The teacher and the girls were to leave Annie atMrs Priestley's, and to come again for her on their return from theirown ride into the country. Annie would thus have plenty of time for herpurpose.
When she was admitted into Mrs Priestley's very fashionablewaiting-room, hung round with dresses in various stages of development,and all equally fascinating according to Annie's ideas, she felt herheart beat with satisfaction. By-and-by the mistress of theestablishment made her appearance.
"I want to speak to you," said Annie, rising. "In one moment, miss."
Mrs Priestley would not have treated Mabel Lushington in so off-hand amanner; but Annie Brooke was not one of her customers--at least, had notbeen up to the present; and as she was very busy sending off a largeorder to Paris, she did not trouble her head about keeping the younglady waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour. During this time Anniefelt very indignant. Mrs Priestley dared to sit by a large desk in herpresence and to write several orders which her forewoman was dictatingto her. At last the letter was finished. Mrs Priestley said, "Get thisposted immediately." Then she turned to Annie:
"What can we do for you, miss?"
"I have come to see you on a matter of some importance," said Annie. "Ihave come from Miss Lushington."
"Oh, indeed, miss? We are very sorry that we were obliged to keep youwaiting, but we have a wedding order at present on hand, and it isnecessary to get some special laces and flowers from Paris without anydelay. What can we do for Miss Lushington, miss?"
"First of all," said Annie, "I want to know if you will make a dress forme. I want to wear it on the prize day at Mrs Lyttelton's school."
"Yes, miss, we could manage; although the time is not very long. Still,we have so many of Mrs Lyttelton's pupils on our books that we should besorry not to oblige." Mrs Priestley spoke as though she were royalty."What sort of dress did you think of our making for you, miss?"
"It must not be expensive," said Annie, whose secret thought was thatshe might purchase it partly out of her own money and partly out ofMabel Lushington's very abundant pocket-money. "I think a pale-bluemuslin; and can you make it for about two guineas?"
Mrs Priestley raised her eyebrows in a somewhat scornful manner.
"Quite impossible, miss. But perhaps Mrs Arnold could do it for you."
Whenever Mrs Priestley wanted to crush a customer she alluded to MrsArnold, whose style was so execrable, and whose "ladies"--as MrsPriestley spoke of them--could be known at any distance by the bad hangof their garments. Annie argued a little longer on the subject of herown dress, and finally a very simple frock was arranged for her, whichwould not cost the young lady much over three pounds.
Mabel's letter was then produced.
"This is very, very private," said Annie Brooke as she gave it to MrsPriestley.
"Dear Miss Lushington!" murmured Mrs Priestley. "We always take such agreat interest in her clothes. It is our wish to do our very utmost tomould our garments round her fine figure."
"Read the note, please," said Annie.
Mrs Priestley did so. If she felt surprise at the contents, her faceexpressed nothing.
"You will excuse us, miss," she said when she came to the end; "we willreturn in a few minutes."
She left the room. Annie sank down into a chair, feeling limp. What ifMrs Priestley were to refuse? Such a possible and awful contingency hadnever even occurred to her.
Mrs Priestley was away for some time, quite half-an-hour. When she didreturn the expression on her face had slightly changed.
"We will come into our private sitting-room, miss," she said.
She went first; Annie followed her. Mrs Priestley's private room wasvery small and very much crowded. Nearly the whole of it was taken upby an enormous desk containing various pigeon-holes. There was,however, room for two chairs. Annie was asked to seat herself in one.
"We have been looking," said Mrs Priestley, "into our accounts. You, weunderstand, miss, are acquainted with the contents of the letter of ourmuch-esteemed client, Miss Lushington."
"Yes," said Annie; "I know all about it. As well as I remember, mygreat friend, Mabel Lushington, said that I could arrange the matterwith you."
"We are coming to that--if you have no objection, miss."
