*CHAPTER VII.*
*"THIS IS MONICA BEAUCHAMP, MOTHER."*
But Amethyst remembered it again, later on, as she was preparing to getinto her little white bed, after the Saturday night bathing operationswere over. Mrs. Drury was with her, brushing out the soft fair hair,and plaiting it up into a smooth pigtail.
"Mumsie," she said suddenly, twisting herself round, so that the bowMrs. Drury was tying nearly slipped out of her hand, and she bade thechild keep still a moment longer.
"Now, what is it, girlie?"
"Oh, mumsie, I do _wish_ Monica Beauchamp had never been born!"Amethyst brought out the words with such vehemence, that for the momenther mother was too astonished to reply.
"I do, mumsie," repeated the child vehemently.
"Amethyst, I am ashamed of you," said her mother sternly. "I cannotunderstand what you mean. I don't think you quite know what you aresaying."
"I do mean it, really, mumsie, but I daresay it's wicked of me. Only Iknow she's going to spoil everything, and Olive doesn't care a bit aboutme now; all she wants is Monica." And Amethyst repeated what Olive hadsaid that afternoon. But if she expected her mother to take her part,she was disappointed.
"I am afraid my girlie is jealous of this new rival," she said, gently,as she drew the little night-gowned figure on to her knee. "You mustnot expect to be first always, Amethyst. You have had very happy timeswith the Franklyns, and I have been very pleased for them to make up alittle of what you miss by having no sisters. But Olive, especially,seems older than you, and I do not at all wonder at her making this newfriend, and I only hope that they will help each other to be good girls.And, surely, Amethyst, if you have Elsa left, you ought to be content.I do not know a nicer, dearer girl than Elsa, anywhere. I am reallyvery glad that it is she who is left to you. It might be very sad if_she_ forsook you for some one else, but I don't think Elsa Franklynwould do that."
"No, I'm sure she wouldn't, mumsie," cried the warm-hearted little girl;"she is a dear old darling, and, as you say, so long as I have her itdoesn't matter so much about Olive. All the same, I wish that Monicahad never come to our school."
"I am afraid you have already forgotten the passage you have beenlearning this evening, for your Sunday class to-morrow," said hermother, somewhat sadly.
And Amethyst hung her head in confusion, for the verses she had beensaying over and over, not an hour before, were those of that beautifulchapter in the first epistle to the Corinthians, where the Apostle says:"Without charity, I am nothing."
"I forgot, mumsie," she murmured.
"Yes, dear; alas! we all forget so soon. Shall we kneel down togethernow, darling, and ask our loving Heavenly Father to root up this littleweed of jealousy, and sow instead the seed of unselfish love; not onlyfor those we have a natural affection for, but love even for our enemyif we had one."
Amethyst Drury often looked back to that Saturday night, and hermother's prayer, in the days and weeks that followed; and the memory ofit helped her to overcome her feeling of aversion towards the girl whohad, to a large extent, usurped her place.
Monica's hand was sufficiently better by the following Monday to allowof her going to school; but the sling which the doctor insisted upon herusing excited so many remarks that she wished she had not gone. She putoff the girls, as long as she could, but at last, in sheer desperation,she told them exactly what had happened.
Her explanation was received in varied ways. One or two of thewell-behaved girls looked askance at such insubordination, and lostinterest in the result of pure disobedience; but several of the morereckless-minded, Olive among the number, exclaimed at the severity ofold Mrs. Beauchamp in forbidding her to go in the stable-yard.
"Catch me keeping that rule," cried one.
"Or me either," said another. "Why, I should just like to see my fathertrying to stop me visiting the dog-kennels, and petting our old greypony."
"I suppose my grandmother has a perfect right to do as she likes in herown house?" said Monica haughtily, and the girls muttered, "Oh, yes, ofcourse," in confusion, scarcely knowing what to make of this verypeculiar girl.
The days passed swiftly on, without much incident to mark them, untilanother Saturday drew near, and Monica, happy in her grandmother'spermission to be as friendly as occasion necessitated with theFranklyns, realised that on that afternoon she was going to have herfirst peep into the home life of a big houseful of young people.
