Part 8 (1/2)
”Yes,” exclaimed Sarah, ”and I told you you weren't killing handsome, and I dare say you agreed with me, though you didn't say so. But there is one thing certain, if the cold makes frights of both of us, it makes Marion look like a beauty!” and Sarah's eyes sparkled mischievously.
Georgie only shrugged her shoulders and elevated her eyebrows, as she replied, ”Chacun a son gout.”
”But it doesn't happen to be your ”gout,” does it, Georgie?”
good-naturedly replied Marion, who knew very well that Sarah's admiration of herself was thus publicly exhibited solely for the sake of annoying Georgie.
”Come, girls, let's declare peace, or at least a 'cessation of hostilities;' it's a shame to commence the day with quarrels;” and Florence knelt down on the rug between the two girls, looking up at them with a smile that it would have been hard for any one to have resisted.
Directly after this Miss Stiefbach entered, and all were quiet as she read the morning prayers, and they joined in the responses.
By ten o'clock the girls, with the exception of Julia Thayer, whose throat was still troubling her, and Grace Minton, who was suffering from a sick headache, were on their way to church. They did not walk in a regular procession like so many convicts on their way to prison, but each chose her own companion, and the walk was enlivened with pleasant conversation. It so chanced that Marion and Georgie Graham were together, not by choice of either party, but because they both happened to come downstairs a little late, and the others had already got into the street as they came out the front door. Florence Stevenson, Miss Christine, and Rachel Drayton were all walking together, and Georgie, observing this, thought it would be an excellent opportunity for making Marion thoroughly uncomfortable.
”It seems to me,” she began, ”you and Florence are not quite so fond of each other as you used to be; or is it that she is not so fond of you?”
”I don't think there is any difference on either side,” quietly replied Marion, determined not to lose her temper, or be led into saying cutting things of which she would have to repent.
”Oh, if you think so, I suppose it is all right; but I don't believe there's a girl in the school who hasn't noticed how Florence has left you to run after Rachel Drayton.”
Marion resolutely kept silence, and Georgie, thinking that her shots had not taken effect, continued: ”I don't see what there is about that girl, I'm sure, to make Flo fancy her so much; she certainly isn't pretty, and she's awfully lackadaisical.”
”I think she is very pretty,” replied Marion; ”and the reason she seems lackadaisical is because she is not strong.”
”I thought you did not like her,” said Georgie, ”you certainly have not troubled yourself much to entertain her.”
”I do not see as that is any reason why I should not think her pretty, or why I should not see that she is quiet, because she is not only weak, but very homesick and sad.”
”Why, really, Marion, I had not any idea you had taken enough notice of her to see all that. What a farce you must have been acting all this time, to seem so indifferent when you were _really_ so deeply interested!”
”If that is so, Georgie,” replied Marion, as she looked her companion steadily in the face, ”I have been a better actress than you, for you play your part so badly that the little boys in the amphitheatre might see into the plot in the first act. I advise you to try another role.”
Georgie opened her eyes in pretended astonishment; but she knew very well what Marion meant, and that her intentions of tormenting her companion were fully understood. But that fact did not prevent her from saying in a gently insinuating tone: ”Now, Marion, don't be provoked, but _don't_ you think that Florence is rather turning the cold shoulder on you?”
”No, Miss Graham, I do not,” emphatically replied Marion, and for at least five minutes Georgie said nothing. ”I wonder!” she at last exclaimed, ”if Rachel Drayton is rich. I think she must be, for although there is no style to her clothes, and she is of course very dowdy-looking, still everything she has is made of the most expensive material, and you know nice mourning costs awfully. Just look at her vail now; see how long it is, and of the heaviest crepe; but she looks like a ghost under it! I don't believe but what she is rich.”
”Well, Georgie,” replied Marion, with the slightest possible curve of her lip, ”I can satisfy you on that point. She _is quite_ well off; her father left about two millions, and with the exception of a few legacies of two or three hundred thousand or so, mere trifles to her, she will have it all; you see she is pretty well provided for.”
”Two millions!” exclaimed Georgie, startled out of her usual composure; ”two millions! why, I hadn't any idea of it.”
”No, I thought not,” dryly replied Marion.
”But, Marion, are you sure? How did you know it?”
”I heard Miss Stiefbach tell Miss Christine so the day Miss Drayton came here.”
”And you've known it all this time!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Georgie, who could not get over her astonishment.
”Yes,” replied Marion, ”I've known it all this time, and actually haven't toadied her yet; aren't you surprised?” and Marion's voice had, by this time, a.s.sumed its most coolly sarcastic tones, and her eyes flashed scorn and indignation upon her bewildered companion.
”I wonder if Florence Stevenson knew it. I suppose of course she did,”
musingly remarked Georgie.