The Story Book Girls Read online

  CHAPTER II

  Miss Annie

  Of course one had to go immediately and tell all this to Miss Annie.

  Miss Annie lived with her sister in a charming verandahed house, hiddenin wisteria and clematis, and everything was delightful in connectionwith the two sisters except the illness which made a prisoner of MissAnnie. Miss Annie lay on a bed covered with beautiful drawn thread workover pink satinette and wore rings that provoked a hopeless passion inElma.

  Whenever she considered that one day she might marry a duke, Elmapictured herself wearing Miss Annie's rings.

  From the drawn thread work bed Miss Annie ruled her household, andcasually, her sister Grace. It never appeared that Miss Annie ruledMiss Grace however; nothing being more affectionate than the demeanourof the two sisters. But long ago, the terrifying nature of Miss Annie'sfirst illness made such a coward of poor, sympathetic Miss Grace, thatnever had she lifted a finger, or formed a frown to reprove that dearpatient, or prevent her having her own way. The nature of Miss Annie'sillness had always been a source of great mystery to the Leighton girls.It was discussed in a hidden kind of way in little unintelligible nodsfrom grown up to grown up, and usually resolved itself into theimportant phrase of "something internal." Old Dr. Merryweather, yearsago, had landed himself into trouble concerning it. "A poor woman wouldget on her feet and fight that tendency of yours," he had said to MissAnnie. "Money simply encourages it. You will die on that bed if youdon't fight a little, Miss Annie." Miss Annie had replied that in anycase her bed was where she intended to die, and forthwith procured quitesweetly and pathetically, yet quite determinedly, another doctor. Thatwas over twenty years ago; but Miss Grace still passed Dr. Merryweatherin the street with her head down in consequence. She did all she couldto provide the proper distraction for Miss Annie, by encouragingvisitors and sacrificing her own friends to the leadership of hersister. Miss Annie had always shone in a social sense, and she let noneof her talents droop merely because she was bedridden. It wasconsidered a wonderful thing that she should manage the whole household,to the laying down or taking up of a carpet in rooms which she neversaw. Gradually, on account of this wonderful energy of Miss Annie's,Miss Grace acquired a reputation for ineptitude to which her sisterconstantly but very gracefully alluded. "Poor Grace," she sighed."Grace takes no interest in having things nice."

  It was Miss Grace however who, in her shy old-fashioned manner, showedinterest in the blue-eyed, fair-haired Leighton children, and introducedthem to her sister when they were practically babies. She decoyed theminto the house by biscuits covered with pink icing, which none of themever forgot, or allowed themselves to do without. Even Mabel, with herhair up, accepted a pink biscuit at her first tea there after that greatoccasion. They always felt very small delicious children when they wentto Miss Annie's. They had acquired, through Miss Annie, a pleasant easymanner of taking the nervous fussy attentions of Miss Grace. It wasastonishing how soon they could show that in this establishment ofmagnificence, Miss Grace did not count. She was immaterial to thegeneral grandeur of the verandahed palace belonging to Miss Annie. Theywere always on their best behaviour in the house where not only afootman, but an odd man were kept, and Elma, at the age of seven, hadbeen known to complain to Mrs. Leighton when a housemaid was at fault,"We ought to have a man to do this!" Indeed there seemed only oneconclusion to it with Elma: that after knowing exactly what it was tocall on people who had men servants, in her youth, when she grew up sheshould be obliged to marry a duke. The duke always met her when shewaited for Miss Grace in the drawing-room. He had a long curlingmoustache, and wore his hair in waves on either side of a parting, veryclamped down and oily, like Mr. Lucas, the barber. It was years beforeshe sacrificed the curling moustache to a clean-shaven duke, andshuddered at the suggestion of oil in his hair.

  The despair of her life stood in the corner of the white and golddrawing-room. It was an enormous Alexander harmonium. Once, in an easymoment, on conversing affably with her duke in a whisper, she hadsuggested to him that Miss Grace might let her play on this instrument.Miss Grace, coming in then, was in time to see her lips moving, andconsidered that the sweet child worked at her lessons. Elma was toosincere to deceive her. "I was talking to myself and wondering if youwould let me play on the harmonium."

