CHAPTER VII
The Cuckoo's Progress
"Your bear cub still needs taming, Ulyth," said Gertrude Oliver. "Shespilt her coffee this morning--such a mess on the tablecloth! I wish Ididn't sit next to her. I felt like Alice at the March Hare'stea-party."
"It was half Maud's fault; she jerked her elbow," pleaded Ulyth inextenuation.
"Oh, you can't whitewash her, so don't try! I won't say she isn't betterthan when she arrived, but there's room for improvement."
"She's much slimmer. I suppose it must have been the voyage that hadmade her grow so fat in September."
"I wish, at any rate, you could get her out of using those dreadfulbackwoods expressions. It's high time she dropped them. She's been herenearly a full term."
Ulyth thought so too, and the next time she found a suitable opportunityshe tackled Rona on the subject.
"You're too nice to speak in such a queer way. You've no idea how itspoils you," she urged. "You could be another girl if you'd only take alittle trouble."
"What's the use? Who minds what I'm like?" returned the Cuckoo a trifledefiantly.
"I do," said Ulyth emphatically.
"Not really?"
"Indeed I do. I care very much. You came over here to be my friend, andthere are many things I want in a friend."
"I didn't know you cared," replied Rona in a softened voice. "No oneever did before--except Dad, when he said I was a savage."
"Don't you want to show him what you can grow into?" asked Ulytheagerly. "Think how surprised and pleased he'll be when he sees youagain!"
"There's something in that."
"There's a great deal in it. I know I often make myself do things Idon't want because of Mother; she's such a darling, and----" She stoppedshort, realizing too late the mistake she was making.
"I can't remember Mother," answered Rona, turning away with a suggestivecough. "It's all very well for you."
Ulyth could have bitten her tongue out. She said no more, for she knewher room-mate well enough by this time to have learnt that sympathy mustbe offered with the utmost discretion. The poor Cuckoo was only too wellaware of the deficiencies in her home and upbringing, but the least hintof them from others immediately put her on the defensive. In her own wayshe was very proud, and though there was a vast difference betweenStephanie's stinging remarks and Ulyth's well-meant kindness, anythingthat savoured of compassion wounded her dignity.
The conversation brought urgently to Ulyth a question which had beendisturbing her, and which she had persistently tried to banish from herthoughts. Where was Rona going to spend Christmas? So far as anyone knewshe had not a friend or relation in the British Isles. Miss Bowes andMiss Teddington always went away for the holidays, and The Woodlands wasleft in the charge of servants. Rona could not stay at the school,surely? Had Miss Bowes made any arrangement for her? Ulyth vacillatedfor at least five minutes, then took out her writing-case and began aletter home.
"BEST-BELOVED MOTHERKINS,
"I am such a nasty, horrid, selfish thing! In every one of your lettersyou have hinted and hinted and hinted that we should ask Rona forChristmas. You wouldn't say it outright until you were sure I wanted it.That was just the rub. I didn't want it. I'm afraid even now I don'tquite. I've had her all the term, and I thought it would be so blissfulto be without her for four whole weeks, and have you and Father andOswald and Dorothy and Peter just to myself. But oh, Motherkins, she'ssuch a lonely waif of a girl! I'm so dreadfully sorry for her. She seemsalways out of everything. I'm sure she's never had a decent Christmas inher life. I believe she's fond of her father, though I don't think hetook very much notice of her--she let out once that he was sodisappointed she wasn't a boy. But Mrs. Barker, the housekeeper, musthave been a most terrible person. Rona had no chance at all.
"Motherkins, she's never seen a real English home, and I'd like to showher ours. Yes, I would, although in a way she'll spoil everything. Mayshe sleep in the spare room, and let me have my own to myself? I couldstand it then.
"Dearest darling, I really mean it; so will you write straight off toMiss Bowes before I have time to turn thoroughly horrid again?
"Your very loving daughter,
"ULYTH."
Having sent off the letter, and thus burnt her boats, Ulyth accepted thesituation with what equanimity she could muster. Mrs. Stanton'sinvitation arrived by return of post, and was accepted with great reliefby Miss Bowes, who had been wondering how to dispose of her pupil duringthe holidays. The Cuckoo received the news with such pathetic glee thatUlyth's heart smote her for not feeling more joyful herself.
