A Very Naughty Girl

  CHAPTER XX.--"NOT GOOD NOR HONORABLE."

  It was very late indeed when Sylvia got home. On this occasion she wasnot allowed to return to The Priory unaccompanied; Lady Frances insistedon Read going with her. Read said very little as the two walked over theroads together; but she was ever a woman of few words. Sylvia longed toquestion her, as she wanted to take as much news as possible to Jasper,but Read's face was decidedly uninviting. As soon as the woman had gone,Sylvia slipped round to the back entrance, where Jasper was waiting forher. Jasper had the gate ajar, and Pilot was standing by her side.

  "Come, darling--come right in," she said. "The coast is clear, and, oh! Ihave a lot to tell you."

  She fastened the back gate, making it look as though it had not beendisturbed for years, and a moment later the woman and the girl werestanding in the warm kitchen.

  "The door is locked, and he will not come," said Jasper. "He is quitewell, and I heard him go up-stairs to his bed an hour ago."

  "And did he eat anything, Jasper?"

  "Oh, did he not, my love? Oh, I am fit to die with laughter when I thinkof it! He imagines that he has demolished one quarter of the scraggiesthen in the hen-house."

  "What! old Wallaroo?" replied Sylvia, a smile breaking over her face.

  "Wallaroo, or whatever outlandish name you like to call the bird."

  "Please tell me all about it."

  Sylvia sank down as she spoke into a chair. Jasper related her morning'sadventure, and the two laughed heartily.

  "Only it seems a shame to deceive him," said Sylvia at last. "And soWallaroo has really gone! Do you know, I shall miss her; I have stoodand watched her antics for so many long days. She was the mostoutrageous flirt of any bird I have ever come across, and so indignantwhen old Roger paid the least attention to any of his other wives."

  "She has passed her flirting days," replied Jasper, "and is now theproperty of little Tim Donovan in the village; perhaps, however, shewill get more food there. My dear Miss Sylvia, you must make up yourmind that each one of those birds has to be disposed of in secret, andthat I in exchange get in sleek and fat young fowls for your father'sbenefit. But now, that is enough on the subject for the present. Tell meall about Miss Evelyn; I am just dying to hear."

  "She will meet you on Tuesday evening at nine o'clock by the turnstilein the shrubbery," replied Sylvia.

  "That is right. What a brave, dear, plucky pet she is!"

  Sylvia was silent.

  "What is the matter with you, Miss Sylvia? Had you not a happy day?"

  "I had--very, very happy until just before dinner."

  "And what happened then?"

  "I will tell you in the morning, Jasper--not to-night. Something happenedthen. I am sorry and sad, but I will tell you in the morning. I mustslip up to bed now without father knowing it."

  "Your father thinks that you are in bed, for I went up, just imitatingyour step to perfection, an hour before he did, and I went into yourroom and shut the door; and when he went up he knocked at the door, andI answered in your voice that I had a bit of a headache and had gone tobed. He asked me if I had had any supper, and I said no; and he said thebest thing for a headache was to rest the stomach. Bless you! he is keenon that, whatever else he is not keen on. He went off to his bedthinking you were snug in yours. When I made sure that he was well inhis bed, which I could tell by the creaking of the bedstead, I letmyself out. I had oiled the lock previously. I shut the door withoutmaking a sound loud enough to wake a mouse, and crept down-stairs; andhere I am. You must not go up to-night or you will give me away, andthere will be a fine to-do. You must sleep in my cozy room to-night."

  "Well, I do not mind that," replied Sylvia. "How clever you are, Jasper!You really did manage most wonderfully; only again I must say it seems ashame to deceive my dear old father."

  "It is a question of dying in the cause of your dear old father ordeceiving him," replied Jasper in blunt tones. "Now then, come to bed,my love, for if you are not dead with sleep I am."

  The next morning Mr. Leeson was in admirable spirits. He met Sylvia atbreakfast, and congratulated her on the long day she had spent in theopen air.

