A Bevy of Girls. Meade L. T.

and if we refused, she’d go back to Frankfort. She will be of age almost immediately, and father says she cannot be coerced, and the fact is she will go unless we do it. And oh, Mothery, Horace too is on her side. There’s no hope at all, and we are three miserable girls! What is to be done? What is to be done?”

      Molly flung herself on her knees by her mother’s side and sobbed against her mother’s thin white hand, and Mrs Aldworth never recognised the selfish nature or perceived the shallow heart of her eldest child. After a time, however, Number One rose paramount in the good lady’s heart.

      “Now get up, my dear. Of course this little matter will be put right. You had better stay with me this afternoon, but Marcia must come in and we can talk things, over.”

      “She half promised to come in to tea. I don’t believe she will; she’ll be too much afraid.”

      “Oh, my dear, she won’t defy me long. She’ll do what I wish; you leave it in my hands. I don’t say for a single moment that you may not have to give up this one dance, but that is all. Marcia has returned to look after me, to be with me morning, noon, and night, to read to me, and amuse me, and alter my dresses and do everything that I require, and you, my three little girls, are to have your pleasure. But you must come to visit your poor old mother daily, won’t you, Molly?”

      “Oh, darling, of course we will. We just love to come.”

      “And you must tell me all about your parties and your fun generally, won’t you, Molly?”

      “Oh, yes, yes, mother.”

      “And whisper, Molly. Marcia has very good taste; she is an exceedingly clever girl.”

      “Hardly a girl, mother; she will be twenty-one, soon.”

      “Anyhow, dear, she is young, I must admit that, and she has very good taste, and perhaps she’ll help me to make some little extra finery for you. Now, dear child, get up and go on with that novel. I am so anxious to hear if Miss Melville really did accept Lord Dorchester or not.”

      Mrs Aldworth’s taste in reading had degenerated very much since the days when she had won a first prize for literature at the second-rate school which had had the honour of educating her. She now preferred stories which appeared in penny papers to any others, and was deeply interested in the fate of Miss Melville at that moment.

      Molly read badly, in a most slovenly style. Mrs Aldworth snapped her up every minute or two.

      “Don’t drop your voice so, Molly; I didn’t hear what you said. Sit nearer, and don’t fidget. Oh, don’t you know how you torture my poor nerves?”

      This sort of thing went on for a couple of hours. Molly grew sleepier and sleepier, and her face crosser and crosser. The room was no longer comfortable; the sun was pouring hotly in, the blinds were up, and neither Mrs Aldworth nor her daughter had the least idea how to mend matters.

      But by-and-by – oh, welcome sound – there came a step in the corridor, and Marcia entered, bearing a beautifully arranged tea tray. She carried it herself, and there was a smile on her sweet face. She was all in white, and she looked most charming.

      “I thought I’d give you both a surprise,” she said, “Shall I make tea for you this afternoon?”

      Molly glanced at her mother. Was the culprit to be received with the coldness she deserved, or on the other hand, was this most welcome interruption to be hailed with delight. Molly flung down her paper and Mrs Aldworth roused herself.

      “This room is too hot,” said Marcia. “Molly, allow me. Another day, dear, when you are taking charge of mother, draw this Venetian blind down at this hour, and move mother’s sofa a little into the shade. See how hot her cheeks are. Please run for a little warm water, Molly, I want to bathe your mother’s face and hands. You will feel so refreshed, dear, before you take your tea.” Molly skipped out of the room.

      “Oh, if only I might run away and not go back,” she thought; but she did not dare.

      When she brought the water Mrs Aldworth was lying with cool, freshly arranged pillows under her head, her hair combed smoothly back from her discontented fare, and Marcia now having mixed a little aromatic vinegar with the warm water, proceeded to bathe her hot cheeks and to cool her white hands.

      The tea itself was a surprise and a delight. There were hot cakes which Marcia had made in the kitchen; fragrant tea, real cream, thin bread and butter. Mrs Aldworth admitted that it was a treat.

      “You’re a wonderful girl, Marcia,” she said, “and notwithstanding the fact that you have behaved in a very cruel and unnatural way, I forgive you. Yes, I forgive you, and I shall thoroughly forgive you and let bygones be bygones if you will give Molly her freedom for the rest of this afternoon, and sit with me yourself. I can explain a few little things to you then, which will cause the hearts of my three dear girls to leap for joy.”

      “Oh, mother, can you?”

      Molly’s blue eyes danced. She looked with a sense of triumph, half amusement and half daring, from her mother to Marcia. But, alas, Marcia’s face showed not the slightest sign of yielding.

      “I think, mother,” she said, “that you and I must wait for our conversation until to-morrow afternoon. I am exceedingly busy just now, and Molly knows our compact. Have you finished your tea, Molly? If so, I will take away the tray. Good-bye, mother, for the present. Good-bye, Molly.”

      As quickly as she had come so did the angel of order and comfort retire. Mrs Aldworth was now in a fury.

      “Really, Molly,” she said, “this is insufferable. I would much rather she went altogether. To think of her daring to go against my wishes in my own house.” But bad as things were at present, Molly knew that if Marcia went they would be worse. A certain amount of freedom could now be safely claimed, but if Marcia went things would go on in their slovenly, slipshod, good-for-nothing style; the invalid’s bell always ringing, the girls never at liberty, the house always in disorder.

      “Oh, mother,” said Molly, “don’t rouse her; she is capable of anything, I assure you. She has given us just a month to be on our trial, and she says that if we don’t do our part in that time she will return to Frankfort. That horrid Miss Silchester has turned her head, and that’s a fact. She has praised her and petted her and made much of her, and would you believe it, mother, she has absolutely offered to keep the post open for Marcia for a whole month. Mother, dear, do be careful what you say to her, for, I assure you, she has no heart. She would actually allow us three girls – ” Molly stopped to gulp down a sob – “to wear ourselves to death, rather than to do one little thing to help us. It’s awfully cruel, I call it. Oh, mother, it is cruel.”

      Now all this was from Molly’s point of view, and so it happened that Mrs Aldworth, for the time being, took her child’s part; she did not think of herself. Besides, Marcia had dared to defy her authority, and a sensation of fury visited her.

      “You had better call the others,” she said. “We must have a conclave over this. We really must. I will not submit to insurrection in my house. We must arrange with the girls what we shall do, and then call your father in. His must be the casting vote.”

      Molly flew out of the room. She found Nesta presently, enjoying herself in the swing. She jumped lightly from it when she saw Molly.

      “Well,” she said, “what has happened! Whatever did mother say?”

      “Mother is in the most awful rage. Marcia has openly defied her. I wouldn’t be in Marcia’s shoes for a good deal. Mother thoroughly sympathises with us; she feels that we are most badly used, and she wants you, Nesta, you and Ethel. Wherever is Ethel?”

      “Ethel has gone over to the Carters’ to explain about to-night. Poor Ethel, her head was banging; I expect the heat of the sun will give her sunstroke. But Marcia wouldn’t care. Not she.”

      “Well, you had better come along, Nesta,” said Molly. “Mother will be awfully annoyed at Ethel being out. What a pity she went. It’s very important for our future.”

      The two sisters went up together to their mother’s room, arm in arm. As a rule