A Plucky Girl

by L. T. Meade

"And one of the best," I said impulsively, and as I thought of all that was going to happen to that most precious mother, and how soon that presence would be withdrawn from our mortal gaze, and how soon that spirit would go to the God who gave it, tears sprang to my eyes, and even Mrs. Fanning became more tolerable.

"Ah, you are feeling cut to bits about her great delicacy," said that good lady. "Any one can see that; but cheer up, cheer up, the young ought to rejoice, and you of all women under the sun have the most cause for rejoicement, Miss Wickham."

I did not ask her why, I did not dare, we drove on. It seemed to me that we were not going anywhere near the shops, we were steadily pursuing our way into the suburbs. After a drive of over an hour, we suddenly found ourselves in a part of Highgate quite unknown to me. We had been going uphill for some time, and we stopped now before some iron gates; a woman ran out of a lodge and opened the gates, and then we drove down a short avenue shaded by some fine trees. We drew up in front of a large, substantial red-brick house, the door of which was open, and on the steps stood Mr. Fanning. He ran down to meet us, with both his hands extended.

"Ah! and you have brought the little thing," he said to his mother.

"What little thing?" I said to myself. This was really the final straw. I had never, never even by my most intimate friends, been spoken of as the "little thing," for I was a tall girl and somewhat large in my ideas, and if anything rather masculine in my mind, and to be spoken of as a little thing, and by Albert Fanning, was about the final straw which broke the camel's back. My first intention was to refuse to budge from the carriage, to fiercely demand that the coachman should turn round and drive me straight back again to mother, but on second thoughts, I reflected that I should lose a good deal of dignity by this proceeding, and the best possible plan was to appear as if nothing at all extraordinary had occurred, and to follow Mrs. Fanning into the house.

"Yes, I have brought her," said that good woman; "here she is. She looks slim beside your old mother, eh! Albert? but she's young; as time goes on she'll spread like all the rest of us. Well, and here we are, and she likes the brougham extremely; don't you, my dear? I could see that if you had yielded to me with regard to the yellow wheels she would not have approved. We must all humour her while she is young; it is always the way, always the way, ain't it, Albert? And I never saw a girl look nicer in a brougham than she does. She did enjoy her drive; it was lovely to see her. Well, now, she'll enjoy still more what's before her—the house and the grounds. It's a bit of a surprise we have for you, my dear," continued the old lady, turning to me. "It is not every girl would have the luck to be brought here by his mother; but everything that can be made easy and pleasant for you, Miss Wickham, shall be made easy and pleasant. It was Albert's wish that you should come here with me, and he said you would much rather it was not bragged about at the boarding-house beforehand. This is my son Albert's new house, furnished according to his own taste, which is excellent, nothing showy nor gimcrack, all firm and good, bought at Maple's, dear, in Tottenham Court Road, and the very best the establishment could furnish. Everything new, shining, and paid for, dear, paid for. You can see the bills, not a debt to hang over your head by-and-by, love. But come in, come in."

I really felt that I could not stand much longer on the steps of the mansion, listening to this most extraordinary address made to me by Mrs. Fanning. What did it matter to me whether Albert Fanning paid for his household goods or not? and how could it concern me what shop he chose to buy them at? But I felt myself more or less in a trap, and knew the best way to prevent any crisis taking place was to put on an assumed air of absolute indifference, and to take the first possible opportunity of returning home.

"Jane must get the Fannings to leave to-morrow, whatever happens," I said to myself, "and I must cling now to Mrs. Fanning for dear life. I don't suppose Albert Fanning will propose for me while she is by." But alas! I little knew the couple with whom I had to deal. Albert Fanning had willed that I was not to cling close to his mother. Turning to the old lady, he said—

"You're fagged and flustered. You have done things uncommonly well, and now you'll just have the goodness to sit with your feet on the fender in the drawing-room, and give yourself a right good toasting while Miss Wickham and I are examining the house."

"Oh no," I began.