimples in her cheeks and smiles round her lips.
“What a face!” thought the Captain. “Angelic is the only word for it. And yet, my eyes cannot deceive me—she is a hypocrite;” and in spite of himself he shook off the loving hand which touched his arm, and began to talk quickly of indifferent matters.
For a moment a cold, curious sensation visited Nancy’s heart, but it soon passed off! She was so sympathetic that she could throw herself with zest and interest into almost any conversation. Notwithstanding his grief and displeasure, the Captain could not help confiding in her, telling her some of his own worries, and laughing when she gave childish but practical advice.
“I am so excited about the prize!” she said as the two presently returned to the house. “I don’t believe I have any chance of getting the Royal Cross, but I have tried for it.”
“Have you indeed, Nancy?”
“Yes, Uncle Pete. Why do you look at me with such a sad face? Do you think I would not try?”
“I always thought you would try,” he answered. “But remember, it is a cross for valour. Do you know what that means?”
“Bravery,” said Nancy.
“I think it means rather more than ordinary bravery. It needs both a tender and gallant heart to really aspire to valour; it needs a rare unselfishness. I want you all to forget the prize in the joy of attaining to it. It is the attainment that really matters; the prize in itself is but a symbol.”
“Yes,” said Nancy gravely, “but the symbol testifies to the attainment.”
“What a serious subject for a little girl!” said the Captain.
Nancy’s eyes were full of tears.
“Sometimes it is rather hard for me,” she said, “but when you are here I can do almost anything.”
“Is it possible that that child can be cruel?” thought the Captain after she had left him. “It certainly seems inconceivable; and yet Jessie would not have put such a mark in the orderly-book for nothing. If there is a very capable, careful, and trustworthy person it is my sister-in-law. And she loves Nancy, too; she would not act so to her unless there were some very grave reason. Poor little girl, when did everything fail and the great crash come? She doesn’t look a bit like it.”
At early dinner the four girls and the Captain were, to all appearance, in the highest spirits; and soon afterwards they started on their expedition to the woods.
Augusta had now fully and absolutely made up her mind to obtain the Royal Cross, and for this reason she was determined to show to the utmost advantage in Captain Richmond’s eyes.
It was arranged they were to have their gipsy tea in a part of the pine-woods about two miles away from the house. This part was just above the seashore. The place of rendezvous was not only sheltered from the rays of the sun, but freshened by the sea-breezes.
The picnic basket was packed, and the kettle, spirit-lamp, &c. were put into another basket.
“Come,” said the Captain, seizing the heavy basket and striding forward; “you girls must take turns in carrying the edibles.”
“I will carry the basket first,” said Augusta.
She dragged it out of Nancy’s hands, who gave it up in some astonishment, for, as a rule, the office of carrying Augusta’s things devolved upon her. Having secured the basket, Augusta ran forward and joined Captain Richmond. The three other girls walked together behind.
Augusta’s heart beat hard, for not only had she to play the part of a good and unselfish girl for the Captain’s benefit, but she was looking forward to meeting her fascinating friends, the Asprays, and their delightful companion, Mr. Archer. What would happen when the meeting took place she must leave to circumstances.
But she was quite resolved that if it lay within the realm of possibility she would get the Captain to admire her friends and to let them join their picnic party. By-and-by Kitty ran up to her.
“Come, give me the basket now, Augusta,” she said; “you are looking very hot and red in the face. Nancy and I will carry it between us.”
“No, thank you,” said Augusta, “I don’t feel its weight at all, and you are so pale it would tire you to carry it. Leave it to me,” she added. “I really like it; I assure you I do.”
“Then leave her the basket by all means,” said the Captain. “It is such a pity to take from us what we like, particularly when we are doing a service to others.”
Augusta could not be quite sure whether Uncle Peter was laughing at her or not. But in another moment a sudden bend in the road effectually diverted her thoughts, for coming to meet them were the two Aspray girls, looking remarkably pretty in white embroidered dresses and big shady hats; and walking between the two girls was a tall young man of about two-and-twenty years of age. The moment Flora Aspray saw Augusta she gave a shout of welcome, and rushing to meet her, kissed her with great empressement.
“How very nice!” she said. “Oh, so you are all here! Now I do think this is a rare piece of luck. Let me introduce Mr. Archer.”
“Captain Richmond, this is my friend, Flora Aspray; and this is my other friend, Constance Aspray,” said Augusta.
The Captain talked to the two girls in a polite and pleasant fashion; Mr. Archer began to notice Augusta; and the three girls from behind came and joined the group. In a very short time, no one quite knew how, the Asprays and Mr. Archer found themselves invited to join the Richmond party. They now all turned in a mass and walked in the direction where the picnic was to take place.
CHAPTER XXIV.—THE GIPSY TEA.
The gipsy tea was pronounced afterwards to have been a great success. Mr. Archer was agreeable, bright, and witty. He talked with a slight American twang, which added to his fascination in Augusta’s eyes. Whenever he looked at you his eyes seemed to laugh. He had white teeth, too, which he showed constantly. His hands were strong and muscular, and also very white. He was slenderly made, and looked years younger than Captain Richmond.
Augusta, determining to be her very best, her most amiable, and her most fascinating self, won approval on all sides. She was really a clever girl, and having been in her father’s and mother’s house more or less accustomed to society, knew better what to say and how to act than either her cousins or Nancy. The Richmond girls were only too pleased to remain in the background, and Nancy of course kept them company.
When the kettle boiled, and the hot cakes, mysteriously toasted by a special arrangement of cook’s, not only appeared on the scene, but vanished; when the tea itself had come absolutely to an end, the little party strolled in twos and threes through the wood. The great heat of this lovely summer’s day was tempered by a slight breeze, and under the trees the shade was a comfort. Captain Richmond could not help remarking on the great beauty of the scene. He turned as he spoke and met the clear, wide gaze of Nancy. He was about to say something to her when a laugh from Flora Aspray diverted his attention.
