A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls, L. T. Meade [ready to read books .txt] 📗

a gentleman. Agnes's brother can't be a counter-jumper, can he, mothery?"

"What a horrid expression! Where did you learn it, Irene?"

"Oh, I picked it up from one of the servants; her cousin was a counter-jumper. She always made me laugh when she spoke about it. She described how he doled out yards of ribbon, and she said that his figure was all gone to nothing, but he was very genteel-looking. I used to make her tell me about him, because I used to frighten her with spiders and wasps if she didn't. But I don't do that sort of thing now. I'll take to it again, though, if you don't do what I wish."

"Then I am sure I will do what you wish, although I am rather puzzled."

"Well, we'll settle it, and at once," said Irene.

She ran out of the room and met Miss Frost, who was crossing the hall.

"Frosty," said the little girl, going up to her governess, "I want to ask you a question. How much money do you pay a year for Hughie's schooling?"

Miss Frost turned painfully red.

"That is scarcely your affair, is it, Irene?" she said.

"I am not naughty, really; I want to know for a most serious, important reason. Do you pay much, or do you pay little?"

"I pay what is really very little. I pay fifty pounds a year. It is not a good school, but it is the best I can afford. It is a commercial school. I trust to get Hughie a place in a shop when he is sixteen—that is, in two years' time. I think I can manage his school for the present."

"Thank you, Miss Frost. That is all I need."

Irene then went out, and whistling in a boyish fashion, presently brought Hughie to her side. He was quite at home with her now, and walked willingly along the gravel path listening as she spoke to him.

"Hughie, you know the promise I made to you?"

"Yes, I know," he said, his eyes dancing. "I am to be a gentleman. You said so."

"You are; but I must know all about it. Your sister pays fifty pounds a year to keep you at school."

"It's an awfully low sort of place," said the boy. "I mean the fellows there aren't gentlemen, and it is frightfully difficult to be a gentleman when no one else is."

"Well, it ought not to be. A gentleman ought to be a gentleman through everything," said Irene. "However, that is not the point. What profession would you like best if, supposing you were rich, you could have your choice?"

"I'd like best in all the world," said Hughie, "to be educated to become a lawyer—I mean a barrister. But there's no chance of that. I like arguing and disputing, and proving that other people are wrong, more than anything else in the world."

"You are not particularly amiable, Hughie," said Irene, with a laugh; "but I think I understand."

"Well, that is all right. Have you anything more to say?"

"Not just at present, only I want to speak to mother."

Lady Jane was sitting just where Irene had left her. Irene went and laid her head on her mother's lap.

"Frosty pays fifty pounds a year," she said, "and it's a horrid commercial school, so we'll have to pay a quarter's fees, for I think that is what is done generally, and Hughie must go to a proper school at once—a really good one—and we will pay the difference between a really good school and Frosty's fifty pounds. Then, if Hughie is clever and gets a scholarship, he can go to one of the 'Varsities, and afterward he must study for the Bar. You see, I have read up all about it, and I know. You must help me to do it, mother. I dare say he will make a very clever barrister, for he looks quite disagreeable enough to be so."

Lady Jane struggled against Irene's whim. But Irene, as she knew quite well, had the victory; for the next morning there was a serious conversation with Miss Frost, who left Lady Jane's presence in floods of grateful tears, the result of which was that Hughie was sent to a first-class school on the very day that Rosamund, Irene, Agnes, and Miss Frost went to the Merrimans'.

"Now, indeed, the world is beginning to go in the right direction," said Irene, who considered herself one of the most important people in the whole of creation.

CHAPTER XXIII. AT SCHOOL AGAIN.

It is a curious fact that there are some weak but loving people who are not loved in return. If they are sincere and honest they always inspire respect. If they are at the same time unselfish, that noble quality must also tell in the long run. But to look at them is not to love them, and consequently they go through life with a terrible heart-longing unknown to their fellow-men, only known to the God above, who will doubtless reward these simple and earnest and remarkably beautiful souls in His own good time in another world.

Such a person was Emily Frost. She was very patient, very brave, very unselfish; but no one particularly cared for her. She knew this quite well; she had a passionate hunger for love, but it was not bestowed upon her. She was well educated and could teach splendidly, but she could never arouse enthusiasm in her pupils. A far less highly educated woman could do twice the amount poor Miss Frost could ever achieve, simply because she possessed the gift denied to the latter.

Now, Agnes Frost was much of the same temperament as her half-sister. She also was timid, easily frightened, very easily subdued, but sympathetic, loving, and unselfish. Agnes, however, had the great power of inspiring love in all those with whom she came in contact. Miss Frost herself worshiped that little delicate and beautiful face, those sweet lips, that tender and dainty form. She felt she could almost die for the child. But the child, although she loved her half-sister, did not love her in the passionate way that Miss Frost desired. Irene was the first person to whom Agnes had given all her strong powers of affection. For Irene she would have done anything. She did not care nearly so much for Rosamund, although she admired her, and Rosamund herself was drawn to the child and attracted by her. Agnes had been perfectly happy while at The Follies; never a fear had she of the much-dreaded Irene. It is true she had not heard the dreadful stories of the toads and wasps and leeches; but whether she heard them or not, it would be difficult now to remove her affection from the girl who adored her, and whom she in return so worshiped.

