Book Two – Chapter One
A Delightful Proposal
When Ralph Durrant’s father came for him on the day of the great break-up at the school, he found a little boy who said with emphasis that he had several school-mothers, and that he did not wish to say good-bye to any of them. This state of things rather puzzled Mr Durrant, whose one desire in life was to make Ralph intensely happy.
“How am I to manage such a lot of mothers, little man?” he said.
“You must, Father,” replied Ralph. “There is my naughty school-mother – her name is Harriet. She is both naughty and good, and I love her like anything. And there is my beautiful, good school-mother – Robina; and I want not to say good-bye to either of them. I s’pose,” continued Ralph, “that Robina must have the pony; only I wish there were two ponies – ”
But here Mrs Burton interfered.
“Ralph,” she said, “I have something to say to your father. Run away for a short time and play with Curly Pate, my dear.”
Ralph, who had been excellently trained by Robina, ran immediately out of the room. Mr Durrant turned and faced Mrs Burton.
“Well,” he said, with a smile, “my little scheme seems to have answered. Ralph was fretting a good deal when I brought him here. He had been badly managed at home: none of his aunts understood him. He missed his dear mother, – who died two years ago, – more than words can say. It was not that he fretted about her, for the dear little man was too young to fret, but he just missed the mothering part of life which all little children need and cannot do without. His aunts are good, but old-fashioned people, and they failed just where they most meant to succeed. Now, I see a dear, healthy, happy little boy, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. I have to thank you, Mrs Burton, for a great deal.
“You know that I must leave him very soon to return to South Africa. You know, too, that my work while there, leads me into very possible dangers: in fact, I think I may add into certain dangers; and if it were possible to secure a permanent home for my little man in your house, I should love to do so.”
“But this is a school for girls,” said Mrs Burton, with a smile.
“Still, one little boy – my dear friend – one little motherless boy, not six years of age – ”
“He is a baby,” said Mrs Burton, “and we all love him. I will think it over.”
“Do, my dear friend. I can scarcely tell you what a weight of care will be lifted from my mind if you will allow me to send Ralph back here at the end of the holidays. But in the meantime, what is this talk about several school-mothers, and in especial about two; one naughty – one whom he loves very dearly, and one good – one whom he also seems to adore? Am I really to give two ponies, two side-saddles, two habits, and provide for the keep of two of these little animals for many years? If you can prove to me that such an action on my part is necessary, I will gladly give not two, but twenty, ponies to Ralph’s little mothers in this school.”
“You are so generous, Mr Durrant, that you would really spoil all my little girls if you were allowed to have your own way,” said the headmistress. “The fact is, this your proposal with regard to the pony was so tempting and so unlooked for, that it very nearly turned the head and the heart of one child in this school. That child – your little boy will tell you her name, so there is no use in my withholding it – is called Harriet Lane. She behaved as she ought not to have done; and although circumstances occurred – which I will also tell you later on – that so terrified her and so appealed to her conscience that she is very much improved now; nevertheless it would never do to give her a pony. You must keep to your decision, Mr Durrant, one pony for one girl, and one school-mother for little Ralph.”
“Very well,” said Mr Durrant. “But I suppose I may do something else for the would-be school-mothers.”
He talked a little longer with Mrs Burton, and the result of this conference was that just before break-up on that lovely summer’s day, the great African explorer made a proposal to the school. It was this:
“I have heard a great deal,” said Mr Durrant, standing on a platform and looking at all the eager faces, “about your goodness to my little boy. I have further heard that the girls of the third form have each in turn acted as his school-mother.”
“Oh yes – oh yes!” said Ralph, coming forward now, and speaking with great eagerness: “I has got eight mothers, and I don’t want to lose one of them. My bestest mothers are my naughty one and my goodest one. Robina is my goodest one, and Harriet is my naughtiest one: I love them best, but I love all the others too.”
“You, I think, are Robina Starling,” said Mr Durrant, fixing his eyes on Robina’s face.
“Yes, sir;” she answered.
“And you have taken good care of my little boy.”
“I love Ralph very much, sir,” said Robina simply.
“And you, too, love him,” said Mr Durrant, turning his eyes by a sort of instinct in the direction where Harriet stood, Harriet still looking pale and lanky and different from the rest of her school-fellows.
“Yes,” said Harriet, with a sort of choke in her voice; “I care for Ralph.”
Little Ralph himself looked full at her. He ran up to her now and took her hand.
