Lady Jane Ashleigh was sitting at her early breakfast. She always breakfasted alone in a beautiful little room which her late husband had specially furnished for her. It was a room full of memories, for she had passionately loved her husband, and had never ceased to mourn his death. If she had been a more cheerful and less self-concentrated woman she might long ago have won the love of her queer and erratic little daughter. As it was, during her husband's lifetime she thought of no one but him, and since his death her best thoughts were devoted to his memory: to keep flowers always on his grave; to see that his portrait was dusted day after day, and that flowers were put under it; to kneel there and utter prayers that he and she might be reunited in a better world, absorbed her strongest thoughts.
Of late, however, Irene's queer conduct had terrified her very much. Too late she discovered that she had no hold over the child, and the child was now a source of misery to her. She could not manage Irene. The servants were afraid of her. No governess would stay long. In short, she was drifting from bad to worse; and yet it was impossible for Lady Jane not to love the queer, erratic little creature. Often at night, when Irene was sound asleep, the mother would steal into the room and look at the pretty face, quite soft then, with all the wildness gone out of it. She used to look down at the long, curling black lashes, on the pale, smooth, rounded cheeks, at the wealth of dark curling hair, and wonder and wonder why the child ever and always turned from her, why she never reposed confidence in her, why she left her to live apart. If by any chance Lady Jane made a noise while she was in Irene's room and awakened that small sprite, then the scene would change. Irene would spring up in bed, dare her mother to invade her slumbers, and frighten her with immediately vanishing into the night-air and spending the rest of her time in the boat.
A short time ago, Irene had insisted on locking her door, and on one occasion had managed through utter carelessness to set fire to a curtain. Her own bravery had quenched the flames before any mischief was done; but the household had been alarmed, the room forcibly burst open, and the child, whose arm was badly burned, was carried fainting from the room. After that Lady Jane removed all keys and bolts from the door, and no entreaties on Irene's part could induce her to have them put back.
On this lovely summer's morning Lady Jane was eating her delicate breakfast in her usual delicate way. Her thoughts were divided between her husband, whom she would never see again in this world, and the child whom she could not manage. She was also thinking of Rosamund, the daughter of her dear friend.
A servant came in with the letter-bag. Lady Jane never had any special correspondence, and she was in no hurry to open it; but having quite consumed her breakfast, she thought she might as well do so. She therefore languidly took a key from her chatelaine, inserted it into the lock, and took out the contents. She found amongst many other letters one from her old friend, Rosamund's mother.
Mrs. Cunliffe wrote to say that she was glad Lady Jane liked Rosamund, and gave her hearty consent to Rosamund's spending a good deal of her time at Lady Jane's house.
"I may as well tell you," continued the mother, "that Rosamund herself is somewhat difficult to manage. I have always found her so; but hitherto nothing has gone very wrong between us, because I have led her by the golden rule of love. I have never driven her in any respect. I heard a great deal of the Merrimans, the dear Professor, whose books are so well known, and the charming little school they proposed to open; and when I found that the school was in your neighborhood, my dear old friend, I decided to send Rosamund there. I am writing now to Professor and Mrs. Merriman to say that I wish Rosamund to spend as much time as ever she can spare at your house and in the company of your sweet little girl. By the way, you have told me nothing about her. She must be about twelve years old now. Rosamund, dear child, is fifteen. I can fancy what a comfort the little Irene must be to her mother, so gentle and sweet, just like what that mother was when I was a somewhat wild and erratic girl myself."
"Alas and alack!" thought poor Lady Jane, "how very little my dear friend knows of the sort of creature whom Providence has bestowed upon me as a child!"
Just at that moment the room door was burst open, and Miss Frost, in tears, her nose very red, her agitation extreme, followed by Irene, entered the room.
"She has poisoned me! She has absolutely poisoned me!" said the unfortunate governess, sinking on the first chair she could find. "She brought me my pills as usual this morning—you know I am ordered pills for indigestion—and after I had swallowed them she announced that she had changed them for wood-lice, which curl up as you touch them."
"It was such fun!" laughed Irene. "Oh, Frosty, Frosty, it was delicious!"
"But what a wicked thing for you to do, Irene!" said her mother.
"They will multiply inside me," said poor Miss Frost. "Oh, what is to be done? Can a doctor be summoned at once?"
"I am sure there can be no danger," said poor Lady Jane; "but it was a wicked trick to play, Irene. But I believe wood-lice are harmless, and I suppose they are dead. Still, Irene, your conduct is disgraceful. You are really past bearing."
"All right, mumsy!" said Irene in a most cheerful tone. "I don't mind how much you scold me, for I had such a happy time while I was watching Frosty swallowing those digestive pills! She thought me so attentive, because as a rule I don't take any interest in her pills. I found a lot of the dear little wood-lice in the garden this morning, and it suddenly darted through my mind that they could be swallowed just like pills. So I put them into a box and rattled them well, and brought them to Frosty, and opened the box and said to her, 'Here, Frosty, here are your digestive pills;' and she had swallowed two before she found out what she had done. The rest began to uncurl in the box, and she discovered what had happened. Oh, it was lovely to see her face!—You do feel bad, don't you? You'd like to go at once, wouldn't you, darling? I am so awfully anxious for you to go!"
"But if—if," said poor Miss Frost—"if you really think that the pills—I really can't call them by the other name—will do no harm, it seems almost a"——
"I tell you what I will do," said Lady Jane. "I will send you straight into Dartford to see Dr. Marshall. He will tell you what is best to be done. But I feel sure you are quite safe.—Irene, you are so naughty that I cannot speak to you."
Miss Frost, who did not dare to give up her lucrative situation, left the room. Lady Jane went to the bell and rang it. A servant was desired to have the carriage ordered immediately, and the unhappy and perplexed governess was soon out of the house on her way to Dartford to see Dr. Marshall or one of his assistants.
Meanwhile Irene, in the red dress she had worn all night, very much crumpled, very much disheveled and soiled, sat down and fixed her bright eyes on her parent.
"So she is not to go!"
"Was that why you did it, Irene?"
"Of course," said Irene in a laconic voice, "I'll have to think of something else. She is an extraordinary woman is Frosty. I got rid of Carter. You know how I got rid of her."
"You mustn't speak of it—it is too painful."
"Well, I'll have to get rid of Frosty."
"Now listen to me, Irene. Your governess is not to go."
"Mumsy dear, why that tone? You know you are a little bit afraid of your Irene, aren't you?"
Irene danced up to her parent and looked at her with eyes bright as stars. Suddenly she flung herself on her knees by her mother's side.
"You didn't by any chance come to see me in my little bed last night?" she asked. "You didn't come perhaps in the early morning? You didn't quote those well-known lines:
Mumsy dear, did you?"
