The Youngest Girl in the School Part 2

The boys hesitated, and waited for one another to begin. Egbert, who could not forget that he had just been rolling on the floor, was brus.h.i.+ng himself down and looking self-conscious; and it was Christopher who remembered his manners first and came forward with his hand out.

'How do you do?' he began in his solemn, precise way. 'Won't you come and sit down? There's an arm-chair over here, and a cus.h.i.+on too--somewhere.

Clear out, can't you, Peter? I believe we can even rise to a footstool, if it isn't lost. You might look for it, Bobbin, instead of staring like a stuck pig!' He installed her in the arm-chair and placed himself in front of her, slightly bending forward, as he had seen his father do when there were visitors in the drawing-room; and although the result was rather funny when Kit did it, he managed to make Jill feel a little more at home. 'I suppose you are Auntie Anna's daughter,' he continued politely, 'but we don't know your name. I don't think we have ever heard it.'

'I am Jill Urquhart,' answered the girl. She swept a glance round at the others, who stood listening, and made a little gesture of dismay. 'What a lot there are of you!' she exclaimed, without thinking. 'I shall never remember all your names!'

It was an unlucky beginning, for they at once put down her remark to affectation and counted it against her. They were so used to their numbers themselves, that they could not understand any one else being overwhelmed by them. Peter looked mischievous.

'It isn't so confusing as it looks,' he hastened to tell her. 'We all answer to our names, and you will find us warm-hearted and obedient.'

Jill glanced at him innocently. 'Why,' she said with a little laugh, 'you talk as though you were all dogs!'

Peter was left staring, and the others t.i.ttered. By her perfectly natural remark she had turned the scale in her favour and convinced them that there was stuff in the 'adopted kid' after all. Quite unconscious of having said anything funny, though, Jill waited till they stopped laughing, and then turned again to Christopher. 'Won't you introduce me?' she asked.

Kit nodded towards Egbert, who had finished brus.h.i.+ng himself down and was waiting to shake hands. 'That is Egbert, who is just waking up to the fact that you're here,' he announced. 'You will find him rather superior, I am afraid, but we put up with him because of his age and position. Pa.s.s along, please!'

Egbert shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly. 'It's only Kit's way,' he explained to Jill; 'everybody gives in to Kit.'

Jill smiled. 'Kit's way' had made her forget her shyness, and she was already interested in the delicate-looking lad, with the thin, clever face, who had so promptly taken her under his protection.

'The next is Wilfred,' continued Christopher. 'He is responsible for the unsavoury saucepan that has just been upset on the carpet. He thinks he is going to be a doctor, so he is always making experiments. Of course, he isn't going to be a doctor, really; the house can't run to it; but we let him have his fancies. Then comes Peter, whom you have just sat upon. Peter can't help being funny, so you must try and bear with him.

There are so few jokes in this family that perhaps we have encouraged him more than we should.'

'Wait till she's gone, that's all!' threatened Peter in a whisper, as he pa.s.sed by after shaking hands with Jill. Christopher looked at him over his spectacles, and went calmly on.

'I'm next on the list, and my name is Christopher, changed by the vulgar into Kit,' he was proceeding, when Egbert made a spirited interruption.

'He is our genius,' he said, with a flourish of his hand towards the spokesman. 'We are all very proud of him, for although only thirteen, he has the wisdom and intelligence of one twice his age. He is the only member of the family who can spell, and----'

'Oh, dry up!' muttered Kit, but his remonstrance was drowned in the approving jeers of the others. The genius had had it all his own way for about ten minutes, and it was satisfactory to see him 'scored off' in his turn. Kit tried to resume his dignified att.i.tude in front of Jill, but the attempt was not particularly successful. It was always impossible in the Berkeley family to remain dignified for long.

'Are you sure you have got them right so far, or shall I write them down?' he asked, with so much gravity that Jill looked at him rather suspiciously. He met her glance through his spectacles without wincing, and the others t.i.ttered again. They were still a little doubtful about this new cousin of theirs, who was so unlike any one who had come their way before; and it was rather a relief to pretend to be amused.

'The last of the boys is Robin, or Bobbin if you prefer it,' continued Kit, glibly. 'He is the youngest of us all, and the most ill-used. Indeed, when you came in just now, you may have seen the Babe trying to rescue him. That reminds me! I have left out our only girl. She comes between me and Bobbin, and here you may perceive her--the Babe!'

