The Little School-Mothers

“Is you sad about anything, Robin?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” replied Robina. She laid down her book and looked full at him. He looted full back at her.

“Don’t,” he said suddenly, in a low voice.

“Why did you ask me that?” she responded.

Her tone was dropping to a whisper.

“Your eyes hurt,” said the little fellow; “they go inside me and – and – burn something.”

He touched his little breast. Robina bent forward and without a moment’s warning gave him a quick and passionate kiss.

“Hypocrite!” whispered Harriet under her breath. She called Ralph to her.

“Come here,” she said.

He went slowly and with manifest unwillingness.

“Sit there for a minute,” said Harriet.

She stalked across the room and stood in front of Robina’s chair.

“Did you mean,” she said, in a very low voice, “to do what you said you would just now?”

“Did I mean it?” replied Robina. “Yes; I meant it.”

“But Mr Durrant is away,” continued Harriet.

“Yes.”

“You will see him in the morning, will you not – I mean as soon as he comes back?”

“Yes,” said Robina again.

None of the others could hear this low-voiced conversation, but Harriet went back to the centre of the room with a satisfied expression. Ralph, who had been watching the two girls, now said in a tone of excitement:

“Has you found out what is wrong with Robin?”

“There is nothing whatever wrong with her: don’t be a goose, Ralph,” said Harriet.

But Ralph’s longing brown eyes went straight to the sorrowful girl seated by herself in the distant corner. His little child fancy returned to her in her trouble. Harriet, however, who felt now quite sure of her own position, was not going to permit Ralph to forsake her. She sat down in a chair and called him to her side.

“Who allowed you to sit up to supper?”

“Why, you, in course, Harriet.”

“Which of the school-mothers do you love best?”

“Harriet,” said Ralph, glancing again at Robina’s bowed head: “I has said it so often.”

“All right, say it once more, or you go to bed.”

“I love you,” said the child.

“Put your arms tight around me, and kiss me, as you did round Robina just now.”

“No,” said Ralph. He put both his little hands to his sides, standing still very near Harriet, but not touching her.

“If you refuse, you go to bed.”

“All wight, Harriet,” replied the little chap.

“Then you won’t kiss me – you, who love me so dearly – you won’t kiss the Harriet who saved your life?”

“Oh – ’course I love you,” said Ralph, “does you want me to kiss you like that? I only kiss when I – I – can’t help it. I am not a sort of kissing boy at all. I am like father – I think just a look is enough, and a sort of smile now and then, and a sort of feel – oh, you know it – down – deep, deep here. I doesn’t kiss father much; he doesn’t think it man-like for boys to kiss.”

“Kiss me the way you kissed Robina, and do it at once,” said Harriet, “or you go to bed.”

“No,” said Ralph again.

The other girls were scarcely listening, but this little scene between the two was drawing general attention. Patience, in particular, guessed that there was some struggle going on between Harriet and Ralph, and although she pretended to talk to her companions, she could not help listening.

“Kiss me,” repeated Harriet, guessing that she was drawing the attention of the room, and getting excited in her determination to win the victory. “Kiss me, or you go to bed!”

“No,” said Ralph again. Then he added, now putting his two hands behind him, “I won’t ever kiss you, Harriet, because you threat me – that isn’t me at all. I wouldn’t be a man-like boy if I did things ’cause o’ threats.”

“Well,” said Harriet, who was terribly afraid of not scoring the victory in this encounter, and being forced therefore to change her tactics, “kiss me because twice I risked my life for you and because I want your kiss. Do you remember when you went down beneath the soft wave and when you came up again and I caught you and – and – saved you?”

“Yes, yes!” said Ralph in a ferment of admiration. “Dear Harriet!” His arms went tightly round her neck. He kissed her twice. “And now I’s going to bed,” he said.

“What in the world do you mean by that, you little silly?”

“’Cause you said I was to go to bed if I didn’t kiss you. I didn’t kiss you ’cause of your threat; I kissed you ’cause you ’minded me of the great thing you had done. But I is going to bed, all the same.”

“No, you sit up because I order it; now don’t be a goose, and don’t paw me any more.”

