Beechcroft at Rockstone

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'Oh! I'm in middle form, under Miss Edgar. Disgusting! It's only
the third form that go up to Smiler. She knows it is no use to try
to take Stebbing and Burfield.'

'And, Gill,' added Val, 'I'm in second class too, and I took three
places for knowing where Teheran was, and got above Kitty Varley and
a girl there two years older than I am, and her name is Maura.'

'Maura, how very odd! I never heard of any one called Maura but one
of the Whites,' said Gillian. 'What was her surname?'

This Valetta could not tell, and at the moment Mrs. Mount came up
with intent to brush Miss Valetta's hair, and to expedite the going
to bed.

Gillian, not very happy about the revelations she had heard, went
downstairs, and found her younger aunt alone, Miss Mohun having been
summoned to a conference with one of her clients in the parish room.
In her absence Gillian always felt more free and communicative, and
she had soon told whatever she did not feel as a sort of confidence,
including Valetta's derivation of spooning, and when Miss Mohun
returned it was repeated to her.

'Yes,' was her comment, 'children's play is a convenient cover to the
present form of flirtation. No doubt Bee Varley and Mr. Marlowe
believe themselves to have been most good-natured.'

'Who is he, and will it come to anything?' asked Aunt Ada, taking her
sister's information for granted.

'Oh no, it is nothing. A civil service man, second cousin's brother-
in-law's stepson. That's quite enough in these days to justify
fraternal romping.'

'I thought Beatrice Varley a nice girl.'

'So she is, my dear. It is only the spirit of the age, and, after
all, this deponent saith not which was the dish and which was the
spoon. Have the children made any other acquaintances, I wonder?
And how did George Stebbing comport himself in the omnibus? I was
sorry to see him there; I don't trust that boy.'

'I wonder they didn't send him in solitary grandeur in the brougham,'
said Miss Ada.

Gillian held the history of the pea-shooting as a confidence, even
though Aunt Jane seemed to have been able to see through the omnibus,
so she contented herself with asking who George Stebbing was.

'The son of the manager of the marble works; partner, I believe.'

'Yes,' said Aunt Ada. 'the Co. means Stebbing primarily.'

'Is he a gentleman?'

'Well, as much as old Mr. White himself, I suppose. He is come up
here---more's the pity---to the aristocratic quarter, if you please,'
said Aunt Jane, smiling, 'and if garden parties are not over, Mr.
Stebbing may show you what they can be.'

'That boy ought to be at a public school,' said her sister. 'I hope
he doesn't bully poor little Fergus.'

'I don't think he does,' said Gillian. 'Fergus seemed rather to
admire him.'

'I had rather hear of bullying than patronage in that quarter,' said
Miss Mohun. 'But, Gillian, we must impress on the children that they
are to go to no one's house without express leave. That will avoid
offence, and I should prefer their enjoying the society of even the
Varleys in this house.'

Did Aunt Jane repent of her decision on the Thursday half-holiday
granted to Mrs. Edgar's pupils, when, in the midst of the working
party round the dining-room table, in a pause of the reading, some
one said, 'What's that!'---and a humming, accompanied by a drip, drop,
drip, drop, became audible?

Up jumped Miss Mohun, and so did Gillian, half in consternation, half
to shield the boy from her wrath. In a few moments they beheld a
puddle on the mat at the bottom of the oak stairs, while a stream was
descending somewhat as the water comes down at Lodore, while Fergus's
voice could be heard above---

'Don't, Varley! You see how it will act. The string of the humming-
top moves the pump handle, and that spins. Oh!'

'Master Fergus! Oh---h, you bad boy!'

The shriek was caused by the avenging furies who had rushed up the
back stairs just as Miss Mohun had darted up the front, so as to
behold, on the landing between the two, the boys, one spinning the
top, the other working the pump which stood in its own trough of
water, receiving a reckless supply from the tap in the passage. The
maid's scream of 'What will your aunt say?' was answered by her
appearance, and rush to turn the cock.

'Don't, don't, Aunt Jane,' shouted Fergus; 'I've almost done it!
Perpetual motion.' He seemed quite unconscious that the motion was
kept up by his own hands, and even dismay could not turn him from
being triumphant.

'Oh! Miss Jane,' cried Mrs. Mount, 'if I had thought what they boys
was after.'

'Mop it up, Alice,' said Aunt Jane to the younger girl. 'No don't
come up, Ada; it is too wet for you. It is only a misdirected
experiment in hydraulics.'

'I told him not,' said Clement Varley, thinking affairs serious.

