Betty Vivian: A Story of Haddo Court School Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  SCOTCH HEATHER

  Betty was true to her word. After school that day, Margaret Grant andOlive Repton came up to her and asked her in a very pretty manner if shewould become a member of their Speciality Club.

  "Of course," said Margaret, "you don't know anything about us or ourrules at present; but we think we should like you to join, so we arehere now to invite you to come to our next meeting, which will takeplace on Thursday of next week, at eight o'clock precisely, in mybedroom."

  "I don't know where your bedroom is," said Betty.

  "But I know where yours is!" exclaimed Olive; "so I will fetch you,Betty, and bring you to Margaret's room. Oh, I am sure you will enjoyit--we have such fun! Sometimes we give quite big entertainments--thatis, when we invite the other girls, which we do once or twice during theterm. By the way, that reminds me that you will be most useful in thatrespect, for you and your sisters have the largest bedroom in the house.You will, of course, lend us your room when your turn comes; but that isa long way off."

  "I am so glad you are coming!" said Margaret. "You are the sort of girlwe want in our club. And now, please, tell me about your life inScotland."

  "I will with pleasure," replied Betty. She looked full up intoMargaret's face as she spoke.

  Margaret was older than Betty, and taller; and there was something abouther which commanded universal respect.

  "I don't mind telling you," said Betty--"nor you," she added as Olive'sdancing blue eyes met hers; "for a kind of intuition tells me that youwould both love my wild moors and my beautiful heather. Oh, I say, docome, both of you, and see our three little plots of garden! There'sSylvia's plot, and Hester's, and mine; and we have a plant of heather,straight from Craigie Muir, in the midst of each. Our gardens are quitebare except for that tiny plant. Do, _do_ come and see it!"

  Margaret laughed.

  Olive said, "Oh, what fun!" and the three began to walk quickly underthe trees in the direction of the Vivians' gardens.

  As they passed under the great oak-trees Betty looked up, and her eyesdanced with fun. "Are you good at climbing trees?" she asked ofMargaret.

  "I used to be when I was very, very young; but those days are over."

  "There are a few very little girls in the lower school who still climbone of the safest trees," remarked Olive.

  Betty's eyes continued to dance. "You give me delightful news," shesaid. "I am so truly glad none of you do anything so vulgar as to climbtrees."

  "But why, Betty?" asked Margaret.

  "I have my own reasons," replied Betty. "You can't expect me to tell youeverything right away, can you?"

  "You must please yourself," said Margaret.

  Olive looked at Betty in a puzzled manner; and the three girls weresilent, only that they quickened their steps, crunching down some brokentwigs as they walked.

  By-and-by they reached the three bare patches of ground, which wererailed in in the simple manner which Mrs. Haddo had indicated, and inthe center of which stood the wooden post with the words, "THE VIVIANS'PRIVATE GARDENS," painted on it.

  "How very funny!" exclaimed Olive.

  "Yes, it is rather funny," remarked Betty. "Did you ever in the wholecourse of your existence see anything uglier than these three patches ofground? There is nothing whatever planted in them except our darlingScotch heather; and oh, by the way, I don't believe the precious littleplants are thriving! They are drooping like anything! Oh dear! oh dear!I think I shall die if they die!" As she spoke she flung herself on theground, near the path.

  "Of course you won't, Betty," said Margaret. "Besides, why should theydie? They only want watering."

  "I'll run and fetch a canful of water," said Olive, who was extremelygood-natured.

  Betty made no response. She was still lying on the ground, resting onher elbows, while her hands tenderly touched the faded and droopingbells of the wild heather. She had entered her own special plot. Olivehad disappeared to fetch the water, but Margaret still stood by Betty'sside.

  "Do you think they'll do?" said Betty at last, glancing at hercompanion.

  Margaret noticed that her eyes were full of tears. "I don't think theywill," she said after a pause. "But I'll tell you what we must do,Betty: we must get the right sort of soil for them--just the sandy soilthey want. We'll go and consult Birchall; he is the oldest gardener inthe place, and knows something about everything. For that matter, we aresure to get the sort of sand we require on this piece of wasteground--our 'forest primeval,' as Olive calls it."

  "Oh dear!" said Betty, dashing away the tears from her eyes, "you arefunny when you talk of a thing like that"--she waved her hand in thedirection of the uncultivated land--"as a 'forest primeval.' It is thepoorest, shabbiest bit of waste land I ever saw in my life."

  "Let's walk across it," said Margaret. "Olive can't be back for a minuteor two."

  "Why should we walk across it?"

