The other girls were miserable1; but Miss Tredgold had already exercised such a very strong influence over them that they did not dare to disobey her orders. Much as they longed to do so, none of them ventured near poor Pauline. In the course of the afternoon Miss Tredgold called Verena aside.
“I know well, my dear, what you are thinking,” she said. “You believe that I am terribly hard on your sister.”
Verena’s eyes sought the ground.
“Yes, I quite know what you think,” repeated Miss Tredgold. “But, Verena, you are wrong. At least, if I am hard, it is for her good.”
“But can it do any one good to be downright cruel to her?” said Verena.
“I am not cruel, but I have given her a more severe punishment 66than she has ever received before in her life. We all, the best of us, need discipline. The first time we experience it when it comes from the hand of God we murmur2 and struggle and rebel. But there comes a time when we neither murmur nor struggle nor rebel. When that time arrives the discipline has done its perfect work, and God removes it. My dear Verena, I am a woman old enough to be your mother. You must trust me, and believe that I am treating Pauline in the manner I am to-day out of the experience of life that God has given me. We are so made, my dear, that we none of us are any good until our wills are broken to the will of our Divine Master.”
“But this is not God’s will, is it?” said Verena. “It is your will.”
“Consider for a moment, my child. It is, I believe, both God’s will and mine. Don’t you want Pauline to be a cultivated woman? Don’t you want her character to be balanced? Don’t you want her to be educated? There is a great deal that is good in her. She has plenty of natural talent. Her character, too, is strong and sturdy. But at present she is like a flower run to weed. In such a case what would the gardener do?”
“I suppose he would prune3 the flower.”
“If it was a hopeless weed he would cast it out of his garden; but if it really was a flower that had degenerated4 into a weed, he would take it up and put it to some pain, and plant it again in fresh soil. The poor little plant might say it was badly treated when it was taken from its surroundings and its old life. This is very much the case with Pauline. Now, I do not wish her to associate with Nancy King. I do not wish her to be idle or inattentive. I want her to be energetic, full of purpose, resolved to do her best, and to take advantage of those opportunities which have come to you all, my dear, when I, your mother’s sister, took up my abode6 at The Dales. Sometime, dear, it is quite possible that, owing to what will be begun in Pauline’s character to-day, people will stop and admire the lovely flower. They will know that the gardener who put it to some pain and trouble was wise and right. Now, my dear girl, you will remember my little lecture. Pauline needs discipline. For that matter, you all need discipline. At first such treatment is hard, but in the end it is salutary.”
“Thank you, Aunt Sophy,” said Verena. “But perhaps,” she added, “you will try and remember, too, that kindness goes a long way. Pauline is perhaps the most affectionate of us all. In some ways she has the deepest feelings. But she can be awfully7 sulky, and only kindness can move her.”
“I quite understand, my dear; and when the time comes kindness will not be wanting. Now go away and amuse yourself with your sisters.”
Verena went away. She wondered as she did so where 67Pauline was hiding herself. The others had all settled down to their various amusements and occupations. They were sorry for Pauline, but the pleasant time they were enjoying in the middle of this lovely summer’s day was not to be despised, even if their sister was under punishment. But Verena herself could not rest. She went into the schoolroom. On a tray stood poor Pauline’s neglected dinner. Verena lifted the cover from the plate, and felt as though she must cry.
“Pauline is taking it hardly,” thought the elder girl.
Tea-time came, and Pauline’s tea was also sent to the schoolroom. At preparation hour, when the rest of the girls went into the room, Pauline’s tea remained just where it had been placed an hour before. Verena could scarcely bear herself. There must be something terribly wrong with her sister. They had often been hungry in the old days, but in the case of a hearty8, healthy girl, to do without any food from breakfast-time when there was plenty to eat was something to regard with uneasiness.
Presently, however, to her relief, Pauline came in. She looked rough and untidy in appearance. She slipped into the nearest chair in a sulky, ungainly fashion, and taking up a battered9 spelling-book, she held it upside down.
Verena gave her a quick glance and looked away. Pauline would not meet Verena’s anxious gaze. She kept on looking down. Occasionally her lips moved. There was a red stain on her cheek. Penelope with one of her sharpest glances perceived this.
“It is caused by fruit,” thought the youngest of the schoolroom children. “I wonder who has given Pauline fruit. Did she climb the garden wall or get over the gate into the orchard10?”
Nobody else noticed this stain. Miss Tredgold came in presently, but she took no more notice of Pauline than if that young lady did not exist.
The hour of preparation was over. It was now six o’clock. In an hour Pauline was expected to go to bed. Now, Pauline and Verena had bedrooms to themselves. These were attic11 rooms at the top of the house. They had sloping roofs, and would have been much too hot in summer but for the presence of a big beech12 tree, which grew to within a few feet of the windows. More than once the girls in their emancipated13 days, as they now considered them, used to climb down the beech tree from their attic windows, and on a few occasions had even managed to climb up the same way. They loved their rooms, having slept in them during the greater part of their lives.
Pauline, as she now went in the direction of the north walk, thought with a sense of satisfaction of the bedroom she had to herself.
