CHAPTER VII
MAUD MIDDLETON'S PARTY
'Methinks, good friend, to-day I scarce do know thee, The fashion of thy manner hath so changed.'
'Oh, Aunt Helen!' cried Peggy, bursting into the dining-room oneafternoon, where her aunt was busy adding up accounts, 'can't we all goto Maud Middleton's party?'
'And who is Maud Middleton, I should like to know?' inquired Aunt Helen,pausing in the midst of her butcher's bill. 'I have not heard youmention her before. Is she one of your schoolfellows?'
'Oh no, she's the _dearest_ girl! They have a French governess, but theygo to the dancing-class on Fridays, and Maud and I always dancetogether, and I simply _love_ her!' said Peggy, who was apt to take upfriendships with enthusiasm.
'But, my dear child, you have not yet told me who she is. I cannot haveyou making friends with any shopkeeper's daughter from Warford.'
'Oh, they're not at all like that!' declared Peggy. 'Maud's just lovely,with long yellow curls right down to her waist, and Muriel's almostgrown up, though she's only as old as Lilian. She wears combs in herhair, and has the sweetest blue dress, trimmed with pearl trimmings!'
'That is no patent of good breeding, I am afraid,' said Aunt Helen,smiling. 'Lilian, can't you tell me something more about this latestidol of Peggy's?'
'They really seem very nice girls, Auntie,' said Lilian. 'I think youwould like them. They have taken Redlands--that pretty house just beyondthe toll-bridge on the other side of Warford. Major Middleton has beenappointed Adjutant to the volunteers. They lived in India for a longtime, and then in London before they came here. Muriel plays the violin,and they know ever so many musical people, and go to the concerts everyweek at the Assembly Rooms. It is Maud's birthday on the thirteenth, andthey have invited us all three. Mrs. Middleton was at the dancing-classto-day, and spoke to us herself. She said she "hoped so much that ourAunt would allow us to accept." We should like to go immensely,' addedLilian with a wistful sigh, as she remembered Muriel's accounts of thegrand piano, and the Stradivarius violin which was her latestacquisition.
'Go and ask Father, then,' said Aunt Helen. 'And if he says "Yes," Isuppose it will be all right.'
'Oh, thank you!' cried Peggy, who knew that Father would not be likelyto resist the combined coaxings of the trio. 'We must write to Maudto-night. She'll be as pleased as we are!'
And she executed a little war-dance of delight out in the hall. Such athing as a party was a great event in the children's calendar. They hadfew invitations, for there was little visiting now at the Abbey; theanomaly of a country gentleman who ploughed his own fields was felt tobe too much for the neighbouring squires, and one by one the 'county'had ceased to call. Truly adversity is a great winnower of friendships.It is but the staunchest who will stick to us through our troubles,while those who love us for what we have, instead of what we are, fallaway like chaff at the first breath of ill-fortune.
Poor Lilian's anticipations, however, were doomed to sad disappointment,for when the much-talked-of day arrived, it brought her such a badheadache that she readily agreed with Aunt Helen's decree that she wasbetter at home. She took it very patiently, poor child! and camedownstairs to see the others start off in the little pony-trap, Bobbyresplendent in a clean white sailor suit, and Peggy in a pale-bluesprigged muslin dress, which Aunt Helen had toiled hard to finish intime. To be sure, it was only made out of the last summer's frock whichLilian had outgrown, but it looked as good as new, and the colour suitedher.
'How nice you look!' said Lilian, gazing with admiration at the grayeyes and pretty brown curls under the little white hat, and thinkingthat Peggy grew more and more like the Romney portrait which hung on thedrawing-room wall.
'Mind you behave yourselves!' said Aunt Helen. 'And don't forget tothank Mrs. Middleton when you say good-bye.'
'Bless 'em!' said Nancy. 'There won't be any other folk's children therethat can beat 'em, to my mind!'
Father was waving a good-bye from the stackyard. Joe held the gate openwith a grin of broadest appreciation, and even old David peeped out ofthe stable door to witness the departure. So they started off in greatstyle, and in the very highest of spirits. It was a perfect day for aparty--warm enough to make it pleasant to be out of doors, yet not toohot for comfort, and a blue sky without a hint of rain clouds. Pixiewas fresh, and kept up a fine pace, scarcely slacking for the hills, sothey soon got over the ground. They were within a mile of Warford, andwere going along at a quick trot, when, without any warning, a carriageand pair came suddenly dashing up behind from a side road, and passedthem, giving such scant room that if Peggy had not been a clever littledriver, and turned Pixie smartly into the hedge, an accident couldscarcely have been avoided. Two little girls, the only occupants of thecarriage, turned round to stare, but neither the grand cockaded coachmannor the tall footman on the box even looked back to see how the childrenhad fared.