"No, Irene; I was occupied with other things—with sad, very sad memories. This is the anniversary of your dear, your precious father's death."
Irene had the grace to be silent for a moment. After a pause she said, "I did remember that yesterday morning; and knowing that you'd be frightfully dumpy—oh, mummy! you know you never are cheerful—I thought I'd have a spree on my own account. So I tell you what I did, mothery."
Lady Jane looked with absolute fear into Irene's face. After a time her eyes slowly welled up with tears.
"I can't imagine what I have done," she said. "I often wonder beyond words why I am given such a very naughty child—a child who understands me so very little, who cannot sympathize with my sorrows and cannot understand my griefs, and who contrives to make others miserable. It is your cruelty that is so terrible, Irene."
"My cruelty!" said Irene, opening her bright eyes wide. Something seemed to hurt her. It was the first time Lady Jane had ever seen a spark of real feeling in this extraordinary child. "Well, now, listen," she said. "I spent the night with Rosamund—dear Rosamund Cunliffe."
"You ran away from home and spent the night at the Merrimans'?"
"Oh, you needn't be afraid. I didn't even occupy one of their rooms long, and certainly didn't break bread with them. I wouldn't break bread in the house with that Lucy for all you could give me. Nevertheless, I spent the night with Rosamund. Oh, she is a splendid creature! She is jolly enough, and she is brave enough. Why, she let me strike her on the cheek as hard as ever I could, and didn't utter a word. I wanted her to lock the door, and she had some queer notions about it that I couldn't fathom; and when I struck her on her cheek, she only just offered me the other, and said, 'You may do what you like, but I will not lock the door.'
"Now, mother, if you'd stand up to me like that I'd just respect you. Anyhow, I respect Rosamund, and I dare say I'd have had to spend the night in her room, or perhaps even have had to come home, but something most welcome happened. Thank goodness, Rosamund isn't a prig! She's awfully passionate, and has plenty of strong feelings. She's not a bit a goody-goody; I'd just hate her like anything if she were. But that Lucy—you know that prim thing, the daughter of the Professor and Mrs. Merriman? Well, she came into the room, and I was under the bed in a twinkling. She argued with Rosamund and found fault with her, and got dear old Rose into a towering passion. Well, after that I could do what I liked with her. She did lock the door, although she vowed she wouldn't at first; and we got out through the window, and spent the night in the summer-house in the plantation. I put my head on her lap, and she put her arms round me and tried to keep me warm; and then I went off to sleep so happily, for somehow or other—I didn't think I could ever love anybody, but somehow or other there is a sort of feeling in me that perhaps is love for her. I think I could even be good for her.
"In the morning she walked with me as far as The Follies, and I have been for the last few hours very busy. There'll be a good deal of excitement amongst the servants to-day. I did hope that the wood-lice would settle Frosty; but now you have interfered. Why can't you let her go? She's no manner of use to me. Can't you give her whatever salary she has now, and send her back to London, or wherever she lives?"
"And let you grow up wild, Irene, with no one to teach you—for you will not learn from me?"
"Well, mother, I shall never learn anything from Frosty. Oh, what a morning it is! Is that the footman I hear outside? I expect he has discovered."
Just then James, who had been in the family for the last five or six years, came staggering into the room. He had been caught by a booby-trap which Irene had placed just over his pantry door, and a shower of spiders and caterpillars and other offensive insects had fallen all over him. His face was deadly pale, and he declared that he had been severely stung.
"There were wasps there," he said, "and I have been stung in the cheek and on the hand; and, madam, I don't really know what to do."
"It was a booby-trap. You look beautiful, James!" said Irene.
James flashed her an angry glance. Poor Lady Jane started to the rescue. What was she to do with this intolerable child?
"There are a lot more traps laid for the other servants," said Irene under her breath. "I didn't want poor old James to be stung by the wasps. They stung me when I was catching them, but I didn't cry out. I never cry out when I have pain. I wonder which insect stings worst? I ought to have a few handy for the worst of the servants. The only one I don't want to part with is cook, for cook is so much afraid of me that she will give me any unwholesome food I like to ask her for. When dear Rose comes we will have a feast. Oh, won't we have fun! I wonder—I do wonder—when she will come?"
Lady Jane left the room, and returned with a blue-bag, which she applied to James's swollen hand and cheek. The frightened servant said he did not think he could keep his situation much longer; but Lady Jane begged of him to be patient. Irene had disappeared.
"It is the kind of shock, your ladyship," he said to his mistress. "It's that I can't bear. There was I a-walking in as innocent as you please into my pantry, carrying the hot dishes from your ladyship's breakfast. I just touched a string, and found a shower of the most venomous insects crawling all over me. I dropped the dish on the spot, and if it hadn't been a silver one it would have been in shivers. And how was she to know that it wouldn't be your ladyship's best Sèvres or Crown Derby? How am I to endure it, my lady?"
"She is a very naughty girl, and I will certainly punish her," said Lady Jane, with a sigh. "But now, James, go about your business. The remedies I have used will soon take the pain out of your stings, and you will be all right again."
"There's poor Miss Frost," continued the man; "she has swallowed living beasts. It's all over the house, the story of Miss Irene giving her them horrors instead of her pills. It's the most dreadful thing I ever heard tell of."
"I don't believe she is really seriously hurt at all. But I will see what can be done," said Lady Jane.
She sat for a time lost in thought. Irene must be sent away—school must be resorted to. She must not any longer be allowed to render The Follies a home of terror to every individual who lived there. But what school would take such a naughty girl? For an instant Lady Jane thought of the Merrimans. But no, that was worse than useless. Was there any school in any part of the world that would receive such a hopeless character as poor Irene seemed to be turning into? Lady Jane could not tell.
Lady Jane was in the midst of her meditations, and a more confused, distracted poor woman it would be difficult to find in the length and breadth of the land, when suddenly she heard a step in the hall, a frank young voice—not Irene's, but bright and young and full of courage—and the next instant Rosamund Cunliffe entered the room.
"May I speak to you, Lady Jane?"
James was mournfully removing the remainder of the breakfast. His face was not improved by the blue-bag, and his expression was that of a hunted animal. The butler, in high dudgeon, had retired to his own apartment, where he had locked and barred the door in order to prevent any pranks of that imp, as he privately styled Irene. The other servants were tremblingly attending to their duties; but all smelled mischief in the air.
Two such awful things did not often occur on the same day as the possible poisoning of Miss Frost and the terrible usage to which innocent James had been subjected.
"We're none of us safe!" quoth the cook. "It's best to give notice."