"Are you sure you want me?" asked Rona wistfully.
"Of course we do, or we wouldn't ask you," replied Ulyth, hoping her fibmight be forgiven.
"I'll try and not disgrace you," volunteered the Cuckoo.
A few days before the end of the term Rona received a letter from NewZealand. She rushed to Ulyth, waving it triumphantly.
"Dad's sent me this," she announced, showing a very handsome cheque. "Iwrote to him three days after I got here, and told him my clothes lookedrubbishy beside the other girls', and he tells me to rig myself outafresh. I suppose he forgot about it till now. How'm I going to get thethings? There isn't time to ask Miss Bowes to send for them before theholidays. Can I buy them at the place where you live?"
"Very well indeed, and Mother will help you to choose. I know she'll getyou lovely clothes; she has such exquisite taste! She'll just enjoy it."
"And shan't I just? I'll give away every rag I brought with me from NewZealand. They'll come in for that rummage sale Teddie was telling usabout."
The last lesson was finished, the last exercise written, even the lastbreakfast had been disposed of. The boxes, packed with great excitementthe day before, were already dispatched, and four railway omnibuses werewaiting to take the girls to Llangarmon Junction Station. Much to theirregret, Miss Bowes would not allow them to go by Glanafon--thepicturesque route by the ferry was reserved for summer weather. Inwinter, if the day happened to be stormy and the tide full, there wasoften great difficulty in crossing, the landing-place was muddy andslippery, and even if the train was not missed altogether (as sometimeshappened) the small voyage was quite in the nature of an adventure.
Miss Bowes' wisdom was thoroughly justified on this particular morning,for there was a strong west wind, and the rain was pouring in torrents.
"It would have been lovely fun in the flat. There must be big waves onthe river," declared Merle Denham, half aggrieved at missing such aninteresting opportunity.
"Why, but look at the rain! You couldn't hold up an umbrella for half asecond. It would be blown inside out directly. You'd be as drenched as adrowned rat before you reached the train," preached her more prudentsister.
"And suppose you were blown off the stepping-stones into the river!"added Beth Broadway. "It would be a nice way of beginning the holidays!No. On a morning like this I'd rather have the omnibus. We shall atleast start dry."
"I'm so glad you're taking Rona home with you," whispered LizzieLonsdale to Ulyth. "I should have asked her myself if you hadn't. Itwould have been a wretched Christmas for her to be left at school. Inever saw anyone so pleased!"
The Cuckoo was indeed looking radiant at the golden prospect in storefor her. Much to her surprise, everybody had been particularly nice toher that morning. Several girls had given her their addresses and askedher to write to them, Miss Bowes had been kindness itself, and even MissTeddington, whose conduct was generally of a Spartan order, when biddingher good-bye in the study, had actually bestowed an abrupt peck of akiss, a mark of favour never before known in the annals of the school.To be sure, she had followed it with a warning against relapsing intoloud laughter in other people's houses; but then she was MissTeddington!
Ulyth lived in Staffordshire, and the journey from North Wales wastedious; but what schoolgirl minds a long journey? To Rona all was newand delightful, and to Ulyth every telegraph-post meant that she was somuch neare
r home. The travellers had a royal reception, and kind,tactful Mrs. Stanton managed at once to put her young guest at ease, andmake her feel that she was a welcome addition to the family circle.Oswald, Ulyth's elder brother, had come from Harrow only an hour before,and Dorothy and Peter, the two younger children, were prancing about inutmost enthusiasm at the exciting arrivals.
"Father hasn't come in yet?" asked Ulyth, when she had finished huggingher mother. "Well, it will be all the bigger treat when he does. Oh,Oswald, I didn't think you could grow so much in a term! Dorothy,darling, don't quite choke me! Peterkin, come and shake hands with Rona.Toby, do stop barking for half a moment! Where's Tabbyskins? And,please, show me the new parrot. Oh, isn't it lovely to be at homeagain!"
