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

both over Bessie Challoner and Gwin Harley. Having got over her first astonishment, Gwin began to take a sincere interest in the pretty stranger. The lovely expression of her coral lips made her long to kiss them, and to assure the Irish girl that she for one would be her friend; but the next instant Kitty said something so very much against the grain that Gwin felt as much repulsed as a moment before she was delighted.

Immediately after tea Bessie went off to the library to hunt up her darling "Encyclopædia."

"Now that she has gone," exclaimed Gwin, "we are not likely to get her back for some time. What a remarkably earnest student she is!"

"The Earnest Student?" interrupted Kitty. "I thought that was the name of a religious book. I think father has got it at home."

"Perhaps so," replied Gwin, "but we always call it to Bessie. She is wonderfully clever. She gets on splendidly at school, taking everything before her. I am certain she is the kind of girl who will make her mark by and by."

"I hate studies!" said Kitty in her low, humorous voice.

"I am sorry for that," answered Gwin, "for if you come to school you won't be at all popular if you do not care for your books."

"Popular? How do you mean? Is it with the teachers or with the girls?"

"Well, with both I fancy."

"Then, I tell you what," exclaimed Kitty, "I'd like to bet with you that you are wrong—that I'll be the most popular girl in the whole of the school with the teachers—yes, with the teachers—and the scholars as well."

"You must be very conceited," exclaimed Elma, who had sat silent during the greater part of the evening, taking Kitty in, however, all the same.

"Conceited? No more than you are," cried Kitty, "but I know my powers, and I have not kissed the Blarney Stone for nothing."

"Oh, you need not tell us that ridiculous story over again," said Alice.

"But I should like to hear it," cried Gwin.

"You really would not Gwin; it is too absurd. We must show Kitty, now she has come to live among us, what is real wit and what is not. Her way of talking is only silly."

Gwin knit her brows, and looked pained.

"I would rather not correct her now," she said in a gentle voice. Then she added, her eyes sparkling with sudden eagerness, "Would it not be a good opportunity for talking over the rules of our society, girls?"

"Oh yes," cried Elma, "yes; but is it well to——"

Here she bent forward, and began to whisper vigorously in Gwin's ear.

"Yes, I think so," answered Gwin.

"I wouldn't, I really wouldn't," said Elma. "I am certain Alice agrees with me."

"I can guess what you are saying," cried Alice, "and I do agree most heartily."

"And I can guess what you are saying," exclaimed Kitty, starting to her feet with flashing eyes. "You don't want to talk about your society or whatever it is because I am present. Well, discuss it without me. I'll find my way to the library. Poor dear Bessie is the only decent one among you, and I shall go and sit with her. How do you know I won't take up with literature just to spite you all? I can do anything I have a mind to, and that you will soon find to your cost."

She ran out of the room as she spoke, slamming the door behind her.

"There, that's a comfort," cried Alice, breathing freely for the first time. "Did you ever, girls, in all your lives, see a more terrible creature? What is to be done? Why, she will disgrace us all at school. You know what a very nice set we are in at present."

"Oh, an excellent set," said Elma, in a sarcastic voice.

"You know, Elma, that we do belong to the nicest set in the school, and
I am sure, Gwin, your father—"

"You need not drag father in," cried Gwin. Father likes all the people I like."

"But, surely—" began Alice.

Gwin looked at her gravely, then she nodded.

"I am not quite certain yet," she said; "but I think it highly probable that I shall take up that poor, wild, little Kitty. At least she is fresh; she speaks out her mind plainly, and there is a great deal to admire about her."

"Then, listen, Gwin," cried Alice; "if she is taken into our special society I will resign."

"Will you really, Alice? What, if I ask you to stay?"

"It is hard to refuse you, dear; but you scarcely know what all this means to me. I am rubbed the wrong way; I don't understand myself. But frankly, Gwin, you are not going to ask Kitty Malone to join our society?"

"What if it does her good?"

"But ought we not to think of the others? She is a perfect stranger to us all at present."

"But she won't be long. Bless the child, she has no reserve in her, and I do want to help her, poor little girl! Well, we need not decide that point at present."

"Do let us vote to leave her out," cried Alice.

"No, Alice, we will leave the point undecided. Now let us set to work, and begin to form our rules, for really we have no time to lose."

"But what are we to do without Bessie?" exclaimed Alice. "Whatever happens, we cannot do without Bessie Challoner; she will be the life and soul of the whole society. Shall we send for her, Gwin?"

"No, Kitty is with her, and they had better not be disturbed."

"What a difference Kitty makes," cried Alice. "I did think we should have had a delightful and heavenly evening, and it has been all ruction from first to last."

"Because you dislike her so much, Alice," said Gwin.

"Well, I do," said Alice; "I can't abide her. But do I show my dislike so plainly?" she added.

"Rather! Any one can see it in the curl of your lip and the expression in your eyes; and then you say such terribly withering things to the poor girl. You try to crush her."

