by L. T. Meade
she remarked, all of a sudden. "Of course you won't speakto your papa and get me dismissed, and lose all your own fun--no threegirls would be so mad. But I have something more to say. I want _you_,Fanchon, to be my friend."
"Oh--I!" said Fanchon--"but mice are never friendly with cats, arethey?"
"You mustn't think of me as a cat, dear, nor of yourself as a mouse.The simile is very painful, and you know how I have talked to you aboutthe pleasant time I trust to have at Marshlands; and you shall help me,and look very, very smart when you come out with me in the evenings. Doyou remember my telling you that if you are my friend, I might get you alittle bangle to wear?"
"Oh, yes--but I am certain it would be a horrid gilt thing not worthanything."
"Fanchon--you _are_ unkind! I told you in the utmost confidence that Ihad been left a tiny legacy--a little, _little_ sum of money, veryprecious to poor me, but very small. Well, I did not forget my pupil,and I have bought her a bangle."
"Oh, Brenda, _have_ you?"
"Yes, dear; and it is made of the _best gold_ for the purpose--_eighteencarat gold_! You must on no account tell the others a single _word_about it; but I will give it you sometimes to wear when you and I go outby ourselves in the evenings. It shall shine on your little wrist then,Fanchon, and--how _sweet_ you will look in it!"
"Oh--but may I see it?" said Fanchon, her lips trembling as she spoke.
"Not until you most faithfully promise that you will not say a wordabout it to the other girls. There are, occasionally, times when I mayeven want to wear it myself. But it will belong to you--it will be_your_ property, and when we come back from the sea, I will present itto you absolutely. Make me a faithful promise that you will say nothingabout the bangle, and you shall constantly wear it when the others arenot looking on--and--when we return, it shall be _yours_!"
"Oh, I promise," said Fanchon. "I expect I was a sort of a brute thismorning--I didn't understand you could be _so_ kind. Are you making afool of me, Brenda--do you mean what you say?"
"Of course I mean what I say. You faithfully promise?"
"I _do_--indeed--indeed; and I will explain things to the others, andI'll force them to believe me--they generally do everything that I wish.You _will_ buy us all the lovely clothes, won't you, _darling_ Brenda!"
"I have said so, Fanchon."
"And you _will_ take me out in the evenings when the other two are inbed?"
"Most certainly I will."
"Then I _will_ promise _everything_--I will be your friend through thickand thin, and I'm awfully sorry I was cross to you and--and disbelievedyou. Of course, I see that dear papa has to be managed; he is so funnyabout our dress--so different from other men."
"Your father is a most saint-like man, and you must never say that he isfunny, for that is not right. But saint-like men have to be managed inthis unsaintlike world, that is all, dear--every woman understands that,she wouldn't be worth her salt if she didn't."
"Please, please show me the bracelet," said Fanchon. Then Brenda wentto the drawer where her treasures were and took out the little old boxwhere her false jewellery had reposed, and where now the beautifulbangle lay in all its pristine freshness. She hated beyond words to seeFanchon even touch it, but she felt that she had to pay this price tosecure her own safety, and she even permitted the girl to clasp it roundher wrist, and to look at it with the colour flaming into her cheeks andthe light of longing in her dull eyes.
"Oh--isn't it just--_too_ perfect!" said Fanchon.
"Be my friend and it shall be yours when we return from the sea. Ibought it for you--for _you_; real, real gold too, of the best quality--and such an exquisite turquoise! You needn't be ashamed to wear this_wherever_ you appear--even when, by-and-by, you are married to somerich, great man, you can still wear the little bracelet--the very bestof its kind. See, I will write your name now before your eyes on thelittle box." Brenda took up a pencil and hastily wrote the followingwords on the back of the box: "Fanchon Amberley's gold and turquoisebracelet."
"Why don't you say that you have given it to me?" said Fanchon.