“Ah!” she said, “who will race with me to catch that admiral butterfly? I am collecting butterflies, and I must have it to add to my collection.”
“I hate that sort of thing,” said Captain Richmond; and as he spoke he again looked at Nancy. Her colour was coming and going.
“Oh! never mind, Captain Richmond; you must put up with it,” said the American, with a slight laugh. “And I am not so cruel after all. I generally use a chloroform-bottle. Now, who will take this net and try and catch that beauty?—Will you, little Miss Nancy? You would oblige me so much!”
“I could not for worlds,” said Nancy. She coloured crimson, and then turned very pale.
“But if I make it a request, and a very great request; if I ask it as a personal favour,” continued Flora.
“Nancy shall not be pressed,” said Captain Richmond.—“Go back to the others, Nancy, and leave this matter to me.—Suppose, Miss Aspray, that I request the life and liberty of the beautiful admiral butterfly, will you, instead of hunting it down, take a walk with me through the woods?”
Flora Aspray gave an indignant toss to her head, but Captain Richmond looked both handsome and gentlemanly, and she found it impossible to resist him, and soon was walking rapidly away from the others by his side.
Augusta found herself between Mr. Archer and Constance, and the three had a very gay time.
“I wonder what this all means,” said Kitty. “I want to ask you a direct question, Nancy. Do you, or do you not, like the Asprays?”
“I wish you had not asked me,” said Nancy; “but I don’t.”
“What is the matter with you, child? You look so queer and nervous. What can the Asprays have done to you?”
“Nothing—nothing. Of course, I ought not to dislike them, but I do. I wish they were not here. I had hoped that when Uncle Peter came everything would be all right, but I sometimes think that nothing will ever be right any more.”
“Why, Nancy,” said Nora—“why are you so miserable?”
“I wish—I wish I could tell you.”
“But can’t you, darling—can’t you?”
“No—no, I can’t—not now; perhaps in a few months’ time, but not now. Don’t ask me. Don’t take any notice of me. I will try and keep it to myself.”
“Oh, whatever is worrying you?” said Nora. “You are getting quite pale and thin. Kitty and I have noticed it, and we don’t like it at all. We feel somehow that Augusta is to blame, but we are not sure.”
“Don’t blame anybody,” said Nancy. “It was my own fault in the first instance, and nothing can remedy it—at least until the holidays are over.”
“Well, let us forget it,” said Kitty, going up to her little friend and kissing her. “It is so lovely in these darling woods! Don’t you just adore that peep of the blue, blue sea between those trees? And, oh, how pretty the butterflies look flitting from flower to flower! I don’t think it is right to be unhappy in such a perfect place as this.”
Nancy tried to smile.
“There, that is better,” said Nora; “come and sit between us. Let us talk about prize-day. Won’t it be exciting when it comes?”
“Yes—very,” said Nancy.
“Do you know what Kit and I are quite certain about?” continued Nora. “We are positively sure that you will get the Royal Cross.”
“Oh no, I sha’n’t! Why should I?”
“Well, you see, as far as we can tell, you have never had even what might be called a dubious mark for conduct. Your conduct every single day has been good, or very good, or excellent.”
“But how do you know?” said Nancy. “Have you seen the marks?”
“I did once, when Miss Roy was here. She just let me look at a page or two, and then shut the book and said I must not see any farther; but I saw quite enough to perceive how high you were on the ladder of good conduct. Neither Nora nor I will grudge you the great honour, Nancy; but I am afraid if Gussie took the prize we should be green with jealousy.”
“She has not a chance,” said Kitty. “And now let us pack up the baskets. It will soon be time to return to the house.”
The little girls busied themselves. The crockery was washed and put carefully away, the tablecloth folded, the knives and forks and spoons wrapped in tissue-paper.
“Wasn’t it funny Gussie insisting on carrying this heavy basket all the way here? Why did you offer to help her, Nancy? I quite loved to see her dragged down by the weight,” said Kitty.
“There is one thing certain,” said Nora—“we shall have to carry the things back. Why, even Uncle Peter has deserted us. I did think he would have stayed. I suppose he has fallen a victim to the charms of the Asprays.”
Now, Captain Richmond had done nothing of the sort. He was a grave man, with lofty views on all subjects. He also had considerable insight into character. Augusta was a girl who could never be in the very least to his taste, but as she happened to be his sister-in-law’s niece, he was bound to be kind to her. She was also living in the same house with Nora, Kitty, and Nancy. He had not taken to the Asprays, nor did he consider them suitable companions for his nieces; and it gave him a certain sense of satisfaction to see that Nora, Kitty, and Nancy were as indifferent to these gay young ladies as he was himself. It was Augusta who liked them. Now, in the absence of his sister-in-law he felt it his duty to look after Augusta, and it was really for her sake that he took this walk alone with Flora Aspray.
Flora found him exceedingly fascinating. A red colour had come to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright. She put on her most up-to-date society airs for his benefit, and felt sure in her silly little heart that she was making a conquest, for the Captain replied to her light and silly nothings with such politeness. He was determined to perform for her benefit those thousand and one little attentions which mark, as a rule, the gentleman and the soldier. She laughed merrily about nothing at all, and was highly pleased with herself. But when Captain Richmond began to talk of graver matters Flora quickly got out of her depths. She did not know that she was being weighed in the balance and found wanting. From one subject to another did the Captain lead her, and more and more did she disappoint him. None of his feelings, however, were allowed to appear, and they said good-bye to each other apparently the best of friends.
Augusta and Captain Richmond walked home together. As soon as they were out of earshot of the Asprays, Augusta turned to her companion and said eagerly:
“Didn’t you have a delightful afternoon? I am sure I did. I do think Constance the most charming girl! And as to Mr. Archer, he is so American, is he not? You like him very much, don’t you?”
“What a quantity of liking I have to do, Gussie!” said the Captain. “Now, do you want the truth, or just a polite remark?”
“Oh! the truth—the truth, of course,” said Augusta, colouring, and then dropping her eyes under Uncle Peter’s steadfast gaze.
