CHAPTER THREE.
ANTICIPATIONS.
Two days later Mr and Mrs Chester started on their tour of inspection,and Rhoda reflected that she could not employ herself better duringtheir absence than by preparing, so far as might be, for the life ahead.She went upstairs to her own sitting-room, and made a sweeping surveyof her treasures. The books in the hanging cases must, of course, beleft behind, since they were too numerous to carry. She looked lovinglyat their bright gold and leather backs, and took down a specialfavourite here and there, to dip into its contents. The Waverley novelsran in a long, yellow line across one shelf; Dickens, clad in red, cameimmediately beneath; and a whole row of poets on the bottom shelf.Wordsworth was a prize from Fraulein, but his pages were still stiff andunread; Longfellow opened of himself at "Hiawatha"; while Tennyson, mostbeloved of all, held half a dozen markers at favourite passages. Hisportrait hung close at hand, a copy of that wonderful portrait by Watts,which seems to have immortalised all the power and beauty of thestrange, sad face. Rhoda nicked a grain of dust from the glass surface,and carefully straightened the frame against the wall, for this picturewas one of her greatest treasures, and respected accordingly. Anothercase held books of stories, ranging from the fairy tales of childhood tothe publications of last year; a third was devoted to bound volumes ofmagazines, and a fourth to the less showy and interesting school-books.
"It's no use taking _you_!" said Rhoda scornfully. "I expect you arequite out of date. You can stay here and rest, and when I come backI'll point out your errors, and send you into the lumber-room to makeroom for the new ones!" Then she turned her attention to themantelpiece, on which reposed a quite extraordinary number of miniaturejugs. Jugs, jugs everywhere, and nothing but jugs; blue jugs, yellowjugs, brown jugs, red jugs; Worcester jugs with delicate white figuresagainst a background of blue; jugs worth a penny sterling at the villageemporium; plain jugs, iridescent jugs; jugs with one handle, with two,with three, with none at all. Their variety was as puzzling as theirnumber, but Rhoda gazed at them with all the pride of the collector."Jugs"--unrivalled by postcards, stamps, or crests--had been her maniafor a year on end, and the result was dear to her heart. To find a newjug to add to the collection had appeared one of the chief objects intravelling; an expedition to town had been a failure or success,according as it discovered jugs or no jugs.
In her anxiety for their safety she had even volunteered to dust her ownmantelpiece, and now, alas! she must leave them to the tender mercies ofMary and her assistants! It was a painful reflection, and after amoment's consideration she determined not to risk it, but to store thedarlings away in some safe hiding-place until her return.
No sooner said than done. Each little jug was wrapped in a separateroll of tissue paper, fitted into a drawer of the writing-table, andsecurely locked against invasion. The process of "putting away" thusbegun extended itself indefinitely. The photographs in their variousframes must be arranged and divided; nice relations and very dearestfriends, to be taken to school, disagreeable or "middling" relations,and merely "dearest friends," to be laid aside in another drawer;fragile ornaments to be hidden, in case they were broken; silver andbrass in case they tarnished; letters to be destroyed, to be tied up inpackets, to be answered before leaving home; pieces of fancy work to befolded away, in case sacrilegious hands should dare to put them to anyother use than that for which they were intended.
Rhoda set to work with the energy of ten women, and worked away untilthe once tidy room had become a scene of wildest confusion; until sofa,table, and chairs were alike piled high with bundles. Then of a suddenher energy flagged, she grew tired and discouraged, and wished she hadleft the stupid old things where she had found them. It occurred to heras a brilliant inspiration that there was no possible hurry, and thatsitting under the trees reading a book, and drinking lemon squash, was amuch more agreeable method of spending a hot summer's day than workinglike a charwoman. She carried her latest book into the gardenforthwith, ordered the "squash," and spent an hour of contented idlenessbefore lunch.
The story, however, was not interesting enough to tempt a second readingduring the afternoon, for the heroine was a girl of unimpeachablecharacter, who pursued her studies at home under the charge of a dailygoverness, and such a poor-spirited creature could hardly be expected tocommend herself to a girl who had decided for two whole days to go tothe newest of all new schools, and already felt herself far removed fromsuch narrow experiences. Rhoda cast about in her mind for the nextdiversion, and decided to bicycle across the park to call upon theVicar's daughter the self-same Ella Mason who had been her informant onso many important points. Ella would be indeed overcome to hear thatRhoda herself was to be a "Hurst" girl, and there would be an increasedinterest in hearing afresh those odd pieces of information which hadfallen from the cousin's lips.
