Part II Chapter 16 Polly: A New-Fashioned Girl by L. T. Meade
FIREFLY
Helen experienced some little difficulty in getting her scattered brothers and sisters together. She could not get any of them to think seriously of Scorpion’s departure. They laughed and lingered over their own pursuits, and told Helen to her face that she made a great fuss about nothing; in short, the best part of an hour had gone by before the Maybrights and the two Dalrymples assembled in Mrs. Cameron’s presence in the morning room.
“It is just this, children,” said Helen. “Aunt Maria feels very low about Scorpion; you see she loved him.” Groans here came audibly from the lips of Bob and Bunny. “Yes!” said Helen, looking severely at her two little brothers, “Aunt Maria did love Scorpion. She feels very lonely without him, and she has taken an idea into her head that one or other of you had something to say to his disappearance. Of course I know that none of you could be so cruel and heartless, but to satisfy Aunt Maria, I have asked you all to come here just to tell her that you did nothing to make Scorpion run away.”
“Only we are very glad he did run away!” said Bob, “but as to touching him, why, I wouldn’t with a pair of tongs.”
“I wish to say a word!” said Mrs. Cameron. She came forward, and stood looking very flushed and angry before the assembled group. “I wish to say that I am sure some of you in your malice deprived me of my dog. I believe David Dalrymple to be innocent, but as to the rest of you, I may as well say that I do not believe you, whatever you may tell me.”
“Well, after that!” exclaimed all the children.
“I suppose, Helen, after that we may go away?” said Firefly, who was looking very pale.
“No, Miss!” said Aunt Maria, “you must stay. Your sister Helen does not wish me to do anything to disturb your father, but I assure you, children, there are limits even to my patience, and I intend to visit him this morning and tell him the whole story, unless before you leave the room you tell me the truth.”
Firefly’s sallow little face grew whiter and whiter. She glanced imploringly at David, who looked boldly and unconcernedly back at her; then, throwing back his head, he marched up to Mrs. Cameron’s side.
“You believe that I am innocent, don’t you?” he said.
“Certainly, my dear boy. I have said so.”
“In that case, perhaps you would not mind my going out a little way on the moor and having a good look round for the dog, he may have wandered there, you know, and broken his leg or something.” Mrs. Cameron shuddered. “In any case,” continued David, with a certain air of modest assurance, which became him very much, “it seems a pity that I should waste time here.”
“Certainly; go, my dear lad,” answered Mrs. Cameron. “Bring my little innocent suffering treasure back with you, and I will give you half a crown.”
David instantly left the room, unheeding a short, sharp cry which issued from Firefly’s lips as he passed her.
Most of the other children were laughing; it was impossible for them to think of anything in connection with Scorpion except as a joke.
“Listen, Aunt Maria,” said Helen. “I am afraid you must not treat my brothers and sisters as you propose. Neither must you trouble father without the doctor’s permission. The fact is, Aunt Maria, we are Maybrights, and every one who knows anything about us at all must know that we would scorn to tell a lie. Our father and our dear, dear mother—your sister whom you loved, Aunt Maria, and for whose sake you are interested in us—taught us to fear a lie more than anything, much more than punishment, much more than discovery. Oh, yes, we have heaps and heaps of faults; we can tease, we can be passionate, and idle, and selfish; but being Maybrights, being the children of our own father and mother, we can’t lie. The fact is, we’d be afraid to.”
Helen’s blue eyes were full of tears.
“Bravo! Helen!” said Polly, going up to her sister and kissing her. “She says just the simple truth, Aunt Maria,” she continued, flashing round in her bright way on the old lady. “We are a naughty set—you know that, don’t you?—but we can’t tell lies; we draw the line there.”
“Yes, we draw the line there,” suddenly said Firefly, in a high-pitched voice, which sounded as if it was going to crack.
“I admire bravery,” said Mrs. Cameron, after a pause. “Ask your questions, Helen. For my dead sister’s sake I will accept the word of a Maybright. ’Pon my word, you are extraordinary young people; but I admire girls who are not afraid to speak out, and who uphold their parents’ teaching. Ask the children quickly, Helen, if they know anything about the dog, for after David’s hint about his having strayed on that awful moor, and perhaps having broken one of his dear little legs, I feel more uncomfortable than ever about him. For goodness’ sake, Helen! ask your question quickly, and let me get out on the moor to look for my dog.”
“Children,” said Helen, coming forward at once, “do you know anything about Scorpion’s loss, anything? Now, I am going to ask you each singly; as you answer you can leave the room. Polly, I begin with you.”
One by one the Maybrights and Flower answered very clear and emphatic “No’s” to Helen’s question, and one by one they retired to wait for their companions in the passage outside.
At last Helen put the question to Firefly. Two big, green-tinted hazel eyes were raised to her face.
