A Bevy of Girls Read online

us to tell you--he thought youwould be pleased."

  "Oh, she is deceived in her," said Ethel, her face getting redder thanever. "She is deceived in her. I wish she knew. Well, I'll tell youall about it. You know Marcia isn't our real sister--"

  "Oh, my dear, of course, that is no news," said Clara more crossly thanever.

  "But she is older--she is older than I am, and older than Molly. She istwenty."

  This was said with effect, and a long pause followed. "She will betwenty-one before long. You can't call that young, can you?"

  "Well, not as young as eighteen, of course."

  "But it isn't young at all," said Ethel, in a fretful tone. "Now I amonly seventeen, and dear Molly is only eighteen; we are quite young."

  "And so are we, we are both eighteen, aren't we, darling old Clay?" saidMabel, patting her sister on the face.

  "Yes, but don't call me Clay--it does sound so earthy," said Clara."But do go on, Ethel. Out with this trouble."

  "Well, it is this--father sent for Marcia."

  "What, from that delightful school where Mrs Silchester adores her somuch?"

  "Yes, why not? She is his child, and he sent for her, and she came, andHorace approved of the plan."

  "I am always so frightened of that Horace of yours," said Mabel. "Butdo hurry up."

  "Well, she came. We feared she wouldn't, for she is awfully selfish;but she did; she came, and we were so happy. It was, you know,liberation for us, for dear mother, poor darling, does take up such alot of time. One of us has always to be with her, and sometimes twohave to be with her, for father insists on her never being alone, and weare not rich like you, and cannot afford a hired nurse."

  "And who would give a hired nurse to one's mother?" said Mabel.

  "Well, anyhow, that is how it is; we wouldn't, of course, and Marciacame. She came last night. She is very staid, you know, not a bit likeus."

  One of the boys shouted across to ask Clara when she would be finishedand ready to make up a set.

  "I really cannot stay," said Clara. "Oh, you aren't a bit sympathising.I thought you would be; but I don't suppose any one will be. Well, shecame, and she absolutely refused to give more than a little bit of hertime to mother. We're to be tied as much as usual, and we cannot cometo-night. You know Molly and I never do anything apart, and Molly won'tbe free, for mother is never settled till between nine and ten o'clock,and it would be much, much too late. We'll never be able to goanywhere. Marcia will manage that we're to be tied and bound as much asever we were, and Marcia will have all the honour and glory. Oh dear,we can only be young once. I think Marcia might have remembered that--Marcia, whose youth is quite over. I do think she might--I do!"

  "Poor Ethel," said Clara, with more sympathy. "It does seem hard.Well, we'll try and get some fun for you on your free days. After allshe is your mother. Coming, Jim, coming. Sorry you can't be hereto-night, Ethel; but we'll get up some fun again in a hurry. Now, cheerup, old girl, cheer up."

  CHAPTER SIX.

  THE JOY OF HER LIFE.

  The next morning passed somehow. The girls had decided that they wouldsend Marcia to Coventry. They had made up their minds in a solemnconclave late the night before.

  "We daren't oppose her for the present," said Ethel, who had thought ofthis daring plan, "but we'll make her life so miserable that she justwon't be able to bear it."

  "She used to be so affectionate; I remember that," said Molly. "She wasvery good to me when I had the measles. She used to sit in the room andnever think of herself at all."

  "She caught them afterwards, don't you remember, horrid things?" saidNesta.

  "And I don't think I went to sit with her at all," said Molly.

  "It was rather piggish of you, wasn't it?" said Ethel.

  "Well, well; don't rake up my old faults now. Am I not sad enough? Doyou really think, Nesta and Ethel, that we had best send her toCoventry? Do you mean really to Coventry?"