Harriet stood up, yawning as she did so. Ralph sunk on to the next chair. He felt very despondent, he knew not why. Again he could not help glancing at Robina and wishing that she would not keep on reading. He found himself watching her. What a long time she was before she turned a page. Ralph thought he would count the seconds. He knew the clock, and glanced at it. Five whole minutes passed. Still Robina sat with her head of thick hair bent and without a page being turned. Ralph would have given worlds to say: “Is that a very difficult book, Robina, and can’t you read it any quicker than I can read my ‘Reading without Tears’ book?” But somehow or other, Harriet’s presence prevented his approaching Robina.

The next minute, there came the welcome relief of hearing that supper was served, and all the girls trooped into the dining-room.

Ralph had a high chair close to Harriet’s side; who told him at once carelessly that he might eat anything he liked for supper, and then devoted herself to telling amusing stories to two of the Amberleys and to Jane. But Ralph was not hungry. He was sleepy, and really wanted his bed. He was thinking very hard of his father. If only father were at home, things would be quite different. He would have said good-night long ago, and father would have come just before going downstairs, and would have kissed him, and would have said, “Good-night Ralph, old boy, sleep well, and dream good dreams, and remember to-morrow morning that you are some hours older than when you went to sleep, and ought to be some hours wiser.” And then father would go away, and Ralph would whisper to himself the old childish charm which his nurse had taught him – his nurse who died long ago, and which he had never forgotten:

“Matthew, Mark, Luke and JohnBless the bed I lie on.Four corners to my bed:Five angels be there spread.Two at my head:Two at my feet:One at my heart, my soul to keep…”

And then in a few minutes he would have been sound asleep. He nodded his head once or twice now, and finally upset a cup of chocolate which had been placed by his side. Some of the chocolate streamed over Harriet’s white dress. She did not possess many clothes, and was consequently exceedingly angry. She tried to keep in her anger as best she could, but showed it notwithstanding all her efforts, by the colour in her cheeks and the way her pale blue eyes flashed.

“Oh Ralph, how careless and awkward you are! Really, you must not do this sort of thing again.”

“I is seepy: I really want to go to bed,” said Ralph. “I am awfu’ sorry, Harriet, and when you saved my life and all! Oh, let me sop it up.”

He took his own table-napkin and tried to repair the mischief, but Harriet pulled her dress roughly out of his hands and, telling the other girls that she must go away to wash the stains out, left the room.

“Now, Ralph,” said Patience, when this had happened; “if I were you I would go straight off to my by-by downy nest; you know you are just longing to be in it.”

“I is,” said Ralph, “but I mustn’t go, must I, Robina?”

He looked straight at Robina for guidance.

“I don’t know,” replied Robina, just glancing at him, and then looking away.

“But Robina, do tell him to go,” said Patience. “If any two people at the present moment are supposed to have authority over Ralph, you and Harriet are those individuals. Harriet has gone away to mop her dress, and Ralph looks quite white with fatigue.”

“I cannot interfere,” said Robina.

“Very well,” said Patience; “then I will: I am a school-mother too. This sort of thing has got to end. Come, Ralph, I shall take you to bed.”

“But won’t Harriet be – be – angry?” said the little fellow, his lips quivering.

“You leave the matter to me,” said Patience. She looked strong and determined. “Your father would wish it,” she said; and at these words and at the cool feel of her hand, Ralph yielded to his own inclinations and left the room with her.

When they got upstairs, however, he asked her once or twice rather piteously if she thought Harriet would mind.

“I will see that she doesn’t,” said Patience. “You leave it to me, Ralph.”

“Oh but,” said Ralph, as he got into his little pyjamas, “she has been so awfully brave, you know – saved my life, you know.”

“Yes, I know all that,” said Patience, “and I know of course that you are very grateful to her; but I do wonder something, Ralph.”

“What is that?” asked the child.

“If you understand the difference between very grateful to a person and loving a person very dearly?” Ralph looked immensely puzzled.

“I mean this,” said Patience, wondering at her own audacity. “You say that Harriet saved your life.”

“Yes,” said Ralph, with great determination. “Her did.”

“But before she saved your life, you didn’t care for her so very, very much, did you?”

“Not so awfully as all that,” said Ralph, considering his words.

“But afterwards?” continued Patience.

“Couldn’t help it arterards,” said Ralph. “Her did it twice, you know.”

Patience did not know, but she was determined to treasure up the information given unwittingly by Ralph.

