A Very Naughty Girl, Page 7

  CHAPTER VII.--STAYING TO DINNER.

  Again at luncheon that day Evelyn was missing. Lady Frances lookedround: Audrey was in her place; Miss Sinclair was seated not far away;the Squire took the foot of the table; the servants handed round thedifferent dishes; but still no Evelyn had put in an appearance.

  "I wonder where she can be," said the Squire. "She looked a little wildand upset when she left me. Poor little girl! Do you know, Frances, Ifeel very sorry for her."

  "More than I do," said Lady Frances, who at the same time had anuncomfortable remembrance of the look Evelyn had given her when she hadleft her presence. "Don't let us talk any more about her now, Edward,"she said to her husband. "There is only one thing to be done for thechild, and that I will tell you by and by."

  The Squire was accustomed to attend to his wife's wishes on alloccasions, and he said nothing further. Audrey felt constrained anduncomfortable. After a slight hesitation she said:

  "Do let me find Evelyn, mother. I have been expecting her to join me thewhole morning. She does not, of course, know about our rules yet."

  "No, Audrey," said her mother; "I prefer that you should not leave thetable.--Miss Sinclair, perhaps you will oblige me. Will you go toEvelyn's room and tell her that we are at lunch?"

  Miss Sinclair rose at once. She was absent for about five minutes. Whenshe came back there was a distressed look on her face.

  "Well, Jenny, well?" said Audrey in a voice of suppressed excitement."Is she coming?"

  "I think not," said Miss Sinclair.--"I will explain matters to you, LadyFrances, afterwards."

  "Dear, dear!" said the Squire. "What a lot of explanations seem to benecessary with regard to the conduct of one small girl!"

  "But she is a very important small girl, is she not, father?" saidAudrey.

  "Well, yes, dear; and I should like to say now that I take an interestin her--in fact," he added, looking round him, for the servants hadwithdrawn, "I am prepared to love little Eve very much indeed."

  Lady Frances's eyes flashed a somewhat indignant fire. Then she saidslowly:

  "As you speak so frankly, Edward, I must do likewise. I never saw a morehopeless child. There seems to be nothing whatever for it but to sendher to school for a couple of years."

  "No," said the Squire, "I will not allow that. We never sent Audrey toschool, and I will have no difference made with regard to Evelyn'seducation. All that money can secure must be provided for her, but I donot care for school-life for girls."

  Lady Frances said nothing further. She was a woman with tact, and wouldnot on any consideration oppose her husband in public. All the same, shesecretly made up her mind that if Evelyn proved unmanageable she was notto stay at Wynford Castle.

  "And there is another thing," continued the Squire. "This is her firstday in her future home. I do not wish her to be punished whatever shemay have done. I should like her to have absolute freedom untilto-morrow morning."

  "It shall be exactly as you wish, Edward," said Lady Frances. "I didintend to seek Evelyn out; I did intend further to question MissSinclair as to the reason why Evelyn did not appear at lunch; but I willdefer these things. It happens to be somewhat convenient, as I want topay some calls this afternoon; and really, with that child on my brain,I should not enjoy my visits. You, Audrey dear, will see to yourcousin's comforts, and when she is inclined to give you her society youwill be ready to welcome her. Your young friends will not arrive untiljust before dinner. Please, at least use your influence, Audrey, toprevent Evelyn making a too extraordinary appearance to-night. Now Ithink that is all, and I must run off if I am to be in time to receivemy guests."

  Lady Frances left the room, and Audrey went to her governess's side.

  "What is it?" she said. "You did look strange, Jenny, when you came intothe room just now. Where is Evelyn? Why did she not come to lunch?"

  "It is the greatest possible mercy," said Miss Sinclair, "that Evelyn isallowed to have one free day, for perhaps--although I feel by no meanssure--you and I may influence her for her own good to-night. But what doyou think has happened? I went to her room and knocked at the door ofthe boudoir. I heard voices within. The door was immediately opened bythe maid Jasper, and I saw Evelyn seated at a table, eating a mostextraordinary kind of lunch, in the company of a girl whom I have neverseen before."

  "Oh Jenny," cried Audrey, "how frightfully exciting! A strange girl!Surely Evelyn did not bring a stranger with her and hide her somewherelast night?"

  "No, dear, no," said Miss Sinclair, laughing; "she did nothing of thatsort. I fancy the girl must live in the neighborhood, although her faceis unfamiliar to me. She is rather a pretty girl, but by no means thesort that your mother would approve of as a companion for your cousin."

  "What is she like?" asked Audrey in a grave voice.

  Miss Sinclair proceeded to describe Sylvia's appearance. She wasinterrupted in the middle of her description by a cry from Audrey.

  "Oh dear!" she exclaimed, "you must have seen that curious girl, SylviaLeeson. Your description is exactly like her. Well, as this is a freeday, and we can do pretty much what we like, I will run straight up toEvelyn's room and look for myself."

  "Do Audrey; I think on the whole it would be the best plan."

  So Audrey ran up-stairs, and soon her tap was heard on Evelyn's door;the next moment she found herself in the presence of a very untidy,disheveled-looking cousin, and also in that of handsome Sylvia Leeson.

  Sylvia dropped a sort of mock courtesy when she saw Audrey.

  "My Shakespearian contemporary!" was her remark. "Well, Audrey, and howgoes the Forest of Arden? And have you yet met Touchstone?"

  Audrey colored very high at what she considered a direct impertinence.

  "What are you doing here?" she said. "My mother does not know yourmother."

  Sylvia gave a ringing laugh.

