in a tone of astonishment. “Why, she is Mrs. Cardew’s greatest friend. Do you mean to say you were introduced to her?”
“Yes, Mrs. Cardew was kind enough to do so, though I am sure I didn’t want it at all.”
“But I can’t imagine why she did it,” said Molly in a tone of astonishment. “Mrs. Cardew never introduces either of us to the grown-up people.”
“Well, her ostensible reason,” said Maggie, “was that Lady Lysle knows my mother.”
“Does she, indeed?” said Isabel in a tone of great respect.
“But that doesn’t make me like her any the better,” said Maggie. “And now I will tell you why, girls, only you must faithfully promise you won’t repeat it to any one.”
“Of course not,” said the girls eagerly, who were accustomed to receive secrets from their schoolfellows, though Maggie, as a rule, never gave her secrets to anyone.
“Well, I will tell you,” said Maggie, the color flushing into her face and then leaving it pale again. “Aneta Lysle is one of the girls at Aylmer House. She is Lady Lysle’s niece; and – well – you know I am tolerant enough, but I can’t bear Aneta Lysle.”
Molly and Isabel were silent for a minute.
“If you can’t bear her,” said Isabel, “then I don’t suppose we’ll like her either when we go to the school.”
“Oh yes, you will; you’ll adore her – sure to. Now promise once again that you will never repeat this.”
“We certainly will not,” said Molly.
Isabel nodded emphatically. “We don’t tell secrets,” she said. Then she added, “We had best go downstairs now, if you’re quite tidy, Mags.”
During supper that night Mrs. Cardew, who found herself seated near her favorite rector, began to ply him with questions with regard to Aylmer House. How had he heard of it, and why had he specially fixed on that establishment for his daughters?
The rector smiled. He had twinkling dark eyes, and they now looked down the long table until they rested for a brief moment on Maggie’s young figure. She was talking to Mr. Cardew, who, stately and reserved as he was, took her remarks with good-natured tolerance.
“A nice, unaffected child,” he kept saying to himself, and neither did he remark how plain she was.
“That young person yonder,” said Mr. Tristram to Mrs. Cardew, “is the influence that has induced me to make arrangements for my girls at Aylmer House.”
“Miss Howland! You don’t mean to say that you are influenced by a schoolgirl?”
Mr. Tristram looked grave. “In this case I may as well confess at once that I have been influenced,” he said. “I have heard a great deal of the child from Molly and Isabel, for they were all three at the same excellent school in Hanover. I met little Miss Howland when I was in London at Christmas. Being such a great friend of my children’s, I naturally talked to her. She told me of Mrs. Ward and of the new delightful school to which she was going. She certainly never once pressed me to send my girls there, but it occurred to me that I would visit Mrs. Ward and see if it could be arranged. My girls are quite proficient for their ages in foreign languages; but I want them now thoroughly to learn literature and English history, and also those numerous small accomplishments which are so necessary for a gentlewoman. There is also no place in the world like London, in my opinion, for hearing good music and seeing good art. I saw Mrs. Ward. A short interview with her was all-sufficient. I could not desire to put my girls in safer hands.”
Mrs. Cardew listened very attentively.
“Then you think, Mr. Tristram,” she said after a pause, “that school-life is really good for girls?”
“In my humble opinion, Mrs. Cardew, it is essential. A girl must find her level. She can only find it at school.”
“Then what about my dear girls?” said Mrs. Cardew.
The rector bowed in a very courteous manner. “School-life may not be really necessary for them,” he said; “although you know my opinion – in short you know what I would do with them did they belong to me.”
Mrs. Cardew was silent for a minute or two. Then she continued the conversation by saying, “It is really a curious fact that Lady Lysle, my great friend, who was here this afternoon, spoke to me in terms of the warmest approbation with regard to Mrs. Ward and Aylmer House. She says that her own niece Aneta is a member of the school. She further said that there were two vacancies at present, and she urged me to send my girls there. But, alas I cannot do that, for their father would not hear of it.”
“I do wish he would hear of it,” said Mr. Tristram with some feeling. “You will never have your girls properly taught unless they go to school. It is impossible at this distance from London to command the services of the best masters and governesses. You will not have a resident governess in the house – forgive me if I speak freely, dear lady, but I love your children as though they were my own – and if you could persuade Mr. Cardew to seize this opportunity and let them go to school with Molly and Isabel I am certain you would never regret it.”
“I wish I could persuade him,” said Mrs. Cardew; “more particularly as that excellent music master, Mr. Bennett, has just written to say he must discontinue giving his music-lessons, as the distance from Warwick is too far for his health, and Miss Beverley, their daily governess, has also broken down. But there, I know my husband never will agree to part with the girls.”
“Then the next best thing,” said Mr. Tristram, speaking in a cheerful tone, “is for you to take up your abode in your London house, and give the girls the advantages of masters and mistresses straight from the Metropolis. Why, you will be bringing them out in a couple of years, Mrs. Cardew, and you would like them to have all possible advantages first.”
“Something must be done, certainly,” said Mrs. Cardew; “and I like that girl, Miss Howland, although Lady Lysle seemed prejudiced against her at first.”
“Oh, she is a girl in a thousand,” said Mr. Tristram; “so matter-of-fact and amiable and agreeable. See how she is talking to your husband at this very moment! I never saw a nicer or more modest young creature, but she is so exceedingly clever that she will push her own way anywhere. She has bowled over my two young urchins already, although she has been only a few hours at the rectory. What could Lady Lysle have to say against Maggie Howland?”
“Oh, nothing – nothing at all, and I ought not to have spoken; but it seems she does not much care for Mrs. Howland.”
“I think I can explain that,” said Mr. Tristram. “Mrs. Howland means well, but is a rather silly sort of woman. The girl manages her in the sweetest way. The girl herself takes after her father, poor Howland the African explorer, who lost his life in his country’s cause. He had, I am told, a most remarkable personality.”
When Molly and Isabel Tristram, accompanied by Maggie Howland, the rector, and his wife, walked back to the rectory that evening, Maggie was in excellent spirits. It was natural that the three young people should start on in front. Maggie talked on various subjects; but although the Tristrams were most anxious to get opinions from her with regard to the Cardews, she could not be led to talk of them until they were approaching the house.
It was now nearly eleven o’clock, and a perfect summer night. The boys, Jack and Andrew, had gone to bed, but a few lights were twinkling here and there in the dear old rectory.
“Oh, I am not a scrap sleepy”, said Maggie. “This air stimulates one; it is splendid. By the way, girls,” she added, suddenly turning and facing her companions, “would you like your bracelets to have rubies in them or sapphires?”
“Nonsense!” said Molly, turning crimson.
Belle laughed. “You don’t suppose you are accomplishing that?” she said.
Maggie spoke rather slowly. “Mother has one dozen bracelets in her jewelry-case. Father brought them to her in the course of his travels. Some he got in India and some in Africa. They are