'How rude!' cried Peggy in great indignation. 'I should like to callthem back, and teach them good manners. They nearly grazed our wheel. Idon't think they were more than half an inch off!'
'I wish they had,' declared Bobby, 'and then they would have spoilttheir own varnish. It would just have served them right!'
'I wonder who they are?' said Peggy. 'I never remember seeing thatcarriage before; but they seem to think the road belongs to them,anyhow. If David had been with us I don't believe they would have doneit; but most people are so nice when they see children driving alone.Never mind, we're nearly in Warford now.'
It was exactly three o'clock when the children drove up the drive atRedlands. A number of guests were already assembled on the lawn, bothgrown-ups and children, a very smart company indeed, holding up such gayparasols that they looked like a flock of bright butterflies.
Maud came forward as Peggy drew up with a little prim company manner.
'How d'you do, Peggy? How d'you do, Bobby?' she said. 'Lilian not come?Oh, _so_ sorry! You've not brought your groom? George, just run into thehouse, will you, and ring for Withers to take this trap to the stables.Now, won't you come and speak to mother?'
Mrs. Middleton was standing chatting with a number of elegantly-dressedladies, and for a moment she gazed at the children with blankunrecognition.
'Margaret Vaughan, Mother,' prompted Maud.
'Of course--of course!' said Mrs. Middleton. 'I hope you have broughtyour sisters, my dear. We were charmed with them at the dancing-class.And your brother? Oh yes; the sweet little boy who looks exactly like aChristmas-card!'
Inwardly hugely indignant at such a description of his manly charms,Bobby came forward politely to shake hands, and was marched offafterwards by good-natured George Middleton to make up a cricket eleven.
'Perhaps you will find somebody here you know, dear,' said Mrs.Middleton to Peggy, as Maud turned away to welcome new guests. 'Thereare several of your little friends from the dancing-class here thisafternoon.'
Peggy walked slowly towards the group of children upon the lawn. Therewere a few girls whom she knew, but they only nodded, and did not comeforward to speak to her. A sudden wave of shyness came over her, and shestood apart, feeling somehow very much out of it, and longing for thesupport of Lilian's presence.
There were two little girls in charming lace frocks and white Tuscanhats, with ostrich plumes, standing close by, whom Peggy recognised atonce as the occupants of the carriage which had nearly upset them onthe road. The recognition seemed to be mutual, for the elder childnudged the younger, and Peggy could see that they were looking her upand down, and evidently taking in all the details of her costume. TheVaughans had not been brought up to think much about clothes, but Peggyfelt suddenly, with a little pang, that the muslin frock, which they hadall thought so pretty when she started off, looked hopelessly homemadeand unfashionable compared with the elaborate toilets of most of theother guests.
Somehow Maud, too, seemed quite a different person this afternoon towhat she had done before. She had put on a languid, affected manner, andsailed about, shakin
g back her long curls, and trying to be verygrown-up and stylish, and she did not take any more notice of Peggy, norcome up to introduce her to other people, and make her feel happy and athome. There were a great many elder people present, but they all stoodlaughing and talking together, and nobody seemed to think of amusing thechildren, except Mademoiselle, the French governess, who wasendeavouring to make the young people talk to each other, instead ofstanding about shyly on the grass.
'Would you like a game of croquet, Margaret?' said Muriel, noticing atlast that Peggy stood unfriended and alone. 'Some of the others aregoing to play. Do you know Phyllis and Marjorie Norton?' indicating theowners of the lace frocks. 'Perhaps you will excuse my coming; I have somany people to see to. Mademoiselle will act as umpire.'
Marjorie gave Peggy a limp hand, but Phyllis only stared. Mademoisellewas dealing out the mallets and arranging the sides with much energy,estimating the players with a keen eye to their possible capacities.
Peggy knew it was unreasonable of her to feel so bitterly disappointed.It was all so different, somehow, to what she had expected. Accustomedto little quiet schoolgirl parties, she had not thought there would besuch a large and fashionable assembly of guests, and had hoped that shewould have her dear Maud to herself for a short time, at any rate, andbe shown the doves, and the white pony, and the Indian cabinet, and theother treasures which her friend had so often described to her duringthe dancing-class. She tried to banish the rather chilled feeling.
'Of course, I can't expect Maud to attend only to me,' she thought.'There are such heaps of people here to-day. I wish they would let meplay with the boys. I should have liked it far better.'
But the croquet had already begun, so Peggy threw her whole energy intothe game. She excelled in all outdoor sports, having a keen eye and atrue stroke, and was soon absorbed in making her hoops and helping onher partners, two quiet little girls considerably younger than herself,who seemed never to have played before, to judge by their absolute lackof skill. Peggy was standing waiting for her turn, while the othersclustered round a rather difficult stroke of Marjorie Norton's, when shesaw Phyllis, whose ball had been left distinctly wired, hurriedly pushit with her foot into a better position. Peggy had been accustomed fromher babyhood to 'play fair,' so she opened her eyes wide to see suchdeliberate cheating. Phyllis, who had thought herself unobserved,happened at that moment to look up, and met Peggy's glance, which wascertainly not a flattering one. She flushed scarlet, and kicked the ballback to its former place.
