Girls of the Forest Part 9

"If I think it necessary to punish them, you won't condemn the punishment?"

"Oh, please, Sophia, do go away! The night is pa.s.sing quickly. I never think well by daylight."

"Put it on paper, Henry. Or stay! that will take too long. Give me a sheet of paper; I will write what I require. I only want your signature."

Poor Mr. Dale had to search among his papers for a blank sheet. Miss Sophia seized his special stylographic pen, pressed very hard on the nib, and wrote what she required. Mr. Dale felt certain he would find it quite spoilt when he came to use it again. But at last all her requirements were on paper, and Henry Dale wrote his signature at the end.

"Thank you, Henry; you have acted wisely. You have your study now to yourself."

Miss Tredgold bowed as she left the room.

CHAPTER VI.

TOPSY-TURVYDOM.

The fortnight that followed was not likely to be forgotten by the young Dales. It would live in the remembrance of each child old enough to notice. Even Penelope found the course of events interesting--sometimes irritating, it is true; sometimes also delightful; but at least always exciting. Miss Tredgold never did things by halves. She had got the absolute authority which she required from the master of the house, and having got it she refrained from annoying him, in any way whatsoever. His meals were served with punctuality, and were far more comfortable than they had ever been before. He was always presented with a cup of strong, fragrant, delicious coffee after his dinner. This coffee enabled him to pursue his translation with great clearness and accuracy. His study up to the present was left undisturbed. His papers were allowed to remain thick with dust; his chairs were allowed to be laden with books and papers; the carpet was allowed to remain full of holes; the windows were left exactly as the scholar liked them--namely, tightly screwed down so that not even the faintest breath of heaven's air could come in and disarrange the terrible disorder.

But the rest of the house was truly turned topsy-turvy. It was necessary, Miss Tredgold a.s.sured the girls, to have topsy-turvydom before the reign of order could begin.

At first the young Dales were very angry. For the whole of the first day Verena wept at intervals. Pauline sulked. Briar wept one minute and laughed the next. The other children followed in the footsteps of their elders. Penelope was now openly and defiantly a grown-up child. She belonged to the schoolroom, although no schoolroom as yet existed at The Dales. She defied nurse; she took her meals with her sisters, and pinched baby whenever she found her alone. Miss Tredgold, however, took no notice of the tears or smiles or groans or discontented looks. She had a great deal to do, and she performed her tasks with rect.i.tude and skill and despatch. New furniture was ordered from Southampton. She drove to Lyndhurst Road with Verena in the shabby trap which had first brought her to The Dales. She went from there to Southampton and chose new furniture.

Verena could not help opening her eyes in amazement. Such very pretty white bedsteads; such charming chests of drawers; such nice, clean-looking carpets!

"Surely, Aunt Sophia," she said, "these things are not for us?"

"They certainly are, my dear," replied her aunt; "for in future I hope you will live as a lady and a Christian, and no longer as a savage."

The furniture arrived, and was put into the rooms. Pretty white curtains were placed at the windows; the paint was washed, and the paper rubbed down with bread.

"Fresh decoration and repainting must wait until I get the children to London for the winter," thought Aunt Sophia.

But notwithstanding the fact that paint and paper were almost non-existent by this time at The Dales, the house a.s.sumed quite a new air. As to Betty, she was in the most extraordinary way brought over absolutely to Miss Tredgold's part of the establishment. Miss Tredgold not only raised her wages on the spot, but paid her every farthing that was due in the past. She spoke to her a good deal about her duty, and of what she owed to the family, and of what she, Miss Tredgold, would do for her if she proved equal to the present emergency. Betty began to regard Miss Tredgold as a sort of marchioness in disguise. So interested was she in her, and so sure that one of the real "haristocrats" resided on the premises, that she ceased to read the _Family Paper_ except at long intervals. She served up quite good dinners, and by the end of the fortnight few people would have known The Dales. For not only was the house clean and sweet--the drawing-room quite a charming old room, with its long Gothic windows, its tracery of ivy outside, and its peep into the distant rose-garden; the hall bright with great pots of flowers standing about--but the girls themselves were no longer in rags. The furniture dealer's was not the only shop which Miss Tredgold had visited at Southampton. She had also gone to a linen draper's, and had bought many nice clothes for the young folks.

