Chapter 2 Girls of the Forest by L. T. Meade
A HANDFUL
The girls looked full at nurse while she was talking. A look of contentment came into Verena’s face. She shook herself to make sure she was all there; she pinched herself to be certain that she was not dreaming; then she settled down comfortably.
“There never was anybody like you, nursey,” she said. “You always see the common-sense, possible side of things.”
“Eh!” said nurse. “If I hadn’t seen the common-sense, possible side of things many years ago, where would I be with the handling and bringing up of you ten young ladies? For, though I say it that shouldn’t, there ain’t nicer or bonnier or straighter children in the whole Forest; no, nor better-looking either, with cleaner souls inside of them; but for all that, anybody else” and here nurse gave a little sort of wink that set Pauline screaming “anybody else would say that you were a handful. You are a handful, too, to most people. But what I say now is this. You needn’t take any notice of me; you can keep your own counsel and say nothing; but if you want her to go the lady that has no call to be here the lady that’s forced herself where she ain’t wanted why, you have got to be handfuls. And now I’ll go into the house with my two precious lambs.”
The elder “precious lamb” looked very cross at being suddenly informed that she was to go indoors while the sun shone so brightly and the summer warmth surrounded her.
“No, I won’t,” said Penelope. “I am going to stay out with the others. I’m a very big girl; I am not a baby any longer. And you aren’t to keep me in the nursery any longer, Verena. And I won’t be naughty. I’ll make up to Aunt Sophia like anything that I will if you keep me in the nursery any longer.”
This was such a daring threat that, although Penelope was not thought much of as a rule, the girls looked at her now with a sort of awe.
“She might as well stay for a quarter of an hour longer, mightn’t she, nursey?” said Briar.
“No, that she ain’t to do, Miss Rose. She comes right indoors and prepares for her bed like a good child. Is it me that’s to be shortened of my hours of rest by a naughty little thing like this? Come along this minute, miss, and none of your nonsense.”
So Penelope, her heart full of rage, retired into the house with nurse and baby Marjorie.
“I hope she won’t do anything mean and nasty,” said Pauline. “It’s the sort of thing she would do, for she’s frightfully clever.”
“Oh, we needn’t consider her,” said Verena. “Do let’s make up our minds what to do ourselves.”
“I have all sorts of things in my head,” said Patty. “The pony-carriage might break down as it was coming from the station. I don’t mean her to be badly hurt, but I thought she might get just a little bit hurt, so that she could stay in her bed for twenty-four hours. An aunt in bed wouldn’t be so bad, would she, Renny?”
“I don’t know,” said Verena. “I suppose we must be polite. She is mother’s half-sister, you know. If mother were alive she would give her a welcome. And then Padre will have to talk to her. He must explain that she must go. If he doesn’t, we will lead him a life.”
The girls talked a little longer. They walked round and round the ugly, ill-kept lawn; they walked under the beautiful trees, entwined their arms round each other’s waists, and confabbed and confabbed. The upshot of it all was that on the following day a very large and very shabby bedroom was got ready after a fashion for Miss Tredgold’s arrival; and John, the sole factotum of the establishment the man who cleaned the boots and knives, and swept up the avenue, removed the weeds from the flower-beds, cleaned the steps whenever they were cleaned, and the windows whenever they were cleaned appeared on the scene, leading a tumble-down, knock-kneed pony harnessed to a very shabby pony-cart.
“I’m off now, miss,” he said to Verena, pulling a wisp of hair as he spoke. “No, miss, there ain’t any room. You couldn’t possibly sit on the back seat, for it’s as much as ever I’ll do to bring the lady home in this tumble-down conveyance. Our own is too bad for use, and I had to borrow from Farmer Treherne, and he said he wouldn’t trust any horse but old Jock; this carriage will just keep together until the lady’s here.”
“But whatever he thinks,” said Verena, “do you suppose we can have a smart, neat carriage ready to take Miss Tredgold back again this day week? You will see about that, won’t you, John?”
“I will, miss. There’ll be no difficulty about that; we’ll get the lady away whenever she wants to go.”
“Very well. You had better be off now. You must wait outside the station. When she comes out you are to touch your hat and say, ’This is the carriage from The Dales.’ Be sure you say that, John. And look as important as ever you can. We must make the best of things, even if we are poor.”
“You never saw me, miss, demeaning the family,” said John.
He again touched his very shabby hat, whipped up the pony, and disappeared down the avenue.
“Now, then,” said Briar, “how are we to pass the next two hours? It will take them quite that time to get here.”
“And what are we going to give her to eat when she does come?” said Patty. “She’ll be awfully hungry. I expect she’ll want her dinner.”
“Dinner!” cried Josephine. “Dinner! So late. But we dine at one.”
“You silliest of silly mortals,” said Verena, “Aunt Sophia is a fashionable lady, and fashionable ladies dine between eight and nine o’clock.”
