Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (e book free reading TXT) 📖

“the indigestion I have already got owing to the way you have forced your bon-bons upon me has almost wrecked my health. I have lost all appetite. Dear me, Stephie! I wish you would not be so dreadfully American.”

“The process of Englishizing me is a slow one,” said Stephanotie. She turned, walked up to the glass, and surveyed herself. She was dressed in rich brown velveteen, made to fit her lissome figure. Her hair was of an almost fiery red, and surrounded her face like a halo; her eyes were very bright china-blue, and she had a dazzlingly fair complexion. There were people who thought Stephanotie pretty; there were others who did not admire her at all. She had a go-ahead, very independent manner, and was the sort of girl who would be idolized by the weaker members of the school. Molly, however, was by no means a weak member of the school, nor, for that matter, was Nora, and they both took great pleasure out of Stephanotie.

“My bark is worse than my bite,” said that young person. “I am something like you, Molly. I am a bit of a scorcher; but there, when I am trained in properly I'll be one of the best of good creatures.”

“Well, you are booked for to-morrow now,” said Molly; “and Jehoshaphat! if you don't come in time—”

“Oh, Molly!” whispered Nora.

“There, I won't say it again.”

Poor Miss Truefitt looked much shocked. Molly and Nora bade her good-by, and nodded to Stephanotie, who stood upon the doorstep and watched them down the street; then she returned to her aunt.

“I did think,” said Miss Truefitt slowly, “that the girls belonging to your school were ladylike; but to come here without gloves, and that eldest girl, Miss Hartrick, to use such a shocking expression.”

“Oh, bless you, Aunt Vi! it's nothing to the expressions she uses at school. She's a perfect horror of a girl, and I like her for that very reason. It is that horrid little Linda would please you; and I must say I am sorry for your taste.”

Stephanotie went upstairs to arrange her wardrobe for the next day. She had long wished to visit Molly's home. The Laurels was one of the prettiest places in the neighborhood, and Molly and Linda were considered as among the smartest girls at the school. Stephanotie wished to be hand-and-glove with Molly, not because she was supposed to be rich, or respectable, or anything else, but simply because her nature fitted to that of the wild, enthusiastic American girl. But, all the same, now that she had got the entrée, as she expressed it, of the Hartricks' home, she intended to make a sensation. “When I do the thing I may as well do it properly,” she said to herself. “I will make them open their eyes. I have watched Mrs. Hartrick in church; and, oh dear me! have not I longed to give her a poke in the back. And as to Linda, she thinks a great deal of her dress. She does not know what mine will be when I take out my very best and most fascinating gown.”

Accordingly Stephanotie rifled her trunk, and from its depths she produced a robe which would, as she said, make the members of The Laurels sit up. It was made of rose-colored silk, and trimmed with quantities of cream lace. The skirt had many little flounces on it, and each was edged with lace. The bodice was cut rather low in the neck, and the sleeves did not come down anything like as far as the wrists. The rose-colored silk with its cream lace trimmings was altogether the sort of dress which might be worn in the evening; but daring Stephanotie intended to appear in it in the morning. She would encircle her waist with a cream-colored sash, very broad, and with much lace upon it; and would wear many-colored beads round her neck, and many bracelets on her arms.

“The whole will have a stylish effect, and will at any rate distinguish me from everyone else,” was her inward comment. She shook out the dress, and then rang the bell. One of the servants appeared.

“I want to have this robe ironed and made as presentable as possible,” said Stephanotie; “see you have it all done and put in my wardrobe ready for wear tonight. I guess it will fetch 'em,” she added, and then she rushed like a whirlwind into the presence of Miss Truefitt.

“Auntie,” she said, “would you like to see me done up in style?”

“I don't know, I am sure, my dear,” said Miss Truefitt, looking at her with nervous eyes.

“Oh, dear, Aunt Vi! if you were to see mother now you wouldn't know her; she is wonderfully addicted to the pleasures of the toilet. There is nothing so fascinating as the pleasures of the toilet when once you yield to its charms. She rigged me up pretty smart before I left New York, and I am going to wear my rose-colored silk with the cream lace to-morrow.”

“But you are not going to an evening party, my dear.”

“No; but I shall stay all the evening, and I know I'll look killing. The dress suits me down to the ground. It is one of my fads always to be in something red; it seems to harmonize with my hair.”

Miss Truefitt uttered a deep sigh.

“What are you sighing for, Aunt Vi?”

“Nothing, dear; only please don't offer me a bon-bon. The mere sight of those boxes gives me a feeling of nausea.”

“But you have not tried the crystallized figs,” cried Stephanotie; “they are wonderfully good; and if you feel nausea a peppermint-drop will set you right. I have a kind of peppermint chocolate in this box which is extremely stimulating to the digestive organs.”

“No, no, Stephie. I beg—I really do beg that you will take all the obnoxious boxes out of the room.”

“Very well, auntie; but you'll come up to-morrow to see me in my dress?”

The next day was Saturday, a holiday of course. Stephanotie had put her hair into Hinde's curlers the night before, and, in consequence, it was a perfect mass of frizzle and fluff the next morning. Miss Truefitt, who wore her own neat gray locks plainly banded round her head, gave a shudder when she first caught sight of Stephanotie.

“I was thinking, dear, during the night,” she said, “of your pink silk dress, and I should very much prefer you to wear the gray cashmere trimmed with the neat velvet at the cuffs and collar. It would tone down your—”

“Oh, don't say it,” said Stephanotie; “my hair is a perfect glory this morning. Come yourself and look at it—here; stand just here; the sun is shining full on me. Everyone will have to look twice at me with a head like this.”

“Indeed, that is true,” said Miss Truefitt; “and perhaps three times; and not approve of you then.”

“Oh, come, auntie, you don't know how bewitching I look when I am got up in all my finery.”

“She is hopelessly vulgar,” thought poor Miss Truefitt to herself; “and I always supposed Agnes would have such a nice, proper girl, such as she was herself in the old days; but that last photograph of Agnes shows a decided falling off. How truly glad I am that I was never induced to marry an American! I would rather have my neat, precise little house and a small income than go about like a figure of fun. That poor child will never be made English; it is a hopeless task. The sooner she goes back