“Very well; I will give it to you, for I think I ought. I don’t care about Mr. Archer. He may be harmless, but that is the most that can be said of him. I don’t like Miss Flora, and I have a strong persuasion that Miss Constance is as like her as one pea resembles another.”
“And why don’t you like Flora? I am sure she tried to be nice to you.”
“She was extremely nice to me, but she is not the sort of girl I care about. Why need we talk about them any more? They are not our friends; they are only chance acquaintances.”
“But I want them to be our friends,” said Augusta; “it is so lonely and dull here, and their society would make such a great difference. At the worst you have to admit that they are harmless, Uncle Peter, and you cannot possibly object to our seeing a good deal of them.”
“I will write to your aunt to-night, Augusta, and ask her what are her views on the subject. Until I hear from her you must not have much to do with the Asprays. Of course, if you meet them by accident, as we did to-day, you will be polite and all that. But you are not to go to Fairlight; neither are they to come here until I hear from your aunt Jessie.”
“Oh dear!” said Augusta, “I did hope you would have liked them.”
“I am here to look after you all,” said the Captain, “and I want your companions to be worthy.”
“But how are they unworthy?”
“Ask yourself, Augusta; you are not without common-sense. And now, don’t talk to me any more on this matter.”
Augusta had to make a great effort to keep back her temper, but the prize, which was so near, had to be thought of. She remained silent for a few minutes, and then spoke as cheerfully as she could on other subjects.
Immediately after supper that night Augusta went up to her own room, and Nancy too disappeared; thus the Captain found himself alone with his nieces.
“Now, this is really cosy,” said Kitty, taking his right side. “Sit here, Nora.—You are not to stir, Uncle Pete; we are each going to sit on an arm of this exceedingly comfortable chair. You are going to have your nieces very, very near to you. Oh, isn’t it quite delicious?”
The Captain smiled and patted Kitty’s soft white hand.
“How are you getting on?” he said. “How does the soldiering prosper—or are you both tired of the campaign?”
“No; we both love it,” said Nora. “But I am afraid we are poor soldiers—very; still, I think we do our best. Uncle Pete, may we talk to you about something? Are we to see a lot of these new people, the Asprays, during the holidays?”
“I cannot tell you. Augusta wishes it, and her desires ought not to be altogether ignored. But nothing can be done until I hear from your mother.”
“I hope you will tell mother the exact truth about them,” said Kitty. “I am most anxious to have nothing further to do with them.”
“Well, you had very little to do with them to-day, Kit; you talked to Nora or Nancy all the time.”
“They didn’t want me. I am nothing but a child compared to Flora and Constance. But it isn’t that, Uncle Pete. I should not really greatly care if they came or not were it not for Nancy.”
“And what about Nancy?”
“Ah! I wish I could tell you, for I don’t think she likes them at all, but she is too good-natured to say a word against any one.”
“I wish you could find out what ails her,” said the Captain, with interest. “Does she admit that something does?”
“Yes—oh yes, poor darling; and she looked so sad when she just alluded to it! She is awfully patient, you know, and I think—— Nora, may I tell?”
“Of course you may,” said Nora. “Uncle Pete is like one of our very own selves.”
“Well, what Nora and I think is that Gussie worries her; that she has got a sort of hold over her. We can’t make it out, but we have thought it for some time.”
“I don’t see how that is possible,” said the Captain. “Perhaps there may be some other reason for Nancy’s unhappiness.”
“But what can there be?”
“How can I tell you?”
“Uncle Pete, why do you get up from your chair and look so funny? You almost tossed me on the floor.”
“A thousand pardons, Kit.—I am going to have a smoke on the terrace, and I think it is time for you little women to go to bed.”
“But have you nothing to propose about Nancy?”
“I am afraid not.”
“Are not you interested in her, Uncle Peter? You always seemed to like her so very much.”
“I am interested, but sometimes one cannot see an inch beyond one’s own nose.”
“Oh, Uncle Pete, you are not so blind as all that!”
“At the present moment I am, Kitty. Don’t say any more to-night. Justice must be done to Nancy; of that rest assured.”
The Captain left the room, and the little girls stared at each other; presently they went hand in hand up to bed.
It was not until they left the room that a girl suddenly stepped out from behind a screen, where she had been hiding for the last quarter of an hour. The girl was Augusta.
“Eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves,” was her inward comment; “but all information is useful. So those impudent little chits think I am bullying Nancy, and they will try to persuade Uncle Pete to their way of thinking if I don’t put a spoke in their wheel. I must, and will, or my name is not Augusta. Uncle Pete thinks at the present moment that that pretty and fascinating Nancy is guilty of cruelty. I will prove it before his very eyes between now and the day when the prizes are given away. Nancy, I have no dislike to you personally, but I am determined to get the Royal Cross, for it means Paris and a good time in the future; and I am also determined to get you more than ever into my power, for you must help me with regard to the Asprays. See them again I will—ay, many times. I am not going to be balked of the first bit of genuine fun that has come across my path.”
CHAPTER XXV.—THE PACKET OF LETTERS.
Two or three days later Captain Richmond received a long letter from his sister-in-law. The post arrived at breakfast-time, and the four girls watched him with more or less interest while he read.
He read the letter very carefully over to himself, and his face expressed no emotion whatever. Mrs. Richmond, in reply to a long letter from him, had written as follows:
“My Dear Peter,—I am so thankful that you are able to stay with the children at Fairleigh for the present; you understand Nora and Kitty so well, and I am quite certain that you equally understand our dear little Nancy. As to Augusta, she is more difficult, but I trust the dear child will behave well and not give you any anxiety. Before I reply to your letter, just received, I must tell you that my own plans are somewhat puzzling; and were it not for you, and also for the fact that Miss Roy will be almost immediately returning to Fairleigh, I could not carry them out. My dear friend is in the most alarming condition both of body and mind. The death of her son has completely shattered her, and the doctors have ordered her to go to South Africa immediately to pay a visit to her married daughter. She is quite incapable of taking the voyage alone, and I am forced to go with her. I shall only stay to see her settled, and after putting her into the care of her daughter, will return home by the first boat possible to England. But the whole thing will probably take a couple of months, and during that time I want you and Miss Roy to keep house for me. I have not even time to come home to say good-bye to the dear children, but they are quite well and in the best of hands. I am writing to my own girls, and they will receive their letter by the next post. Please tell them so, and give them my dear love. My maid, Justine, will return to Fairleigh to pack some things for me, for I cannot leave my poor friend even for a day. We sail, all being well, on Monday.
