The Honorable Miss: A Story of an Old-Fashioned Town by L. T. Meade (best smutty novels .txt) 📖

in your best evening shoes too, Matty, love, and my old black lace fan, in case you should flush up dreadful when the captain is paying you attention. And now, Sophy, you'll just be good-natured, and leave the parcel with the parlor maid, so your sister will be prepared for whatever happens."

Sophy, having been judiciously bribed by the loan of a large Cairngorm brooch of her mother's, which took up a conspicuous position at her throat, finally consented to carry the obnoxious parcel. Alice was further instructed, in case Mrs. Bertram so far failed in her duty as to neglect to invite Matty to stay to dine at the Manor to try and bring Captain Bertram back with them to supper.

"You tell him that I'll have a beautiful lobster, and a crab done to a turn ready for him," whispered the mother. "You'll manage it, Alice, and look sympathetic when you speak to him, poor fellow. Let him know that I'll give him his chances, whether that proud lady, his mother, does or not. Now then, off you go, all three of you. Kiss me, Matty, my pet. Well, to be sure, you do look stylish."

The three little figures in their somewhat tight shoes toddled down the street. In the evening they toddled back again. The brown paper parcel tossed, and somewhat torn, was tucked fiercely under Sophy's arm, and Alice was unaccompanied by any brave son of Mars.

Sophy was the first to enter her expectant mother's presence.

"There, ma," she said, flinging the paper parcel on the table. "I hope we have had enough of those Bertrams and their ways. The fuss I had over that horrid parcel. I thought I'd never get it back again. In the end I had to see Mrs. Bertram about it, and didn't she crush me just! She's an awful woman. I never want to speak to her again all my life, and as to the captain caring for Matty!"

"Where is Matty?" here interrupted Mrs. Bell. "She was not asked to stay behind after all, then?"

"She asked to stay behind? You speak for yourself, Matty. For my part, I think it was very unfair to give Matty that silk. We might all have had nice washing muslins for the price of it. Where are you, Matty? Oh, I declare she has gone upstairs in the sulks!"

"You're in a horrid bad temper, Sophy; that I can see," expostulated the mother. "Well, Alice, perhaps you can tell me what all this fuss is about? I hope to goodness you gave the captain my message, child."

"I didn't see him to give it, mother," answered Alice. "He never spoke once to us the whole time. He just shook hands when we arrived, but even then he didn't speak."

"Captain Bertram never spoke to Matty during the entire evening?" gasped Mrs. Bell. "Child, you can't be speaking the truth, you must be joking me."

"I'm not, truly, mother. Captain Bertram didn't even look at Matty. He was all the time following Beatrice Meadowsweet about like a shadow."

Mrs. Bell gave her head a toss.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" she said. "I didn't think the captain would be so artful. Mark my word, girls, he behaved like that just as a blind to put his old mother off the scent."

But as Mrs. Bell spoke her heart sank within her. She remembered again how Beatrice had looked that evening in the green boat, and she saw once more Matty's tossed locks and sunburnt hands.

After a time she went upstairs, and without any ceremony entered her daughter's room.

Matty had tossed off the gaudy silk, and was lying on her bed. Her poor little face was blistered with tears, and, as Mrs. Bell expressed it, it "gave me a heart-ache even to look at her." She was not a woman, however, to own to defeat. She pretended not to see Matty's tears, and she made her tone purposely very cheerful.

"Come, come, child," she said, "what are you stretched on the bed for, as if you were delicate? Now, I wouldn't let this get to Captain Bertram's ears for the world."

"What do you mean, mother?" asked the astonished daughter.

"What I say, my love. I wouldn't let the captain know that you were so tired as to have to lie down after a game of tennis, for a ten pound note. Nothing puts a man off a girl so soon as to hear that she's delicate."

"Oh, he—he doesn't care," half sobbed Matty.

"Oh, doesn't he, though? I never knew anything more like caring than for him to be too shy to come near you. Things have gone pretty far when a man has to blind his mother by pretending to be taken up with another girl. I knew the captain was in love, Matty, but I did not suppose he was deep enough to play his cards after that fashion. You get up now, lovey, and come down, and have a nice hot cup of tea. It will revive you wonderfully, my pet."

Matty allowed her mother to coax her off the bed, and to assist her on with her every-day brown holland frock. She was a good deal comforted and inclined to reconsider the position which had seemed so hopeless half-an-hour ago.

"Only he did neglect me shamefully," she said, with a little toss of her head. "And I don't see why I should take it from him."

"That's right, my girl. You show Captain Bertram you've got a spirit of your own. There's nothing brings a man to the point like a girl giving him a little bit of sauce. Next time he speaks to you, you can be as stand-off as you please, Matty."

"Yes, mother," said Matty, in a languid tone.

She knew, however, that it was not in her nature to be stand-off to any one, and beneath all the comfort of her mother's words she could not help doubting if Captain Bertram would care how she behaved to him.

The next morning the Rector's invitation came for the annual treat, and the hopes of the Bells once more rose high. On this occasion Mrs. Bell was to accompany her daughters. Bell would also be present, but, as he was never of much account, this small fact scarcely rested on any one's mind. All the town was now in state of ferment. The Rector's party was the only thing spoken about, and many were the prognostications with regard to the weather.

