Wild Kitty, L. T. Meade [namjoon book recommendations TXT] 📗

I will then have her home, and send her to Girton as I promised. I will further arrange that she spends her holidays with me, as I think really—" here Mrs. Steward glanced round the shabby room—"I think that the less she remains with her own family for the present the better."

"I see what you mean. I am beneath my own child."

"Beneath her. Well, it is a painful thing to say; but, as you put it so frankly, I must reply in the affirmative," replied Mrs. Steward. "Ah, who is this now?"

The door was flung open, and Carrie, very red about the face, and with her parcel under her arm, entered the room. Her intention was to ask her mother to accompany her to the pawnshop. It had not been the first nor the second nor the third time that the unfortunate lady had been obliged to pawn her things. Carrie thought that her parent could make a better bargain than she could herself, and she hoped that she would have been in time to transact this little business before the arrival of her aunt. She now gave a start of dismay, and, dropping the parcel, sank down on the nearest chair. As she did so Kitty's watch and chain tumbled out of the front of her dress, where she had very insecurely fastened them. The watch was a lovely one, with an enameled back studded with pearls, and the chain was made of eighteen-carat gold. Owing to a warning glance from Carrie, Mrs. Lewis refrained from saying a word; but Mrs. Steward had no idea of keeping her emotions to herself.

"You, I presume, are Carrie," she said, looking at her niece. "Come here, Carrie, and speak to your aunt."

Carrie advanced as if she were treading on buttered eggs. She held out one dimpled hand gingerly.

"How do you do, my dear? Allow me to congratulate you on the acquisition of that very lovely little watch and that splendid chain. Now, I am devoured with curiosity to know who has given them to you. Surely not your mother? Surely, Caroline, with all your faults, you have not——"

"Oh, dear me, no," said Mrs. Lewis.

Carrie indulged in a loud laugh.

"Bless us, aunt," she cried, "do you suppose mother can afford to give me these? No, I—" She grew red and turned away.

Mrs. Lewis fidgeted on her seat, and appeared thoroughly uncomfortable.

"I do not wish to pry into your secrets, Caroline," said Mrs. Steward, favoring the untidy and vulgar-looking girl with a glance full of reprehension. "You are at liberty to wear handsome watches and chains made of the best gold if your mother cares to see you with things so unsuitable to your class and appearance. Your doings in life are no affair of mine. But now, as you happen to be my niece, will you have the kindness to go immediately into the kitchen and tell Maggie, or whatever the name of your servant is, to hurry with that tea and toast."

Carrie was only too glad to dart from the room. She picked up her parcel, and resorted to the kitchen.

"Oh, Miss Carrie, I do wish you would help me," said Maggie, who was flying distractedly about. "There's the kitchen fire all but out, and the lady ordered toast as crisp as you please. I don't believe we can do it for her. Wouldn't she be content with thin bread and butter curled in rolls?"

"Oh, of course she would, and must," said Carrie. "She is in no end of a temper, and for my part I don't wish to humor her. Yes, of course, Maggie. I'll cut the bread and butter and make it into rolls, and you see to the tea."

"Thank you, miss, I'm sure I'm much obliged, and perhaps, miss, you wouldn't mind taking it into the dining-room, for her eyes do fasten on to you that fierce that I get all of a tremble, and as likely as not I'll drop the tray."

Carrie laughed, and being at heart good-natured in her own way, helped
Maggie with some vigor to prepare the tea.

At last a meal, which could not be remarked for its abundance, was forthcoming, and was brought into the dining-room.

"I ordered toast," said Mrs. Steward in an angry voice.

"I am sorry, Aunt Charlotte," said Carrie; "but the fire happened to be out in the kitchen. You see," she added, somewhat spitefully, "we are obliged to economize with coals, and we don't keep a fire up in the middle of the day."

"Well, I am really so famished that I am content with anything," said the good lady. "Pour me out a cup of tea at once, my dear, and just put the bread and butter where I can reach it."

Carrie did so, winking at her mother as she arranged the tray. The next moment Mrs. Lewis went out into the passage. Carrie followed her, closing the door behind their guest.

"Mother, I want you to come with me to the Sign of the Three Balls."

"What in the world for, Carrie?"

"I have got to pawn some things, some beautiful things, and I am to get ten per cent, on the commission. I shall turn over a nice little bit of money, and you can have your favorite supper. You will come, won't you, mother? And I'll give you half a crown into the bargain."

"Oh, dear, dear," said Mrs. Lewis, "I wish she had not come! She never helps me in any way. All she does is to scold me and make me more depressed than I am already. And she blames me so for marrying your poor father, Carrie; as if I could help that now. And what do you think she is going to do? She says she is going to take Elma from us."

"And a good thing, too," said Carrie.

"Carrie, what an unnatural girl you are! Do you mean to say you would be glad to part from your sister?"

"I would, because I am fond of her, and she has got into the most awful scrape at school. Don't you put any spoke in her wheel, mother, for goodness' sake!"

At that moment the latchkey was heard in the lock, and Elma herself appeared on the scene.

