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

old place; how I pine for it! There now, my lungs are full, and we can go on again."

She picked up her parasol and began to stride forward.

"Isn't she a horror?" whispered Alice to Bessie.

"Hush!" answered Bessie; "she only does it to amuse us. The thing is to take very little notice; we'll soon tame her down."

"Is it taming me you're after?" called back Kitty. "Well, then, you'll never do that, for I come of a wild lot, and I have always been called Wild Kitty from the moment I could speak. But there's no harm in me, not a bit. Now, then, I'll walk as sober as you please. What shall we talk about?"

"Is there anything you would like to ask us?" said Bessie.

"I am sure then, darling, I don't think there is. Wouldn't you like to ask me some questions? I'm as open as day. I'll lay bare all the thoughts of my secret soul to the pair of you, if you care to hear them."

"I don't know that we do," said Bessie. "You see we have got to make your acquaintance yet, Kitty."

"Ah, now it's nice of you to call me Kitty, and that's a very pretty little voice you have; soft and winning. How is it you say some of those words? I can't get my tongue round them; but I dare say I will after a bit."

"Would you like to know what kind of place we are going to?" asked
Bessie.

"Oh, I'll wait until I get there," answered Kitty. "I suppose it's like all other places; there's a house and some girls; and if we are asked to tea, why we'll get tea, and they'll think me no end of an oddity, and I'll think them a lot of muffs; but that don't matter. Oh, my dears, if you only saw Old Ireland, and if you only knew the free life we have there, and the beautiful air that comes blowing in from the broad Atlantic. Why, it's smothered I'll be in this queer place. I doubt if I'll stay long. I'll write to father, and ask him to take me back again."

"I would if I were you," said Alice stoutly.

"Now, what do you mean by that, 'Alice, aroon?'"

"I mean," said Alice, who had now almost lost control over her temper, "that if you go on as you have done since you came here, we shall none of us like you, and I for one shall be delighted when you return to Ireland."

As Alice spoke Kitty's charming face suddenly lost its brilliant color; it became white, and her dark eyes flashed with an angry fire. She stood perfectly still for a moment, then began to walk on a little faster than before.

"You have hurt her, Alice," said Bessie; "you should not have said that."

"I don't care; she made me do it; she is intolerable."

"Still, you had no right to speak as you did; remember she is a stranger."

Here Bessie ran after Kitty, and tried to slip her hand through her arm; but the Irish girl made an impatient movement, and, shrugging her shoulders, walked on quicker than before.

"Oh, leave her alone," whispered Alice; "let us talk about things that interest us. Why should all lives be upset by her? There, she is going on in front; let us fall back and talk about interesting things. Have you finished your work yet?"

"Oh, yes; I had a great deal to do this afternoon. I do hope, Alice, that Gwin won't mind if I ask her to let me go into the library. I must take a peep into 'Household Encyclopædia;' it is such a chance."

"Oh, I am sure she won't mind," replied Alice. "Gwin is the soul of good nature. I only dread what she will think."

"Oh, you need not dread anything," said Kitty, suddenly turning round and coming back to the girls. "I shan't be here long; don't be afraid."

"Please, Kitty," said Bessie; "don't mind what Alice said just now, she was vexed, because we are not quite accustomed to manners like yours. You will soon get into our ways, you know."

"Never, never!" cried Kitty.

"Well, at any rate, don't mind about it now. Do you think you will like your school life?"

"No; I shall just hate it."

"What a pity that will be; but I'm sure you don't know what you are saying. You are vexed with Alice, and I don't wonder—Alice, you were very hard on her."

"Oh, never mind," answered Kitty; "don't ask her to apologize. I can go home again. I don't want to be with people who have made up their minds to dislike me. All the folks at home love me, and—" Here tears dropped from her eyes, splashing down her cheeks in bright round pearls.

"I didn't mean to vex you," said Alice, who was disconcerted at this evident grief. "I dare say I shall get accustomed to you after a bit. I mean I do not really want you to go home."

Kitty's face underwent a change, rapid as a flash of lightning.

"If you want to make friends, Alice, it's as right as rain," she cried. "I know I was vexed, but it is over now; yes it is over. I am willing to be friends if you are willing."

"Of course," said Alice; "and I know I ought not to have spoken as I did; but you do manage to fret me dreadfully. I never saw a girl exactly like you before."

"It is all right now you really want to be friends," answered Kitty; "and I will try to be as dull as you please." Here she paused and seemed to consider. "There's no use," she continued after a moment; "I mean I must be myself whatever happens. I must be genuine. Please, Alice, let me be genuine for a week; if at the end of that time you find me intolerable, why I'll be off."

"Don't say anything about that," said Bessie; "everything is quite new to you, and Alice did speak unkindly; but please, Kitty, don't be angry if I say something."

"Oh, no, I won't be angry with you; you're a real duck," cried Kitty.

