by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER V
THE MODERN VIEW OF LIFE.
The girls came home on Wednesday, and on the following Saturday Mrs.Acheson and Belle were coming to tea. In the meantime Mrs. Chetwynd hadgone through more than one stormy scene with Marjorie and Eileen. Thegirls positively declined to be presented to her gracious Majesty.
"You may get the dresses, mother," said Eileen, "only I sincerely hopeyou won't, for we cannot wear them. We don't quite know yet what we meanto do with our lives; but fashionable society girls we will not be. Now,mammy, why should we be fashionable girls if we dislike the idea?"
Here Marjorie, notwithstanding her rude words, went on her knees, woundher strong young arms round her mother's waist, and looked with suchimploring eyes into her face that, notwithstanding her anger, Mrs.Chetwynd was touched in spite of herself.
"We should hate it all, you know, dear mammy," said Marjorie. "I speakfor Eileen as well as for myself.--You agree with me, Eileen, don't you?"
"Of course," replied Eileen. "Well, Marjorie, have it out with the dearmammy, for I must go at once to see Fowler's last baby. I am taking it arattle and some chocolates."
"You will kill a young infant if you give it chocolate," said Mrs.Chetwynd, "and I forbid you to go to Fox Buildings. No young ladies frommy house must go near such a place."
"Dear me, mother, why not?" said Eileen.
"Eileen, my dear, I decline to argue with you. Really, when I think ofall that you two girls are doing to oppose me, and render my lifemiserable, I could almost wish that you were back at school."
"Of course, mother," said Eileen gravely, "if you positively forbid meto go I will obey you."
She sat down on the nearest chair and stared hard at her mother.
"I do forbid you, Eileen. Young ladies of eighteen are not allowed to goabout London alone."
"But really, mother, you are mistaken," said Marjorie; "in these daysthey are. All that dreadful period of bondage in which the girl oftwenty years ago was kept has passed away; the English girl of thepresent day has her freedom. I have read all about it; I know it to be afact. College girls, too, have told me. You cannot deny us ourbirthright, mammy, can you?"
"College girls? What do you know about college girls--those awful,underbred, unwomanly creatures!" said Mrs. Chetwynd.
"You say that, mother, because you do not know them."
"Well, I do know one thing," continued Mrs. Chetwynd, her eyes fillingwith tears. "I cannot imagine what I have done to deserve such girls asyou two. I have taken no end of pains with you both. Of course I wasobliged to stay in India during your father's lifetime, which preventedmy having as much influence over you as I should otherwise haveobtained: but I little thought to come back to such a reward as this. Isent you to the best schools I could afford, and have always attended toyour wardrobe, and given you plenty of pocket-money. I have done allthat a mother could do, and now just when I was beginning to expect myreward, there come back to me a couple of----"
"Tomboys, mother darling," said Marjorie. She wound her arms stilltighter round her mother's waist, and kissed her on her cheek. "Mammy,you'll get accustomed to us after a bit," she cried. "We are not in theordinary groove; but there are hundreds of girls like us. There will bemore girls like us year after year; all the modern training tends to it,mammy, and you cannot keep us back. We are in the van, and in the van wewill stay. Mammy, we decline to go into society, we decline to turnnight into day, we decline to spend unnecessary money upon clothes."
"And what do you intend to do, Marjorie; if I may venture to ask?" saidMrs. Chetwynd, folding her hands in an attitude of despair. "Havingdeclined so much, is there anything you agree to?"
"Oh yes, lots, mother, now you are becoming reasonable, and we can talk.First of all, what we want to know is, what allowance you will give usboth?"
"Your father made an extraordinary will," said Mrs. Chetwynd. "I cannotunderstand what made him do it, and I think he was wrong."
"What was it? Do let us hear," said Eileen.
"It was this: By his will, when you leave school and reach the age ofeighteen, you are both entitled to one hundred and fifty pounds a year,and you are not to be coerced in the way you spend the money."
"Hip! hip! hurrah!" cried Eileen. She sprang suddenly to her feet,danced a minute in front of her mother, and then clapped Marjorie on theshoulder.
"Then, of course, everything is plain," she cried. "We won't spend anyof that money on dress. Who would waste a precious hundred and fiftypounds in stupid things like frocks?"
"Well, children, I shall give you each a proper wardrobe to start with,"said Mrs. Chetwynd. "You have not brought anything fit to be seen fromschool. Those dresses you have on now are simply disgusting; they arenot even clean. I have ordered the carriage, my dears, and am going totake you at once to Madame Coray's. She will make you two or threeeveryday dresses and some evening ones."
"But at least not with our money," cried Marjorie; "that we cannotpermit to be spent in such willful waste. Oh, mother, please, do allowus to dress as we like; do let us order our lives in our own way--do,mammy, do."
"I must know first of all what is your own way."
"We want to be useful members of society, and to spend scarcely anymoney on clothes. We have told you that we do not intend to be presentedto Her Majesty."
"Well, I hope to get you to change your minds yet; but I will not orderthe presentation dresses to-day."
