CHAPTER II.
SPOT-EAR

Isabel took great pains arranging Maggie Rowland’s bedroom. At the Castle (or Manor) there were always troops of servants for every imaginable thing; but at the rectory the servants were few, and the girls did a good many odds and ends of work themselves. They were expected to dust and keep in perfect order their exceedingly pretty bedrooms, they were further required to make their own beds, and if a young visitor arrived, they were obliged to wait on her and see to her comfort. For the Tristrams had just an income sufficient to cover their expenses, with nothing at all to put by. Mr. Tristram had his two little boys to think of as well as his two girls. His intention was to give his children the best education possible, believing that such a gift was far more valuable to them than mere money. By-and-by, when they were old enough, the girls might earn their own living if they felt so inclined, and each girl might become a specialist in her way.

Molly was exceedingly fond of music, and wished to excel in that particular. Isabel, on the contrary, was anxious to obtain a post as gymnasium teacher with the London County Council. But all these things were for the future. At present the girls were to study, were to acquire knowledge, were to be prepared for that three-fold battle which includes body, soul, and spirit, and which needs triple armor in the fight.

Mr. Tristram was a man of high religious principles. He taught his children to love the good and refuse the evil. He wanted his girls to be useful women by-and-by in the world. He put usefulness before happiness, assuring his children that if they followed the one they would secure the other.

Belle, therefore, felt quite at home now as she took out pretty mats and laid them on little tables in the neat spare room which had been arranged for the reception of Maggie Howland. She saw that all the appointments of the room were as perfect as simplicity and cleanliness could effect, and then went out into the summer garden to pick some choice, sweet-smelling flowers. She selected roses and carnations, and, bringing them in, arranged them in vases in the room.

Hearing the sound of wheels, she flew eagerly downstairs and met her friend as she stepped out of the little governess-cart.

“Well, here I am!” said Maggie. “And how is Belle? How good-natured of you all to have me, and how delightful it is to smell the delicious country air! Mother and I find town so hot and stuffy. I haven’t brought a great lot of luggage, and I am not a bit smart; but you won’t mind that – will you, dear old Belle?”

“You always talk about not being smart, Maggie; but you manage to look smarter than anyone else,” said Isabel, her eager brown eyes devouring her friend’s appearance with much curiosity. For Maggie looked, to use a proverbial phrase, as if she had stepped out of a bandbox. If she was plain of face she had an exceedingly neat figure, and there was a fashionable, trim look about her which is uncommon in a girl of her age; for Maggie was only just sixteen, and scarcely looked as much. In some ways she might almost have been a French girl, so exceedingly neat and comme il faut was her little person. She was built on a petite scale, and although her face was so plain, she had lovely hands and beautiful small feet. These feet were always shod in the most correct style, and she took care of her hands, never allowing them to get red or sunburnt.

“Where’s Molly?” was her remark, as the two girls, with their arms twined round each other, entered the wide, low hall which was one of the special features of the old rectory.

“She has gone up to see the Cardews.”

“Who are the Cardews?”

“Why, surely, Mags, you must have heard of them?”

“You don’t mean,” said Maggie with a laugh, and showing a gleam of strong white teeth, “the two little ladies who live in a bandbox?”

“Oh, you really must not laugh at them,” said Isabel, immediately on the defensive for her friends; “but they do lead a somewhat exclusive life. Molly has gone up to the Castle, as we always call Meredith Manor, to announce your arrival, and to ask permission to bring you there to a tennis-party this afternoon; so you will soon see them for yourself. Now, come in and say good-morning to the mater; she is longing to see you.”

“Hello, Peterkins!” called out Maggie at that moment, as a small boy with a smut across his face suddenly peeped round a door.

“I’m not Peterkins!” he said angrily.

Maggie laughed again. “I am going to call you Peterkins,” she said. “Is this one of the little brothers, Belle?”

“Yes. – Come here at once, Andrew, and speak to Miss Howland.”

The boy approached shyly. Then his eyes looked up into the queer face of the girl who looked down at him. The sulkiness cleared away from his brow, and he said, in an eager, hurried, half-shy, half-confidential way, “I say, do you like rabbits?”

“Dote on ’em,” said Maggie.

