by L. T. Meade
her. "I shall never marry," she continued ina low whisper, "but I shall surround myself with books--the books of thegreat departed; their words, their thoughts, shall fill my brain and myheart. I shall be satisfied; nothing else will satisfy me but books,books, books!"
"Do come to this corner of the playground," I said. "You speak asthough you were reciting, and if you raise your voice the least bit inthe world some one will hear you, and we shall have a crowd round us."
She obeyed me. She was in a world of her own. As I looked at her Ithought she was marvellously like the Professor in her mind.
"It is a dreadful pity," I said.
"What is a pity?" she asked.
"That you are not me, and I am not you."
"Oh dear," she said, "how you do mix things up! How could I be you?"
"Well, if you lived with the Professor--if you were his child--you'dhave books; you'd live in the world you love."
Her eyes lit up then. They really were fine eyes, although she was--Icould not help feeling it--a most provoking girl.
"That would be paradise," she said. "But that can never happen. Itnever does happen. Men like your marvellous, your wonderful father havecommonplace children like you. Now I, who have all the instincts andall that soul within me that just burns for books, and books alone, havea painfully commonplace mother. It is a mixed world. It is painfullymixed."
"Well, at any rate let us be chums," I said, for the Swans were gettingnearer and nearer.
"Oh, as you please, Dumps. But you mustn't interrupt my work; I alwaysavoid having a girl chum, because she is sure to interrupt. If you liketo walk with me in recess you may."
"Oh, I should, Augusta--I should! I find the other girls so chatteryand so queer. I don't understand them."
"Well, naturally, to-day they're excited," said Augusta.
She looked full at me.
"What about?" I said.
"Why, about you."
"But why in the world about me? What has happened to me? Have Igrown--grown beautiful?"
I coloured as I said the words. Another girl would have laughed, butAugusta did not; it was not her way.
"You are very plain indeed," she said calmly; "you have not one featurewhich could possibly, at any time, grow into a beautiful feature. Butthat doesn't matter. You have privileges. Every evening you can lookat the Professor and think how marvellous is his brain and how beautifulis his face. Oh, do you think there is any chance of my being able toget a ticket for the next meeting of the Royal Society? He is going tospeak. I could listen to him; I could hang on his words."
I made no answer; but I made a special resolution. It was quiteimpossible for me to be friends with Augusta Moore. She was looking atme at that moment, however, with great attention.
"I tell you what it is," she said; "if you are inclined to be friendswith me, you might now and then get me tickets for your father'slectures. I mean, of course," she added, colouring very much, "that is,when you do not want them yourself."
"I never go to them," I said fervently. "I would not go to them for allthe world."
"How queer of you!"
"I think I can promise to get you two tickets for the next meeting ofthe Royal Society," I said, "if it will make you really happy. Fatherwas busy over his lecture last night. It has gone to be typed thismorning."
"Oh, don't!" said Augusta, with a shudder.
"Don't what?"
"Make the thing so realistic. Leave it, I beseech of you, leave it inthe clouds. Don't show me the ropes, but get me the tickets. Do! Ishall worship you. I will even think you beautiful if you can get metickets for your father's lectures."
"I'll see; I'll speak to him to-day."
Augusta glanced nervously round.
"Do you think it would be possible for you to bring them to our house?We live just outside Inverness Terrace, Bayswater. You could come bythe Tube. I would meet you, and I'd bring you home. We have only threerooms, mother and I--a sort of flat at the top of the house. I comeevery day to this school because it is thought quite the best in London.It doesn't take long by the Twopenny Tube. You have a station not farfrom your house. You could come, could you not?"
"I could come, of course."
"Well then, let me see. Shall I meet you at four o'clock to-day justoutside the Bayswater Station? I'll be there when you come."
The bell rang for us to return to school.
"I'll come," I said.
"I'll have quite a nice tea for you--that is, if you care for food."
"I do--I love it," I said in a stout voice. Augusta did not smile. Shewent very gravely back to the school. She had forgotten me; she was asort of female Professor. I certainly did not like her, and yet I wouldget her the tickets and go to her house. She was better than the Swans.
Agnes Swan came up to me when school was over.
"You have been nasty in your ways to-day, Dumps," she said. "Can't youstay a minute now?"
"No," I said, "I cannot I must run all the way home; I am late."
"Nonsense! Well, will you come to tea with us to-night?"
"No, thank you," I replied; "I have an engagement."
"Oh, she'll have heaps of engagements from this out!" said Rita. "Don'tworry her. She'll be much too grand to speak to us by-and-by."
"I have an engagement," I replied. "I am going to tea with AugustaMoore."
"Oh, with that old frump!"
"She is an exceedingly clever girl."
"But you and she have nothing in common, Dumps."
"Yes, we have," I replied. "Have we not a Professor in common?" Imurmured to myself; and then I left the Swans standing discomfited,their faces all agog with longing to tell me something which I would onno account hear from their lips.
I hurried back to the house. To my joy, father was in. He was veryneatly dressed. I had not seen him so smart for a long time. "Why,father!" I said.
"I am leaving home to-night," was his remark. "I shall be away for alittle. I shall be back presently. You will get a letter from me."
"But, father, the lecture at the Royal Society?" I said.
"That is not until next Wednesday, this day week. I shall be back againby then. I shall return probably on Sunday, or Monday morning. My dearchild, don't gape. Another man is taking my place at the school. Here,Dumps, here; you'd like five shillings, wouldn't you?"
"Oh yes, father."
It did not really greatly matter to me whether my dear father was in thehouse or not. I was bewildered at his going; it was quite amazing thathe should get any one else to take his boys in the middle of term, butit did not seriously affect my interests or my peace. "You have a verysmart coat on," I said.
"Have I?" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, if it pleases youit will please other women. Can't understand why people look so much atthe exterior. Exterior matters nothing. It is how the brain is worked,how the mind tells on the body, how the soul is moved. Those are thethings that matter."
"Father, have you had any food?"
"Yes; Hannah gave me a chop."
There was a bone from a mutton-chop on a plate near by, but there seemedto be no appearance of a meal for me, and I was very hungry.
"The boys are dining at the school to-day," said my father. "Now, mychild, it is time for me to be off."
"But one minute first. There is a girl at school--"
"There are two hundred girls at your school. Which special one do younow allude to?"
"Her name is Augusta Moore. She has a love for books, somewhat as youhave a love for books."
The Professor raised one hand.
"I beseech of you, Dumps," he said, "don't speak of any girl's immatureadmiration for the great works of the mighty dead. Don't! Your wordswill get on my nerves."
"Well, I won't; but she wants to learn, and I suppose she has a rightto," I said in a somewhat dogged tone. "She has begged of me to ask youto give her two tickets for next Wednesday when you are lectur
ing at theRoyal Society. She wants two, for she would not be allowed to goalone."
For answer my father stalked across the room. He crossed the wide halland entered his own study, a room he seldom used, for he did most of hishome work in his bedroom. He came back presently with a couple oftickets and threw them on the table.
"There," he said; "don't say anything more about her. Don't worry me onthe subject. Good-bye, my