“Now to come to the subject of your letter. I do not know the Asprays personally, although their name is familiar to me. My dear brother, I have something curious to tell you with regard to them. You know how fond I am of Nancy Esterleigh. I have adopted her as my own dear child, and trust she will never give her affections to any other so-called mother. But this is the state of the case: By her father’s will she is entitled, should she ever wish to claim it, to a permanent home and also to provision for the future from Mr. Aspray. Were she to leave me and go to him he could not refuse her this home. The matter was arranged many years ago, when dear Nancy was only a baby. It has something to do with a considerable sum of money which Mr. Aspray borrowed from Nancy’s father. He was unable to pay it back at the time, but offered, if ever necessary, to take his little daughter and to do for her and bring her up with his own children, and to provide for her future. Nancy’s mother told me all about this when she herself was dying, and she gave me the letter which Nancy, if necessary, is to take to Mr. Aspray. Nancy’s mother anything but wished that her little girl should be adopted by the Americans, and implored of me to do all in my power to prevent such a contingency. I feel, therefore, that any intimate acquaintance is scarcely desirable. Not that I am in the least afraid that Nancy would prefer those people to my little girls or me.
“What I have told you with regard to Nancy is for yourself alone, and you will be guided how best to act under the circumstances.
“Yes, Peter, Augusta is certainly the one who troubles me, and I am going to write her a special and private letter. She is sure to take a fancy to the Asprays, for she is more worldly-minded than my own dear children. Now I think I have explained everything to you. Of course, we cannot be rude to them, but any intimacy with the Asprays is the reverse of desirable.—Your affectionate sister-in-law,
“Jessie Richmond.”
Having read this letter once, Captain Richmond slowly and carefully perused it again, and then raised his eyes.
“Oh, Uncle Pete! that is good,” cried Nora; “you have looked up at last. We have been watching you by the clock, and you have been a quarter of an hour and two minutes reading mother’s letter. What can she possibly have to say? We expected to hear from her this morning, but she has not written. Is anything wrong, Uncle Pete? How funny you look! You have your half-glad and half-sorry face on.—Hasn’t he, Kitty?”
“Yes,” said Kitty; “and we can’t keep in our curiosity any longer, so please read that long, long—wonderfully long—letter aloud.”
Captain Richmond rose.
“No,” he said; “the letter is private. But if you will all come to me on the terrace in a quarter of an hour I will tell you what parts of it you ought to know. Be sure you come, Nancy—and you, Augusta. Ta-ta for the present.”
He blew a kiss to his nieces, nodded to the other girls, and left the room.
“Then it is something very exciting,” said Kitty. “I thought so when he frowned and his brows met in a line, and then when he gave that quick little jerk and sort of sigh. Oh dear! aren’t you nearly mad with curiosity, Nancy?”
“I should like to know what Aunt Jessie has written about,” said Nancy. “But, after all, Uncle Pete will tell us in a very short time; and I must go now and feed my canary.”
Nora and Kitty had given Nancy a very beautiful canary a few days before. The bird was a splendid specimen of its kind, and sang magnificently. She had hung it up in her own bedroom, and now went up to give it fresh seed and groundsel.
The quarter of an hour soon passed, and the four girls met Captain Richmond on the terrace, which at that hour in the morning was quite cool and sheltered from the fierce rays of the sun. He was seated reading that wonderful letter for the third time; but when he saw the girls he thrust it into his pocket and came to meet them.
“Now then,” he said, “for my news, which is somewhat startling. We shall not have your dear, kind mother here for the present.”
“Why?” said Kitty. “Is her friend so very ill?”
“Poor thing, she is very ill indeed, Kitty—I fear alarmingly so; and your mother—just like her kindness—is going to accompany her to South Africa. They start on Monday, and your mother says she has no time to return home between now and then. Indeed, even if she had, she could not leave Mrs. Rashleigh. Justine will arrive to-day or to-morrow and pack her things.”
“Don’t cry, Kitty,” said Nora; “mother would not go if she could help it.”
“Of course not,” said Kitty; but as she sat down on the nearest seat her pretty little face was white and tears were brimming over in her eyes.
Nancy immediately seated herself next to Kitty, and flung one protecting arm round her neck.
“I understand—I understand,” she whispered in her ear.
The low and intensely sympathetic words comforted the little girl, and she squeezed Nancy’s hand and nestled up against her.
“Well,” continued Captain Richmond, “that is one part of the letter. Miss Roy returns to resume her duties next week, and between now and then I shall be in charge. You have been very good girls in the past, and I trust you will be equally good in the future. You may be certain I shall do all I can to promote happiness and good-will amongst us.”
Here he laughed, and his eyes met those of Augusta, who was gazing at him as if she would read him through.
“Now to take the bull by the horns,” thought Captain Richmond to himself. He paused for a minute, and then he said slowly and emphatically:
“With regard to the subject about which I wrote to your mother, Nora and Kitty, and to your aunt, Augusta, she—as I thought she would—agrees with me. We are to be polite to the Asprays, but there is to be no intimacy. We cannot dispute my sister-in-law’s wishes; we may therefore regard that subject as a closed book.” Captain Richmond put on his most determined air as he spoke, and held out his hand to Kitty. “Who will come for a walk with me in the woods?” he said.
“No, thank you; I don’t want to go,” cried Augusta; and she turned and went very sulkily into the house.
