Girls of the Forest Part 1

Girls of the Forest.

by L. T. Meade.

BIOGRAPHY AND BIBLIOGRAPHY

L. T. Meade (Mrs. Elizabeth Thomasina Smith), English novelist, was born at Bandon, County Cork, Ireland, 1854, the daughter of Rev. R. T. Meade, rector at Novohal, County Cork, and married Toulmin Smith in 1879. She wrote her first book, _Lettie's Last Home_, at the age of 17, and since then has been an unusually prolific writer, her stories attaining wide popularity on both sides of the Atlantic.

She worked in the British Museum, lived in Bishopsgate Without, making special studies of East London life, which she incorporated in her stories. She edited the _Atlanta_, a magazine, for six years. Her pictures of girls, especially in the influence they exert on their elders, are drawn with intuitive fidelity, pathos, love, and humor, as in _Girls of the Forest_, flowing easily from her pen. She has traveled extensively, and is devoted to motoring and other outdoor sports.

Among more than fifty novels she has written, dealing largely with questions of home life, are: _A Knight of To-day_ (1877), _Bel-Marjory_ (1878), _Mou-setse: a Negro Hero_ (1880), _Mother Herring's Chickens_ (1881), _A London Baby: The Story of King Roy_ (1883), _Two Sisters_ (1884), _The Angel of Life_ (1885), _A World of Girls_ (1886), _Sweet Nancy_ (1887), _n.o.body's Neighbors_ (1887), _Deb and The d.u.c.h.ess_ (1888), _Girls of the Forest_ (1908), _Aylwyn's Friends_ (1909), _Pretty Girl and the Others_ (1910).

GIRLS OF THE FOREST.

CHAPTER I.

THE GUEST WHO WAS NEITHER OLD NOR YOUNG.

It was a beautiful summer's afternoon, and the girls were seated in a circle on the lawn in front of the house. The house was an old Elizabethan mansion, which had been added to from time to time--fresh additions jutting out here and running up there. There were all sorts of unexpected nooks and corners to be found in the old house--a flight of stairs just where you did not look for any, and a baize door shutting away the world at the moment when you expected to behold a long vista into s.p.a.ce. The house itself was most charming and inviting-looking; but it was also, beyond doubt, much neglected. The doors were nearly dest.i.tute of paint, and the papers on many of the walls had completely lost their original patterns. In many instances there were no papers, only discolored walls, which at one time had been gay with paint and rendered beautiful with pictures. The windows were dest.i.tute of curtains; the carpets on the floors were reduced to holes and patches. The old pictures in the picture gallery still remained, however, and looked down on the young girls who flitted about there on rainy days with kindly, or searching, or malevolent eyes as suited the characters of those men and women who were portrayed in them.

But this was the heart of summer, and there was no need to go into the musty, fusty old house. The girls sat on the gra.s.s and held consultation.

"She is certainly coming to-morrow," said Verena. "Father had a letter this morning. I heard him giving directions to old John to have the trap patched up and the harness mended. And John is going to Lyndhurst Road to meet her. She will arrive just about this time. Isn't it too awful?"

"Never mind, Renny," said her second sister; "the sooner she comes, the sooner she'll go. Briar and Patty and I have put our heads together, and we mean to let her see what we think of her and her interfering ways. The idea of Aunt Sophia interfering between father and us! Now, I should like to know who is likely to understand the education of a girl if her own father does not."

"It is all because the Step has gone," continued Verena. "She told us when she was leaving that she meant to write to Aunt Sophia. She was dreadfully cross at having to go, and the one mean thing she ever did in all her life was to make the remark she did. She said it was very little short of disgraceful to have ten girls running about the New Forest at their own sweet will, without any one to guide them."

"Oh, what a nuisance the Step is!" said Rose, whose pet name was Briar.