“Then I’m your man, and I don’t mind being Peterkins to you; and will you – will you come and see mine? I’ve got Spot-ear, and Dove, and Angelus, and Clover. And Jack, he has five rabbits, but they’re not near as nice as mine. You’ll come and see my rabbits, won’t you, Miss – Miss–”

“Oh, I am Maggie,” said the girl. “I’ll come and see your rabbits, Peterkins, in a minute; and I won’t look at Jack’s; but you must let me talk to your mother first.”

“There you are, Maggie,” said Belle when the boy had disappeared; “fascinating Andrew in your usual way; and Jack will be just furious, for he’s the elder, you know, and he has a temper, and you mustn’t set one of them against the other – promise you won’t.”

“Trust me,” said Maggie. “Peterkins is a nice little fellow, and I’ll manage Jackdaw too.”

“You don’t mean to say you’ll call them by those names?”

“Yes, yes. I always have my own way with people, as you know.”

“Indeed I do. Oh, come along, you queer creature. Here’s the darling mums. Mater dearest, here is Maggie Howland.”

“Delighted to see you, my dear,” said Mrs. Tristram. “I hope you are not tired after your journey from town.”

“Not in the least, thank you, Mrs. Tristram,” said Maggie, speaking in a voice of very peculiar quality; it was sweet and rich and full of many intonations. She had the power of putting a world of meaning into the most commonplace expressions.

Mrs. Tristram had not seen Maggie before, and it was Mr. Tristram who had been completely bowled over by the young lady just at Christmas-time.

“I bid you a hearty welcome to the rectory,” said the good clergyman’s wife, “and I hope you will have a pleasant time with my children.”

“I’ll have a fascinating time,” said Maggie. “I’m just too delighted to come. It was sweet of you to have me; and may I, please, give you a kiss?”

“Of course you may, dear child,” said Mrs. Tristram.

Maggie bestowed the kiss, and immediately afterward was conducted to her room by the worshiping Belle.

“I do hope you’ll like it,” said Belle in an almost timorous voice. “I prepared it for you myself.”

“Why, it’s sweet,” said Maggie, “and so full of the country! Oh, I say, what roses! And those carnations – Malmaisons, aren’t they? I must wear a couple in this brown holland frock; they’ll tone with it perfectly. What a delicious smell!”

Maggie sniffed at the roses. Belle lounged on the window-seat.

“Molly will be jealous,” she said. “Think of my having you these few moments all to myself!”

“I am delighted to come, as you know quite well,” replied Maggie. “It’s all right about school, isn’t it, Belle?”

“Yes, quite, quite right. We are to join you there in September.”

“It’s a perfectly splendid place,” said Maggie. “I will describe it to you later on.”

“But can it be nicer,” said Belle, “than our darling school at Hanover?”

“Nicer!” exclaimed Maggie. “You couldn’t compare the two places. I tell you it’s perfect. The girls – well, they’re aristocratic; they’re girls of the Upper Ten. It’s the most select school. You are in luck to be admitted, I can tell you. You will learn a lot about society when you are a member of Mrs. Ward’s school.”

“But what possible good will that do us when we are never going into it?” said Belle.

Maggie slightly narrowed her already narrow eyes, took off her hat, and combed back her crisp, dark hair from her low, full, very broad forehead. Then she said, with a smile, “You are to stay two years at Mrs. Ward’s, are you not?”

“Yes, I think that is the arrangement.”

“And I am to stay there for two years,” said Maggie; “I mean two more. I will ask you, Isabel Tristram, what good society is worth at the end of your two years. I expect you will tell me a very different story then.”

At this moment there came a hurried, nervous, excited knock at the room door.

“Aren’t you coming, Miss – Miss – Maggie? Clover and Dove and Spot-ear and Angelus are all waiting. Their hutch is beautiful and clean, and I have all their lettuces waiting for them just outside, so they sha’n’t begin to nibble till you come. Do, do come, please, Miss Maggie.”

“Of course I will, my darling Peterkins,” replied Maggie in her joyful voice. “Oh, this is – this is – this is fun! – Come along, Belle; come along.”

“But don’t let poor Jack get into a temper,” said Isabel in a half-frightened whisper.

Maggie took no notice of her. She opened the bedroom door and flew downstairs, holding the dirty, hot little hand of Andrew, alias Peterkins, while Isabel followed in their wake.

In a far-away part of the rectory garden, on a bit of waste land at the other side of the great vegetable garden, were two hutches which stood side by side, and these hutches contained those most adorable creatures, the pets, the darlings of the Tristram boys.

