Three Girls from School

a girl; he is a man. His name is John Saxon."

  "What!" said Lady Lushington, her eyes sparkling; "Mr Saxon, the youngAustralian? Why, I met him in London last year. What a splendid fellowhe is! I have seldom met any one I admired so much; and they say he isexceedingly rich. I want him to come over to London and enjoy himselffor one of the seasons. I could get him no end of introductions."

  "He is with my uncle now," said Annie, speaking rather faintly, for itseemed to her as though entanglements were spreading themselves roundher feet more and more tightly each moment. "Doubtless he is a goodnurse," said Lady Lushington. She then turned the conversation to othermatters.

  After breakfast Annie went out and sent her telegram. In this she gavethe address of the hotel where they were going to stay at Zermatt, atthe same time saying that she much regretted, owing to the gravecomplications, that she could not leave Lady Lushington for a few days.She spent a fair amount of John Saxon's money on this telegram, in whichshe begged of him to give her love to Uncle Maurice, and to say that ifhe really grew worse she would go to him notwithstanding that businesswhich was involving all the future of her friend.

  The telegram was as insincere as her own deceitful heart, and so it readto the young man, who received it later in the day. A great wave ofcolour spread over his face as he read the cruel words, but he felt thathe was very near the presence of death itself, and not for worlds wouldhe disturb the peace of that departing saint who was so soon to meet hisMaker face to face.

  "I will not wire to her," he said to himself; "but if the old man stillcontinues to fret, and if the doctor says that his longing for Annie islikely to shorten his days, I shall go to Zermatt and fetch her homemyself. Nothing else will bring her. How could dear old Mr Brooke sethis affections on one like Annie? But if he can die without beingundeceived as to her true character, I at least shall feel that I havenot lived in vain."

  Meanwhile, as these thoughts were passing through the mind of a verymanly and strong and determined person, Annie herself was living throughexciting times. She was not without feeling with regard to her uncle.After a certain fashion she loved him, but she did not love him nearlyas well as she loved her own selfish pleasures and delights. She wassadly inexperienced, too, with regard to real illness. Her belief wasthat John Saxon had exaggerated, and that dear, kind Uncle Maurice wouldrecover from this attack as he had done from so many others. Now shehad much to attend to, and forced herself, therefore, after the telegramhad gone, to dismiss the matter from her mind.

  As Annie had predicted, Lady Lushington did call Mabel into her privatesitting-room soon after early breakfast on that eventful day, and didspeak very seriously to her with regard to Mrs Priestley and her bill.

  "I don't pretend for a single moment," said Aunt Henrietta, "that I ampoor, and that I am unable to meet a bill of three times that amount;but I do not choose you to be wantonly extravagant, Mabel, and it issimply an unheard-of and outrageous thing that a schoolgirl should spendseventy pounds on dress during one short term. You know I invariablypay your dressmaker at the end of each term. Now this bill is more thandouble the amount of any that I have hitherto paid for you. Will youkindly explain why it rises to such enormous dimensions?" Mabel wasvery much frightened, and stammered in a way that only increased heraunt's displeasure.

  "What is the matter with you, May? Can't you speak out? Are youconcealing anything from me?"

  "Oh no, no, indeed, Aunt Hennie--indeed I am not! Only the fact is, Iam quite certain Mrs Priestley must have made a mistake."

  "What is all this about?" said Annie Brooke, who entered the room atthat moment.

  "Oh, we were talking business."

  "I beg your pardon. Shall I go away?"

  "No, don't, Miss Brooke," said Lady Lushington rather crossly; "you arereally wanted here to help to clear matters. Seeing that I am honouredby the possession of so clever a niece as Mabel, I wish she would not onevery possible occasion act the fool. She is as stupid over thisoutrageous bill as though she were an infant."

  "Well, Mabel," said Annie, "you know quite well that you had some nicedresses, hadn't you?"

  "Yes," said Mabel, who seemed to have a wonderful amount of addedcourage now that Annie had appeared on the scene. Then she nimblyquoted a description of the beautiful gowns which Annie had falselydescribed the day before.