"That's a dear. I knew you would submit.--She is the best little motherin the whole world," said Eileen, rapturously kissing her parent, andthen clasping Marjorie's hand.
"Then, you will give in all round, mammy dear?" said Marjorie.
"Suppose I say no?" answered Mrs. Chetwynd.
"Then I am afraid----" said Eileen. She glanced at Marjorie, and Marjorienodded.
Mrs. Chetwynd suddenly rose.
"Girls," she said, "don't say what you are just about to say. I canguess what it is, and I am not prepared to listen. Until you are of ageit is your duty to obey me. Notwithstanding your father's will, and theimproper allowance which I am forced to give you both, as long as youare under my roof you must be clothed as I wish, and you must not go toplaces that I disapprove of. My poor, dear, misguided children, awoman's true aim when she reaches maturity is to marry a good husband,and to have a happy home of her own."
"But I never intend to marry," said Marjorie. "I have not the faintestidea of putting myself under the control of any man. I mean to keep myliberty and have a jolly good, useful time."
"And so do I," said Eileen. "I mean to have a very full and very busylife, mother."
"Ditto," cried Marjorie.
"Letitia has not yet spoken," said Mrs. Chetwynd.--"What are your wishes,my love?"
"Well, of course, Aunt Helen, I should like a society-life very much."
"But you're just not going to have it, Lettie," said Eileen. "You'llhave to do exactly what we do. We have no idea of having our own motherfagged to death; an old woman like mother taken out day and night at allhours, just to give you a jolly time."
"But, really, my dears, I am not an old woman," said Mrs. Chetwyndindignantly.
"Well, mother, you are not as young as you used to be. You are forty, ifyou are a day, and no one at forty can be called a chicken. It's muchmore healthy for you to go to bed in good time. Oh, I have read a lotabout society and all its trash. It just encourages one to be terriblyimmoral."
"Immoral! my dear Eileen. It's awful to hear you speak."
"But it's true, mother. For instance, people tell no end of fibs--lies Icall them. They say they are not at home when they are; they pretend tobe delighted to see a person who in reality they loathe. Oh, I amacquainted with the ghastly round; and if you think I am going to letmyself in for it you are mistaken. But, dear old mammy, you shan't beworried any longer; we will go out with you now, and we'll be as good asgold, and you shall get us each a new dark-blue serge dress and a newsailor hat, and a pair of thick dogskin gloves. Surely that is en
ough."
"And what about evening dresses, and Sunday dresses, and visitingdresses?" said Mrs. Chetwynd.
"As to Sunday dresses," cried Marjorie, "I don't see why neat sergedresses should not do quite well for church; and as to visiting dresses,we do not intend to visit in the ordinary sense. The friend who does notwish to see us in our serge costumes we do not intend to cultivate."
"There are still evening dresses, my dear."
"But, mother, you are not going to take us out to dinners?"
"You must have one or two dinner dresses," said Mrs. Chetwynd, "and thatis an end of the matter. Go upstairs and put on your hats. I am ashamedto go out with you as matters now stand."
The two girls left the room linking their arms together. Letitiaremained behind.
"May I ask, Letitia," said Mrs. Chetwynd, "when this madness seizedMarjorie and Eileen?"
"It has been coming on gradually," said Letitia. "It is very bad, Iknow. I was afraid you would suffer a good deal when they explainedthemselves."
"But when did it begin?"
"Well, two or three girls--Americans, I think--joined the school lastterm, and Marjorie and Eileen became great friends with them; and justabout then they began to change. They were always careless with regardto their dress, and would not allow Miss Ross--our English teacher whohad us under her special care--to spend the money which you sent on dressat all."
"And do you mean to tell me that Miss Ross consulted them?"
"Well, Aunt Helen, they had an extraordinary way of pleading their owncause. I cannot understand it. They have saved a good deal of money, ifthat is any satisfaction."
"None whatever, child. I have got more money than I know what to dowith, and I choose my girls to look nice. Letitia, what a pity it is youare not my own child."
"For some reasons I wish I were, Aunt Helen."
"You are so very neat, dear, so very dainty--that is the only word forit. What am I to do with those other two?"
"I am dreadfully afraid you will have to give them their own way."
"Their own way! Nonsense, my dear! impossible. Children, only eighteen."
"But old enough, according to your own showing, Aunt Helen, to bepresented to the Queen, to enter society, and to marry if suitablehusbands come to the fore."
"Of course; but they would be presented to the Queen by their mother;they would enter society under their mother's wing; and if they married,their husbands would look after them. Now to allow those wild imps,those irresponsible girls, to have their own way is not to be heard offor a single moment."
"Well, Aunt Helen, I am sure it will come right in the end. They arequeer, obstinate, out-of-the-way girls; but they have got finecharacters, and would not willingly pain you. The only thing is thatthey look at life from a totally different standpoint. I'll have a rightgood talk with them, so try not to fret. I will put it to them that itis their bounden duty to yield to you. They often mind what I say whenthey won't mind their elders. But is not that the carriage? Had not Ibetter get ready?"