She ran up to her own room. Shutting the door and turning the key in the lock, she took out of her pocket a letter which she had slipped into it unperceived by any one that morning. The letter had been lying on her plate at breakfast, but she had managed to secrete it before the other girls had come down. She had read it once, and now she proceeded to read it again. It was from Flora Aspray, and its contents were of the deepest interest to Augusta. Flora wrote with great earnestness and spirit.
“Oh, we want you so badly!” explained the letter. “I don’t like to say too much, but, you dear, bewitching girl, you have made a conquest. However, more of that anon. Yours is the very first invitation sent out. We are getting up a little dance—quite a scratch affair. It is to be this day week—only a poor little Cinderella, from eight to twelve o’clock. There will be several girls quite as young as yourself, so the most fastidious could not object. If you could come to us we could give you a bed for the night; and if you must have company, do ask any of the other three girls you like to come with you. But, to be frank, we only want you. David Archer says that your cousins and your queer little friend are too funny for anything. You know, David is quite a mimic; you would die with laughter if you saw him taking off that funny, prim little Nancy. Oh! and, my dear girl, that precious Captain Richmond of yours is too good for life. I never had a duller walk than the one we took together. David Archer takes him off, too, with his saintliness and goody-goody airs. Oh, it is killing! But there, Augusta; how my pen runs on! The main thing that all this leads up to is, will you come? Will you give us the great pleasure of your company? Oh, of course you will! You cannot help yourself. If you were not present it would nearly break the heart of your most devoted—Flo.
“P.S. If you have not a suitable dress with you, either Constance or I can give you a big selection to choose from, so don’t worry on that score—only come.”
“Go I will,” said Augusta to herself when she had finished reading the letter. “I would not lose the fun for all the world. But now, how shall I manage it?”
She sat with Flora’s letter upon her lap and gave herself up to meditation. It was a lovely day, and the window of her pretty bedroom was wide open. The sky was blue, and the trees a brilliant green. The lawns, which rolled away right down to the end of the paddock, were smooth as velvet. Presently a little figure crossed one of them and came slowly towards the house. Augusta’s eyes contracted and her brows met in a frown as she watched the little figure.
“It is odd how I dislike Nan,” she said to herself. “Poor child, I suppose she is quite passable, and even agreeable to others, but she always does manage to rub me the wrong way. She could be wonderfully useful now, however. If I could get her to run to the post with my answer I should feel more or less relieved; and if things are eventually found out, and it is discovered she has a finger in the pie, so much the better for me.”
Augusta sprang up, put her head out of the window, and called to Nancy.
“Come here, Nancy; I want you,” she cried.
Nancy ran towards her, standing under the window and looking up.
“What are you doing?” asked Augusta.
“Oh! lots of things; but nothing very, very special. Do you want me, Gussie?”
“Yes; there is no one else to send, and I just want some one to run to the village and put a letter I am about to write into the post for me. Will you go? It would be awfully good-natured of you.”
“Yes; of course I will.”
“Well, come up to my room in ten minutes and I’ll have the letter ready.”
Augusta seated herself at her little table, and wrote quickly:
“My Dear Flo,—The fat is in the fire, and we are forbidden all intercourse with you. Mean, horrid, disgraceful, unbearable, I call it! Don’t think for a single moment that I submit. I love you better than any girl I have ever met. I love Constance, too. But, oh! I must hurry, for I want you to get this letter by the middle of the day. Don’t come near the place at present, and don’t walk in the woods, for if I met you I might be discovered, and I don’t want anything to be known until after the Cinderella. Of course I am going, but how I do not know at the present moment. I can’t sleep at your house; that is certain. You will hear from me nearer the time. And now, good-bye.—Your affectionate friend,
“Augusta Duncan.”
Augusta had scarcely finished her letter before Nancy’s tap was heard at her door.
“Come in,” called out the young lady; and Nancy entered.
“Is the letter ready, Augusta?” she asked.
“Yes; I am directing it. Have you got a stamp about you?”
“Yes.”
“Lend me one, like a good child.”
Nancy took out her purse, produced a stamp, and gave it to Augusta.
Augusta proceeded to affix it to the letter, which she then gave to Nancy.
“It is private,” she said; “don’t for the life of you show it to any one. And now be off; put wings to your feet, or you will lose the half-past ten clearance.”
“But it is to one of the Asprays,” said Nancy, taking up the letter and looking at it, and then putting it down again.
“Well, and what of that?” asked Augusta, turning very red, and looking extremely angry.
“Oh! nothing, of course; only you heard what Uncle Peter said this morning.”
“Certainly I did; I am not deaf.”
“And after hearing what he said, ought you to write to them?” stammered Nancy.
“What a silly child you are! Have I not told them we are to keep out of their way in the future? How comfortable we should feel if they were haunting our woods and we could not talk to them! Now, as I have explained matters, I suppose you will post the letter.”
“I don’t know; I don’t think it is quite right. Can’t you post it yourself?”
“I can’t, and won’t. There are things I could tell about you. I could give you an uncommonly hot time. You had better be off. Drop that letter into the pillar-box and you will be worried by no more Asprays. Refuse to drop it in and you will have a pleasant time in the future.”
Nancy took up the letter very gingerly. She stood still for a moment; then she turned and left the room.
“Be sure you don’t show it to any one.”
“No.”
“And be quick.”
“Yes.”
“There! that’s a good thing,” said Augusta to herself. “If I am discovered I can prove that Nancy posted my letter for me. When they rouse my worst passions as they are doing in this house they little know what it means. Where my own interests are concerned I stop at nothing—nothing. Go to that dance. I will. Oh dear, what a worry things are, all the same! I wish I could see the whole of Aunt Jessie’s letter. I am sure there are allusions to me in it; I guessed as much by the expression in our gallant captain’s eyes.”
Augusta left her room and went downstairs and joined the rest of the party. The remainder of the day passed without anything special occurring. Kitty and Nora, having got over the fact that their mother was not returning home at present, gave themselves up to the delightful time Uncle Peter always managed to arrange for them. Augusta pretended to be equally cheerful; and Nan, though a little pale and silent, behaved quite in an unremarkable fashion.