“Don’t think about your naughtiness,” he whispered to her. “You is forgived, you know.”
Harriet squeezed the little hand and then let it go. There was a lump in her throat. She could not imagine why Ralph Durrant – a little, little boy – had such power over her.
“And the rest of you are mothers too,” said Mr Durrant, looking from one to the other.
“We all love Ralph,” they answered.
“Well now: I have a proposal to make. I am taking a house at the seaside – a very nice country house for the holidays; and I want to know if all the school-mothers can come and stay with Ralph and me in my house. You are all invited. Will you come? There will be the pony for the special school-mother – for you, Robina. The pony which will be your property, and which you can ride as much as you like, and as long as you like, and lend to your companions when you wish to be good-natured, will be with you. And there will be donkeys – excellent donkeys for the rest of you, and also bicycles, and also a waggonette, and a governess cart; so I think there will be no difficulty in your getting about; and I can promise you beforehand that I am a first-rate person for managing picnics; and that my cook-housekeeper, Mrs Joseph, is famous for her cakes, pies, and puddings; and that my other housekeeper, Mrs Scott, will see to your wardrobes and look after your other comforts. But I wish to warn you beforehand, that there will be no lady in the house. There will be no grown-up lady-woman in my house, so you children will have to look out for storms; for I can be, when I like, a very fierce man, and if there are really naughty children, I can make it unpleasant for them. There, my dear little girls, I am only joking – ”
“Father’s awful at his jokes,” interrupted Ralph at that moment. “You is silly, father; you know that you is never cross.”
“Perhaps,” said Mr Durrant, “you had better, girls, take Ralph’s estimate of my character. Anyhow, come those of you who wish to try me, and stay away, those of you who are afraid. The house will be ready to receive you in a fortnight from now. During that time, Ralph and I will enjoy ourselves together. This day fortnight, we shall both be prepared to welcome you at Sunshine Lodge. I am calling the house by that name in advance, for I mean to have the sunshine in it day and night; and by the special sort of sun that I allude to, I mean Kindness, Charity, Unselfishness, Forbearance; and last, but not least, Love. I mean, too, that Pleasure should enter the house – nice, jolly Pleasure – and that Care should keep her wrinkled old face out-of-doors. I mean, in order to secure these things, to have a certain amount of discipline in the house, but that I shall exercise myself, and in my own way. Now, all those who wish to come to Sunshine Lodge, have the kindness to hold up their hands. Those who do not wish to come can keep their hands down.”
“In course you will all come!” said Ralph. “It’s Father’s way to talk like that; but he’s awfu’ jolly, is Father!”
“Yes: I believe I am jolly,” said Mr Durrant. “You had best take Ralph’s estimate of me: it is fair, on the whole. Now girls: who’ll come? who’ll stay?”
Was there an instant’s hesitation? Every hand was raised: every eye said “Yes.” Every mouth shouted, “I am going!” Every little heart quivered with excitement.
“Then you will all come: you will all trust me,” said Mr Durrant. “Now you need not trouble any more about the matter. Get ready for the fun; for fun it will be, I assure you – fun, fast and furious; fun from morning till night, and in a certain sense from night till morning. I will get the addresses of your parents from Mrs Burton, and will write to them individually, and I think I can promise that there won’t be one refusal. The eight little mothers shall join Ralph and me at Sunshine Lodge in a fortnight. And now, my dears, good-bye for the present.”
Mr Durrant took Ralph’s hand as he spoke. Ralph turned, however, as they were leaving that sunny part of the grounds where this animated and exciting scene had just taken place.
“Good-bye, mothers: good-bye, all of you!” shouted Ralph, kissing his hand frantically to the eight little girls.
He disappeared round the corner, a proud little figure in his pretty costume, and the school-girls looked one at the other.
Book Two – Chapter Two
Robina at Home
The next day, the different girls went to their several homes. Robina had to make a longer journey than the others; but she arrived at length at the somewhat solitary house on the borders of Wales where she lived with her father and mother, and two little sisters.
Robina’s mother was one of those rather trying invalids who without ever being in any danger yet manage to make all those around them uncomfortable. Now, Robina loved her mother, but she never managed to be an hour in her presence without rubbing the poor invalid the wrong way. Mrs Starling said that this big, firm, almost manly sort of child was too much for her. She did not mind the two little girls sitting in her shaded room and playing quietly with their toys. Now and then, she even permitted them to climb up on her sofa and pat her pale cheeks, and kiss her hands. But Robina was too lively and too full of vitality for this sort of existence; and, as Mrs Starling was fond of remarking, she tired her out without meaning to do so.
