Part 49 (2/2)

Two of the gra.s.s-hoppers had been greatly displeased about it, and called it a beastly shame, words much shocking gentle Mysie from aristocratic lips. One of them had been as sulky, angry, and impracticable as possible, just like a log, and the other had consoled himself with all manner of tricks, especially upon the teacher and on Ivinghoe. He would skip like a real gra.s.shopper, he made faces that set all laughing, he tripped Ivinghoe up, he uttered saucy speeches that Mysie considered too shocking to repeat, but which convulsed every one with laughter, Fly most especially, and her governess had punished her for it. 'She would not punish me,' said Mysie, 'though I know I was just as bad, and I think that was a shame!' At last the practising had to be carried on without the boys, and yet, when it came to the point, both the recusants behaved as well and danced as suitably as if they had submitted to the training like their sisters! And oh! the dressing, that was worse.

'I did not think I was so stupid,' said Mysie, 'but I heard Louise tell mademoiselle that I was trop bourgeoise, and mademoiselle answered that I was plutot pet.i.te paysanne, and would never have l'air de distinction.

'Abominable impertinence!' cried Gillian.

”They thought I did not understand,' said Mysie, 'and I knew it was fair to tell them, so I said, 'Mais non, car je suis la pet.i.te souris de compagne.'”

'Well done, Mysie!' cried her sister.

'They did jump, and Louise began apologizing in a perfect gabble, and mademoiselle said I had de l'esprit, but I am sure I did not mean it.'

'But how could they?' exclaimed Gillian. 'I'm sure Mysie looks like a lady, a gentleman's child--I mean as much as Fly or any one else.'

'I trust you all look like gentlewomen, and are such in refinement and manners, but there is an air, which comes partly of birth, partly of breeding, and that none of you, except, perhaps, Alethea, can boast of, and about which papa and I don't care one rush.'

'Has Fly got it, mamma?' said Valetta. 'She seemed like one of ourselves.'

'Oh, yes,' put in Dolores. 'It was what made me think her stuck up. I should have known her for a swell anywhere.'

'I'm sure Fly has no airs!' exclaimed Val, hotly, and Gillian was ready to second her; but Lady Merrifield explained. 'The absence of airs is one ingredient, Val, both in being ladylike, and in the distinction in which the maid justly perceived our Mouse to be deficient. Come, you foolish girls, don't look concerned. n.o.body but the maid would have ever let Mysie perceive the difference.'

Mysie coloured and answered, 'I don't know; I saw the Fitzhughs look at me at first as if they did not think I belonged, and Ivinghoe was always so awfully polite that I thought he was laughing at me.'

'Ivinghoe must be horrid,' broke out Valetta.

'The Fitzhughs said they would knock it out of him at Eton,' returned Mysie. 'They got very nice after the first day, and said Fly and I were twice as jolly fellows as he was.'

It further appeared that Mysie had had plenty of partners at the ball, and on all occasions her full share of notice, the country neighbours welcoming her as her mother's daughter, but most of them saying she was far more like her Aunt Phyllis than her own mother. The dancing and excitement so late at night had, however, tired her overmuch, she had cramp all the remainder of the night, could eat no breakfast the next day, and was quite miserable.

'I should like to have cried for you, mamma' she said, 'but they were all quite used to it, and not a bit tired. However, Cousin Florence came in, and she was so kind. She took me to the little west room, and made me lie on the sofa, and read to me till I went to sleep, and I was all right after dinner and had a ride on Fly's old pony, Dormouse. She has the loveliest new one, all bay, with a black mane and tail, called Fairy, but Alberta had that. Oh it was so nice.'

Altogether Lady Merrifield was satisfied that her little girl had not been spoilt for home by her taste of dissipation, though she did not hear the further confidence to Dolores in the twilight by the schoolroom fire.

'Do you know, Dolly, though Fly is such a darling, and they all wanted to be kind as well as they knew how, I came to understand how horrid you must have felt when you came among the whole lot of us.'

'But you knew Fly already?'

'That made it better, but I don't like it. To feel one does not belong, and to be afraid to open a door for fear it should be somebody's room, and not quite to know who every one is. Oh, dear! it is enough to make anybody cross and stupid. Oh, I am so glad to be back again.'

'I'm sure I am glad you are,' and there was a little kissing match.

'You'll always come to my room, won't you? Do you know, when Constance came to luncheon, I only shook hands, I wouldn't try to kiss her. Was that unforgiving?'

'I am sure I couldn't,' said Mysie; 'did she try?'

'I don't think so; I don't think I ever could kiss her; for I never should have said what was not true without her, and that is what makes Uncle Reginald so angry still. He would not kiss me even when he went away. Oh, Mysie! that's worse than anything,' and Dolores's face contracted with tears very near at hand. 'I did always so love Uncle Regie, and he won't forgive me, and father will be just the same.'

'Poor dear, dear Dolly,' said Mysie, hugging her.

'But you know fathers always forgive, and we will try and make a little prayer about it, like the Prodigal Son's, you know.'

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