Not Like Other Girls

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

This was too much for Nan’s simplicity.

“But people would be so disappointed,” she observed, plaintively. “All the middle-aged people like sermons.”

“It would not hurt them to be disappointed sometimes. They would appreciate the real thing all the more when it came. It is as well to go without food altogether as to be fed on husks. After all, people forget that they come to church to say their prayers all together, and sing glorias.”

“That is very nicely said, dear,” was Nan’s admiring comment on this.

But Phillis waved aside the praise. She was quite in earnest.

“But if I were speaking to one of these real and not make-believe preachers, I would say to him, ‘Never be discouraged. Say what you have got to say: if you really feel it and mean it, some one will feel it too. You can’t see into people’s hearts: and a good thing, too, my friend. But “the arrow at the venture” may tell; some one may be “hit between the joints of the armor.”’ There, come along; you shall have more of my hints another time. I have said my say for the present.” And Phillis rose from the boulder, with her eyes bright and kindled by some moving thought, and went down to the edge of the water, and watched a sea-gull dipping towards the shore in the midst of the windy lights; while Nan, marvelling at her sister’s unusual earnestness, followed more slowly.

The Challoners were holding up their heads in the place now. There was no denying that. By the people at the vicarage and the White House they were owned and regarded as equals. Mrs. Cheyne made no secret of her affection for Phillis; and she was full of kindness also to Nan and Dulce. It was their own fault if they declined her frequent invitations. But there was one person who refused to hold out the hand of amity to the eccentric new-comers. 281

Colonel Middleton still shook his white head, and delivered his protest into his daughter’s ear. Elizabeth, declared, laughingly, “that the Challoner girls were to her father what a red rag is to a bull.” He never met one of them without coming home and relieving his mind, as he called it. “My father is dying to know them,” she would say to Mr. Drummond. “He has fallen in love with them all,—mother and daughters too; but he is denying himself an introduction for a certain reason.” But, though Archie looked curious and questioned her very closely, she chose to be provoking and say no more. It was Colonel Middleton who at last enlightened the young man.

They were walking from the town together. The colonel was carrying his stick musket-wise over his shoulder, and had the vicar by the arm, when Phillis and Dulce came out of the gateway of the White House. As the girls passed Archie, they smiled at him and nodded, and Phillis, in a pretty way she had, waved her hand; and then they went on rapidly towards the Friary. As they did so, Colonel Middleton groaned, and touched his companion’s arm impressively.

“There, now, Drummond, did you ever see girls with a better carriage?—heads up—light springy step? Why, it is a pleasure even to an old fellow like myself to watch them. Fancy that taller one on horseback in the Row! Why, she would cut out half the girls. And think that one dare not notice them!” And he struck his stick into the ground almost angrily.