"But then wages is so high," said the kitchen-maid. "There ain't a place like it in the country round—plenty of us, and half our time our own. What my mother says to me is, 'You must put up with something, Sukey; and if you hadn't Miss Irene you'd have low wages and 'ard work.' So I said I'd grin and bear it."
"Well, that's my notion, too," said the cook. "I say over and over, 'I'll grin and bear it;' and when the child comes to me and asks me so pretty for the most unwholesome food—though nothing, for that matter, seems to disagree with her—why, I haven't the 'eart to refuse."
"You haven't the courage, you mean," said James, who entered the kitchen at that moment. "If you had my poor face you'd have something to say."
"Oh, your poor face!" said the cook in an indignant tone. "It'll be well afore you're twice married. You take note of that."
James left the kitchen in a huff to return to his duties in the breakfast-room. It was there that Rosamund found him when she burst in upon Lady Jane.
"I have come to see you. Can I have a talk with you where we can be alone?" said the girl.
Perhaps in all the world no sight could have been so welcome at that moment to poor Lady Jane as Rosamund's bright face. The courage in it, the knowledge that Irene respected and, yes, loved this girl, cheered her inexpressibly. She was not jealous. The fact was, had she been jealous, had she felt any very deep mother-love for her orphan child, things might have been quite different. But her whole heart was absorbed in memories, and Irene, in consequence, had never given her a true daughter's affection. But she was terribly perturbed about the naughty child; and Rosamund looked to her, with her straight carriage, her fine open face, like a very tower of strength.
"I am in great trouble, my dear. I am very glad to see you. But how is it that you have got away from school so early?"
"I will tell you all about it. There has been great trouble at Sunnyside. Poor Jane Denton, my special friend and room-mate, is dangerously ill with diphtheria."
"Diphtheria!" said Lady Jane, starting back as she spoke. "But is not that very infectious?"
"I don't think it really is. I mean, of course, that if any one bent over a person who is ill, that person would be very likely to get it. Anyhow, all the girls have been sent away. Mrs. Brett, Mrs. Merriman's sister, has taken them to Dartford to stay with her for the present; and two trained nurses are coming to look after Jane; and—oh, Lady Jane! perhaps you won't speak to me again, but I am expelled from the school."
"Expelled from the Merrimans'?" said Lady Jane in a low tone of intense distress and feeling.
"It is true. They have expelled me—or at least the Professor has. I am never going back. Now, I want to know whether I am to go to mother at Brighton, where she is at present, or whether I shall stay with you for a little, and—and help Irene."
Lady Jane's eyes filled with tears.
"You must tell me all about it. Why are you expelled?"
"It is all on account of Irene. I must tell you that I took a great fancy to her."
"You did? How sweet of you!" said Lady Jane.
"I know she is very wild and naughty; but there is something lovable about her, and I think I could manage her. I think she cares for me, so I wanted to be with her; and I asked the Professor, but the Professor did not wish it. You see, Lady Jane, I am sorry to hurt you, but Irene has got quite a bad name in the place. Most of the people are dreadfully afraid of her. They don't like her. They say she is always up to mischief."
"Indeed she is. Miss Frost has just gone to see the doctor because the naughty child made her swallow some repulsive insects instead of her pills. But—oh, dear!"
"Don't go on, Lady Jane. I think I can guess how exceedingly naughty Irene is. But, you see, I have taken a great fancy to her in spite of her naughtiness. Anyhow, on Sunday last I managed to conquer her, which was something."
"Indeed you did. It was most wonderful! Poor Miss Frost and I were amazed. We could scarcely contain our astonishment as we watched you."
"Well, now, I must tell you the whole story. The Professor said I was to have nothing to do with Irene, for if I did he would not allow me to stay with them; and he begged of me to consider how important it was for me to stay at the school selected for me by my parents. So I gave him my word of honor that I wouldn't see Irene or have anything to do with her for a week. I meant to keep it, of course."
"Your word of honor!" interrupted Lady Jane. "That was very strong, was it not? Your letter astonished me, for you did not explain anything."
"I could not—it was impossible. At least, I felt so at the time, although now I don't much care what happens. Anyhow, I fully intended to keep my word, although at the end of the week I meant to tell Professor and Mrs. Merriman quite plainly that unless I could see you, who had been mother's dearest friend, and Irene sometimes, I would ask mother to remove me from the school. You see, mother is quite reasonable, and when I explain things to her she does what she can. I sometimes think that is because she was exceedingly naughty herself when she was a little girl. Anyhow, that was how matters stood. But last night, when I went to my room to go to bed—poor Jane had been removed to a room in another part of the house, as she was so ill—whom should I find in the room but Irene herself, and"——
"She has told me that part. Now I understand," said Lady Jane.
"I am glad you understand. But I had rather a fight with her. In the end I lost my temper, but that was owing to Lucy Merriman. Well, this morning, when it was discovered that Jane—my dear Jane—had such terribly bad diphtheria, the whole school was scattered on the spot. Kind Mrs. Brett has taken all the girls, with the exception of myself, to Dartford. I insisted on taking the Professor aside and telling him just what had happened, and how I had broken my word of honor. I said I wouldn't go to Dartford with Mrs. Brett, and he told me if I went to you I was never to return to the school. So here I am. What do you mean to do with me?"
Lady Jane sat still, looking very pale and troubled. Rosamund, seeing that no answer could be expected immediately, sank on the nearest chair. She was now deadly tired; her night of absolute want of rest, added to the excitement which she had lived through, was beginning to tell on her; and, strong as she was, she turned white as death. It was that look on her face which first roused Lady Jane's attention.
"How cruel I am," she said, "and you your mother's child!"
She got up and rang the bell. The much-afflicted James answered the summons.
"Get some breakfast immediately for Miss Cunliffe. Tell cook to send in anything nice and appetizing that she possesses. Not a word to Miss Irene on the subject whatsoever."
He withdrew, and in a short time a really appetizing breakfast was placed before the nearly famished girl. Breakfast at Sunnyside that morning had been a farce, and when Rosamund came down the meal was over. She had, therefore, not tasted food that day until now. The hot coffee, the nice fish-cakes, the delicious bread-and-butter, all had their due effect. She owned that she was hungry, and when she had finished, fresh courage and energy came into her voice and manner.
"Now, what do you want me to do?" she said. "Please tell me. I have given up school. I have given up to a certain extent my reputation, for this will always be brought up against me; and I have come to you to become Irene's friend, and to stay with you for the present if you want me. But until I saw your face it did not occur to me that you might perhaps be afraid—afraid that I might have the seeds of the same complaint within me as poor Jane Denton. Is that so?"
"She is my only child," said Lady Jane, "and, to tell you the honest truth, I am afraid."
Rosamund got up restlessly and walked to the window. She had not looked for this complication.
