tea is ready. Now docome downstairs, Dumps, and don't look so bewildered. You would bequite nice-looking if your hair was properly arranged. Here, let mearrange it for you. Why should it sag in that hideous way over yourforehead? Give me your comb."
Hermione could be very masterful. She folded back my hair in somemarvellous fashion, which made my forehead look much broader, and thenshe plaited it in two thick plaits which hung down my back. Thoseplaits kept the front quite tidy and in complete order; and then shebrought a little hand-glass and made me look at my reflection behind.
"You look quite a nice girl," she said. "I grant that you have not themost perfect features in the world, but a great many girls who havebetter features would give up everything for your hair."
Yes, my hair was very thick, and it was very bright, and somewhat tawnyin shade, and the two plaits were massive and very long, for they hungfar below my waist.
"I have such a little screw of hair," said Hermione, "that I shall bedelighted when I am allowed to put it up; but mother won't hear of ituntil I am seventeen. She says that, as my hair is so rat's-taily, Imay as well put it up when I am seventeen, but that won't be for a wholeyear and three months."
"Then you are not sixteen yet?"
"No."
"I am three months younger than you," I replied, "and I am not a bitanxious to be grown-up; I want to remain a child."
"Perhaps so; with your sort of figure and your thick hair--it won't looknearly so well when it is coiled round your head--I am not surprised.Oh, delightful sound! There's the tinkle of dear Grace's tea-bell. Nowcome along down; I do want to store at the Professor."
We did go down. There was a very cosy tea; it was laid in the prettyparlour. Father sat at one end of the table and Miss Donnithorne at theother, while Hermione occupied the central position at the side near thefire, and I the opposite one. The Professor kept talking all the time.It did not matter in the very least whether he was answered or not. Hewas explaining the peculiarities of a fossil which he had discovered bythe merest chance a month ago. He was telling the exact age which hadproduced this fossil, and using most unintelligible names. MissDonnithorne was listening, and now and then putting in a remark, butneither Hermione nor I uttered a word. I began to day-dream. TheProfessor was just as he always was. He always talked like that--always. He was a little less interesting than usual when he got onfossils; they were his very driest subject. The boys and I knew quitewell what subjects he was best on: he was best when he alluded to thegreat Greek tragedians; occasionally then an ordinary person _could_ geta glimmering of his meaning. I thought I would show those good ladies,Miss Donnithorne and that precious Hermione, that I understood father alittle better than they did. So I said after a pause, "Which of theplays of Sophocles do you like best, father?"
It was a very daring remark, and Miss Donnithorne opened her brown,laughing eyes and stared at me as though I had committed sacrilege.Hermione very nearly jumped from her seat. My words had the effect ofpulling the Professor up short. He stared at me and said, "Eh, Dumps--eh? What are you talking about, Dumps?"
"Which play of Sophocles do you regard as his greatest?" I said, and Ifelt very proud of myself as I uttered this remark.
I had now led father into the stream of conversation in which he couldshow himself off to the best advantage. He took to the bait, forgot thefossils, and began to talk of that other fossil the old Greek tragedian.I leant back in my chair; I had accomplished my object. Father lookedas though he were about to fight the whole world in the cause ofSophocles--as though any human being wanted to take any of his laurelsfrom the poor old dead and gone tragedian.
But I was watching my chance. I saw that the ladies were impressed, andby-and-by I swept father once more off his feet into another directionby asking him to explain one of the greatest passages in the works ofMilton. Father turned on me almost with fury. Miss Donnithornemuttered something. Hermione said, "Oh, I am so hot with my back to thefire!"
But again father rose to the bait and burst forth in a panegyric onMilton which I suppose a scholar, if he knew shorthand, would have takendown on the spot, for I know it was marvellously clever. But MissDonnithorne was a little pale when father had finished. Then he and shegot up and went into the garden, and walked up and down; and Hermionetook my hand and dragged me into the room with the stuffed birds, andflung herself on the sofa and burst into a peal of laughter.
"How rude you are!" I said. "What is the matter?"
"Oh, you are a genius, you greenest of green Dumps!" was her remark."To think of your daring to oppose that stream of eloquence!"
"Well, you see, I know father, and I know that there are two subjects onwhich he can be wonderful; one is Sophocles and the other Milton."
"I never heard of Sophocles," said Hermione in her calmest tone.
"You never heard of Sophocles?" I said, for the temptation to crow overher was too great to be resisted. "Why, he was the greatest writer ofthe tragic muse that ever existed."
"For goodness' sake, Dumps--" Hermione pressed her hands to her ears."If you talk like that I shall fly."
"I don't know him," I said; "and what is more," I added, "I never meanto. If you had a father like the Professor you'd hate the classics.But after Sophocles," I continued, "the person he loves best is Milton.I haven't read Milton, and I don't mean to."
"Oh, I suppose I shall have to read him," said Hermione. "But poor,poor dear Grace! Does he always talk like that, Dumps?"
"He was particularly lucid to-day," I said. "As a rule he is much moredifficult to understand."
"And do you always have your meals with that sort of stream of learningpouring down you?"
"Oh no; most times he is silent."
"That must be much better," said Hermione, with a profound sigh.
"I don't know; it's rather dull. We aren't allowed to talk when theProfessor is silent."
"Bless him! And Grace is such a chatterbox, you know."
"She is very, very nice," I said.
Just then the Professor came in.
"Where is Dumps?" he said.
I jumped to my feet.
"Good-bye, child," he said, holding out his hand limply. Then he drewme to him and pressed a very light kiss on my forehead.
"Glad you are with Grace--Miss Donnithorne, I mean. Hope you areenjoying yourself. I'll expect you back on the evening of Tuesday.School begins on Wednesday. You mustn't neglect your books. Asglorious Milton says--"
He rhapsodised for two minutes, then stopped, glanced at Hermione, andsaid abruptly, "Don't know this young lady."
"Oh yes, you do, Professor," said Miss Donnithorne. "This is my greatfriend, Miss Hermione Aldyce."
"My father is a great admirer of yours, sir," said Hermione, colouringslightly and looking very pretty.
"Eh--eh?" said the Professor. "Don't like people to admire me.Good-bye, good-bye.--Good-bye, Miss Donnithorne--Grace, I mean--no, MissDonnithorne, I mean. Good-bye, good-bye!"
He was out of the house and down the path before we had hardly time tobreathe. Hermione went away a few minutes afterwards, and MissDonnithorne and I had the evening to ourselves. We had supper almost insilence. There was a sort of constraint over us. I looked at MissDonnithorne, and saw that she was very pale. I said to myself, "Nowonder, poor thing! She has had some of father's eloquence dinned intoher ears; it is enough to scare any one."
After a long period of silence, during which I was scraping more andmore apple off the core of the baked one I had been eating, and tryingto fiddle with my bread and get it to last as long as possible, she saidabruptly, "One's duty is sometimes difficult, is it not, little Rachel?"
"Is it?" I answered. "Yes, I suppose so."
She looked at me again.
"You are the index-finger which points to the path of duty," was hernext remarkable speech.
This was too much!
"I hate being called an index-finger!" was my answer. "I don't knowwhat it means."
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She got up, put her arm round me, and kissed me.
"I would be good to you," she said in her softest voice.
It really was difficult to resist her. She was a very sweet woman. Iknew it then by the way she kissed me, and I don't think in all my lifeI ever felt anything softer than the soft, soft cheek which was pressedagainst mine. Had she been a girl of my own age, she could not have hada more delicate complexion.
"You are good to me--you are very good to me," I said with gratitude.
"I like you and even love you, and I hope you