A College Girl, Mrs George de Horne Vaizey [good non fiction books to read txt] 📗

It was really rather fun dressing for the visit to the Percivals on Thursday; trying to make oneself look one’s very best, and imagining their surprise at the transformation! Aunt Maria, too, seemed quite to enter into the spirit of the thing, inquired anxiously which dress, and gave special instructions that it should be ironed afresh, so that it might appear at its freshest and best.

“My woman” had evidently been instructed to take the young guest’s wardrobe under her care, since new ribbons and frilling now appeared with engaging frequency, giving quite an air to half-worn garments. Darsie in a blue muslin dress, with a white straw hat wreathed with daisies, and her golden locks floating past her waist, made a charming picture of youth and happiness as she sat in the old barouche, and when the hall was reached Aunt Maria cast a keen glance around the grounds, transparently eager to discover the young people and share in the fun of the meeting.

Ralph was nowhere to be seen, that was not to be wondered at under the circumstances, but the two girls were on duty on the tennis-lawn in front of the house, ready to come forward and welcome their guest immediately upon her arrival.

The blank gapes of bewilderment with which they witnessed the alighting of the radiant blue and gold apparition afforded keen delight both to aunt and niece. They were literally incapable of speech, and even after Aunt Maria had driven away, coughing in the most suspicious manner behind a raised hand, even then conversation was of the most jerky and spasmodic kind. It was amusing enough for a time, but for a whole afternoon it would certainly pall, and Darsie did want to enjoy herself when she had a chance. She decided that it was time to put matters on a right footing, and looked smilingly to right and left, at her embarrassed, tongue-tied companions.

“I think,” said Darsie politely, “that I owe you an explanation!”

She explained, and Noreen and Ida pealed with laughter, and danced up and down on the gravel path, and slid their hands through her arm, vowing undying friendship on the spot.

“How per-fectly killing! I do love a girl who is up to pranks. What a prank! How you must have felt when you saw us sitting there! And Lady Hayes—what did she say? Was she per-fectly furious?”

“Aunt Maria behaved like an angel, a dignified angel! I never liked her so much. How did you feel? Tell me just exactly your sentiments when you saw me walking into that room?”

“I certainly did feel upset, because we had to ask you! Mother said we must, and we asked each other what on earth should we do with you all day long. Ida did say that your eyes were pretty. She was the only one who stuck up for you at all! I thought you looked too appalling for words.”

“What did your brother say?” asked Darsie with natural feminine curiosity, whereupon Noreen answered with unabashed candour—

“He said you were ‘a rummy little frump,’ and that he would take very good care to have an engagement for to-day as many miles as possible away from home!”

“Did he, indeed!” The colour rose in Darsie’s cheeks. “Well, I’m very glad he did. I like girls best, and I thought he looked conceited and proud. My best friend has a big brother, too, but he’s not a bit like yours. Rather shaggy, but so clever and kind! He promised to write to me while I was here, just because he knew I should be dull. It’s really an honour, you know, for he is terrifically clever. Every one says he will be Prime Minister one day. He’s going to Cambridge. Your brother is, too, isn’t he? I shouldn’t think they would be at all in the same set!”

The Percival girls looked at each other and smiled.

“Poor old Ralph! Isn’t she blighting? You don’t know anything about him, you know. It’s only because he called you a frump, but never mind, he has to be back to tea to look after some work for father, and then he’ll see! If you are going to be friends with us, you mustn’t begin by disliking our brother. He may be conceited, but he is certainly not ‘shaggy,’ and he is much nicer to his sisters than most big boys. He thinks we are really nicer than other girls.”

Darsie regarded them critically.

“Well, I think you are!” she conceded graciously. “Oh, how thankful I am that there is some one young in the neighbourhood. I was beginning to feel so painfully middle-aged. Let’s sit down and talk. Tell me about yourselves. Do you go to school? Which school? Do you go in for exams? What subjects do you like best?”

Noreen laughed, and shook her head.

“We have a governess. We are going for a year to a finishing school in Paris, but mother doesn’t approve of exams, for girls. She wants us to be able to play, and sing, and draw, and speak German and French, and she says that’s enough. We don’t bother about Latin or mathematics or any of those dull old things.”

“They are not dull. They’re glorious. I revel in them. But you’re rich, of course, and won’t have to work. I shall have to earn money myself, so I want to pass all the exams. I can.”

The Percivals stared in solemn surprise. The idea was so strange it took some time to digest. All their friends were well off like themselves; really, when they came to think of it, they had never met a prospective working girl before! They regarded Darsie with a curiosity tinged with compassion.

“Do you mean it—really? Tell us about yourself? Where do you live?”

“In Birchester, Craven Street, Sandon terrace—the corner house in Sandon Terrace.”

“Craven Street. Really!” The girls were plainly shocked, but Ida rallied bravely, and said in her most courteous air: “It must be so interesting to live in a street! So much to see. And have you very interesting people living across the road?”

“No. Rather dull. Husbands and wives, and one old bachelor with a leg—lame leg, I mean. No one at all thrilling, but our friends—our best friends—live in a terrace at right angles with ours. We have great times with them. I’ll tell you about our latest craze.”

Noreen and Ida sat breathlessly listening to the history of the telegraph, till it was time to go into the house for lunch, when Darsie was introduced to Mrs Percival, a very smartly dressed lady, who looked astonishingly young to be the mother of a grown-up family. After lunch the three girls attempted tennis, but gave it up in deference to the visitor’s lack of skill, visited stables and kennels and conservatory, and were again brought face to face with the different points of view existing between the town and the country dweller.

“Do all people who live in the country go and stare at their horses and dogs every day of their lives?” demanded Darsie with an air of patient resignation, as Noreen and Ida patted, and whistled, and rubbed the noses of their four-footed friends, fed them with dainty morsels, and pointed out good points in technical terms which were as Greek in the listener’s ears. “Aunt Maria goes every single day; it’s a part of the regular programme, like knitting in the afternoon and Patience at night. I get—so bored!”

The shocked looks which the Percival sisters turned upon her seemed ludicrously out of proportion with the circumstances.

“Don’t you—don’t you love animals?”

“Certainly—in their place. But I cannot see the interest in staring in through a stable door at the same horses standing munching in the same stalls day after day. It’s no use pretending that I can,” declared Darsie obstinately. “And the dogs make such a noise, and drag at your clothes. I’m always thankful to get away. Let’s go back to the garden and look at the flowers. I could stare at flowers for ages. It seems too glorious to be true to be able to pick as many roses as you like. At home mother buys a sixpenny bunch on Saturday, and cuts the stalks every day, and puts them into fresh water to make them last as long as possible, and we have nasturtiums for the rest of the week. I love the fruit and vegetable garden, too. It’s so amusing to see how things grow! Especially,”—she laughed mischievously, showing a whole nest of baby dimples in one pink cheek, “I warn you frankly that this is a hint!—especially things you can eat!”

Noreen and Ida chuckled sympathetically.

“Come along! There is still a bed of late strawberries. We’ll take camp-stools from the summer-house, and you shall sit and feast until you are tired, and we’ll sit and watch you, and talk. We seem to have had strawberries at every meal for weeks past, and are quite tired of the sight, so you can have undisturbed possession.”

“And I,” said Darsie with a sigh, “have never in my life had enough! It will be quite an epoch to