  "Yes; don't let's speak to her. We'll try the effect for a week. We'lldo our duty, of course. We'll go into mother's room in turn, and we'llgive up everything for our mother's sake, and we'll deny ourselves, andwe'll never speak to Marcia at all. When we are at meals, if she forcesus to speak, we'll say yes and no, but that's all, unless Horace orfather is present. We'll leave her quite to herself; she shall have herfree hours, and her time for writing, and we wish her joy of it."

  This plan of action being determined on, the girls went to bed with acertain sense of consolation.

  It was Ethel's turn to spend the morning with the invalid on thefollowing day, and she determinedly went there without a word. Theeffect of the Coventry system seemed at first to be but small. Duringbreakfast that morning Marcia was absorbed in some letters she hadreceived. She asked her father the best way to get to Hurst Castle.

  "Why do you want to go there?" asked her parent.

  "I have had a letter from Angela St Just. She is most anxious to seeme."

  Ethel very nearly dropped the cup of tea which she was raising to herlips.

  "Angela St Just?" she murmured under her breath. Even Mr Aldworthlooked interested.

  "Do you know her?" he asked.

  "Of course I do; she was one of Mrs Silchester's pupils. She wants meto go and see her, and, if I can be spared, to spend a little time therein the summer. I have had a long letter from her."

  "She was a remarkably handsome girl; I remember that," said MrAldworth. "Well, to be sure, and so she was at that school."

  "You forget, father," said Marcia, "that Mrs Silchester is Sir EdwardSt Just's sister-in-law."

  "Indeed? That is news."

  Horace made one or two remarks.

  "I am glad you know her so well, Marcia, and I hope you will have apleasant time when you go to Hurst Castle. You say Sir Edward isstaying there at present?"

  "Yes, with some relatives."

  "And Angela?"

  "Yes, they're going to spend some months there this summer."

  Marcia then calmly read her remaining letters and then, just noddingtowards Ethel, she said:

  "I think it is your turn to look after mother, dear," and she left theroom.

  But just as she reached the door she came back.

  "Be very careful, dear Ethel, not to allow her to sit in the sun. It issuch a beautiful day that I think you might wheel her on to the balcony,where she can get some fresh air. Just do your best to make her happy.I shall be so pleased if I see her looking bright and comfortable thisafternoon."

  To these remarks Ethel proudly withheld any comment Marcia, not in theleast disturbed, hurried away.

  "Well," said Nesta, when her father and brother and elder sister hadmade themselves scarce, "she doesn't seem to be much put out by thebeginning of Coventry; does she, Molly?"

  "She's so eaten up with pride," said Molly, "talking about her AngelaSt Just and her Hurst Castle--snobbish, I call it, don't you, Ethel?"

  "I don't know that I shouldn't like a little bit of it myself," repliedEthel. "You should hear how the people talk of her in the town. Theydon't think anything at all of the Carters, I can tell you."

  "You have never explained what happened during your visit yesterday,"said Molly.

  Marcia was passing the window. She looked in.

  "It's time you went to mother, Ethel," she said.

  Ethel rose with a crimson face.

  "Hateful old prig!" she said.

  "There, girls, I can't tell you now. I'm in for a jolly time, andyou'll be amusing yourselves in the garden, and she'll amuse herself."

  "Well, you can think of me to-morrow," said Nesta, "giving up my walkwith Florrie Griffiths. That's what I call hard, and you and Ethel willhave a jolly afternoon all to yourselves, and a jolly morning to-morrow.It's I who am to be pitied. I don't think I can stand it. I thinkI'll run away."

  "Don't be a goose, Netty. You know you'll have to bear the burden aswell as Miss Mule Selfish."

  "Oh, what a funny name," said Nes
ta, laughing.

  "Do let us call her Mule Selfish. It does sound so funny."

  Ethel, having propounded this remarkable specimen of wit, went upstairs,considerably satisfied with herself. Her post that morning was nosinecure. Mrs Aldworth was in a terrible temper, and she was reallyweak and ill, too. It was one of her worst days. Ethel, always clumsy,was more so than usual. The sun poured in through