align="center">CHAPTER V—CLIPSTONE FRIENDS
“What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle’s speed, Or urge the flying ball.”—Gray.
The afternoon at Clipstone was a success. Gillian was at home, and every one found congeners. Lady Merrifield’s sister, Miss Mohun, pounced upon Miss Prescott as a coadjutor in the alphabet of good works needed in the neglected district of Arnscombe, where Mr. Earl was wifeless, and the farm ladies heedless; but they were interrupted by Mysie running up to claim Miss Prescott for a game at croquet. “Uncle Redgie was so glad to see the hoops come into fashion again,” and Vera and Paula hardly knew the game, they had always played at lawn tennis; but they were delighted to learn, for Uncle Redgie proved to be a very fine-looking retired General, and there was a lad besides, grown to manly height; and one boy, at home for Easter, who, caring not for croquet, went with Primrose to exhibit to Thekla the tame menagerie, where a mungoose, called of course Raki raki, was the last acquisition. She was also shown the kittens of the beloved Begum, and presented with Phœbus, a tabby with a wise face and a head marked like a Greek lyre, to be transplanted to the Goyle in due time.
“If Sister will let me have it,” said Thekla.
“Of course she will,” said Primrose. “Mysie says she is so jolly.”
“Dear me! all the girls at our school said she was a regular Old Maid.”
“What shocking bad form!” exclaimed Primrose. “Just like cads of girls,” muttered Fergus, unheard; for Thekla continued—“Why, they said she must be our maiden aunt, instead of our sister.”
“The best thing going!” said Fergus.
“Maiden aunts in books are always horrid,” said Thekla.
“Then the books ought to be hung, drawn, and quartered, and spifflicated besides,” said Fergus.
“Fergus doesn’t like anybody so well as Aunt Jane,” said Primrose, “because nobody else understands his machines.”
Thekla made a grimace.
“Ah!” said Primrose. “I see it is just as mamma and Mysie said when they came home, that Miss Prescott was very nice indeed, and it was famous that she should make a home for you all, only they were afraid you seemed as if—you might be—tiresome,” ended Primrose, looking for a word.
“Well, you know she wants to be our governess,” said Thekla.
“Well?” repeated Primrose.
“And of course no one ever likes their governess.”
This aphorism, so uttered by Thekla, provoked a yell from Primrose, echoed by Fergus; and Primrose, getting her breath, declared that dear Miss Winter was a great darling, and since she had gone away, more’s the pity, mamma was real governess to herself, Valetta, and Mysie, and she always looked at their translations and heard their reading if Gillian was not at home.
“And they are quite grown-up young ladies!”
“Mysie is; but I don’t know about Val. Only I don’t see why any one should be silly and do nothing if one is grown up ever so much,” said Primrose.
“As the Eiffel Tower,” put in Fergus.
“Nonsense!” said Primrose, bent on being improving. “Don’t you know what that old book of mamma’s says, ‘When will Miss Rosamond’s education be finished?’ She answered ‘Never.’”
Thekla gave a groan, whether of pity for Rosamond or for herself might be doubted; and a lop-eared rabbit was a favourable diversion.
There was a triad who seemed to be of Rosamond’s opinion regarding education, for Agatha was eagerly availing herself of the counsel of Gillian, and the books shown to her; with the further assistance of the cousin, Dolores Mohun, now an accredited lecturer in technical classes, though making her home and headquarters at Clipstone.
Thekla’s views of young ladyhood were a good deal more fulfilled by the lessons on cycling which were going on among the other young people after the game of croquet had ended. Every size and variety seemed to exist among the Clipstone population, under certain regulations of not coasting down the hills, the girls not going out alone, and never into the town, but always “putting up” at Aunt Jane’s.
Vera and Paulina were in ecstasy, and there was a continual mounting, attempting and nearly falling, or turning anywhere but the right, little screams, and much laughter, Jasper attending upon Vera, who, in spite of her failures, looked remarkably pretty and graceful upon Valetta’s machine; while Paula, whom Mysie and Valetta were both assisting, learnt more easily and steadily, but looked on with a few qualms as to the entire crystal rock constancy that Vera had professed, more especially when Jasper volunteered to come over to the Goyle and give another lesson.
Magdalen, after her game at croquet, had spent a very pleasant time with Lady Merrifield and her brother and sister, till they were imperiously summoned by Primrose to come and give consent to the transfer of Phœbus, or to choose between him and the Mufti, to whom Thekla had begun to incline.
The whole party adjourned to the back settlements, where Magdalen was edified by the antics of the mungoose, and admired the Begum and her progeny with a heartiness that would have won Thekla’s heart, save that she remembered hearing Vera say, over the domestic cat in the morning, that M.A.’s were always devoted to cats. But, on the whole, the visit had done much to reconcile the young sisters to their new surroundings; books, bicycles, and kitten had reconciled them even to the intimacy with “swells.”
The hired bicycle and tricycle had arrived in their absence, and the moment breakfast was over the next morning, the three younger ones all rushed off to the enjoyment, and, at ten minutes past the appointed hour for the early reading and study, Agatha felt obliged to go out and tell them that the M.A. was sitting like Patience on a monument, waiting for them; on which three tongues said “Bother,” and “She ought to let us off till the proper end of the holidays.”
“Then you should have propitiated her by asking leave after the Scripture was done,” said Agatha; “you might have known she would not let you off that.”
“Bother,” said Vera again; “just like an M.A.”
“I did forget,” said Paula; “and you know it was only just going through a lesson for form’s sake, like the old superlative.”
They had, in fact, read the day before; when Thekla had made such frightful work of every unaccustomed word, and the elders by one or two observations had betrayed so much ignorance alike of Samuel’s history and of the Gospel of St. Luke, that she had resolved to endeavour at a thorough teaching of the Old and New Testaments for the first hour on alternate days, giving one day in the week to Catechism and Prayer Book.
She asked what they had done before.
“Mrs. Best always read something at prayers.”
“Something?”
“Something out of the Bible.”
“No, the Testament.”
“I am sure it was the Bible, it was so fat.”
“And Saul was in
