Monica's Choice

by George Bird Grinnell

  *CHAPTER IX.*

  *"HAVE A RIDE, MONICA?"*

  "Oh, dear me!" yawned Monica, as she stretched herself lazily, and shutup her book. "I feel awfully sleepy."

  "Have a snooze, then," returned Olive, who was deep in the intricaciesof her story; "only just tell me the time first."

  "Good gracious!" cried her friend, as she twisted her wristlet round, soas to see the hands of the watch it enclosed; "it's just upon three."

  "How the time has flown," said Olive, shutting up her book somewhatreluctantly; "we must be going at once. I expect the other two are atthe white gate already."

  "Not they," ejaculated Monica, as she unfastened Hero, and put her bookin her empty lunch basket. And when, five minutes later, they reachedthe appointed meeting-place, and no trace of the others was to be seen,she said: "I told you so."

  "Well, I suppose we must wait about a bit for them," said Olive, "theycan't be many minutes. Let's perch on the gate posts and read a bit."She had only a few pages left, and was anxious to see what became of herheroine. But Monica's story was ended, so she looked about her for someother amusement.

  In less than a minute the gay chatter of girls sounded on the still,summer air, and Olive, looking up from her book, said: "There they are."

  But Monica, who had gone to reconnoitre, said: "No, it's only some ofthe High School girls--Gipsy Monroe and her little sisters, with abicycle."

  "Hullo!" they said, as they came up, "what are you up to?"

  "Waiting for Elsa Franklyn and Thistle Drury," was Monica's reply."Seen anything of them?"

  "No," replied the dark-haired, dark-eyed girl, rightly nicknamed"Gipsy," instead of the plainer appellation of Emily which she had beengiven. She was holding a younger girl on the bicycle, who jumped off asshe brought it to a stand-still. "Have a ride, Monica?"

  Now Monica knew that her grandmother had a great abhorrence of girlsriding bicycles, and, indeed, she had expressly forbidden hergranddaughter to attempt to mount one. But Monica, in this, as in mostthings, entirely disagreed with her grandmother, and felt with theboundless self-confidence of youth that her own opinion was far thebest. So without a qualm of conscience, she readily accepted the offer.

  "I can't balance myself a bit," she said, as she mounted the machine,while Gipsy held it steady. "I have tried once or twice, but I alwayswobble frightfully." And her movements proved she was right.

  "Oh, I say, how heavy you are!" cried Gipsy, in dismay, as Monica andthe bicycle rolled first one way and then the other. "Come and hold herup, Olive."

  Things went better then, with two to steady the uncertain rider, andthey had gone some little distance along the road, when the Monroechildren, who were a little behind, called out: "Look out, here's amotor!" And in another second the car whizzed by them.

  They never knew just how it happened; whether Monica overbalanced, orwhether she steered purposely into the hedge, so as to avoid the motor,but the next instant the bicycle overturned, and Monica lay all huddledup underneath it.

  "Oh! Monica, are you hurt?" cried both girls simultaneously, as theylifted up the bicycle, and stood it against the hedge. But Monicaneither moved nor spoke.

  "Oh, she's dead!" cried the younger children, as they looked at theinanimate form, lying so still on the dusty road.

  "Nonsense!" said a loud, cheery voice beside them, and looking up,startled, the girls saw that the motor had been brought to a standstillnot many yards off, and its occupant had come back to see what was thematter. "Not a bit of it! The lass has only twisted her foot a bit, bythe look of it, and I expect she's either stunned or fainted. I'll lifther up," and suiting the action to the word, the stranger, whom thegirls had recognised as Lily Howell's father, raised Monica gently inhis strong arms.

  The movement roused Monica, and she opened her eyes, saying with ashudder, "Oh, my foot, my foot!"

  "Oh, Monica, Monica!" cried Olive, who was nearly beside herself withfright, and who was terrified when she thought of Mrs. Beauchamp.

  "There, that'll do, missy!" interposed Mr. Howell, in his bluff, heartyvoice; "just you let me carry her to the car there, and we'll have thisfoot attended to in a jiffy."

  And in another moment Monica was half-lying, half-sitting in the car,supported by Mr. Howell and Olive, whom he had bade get up as well, whenhe understood they were together; the Monroes following on foot with thebicycle, which had been the innocent cause of the calamity.

  "Drive on home, Cobb," said Mr. Howell to his chauffeur; while he addedto Olive, "It's the nearest place, and we shall soon see how much damageis done."

  "Oh, she's fainted again!" cried poor Olive, as Monica's head fellhelplessly against the broad shoulder which was supporting it.

  "By Jove! she has," ejaculated the man under his breath, and he noticedwith relief that another minute would see them at his door.

  It was the work of a very few moments to carry the injured girl into thehouse, and lay her gently on a huge couch, which was placed under anopen window in one of the expensively furnished rooms. The next thingwas to remove the shoe from the fast-swelling foot, to find Mrs. Howell,and send for the doctor.