Annie felt snubbed. It so happened that she had never before had anypersonal contact with the great Priestley. She had seen her beautifulgowns on several ladies at Hendon and on some of the best-dressed girlsof the school, but not until now had she been face to face with thisawful priestess of the art of dressmaking.
"We would not wish," said Mrs Priestley, "to do anything to disobligeour clients and it is true that there have been times when it has beenour pleasure to assist a lady in the manner indicated, but there hasusually been a little sort of arrangement made in order to secure ourmoney. You, we understand, come here to-day with such a proposal, doyou not, miss?"
Annie felt more and more uncomfortable.
"I simply thought," she said, "that you would oblige. You see, Mabel isvery rich."
"If we were not firmly convinced on that point," interrupted MrsPriestley, "we would not entertain the proposal for a quarter of aminute."
"Mabel is very rich," continued Annie. "I mean that her aunt, LadyLushington, is enormously wealthy."
"We have that distinguished lady's patronage," said Mrs Priestley. "Wehave made gowns for her as well as for the young lady, her niece."
"You send Miss Lushington's accounts to Lady Lushington?" said Annie.The high priestess of the art of dressmaking thought it only necessaryto bow her stately head. "Then perhaps you will lend Mabel the money?"said Annie, who felt herself getting into greater and greater hot water.
"It can be done," said Mrs Priestley, "but only in one way. We musttreat our young customer as we do the other clients whom it has been ourprivilege to oblige on more than one occasion. We must either have thelady's jewels to the value of the sum borrowed, or we must add thethirty pounds to Miss Lushington's account in our books. At the presentmoment Miss Lushington's bill amounts to close on forty pounds, and ifwe add thirty more it will make seventy. Are we to understand that LadyLushington will pay so large a bill without comment for a young lady whois only a schoolgirl?"
"Oh, I am sure she will," said Annie, whose one desire at that momentwas to get the money and leave Mrs Priestley's presence. "She is soenormously rich," continued the girl, "she thinks nothing of spending ahundred pounds on one dress for herself. Why, seventy pounds," saidAnnie, who would have rejoiced just then to possess three, "is a merenothing to her--just a bagatelle. I know it."
"Your statement, miss, is satisfactory, as far as it goes. We willtherefore, being assured by our own experience that you are right, lendMiss Lushington the required sum, but on the distinct understanding thatif Lady Lushington raises any question with regard to the account, weare at liberty to mention your name in the matter."
"How so?" asked Annie, very much alarmed. "I am only a littleschoolgirl," she added, "with no money at all."
"Nevertheless, miss, we must mention your name--Miss Annie Brooke, is itnot?"
Annie nodded. Mrs Priestley made a note of it, adding the date ofAnnie's visit and the fact that she was a resident at Lyttelton School.She then, without any further ado, produced gold and notes to the amountof thirty pounds, which she folded up into a little parcel and gave toAnnie.
"You will give us a receipt for this, miss," she said; and Annie did soin due form. "And now, miss," continued the woman, "all is well, andyou will never hear any more with regard to this matter if we are paidour account in full; but if there is difficulty--and even rich ladiessometimes grumble at a bill such as we shall be forced to produce--thenyou may get into hot water. We will now wish you good-afternoon, miss,for our time is not our own but our customers'."
How flushed Annie was! When she got into the open air she pantedslightly. She looked up the street and down the street. She had had anawful time with Mrs Priestley, and she had quite f
orgotten the dresswhich was to be made for Mabel. She could not remedy that omission now,however; for nothing would induce her to see the terrible Mrs Priestleyagain. Her companions were not yet in sight, and she paced up and downthinking her own thoughts.
After a time she felt calmer. The money was safe in her pocket. Therewould be no fuss for three months at least. Annie was a sort of girlwho could not think of trouble three months ahead. In half-an-hour shefelt quite happy. The memory of her depression vanished, and when thegirls on their bicycles hove in sight she met them with a gay word.