"I'd have done better to have gone with Mrs. Brett after all," was her first thought. Then she turned to Lady Jane and said in a determined voice, "I don't think you ought to fear me, for I'm quite sure there is no danger. Even if there were, Irene would not have contracted the disease through me, for she lay for some time last night in Jane's bed."
"Heaven help me!" said Lady Jane.
She wrung her hands, and then got up and also stood by the window.
"It strikes me," she said after a pause, "that God is punishing me more cruelly than He punishes most people, and I cannot understand it. In any case, whether this means life or death, that child's present behavior and present prospects are intolerable. You shall come, Rosamund. I will take the risk. Come to me, and welcome, only let me have the satisfaction of knowing that your mother approves."
"Then will you wire to her?" said Rosamund.
"That would be an excellent plan," replied Lady Jane. "I will take your telegram to the village, for you don't want the servants to see what you are saying. Write it out at once, and I will take it."
"I have not brought any of my things with me, except just what I am wearing, so you will have to provide me until mother sends me a boxful from London. I am sure I am safe, and if—if Irene were to get ill, I think I should be able to nurse her better than any one else."
Lady Jane suddenly went up to the girl and kissed her.
"You are extraordinary!" she said. "You are brave above the common. I believe God has sent you. Does Irene know you are here?"
"No; I have not told her."
"Then she needn't know for the present. But where is she?"
"I wish you would write that telegram, Lady Jane. You ought to have mother's consent. I shall not be happy until it has come."
"At present Irene is supposed to be in the schoolroom. Where she really is I do not know, poor Miss Frost being absent. Anyhow, I will take this telegram myself, and ask you to remain quietly in a bedroom in this house until the reply comes from your mother. Just give me this promise—that you will not see Irene until I have heard from your mother."
To this proposition Rosamund was forced to submit. Indeed, she was not sorry at the prospect of a little rest, for she was beginning to feel very acutely her adventures of the previous night. Lady Jane wrote the telegram, ordered a carriage to be sent round, and drove into the village, a small place, which contained, however, a telegraph office, about a mile and a half away. Before she went she conducted her young guest to a beautiful bedroom on the first floor, which she said she would give her not only for a bedroom but also as part sitting-room. It was furnished in a style that Rosamund, well off as her parents were, had never seen before. The room was full of quaint and beautiful things, and there was a bookcase of delightful books—Kingsley's, Miss Yonge's, and many other favorite authors.
"Lie down, dear," said Lady Jane. "You look very tired. Forget Irene for the time. I shall be back before long, and will send your lunch up to you. We will just have your mother's permission, and then we shall feel in a straightforward position. She may, of course, wish you to return at once to her."
"I do not think mother will do that. She is not a frightened sort of person. Anyhow, you know what I feel about your daughter."
"I do, and God bless you, my love!"
Lady Jane departed, and Rosamund found herself alone in her great room. She looked around her, uttered a weary sigh, and sank into a chair near the window.
Presently she heard a scuffling noise and cries outside, in the passage. She heard the voice of a maid-servant saying, "Oh, Miss Irene! Miss Irene! don't do it; you oughtn't—you oughtn't!" then a scream, and then a girl's hurrying footsteps dying away in the distance.
"I wish I could fly out and give Irene a good box on the ears," thought Rosamund. "I'll soon break her off those horrid tricks. Of course I am going to stay here, and of course I am going to reform her, and of course—oh, how strange everything is! I think I'll lock the door. I don't choose her to come in now until I get mother's consent. Afterwards all is plain sailing."
Rosamund got up softly and locked the door, not a minute too soon, for she had scarcely done so before the handle was turned and the voice of Irene was heard outside crying through the keyhole, "What changeling is in this room? Which of you housemaids has dared to lock herself in? Come out! I've got a big spider ready, and"——
But Irene's voice died away for some extraordinary reason, and Rosamund for the time was left in peace. She drew the chair near the window, took up Kingsley's Hypatia from the shelf, and tried to interest herself in a story which always had the deepest fascination for her. But by-and-by sleep overpowered her young eyes, and she only awakened from it by hearing a very gentle tap at her door. She went to it and called out, "Who is there?"
The gentle voice of Lady Jane answered in response:
"I have brought you some lunch, dear."
Rosamund immediately unlocked the door, and received a daintily prepared little tray, which she took in, Lady Jane following her into the room.
"As soon as the telegram arrives I will let you know. I am very anxious that your time of servitude should be over. That child seems worse than ever. I never knew anything like her manners to-day. Three of the servants have given notice, and even cook was in violent hysterics in the kitchen, for she found that Irene had put a live toad into the bread-pan. She said she can stand most things, but that toads are beyond bearing. The thing foamed at her in a most terrible manner, and the consequence is, all the bread had to be thrown away, as no one can possibly attempt to eat it. Really, Rosamund, you will have your hands full."
"I shall not mind that," said Rosamund. "But has Miss Frost come back?"
"Yes, poor thing! she is lying down. She says she feels that those dreadful creatures are crawling about inside her. The doctor assures her that there is nothing to fear, and that they are quite dead; but she will not believe him. It will be all right when she knows that you are here. You can do lessons with her, my dear, if your mother consents to your staying, for she is very highly educated, though she really has no control over Irene. I trust you may be able to do something with her."
"I will subdue her," said Rosamund. "There is no fear whatever on that point. Only, don't tell her so, please, for that would put her against me; and I think at present she has a sort of fancy for me. Do you know, I am quite hungry, and longing to attack those delicious cutlets."
"Then you shall, dear, and in peace. You had better lock your door again, for the girl is as suspicious as she is mischievous, and scents out any fresh person in the house. She says that she has a strong sense of smell, and knows each person by a sort of delicate perfume which emanates from them. Really, Rosamund, there are times when I almost doubt if she is quite human."
"Oh! she imagines all that," said Rosamund in a low tone. "I wouldn't fret if I were you, Lady Jane. Be sure you let me know when mother's telegram arrives."
"Yes, dear; I will bring it up here and read it to you. It will probably not be long now before we get it."
Lady Jane left the room, and Rosamund rebolted the door. Then she sat down to enjoy her lunch. She had just eaten a mouthful of the cutlet when she was aroused by a whoop—that familiar whoop which Irene had given vent to under poor Jane Denton's bed the previous night. Rosamund turned round, and there was Irene's face pressed against the window-pane. She had run up a ladder which she had forced one of the gardeners to bring to the window, and was looking in. Her face was all wreathed in smiles. She beckoned to Rosamund, who refused, however, to pay the slightest attention to her. Fortunately the window was shut, and Rosamund did not suppose that the naughty girl would go to the extreme of breaking the glass.