Late that evening a telegram came from Justine to say that she was travelling all night, and would arrive at Fairleigh between nine and ten the following morning.
She did arrive at the time stated, and went immediately up to her mistress’s room to pack the things necessary for the voyage. She had not been long there before Augusta appeared at the door.
“Can I help you, Justine?” she asked. “The others have all gone out boating, but I had a headache. It is better now, and therefore I can do anything you like, if you will only tell me what.”
“Thank you very much, miss,” replied the woman. “I should be pleased if you would help me. My mistress wants a lot of things, not only for herself but for Mrs. Rashleigh, for the poor lady had no time to get any sort of wardrobe for so unexpected a voyage, and my mistress is going to lend her some of her things. What I want to do is this, miss—to make two separate lists, one of my mistress’s things, and one of those which are to be lent to Mrs. Rashleigh. I am going to pack the things for Mrs. Rashleigh in one trunk, and the things for my mistress in another; and as I have got to catch the three o’clock train back to town on my way to the north, there is not too much time to spare.”
“Of course there is not, Justine. How glad I am I asked if I could help you! Shall I make out the lists for you?”
“Will you, miss? That was just what I wanted to propose.”
Augusta went to her room, fetched paper and pens, and was soon seated beside a small table, writing out lists of different garments under Justine’s directions.
Augusta could be both quick and orderly, so she was of substantial help to the maid.
“I am sure, miss, I don’t know how to thank you; your help makes all the difference,” said the good woman. “Oh dear, Miss Gussie! we have had a terrible time. I never saw a poor lady in such an awful state. Me and her maid, Fanny, thought she was going off her head. It was terrible, miss—terrible.”
Augusta listened, and asked several questions. She was by nature very curious, and Justine’s narrative gave her some pleasant and exciting thrills.
“I could make a splendid story out of this and frighten Flora so that she would scream,” thought Augusta to herself. “It is such fun frightening people, particularly in the dark, or just when you are going to bed. I do wish I could sleep at the Asprays’ house next week. However, that is not to be thought of.”
“Now, miss,” said Justine, “there is only one thing more of any importance to-day. Do you see these keys?”
“Yes,” said Augusta. “Why, these are Aunt Jessie’s special private keys.”
“They are, miss, and she trusted me with them. I am sure I feel highly honoured. She said I was to give them to Captain Richmond, and that he would do what she wanted; but I do declare, what with being up all night and being dead fagged, I forgot it. What is to be done? I suppose the Captain will be in soon, miss?”
“Indeed he won’t,” answered Augusta. “They have all gone across to the Sovereign Islands, and have taken some lunch with them. They can’t be back, for the tide won’t let them—at least, not before five o’clock.”
“And I hope to be getting towards London by that hour, so whatever is to be done?” said Justine.
“Oh, can’t I do it?” said Augusta. “If those are the keys, you can give me the same directions you were to have given to Captain Richmond.”
“To be sure,” said Justine. “But I could do it myself, for that matter.”
“No, no, Justine; you had better let me. You know, I am Aunt Jessie’s very own niece, and you are only her servant.”
“Thank you, miss, but servants can be faithful.”
“I know that; and there never was a more faithful creature than you. If you think you are to be more trusted than me, do what is necessary, Justine; I have not a word more to say.”
Justine stood silent, pressing her hand to her cheek. She had never known anything against Augusta, whose manners were pleasant enough when she chose to make herself agreeable. Augusta certainly was Mrs. Richmond’s niece, and as the matter in question was of some importance, and Captain Richmond could not possibly be got at, she decided to trust her.
“Here, miss,” she said; “you know the Sheraton chiffonier in the drawing-room?”
“Yes,” said Augusta.
“And you know that all the drawers have different keys?”
“Have they?”
“Yes, miss, they have. My missus keeps her valuable papers and things of importance in the different drawers of the Sheraton chiffonier, and she told me to ask the Captain to open the top drawer at the right-hand side, and press a spring, which reveals a secret drawer, and take out from it a little box, which he was to give me to take back to my mistress. Mrs. Richmond only thought of this box at the last minute. It has some jewels in it which she wants to have set in a particular way at the Cape for the young ladies, and she had not even a minute to write. Do you understand, Miss Augusta?”
“Am I stupid?” said Augusta. “Why, it is the simplest thing in the world. Give me the keys, please, Justine.”
“Thank you, miss; here they are. And I think, while you are getting me the little box, I will go down to the servants’ hall and have my dinner, for I am not only tired but faint.”
Augusta nodded, and in high spirits, her heart beating, went down to the drawing-room. She had no special desire to possess herself of her aunt’s secrets. The contents of the little box did not interest her in the least, but she was the sort of girl who liked to put her finger into every pie.
“There is never any saying what I may come across,” she whispered to herself; “and knowledge is power. I have always felt that, and I have always proved it. Dear, dear! I am lucky. No one suspects me of having broken open one of these precious drawers. Aunt Jessie is going away, so Uncle Peter will not have an opportunity of asking her about that curious mark against Nancy’s conduct. And long before Aunt Jessie comes back the prize-day will have come and gone. Yes, I certainly am in luck. And now, if I can but keep up my character for good and excellent conduct, and at the same time have my bit of fun, then I shall regard myself as one of the luckiest girls in the world.”
Augusta closed the drawing-room door after her, walked up the long room and standing before the chiffonier, she inserted the key which Justine had given her into the lock, opened the little drawer, and proceeded to press the spring which revealed the secret drawer. Her pressure acted immediately; the bolt shot back, and another drawer was discovered behind it. She pulled it open. It contained a small jewel-case, a little wooden box, and also a packet of letters. Augusta took out the box, which she thought must be the one described by Justine. She was about to shut the drawer when her attention was attracted by the handwriting on the letters. They were all tied together by a piece of ribbon, and the words “About Nancy and the Asprays” were written across them.
