Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl, L. T. Meade [drm ebook reader txt] 📗

“I have given my word.”

“Your word? To whom?”

“To your father. He went to Ireland to please me.”

“Oh, did he? That's exciting,” said Molly. “Father went to Ireland to please a little chit like you. Now, what does this mean?”

“It means exactly what I have said. He went because I begged him to; because I explained things to him, and he said he would go. But he made a condition, and I am bound to stick to my part of it.”

“And that was——How your eyes shine, Nora!”

“That was, that I am to stay patiently here, and get as English as ever I can. Oh! I must stick to my part of the bargain.”

“Well, I cannot say you look very happy,” said Molly, “although you are such a favorite at the school. If I was not very fond of you myself I should be jealous. If I had a friend whom I really worshiped, before you appeared on the scene, it was Stephanotie Miller, the American girl.”

“Oh, isn't she charming?” said Nora. “She makes me laugh. I am sure she has Irish blood in her.”

“Not a bit of it; she's a Yankee of the Yankees.”

“Well, she has been sent to school to get tame, just as I have been,” said Nora; “but I don't want you to lose her friendship. After all, I care very little for anyone in the school but you, Molly; only Stephanotie makes me laugh.”

“We'll have her to tea tomorrow. I'll run in now and ask mother. I shan't mind a bit if you are not going quite to take her from me. After all, she can be friends with both of us. I'll run into the house this moment, and ask mother if we may have Stephanotie to tea.”

Molly rushed into the house. Her mother was seated in the morning room, busily writing.

“Well, my dear, well?” she said. “I hear you—you need not bang the door. What is it, Molly?”

“Oh, mother! do look up and listen.”

Mrs. Hartrick raised her head slowly.

“Yes, dear?” she said.

“I have behaved a great deal better lately—have I not, mother?”

“You certainly have, Molly; and I am pleased with you. If you would restrain some of your impetuosity, I should be glad to tell you how pleased I am.”

“It is all owing to Nora.”

“To Nora, my dear! Nora is as wild as you are.”

“All the same, it is owing to Nora; and she is not as wild as I am. I mean that I have been downright vulgar; but if you think there is one trace of that in little Nora, it is because you do not know her a bit.”

“What is your special request, Molly? I am very busy just now, and cannot discuss your cousin's character. You have improved, and I am pleased with you.”

“Then, if you are pleased with me, mother, will you do me a favor?”

“What is that?”

“Stephanotie Miller has never been at our house.”

“Stephanotie Miller. What an outlandish name! Who is she?”

“She is a dear, jolly, sweet, handsome American girl. She came to school last term, and she is in the same form with Nora and me; and we both adore her, yes we do. Whatever she does, and whatever she says, we think simply perfection; and we want to ask her here. She is staying with a rather tiresome aunt, in a little house in the village, and she has come over to be Englishized. May she have tea with us tomorrow?”

“I will inquire about her from Miss Flowers; and if she seems to be a nice girl I shall have no objection.”

“But we want her to come tomorrow,” said Molly. “It is Saturday, you know, and a whole holiday. We thought she might come to lunch, or, if you objected to that, immediately after lunch.”

“And what about Linda? Does Linda like her?”

“Holy Moses, no!” said Molly.

“Molly!”

“Oh, mother! do forgive me, and don't say she mustn't come because I said 'Holy Moses.' It's all Linda; she excites the vulgar in me always. But may Stephie come, mother? You are always having Linda's friends here.”

“I will not be reproved by you, Molly.”

“But, please, dear mother, let her come. Nora and I want her so badly.”

“Well, dear, I will try and see Miss Flowers tomorrow morning.”

“Won't you judge of her for yourself, mother? There never was a better judge than you are.”

This judicious flattery had its effect on Mrs. Hartrick, She sat quite still for a moment, pondering. After all, to be a pupil at Mrs. Flowers' school was in itself a certificate of respectability, and Molly had been very good lately—that is, for her; and if she and Nora wanted a special friend to spend the afternoon with them, it would be possible for Mrs. Hartrick quickly to decide whether the invitation was to be repeated.

“Very well,” she said, looking at her daughter, “for this once you may have her; and as you have wisely expressed it, Molly, I can judge for myself.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you, mother!”

Molly rushed out of the room. She was flying headlong down the passage, when she came plump up against Linda.

“Now, what is up?” said that young person. “Really, Molly!”

“Oh, hurrah! I have won my way for once,” said Molly. “Stephanotie is coming tomorrow to spend the whole afternoon.”

“Stephanotie—that horrid Yankee?” said Linda.

“Horrid Yankee yourself!” was Molly's vulgar retort.

“But she cannot come. I have asked Mabel and Rose Armitage, and you know they cannot stand Stephanotie.”

“Well, you, and your Mabel and Rose, can keep away from Stephanotie—that's all,” said Molly. “Anyhow, she is coming. Don't keep me. I must tell Nora.”

Linda made way for her sister to fly past her, as she afterward expressed it, like a whirlwind. She stood still for a moment in deep consideration. Stephanotie was a daring, bright, go-ahead young person, and had she ever taken, in the very least, to Linda, Linda would have worshiped her. Stephanotie was extremely rich, and the bouquets she brought to school, and the bon-bons she kept in her pocket, and the pretty trinkets she wore, and the dresses she exhibited had fascinated Linda