She now deliberately turned her back upon Irene, and continued to eat her cutlets without taking the least notice of her. In vain did Irene whoop and call out, and sing and shout, all for Rosamund's benefit. At last she said in a threatening tone, loud enough to pierce through the shut window, "I will run down the ladder and fetch a hammer, and come up again and break the window, and get in that way if you don't let me in. You don't suppose I am going to be conquered in my own house?"
But Rosamund was even with her. In one minute she had gone to the window, had flung it wide open, and taken both Irene's hands.
"Irene," she said, "you told me you loved me."
There was something in the tones, something in the absence of fear, which caused Irene to pause; the color faded from her little face, leaving it very white and almost imploring.
"I do—I do!" she said after a minute's pause.
"Now, do you know what I have done? I have left Sunnyside and have come over here, and am just waiting for a telegram from mother giving her consent to my spending a great portion of my time with you. But if you go for the hammer and come back and break this window I shall go straight home to mother, whatever she says. Now, you can choose. Go away now, and behave yourself. It doesn't matter to me what you do. I sometimes think you are not worth saving."
"Oh, no, I am not," said Irene in a completely new tone. She went quietly down the ladder. The objectionable ladder itself was removed, and Rosamund continued her lunch in peace.
Half an hour afterwards the telegram arrived, which was quite cordial in its tone, giving a hearty consent to Rosamund's remaining for the present at The Follies; and saying that if all went well Mrs. Cunliffe herself proposed to pay a visit to Lady Jane within the next fortnight. In the meantime, owing to the sad circumstances at Sunnyside, she would send a box of clothes that very day from London for Rosamund's use.
"Now I will go and find Irene," said Rosamund. "You must have perfect confidence in me, Lady Jane, and if I do things that you do not quite approve of, you must nevertheless be satisfied that I am dealing with Irene as I think best. Oh, dear Lady Jane, how tired you look, and how sad!"
"This is a very sad day for me," said Lady Jane. "It is the anniversary of my most beloved husband's death. I cannot but feel it; but that child has no mercy. I am going now to visit his grave, in order to put a cross of beautiful flowers there. Any other girl would accompany her mother on such an errand, but of course Irene will not."
Rosamund did not reply for a minute; then she said gently:
"Perhaps she will come with you next year, dear Lady Jane. You cannot reform a nature like hers in a moment."
Lady Jane kissed Rosamund and left the room; and Rosamund, being perfectly free to do exactly what she pleased, and being also refreshed and strengthened by her sleep and her good food, went in search of Irene.
She soon found her swinging in her favorite attitude in one of the beech-trees. The moment the girl saw her, she sprang to the ground, ran to her side, flung her arms round her neck so tightly as almost to throttle her, and kissed her over and over again.
"Your face looks as if you meant to stay."
"I do mean to stay just as long as you are good."
"Then, gracious me!" said Irene, "that won't be for long; because the utmost I can be good for is five minutes at a time. You see, I never was good at all—I never attempted to be—so it didn't enter into my calculations, and now to suddenly turn into a model of all the virtues is more than I can do even for your sake."
"I do not expect impossibilities. I only want you to try."
"Well, you are not so precious good yourself."
"I'm not at all good. We'll try to be good together."
"It will be fun our both trying," said Irene, looking at her with a comical expression. "How are we to begin? Shall we do penance like the old monks? Do you know, Rosamund"—here Irene linked her thin, almost steel-like little hand inside Rosamund's arm—"that I am a most voracious reader? Father was a great collector of books, and when I am tired of frightening the servants, and terrifying Frosty, and annoying mother, I spend days at a time in his library swallowing down the contents of his books. There is no other word for it. So I know odds and ends of all sorts of things."
"You must know things properly henceforth. But what was that you said about penance?"
"Do you want us to do penance for our sins? The monks were very fond of standing out in the cold in their night-shirts. Do you want us both to do that to-night? It will terrify mother, and the servants will think we are a pair of ghosts. I should rather enjoy that."
"I don't want anything silly of that sort. Come along now, Irene. The very first thing you have got to do is to beg Miss Frost's pardon."
"I beg Frosty's pardon! But she is in bed. She says they are running up and down inside her."
"You know you were exceedingly cruel. It was a very low sort of trick to play. I can understand a girl being wild and doing all sorts of things that perhaps she ought not to do, and even neglecting her lessons; but to terrify a poor, harmless governess! And you have terrified more than one. You'll have to drop that sort of thing now, Irene."
"It strikes me you are a poor sort after all," said Irene, gazing at Rosamund attentively.
"Well, whether I am poor or not, I'm going to stay with you for a bit, and if you get any better I'll stay on; but if you get no better I shall go straight home to mother, for you will be hopeless. There now, you know."
"Oh, it is so delightful to have you! You don't know what you are to me. The courageous way you speak! I don't believe you'd be a bit afraid if I put a frog on your neck."
By almost sleight-of-hand Irene suited the deed to the word, for a cold frog of enormous size suddenly began to crawl along Rosamund's neck. Rosamund suppressed a shudder, for she would not for the world show the girl that she loathed frogs; but she took the creature and laid it gently on the ground.
"That is very silly," she said. "You are not to do it again."
"I am not to do it again?"
"No; not to me or to any one else."
"I thought I'd put a small toad just inside the teapot for James when he was going to make the tea this afternoon, for it would jump up and finish that affair of the wasps and spiders that occurred this morning."
"You are not to do it. It is ridiculous; there's neither sense nor fun nor anything else in it. It is downright, positive cruelty. You make your mother's life wretched, and you make the servants miserable. As to poor Miss Frost—oh, you can go to see her or not, just as you please. I am going into her room now."
"Are you indeed? But why should you take any interest in Frosty?"
"Because you are so unkind to her, and I want her to know that I at least am going to be her friend."
"Oh, dear, dear Rosamund, I do so earnestly want her to go! She doesn't suit me a bit. Can't you teach me instead? I'd learn from you."
"I don't know enough. I want to be taught myself. Miss Frost needn't teach you unless you like, but she shall teach me. I can't give up all my education even for you. Perhaps you understand that."
"I do—I do; but I am sure you know a great deal more than is good for you."
"Don't be silly, Irene. Now, I am going to see Miss Frost. You ought to come with me to beg her pardon; but perhaps when she is well enough to be up you will do so."
"You won't be long with her, will you?"
"If you will promise to beg her pardon at tea-time I won't stay long."
"I will, for I want us to go out in the boat, and I want to show you my pony, and to try to get you to ride him. I don't believe you will be able to conquer him. He'll stand no one but me. His name is Billy Boy, and I have made him as wild and vicious as ever I could; but he is like a lamb with me."