  "I met this lady," she said--and she pointed in Evelyn's direction--"andshe invited me here. I have had lunch with her, and I am no longerhungry. This is her room, is it not?"

  "I should just think it is," said Evelyn; "and I only invite thosepeople whom I care about to come into it." She said the words in a verypointed way, but Audrey had now recovered both her dignity andgood-nature.

  She laughed.

  "Really we three are too silly," she said. "Evelyn, you cannot mean theridiculous words you say! As if any room in my father's house is notfree to me when I choose to go there! Now, whether you like it or not, Iam determined to be friends with you. I do not want to scold you orlecture you, for it is not my place, but I intend to sit down althoughyou have not the civility to offer me a chair; and I intend to ask againwhy Miss Leeson is here."

  "I came because Evelyn asked me," said Sylvia; and then, all of asudden, an unexpected change came over her face. Her pretty, brighteyes, with a sort of robin-redbreast look in them, softened and melted,and then grew brighter than ever through tears. She went up to Audreyand knelt at her feet.

  "Why should not I come? Why should not I be happy?" she said. "I am avery lonely girl; why should you grudge me a little happiness?"

  Audrey looked at her in amazement; then a change came over her own face.She allowed her hand just for an instant to touch the hand of Sylvia,and her eyes looked into the wild eyes of the shabby girl who waskneeling before her.

  "Get up," she said. "You have no right to take that attitude to me. Asyou are here, sit down. I do not want to be rude to you; far from that.I should like to make you happy."

  "Should you really?" answered Sylvia. "You can do it, you know."

  "Sylvia," interrupted Evelyn, "what does this mean? You and I have beentalking in a very frank way about Audrey. We have neither of us beenexpressing any enthusiastic opinions with regard to her; and yet now--andyet now----"

  "Oh, let me be, Eve," replied Sylvia. "I like Audrey. I liked her theother day. It is true I was afraid of her, and I was crushed by her, butI liked her; and I like her better now, and if she will be my friend Iam quite determined to be hers."


  "Then you do not care for me?" said Evelyn, getting up and struttingacross the room.

  Sylvia looked at Audrey, whose eyes, however, would not smile, and whoseface was once more cold and haughty.

  "Evelyn," she said, "I must ask you to try and remember that you are alady, and not to talk in this way before anybody but me. I am yourcousin, and when you are alone with me I give you leave to talk as youplease. But now the question is this: I do not in the least care whatSylvia said of me behind my back. I hope I know better than to wish tofind out what I was never meant to hear. This is a free country, and anygirl in England can talk of me as she pleases--I am not afraid--that is,she can talk of me as she pleases when I am absent. But what I want todo now is to answer Sylvia's question. She is unhappy, and she hasthrown herself on me.--What can I do, Sylvia, to make you happy?"

  Sylvia was standing huddled up against the wall. Her pretty shoulderswere hitched to her ears; her hair was disheveled and fell partly overher forehead; her eyes gleamed out under their thick thatch of blackhair like wild birds in a nest; her coral lips trembled, there was justa gleam of snowy teeth, and then she said impulsively:

  "You are a darling, and you can do one thing. Let me for to-day forgetthat I am poor and hungry and very lonely and very sad. Let me shareyour love and Evelyn's love for just one whole day."

  "But there are people coming to-night, Sylvia," said Evelyn. "I heardJasper speak of it. Lots of people--grandees, you know."

  Sylvia shuddered slightly.

  "We never say that sort of word now in England," she remarked; and sheadded: "I am well-born too. There was a time when I should not have beenat all shy of Audrey Wynford."

  "You are very queer," said Evelyn. "I do not know that I particularlywant you for a friend."

  "Well, never mind; I think I can get you to love me," said Sylvia. "Butnow the question is this: Will Audrey let me stay or will she not? Willyou, Audrey--will you--just because my name is Sylvia and we have met inthe Forest of Arden?"

  "Oh dear," said Audrey, "what a difficult question you ask! And how canI answer it? I dare not give you leave all by myself, but I will go andinquire."

  Audrey ran immediately out of the room.

  "What a wonderful change has come into my life!" she said to herself asshe flew down-stairs and looked into different rooms, but all in vain,for Miss Sinclair.

  Her mother was out; it was hopeless to think of appealing to her.Without the permission of some one older than herself she could notpossibly ask Sylvia to stay. Sylvia could be more or less lost in thecrowd of children who would be at the Castle that evening, but hermother's eyes would quickly seek out the unfamiliar face, inquirieswould be made, and--in short, Audrey did not dare to take thisresponsibility on herself. She was rushing up-stairs again, prepared totell Sylvia that she could not grant her request, when she came plump upagainst her father.

  "My dear girl, what a hurry you are in!" he exclaimed.

  "Oh yes, father," replied Audrey. "I am excited. The house is full oflife and almost mystery."

  "Then you like your cousin to be here?" said the Squire, and his facebrightened.

  "Yes and no," answered Audrey truthfully. "But, father, I have a greatrequest to make. You know you said that Evelyn was to have a free dayto-day in which she could do as she pleased. She has a guest up-stairswhom she would like to ask to stay. May she ask her, father? She is agirl, and lonely and pretty, and, I think, on the whole, a lady. May weboth ask her to dinner and to spend the evening? And will you, father,take the responsibility?"

  "Of course--of course," said the Squire.

  "Will you explain to mother when she returns?"

  "Yes, my dear--certainly. Ask anybody you please; I never restrain youwith regard to your friends. Now do not keep me, my love; I am going outimmediately."