A Bevy of Girls. Meade L. T.

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СКАЧАТЬ side, down the well-known road, turning round by the well-known corner, seeing the row of neat, dull, semi-detached houses, the little gardens in front, the little gates that most of them never kept shut, but which clapped and clapped with the wind; the little hall doors, made half of glass, to look artistic, and to let in a little more cold than they would otherwise have done, a picture of the little nail, the dingy linoleum on the floor; the look of the whole place?

      By-and-by they reached their own gate; of course it needed mending.

      “Oh, father,” Marcia could not help saying, “you ought to see to that.”

      “Yes, but Molly has put it off week after week. She said you’d do it when you came home.”

      “I’ll manage it. But how is mother? Is she very bad?”

      “She is worse than usual; she requires more care, constant attention. There was no one else who would suit,” he added. “Come along now, I’ll tell you all presently.”

      “You don’t want me to see her to-night, do you?”

      “Not unless you wish to. She is upstairs.”

      “Does she know I have come?”

      “Yes, she knows; at least she hopes with the rest of us that you have come. You had better run in and see her for a few minutes; you needn’t begin your duties until to-morrow.”

      “Thank God for that reprieve,” thought Marcia.

      The next instant there was a loud clamour in the hall, and three exceedingly pretty girls, varying in age from fourteen to eighteen, bustled out and surrounded Marcia.

      “You have come! What an old dear you are! Now you’ll tell us all about Germany. Oh, isn’t it fun!”

      Nesta’s voice was the most ringing. She was the youngest of the girls, and her hair was not yet put up. She was wearing it in a long plait down her back. It curled gracefully round her pretty temples. She had sweet blue eyes and a caressing manner; she was rather untidy in her dress, but there was a little attempt at finery about her. The other two sisters were more commonplace. Molly was very round and fat, with rosy cheeks, small, dark eyes and a good-humoured mouth, a gay laugh and a somewhat tiresome habit of giggling on the smallest provocation.

      Ethel was the exact counterpart of Molly, but not quite so good-looking. These three girls were Marcia’s step-sisters.

      In the distance there appeared the towering form of a young man with very broad shoulders, and a resolute face. He was Marcia’s own brother. She gave one really glad cry when she saw him, and flung herself into his arms.

      “Good old girl! I said you’d have the spunk to do your duty,” he whispered in her ear, and he patted her on the shoulder.

      She felt a strange sense of comfort; she had hardly thought of him during the journey; once he had been all in all to her, but circumstances had divided them. He had been angry with her, and she had felt his anger very much. He had preached duty to her until she was sick of the word and hated the subject. She had rejected his advice. Now he was here, and he approved of her, so things would not be quite so bad. His love was worth that of a hundred schoolgirls.

      “Oh, yes, yes,” she whispered back, and he saw the pent-up emotion in her at once.

      “Marcia, come upstairs,” said Nesta. “I want to see you. You needn’t go to Mummy yet. She said you weren’t to be worried. Mummy is too delighted for anything. We have put a new dressing gown on her, and she looks so smart, and we’ve tidied up the room.”

      “Of course,” said Ethel, “we’ve, tidied up the room.”

      “We have,” said Molly, “and we’ve put a white coverlet over the bed, and Mummy looks ever so pleased. She says you’ll read to her for hours and hours.”

      “Of course you will, Marcia,” said Nesta. “It does so tire my throat when I read aloud for a long time.”

      “And mine!” said Molly.

      “And mine!” said Ethel.

      “You know Ethel and Molly are out now,” said Nesta. “They’re asked a good deal to tea parties and dances.”

      “Yes, we are,” said Molly; “we’re going to a dance to-morrow night.”

      “Yes, yes!” said Ethel, skipping about. “I want to show you our dresses.”

      “They made them themselves,” said Nesta.

      “We did; we did, wasn’t it clever of us?” said the other two, speaking almost in a breath.

      “They’re awfully fashionable looking,” went on Nesta – “the dresses I mean.”

      Molly giggled in her commonplace way. Ethel did not giggle, but she laughed. Nesta squeezed Marcia’s arm.

      “You dear darling, what a tower of strength you are,” she said. “We thought of course you wouldn’t come.”

      “We thought you’d be much too selfish,” said Molly.

      “Yes, we did truly,” said Ethel.

      “We were certain you wouldn’t do it,” said Nesta. “We said: ‘She’ll have to give up, and why should she give up?’ That’s what we said; but Horace said you’d do it, if it was put to you strongly.”

      “Put to me strongly?” said Marcia. “Oh, girls, I have had a long, tiring journey, and my head aches. Is this my room? Would you think me frightfully unkind if I asked you for a jug of hot water, and to let me be alone for ten minutes?”

      “Oh dear, dear, but don’t you want us three in the room with you? We have such a lot to tell you.”

      “Darlings, you shall come in afterwards. I just want ten minutes to rest and to be quiet.”

      “Girls, come downstairs at once,” said Horace from below.

      The girls hurried off, glancing behind them, nodding to Marcia, kissing their hands to her, giggling, bubbling over with irrepressible mirth. Oh, it did not matter to them; their prison doors were open wide.

      “So,” thought Marcia, “they are going to put it all on me in the future, even Horace. Oh, how can I bear it?”

      Chapter Two

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      The next morning Marcia commenced her duties. She had said to herself the night before that the prison doors were closing on her. They were firmly closed the next morning. She saw her stepmother for a few minutes on the night of her arrival. She was a tall, very lanky, tired-looking woman, who was the victim of nerves; her irritability was well-known and dreaded. Marcia had lived with it for some years of her life; the younger girls had been brought up with it, and now, when they were pretty and young, and “coming out,” as Molly expressed it, they were tired of it. The invalid was not dangerously ill. If she would only exert herself she might even get quite well; but Mrs Aldworth had not the least intention of exerting herself. She liked to make the worst of her ailments. As a matter of fact she lived on them; she pondered them over in the dead of night, and in the morning she told whoever her faithful companion might happen to be, what had occurred. She spoke of fresh symptoms during the day, СКАЧАТЬ