A Colony of Girls Part 8

"Hobson's choice," said Jean dryly.

Just then Helen, with a somewhat preoccupied air, pushed back her chair and pa.s.sed into the house, her mind evidently intent on some domestic question. Nathalie's eyes followed the retreating figure, until it was quite lost from view in the shadowy hallway, and then were bent thoughtfully on her work again.

"To change the subject, girls," she began, after a moment, devoting herself energetically to the threading of her needle, and tossing her head impatiently at every unsuccessful effort; "have you heard the news? Helen's friend, Miss Stuart, is coming down upon us for a visit."

"Yes, indeed we have." Emily's sigh came from the depths of her heart.

"I can't imagine what we will do with another girl here."

"What she will do with us may be more to the point," and Jean raised her eyebrows expressively. "I don't know how it is, but I am apprehensive about this visit. I suppose," with a sort of honest protest in her voice, "that I have never really liked Miss Stuart."

"Nor I," agreed Nathalie. "There is something about her that I do not trust. And the worst of it is," with a grimace, "that she winds Helen around her little finger. It always makes me so angry."

"Nonsense, Nat. You do Helen an injustice," objected Eleanor pleasantly. "However, I frankly confess to a fear that the harmony of our own little circle will be somewhat marred by the advent of a stranger."

"That's so, and then you know she is such a swell that she will probably look down upon us poor country girls with the utmost scorn,"

and Nathalie gave a vindictive tug at her knotted thread.

"Of course she is devoted to men?" queried Emily lugubriously.

"Oh, I should judge so, although I have never seen her with them. You know she has only stopped with us in the winter season, when we have been alone."

"Let us do her the justice to suppose that the men are equally devoted to her," added Jean generously.

"It amounts to about the same thing, whether she is devoted to men, or they to her," and there was in Emily's tone such a note of tragic melancholy that the girls could not refrain from laughing.

"Oh, what a happy nook and cranny of the great world this dear old Hetherford is," cried Eleanor, clasping her hands behind her head, and looking out with dreamy eyes over the sweep of softly undulating lawn that stretched away toward the manor gates. "It all seems so idyllic to me. There is so much petty jealousy and miserable heartburning beyond the confines of this little haven of rest. People's motives are so often selfish that one grows strangely doubting, even of one's friends. Do you know," leaning forward impulsively and speaking with deeper earnestness, "I think we girls have found the secret of true friends.h.i.+p--mutual trust and respect. These are what have made our long intercourse such a happy one."

"Indeed you are right, Eleanor, dear," Jean replied gently.

"The bother of it all will be," interrupted Nathalie following out her own train of thought "that Mademoiselle will come here with trunks full of fine clothes, and we will be obliged to dress up."

"I would like to see the girl who could make me discard my s.h.i.+rt and blazer," laughed Nan defiantly.

"How would we look _en grande toilette_ with such hands as these,"

said Jean, thrusting forward her own little brown ones.

"Attractive, but from a different standpoint," Nan a.s.serted with a fine a.s.sumption of authority. "Everything depends upon your point of view, according to Henry James. Now, from my artistic pinnacle,"

tilting her head to one side, and surveying the group with critical, but approving eyes, "I declare I prefer brown hands to white ones."

"By the way," asked Jean, with well-feigned indifference, "what did you think of the naval officers?"

"To return to our muttons," murmured Nathalie, with a sidelong glance at her sister.

"Mr. Dudley was very pleasant and agreeable," replied Emily, "but I thought Mr. Farr rather uninteresting."

"Well," laughed Eleanor demurely, "Nan is right. Everything does depend upon one's point of view. Now I thought Mr. Farr decidedly attractive, and Mr. Dudley just a good-natured boy."

"That reminds me of something I saw in the paper the other day," Jean observed smilingly. "To the question 'What is taste?' the answer was given, 'There is no such thing, except on the principle that some people haven't any.'"

"That is a fine way of disposing of one," and there was an expression of quiet amus.e.m.e.nt in Eleanor's eyes. "Never mind, dear," leaning forward and pinching Jean's cheek, "I will forgive you. Besides,"

dropping her voice, "you know that you agree with me."

"Now, what are you girls whispering about?" complained Nathalie. "Oh, bother this sewing," she went on irrelevantly; "I have had enough of it for to-day," and the bit of work was tossed impatiently into her basket.