"Oh, good gracious! Elma," cried Carrie, darting up to her sister, and beginning to whisper vigorously into her ear.

"What?" said Elma, with a start of dismay. "So soon?"

"Yes, yes; she's been here for nearly an hour. She is devouring rolled bread and butter and tea in the dining-room at present. She asked for toast——"

"Yes," interrupted Mrs. Lewis, who now came up and began also to whisper; "yes, and fresh eggs, and cream, and lamb chops, and cold lamb and salad. I never heard of anything so unreasonable. My poor head is in an awful whirl. But she has come about you, Elma. She wants to take you away with her."

"She wants to take me away with her?" exclaimed Elma, starting, and her pale face flushing.

"And you had better go, Elma, and be quick about it," said Carrie, giving her a warning glance.

"I don't know what all this means," said Elma, her heart beating uncomfortably fast; "but I had better go in and see Aunt Charlotte."

"Yes, my love, yes; and while you are talking to her I—What do you say, Carrie—you and I might go out upon that little matter of business, might we not?"

"To be sure, mother; an excellent thought. If you stay here I'll run upstairs and fetch your bonnet, veil, and mantle in a twinkling. Go in to Aunt Charlotte, Elma; do, for goodness sake, make yourself of use. More depends on it than you think. If she hears us whispering and mattering in the hall she'll be out upon us."

Elma instinctively put up her two hands to smooth back her hair, she straightened her already perfectly neat little jacket, and, drawing herself up to her full petite height, entered the little dining-room.

Elma was a perfect contrast to her untidy mother and her frowzy sister. However poorly dressed, she was always the pink of neatness. She was full of agitation now and nervous fear, but not a trace of these emotions could be visible in her manner and appearance. She went up to her Aunt Charlotte, who for her part held out both her arms and, drawing the girl down, printed a kiss upon her cheek.

"I am really glad to see you, Elma," exclaimed Mrs. Steward. "Sit near me, my dear; it is a pity you were not in when I arrived. It was the least you might have done for your aunt, Elma. You had my letter this morning. Oh, my poor child, I have gone through a dreadful hour! These vulgar relations of yours grow worse and worse."

"My mother and sister?" murmured Elma.

"Yes; it is a terrible affliction for you. But, my dear, I am going to relieve you from the strain. I, your aunt, am coming to the rescue. There, Elma, pour me out another cup of tea, and I will tell you everything."

Elma raised the teapot, she filled her aunt's cup with fresh tea, added a little milk, and brought it to her side.

"Thank you, my dear. Now, Elma, you may consider yourself a made girl."

"Made?" echoed Elma, turning her white face to Mrs. Steward.

"Yes, made. What would you say to going abroad?"

Elma's eyes brightened.

"Do you mean on the Continent?"

"Yes, I do, my dear child. To no less a place than the Harz Mountains. I have heard of a most charming school, fifty times better than Middleton School; and you are to go there, my dear Elma, at my expense. You will go as pupil-teacher, and you thus acquire perfect German. Think what that will mean for you! I propose to leave you in Germany for two years, and at the end of that time you will return and go to Girton, I being responsible for all your expenses. My dear, your fortune is made. I have further arranged with your poor unfortunate mother that you spend the holidays with me, as it is not to be expected that you can associate any longer with such a person, nor with that frowzy young woman who calls herself your sister."

Elma did not speak. This news which would have delighted her at another and less harassing moment, was now fraught with perplexity and alarm. At the same time she thought she saw in it a possible means of escape. Suppose Aunt Charlotte took her away at once, before Kitty had time to tell what she knew, before Middleton School had time to ring with the news of her dishonor. Oh, if so, she might indeed be saved!

"Am I to go immediately?" she asked, choking down a strangled sob in her throat, "or am I to stay at Middleton School till the end of the term?"

"Well, dear, that is the awkward part, for of course you are working very hard for a prize, are you not?"

"I am working for a small scholarship," answered Elma. "If I succeed in my examination I shall obtain a scholarship in English Literature worth ten pounds a year for three years. That would be a very large sum to me, Aunt Charlotte."

"A large sum to you! I should think it would be a large sum to anybody," said Mrs. Steward in a severe tone. "Ten pounds is quite a fortune for any young girl. Pray don't begin to speak of money in that disparaging sort of way, Elma; it ill suits your circumstances, my love. But now, dear, I am sorry to disappoint you—I have heard of an admirable escort; a certain Fräulein Van Brunt is going to the Harz Mountains next Monday; it will therefore be necessary for me to take you back to Buckinghamshire to-night, Elma."

"Oh, Aunt Charlotte, I am glad!" burst from Elma's lips.

"Glad to leave your mother and sister?" said Mrs, Steward, looking severely at the young girl. "After all, they are the last people you ought to associate with; but still natural ties, my dear Elma."

"Oh, I am sorry to leave them, I am sorry to go; I am both glad and sorry," gasped poor Elma. "I have been worried, and am glad to get out of everything."

"Worried! I suppose with that dreadful sister and your poor, muddled mother. Her unfortunate habit of weeping has reduced the little brain she possessed to a state of pap. Of course I