by Sophie May
CHAPTER XVIII
ALMA'S SHILLING
By ten o'clock Betty had made another shilling, having caught theworkers of the city as they were going to their day's toil.
And it must be owned it was a mysterious "something" about the childherself that arrested what attention she drew. Perhaps it lay in thefresh rosiness of her face, in the clearness of her sweet eyes, in thebrightness of her young hair; for her courage ebbed away so soon as twoor three were gathered around her; her voice sank to a whisper, shedrooped her head, trifled with one wristband or the other, stood firston one foot and then on the other, and displayed the various signs ofnervousness Mr. Sharman's stern eye provoked her to.
At eleven o'clock, John, who had made threepence by carrying a bag fora lady, looked Betty up at the appointed corner and proposed lemonadeand currant buns, for which she was quite ready.
Afterwards they stood for a valuable half-hour outside the waxworks andexplored the markets, where Betty sang "Scatter seeds of kindness," inspite of John's solemnly given advice to keep it for Sunday. Here sheonly made a penny halfpenny by her song, but as she said to John--
"Every one must expect some bad hours."
Then, too, there was in her heart a feeling of certainty that a keeneyed, bent shouldered old gentleman would be passing soon, and carry heraway straight to the very threshold of fame, as Madam S----'s oldgentleman carried _her_.
When they had become thoroughly acquainted with the markets, Johnsuggested she should again "count up," with a view of deciding what sortof lodgings she could afford for the night.
Betty had not thought of such a trivial thing, leaving it possibly forher old gentleman to settle. But she was more than willing to "countup" again.
So they went into a corner behind a deserted fruit stall, sat down uponan empty case, and made little stacks of pennies and half-pennies andsmall silver coins.
She had two shillings and a penny, she found in all, and John told hershe could afford to go to one of the places he had seen this morning,where a bed and breakfast were to be had for sixpence.
"I have seen some places where they charge a shilling," said John. "Itseems an awful lot to pay for a bed and a bit of breakfast. But asixpenny place will do for you, and as you're only twelve they mighttake you for threepence."
"And where will you go?" asked Betty anxiously.
"Oh, I'd be sixpence, you see, because I'm thirteen and a half," saidJohn. "I can't afford to pay sixpence. It's always harder for a fellowto get on than for a girl. That's why you hear more about self-made menthan self-made women--they're thought more of. No bed for me, I expect,for some time to come. I'll have to sleep in the Domain. I heard afellow talking this morning, and he said he's been sleeping there for aweek now. And, you know, Peterborough, the artist I told youabout--well, he slept for a week in a _barrel_!"
"How much money have you got?" asked Betty.
"Eightpence!" said John. "No one seems to want an errand boy to-day."
Betty began to feel very doleful at being one step above John in thisthe beginning of their career. But she dared not offer to lend to him,he had been so very insistent upon paying her back her penny, and payingfor his own breakfast and lemonade and buns.
He took her and showed her two houses which bore the words, "Bed andbreakfast, 6_d._!" and then he led the way to the Domain, having beenthrough it many times with his grandfather, while to stay-at-home Bettyit was no more than a name. Macquarie Street lay asleep as theytravelled through it and past Parliament House and the Hospital and thePublic Library.
It never for a moment occurred to Betty that Dot was domiciled in thatstreet of big high houses and hushed sounds. She knew Dot's schooladdress was "Westmead House, Macquarie Street," but she had not theremotest idea that she and John were travelling down Macquarie Streetpast Westmead House.
Just inside the Domain gates they paused to admire Governor Burke'sstatue, and to count their money again in its shade.
Then John pointed out to her the tree-shaded path that runs toWoollomooloo Bay and the great sweeping grass stretch that lay on oneside of it.
Many men were there already, full length upon the grass, their hats overtheir eyes, asleep or callous to waking.
Betty at once signified her intention of spending her first night outhere, also, and pointed to a seat under a Norfolk Island pine tree.
"We could be quite cosy there," she said, "and you could lend me yourcoat."
