Chapter 14 A Bevy of Girls by L. T. Meade
The Introduction
Meanwhile Nesta was in a state of wild excitement. No sooner had Marcia and Angela gone down the street than she darted into the drawing room.
“Well,” she said, “is it all right? Did you really see her? Was she properly introduced to you? Can you say in future that you know her? When you meet her, will you be able to bow to her? Have you contrived to get her promise to come and see you? Tell me everything, everything.”
“What affair is it of yours, child?” said Clara crossly. For although she had met Miss St. Just, it seemed to her that she had made but small way with that young lady.
“It means everything to me—everything possible. Do you know her?”
“Of course, I know her! Is it likely that your sister would be so rude, so fearfully rude as not to introduce me when I was in the room?”
“I don’t know,” replied Nesta. “Marcia can be rude enough when she likes.”
“Well, anyhow, she wasn’t. She did introduce us, and Miss St. Just was most pleasant. She has far nicer manners than your sister.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult,” said Nesta. “Marcia is so very stand-offish.”
“Ridiculously proud and prudish, I call her,” said Clay.
“And do you think Miss St. Just as lovely as you always did?”
“Oh, far, far more lovely. She puts every one else into the shade. I invited her to Court Prospect, and I expect she’ll come. I am going home now, and shall try to get up a grand party in her honour. After what she said to me she could hardly refuse. It is all delightful.”
“Yes, delightful!” said Nesta. “Well, good-bye. Just mention to Penelope, will you, that you were introduced to her this morning.”
“I wonder why I should do that?” said Clara, as she settled herself in the little pony trap which was standing outside the door.
“Oh, just to oblige me,” said Nesta, and the next minute Clara Carter was out of sight.
Nesta skipped joyfully into the house.
“Now I’ve done it,” she thought. “Penelope can’t go back. We made a bet. How I was to fulfil my part I hadn’t the least idea, but I am thankful to say I have won. She’ll have to give me a whole sovereign. Yes, a whole, beautiful yellow-boy for my very own self; and if Clara contrives to get Miss St. Just to visit them at Court Prospect, Penelope is to give me two sovereigns. I shall be in luck! Why, a girl with two sovereigns can face the world. She has all before her. She has nothing left to wish for. It is splendid! Magnificent! Oh, I am in luck!”
Nesta danced into the garden. Notwithstanding the hot day she was determined to go at once to tell Flossie Griffiths the good news. Flossie had not been quite as nice as usual to Nesta of late. She had made the acquaintance of the Carters, and the Carters had not specially taken to her. Penelope Carter was also in some ways more fascinating to Nesta than her old friend Flossie, and in consequence Flossie was furiously jealous. But when you have a piece of good news to tell—something quite above the ordinary, you must confide it to some one, and if it is a jealous friend, who would long to have such a delightful thing happen to herself, why so much the better.
So Nesta pinned on her shabbiest hat and went down the narrow pathway, found the entrance to the woods, and by-and-by reached the Griffiths’ house.
Flossie was in the garden; she was playing with her dogs. She had three, and was devoted to them. One was a black Pomeranian, another a pug, and the third a mongrel—something between an Irish setter and an Irish terrier. The mongrel was the most interesting dog of the three, and had been taught tricks by Flossie. His name was Jingo. He was now standing on his hind legs, while the other two dogs waltzed round and round. However strong his desire to pounce upon Ginger, the pug, and Blackberry, the Pomeranian, he had to restrain himself. They might yap and bite at his toes, and try to reach his ears, as much as they pleased, but he must remain like a statue. If he endured long enough he would have a lump of sugar for his pains, which he would eat deliberately in view of his tormentors; for this halcyon moment he endured the tortures which Flossie daily subjected him to. It was really time for his sugar now, he had been on his hind legs for quite two minutes; his back was aching; he hated the feel of the sun on his head, he wanted to get into the shade, and above all things he wanted to punish Blackberry and to snap at Ginger. Flossie’s hand was in her pocket, the delicious moment had all but arrived, when Nesta’s clear, ringing voice sounded on the breeze.
“I say, Floss, I’m just in time. Oh, do come away from those stupid dogs. I have something so heavenly to tell you—it’s perfectly golloptious.”
Flossie forgot all about her dogs. Jingo mournfully descended to all fours, bit Ginger, snapped at Blackberry, and retired sulking into a corner.
Meanwhile Flossie took the arm of her friend and led her into the shade.
“How red you look,” she said. “You must have been running very fast.”
