thanusual. We have all of us been, so to speak, unconversational to-night.We have eaten our supper without repining. It was not quite as tasty asupper as what you gave us, dear Mademoiselle, but we have eaten itsilently. I will go and sit on my balcony presently, in order to getcool. Peter's eye-tooth is certain to come through this evening, and Imustn't be far from the blessed darling. Ah, my dear young ladies! whattroubles we take on ourselves when we put our heads under thematrimonial yoke. But there, children are blessings--"
"In disguise, perhaps," murmured Mademoiselle. Then Mrs Simpkinswaddled off: Miss Price followed suit: one or two of the other ladiesalso left the room; and Brenda, driving her pupils before her as thoughthey were a flock of sheep, left Mademoiselle and Mrs Dawson alone.
"The supper," said Mademoiselle, "it was _triste_. The good food itcost--oh, much, much! but it was not delectable. You needed me, _chereMadame_, to make the viands of the lightness and delicacy that wouldtempt the jaded appetite."
"But I can't have you always, Mademoiselle, so where's the use oftrusting to you?" said Mrs Dawson, rather crossly.
"Ah, I knew not!" sighed Mademoiselle. "The future, it may declareitself in the direction least expected--I know not, but I think much."
Mrs Dawson longed to question her further. Was she alluding to thebangle! Why had she gone to Beverley Castle that day? Why was it notto be mentioned? She felt her heart burning with curiosity. But therewas no amusement for her, poor woman, that hot evening. It wasnecessary for her to go back to her tiny parlour, and there sum upaccounts and wonder how she could make two ends meet. For, to tell thetruth, the boarders were hardly profitable, and it was very difficultfor her to fulfil the requirements of her fairly large household.
While Mrs Dawson was thus employed, poring over her large account-book,spectacles on nose, and her face quite moist with the heat, Mademoiselleherself burst into the room.
"I make not the apology," she cried, "for the occasion is supreme.Behold!"--and she pushed the gold and turquoise bracelet into MrsDawson's hand.
"Why? what? where?" said Mrs Dawson.
"What--where?" echoed Mademoiselle. "Here--I say; here! I tell no moreyet; but go not to bed this evening until I relate the whole of this_histoire_!"
She withdrew immediately, and Mrs Dawson sat back in her chair and said"Well!" to herself several times. The little girls were waiting forMademoiselle in the passage. Nina, notwithstanding her ecstasy ofspirit, was a little cross; for, whatever her faults, she was singularlydownright and, up to the present, singularly honest.
"Why did you snatch Fanchon's bracelet from me?" she said, "and rushwith it into Mrs Dawson's room? I don't want Mrs Dawson to know thatI am wearing it--she'll tell, and then where will poor Josie and I be!"
"Tell!" echoed Mademoiselle. "She'll never tell--it makes not for herinterest. _Restez tranquille, mon enfant, bien aimee_; you have nottingto fear--put on your bangle so beautiful, and come with me to enjoy mysurprise!"
Mademoiselle's surprise was of a complex nature. First of all, she tookthe little girls to a jeweller's shop, and there went to the unheard-ofextravagance of purchasing for them a little brooch each. Of coursethese, little brooches were not real gold, but they were very pretty andwere washed over with that precious metal. One was set with pearls,also of a dubious kind, and the other with a turquoise.
At the neck of Nina's little dress the turquoise brooch was now affixed,while Josie revelled in the one which held the pearls.
"These are for children the most to be adored," said Mademoiselle. "Youwill wear them whenever you go out with me. Why should Fanchon have thebangle so pretty,--so `chic'--oh, yes, it _is_ very `chic'--I can seethat. Now, just, my dear ones, walk outside the shop for a leetle, avery _leetle_ time, while I pay for the so great surprises I have gotfor you."