“Do they?” said Josephine. “Then I’m glad I’m not a fashionable lady. Fancy starving all that long time! I’m always famished by one o’clock.”
“There’s Penelope!” suddenly said Patty. “Doesn’t she look odd?”
Penelope was a very stout child. She had black eyes and black hair. Her hair generally stood upright in a sort of halo round her head; her face was very round and rosy she looked like a kind of hard, healthy winter-apple. Her legs were fat, and she always wore socks instead of stockings. Her socks were dark blue. Nurse declared that she could not be fashed with putting on white ones. She wore a little Turkey-red frock, and she had neither hat nor coat on. She was going slowly and thoughtfully round the lawn, occasionally stooping and picking something.
“She’s a perfect mystery,” said Pauline. “Let’s run up to her and ask her what she’s about.”
Catching Patty’s hand, the two girls scampered across the grass.
“Well, Pen, and what are you doing now? What curious things are you gathering?” they asked.
“Grasses,” replied Penelope slowly. “They’re for Aunt Sophia’s bedroom. I’m going to make her bedroom ever so pretty.”
“You little horror!” said Pauline. “If you dare to go against us you will lead a life!”
Penelope looked calmly up at them.
“I’ll make a bargain,” she said. “I’ll throw them all away, and be nastier than you all yes, much nastier if you will make me a schoolroom girl.”
Pauline looked at her.
“We may be low,” she said, “and there is no doubt we are very poor, but we have never stooped to bribery and corruption yet. Go your own way, Penelope. If you think you can injure us you are very much mistaken.”
Penelope shook her fat back, and resumed her peregrinations round and round the lawn.
“Really she is quite an uncomfortable child,” said Pauline, returning to her other sisters. “What do you think she is doing now? Picking grasses to put in Aunt Sophia’s room.”
“Oh, let her alone,” said Verena; “it’s only her funny little way. By the way, I wonder if Padre has any idea that Aunt Sophia is coming to-day.”
“Let’s invade him,” said Patty. “The old dear wants his exercise; he hasn’t had any to-day.”
The eight girls ran with whoops and cries round the house. Penelope picked her grasses with more determination than ever. Her small, straight mouth made a scarlet line, so tightly was it shut.
“I am only seven, but I’m monstrous clever,” she whispered to herself. “I am going to have my own way. I’ll love poor Aunt Sophy. Yes, I will. I’ll kiss her, and I’ll make up to her, and I’ll keep her room full of lovely grasses.”
Meanwhile the other girls burst into the study. A voice was heard murmuring rapidly as they approached. A silvery-white head was bending over a page, and some words in Latin came like a stream, with a very beautiful pronunciation, from the scholar’s lips.
“Ah, Verena!” he said, “I think I have got the right lines now. Shall I read them to you?”
Mr. Dale began. He got through about one line when Patty interrupted him:
“It can’t possibly be done, Paddy. We can’t listen to another line I mean yet. You have got to come out. Aunt Sophia is coming to-day.”
“Eh? I beg your pardon; who did you say was coming?”
“Aunt Sophia Miss Tredgold. She’s coming to-day on a visit. She’ll be here very soon. She’s coming in an old cart that belongs to Farmer Treherne. She’ll be here in an hour; therefore out you come.”
“My dears, I cannot. You must excuse me. My years of toil have brought to light an obscure passage. I shall write an account of it to the Times. It is a great moment in my life, and the fact that But who did you say was coming, my dears?”
“Really, Paddy, you are very naughty,” said Verena. “You must come out at once. We want you. You can’t write another line. You must not even think of the subject. Come and see what we have done for Aunt Sophia. If you don’t come she’ll burst in here, and she’ll stay here, because it’s the most comfortable room in the house. And she’ll bring her work-basket here, and perhaps her mending. I know she’ll mend you as soon as she arrives. She’ll make you and mend you; and you need mending, don’t you, dear old Padre?”
“I don’t know, my dears. I’m a stupid old man, and don’t care about dress. Who is the person you said was coming? Give her some tea and send her away. Do you hear, Verena? Give her tea, my darling, and and toast if you like, and send her away. We can’t have visitors here.”
“Patty!” said Verena.
Patty’s eyes were shining.
“Pauline!”
The two girls came forward as though they were little soldiers obeying the command of their captain.
“Take Padre by the right arm, Pauline. Patty, take Padre by the left arm. Now then, Paddy, quick’s the word. March!”
Poor Mr. Dale was completely lifted from his chair by his two vigorous daughters, and then marched outside his study into the sunshine.
“We are not going to be cross,” said Verena, kissing him. “It is only your Renny.”
“And your Paulie,” said the second girl.
“And your Rose Briar,” said the third.
“And your Patty,” said the fourth.
“And your Lucy,” “And your Josephine,” “And your Helen,” “And your Adelaide,” said four more vigorous pairs of lips.
“And we all want you to stand up,” said Verena.
