CHAPTER IV.
For four long days had Mariquita Saville dwelt beneath Mr. Asplin's roof, and her companions still gazed upon her with fear and trembling, as a mysterious and extraordinary creature, whom they altogether failed to understand. She talked like a book, she behaved like a well-conducted old lady of seventy, and she sat with folded hands gazing around, with a curious, dancing light in her hazel eyes, which seemed to imply that there was some tremendous joke on hand, the secret of which was known only to herself. Esther and Mellicent had confided their impressions to their mother, but in Mrs. Asplin's presence, Peggy was just a quiet, modest girl, a trifle shy and retiring, as was natural under the circumstances, but with no marked peculiarity of any kind. She answered to the name of "Peggy," to which address she was persistently deaf at other times, and sat with eyelids lowered, and neat little feet crossed before her, the picture of a demure, well-behaved, young schoolgirl. The sisters assured their mother that Mariquita was a very different person in the schoolroom, but when she inquired as to the nature of the difference, it was not so easy to explain.
"She talked so grandly, and used such great, big words."
A good thing, too, Mrs. Asplin averred. She wished the rest would follow her example, and not use so much foolish, meaningless slang.——Her eyes looked so bright and mocking, as if she were laughing at something all the time. Poor, dear child! could she not talk as she liked? It was a great blessing she could be bright, poor lamb, with such a parting before her!——She was so—so—grown-up, and patronising, and superior! Tut! tut! Nonsense! Peggy had come from a large boarding-school, and her ways were different from theirs—that was all. They must not take stupid notions, but be kind and friendly and make the poor girl feel at home.
Fraulein on her side reported that her new pupil was docile and obedient, and anxious to get on with her studies, though not so far advanced as might have been expected. Esther was far ahead of her in most subjects, and Mellicent learned with pained surprise that she knew nothing whatever about decimal fractions.
"Circumstances, dear," she explained, "circumstances over which I had no control, prevented an acquaintance, but no doubt I shall soon know all about them, and then I shall be pleased to give you the promised help," and Mellicent found herself saying, "Thank you," in a meek and submissive manner, instead of indulging in a well-merited rebuke.
No amount of ignorance seemed to daunt Mariquita, or to shake her belief in herself. When Maxwell came to grief in a Latin essay, she looked up, and said, "Can I assist you?" And when Robert read out a passage from Carlyle, she laid her head on one side and said, "Now, do you know, I am not altogether sure that I am with him on that point!" with an assurance which paralysed the hearers.
Esther and Mellicent discussed seriously together as to whether they liked, or disliked, this extraordinary creature, and had great difficulty in coming to a conclusion. She teased, puzzled, aggravated, and provoked them; therefore, if they had any claim to be logical, they should dislike her cordially, yet somehow or other they could not bring themselves to say that they disliked Mariquita. There were moments when they came perilously near loving the aggravating creature. Already it gave them quite a shock to look back upon the time when there was no Peggy Saville to occupy their thoughts, and life without the interest of her presence would have seemed unspeakably flat and uninteresting. She was a bundle of mystery. Even her looks seemed to exercise an uncanny fascination. On the evening of her arrival the unanimous opinion had been that she was decidedly plain, but there was something about the pale little face which always seemed to invite a second glance, and the more closely you gazed, the more complete was the feeling of satisfaction.
"Her face is so neat," Mellicent said to herself, and the adjective was not inappropriate, for Peggy's small features looked as though they had been modelled by the hand of a fastidious artist, and the air of dainty finish extended to her hands and feet, and slight graceful figure.
The subject came up for discussion on the third evening after Peggy's arrival, when she had been called out of the room to speak to Mrs. Asplin for a few minutes. Esther gazed after her as she walked across the floor with her slow, dignified tread, and when the door was safely closed, she said slowly—
"I don't think Mariquita is as plain now, as I did at first, do you, Oswald?"
"N—no! I don't think I do. I should not call her exactly plain. She is a funny, little thing, but there's something nice about her face."
"Very nice."
"Last night in the pink dress she looked almost pretty."
"Y—es!"
"Quite pretty!"
"Y—es! really quite pretty."