She felt a thrill of relief on hearing that her friend was at home, andin finding her alone in the morning-room, which looked so bare andcolourless to eyes accustomed to the splendours of the Chase. Somethingof the same contrast existed between the two girls themselves, for whileRhoda sat glowing pink and white after her ride, Ella's cheeks were aspale as her dress, and her eyes almost as colourless as the washed-outribbon round her waist. She was not a beauty by any means, butunaffectedly loving and unselfish, rejoicing in her friend's news,though it would deprive her of a favourite companion, and she was allanxiety to help and encourage. She knitted her brow to remember allthat the cousin had said of Hurst Manor, wishing only that she hadlistened with more attention to those pearls of wisdom.
"Yes, she said that they did a great deal of Latin. All the girls learnit, and it seems to be looked on as one of the most important subjects.They translate Horace and Livy and all kinds of learned books."
"Humph! I shan't!" declared Rhoda coolly. "I don't approve of Latinfor girls. It's silly. Of course, if you intend to teach, or be adoctor, or anything like that, it may be useful, but for ordinary stop-at-home girls it's nonsense. What use would Latin be to _me_, I shouldlike to know? I shall take modern languages instead. I can read andwrite French fluently, though it doesn't come quite so easy to speak it,and German, of course, is second nature after jabbering with Frauleinall these years. I should _think_ in German if I would allow myself,but I won't. I don't think it is patriotic. There is not very muchthat any one can teach me of French or German!"
"Then what is the use of studying them any more?" inquired Ella, aptlyenough; but Rhoda was not a whit discomposed.
"My dear, it is ever so much pleasanter doing things that youunderstand! The first stages are such a grind. Well, what next? Whatother subjects are important?"
"Mathematics. Some of the girls are awfully clever, and are ever so faron in Euclid. I did one book with father; but it worried me so, and Icried so much one day when he altered the letters and put the wholething out, that he grew tired, and said I could give it up. You didn'tdo any with Fraulein, I think?"
"No; it's a nuisance. I wish I did now; but I'll have to begin at once,that's all! I'll get Harold's old books and cram up before I go, sothat I can just bring in an expression now and then, as if I knew allabout it. Girls are so patronising if they think you are a beginner...I'm pretty well up in history, and can say reams of poetry, and play,and draw, and paint in water colours--"
"Ye-es!" assented Ella feebly. She was afraid to say so much in words,but her conviction was that her friend's methods of work would seemstrangely antiquated when contrasted with the vivid strength of the new_regime_. She recalled Rhoda's mild copies of village scenes, withcottages in the foreground, trees to the rear, and a well-regulatedflight of swallows on the sky line, and mentally placed them beside hercousin's vigorous sketches on the Slade system, where two or three linesseemed to do the work of a dozen, and prettiness was a thing abhorred!She remembered the lessons in theory and harmony, and trembled for herfriend's awakening. "Yes," she repeated. "Oh, of course; and thenthere are other things besides lessons--a g
irl can make herself popularby being pleasant and obliging, and the outdoor life is so fascinating.Games every day, just as if you were boys, and each one trying to getinto a higher team, and as keen and enthusiastic as she can be. You_will_ enjoy the games, Rhoda!"
"Now that's just one thing I wanted to talk to you about!" cried Rhodaearnestly. "I'm glad you reminded me. Of course, tennis and croquetare all right. I can play a _very_ good set, and beat most ladies atcroquet. One time this summer I made five hoops in one turn, and tookmy partner with me, but of course I don't do that _every_ day of theweek. I'm all right for summer games, but winter is coming on, and Ishall have to play that horrid old hockey, and I haven't the remotestidea how it is done. I've never seen a match, but you have, and I wantyou to tell me all about it, so that I may know what to do, and not makean idiot of myself. You went to the Betham ground when you were stayingthere, and saw the girls' team play. Go on! Describe it! Tell me allabout it, and everything they did!"
Ella drew a deep breath, and looked awed and important.
