“I have told you before, Darsie, that I excessively dislike surmises as to the value of presents. I am surprised and disappointed to discover signs of an avaricious and grasping nature!”
To her surprise and dismay the only reply to this serious aspersion was a good-natured laugh.
“Goodness gracious, mercy on us!” cried Darsie audaciously. “I’m bad enough, in all conscience, but I’m not that! Not a grasp in me! You ask any one at home, and they’ll tell you I’m quite stupidly generous. It’s not the money for the money’s sake, I think of, but for what it will do! I’ve no use for jewels, Aunt Maria—shan’t ever have a chance of wearing them, like Noreen and Ida. Imagine a daily governess glittering with gems! But if only—only I could turn them into money, it might fulfil the big ambition of my life and send me to Newnham, without troubling father for a penny! Can you wonder that I feel impatient with watches and chains when I think of that?”
“I am sorry, my dear. I did not understand. I apologise!” said Lady Hayes promptly. It was this unfailing sense of justice, combined with the dignity which never forsook her under any stress of excitement or agitation, which had been most largely instrumental in attracting the girl’s admiration. From the impetuous standpoint of youth it seemed an almost inhuman pinnacle of perfection, but Darsie was quite determined that at some far-distant elderly epoch—say, in thirty years’ time—she would begin practising these virtues on her own account. They seemed the only decorous accompaniment of white hair and spectacles.
She stretched out a sunburnt hand and patted the old lady’s shoulder with an affectionate touch.
“All right! Don’t worry. It did seem greedy, and of course you couldn’t guess. You see, it’s particularly hard because plain Ha– Hannah Vernon, I mean—is going up, and that seems to make it worse for me. Her father is richer than ours, and he believes in higher education, so it’s all settled that she is to go to Newnham, and she talks about it all the time, and pities me when she’s in a good temper, and brags when she’s not. And Dan would be at Cambridge, too, and Ralph Percival, and, oh dear, oh dear, we’d have such sport! Balls, and picnics, and cocoa parties, and boating in summer—no end of lovely exciting pranks!”
“Excuse me, my dear,”—Lady Hayes was frosty again, staring stonily over the rim of her spectacles—“excuse me, but would you kindly explain for what reason you are anxious to go to Cambridge? I had imagined that it was for education, now it appears that balls and picnics are the attraction. Which of the two is it of which you are really thinking?”
“Oh, Aunt Maria, I’m a human girl! Of both!” cried Darsie, laughing. “Education first, of course, because of the result, and all it will mean afterwards, but if you want the truth, I shouldn’t be so keen if it wasn’t for the fun! We know a girl who’s just come down, and it sounds such a lovely life... I’d work hard; I love work, and when there is any on hand there’s no peace for me till it’s done; but wouldn’t I just play, too! It would be the time of my life. Oh, Aunt Maria, when I look at the governesses at school, and think that I’m going to be like that all my days, it does seem hard that I shouldn’t have just two or three years first of the life I want!”
The words, the tone, both bore a touch of real pathos; nevertheless Lady Hayes smiled, as if, so far from being pained by the sad prospect, she found something amusing in the contemplation.
“It is a mistake to look too far ahead in life, but of course if you contemplate teaching, you ought to be thoroughly equipped.” She was silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully through the window. Then in a level, perfectly commonplace voice she continued: “I shall be pleased, my dear, to defray the expenses of your course at Newnham...”