Part 8 (1/2)

Hudson laid down the tray with Ermengarde's dinner, told her to eat plenty, and retired. As she left the room she said she would return for the tray in half an hour. She did not say any word of sympathy to Ermengarde. Hudson was always on the side of discipline; she thought that the children of the present day sadly needed correction; and when one of the young Wiltons was punished, she generally owned to a sense of rejoicing. That did not, however, prevent her supplying the culprit with an excellent meal, and Ermengarde now raised the covers from a plump duck done to perfection, some green peas, and delicious floury new potatoes. A greengage tart, with a little jug of cream, also awaited the young lady's pleasure.

She called Susy out of her cupboard with a glad voice.

”Come, Susan,” she said, ”there's plenty for us both. As there are only plates and knives and forks for one, I'll eat first, of course, but you can wash the things up, and have a good meal after me. We must be quick about it though, for Hudson will be back in half an hour.”

”Oh, yes, miss, that we will. I'm wonderful hungry, Miss Ermengarde, and your nice dinner do look enticing.”

At the appointed time Hudson returned. She brought in a couple of peaches and a bunch of grapes for Ermengarde.

”Miss Ermengarde!” she said in consternation, ”you don't mean to say you've eaten up all the duck! And the tart, too! Well, I do call that greedy. Where's the sorrow that worketh to repentance when there's such an appet.i.te? You'll be ill, miss, and no wonder.”

”But I didn't eat all the duck, really, Hudson--I didn't truly!”

”My dear, what's left of it? Only a little bit of the back. Why, this plump bird ought to have dined three people. Miss Ermengarde, you certainly will be very ill, and you deserve it. No, I won't leave these peaches and grapes--I'd be afraid. Good-afternoon, miss, I'll look in at tea-time. But don't you expect nothing but dry toast then.”

Hudson took her tray down to the kitchen, where she remarked on Ermie's enormous appet.i.te.

”A whole duck!” she said. ”I didn't think any young lady could eat so much. And most times Miss Ermie picks at her food.”

Upstairs, in Miss Nelson's pretty little sitting-room, Ermengarde was scolding Susy for eating so much duck. Susy was retorting with some pa.s.sion that she had not had more than her share, and over this dispute the two friends came almost to a quarrel.

Susy, however, had no wish not to keep on the sunny side of Miss Ermengarde's affections, and after her momentary irritation had cooled down, she adroitly changed the subject. Once more she administered broad flatteries; and impressed upon Ermengarde the fact that she was a long-suffering and ill-used martyr.

”I wouldn't stand it,” said Susy. ”No, that I wouldn't. I ain't a lady like you, Miss Ermie, but I wouldn't stand what you do.”

”What would you do, Susy? How would you help yourself?”

”What would I do? Well, I'd go to my pa', and I'd have a talk with him. I'd let him know that--obey that old horror of a governess?”

”You mustn't speak about her like that, really, Susy.”

”Miss, I'm open; that's what I am. I says what I means, and when I see a poor dear put upon, and treated worse than a baby, and punished as if we were back in feudal ages, I say that the one who does it is a horror. You think the same, Miss Ermie, though you're too proud to say it.”

”We don't express ourselves in that way in our cla.s.s,” said Ermengarde, with a slow distinguished sort of smile which always abashed Susy. ”Yes, Miss Nelson is very suitable with the children, but I do think I am beyond her. I am old for my years, and no one can call fourteen young.”

”It's a n.o.ble age, miss,” said Susy, in a tone of rapture. ”I'm only twelve, but I aspires to fourteen continual.”

”Oh, you,” said Ermengarde. ”You're different; girls in your cla.s.s don't come out. You are not presented, you have no future. It is quite a different matter with me. I shall be in society in a few years at latest. What I should like my father to do is----”

”To send you to a select seminary, miss--I know!”

”You don't know, Susan, A select seminary! the very word is vulgar.

No; I should like my father to allow me to pursue my own education under the control of masters who are specialists in each branch.”

”Miss, you talk very learned.”

Susan suppressed a yawn, and going to the window looked out.

”I know what I'd do,” she said. ”I'd pay that fine lady governess of yours out. It would be t.i.t for tat with me. Couldn't you do something as would put her in a fret, Miss Ermie?”