"Well! it was a county match, and one team wore white blouses and theother pink. They had on blue skirts, very short, and awful feet! Somehad great pads on each ankle, and some had leggings, and some hadnothing at all. I should have swathings of cotton wool a foot wide, forit made my ankles ache just to see the sticks swinging about! It was anicy day; the wind went through us like knives and scissors, and we stoodon little planks of wood and shuddered, with furs up to our ears, butthey wore no hats or jackets, and their sleeves went flap, flap, as thinas possible. There was only one pretty one among them, all the restlooked--hideous! There was a goal at one end, _here_, and another,_here_." Ella drew a rough map of the ground on the back of anenvelope, and Rhoda looked on with breathless interest. "This teamwanted to make a goal _here_, and the other side tried to prevent them.They whacked with their sticks, and off went the ball, and each sideflew after it, trying to send it the way they wanted, and one poor,wretched girl stood before each goal to prevent the enemy's ball fromentering. I expected they would both die of consumption the next day,but I met them out at tea, quite spry and lively, and they said theydidn't feel cold a bit. I didn't believe them, but that's nothing. Anumpire marched about in leggings, and blew a whistle, and called out`Off side! Off side!'"
"And what did he mean by that?"
Ella hesitated, uncertainly. Her knowledge of the game was of theslightest, but she was anxious to help her friend, and gallantly triedto recall odd explanations.
"Oh, well, I think one of the wrong side hit, you know, and there is arule that you may not send the ball straight forward to one of your ownside, but must hit it back to some one behind you."
"But that's silly! If you want to get on as fast as you can, why onearth must you go _back_? If they never hit forward, how can they win.Do you mean to say they _never_ send it forwards towards the goal?"
"Oh, yes, yes! One girl was splendid. She hit magnificently. She ranlike a man, and sent it flying before her, and made three goalsherself."
"Then how--why--what--what in the world did you mean by saying that you_mustn't_ do it?" demanded Rhoda sternly, and Ella made a gesture as oftearing her hair in confusion.
"I don't know! It isn't easy to understand a game when you see only onematch. I was confused myself, but I know each side tries for adifferent goal, and there are `backs' and `half-backs' and `forwards,'just as at football, and, whatever you do, you must not raise your stickabove your waist. It's a murderous-looking game, anyhow. I wonderedthat they weren't all killed; and one girl's hand was bleeding horribly.I asked her if it was very painful, and she stared and said, `Oh, Ihadn't noticed it!' and mopped it up with her handkerchief. Awfullycallous, I call it."
"Oh, I don't know!" replied Rhoda, airily. "Those flesh wounds don'thurt. I should never think of taking any notice of a little thing likethat. Well, I can't say I am very much wiser for your instructions, mydear, but I will pump Harold and see what I can get out of him. I haveno doubt I could hit all right, for I have a quick eye, and if you canplay one or two games it helps you with the rest. But I should bepretty mad if I made a hit and they whistled at me and made me comeback. I like to know what I am about."
"You had better be a goal-keeper," advised Ella, wisely; "you have norunning to do until the ball comes your way, and then at it you go,tooth and nail! Stop it somehow--anyhow--with your hands, your feet,your skirt, your stick. I believe there is an etiquette about it, don'tyou know, as there is about all those things, and that it's more swaggerto stop it one way than another, but the main thing is to stop it_somehow_, and that you simply must do!"
"Humph! If you can! What happens if you can't?"
"Emigrate to Australia by the first boat! I should think so, at least,to judge by the faces of the other girls when one poor creature _did_let a ball in. Feerocious, my dear! there was no other word for it. Myheart ached for her. But it was a stupid miss, for it looked so easy.I felt sure I could have stopped it."
"It's all a matter of nerve. If you lose your head you are sure to playthe fool at a critical moment. Fraulein was like that. The moment thegame went against her she began to hop about, and puff and pant, andwork herself into such a fever that she couldn't even see a ball, muchless hit it. I kept calm, and so of course I always won."
It did strike Ella that victory under such circumstances would be easilygained, but she was too loyal to say so, and Rhoda leant back againstthe cushions of the sofa, and continued to discourse on games ingeneral, and school games in particular, with an air of such intimacyand knowledge that no one would have suspected that the object of hervisit had been to listen, rather than to teach.
Ella listened meekly to a recital of what her friend intended to do, andbe; of the examinations she would pass, the honours she would gain; theinfluence she would exercise over her fellows; and sighed to think ofher own limitations, and the impossibility of such a career ever fallingto her lot. And then Rhoda rose, and put on her gloves preparatory tosaying good-bye.
"I shall come down to see you again, of course, but I shall be verybusy. I am going to have a complete new outfit, and everything as niceas possible."
"Ye-es," said the Vicar's daughter.
"I shall have all my best skirts lined with silk."
"Ah!" sighed Ella, and felt a pang of keenest envy. She had neverpossessed a silk lining in her life. It seemed to her at times that ifshe could only hear herself rustle as she walked, there would be nothingleft to wish for in life!
"They will think you are a Princess!" she said, and Rhoda smiled, anddid not attempt to deny the impeachment.