"Well, if I may say what I think," cried Elma, "Kitty Malone seems to me to be a very unpleasant, vulgar girl, and I cannot imagine why she has been sent here."

"Oh, as to her vulgarity," said Alice, who suddenly felt forced to defend herself against Elma's spiteful speeches, "Kitty comes of a very old family, and her father is as rich as ever he can be. They live in a wonderful castle in County Donegal, just overhanging the sea; and from what I learn are considered county people. Father was very pleased to have her, and whatever she is, she is a lady by birth."

"So she is rich?" remarked Elma in a low voice. "Well, at any rate," she continued after a pause, "she is very pretty."

"Pretty!" cried Gwin; "I should just think she is. She has the most lovely face I ever saw. Girls, it is quite true what she says; she will fascinate any number of people. That dashing, daring way of hers will go down with numbers. Yes, she will make a revolution in Middleton School, I am certain."

CHAPTER V INCORRIGIBLE KITTY

Mr. Harley's library was a beautiful room. It was lined with books from floor to ceiling, and these books had been selected with the greatest care. Standard works of all sorts and in three languages were to be found on certain bookshelves, also modern works, both poetry and prose, with some of the best novels of the day.

Bessie Challoner never envied rich people. She cared nothing whatever for fine dresses, nor for carriages and horses, nor for the luxurious life of the wealthy, but she did envy Gwin Harley the use of her father's library; and when she entered the room now, with that delicious faint smell of leather which all libraries possess, she sniffed first with ecstasy, and then climbing on the ladder secured the volume of the "Encyclopædia" which she required, and seating herself at one of the center tables, was soon lost in the fascinations of her subject. After a time a little cough, very gentle, however, caused her to raise her head, and there standing before her was Kitty Malone.

Kitty's long arms had dropped to her sides, and she had pushed back her masses of dark hair. There was a pathetic expression about her rosy lips, and tears trembled on her long eyelashes.

"Why, what is it, Kitty; what do you want?" asked Bessie.

"Ah, then it's good to hear you say that word, aroon," said Kitty. "I want to sit near you. I won't speak, no, not a syllable. Hush will be the only word with me, hush! hush! hush! You can go on with your beloved reading and I'll stay near you; that's all I require. Why, then, it's just a shelter I need, and nothing more. Read away, Bessie, my honey, and I'll do nothing to interrupt you."

"But why have you left the others?" asked Bessie.

"Never mind, dear, now. I'll just sit quietly here, and contemplate you while you are studying."

Bessie sighed impatiently. She then bent again over her book, and began to devour the pages. Kitty watched her with marked interest.

"I wonder if it will be my fate to have to take up with literature in sober earnest," she said to herself, "I, who can never abide a book. Oh, to be back again in the dear old place! I should not be a bit surprised if Laurie is out fishing now, and Pat with him. And oh, suppose they are bringing in the trout, and the creatures are leaping and struggling as they come to shore, and father is going round to feed the dogs—why, the thought is enough to madden me. Oh, then, why did I ever leave home? I don't care that for books, nor for being clever nor for—How she works to be sure! How earnest she looks. She has got a very fine forehead, although it is miles too high. She ought to wear a fringe; it would improve her wonderfully. I will cut her hair some day if she will let me. I will cut it and curl it. I have got the dearest little jewel of a pair of curling tongs that ever was seen! Aunt Honora sent it to me in a box with a spirit lamp all complete when I got the rest of my things. I'll just exercise those little tongs on dear, nice Bessie. I do wish she would not be so devoted to that book, she might talk. Oh, I am lonely. I think I'll fidget a bit."

Kitty moved her chair, creaking it ominously; but Bessie had got to a most thrilling part of her subject, and Kitty might have creaked the library down before she would have roused her companion's attention.

"Now, if I sigh, perhaps that will do it," thought Kitty. She opened her mouth and let some profound sighs come up from the depths of her heart; but they only depressed her still more, and had no effect whatever on Bessie.

"I think I hate intellectual people," muttered the Irish girl. She jumped to her feet.

"I must do something to rouse her or I shall go mad. She is the nicest of them all, much. I wish she would speak to me. Why should I break my heart, and why should she simply go on devouring that stupid book? Here, I know what I'll do. I'll just toss down one of the big volumes; it will make a clatter and she will have to look up. Perhaps I'll let it drop just the tiniest bit in the world on the corner of her toe; that will finish her." Here Kitty laughed excitedly, pushed out her arm and knocked over a huge volume which certainly fell a good deal more than a tiny bit on poor Bessie's foot.

"Oh, Kitty, what have you done?" cried Bessie. "You have quite hurt me.
I wish you would not drop the books about."

"There, darling, I had to do it. Pray forgive me," said Kitty.

"You had to do it!" answered Bessie. "Do you mean that you did it on purpose?"

"Why, then, yes, love—that's what I do mean exactly. I did it because I wanted you to talk to me, and you would think of nothing