“There! you deserve a good long story; beginning at the beginning,” said Meta, clapping her hands, “wasn’t it curious? as we were coming up the last hill, we met some girls in deep mourning, with a lady who looked like their governess. I wondered whether they could be Dr. May’s daughters, and so it turned out they were.
“Presently there began to fall little square lumps, neither hail, nor snow, nor rain; it grew very cold, and rain came on. It would have been great fun, if I had not been afraid papa would catch cold, and he said we would canter on to the inn. But, luckily, there was Dr. May walking up the street, and he begged us to come into his house. I was so glad! We were tolerably wet, and Dr. May said something about hoping the girls were at home; well, when he opened the drawing-room door, there was the poor daughter lying on the sofa.”
“Poor girl! tell me of her.”
“Oh! you must go and see her; you won’t look at her without losing your heart. Papa liked her so much—see if he does not talk of her all the evening. She looks the picture of goodness and sweetness. Only think of her having some of the maidenhair and cape jessamine still in water, that we sent her so long ago. She shall have some flowers every three days. Well, Dr. May said, ‘There is one at least, that is sure to be at home.’ She felt my habit, and said I must go and change it, and she called to a little thing of six, telling her to show me the way to Flora. She smiled, and said she wished she could go herself, but Flora would take care of me. Little Blanche came and took hold of my hand, chattering away, up we went, up two staircases, and at the top of the last stood a girl about seventeen, so pretty! such deep blue eyes, and such a complexion! ‘That’s Flora,’ little Blanche said; ‘Flora, this is Miss Rivers, and she’s wet, and Margaret says you are to take care of her.’”
“So that was your introduction?”
“Yes; we got acquainted in a minute. She took me into her room—such a room! I believe Bellairs would be angry if she had such a one; all up in the roof, no fire, no carpet, except little strips by the beds; there were three beds. Flora used to sleep there till Miss May was ill, and now she dresses there. Yet I am sure they are as much ladies as I am.”
“You are an only daughter, my dear, and a petted one,” said Mrs. Larpent, smiling. “There are too many of them to make much of, as we do of our Meta.”
“I suppose so; but I did not know gentlewomen lived in such a way,” said Meta. “There were nice things about, a beautiful inlaid work-box of Flora’s, and a rosewood desk, and plenty of books, and a Greek book and dictionary were spread open. I asked Flora if they were hers, and she laughed and said no; and that Ethel would be much discomposed that I had see them. Ethel keeps up with her brother Norman—only fancy! and he at the head of the school. How clever she must be!”
“But, my dear, were you standing in your wet things all this time!”
“No; I was trying on their frocks, but they trailed on the ground upon me, so she asked if I would come and sit by the nursery fire till my habit was dry; and there was a dear little good-humoured baby, so fair and pretty. She is not a bit shy, will go to anybody, but, they say, she likes no one so well as her brother Norman.”