Turquoise and Ruby

by L. T. Meade

These were Penelope’s thoughts until that evening. But now all was changed; for the daring idea had come into her head to ask Mary L’Estrange and Cara Burt to give her twenty pounds to send to her sister. They wanted her, Penelope, to take the part of Helen of Troy, and why should she not be rewarded for her pains?

“Their wishes are on no account because of me,” thought the girl, “they are all for themselves, because that silly Mary thinks she will look well as Jephtha’s daughter, and Cara as Iphigenia. Neither of them will look a bit well. There is only one striking-looking girl in the school, and that is Honora Beverley, and why she is not Helen is more than I can make out. This will be a horrid piece of work, but where’s the good of sacrificing yourself for nothing? and poor old Brenda would be so pleased. I wonder if, whoever the present man is, he is really fond of her? But whether that is the case or not, I am sure that she wants the money, and she may as well have it. I was never up to much; but if I can help Brenda, I will fulfil some sort of destiny, anyway.”

These thoughts were quite sufficient to keep Penelope awake until the early hours of the morning. Then she did drop asleep, and was not aroused until she heard Deborah’s good-natured voice in her ears.

“Why—my dear Penelope,”—she said—“didn’t you hear the first bell? You will be late for prayers, unless you are very quick indeed.”

Up jumped Penelope out of bed. A minute later she had plunged her head and face into a cold bath, and in an incredibly short space of time she had run downstairs and joined her companions just as they were trooping into the centre hall for prayers.

This hall was a great feature of Hazlitt Chase. It was quite one of the oldest parts of the house. The girls’ dormitories were quite neat and fresh with every modern convenience, but the hall must have stood in its present position for long centuries, and was the pride and delight of Mrs Hazlitt herself, and of all those girls who had any aesthetic tastes.

Prayers were read as usual that morning, and immediately afterwards the routine of the school began. The girls drifted away into their several classes. The special teachers who lived in the house performed their duties. The music masters and drawing masters, who came from some little distance, arrived in due course. Morning school passed like a flash. Then came early dinner, and then that delightful time known as “recess.” It was during that period that Cara and Mary had resolved to ask Penelope Carlton to give her decision. Penelope knew perfectly well that they would approach her then. She had been, as she said, present in the arbour on the previous night, and knew that Mrs Hazlitt had made up her mind to give up the idea of Tennyson’s “Dream of Fair Women,” if a suitable Helen was not to be found within twenty-four hours. It was essential, therefore, for Penelope to declare her purpose during the recess.

She had by no means faltered in that purpose. During morning school she had worked rather better than usual, had pleased her teacher—as indeed she always did—by the correctness of her replies and the sort of quaint originality of her utterances.

She was a girl who by no means as yet had come to her full powers, but these powers were stirring within her, dimly perhaps, perhaps unworthily. But, nevertheless, they were most assuredly there, and in themselves they were of no mean order.

Penelope now walked slowly in the direction of the old Queen Anne parterre. This had not been touched since the days when that monarch held possession of the throne. It was a three-cornered, lozenge-like piece of ground, with the most lovely turf on it—that soft, very soft green turf which can only come after the lapse of ages. Mrs Hazlitt was very proud of the Queen Anne parterre, and never allowed the girls to walk on the turf, insisting on their keeping to the narrow gravel walk which ran round it. There were high, red brick walls to the parterre on three sides, but the fourth was open and led away into a dim forest of trees of all sorts and descriptions, and these trees made the place shady and comparatively cool, even on the hottest days.