The Girls of St. Wode's

  CHAPTER III

  THE TORN DRESS.

  King's Cross was reached without adventure, and a moment later Marjoriewas eagerly talking to old Fowler the coachman.

  "How are you, Fowler? I am so glad to see you again," she cried. Sheheld out her hand to the old coachman as she spoke.

  "I am quite well, I thank you, miss," he replied. He could not helpsmiling into the beaming dark eyes, and could not help thinking,notwithstanding a certain amount of chagrin, how nice it was to haveMiss Marjorie back from school.

  "Eileen and I have knitted some baby socks for the last addition to yourfamily, Fowler," continued Marjorie. "We'll come round and see Mrs.Fowler and the bairns to-morrow. How old is the last baby? and is itdark or fair?"

  "It's six weeks old, miss, and very dark; but the wife isn't as strongas she ought to be."

  Fowler colored all over his face as he spoke. There was a porterstanding near, listening to this conversation.

  "Perhaps, young ladies," said the footman, coming to the rescue, "youwouldn't mind getting into the carriage, for the horses are that freshFowler can scarcely keep 'em standing much longer."

  "But it's quite serious about his wife not being strong," said Eileen ina meditative voice. "Now, if she were to take extract of malt orFellowes' Syrup----"

  "Oh, do get into the carriage," cried Letitia. "Really, Eileen, you willbe one of the most remarkable women of your day if you keep up yourpresent fads. Can't you see how all those porters are enjoying thescene; and as to poor wretched Fowler, if you think he enjoys talkingabout his latest baby and the medicines his wife is to take, at King'sCross Station, you are vastly mistaken. For goodness' sake, get in."

  As Letitia spoke she gave her energetic cousin a push. Eileen scrambledinto the carriage almost headforemost, treading on her dress, andtearing a piece of braid as she did so. Marjorie followed suit, andLetitia entered last in a dainty and pretty manner. The footman shut thedoor and got on the box beside the coachman. Poor Fowler's ears werestill red from the questions which Eileen had plied him with.

  "Bless her 'eart," he exclaimed to the footman, "she don't know thatit's rather awkward to talk about the wife and bairns at a place likeKing's Cross; but she's the best-natured young lady that ever walked. Iknew her when she was a little tot."

  "All the same, you looked like a fool when she questioned you," repliedHopkins; "and I doubt much if the missus will allow her young ladies togo a-visiting you in Fox Buildings."

  "Well, all I can say is this," replied the coachman, "if Miss Eileen andMiss Marjorie are like what they used to be when they was young, I don'tthink the missus will be able to prevent them having their own way."

  He whipped up his horses as he spoke, and a few minutes later the girlshad reached home.

  Mrs. Chetwynd was standing in the hall to welcome them.

  "My darlings, here you are at last," she cried. "Oh, good gracious,Eileen, take care where you are going. See that great piece of braidtrailing in front of your dress; my dear child, you will be on yournose."

  "Oh, never mind, mother," said Eileen. "I'm quite accustomed to thissort of thing.--Marjorie, have you a penknife? I'll cut it off."

  "Cut it off!" cried Mrs. Chetwynd; "nothing of the kind! I wonder whereyour maid is?" Here she turned to the footman, who was standingmotionless in the hall. "Go, Thomas, and desire Esther to come downimmediately.--She will mend your braid, my dear Eileen. Well, Lettie,dear, and how are you?"

  "Quite well, thank you, Aunt Helen," replied Letitia in her correct,ladylike voice. "I think Marjorie and Eileen are a little overexcited atgetting home, and if you will excuse----"

  "Pray, mother, do nothing of the kind," said Eileen. "We are not a bitashamed of our dresses; we do not intend to waste money upon raiment.Having sufficient clothes to cover ourselves, that is all that isnecessary. My idea is to have one warm dress for the winter, and onecool one for the summer, and no more. A felt hat for winter, and asailor one for summer, and no more. When the dresses are completely wornout they can be given to the poor--who may or may not make something ofthem--and we can buy a couple of new ones. You are going to give us anallowance, aren't you, mother?"

  "We will talk of that presently, my dears. Remember, my dear children, Ihave not seen you for a year. I had a delightful time on the Continent,but I never forgot you, my loves. But now that you have come home forgood, there will be much to talk over and arrange. Meantime, we cansurely let the subject of dress drop."

  "But, dear mother, did you say we had come home for good?" criedMarjorie. "You surely don't suppose that our education is finished? Weare only just eighteen."

  "We will talk of that also by and by," replied Mrs. Chetwynd, a frownknitting her brows, and her heart sinking a trifle.

  Marjorie and Eileen had always been wayward children, difficult tomanage; good-tempered and good-hearted, but with a certain stubbornelement about them which caused them not to disobey, but to have theirdesires on almost every point gratified, simply because the trouble ofopposing them was immense.