"We shall think her lovely in another week," said Mellicent tragically. "Those awful Savilles! They are all alike—there is something Indian about them. Indian people have a lot of secrets that we know nothing about, they use spells, and poisons, and incantations that no English person can understand, and they can charm snakes. I've read about it in books. Arthur and Peggy were born in India, and it's my opinion that they are bewitched. Perhaps the ayahs did it when they were in their cradles. I don't say it is their own fault, but they are not like other people, and they use their charms on us, as there are no snakes in England. Look at Arthur! He was the naughtiest boy, always hurting himself, and spilling things, and getting into trouble, and yet everyone in the house bowed down before him and did what he wanted. Now mark my word, Peggy will be the same!"
Mellicent's companions were not in the habit of "marking her words," but on this occasion they looked thoughtful, for there was no denying that they were always more or less under the spell of the remorseless stranger.
On the afternoon of the fourth day Miss Peggy came down to tea with her pig-tail smoother and more glossy than ever, and the light of war shining in her eyes. She drew her chair to the table and looked blandly at each of her companions in turn.
"I have been thinking," she said sweetly, and the listeners quaked at the thought of what was coming. "The thought has been weighing on my mind that we neglect many valuable and precious opportunities. This hour, which is given to us for our own use, might be turned to profit and advantage, instead of being idly frittered away. 'In work, in work, in work alway, let my young days be spent.' It was the estimable Dr. Watts, I think, who wrote those immortal lines! I think it would be a desirable thing to carry on all conversation at this table in the French language for the future. Passez-moi le beurre, s'il vous plait, Mellicent, ma très chère. J'aime beaucoup le beurre, quand il est frais. Est-ce que vous aimez le beurre plus de la—I forget at the moment how you translate jam. Il fait très beau, ce après-midi, n'est pas?"
She was so absolutely, imperturbably, grave that no one dared to laugh. Mellicent, who took everything in deadly earnest, summoned up courage to give a mild little squeak of a reply. "Wee—mais hier soir, il pleut;" and in the silence that followed, Robert was visited with a mischievous inspiration. He had had French nursery governesses in his childhood, and had, moreover, spent two years abroad, so that French came as naturally to him as his own mother tongue. The temptation to discompose Miss Peggy was too strong to be resisted. He raised his dark, square-chinned face, looked straight into her eyes, and rattled out a long, breathless sentence, to the effect that there was nothing so necessary as conversation if one wished to master a foreign language; that he had talked French in the nursery; and that the same Marie who had nursed him as a baby, was still in his father's service, and acted as maid to his only sister. She was getting old now, but was a most faithful creature, devoted to the family, though she had never overcome her prejudices against England, and English ways. He rattled on until he was fairly out of breath, and Peggy leant her little chin on her hand, and stared at him with an expression of absorbing attention. Esther felt convinced that she did not understand a word of what was being said, but the moment that Robert stopped, she threw back her head, clasped her hands together, and exclaimed—
"Mais certainement, avec pleasure!" with such vivacity and Frenchiness of manner, that she was forced into unwilling admiration.
"Has no one else a remark to make?" continued this terrible girl, collapsing suddenly into English, and looking inquiringly round the table. "Perhaps there is some other language which you would prefer to French. It is all the same to me. I think we ought to strive to become proficient in foreign tongues. At the school where I was at Brighton there was a little girl in the fourth form who could speak and even write Greek quite admirably. It impressed me very much, for I myself knew so little of the language. And she was only six——"
"Six!" The boys straightened themselves at that, roused into eager protest. "Six years old! And spoke Greek! And wrote Greek! Impossible!"
"I have heard her talking for half-an-hour at a time. I have known the girls in the first form ask her to help them with their exercises. She knew more than anyone in the school."
"Then she is a human prodigy. She ought to be exhibited. Six years old! Oh, I say—that child ought to turn out something great when she grows up. What did you say her name was, by the by?"
Peggy lowered her eyelids, and pursed up her lips. "Andromeda Michaelides," she said slowly. "She was six last Christmas. Her father is Greek consul in Manchester."
There was a pause of stunned surprise; and then, suddenly, an extraordinary thing happened. Mariquita bounded from her seat, and began flying wildly round and round the table. Her pigtail flew out behind her; her arms waved like the sails of a windmill, and as she raced along, she seized upon every loose article which she could reach, and tossed it upon the floor. Cushions from chairs and sofa went flying into the window; books were knocked off the table with one rapid sweep of the hand; magazines went tossing up in the air, and were kicked about like so many footballs. Round and round she went, faster and faster, while the five beholders gasped and stared, with visions of madhouses, strait-jackets, and padded rooms, rushing through their bewildered brains. Her pale cheeks glowed with colour; her eyes shone; she gave a wild shriek of laughter, and threw herself, panting and gasping, into a chair by the fireside.
