Meade L. T. - The Girls of St. Wode's стр 5.

She left the room as she spoke, and Esther, a nice-looking girl, came respectfully forward. She looked with consternation at the torn braid on Eileens dress.

Oh, please, dont bother about me, said Eileen. I wouldnt have the services of a maid to save my life. I hate to have anyone touch my hair but myself. Besides, as you doubtless observe, my good girl, there is no arrangement necessary. It is only an inch long, and with a couple of brushes, one in each hand, I can push it into any position I like. Lettie, if you wish for Esther, please have her. Your neat little head, sunning over with curls, requires plenty of arrangement; but not mine, thank goodness.

Nor mine either, echoed Marjorie. Oh, what a comfort it is to have short hair. I never mean to let my locks grow.

Which dresses will you wish to wear this evening, young ladies? asked Esther, who had gaped in astonishment while the girls were speaking.

As she spoke she held out her hand for the keys of their trunks.

Here are the keys, said Marjorie; but I dont know what evening-dresses we have. I am sure there is nothing fit to be seen. But cant we go downstairs as we are?

Perhaps youll mend this braid, said Eileen, if you prefer that to cutting it off, which is much quicker.

I would suggest, miss, that you let me choose your dress. I will unpack your things, and see what are most suitable, said the maid in her prim voice.

All right; lay them on the bed. Anything for a quiet life, sighed Marjorie.

Esther proceeded to take the things out of Marjories trunk, and Eileen walked to the window and looked out, whistling somewhat loudly and in a thoroughly boyish fashion as she did so.

The maid quickly put the contents of the small trunks into the receptacles for their convenience, laid two soiled and crumpled evening-frocks of pale cream cashmere on the beds, and then retired to expend some of her skill, which

was considerable, on Letitias pretty person and charming wardrobe. Letitia was a young lady quite after Esthers own heart.

CHAPTER IV IN THE GIRLS BEDROOMS

Dinner passed quickly, for all three girls were hungry; and when they retired to the drawing-room Mrs. Chetwynd suggested a little music.

Eileen, my darling, you sing, dont you? she said, turning to the younger of the twins.

Oh, dear me, no, mother; I have not the ghost of a voice, replied Eileen.

But I thought that your teacher, Miss Fox, spoke highly of your musical talents?

She said I should play well if I practiced hard; but I did not think my very moderate gift worth cultivating, replied Eileen, yawning slightly as she spoke. You see, unless one has genius, there is not the least use in the present day in being musical. Only genius is tolerated; and then I dont ever mean to be ornamental. My vogue in life is the useful. The music of the ordinary school-girl, after years of toil, is merely regarded as an accomplishment, and generally as an unpleasant one; therefore I have let my music drop.

Dear, dear! How extraordinary of Miss Fox not to let me know, said Mrs. Chetwynd. Well, Marjorie, you at least play? said her mother.

Yes, mother, in a somewhat solemn style. I can give you one of Bachs fugues, if you like.

Do so, my dear. I have spent a great deal of money on your music, and should like to hear the result.

Marjorie rose, went to the piano, sat down, and began to thunder loudly. She had scarcely any taste for music, and she played several wrong notes. Mrs. Chetwynd had a carefully trained ear, and she quite shuddered when Marjorie crashed out some of her terrible discords.

Having finished the fugue, which took a considerable time, the young girl rose from the piano amid a profound silence. Eileen had turned away and was engrossed in a book on cookery which she had picked up from a side-table. She was muttering to herself half-aloud:

Take of flour one ounce, butter, cream, three eggs, and

What are you doing, Eileen? said the mother.

Eileen made no reply.

Marjorie seated herself on a chair near her mother.

I hope you liked that fugue? she said. I took tremendous pains learning it. I got up every morning an hour earlier than the others during the whole of last term, simply because I intended to play that fugue of Bachs to you.

It was a great pity, dear, began Mrs. Chetwynd; then she sighed and stopped.

A pity, mother? What in the world do you mean?

Nothing, love; we will talk of all those things to-morrow.

What a terrible day to-morrow promises to be, said Marjorie, glancing towards Eileen. I can see that mother is going to let the vials of her wrath loose. Oh yes, you dear old mammy, you are you cannot deny it. But we are not such dreadful girls after all. All we want to do is this: we want to go our own way.

Your own way, Eileen your own way?

Yes,

mammy, our own way; and you can go yours. Then we shall get on together like a house on fire. Now, what are you winking at me for, Letitia?

I was not winking at you, said Letitia. I was wondering if Aunt Helen would like to hear me sing.