'Fergus, I am shocked at you,' said Gillian sternly. 'You are
frightfully wet. You must be sent to bed.'

'You must go and change,' said Aunt Jane, preventing the howl about
to break forth. 'My dear boy, that tap must be let alone. We can't
have cataracts on the stairs.'

'I didn't mean it, Aunt Jane; I thought it was an invention,' said
Fergus.

'I know; but another time come and ask me where to try your
experiments. Go and take off those clothes; and you, Clement, you
are soaking too. Run home at once.'

Gillian, much scandalised, broke out---

'It is very naughty. At home, he would be sent to bed at once.'

'I am not Mrs. Halfpenny, Gillian,' said Aunt Jane coldly.

'Jane has a soft spot for inventions, for Maurice's sake,' said her
sister.

'I can't confound ingenuity and enterprise with wanton mischief, or
crush it out for want of sympathy,' said Miss Mohun. 'Come, we must
return to our needles.'

If Aunt Jane had gone into the state of wrath to be naturally
expected, Gillian would have risen in arms on her brother's behalf,
and that would have been much pleasanter than the leniency which made
her views of justice appear like unkindness.

This did not dispose her to be the better pleased at an entreaty from
the two children to be allowed to join Mrs. Hablot's class on Sunday.
It appeared that they had asked Aunt Jane, and she had told them that
their sister knew what their mother would like.

'But I am sure she would not mind,' said Valetta. 'Only think, she
has got a portfolio with pictures of everything all through the
Bible!'

'Yes,' added Fergus, 'Clem told me. There are the dogs eating
Jezebel, and such a jolly picture of the lion killing the prophet.
I do want to see them! Varley told me!'

'And Kitty told me,' added Valetta. 'She is reading such a book to
them. It is called The Beautiful Face, and is all about two children
in a wood, and a horrid old grandmother and a dear old hermit, and a
wicked baron in a castle! Do let us go, Gillyflower.

'Yes,' said Fergus; 'it would be ever so much better fun than poking
here'

'You don't want fun on Sunday.'

'Not fun exactly, but it is nicer.'

'To leave me, the last bit of home, and mamma's own lessons.'

'They ain't mamma's,' protested Fergus; but Valetta was touched by
the tears in Gillian's eyes, kissed her, and declared, 'Not that.'

Whether it were on purpose or not, the next Sunday was eminently
unsuccessful; the Collects were imperfect, the answers in the
Catechism recurred to disused babyish blunders; Fergus twisted
himself into preternatural attitudes, and Valetta teased the Sofy to
scratching point, they yawned ferociously at The Birthday, and would
not be interested even in the pony's death. Then when they went out
walking, they would not hear of the sober Rockstone lane, but
insisted on the esplanade, where they fell in with the redoubtable
Stebbing, who chose to patronise instead of bullying 'little Merry'---
and took him off to the tide mark---to the agony of his sisters, when
they heard the St. Andrew's bell.

At last, when the tempter had gone off to higher game, Fergus's
Sunday boots and stockings were such a mass of black mud that Gillian
had to drag him home in disgrace, sending Valetta into church alone.
She would have put him to bed on her own responsibility, but she
could not master him; he tumbled about the room, declaring Aunt Jane
would do no such thing, rolled up his stockings in a ball, and threw
them in his sister's face.

Gillian retired in tears, which she let no one see, not even Aunt
Ada, and proceeded to record in her letter to India that those
dreadful boys were quite ruining Fergus, and Aunt Jane was spoiling
him.

However, Aunt Jane, having heard what had become of the youth, met
him in no spoiling mood; and though she never knew of his tussle with
Gillian, she spoke to him very seriously, shut him into his own room,
to learn thoroughly what he had neglected in the morning, and allowed
him no jam at tea. She said nothing to Gillian, but there were
inferences.

The lessons went no better on the following Sunday; Gillian could
neither enforce her authority nor interest the children. She avoided
the esplanade, thinking she had found a nice country walk to the
common beyond the marble works; but, behold, there was an outbreak of
drums and trumpets and wild singing. The Salvation Army was marching
that way, and, what was worse, yells and cat-calls behind showed that
the Skeleton Army was on its way to meet them. Gillian, frightened
almost out of her wits, managed to fly over an impracticable-looking
gate into a field with her children, but Fergus wanted to follow the
drum. After that she gave in. The children went to Mrs. Hablot, and
Gillian thought she saw 'I told you so' in the corners of Aunt Jane's
eyes.

