The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (online e reader .TXT) 📗

Beatrice Meadowsweet and the Bertrams spent a delightful day together. The Bertrams frankly owned their inability to manage a boat. They welcomed her timely assistance, and thanked her for offering it, and then the young folk laughed and joked together, the Bertrams secretly finding Beatrice all the more interesting and fascinating because they knew that their mother would not quite approve of their being found in her society.

Beatrice told them about the harbor, took Kate into her boat, instructed Loftus how to manage his sail, and showed him the difference between rowing on a river and on the sea. Finally, she frankly accepted their suggestion that she should join their impromptu picnic. They landed on the green banks of that part of the coast which contained the ruins of an ancient Danish fort. There they kindled a fire, boiled a kettle of water, made tea, enjoyed bread-and-butter, cold chicken and strawberries, and had an exceedingly festive time.

When the meal was over Bertram asked Miss Meadowsweet to show him over the fort. She complied at once, in that easy, unconcerned manner which gave her a certain charm, and which in itself was the perfection of good-breeding. Mabel was about to follow, but Kate caught hold of her skirt.

"Help me to wash up," she said.

When the girls were alone, Mabel burst into a peal of laughter.

"Oh, what a time the little mice are having!" she exclaimed. "What a time! I only wish that nice Beatrice of yours had a couple of brothers as charming as herself. Then our state would approach perfection."

"May, you oughtn't to talk in that silly fashion. No one hates leading-strings as I do, and I'm determined that mother shall allow me to make Miss Meadowsweet my friend. But this meeting seems like taking advantage of mother's absence; it does really, and although we could not help ourselves, I am sorry about it."

"Well, I'm not. We have had a delicious time, and I think, too, we owe our lives to Miss Bee. Loftie was making an awful mess of that sail, and you know, Kate, none of us can swim. Now look at Loftie, do look at him! See how he's bending towards Miss Meadowsweet. He is quite taken with her, I can see. Oh, what a flirt he is. Doesn't she hold herself nicely, Kate? And hasn't she an independent sort of way?"

"Yes," responded Catherine. "I think even mother must own that Beatrice is in good style. I knew that the moment she spoke to me."

"They are coming back," said Mabel. "Just toss me over that towel, please, Kate. Don't you think I provided a very nice little lunch? Mrs. Masters and I managed it between us, and you none of you knew, no none of you, how very ancient that chicken was."

"Didn't I?" replied Kate. "I had one of the drumsticks. That chicken has woke me in a very lusty manner more than once in the morn. 'Up, Up!' cries the crowing cock. Oh, Mabel, it was cruel of you to deprive us of his clarion note."

"Never mind. I saw that Loftie and Miss Meadowsweet had the breast to eat. I nearly died when I saw you attacking the drumstick, but I knew you wouldn't split. Now, do look up, Kate? Doesn't Loftus look radiant? Isn't he a handsome fellow when he is pleased? What can Miss Meadowsweet be saying to him? How he does laugh!"

"Miss Meadowsweet has a good deal of fun in her," responded Kate. "I think it is a certain tone in her voice. Well, here they come. How did you like the ruins, Loftus?"

"Very much—I mean as much as I care for any ruins. And I have had a capital guide. Miss Meadowsweet wants to propose something to you girls."

"Yes," said Beatrice, in her bright, quick way. "It will be so nice if you can do it. Captain Bertram says he is fond of tennis, and we have four very good courts at home. Will you all come and have supper this evening? Mother will be delighted to see you—Do come, Miss Bertram."

She looked sympathetically and eagerly at Catherine. Catherine in her shabby, ill-fitting dress was not nearly such a distinguished figure as Miss Meadowsweet, whose serge costume fitted her like a glove. Yet Catherine drew herself up as if the invitation half offended her.

"I?" she began. She looked at Loftus. Her color came and went.

"Catherine is overpowered," remarked the brother, with a smile at Miss Meadowsweet, but a certain expression about his mouth which Kate too well interpreted. "Catherine is overpowered. She and this little woman," taking Mabel's hand, "have had very few invitations lately. Never mind, Kate, I'll support you, and if we hurry home now, you can polish up your rusty tennis powers at Rosendale. We must make a proper court there, Miss Meadowsweet. In the meantime, we are all delighted to accept your kind invitation."

"Be with us at seven," said Beatrice. "Mother doesn't like supper to be later than half-past-eight, but if you are with us by seven we shall have time for a good game first. And now, I think I must go home, or my mother will wonder what has become of me."

Mabel picked up the luncheon basket. Loftus flung the rugs over his shoulder, and the four young people went down to the boats.

Loftus and Mabel lingered a little behind. Catherine and Beatrice led the way.

"You don't want to come to-night," suddenly said Beatrice to her companion.

Catherine started and colored.

"Why do you say that? I—I am glad to come."

"Don't come if you don't want to. I shall understand."

They had reached the boats. The Bertrams seated themselves in their own. Miss Meadowsweet advised them not to put up the sail, but thought if she kept within easy distance, they might manage the oars. Loftus and Mabel rowed. Kate sat in the stern and steered. Beatrice Meadowsweet applauded, and rowed her own boat with skill. She reached the shore before them, and called out in her clear voice:

"I sha'n't wait now. I shall see you all at seven this evening."

"Reply for us, Kate," whispered Loftus. "Reply for us all, quickly."

"Yes—we'll come," called Catherine across the water.