"Three cheers for Mariquita! Ho! Ho! Ho! Didn't I do it well? If you could have seen your faces!"
"P—P—P—eggy! Do you mean to say you have been pretending all this time? What do you mean? Have you been putting on all those airs and graces for a joke?" asked Esther, severely, and Peggy gave a feeble splutter of laughter.
"W—wanted to see what you were like! Oh, my heart! Ho! Ho! Ho! wasn't it lovely? Can't keep it up any longer! Good-bye, Mariquita! I'm Peggy now, my dears. Some more tea!"
(To be continued.)
[FROCKS FOR TO-MORROW.]
By "THE LADY DRESSMAKER."
If the French craze for plaids and tartans be followed in England, it will be as well to remind everyone that there are certain people to whom they are quite forbidden. I refer to the very stout and the very thin. And it is to be hoped that these two classes may be wise in season and avoid them. For the rest, the new plaids are, some of them, pretty and in quiet hues, though I noticed, when in Paris, that people liked them more vivid as to colouring, and one consequently saw some very lively-looking ones in scarlet and bright red. These plaids are more used as skirts than as entire dresses; in fact, the newest departure in coats and skirts is to have the skirt of plaid and the coat of a plain cloth which suits it in colour. For this purpose a sacque coat is always used, and this is a fortunate thing, for they suit all figures, thin and stout, equally well; but they, more than any other description of jacket, require a good cut, as they are so easily made to hitch up or to droop at the back by an inexperienced cutter. And the oddest part of it is that no alteration seems to do any good, for the trouble appears to lie deeper than that, in the very foundation of the jacket.
JACKET WITH ROUNDED FRONTS. GOWN WITH TUNIC.
The few notes that I have collected together on the subject of furs I will use at the beginning of my article. Fur trimmings of all kinds are very much worn, and so many of the winter gowns are decorated with fur bands, that the fashion seems like a uniform. The peculiarity of this form of trimming is that this season it must be accompanied by bands of brightly-coloured velvet and generally with braid. Seal and sable are constant favourites, and they will be used in combination for the fitted-back jackets or sacque-backed ones, which are the two shapes for fur jackets at present. Skunk and bear, which were last year so popular, have fallen out of favour; but caracul is much used, and has not been freshly named this year. So far as I can see, white satin seems to be the popular lining for all fur jackets and capes, though I have seen one or two lined with gold colour and pale blue. The capes of fur follow the fashion of those in cloth and are flounced just as they were last year, many of them; but this year the flounces are wider and more visible to the eye. The collars of all fur garments are very high. And, lastly, I must mention that long fur boas are expected to take the place of the feather ones to which we have been so faithful.
As I look round trying to satisfy myself as to the fashionable colours for the autumn, I find myself in a decided difficulty. There is a new shade of lavender or hyacinth-blue, which is very pretty, but needs to be toned down with white or black, and I am sure others will have noticed that there is a perfect run on lavender-blue hats, which are prepared for the winter in every shade of this hue. Then there is a deep-hued tomato-red, which is very handsome in velvet, and a new blue known as "old Japanese." Dark brown cloth, with reliefs of orange velvet and satin; grey face cloth, with reliefs of turquoise blue; and red with black cordings, are all fashionable winter mixtures. Pink, ranging from a pale coral to a very deep du Barry rose hue, is quite as much worn as ever, and from what I see, orange-colour is the same.
Both for day and night the hair is now dressed quite low on the nape of the neck, in a coil of twists, and on the head and over the ears it is waved in wide undulations, the front hair being cut short and curled over the forehead. For the evening a rose fastened in by a diamond pin behind the left ear is said to be the latest idea.
The reason of this change in the style of dressing the hair appears to lie in the change in the style of the hats and bonnets of the season. There is no doubt that, to the majority of Englishwomen, the hair dressed in this manner is more becoming than in any other style.