Now poor little Robina loved her mother passionately, and it was one of her secret troubles that she could not manage to make that mother happy. Mrs Starling had been an invalid for so long that her sister, Miss Felicia Jennings, had charge of the house; and Miss Felicia was also the sort of person who had the power of rubbing Robina the wrong way.
She was a very fussy woman who was so fond of saying ‘Don’t’ that Robina wondered if she had any other word in her vocabulary.
“Now, Robina,” she said on the present occasion, the moment the little girl entered the house – “don’t make so much noise: walk quietly; go up to your room, and don’t slam the door; also —don’t neglect to put your boots outside on the mat, so that Fanny may take them down in good time to get them cleaned. And, Robina —don’t forget to wash your hands and brush your hair, and don’t on any account fail to remember that your mother has a bad headache and cannot have noise or excitement in her room.”
“I am not going to make any noise; and I will try not to be excited,” said Robina. “I have been very happy at school, Aunt Felice, and people haven’t said such a lot of ‘don’ts’ to me. I think it is ‘don’t’ makes me so naughty when I am at home.”
“Well —don’t oblige me to say ‘Don’t,’” was Aunt Felicia’s remark.
Robina ran upstairs. She was never cross at school. Why did she feel irritation the very moment she got home? She had looked forward very much to her holidays. She had all sorts of schemes in her practical little brain for improving and rendering life agreeable to little Violet and little Rose, her two small sisters.
She had quite expected that Violet and Rose would be waiting to welcome her. She had pictured them to herself all during the long, hot journey to Wales.
Violet was five years old, and a very pretty little girl. Curly Pate had always more or less reminded Robina of Violet. And then there was Rose, who was not yet four years old, and who was a very delicate little child and rather fractious. Rose in some sort of intangible manner recalled Harriet to Robina’s memory; for she was lanky, and thin, and had poor little weak legs, and a weak sort of crying voice, and people said that she took after her mother, and would never be specially good for anything.
Before she went to school, Robina had much preferred to play with Violet, and had often left Rose more or less out in the cold. But now she resolved to correct all this, and to try to get to understand little Rose, and to add to the happiness of her life.
“For if I don’t,” thought Robina, “she may grow up like Harriet: she may even learn to be deceitful, and that would never do. Oh, I know – I know quite well the person who is better than all the rest of us put together at the school, and that person is Ralph. Who else would have changed Harriet, and made her so that she could even bear to allow me to be Ralph’s school-mother, and yet to love little Ralph all the time? I must own that I do not love Harriet even now; but I suppose it is wrong of me; anyhow, I see that there are possibilities of good in her; and I will be very good to little Rose during the fortnight that I am at home because of Harriet.”
But Violet and Rose were both in bed, although they had pleaded very hard indeed to be let stay up, and Mrs Starling was not considered well enough to be disturbed by Robina that evening. Robina’s father was not at home, and there was no one, therefore, to welcome the little girl except Aunt Felicia.
“It is dull,” thought Robina. “I am glad that I am going to Sunshine Lodge in a fortnight: I wonder if the invitation has come yet. How jolly we shall all be when we are there! If mother were really glad to see me, and if Rose and Violet were up, I should be a very happy girl this evening; but as it is – ”
Robina entered her rather bare and decidedly ugly bedroom, tossed her hat on the bed, went to the small cracked looking-glass in order to see how to put her thick hair straight, and then was preparing to run downstairs again, when she saw the nursery room door very softly opened, and a little figure peeped out.
“I am in my nighty, and so is Rose; but we’re both ’ide awake,” said Violet’s voice. “Oo’s come back, Wobbin. Come and kiss us; do, do!”
“Oh, you darlings! you pets!” said Robina.
She went noisily into the nursery, and alack! and alas! the next minute the door slammed after her. Violet’s little rosy face turned pale, and the real Rose began to cry.
“Aunt Felice will come up and scold!” said Violet. “Oh, put us into bed, do! and don’t go away – please, please, Wobina!”
“No, I won’t,” said Robina. “I don’t mind a bit whether I’m scolded or not. Of course, I didn’t mean to slam the door. You little darlings, both of you! You sweet pets! Here I am back again, and won’t we have good times! I have some chocolates for you in a corner of my school trunk: I bought it out of the savings of my pocket-money; and it is right good, I can tell you.”
