Three Girls from School
Page 22
as quickly as possible."
This conversation took place on the first day when Annie wrote lettersto Lady Lushington's dictation. Soon the thing became a habit, and LadyLushington secured the services of Miss Brooke for a couple of hoursdaily. She quite enjoyed it. It was so much less trouble, sittinglazily in her chair and getting that smart, pretty little thing to dothe toilsome work for her. She felt that Annie was assuredly pretty,and much more interesting than poor Priscilla.
At last, on a day when the ladies had been at Interlaken for over aweek, and were meaning to move on to Zermatt, Lady Lushington opened aletter, the contents of which caused her face to flush and her eyes toblaze with annoyance.
"Really," she said, "this is too bad; this is simply abominable!"
"What is the matter?" asked Annie.
She had guessed, however, what the matter was, and her heart beat as shemade the remark, for that morning she had seen, lying on thebreakfast-table amongst a pile of letters directed to Lady Lushington,one in the well-known writing of Mrs Priestley; and if Annie had anydoubt on that point, the dressmaker's address was printed on the flap ofthe envelope. Her innocent eyes, however, never looked more innocent asshe glanced up now from the blank sheet of paper on which she was aboutto write.
"Of course you know nothing about it, child," said Lady Lushington, "butit is beyond belief; Mabel's extravagance exceeds all bounds; I will notpermit it for a single moment."
"Mabel's extravagance?" said Annie, looking surprised. "But surely dearMabel is not extravagant. I have never, never noticed it; I assure youI haven't."
"Then what do you say to this?" said Lady Lushington. "That odiouswoman Priestley sends me a bill for one term's clothing; total amountseventy pounds!"
"Seventy pounds," said Annie, "for Mabel's dress?" She pretended tolook shocked. "It is impossible," she said slowly. "There must be amistake."
"Of course there is a mistake. That abominable woman thinks that I amso rich that I don't mind paying any amount. But she will learn that Iam not to be imposed upon."
"What do you think you will say to her?" asked Annie.
"I am sure I don't know. I had best speak to Mabel herself."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," said Annie. "May gets so confused; dear Mayhas no head for business; she won't have the slightest idea what dressshe did get. I know there was that lovely, expensive white satin forthe school dance, and that beautiful dress of _crepe-de-Chine_ withpearly trimmings which she wore on the day of the break-up--the day whenshe received her great honour, her prize for literature; and there wasthat pale-blue evening-dress of hers, and the rose-coloured silk."
"But I don't remember those dresses at all. Where are they now?"
"I dare say she has left them at school," said Annie.
"Left them at school?"
"She would probably not think them fine enough for you."
"What absurdity! And even if she did get such uncalled-for, suchunsuitable dresses, the sum total from a country dressmaker would notamount to seventy pounds."
"Well, I tell you what I would do if I were you," said Annie. "If youwill let me, I will write in your name for the items. Mrs Priestley hasonly sent you `To account rendered,' has she not?"
"That is a good idea," said Lady Lushington. "I must speak to Mabelabout her frocks when she appears. As a matter of fact, I do not mindwhat I spend on her now that she has come out, or partly come out, forof course she won't be really introduced into society until she ispresented next year. But seventy pounds for one schoolgirl's wardrobefor a single term is too much."
"Then I may write?" said Annie, her hand trembling a little.
"Certainly. Tell the woman to send all items at once here. Really,this has worried me."
Lady Lushington did not notice that, notwithstanding all Annie'sapparent coolness, there were additional spots of colour on her cheeks,and that her hand shook a little as she penned the necessary words.Suppose the majestic Mrs Priestley recognised her handwriting! Therewas no help for it now, however, and any delay in grappling with theevil hour was welcome.
The letter was written and laid with several others on the table. LadyLushington remarked after a minute's pause:
"I may as well confide in you, Miss Brooke, that nothing ever astonishedme more than Mabel's success in gaining that literature prize; for youknow, my dear, between you and me, she is not at all clever."
"Oh, how you mistake her!" said Annie, with enthusiasm. "Dear Mabeldoes not care to talk about her deepest feelings or about thosemagnificent thoughts which visit her mind."
"She has no thoughts, my dear, except the silliest," said Mabel's aunt,with a laugh.
"Oh, how you wrong her! Why, she is a poetess."
"A what?" said Lady Lushington.
"She writes poems."
"Nonsense! I don't believe you."
"I can show them to you."
"Pray do not; I would not read them for the world. I class all rhymesas jingles. I detest them. Even Will Shakespeare could never gain myattention for more than half-a-minute."
"Nevertheless, Mabel is clever, and her prize essay on `Idealism' wasundoubtedly the best in the school."
"Yes? Wonders will never cease," remarked Lady Lushington; "but, totell you the truth, I was more annoyed than pleased when she got theprize. I did not want her to leave school for a year, and I only madethat rash promise believing it to be quite impossible for me to fulfil.However, now I must make the best of it; and as, thank goodness! shedoes not pose as a genius, and is a fine, handsome girl, I have no doubtI shall get her married before long."
"Oh, Lady Lushington! Could you bear to part with her?"
"Indeed I could, my dear, to a good husband. I mean by that a man in ahigh position in society."
Annie was silent, looking prettily down. Lady Lushington glanced at herand noticed the charming contour of her face.
"If only her eyelashes were a little darker and her eyebrows moremarked, she would be a sweetly pretty girl," she thought. But the lackof distinction in her face was not apparent at that moment.
"You will have a good husband yourself some day, Miss Brooke; and ifever I can help you to bring such a desirable matter about, you may relyon me."
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" said Annie. "Poor little me! But I am onlyan orphan with just one dear uncle and little or no money. LadyLushington, I am so happy here, and you are so very kind to me."
"Well, my dear, you are kind to me too. I believe we are of mutualbenefit each to the other. Now, will you put on your hat and take thoseletters to the nearest post? You will just have time to get them inbefore we go downstairs to _dejeuner_."
Nothing could be more welcome to Annie than this last remark, for whileshe was talking she was wondering much in her clever little brain if shecould carry out a scheme which had darted through it. The opportunityof posting the letters gave her just the loophole she desired. Takingthe pile from the table, she accordingly ran out of the room, and a fewminutes later was walking down the street which led to the post-office.
On her way there she met Mabel Lushington and Priscilla. They werecoming back after a long, rambling walk, and both girls were rathertired.
"Whither away, Annie?" said Mabel in her cheerful voice.
"To post some letters for your aunt, Lady Lushington."
"But the post does not go out until the evening, and that hill is sosteep and difficult to climb, and it is almost the hour for _dejeuner_,"objected Mabel. "Do turn back with us now, Annie; I shall so hatewaiting lunch for you."
"Oh, give me the letters if you like," said Priscilla; "I will run downthe hill in no time, and come back again as quickly. I do not mindclimbing hills in the least."
"They exhaust me frightfully," said Mabel; "and I notice, too, thatAnnie gets a little out of breath when she walks up these impossiblemountains too fast. That is a good idea, really. Give Priscie theletters, Annie, and come home with me; I want to talk to you."
"No, I
can't," said Annie. "I must post them myself; they areimportant."
She darted away, pretending not to notice Mabel's flushed, indignantface and Priscilla's look of grave surprise. She reached thepost-office and dropped all the letters she had written, except that oneto Mrs Priestley, into the box. Mrs Priestley's letter she kept safelyin her pocket.
"This must be delayed for perhaps a couple of days," thought Annie. "Inthe meantime I shall have to talk to May. What a mercy," was her nextreflection, "that I was given