Part 15 (1/2)

The four girls walked rapidly. At last they found a little summer-house which was built high up on the very top of a rising mound. From here you could get a good view of the surrounding country; and very beautiful it was--at least, for those whose eyes were trained to observe the rich beauty of cultivated land, of flowing rivers, of forests, of carefully kept trees. Very lonely indeed was the scene from Haddo Court summer-house; for, in addition to every sc.r.a.p of land being made to yield its abundance, there were pretty cottages dotted here and there--each cottage possessing its own gay flower-garden, and, in most cases, its own happy little band of pretty boys and girls.

As soon as the four girls found themselves in the summer-house, Margaret began to praise the view to Sylvia.

Sylvia looked round to right and to left. ”_We_ don't admire that sort of thing,” she said. ”Do we, Hetty?”

Hetty shook her head with vehemence. ”Oh no, no,” she said. Then, coming a little closer to Margaret, she looked into her face and continued, ”Are you the sort of kind girl who will keep a secret?”

Margaret thought of the Speciality Club. But surely this poor little secret belonging solely to the Vivians need not be related to any one who was not in sympathy with them. ”I never tell tales, if that is what you mean,” she said.

”Then that is all right,” remarked Sylvia. ”And are you the same sort of girl, Olive? You look very kind.”

”It wouldn't be hard to be kind to one like you,” was Olive's response.

Whereupon Sylvia smiled, and Hetty came close to Olive and looked into her face.

”Then we want you,” continued Sylvia, ”never, never to tell about the burnt sacrifice of the Scotch heather, nor about the flight of the fairies back to Scotland. It tortured Betty to have to do it; but she thought it right, therefore it was done. There are some people, however, who would not understand her; and we would much rather be able to tell our own Betty that you will never speak of it, when she has come back to herself and has got over her howling.”

”Of course we'll never tell,” said Olive; and Margaret nodded her head without speaking.

”I think you are just awfully nice,” said Sylvia. ”We were so terrified when we came to this school. We thought we'd have an awful time. We still speak of it as a prison, you know. Do you speak of it to your dearest friend as a prison?”

”Prison!” said Margaret. ”There isn't a place in the world I love as I love Haddo Court.”

”Then you never, never lived in a dear little gray stone house on a wild Scotch moor; and you never had a man like Donald Macfarlane to talk to, nor a woman like Jean Macfarlane to make scones for you; and you never had dogs like our dogs up there, nor a horse like David. I pity you from my heart!”

”I never had any of those things,” said Margaret; ”but I shall like to hear about them from you.”

”And so shall I like to hear about them,” said Olive.

”We will tell you, if Betty gives us leave,” said one of the twins. ”We never do anything without Betty's leave. She is the person we look up to, and obey, and follow. We'd follow her to the world's end; we'd die for her, both of us, if it would do her any good.”

Margaret took Sylvia's hand and began to smooth it softly. ”I wish,” she said then in a slow voice, ”that I had friends to love me as you love your sister.”

”Perhaps you aren't worthy,” said Sylvia. ”There is no one living like Betty in all the world, and we feel about her as we do because she is Betty.”

”But, all the same,” said Hester, frowning as she spoke, ”our Betty has got an enemy.”

”An enemy, my dear child! What do you mean? You have just been praising her so much! Did any one take a dislike to her up in that north country?”

”It may have begun there,” remarked Hetty; ”but the sad and dreadful thing is that the enemy is in this house. Sylvia and I don't mind your knowing. We rather think you like her, but we don't. Her name is f.a.n.n.y Crawford.”

”Oh, really, though, that is quite nonsense!” said Margaret, flus.h.i.+ng with annoyance. ”Poor dear f.a.n.n.y, there is not a better or sweeter girl in the school!”

Sylvia laughed. ”That is your point of view,” she said. ”She is our enemy; she is not yours. Oh, hurrah! hurrah! I see Betty! She is coming back, walking very slowly. She has got over the worst of the howls. We must both go and meet her. Don't be anywhere about, please, either of you. Keep quite in the shade, so that she won't see you; and the next time you meet talk to her as though this had never happened.”

The twins dashed out of sight. They certainly could run very fast.

When they had gone Margaret looked at Olive. ”Well,” she said, ”that sort of scene rather takes one's breath away. What do you think, Olive?”

”It was exceedingly trying,” said Olive.

”All the same,” said Margaret, ”I feel roused up about those girls in the most extraordinary manner. Didn't you notice, too, what Sylvia said about poor f.a.n.n.y? Isn't it horrid?”