  She should never forget the frightened hurt look on Miss Grace's face.

  "Never ask me that again, dear child. It was hers--when she was ableto--to----" Miss Grace could go no further.

  The blue eyes filling with frightened tears in front of her alarmed thegentlest soul in the world.

  "But, my pet," she said very simply, "there's my own piano."

  Could one believe it? Off came all the photograph frames, and the largeBenares vases on China silk, brought years ago from the other side ofthe world by Miss Grace's father, and Elma played at last on adrawing-room grand piano. Mrs. Leighton's remained under lock and keyfor any one below a certain age, and only the schoolroom uprightbelonged to Elma. What joy to play on Miss Grace's long, shiny, dark,ruddy rosewood! She must have the lid full up, and music on the desk.Miss Grace made a perfect audience. Elma regretted sincerely the factthat her legs stuck so far through her clothes, so that she could nottrail her skirts to the piano and arrange them as she screwed herself upon the music stool. However, what did a small thing like that matterwhile Miss Grace sat with that surprised happy look on her face, and lether play "anything she liked"? Anything Elma liked, Miss Grace liked.In fact, Miss Grace discovered in her gentle, amiable way, a wonderfultalent in the child. It formed a bond between the two which years neverbroke. Miss Grace would sit with her knitting pins idle in her lap, anda far-away expression in the thin grey colour of her eyes. Elma thoughtit such a pity Miss Grace wore caps when she looked so nice as that.She would think these things and forget about them and think of themagain, all the time her fingers caressed the creamy coloured keys, andmade music for Miss Grace to listen to. Then exactly at four o'clock,Miss Grace seemed to creep back to her cap again, and say that tea wouldbe going in and they must "seek Miss Annie."

  Miss Annie poured tea from the magnificent teapot, which the footmancarried in on a magnificent silver tray. She reclined gracefully inbed, reaching out a slender arm covered with filmy lace to do thehonours of the tea table. Crumpets and scones might be passed about byMiss Grace. In a very large silver cake basket, amongst very few piecesof seed cake (Miss Annie took no other) Elma would find a pink biscuit.After that the ceremony of tea was over. It was wonderful to see howMiss Annie poured and talked and managed things generally. Elma couldplay to Miss Grace, but politeness somehow demanded that she should talkto Miss Annie.

  Elma had always, more than any of the Leighton children, amused MissAnnie. The little poses, which Miss Grace, with wonderfully sympatheticunderstanding, had translated into actual composition in music, theposes which caused Elma to be the butt of a robustly humorous family,crushing her to self-consciousness and numbness in their presence, MissAnnie had the supreme wisdom never to remark upon. Had not Miss Graceand she enjoyed secretly for years Elma's first delightful blunder?

  "My father and mother are paying a visit to the necropolis. They arehaving a lovely time. Oh! is that wrong? I'm sure it is. It's LondonI mean."

  They had known then not to laugh, and they never did laugh. The littlefigure, with two fierce pigtails tied radiantly with pink bows, the blueeyes, and very soft curling locks over the temples, how could they laughat these? Instead they took infinite pains over Elma's long words.Miss Annie herself invariably either felt "revived" or "resuscitated" orpolished things of that description. It pleased her that such anintensely modern child should be sensitive to refinement in language.For a time Elma became famous as a conversationalist, and was known inher very trying family circle as Jane Austen or "Sense and Sensibility."The consequences of her position sent her so many times tearful to bed,that at last she put a sev
ere curb on herself, and never used words thathad not already been sampled and found worthy by her family. Theafternoons at Miss Annie's, however, where she could remove this curb,became very valuable. The result was that while things might be"scrumptious" or "awfully nice" or "beastly" at home, they suddenlybecame "excellent" or "delightful" or "reprehensible," in that culturedatmosphere. Only one in the world knew the two sides to Elma, and thatwas her dear and wonderful father. She was never ashamed of either posewhen completely alone with that understanding person. Her mother couldnot control the twitching at the lips which denotes that a grown-upperson is taking one in and making game of one. Elma's father laughedwith the loud laugh of enjoyment. It was the laughter Elma understood,and whether or not a mistake of hers had caused it, she ran on to wilderindiscretions merely that she might hear it again. Oh! there was nobodyquite so understanding as her father.