A nicely worded note from Olive's mother asking Mrs. Beauchamp to allowher granddaughter to spend from three to seven with her girls had beengraciously answered in the affirmative by the old lady, who, though shethought it right to be very stern with Monica, was really anxious forthe girl to mix with other young people. So she arranged to drive inthe direction of Osmington that afternoon, and drop Monica at theFranklyns' door.
Monica, who was tremendously excited at what was really a great event inher life, tried her utmost to pay attention to the old lady's advice, asthey bowled along in the handsome victoria.
"Very well, grandmother, I will be sure to remember," she replieddutifully, to some injunction of Mrs. Beauchamp's, and she looked sogood and well-behaved that the old lady's heart quite warmed towardsthis troublesome, but wonderfully taking, granddaughter of hers.
For Monica looked extremely well in a new coat and skirt of the darkestshade of blue, which, being unfastened, showed a pretty delaine blouse,with a suggestion of pink among its colourings; while the French sailorhat, simply trimmed with a huge rosette of dark blue, exactly suited herbright young face. It was very seldom that the girl troubled about herpersonal appearance: her usual cry being that "it was too much fag" tomake herself look nice, but on this occasion she had been quite ready tofall in with her grandmother's wish that she should dress herselfsuitably.
"Here we are, grandmamma," said Monica, as the victoria pulled up at theiron gates over which the regulation doctor's lamp was swinging, and ina moment more she was on the pavement.
"Now, Monica, remember, you are on no account to be late in gettingready to come home. Richards will be here punctually at seven, and youmust be sure not to keep the pony standing."
"Very well, grandmother." Monica could see a well-known face at one ofthe windows, so she was eager to be off, and promised readily. Her handwas on the iron gate, when her grandmother's voice recalled her.
"Oh! and, Monica----"
Very reluctantly she turned back, and the face under the upturnedhat-brim did not look quite so fascinating, with the expression ofvexation it had assumed at the delay.
"Please to remember that you are my granddaughter, and behave yourselfas such."
Fortunately, the horses grew restive and made a jerk forward, beforeMonica's pettish exclamation, "I never get a chance to forget it!"reached Mrs. Beauchamp's ears, or that lady would have had her returndrive disturbed by the thought of her grandchild's ingratitude.
The little cloud soon disappeared from Monica's brow, and her face wasall smiles again as she received a boisterous welcome from her "chum."
"It is jolly to have you, Monica!"
"It's ever so much more jolly to come, then!"
And the two girls laughed gaily, in their buoyancy of spirit.
"Come up and take your things off first, and then you shall investigateour 'den' and all its treasures," suggested Olive, as the two girlsascended the staircase, arm-in-arm. As they went up, Olive pointed outthe various rooms, lowering her voice as they passed her mother's closeddoor.
"Mother wants to see you ever so much, Monica, but she always has torest in the afternoon, so I am to take you to her room later on. Thisis our room--Elsa's and mine," she continued, as they crossed the widelanding, and entered a half-open door. "It's not very big, so we keepmost of our property upstairs."
If Monica thought she had never been in such a small, poorly furnishedroom before, she made no outward sign. Two small beds, a simplewash-stand, and chest of drawers (whic
h also did duty as toilet table),a couple of chairs, and an impromptu wardrobe made by a shelf and somecretonne curtains, was all the furniture the room contained. How vastlydifferent was it from the elegant apartment she called her own at CarsonRise!
Her hat and coat were off in a moment, and then the two friends climbedanother flight of stairs, and the "den" was reached.
"Now, isn't it a dear old place?" cried Olive, enthusiastically, as sheshowed her friend into every nook and corner of the queer L-shaped room,and Monica warmly agreed with her.
"What do you use it for, and who does it belong to?"
"Oh! it really used to be shared by the whole family, and when the boyslived at home, and went to Osmington College, we had gay old times uphere, between us. But now they are away, and as Lois has so much to doabout the house, and Kath looks after mother, it pretty well belongs toElsa and me."
"Oh! by the way, where is Elsa?" asked the visitor, suddenly rememberingher existence.