  "Most unsuitable for a schoolgirl," said Lady Lushington. "And whereare they, may I ask?"

  "Oh, I--I--left them at school," said Mabel.

  "Worse and worse; you seem to have lost your head."

  "Poor May!" said Annie; "no wonder. You must know, Lady Lushington,that after your letter came May nearly worked herself into a fever toget that literature prize. She could think of nothing else. She did solong to be with you; didn't you, May?"

  "Indeed I did," replied Mabel.

  "Well, that is gratifying, I suppose," said Lady Lushington; "although Iam by no means certain, my dear May, that I return the compliment. Myimpression is that another year at that excellent school would do you noend of good. Well, you lost your head trying to get that prize. Buthow could that fact affect Mrs Priestley's bill?"

  "I mean," said Mabel, "that I forgot about packing my dresses and takingthem away, and I had not an idea that my bill amounted to that. Infact," she added, meeting Annie's eyes, "I am quite positive that MrsPriestley has made a mistake, and that you will find the bill--"

  Here she hesitated.

  "I," said Annie, "happen to know pretty well what May's lovely dressescost. Oh, you know, Lady Lushington, _we_ thought them perfectlyruinous in price--we schoolgirls; for _our_ best dresses usually come tofrom three to four pounds. But May's--oh, some of hers were up to tenor twelve guineas. Even so, however, I don't think May can owe MrsPriestley more than forty pounds."

  "Then the woman's a thief and a cheat!" said angry Lady Lushington.

  "I think, perhaps," said Annie, speaking in her gentlest tones, "itmight be fairest to let her explain. She has probably--oh, she has suchnumbers of customers!--put down some items that don't belong to Mabel inher account."

  "Well, well, we shall see," said Lady Lushington. "You posted thatletter, didn't you, Miss Brooke?" Then she added, hastily and withoutwaiting for an answer, "I shall be glad if it is so. I make noobjection to paying forty pounds, but I do draw the line at seventy."

  "Thank you, auntie; thank you so much," said Mabel, running up to heraunt and kissing her.

  "Now don't, my dear! You disturb the powder on my cheek. Do sit down;don't be so impulsive."

  "I know what you are wanting to do; I know what is in your head, yousilly Mabel," said Annie at this juncture.

  Lady Lushington looked up. "What is it?" she asked.

  "Oh," said Annie, "it is that necklace--that wonderful, amazingbargain."

  Lady Lushington pricked up her ears. She could not--and all her friendswere aware of the fact--ever resist a bargain. She would have gone fromone end of London to the other to secure the most useless old trash ifshe was firmly convinced in her own mind that she had to get it as abargain. She now, therefore, sat up with sparkling eyes, and MrsPriestley and her bill were as absolutely forgotten as though they hadnever existed.

  "There are no bargains at Interlaken," was her next remark.

  "Oh, are there not?" said Annie. "Mabel and I know something verydifferent from that."

  "What is it, my dear? What is it?"

  "Well," said Annie, "it was I who found it out. I showed it to Mayyesterday. You know Zick the jeweller in the little High Street?"

  "Of course; his shop is full of rubbish."

  "There is a necklace there which is not rubbish," said Annie, "and thebest of it is that he is not a bit aware of its value himself."

  "A necklace? What sort?"

  "He can't be aware of its value," said Annie, "which is very surprising,for these Swiss are so sharp; but I can assure you I was taught torecognise the beauty of good pearls, and there are some lovely ones
inthat necklace. Now nothing in all the world would be so becoming to Mayas real, good pearls; and this necklace--it belonged to an old Frenchmarquise, who was obliged to sell it, poor dear! to get ready cash.Zick paid--oh, he would not tell me what; but he is offering it for amere bagatelle."

  "My dear Miss Brooke--a bagatelle!"

  "Yes; only forty pounds."

  "Nonsense!" said Lady Lushington. "Forty pounds! All the contents ofhis shop are not worth that sum."

  "I dare say you are right," said