Turquoise and Ruby by L. T. Meade
"We'll loseall our morning's fun if we don't. I want to get some of those bunsfrom the little old woman who brings them round in her basket. I'll getBrenda to buy them for us; I'm ever so hungry, and I'm not going to beafraid of Brenda to-day."
"You'll have to take your notebook," said Fanchon; and then she gave ahalf-laugh.
"I!" exclaimed Nina. "Not I. I think the time of tyranny with Brendais nearly over."
The girls put on their hats, and strolled down to the beach. Brenda wasthere looking quite happy and unconcerned. She called Fanchon a littleaside, and desired the younger girls to amuse themselves buildingcastles in the sand.
"I am too old for that," said Josephine.
"Not a bit," exclaimed Brenda. "How ridiculous you are! you are nothingbut a baby. Anyhow, please yourselves, both of you, for I want to talkto Fanchon."
"It's horrid, the way you make Fanchon grown-up, and make Nina and mequite little babies!" said Josie.
But Brenda looked troubled, and was quite indifferent to her smallpupil's remarks with regard to her conduct.
"I tell you what," she said, after a pause. "You may do anything youlike on the sands, only don't wander too far."
"There's Betty with her tray of cakes!" exclaimed Nina. "May we have abun each, Brenda? Will you give us money to buy a bun each?"
Curious to relate, Brenda complied. She gave Nina the necessary pence,and did not even refer to the obnoxious notebook. The moment the littlegirls were out of sight, she turned to her elder pupil.
"I met Harry to-day; he was quite contrite and nice. I feel almostcertain he'll ask me to marry him. I mean to go out without you thisevening, and I mean to wear the bangle. I think the bangle will quiteclinch matters. Harry thinks I am poor; but I don't want him to do so.Why, what's the matter, Fanchon?"
"Oh, nothing," said Fanchon, making an effort to conceal her feelings.
"Have you a headache, dear? are you ill?"
"I am not ill," said Fanchon, "but I have a little headache--the sun isvery hot," she added.
"I shall take Penelope with me this evening--that's a good idea," saidBrenda, suddenly. "I shall keep her for the night; I mean to force herto stay. She's got a very stylish air about her, which you, poorFanchon, don't possess, and what with Penelope and the bangle--"
"I thought you didn't want Penelope to know about the bangle."
"No more I do; but I shall manage just to let him see a gleam of it whenshe is not looking. You haven't the least idea how to arrange thesesort of things, my dear child; but doubtless some day you will.However, now it's almost time to hurry home. My little Fanchon shallhave that beautiful bangle all for herself when the holidays are over."
Fanchon gave quite an audible sniff.
"What a very unpleasant noise you make, dear Fanchon."
"Oh, I can't help it," replied Fanchon, and she stuck her head high inthe air and looked so repellent that her governess wondered she had everbeen bothered by her.
When the girls returned to the _pension_, they found Penelope awaitingthem. She wore a brown holland frock, quite neat, but very plain. Hersoft, very fair hair was arranged tidily round her head, also with theleast attempt at display. She was a singularly unobtrusive-lookinggirl, and, beside Brenda, she was, as the ladies of the _pension_exclaimed, "nowhere." They all criticised her, however, very deeply,for had she not come from Castle Beverley? By slow degrees, too, theybegan to discover virtues in her, the sort of virtues they could neveraspire to. She was so gentle in conversation, and had such a low, sweetvoice. She was very polite, also, and talked for a long time to MissPrice, seeming, by her manner, to enjoy this woman's society. MrsSimpkins looked her up and looked her down, and said to herself thatalthough not pretty, she was "genteel," and to be genteel, you had topossess something which money could not buy. The good woman made afurther discovery--that pretty, showy Brenda was not genteel.
Mademoiselle was also reading Penelope from quite a new point of view.She had already gauged to a great extent her pupil's character, and whatshe saw to-day gave her pleasure rather than otherwise. She talked toher, however, very little, and put herself completely into the shade.
When the meal was over, Brenda spoke to her sister.
"I want you to stay for the night," she said. "We can send a telegramto the Castle to say that I have kept you. I want you to stay a bit,Pen; you will, won't you?"
"I am afraid I can't, for Honora wants me to go home."
"You call Castle Beverley home?"
"Just for the present, and it is nice to feel that I can speak of it assuch."
The other ladies lingered round for a minute or so, but having no excuseto listen to Brenda and Penelope, they retired, leaving the two sistersand the three Misses Amberley alone.
"Children, you would like Pen to stay, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, yes, of course," said Fanchon.
"And you three could just for one night sleep all together."
"It wouldn't be at all comfortable," said Nina, "but I suppose wecould."
"You would have to sleep at the foot, Nina," said Fanchon.
"All right," said Nina, "I'd like that best, for I could kick you bothif you were troublesome."
"I certainly can't stay," remarked Penelope. "I promised to come to youfor part of a day, Brenda, and surely we can say all we want to saybetween now and nightfall."
"You are horribly disobliging," said Brenda.
"The carriage is coming for me too," exclaimed Penelope; "I really mustgo back."
