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

has them, as she thinks, alone. But I generally contrive to listen. I am a great eavesdropper. Oh, I am not a bit ashamed of it—not a bit—so you needn't begin to preach. She tells them to try and reform me. She says money is no object if only I can be reformed. As though a changeling could be reformed! She has been asking you to reform me, hasn't she? I know her little ways, dear, good old Mumsy-pums. But she can't reform a changeling. Now the boat is ready, and Betty is toiling for dear life with our tea-tray. I darted into the kitchen, where she was having a Sunday doze. I sprang upon her back, and she gave such a shriek as though something awful had happened; and I said, 'Tea in a twinkling, or I'll dress up and frighten you when you are in bed to-night.' Oh, didn't she hop round as though she were walking on red-hot irons! And there she is now, panting down the path with our tea. Come along, Rosamund."

"But I don't think I must. I ought not to come," said Rosamund.

She was tempted, fascinated. To feel conscious that she was not one scrap afraid of this queer girl, to feel conscious also that the girl herself, notwithstanding her extreme naughtiness, could in the end be managed by her, brought such a rush of interest into her life that she forgot everything else for the moment; and, besides, Irene was exceedingly strong, and although she was much slimmer and not so tall as Rosamund, she dragged her down the path with a power that it was almost impossible to resist.

"That will do, Betty. I won't frighten you to-night by dressing up and making my eyes fiery," said Irene as the cook appeared with the tea.

"Oh, bless me, miss!" replied the cook, "for heaven's sake keep out of my bedroom. If you will only give me back my key and let me lock my door I wouldn't have such dreadful nightmares. I wish you would, Miss Irene."

"I give you back your key?" said Irene. "I'd have no fun if I hadn't power over you. There, that will do. You may sleep sound to-night. I always keep my word."

The cook departed, red and panting. She was as much afraid of Irene as any of the other servants. But the place was a good one, the wages exceedingly liberal, and Lady Jane the kindest and most patient of mistresses. In short, many of the servants stayed for her sake, notwithstanding the life of terror which naughty Irene gave them.

The little boat, painted sky-blue and tipped with white, was now pulled out of the boat-house. Irene put in the basket of provisions, and a moment later she and Rosamund were skimming across the smooth bosom of the lake. It was quite a big lake, being a quarter of a mile across and half a mile long, and in the centre was a rapid current which was considered, and really was in times of storm, somewhat dangerous. For this current Irene made, and when they got there she suddenly rested on her oars, and looking at Rosamund, said, "Are you afraid, or are you not? If the current gets a little stronger we will be drifted to the edge of the lake, and at the edge of the lake there is a waterfall, and over it we will go, and, splash! splash! splash! I took a girl there once; she was my governess, but I was quite tired of her, and knew the fright she would get in when I took her out in the boat. I never take those who are dead sick with fright; but I took her, and she was nearly drowned—not quite, for I can swim in almost any water, and I held her up and brought her safe to land. But she left that evening. She was a poor thing, absolutely determined to stop. I hated her the moment I saw her face, it was so white and pasty; and she wasn't at all interesting. She couldn't tell stories; she didn't believe in changelings. She had never read the Arabian Nights. She knew hardly any history; but she was great at dates. Oh, she was a horror! She was rather fond of grammar, too, and odds and ends of things that aren't a bit interesting. And needlework! Oh, the way she worried me to death with her needlework! She did criss-cross and cross-criss, and every other stitch that was ever invented. So I said to myself, 'Miss Carter must go,' and I took her out on a rather stormy day, and we got into mid-current. Mother and the servants came shouting to us to get out of it; but of course we couldn't, and poor Miss Carter, how she did shriek! And I said, 'We are certain to go over the fall; but we won't get drowned, for I won't let you, if you will promise faithfully to give notice the very instant you get back to the house.' Oh, poor thing, didn't she promise! Her very teeth were chattering. She was in a most awful state. Now, we can go over the waterfall to-day if you don't mind. You wouldn't be frightened, would you?"

"Frightened? Not I! But I don't intend to go over the waterfall, all the same."

"Now, what on earth do you mean by that remark?" asked Irene.

"I am quite as strong as you, and if it comes to a fight I can take the oars. The current is not yet very strong; but I wish to get out of it, for the see-sawing up and down makes me a little bit sea-sick. I am not your governess. I am just a girl who has come to live at the Merrimans', and I can make myself very pleasant to you if you make yourself pleasant to me, or I can take not the slightest notice of you. There are heaps and heaps of other girls about. There are all the Singletons."