  "And you look all the better for it," he said. "I was too busy to thinkabout you at tea-time; indeed, I did not have any tea, having consumed amost admirable luncheon some time before one o'clock. I was so very busyattending to my accounts all the afternoon that I quite forgot my dearlittle girl. Well, I have made arrangements, dearest, to buy shares inthe Kilcolman Gold-mines. The thing may or may not turn up trumps, butin any case I have made an effort to spare a little money to buy some ofthe shares. That means that we must be extra prudent and careful for thenext year or so. You will aid me in that, will you not, Sylvia? You willsolemnly promise me, my dear and only child, that you will not give wayto recklessness; when you see a penny you will look at it two or threetimes before you spend it. You have not the least idea how careful itmakes you to keep what I call close and accurate accounts, everyfarthing made to produce its utmost value, and, if possible--if possible,my dear Sylvia--saved. It is surprising how little man really wants herebelow; the luxuries of the present day are disgusting, enervating,unnecessary. I speak to you very seriously, for now and then, I grieveto say, I have seen traces in you of what rendered my married lifeunhappy."

  "Father, you must not speak against mother," said Sylvia. Her face waspale and her voice trembled. "There was no one like mother," shecontinued, "and for her sake I----"

  "Yes, Sylvia, what do you do for her sake?"

  "I put up with this death in life. Oh father, father, do you think Ireally--really like it?"

  Mr. Leeson looked with some alarm at his child. Sylvia's eyes were fullof tears; she laid her hands on the table, bent forward, and looked fullacross at her father.

  "For mother's sake I bear it; you cannot think that I like it!" sherepeated.

  Mr. Leeson's first amazement now gave place to cold displeasure.

  "We will not pursue this topic," he said. "I have something more to tellyou. I made a pleasant discovery yesterday. During your absence astrange thing occurred. A gipsy woman entered the avenue and walked upto the front door, unmolested by Pilot. She seemed to have a strangepower over Pilot, for the dog did not bar her entrance in the least. Inaturally went to see what she wanted, and she told me that she hadcome, thinking I might have some fowls for sale. Now, you know, my dear,those old birds in the hen-house have long been eating their heads off,and I rather hailed an opportunity of getting rid of them; they only layeggs--and that but a few--in the warm weather, and during the winter weare at a loss by our efforts to keep them alive."

  "I know plenty about fowls," said Sylvia then. "They need hot suppersand all sorts of good things to make them lay eggs in cold weather."

  "We can do without eggs, but we cannot afford to give the fowls hotsuppers," said Mr. Leeson in a tone of great dignity. "But now, Sylvia,to the point. The woman offered a ludicrous price for the birds, and ofcourse I would not part with them; at the same time sheincidentally--silly person--gave herself away. She let me understand thatshe wanted the fowls to stew down in the gipsy pot. Now, of late, whenarranging my recipes for publication, I have often thought of thegipsies and the delicious stews they make out of all sorts of thingswhich other people would throw away. It occurred to me, therefore, toquestion her; and the result was, dear, not to go too much intoparticulars, that she killed one of the fowls, and in a very short timebrought me a delicious stew made out of the bird, really as tasty andsucculent as anything I have ever swallowed. I paid her a trifle for herservices, and the remainder of the fowl is at the present moment lyingin the cupboard in our sitting-room. I should like it to be warmed upfor our midday repast; there is a great deal more there than we can byany possibility consume, but we can have a dainty meal out of part ofthe stew, and the rest can be saved for supper. I have further decidedthat we must get some one to kill the rest of the birds, and we willhave them one by one on the table. Do you ever, my dear Sylvia, in you
rperambulations abroad, go near any of the gipsies?--for, if so, I shouldnot mind giving you a shilling to purchase that woman's recipe."

  Sylvia at this juncture rose from the table. She had with the utmostdifficulty kept her composure while her father was so innocently talkingabout the gipsy's stew.

  "I will see--I will see, father. I quite understand," she said; and thenext instant she ran out of the room.

  "Really," thought Mr. Leeson when she had gone, "Sylvia talks a littlestrangely at times. Just think how she spoke just now of her happy home!Death in life, she called it--a most wrong and exaggerated term; andexaggeration of speech leads to extravagance of mind, and extravaganceof mind means most reckless expenditure. If I am not very careful mypoor child will soon be on the road to ruin. I doubt if I ought to feedher up with dainties--and really that stewed fowl made a rare anddelicious dish--but it is the most saving thing I can do; there areenough birds in the hen-house to last Sylvia and me for several weeks tocome."

  Meanwhile Sylvia had rushed off to Jasper.

  "Oh Jasper!" she said, "I nearly died with laughter, and yet it ishorrid to deceive him. Oh! please do not kill any more of the birds fora long time; it is more than I can stand. Father is so delighted; and hehas offered me a shilling to buy the recipe from you."