Barbara came slowly round from her hiding-place at the back of the sofa, and stood face to face with Jill. There was rather a wistful look on the small countenance just then; for in all her dreams of the wonderful cousin who was going to be her first girl-friend, Babs had never imagined anything like this grown-up, elegant creature, who did her hair like the ladies in the park and wore her watch dangling from her wrist. The child's heart sank as she suddenly thought of her short gymnastic frock, and her rumpled hair, and her dirty hands. As for Jill, she stared down at the little person in front of her, and could not help smiling. Whenever she had particularly dreaded being plunged into this family of boys, she had always consoled herself by remembering that there would be one girl among them to take her part. Now, as she looked at the rough little tomboy before her, with her elf-like face and figure, and her bright eager eyes, she had to own again to herself that a large family was a difficult thing to understand.

'So you are Babs,' she began, not knowing what else to say. Then she remembered her errand, and added hastily, 'Will you please go and see mother? She is in the library with Uncle Everard.'

Barbara escaped and sped along the hall, full of relief at having got away from the uncomfortable grown-up feeling that seemed to have come into the schoolroom with Jill. She even paused outside the library door, in her quaint, inconsequent way, to ask herself why Jill seemed so much more grown-up than the nice old gentlemen who came to see her father, with their pockets full of chocolates for her; and she supposed it was because they were really old, while Jill was only grown-up, which was far more alarming because it was so much more mysterious. But hardly had she settled this question in her mind than a fresh one presented itself to her. How was she to know that this other stranger, who was waiting in there to see her, was not also going to stare at her and smile, as Jill had done? Babs gave a troubled sigh, and opened the door with a heavy heart.

A little old lady sat on the sofa beside her father, with her hand in his. She was not beautiful by any means; her back was bent--like an old witch's, Barbara thought--and she had a nose that might have been described as hooked, and a mouth that turned down at the corners and gave her almost a sour expression. But she had two small, keen black eyes, that took all the ugliness out of her face; sometimes they shone and sometimes they softened, but more often still they twinkled, as they did now, when her little niece stole timidly into the room. The moment the child looked up and met those eyes, she felt she was looking at her father's sister. If she had but known it, the same eyes, too, were gleaming back at the old lady from the middle of a bush of tangled brown hair.

'So this is your tomboy, is it?' said Mrs. Crofton, bluntly. 'Come here, child, and don't stand s.h.i.+vering there. Do you think I am going to do anything to you?'

Barbara's unusual timidity vanished at the sound of that voice. It was sharp and abrupt and determined, but it rang true, and there was nothing in it to frighten anybody.

'I'm not afraid,' she said, returning the old lady's gaze frankly; 'I am hardly ever afraid of people. Am I, father?'

Mr. Berkeley chuckled in an amused manner. He had been very curious to see this meeting between his wild little daughter and the sister who had managed his domestic affairs for him since the death of his wife.

By nature a student, he lived most of his life in his library and in himself, and only woke up now and then to the fact that he had six growing children, who probably needed something besides the affection it was so easy to give them. In these waking moments he would write off to his sister, Mrs. Crofton of Crofts, for whose judgment he had quite a pathetic regard, and would carry out to the letter every suggestion she chose to send him. Only once had he ignored her advice, and that was when she had proposed a governess for Barbara; for he had pa.s.sed over this idea in silence, and the child had continued to run in and out of his library, reading what books she pleased, and ordering her own upbringing in a way that seemed to him eminently satisfactory. For that matter, his library was open to any of his children at any time that they chose to invade it; and they interrupted him fearlessly as often as they pleased, without provoking anything worse than a good-humoured growl from him, that was never to be taken seriously for a moment.

Probably this was why the tie between them and their father had come to be a friendly as well as an affectionate one.

Just lately, something had happened to change the haphazard course of affairs in the old London house. That autumn, Mr. Berkeley had brought out a philosophical work on which he had been engaged for years, and although it had only had a limited success in England, it had made a great sensation in America. The result was an invitation to conduct a lecturing tour in the States, which would take him abroad for something like half a year. Mr. Berkeley had the vaguest notions as to the amount of protection his children needed, but he had a sort of idea that children left in charge of a housekeeper would be considered neglected, and he did not want his children to feel neglected. As usual, he referred his dilemma to Mrs. Crofton, who replied promptly from the Riviera, saying she was on her way home to Crofts, and would stop a week in town to settle his affairs for him. This he forgot to mention to the children until the day she was to arrive, and then, in his innocence, considered their dismay as one of the peculiarities of youth.

'So you are not afraid of me, eh? Then why won't you give me a kiss, I should like to know?' demanded Auntie Anna, as Barbara held out her hand in a boyish fas.h.i.+on.