“Well,” she said after a minute’s pause, “I understand of course quite well that you are awfully obliged to her and all that, and that perhaps you do love her. But you don’t love her better than your father, do you?”

“Better nor father?” said Ralph. “In course not?”

“But did he ever save your life?”

“No,” said Ralph; “but then he is father.”

“I see quite well, my wise little man,” said Patience, tucking him up and kissing him. “Now Robina never saved your life: but you – you love her notwithstanding that?”

“Awful much!” said Ralph.

“I saw you kiss her to-night,” said Patience.

“Cause I love her so much,” said Ralph.

“Good-night now, Ralph. Sleep very sound.”

“Wait till I say my ‘Matthew, Mark,’” said Ralph.

He closed his eyes, repeated the old song rapidly and, before the last words had come to an end, was asleep.

Patience went downstairs. By this time Harriet had returned. She had been forced to remove the poor chocolate-stained white frock and to put on another, which did not make her look half so well dressed. She was still feeling cross and sore. As soon as she entered the room, her first exclamation was, “Where is Ralph?”

“Gone to bed,” said Frederica Chetwold.

“Gone to bed?” said Harriet. “Who has given Ralph leave to go to bed?”

“Patience took him to bed. You had better not interfere about it,” said Frederica: “for if you do,” she continued, “we’ll all tell Mr Durrant in the morning. You are not school-mother yet, so don’t be over sure of things.”

At that moment, Robina got up and left the room. Harriet sank down in a chair. She was trembling with suppressed passion.

“I wonder,” she said, after a pause, “why you all dislike me as you do. Of course,” she added, “there can be but one explanation, and that is, jealousy.”

“Not at all,” said Patience. “As a matter of fact, I don’t believe there is a girl amongst us who would change with you; for to change with you, Harriet Lane, would be to possess your nature, and that is what none of us wish for. But we are quite determined to see justice done to Ralph.”

“Justice done to Ralph?” said Harriet.

“Yes: and to Robina. We know what has happened to-night, for Robina told us.”

“Oh, she told you!” said Harriet. “That is so like her.”

“Yes; she said she was not going to compete. Now, she must have a reason for that, and Frederica and I and Rose and Cecil and Vivian are all absolutely resolved to find out what that reason is. We have been invited to this house and have been given this happy time, because in a sort of way we also are Ralph’s school-mothers. You expect a great triumph in the morning, Harriet. Well all I can say is this: look out for storms.”

“It is that horrid, horrid Robina! There is no spiteful thing she would not do against me,” said Harriet. “But Ralph loves me best. I don’t pretend that I don’t want the post: I do want it. I haven’t a happy home like most of you: and to be Ralph’s school-mother, and to live here would be of great moment to me. It would mean all my future being assured. You can’t think what it would mean; for you don’t any of you know what it is to be – oh – poor!” Harriet’s face turned very pale.

“Ralph does love me, and why should not he? and if Mr Durrant is contented to choose me, and Robina doesn’t want to be school-mother – ”

“Robina doesn’t want to be school-mother!” interrupted Patience. “You are either a goose or a liar, Harriet; for you know that in her heart of hearts, Robina is dying to be school-mother to little Ralph – and not for your horrid worldly reasons, but because she – she loves him! Oh, we did think that you repented that time at school, but your conduct since you came here has puzzled us dreadfully.”

Harriet, however, had now recovered herself. This attack on the part of her school-fellows was unexpected, and at first she was almost thrown off her usual balance of mind. Her customary self-possession very nearly deserted her, but now she recovered it.

“After all,” she said, “you may think what you please. By this time to-morrow I shall be established in my position, and I don’t think either Ralph or his father will regret it. As you, Patience, have taken it upon you to order Ralph to bed – a thing which I imagine you will never have the power to do again – I shall not disturb him to-night: but when I am his school-mother, he will do what I wish, please understand: he will have passed out of your life, Patience, and out of the lives of all the rest of you, and you need not call yourselves by the ridiculous name of school-mothers any longer. You will be back to your horrid school life, and I wish you joy of it. I shall stay here, and be happy. I wish, however, to say one thing. I think it exceedingly shabby of Robina to give up the contest at the eleventh hour. It shows that notwithstanding your high opinion of her she is a coward at heart. She is so certain that she will be beaten, that she won’t wait to witness her own discomfiture. Ralph choose Robina, indeed! There never was any chance of that.”