The Tristram boys were aged eleven and ten years respectively. Jack was eleven, Andrew ten. They were very sturdy, healthy, fine little fellows. At present they went to a good day-school in the neighborhood, but were to be sent to a boarding-school about the same time as their sisters were to begin their education at Aylmer House in Kensington. Their passion above all things was for pets. They had tried every sort: white mice (these somehow or other were sacrificed to the reigning cat) and waltzing mice (that shared an equally luckless fate); these were followed by white rats, which got into the garden and did mischief, and were banished by order of the rector, who was a most determined master in his own house. Dogs were also forbidden, except one very intelligent Airedale, that belonged to the whole family and to no one in particular. But the boys must find vent for their passion in some way, and rabbits were allowed them. At the present moment Jack owned five, Andrew four.

In trembling triumph, Andrew brought his new friend to see his darlings. He greatly hoped that Jack would not appear on the scene just now. While Maggie was up in her bedroom taking off, her hat, he had, with herculean strength, managed to move an old wooden door and put it in such a position that Jack’s hutch was completely hidden, while his hutch shone forth in all its glory, with those fascinating creatures Spot-ear, Angelus, Dove, and Clover looking through their prison-bars at the tempting meal that awaited them.

“Here they are! here they are!” said Andrew. “Beauties, all four; my own – my very own! Maggie, you may share one of them with me while you are here. He must live in his hutch, but he shall be yours and mine. Would you like Spot-ear? He is a character. He’s the finest old cove you ever came across in your life. Look at him now, pretending he doesn’t care anything at all for his lettuce, and he’s just dying for it. Clover is the greedy one. Clover would eat till he-burst if I let him. As to Angelus, she squeaks sometimes – you’ll hear her if you listen hard – that’s why I called her Angelus; and Dove – why, she’s a dear pet; but the character of all is Spot-ear. You’d like to share him with me, wouldn’t you, Maggie?”

“Yes, yes; he is so ugly; he is quite interesting,” said Maggie. She flung herself on the ground by the side of the hutch, and gazed in at the occupants as though her only aim in life was to worship rabbits.

“You take that leaf of lettuce and give it to Spot-ear your very own self,” said Peterkins. “He’ll love you ever after; he’s a most affectionate old fellow.”

Maggie proceeded to feed the rabbit. Peterkins hopped about in a state of excitement which he had seldom experienced before. Maggie asked innumerable questions. Belle seated herself on the fallen trunk of an old oak-tree and looked on in wonder.

Maggie was a curious girl. She seemed to have a power over every one. There was Andrew – such a shy little fellow as a rule – simply pouring out his heart to her.

Suddenly Belle rose. “It’s time for lunch,” she said, “and you must be hungry. Andrew, go straight to the house and wash your face and hands. No lady would sit down to lunch with such a dirty boy as you are.”

“Oh, I say, am I?” said Andrew. “Do you think so, Maggie?”

“You are a most disreputable-looking little scamp,” said Maggie.

“Then I won’t be – I won’t, most truly. I’ll run off at once and get clean, and I’ll get into my Sunday best if you wish it.”

“Dear me, no!” said Maggie; “I don’t wish it. But clean hands and face – well, they are essential to the ordinary British boy, if he’s a gentleman.”

“I am your gentleman – for evermore,” said Andrew.

“I think you are, Peterkins.”

“Then I’m off to clean up,” said the small boy.

“I say, Andrew,” cried his sister; “before you go take that door away from Jack’s hutch. He’ll be so furious at your keeping the light and air away from his rabbits.”

“Not I. I can’t be bothered,” said Peterkins.

“Please take it away at once,” said Maggie.

Andrew’s brow puckered into a frown.

“But you’ll see ’em, and he’s got five!” he said in a most distressed voice.

“Honor bright,” said Maggie, “I’ll turn my back and shut my eyes. Jackdaw shall show me his rabbits himself.”

Peterkins immediately removed the door, dragging it to its former place, where it leaned against a high wall. He then rushed up to Maggie.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “Promise you won’t like his bunnies.”

“Can’t,” said Maggie, “for I’ll love ’em.”

“Well, at least promise you won’t love him.”

“Can’t,” said Maggie again, “for I shall.”

“I’ll die of raging jealousy,” said Peterkins.

