Part 2 (1/2)
”I wonder--” echoed Lois immediately, and her voice had the same ring, her face the same curious expression.
The pupils at Milvern House were often amazed at the instinctive manner in which these two sisters leapt to an understanding of each other's meaning, and the present instance it was evident that Lois needed no explanation of that mysterious ”I wonder.” ”We are twins, you know,”
they were accustomed to say, when questioned about this peculiarity, and it seemed as if this fact did indeed save them from much conversational exercise.
”We will see!” said Bertha again, and Lois nodded her head and repeated, ”We will see!” while her face lit up with smiles.
But Mildred did not know what pleasant schemes her friends were plotting on her behalf, and she lay, face downwards, crying heart-brokenly upon her bed.
CHAPTER FOUR.
BAD NEWS FROM HOME.
The next morning Mildred awoke with a wail of despairing remembrance.
She hid her face in the pillow and wondered how she was to live through the day, to see the different batches of girls leave the house at ten o'clock, at eleven, at one, at half a dozen different times, while she was left alone in solitary misery.
Her friends, however, were too considerate of her feelings to let her experience such a trial. Immediately after breakfast Miss Chilton announced that she was going to spend the day in a neighbouring towns.h.i.+p, and requested Mildred to get ready to accompany her. Now, Miss Chilton was a majestic person, with a Roman nose and hair braided smoothly down each side of her face; and none of the girls dared to argue concerning her decrees, as they did, on occasion, with the more popular Miss Margaret.
So Mildred marched meekly upstairs, to put on hat and jacket, without uttering a single protest. She would have liked to say, ”Oh, do leave me alone! I would far rather stay at home and mope;” and Miss Chilton probably guessed as much, though she took no notice of her companion's downcast expression, and sat with the same unconscious smile upon her face all the length of the journey.
She had some shopping to do, in preparation for her own holidays, but when that was over, she and her pupil repaired to the house of a friend, where they were to lunch and spend the afternoon.
The friend had two daughters about Mildred's own age,--bright, lively girls, who carried her away to their own rooms, showed her their possessions, confided secret plans, and were altogether so kind and friendly that she forgot to be unhappy, and chatted as gaily as they did themselves. Miss Chilton had probably sounded a note of warning in the letter which announced her coming, for no one said a word to Mildred on the subject of the holidays, but when she was leaving, the mother invited her to spend another day with the girls, and the girls themselves kissed her with sympathetic effusion.
It was nearly eight o'clock when the travellers reached school again, to find the house transformed from its usual bustling aspect. The cla.s.srooms were closed, supper was laid in the cosy little south parlour, and when Mildred tried to enter the dormitory which she shared with two other girls she found that the door was locked, and Miss Margaret came smilingly forward to lead the way to her own room.
”I have been as busy as a bee all afternoon. Come and see how nicely I have arranged it all,” she said brightly, and Mildred, looking round, saw her own chest of drawers in one corner, her dresses hanging neatly in the wardrobe, while a narrow bed stood out at right angles from the wall.
Her heart swelled at the sight, and a hundred loving, grateful thoughts arose in her heart. She longed to thank Miss Margaret for sparing her the painful task of unpacking, and for letting her share this pretty, luxurious room, but it seemed as if an iron band were placed round her lips, and she could not p.r.o.nounce the words.
”The bed spoils the look of the room!” she muttered at last, and even in her own ears her voice sounded gruff and ungracious; but Miss Margaret only smiled, and slipped one arm caressingly round her waist.
”Ah, but I sha'n't think that when I wake in the morning and see my little goldilocks lying beside me, with her curls all over the pillow like the princess in the fairy tale!” she said, and at that Mildred was obliged to laugh too, for she was like most other mortals--marvellously susceptible to a touch of flattery!
”A very grumpy princess!” she said penitently. ”I am really awfully grateful, Mardie, but I can't show it. You will excuse me if I am nasty for a day or two, won't you, dear?”
Mardie raised her eyebrows and pursed up her lips in comical fas.h.i.+on.
She was always unusually lively for a school-mistress, but already it seemed to Mildred that she was quite a different person from the ”Miss Margaret” of term time. She wore a pretty blue dress, with lace frillings on the bodice, and walked about with an airy tread, as though released from a weight of responsibility.
”Well,” she said, nodding her head, and looking as mischievous as a girl herself, ”I'll make allowances, of course, but I hope you won't try me too far. I am a delightful person out of school time, and mean to enjoy every day of the holidays to the full--unless you prevent me I shall be dependent upon you!”
”I prevent you,--I!”
That seemed to put the matter in a new light, and Mildred was overcome at the thought of her own selfishness. Whatever she might have to suffer, she must not spoil poor Mardie's pleasure in her well-earned rest. That would be inexcusable. She determined to do her utmost to be brave for Mardie's sake.
The next day Miss Chilton departed on her travels, and a letter arrived from Mrs Ross giving a serious account of the little invalid's condition. She evidently tried to write as cheerfully as possible, but Mildred read anxiety between the lines, and was full of compunction.
She had never imagined that Robbie would be really ill, but had looked upon the fever as a childish complaint which would make him hot and red for a few days, and put everyone else to inconvenience for as many weeks. She had not only felt, but said, that it was very ”tiresome” of him to have taken ill at such a time; but now the remembrance of poor wee Robbie lying in bed crying, ”'Cause Millie would be angry wif him,”
cut her to the heart. The day seemed endlessly long and dreary, and the next morning's news was worse instead of better. Robbie's life was in danger. The doctor hoped, however, that a change might take place within the next twenty-four hours, and Mrs Ross promised to telegraph in the afternoon to allay his sister's anxiety.
Miss Margaret looked very grave, but she said little, and did not attempt to follow when Mildred fled upstairs, leaving the letter in her hands. There are times when we all prefer to be alone, and this morning Mildred could not have brought herself to speak to anyone in the world but her mother. She lay motionless on the window-seat, her head resting on the open sill, the summer breeze stirring the curls on her forehead, while the clock in the hall chimed one hour after another, and the morning crept slowly away. For the most part she felt stupefied, as if she could not realise all that the tidings meant, but every now and then her heart swelled with an intolerable ache.