"You _have_ had a ride!" she said. "I have been out of Mrs Priestley'sfor ages."
"I thought," said Agnes Moore, one of the girls, "that you would neverbe tired of an interview with a dressmaker, Annie. Is she quite asimposing as people describe her? I go to Mrs Arnold, you know."
"She is withering," said Annie, with a laugh. "She invariably speaks ofherself as `we,' and is a perfect mass of pomposity. I do wish, Agnes,you could have heard the withering tone in which she alluded to `MrsArnold's ladies.' Oh dear, oh dear! I nearly died with laughter."During the rest of the ride home Annie amused herself in taking off MrsPriestley, which she did to the life. That very same evening thirtypounds in gold and notes had been transferred, first from Annie's pocketto that of Mabel Lushington, and then from Mabel Lushington to PriscillaWeir.
Priscilla turned very white when her hand touched the little packet.
"It hurts me," she said aloud. Mabel and Annie were both present whenshe made this remark, but neither of them asked her to explain herself.On the contrary, Mabel took Annie's arm and hurried her away.
"How did you manage with Mrs Priestley?" she asked.
"It is all right, love," said Annie. "She has added thirty pounds toyour account."
But Mabel looked not at all satisfied. "I didn't want it to be done inthat way," she said. "Aunt Henrietta will be wild. She is alwaysquarrelling with me about my dresses, and says that I spend twice toomuch on them. Good gracious! I do trust that I sha'n't get intotrouble about this."
"You must not," said Annie; "for if, by any chance, such a thing were tohappen, I should never hear the and of it. Oh Mabel! I have done a lotfor you. I have in a way made myself responsible. I had to. Mabel--Imust tell you, for I think you ought to know--if there is any difficultyin paying Mrs Priestley's bill, she means to tell Mrs Lyttelton aboutme--about me!--how I visited her, and asked her for the money; and shehas my receipt to show. She put a stamp on it, and made me write myname across the stamp. Oh Mabel! I have done wonderful things for you,and you know it. You can never, never be grateful enough."
"I suppose I am grateful," said Mabel. "It was plucky of you to do thatfor me, Annie, and I am not one to forget."
"We will enjoy ourselves in Paris," said Annie. "I know Mrs Priestleywon't send in the account for about three months, so we'll have a goodtime first, whatever happens."
"Oh, if the thing is three months off, I'm not going to fret about it inadvance," said Mabel, who instantly became very talkative and lively.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
THE POET.
The days which passed between the occurrences related in the lastchapter and the great prize day went on wings. The girls were allexceedingly busy. If there were many prizes to be won, and there washard work beforehand to win them, there was the thought, too, of thelong and delightful summer holidays to gladden each young heart; thereunion with fathers and mothers and brothers and sisters; the pleasuresof the seaside resort or the country house; the knowledge that lessons,however useful in themselves, might be put away for six long, delightfulweeks.
The girls were in the best of humour; and, as though Nature herself werein sympathy with them, the sun rose day by day in a cloudless sky, theflowers bloomed in more and more profusion, and the whole world seemedpreparing for a grand holiday. Lyttelton School was famed for itsroses, and the profusion of roses that blossomed during this specialsummer was long remembered by every member of the school.
Mabel Lushington was not a girl especially remarkable forconscientiousness. She was now completely under Annie's spell, who,having won her point, was determined that there should not be a singleflaw in her grand scheme. Her whispers about Mabel had spread a rumourin the school that Mabel Lushington, who had long been remarkable forher fine figure, handsome face, and a certain haughtiness of bearing,was also exceedingly clever. It is no easy matter to convert a girl whohas hitherto been renowned as a dunce into a genius. Nevertheless,clever Annie managed to effect this object.
"She writes such good verses, you know," Annie said first to one girl,and then to another; and as Mabel had been forewarned on the subject,she was not taken by surprise when the girls used to crowd round her andbeg to see some specimens of her art.