The house being so much improved, and the girls being clothed afresh, a sufficient staff of servants arrived from a neighboring town. Betty was helped in the kitchen by a neat kitchen-maid; there were two housemaids and a parlor-maid; and John had a boy to help in the garden.

"Now, Verena," said Miss Tredgold on the evening of the day when the new servants were p.r.o.nounced a great success, "what do you think of everything?"

"You have made the place quite pretty, Aunt Sophia."

"And you like it?"

"I think you mean to be very kind."

"My dear Verena, do talk sense. Don't tell me that you don't feel more comfortable in that pale-gray, nicely fitting dress, with the blush-rose in your belt, and that exceedingly pretty white hat on your head, than you did when you rushed up to welcome me, little savage that you were, a fortnight ago."

"I was so happy as a savage!"

"And you are not happy now?"

"I think you are kind, Aunt Sophia, and perhaps--I shall get accustomed to it."

Her aunt whisked round with some impatience.

"I hope so," she said; "for, whether you like it or not, you will have to put up with it. I fully intend to be kind, but I also mean to be very firm. I have now got the home in which you live into decent order, and you yourselves are respectably clothed. But I have not yet tackled the most important part of my duties, my dear Verena."

"Oh, please, Aunt Sophia, what else is necessary?"

Miss Tredgold threw up her hands.

"A great, great deal more," she cried. "I have not yet touched your minds; and I fear, from the way you speak, that I have scarcely touched your hearts. Well, your bodies at least are attended to, and now come your minds. Lastly, I hope to reach the most important of all--your hearts. Verena, I must probe your ignorance in order to stimulate you to learn. You, my dear, will be grown up in three years, so that you in particular have a vast lot to do."

"But I hate learning, and I shouldn't like to be a learned woman," said Verena. "Mother knew a lot of things, but she wasn't learned like father."

"Good gracious, child! I don't want you to be like your father. To tell the truth, a bookworm such as he is is one of the most irritating persons in existence. But there! What am I saying? I oughtn't to speak against him in your presence. And your poor mother loved him, oh, so much! Now then, dear, to return to yourself and your sisters. I presume that you would like to be a useful and valuable member of society--a woman who has been trained to do her best, and to exercise the highest influence over all those with whom she comes in contact. Influence, which springs from character, my dear Verena, is the highest power that any one can get.

Now, an ignorant person has little or no influence; therefore, to be kind and sympathetic and useful in the future, you must know many things. You have not a minute to lose. I appeal to you for your mother's sake; for my dear, dear sister would have liked her eldest child to be--ah, Verena!--so good and so true!"

"You touch me, Aunt Sophy," said Verena, "when you talk of mother. You touch me more than words can say. Yes, I will try to be good; but you must bear with me if I don't take the yoke too kindly at first."

"Poor child! I will try to make it light for you. Now what is the matter, Penelope?"

"Please, please, Aunt Sophy," said that young person, rus.h.i.+ng up at the moment.

"Hold yourself erect, my dear; don't run quite so fast. There! you have got a rent already in your new frock. Now what do you want?"

"May I be a schoolroom little girl in the future?"

"What are you now?"

"Nursey says I'm nursery. But I don't want to be nursery; I want to stay always with my own good Aunty Sophy. That is what I want. May I be a schoolroom child?"

"In the first place, you are not to call me 'aunty.' I am Aunt Sophia to you. I dislike abbreviations."

"What's them?"

"Say, 'What are they?'"

"What are they?"

"I will tell you another time. How old are you, Penelope?"

"I wor seven my last birthday, one month agone."

"Your grammar is disgraceful, child. Please understand that the schoolroom has its penalties."

"What's them?"