"You could send a note quite well, that is, if you were really nice."
The five girls had now gone upstairs, Mademoiselle had retired to herstifling attic. Mademoiselle was hiding her time. After a littlefurther conversation Brenda perceived that it was quite useless toexpect Penelope to remain for the night in the boarding-house, andaccordingly, with extreme sulkiness, gave up her plan of impressingHarry with the elegant demeanour of her own sister that night. The nextbest thing, however, was to take Penelope for a walk. This sheproceeded to do. The girls were told they might amuse themselves, whichthey did by locking themselves into their bedroom and examining the twobrooches and the false bangle until they were fairly weary of thesubject. Each girl in turn tried on the brooches, and each girl slippedthe bangle on her wrist to shoot it off the next moment in horror andlet it lie on the floor.
"Ugly, coarse, common thing!" said Fanchon. "Oh! when I remember mybeauty, you can't even imagine, girls, what it was like."
"But it seems so ridiculous that Brenda could have given it to you,"said Nina. "Brenda might rise to a shilling thing, but as to the bangleyou describe--"
"Well, well--I know nothing about it," exclaimed Fanchon. "I only knowthat she did give it to me. Perhaps she inherited it from a relation.She wanted me to be friends with her, anyhow, and so she gave it to me,although I was not to have it for my absolute very, very own until wereturn to Harroway."
"Well--I shouldn't think you would much value _that_ thing!" exclaimedNina, kicking the false bangle across the room with her foot.
Josie ran and picked it up.
"It's better than nothing," she cried, "but of course it is common. Nowof course our brooches--"
"Your brooches are common too," said Fanchon.
"No, they're not; they're very, very elegant: any one would take them tobe real."
"What--without the hall-mark?" queried Fanchon.
"People as a rule don't ask you to take your brooch off in order to seethe hall-mark!" exclaimed Josie. "Don't be silly, Fanchon, you cannever wear that bangle, for it is too coarse for anything. But we can,and _will_--wear our brooches. We'll wear them every Sunday regularly,when we get home. And won't the children at Sunday school be impressed!I can fancy I see all their eyes resting on mine--I think mine with thepearls is even more elegant than Nina's with the turquoise."
"Well, come out now," said Fanchon. "The whole thing is disgusting. Ofcourse Brenda will discover very soon that the bangle is changed."
"She won't be surprised, because she did it herself," said Nina.
"No--that she didn't! I am certain sure she would not be quite somean--I don't believe it of her!" exclaimed Fanchon.
The three little Amberleys walked and talked alone that afternoon, whileBrenda and Penelope sat on the quay. Brenda earnestly hoped that theredoubtable Harry would pass that way and see her with her elegantsister.
"I always did
"You'll have to take your notebook," said Fanchon; and then she gave ahalf-laugh.
"I!" exclaimed Nina. "Not I. I think the time of tyranny with Brendais nearly over."
The girls put on their hats, and strolled down to the beach. Brenda wasthere looking quite happy and unconcerned. She called Fanchon a littleaside, and desired the younger girls to amuse themselves buildingcastles in the sand.
"I am too old for that," said Josephine.
"Not a bit," exclaimed Brenda. "How ridiculous you are! you are nothingbut a baby. Anyhow, please yourselves, both of you, for I want to talkto Fanchon."
"It's horrid, the way you make Fanchon grown-up, and make Nina and mequite little babies!" said Josie.
But Brenda looked troubled, and was quite indifferent to her smallpupil's remarks with regard to her conduct.
"I tell you what," she said, after a pause. "You may do anything youlike on the sands, only don't wander too far."
"There's Betty with her tray of cakes!" exclaimed Nina. "May we have abun each, Brenda? Will you give us money to buy a bun each?"
Curious to relate, Brenda complied. She gave Nina the necessary pence,and did not even refer to the obnoxious notebook. The moment the littlegirls were out of sight, she turned to her elder pupil.
"I met Harry to-day; he was quite contrite and nice. I feel almostcertain he'll ask me to marry him. I mean to go out without you thisevening, and I mean to wear the bangle. I think the bangle will quiteclinch matters. Harry thinks I am poor; but I don't want him to do so.Why, what's the matter, Fanchon?"
"Oh, nothing," said Fanchon, making an effort to conceal her feelings.
"Have you a headache, dear? are you ill?"
"I am not ill," said Fanchon, "but I have a little headache--the sun isvery hot," she added.
"I shall take Penelope with me this evening--that's a good idea," saidBrenda, suddenly. "I shall keep her for the night; I mean to force herto stay. She's got a very stylish air about her, which you, poorFanchon, don't possess, and what with Penelope and the bangle--"
"I thought you didn't want Penelope to know about the bangle."
"No more I do; but I shall manage just to let him see a gleam of it whenshe is not looking. You haven't the least idea how to arrange thesesort of things, my dear child; but doubtless some day you will.However, now it's almost time to hurry home. My little Fanchon shallhave that beautiful bangle all for herself when the holidays are over."
Fanchon gave quite an audible sniff.
"What a very unpleasant noise you make, dear Fanchon."