"Oh, I can't, I can't!" Mabel would say, blushing and even giggling alittle. "Don't, don't ask me; I should die of shame."
These were her invariable retorts, and, as a rule, she managed to excuseherself with a certain amount of success. But schoolgirls aretenacious. The subject of Mabel's gift for poetry became the generaltalk of the school, and finally a whole bevy of girls waited on MissLushington with the request that she would allow them to sample herpoems.
"The fact is," said Constance Smedley, "seeing is believing. You mostread us something, Mabel; you really must."
Mabel found herself turning pale, and Constance, who was a remarkablykeen observer of character, noted the fact. Annie was nowhere withinreach. Mabel began to feel as though a torture-screw were put on.
"Come, Mabel," said Constance, "it is but fair. We love poetry, andwill not be hard on you."
"What I think is this," said another girl. "Mabel is a satirist; shehas been laughing at us all in her sleeve. She writes about us, anddoesn't want us to know.--Come, May, I know that is the case, otherwiseyou would not be so red."
"She was pale a minute ago," said Constance.--"What are you changingcolour about, you silly old May? We won't mind whether you satirise usor not. Come, get your verses."
"I--I--can't; I--won't," said Mabel. She had not an idea what the girlsmeant when they spoke of her as a satirist. She wished herself faraway. As she said afterwards, she could have sunk through the ground atthat moment. Her tortures were at their height when Annie Brookeappeared. Annie and Priscilla were crossing the lawn arm-in-arm. Anniehad been talking eagerly. Priscilla, very grave and quiet, was replyingin monosyllables. Suddenly Priscilla looked up.
"What is the matter with Mabel?" she said.
"How queer she looks!"
"I had best go to her, I suppose," said Annie. "She is such an oldsilly that unless I keep by her side she is sure to do some thingwrong."
"Here you are, Annie," cried Constance. "Now you will be on our side.You have assured us that Mabel is not the dunce of the school, but thegenius."
"So she is," said Annie indignantly. "Who dares to deny it?"
"None of us," said Constance; "only we want proof."
"What do you mean?" said Annie, still quite calm in appearance, butfeeling a little uncomfortable nevertheless.
"We want proof," repeated Constance.
"Yes," said Agnes--"proof."
"Proof, proof!" echoed several other voices. "Mabel writes verses--veryclever verses. We want to see them."
"So you shall," said Annie at once.
"Oh Annie, I won't show them," said poor Mabel.
"Nonsense, May! that is absurd. Girls, you can see them to-morrowafternoon. To-morrow is our half-holiday; Mabel will read her versesaloud herself to you at four o'clock to-morrow on this identical spot.She has no time now, for the gong has just sounded for tea."
Mabel turned a flushed, surprised face towards Annie. Priscilla stoodperfectly still in unbounded astonishment. The girls were not quitesatisfied; still, there was nothing to complain of. They must go to teanow. Immediately after tea school-work would recommence; there wouldnot be a moment of time to read the verse
s before the following day.Annie, leaving Mabel to her fate, marched into the house, her hand onConstance Smedley's arm.
"I am glad I came out," she said. "Poor May is quite abnormallysensitive on the subject of her verses."
"Nonsense!" said Constance. "If she writes verses she won't mind ourseeing them."
"She ought not to mind; and if she were an ordinary girl she would not,"said Annie. "But, you see, she is not ordinary. There is many a girlwith a genius who, as regards other matters, is even a little silly.The fact is, Mabel is frightened of her own talent."
"Well, we are glad you came up, for we are quite determined to get aspecimen of our genius's work," said Constance.
"You shall know all about it; she will read them to you herself. Ta-tafor the present."
Annie marched to her own place at the tea-table, and nothing more wassaid. But she was not comfortable. She had got herself and herunfortunate friend into a hornet's nest. Verses of some sort must beproduced; but how? Annie could not write the most abject doggerel.Clever enough with regard