  "Franklyn is nearest," said the plutocrat to a smartly liveried footman,who waited for orders. "Get him to come at once, or if he's out, bringany one you can find."

  "Oh, I hope father will come!" said Olive pitifully, as she rubbedMonica's cold hands and tried to rouse her.

  "Are you one of Franklyn's girls, then?" asked Mr. Howell; "and who isthis young lady?"

  "Monica Beauchamp. Her grandmother lives at Carson Rise, Mydenham."

  "Oh, I've heard of her from my girl," and Lily's father had a good lookat the object of his child's envious dislike. "We'll send a message toher grandma as soon as the doctor's been."

  The door opened, and Mrs. Howell appeared on the scene, followed by amaid bringing water, smelling-salts, and various other remedies. Herplain, homely face wore an expression of anxiety, and she had evidentlyhurried so much in response to her husband's imperative summons, thatshe was short of breath.

  "Here, Caroline, you'll know best what to do," said Mr. Howell; "see ifyou can pull her round. I'll be on the look out for the doctor," and heleft the room as he spoke.

  "Bless me!" was all Mrs. Howell could find breath enough to say, but shebusied herself with trying the various restoratives the elderly servanthanded to her, and in a few moments Monica opened her eyes.

  "Where am I?" she murmured, seeing strange faces bent over her, and Mrs.Howell nudged Olive to speak to her friend.

  "You're at Mrs. Howell's, Monica; you hurt your foot, you know. Butdon't try to talk now. Father will be here directly." She spoke with aconfidence she was far from feeling, for it was quite possible that Dr.Franklyn was some distance away.

  A spasm of pain passed over Monica's white face. "Oh, my ankle, how itdoes hurt!" she said, as she tried to alter the position of the injuredlimb, but could not bear the agony the movement caused.

  "Bathe it again, Martha," said Mrs. Howell, to the maid who was standingby. Then she stroked Monica's rumpled hair, kindly, but somewhathesitatingly, while she murmured, "Poor dear."

  The motherly woman would have liked to have said much more, to show thisyoung stranger within her gates how sorry she was for her; but she hadheard how haughty she was from Lily, and she was afraid of sayinganything for fear of giving offence. For one thing she was verythankful: and that was that Lily had gone to some friends at a distanceto spend the half-term holiday, so there was no fear of her turning upto make a fuss.

  Every one breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Franklyn was announced.

  "Oh, father, I _am_ glad you were in!" said Olive, as she caughtimpetuously at his arm.

  "I hope you had no hand in this, Olive," he said, as he began, withprofessional touch, to examine the swollen ankle.

  "No, father, no; indeed I didn't; it was no one's fault, but quite anaccident," she assured him, so ea
rnestly, that he was fain to believethat his careless, heedless child was not to blame in this instance.

  "Well, well," he said, "it might have been much worse. There are nobones broken, but it is a nasty sprain; you won't do much walking for alittle while, young lady." And he looked with compassion at the girl,who he knew was so full of energy.

  "How long?" was all Monica's quivering lips could articulate. Her anklewas suffering so acutely from the doctor's handling, gentle as it hadbeen, that it took all her courage to keep the tears back.

  "Oh, two or three weeks, perhaps," was the reply, kindly but truthfullygiven. It was never his way to tell his patients half-truths, and buoythem up with hopes that had not a shadow of a chance of being realised."It will all depend upon whether you obey orders or not, how soon itwill get better."

  At the word "obey," a pang of remorse seized Monica; how she had failedin obedience, and how bitterly she was suffering the penalty for a verylittle act of disobedience (as she thought) even now. A sob rose in herthroat, but she gulped it down, and turned her face slightly away.

  "Now, Olive, my child, if Mrs. Howell will excuse you, come home withme," said Dr. Franklyn, as, having done all he could to relieve thesprained ankle, he prepared to depart. "Mr. Howell has sent to Mrs.Beauchamp, and your friend will be able to go home in her grandmother'scarriage when it arrives, and your mother will be anxious about you. Bythe way, I can't imagine where Elsa is," he added as they reached thehall door; and for the first time Olive remembered the other two girls.

  "Oh, father, suppose they have been waiting all this time for us? Whata dreadful afternoon this has been!" And she felt ready to cry.

  "Cheer up, Olive," said her father kindly, pitying her unhappiness;"we'll send some one to the white gate in case they should be there; butI expect they gave you up long since, and we shall hear that they wenton to Carson Rise as you arranged."

  Meanwhile, how had Elsa and Amethyst been faring?

  In spite of her reassuring words to Amethyst, Elsa felt a considerableamount of trepidation as she and her companion mounted the flight ofwide, stone steps, and rang the bell at the front door of Mrs.Beauchamp's residence. She was mentally deciding what it would be bestto say, when the door opened, and the trim parlourmaid appeared. Elsahad half hoped that Monica would have been on the look-out, and haveopened the door herself, so as to make the late-comers feel morecomfortable. So she was astounded when the maid replied, in answer toher diffident enquiry, that the other young ladies had not arrived yet.

