sir,” said Maggie suddenly, “I only wish – oh! I hardly dare to say it – but I only do wish that your girls were coming too!”
Merry turned crimson and then grew pale. “Father doesn’t approve of schools,” she said in a faint voice.
“As a rule, I do not,” said Mr. Cardew decidedly; “but of course I am bound to say there are schools and schools. You shall tell me all about your school presently, Miss Howland. And now, I will allow my daughter to entertain you.”
“But, father darling, you promised to show Maggie the manuscript-room yourself.”
“Are you interested in black-letter?” said Mr. Cardew.
“I am interested in everything old,” replied Maggie.
“Well, then, I will show you the manuscript-room with pleasure; but if you want to go over the Manor you have a heavy morning’s work before you, and Merry is an excellent guide. However, let me see. I will meet you in the library at a quarter to twelve. Until then, adieu.”
CHAPTER V.
“WHAT DID YOU TALK ABOUT?”
Maggie and Merry had now reached the great porch which overshadowed the entrance to the old house. The next instant they found themselves in the hall. This, supported by graceful pillars, was open up to the roof of the house. It was a magnificent hall, and Merry began enthusiastically to explain its perfections. Maggie showed not a pretended but a real interest. She asked innumerable and sensible questions. Her queer, calm, narrow eyes grew very bright. She smiled now and then, and her face seemed the personification of intelligence. With that smile, and those gleaming white teeth, who could have thought of Maggie Howland as plain?
They went from the hall into the older part of the house, and there Merry continued her duties as guide. Never before had she been in the company of so absolutely charming a companion. Maggie was the best listener in the world. She never interrupted with tiresome or irrelevant questions. When she did speak it was with the utmost intelligence, showing clearly that she understood what she was being told.
By-and-by they found themselves in the picture-gallery. There Merry insisted on their sitting down for a time and taking a rest. She touched a bell as she spoke, and then motioned Maggie to recline in a deep arm-chair which faced the picture of a beautiful lady who was the grandmother of the present Mrs. Cardew.
“That lady’s name,” said Merry, “was Cicely Meredith, and she was the wife of the last Meredith but one who owned the Manor. It was little supposed in those days that my darling mother would inherit the place, and that Cardews should live at Meredith Manor after all. Ah, here comes Dixon! – Dixon, will you put our lunch on that small table? Thank you very much.”
One of the servants in the Cardew livery had appeared. He was bearing a small tray of tempting drinks, fruit, and cake.
“Now, Maggie, eat; do eat,” said Merry.
“I declare I am as hungry as a hawk,” said Maggie, and she munched cake and ate fruit and felt that she was, as she expressed it to herself – although she would not have used the words aloud – in clover.
Nevertheless, she was not going to lose sight of that mission which she had set herself. She turned and looked thoughtfully at Merry. Merry had a pretty profile, with the short upper-lip and the graceful appearance of a very high-bred girl.
“Do you,” said Maggie after a pause, “happen to know Aneta Lysle?”
“Why, of course,” said Merry. “Do you mean Lady Lysle’s niece?”
“Yes,” replied Maggie.
“I don’t know her well, but she has stayed here once or twice. Is she a friend of yours, Maggie?”
“Oh no; scarcely a friend, although we are schoolfellows.”
“How stupid of me!” said Merry, speaking with some warmth. “Of course, I quite forgot that she is at Mrs. Ward’s school. She is older than you, isn’t she, Maggie?”
“Yes, a year older, as days are counted; but she appears even more than her age, which is just seventeen. Don’t you think her very beautiful, Merry?”
“Now that I recall her, I do; but she never made a special impression on me. She never stayed here long enough.”
“Nevertheless, she is a sort of cousin of yours?”
“Yes, Lady Lysle is mother’s cousin; but then one doesn’t love all one’s relations,” said Merry carelessly. “Have another piece of cake, Maggie.”
“Thanks,” said Maggie, helping herself. “How delicious it is!”
“And put some more cream over your raspberries. The raspberries at Meredith Manor are celebrated.”
Maggie helped herself to some more cream. “I do wish” she said suddenly.
“That I would go on telling you about the pictures?” said Merry. “But you must be tired. I never knew any one take in interesting things so quickly.”
“I am glad you think I do; but it so happens that I do not want to hear about the pictures this morning. I think perhaps I am, after all, a bit tired. It is the pleasure, the delight of knowing you and your sister, and of being with those sweet girls Molly and Isabel.”
“Yes, aren’t they darlings’?” said Merry.
“I want you to tell me a lot about yourself,” said Maggie.
“We have half-an-hour yet before I am to meet your father in the manuscript-room. Begin at the beginning, and tell me just everything. You are not schoolgirls?”
“Oh, no,” said Merry, speaking slowly. “We are taught at home.”
“But have you a resident governess?”
“No; father objects. This is holiday-time of course; but as a rule we have a daily governess and masters.”
“It must be dull,” said Maggie, speaking in a low tone – so low that Merry had to strain her ears to hear it.
She replied at once, “’Tisn’t nearly so interesting as school; but we – we are – quite —quite satisfied.”
“I wonder you don’t go to school,” said Maggie.
“Father doesn’t wish it, Maggie.”
“But you’d like it, wouldn’t you?”
“Like it!” said Merry, her eyes distended a little. “Like to see the world and to know other girls? Well, yes, I should like it.”
“There’d be discipline, you know,” said Maggie. “It wouldn’t be all fun.”
“Of course not,” said Merry. “How could one expect education to be all fun?”
“And you would naturally like to be very well educated, wouldn’t you?” said Maggie.
“Certainly; but I suppose we are – that is, after a fashion.”
“Yes,” said Maggie, “after a fashion, doubtless; but you will go into society by-and-by, and you’ll find – well, that home education leaves out a great many points of knowledge which cannot possibly be attained except by mixing with other girls.”
“I suppose so,” said Merry, speaking with a slight degree of impatience; “but then Cicely and I can’t help it. We have to do what father and mother wish.”
“Yes, exactly, Merry; and it’s so awfully sweet and amiable of you! Now, may I describe to you a little bit of school-life?”
“If you like, Maggie. Molly and Isabel have often told me of what you did in Hanover.”
“Oh, Hanover?” said Maggie with a tone of slight contempt. “We don’t think of Hanover now in our ideas of school-life. We had a fairly good time, for a German school; but to compare it with Mrs. Ward’s house! Oh, I cannot tell you what a dream of a life I have lived during the last term! It