The day of festival came at last; the sun arose gloriously, not a cloud was in the sky, all the merry-makers might go in their best, and all hearts might be jubilant. It was delightful to see Northbury on this day, for so gay were the costumes worn by its inhabitants that as they passed through the narrow old streets they gave the place of their birth a picturesque and even a foreign appearance.

The Rectory was just outside the town, and, of course, all the footsteps were bending thither. The Rector had invited his guests to assemble at three o'clock, and punctually at a quarter to that hour Miss Peters seated herself in her bay window, armed with a spy-glass to watch the gathering crowd.

Miss Peters was already arrayed in her festive clothes, but she and Mrs. Butler thought it ungenteel not to be, at least, an hour late. "The Bertrams will be sure to be late," remarked the good lady to her sister, "and we, too, Martha, will show that we know what's what."

"Which we don't," snapped Mrs. Butler. "We are sure and certain to be put in the wrong before we are half-an-hour there. However, I agree with you, Maria; we won't be among the hurryers. I hate to be one of those who snap at a thing. Now, what's the matter? How you do startle me!"

"It's Mrs. Gorman Stanley," gasped Miss Peters; "she's in red velvet, with a beaded bodice—and—oh, do look at her bonnet, Martha! Positively, it's hideous. A straw-green, with blue forget-me-nots, and those little baby daisies dropping over her hair. Well, well, how that woman does ape youth!"

Mrs. Butler snatched the spy-glass from her sister, and surveyed Mrs. Gorman Stanley's holiday attire with marked disapproval. She threw down her glasses presently with a little sniff.

"Disgusting," she said with emphasis. "That woman will never see fifty again, and she apes seventeen. For my part, I think, when women reach a certain age they should not deck themselves with artificial flowers. Flowers are for the young, not for poor worn-out, faded types of humanity. Now you, Maria——"

"Oh, don't," said Miss Maria, stepping back a few paces in alarm, and putting up her hand to her bonnet, "don't say that wallflowers aren't allowable, Martha; I always did think that wallflowers were so pass�. That's why I chose them."

"Who's that now?" exclaimed Mrs. Butler. "My word, Maria, get quick behind the curtain and peep! Give me the spy-glass; I'll look over your head. Why, if it isn't—no—yes—it is, though—it's that young Captain Bertram, a most stylish young man! He looks elegant in flannels—quite a noble face—I should imagine him to be the image of Julius Caesar—there he comes—and Bee—Bee Meadowsweet with him."

"Just like her name," murmured Miss Peters; "just—just like her name, bless her!"

The poor, withered heart of the little old maid quite swelled with love and admiration as the beautiful girl, dressed simply all in white, with roses on her cheeks, and sparkles in her eyes, walked to the scene of the coming gayeties in the company of the acknowledged hero of the town.

"Poor Matty Bell, I pity her!" said Mrs. Butler. "Oh, it has been a sickening sight the way the mother has gone on lately, perfectly sickening; but she'll have her come down, poor woman, and I, for one, will say, serve her right."

"We may as well be going, Martha," said Miss Peters.

"Well, I suppose so, since our betters have led the way. Now, Maria, don't drag behind, and don't ogle me with your eyes more than you can help. I have made up my mind to have a seat next to Mrs. Bertram at the feast, and to bring her down a peg if I can. Now, let's come on."

The ladies left the house and joined the group of holiday-seekers, who were all going in the direction of the Rectory. When they reached the festive scene, the grounds were already thronged. Mr. Ingram was very proud of his gardens and smoothly-kept lawns. He hated to see his velvet swards trampled on and made bare by the tread of many feet. He disliked the pet flowers in his greenhouses being pawed and smelt, and his trim ribbon borders being ruthlessly despoiled. But on the day of the annual treat he forgot all these prejudices. The lawns, the glass-houses, the flower-beds, might and would suffer, he cared not. He was giving supreme pleasure to human flowers, and for two days out of the three hundred and sixty-five they were free to do as they liked with the vegetable kingdom over which on every other day he reigned as monarch supreme. Marquees now dotted the lawns, and one or two brass bands played rather shrill music. There were tennis-courts and croquet lawns, and fields set aside for archery. Luxurious seats, with awnings over them, were to be found at every turn, and as the grass was of the greenest here, the trees of the shadiest, and the view of the blue harbor the loveliest, the Rector's place, on the day of the feast, appeared to more than one enthusiastic inhabitant of Northbury just like fairyland.

Matty Bell thought so, as, accompanied by her sisters and mother she stepped into the enchanted ground. The girls were in white to-day, not well made, and very bunchy and thick of texture. But still the dresses were white, and round each modest waist was girdled a sash of virgin blue.

"It makes me almost weep to look at the dear children," whispered Mrs. Bell to her husband. "They look so innocent and lamb-like, more particularly Matty."

Here she sighed profoundly.

"I don't see why you should single out Matty," retorted the spouse. "She's no more than the others, as far as I can see, and Sophy has the reddest cheeks."

"That's all you know," said Mrs. Bell. Here she almost shook herself with disdain. "Well, Peter, I often do wonder what Pas are for—not for observation, and not for smoothing a girl's path, and helping an ardent young lover. Oh, no, no!"

"Helping an ardent young lover, Tilly! Whatever are you talking about? Where is he? I don't see him."

"You make me sick, Peter. Hold your tongue, do, and believe your wife when she says that's about all you are good for. Matty's on the brink, and that's the truth."

Poor Bell looked as mystified as he felt. Presently he slunk away to enjoy a quiet smoke with some congenial spirits in