  Elsa and Amethyst looked askance at each other, one thought uppermost inboth their minds. "Suppose they should be waiting for us at the whitegate!"

  "My mistress is rather put about to think Miss Monica should be so latecoming back; would you please to walk in and explain, miss?" suggestedthe maid to Elsa, who seemed to be spokeswoman.

  "Oh, yes, of course, we will tell all we know," said Elsa, and she andAmethyst silently followed the maid to the drawing-room, where Mrs.Beauchamp was sitting by one of the open French windows, whichoverlooked part of the prettily laid-out gardens.

  "Well, my dear, how are you?" she said, as Elsa approached, and held outa timid hand; "and is this your little friend?" And the old lady lookedapprovingly at the pretty, childish face and simple attire of thevicar's little daughter. "But how is it you have arrived alone? Whereare Monica and your sister?"

  "Oh, Mrs. Beauchamp, we can't think what they are doing!" And Elsa toldthe whole story of what had occurred that afternoon, at least, as far asthe present state of affairs was concerned; finishing up by saying, "Wewouldn't have been so long, indeed we wouldn't, if we had known how lateit was. I am almost sorry, now, that we went all the way with the oldwoman, but we thought it was right at the time." And Elsa's eyes filledwith tears.

  "You did quite right, children, no one could blame you," said Mrs.Beauchamp, more kindly than Monica ever heard her speak. "I am onlysorry that my granddaughter did not wish to act as you did." And theold lady sighed as she thought of the difference between self-pleasing,self-willed Monica, and this nice-speaking, unselfish girl; and theadvantage was all on Elsa's side. "The thing to be considered is, whereare they now?"

  "Do you think they might still be waiting for us?" queried Amethyst, whohad been a silent spectator so far. "Shall we go back and see?"

  Mrs. Beauchamp smiled. "I think we can manage better than that," shesaid. "I will send a messenger to the gate in West Lane, in case theyshould be there, and we will have some tea, for I am sure you must bethirsty after hurrying so, on this hot day. I quite expect that beforevery long they will come rushing in."

  The two girls were very glad to wash their hands and smooth theirdishevelled hair; and Amethyst was delighted to see Monica's room (whereBarnes had taken them) for the first time.

  Then they went into the dining-room, where a sumptuous repast had beenspread for the quartette, Mrs. Beauchamp knowing something, fromexperience, of young people's appetites. If it had not been for thesuspense about the other girls, Elsa and Amethyst would have enjoyedthemselves immensely.

  Mrs. Beauchamp was so very kind, and made herself quite agreeable tothese two well-behaved girls; indeed Amethyst, who was light-hearted bynature, almost forgot the unfortunate ending to their picnic, but Elsawas unable to banish the thought from her mind that something must havehappened to them to cause such delay, and she could see that Mrs.Beauchamp was very much worried, although she strove to entertain herlittle guests cheerfully.

  "You are not making much of a tea, my dear. Try one of these," and Mrs.Beauchamp held a plate of delicious looking macaroons toward Elsa.

  "No, thank you, I don't feel as if I could eat another mouthful." AndElsa's tears, which had been very near the surface for some time, raineddown her cheeks, while a sob choked her voice.

  "Don't fret, my dear," said Mrs. Beauchamp, soothingly, albeit her ownvoice shook.

  "I am so afraid something has happened," sobbed Elsa, and she hid herface in her hands.

  "Let us hope not; they may have been hindered in some way," replied Mrs.Beauchamp; but even as she spoke, a maid entered the room with anexpression of alarm on her face.

  "If you please, ma'am----" she began.

  "What is it, Harriet? Tell me at once?" And Mrs. Beauchamp clutchedthe back of her chair for support, while her face assumed an ashen hue,and poor Elsa felt inclined to scream.

  "A man's come from Osmington, from Mr. Howell's place, ma'am, to say asthere's been an accident, ma'am, and Miss Monica's leg is hurt. It weresomething to do with one of these motors, ma'am, but he says he was toldto say it weren't by no means serious."

  A tinge of colour came into Mrs. Beauchamp's cheeks, as the servantreached the end of her sentence; she had dreaded she knew not what.

  "Is the man here, Harriet? Have him taken to the morning-room, and Iwill see him," she faltered.

  "Oh! please may we hear too?" asked Elsa, with quivering lips.

  And the old lady, reading the alarm in the girl's tense young face,said: "Of course, my dear."

  By dint of much questioning they got some idea of what had occurred;and, relieved to a certain extent by having definite news of hergrandchild, Mrs. Beauchamp made speedy arrangements for her conveyancehome.

  In a very few minutes the brougham was at the door, and into it steppedMrs. Beauchamp and the two girls, followed by the reliable Barnes, whowas always to be depended upon in an emergency.

  Elsa and Amethyst would dearly have liked to go as far as the Howells',so as to know exactly how Monica was, but when Mrs. Beauchamp orderedthe coachman to put them down at Dr. Franklyn's, on his way through thetown, they did not dare to make the suggestion.