  "I want to show you where some heather grows. It is certainly not rich,nor deep in color, nor beautiful, like yours; but it has grown in thatparticular spot for two or three years. I am quite sure that Birchallwill say that the soil round that heather is the right sort of earth toplant your Scotch heather in."

  "Well, come, and let's be very quick," said Betty.

  The girls walked across the bit of common. Margaret pointed out theheather, which was certainly scanty and poor.

  Betty looked at it with scorn. "I think," she said after a pause, "Idon't want to consult Birchall." Then she added after another pause, "Ithink, on the whole, I'd much rather have no heather than plants likethose. You are very kind, Margaret; but there are some things that can'tbe transplanted, just as there are some hearts--that break--yes,break--if you take them from home. That poor heather--once, doubtless,it was very flourishing; it is evidently dying now of a sort ofconsumption. Let's come back to our plots of ground, please, Margaret."

  They did so, and were there greeted by Olive, who had a large can ofcold water standing by her side, and was eagerly talking to Sylvia andHester. Betty marched first into the center plot of ground.

  "I've got lots of water," said Olive in a cheerful tone, "so we'll dothe watering at once. Sylvia and Hester say that they must have a thirdeach of this canful; but of course we can get a second can if we wantit."

  "No!" said Betty.

  Sylvia, who was gazing with lack-lustre eyes at the fading heather, nowstarted and looked full at her sister. Hester, who always clung toSylvia in moments of emotion, caught her sister's hand and held it verytight.

  "No," said Betty again; "I have made a discovery. Scotch heather doesnot grow here in this airless sort of place. Sylvia and Hester, Margaretwas good enough to show me what she calls heather. There are a fewstraggling plants just at the other side of that bit of common. I don'twant ours to die slowly. Our plants shall go at once. No, we don't waterthem. Sylvia, go into your garden and pull up the plant; and, Hester,you do likewise Go, girls; go at once!"

  "But, Betty----" said Margaret.

  "You had better not cross her now," said Sylvia.

  Margaret started when Sylvia addressed her in this tone.

  Betty's face was painfully white, except where two spots of color blazedin each cheek. As her sisters stooped obediently to pull up theirheather, Betty bent and wrenched hers from the ground by which it wassurrounded, which ground was already dry and hard. "Let's make abonfire," she said. "I sometimes think," she added, "that in each littlebell of heather there lives the wee-est of all the fairies; and perhaps,if we burn this poor, dear thing, the little, wee fairies may go back totheir ain countree."

  "It all seems quite dreadful to me," said Margaret.

  "It is right," replied Betty; "and I have a box of matches in mypocket."

  "Oh, have you?" exclaimed Olive. "If--if Mrs. Haddo knew----"

  But Betty made no response. She set her sisters to collect some dryleaves and bits of broken twigs; and presently the bonfire was erectedand kindled, and the poor heather from the north coun
try had ceased toexist.

  "Now, you must see _our_ gardens," said Margaret, "for you must havegardens, you know. Olive and I will show you the sort of things thatgrow in the south, that flourish here, and look beautiful."

  "I cannot see them now," replied Betty. She brushed past Margaret, andwalked rapidly across the common.

  Sylvia's face turned very white, and she clutched Hetty's hand stillmore tightly.

  "What is she going to do? What is the matter?" said Margaret, turning tothe twins.

  "She can't help it," said Sylvia; "she must do it. She is going tohowl."

  "To do what?" said Margaret Grant.

  "Howl. Did you never howl? Well, perhaps you never did. Anyhow, she mustget away as far as possible before she begins, and we had better go backto the house. You wouldn't like the sound of Betty's howling."

  "But are you going to let her howl, as you call it, alone?"

  "Let her? We have no voice in the matter," replied Hester. "Betty alwaysdoes exactly what she likes. Let's go quickly; let's get away. It's thebest thing she can do. She's been keeping in that howling-fit for over aweek, and it must find vent. She'll be all right when you see her next.But don't, on any account, ever again mention the heather that webrought from Craigie Muir. She may get over its death some day, but notyet."

  "Your sister is a very strange girl," said Margaret.

  "Every one says that," replied Sylvia. "Don't they, Het?"

  "Yes; we're quite tired of hearing it," said Hetty. "But do let's comequickly. Which is the farthest-off part of the grounds--the place wherewe are quite certain not to hear?"

  "You make me feel almost nervous," said Margaret. "But come along, ifyou wish to."