  He invariably sent his compliments to Miss Annie, and one day, toexplain why she went there continually, she told him how she played onMiss Grace's piano. He was greatly pleased, delighted in fact, andimmediately wanted her to do the same for him. Elma's sensitive soulsaw the whole house giggling at herself, and took fright as she alwaysdid at the mere mention of the exhibition of her talents.

  "I can't, when Miss Grace isn't there," she had exclaimed, and neithershe nor anybody else could explain why this should be, except Mr.Leighton himself, who looked long and with a new earnestness at hisdaughter, and never omitted afterwards in sending his compliments to thetwo ladies to mention Miss Grace first.

  Mabel was entirely different in the respect of playing before people.She played as happily and easily to a roomful as she did alone. Sheblossomed out with the warmth of applause and admiration as a rose doesat the rising of the sun.

  "Mabel is prettier than Miss Dudgeon," said Elma to Miss Annie on theday when she described the great "coming out" occasion.

  Miss Annie arrested the handsome teapot before pouring further.

  "What! anybody more pretty than Miss Dudgeon?" she asked. "That issurely impossible."

  "Mr. Maclean said so," said Elma.

  "And who is Mr. Maclean?" asked Miss Annie.

  "Oh--Mr. Maclean--Mr. Maclean is just Mrs. Maclean's nephew. But heknows Miss Dudgeon, and he looked a long time at Mabel and said she wasprettier."

  "You must not think so much of looks, Elma," said Miss Anniereprovingly. "Mabel is highly gifted, that is of much moreconsequence."

  "Is it?" asked Elma. "Papa says so, though he won't believe any of _us_can be gifted. He thinks there's a great deal for us to learn. It'svery de--demoralizing."

  "Demoralizing?" asked Miss Annie.

  "Yes, isn't it demora-lizing I mean, Miss Annie?" Elma begged in apuzzled manner.

  Miss Annie daintily separated half a slice of seed cake from the formalpieces lying in the beautiful filigree cake basket.

  "I do not think it is 'demoralizing' that you mean, dear.'Demoralizing' would infer that your father, by telling you there was agreat deal to learn, kept you from learning anything at all, upset youcompletely as it were."

  Miss Annie was as exact as she could be on these occasions, when shetook the place of the little bright red dictionary.

  This time her information seemed to please Elma immensely. Her eyesimmediately shone brilliantly.

  "Oh, Miss Annie," she said, "it must be 'demoralizing' after all.That's just how I feel. Papa tells me, and I see the great big thingsto be done, and it doesn't seem to be any use to try the little things.Like Mozart's Rondos! They _are_ so silly, you know. And when you seepeople like Mr. Sturgis painting big e--e--elaborate pictures, I simplycan't draw at school at all."

  Miss Grace leant forward on her chair, pulling little short breaths asthough not to lose, by breathing properly, one word of this. Sheconsidered it marvellous that this young thing should invariably beexpressing the thoughts which had troubled her all her life, and nevereven been properly recognized by herself, far less given voice to. Itenabled her on many occasions to see clearly at last, and to be able, bythe light of her own lost opportunities, to give counsel to Elma.

  Miss Annie's eyes only looked calmly amused. It was an amusement towhich Elma never took exception, but to-day she wanted something more,to prevent the foolishness which she was afraid of experiencing whenevershe made a speech of this nature. Miss Annie only toyed with a silverspoon, however, looking sweet and very kindly at Elma, and it was MissGrace who finally spoke.

  She had recovered the shy equanimity with which she always filled inpauses for her sister.

  "You must not allow the fine work of others to paralyze your youngactivities," Miss Grace said gravely. "Mr. Sturgis was young himselfonce, and no doubt at school studied freehand drawing very diligently tobe so great as he is now."