'I only moved it by accident,' she said haughtily. 'You have no need toglare at me like that!'
Peggy dropped her eyes and strolled away. It was a little incident, andshe had not spoken a word, yet she had an unpleasant feeling that themere fact of having noticed the act had made her an enemy.
'Ver' good!' Mademoiselle was saying. 'A splendide stroke! You shalltake two hoops, and send ze black ball avay. Tiens! You have missed! Itis zen ze turn of Mees Marguerite.'
Peggy's next piece of play was so brilliant that it decided the game,and, to the great delight of her little partners, they all pegged out,amid the cold applause of their opponents and the ecstatic admiration ofMademoiselle.
All the guests were now summoned to tea, which was set out on littletables under the trees, and showed a tempting display of cakes andstrawberries and cream, while attentive servants bustled about with cupsand plates. Much against her inclinations, Peggy found herself sittingside by side with Phyllis Norton. Bobby was a long way off, among ajolly set of boys, whose shouts of laughter Peggy listened to withwistful ears, and her small partners had been borne away by an eldersister. Phyllis sat for some time stealing glances at Peggy from underher lashes.
'I believe we passed you this afternoon, coming here,' she remarked atlast. 'Weren't you driving that queer little pony-cart?'
'Yes; your coachman nearly ran over us. I don't think he's a very gooddriver,' replied Peggy.
'Oh, Wilkins always takes the middle of the road, and makes everyoneelse get out of the way,' said Phyllis calmly. 'Do you live at this sideof Warford? I don't remember seeing you before.'
'We live at Gorswen Abbey,' answered Peggy.
'Oh, I know; that old farmhouse by the river. We've often passed it onour way to Wyngates. Why, you're quite in the country! Do you go toschool, or have you a governess?'
'I go to Warford High School. We drive in every day.'
'To the _High_ School!' said Phyllis, with uplifted eyebrows. 'Well, Isuppose it's all right for farmer's daughters. Marjorie and I go to aLondon boarding school.'
Peggy was furious. If she could only have thought of a suitable retort,she would have said something stinging; but usually our smartest remarksoccur to us when the occasion has long passed by, and perhaps it is allthe better, for we are saved from bitter words, which, once spoken, arenot easily forgotten by the hearers, however keenly we may regret themourselves. As it was, she could only walk away with what dignity shecould summon; for tea was over, the boys were rushing back to cricket,and the girls collecting in little groups to arrange tennis sets.
'Come and look round the garden, Peggy,' said Maud, at last taking somenotice of her friend. 'We've scarcely seen anything of you all theafternoon!'
Peggy forebore to remark that it was not her fault, and, cheering up alittle, she joined the select circle whom Maud was conducting throughthe greenhouses and conservatories. The Middletons had a fine collectionof orchids and rare plants, which were much admired by the youngvisitors, though simple Peggy could not help thinking they were not halfso pretty as the roses and lilies in the old garden at home, andcertainly the grand Scotch gardener was not nearly so nice as David orJoe, for he seemed quite to resent their presence and followed themabout grimly, for fear they should disturb anything, or pluck any ofthe fruit or flowers.
'We're going to London next week,' drawled Maud, in her most grown-upmanner. 'We've taken a house in Mayfair. Mother always likes to go upfor a while during the season. We've so many friends, don't you know. Iexpect we shall have a lovely time. We drive in the Park every day, andfather has promised to take us to "Lohengrin." Have you seen it, Linda?'
Linda had not seen it, but she had been to other operas, and was onlytoo pleased to air her knowledge, so the conversation turned upon playsand actors, and Peggy, who had never been inside a theatre in her life,could only stand and listen. She felt so shy and stupid, and so apartfrom the other girls, that she began to wish heartily that she had nevercome, and long for the hour when it would be time to go home, and evento wonder how she could ever have thought she liked Maud somuch--'though she was quite different to this at the dancing-lessons,'she reflected.
A welcome diversion came outside, however, in the shape of a beautifulwhite Persian kitten, who submitted to pettings with graciouscondescension, arching her back and purring loudly.
'I'll fetch Carlo,' said Maud, who was genuinely fond of her pets, andliked to show them to an appreciative audience.
And she returned in a moment, leading a fine St. Bernard by the collar.
But Carlo's mistress had not calculated upon his love of sport, for nosooner did the naughty dog see the white kitten than he simply went forit, and puss only saved her life by springing up a yew-tree close by.The poor little creature was so terrified that she leaped from bough tobough, till suddenly losing her foothold, she fell with a crash, andhung suspended by her neck in the fork of a branch.