  The four girls walked rapidly. At last they found a little summer-housewhich was built high up on the very top of a rising mound. From here youcould get a good view of the surrounding country; and very beautiful itwas--at least, for those whose eyes were trained to observe the richbeauty of cultivated land, of flowing rivers, of forests, of carefullykept trees. Very lonely indeed was the scene from Haddo Courtsummer-house; for, in addition to every scrap of land being made toyield its abundance, there were pretty cottages dotted here andthere--each cottage possessing its own gay flower-garden, and, in mostcases, its own happy little band of pretty boys and girls.

  As soon as the four girls found themselves in the summer-house, Margaretbegan to praise the view to Sylvia.

  Sylvia looked round to right and to left. "_We_ don't admire that sortof thing," she said. "Do we, Hetty?"

  Hetty shook her head with vehemence. "Oh no, no," she said. Then, cominga little closer to Margaret, she looked into her face and continued,"Are you the sort of kind girl who will keep a secret?"

  Margaret thought of the Speciality Club. But surely this poor littlesecret belonging solely to the Vivians need not be related to any onewho was not in sympathy with them. "I never tell tales, if that is whatyou mean," she said.

  "Then that is all right," remarked Sylvia. "And are you the same sort ofgirl, Olive? You look very kind."

  "It wouldn't be hard to be kind to one like you," was Olive's response.

  Whereupon Sylvia smiled, and Hetty came close to Olive and looked intoher face.

  "Then we want you," continued Sylvia, "never, never to tell about theburnt sacrifice of the Scotch heather, nor about the flight of thefairies back to Scotland. It tortured Betty to have to do it; but shethought it right, therefore it was done. There are some people,however, who would not understand her; and we would much rather be ableto tell our own Betty that you will never speak of it, when she has comeback to herself and has got over her howling."

  "Of course we'll never tell," said Olive; and Margaret nodded her headwithout speaking.

  "I think you are just awfully nice," said Sylvia. "We were so terrifiedwhen we came to this school. We thought we'd have an awful time. Westill speak of it as a prison, you know. Do you speak of it to yourdearest friend as a prison?"

  "Prison!" said Margaret. "There isn't a place in the world I love as Ilove Haddo Court."

  "Then you never, never lived in a dear little gray stone house on a wildScotch moor; and you never had a man like Donald Macfarlane to talk to,nor a woman like Jean Macfarlane to make scones for you; and you neverhad dogs like our dogs up there, nor a horse like David. I pity you frommy heart!"

  "I never had any of those things," said Margaret; "but I shall like tohear about them from you."

  "And so shall I like to hear about them," said Olive.

  "We will tell you, if Betty gives us leave," said one of the twins. "Wenever do anything without Betty's leave. She is the person we look upto, and obey, and follow. We'd follow her to the world's end; we'd diefor her, both of us, if it would do her any good."

  Margaret took Sylvia's hand and began to smooth it softly. "I wish," shesaid then in a slow voice, "that I had friends to love me as you loveyour sister."

  "Perhaps you aren't worthy," said Sylvia. "There is no one living likeBetty in all the world, and we feel about her as we do because she isBetty."

  "But, all the same," said Hester, frowning as she spoke, "our Betty hasgot an enemy."

  "An enemy, my dear child! What do you mean? You have just been praisingher so much! Did any one take a dislike to her up in that northcountry?"

  "It may have begun there," remarked Hetty; "but the sad and dreadfulthing is that the enemy is in this house. Sylvia and I don't mind yourknowing. We rather think you like her, but we don't. Her name is FannyCrawford."

  "Oh, really, though, that is quite nonsense!" said Margaret, flushingwith annoyance. "Poor dear Fanny, there is not a better or sweeter girlin the school!"

  Sylvia laughed. "That is your point of view," she said. "She is ourenemy; she is not yours. Oh, hurrah! hurrah! I see Betty! She is comingback, walking very slowly. She has got over the worst of the howls. Wemust both go and meet her. Don't be anywhere about, please, either ofyou. Keep quite in the shade, so that she won't see you; and the nexttime you meet talk to her as though this had never happened."

  The twins dashed out of sight. They certainly could run very fast.

  When they had gone Margaret looked at Olive. "Well," she said, "thatsort of scene rather takes one's breath away. What do you think, Olive?"

  "It was exceedingly trying," said Olive.

  "All the same," said Margaret, "I feel roused up about those girls inthe most extraordinary manner. Didn't you notice, too, what Sylvia saidabout poor Fanny? Isn't it horrid?"

  "Of course it isn't true," was Olive's remark.