"Well, we English girls are not quite accustomed to your sort of way; we are quieter here and more reserved. Perhaps you had better—"

"Oh, I know exactly what the end of that pretty little speech is going to be," said Kitty; "but I cannot. I must be Kitty Malone or nothing. I was born that way. Why, bless you, it is in our race. Aunt Bridget was just the same when she was young, and so was Aunt Honora, and even father; oh, and—and Laurie. If you only saw Laurie and Pat! Oh, I wish you knew Laurie; if you saw him you would say, 'If there is a broth of a boy in the world he is one.'"

The girls had now reached the avenue gates at Harley Lodge, and the lodge-keeper ran out to open them. A few moments later they found themselves in sight of the pretty, modern mansion which Mr. Harley had lately purchased. The door was opened by a butler in very correct livery, and the young folk were shown into a handsome drawing-room at the other side of a broad hall. There was no one in the room when they entered, and Kitty walked straight up to a glass let into the wall, and began to survey herself with intense satisfaction. She had by this time forgotten the rebuff which Alice had given her, tears had only added to the brightness of her eyes, and her momentary fit of vexation and temper had deepened the color in her blooming cheeks. She nodded to herself with smiles of intense satisfaction, pushed her velvet cap in a slightly more coquettish way over her mass of black curls, and began once again to dance a very graceful pas de seul in front of the glass.

"I do think I have nice feet," she said; and just at that moment the door was opened, and Gwin Harley and Elma Lewis entered the room.

Gwin, statuesque, graceful, dressed in the most suitable manner, made a perfect contrast to poor, excitable Kitty. Kitty's words had been plainly audible, and Alice flushed deeply with vexation.

"Why, then, I had better introduce myself," said Kitty, who was by no means abashed. "Are you Miss Harley? You have got a very nice looking glass, let me tell you; it shows off the figure to perfection."

Gwin could not help coloring in surprise and astonishment.

"I am Kitty Malone, at your service," continued Kitty. "Shall I drop you a courtesy in the true Irish way? Some of us bob like this—so, and some of us step back like this," here Kitty performed a very elaborate and very graceful courtesy, then stood upright, and laughing heartily, showed rows of pearly teeth. Gwin held out her hand.

"May I introduce my friend, Elma Lewis? Elma, this is Miss Malone."

"Kitty Malone. I won't be called Miss Malone," said the incorrigible
Kitty.

"Won't you all come upstairs now, girls?" said Gwin, who perceived that both Alice and Bessie were annoyed by Kitty's manners.

"If we take off our things we can go into the library and have a good game before tea, or would you prefer a walk?"

"Well, I for one am tired," said Kitty. "The fact is," she continued, these boots are somewhat tight. They're awfully becoming, you know, aren't they? but they do squeeze a little just across the toes; how ever, as Aunt Honora says, 'Pride feels no pain,' and I am desperate proud of my feet. Shall we all look at our feet, and see which has got the prettiest pair?"

"I don't think we will just at present," said Gwin. "If you are tired you must take your boots off. Have you not just come from Ireland?"

"Bless you, yes," answered Kitty; "I only arrived to-day. The place is as new to me as it can be. Up to the present I don't think much of it, although you have got a lovely house, Miss Harley—fine and airy with plenty of big rooms. I suppose you have got money galore; have you?"

"I believe we have," said Gwin in some astonishment, and a haughty note coming into her voice.

"Ah, now, don't begin to be proud and stiff!" exclaimed Kitty. "It is quite wonderful; every one I speak to here seems to take me the wrong way. What in the world do you all mean? I thought when I came to England that people would say, 'Well, now, that's a remarkably pretty girl. I am sure she's Irish by the twinkle in her eye and the roll of the brogue in her voice; but we'll like her all the better for that.' But, bless my heart! that's not the way you're taking me. Every time I open my lips somebody seems to think I have said something wrong. Upon my word it's a nice state of things, and I, the darling of my old father. If Aunt Honora and Aunt Bridget were here they would soon put matters straight; and Laurie, dear, darling, old Laurie, if he saw his Kitty put upon, wouldn't he give it to you all?"

"We none of us want to put upon you, Miss Malone," said Gwin Harley.

"Miss Malone!"

"Yes," said Gwin firmly, "it is the custom here to call girls by their surnames for a little until we get to know them; but I am sure," she added kindly, "you will soon be Kitty with us all, for I see you are very nice, although you have not quite our ways."

"Ah, there, that is all I want you to say," answered Kitty with a profound sigh, "and now I'll go upstairs and slip off my bits of boots, for they are a trifle tight. Can you lend me a pair of your shoes, Miss Harley?"

"Yes, with pleasure," replied Gwin, and turning, she led the way out of the room. The rest of the evening passed off better. Kitty became a little subdued, and satisfied herself with talking less, and casting ravishing glances of delight and roguish entreaty first at one girl and then at the other. It was extremely difficult to withstand her, for her voice was low and singularly sweet, her eyes were beautiful, she could not do an ungraceful thing, she was altogether like a bright, flashing meteor, and soon she began to exercise an extraordinary fascination