It was a further offence that her aunt strongly recommended her going
regularly to the High School instead of only attending certain
classes. It would give her far more chance of success at the
examination to work with others and her presence would be good for
Valetta. But to reduce her to a schoolgirl was to be resented on
Miss Vincent's account as well as her own.

CHAPTER IV. THE QUEEN OF THE WHITE ANTS

The High School was very large. It stood at present at the end of a
budding branch of Rockquay, where the managers, assisted by the funds
advanced by Lord Rotherwood and that great invisible potentate, the
head of the marble works, had secured and adapted a suitable house,
and a space round it well walled in.

The various classes of students did not see much of each other,
except those who were day boarders and spent the midday recreation
time together. Even those in the same form were only together in
school, as the dressing-room of those who dined there was separate
from that of the others, and they did not come in and out at the same
time. Valetta had thus only really made friends with two or three
more Rockstone girls of about her own age besides Kitty Yarley, with
whom she went backwards and forwards every day, under the escort
provided in turn by the families of the young ladies.

Gillian's studies were for three hours in the week at the High
School, and on two afternoons she learnt from the old organist at
Rockstone Church. She went and came alone, except when Miss Mohun
happened to join her, and that was not often, 'For,' said that lady
to her sister, 'Gillian always looks as if she thought I was acting
spy upon her. I wish I could get on with that girl; I begin to feel
almost as poor Lily did with Dolores.'

'She is a very good girl,' said Miss Adeline.

'So she is; and that makes it all the more trying to be treated like
the Grand Inquisitor.'

'Shall I speak to her? She is always as pleasant as possible with
me.'

'Oh no, don't. It would only make it worse, and prevent you from
having her confidence.'

'Ah, Jane, I have often thought your one want was gentleness,' said
Miss Ada, with the gesture of her childhood---her head a little on one
side. 'And, besides, don't you know what Reggie used to call your
ferret look? Well, I suppose you can't help it, but when you want to
know a thing and are refraining from asking questions, you always
have it more or less.'

'Thank you, Ada. There's nothing like brothers and sisters for
telling one home-truths. I suppose it is the penalty of having been
a regular Paul Pry in my childhood, in spite of poor Eleanor making
me learn "Meddlesome Matty" as soon as I could speak. I always _do_
and always _shall_ have ringing in my ears---

'"Oh! what a pretty box is this,
I'll open it," said little Miss.'

'Well, you know you always do know or find out everything about
everybody, and it is very useful.'

'Useful as a bloodhound is, eh?'

'Oh no, not that, Jenny.'

'As a ferret, or a terrier, perhaps. I suppose I cannot help that,
though,' she added, rather sadly. 'I have tried hard to cure the
slander and gossip that goes with curiosity. I am sorry it results
in repulsion with that girl; but I suppose I can only go on and let
her find out that my bark, or my eye, is worse than my bite.'

'You are so good, so everything, Jenny,' said Adeline, 'that I am
sure you will have her confidence in time, if only you won't poke
after it.'

Which made Miss Mohun laugh, though her heart was heavy, for she had
looked forward to having a friend and companion in the young
generation.

Gillian meantime went her way.

One morning, after her mathematical class was over, she was delayed
for about ten minutes by the head mistress, to whom she had brought a
message from her aunt, and thus did not come out at noon at the same
time as the day scholars. On issuing into the street, where as yet
there was hardly any traffic, except what was connected with the two
schools, she perceived that a party of boys were besetting a little
girl who was trying to turn down the cross road to Bellevue, barring
her way, and executing a derisive war-dance around her, and when she,
almost crying, made an attempt to dash by, pulling at her plaited
tail, with derisive shouts, even Gillian's call, 'Boys, boys, how can
you be so disgraceful!' did not check them. One made a face and put
his tongue out, while the biggest called out, 'Thank you, teacher,'
and Gillian perceived to her horror, that they were no street boys,
but Mrs. Edgar's, and that Fergus was one of them. That he cried in
dismay, 'Don't, Stebbing! It's my sister,' was no consolation, as
she charged in among them, catching hold of her brother, as she said,

'I could not believe that you could behave in such a disgraceful
manner!'

All the other tormentors rushed away headlong, except Stebbing, who,
in some compunction, said---

'I beg your pardon, Miss Merrifield, I had no notion it was you.'

'You are making it no better,' said Gillian. 'The gentlemen I am
used to know how to behave properly to any woman or girl. My father
would be very sorry that my brother has been thrown into such
company.'

And she walked away with her head extremely high, having certainly
given Master Stebbing a good lesson. Fergus ran after her. 'Gill,
Gill, you won't tell.'

'I don't think I ever was more shocked in my life,' returned Gillian.