"Shouldn't I like to scratch her! Dear old Paddy! of course he knows how to manage us. Oh, here he comes--the angel! Let's plant him down in our midst. Daisy, put that little stool in the middle of the circle; the Padre shall sit there, and we'll consult as to the advent of precious Aunt Sophia."

Patty, Briar, and Verena now jumped to their feet and ran in the direction where an elderly gentleman, with a stoop, gray hair hanging over his shoulders, and a large pair of tortoise-sh.e.l.l spectacles on his nose, was walking.

"Paddy, Paddy! you have got to come here at once," called out Briar.

Meanwhile Verena took one of his arms, Patty clasped the other, Briar danced in front, and so they conducted him into the middle of the group.

"Here's your stool, Paddy," cried Briar. "Down you squat. Now then, squatty-_vous_."

Mr. Dale took off his spectacles, wiped them and gazed around him in bewilderment.

"I was construing a line of Virgil," he said. "You have interrupted me, my dears. Whatever is the matter?"

"We have brought the culprit to justice," exclaimed Pauline. "Paddy, forget the cla.s.sics for the time being. Think, just for a few moments, of your neglected--your shamefully neglected--daughters. Ten of them, Paddy, all running wild in the Forest glades. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

Don't you feel that your moment of punishment has come? Aunt Sophia arrives to-morrow. Now, what have you got to say for yourself?"

"But, my dear children, we can't have your Aunt Sophia here. I could not dream of it. I remember quite well she came here once a long time ago. I have not got over it yet. I haven't really."

"But she is coming, Paddy, and you know it quite well, for you got the letter. How long do you think you can put up with her?"

"Only for a very short time, Pauline; I a.s.sure you, my darling, she is not--not a pleasant person."

"Describe her, Paddy--do," said Verena.

She spoke in her very gentlest tone, and held out one of her long white hands and allowed her father to clasp it. Verena was decidedly the best-looking of the eight girls sitting on the gra.s.s. She was tall; her complexion was fair; her figure was naturally so good that no amount of untidy dressing could make it look awkward. Her hair was golden and soft.

It was less trouble to wind it up in a thick rope and hairpin it at the back of her head than to let it run wild; therefore she was not even untidy. Verena was greatly respected by her sisters, and Briar was rather afraid of her. All the others sat silent now when she asked the old Padre to describe Aunt Sophia.

"My dear," he answered, "I have not the slightest idea what her appearance is like. My memory of her is that she was fas.h.i.+onable and very conventional."

"What on earth is 'conventional'?" whispered Pat.

"Don't interrupt, Patty," said Verena, squeezing her father's hand. "Go on, Paddy; go on, darling of my heart. Tell us some more. Aunt Sophia is fas.h.i.+onable and conventional. We can look out the words in the dictionary afterwards. But you must know what she is like to look at."

"I don't, my dears; I cannot remember. It was a good many years ago when she came to visit us."

"He must be prodded," said Briar, turning to Renny. "Look at him; he is going to sleep."

"Excuse me, girls," said the Squire, half-rising, and then sitting down again as Verena's young hand pushed him into his seat. "I have just made a most interesting discovery with regard to Virgil--namely, that----"

"Oh, father! we don't want to know about it," said Briar. "Now, then, Renny, begin."

"Her appearance--her appearance!" said Verena gently.

"Whose appearance, dear?"

"Why, Aunt Sophia's; the lady who is coming to-morrow."

"Oh, dear!" said Mr. Dale; "but she must not come. This cannot be permitted; I cannot endure it."

"Paddy, you have given John directions to fetch her. Now, then, what is she like?"

"I don't know, children. I haven't the slightest idea."

"Prod, Renny! Prod!"

"Padre," said Verena, "is she old or young?"

"Old, I think; perhaps neither."

"Write it down, Briar. She is neither old nor young. Paddy, is she dark or fair?"

"I really can't remember, dear. A most unpleasant person."

"Put down that she is--not over-beautiful," said Verena. "Paddy, must we put on our best dresses when she comes--our Sunday go-to-meeting frocks, you know?"