"Oh, I wish he wouldn't drag darling mother's name in," thought Molly, her lips quivering. "Why do his letters, although I long so for them, always set my teeth on edge?"
"I want you to learn grace and deportment, my darling," continued Judge Lavender; "in particular, how to enter and leave a room nicely. A little light repartee, not too clever, in conversation, gives sparkle, and is by no means amiss. For Heaven's sake, don't ever consider that it is your duty to argue with men: just let them see that you understand them; they like to be appreciated. Above all, learn the art of making tea gracefully, and without any contretemps. Deportment is fearfully overlooked, in these later days of our century. Struggle for a dignified deportment, Molly, as you love me. Now I must stop, my dear, or I shall miss the post.
"Oh, good gracious! not a single word about Cecil," thought poor Molly. "Yes, yes, here's a postscript; her name does come in – now, what does he say?"
"As to your erratic and eccentric young friend, Cecil Ross, I own that I feel a certain difficulty with regard to the request which you have made. I am quite rich enough to oblige you in the matter as far as mere money is concerned; my difficulty is on quite another head. The fact is, I dread the influence this exceedingly brusque young person may bring to bear on your own character, and hesitate, therefore, at the thought of placing her at the same school."
"Oh, father! how can you!" thought Molly, quick tears filling her eyes. "Oh, my darling, noble, brave Cecil! How little you know her!"
"I don't absolutely refuse your request, my dear," continued the judge, "but before granting it, I have written to your grandmother to consult her on the subject. She will give me an unprejudiced report with regard to Cecil Ross. When I hear from her I will reply to you. Now, once again, adieu. Your affectionate father."
After finishing her letter, Molly became oppressed by a strange sense of limpness. The strength and go which her vigorous day had imparted seemed suddenly to forsake her. She clasped her hands on her lap and gazed straight before her. She had been indulging in a daydream, and the letter which she had just received from the one whom she loved best in the world, gave her a sense of chill which almost amounted to shock. Tears rose slowly to her eyes; she slipped the letter into her pocket, and going over to her little writing-table, took a sheet out of her portfolio, and wrote a few hasty lines to her grandmother.
"I have scarcely time for more than a word," wrote Molly. "I have just heard from father, who wants to consult you about Cecil. Please, darling grannie, tell him what you really think of Cecil. Oh, I know she will be quite safe in your hands. Please do not lose a mail in writing to father, for the whole thing is so important.
Having finished the letter, Molly addressed it; she then ran quickly downstairs, to discover by what means she could get it into the post. Miss Leicester met, her in the hall.
"Well, Molly," she said, in a cheerful tone, "I hope you have by this time got all your things nicely unpacked and in perfect order, so as to be able to get into a good routine of work to-morrow."
"I am ever so sorry," answered Molly, "but the fact is – "
"What, my dear; why do you hesitate?"
"My things are not unpacked, Miss Leicester. I had a long letter from father by this afternoon's post; I have been reading it; there was a good deal in the letter to make me think; then it was absolutely necessary for me to write this. Please tell me where I am to put this letter in order that it may be posted."
"In the box just above your head which is marked 'Letters.' I am sorry to say you are late for this evening's departure."
"Am I really? Oh, what a pity! When will the letter go?"
"This box will be cleared the last thing to-night, and the letter will reach London, if London is its destination, some time to-morrow afternoon. I am sorry your things are not unpacked; all your time after supper ought to be taken up preparing for to-morrow's work. Miss Shaw tells me that you are to write notes on two lectures which she delivered this morning. Let me tell you, Molly, that Miss Shaw is extremely particular. Well, I suppose I must excuse you this time, but now run off, my love; don't waste a moment."
Molly ran upstairs; the cloud which her father's letter brought over her spirit seemed to grow a little thicker.
"No one quite understands me except Cecil," she muttered. "How I wish Cecil were here!"
She stooped over her trunks and began unpacking them. The occupation did her good, and brought back some of her cheerfulness. She had nearly come to the end of her task when the great gong for supper sounded through the house. She found that she had no time to change her dress; Miss Leicester always insisted upon punctuality at meals, and Molly would be forced to appear in her thick morning dress. She hastily smoothed her hair, and went downstairs feeling hot and uncomfortable. Every other girl at Kate O'Connor's table looked cool and fresh.
"Come and sit near me, Molly," said Kate, in her kind voice. "After supper," she whispered, as Molly sank down into the vacant chair, "I have a little plan to talk over with you and Amy Frost. You must both come and see me in my dormitory."
"Yes," replied Molly.
"I am not fortunate like you," answered Kate; "I can only receive you in my share of the dormitory. Oh, I don't complain of my little cubicle, but a cubicle is very different from a room."
"Yes," answered Molly, in a reflective tone. She thought that Kate's eyes were fixed upon her with an expectant and wistful glance.
She longed to ask her to chum with her in her own pretty room, but the thought of Cecil restrained her.
"Do you find the room very hot?" asked Amy Frost's voice at her elbow.
Molly, who was flushed already, grew redder than ever.
"I suppose I look very hot," she replied; "I forgot all about changing my dress, I was so busy unpacking."
"Unpacking from tea to supper time!" responded Amy. "What a lot of dresses you must have brought!"
"Don't be impertinent, Amy," said Kate.
"My dear Kitty, that is the last thing I wish to be, but patent facts must draw forth certain conclusions. If Molly has not come here with a supply of luggage resembling a trousseau, why should she take from half-past four to seven o'clock to get her things in order?"
"I didn't," said Molly; "I was reading a letter and writing one."
She spoke defiantly. Her manner irritated Amy, who had not the best temper in the world. She didn't speak at all for a moment; then, bending forward, she said, in a semi-whisper:
"I hope you will forgive the remark I am going to make. I do it as a matter of duty. It is the duty of old girls to give newcomers all possible hints with regard to deportment, the rules of the place, etc. Now, Miss Leicester is an angel, but she is an angel who likes us all to observe the unspoken rules of the house. One of these is that we should look nice and fresh at supper time. Those who do not carry out her wishes are likely to get into her black books. Now, there is a difference, a subtle difference, between the white and black books even of an angel. Take the hint, Miss Lavender. I have spoken."
"I don't think you have spoken at all nicely, Amy," said Kate. "Why do you persecute poor Molly? Of course she'll come downstairs properly dressed to-morrow night."
"Have I made you angry?" asked Amy, looking hard at her.
"No,