Almost the whole of the next day was spent by Mrs. Stanton, Ulyth, andtheir delighted visitor in a tour round various outfittingestablishments--an exhilarating time for Rona, who was making her firstacquaintance with the glories of English shops. Their purchases werehighly satisfactory, and as Ulyth helped her friend to dress for dinneron Christmas Day she reviewed the result with the utmost complacency.
"Didn't I tell you Mother has good taste? Rona, you're lovely! Thispale-blue dress suits you to a T. And the bronze slippers are so dainty;and your hair is so pretty. You can't think how it has improved lately."
"Do I look like other girls?" asked Rona, fingering the enamelled locketthat had been given her that morning by Mr. and Mrs. Stanton.
"Rather! A great deal nicer than most. I'm proud of you. I wish theycould all see you at The Woodlands."
"I'm glad if I shan't disgrace you. What a good thing Dad's cheque camejust in time!"
In her new plumage the Cuckoo appeared turned into a tropicalhumming-bird. Ulyth had thought her good-looking before, but she had notrealized that her room-mate was a beauty. She stared almost fascinatedat the vision of blue eyes, coral cheeks, white neck, and ruddy-brownhair. Was this indeed the same girl who had arrived at school lastSeptember? It was like a transformation scene in the pantomime. Clothesundoubtedly exercise a great effect on some people, and Rona seemed toput away her backwoods manners with her up-country dresses. There was adignity about her now and a desire to please which she had never shownat The Woodlands. She held herself straight, walked gracefully insteadof shambling, and was careful to allow no uncouth expressions to escapeher. Her behaviour was very quiet, as if she were watching others, ortaking mental stock of how to comport herself. If occasionally she madesome slight mistake she flushed crimson, but she never repeated it. Shewas learning the whole time, and the least gentle hint from Mrs. Stantonwas sufficient for her. Miss Teddington need not have been afraid thatthe loud laugh would offend the ears of her friends; it never rang outonce, and the high-pitched voice was subdued to wonderfully softenedtones. For her hostess Rona evinced a species of worship. She wouldfollow her about the house, content simply to be near her, and her facewould light up at the slightest word addressed to her.
"The poor child just wanted a good mothering," said Mrs. Stanton toUlyth. "It is marvellous how fast she is improving. You'll makesomething of your little wild bird after all. She's worth the trouble."
"I'd no idea she could grow into this," replied Ulyth. "Oh, Motherkins,you should have seen her at first! She was a very rough diamond."
"Aren't you glad to have a hand in the polishing? It will be such atriumph."
Two members of the household, at any rate, saw no fault in the visitor.Dorothy and Peter haunted her like small persistent ghosts, begging forstories about New Zealand. The accounts of her life in the bush werelike a romance to them, and so fired their enthusiasm that in theintervals of playing soldiers they tried to emulate her adventures, andwere found with a clothes-line in the garden making a wild attempt tolasso the much-enduring Toby.
"Rona's very good-natured with them," said Ulyth. "She doesn't mind howthey pull her about, and Peter's most exhausting sometimes. I shouldn'tlike to carry him round the house on my back. Dorothy's perfectlyinsatiable for stories; it's always 'Tell us another!' How funny Oswaldis at present. He's grown so outrageously polite all of a sudden. Isuppose it's because he's in the Sixth now. He was very different lastholidays. He's getting quite a 'lady's man'."
"The young folks are growing up very fast," commented Mr. Stanton inprivate. "It seems only yesterday that Oswald and Ulyth were babies. Inanother year or two we shall begin to think of twenty-first-birthdaydances."
"Oh, don't talk of anything so dreadful!" said Mrs. Stanton inconsternation. "They're my babies still. The party on Thursday is to bequite a children's affair."
Though "Motherkins" might regard the coming festivity as entirely of ajuvenile character, the young people took it seriously. They practiseddancing on the polished linoleum of the nursery every evening. Rona hadhad her first lessons at The Woodlands, and was making heroic efforts toremember what she had learnt.
"You'll get on all right," Ulyth encouraged her. "That last was ever somuch better; you're dropping into it quite nicely. You dance lightly,at any rate. Now try again with Oswald while I play. Ossie, I'm proud ofyou! Last Christmas you were a perfect duffer at it. Don't you rememberhow you sat out at the Warings'? You've improved immensely. Now go on!"and Ulyth began to play, with her eyes alternately on the piano and onthe partners.