"Then you propose that he should throw me, and perhaps kill me? Thank you very much, Irene."
"Oh, I don't propose that really; only, you see, one must have larks. One couldn't live without them. I don't think there is anything quite so larky as frightening people."
"Now, once for all, Irene, if that is your idea of life, I will write at once to mother and tell her I am coming home."
"No, you won't. I won't let you. I love you. I will try to be a little bit good just to please you. I will say something to Frosty at tea-time. Oh! don't ask me any more."
Irene's queer eyes filled suddenly with tears. Rosamund saw that she was touched.
"Run away and do what you like. I don't want to be long with Miss Frost; but I am going to her now."
Rosamund entered the house. She was met in the hall by James.
"I am so sorry, James," she said, taking the initiative at once, "that you were so frightened this morning by Miss Irene. She is a friend of mine, and I have made up my mind to come and stay here for the present. Will you please tell the other servants, and remember yourself, that I shall do my utmost to prevent the sort of things occurring which have made you all so uncomfortable? I think you will soon see that Miss Irene has as kind a heart as any other girl."
"I'm sure, miss," said James, almost whimpering, "the trouble I've had already, and the anxiety and worry, not to speak of the pain, miss. Them wasps, their sting is very sharp, and even my lady's blue-bag did not remove them at once. And then the show I am, miss, in this respectable house! But that is nothing to what poor cook felt when the toad poisoned the bread. And there was Mary Ann, the second housemaid; Miss Irene caught her and put two spiders down her back. Mary Ann has such a horror of spiders as never was! Then, worst of all, there's poor Miss Frost, such a patient lady, and she has swallowed insects instead of pills. It's too awful to contemplate."
"It is very bad, but it won't happen again—at least I don't think so," said Rosamund. "Now, I want to see Miss Frost. Can you direct me to her room?"
James took upon himself to perform this office, and in a few minutes' time Rosamund was knocking at the door of Miss Frost's room. A very feeble, timid, suffering voice said:
"Who is there?" Then the voice continued, "If it is you, Irene, the door is bolted, and the blinds are down, and the shutters shut, so even if you break the glass you cannot get in."
"It is not Irene. It is I, Rosamund Cunliffe. I want most particularly to see you, Miss Frost."
Whereupon Miss Frost was heard getting out of bed and coming towards the door. She was a very cadaverous-looking person, about forty years of age, thin to emaciation, with small, light, frightened-looking eyes, a long upper lip, and a great many freckles on her face. Her hair was thin and dark, and was strained back from a lofty forehead. The moment Rosamund saw her she took her hand.
"Please don't keep the door locked," she said. "And please unbar the shutters and draw up the blinds, for it is a lovely summer's day, and Irene won't do you any harm. I want to talk to you. May I?"
"I don't believe, my dear young friend," said Miss Frost, "that I am long for this world. I feel those dreadful things even now creeping up and down. The doctor says they are dead; but how can he look inside me? I know they are alive. I know they are."
"I don't think they could be alive," said Rosamund. "I heard of that trick being played on some one once before, and nothing whatever happened, and I can assure you the person is quite well, and when the fright was got over the whole thing was forgotten."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Oh, I have lived through such a morning of agony!"
"You must forget your agony now."
"But how am I to endure that child?"
"Will you lie down again on your bed and let me talk to you for a minute or two?"
As Rosamund spoke she took the cold hand of the governess, led her to the bed, made her lie down, and covered her up. Then she drew a chair forward, and, still retaining her hand, she began to speak.
"I know quite well all that you would say about Irene; but please don't say it. I have come here contrary to rules, and at some trouble to myself, but also with my mother's approval, to be Irene's friend and guest for a time. You are all very much afraid of her. Yes, you are, from Lady Jane to the lowest servant in the place, and it is because you are afraid of her that she is so exceedingly naughty. Now, it so happens that I am not a scrap afraid of her, therefore I have some influence over her, and I know positively that she will not play any of her horrid tricks upon you again. For the moment she does so I shall leave her, and she doesn't wish me to do that. Therefore you needn't be at all afraid. What has happened gave you a nasty turn; but there, that's the end of it! You will get up, won't you, and come down to tea? I think perhaps Irene will be a little nicer to you. And to-morrow, or the next day, or whenever we are to begin, I want to know if you will teach me as well as Irene. I also want us to know other girls, and to have a good time all round. For Irene is only a young savage at present; but she has a warm heart, and I do believe that I can touch it."
"My dear," said Miss Frost when Rosamund had done speaking, "may I ask how old you are?"
"I am fifteen."
"Then you are three years older than the terrible Irene."
"Three years older, and I hope three years wiser."
"A thousand years wiser, my dear—quite a thousand years wiser. You don't know what I have suffered; and I am not the only one. Her one object in life when each new governess comes is to get rid of that governess. But I have a little brother and sister both dependent on me altogether for their daily bread, and Lady Jane gives me one hundred and fifty pounds a year, a very large sum for a governess who is not certificated. I simply daren't give it up. I try to, for I often feel that I must. Even the children do not seem worth the agonies I undergo. But then again I struggled on until now."
"You will have no more struggling, and if you teach me as well as Irene I know mother will pay you something, so your people will be better off than ever," said Rosamund in her cheerful voice. "Now cheer up. You have nothing to fear. Try to be courageous, and when you speak to the servants, get them to be courageous too. You have all let Irene get the upper hand of you, and it is exceedingly bad for her. Now, I promised to join her; but you will be with us at tea-time, won't you?"
"I will. You have put great heart into me. What a wonderful girl you are! When I saw you on Sunday I thought how remarkable you were, and now that you have spoken I see it more than ever."
"Perhaps you know what has happened at Sunnyside?"
"What is that, dear?"
"My own special friend, Jane Denton, is dangerously ill with diphtheria. I do not know if she will ever be better."
"Then is there any fear?" said Miss Frost.
"You mean of your taking it?"
"Oh, no, I don't mind for myself a scrap. I am not afraid of illness, and I had diphtheria when I was young, and people don't often have it twice; but it is that child—that queer child."
"I cannot give it to her," said Rosamund. "If she takes it she must have contracted the infection herself, owing to——But there, I won't say any more. Let us hope for the best. I must go to her now, however."
When Rosamund went out, feeling both flushed and tired, she saw Irene waiting for her. She wore her favorite red dress, which was exceedingly shabby and by no means becoming. Rosamund felt just like St. George when he was about to slay the dragon. Irene at the present moment was the dragon. That dreadful part of her which was such a nuisance to her neighbors must be kept under by a firm hand. One person at least must have complete control of her.