"But I'd want it myself," said John.
"John in _Girls and Boys Abroad_ used always to give Virginia his coat,"said Betty.
It was slightly to the right of Governor Burke's statue that Betty wasinspired to sing "Yield not to temptation," standing with her back tothe iron railing.
And it was just as she was being carried out of herself and singing hershrillest in the second verse that Miss Arnott, the English governess inWestmead House, brought her line of pupils for their dailyconstitutional down the Domain.
Pretty Dot, and the judge's daughter, Nellie Harden, were at the head ofthe line, and were conversing in an affable manner and low voices uponthe newest trimmings for summer hats, when the little couple near thestatue came into view.
Betty's eyes were downcast that she might not be distracted by heraudience, but John, who was clinging to the railing near her, saw themarching school, saw Dot, and knew that she had seen.
"Each victory will help you Some other to win,"
sang Betty shrilly.
Dot's face went white, sheet white. She heard the judge's daughter speakof eau de nil chiffon, and a hat turned up at the side. She was at thehead of thirty fashionable "young ladies," and a fashionable younggoverness was close by. She wore her best shoes (the ones with thetoe-caps of Russian leather) and her best dress (white with the goldsilk sash given by Alma Montague).
And there was Betty--dreadful scapegrace Betty, barefooted, dirty faced,bare-headed (her bonnet was of course under her arm), singing songs forcoppers!
Dot coughed, went white, choked, and walked on. She simply had not thecourage to step out from that line of fashionable demoiselles and claimher little sister.
But Alma Montague, who carried her purse for the purchase of chocolatenougats should a favourable opportunity occur, had her tender littleheart touched by Betty's face and song.
"Each victory will help you Some other to win."
spoke directly to her, and her longing for chocolate nougats. She onlyhad a shilling in her purse, wonderful to relate, and she and herconscience had a sharp short battle. Chocolate nougats or--pitifulhunger! Her face flushed as conscience won the battle.
The next second she had slipped out of line and run across to Betty.
"Here; little girl!" she said, and thrust a shilling into Betty's hand.
The little singer looked up, shy and startled, and her song died on herlips while her eyes plainly rejoiced over the shilling.
Then the English governess awoke from a happy day-dream and sharplyordered Alma back to her place.
"You should have asked permission," she said stiffly. "I cannot havesuch disorders. I will punish you when we return to school!"
Just as if the lost chocolates were not punishment enough.
The deed and the reprimand travelled along the line, whispered frommouth to mouth, till it came to Dot.
"That silly Alma Montague," the whisper ran, "has just broken line togive her money to that little beggar girl. She gave a shilling. She wasgoing to buy chocolate nougats. Miss Arnott's going to punish her."
Dot's sensitive soul shuddered over the terrible Betty. If she had beenlooking up instead of down! If she had rushed forward and claimed herbefore the eyes of the wondering school! If Miss Arnott had known! IfAlma Montague had known! If any one of all those thirty girls had evenguessed!
The very possibility was so dreadful that Dot found herself unable todiscuss fashion for all the rest of that constitutional.
But later on in the day, in the evening, when the lamps
were alight, shehad crept away by herself to wonder where madcap Betty was. She feltquite sure she would go home again quite safely, she was always doingterrible things without any harm coming to her.
The tears that fell from Dot's eyes were not for Betty, but altogetherfor herself. She had disowned, by not owning, her sister! She had beenafraid to step forward before those thirty pairs of eyes and say, "Thisis my sister!" And she felt as one guilty of a mean and dishonourabledeed.
"I will tell every girl in the school in the morning," she said; andthen, as her repentance increased: "I will tell them to-night."
And to her credit be it spoken, she descended to the schoolroom andweepingly told her story.
Some of the girls laughed, most of them "longed to know Betty," and allof the "intimate" friends tried to comfort Dot.
"You're _such_ a darling," said Mona. "You've made us all love you morethan ever."
She was very enthusiastic for she _felt_ that Dot had been afraid andhad conquered fear.