“No,” said Patience, “and that brings us to another thing. Dear little Ralph told me that you saved his life – ”

“Good gracious!” said Harriet: “didn’t you all see me do it?”

“Yes, but he said you saved his life twice. When was the first occasion?”

Harriet bit her lips.

“Children exaggerate things,” she said after a pause. “I did risk my own life for Ralph at Totland Bay, and the dear little man got confused.”

“I don’t think so,” said Patience; “he is never confused about things. Well, at any rate, Harriet, we should like you to explain that remark of Ralph’s to-morrow to Mr Durrant before the great decision is finally come to.”

“Your likings or not likings, Patience Chetwold, will probably not be of the slightest consequence,” said Harriet, leaving the room as she spoke with her head in the air.

The moment she had gone, the rest of the girls drew close together.

“Now listen,” said Patience. “I have talked to that poor child. In his heart of hearts he doesn’t really love Harriet. She would be a cruel and dreadful girl to leave him with. Didn’t you watch her to-night, and didn’t you see how she was forcing him to do something, and how he was refusing, and how she was making him do it in the end? and didn’t you notice the way he hugged Robina? Oh! it’s Robina he loves in his heart of hearts: he doesn’t care for Harriet, but she has got the poor little darling into her power, and he is such a brave pet, and is so impressed by his sense of gratitude to her, he will do anything for her. Now, girls, we have a great deal to do between now and eleven o’clock to-morrow morning. We have to get our evidence together.”

“Oh what, Patience, what?” asked Rose: while the others clustered round her.

“Let me see,” said Patience. “You, of course, Frederica, and you three Amberley girls will help me. There are five of us in all. Robina must not lose this chance: Harriet must not get the victory. The person to approach on the subject is Jane Bush.”

Book Two – Chapter Fifteen

Anxious Times

The other girls started when Patience delivered herself of this last remark.

“Jane Bush?” they said, looking at one another as though they thought Patience Chetwold – Patience, the most down-right, matter-of-fact, sensible girl on earth – had suddenly taken leave of her senses. “What do you mean, Patience?” they said, almost in chorus. “What can poor Jane have to do with it?”

“Anyone can see,” remarked Rose, “that Jane is terribly afraid of Harriet, but she herself, poor little thing, has done nothing.”

“Yes, she has,” remarked Patience; “Jane has done a great deal more than any of the rest of you have the least idea of. And now, girls,” she added, “I am going to prove my words.”

As Patience finished speaking, she abruptly left the room. She was only gone a few minutes, and when she came back, she was holding the unwilling hand of poor terrified looking Jane Bush. Jane had said good-night to Harriet, and had gone away to her own room. It so happened that the chamber in which she reposed was nowhere near Harriet’s, which, as Patience remarked, was a good thing on the present occasion; and Harriet being certain that nothing could really happen further to damage her cause, had gone safely and comfortably to bed. Little did she guess that Jane, when in the very act of preparing for her own night’s rest, was forcibly conducted to be cross-questioned by five very determined school-mothers.

As soon as Patience got into the room, she quite calmly locked the door.

“Now,” she said, looking at the others, “we shall be quite undisturbed. Sit down, Jane,” she said; “you need not be frightened, you have only just to tell the truth, and we, between us, will look after you. There is no possible way of shirking the truth, Jane Bush; you may as well out with it, sooner or later. If you tell it without difficulty and at once, you will suffer less than if you struggled to keep it to yourself: you will be less miserable afterwards than you are now, for it is only to look at your face, Jane, to know that you are a thoroughly wretched girl. Well, here you are, quite outside Harriet’s influence for the time being, and here are we five of us, all full of suspicion with regard to you, and I think,” continued Patience, glancing at the rest of the girls, – “that we have got quite as much brains as you, Jane Bush; so five sets of brains against one set of brains must win the victory, mustn’t they? That’s common-sense, isn’t it, Jane? Now then; let us begin. Which amongst us girls will begin to question Jane first?”

“I don’t want any of you to talk to me; I have nothing to say at all: I want to go back to my bed,” said Jane, who was so terribly frightened that she forgot all that remorse which troubled her, her only present desire being to fly from the presence of the dreadful five girls who had entrapped her into their power.