The child looked surprised, and offered an unwilling cheek. 'We don't often kiss in our family,' she explained; 'only when the boys go back to school, or when somebody has banged somebody else on the head, or when it's a birthday and presents. But that isn't often, you see.'

Mrs. Crofton of Crofts smiled, and her brother pulled his daughter down between them on the sofa.

'You must forgive her appearance,' he said apologetically. 'We haven't anybody to teach us to be ladylike, have we, Babs?'

The old lady put her finger under Barbara's chin, and turned the small face round, and looked into it keenly. 'What's the matter with her appearance?' she inquired quickly. 'Don't be a goose, Everard! Now, child, tell me! Do you want to go on being a boy for ever, reading all sorts of books you have no business to read, and banging people on the head when they offend you, and looking alarming old ladies in the face without flinching; or do you want to be combed and brushed and smoothed into a young lady, and taught to rave about art and music and poetry, and told to look down when you are spoken to, and never to answer back if the truth is unpleasant? Hey? Which is it to be?'

Barbara was looking puzzled. 'I don't think I know what you mean,' she said. 'Do you mean that I _must_ be either me or--or Jill?'

'Well, supposing we put it that way,' replied Mrs. Crofton, smiling again.

'Which do you choose to be?'

Barbara did not stop to think about it. 'I don't want to be either, thank you,' she said decidedly. 'I would _much_ rather be like you or father.'

Mr. Berkeley chuckled once more, and his sister struck her cane on the ground and laughed heartily. 'A pretty mess you've made of your daughter's education, I must say,' she remarked. Then she turned again to Babs.

'Well, child, I see you are going to be like your father in any case; and as for me--well, we'll see if we can't prevent such a terrible result as that. And now, I want you to pretend that I am a fairy G.o.dmother. Do you think you can?'

Barbara nodded, and her small black eyes glistened. It was not difficult to do that. Already the bonnet with the pink feathers had turned into a steeple-hat, and the black silk mantle into a scarlet cloak, and the blue-k.n.o.bbed cane into a broomstick. The little impish face was aglow with delight as the old lady went on:

'Now, I've just come down the chimney with a bang, and I am going to give my G.o.ddaughter the wish that she wishes most in all the world. But mind--if I have a suspicion that what she asks for is not what she really wants--bang! up the chimney I go again!'

Barbara took a flying leap into the middle of the room, and spun round with her favourite movement on the tips of her toes. Her heart was thumping wildly with excitement at finding herself in the middle of a real fairy story; and when she at last stood still again, she was almost too breathless to speak.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'May I--may I have all that?']

'Please,' she said, clasping her hands tightly together, 'I want to go to school, a real girls' school, where there are crowds of girls, and crowds of lessons, and crowds of story-books with nice endings, and crowds of awfully jolly games that don't pull your hair about and don't give you bruises. May I--may I have all that?'

Auntie Anna once more struck her cane upon the ground. 'That shows how much you know about your own daughter, Everard!' she said, which was a remark that Barbara never understood. 'You may have all that, little G.o.ddaughter, every bit of it!' she announced to the expectant child; 'and what is more, you shall have it in a week's time. Hey-day! Where are you off to in such a hurry, if you please, and why am I allowed a kiss all at once, eh? It isn't a birthday, is it?'

For Barbara had rushed impetuously to the door, and then scampered back to kiss the face with the hooked nose that peered out from beneath the steeple-hat. 'Of course I kissed you,' she cried, 'because--because you're such a brick, you see!' She paused half-way in her second journey to the door, and looked back doubtfully at the old lady on the sofa. 'May I ask you something else?' she said.

'Anything you please,' answered Auntie Anna. 'That's what I'm here for; eh, Everard?'

'Then--then--are you going to do anything for the boys too?' stammered Barbara. 'I--I don't think it's quite fair to keep all the niceness to myself, you see!'

'That depends on what the boys want,' replied the old lady, gravely. 'Do you think you can give me any idea?'

Barbara puckered up her eyebrows, and counted off the names on her fingers. 'First there's Egbert,' she began; 'he wants to go to Oxford without having to get a scholars.h.i.+p first. Then there's Wilfred; he wants to be a doctor, but Kit says there isn't money enough and he's got to get over it. Do you think you'll be able to make Will into a doctor? And Peter wants lots of shooting; he says he doesn't mind about anything else, only Kit says he isn't old enough, and you won't trust him with a gun. Kit hasn't seen you yet, you see. Then there's Kit----'

'That's enough for the present!' cried Mrs. Crofton, who was leaning back, convulsed with laughter, among the sofa cus.h.i.+ons. Mr. Berkeley again drew his daughter towards him.