  "Bless you, dear!" replied Jasper, "and I think what I am doing for yourfather is well worth a shilling, so you had better give it to me."

  "I have not got it yet," replied Sylvia. "You must live on trust,Jasper; but, oh, it is quite too funny!"

  "Now, you sit down just there," said Jasper, "and tell me what troubledyou last night."

  Sylvia's face changed utterly when Jasper spoke.

  "It is about Eve," she said. "She has done very wrong--very wrongindeed." And then Sylvia related exactly what had occurred at school.

  Jasper stood and listened with her arms akimbo; her face more than onceunderwent a curious expression.

  "And so you blame my little Eve very much?" she said when Sylvia hadceased speaking.

  "How can I help it? To get the whole school accused--to tell a lie to doit! Oh Jasper, how can I help myself?"

  "You were brought up so differently," said Jasper. "Maybe if I had hadthe rearing of you and the loving of you from your earliest days I mighthave thought with you; as it is, I think with Eve. I could not counselher to tell. I cannot but admire her spirit when she did what she did."

  "Jasper! Jasper!" said Sylvia in a tone of horror, "you cannot--cannotmean what you are saying! Oh, please unsay those dreadful words! I washoping--hoping--hoping that you might put things right. What is to bedone? There is going to be a great fuss--a great commotion--a greattrouble at Miss Henderson's school. Evelyn can put it right byconfessing; are you not going to urge her to confess?"

  "I urge my darling to lower herself! Miss Sylvia, if you say that kindof thing to me again, you and I can scarcely be friends."

  "Jasper! Jasper!"

  "We won't talk about it," said Jasper, with decision. "I love you, miss,and what is more, I respect and admire you, but I cannot rise as high asyou, Miss Sylvia; I was not reared so. I do not think that my little Evecould have done other than she did when she was so tempted."

  "Then, Jasper, you are a bad friend to Evelyn--a very bad friend; andwhat is more, if there is great trouble at the school, and if Audreygets into it, and if Evelyn herself will never tell, why, I must."

  "Oh, good gracious! you would not be so mean as that; and the poor, dearlittle innocent confided in you!"

  "I do not want to be so mean, and I will not tell for a long, long time;but I will tell--I will--if no one else can put it right, for it is quitetoo cruel."

  Jasper looked long and full at Sylvia.

  "This may mean a good deal," she said--"more than you think. And have youno sense of honor, miss? What you are told in confidence, have you anyright to give to the world?"

  "I will not tell if I can help myself, but this matter has made me veryunhappy indeed."

  Then Sylvia put on her shabby hat and went out. She passed thefowl-house, and stood for a moment, a sad smile on her face, lookingdown at the ill-fed birds. Then she went along the tiny shrubbery to thefront entrance, and, accompanied as usual by her beloved Pilot, startedforth. She was in her very shabbiest and oldest dress to-day, and thejoy and brightness of her appearance of twenty-four hours ago hadabsolutely left her young face. It was Sunday morning, but Sylvia neverwent to church. She heard the bells ringing now. Sweetly they pealedacross the valley, and one little church on the top of the hill sentforth a low and yet joyful chime. Sylvia longed to press her hands toher ears; she did not want to listen to the church bells. Those who wentto church did right, not wrong; those who went to church listened toGod's Word, and followed the ways--the good and holy ways--of religion.

  "And I cannot go because of my shabby, shabby dress," she thought. "Butwhy should I not wear the beautiful dress I had yesterday and venture tochurch?"

  No sooner had the thought come to her than she returned, dashed in bythe back entrance, desired Pilot to stay where he was, flew up-stairs,dressed herself recklessly in her rich finery of yesterday, and startedoff for church. She had a fancy to go to the church on the top of thehill, but she had to walk fast to reach it. She did arrive there alittle late. The verger showed her into a pew half-way up the church.One or two people turned to stare at the handsome girl. The brilliantcolor was in her cheeks from the quickness of her walk. She dropped onher knees and covered her face; all was confusion in her mind. In theSquire's pew, a very short distance away, sat Audrey and Evelyn. CouldEvelyn indeed mean to pray? Of what sort of nature was Evelyn made?Sylvia felt that she could not meet her eyes.

  "Some people who are not good, who are not honorable, go to church," shethought to herself. "It is very sad and very puzzling."