“Come, come,” said Patience; “there’s no good in giving way: it will be all right if you only tell us the truth. Sit down in that chair and make yourself comfy. Now then, you poor little thing, we know quite well that you are the cat’s-paw, and that your poor little paw is dreadfully burnt. But never mind, Janie, you will be out of all this misery if you will take the advice of girls who at least have a shadow of honour in their disposition.”

At these words, Jane stopped crying, raised her head, and looked with her round black eyes full into the faces of all five. It was true what they had said: they were honourable and she, if left to herself, would much rather not walk in deceit’s crooked ways. She gave a sigh deep from her heart. A memory stole over her of the little children who were really all her world – little Miriam, little Bobbie, they thought their own Jane perfect; but if they could look into her heart, would even such tiny children trust her? She shivered, and sat very still.

“You had best do the questioning, Patience,” said Frederica; “you have taken this matter in hand, and you had best pull it through.”

“Very well,” said Patience; “then I will make short work of it. It is this way, Jane. You know quite well that Harriet wants to be elected school-mother to Ralph. She wants to live here and to have all the advantages of the home Mr Durrant means to offer to the girl who is elected to the post. You know that at least, don’t you?”

Jane nodded her head.

“So far, so good,” said Patience. “You will please note on a piece of paper, Frederica, that Jane Bush admits that Harriet is anxious to be Ralph’s school-mother.”

Frederica, seeing that the proceedings were to take such an orderly course, immediately approached the centre-table and wrote down Jane’s reply on a piece of paper.

“That is statement one,” continued Patience. “Now statement two is this: another girl equally wishes for the post, and that girl is Robina Starling. You admit that also, don’t you, Jane?”

“Yes,” said Jane.

“Note it down, please, Frederica,” said Patience. “Now, Jane,” continued Patience, “we come to the really important part. For some extraordinary reason Robina, who is admirably suited to become Ralph’s school-mother is likely – more than likely – to be worsted in this conflict by Harriet, who is not suitable at all. Now, there is not the slightest doubt in the minds of us five girls that there is foul play in this matter: yes, Jane, foul play. Is there foul play or is there not?”

Jane grew scarlet and fidgetted in her chair.

“Is there foul play?” repeated Patience.

“I am not going to say,” remarked Jane.

“Note that down, please, Frederica,” said Patience.

Frederica did so.

“Can you state now,” continued Patience, very solemnly, “can you as a Christian child who has been baptised and has gone to church every Sunday and who hopes to be confirmed next year – can you state solemnly that to your certain knowledge there is no foul play in this matter? If, after careful consideration, you will tell us that, we shall be inclined to believe you. But pause a minute first,” continued Patience; “we want you to consider very carefully what such a statement on your part means. It means that Harriet, who is unsuited in every respect to look after Ralph, will be elected as his school-mother, and it means, if you state a false thing, that you can never, never, as long as you live, be a truly happy girl again. Now, tell us the truth. We promise to believe you as far as we can. Yes or no, Jane? yes or no?”

“You frighten me,” said Jane.

“That is not the point. What do you mean to say?”

“I – I can’t – ” Jane wriggled.

“Look up,” said Patience. “You are not a coward by nature. Can you positively declare that there is no foul play?”

“I can’t,” said Jane then; and at these words she subsided into her seat sobbing, not loudly, but in the most heart-broken and terrible manner, swaying from side to side, bemoaning her own lot, and then suddenly springing up and confronting the five girls.

“Oh, you are cruel!” she said. “You persecute me! You have not got a little Bobbie and a little Miriam waiting and wanting – waiting and wanting all you can get for them.”

“You poor child!” said Patience. Her tone changed. She went straight up to the culprit and put her arms round her neck. “Come along here, Janie,” she said. “You are a weak sort, but when all is said and done, you are not half bad. You have had the misfortune since you came to school to choose a friend who worked on your worst not your best feelings. Now, suppose Vivian and Rose and Cecil and Frederica and I take the place of Harriet Lane in your friendship; don’t you think you will do fifty times better?”

“Oh, but you can’t be my friends,” said Jane, wonderfully comforted in spite of herself. “You can’t, for you don’t know me. You don’t know half nor quarter how bad I am, nor, – nor – what I have done nor how – how I was tempted, nor – nor – the half nor the quarter of what has happened.”