“I, for one, will have nothing to do with it,” repeated Cara, many times.
At first, as she uttered these words, her companions agreed with her, and considered that they, too, could not and would not speak on the subject to any of their relations. But, strange as it may seem, as the swift minutes of recess rolled by, they became silent—for each girl was, in her heart, composing the letter she would write to parent or guardian or great-grandfather, in order to secure the money.
“There is no doubt,” said Susanna, at last, “that she is awfully clever and can throw herself into it, if she pleases. For Nora Beverley might look somewhat like a stick, but no one could ever accuse Penelope of looking like that. She is so awfully wicked, you know—that is the way I should describe her face—so wicked and so untamed, and—oh, there! if we gave her the money, she would do it, but I never did hear of a girl trying to blackmail her companions before.”
The upshot of all this whispering and consultation, of all these pros and cons, was, that that evening, immediately after tea, a note was flung into Penelope Carlton’s lap. It was written in the cipher employed by the school, and was to the effect that, if she chose to present herself as Helen of Troy, and if Mrs Hazlitt was willing to accept her as a substitute for Honora Beverley, she would receive four five-pound notes within a week from the present day.
“Dear old Brenda!” whispered Penelope to herself.
She crushed up the note and tore it into a thousand fragments and wrote a reply to it—also in cipher—in which she employed the one word: “Agreed.” This note found its way to Mary L’Estrange in the course of afternoon school.
In the evening Mrs Hazlitt again entered the arbour in the Elizabethan garden. She had quite given up the idea of Tennyson’s “Dream of Fair Women,” and had thought out two or three insignificant tableaux for her girls to represent. She was surprised, therefore, when the girls who had been already selected for the principal parts in the piece, namely: Mary, Cara, Annie, and Susanna, entered the arbour. They were accompanied by the fifth girl, who was no other than Penelope Carlton.
“Penelope, my dear—what are you doing here?” said Mrs Hazlitt, when she saw her pupil.
She did not like this pupil, although she tried to. But she was systematically just in all she did, and said, and thought; and would not for the world be unkind to the girl.
“But do listen, please, Mrs Hazlitt,” said Mary. “We have found Helen of Troy! Penelope will take the part.”