Beatrice smiled. Her smile was of the sunniest. It flashed back a look of almost love at Catherine. Then she turned to walk up the steep steps which led from the quay to the little High Street.

"We ought not to go," instantly began Catherine.

Loftus stopped rowing, bent forward and put his hand across her mouth.

"Not another word," he said. "I'll undertake to conciliate the mother, and I think she can trust to my ideas of good-breeding."

Meanwhile Beatrice walked quickly home. The Meadowsweets lived at the far end of the town in a large gray stone house. The house stood back a little from the road, and a great elm tree threw its protecting shade over the porch and upper windows. It was, however, an ordinary house in a street, and looked a little old-fashioned and a little gloomy until you stepped into the drawing-room, which was furnished certainly with no pretension to modern taste or art, but opened with French windows into a glorious, big, old-world garden.

The house was known by the name of the Gray House, and the old garden as the Gray Garden, but the garden at least bore no resemblance to its neutral-tinted name. It had green alleys, and sheltering trees, and a great expanse of smoothly kept lawn. It possessed flower-beds and flower borders innumerable. There was more than one bower composed entirely of rose-trees, and there were very long hedges of sweet briar and Scotch roses.

The tennis-courts were kept to perfection in the Gray Garden, and all the lasses and boys of Northbury were rejoiced when an invitation came to them to test their skill at a tournament here. There was no girl in Northbury more popular than Beatrice. This popularity was unsought. It came to her because she was gracious and affectionate, of a generous nature, above petty slanders, petty gossips, petty desires. Life had always been rich and plentiful for her, she possessed abundant health, excellent spirits, and a sunny temper not easily ruffled; she was sympathetic, too, and although, in mind and nature she was many steps above the girls with whom she associated, she was really unconscious of this difference and gave herself no superior airs. A companion who would have been her equal, whose intellect would have sharpened hers, whose spirit would have matched her own, whose refinement would have delighted and whose affection would have been something to revel in, she had never hitherto known.

Unconscious of her loss she had not deplored it. It was not until she and Catherine Bertram had flashed a look of delight and sympathy at one another that she first felt stirring within her breast the wings of a new desire. For the first time she felt unsatisfied and incomplete. She scarcely knew that she thirsted for Catherine, but this was so. Catherine awakened all sorts of new emotions in her heart. She had spent a delightful day with the Bertrams, and hurried home now in the highest spirits.

In the High Street she met three girls, whose names were Matty, Alice, and Sophy Bell. Their father was a retired coal merchant. There was scarcely any active trade down in Northbury, almost all the inhabitants having retired to live there on their fortunes. The Bells were small, rather thickly-made girls, with round faces and round eyes. They always dressed alike, and one was never seen without the other two. They generally walked through the streets with their arms linked, and each one echoed the sentiments of the other, so that the effect produced was a sense of medley and multiplicity.

To such an extent was this felt that the three girls were spoken of by the wits of the town as the "four-and-twenty Miss Bells." They adored Beatrice, and bore down upon her now in a neat phalanx.

"Delighted to see you, Bee!" exclaimed Matty.

"Delighted!" echoed Alice.

"Lighted!" exclaimed Sophy.

"Where have you been?" began Matty, again.

Beatrice told. While she spoke, three pairs of lips were raised for a salute.

People kissed in the streets or anywhere at Northbury.

"You were with those Bertrams! Those rude Bertrams! Oh, fascinating—"

"Fascinating—"

"Nating," burst from the three.

"Tell us about them, darling!" exclaimed one.

"Tell us!" said the other.

"—Us"—gasped the third.

Beatrice narrated her morning adventure with some spirit, praised her new friends, defended them from any score of rudeness, and altogether conjured up an interesting picture of them.

The Bells turned to walk with her. Matty hung on one arm, Alice on another, Sophy hopped backwards in front. Before she quite knew that she meant to do so, Beatrice had asked the Bells to join the tennis party that evening. They accepted the invitation rapturously.

"Might Polly and Daisy Jenkins come too, and might Polly's brother come, and if they met Mr. Jones, the curate—Mr. Jones did so love tennis—might he come?"

"Is the brother an officer in the real army?" inquired Matty.

"Real army—"

"Army—" echoed the others

Beatrice was able to assure them that Captain Bertram had nothing spurious about him.

"I'll see you at seven," she added, nodding to her companions. "Yes, you can bring the Jenkinses and the boys, and Mr. Jones. I really must hurry home now."

She reached the Gray House, found her mother nodding, as usual, in her great easy-chair, and told her what she had done.

"I met the Bertrams on the water, and had lunch with them, and they are coming to tennis to-night, and to supper afterwards, mother," she said.

Mrs. Meadowsweet always approved of her daughter's doings. She approved now, nodding her kind old head, and raising her face with a smile.

"Quite right, Trixie," she said. "How many Bertrams are there? Is Mrs. Bertram coming? If so, I had better put on my cap with the Honiton lace."

"Mrs. Bertram is not coming, mother, but you must put on your best cap all the same. Mrs. Bertram is from home. It was the girls I met this morning—the girls, and their brother, Captain Bertram."

"Oh, well, child, if they are all young folk the cap with Maltese lace will do. I don't wear Honiton, except for those who know."

"Mother, I thought we might have supper in the garden. The weather is so lovely now, and it is quite light at half-past eight. Shall I give the order, and take all the trouble off you?"

Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with a slight effort to her feet.

"Do you think I am going to let you be worried, child?" she said. "No, no, what good is the