The Little School-Mothers

by L. T. Meade

An Eventful Morning.

The tea came to an end without any special adventure and afterwards the children disported themselves to their hearts’ content in the gardens.

The gardens were very extensive. There were paddocks and lawns, and running streams where some of the little mothers declared they could see tiny minnows and other minute fish darting about; and there was a round pond with water-lilies on it and there were many swings, and hammocks in the trees. Besides these delights, there were walled-in fruit gardens, and great glass-houses inside which grew those rarest and most fascinating flowers, orchids.

The children were allowed to explore all the houses on condition that they picked nothing and invariably shut the doors behind them. They all had a great deal to see and to talk over, and even Harriet forgot her jealousy and laughed and joked with the others. Bed-time came all too soon. Eight sleepy little girls went up to their different rooms and laid their heads on their pillow’s, and fell sound asleep, and eight very happy little girls, thoroughly refreshed and full of joyful anticipation, awoke on the following morning.

They awoke to the fact that the sun was shining, that the sky was blue, and that the sea in the distance was one dazzling blaze of sparkling waves and exquisite colour.

At breakfast-time, Mr Durrant arranged that the entire party should ride down to the beach, where those who wished could bathe, and those who did not could play on the sands until it was time for early dinner. Dinner was to be at one o’clock, and this was to be followed by a long drive, which was to terminate in a vast picnic tea, where real tea was to be made, and cakes, bread and butter and other things consumed. The party were to return to Sunshine Lodge rather late, and then Mr Durrant would amuse them with a marvellous magic lantern which he possessed, and would show them, as he expressed it, some of his adventures in South Africa.

“Father doesn’t often do that sort of thing,” whispered Ralph to his school-mother Robina. “He doesn’t even like to talk ’bout his ’ventures, ’cept when he’s special pleased. So you’re all in good luck, I can tell you.”

“Oh, we are just too happy for anything!” said Robina.

“Now then, children,” called Mr Durrant’s voice from the other end of the table; “if you have had sufficient breakfast, will you disperse, please, and shall we all meet in the porch in a quarter of an hour? Our different steeds will be waiting for us, and we can each mount and ride away.”

It was at this moment that Jane cast a fearful, half-admiring, half-beseeching glance at Harriet. Now but for this glance of Jane’s it is quite possible that Harriet might have thought better of her conversation of the previous day, and might have even mounted on her donkey’s back and ridden off, a happy, laughing child to the sea-shore. Harriet adored the sea, having been brought up there when quite a little child. She could bathe; and swim like a little fish; and it did dart through her mind how very superior she would be to her companions when she was swimming about and they had to content themselves with simply ducking up and down in the water. Mr Durrant would be sure to admire her when he saw what a good swimmer she was. Harriet craved more for admiration than for anything else in the world. But now that look of Jane’s recalled her to her remark of the previous evening.