A Modern Tomboy: A Story for Girls by L. T. Meade (good books to read for beginners .txt) 📖

was a very cadaverous-looking person, about forty years of age, thin to emaciation, with small, light, frightened-looking eyes, a long upper lip, and a great many freckles on her face. Her hair was thin and dark, and was strained back from a lofty forehead. The moment Rosamund saw her she took her hand.

"Please don't keep the door locked," she said. "And please unbar the shutters and draw up the blinds, for it is a lovely summer's day, and Irene won't do you any harm. I want to talk to you. May I?"

"I don't believe, my dear young friend," said Miss Frost, "that I am long for this world. I feel those dreadful things even now creeping up and down. The doctor says they are dead; but how can he look inside me? I know they are alive. I know they are."

"I don't think they could be alive," said Rosamund. "I heard of that trick being played on some one once before, and nothing whatever happened, and I can assure you the person is quite well, and when the fright was got over the whole thing was forgotten."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Oh, I have lived through such a morning of agony!"

"You must forget your agony now."

"But how am I to endure that child?"

"Will you lie down again on your bed and let me talk to you for a minute or two?"

As Rosamund spoke she took the cold hand of the governess, led her to the bed, made her lie down, and covered her up. Then she drew a chair forward, and, still retaining her hand, she began to speak.

"I know quite well all that you would say about Irene; but please don't say it. I have come here contrary to rules, and at some trouble to myself, but also with my mother's approval, to be Irene's friend and guest for a time. You are all very much afraid of her. Yes, you are, from Lady Jane to the lowest servant in the place, and it is because you are afraid of her that she is so exceedingly naughty. Now, it so happens that I am not a scrap afraid of her, therefore I have some influence over her, and I know positively that she will not play any of her horrid tricks upon you again. For the moment she does so I shall leave her, and she doesn't wish me to do that. Therefore you needn't be at all afraid. What has happened gave you a nasty turn; but there, that's the end of it! You will get up, won't you, and come down to tea? I think perhaps Irene will be a little nicer to you. And to-morrow, or the next day, or whenever we are to begin, I want to know if you will teach me as well as Irene. I also want us to know other girls, and to have a good time all round. For Irene is only a young savage at present; but she has a warm heart, and I do believe that I can touch it."

"My dear," said Miss Frost when Rosamund had done speaking, "may I ask how old you are?"

"I am fifteen."

"Then you are three years older than the terrible Irene."

"Three years older, and I hope three years wiser."

"A thousand years wiser, my dear—quite a thousand years wiser. You don't know what I have suffered; and I am not the only one. Her one object in life when each new governess comes is to get rid of that governess. But I have a little brother and sister both dependent on me altogether for their daily bread, and Lady Jane gives me one hundred and fifty pounds a year, a very large sum for a governess who is not certificated. I simply daren't give it up. I try to, for I often feel that I must. Even the children do not seem worth the agonies I undergo. But then again I struggled on until now."

"You will have no more struggling, and if you teach me as well as Irene I know mother will pay you something, so your people will be better off than ever," said Rosamund in her cheerful voice. "Now cheer up. You have nothing to fear. Try to be courageous, and when you speak to the servants, get them to be courageous too. You have all let Irene get the upper hand of you, and it is exceedingly bad for her. Now, I promised to join her; but you will be with us at tea-time, won't you?"

"I will. You have put great heart into me. What a wonderful girl you are! When I saw you on Sunday I thought how remarkable you were, and now that you have spoken I see it more than ever."

"Perhaps you know what has happened at Sunnyside?"

"What is that, dear?"

"My own special friend, Jane Denton, is dangerously ill with diphtheria. I do not know if she will ever be better."

"Then is there any fear?" said Miss Frost.

"You mean of your taking it?"

"Oh, no, I don't mind for myself a scrap. I am not afraid of illness, and I had diphtheria when I was young, and people don't often have it twice; but it is that child—that queer child."

"I cannot give it to her," said Rosamund. "If she takes it she must have contracted the infection herself, owing to——But there, I won't say any more. Let us hope for the best. I must go to her now, however."

CHAPTER XIII. IN ANOTHER DRESS.

When Rosamund went out, feeling both flushed and tired, she saw Irene waiting for her. She wore her favorite red dress, which was exceedingly shabby and by no means becoming. Rosamund felt just like St. George when he was about to slay the dragon. Irene at the present moment was the dragon. That dreadful part of her which was such a nuisance to her neighbors must be kept under by a firm hand. One person at least must have complete control of her.

"There you are!" said Irene, dancing up to her friend. "Oh, it is nice to see you, and how sweet you look! Do you know, I never noticed people's looks before. I always said to myself, 'They are all exactly alike—a pair of eyes, a nose, a mouth, a chin of sorts, eyebrows indifferent or not, hair dark or fair.' Oh, they're all alike—at least that is what I did think. Now I see you, there seems a difference."