'Oh, look at her! She'll be hanged! Whatever shall I do?' shrieked Maud,wringing her hands helplessly in an agony of alarm.
'Call the gardener, or somebody,' suggested Linda.
But an animal in trouble was a sight which flung Peggy's shyness to thewinds, and she sprang like a knight-errant to the rescue. She was up theyew-tree in two leaps and a bound, and by crawling along an overhangingbough, clinging to a branch, and making a long arm, she managed to seizepuss by the scruff of her neck, and release her from her dangerousposition.
'Oh, thank you!' said Maud, as Peggy c
ame down from the tree, withgrazed hands and rumpled frock. 'You're really too good! Withers mighthave fetched her with a ladder. Look how you've torn your dress!'
'Never mind my dress. She'd have been dead if I'd waited anothermoment,' remarked Peggy dryly, feeling rather snubbed; for several ofthe girls were smiling, as if they thought she had been a little tooenthusiastic.
'Well done!' cried a voice from the background, and a tall,brown-bearded man, who had been a silent spectator of the whole scene,came forward to join the group.
'Mr. Neville!' exclaimed Maud. 'Where did you spring from?'
'Only arrived ten minutes ago, just in time to witness a most gallantact. Please introduce me to the heroine, who, I think, is a true friendin need. What, Miss Peggy Vaughan? Any relation to the Vaughans ofGorswen Abbey? Then, my dear, I am very pleased to make youracquaintance, for I knew your father long ago, and your grandfathertoo.'
"MAKING A LONG ARM, SHE MANAGED TO SEIZE PUSS BY THESCRUFF OF HER NECK."]
Peggy liked her new friend at once; his twinkling blue eyes, his bronzedface, his jovial voice, and rather unconventional dress, seemed to markhim as distinct and different to other people. His arrival seemed toalter the whole atmosphere. Maud's supercilious manner slipped away fromher like magic, and she became once more the pleasant Maud of thedancing-class, and her friends, feeling the change, soon left off tryingto be poor little imitations of grown-up people, and began at last toenjoy themselves; for true enjoyment does not consist in showing off,but in being our simple, natural selves, if people would only believeit.
'Now then, what are you all doing?' cried Mr. Neville. 'The boys playingcricket by themselves, and the girls mooning about, keeping their frocksnice? Scandalous! Come along, all of you, and we'll get up some mixedsports. I stopped in the town, and filled my pockets with prizes, when Iheard you were having a party. I am sure a young lady who can climb atree looks capable of doing a high jump!'
After that the rest of the afternoon simply flew. Mr. Neville was acapital organizer, and had such a delightful way with children that theyall made friends with him in five minutes. He impounded the grown-ups inthe sports, and his jolly, hearty good spirits seemed so infectious thatalmost before they realized what they were doing, elegant ladies wereholding up skipping-ropes, and smart young gentlemen flung off theircoats, and forgot their high collars in the enthusiasm of the contests.Even Phyllis Norton was shrieking in a potato-race, and only laughedwhen she fell and soiled her immaculate lace frock.
As for Peggy, she was quite in her element. Long jumps, high jumps,handicaps, sack-races, three-legged races--she was ready to compete inall, and, to her delight, won several prizes, while Bobby, too, gainedhis share of laurels.
The unfashionable muslin dress, with its long rent, was forgotten, andseveral people asked who that charming little girl was, with the sweetgray eyes and the pretty hair, who could run so splendidly.
'Vaughan? I remember a Vaughan up at Brazenose in my first year atOxford. A fine-looking fellow he was, too!' said a heavily-moustachedofficer, regarding Peggy with a critical eye.
'Her father, no doubt. They're a very old family--quite one of thecounty, in fact,' said Mrs. Middleton, gushing over her small guest, nowshe found she was a success.
Maud hugged Peggy when she said good-bye in quite her old affectionatemanner, and Muriel remembered to send her love to Lilian, and say shewas sorry for her absence, a fact she had scarcely seemed to noticebefore.
As for Mr. Neville, Peggy confided to Aunt Helen, when she got home,that she liked him the best of any gentleman she had ever seen, next toFather.
'He's been out in India for ten years, Auntie--that's where he knew theMiddletons--but he says he lived in England once, and used to come toGorswen when grandfather was alive. Do you remember him?'
'I think I do,' replied Aunt Helen shortly, with a flush on the cheekthat was still so smooth and pretty.
'Then don't you think,' persisted Peggy, 'that he is _quite_ the nicestman you've ever met?'
'Go to bed, children,' said Aunt Helen. 'Here's Bobby so sleepy he canscarcely keep his eyes open. You shall tell me all about the partyto-morrow.'
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