in her composition; she is the most worldly-wise little soul that I have ever come across. – Now, Lettie, don’t be a humbug; sing something in which your real feelings appear – a modern love-song, for instance, or something about fine dress, or nothing to wear, or anything else in your real style. It’s positively wrong of you to deceive mother in the way you are doing.”
Letitia looked gently reproachful. She said she did not know any song about nothing to wear, nor any song either about dress; but she would sing “Shadowland” if Mrs. Chetwynd wished it.
This song again brought the widow to the verge of tears. Lettie then rose and shut the piano.
“You at least, my dear, have derived benefit from your education,” she said. “How I wish your dear father and my dear husband were alive to hear you.”
“Father could always see through humbugs,” said Eileen to Marjorie.
“Yes,” replied Marjorie; “but don’t you see whatever mother is she is not a humbug?”
“Only we don’t want Lettie to twist her round her little finger, do we?” said Eileen.
“No; not that it greatly matters. Poor mother. I expect Lettie will do very much what we do; but I’m not sure. We must only wait and see.”
The girls retired to bed; but Mrs. Chetwynd sat up late, wishing much that she had Mrs. Acheson to consult with.
What was to be done if Marjorie and Eileen went on in this peculiar manner which they had done that evening? Really, when everything was considered, they were very little better than Belle, and Belle happened to be Mrs. Chetwynd’s bête noire.
“If only pretty, graceful, accomplished Letitia were my own daughter! She is a dear child, and yet I cannot quite cordially take to her,” thought the widow. “I don’t know what is the matter with her. I have no fault whatever to find. I suppose it is because she is not my own. Now Marjorie and Eileen rub me the wrong way every time they open their lips, and yet I love them with all my heart and soul. How handsome they are too! Anything could be done with them if only they would submit to the ordinary regulations of polite society. What terrible times these modern days are! Mothers have little or no influence over their own children. The children take the upper hand and – keep it. But I just vow that Marjorie and Eileen shall submit to me in my own house. Poor darlings, they are as loving as possible; but they have been under some dreadful pernicious influence. I could never guess that a school so highly recommended as Miss Marchland’s was would send back girls in the condition Marjorie and Eileen are in. No manners, disgraceful in appearance, and no accomplishments. What agony I went through while Marjorie was playing that fugue! She must never attempt to play in public. Eileen, who really had a taste for music, will not cultivate it, because, forsooth, she is not a genius. The two girls mean to be merely useful – merely useful, with eyes like those, and lips and teeth. My dear, dear, ridiculous children, society will soon knock all that nonsense out of your heads. Yes, I must present them both as soon as possible. I shall order their court dresses to-morrow. But that terrible cropped hair – straight too, not a scrap of curl in it. Oh dear, what is to be done; and they are both on such a large scale? They would make handsome boys. What a pity they are not boys. Dear me, I am an unhappy woman. If Letitia were my daughter, it would be plain sailing, but as it is I am at my wits’ end.”
By and by Mrs. Chetwynd went upstairs. She hesitated on the second landing, where her own room was. On the next floor were the girls’ rooms, luxuriously and beautifully furnished. It occurred to her to go up and look at her darlings asleep. She did so, opening the door of Marjorie’s room first. Marjorie was in bed, curled up as her fashion was, with the bedclothes tucked tightly round her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and the long black lashes looked particularly handsome as they lay against her rosy cheeks. But what a condition the room was in! What was the good of a maid when girls went to bed in such a state of untidiness? Clothes tossed helter-skelter everywhere; one little shoe near the fireplace, one near the wardrobe; petticoats flopped on the nearest chair; the shabby serge dress, which Mrs. Chetwynd considered only to be fit for the next bag sent from the Kilburn Society, hanging on the brass knob of the bed.
Marjorie sighed in her sleep, and Mrs. Chetwynd bent over her.
“Dear, lovely child, I surely shall be able to mold her to my wishes,” she thought; never considering that Marjorie’s chin, with its cleft in the middle, was full of obstinacy, and that her lips were as firm as they were beautiful.
Mrs. Chetwynd went on to the next room. Eileen was also sound asleep, and her room was also untidy. The girl looked lovely, with her classical features and the long straight lashes lying upon the soft rounded cheeks. Yes, they were both singularly handsome girls, and very like one another. Of course they would do splendidly yet. Perhaps the world would appreciate them all the more for their little eccentricities. They must appear as débutantes at the very first drawing-room. Yes, to-morrow at an early hour, Madame Coray should put their presentation dresses in hand.
Mrs. Chetwynd hesitated a moment before she went into Letitia’s room. It would not be very interesting to look at Letitia asleep; but still, what she did for her own girls she invariably did for her husband’s niece.
Letitia’s room was in exquisite and perfect order, everything put neatly away, and Letitia herself lying in her little white bed with her arms folded across her chest and her hair swept back from her pretty brow. Mrs. Chetwynd could not help feeling drawn to her. She bent and kissed her on her forehead. She had not dared to do this to her own girls, fearing to awaken them.
She then went back to her room, to sleep as best she could.
CHAPTER V – THE MODERN VIEW OF LIFE
The girls came home on Wednesday, and on the following Saturday Mrs. Acheson and Belle were coming to tea. In the meantime Mrs. Chetwynd had gone through more than one stormy scene with Marjorie and Eileen. The girls positively declined to be presented to her gracious Majesty.
“You may get the dresses, mother,” said Eileen, “only I sincerely hope you won’t, for we cannot wear them. We don’t quite know yet what we mean to do with our lives; but fashionable society girls we will not be. Now, mammy, why should we be fashionable girls if we dislike the idea?”
Here Marjorie, notwithstanding her rude words, went on her knees, wound her strong young arms round her mother’s waist, and looked with such imploring eyes into her face that, notwithstanding her anger, Mrs. Chetwynd was touched in spite of herself.
“We should hate it all, you know, dear mammy,” said Marjorie. “I speak for Eileen as well as for myself. – You agree with me, Eileen, don’t you?”
“Of course,” replied Eileen. “Well, Marjorie, have it out with the dear mammy, for I must go at once to see Fowler’s last baby. I am taking it a rattle and some chocolates.”
“You will kill a young infant if you give it chocolate,” said Mrs. Chetwynd, “and I forbid you to go to Fox Buildings. No young ladies from my house must go near such a place.”
“Dear me, mother, why not?” said Eileen.
“Eileen, my dear, I decline to argue with you. Really, when I think of all that you two girls are doing to oppose me, and render my life miserable, I could almost wish that you were back at school.”
“Of course, mother,” said Eileen gravely, “if you positively forbid me to go I will obey you.”
She sat down on the nearest chair and stared hard at her mother.
“I do forbid you, Eileen. Young ladies of eighteen are not allowed