The girls obeyed. It seemed to them that each passer-by must noticetheir pretty brooches. They held their little heads high; they sniffedin the soft evening air. While they were absent, Mademoiselle eagerlyasked to see a tray of bangles. She quickly discovered one somewhatlike in design to the valuable bangle which was now reposing on Nina'swrist. She paid a trifling sum for it. It did not matter at all thatit was made of the commonest gilt, and that the stone was no more aturquoise than she was herself; nor that the delicate engraving waslacking. Her object was to exchange the false bangle for the real one.This she trusted to be able to do. She was now in high spirits. Shehad parted with a few trifling shillings. Her discovery was imminent,and she felt that she would be well rewarded. Already she had comparedthe precious gold bangle with the delicate tracery in her notebook.Yes: without doubt it was the missing trinket. The reward, trivial initself, must be shared with Mrs Dawson. But there were other issues atstake.
Mademoiselle took the little Amberleys to the choice seclusion of thebest promenade. There she gave them ices and also a right good time.She was lavish with her money that evening. The children never laughedmore in the whole course of their lives. They were quite free in theirconfidences to Mademoiselle, and implored her more than once to be theirgoverness to supersede "dreadful Brenda," and to live in the house withdearest papa.
"He'd just adore you," said Nina, "I know he would."
"I'm not so sure," said Josie. "He adores Brenda; he says it's becauseshe's so exceedingly fair and--and--pretty."
Mademoiselle asked a few questions with regard to the Reverend Josiah,and drew her own conclusions that it would not particularly suit herlittle game to be governess to the small Amberleys. She took them homein good time, and when they entered their bedroom, followed them intothe seclusion of that apartment.
"You are so _fatiguees_," she said; "let me help you to undress. Nina,you little naughty one, where is the key of the drawer from where youpurloined the bangle? I will it restore with my own hands."
Nina, now completely under Mademoiselle's influence, revealed the spotunder the carpet where she had hidden the key. She produced it andMademoiselle ran and opened the drawer, where she found the little box.She opened it.
"Give me the bangle, and we will pop it inside," she said.
Nina did so.
"I am glad to get rid of it," murmured the child. "It wasn't such greatfun wearing it, after all."
"I have my hopes that some day this most precious little Nina will weara bangle of gold real, with a turquoise the most valuable," saidMademoiselle.
As she spoke, she adroitly dropped the wrong bangle into the box andslipped the real one into her pocket. She then carefully locked thedrawer and returned the key to its place of secrecy under the carpet.
"I am now _tres-fatiguee_!" she cried. "_Bonsoir, mes enfants_."
She left the children. They had played their little part in the presentmystery and were no longer of the slightest interest to her.
Brenda and Fanchon were having a fairly good time at the play, althoughBrenda could not get Harry Jordan to declare himself. She was rathertired now of this wayward youth. To have him desperately in love withher was one thing, but to have him negligent and with his silly thoughtselsewhere was quite another. She became downright cross when heproposed to introduce Miss Nettie Harris to her and her pupil.
"I am sorry, but I cannot permit it," she said.
"And why not?" asked Harry Jordan.
"My dear little pupils' father is most particular whit people theyassociate with," was her reply. "You must understand that in theprofessions there is a great deal of etiquette. Mercantile people aredoubtless not aware of that; but it is my duty to protect my youngpupils."
As Brenda spoke, she gave Fanchon a tender look, as though she were asort of guardian angel, and Harry felt so properly snubbed that he verynearly returned to his first allegiance to Brenda. After all, she was aripper. What style she had! Nettie Harris wasn't a patch upon her.But then Nettie Harris had a snug little fortune which might help themto marry and live in a very modest way; whereas Brenda had nothing atall but her beauty and her distinguished a
ir and friends of thedistinguished world. Yes, yes--it was a pity.
Brenda had Harry rather under her thumb for the rest of the evening andwent home little guessing what had befallen her. There was a letterawaiting her on the hall table from Penelope, who announced herintention of coming to spend part of the next day with her. Brendapretended to be pleased.
"We'll take her out and show her things," she said, turning to Fanchon.
"Perhaps you'll let me wear the bangle," said Fanchon.
"No, Fanchon; I may as well speak openly; I have made up my mind aboutit. I think it likely that I can arrange a little picnic for you andme, and