said, `have been used to huddling on yourclothes anyhow, ever since you were quite a baby almost'--and," MissGreenall continued, "I _know_ I am not untidy, though I dress plainly.Mother brought us up to be very neat."
Mrs Fortescue sighed deeply.
"My dear Miss Greenall," she said, "your mother brought you up muchbetter than I seem to have brought up _my_ daughters. I am unspeakablyashamed of them, and I beg you to accept my apology. And _they_ shallapologise to you to-morrow morning."
But at this poor Miss Greenall looked up with frightened eyes. She wasa pretty fair girl, small and delicate-looking.
"Oh, please, please," she entreated, "do not tell them I havecomplained. I could not go on if they knew it. I will try again and bea little firmer with them, if only, only you will say nothing."
And, though against her own convictions, Mrs Fortescue had to agree towhat Miss Greenall asked.
And for a few days things were better. The little girls had beenstartled by the sight of the tears which the poor governess had not beenable to repress--startled and shamed. Nor had Jasper's face of shockedsurprise lessened the impression.
He was no tell-tale, but still--
"Japs," said Chrissie, the first time they were alone together, "I'msorry we made that silly Miss Green--what's-her-name--cry, and so'sLell. We were half joking, you know."
The child looked at her with his solemn blue eyes, and Christabel feltherself blushing. She was naturally truthful.
"At least," she went on, "we didn't mean her to take it like that._She_ might have seemed to think it a joke. But we don't want Mummy tohear about it. Things sound worse when they're tell-taled."
"I'se _not_ a tell-tale," said Jasper stoutly.
"Well, well--I didn't say you were. And I promise that we won't saythose things again, as she minds them so, silly that she is."
"Will you tell her you're solly?" Jasper inquired.
"I don't know--we'll see about it," Chrissie replied, "but any way wewon't make her cry again."
So Jasper contented himself with cherishing most carefully the very bestof his hyacinths, just beginning to show a little colour, as a gift toMiss Greenall, to be presented as soon as it would be fit for heracceptance.
"And if Lelly and Chrissie would _werry_ much like to join," he said tohimself in his generous little heart, "we might give it 'atween us all.I'm sure it's goin' to be a splendid one."
But, alas! before the hyacinth's delicate pink flowers had reachedperfection, and Jasper's kind plan could be carried out, sad things hadcome to pass, which I must hasten to tell you about.
The impression made upon Leila and Chrissie by Miss Greenall's distresswas not a lasting one, except in so far as they were more careful intheir way of speaking to her; for they knew that Jasper's eyes were uponthem, and that any rudeness to their teacher would not escape him. Butbeyond this, there was no real improvement. They were careless,unpunctual, and, so far as they dared, disobedient. Still Miss Greenallwent on doing her best, and now and then her patience and gentleness hadsome little good, effect. She was able to tell Mrs Fortescue thatthings were rather better. "I think I can go on," she said, "if onlyLeila was more attentive and Chrissie less heedless."
It really went to her heart--brought up as she had been in neat andcareful ways--to see the children's destructiveness--copy-books blottedand torn; lesson-books dog-eared and spotted; worse still, frocks andaprons covered with ink, or ruthlessly smeared with fingers much in needof soap and water! And in these kinds of carelessness Christabel wasthe worst offender, in spite of her occasional good resolutions, alwaysencouraged by Aunt Margaret, to try to be as neat as "you were, when youwere a little girl," in reply to which, her aunt would smile and assureher that good habits of no kind come all of themselves to anybody, manor woman, boy or girl.
It chanced one Sunday morning, when the sisters were, as usual, late ingetting ready for church, and their father's voice had sounded more thanonce up the staircase hastening them, that Chrissie could not find herprayer-book. Go without it she scarcely dared, for this was the sort ofcarelessness that Mr Fortescue himself might notice, and when "Daddy"_did_ "notice," even Chrissie "minded!" Now Leila was the happypossessor of two prayer-books, one of which was practically new, andwhich she kept wrapped up in tissue-paper in a drawer.
"Oh Lell," said Chrissie in despair, as Leila was leaving the room, "dolend me your best one, or take it yourself and let me have the one likemine."
"No, indeed, I won't," said Leila, hurrying off, as Mr Fortescue'svoice came again.
"You must run after us. We can wait no longer, children," he called.Leila was already half-way downstairs.
Chrissie gave a frantic rush round the room again, scrambling under thebeds, pushing aside chairs and tables in search of her book, but all invain. And even if she had dared to take her sister's "best one," shewas not sure where to look for it. It would have needed time to find.
"I must go," she thought, "whatever happens." So she dashed off--narrowly escaping falling downstairs in her hurry.
The others had all started, but the hall-door was left slightly ajar,and that of the drawing-room stood wide open, and as she ran past it, asudden idea struck the child.
"I'll take Aunt Margaret's prayer-book," she thought. "It's just aboutthe same size as mine, and if I keep it open nobody will see anydifference, unless Lell perhaps, and she surely wouldn't be so mean asto tell, after being so ill-natured to me."
No sooner said than done, and in another minute Chrissie was racing downthe street, book in hand, to overtake the family party, just turning thecorner.
Leila glanced at her.
"You've found it, then?" she whispered, for Chrissie took care to holdthe book so that its cover did not show. She made no reply, and Leila'sface darkened.
"If you've taken mine after all," she said threateningly, though stillin a low voice, "I'll--"
"I haven't, then," said Chrissie, "I wouldn't touch a thing of yours,you mean creature."
"I don't believe you," said Leila, catching her arm, so as to see thebook.
"Children," said their mother's voice, warningly.
They started.
"I've got Aunt Margaret's out of the drawing-room," whisperedChristabel. "There now--if it's found out, it's all your fault," andLeila, startled, made no reply.
Church-time passed, and more than once Mrs Fortescue, glancing at thechildren, was pleased to see that Chrissie appeared to be following theservice with unusual attention. She would have been less content hadshe known that for this there were two reasons. Firstly, Chrissie wasafraid of closing the prayer-book; secondly, she was interested andamused by the old-world names she found in it--"His Majesty KingGeorge," "Our gracious Queen Charlotte," etc, etc, the Service for"Gunpowder's Day," and other now discarded memorials. It was reallyquite "entertaining," but I doubt if her idle, careless thoughts tookpart in one single prayer all through the morning, if even one "OurFather," in which surely the very youngest child, as well as thehumblest and simplest worshipper, can fully join, came from her heart.
Poor Chrissie--poor Leila--sterner teaching was preparing for them.
There was some delay in the church porch, as the congregation waspassing out.
"I do believe it's raining," said Mrs Fortescue, and so it was. "Ihope you have your umbrellas, children?" she went on.
Yes--Leila had brought hers; but Chrissie, no! "Really Chrissie," saidher father, "you are too forgetful. Don't you remember my saying atbreakfast that it looked very like rain?"
Chrissie made no reply; for once she had no excuse to offer.
"Give me your umbrella, Leila," said their mother, "and you take mine--or, yes, Daddy's," as he hold it out, "that is larger still, and runhome together as fast as you can."
The sisters set off, as they were told, Leila, as the taller, holdingthe umbrella. But oh, how cross she was! "Too bad's" and "All yourfault's" were hurled at Chrissie, till the rain and the running and theweight of the rather
heavy umbrella, reduced Leila to silence, in spiteof Chrissie's provoking rejoinders.
"My fault indeed! If you had been good-natured for once and lent meyour other prayer-book I wouldn't have been in such a fuss, and then Iwouldn't have forgotten my own umbrella."
They were both out of breath, and certainly out of temper, when atlast--for distances do seem doubled and trebled in such
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