"She took the two little ones out for a walk. Funny of her not to wantto be in when you were coming, wasn't it?"
And Olive flung her arm round her friend, and hugged her impetuously.
It never so much as entered Olive's head that her twin sister hadunselfishly absented herself on purpose, so that she might have thesatisfaction and pleasure of having her friend all to herself for alittle while. It had not been exactly easy for Elsa, either, to suggestthat she should take the little ones with her, and go on an errand thatneeded to be done, for she, too, was very much attracted by thewinsomeness of this new schoolfellow, although Monica's many faultsrepelled her at times; in fact, a year before, Elsa Franklyn would nothave troubled a bit about it, she would have sought to please herselffirst, whatever the circumstances might be. But now, she was wont toask herself on occasions like these: "What would Jesus do if He were inmy place just now?" and the answer coming back, very distinctly, shesought by His help to act as she felt convinced He would.
Olive, self-seeking, self-loving Olive, often wondered at various littlesacrifices, quietly and unostentatiously made, but accepted them withoutdemur, stifling her conscience, which accused her very plainly, bypersuading herself that Elsa was such a "mouse" she really didn't careabout things a bit, so it was no sacrifice to her.
The two girls perched themselves on the high window seat whence theycould see the river gliding swiftly by the bottom of the large,old-fashioned garden, and indulged in a long, long "confab," as Olivetermed it, after the newly painted things (which had caused suchdisaster to Olive's dress) had been admired among many other things.
At length, when each had confided to the other all that was in herheart, a sound of youthful voices was heard in the hall below, and in afew moments more, Elsa appeared on the scene.
"Where are Joan and Pat?" said Olive, as Monica and Elsa greeted eachother with the school-girl's typical "How d'you do?"
"They went to Nanny."
"Because Monica wants to see Paddy. Go and fetch him up, Elsa, there'sa good girl."
"Mayn't Joan come, too?" pleaded Elsa; "she wants to, ever so much."
"Oh, yes!" said Olive, with good-humoured benignity; "let her come ifshe likes. But Monica doesn't care for small girls."
"I really don't know anything about children," said Monica, as Elsa wentoff at Olive's request.
"Well, I think, myself, that they are a perfect nuisance," admitted herfriend; "they are always in the way, or getting into mischief, but Paddyis such a jolly little chap, everybody takes a fancy to him."
And as soon as Monica saw him, she added yet another to the number ofthose whom Master Pat, the Pickle, had slain with the sword of hisfascinations. He came peeping in the door, demurely twisting his cleanholland overall in restless little fingers, as he looked shyly out ofhis lovely blue eyes at the tall girl who had not the least idea of whatto say to "small fry."
"Come here, little man," she ventured somewhat stiffly at length,holding out a hand to him.
"Don't fink I will, big girl," was the unexpected reply, which sent themoff into roars of laughter. Paddy, perceiving he had said somethingcomical, laughed gleefully, and added, drolly: "Aren't I a pickle?"which, of course, amused them all the more.
The laugh set them all at their ease, and a happy half-hour was spentover one thing and another; Joan sitting quietly looking on, while herlittle brother received most of the attention. Monica had to be told ofsome of Paddy's escapades--how once he had got hold of the garden hose,and hiding behind some shrubs, had squirted the water all over Nanny,who was searching everywhere for him. And how another time father hadcome in one evening to find a stream of water running out at the frontdoor, and they found the mischievous little boy had turned the bathroomtap on, and left it, and the bath overflowing; the water, of course, wasrunning like a river down the stairs and through the hall!
"Paddy _was_ whipped that night," interpolated Joan solemnly, and Patadded innocently, "Yes, _naughty_ Paddy; but you can't 'spect no betterof a 'pickle.'"
The tea-bell rang before they could have imagined it was time for thatmeal, and Monica, who was really somewhat shy of strangers, had to makethe acquaintance of the twins' elder sisters. But Lois' kindly courtesyand Kathleen's merry chatter soon made her feel quite at home amongstthem. The doctor, too, came in just as they had begun tea, the resultof Olive's persistent pleading that he would be sure to be early so asto see her "dear Monica," and as he exerted himself to help entertainthe young guest a sigh of regret rose to the latter's lips when thehappy, homely meal was over.
