Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖
- Author: L. T. Meade
Book online «Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖». Author L. T. Meade
Linda and her friends, Rose and Mabel Armitage, with several other girls, formed quite a clique in the school against Stephanotie and what she termed her “set”; and now to think that this very objectionable American girl was to spend the next day at The Laurels because Molly, forsooth! wished it, was quite intolerable.
Linda thought for a moment, then went into the room where her mother was busy writing. Mrs. Hartrick had just finished her letter. She looked up when Linda approached.
“Well, darling?” she said. Mrs. Hartrick was very fond of Linda, and petted her a great deal more than Molly.
“Oh, mother! I am vexed,” said Linda. “Is it quite settled?”
“Is what settled, my dear?”
“Is it quite settled that Stephanotie is to come to-morrow?”
“By the way, I was going to ask you about her, Linda. What sort of girl is she?”
“I do not wish to say anything against my schoolfellows, mother; but if you could only see her—”
Mrs. Hartrick raised her eyebrows in alarm.
“Molly has taken so violently to her,” she answered, “and so has Nora; and I thought that just for once—”
“So you have given leave, mother?”
“Yes; I have.”
“And my friends are coming—those two charming girls, the Armitages.”
“Yes, dear; I greatly admire both the Armitage girls. I am glad they are coming; but why should not Miss Miller come also?”
“Only, she is not in their 'set,' mother—that is all. I wish—I do wish you would ask her to postpone her visit. If she must come, let her come another Saturday.”
“I will think about it,” said Mrs. Hartrick. “I have certainly promised and——But I will think about it.”
Linda saw that she could not press her mother any further. She went away in great disquietude.
“What is to be done?” she thought. “If only mother would speak to Molly at once; but Molly is so impetuous; and once Stephanotie is asked, there will be no getting out of it. She is just the sort of girl to tell that unpleasant story about me, too. If mother knew that, why, I should at last be in her black books. Well, whatever happens, Stephanotie must not be asked to spend the afternoon here to-morrow. I must somehow contrive to put some obstacle in the way.”
CHAPTER XXI. — THE ROSE-COLORED DRESS.
Meanwhile Molly rushed off to Nora. “Linda means mischief, and I must put my foot down immediately,” she said.
“Why, Molly, what is up?”
“Put on your hat, darling, and come with me as fast as ever you can.”
“Where to?”
“Mother has given in about Stephanotie. Linda will put her finger in the pie if she possibly can. I mean Stephanotie to get her invitation within the next five minutes. Now, then, come along, Nora. Do be quick.”
Mrs. Hartrick never allowed the girls to go out except very neatly dressed; but on this occasion they were seen tearing down the road with their garden hats on and minus their gloves. Had anyone from The Laurels observed them, good-by to Molly's liberty for many a long day. No one did, however. Linda during the critical moment was closeted with her mother. When she reappeared the girls were halfway to the village. They reached it in good time, and arrived at the house of Miss Truefitt, Stephanotie's aunt.
Miss Truefitt was an old-fashioned and precise little lady. She had gone through a great deal of trouble since the arrival of her niece, and often, as she expressed it, did not know whether she stood on her head or her heels; but she was fond of Stephanotie, who, notwithstanding her wild ways, was very affectionate and very taking. And now, when she saw Molly and Nora appearing, she herself entered the hall and opened the door for them.
“Well, my dears,” she said, “Stephie is in her bedroom; she has a headache, and wanted to lie down for a little.”
“Oh, just let me run up to her. I won't keep her a minute,” said Molly.
“Come in here with me,” said Miss Truefitt to Nora. She opened the door of her neat little parlor. Nora entered. The room was full of gay pictures and gay books, and scattered here and there were very large boxes of bon-bons.
“How she can eat them all is what puzzles me,” said Miss Truefitt; “she seems to live on them. The quantity she demolishes would wreck the health of any English girl. Ah, here comes Molly.”
But Molly did not come downstairs alone; the American girl was with her. Stephanotie rushed into the room.
“I am going to The Laurels to-morrow, auntie. I am going quite early; this dear old Molly has asked me. You guess I'll have a good time. There will be a box of bon-bons for Nora, sweet little Irish Nora; and a box for dear little Molly, a true native of England, and a fine specimen to boot. Oh, we shall have a nice time; and I am so glad I am asked!”
“It is very kind of Mrs. Hartrick to send you an invitation, Stephie,” said her aunt.
“Oh, bother that, Aunt Violet! You know perfectly well she would not ask me if Molly and Nora had not got it out of her.”
“Well, we did try our best and most conoodling ways,” said Nora in a soft voice.
“Ah, didn't you, you little Irish witch; and I guess you won, too. Well, I'm going; we'll have a jolly lark with Linda. If for no other reason, I should be glad to go to upset her apple cart.”
“Dear me, Stephie! you are very coarse and vulgar,” said Miss Truefitt.
“Not a bit of it, auntie. Have a bon-bon, do.” Stephanotie rushed across the room, opened a big box of bon-bons, and presented one, as if it were a pistol, full in Miss Truefitt's face.
“Oh, no, thank you, my dear!” said that lady, backing;
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