“No; but young girls cannot see as far into character as older people can.”
“Well, now,” said Mrs. Haddo, “I will be frank with you. What I say to you, you can repeat to Mary Arundel. I feel proud to call you both my flag lieutenants, who always hold the banner of high principle and virtue aloft, and I feel certain you will do so to the end. Emma, Sir John Crawford came to see me yesterday on a very important matter; and, partly to oblige him, partly because of an old memory, partly also because it seemed to me that I must trust and hope for the best in certain emergencies, I have agreed to do what I never did before—namely, to take three girls into the school—yes, into the upper school, in place of the three Maitlands. These girls are called Betty, Sylvia, and Hester Vivian. They are the nieces of that dear woman, Beatrice Vivian, who was educated at this school years ago. I expect them to arrive here on Monday next. In the meantime you must prepare the other girls for their appearance on the scene. Do not blame me, Emma, nor look on me with reproachful eyes. I quite understand what you are thinking, that I have broken a rule which I have always declared I would never break—namely, I am taking these girls without having first interviewed them. Such is the case. Now, I want you, in particular, to tell Fanny Crawford that they are coming. Fanny is their cousin. Sir John is their guardian. Sir John knows nothing whatever about their disposition, but I gather from some conversation which I had with him last night that Fanny is acquainted with them. Observe, dear, how she takes the news of their coming. If dear Fanny looks quite happy about them, it will certainly be a rest to my mind.”
“Oh, I will talk to her,” said Miss Symes, rising. “And now, please, dear Mrs. Haddo, don’t be unhappy. You have done, in my opinion, the only thing you could do; and girls with such high credentials must be all right.”
“I hope they will prove to be all that is desirable,” said Mrs. Haddo. “You had better have a talk with Miss Ludlow with regard to the rooms they are to occupy. Poor children! they are in great trouble, having already lost both their parents, and are now coming to me because their aunt, Miss Vivian, has just died. It might comfort them to be in that large room which is near Fanny’s. It will hold three little beds and the necessary furniture without any crowding.”
“Yes, it would do splendidly,” said Miss Symes. “I will speak to Miss Ludlow. I suppose, now, I ought to return to my school duties?”
Miss Symes was not at all uneasy at what Mrs. Haddo had told her. Hers was a gentle and triumphant sort of nature. She trusted most people. She had a sublime faith in the good, not the bad, of her fellow-creatures. Still, Mrs. Haddo had done a remarkable thing, and Miss Symes owned to herself that she was a little curious to see how Fanny Crawford would take the news of the unexpected advent of her relatives.
It was arranged that the Vivians were to arrive at Haddo Court on the following Monday. To-day was Wednesday, and a half-holiday. Half-holidays were always prized at Haddo Court; and the girls were now in excellent spirits, full of all sorts of schemes and plans for the term which had little more than begun, and during which they hoped to achieve so much. Fanny Crawford, in particular, was in earnest conversation with Susie Rushworth. They were forming a special plan for strengthening what they called the bond of union in the upper school. Fresh girls were to be admitted, and all kinds of schemes were in progress. Susie had a wonderfully bright face, and her eager words fell on Miss Symes’s ears as she approached the two girls.
“It’s all very fine for you, Susie,” Fanny was heard to say; “but this term seems to me quite intolerable. You will be going home for Christmas, but I shall have to stay at the school. Oh, of course, I love the school; but we are all proud of our holidays, and father had all but promised to take me to Switzerland in order to get some really good skating. Now everything is knocked on the head; but I suppose I must submit.”
“I couldn’t help overhearing you, Fanny,” said Miss Symes, coming up to the girls at that moment; “but you must look on the bright side, my love, and reflect that a year won’t be long in going by. I know, of course, to what you were alluding—your dear father’s sudden departure for India.”
“Yes, St. Cecilia,” replied Fanny, looking up into Miss Symes’s face; “and I am sure neither Susie nor I mind in the least your overhearing what we were talking about. Do we Susie?”