“Nancy and the Asprays,” said Augusta to herself. “Ah! I may indeed find out something to my own advantage now. I have plenty of time, too, for Justine won’t hurry with her lunch.”
Accordingly, Augusta seated herself calmly on a small chair which stood by, and untying the packet, proceeded to read the letters. She read them one after the other. There were only three or four, and nothing could be plainer than their meaning. The colour rushed into Augusta’s cheeks as she perused them, and her eyes grew very bright. Having finished them, she sat silent for a minute; then, tying them up again so as to look exactly as they had done before, she returned them to their place in the secret drawer. She pushed back the hinge, shut the outer drawer and locked it, and, with the little box in her hand, went upstairs. She had been longer than she thought, for Justine, in some impatience, was waiting for her.
“I was just coming down to the drawing-room to look for you, Miss Augusta,” she said.
“Oh! I didn’t hurry,” said Augusta; “I thought you would be at your dinner.”
“I could not eat, miss, my head was that bad. And, oh dear! time is going; I have to leave here not a minute later than half-past two. Is that the box, miss?”
“Yes; and here is the key. I wonder, Justine,” she added——
“Yes, miss.”
“I don’t know whether I ought to say it, but—don’t you think it would simplify matters if you didn’t tell that you had forgotten to speak to Captain Richmond of this?”
Justine coloured.
“But if I kept it secret you would tell.”
“Indeed I would not. Why should I get you into a scrape, poor Justine, situated as you are?”
“Indeed, Miss Gussie, that is true, for I have had a time since I left here, and me expecting my holiday and all. I know mistress will be vexed with me if I tell, but I don’t like, somehow, to make a secret of it.”
“If I were you I would not tell,” said Augusta; “you will only get into a scrape. And, of course, I will never breathe it to a soul. But please yourself, of course.”
“Well then, miss, if you promise it won’t pass your lips, I don’t see why I should get myself into hot water.”
“I won’t speak of it, Justine. And now, do lie down for a minute. I have some lovely aromatic vinegar in my room; I will bathe your face and hands.”
“Oh miss! but I am sure I could not let you.”
“Nonsense! Why shouldn’t I help you? Even though you are a servant, you are a fellow-creature. There! lie down on this little bed; there is lots of time—it is not two o’clock yet.”
So Augusta waited on Justine, and soothed and comforted her, and made her forget her headache; and when at last she left the house the good woman said to herself that a dearer and nicer young lady than Miss Gussie never walked the earth.
“All the same,” said Justine, “it would not have occurred to me to keep my forgetfulness from my mistress if she hadn’t put it into my head; but as she did, doubtless it is the best way. She is a very clever young lady for her years; and very thoughtful, too.”
CHAPTER XXVI.—SUNBEAM.
Mrs. Richmond sailed for the Cape on the following Monday; sending a telegram to her daughters to announce her departure just before she left England; and on the following Wednesday evening Miss Roy came back.
Miss Roy had been in the Richmond family for five years. She was a woman of about forty years of age, extremely kind, most faithful, most devoted to the interests of her employer, and most affectionate to her little charges. She was not a finishing-governess by any means. But she was just the sort of useful person who could be invaluable in times of difficulty or distress. Mrs. Richmond felt that in her absence Miss Roy would act almost as a mother to her children, and she went away happily in consequence.
The good governess had debarred herself from a whole fortnight of her usual holiday to meet this time of need.
Nora, Kitty, and Nancy hailed her return with delight; and Augusta, who in her heart of hearts regarded her as a tiresome, tyrannical old maid, was equally loud in her affectionate expressions on the night of her return.
On the following day Captain Richmond asked Miss Roy to have a private interview with him. No one was better pleased than he that she should come back to help him in the management of his battalion, as he still in fun called the four girls.
“Well, sergeant,” he said, coming into the schoolroom, and speaking in as cheerful a manner as possible, “I want to talk over things with you.—Soldiers, I must deprive you of your sergeant for a short time.—This way, please, Sergeant Roy.”
He opened the door as he spoke, and Miss Roy, laughing heartily, went out with him.
“Isn’t Uncle Pete funny?” said Kitty. “He is always making us laugh. I do think he is a darling.”
“You don’t call that sort of talk, funny, do you?” said Augusta, who was by no means pleased at the Captain’s desire for a private interview with Miss Roy. “If that is your idea of fun I pity you. Uncle Peter forgets that we are growing up very fast, and are not babies to be amused by infant talk.”
“Uncle Pete could not be silly,” replied Nora.
“If you don’t like him, why don’t you hold your tongue?” replied Kitty.
“And why do you pretend to like him so much?” said Nora again.
“Of course I like him,” cried Augusta, who feared that she might have gone too far. “Well, let’s go on with our history; we may as well have good marks. All these sort of things will tell when the great day of the prize-giving arrives.”
Meanwhile Captain Richmond had conducted Miss Roy to the drawing-room. They both stood close to the chiffonier. Captain Richmond pushed forward a chair and asked the governess to seat herself.
“I want to show you something,” he said, “and I should be extremely glad if you could throw some light upon it. It has troubled me a good bit.”
“What do you mean?” said Miss Roy.
“I allude to an entry in the orderly-book.”
“An entry in the orderly-book!”
“Yes—made in your absence—made by my sister-in-law. Perhaps you can explain it.”
As Captain Richmond spoke he opened the drawer of the chiffonier where the orderly-book was kept, took out the book, and placed it on a small table before the governess; then opening the book, he pointed to the page where poor Nancy’s cruel conduct was testified to.
“Look,” he said. “You would not have supposed that she could be cruel.”
“Nancy cruel!” said Miss Roy. “Excuse me one moment, Captain Richmond; I will put on my glasses. This puzzles me.”
Miss Roy adjusted her glasses and bent over the book. She was naturally a very calm woman, and was in no hurry to give herself away. She turned page after page and examined the marks of the other girls. Finally, she took the marks for conduct, diligence, intellectual employments on the 24th of August by themselves, looking separately at the page devoted to each girl.
“Well?” said Captain Richmond, who was watching her with interest.
