Not Like Other Girls

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

Once Archie had snubbed her very severely in his presence; something had put him out, and he had spoken to Mattie as though no one were present but their two selves. It was Grace who called him so gently to order, and made him feel ashamed of himself. Sir Harry did not even seem to notice it: he had a paper in his hand, and he went on reading it. But as Mattie 350 left the room she heard him speaking to Grace in his usual way about some political question or other.

Mattie cried bitterly in her room that day. Somehow, she had never taken Archie’s snubbing so much to heart before. How could he speak to her like that, she thought? What would Sir Harry think of her, and of him too? Archie’s conscience pricked him when he saw the traces of tears on Mattie’s face that afternoon, and he was very kind to her all the remainder of the day; but he did not apologize for his words: no one ever did apologize to Mattie. But to his surprise, and Grace’s too, Mattie’s sad face did not clear.

It was her last afternoon but one at the vicarage, and Mattie was sitting alone. All the morning she and Grace had been packing together, for Grace, in her sensible way, had begged her sister not to leave things for the last day. It would tire her for her journey, she said; and the Challoners were coming to spend Mattie’s last evening with her at the vicarage; and there were the Middletons probably coming for an afternoon visit, and so Mattie had better keep herself free for her friends. Mattie had assented to this, and she had been very grateful to Grace for all the help she had given her. Her boxes were ready for cording, and her little parting gifts for the servants laid ready labelled in her drawers, and nothing remained for her busy hands to do.

It was a cold, cheerless afternoon; a cutting north wind and a gray cloudy sky made the fireside all the more tempting by comparison; but Mattie knew there was one duty unfulfilled that she ought to perform. She had promised to call and say good-bye to an old acquaintance of hers who lived at Rock Building.

Mrs. Chamberlain was not a favorite with most people: she was an invalid of somewhat uncertain temper, and most of her friends felt her society an infliction on their patience. Mattie, who was very good-natured, had often done kindly little offices for her, sitting with her for an hour or two at a time, and teaching her some new stitch, to beguile her tedious and often painful days.

Mrs. Chamberlain would feel herself aggrieved if Mattie disappointed her. And she never had stayed at home for the weather; only she was lazy,—tired, perhaps, from her packing,—and reluctant to move.

Sir Harry was in the study, she knew: she had heard his voice some time ago. He often turned in there of his own accord or perhaps Archie had waylaid him and brought him in, for they were excellent friends now; Grace was there, of course, but Mattie had hesitated to join them: none of them wanted her, she said bitterly to herself.

A dim hope that Grace might come in search of her, or that even Sir Henry might saunter in by and by and ask for a cup of tea in his old way, had kept Mattie in her place; but now it 351 was getting a little late, and perhaps after all Grace would ring, and have the tea in there, as she had done once before: and it was no use waiting. And so, when Mattie reached this point, she hurried upstairs and put on her hat and thick jacket, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, opened the study door.

It was just the scene she pictured. Sir Harry was in the big chair in front of the blazing fire, and Grace in her low wicker seat, facing him, with a Chinese screen in her hand. Archie was standing on the rug, with his elbow against the narrow wooden mantelpiece, and all three were talking merrily. Sir Harry stopped in the middle of a laugh, as Mattie entered, and shook hands with her a little gravely.

“How comfortable you all look!” faltered Mattie. The words came in spite of her efforts not to say them.