“No, you won’t, you silly boy. Get off to the house and make yourself tidy. Come along, Belle.”

“I say, Maggie,” said Belle, “you mustn’t set those two boys by the ears. They’re fond enough of each other.”

“Of course I’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Maggie. “That’s a charming little chap, and Spot-ear is my rabbit as well as his. Jackdaw shall share two of his rabbits with me. Oh, it is such fun turning people round your little finger!”

Just then Molly, rather red in the face, ran up.

“Oh, you darling, darling Maggie!” she said. “So you’ve come!”

“Come!” cried Maggie. “I feel as if I’d been here for ever.”

“I am delighted to see you,” said Molly.

She kissed her friend rapturously. Maggie presented a cool, firm, round cheek.

“Oh, how sweet you look, Mags!”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Molly; I’m not a bit sweet-looking.”

“To me,” said Molly with fervor, “You’re the loveliest girl in all the wide world.”

“I’m very ugly, and you know that perfectly well,” said Maggie; “but now don’t let’s talk of looks.”

“Whatever were you doing in this part of the garden?” inquired Molly.

“Oh, she was making love to Andrew,” remarked Belle. “She calls him Peterkins, and he allows it, and he has given her one-half of Spot-ear; and she means to make love to Jack, and he’s to give her a couple of his rabbits – I mean, to share them with her. She’s more extraordinary than ever, more altogether out of the common.”

“As if I didn’t know that,” said Molly. “It’s all right about this afternoon, Maggie. Oh, what do you think? We’re to stay to supper, and I have a special invitation for father and mother to come and join us then. Won’t it be fun! I do wonder, Maggie, if you will like the Cardew girls.”

“Probably not,” replied Maggie in a very calm voice; “but at least I can promise you one thing: they’ll both like me.”

“No doubt whatever on that point,” replied Belle with fervor.

They entered the house, and soon found themselves seated round the table. Mr. Tristram greeted Maggie with his usual gentle dignity. Molly delivered herself of her message from the Castle. Mr. and Mrs. Tristram said that they would be delighted to join the Cardews at supper.

The meal was proceeding cheerfully, and Maggie was entertaining her host and hostess by just those pleasant little pieces of information which an exceedingly well-bred girl can impart without apparently intending to do so, when a shy and very clean little figure glided into the room, a pair of bright-brown eyes looked fixedly at Maggie, and then glared defiance at Belle, who happened to be seated near that adorable young person.

Peterkins was making up his mind that in future that coveted seat should be his – for he and Maggie could talk in whispers during the meal about Spot-ear, Angelus, and the rest – when his father said, “Sit down, my boy; take your place at once. You are rather late.”

The boy slipped into his seat.

“I am glad to see you looking so tidy, Andrew,” said his mother approvingly.

Andrew looked across at Maggie. Maggie did not once glance at him. She was talking in her gentle, lady-like tone to the rector.

Presently another boy came in, bigger and broader than Andrew.

Andrew said in a raised voice, “Here’s Jack, and his hands aren’t a bit clean.”

“Hush!” said the rector.

Jack flushed and looked defiantly at Maggie.

Maggie raised her eyes and gave him a sweet glance. “Are you really Jack?” she said. “I am so glad to know you. I have been making friends with your brother Andrew, whom I call Peterkins. I want to call you Jackdaw. May I?”

Jack felt a great lump in his throat. His face was scarlet. He felt unable to speak, but he nodded.

“I have been looking at Peterkins’s rabbits,” continued Maggie. “I want to see yours after lunch.”

“They’re beauties!” burst from Jack. “They’re ever so many times better than Andrew’s. I’ve got a cream-colored Angora. His name is Fanciful, and I’ve got–”

“Hush, my boy, hush!” said the rector. “Not so much talking during meals. Well, Maggie, my dear – we must, of course, call you by your Christian name–”

“Of course, Mr. Tristram; I should indeed feel strange if you didn’t.”

“We are delighted to see you,” continued the rector, “and you must tell the girls all about your new school.”

“And you too, sir,” said Maggie, in her soft, rich voice. “Oh! you’ll be delighted – delighted; there never was such a woman as Mrs. Ward.”

“I took a very great liking to her,” said the rector. “I think my girls fortunate to be placed under her care. She has been good, very good and kind, to me and mine.”

“I wonder what he means by that,” thought Maggie; but she made no remark aloud.