  Mrs. Chetwynd remembered these traits in her two bright girls as shewelcomed them to their home. She was delighted to see them of course;but it was painful to observe their greasy serge dresses and their haircropped like boys. Then, too, their manners were eccentric; and therewas nothing so distasteful as eccentricity.

  Letitia, of course, looked all that was sweet and nice; but she was notMrs. Chewynd's own daughter, which made a great difference. Try as shewould, the widow could not take the absorbing interest in Letitia thatshe did in Eileen and Marjorie.

  "Come upstairs, my darlings," she said. "You must see your charminglittle rooms. Esther has everything in perfect order for you; fireslighted and all. Come this way."

  Mrs. Chetwynd conveyed the girls upstairs. The three rooms were on thesame landing, and communicated one with the other. Mrs. Chetwynd hadgone to some expense in having doors broken in the walls to effect thisarrangement. When completed, the effect was charming. The rooms werepapered with a self-colored paper of pale blue. There was a deep friezeof hand-painted flowers and birds. The paint on the doors and round thewainscot was creamy white. The furniture was also creamy white, withbrass fittings. The carpet on each floor was a square of rich Turkey.The windows of the three pretty rooms were a little open; and with thecheerful fires burning in the small grates, and the sweet air coming infrom the square garden, no rooms could look more tempting.

  "Delightful! Oh, Aunt Helen, how perfectly sweet of you," said Letitia,as she danced into her own little room. "And do you mean to say we areto have one each. Oh, what a darling little bed--and a spring-mattressand all. How luxurious we shall be. Oh, and do look at those great,roomy cupboards in the wall."

  "But what do we want great, roomy cupboards for?" cried Eileen. "Withone dress for summer and one dress for winter, surely we don't want muchroom?"

  "I tell you what it is, Eileen," said Marjorie, "I mean to use mine as adark-room for photography--capital, excellent. Thank you, mother, dear."

  "You mean to use your dress-cupboard as a darkroom for photography?"said Mrs. Chetwynd. "My dear child, you will have little time forphotography when you are introduced to Her Majesty, and are in the fullswing of a society career."

  "But, mother, I never mean to be in such a truly awful position," criedMarjorie.

  Her mother knitted her brows anxiously.

  "For goodness' sake, Marjorie, don't worry Aunt Helen the firstevening," cried Lettie.--"Dear Aunt Helen, everything will be right--quiteright. The girls have a crank, each of them; but these delightful roomsand you, dear Aunt Helen, ought to cure them in no time.--Now, girls, doget off those horrid dresses and get into respectable ones.--They haverespectable dresses, I assure you, Aunt Helen. If you will leave us, wewill all come down to the drawing-room in less than a quarter of anhour."

  "And here is Esther to wait on you," said Mrs. Chetwynd. "You may aswell dress for dinner now that you are about it, and I will have teasent up to you to your rooms. We din
e at half-past seven."

  She left the room as she spoke, and Esther, a nice-looking girl, camerespectfully forward. She looked with consternation at the torn braid onEileen's dress.

  "Oh, please, don't bother about me," said Eileen. "I wouldn't have theservices of a maid to save my life. I hate to have anyone touch my hairbut myself. Besides, as you doubtless observe, my good girl, there is noarrangement necessary. It is only an inch long, and with a couple ofbrushes, one in each hand, I can push it into any position I like.Lettie, if you wish for Esther, please have her. Your neat little head,'sunning over with curls,' requires plenty of arrangement; but not mine,thank goodness."

  "Nor mine either," echoed Marjorie. "Oh, what a comfort it is to haveshort hair. I never mean to let my locks grow."

  "Which dresses will you wish to wear this evening, young ladies?" askedEsther, who had gaped in astonishment while the girls were speaking.

  As she spoke she held out her hand for the keys of their trunks.

  "Here are the keys," said Marjorie; "but I don't know whatevening-dresses we have. I am sure there is nothing fit to be seen. Butcan't we go downstairs as we are?"

  "Perhaps you'll mend this braid," said Eileen, "if you prefer that tocutting it off, which is much quicker."

  "I would suggest, miss, that you let me choose your dress. I will unpackyour things, and see what are most suitable," said the maid in her primvoice.

  "All right; lay them on the bed. Anything for a quiet life," sighedMarjorie.

  Esther proceeded to take the things out of Marjorie's trunk, and Eileenwalked to the window and looked out, whistling somewhat loudly and in athoroughly boyish fashion as she did so.

  The maid quickly put the contents of the small trunks into thereceptacles for their convenience, laid two soiled and crumpledevening-frocks of pale cream cashmere on the beds, and then retired toexpend some of her skill, which was considerable, on Letitia's prettyperson and charming wardrobe. Letitia was a young lady quite afterEsther's own heart.