"Oh, for primness!" began Irene. "Oh, those Green Leaves! they are positively detestable. But you shall have your way, Rosamund. You really are not afraid, so just you take one oar and I will take the other, and we will get into smooth water and enjoy ourselves for once. It is a comfort to talk to some one who hasn't a scrap of fear in her."

"Nobody ought to be afraid of you," said Rosamund, taking up an oar as she spoke; and with a few vigorous strokes the girls got out of the current into the still, blue waters of the lake.

Poor Lady Jane, who was watching them from her boudoir window, breathed a sigh of relief.

"I knew that girl was sent to be a blessing to me," she said to herself; "and my dear old friend's child, too. Oh, why was I given such a creature as Irene to bring up and look after? I can no more manage her than an old hen could manage a fierce young ostrich."

Meanwhile Rosamund and Irene began to enjoy themselves. The tea, as it was called, consisted of a bottle of cold tea; but the rest of the provisions were first-rate, the most delicious cakes of all sorts and descriptions, with a few other dainties in the shape of sandwiches. The girls ate and talked, and Irene, perhaps for the first time in her life, became almost rational in her behavior.

"And now," said Irene, "I want you to tell me again what you said about mother being naughty, because it will give me a most tremendous hold over her. I wish you would tell me some of the sort of things she used to do; because if I can say, 'I got it from you, mother, and you are the one to blame,' it would be an immense pull. I wish you would tell me. Do, won't you?"

"She never did the sort of things you have done," said Rosamund.

"How in the world do you know that?"

"Well, for instance, she was never cruel."

"I cruel? Well, I like that! I often and often put slugs and snails and worms, and that sort of thing, out of the path for fear any one should tread on them. I cruel?"

"You are in one way," said Rosamund. "I am not a scrap afraid of you, and I say you are cruel when you terrify the servants and your poor mother, who has no one but you, and"——

"We will get back into the current if you say another word," said Irene.

"No, we won't," replied Rosamund, "for I will keep this oar, and you cannot wrench it from me."

She grasped it more firmly as she spoke. Irene looked at her for a moment, and her small, wild, charming face seemed to lighten as though with sudden passion. Then she broke into a merry laugh.

"I declare it is refreshing to hear you," she said. "Only don't scold me too much at first. Let us be jolly for a little bit. When will you come to see me again?"

"That depends on your mother and, I suppose, on the people I am living with—the Merrimans."

"I don't know them."

"Don't know them? Why, they live quite close."

"I don't know any of the girls round here. There is a Merriman called Lucy, a horrid prig, isn't there?"

"I must confess that I don't care for her," said Rosamund.

"Ah! then we have something in common. I shall cultivate her just for the express purpose of finding out her faults, and then we will have more in common. Only, promise me one thing, Rose."

"What is that?" said Rosamond, suddenly struck by the gentle tone which the queer child's voice could assume.

"You won't take up with the Leaves. Do let the Leaves alone. Mother is always harping on them, and bringing them up to me. But the fact is, they are afraid to come here. They have been invited scores of times; but they always make excuses at the last moment. I know the reason, for that terrible Miss Carter, who was nearly drowned, went straight from us to them, and has remained with them ever since. Of course, she told them about the boat, and the current in the middle of the lake, and the waterfall. I have been rather curious to see them, and to give them a good round fright, every one of them, till they blanch to the color of ghosts, and then their green dresses wouldn't suit them any longer. But they wouldn't come. I have got no friends. That is why I am so anxious to have you as a friend. You don't think me so dreadful, do you?"

"I think you could be splendid; but at the present moment I consider that you are exceedingly naughty," said Rosamund. "But then, I am not a bit too good myself, so I suppose that is why I tolerate you. Now, will you please row back to the shore, for I am afraid I must be returning to the Merrimans'?"

CHAPTER VII. TEA ON THE LAKE.

It was with some difficulty that Rosamund persuaded Irene to obey her orders; but firmness won the day. That young lady was accustomed to ruling with a rod of iron, but she had at last found a girl who was not the least afraid of her, who really did not mind what she did, and who insisted on taking one oar while she took the other. This was a new experience, and she could do nothing, try as she would, to terrify Rosamund, who laughed when she assured her that she was a changeling, and might perhaps take any form at any time, and might return to her real home with the fairies at any moment; who laughed still more merrily when she vowed she would upset the boat.

"I can swim like a duck," said Rosamund, "and I am a great deal bigger than you are; and, clever as you