"There you are!" said Irene, dancing up to her friend. "Oh, it is nice to see you, and how sweet you look! Do you know, I never noticed people's looks before. I always said to myself, 'They are all exactly alike—a pair of eyes, a nose, a mouth, a chin of sorts, eyebrows indifferent or not, hair dark or fair.' Oh, they're all alike—at least that is what I did think. Now I see you, there seems a difference."
"I hope I haven't got three eyes or two noses, or anything of that sort, to make you single me out for special observation."
"Oh, it isn't your features a bit—it's your way. You are different, and I like you."
"Do you know, Irene," said Rosamund very slowly and emphatically, and taking the little girl's thin hand as she spoke, "that you are the most wonderfully beautiful girl I have ever seen?"
"Am I?" said Irene, and a new light sparkled in her eyes. "People have always spoken of me as a horror, a terror, a nuisance, the wildest and most awful creature on earth. But if I am so pretty"——
"You could be lovely," said Rosamund. "I must say that red dress is rather trying, but your face is exquisite. Now, what do you say to going into the house and going quietly up to your own room? I will come with you and help you to choose another frock, which I think will make you look more beautiful than ever. Just let me dress you as I like for once."
"I trust it won't be tight, or too long," said Irene.
"I am sure you have abundance of frocks."
"I don't know. I dare say I have. I believe there is a wardrobe full; but I prefer my red dress because it annoys mother. When one is worn out, I ask for another made just on the same pattern, and just because they all hate it so."
"But you will change it for me. Come at once, Irene."
Rosamund took her friend's hand and led her upstairs to her room. Now, Irene's bedroom was not at all an attractive place to go into. In itself it was an exceedingly large and airy apartment, and the furniture was excellent. But the small bed was drawn up close to the window, and was more cot than bed, having iron bars all round it. Near the bed were several jars and basins containing toads and frogs and newts and water creatures of all sorts. Besides these, there was a box of caterpillars, most of which had escaped, and on the mantelpiece Irene proudly pointed to a bottle of leeches.
"I bought them, for a pound that I had given to me, from a chemist; and when any of the servants are quite determined to stick in the place I let the leeches loose, and that generally sends the housemaids away. I wouldn't part with my darling leeches for all the world. Do you see how they are dancing now? That means rain. When they lie quite sullen at the bottom of the glass, then I know we are going to have fine weather. That one on the stalk—do you see how he is wriggling, poor sweet pet?—that one I call Fuzz, and this one at the bottom of the glass is Buzz. Then there are their children, Thunder and Lightning, and the little Stars. The Stars are the tiny ones. I manage them myself. I love them better than any of my pets. Would you like me to take them out? You'll see how they crawl about on the floor; only they get rather dusty. Do you mind?"
"Not in the very least," said Rosamund.
"Well, you have spunk! You know, if you annoy me in any way, I should think nothing of putting either Fuzz or Buzz into your bed."
"Then I should leave the next day, that's all," replied Rosamund in a calm voice. "I shouldn't be afraid; but I should simply go. If you want me to be your friend you must not play tricks of that sort. But we needn't talk any more about leeches now. They seem happy and well. Let me see what dresses you have."
Rosamund herself opened the wardrobe and took out a quantity of beautiful dresses of all sorts and descriptions, mostly white washing silks and muslins and cambrics. She chose a neat white cambric, and insisted on Irene putting it on. She fastened it on the little girl herself, and saw that it fitted her perfectly. She then brushed her hair and made her wash her hands, which this wild tomboy strongly objected to. But Rosamund was firm.
"I hope you're not always going to be like this," said Irene, stamping her foot.
"Oh, dear, no! because soon you will do it for its own sake. Now, here's a long mirror; come and see yourself in the glass. Can't you fancy what you are like?"
But Irene started away.
"No, no, no!" she said. "There's a pool at the bottom of the garden, and there are water-lilies all around it. We'll go, both of us, and look at ourselves there; that will be much prettier."
"As you please. I am quite indifferent; only I want you to respect yourself, Irene."
"Respect myself? But then, no one else does."
"Well, I intend to respect you, and I can only do it by your respecting yourself. Come along; let us look at ourselves in the pool. I am considered fairly good-looking—I don't pretend to deny it; but I am nothing to you to-day, for you gave me a very tiring night."
"So I did, you poor dear! This white dress is rather nice, but I wouldn't wear it for mother for all the world; I only wear it now. Now then, come along."
The two raced downstairs; the servants peeped out from different corners in astonishment. Miss Irene, who would make such a show of herself, was absolutely pretty in her shady hat of softest white, and her white dress to match, and that face, which, notwithstanding all her naughtiness, was and must ever be beautiful above ordinary faces.
By-and-by the girls reached the pool. They both fell on their knees, and Rosamund desired Irene to gaze at her reflection.
"Here are some forget-me-nots," said Rosamund. "I am going to make a wreath to put round your hair. Take your hat off."
She made a little wreath in a few minutes, and twined them through Irene's curling locks.
"Now look again. What do you see?"
"Why, she is somebody rather—I mean she is beautiful, very beautiful," said Irene in a low voice. "But she is not me."
"She is you. Look again. Don't you see that soft little mouth, and that nose, so beautifully formed, and those bright, bright eyes, and that hair, and the whole thing? It was God who made you, Irene, and He made you beautiful, and beautiful people have a great gift."
Irene ceased to look at herself. She flung off the forget-me-not wreath and turned to Rosamund.
"Now, what do you mean by all this lecturing?" she said.
"Beautiful people have a great responsibility," continued Rosamund in a stout voice. "They are sent into the world to make it better. As far as I can make out, up to the present time you have done nothing whatever but make the world worse. You have never, so far as I can tell, been kind to your mother. You have made the servants most unhappy. You have done your utmost to render your governesses' position impossible."
"Because I hate them, and don't want to learn."
"Not want to learn," said Rosamund, "with that forehead so full, so intelligent? Why, you could learn in a flash. You could get knowledge with the utmost ease, and you would love it when once you began. If I am to be your friend you have got to turn over a new leaf. There, I have said enough about yourself for the present. Just let us walk about until tea-time."
"No; I want to go in the boat."
"We won't go in the boat till after tea. I want to talk to you."
"I wonder why I am obeying you?" said Irene, slipping her hand inside Rosamund's.
"Because I mean you to."
"I wonder why I'm not hating you?"
"Because if you did I should leave you."
"I couldn't let you go. It seems to me the whole world is different since I got you. But do tell me, you are not very good yourself?"
"I am not at all so good. Ask the people at Sunnyside what they think of me. There is my dearest friend lying at death's door—that is not my fault, of course; but when I can smile at all when I remember her, you must see for yourself that there is a great deal that is very far from good in me. But there, now, I want to talk about Miss Frost."