'But, Gill, she's a nasty, stuck-up, conceited little ape, that Maura
White, or whatever her ridiculous name is. They pretend her father
was an officer, but he was really a bad cousin of old Mr. White's
that ran away; and her mother is not a lady---a great fat disgusting
woman, half a nigger; and Mr. White let her brother and sister be in
the marble works out of charity, because they have no father, and she
hasn't any business to be at the High School.'

'White, did you say? Maura White!' exclaimed Gillian. 'Captain
White dead! Oh, Fergus! it must be Captain White. He was in the
dear old Royal Wardours, and papa thought so much of him! To think
of your going and treating his daughter in that shocking way!'

'It was what Stebbing said,' gruffly answered Fergus.

'If you let yourself be led by these horrid cads---'

'He is no such thing! He is the crack bat of Edgar's---'

'A boy is a cad who can't behave himself to a girl because she is
poor. I really think the apology to me was the worst part or the
matter. He only treats people well when he sees they can take care
of themselves.'

'I'll tell him about Captain White,' said Fergus, a little abashed.

'Yes. And I will get the aunts to call on Mrs. White, and that may
help them to a better level among these vulgar folk.'

'But you won't---' said Fergus, with an expressive pause.

'I won't get you into trouble, for I think you are sorry you treated
one of our own in such a manner.'

'I wouldn't, indeed, if I had known.'

'I shall only explain that I have found out whom Maura belongs to.
I should go and see them at once, only I must make Val find out where
she lives.'

So Gillian returned home, communicating the intelligence with some
excitement that she had discovered that Valetta's schoolmate, Maura
White, was none other than the daughter of her father's old fellow-
soldier, whose death shocked her greatly, and she requested to go and
call on Mrs. White as soon as she could learn her abode.

However, it seemed to be impossible that any one should live in
Rockstone unknown to Aunt Jane.

'White?' she said. 'It can't be the Whites down by Cliffside. No;
there's a father there, though he generally only comes down for
Sunday.'

'I am sure there are some Whites on the Library list,' said Miss Ada.

'Oh yes; but she washes! I know who they must be. I know in
Bellevue there are some; but they go to the Kennel Church. Didn't
you come home, Ada, from that function you went to with Florence,
raving about the handsome youth in the choir?'

'Oh yes, we thought it such an uncommon, foreign face, and he looked
quite inspired when he was singing his solo.'

'Yes; I found out that his name was White, a clerk or something in
the marble works, and that he had a mother and sister living at
Bellevue. I did see the sister when I went to get the marble girls
into the G.F.S., but she said something foolish about her mother not
liking it.'

'Yes; nobody under the St. Kenelm influence ever will come into the
G.F.S.'

'But what is she doing?' asked Gillian. 'Do you mean Kalliope?'

'I suppose I do. I saw a rather nice-looking young woman in the
department where they make Florentine mosaic, and I believe they said
she was Miss White, but she cut me off very short with her mother, so
I had no more to do with her.'

'I am sure mamma would wish me to call on Mrs. White,' said Gillian.

'There's no reason against it,' said Aunt Jane. 'I will go with you
the first day I can.'

When would that be, wondered Gillian. She told Valetta to talk to
Maura and learn the name of the house; and this was ascertained to be
3 Ivinghoe Terrace, Bellevue Road, but Val had very little
opportunity of cultivating the acquaintance of town girls, who did
not stay to dinner, as she had to go home immediately after school,
under Emma Norton's escort, and perhaps she was not very ardent in
the cause, for Kitty Varley and her other friends did not like the
child, and she was more swayed by them than perhaps she liked to
confess to her sister.

Each morning at breakfast Gillian hoped that Aunt Jane would lay out
her day so as to call on Mrs. White; but first there was the working
party, then came the mothers' meeting, followed by afternoon tea at
Mrs. Hablot's for some parish council. On the third day, which might
have been clear, 'a miserable creature,' as Gillian mentally called
her, wrote to beg the Misses Mohun to bring themselves and her niece
to make up a lawn-tennis set, since some one had failed. Gillian
vainly protested that she did not care about lawn tennis, and could
not play unless Jasper was her partner; and Aunt Jane so far sided
with her as to say it was very inconvenient, and on such short notice
they ought not to be expected. But Aunt Ada clearly wanted to go; and
so they went. It was a beautiful place, but Gillian could not enjoy
herself, partly because she knew so few of the people, but more
because she was vexed and displeased about the Whites. She played
very badly; but Aunt Jane, when pressed into the service, skipped
about with her little light figure and proved herself such a splendid
player, doing it so entirely con amore, that Gillian could not but
say to herself, 'She was bent on going; it was all humbug her
pretending to want to refuse.'

