Part 9 (1/2)

”Oh, Fan, dear--not with the lips, of course; but the eyes have spoken volumes. Now, I think they are great fun; they're so uncommon.”

”I have never said I didn't like them,” repeated f.a.n.n.y, ”and you will never get me to say it. They are my cousins, and of course I'll have to look after them a bit; but I think before they are a month at the school you will agree with me in my opinion with regard to them.”

”How can we agree in an opinion we know nothing about?” said Margaret Grant.

f.a.n.n.y looked at her, and f.a.n.n.y's eyes could flash in a very significant manner at times.

”Let's come out!” exclaimed Susie Rushworth. ”The girls will follow us.”

This, however, turned out not to be the case. Susie, the Bertrams, Margaret Grant, Olive Repton, waited for the Vivians in every imaginable spot where they it likely the newcomers would be.

As a matter of fact, the very instant the young Vivians had left the sitting-room, Betty whispered in an eager tone, first to one sister and then to the other, ”We surely needn't stay any longer with f.a.n.n.y and those other horrid girls. Never mind your hats and gloves. Did we ever wear hats and gloves when we were out on the moors at Craigie Muir?

There's an open door. Let's get away quite by ourselves.”

The Vivians managed this quite easily. They raced down a side-walk until they came to an overhanging oak tree of enormous dimensions. Into this tree they climbed, getting up higher and higher until they were lost to view in the topmost branches. Here they contrived to make a cozy nest for themselves, where they sat very close together, not talking much, although Betty now and then said calmly, ”I like Mrs. Haddo; she is the only one in the whole school I can tolerate.”

”Fan's worse than ever!” exclaimed Sylvia.

”Oh, don't let's talk of her!” said Betty.

”It will be rather fun going to London to-morrow,” said Hester.

”Fun!” exclaimed Betty. ”I suppose we shall be put into odious fas.h.i.+onable dresses, like those stuck-up dolls the other girls. But I don't think, try as they will, they'll ever turn _me_ into a fas.h.i.+onable lady. How I do hate that sort!”

”Yes, and so do I,” said Sylvia; while Hetty, who always echoed her sisters' sentiments, said ditto.

”Mrs. Haddo was kind about d.i.c.kie,” said Betty after a thoughtful pause.

”And it is nice,” added Sylvia, ”to have the Vivian attic.”

”Oh, dear!” said Hester; ”I wish all those girls would keep out of sight, for then I'd dash back to the house and bring out the pieces of heather and plant them right away. They ought not to be long out of the ground.”

”You had best go at once,” said Betty, giving Hester a somewhat vigorous push, which very nearly upset the little girl's balance. ”Go boldly back to the house; don't be afraid of any one; don't speak to any one unless it happens to be Mrs. Haddo. Be sure you are polite to her, for she is a lady. Go up to the Vivian attic and bring down the clumps of heather, and the little spade we brought with us in the very bottom of the fifth trunk.”

”Oh, and there's the watering-can; don't forget that!” cried Sylvia.

”Yes, bring the watering-can, too. You had best find a pump, or a well, or something, so that you can fill it up to the brim. Bring them all along; and then just whistle 'Robin Adair' at the foot of this tree, and we two will come swarming down. Now, off with you; there's no time to lose!”

Hester descended without a word. She was certainly born without a sc.r.a.p of fear of any kind, and adventure appealed to her plucky little spirit.

Betty settled herself back comfortably against one of the forked branches of the tree where she had made her nest.

”If we are careful, Sylvia, we can come up here to hide as often as we like. I rather fancy from the shape of those other girls that they're not specially good at climbing trees.”

”What do you mean by their shape?” asked Sylvia.

”Oh, they're so squeezed in and pushed out; I don't know how to explain it. Now, _we_ have the use of all our limbs; and I say, you silly little Sylvia, won't we use them just!”

”I always love you, Betty, when you call me 'silly little Sylvia,' for I know you are in a good humor and not inclined to howl. But, before Hetty comes back, I want to say something.”