“All keemy in middle?” enquired Rose, in a voice of great eagerness.
“Yes,” said Robina, “and browny outside.”
“Can’t us have some now?” asked Violet.
“I will try,” said Robina. “You lie quite still, and pretend to be asleep, and I’ll bring you some in a minute or two. Aunt Felice couldn’t have heard the door slam, or she would be up here on the landing by now. Oh dear! oh dear! I’ll creep out ever so quietly. Now, mum’s the word. Stay as still as mice, you two, until I return.”
Two eager pairs of eyes in the midst of two small wide awake faces followed Robina as she went to the nursery door. She opened it softly, and shut it behind her. In a minute or two, she was back with the chocolates, and each little child was made intensely happy. Robina promised all sorts of good things on the morrow – pick-a-back was one; and oh! there was a wonderful secret: something amazing was going to happen: for of course Robina knew well that the pony with the side-saddle and the habit would arrive early the next day. He could not be objected to, for part of the prize was that all his expenses were to be paid.
There was an old stable at the back of the house where he could lodge, and the services of a special man were to be secured to look after him. The thought of the pony comforted Robina immensely on that first evening at home. When she sat opposite to Aunt Felicia at supper, it occurred to her to mention it.
“Aunt Felice,” she said, “I have got a great piece of news for you.”
“What is that, my dear Robina? Don’t put your elbow on the table; it is so unladylike; and I wish, my dear, you would not have that habit of opening your mouth when you are not speaking. You ought to say the old phrase, ‘Papa, potatoes, prunes and prism’ constantly to yourself. There is nothing for keeping the mouth in a nice shape like uttering the word ‘prism.’”
“I can’t, really, Aunt Felice. I am not made that way,” said Robina. “I can’t be worried about my mouth.”
“There you are,” said Aunt Felice, “always so headstrong, rough, and disagreeable. Now, don’t frown! It really makes you look like a fright. Your poor mother quite dreads the thought of having you in the house; you are so undisciplined and wayward.”
“I was thought quite a good girl at school,” said Robina.
“Then that was because none of them really knew you.”
“I think they knew me very well. You have to be your real self at school, Aunt Felice.”
“Then may I ask, miss, if that is the case, why you are not your real self at home?”
“I am afraid I have got two selves, and I am my worst self at home, because I am rubbed the wrong way.”
“Indeed!” said Miss Jennings. “That is nice hearing. And who rubs you the wrong way?”
“I know you will be very angry with me, Aunt Felicia; but you do.”
“Robina: this is really more than I can stand. You don’t speak in that impertinent way to me any more: you have no respect for those older and better than yourself, Robina. I don’t say for a moment that you have not your good points. You are a clever, strong, intelligent child, but you are too independent: that is what is the matter with you.”
Robina fidgetted.
“Don’t push your things about on your plate like that!” said Miss Felicia: “and oh! don’t kick me with your long legs under the table! You really are most objectionable in your manners – such a rough sort of girl.”
“Come, Auntie,” said Robina suddenly, “I have been thinking a lot of my return home. I have never been to school before, and these are my very first holidays, and anyhow, there is jolly good news – ”
“Don’t say jolly! It is a most unladylike expression.”
“Oh, I must talk a little slang. I can’t be too proper. Besides, ‘jolly’ is accepted now as the most correct English. ‘Awfully jolly’ is a lovely phrase.”
“It is a misnomer, and abominable. Don’t ever say ‘awfully jolly’ in my presence.”
“I will try not to,” said Robina aloud. To herself, she whispered: “I won’t be tempted: things never are awfully jolly when she is about.”
“May I tell you the nice thing that has happened?” she said, after a pause.
“Don’t spill that jam, Robina. See, you are dropping the juice on the table-cloth. Now then, what is your news? I don’t suppose it is worth anything.”
“To begin with: I am going away on a visit in a fortnight.”
“Indeed?” said Miss Jennings. “That is so likely: little girls do go away on visits without the permission of their elders. That is the modern tendency, I am well aware, but it has not taken root in this house so far.”
“Mr Durrant has invited me,” said Robina, “and I know father and mother will let me go: I am not a bit afraid on that point. Mr Durrant will manage it.”
“Who is Mr Durrant?”
“He is the Durrant, you know: everyone speaks of him. He is one of the greatest men in England at the present day.”