  "Oh, no," said Elma, "that's one of the funny parts. Mr. Sturgis doesn'tapprove of freehand drawing at all. He says it's anything but freehand,he says it's--it's--oh! I mustn't say it."

  "Say it," said Miss Annie cheerfully.

  "He says it's rotten," said Elma.

  There was something of a pause after this.

  "And it's so funny with Mabel," said Elma. "Mabel never practises ascale unless mamma goes right into the room and hears her do it. ButMabel can read off and play Chopin. And papa takes me to hear LisztConcertos, and I can't play one of them."

  "You can't stretch the chords yet, dearie," said Miss Grace.

  "No, but it's very demor--what was it I said?" she asked Miss Annieanxiously.

  "Demoralizing," said Miss Annie.

  "And there's paralyzing too," said Elma gratefully. "That's exactly howI feel."

  She sat nursing one of her knees in a hopeless manner, until it struckher that neither Miss Annie nor Miss Grace liked to see her in thisattitude. Nothing was ever said on these occasions, but invariably oneknew that in order not to get on the nerves of Miss Annie, one must sitstraight and not fidget. Elma sat up therefore and resumedconversation.

  "Mabel says it is nothing to play a Liszt Concerto," said Elmahopelessly.

  "Is Mabel playing Liszt?" asked Miss Grace in astonishment.

  "Mabel plays anything," sighed Elma.

  "That is much better than being prettier than Miss Dudgeon," said MissAnnie.

  She took up a little book which lay near her. It was bound in whitevellum and had little gold lines tooled with red running into fine goldclasps. Two angel heads on ivory were inserted in a sunk gold rim onthe cover. Miss Grace saw a likeness in the blue eyes there to theround orbs fastened on it whenever Elma had to listen to the wisdom ofthe white book. The title, _The Soul's Delineator_, fascinated her byits vagueness. She had never cared to let Miss Annie know that ingrowing from the days when she could not even spell, the word"delineator" had remained unsatisfactory as a term to be applied to thesoul. There was The Delineator of fashions at home--a simple affair tounderstand, but that it should be applied to the "ivory thoughts" ofMiss Annie seemed confusing. Miss Annie moved her white fingers,sparkling with the future duchess's rings, in and out among thegilt-edged pages. Then she read.

  "The resources of the soul are quickened and enlivened, not so much bythe education of the senses, as by the encouragement of thesensibilities, i.e. these elements which go to the making of thecharacter gentle, chivalrous, kind; in short, the elements which provokemanners and good breeding."

  Miss Annie paused. Her voice had sustained a rather high and differenttone, as it always did when she read from the white book.

  "Mabel has very nice manners, hasn't she?" asked Elma anxiously.

  "Do you know that you have said nothing at all about the Story BookGirls to-day, and everything about Mabel," said Miss Annie. "I quitemiss my Story Books."

  Elma's eyes glowed.

  Miss Annie had marked the line where the dream life was becoming thereal life. Elma, in two days, had transferred her _mise en scene_ ofthe drama of life from four far-away people to her own newly grown-upsister. It was a devotion
which lasted long after the days of dreamingand imagining had passed for the imaginative Elma, this devotion andadmiration for her eldest sister.

  In case she should not entertain Miss Annie properly, she ran back alittle, and told her how it was that Mabel had got a blue gown afterall. It was delightful to feel the appreciation of Miss Annie, and towatch the wrinkles of laughter at her eyes.

  Exactly at five o'clock however Miss Grace began to look anxiously atMiss Annie, and Miss Annie's manner became correspondingly languid.

  "You tire your dear self, you ought not to pour out tea," said MissGrace in the concerned tone with which she always said this sentence atfive o'clock in the afternoon.

  Saunders came noiselessly in to remove, and Elma bade a mute good-bye.

  "You tire yourself, dear," said Miss Grace to Miss Annie once more, asshe and Elma retired to the door.

  "I must fulfil my obligations, dear," said Miss Annie.

  She nodded languidly to Elma, and Elma thought once again how splendidit was of Miss Annie to be brave like this, and wondered a trifle in herenthusiastic soul why for once Miss Grace did not pour out tea for hersister.