"I suppose a fellow has to get used to 'the light fantastic' sometime,"remarked Oswald, as, after a successful five minutes' practice, he andRona sat down to rest.
"Perhaps you'll have to dance with princesses at foreign Courts whenyou're a successful ambassador," laughed Ulyth.
"Is that what Oswald's going to be?" asked Rona.
"I'd have tried the Army or the Navy, but my wretched eyes cut me offfrom both; so it's no use, worse luck!" said Oswald. "I should like toget into the Diplomatic Service immensely though, if I could."
"Why can't you? I should think you could do anything you really wanted."
"Thanks for the compliment. But it's not so easy as it sounds. I wish Ihad a friend at Court."
"We don't know anybody in the Government," sighed Ulyth. "Not asolitary, single person. I've never even seen a member of Parliament,except, of course, Lord Glyncraig sometimes at church; but then I'venever spoken to him. Stephanie had tea with him once. She doesn't let usforget that."
"I wish you'd had tea with him, and happened to mention particularly theextreme fascinations and abilities of your elder brother," laughedOswald.
"Could Lord Glyncraig be of any use to you?" asked Rona. She had grownsuddenly thoughtful.
"He could give me a nomination for the Diplomatic Service, and thatwould be just the leg-up I want. But it's no use joking; I'm not likelyto get an introduction to him. I expect I shall have to go into businessafter all."
"I think when I was ten I must have been the most objectionable littleimp on the face of creation," said Rona slowly. "I am ashamed of myselfnow."
"Why this access of penitence for bygone crimes?"
"Oh, nothing!" replied the Cuckoo, flushing. "I was only just thinkingof something. Shall we try that new step again? I'm rested now."
"Yours to command, madam!" returned Oswald, with a mock bow.
* * * * *
Rona's visit to the Stantons was a delightful series of new impressions.She made her first acquaintance with the pantomime, and was alternatelyamused and thrilled as the story of "The Forty Thieves" unfolded itselfupon the stage. Not even Peter watched with more round-eyed enthusiasm,and Mr. Stanton declared it was worth taking her for the mere pleasureof seeing her face when Ali Baba disappeared down a trap-door. Aseverything in England was fresh to her, she was a most easy guest toentertain, and she enjoyed every separate experience--from a visit tothe public library with Mr. Stanton to toffee-making in the nursery withPeter and Dorothy.
Although it was a quiet Christmas in some respects, friends werehospitable, and included her in the various little invitations whichwere sent to Ulyth and Oswald; so her pretty dresses had a chance ofbeing aired.
The great event to the young folk was the party which wasto be given at the Stantons' own house, and which was to be a kind offinish to the holidays. The girls revelled in every detail ofpreparation. They watched the carpet being taken up in the drawing-room,the large articles of furniture removed, and the door taken off itshinges. They sprinkled ball-room chalk on the boards of the floor, andslid indefatigably until the polish satisfied Ulyth's critical taste.They decorated the walls with flags and evergreens. They even offeredtheir services in the kitchen, but met with so cool a reception from thebusy cook that they did not venture to repeat the experiment, andconsoled themselves with helping to write the supper menus instead.
"I think I've seen to everything," said Mrs. Stanton distractedly. "Theflowers, and the fairy lamps, and the programmes, and those extra boxesof crackers, and the chocolates, and the ring for the trifle. You'veseen about the music, Gerald?"
"Violin and piano," replied Mr. Stanton. "I'm feeling a thorough-goingmartyr. Giving even a simple children's hop means sitting in roomswithout doors and living on turkey drumsticks for a fortnightafterwards!"
"Oh, we'll get the house straight again sooner than that! And youneedn't eat grilled turkey unless you like."
"I don't appreciate parties."
"We must amuse the young folks, and it isn't a grand affair. If thechildren meet together they may as well dance as play games."
"Daddikins, how nasty you are!" exclaimed Ulyth, pursuing him toadminister chastisement in the shape of smacking kisses. "You knowyou're looking forward to it quite as much as we are."