That afternoon's dissipation had made it needful to do double work
the next day, and Gillian was again disappointed. Then came
Saturday, when Miss Mohun was never available, nor was she on Monday;
and when it appeared that she had to go to a meeting at the Cathedral
town on Tuesday, Gillian grew desperate, and at her tete-a-tete meal
with Aunt Ada, related the whole history of the Whites, and her great
desire to show kindness to her father's old brother-officer's family,
and how much she was disappointed.

Miss Adeline was touched, and indeed, fond as she was of her sister,
she could not help being flattered by Gillian's preference and
confidence.

'Well, my deal, this is a nice day, not too hot or too cold; I do not
see why I should not walk down with you and call. If I find it too
far, we can take a cab to go back.'

'Oh, thank you, Aunt Ada; it is very very kind of you, and there is
no knowing when Aunt Jane may be able to go. I don't like to close
up my Indian letter till I can say I have seen them.'

Gillian fidgeted a good deal lest, before her aunt's postprandial
repose was over, visitors should come and put a stop to everything,
and she looked ready to cut the throat of a poor lady in a mushroom
hat, who came up to leave a message for Miss Mohun about a possible
situation for one of her class of boys.

However, at last they started, Kunz and all, Miss Adeline quite
infected by Gillian's excitement.

'So your father and mother were very fond of them.'

'Papa thought very highly of him, and was very sorry he had to
return,' said Gillian.

'And she was a beautiful Greek.'

Gillian began to be quite afraid of what she might have said.

'I don't think she is more than half Greek,' she said. 'I believe
her mother was a Gorfiote, but her father was English or Irish. I
believe he kept a shop in Malta.'

'Quite a mixture of nationalities then, and no wonder she is
beautiful. That youth had a very striking profile; it quite reminded
me of a gem as I saw it against the dark pillar.'

'I did not say she was very beautiful now,' said Gillian, feeling a
qualm as she recollected the Queen of the White Ants, and rather
oddly divided between truthfulness, fear of alarming her aunt into
turning back, and desire of giving her a little preparation.

'Ah! those southern beauties soon go on. Some one told me that Lord
Byron's "Maid of Athens," whose portrait I used to think the
loveliest thing in the world, became a great stout woman, but was
quite a mother to all the young Englishmen about. I remember I used
to try to hold my head and keep my eyelids down like the engraving in
an old book that had been my mother's.'

'Oh! I think I have seen it at Beechcroft,' said Gillian, very much
amused, for she now perceived whence arose Aunt Ada's peculiar turn
of the head and droop of the eyelashes, and how the conscious
affectation of childhood had become unconsciously crystallised.

She grew more and more anxious as they found some difficulty in
making out Ivinghoe Terrace, and found it at last to be a row of
rather dilapidated little houses, apparently built of lath and
stucco, and of that peculiar meanness only attained by the modern
suburb. Aunt Ada evidently did not like it at all, and owned herself
almost ready to turn back, being sure that Valetta must have made
some mistake. Gillian repeated that she had always said the Whites
were very poor, but she began to feel that her impatience had misled
her, and that she would have been better off with the aunt who was
used to such places, and whose trim browns and crimsons were always
appropriate everywhere, rather than this dainty figure in delicate
hues that looked only fit for the Esplanade or the kettledrum, and
who was becoming seriously uneasy, as Kunz, in his fresh snowiness,
was disposed to make researches among vulgar remains of crabs and
hakes, and was with difficulty restrained from disputing them with a
very ignoble and spiteful yellow cur of low degree.

No. 3, with its blistered wall and rusty rail, was attained, Kunz was
brought within the enclosure, and Gillian knocked as sharply and fast
as she could, in the fear that her aunt might yet turn about and
escape.

The door was opened with a rapidity that gave the impression that
they had been watched, but it was by a very untidy-looking small
maid, and the parlour into which they were turned had most manifestly
been lately used as the family dining-room, and was redolent of a
mixture of onion, cabbage, and other indescribable odours.

Nobody was there, except a black and white cat, who showed symptoms
of flying at Kunz, but thought better of it, and escaped by the
window, which fortunately was open, though the little maid would have
shut it, but for Miss Adeline's gasping and peremptory entreaty to
the contrary. She sat on the faded sofa, looking as if she just
existed by the help of her fan and scent-bottle, and when Gillian
directed her attention to the case of clasps and medals and the
photograph of the fine-looking officer, she could only sigh out,
'Oh, my dear!'

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