  "We have made up our minds not to speak evil of any one in the school,"said Margaret after a pause; "but I cannot help remembering that Fannydid not wish Betty to become a Speciality. And don't you recall howangry she was, and how she would not vote with the 'ayes,' and wouldnot give any reason, and although she was hostess she walked out of theroom?"

  "It's very uncomfortable altogether," said Olive. "But I don't see thatwe can do anything."

  "Well, perhaps not yet," said Margaret; "but I may as well say at once,Olive, that I mean to take up those girls. Until to-day I was onlyinterested in Betty, but now I am interested in all three; and if I can,without making mischief, I must get to the bottom of what is making poorlittle Betty so bitter, and what is upsetting the equanimity of our dearold Fan, whom we have always loved so dearly."

  Just at that moment Fanny Crawford herself and Susie Rushworth appeared,walking together arm in arm. They saw Margaret and Olive, and came tojoin them. Susie was in her usual high spirits, and Fanny looked quitecalm and collected. There was not even an allusion made to the Viviangirls. Margaret was most thankful, for she certainly did not wish thelittle episode she had witnessed to reach any one's ears but her own andOlive's. Susie was talking eagerly about a great picnic which Mrs. Haddohad arranged for the following Saturday. The whole school, both upperand lower, were to go. Mr. Fairfax and his wife, most of the teachers,and Mrs. Haddo herself would also accompany the girls. They were allgoin
g to a place about twenty miles away; and Mrs. Haddo, who kept twomotor-cars of her own, had made arrangements for the hire of severalmore, so that the party could quickly reach their place of rendezvousand thus have a longer time there to enjoy themselves.

  "She does things so well, doesn't she?" said Susie. "There never was herlike. Do you know, there was a sort of insurrection in the lower schoolearly this morning, for naughty sprites had whispered that all the smallchildren were to go in ordinary carriages and dogcarts and wagonettes.Then came the news that Mrs. Haddo meant each girl in the school tohave an equal share of enjoyment; and, lo and behold! the cloud hasvanished, and the little ones are making even merrier than the oldergirls."

  "I wish I felt as amiable as I used to feel," said Fanny at that moment.

  "Oh, but, Fan, why don't you?" asked Olive. "You ought to feel more andmore amiable every day--that is, if training means anything."

  "Training is all very well," answered Fanny, "and you may think you areall right; but when temptation comes----"

  "Temptation!" said Margaret. "In my opinion, that is the worst of HaddoCourt: we are so shielded, and treated with such extreme kindness, thattemptation cannot come."

  "Then you wish to be tested, do you, Margaret?" asked Fanny.

  Margaret shivered slightly. "Sometimes I do wish it," she said.

  "Oh, Margaret dear, don't!" said Olive. "You'll have heaps of troublesin life, for my mother says that no one yet was exempt from them. Therenever was a woman quite like my darling mother--except, indeed, Mrs.Haddo. Mother has quite peculiar ideas with regard to bringing up girls.She says the aim of her life is to give me a very happy childhood andearly youth. She thinks that such a life will make me all the strongerto withstand temptation."

  "Let us hope so, anyhow," said Fanny. Then she added, "Don't suppose Iam grumbling, although it has been a trial father going away--so veryfar away--to India. But I think the real temptation comes to us in thisway: when we have to meet girls we can't tolerate."

  "Now she's going to say something dreadful!" thought Olive to herself.

  Margaret rose as though she would put an end to the colloquy.

  Fanny was watching Margaret's face. "The girl I am specially thinking ofnow," she said, "is Sibyl Ray."

  "Oh!" said Margaret. She gave a sigh of such undoubted relief that Fannywas certain she had guessed what her first thoughts were.

  "And now I will tell you why I don't like Sibyl," Fanny continued. "Ihave nothing whatever to say against her. I have never heard of herdoing anything underhand or what we might call low-down or ill-bred. Atthe same time, I do dislike Sibyl, just for the simple reason that sheis _not_ well-bred, and she never will be."

  "Oh! oh, give her her chance--do!" said Olive.

  "I am not going to interfere with her," remarked Fanny; "but she cannever be a friend of mine. There are some girls who like her very well.There's Martha West, who is constantly with her."

  "I am quite sure," said Margaret, "that there isn't a better girl in theschool than Martha, and I have serious thoughts of asking her to becomea Speciality." As she spoke she fixed her very dark eyes on Fanny'sface.

  "Do ask her; I shall be delighted," remarked Fanny. "Only, whatever youdo, don't ask her friend, Sibyl Ray."

  "I have no present intention of doing so. Fanny, I don't want to benasty; but you are quite right about Sibyl. No one can say a wordagainst her; and yet she just is not well-bred."