“What does that matter? I have got it; I have won it.”
“You don’t mean to say you’ve won your bet?”
“Yes, I have though. This very morning she came over—Clay, you know, and soon afterwards the Fairy Princess, and my noble elder sister was present, and she had to introduce Clay to the Princess, and it’s extremely likely that the Princess will be forced by circumstances to pay the Carters a visit at Court Prospect.”
“I wish her joy of them,” said Flossie sulkily.
“Oh, you needn’t sulk, old Floss. I’ve got my yellow-boy all for myself. Now then, I’ll tell you what. I know you’re ever so cross, and as jealous as ever you can be, but I’m going to share some of it with you.”
“You aren’t! Not really? Then if you are, I will say you’re a brick!”
Flossie’s brow cleared, her shallow black eyes danced. She looked full at Nesta.
“You and I’ll have a picnic all to ourselves,” said Nesta.
“Then you must be very quick,” replied Flossie, “for we are going to the seaside next week.”
“And the Carters are going on Saturday. I do declare I’ll have to look sharp after my yellow-boy. I tell you what—there’s nothing on earth for us to do to-day; why shouldn’t we go right away and see the Carters. I could get my money from Pen, and we’ll have a treat. We can go to Simpson’s and have ginger beer and chocolates. Wouldn’t that be prime?”
“Rather!” said Flossie, “and I’m just in the humour, for the day is frightfully hot.”
“But you don’t mind the heat—I’m sure I don’t.”
“You’re rather a show in that dress, Nesta.”
“I don’t care twopence about my dress,” said Nesta. “What I want is my darling yellow-boy. I want him and I’ll have him. We can go right away through the woods as far as our place; only perhaps that would be dangerous, for they might pounce upon me. They’re always doing it now. Before mothery got so ill we had our stated times, but now we’re never sure when we’ll be wanted. It’s Molly this, and Ethel that, and Nesta, Nesta, Nesta, all the time. I scarcely have a minute to myself. If it wasn’t for my lessons I’d simply be deaved out of all patience; but it’s hard now that there are holidays, that I can’t get away.”
“I wish you could come to the seaside with us,” said Flossie suddenly, as she thought of the yellow-boy—twenty whole shillings. Perhaps her father and mother might be induced to take Nesta with them. Her father had said only that morning:
“I am sorry for you, my little girl; you will miss your companions.”
Flossie’s father was rather proud of her friendship for Nesta Aldworth. He thought a great deal of Mr Aldworth, and spoke of him as a rising man. Oh, yes, it might be worth while to get her father and mother to invite Nesta to join them, and Nesta would have her twenty shillings. Twenty, or nineteen at least, and they might have a great many sprees at Scarborough. It would be delightful.
“I tell you what it is,” said Flossie. “There’s no earthly reason why you should stay at home. I’ll just run in this very minute and speak to mother. Why shouldn’t you come with us for a week or fortnight?”
“Do you think there’s any chance?” said Nesta, turning pale.
“There’s every possible chance. Why in the world shouldn’t you come with us? They can’t want four of you at home, and it’s downright selfish.”
“The fact is,” said Nesta, “they’re all agog to get Marcia a holiday.”
“Your elder sister—Miss Aldworth? The old maid?”
“Yes, indeed, she is that, but they all think she is looking pale, and they want her to go to those blessed St. Justs. She’s hand in glove with them, you know. She thinks of no one else on earth but that Angela of hers.”
“Well, I’m not surprised at that,” said Flossie. “Every one thinks a lot of Angela St. Just. Now, don’t keep me, I’ll rush in and speak to mother.”
She dashed into the house. The aggrieved mongrel raised a languid head and looked at her. How false she was, with that sugar in her pocket. He wagged a deprecating tail, but Flossie took no notice.
She found her mother busily engaged dusting the drawing room.
“What is it?” she said. “Are you inclined to come in and help me? This room is in a disgraceful state. I must really change Martha.”
“Oh, mother, I’ll help you another day, but I’m in such a hurry now. Nesta is outside.”
“I wonder what you’ll do without Nesta at the seaside,” said the mother.
“Oh, mother, do you think you could coax father very hard to let me invite Nesta to come with us just for a week—or even for a fortnight? I wish—I wish you would! Do you think it could be managed?”
Mrs Griffiths paused in her work to consider. She was a very frowzy, commonplace woman. She looked out of the window. There stood Nesta, pretty, careless, débonnaire—untidy enough in all truth, but decidedly above the Griffiths in her personal appearance.