In the way of new skirts we find several in which there are neither pleats nor gathers at the back; but the most popular have two box-pleats, on which there are placed (in some skirts at least) a row or two of rather large buttons, from the waist to the hem. Dresses are, I am sorry to say, being made very much longer in the skirt. They touch the ground at the front and sides, and lie on it completely at the back, while for evening use the long train is universally adopted. I think the Princess-gown will be the favourite one for evening use, and here sleeves seem to be banished entirely, a velvet ribbon or a flower being considered a sufficient substitute for them. For walking-skirts in thick materials, however, the sensible ones are to be left a choice, so we shall probably see as many short skirts worn as long ones. After all, the bicycle-skirt has to be considered, and many of us wear that in the country nearly all day long.
Our first illustration shows two of the reigning winter and autumn styles, namely, the three-quarter jacket, and the strapped cape, with bands of cloth piped with scarlet silk. The figure on the left wears a tailor-made and beautifully-fitting jacket of grey cloth, which is braided with a darker grey braid over bands of paler grey cloth, the lines running longitudinally from the top of the collar to the edge of the jacket. The skirt is of plain cloth of the same tone of grey as the jacket. The latter is lined with orange silk. The toque is of orange velvet, with cream-coloured lace, and feathers and wings of orange and black.
GOWN OF GREY CLOTH.CAPE WITH CLOTH BANDS.
The second figure in the illustration wears a black cloth cape, lined with scarlet silk, and piped with the same at each side of the wide cloth bands, which make the decoration of the cape. These bands are tapered gradually round the fronts and up the sides, where they are crossed with ornamental straps which fasten the cape in front. The collar is high, and is piped and lined with scarlet. The hat is of straw, with scarlet and black velvet, and black feathers at one side, and scarlet and black rosettes below the brim at the back and sides.
The next illustration consists of a single figure only, who wears one of the new jackets of the winter, the material of which is dark green cloth, braided in black, and edged with caracul fur. The new feature in this jacket is the flounce of cloth of about eight inches in depth, which is placed round the edge, and which is also trimmed with fur. The hat is of white felt, with trimmings of green velvet, and green feathers; and the dress worn is of green cashmere, with green velvet trimmings.
The group of three figures fully displays one of the most stylish of the season's confections, two views being given of it, a front and a back one, on the figures which stand on the right and left. This jacket is of cloth, tight-fitting, and of three-quarter length, with the fronts rounded to the bands at the waist. It is trimmed with bands of fur, and with cloth bands of a lighter colour, which taper towards the waist in front, and on the bodice are arranged so as to simulate an Eton jacket. The seated figure shows one of the new tunics. The material is of dark blue cloth, and the tunic is cut to reach a little below the knee. The bodice is open in front to show a vest of apricot-coloured velvet which has white lace motifs on it. The tunic and the revers of the bodice are edged with bands of astrachan, which is laid on apricot velvet, edged and overlaid with fancy braiding in black. There is a large collar high at the back, which is bordered in the same manner, and lined with black velvet. The edge of the skirt is trimmed with bands of astrachan, which are put on to match the battlements of the tunic.
NEW WINTER JACKET.
The very smart coats of the autumn are all made of a thick satin merveilleux, which was used for the same purpose some years ago, and seems to have returned to favour. Other coats are of black velvet, on one of which a great deal of Irish crochet lace has been lavished as decoration; but all of them are of the same three-quarter length, and aspire to great perfection of cut and fit. One sees by these coats how desirable it is to be slight in figure, for most of these fashions are only suitable for the thin. Pipings are the predominant ornament; and, indeed, this form of decoration is more popular than anything else.
Mittens are coming into use, and, for the evening, will perhaps supersede gloves; the late tropical heat has rendered the most careful people quite careless of their gloves, and it has been nothing remarkable to meet well-dressed women in the street carrying their gloves in their hands. The ribbon bands round the neck, which have been so much used this year, are now being replaced by velvet ones, tied in the same manner—in a bow at the back. It is rumoured that wide strings of ribbon for bonnets are coming in again, but I do not think it likely, as they add much to the look of age on the face.
Hats turned up in front were an introduction of the later summer season; but they have taken immensely, and will be worn during the winter, and it is well to remember, nevertheless, that they require a plump face, for thin cheeks stand no chance at all, in their very uncompromising lack of shadow.
[The following is sent by an anonymous reader in response to the address on our Prospectus.—Ed.]