“My dears,” she said soberly, “I am with you in your surprise at the change in Frances, and in your natural longing to understand it and to win your friend back to her old ways. Let us put our heads together, and see what we can do. First, let us ask Florry, who has been so much with Frances, whether she can suggest any reason for the lassie’s whims.”
“I don’t think I can,” said Florry slowly; “you see, she isn’t the kind of girl to back out of things in order to be flattered and fussed over, and begged to go on with them. Frances isn’t a bit vain. She’s too much in earnest.”
The other girls assented in chorus.
“Can her mother have raised objections to her doing so much for your Society? Mrs. Morland is taking Frances about with her more than she used to do, and she may wish her daughter to use her leisure differently.”
Florry shook her head. “No—it can’t be that. Frances told me her mother had promised to help with our bazaar, and to persuade her friends to work for it. We should hardly have gone on thinking about it else,” added Florry bluntly, “because the Woodend people all follow Mrs. Morland like sheep.”
“We needn’t criticise our elders on that point,” said plump Betty Turner, “for we all follow Frances like sheep. Why not? Someone must lead.”
“And Mrs. Morland’s leadership has been used most kindly on behalf of the Altruists,” said Miss Carlyon gently. “No doubt it would serve the bazaar to good purpose, and I still hope your grand plan may be triumphantly worked out. And now, dear girls, as you cannot clear up the mystery of Frances’s behaviour, may I, without discouraging you, own that you mustn’t look to me for enlightenment? If there is anything behind, I am not in Frances’s confidence; I can judge only from what appears on the surface. Isn’t it possible that the very honours you have thrust upon her—the popularity, the responsibility—may have become something of a strain? Perhaps she may feel that, for a time at least, she would rather remain in the background, while those who have learned to imitate her courage and energy may take their turn in coming to the front. In any case, I can’t help believing that your best course will be to persist in your gallant undertakings, and to let our Frances see that her efforts have not been thrown away. She has borne the burden and the heat of the day, and she may flag for awhile only to spring forward more gladly and willingly after a well-earned rest.”
“But our Society!—our Club, without Frances!”
“Must go on and prosper, if only to maintain its founder’s credit. If your Club-room at Elveley is no longer available, you shall hold your meetings here. Persevere, lassies, persevere! And before long—I feel sure of it—Frances the Altruist shall be again in your midst.”
The news that her daughter had abandoned her pet hobby was quite a shock to Mrs. Morland, who had so long been accustomed to see her children to the fore in every juvenile scheme, that she could not recognize the value of a light hidden under a bushel. She reproached Frances long and scornfully for her voluntary abdication of her small queenship; but the girl listened in silence, and with an expression of weariness and indifference which increased her mother’s vexation. Mrs. Morland felt the disappointment and chagrin Austin and Frances were causing her all the more because such sensations were so new and strange. She had always congratulated herself on the possession of a pair of youngsters who were made for future social success. And here was Austin, of his own choice, spending half his play-hours at a vulgar smithy. And here was Frances handing over her girlish honours to Florry Fane.