Miss Frost looked on, tried to be satisfied, tried to believe that Rosamund was right when she told her that nothing in all the world could happen more advantageously for little Agnes' future; but nevertheless she carried an unhealed sore at her heart.

This was the state of things when the three girls arrived at the Merrimans'. The house had truly been swept and garnished. The room where Jane had been ill was re-papered and painted, the place looked spick-and-span and beautiful, and Mrs. Merriman came out with a smiling face to welcome the arrival of the party from The Follies.

"Welcome back, my dear!" she said to Rosamund, kissing her affectionately, and just as though there had never been any ill-feeling between them. "How are you, you dear little thing?" she said, addressing Agnes in that petting tone which almost all women assumed toward her. "How do you do?" she said more stiffly to Miss Frost.

Then she turned and addressed Miss Archer, who happened to be not far away.

"Miss Archer," she said, "this is our new teacher, who will assist you in every possible way. Will you take her to her room now? And Rosamund, you know where to find yours. Irene and Agnes are to sleep in the same room, and it is next to yours. You can go upstairs, therefore, all of you, and get tidy for supper—at which you will meet the rest of your school-fellows, Rosamund."

Rosamund smiled; she had come back from her holidays in Switzerland feeling very brave and determined to do what was right. She felt that she was a sort of person who had begun a crusade. Her crusade was against the crudities, the cruelties, and naughty conduct of one little girl of the name of Irene Ashleigh; but she had little idea how complex was the task set her, and how difficult it would be even now to perform it. Nevertheless, she was feeling courageous and happy for the time being; and if Lucy Merriman had not belonged to the school so effectually and so thoroughly as to make it impossible to have any school at all without her, Rosamund might have been perfectly happy at Sunnyside. As it was, she knew she would have a hard fight with herself in the midst of her present surroundings.

Irene took her hand affectionately, guessing little of her thoughts.

"Do come and show us round, Rosamund," she said. "I know Aggie is tired. Aren't you, darling?"

"Oh, no," said Agnes. "I'd like to go out presently and have a walk all alone with you, Irene."

"Then of course you shall, dear."

"But there's no time to-night," said Rosamund. "We have barely time to get our things unpacked and get ready for supper. You know this is school, and I told you what school meant."

"You did," said Irene, raising her bright, wild eyes to her companion's face; "but I confess I had forgotten it. This house seems like any other house, only not so handsome. It isn't nearly as big as The Follies, and the people don't seem so rich; and I have seen fat Mrs. Merriman all my life driving about with the cob and the governess-cart; and I have seen Professor Merriman, too, with his bent back and long hair. But I never chanced to come across Lucy except that time in church, and then I thought her horrible. Why should I alter my plans because of the Merrimans? I don't intend to do it."

"You must, Irene. You promised me that you would try to be good. Come, look at Agnes."

Agnes was gazing up at her chosen companion, at the girl she loved best in the world, with wonder in her dark eyes. It was not a reproving look those eyes wore; it was a sweet, astonished, and yet slightly pained gaze. It conquered Irene on the spot. She bent down and kissed the little one.

"You never thought I should be naughty, did you?" said Irene, lowering her voice.

"You couldn't! you couldn't! You are the best girl in all the world," whispered Agnes.

"Then I will make a tremendous effort to be good for your sake."

These words were also said in a whisper, and by this time the girls had reached their own room, which they were to share together. A door opened into Rosamund's room, and thus the three who were to be so closely united during the greater part of their lives were more or less in the same apartment.

"It does seem strange not to have dear Jane Denton here," said Rosamund; "but she seems to be still so delicate that she won't come back to school this term. Now, shall I help you to unpack, Irene? And shall I help you to put on a pretty frock for supper? I want you to look as nice as possible. All the girls are just dying to see you."

At that moment there came a knock at Rosamund's door. Rosamund flew to open it. Laura Everett stood without.

"So you have come back, Rosamund! How glad I am to see you! May I come in?"

"If you don't mind, not for a few minutes," said Rosamund. "May I have a chat with you after supper, or one day after lessons?"

"Of course to-night. We can walk about in the corridors if it is too cold to go out-of-doors. But is it absolutely true—I only heard it as a whisper—that you have brought Irene Ashleigh, the terror of the neighborhood, here?"

"She will be a terror no longer if you will all be kind to her," said Rosamund. "I have a great deal to say to you; but don't keep me now. She has come, and so has dear little Agnes Frost, and—oh! do ask the other girls to be kind, and not to take any special notice. You will, won't you?"

"I'm sure I'd do anything for you," said Laura. "I think you were splendid all through. I cannot tell you how I have admired you, and how I spoke to mother about you in the holidays; and mother said that though you had not done exactly right, yet