by L. T. Meade
once quite crossly, when he pulled hersleeve.
Towards the end of the morning it was with great difficulty that thelittle boy could keep back his tears. Of course, he had made a splendidchoice, and Harriet was delightful; but, still--but, still--how he _did_wish he knew how to take nine from seven! Nine would not go from sevenbecause seven wasn't as much as nine. Oh, how was it done? Then therewas six from five. He came to the conclusion at last that sums were notmeant for little boys; it was beyond the power of the human brain tomanage sums; not even his own father could take six from five. He beganin his restlessness to tear up paper, making five little pieces, andthen six little pieces, and wondering how he could ever take the greaterout of the less.
"Harriet," he whispered at last, tugging at her arm, "it can't be done;see for yourself."
"Don't bother," whispered Harriet again. But then she saw Robina's eyesfixed on her face, and, suddenly recovering herself, bent down overRalph.
"What _is_ the matter, you little troublesome thing?" she said.
"I can't take six from five," answered the boy.
"Oh, you goose!" said Harriet; "borrow ten. Now, then, peg away."
What Harriet meant was Greek to Ralph. "Borrow ten?" he murmured tohimself, "borrow ten?"
It was a very hot day, and Ralph, try as he would, could not borrow ten.There was no one to borrow it from. The windows were open at theopposite side of the great room, and a bee came in and sailed lazilyround. The bee, in his velvety brown coat, was watched by a pair ofeyes as soft, as brown as his own velvet coat. The bee never borrowedten, that was certain; no more could he. Oh, he was sleepy, and lessonswere horrid, and sums were the worst of all. And why, why, why did nothis school-mother really help him?
He was just dropping off to sleep when a brisk voice said in his ear:
"What is the matter, Ralph?" He looked round, and there was Robina.
"I am sleepy," said Ralph. "It's because I can't borrow ten. Will youlend it to me?"
Robina bent down over the slate, where poor little Ralph was making amuddle of his sums.
"This is the way you do it," she said.
She explained so simply; the child understood. His eyes brightened.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" he answered. "Why, it's quite nice now,quite nice."
"Well, you won't forget another time," said Robina. She had to go backto her own seat. She took care in doing so not to glance at Harriet.
At last school time was over, and the young people went into thegardens. Ralph now felt happy once more. His idea was that Harriet--dear, kind, fascinating Harriet, who had made him so intensely happy onthe day when she had been his trial school-mother--would now take himall away by himself. She would sit somewhere under a tree, and get himto sit by her side, and tell him her plans. These plans must surelyinclude a picnic tea and a visit to the gipsies. Ralph felt now thatevery desire in his life was centred round the gipsies.
"Come, Harriet," he said, tugging at her sleeve, "come away, please."
"What's the matter?" asked Harriet.
"Why--we want to be all by our lones," said Ralph. "We have such lotsto talk about!"
Harriet looked down at him. She looked down at a little boy, withflushed cheeks and lovely eyes and a tremulous, rosy mouth, and a littleface all full of love and soul and feeling. But it was not given toHarriet, even for a minute, to see this little boy as he really was.She only saw _through_ him a pony--a flesh and blood pony, with itsside-saddle; and she saw a girl with a perfectly-fitting habit who ownedthe pony, and this girl was herself.
"Well," she said a little crossly, for she had a great deal to do thatafternoon, and meant to have a right good time at a great picnic whereall the girls were going, and where, of course, she would be, in honourof her triumph that morning, the principal personage. "Well," sherepeated, "what is it?"
"I have such a lot to say," whispered Ralph.
"Come along here, then, Ralph, and say it. What do you want?"
"Why, Harriet, I thought--I thought--"
"Now, I tell you what," said Harriet. "You and I must understand eachother. You're a very good little boy, and I like you enormously, andI'll be ever so kind to you. You don't know what luck you're in to havechosen me for your school-mother. I don't know what would have come toyou if you had chosen any of the others. But you mustn't be selfish,you know."