“It will make things easier,” she thought. “They will all 68be on the lawn doing their needlework, and Aunt Sophia will be reading to them. I will go past them quite quietly to my room, and then——”
These thoughts made Pauline comparatively happy. Once or twice she smiled, and a vindictive14, ugly expression visited her small face.
“She little knows,” thought the girl. “Oh, she little knows! She thinks that she is so clever—so terribly clever; but, after all, she has not the least idea of the right way to treat me. No, she has not the least idea. And perhaps by-and-by she will be sorry for what she has done.”
Seven o’clock was heard to strike in the house. Pauline, retracing15 her steps, went slowly past her sisters and Miss Tredgold. Miss Tredgold slightly raised her voice as the culprit appeared. She read aloud with more determination than ever. Penelope flung down the duster she was hemming16 and watched Pauline.
“I a’most wish I wor her,” thought the ex-nursery child. “Anything is better than this horrid17 sewing. How it pricks18 my fingers! That reminds me; I wonder where Aunt Sophy’s thimble has got to. I did look hard for it. I wish I could find it. I do want that penny so much! It was a beauty thimble, too, and she loves it. I don’t want to give it back to her ’cos she loves it, but I should like my penny.”
Pauline had now nearly disappeared from view.
“Paulie is up to a lark,” thought Penelope, who was the sharpest of all the children, and read motives19 as though she was reading an open book. “She doesn’t walk as though she was tur’ble unhappy. I wonder what she’s up to. And that red stain on her cheek was fruit; course it was fruit. How did she get it? I wish I knew. I’ll try and find out.”
Pauline had now reached her bedroom. There she hastily put on her best clothes. They were very simple, but, under Miss Tredgold’s regime, fairly nice. She was soon attired20 in a neat white frock; and an old yellow sash of doubtful cleanliness and a bunch of frowsy red poppies were folded in a piece of tissue paper. Pauline then slipped on her sailor hat. She had a great love for the old sash; and as to the poppies, she thought them far more beautiful than any real flowers that ever grew. She meant to tie the yellow sash round her waist when she reached the shrubbery, and to pin the poppies into her hat. The fact that Miss Tredgold had forbidden her to wear this sash, and had herself removed the poppies from her Sunday hat, gave her now a sense of satisfaction.
“Young ladies don’t wear things of that sort,” Miss Tredgold had said.
“A young lady shall wear things of this sort to-night,” thought Pauline.
Having finished her toilet, she locked her door from the 69outside and put the key into her pocket; but before she left the room she drew down the dark-green blind. She then slipped downstairs and went out through the back way. She had to go through the yard, but no one saw her except Betty, who, as she afterwards remarked, did observe the flutter of a white dress with the tail of her eye. But Betty at that moment was immersed in a fresh installment21 of the wonderful adventures of the Duke of Mauleverer-Wolverhampton and his bride, and what did it matter to her if the young ladies chose to run out in their best frocks?
Pauline reached the shrubbery without further adventure. There she put on her extra finery. Her yellow sash was tied in a large bow, and her poppies nodded over her forehead.
It was a very excited dark-eyed girl who presently met Nancy King on the other side of the wicket-gate.
“Here I am,” said Pauline. “I expect I shall never have any luck again all my life; but I want to spite her at any cost, so here I am.”
“Delicious!” said Nancy. “Isn’t it good to spite the old cat? Now then, let’s be off, or we may be caught. But I say, how fine we are!”
“You always admired this bunch of poppies, didn’t you, Nancy? Do you remember? Before you went to that grand school at Brighton you used to envy me my poppies. I found them among mother’s old things, and Verena gave them to me. I love them like anything. Don’t you like them very much, placed so in front of my hat?”
“Didn’t I say, ‘How fine we are’?”
“Yes; but somehow your tone——”
“My dear Paulie, you are getting much too learned for my taste. Now come along. Take my hand. Let us run. Let me tell you, you look charming. The girls will admire you wonderfully. Amy and Becky are keen to make your acquaintance. You can call them by their Christian22 names; they’re not at all stiff. Surname, Perkins. Nice girls—brought up at my school—father in the pork line; jolly girls—very. And, of course, you met Jack23 and Tom last year. They’re out fishing at present. They’ll bring in beautiful trout24 for supper. Why, you poor little thing, you must be starved.”
“Ravenous. You know I had only your fruit to-day.”
“You shall have a downright jolly meal, and afterwards we’ll have fireworks; and then by-and-by you will share my bed. Amy and Becky will be in the same room. They think there’s a ghost at the other side of the passage, so they came along to my chamber25. But you won’t mind.”
“I won’t mind anything after my lonely day. You are quite sure that I’ll get back in time in the morning, Nancy?”
“Trust me for that. Haven’t you got the key of your room?”70
“Yes; it’s in my pocket. I left the window on the latch26, and I can climb up the beech tree quite well. Oh! that reminds me, Nancy; you must let me have that thimble before I return to The Dales.”
“To be sure I will, dear. But you needn’t think of returning yet, for you have not even arrived. Your fun is only beginning. Oh! you have done a spl............