"I hope I haven't got three eyes or two noses, or anything of that sort, to make you single me out for special observation."

"Oh, it isn't your features a bit—it's your way. You are different, and I like you."

"Do you know, Irene," said Rosamund very slowly and emphatically, and taking the little girl's thin hand as she spoke, "that you are the most wonderfully beautiful girl I have ever seen?"

"Am I?" said Irene, and a new light sparkled in her eyes. "People have always spoken of me as a horror, a terror, a nuisance, the wildest and most awful creature on earth. But if I am so pretty"——

"You could be lovely," said Rosamund. "I must say that red dress is rather trying, but your face is exquisite. Now, what do you say to going into the house and going quietly up to your own room? I will come with you and help you to choose another frock, which I think will make you look more beautiful than ever. Just let me dress you as I like for once."

"I trust it won't be tight, or too long," said Irene.

"I am sure you have abundance of frocks."

"I don't know. I dare say I have. I believe there is a wardrobe full; but I prefer my red dress because it annoys mother. When one is worn out, I ask for another made just on the same pattern, and just because they all hate it so."

"But you will change it for me. Come at once, Irene."

Rosamund took her friend's hand and led her upstairs to her room. Now, Irene's bedroom was not at all an attractive place to go into. In itself it was an exceedingly large and airy apartment, and the furniture was excellent. But the small bed was drawn up close to the window, and was more cot than bed, having iron bars all round it. Near the bed were several jars and basins containing toads and frogs and newts and water creatures of all sorts. Besides these, there was a box of caterpillars, most of which had escaped, and on the mantelpiece Irene proudly pointed to a bottle of leeches.

"I bought them, for a pound that I had given to me, from a chemist; and when any of the servants are quite determined to stick in the place I let the leeches loose, and that generally sends the housemaids away. I wouldn't part with my darling leeches for all the world. Do you see how they are dancing now? That means rain. When they lie quite sullen at the bottom of the glass, then I know we are going to have fine weather. That one on the stalk—do you see how he is wriggling, poor sweet pet?—that one I call Fuzz, and this one at the bottom of the glass is Buzz. Then there are their children, Thunder and Lightning, and the little Stars. The Stars are the tiny ones. I manage them myself. I love them better than any of my pets. Would you like me to take them out? You'll see how they crawl about on the floor; only they get rather dusty. Do you mind?"

"Not in the very least," said Rosamund.

"Well, you have spunk! You know, if you annoy me in any way, I should think nothing of putting either Fuzz or Buzz into your bed."

"Then I should leave the next day, that's all," replied Rosamund in a calm voice. "I shouldn't be afraid; but I should simply go. If you want me to be your friend you must not play tricks of that sort. But we needn't talk any more about leeches now. They seem happy and well. Let me see what dresses you have."

Rosamund herself opened the wardrobe and took out a quantity of beautiful dresses of all sorts and descriptions, mostly white washing silks and muslins and cambrics. She chose a neat white cambric, and insisted on Irene putting it on. She fastened it on the little girl herself, and saw that it fitted her perfectly. She then brushed her hair and made her wash her hands, which this wild tomboy strongly objected to. But Rosamund was firm.

"I hope you're not always going to be like this," said Irene, stamping her foot.

"Oh, dear, no! because soon you will do it for its own sake. Now, here's a long mirror; come and see yourself in the glass. Can't you fancy what you are like?"

But Irene started away.

"No, no, no!" she said. "There's a pool at the bottom of the garden, and there are water-lilies all around it. We'll go, both of us, and look at ourselves there; that will be much prettier."

"As you please. I am quite indifferent; only I want you to respect yourself, Irene."

"Respect myself? But then, no one else does."

"Well, I intend to respect you, and I can only do it by your respecting yourself. Come along; let us look at ourselves in the pool. I am considered fairly good-looking—I don't pretend to deny it; but I am nothing to you to-day, for you gave me a very tiring night."

"So I did, you poor dear! This white dress is rather nice, but I wouldn't wear it for mother for all the world; I only wear it now. Now then, come along."

The two raced downstairs; the servants peeped out from different corners in astonishment. Miss Irene, who would make such a show of herself, was absolutely pretty in her shady hat of softest white, and her white dress to match, and that face, which, notwithstanding all her naughtiness, was and must ever be beautiful above ordinary faces.

By-and-by the girls reached the pool. They both fell on their knees, and Rosamund desired Irene to gaze at her reflection.

"Here are some forget-me-nots," said Rosamund. "I am going to make a wreath to put round your hair. Take your hat off."

She made a little wreath in a few minutes, and twined them through Irene's curling locks.

"Now look again. What do you see?"

"Why, she is somebody rather—I mean she is beautiful, very beautiful," said Irene in a low voice. "But she is not me."

"She is you. Look again. Don't you see that soft little mouth, and that nose, so beautifully formed, and those bright, bright eyes, and that hair, and the whole thing? It was God who made you, Irene, and He