"No," said Ralph, winking back a tear, "'course not."
"And there's another thing. You must never again allow that horridgirl, Robina, to help you with your sums. Now, do you hear? You didlook silly over that sum in subtraction; and, of course, Robina, whohates me, was watching her opportunity."
"I don't know what opportunity is," said Ralph.
"Oh, well--I can't tell you--you're a baby. Anyhow, don't do it again,do you hear?"
"Very well, Harriet," said Ralph.
It was just at that moment, and before a single word could be said withregard to the afternoon of that half-holiday, and the gipsies and allthe great, great fun which Ralph so looked forward to, that Miss Fordcame up to Harriet, and drew her a little aside.
"Mrs Burton wishes me to say, Harriet, that she will not expect you tojoin the picnic to-day on account of Ralph Durrant."
"And why not, pray?" asked Harriet, turning very red.
"Because they are going too far away, and he would not be back in timefor bed, so you are to stay at home to look after him."
"Well, I like that," said Harriet. "I won't do anything of the kind."
"Oh, you needn't stay, really, Harriet," interrupted Ralph, who gave upall thought of the gipsies on the spot. "Do please go, Harriet. Idon't mind being left."
Harriet looked eagerly at him.
"Don't you?" she said. "Oh, I am sure you don't; you are a very goodlittle boy."
"But, I am afraid," said Miss Ford, "that is not the question. Ralph'sschool-mother accepts certain duties, which she must perform, and youcan't go to the picnic, Harriet, for Mrs Burton forbids it. She saysyou are to stay at home and look after Ralph, and make him as happy aspossible."
Harriet, who never denied herself, was suddenly forced to do so, and inthe most disagreeable, unexpected way. She almost hated Ralph at thatmoment. His brown eyes did not in the least appeal to her, and when hesnuggled to her side, and tried to take her hand, she pushed him almostroughly away.
"I hate being pawed!" said Harriet. "You must understand that, Ralph,if you are to be with me always. Very well, Miss Ford," she continued,turning to the teacher. "I must do what is right, of course."
"Of course, you must," said Miss Ford, and she marched away, saying toherself that she pitied Ralph, and wondering--as, indeed, everyone elsewas wondering--why Harriet had been chosen as his school-mother.
Book 1--CHAPTER NINE.
A VISIT TO THE FAIR.
Almost immediately after early dinner, two waggonettes came up to thedoor, and the girls of the sixth form and the girls of the third form,with their governesses and Mrs Burton herself, started off for a longand happy day in some distant woods. They were to visit the ruins ofChudleigh Castle and go up to the top of Peter's Tower--a celebratedplace in the neighbourhood--and afterwards they were to have tea on thegrass; and, best of all, they need not return home until the moon cameup.
The moonlight drive home would be the most fascinating part of the wholeexpedition. For days and days this picnic to Chudleigh Castle had beentalked about; and Harriet, with the others, had enjoyed it inanticipation. Now, she had to stand by, gloomily holding Ralph's hand,while the carriages were packed with radiant, happy girls, and, what wasstill harder, she had to listen to their gay shouts, and, in particular,to their badinage at her expense.
"I hope you'll enjoy yourself, Harriet," said Rose Amberley.
"I hope you and Ralph will have fun, my dear," said Agnes Winter, one ofthe sixth form girls, whom it was a great honour to know, and whomHarriet secretly adored. Even her own special chum, Jane, was lookingflushed and p
leased--disgustingly flushed and pleased, thought Harriet.And there was that little weak Vivian giggling in the silly way shealways did, and casting covert glances at her, and, of course, laughingat her in her sleeve. And there was that odious Robina, not looking ather at all, but calmly taking her seat, and making others laugh whenevershe spoke to them. Oh, it was all distracting, and for the time beingso angry was Harriet that even the prospective pony lost its charm.
At last the waggonettes started on their journey. The sound of theirwheels ceased to be heard. Stillness followed