Part II Chapter 5 Dumps — A Plain Girl by L. T. Meade
A Quiet Talk
Christmas Day came to an end, and the very next morning, when I was alone with my step-mother, I asked her what Hermione meant by her words.
“Oh, she has told you?” said Mrs Grant.
She was sitting by the fire in the little drawing-room; the stuffed birds and the stuffed animals surrounded us, but the room was never close, and it had the faint, delicious smell of cedar-wood which had fascinated me so much on the occasion of my first visit.
“Sit down, Dumps,” she said, holding out her hand to take one of mine.
“But please tell me,” I said.
“Well, yes, it has been arranged. Your father would like it, and so would I. You go on the 21st of January. It is a very nice school, just beyond the Champs Élysées. You will be well taught, and I think the change will do you good.”
“You suggested it, didn’t you?” I said.
“Yes, naturally.”
“Why naturally? I am his child.”
“My dear, you know his character; he is so absorbed in those marvellous things which occupy his great brain that he hasn’t time—”
“Oh, I know,” I said bitterly; “he never had any time, this wonderful father of ours, to attend to us, his children.”
“Dear, he has given you into my care, and, believe me, I love you.”
“I believe you do,” I said in a gentle voice.
“Some day, Rachel, I am sure you will love me.”
I was silent.
“Tell me about the school,” I said.
“I know all about it, for it belongs to a very special friend of mine, and I am certain you will be looked after and all your best interests promoted.”
“And Hermione Aldyce goes too?”
“Yes; she is a very nice girl, and a special friend of mine.”
“I know.”
“You will, I am sure, Dumps, do your utmost to attend to your studies. You will soon be sixteen; my intention is that you should remain at the French school for two years, and then come back in time to enjoy some of the pleasures of life—some of the pleasures, dear, as well as the responsibilities, for we never can dissever one from the other.”
I was silent. Why did I like her and yet dislike her? I had thought the day before when Hermione spoke of school that I should wildly rebel, but as I sat there looking at her placid face it did not occur to me to rebel. I said after a minute, “Step-mother, until I love you better, may I call you by that name?”
“I have given you leave,” she said in a low tone.
“I have something to confess,” I said.
“What is that?” she asked.
“I did not buy any thing useful out of the ten pounds you gave me.”
“Your father’s dress allowance?”
“You know it was yours.”
“Your father’s,” she repeated.
“I will tell you how I spent it,” I said; and then I described to her all about the ribbons and the chiffons and the gloves and the stockings and the handkerchiefs.
“The stockings were needful,” she said, “and so were the gloves and handkerchiefs. So much ribbon was scarcely essential, but it can be passed over. The hat you bought was vulgar, so I trust you will not wear it again.”
“What?” I said. “That lovely green hat with the bird-of-Paradise in it?”
“It is very unsuitable to a girl of your age.”
“I got it in one of the smartest shops in Regent Street.”
“Anything that is unsuitable is vulgar, Dumps. I hope you will soon understand that for yourself.”
“Oh, I have a great deal to learn,” I said, with sudden humility.
“You have, my dear; and when you take that fact really to heart you will begin to learn in grave reality, and you will be all that your father and I long to make you.”
“But I’m not the least like father; he could never appreciate me, for I am so different from him. If, for instance, I were like Augusta—”
“I wonder, Dumps, if it would greatly distress you if Augusta also went to the French school?”
“What?” I said. “Augusta! But surely she cannot afford it?”
“I think it could be arranged. I take an interest in her, poor child! There is no doubt she is wonderfully clever; but just at present she is very one-sided in all her views. Her intellect is somewhat warped by her having all her aspirations and desires forced into one channel.”
“Then, step-mother, you are going to support her?”
“Certainly not. It is true I may make it possible for those who could not otherwise afford it. I have spoken to her mother on the subject, and perhaps her mother can be helped by some of her relations; it would certainly be the making of Augusta.”
“You are wonderfully kind,” I said.
“What am I put into the world for except to help others?”
“Is it true,” I asked suddenly, and I laid my hand on her lap, “that you are very rich?”
“Who told you that?” she said, the colour coming into her face. She looked at me in a distressed way.
“Only I want to know.”
“All I can tell you in reply to your question is this: that whatever money God has given me is to be spent not on myself but for Him—for Him and for those whom I am privileged to help. I do not want to talk of riches, for it is impossible for a child like you, with your narrow experience, to understand that money is a great gift; it is a talent little understood by many; nevertheless, one of the most precious of all. Few who have money quite know how to spend it worthily.”
Alex, Charley, and Von Marlo bounded into the room.
“We can skate, if you don’t mind,” said Charley, “on the round pond a mile from here. We didn’t bring our skates with us, but there are jolly nice ones in Chelmsford. Do you mind?” he asked.
“Certainly not, dear,” said Mrs Grant; “and what is more, if there is good skating I am going myself. What do you say, Dumps? Do you know how to skate?”
“No,” I answered. “How could I? I never learnt.”
“Few girls can skate,” said Charley.
“This girl shall learn,” said Mrs Grant. “Come, come, children; we’ll go off as fast as ever we can, to get the best skates to be obtained.”