Three Girls from School

by L. T. Meade

“I will come with you both,” said Mabel, who, dressed with extreme care and looking remarkably fresh and handsome, now took a hand of each of her friends.—“This is your room, Priscilla,” she said, and she ushered Priscilla into a small room which looked on to the courtyard.—“Parker,” she continued, turning to the maid, “will you see that Miss Weir has everything that she wants.—Now, Annie, I will attend to you. You don’t mind, do you?—for it is only for one night—but you have to share my room; the hotel is so full, Aunt Henrietta could not get a room for you alone. But I will promise to make myself as little obtrusive as possible.”

“Oh May!” said Annie, “I am just delighted to sleep in a room with you. I have so much to say—dear old May!” she added suddenly, turning and kissing her friend. “I am glad to see you again!”

“And I to see you, Annie,” replied Mabel. “I am having a glorious time, and want you to share it with me. Aunt Hennie has just been splendid, and has given me a completely new wardrobe—the most exquisite dresses, all bought and made at the best shops here, quite regardless of expense, too. I cannot tell you how much they have cost. How do you like this pink silk? Isn’t it sweet?”

“Yes, lovely,” said Annie, thinking with a sigh of her own poor clothes. But then she added, “Rich dresses suit you, Mabel, for you are made on a big and a bountiful scale. It is lucky for me that I can do with lees fine garments.”

“Oh, but I assure you, Annie, you are not going to be left out in the cold. You must have no scruples whatever in wearing the clothes that Aunt Hennie has got for you. She wants to take some young girls about with her, and she would not have you a frump for all the world; so there are a few pretty, fresh little toilettes put away in that box by Parker which I think will exactly fit you. There is a dress on that bed—oh, only white lace and muslin—which you are to wear this evening at the restaurant dinner; and there is a smart little travelling-costume for you to appear in to-morrow. You can leave them all behind you at the end of your jaunt, if you are too proud to take them; but, anyhow, while with us you have to wear them nolens volens.”

“Oh dear!” said Annie, almost skipping with rapture, “I am sure I am not a bit too proud.”

“We have got things for Priscie too,” said Mabel, “and I do hope she won’t turn up crusty; she is such a queer girl.”

“Why ever did you invite her, Mabel?” asked Annie.

“Why did I invite her?” said Mabel. “It was not my doing, you may be sure. Not that I dislike the poor old thing; far from that. She is quite a dear. But, of course, what I wanted was to have you to myself; but no—Aunt Hennie wouldn’t hear of it; she said that nothing would induce her to take two girls about with her. Her remark was that we should always be together, and that she would be de trop. Now she doesn’t mean to be de trop, so one of us is always to be with her, and the other two can enjoy themselves. She said at once, when I broached the subject of your joining us, that you might come with pleasure, and she would be only too delighted if another of our schoolfellows came as well. My dear, I argued and argued, but she was firm. So then I had to think of poor Priscilla, for really there was no one else to come; none of the others would dream of giving up their own friends and their own fun; and there was Priscilla landed at the school. So I told Aunt Hennie what she was like—grave and sedate, with grey eyes and a nice sort of face. I assured her that Priscie was a girl worth knowing, and Aunt Henrietta took a fancy to my description, told me to write off to her and to Mrs Lyttelton; and she wrote herself also; and, of course, Mrs Lyttelton jumped at it. So here we are, saddled with Priscie, and we must make the best of it. Dear Annie, do take off your hat and jacket, and get into your evening-dress; we shall be going down to dinner in a few minutes. I will help you with your hair if you need it, for I expect Parker is having a war of words with Priscilla. There’s such a sweet dress waiting for Priscie to wear—dove-coloured silk, made very simply. She will look like a Quakeress in it; it will suit her to perfection.”

Just at that moment a commotion was heard on the landing outside; a hurried knock came at the room door, and Priscilla, flushed, untidy, and wearing the same dress as she had travelled in, stood on the threshold. Behind Priscilla appeared the equally disturbed face and figure of Parker.