"No, no--I can add that by-and-by. If people happen to ask you thestory about it, it may not be wise for it to appear that such abeautiful thing was given to you by a poor governess. Well now, here itis back again in the drawer, and you can go to bed, Fanchon. You are avery rich girl, and I am not quite as bad as you painted me, am I?"
"No, no!" said Fanchon, who was completely won over, "you're a darling!"
"Not a cat," whispered Brenda--"not a horrid pussy-cat?"
"No--a darling, and my friend," said Fanchon and then she left the rooma little giddily, for the thought of the bracelet seemed to weigh herdown with uncontrollable bliss; she scarcely understood her ownsensations.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
A TERRIBLE ALTERNATIVE.
Nina was very poorly the next day and was forced to stay in bed. Shecould not eat any of the good things which had been provided forbreakfast, and thought of herself as a much abused little martyr.
Brenda's conduct to this naughty, greedy child was all that wasexemplary. She gave her proper medicines and saw that her bedroom wasmade comfortable, and came in and out of the room like a ministeringangel--as Mr Amberley said.
Soon after noon, Nina was better, and as she had not the slightest ideawhat had taken place between Fanchon and her governess the night before,she said somewhat rudely to that pretty young woman, who was hemmingsome of the Reverend Josiah's handkerchiefs as she sat by the bedside:
"Do go away please, Brenda, and send Fanchon to me."
Brenda gave an angelic smile and immediately complied. A few minuteslater Fanchon entered the room accompanied by Josephine.
"Oh, you are better, are you?" said Fanchon, regarding her youngersister with small favour. "Well--I hope you have received your lessonand won't eat unlimited plum cake again, and finish off with lobster andcrabs."
"I hate l-lobsters and crabs!" moaned the victim. "They make me sos-sick--horrid things!"
"Well, you're better now, so forget about them," said Fanchon.
"Yes--I am better; _she_--the cat--she says that I am to have gruel fordinner! I _don't_ want it--horrid thing!"
"Serves you right, say I!" cried Fanchon.
"Oh, please, Fanchon," said Nina, whose tears had trickled weakly forth,for she had really been rather bad, "don't scold me, but tell me whatyou have arranged with Cat last night."
"She's not a cat--we made a mistake about that," said Fanchon.
"What on earth do you mean now, Fanchon?" exclaimed Josie.
"She explained things to me. She's very good-natured, and very wise."
"Very ill-natured and only _self_-wise!" exclaimed Josie.
"No, no--you don't know!" and then Fanchon proceeded to explain to bothher sisters all about that wonderful point of view which Brenda, in hercleverness, had managed to impress on her mind. The money was kept backon purpose. It was on account of dear papa and dear papa'seccentricity. The money would be spent at Marshlands, and Nina, if sheliked, could keep accounts.
"She cried about it, poor thing!" said Fanchon. "She admits, of course,that the money is there for us, and she will buy us just what we wantand give us a good time, and some treats besides in the different teashops. She really was awfully nice about it."
"Oh, Fanchon," said Josephine, "you are taken in easily."
"No, I'm not--I didn't believe her myself at first."
"You mean to say you do now?" said Nina.
"Y-yes, I do now."
Notwithstanding her weakness, Nina laughed.
"Well, then--I don't--do you, Joey?"
"I?" said Josephine. "I believe her less than ever. She is found out,and she means to save herself by spending the money on us. She's aworse old cat than ever--that's what _I_ call her."
"Well--of course," said Fanchon, "you can tell papa--she told me lastnight that I could."
"It's the right thing to do," said Nina.
"We
ll, I don't think so. I believe her--I really and truly do. Sheconfesses she told that lie about not having money, for she wished tohave the thing a secret until we got to the seaside; but that is thewhole of her offending. Of course you, girls, can tell papa, but it'llbe very serious, particularly as that awful Miss Juggins has come hometo live with her mother."
"What in the wide world has Miss Juggins to do with it?" exclaimed bothsisters.
"Well--she's out of a situation, and papa is safe and certain to get herto