"I"m ready now to come downstairs," said Aneta; and they went down, to find supper prepared for them, and the old butler waiting to attend on his young ladies.
After the meal was over the girls retired to the drawing-room, where they all three sat by one of the windows waiting for Mr. and Mrs.
Cardew"s return.
Merry then said, "It is so funny of you, Aneta, to speak as though the school was Mrs. Ward."
"But it is," said Aneta.
"Surely, surely," said Merry, "it"s the girls too."
"You will be surprised, perhaps, Aneta, to hear," said Cicely, "that our dear, darling friends--our greatest girl-friends, except yourself perhaps, and you"re a sort of sister--Molly and Isabel Tristram are also going to Aylmer House in September. They are so nice--you will like them; and then, of course, there"s Maggie Howland, one of the most charming girls we have come across."
"Whom did you say?" asked Aneta.
"Maggie Howland. She is here."
"In this house?" said Aneta.
"No; she is at the rectory. She is a special friend of Molly and Isabel. She has been at school with them before in Hanover. You know her, of course? She is one of the girls at Aylmer House."
"I know her--oh yes, I know her," said Aneta.
"And you like her, you feel her charm, you--you almost worship her, don"t you, Neta?"
Aneta was silent.
"Oh, I know she is considered plain," said Merry, "but there"s something about her which prevents one even considering her features.
She is the most unselfish, most fascinating girl we have ever come across. You love her, don"t you, Neta?"
There had come a curious change over Aneta"s face. After a brief pause she said, "I have no right to say it, but you two are my cousins"----
"Yes, yes! What does this mean?" said Cicely with great eagerness.
"Well, I know you will be faithful and not repeat it to any one; but I don"t love Maggie Howland."
"Oh, Neta!"
"And," continued Aneta, "you; as my cousins, I most earnestly hope, will not make her your special friend at Aylmer House."
"But we have done so already, Neta. Oh, Neta darling! you are mistaken in her."
"I say nothing whatever against her," said Aneta, "except that personally I do not care for her. I should be very glad if I found that I had misjudged her."
"Then why don"t you want us to be friends with her? We are friends with her."
"I cannot control you, darlings. When you come to school you will see a variety of girls, and most of them--indeed, all of them--nice, I think."
"Then why shouldn"t we like poor Maggie?"
"You do like her, it seems, already."
"Yes; but you are so mysterious, Neta."
"I cannot say any more; you must forgive me," answered Aneta. "And I hear the sound of wheels. Your father and mother are coming."
"Yes, yes, the darlings!" said Merry, rushing into the hall to meet her parents.
Aneta and Cicely followed her example, and there was great excitement and much talk. Mrs. Cardew was now as anxious that the girls should go to Aylmer House as though she herself had always wished for such an arrangement, while Mr. Cardew could not say enough in Mrs. Ward"s praise.
"You agree with me, Aneta," said Mrs. Cardew, "that the school is quite unique and above the ordinary."
"Mrs. Ward is unique and above the ordinary," was Aneta"s reply.
When the girls retired to their own rooms that night, Cicely and Merry met for a brief moment.
"How funny of Aneta not to like Maggie!" said Merry.
"Well, if I were you, Merry," said Cicely, "I wouldn"t talk about it.
I suppose Aneta is prejudiced."
"Yes," said Merry; "but against Maggie, of all people! Well, I, for my part, will never give her up."
"I suppose," said Cicely, who was more conscientious than her sister, "that we ought to think something of Aneta"s opinion."
"Oh, that"s very fine," said Merry; "but we ought to think something, too, of Molly"s opinion, and Belle"s opinion. They have known Maggie longer than Aneta has."
"Yes," replied Cicely; "I forgot that. But isn"t Aneta herself delightful? It"s a pure joy to look at her."
"It certainly is," said Merry; "and of course I love her dearly and am very proud of her; but I confess I did not quite like her when she spoke in that queer way about dear little Maggie. I, at least, am absolutely determined that nothing will induce me to give Maggie up."
"Of course we won"t give her up," said Cicely. But she spoke with thought.
CHAPTER XI.
TEN POUNDS.
In perfect summer weather, when the heart is brimful of happiness, and when a great desire has been unexpectedly fulfilled, what can there possibly be more delightful than an open-air life? This was what the girls who belonged to the rectory and the girls who belonged to the Manor now found. Mr. and Mrs. Cardew and Mr. and Mrs. Tristram could not do enough for their benefit. Maggie could only stay for one week longer with her friends; but Aneta had changed her mind with regard to Belgium, and was to go with the young Cardews to the seaside, and Mrs.
Cardew had asked the Tristram girls to accompany them. She had also extended her invitation to Maggie, who would have given a great deal to accept it. She wrote to her mother on the subject. Mrs. Howland made a brief reply: "You know it is impossible, Maggie. You must come back to me early next week. I cannot do without you, so say no more about it."
Maggie was a girl with a really excellent temper, and, recognizing that her mother had a good reason for not giving her the desired holiday, made the best of things.
Meanwhile Cicely and Merry watched her carefully. As to Aneta, she was perfectly cordial with Maggie, not talking to her much, it is true, but never showing the slightest objection to her society.
Nevertheless, there was, since the arrival of Aneta on the scene, a strange, undefinable change in the atmosphere. Merry noticed this more than Cicely. It felt to her electrical, as though there might be a storm brewing.
On the day before Maggie was to return to London to take up her abode in her mother"s dull house in Shepherd"s Bush, a magnificent picnic on a larger scale even than usual was the order of the hour. Some young girls of the name of Heathfield who lived a little way off were asked to Meredith Manor to spend the night, and these girls, who were exceedingly jolly and bright and lively, were a fresh source of delight to all those whom they happened to meet. Their names were Susan and Mary Heathfield. They were older than the Tristrams and the Cardews, and had, in fact, just left school. Their last year of school-life had been spent in Paris; they were highly educated, and had an enviable proficiency in the French tongue.