A stroll round the old-fashioned garden with Olive and Elsa included avisit to the rabbit-hutch and dovecot, and ended with a splendid swing;the twins, who were by no means novices at swinging, being reallyfrightened at the height to which Monica worked herself up. But sheknew no fear, and rather enjoyed seeing the anxiety which Elsa evincedevery time the ropes creaked uneasily.
"Oh, do go lower, Monica!" she pleaded; but the wayward girl onlylaughed. Even Olive tried to dissuade her from going so recklesslyhigh, but Monica showed no sign of lessening her speed, and woulddoubtless have eventually overbalanced herself, had not little Joan runout to say that her mother was ready to see Monica now.
With a merry laugh the girl slowed down, and finally dropped from theseat and catching hold of Olive, said mischievously: "Were you afraidyou would have to pick up a bundle of broken bones? I am sure Dr.Franklyn would have liked mending them up again!"
"Oh, don't, Monica!" was all Olive said, but her silence and Elsa'sstill scared-looking face, made Monica realise that she had gone alittle too far, and she felt somewhat subdued as they retraced theirsteps to the house.
Kathleen came out of her mother's room as the girls tapped at the door.
"Mother is very anxious to see your friend, Olive," she said, with abright little smile; "she is feeling fairly well to-day."
Monica was seized with a sudden fit of intense shyness, and would gladlyhave escaped the ordeal, but Olive, never dreaming that her haughtyyoung friend was troubled with any such thing as nervousness, pushed herforward as the door closed after Kathleen's retreating figure, saying:"This is Monica Beauchamp, mother."
And Monica looking straight before her, saw a pale, gentle face, withlarge luminous eyes, and heard a sweet, soft voice murmuring words ofwelcome, while the thin white hands clasped her strong young ones, anddrew her proud young head down low enough for the invalid to print aloving motherly kiss upon the frank, open brow.
"You do not mind, dear?" said Mrs. Franklyn gently, as she scanned theface of Olive's new friend with eager intensity. "If you are Olive'sfriend, you must be mine, too."
And Monica murmured something to the effect that she would like to be.
A few minutes were spent in pleasant chatter, about the school, and onething and another, and Mrs. Franklyn, reading between the lines, got avery good insight into the character of Olive's friend. "A girl withwonderful possibilities before her," she thought to herself, "but----"The unfinished sentence ende
d in a sigh, for she was thinking of thisstranger's influence over her little girl.
Meanwhile Olive was showing the photographs of all the brothers andsisters, which made quite a picture gallery of the mantelpiece; butremembering yet another of her two brothers, taken together, which wasin the drawing-room, she ran off to get it, saying: "Monica must seethat one, mother; take care of each other until I come back."
The door had no sooner closed after Olive than Mrs. Franklyn, turning tothe girl who was sitting beside her couch, said, in the tenderest oftones, "My child, are you a Christian?"
Monica started with astonishment, for she had no idea the Franklyns werewhat she called "religious," and scarcely knew what to answer, but thekind, motherly eyes seemed to read her very thoughts, and she feltconstrained to reply as she did.
"No,--I am not. But my father wants me to be."
"Then, oh! my child, why don't you?"
"I don't think I want to be one," said Monica, slowly; "at least, notyet."
"Don't put it off, childie; life is very short. If you know theway----"
"But I don't," interrupted Monica; "that's just what I don't know.Perhaps if I knew how to set about it I might be one."
"The Lord Jesus----" began Mrs. Franklyn.
But, alas! Olive came bursting into the room, and the preciousopportunity had gone. The invalid could only whisper: "Read the 3rdchapter of St. John, and ask God to show you the way, dear child," when,a few moments later, Monica bent over her to say, "Good-bye."
And Monica said she would. But, alas! she put the thought aside thatnight, thinking Sunday afternoon would be a good opportunity for readingthe chapter; and when the next day came she was deep in the pages of afascinating book, and had completely forgotten her promise to Mrs.Franklyn.