A Modern Tomboy, L. T. Meade [books you have to read .txt] 📗

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