This was the signal for a general uprising, and then, as they were dispersing, Nathalie made the announcement:

"Helen has asked Mr. Dudley and Mr. Farr to dinner to-morrow night."

"Yes," answered Mollie, turning back from the open doorway, "and Captain Dodd and his wife, too. d.i.c.k says," with an air of profound conviction, "that they are delightful."

"That settles it," laughed Nan, "d.i.c.k can't be wrong. Come on, Moll,"

linking her arm in Mollie's, "I am going to take you home to luncheon with me to-day."

It was late that afternoon when Jean, who had been reading for hours on the quiet veranda, suddenly jumped to her feet, with a little sigh of weariness, and tossed her book into a neighboring chair. She was tired of sitting still so long and felt in the humor for a walk.

Slowly she made her way down the broad steps and across the grounds of the manor. Strolling on in a reverie, and heeding but little in which way her steps were taking her, she came upon the great iron gates which opened out into the roadway. Pa.s.sing through them she wandered listlessly on toward the water.

It was the loveliest hour of the bright, sunny June day. Already the shadows were lengthening, and a little whiff of cooler air was stirring after the warmth of the noonday. The sun was nearing the western horizon, now s.h.i.+ning out in bright radiance, now obscured by some light pa.s.sing cloud. The murmur of a little brook which followed the roadside, and the whispering of the wind among the leaves, made a soft music. Now and then a bird darted by overhead, singing out a shrill note in some high key, then dropping into a soft coo. A squirrel ran out from the thicket, sped across the road, and disappeared over a low stone wall.

"Oh, you foolish little chap," exclaimed Jean, half-aloud, as Master Squirrel gave her one glance from his bright eyes, before dropping out of sight. "You are the swiftest little fellow I have ever seen."

It was growing rough and heavy underfoot now, and in a moment more Jean had reached the beach, and was strolling down toward the cliffs.

The water was alive with boats, their white sails glimmering in the sunlight, as the dying breeze bore them slowly on their way.

At the foot of the cliffs Jean paused a moment. The glory of the golden light fell on her slender, girlish figure, and illumined her wistful, upturned face. As her eyes rested lovingly on the beautiful scene that lay before her a deep sigh of pleasure escaped her slightly parted lips, for to-day the old familiar sights and sounds seemed strangely new and sweet. A narrow beaten track led temptingly to the summit of the cliffs whence a magnificent view could be obtained, and after an instant's hesitation she began the steep ascent. Turning the corner of a sharp rock, which reared itself boldly into the air, she came suddenly to a standstill, uttering a stifled exclamation, for almost at her feet, stretched at full length in a sheltered cranny of the rocks, lay Valentine Farr, his hat drawn down over his forehead, his eyes thoughtfully intent upon the distant horizon. As Jean's exclamation reached him, he glanced quickly up and sprang to his feet.

"Why, Miss Lawrence, this is indeed an unexpected pleasure. You stole a march on me. I did not hear your approach at all."

"Indeed, I am equally surprised, Mr. Farr, and I a.s.sure you you really startled me. I came upon you, so suddenly."

Farr's eyes rested admiringly on the soft color in the girl's face as she went on:

"And may I ask how you hit upon my particular retreat in these rocks?

Let me warn you. You can only make yourself happy in it with my especial permission."

"I had no idea I was trespa.s.sing. Pardon my curiosity, but by what right do you hold your t.i.tle to this spot?" he queried with an amused smile.

"By the right of priority. Do you know of any better, Mr. Farr?" with a pretty air of defiance. "When I was a little girl in pinafores I played here with my doll; when I was a schoolgirl I studied my lessons in this dear spot; and now that I am a grown woman," drawing herself up to her full height, and glancing at him merrily, "I come here to read, to ponder, and to think."

"A sacred spot indeed," spoke Farr laughingly, but with just a little lowering of his voice. "I yield at once, for I see that no one could dispute your right."

"No one." She threw out her hand with a pretty gracious gesture. "But won't you let me extend to you an invitation to occupy it whenever you feel inclined?"

"Thanks, ever so much," he rejoined heartily, "You are very good. And now, can't I persuade you to rest a little after your climb, Miss Lawrence?"

She slipped down on the rocks, and he threw himself at her side.

"What delightful times you all seem to have here," he went on. "Do you know I think this is a most charming place, quite an Elysium." Jean's soft eyes lighted up with pleasure.