"Oh, I can't help it," replied Fanchon, and she stuck her head high inthe air and looked so repellent that her governess wondered she had everbeen bothered by her.
When the girls returned to the _pension_, they found Penelope awaitingthem. She wore a brown holland frock, quite neat, but very plain. Hersoft, very fair hair was arranged tidily round her head, also with theleast attempt at display. She was a singularly unobtrusive-lookinggirl, and, beside Brenda, she was, as the ladies of the _pension_exclaimed, "nowhere." They all criticised her, however, very deeply,for had she not come from Castle Beverley? By slow degrees, too, theybegan to discover virtues in her, the sort of virtues they could neveraspire to. She was so gentle in conversation, and had such a low, sweetvoice. She was very polite, also, and talked for a long time to MissPrice, seeming, by her manner, to enjoy this woman's society. MrsSimpkins looked her up and looked her down, and said to herself thatalthough not pretty, she was "genteel," and to be genteel, you had topossess something which money could not buy. The good woman made afurther discovery--that pretty, showy Brenda was not genteel.
Mademoiselle was also reading Penelope from quite a new point of view.She had already gauged to a great extent her pupil's character, and whatshe saw to-day gave her pleasure rather than otherwise. She talked toher, however, very little, and put herself completely into the shade.
When the meal was over, Brenda spoke to her sister.
"I want you to stay for the night," she said. "We can send a telegramto the Castle to say that I have kept you. I want you to stay a bit,Pen; you will, won't you?"
"I am afraid I can't, for Honora wants me to go home."
"You call Castle Beverley home?"
"Just for the present, and it is nice to feel that I can speak of it assuch."
The other ladies lingered round for a minute or so, but having no excuseto listen to Brenda and Penelope, they retired, leaving the two sistersand the three Misses Amberley alone.
"Children, you would like Pen to stay, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, yes, of course," said Fanchon.
"And you three could just for one night sleep all together."
"It wouldn't be at all comfortable," said Nina, "but I suppose wecould."
"You would have to sleep at the foot, Nina," said Fanchon.
"All right," said Nina, "I'd like that best, for I could kick you bothif you were troublesome."
"I certainly can't stay," remarked Penelope. "I promised to come to youfor part of a day, Brenda, and surely we can say all we want to saybetween now and nightfall."
"You are horribly disobliging," said Brenda.
"The carriage is coming for me too," exclaimed Penelope; "I really mustgo back."
"You could send a note quite well, that is, if you were really nice."
The five girls had now gone upstairs, Mademoiselle had retired to herstifling attic. Mademoiselle was hiding her time. After a littlefurther conversation Brenda perceived that it was quite useless toexpect Penelope to remain for the night in the boarding-house, andaccordingly, with extreme sulkiness, gave up her plan of impressingHarry with the elegant demeanour of her own sister that night. The nextbest thing, however, was to take Penelope for a walk. This sheproceeded to do. The girls were told they might amuse themselves, whichthey did by locking themselves into their bedroom and examining the twobrooches and the false bangle until they were fairly weary of thesubject. Each girl in turn tried on the brooches, and each girl slippedthe bangle on her wrist to shoot it off the next moment in horror andlet it lie on the floor.
"Ugly, coarse, common thing!" said Fanchon. "Oh! when I remember mybeauty, you can't even imagine, girls, what it was like."
"But it seems so ridiculous that Brenda could have given it to you,"said Nina. "Brenda might rise to a shilling thing, but as to the bangleyou describe--"
"Well, well--I know nothing about it," exclaimed Fanchon. "I only knowthat she did give it to me. Perhaps she inherited it from a relation.She wanted me to be friends with her, anyhow, and so she gave it to me,although I was not to have it for my absolute very, very own until wereturn to Harroway."
"Well--I shouldn't think you would much value _that_ thing!" exclaimedNina, kicking the false bangle across the room with her foot.
Josie ran and picked it up.
"It's better than nothing," she cried, "but of course it is common. Nowof course our brooches--"
"Your brooches are common too," said Fanchon.
"No, they're not; they're very, very elegant: any one would take them tobe real."
"What--without the hall-mark?" queried Fanchon.
"People as a rule don't ask you to take your brooch off in order to seethe hall-mark!" exclaimed Josie. "Don't be silly, Fanchon, you cannever wear that bangle, for it is too coarse for anything. But we can,and _will_--wear our brooches. We'll wear them every Sunday regularly,when we get home. And won't the children at Sunday school be impressed!I can fancy I see all their eyes resting on mine--I think mine with thepearls is even more elegant than Nina's with the turquoise."
"Well, come out now," said Fanchon. "The whole thing is disgusting. Ofcourse Brenda will discover very soon that the bangle is changed."
"She won't be surprised, because she did it herself," said Nina.
"No--that she didn't! I am certain sure she would not be quite somean--I don't believe it of her!" exclaimed Fanchon.
The three little Amberleys walked and talked alone that afternoon, whileBrenda and Penelope sat on the quay. Brenda earnestly hoped that theredoubtable Harry would pass that way and see her with her elegantsister.
"I always did