“Good heavens! I did think I had come to the end of my worries. And what on earth does this mean? Penelope, my child, what a hideous bouquet you have in your hand! Come here and kiss father, my little one.”
Penelope trotted briskly forward.
“Do you like my red frock, father?” she asked.
“It is very nice indeed.”
“I thought it wor. And is my hair real tidy, father?”
“It stands very upright, Penelope.”
“I thought it did. And you like my little blue stockings, father?”
“Very neat, dear.”
“I thought they wor.”
“You look completely unlike yourself, Penelope. What is the matter?”
“I want to be a true, kind lady,” said the little girl. “I am gathering grasses for my aunty; so I are.”
She trotted away into the house.
“What a pretty, neat, orderly little girl Penelope has become!” said Mr. Dale. “But You really must excuse me, my dear girls. You are most charming, all of you. Ah, my dears! so fresh, so unsophisticated, so yes, that is the word so unworldly. But I must get back to my beloved Virgil. You don’t know you can never know what a moment of triumph is mine. You must excuse me, darlings Verena, you are nearly grown up; you will see to the others. Do what you can to make them happy a little treat if necessary; I should not mind it.”
“Give us fourpence to buy a pound of golden syrup for tea, please, Padre,” suddenly said Briar. “If there is a thing I love, it is golden syrup. A pound between us will give us quite a feast won’t it, Renny?”
“Only we must save a little for the aunt,” cried Patty.
“I do hope one thing,” said Pauline: “that, whatever her faults, she won’t be greedy. There isn’t room for any one to be greedy in this house. The law of this house is the law of self-denial; isn’t it, Padre?”
“I begin to perceive that it is, Pauline. But whom are you talking of?”
“Now, Padre,” said Verena, “if you don’t wake and rouse yourself, and act like a decent Christian, you’ll be just prodded you’ll be just shaken. We will do it. There are eight of us, and we’ll make your life a burden.”
“Eh eh!” said Mr. Dale. “Really, girls, you are enough to startle a man. And you say ”
“I say, Paddy, that Miss Sophia Tredgold is on her way here. Each instant she is coming nearer. She is coming in the old pony cart, and the old pony is struggling with all his might to convey her here. She is coming with her luggage, intending to stay, and our object is to get her to go away again. Do you hear, Padre?”
“Yes, my dear, I hear. I comprehend. It takes a great deal to bring a man back down the ages down down to this small, poor, parsimonious life; it takes a great deal. A man is not easily roused, nor brought back; but I am back now, darlings. Excuse me, Briar; no more prodding. Hands off, Pauline. Hands off, Patty. Perhaps I had better tidy myself.”
“You certainly would look nicer, and more like the owner of The Dales, if you got into your other coat,” said Briar.
“Shall we all come up and help you, Padre?” called out the eight in a breath.
“No, no, dears. I object to ladies hovering about my room. I’ll run away now.”
“Yes, yes; and you’d better be quick, Padre, for I hear wheels.”
“I am going, loves, this moment.”
Mr. Dale turned and absolutely ran to the shelter of the house, for the wheels were getting near rumbling, jumping, uncertain. Now the rumbling and the jumping and the uncertainty got into the avenue, and came nearer and nearer; and finally the tumble-down pony cart drew up at the house. The pony printed his uncertain feet awkwardly but firmly on the weed-grown sweep in front of the unpainted hall door, and Miss Tredgold gazed around her.
Miss Tredgold was a very thin, tall woman of about forty-five years of age. She was dressed in the extreme of fashion. She wore a perfectly immaculate traveling dress of dark-gray tweed. It fitted her well-proportioned figure like a glove. She had on a small, very neat black hat, and a spotted veil surrounded her face. She stepped down from the pony cart and looked around her.
“Ah!” she said, seeing Verena, “will you kindly mention to some of the ladies of the family that I have arrived?”
“I think I need not mention it, because we all know,” said Verena. “I am your niece Verena.”
“You!”
Miss Tredgold could throw unutterable scorn into her voice. Verena stepped back, and her pretty face grew first red and then pale. What she would have said next will never be known to history, for at that instant the very good child, Penelope, appeared out of the house.
“Is you my Aunty Sophy?” she said. “How are you, Aunty Sophy? I am very pleased to see you.”
Miss Sophia stared for a moment at Penelope. Penelope was hideously attired, but she was at least clean. The other girls were anyhow. They were disheveled; they wore torn and unsightly skirts; their hair was arranged anyhow or not at all; on more than one face appeared traces of recent acquaintance with the earth in the shape of a tumble. One little girl with very black eyes had an ugly scratch across her left cheek; another girl had the gathers out of her frock, which streamed in the most hopeless fashion on the ground.
“How do you do?” said Aunt Sophia. “Where is your father? Will you have the goodness, little girl, to acquaint your father with the fact that his sister-in-law, Sophia Tredgold, has come?”
“Please come into the house, Aunt Sophy, and I’ll take you to father’s study so I will,” exclaimed champion Penelope.