“I cannot understand it,” she said. “It cannot possibly be true.”
“So I thought,” said the Captain.
“It cannot be true,” repeated Miss Roy. “A mark for carelessness, for forgetfulness, even for untidiness, might be possible in the case of Nancy Esterleigh, but cruelty—— No, Captain Richmond, the child could not be cruel.”
“And yet,” said the Captain, “the mark is there—most distinctly written. You observe how empty the page is—blanks in most departments—and this terrible mark for conduct. We cannot get over it.”
“It is very unaccountable,” said Miss Roy. “There must be a mistake.”
“I have thought of that,” said the Captain; “but I don’t see how there can be. My sister-in-law is extremely particular, and not at all careless.”
“You must remember,” said Miss Roy, “that she entered these marks on the very day when she was sent for in a hurry to Mrs. Rashleigh.”
“That might account for something, but not for this—this gross act of injustice. Miss Roy, I have watched little Nancy; this mark caused me anxiety. I have watched the child at all hours. I have never seen a trace of cruelty. But there is something the matter. She is not at her ease. She is unhappy. She is like a child who carries a secret.”
“Augusta again,” said Miss Roy.
“I think not,” answered the Captain. “I have observed them together, and have noticed that Augusta is extremely kind to Nancy. I don’t personally care for Augusta. She is not at all to my taste. But one must not be unjust to her. No, it is not that. Nancy carries a secret. Why should she carry a secret, Miss Roy? Painful as it is to say, does it not rather point to the truth of this terrible report?”
“The thing to do,” said Miss Roy, “is to appeal to Mrs. Richmond. I wonder you did not think of this before, Captain Richmond.”
“I did; but I did not want to worry her while she was away, and with a great deal of care on her shoulders. And remember, we expected her home about now. Her sudden visit to South Africa upset all our calculations, and as a matter of fact put this thing out of my head. But even if I had thought of asking for an explanation, I should scarcely like to have done so just at present. She would naturally say, ‘You ought to accept my plain statements without comment.’”
“Not in this case, and with such an extraordinary accusation against a most tender-hearted child,” was Miss Roy’s answer. “Well, what is to be done now? Even if we were to write to Mrs. Richmond, we could not get an answer for six weeks.”
“We cannot wait for that,” said the Captain; “the prizes are to be given in three weeks’ time from to-day.”
“And you will let this influence you, Captain Richmond?” said Miss Roy.
“What am I to do?” he answered, shrugging his shoulders; and as he spoke he shut the orderly-book. “I am glad I have confided in you,” he said. “You may throw light on the matter; I sincerely hope you will. But for this dreadful mark, Nancy would get the Royal Cross. As it is”——
He paused and shrugged his shoulders again. “There is just one thing more,” he added. “Some one has broken open this drawer in the chiffonier. See for yourself.”
The open drawer showed the marks where a knife had been used, making distinct indentations in the delicate wood.
“The mystery thickens,” said Miss Roy. “Well, I will watch and do what I can.”
“You will be very careful not to let any one know I have spoken to you,” said Captain Richmond.
“Certainly, Captain Richmond; I will be most careful.”
Miss Roy went away. She felt very much troubled and perplexed. The Captain’s remarks with regard to Nancy troubled her almost as much as the extraordinary and unaccountable entry in the orderly-book.
“What can it all mean? There are some crimes which it is impossible to associate with certain natures,” was her thought. “Nancy would not hurt a fly. She is over-sensitive and over-affectionate; if any one could be over-kind it would be Nancy. And yet—and yet—— Oh, I do trust light will be thrown on this mystery! I hope Captain Richmond will not give away the prizes before Mrs. Richmond returns. I am quite sure she can explain what is wrong. Then, who opened the drawer without a key? It would be an act of cruel injustice to deprive Nancy of the prize until we discover who has done that. Poor, dear little girl; I will try and find her, and see if I can lead her to talk of this matter. Of course, I am bound by my promise to Captain Richmond not to ask her any direct questions.”
Miss Roy entered the schoolroom. It was empty. She went into the shrubbery, and walked round the grounds. She could not find any of the girls. Finally, she went back to the house, and went into Nancy’s bedroom.
Nancy’s room was a very small one, and was entered through the larger room occupied by Nora and Kitty. Nancy was always neat, and her little room was in absolute order. Her bird’s cage hung in the window. The canary, which had been in full feather and lively song, sat upon its perch. Miss Roy was very fond of birds, and she went up now to this one to speak to him.
“Ah, Sunbeam,” she said, “and how are you?”
As she said this she noticed that the bird was not in his usual spirits. His feathers were ruffled, and he looked at the governess with a dull expression in his eye.
“Poor dicky—poor Sunbeam,” said Miss Roy—“what can be wrong with you?”
The cage was hung high to be out of the way of the cats. Miss Roy lifted it down off its hook, and put it on a little table which stood near. The next moment she uttered a shocked exclamation.
No wonder the bird was dull and unable to sing. His water-trough was empty, and he had scarcely any seed left in his seed-drawer.
“Impossible!” said Miss Roy. “Nancy to forget the bird she loves so much! And yet I must believe my own sight.”
She felt very angry. Cruelty to dumb animals was the one sin she could not overlook. Taking the trough, she proceeded to fill it with water; and she was just replenishing the seeds when the door opened, and Augusta, singing a gay song, and carrying a bunch of groundsel in her hand, entered the room.
“Oh, Miss Roy, you here!” she cried. “I was bringing a piece of groundsel for Sunbeam. Why, what is the matter? Is the bird ill?”
“It looks like it,” said Miss Roy.
She did not want Augusta to share her discovery. But that young lady was a great deal too astute to be easily hoodwinked.
“Why, what is it?” she said. “What can be the matter?”
Then she went up to the cage, and made precisely the same discovery Miss Roy had made.
“Oh, I say!” exclaimed Augusta. “How downright wicked!”
“I will put it right,” said Miss Roy, trembling a little. “Leave me the groundsel. Go—please go.”