"That I deny _in toto_," groaned her father as he escaped to hissnuggery, only to find it arranged as a dressing-room.
Ulyth wore white for the great occasion, with her best Venetian beads;and Rona had a palest sea-green gauzy voile, with fine stockings andsatin shoes to match. Dorothy was a bewitching little vision in pink,and Peter a cherub in black velvet. Oswald, having reached the stage ofreal gentleman's evening-dress, required the whole family to assist himin the due arrangement of his tie, over which he was more than usuallyparticular. Ulyth even suspected him of having tried to shave, though hedenied the accusation fiercely.
It is always a solemn occasion waiting in the drawing-room listening forthe first peal of the bell announcing visitors. Mrs. Stanton was givinga last touch to the flowers, Ulyth sat wielding her new fan (a Christmaspresent), Oswald was buttoning his gloves. Dorothy, too excited tostand still for a moment, flitted about like a pink fairy.
"I'm to stop up half an hour later than Peter, Rona; do you hear that?"she chattered. "Oh, I do hope the Prestons will arrive first of anybody!I want to dance with Willie. Father let me have a cracker just now, andit's got a whistle inside it. I wish I had a pocket. Where shall I putit to keep it safe? Oh, I know--inside that vase!"
As she spoke, Dorothy jumped lightly on to the seat of the cosy cornerthat abutted on the fireplace, and reached upwards to drop her whistleinside the ornament. In her excitement she slipped, tried to saveherself, lost her footing, and fell sideways over the curb on to thehearth. Her thin, flimsy dress was within half an inch of the fire, butat that instant Rona, who was standing by, clutched her and pulled herforwards. It all happened in three seconds. She was safe before herfather had time to run across the room. The family stared aghast.
"Whew! That was a near shave!" gasped Oswald.
Dorothy, too much surprised and frightened to cry, was clinging to hermother. Mr. Stanton, acting on the spur of the moment, rushed to thetelephone to try if any ironmonger's shop in the town was still open,and could immediately send up a wire-gauze fire-protector. Thefireplaces in all the other rooms were well guarded, but in thedrawing-room the hearth was so wide, and the curb so high, that theprecaution had not been considered necessary.
"It only shows how absolutely vital it is to leave no chance of anaccident," said Mr. Stanton, returning from the telephone. "Matthews aresending a boy up at once with a guard. If it hadn't been for Rona'spromptitude---- Oh, there's the bell! Oswald, fetch your mother a glassof water."
Poor Mrs. Stanton looked very pale, but had recovered her composuresufficiently to receive her young guests by the time they were usheredinto the drawing-room. Dorothy, child-like, forgot her fright in thepleasure of welcoming her friends the Prestons, and everything went onas if the accident had not occurred. Mr. Stanton, indeed, kept a closewatch all the evening, to see that guards were not pushed aside from thefires, and Mrs. Stanton's eyes watched with more than usual solicitude acertain little pink figure as it went dancing round the room. Thevisitors knew nothing of the accident that had been avoided, and therewas no check on the mirth of the party. The guests were of all ages,from Peter's kindergarten comrades to girls who were nearly grown-up,but it was really all the jollier for the mixture. Tall and short dancedtogether with a happy disregard of inches, and even a thorough enjoymentof the disparity. Rona spent a royal evening. Her host and hostess hadbeen kindness itself before, but to-night it seemed as if they conspiredtogether to give her the best of everything. She had her pick ofpartners, the place of honour at supper, and--by most egregiouscheating--the ring somehow tumbled on to her plate out of the trifle.
"I'm getting spoilt," she said to Oswald.
"The mater's ready to kiss your boots," he returned. "I never sawanything so quick as the way you snatched old Dolly."
All good things come to an end some time, even holidays, and one morningtowards the end of January witnessed a taxi at the door, and variousbags and packages, labelled Llangarmon Junction, stowed inside.
"I don't know how to thank you. I haven't any words," gulped Rona, asshe hugged "Motherkins" good-bye.
"Do your best at school, and remember certain little things we talkedabout," whispered Mrs. Stanton, kissing her. "We shall expect to see youhere again."
For the Sake of the School Page 7