"Now, why?" said Irene. "That horror! That dreadful stick-in-the-mud! Oh, she is detestable! I cannot tell you how I loathe her."
"You do, because you don't understand her."
"And pray do you?"
"I understand her more than you do; and in any case I could not be cruel to her."
"But she is so old, and so ugly."
"I thought you didn't mind about people's appearance. You said so a minute ago."
"Well, I didn't; but it seems to me that you have opened my eyes. If I am so beautiful I ought to be with beautiful people, like you, Rosamund; for, now I come to look at you, you are very beautiful."
"It is by no means necessary that you should be with beautiful people; but you should give pleasure to people who are not beautiful, because they would like to look at you, and hear your voice, and be refreshed by your kind actions."
"Good gracious me! Kind actions!" said Irene.
"In future I believe they will be kind. Now, please understand you have been exceedingly cruel to Miss Frost."
"I want her to go."
"She is not going."
"How do you know? I did think those wood-lice would finish her. I thought and thought, and the happy idea came to me this morning. I was quite certain she'd give notice, just as Carter did. They could take her on at the Merrimans'. It seems to me that my governesses always find a berth near, so as to spread the fame of my dreadful character."
"Well, she is not going. She can't go. She has a little brother and sister, and she has got to provide for them."
"What do you mean by that?"
"She has got to feed and clothe them, and to put them to school, and do everything for them. If she left your mother's house she would have no money, and might find it difficult to get another post. So she is not going. I asked her to stay, and she is going to teach me as well as you."
"Dear me!"
"Yes; and we are going to make it exceedingly interesting. I mean you to learn a lot. I assure you, if I come here and give up the next few months of my life to you, I don't mean to do nothing in the time. I want to work hard, and you will have to work hard too. I am not bound to stay with you for a single hour. The moment your pranks begin, the moment I hear of any more toads being put into the bread-pan, or wasps and caterpillars descending on poor James's head, or spiders put down the housemaids' backs, or leeches being allowed to run about your bedroom, I shall just go off. If you want me you must refrain from that sort of thing."
"But won't I have any outlet?"
"Indeed you will have plenty."
"Of what sort?"
"You will see. But there is the tea-bell; let us go in."
Irene looked wonderfully thoughtful, for her. She walked slowly by Rosamund's side into the house. Still slowly, and with that thoughtful expression on her face; she passed along the hall until she reached the pretty parlor where tea was always served. Here Lady Jane herself was waiting in a state of nervous expectancy, and here was Miss Frost, very pale, shaky, and troubled, declaring stoutly to Lady Jane that "they" were running about inside her still.
When the girls entered there was a moment of silence, then a start of surprise, for Irene in white, and wearing her pretty shady hat, looked a totally different Irene from the untidy little creature who usually rushed about in her red frock at all hours and seasons. Rosamund gave Lady Jane a warning glance to take no notice of Irene, who flung herself, very much in her old manner, into a chair exactly opposite Miss Frost.
Of course she was going to be good. At least she supposed she must. It was horrid work, she so infinitely preferred being naughty; but then there was Rosamund, and Rosamund wished it, and she—oh, she did not really think she loved Rosamund, but she had a strange sort of longing to be with her, and Rosamund was free as air, and could go at any moment. Therefore, to keep Rosamund, she must be good. But that needn't prevent her staring hard at Miss Frost, which she proceeded to do with great alacrity.
Meanwhile Lady Jane poured out tea, and talked in her lady-like and refined tones to Rosamund, who replied in exactly the same style.
"Are they alive still?" asked Irene when there was a slight pause in the conversation; and she fixed her dancing eyes full on her governess's face.
"Oh, Irene, it was unkind!" began Miss Frost; but Rosamund hastily interrupted.
"Irene, you know what I mean. That subject is not to be alluded to. Miss Frost, I beg of you not to speak of it before Irene, and do for goodness' sake eat a good meal. Forgive me, Lady Jane, but I want us all to have a very good tea; and as it is such a lovely, lovely day, may we go for a little picnic afterwards, and take our supper with us into the woods? Will you come too, and Miss Frost? It would be so delightful!"
Lady Jane's plan had been to leave Irene entirely to herself. She was to have so many hours' lessons in the day, which generally resulted in not working at all, and the rest of her time she spent either in her boat or hatching mischief to annoy some inmate of the house. But now the idea of a picnic, with supper out-of-doors, on this most glorious summer's day, was altogether new.
"We might have the governess-cart, mightn't we, mothery?" said Irene, turning her eyes away from Miss Frost, and gazing at her mother with great anxiety and interest.
"Certainly, dear, but I"——
"Oh, you must come too," said Rosamund.
She knew very well that Lady Jane would say that she could not go out on the anniversary of her husband's death; but she felt at the same time that it was necessary for Irene's reform that both her mother and governess should accompany her.
"I want us all to go," she said. "I have got a plan in my head. You will let us, won't you?—Irene, you and I will choose what supper we will take, after tea is over. And now, will you kindly pass me the plum-jam—yes, and the butter too?"
What a masterful young person Rosamund Cunliffe was, and how Irene began to lean upon her! She no longer troubled herself even to glance at Miss Frost, who in consequence began to get back her courage and to make a good tea. "The creatures," as she termed them, were certainly less lively, and on the whole she felt better and more disposed to believe the doctor.
As soon as tea was over Rosamund took Irene out of the room, and they went together to the cook.
"Now, the very first thing you are to say to cook is this," said Rosamund: "'Cook, I am exceedingly sorry I put a toad into your bread-pan, and I am not going to do it again. I want you to give me the very nicest supper you can possibly collect at short notice.' You must put on your very prettiest manner when you speak to cook. Will you, Irene?"
"It will be horrid work, for she isn't a lady, you know."
"She is far more a lady than you were when you put the toad into the bread-pan."
"You are sharp, aren't you?" said Irene.
"Because you need it. I won't be sharp with you soon, for I know you are going to be a model girl, and the most beautiful creature in the whole country. You don't know how nice it will feel after being naughty for so long."
"I wonder if it will?" said Irene, beginning to dance along by Rosamund's side.
The necessary apology was made to the cook, who received it with dubious surprise, the other servants standing near; but when they saw Irene glancing in their direction they darted off in more or less pretended terror. Cook, however, was mollified by Rosamund's sweet face, and an excellent supper was packed in a hamper.
The governess-cart was brought round to the front door, and Lady Jane, to her own amazement and much against her will, took the reins and drove as far as Parson's Dale, a most lovely spot four miles away. Miss Frost felt the soft evening air fanning her cheeks and taking some of the nervousness out of her. Irene sat thoughtful, and looking exquisitely pretty. Rosamund chatted on all sorts of subjects. In short, such a day had never before been known to the younger girl.