“Yes, Helen, I do know,” replied Firefly.
Mrs. Cameron uttered a shriek, and almost fell upon the little girl, but Helen very gently held her back.
“One minute,” she said. “Firefly, what do you know?”
“I’m not going to tell you, Helen.” The child’s lips quivered, but her eyes looked up bravely.
“Why so? Please, Aunt Maria, let me speak to her. Why won’t you tell what you know, dear Fly?”
“Because I promised. There, I won’t say a word more about it. I do know, and I won’t tell; no, I won’t ever, ever tell. You can punish me, of course, Aunt Maria.”
“So I will, Miss. Take that slap for your impertinence. Oh! if you were my child, should not I give you a whipping. You know what has happened to my poor dear little dog, and you refuse to tell. But you shall tell—you wicked cruel little thing—you shall, you must!”
“Shall I take Firefly away and question her?” asked Helen. “Please, Aunt Maria, don’t be too stern with her. She is a timid little thing; she is not accustomed to people blaming her. She has some reason for this, but she will explain everything to her sister Nell, won’t you, darling?”
The child’s lips were trembling, and her eyes filling with tears.
“There’s no use in my going away with you, Helen,” she replied, steadily. “I am willing Aunt Maria should punish me, but I can’t tell because I’m a Maybright. It would be telling a lie to say what I know. I don’t mind your punishing me rather badly, Aunt Maria.”
“Oh, you don’t, don’t you?” said Aunt Maria. “Listen; was not that the sound of wheels?”
“The doctor to see father,” explained Helen. “I ought to go.”
“Excuse me, my dear, I particularly wish to see your father’s medical adviser this morning. I will not detain him long, but I have a question I wish to put to him. You stay with your little sister, Helen. I shall be back soon.”
Mrs. Cameron trotted out of the room. In about ten minutes, with an exultant look on her face, she returned. Firefly was now clasped tightly in Helen’s arms while she sobbed her heart out on her breast.
“Well, Helen, has this most impertinent, naughty child confessed?”
“She has not,” said Helen. “I don’t understand her; she seems in sore trouble. Dear little Fly!”
“‘Dear little Fly,’ indeed! Naughty, wicked little Fly, you mean. However, my dear, I have come to tell you that I have just had an interview with the excellent doctor who attends your father. He has gone up to see him now. He says he does not want to see you at all to-day, Helen. Well, I spoke to Dr. Strong, and he was astonished—absolutely astonished, when he heard that I had not yet been permitted to see my brother-in-law. I told him quite frankly that you girls were jealous of my influence, and used his (Dr. Strong’s) name to keep me out of my poor brother’s room. ‘But my dear madam,’ he said, ‘the young ladies labor under a mistake—a vast, a monstrous mistake. Nothing could do my poor patient more good than to see a sensible, practical lady like yourself!’ ‘Then I may see him this afternoon?’ I asked. ‘Undoubtedly, Mrs. Cameron,’ he replied; ‘it will be something for my patient to look forward to.’ I have arranged then, my dear Helen, to pay a visit to your father at three o’clock to-day.”
Helen could not repress a sigh.
Mrs. Cameron raised her eyebrows with a certain suggestive and aggravating gesture.
“Ah, my dear,” she said, “you must try to keep under that jealous temperament. Jealousy fostered in the heart overshadows and overclouds all life. Be warned in time.”
“About this child,” said Helen, drawing Firefly forward, “what is to be done about her? You will be lenient, won’t you, Aunt Maria, for she is very young?”
“By the way,” said Mrs. Cameron, with the manner of one who had not heard a word of Helen’s last speech, “is this naughty little girl attached to her father?”
Firefly raised her tear-dimmed face.
“He is my darling——” she began.
“Ah, yes, my dear; I detest exaggerated expressions. If you love him, you can now prove it. You would not, for instance, wish to give him anxiety, or to injure him?”
“Oh, no, oh, no! I would rather die.”
“Again that sentimental exaggeration; but you shall prove your words. If you have not confessed to me before three o’clock to-day all you know about the loss of my treasured dog Scorpion, I shall take you into your father’s sick room, and in his presence dare you to keep your wicked secret to yourself any longer.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” said Firefly. “You can’t be so awfully cruel. Nell, Nell, do say that Aunt Maria doesn’t mean that.”
The child was trembling violently; her little face was white as death, her appealing eyes would have softened most hearts.
“Oh, Nell, what shall I do if I make father worse again? For I can’t tell what I know; it would be a lie to tell it, and you said yourself, Nell, that no Maybright told lies.”
Mrs. Cameron smiled grimly.
“I have said it,” she remarked; “it all rests with yourself, Firefly. I shall be ready either to hear your confession or to take you to your father at three o’clock to-day.”
With these words the good lady walked out of the room.