Turquoise and Ruby. Meade L. T.

the picture. And so – all things considered – I may be made just presentable.”

      “As you will be – why, you will look quite beautiful,” said Cara.

      “And you ask me to do this for your sakes?”

      “Well, of course – and for your own, too.”

      This remark was made by Annie Leicester, who did not know why, but who felt certain that something very disagreeable was coming.

      “But, then, you see,” continued Penelope, “it is by no means my wish to take any part in this tableau and, in short, I positively refuse to have anything whatever to do with your Helen of Troy, unless you make it worth my while to become one of the heroines in the tableaux.” Penelope spoke very quietly now. Her whole soul was in her words. Was she not thinking of Brenda, and of what might happen to Brenda should she succeed, and of the golden life that might be Brenda’s were she to be clever enough to get these four stupid rich girls to accede to her request?

      “I will tell you quite plainly,” – she said – “there is no use beating about the bush. I want twenty pounds.” They all backed away from her in amazement.

      “I don’t want it for myself, but for another. There are four of you here most anxious to take part in the tableaux. It would be perfectly easy for you four to get five pounds each from your respective parents, and to give me the money. On the day when I get the money, or when I receive your promise that you will pay it me, I will do whatever is necessary for the perfection of Helen’s tableau, on the condition that you never breathe to a soul that I want that money, that on no future occasion do you bring it up to me, that you never blame me for having asked for it, nor enquire why I wanted it. For, girls, I, too, am ambitious, but not with your ambition; and I want just that sum of money, not to help myself, but another. For her sake, I will make a fool of myself on the day of the breaking-up, but I won’t do it for any other reason. You can let me know whether you can manage this or not before the evening, for I understand that you are going to give Mrs Hazlitt your decision then. If you say no – there is an end of the matter, and we are no worse off than we were. If you say yes – why, I will do my very best for you – that is all. Good-bye, girls, for the present. I am going to walk in the wood with some of the children; Mary, your sister amongst them. Think of me what you like; I trust you not to tell on me. Good-bye, for the present.”

      Penelope disappeared in her untidy linen dress with her old-fashioned blouse and, walking down the path, was soon lost to view. The girls she had left behind stared at each other without speaking.

      Chapter Four

      Agreed

      “If there ever was an extraordinary thing – ” began Mary.

      “Preposterous!” echoed Cara.

      “Impossible!” said Annie.

      “Five pounds, indeed, from me because she gets the very best part in the tableaux!” exclaimed Susanna. “Well, girls: this ought to settle us. We had best give up ‘A Dream of Fair Women’ on the spot.”

      Each girl looked at the other. Then, arm in arm, they began slowly to pace the wood.

      Give it up? That meant a good deal. For had not Cara written home about it and told her father and mother what a delightful and original part she was taking? And had not Mary L’Estrange delighted her mother with the story? that she was to be – she – Mary – Jephtha’s daughter? that noblest maid of ancient story. And had not Cara’s brothers and sisters and father and mother and grandfather and grandmother and great-grandfather and great-grandmother all been interested at the thought of the girl appearing as Iphigenia in the play? For the thing had been settled, and nobody for a single moment had supposed that the ideal Helen of Troy would refuse to take her part.

      Now, with great difficulty, they had found a possible Helen; but, lo – and behold! the little cat that she was – she meant to blackmail them! They must pay her for it. They must do it secretly; then she would act. All the rest of her life she would be a sort of little reptile, not worth touching. But, if they wanted her to help them on that crucial evening, they must each hand her a five-pound note. Oh, well – they could get it. Susanna’s mother had never yet refused her darling anything in the way of money; and Cara’s great-grandfather was rather pleased than otherwise when his favourite great-grandchild approached him on the subject of gold. And Mary L’Estrange was rich, too, and so was Annie Leicester. It was but to write a note each to that member of the family who was most easily gulled, and the money would be in Penelope’s possession.

      But then it was such a horrid thing to do! and they had to keep it a secret from Mrs Hazlitt; for Mrs Hazlitt would be furious, if she thought any girl in her school could act like Penelope, or could have confederates like Mary and Cara and Annie and Susanna.

      “I, for one, will have nothing to do with it,” repeated Cara, many times.

      At first, as she uttered these words, her companions agreed with her, and considered that they, too, could not and would not speak on the subject to any of their relations. But, strange as it may seem, as the swift minutes of recess rolled by, they became silent – for each girl was, in her heart, composing the letter she would write to parent or guardian or great-grandfather, in order to secure the money.

      “There is no doubt,” said Susanna, at last, “that she is awfully clever and can throw herself into it, if she pleases. For Nora Beverley might look somewhat like a stick, but no one could ever accuse Penelope of looking like that. She is so awfully wicked, you know – that is the way I should describe her face – so wicked and so untamed, and – oh, there! if we gave her the money, she would do it, but I never did hear of a girl trying to blackmail her companions before.”

      The upshot of all this whispering and consultation, of all these pros and cons, was, that that evening, immediately after tea, a note was flung into Penelope Carlton’s lap. It was written in the cipher employed by the school, and was to the effect that, if she chose to present herself as Helen of Troy, and if Mrs Hazlitt was willing to accept her as a substitute for Honora Beverley, she would receive four five-pound notes within a week from the present day.

      “Dear old Brenda!” whispered Penelope to herself.

      She crushed up the note and tore it into a thousand fragments and wrote a reply to it – also in cipher – in which she employed the one word: “Agreed.” This note found its way to Mary L’Estrange in the course of afternoon school.

      In the evening Mrs Hazlitt again entered the arbour in the Elizabethan garden. She had quite given up the idea of Tennyson’s “Dream of Fair Women,” and had thought out two or three insignificant tableaux for her girls to represent. She was surprised, therefore, when the girls who had been already selected for the principal parts in the piece, namely: Mary, Cara, Annie, and Susanna, entered the arbour. They were accompanied by the fifth girl, who was no other than Penelope Carlton.

      “Penelope, my dear – what are you doing here?” said Mrs Hazlitt, when she saw her pupil.

      She did not like this pupil, although she tried to. But she was systematically just in all she did, and said, and thought; and would not for the world be unkind to the girl.

      “But do listen, please, Mrs Hazlitt,” said Mary. “We have found Helen of Troy! Penelope will take the part.”

      “Excuse me,” said Mrs Hazlitt. There was a tone of astonishment in her voice. She looked critically at the girl; then, taking her hand, drew her into the light. “You know quite well,” she said, after a pause, “that you are not suited to the part, Penelope Carlton, or, failing Honora, I should have asked you to undertake it.”

      Penelope’s eyes had been lowered, but now she raised them and gave Mrs Hazlitt a quick glance. There was something beseeching and quite new in the expression of her light eyes. They seemed, just for the minute, to grow almost dark, and there was a passionate longing in them. Mrs Hazlitt had to confess to herself that she never saw Penelope with that expression before. The other girls stood around in an anxious group.

      “We know she is not quite tall enough,” said Mary, then.

      “Nor – nor quite beautiful