Miss Jennings stared hard at her niece.
“Up to the present,” she said, “I always did think you were truthful: but I cannot quite believe that the great African explorer, whose thrilling book I could scarcely lay down when once I began to read it, would take any notice of an inconsequent, silly little girl like yourself.”
“Oh, but he has,” said Robina, in a careless tone. “He is very fond of me. I am his little boy’s mother, you know.”
“Robina: don’t open your lips for the remainder of this meal. Lies I will not stand.”
Robina whispered ‘prism’ under her breath, and sat mute with her hands folded. After a time, Miss Jennings asked if she wished for anything more. She shook her head.
“Are you satisfied? Are you no longer hungry?” Robina nodded.
“Then leave the room.”
Robina did so. The next minute she was out of the house, and had rushed round to the stables.
“Jim!” she said to the man who had charge of the old grey horse and the very humble chaise which was the only conveyance known at Heather House – the name of Robina’s home. “Jim: there is a very beautiful pony coming here to-morrow; or he may not arrive till the next day. He is mine; and I want him to have a stable all to himself, and I want to hire a proper groom to see after him. Do you know any nice boy in the village who can be trained to look after my pony?”
Jim, who had always a secret admiration for Miss Robina as a fine, manly sort of young lady who could ride old Dobbin bareback from the time she could walk, and whom he had secretly provided with many a less safe seat on neighbours’ horses, now answered with alacrity:
“You don’t mean, miss, as Mr Starling has gone and bought you a pony of your own?”
“No, Jim; nothing of the sort. It is such a comfort to confide in you, Jim: I won the pony as a prize at school.”
“Lawk-a-mercy!” said Jim: “what queer prizes they do have at that school, now!”
“Shall I tell you how I won it? I was good to a child.”
“Lor! miss.”
“A dear little boy. I am his school-mother. He chose me – or rather, he didn’t choose me first, but I became his school-mother afterwards; and the prize was a pony and a side-saddle. You will have me skimming all over the country now when I am at home, Jim. I’ll be worse to manage than ever.”
“But miss, there is the master. How do you know as he’ll let you keep a pony?”
“Oh, that is all right,” said Robina. “The gentleman who has given him is going to pay all his expenses. He is quite a rich gentleman, and he doesn’t mind what he spends. So I want a very nice groom indeed.”
“I wish I could do for him, miss,” said Jim. “I would with a heart and a half, but the master wouldn’t spare a minute of my time; and even if he would. Miss Jennings wouldn’t hear of it. She is very particular, miss, and works a man real hard.”
“Robina, come in this minute!” called a shrill voice at that moment, “and don’t stand talking with Jim. Jim; how dare you idle your time! Have you cleaned out the hen’s roost? and have you put down fresh straw for the laying hen? and what about the ducks, Jim? and don’t forget that you are to go to the village early in the morning to get some fresh corn for the young turkeys. Robina, come here this minute: don’t dawdle: come quickly.”
“I was talking to Jim,” said Robina, “about my pony.”
“Your what?” asked Miss Felicia.
“My pony: you would not let me tell you at supper time: you snapped me up so short. I have got such a lovely pony as a prize!”
“You dare to tell me such things!”
“But, Aunt Felicia, it is true. I have got a pony. I haven’t seen him yet, but I know he is going to be a perfect darling, and there’s a side-saddle coming too, and a habit made from my own measurements. My measurements were taken before I left school, so the habit will fit me perfectly, and will allow room for growing.”
“The pony may come,” said Miss Felicia: “but if it comes, it goes. Do you suppose for a single moment – you silly, selfish, thoughtless child – that your poor father, who has such expenses owing to your dear mother’s sad condition of health, can afford to keep a pony for you? If anyone is fool enough to send the animal here it goes back again.”
“I am certain father won’t send it away,” said Robina, “for it will cost no one anything. Mr Durrant —the Durrant – for I have told no lies, Aunt Felicia – is going to provide for all the expenses of my pony. He spoke to me about it; and there is to be a groom engaged to look after my darling; and when I go away in a fortnight’s time to Sunshine Lodge, my pony comes with me, and father will never be one penny out of pocket as far as my pony is concerned.”
“Dear, dear! Tut, tut!” said Miss Felicia. “Go into the house, Robina. You are either telling the most shocking lies, or something too marvellous has happened. I am inclined to believe in your want of truth, Robina, and if this is proved to be the case, your punishment will be exceedingly heavy.”