CHAPTER II

THE ILL-CHOSEN FRIEND

HANNAH GRANT was an excellent person in every way. Her health was as sound as her principles, and she was a fine-looking, without being a winsome, woman.

Others beside her pupils shrank from the severe scrutiny of her cold blue eyes. Yet she was fairly liked by the girls she taught, for, whilst a strict disciplinarian, she was invariably just. Clear-headed and eminently practical, she had a knack of imparting knowledge in such a manner that even the least nimble-minded could not fail to grasp it. This, however, was not the outcome of mere chance, but the result of conscientious effort on her part.

Whatever Hannah undertook to do, she took infinite pains to do it well. She gloried in her thoroughness, her good sense, her subjection of inclination to duty. It followed that she had little patience with those whose conduct fell below her own standard. She lacked the imaginative insight and the gentle sympathy that might have led her to make allowance for her weaker sisters. The idle, thoughtless, and inconsequent amongst her pupils found no mercy with her.

Juliet was not in the form taught by her sister, and they came little into contact during school hours. Though by no means stupid, Juliet rarely took a good position in her classes. She had been frail and delicate as a child, as children born in India often are, and Mrs. Tracy refused to allow her education to be pressed. She should run wild until she had attained some robustness.

The running wild may have been of advantage to Juliet physically, but it developed in her qualities of mind and character which could not afterwards easily be eradicated. When she entered the high school she was far more backward in her studies than most girls of her age, and, having never learned to apply herself, her progress for some years was most tedious.

It vexed Hannah that Juliet should take so low a place in the school. She was irritated by seeing in her sister those faults of idleness, carelessness, and indifference which she knew must prove fatal to her advancement. She was persuaded that Juliet could have done better if she would.

But Juliet would not see the importance of her own education; there was no inducing her to take a serious view of the future that lay before her. She had wished to leave school long before this, and Mrs. Tracy would weakly have yielded to her desire, but for Hannah's strong representation of the necessity for Juliet being properly educated, since she would have to take a situation when she left school.

Mrs. Tracy shook her head in secret over the thought of her pretty Juliet becoming a governess, but she did not dare to openly oppose Hannah's suggestion. Though she remained at school longer than many girls do, Juliet never attained the dignity of the sixth form, and Hannah herself had decided that her young sister must leave at the end of the present term.

Hannah might be forgiven for feeling annoyance when Juliet, who could have had almost any girl in the school for her friend, chose to attach herself to Flossie Chalcombe. For undoubtedly the girl was of a lower social stamp than most of the scholars, though she was sufficiently bright and pretty to attract Juliet's somewhat fickle fancy. Her features were good and of a pronounced type; she had a quantity of dark hair, which she wore very much becurled on her forehead; long, rather peculiar greyish eyes; and a complexion which was suspiciously pink and white. She was wont to darken her eyelids and otherwise "get up" her eyes, and her lips were brilliantly red. She dressed smartly; but her clothes seldom looked fresh, and were never such as became a schoolgirl. She wore ornaments in her ears, and her hands were always adorned by rings and bangles. There was a disagreeable, underbred air about the girl.

Juliet, who with all her perversity was an innate little lady, could hardly be entirely unconscious of what was lacking in her friend. Flossie looked the elder, though in reality, some months younger than Juliet. Her life had been very different from that of Juliet. Ignorant of many things, with mind untrained and neglected, she yet had much of such knowledge of the world as she would have been better without. Hannah was right in deeming her an undesirable acquaintance for her young sister; but it was a pity she so openly opposed the friendship, since it had the effect of rendering Juliet, ever prone to resent Hannah's judgments, perversely bent on maintaining it. Left to herself, Juliet would probably soon have ceased to care for Flossie Chalcombe. She was rather given to becoming passionately attached to people for a short time. The fascination, enthralling whilst it lasted, was seldom of long duration.

On the day following that on which our story began, Juliet and Flossie came out of the schoolhouse together about four o'clock. They were not often at the school in the afternoon, but to-day they had been attending the class for calisthenics, for which no time could be found during the morning.

"Do come home with me, Juliet," said Flossie, as the gate swung to behind them; "you might as well. You have plenty of time this afternoon."

"I can't come home with you," said Juliet, somewhat startled by the proposition, "but I don't mind walking part of the way."

"Why cannot you come all the way?" asked Flossie. "You have never even seen where I live. But I know why it is. You are afraid of what Miss Grant will say. She does not consider me a proper acquaintance for you."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Juliet, colouring.

"You know it is true, Juliet. You cannot deny it."

"Well, if it is, I don't care that for what Hannah says." And Juliet emphasised her words by kicking a piece of orange peel from the pavement into the gutter.

Flossie laughed.

"Bravo, Juliet! I admire your spirit. As I was saying to Algernon yesterday, you are not the girl to be domineered over by those old maids at home."

Juliet was silent. She did not quite like the way in which Flossie spoke of her sisters. In spite of her antagonism to them, she was not insensible to the family bond, but was ready to resent any detraction of them from an outsider. Flossie saw she had made a mistake, and tried to divert Juliet's thoughts by the remark—

"Algernon says he is sure you will not be an old maid."

Juliet blushed warmly.

"I wonder what he can know about it?" she exclaimed, in some embarrassment.

"Oh, he can judge; he has seen you."

"Has he?" exclaimed Juliet, in surprise. "When?"

"Oh, the other night at the school concert."

"Was he there? Oh, I wish I had seen him!" exclaimed Juliet naïvely, though the next moment she blushed for her words. Flossie constantly talked to her of this brother, of whom she seemed very proud, and Juliet had become interested in him.

"Yes, he came because he wanted to see you, and he hardly took his eyes off you all the time. He said there was no one else worth looking at. He paid no attention to the music; he only looked at you."

Juliet's blushes deepened.

"Of course he could not care about the music," she said hurriedly, "it must be so inferior, so different at least, from what he is accustomed to."

"Oh, of course."

"I wonder I never saw you," said Juliet. "I looked about a good deal, too."

"We were farther back, at your right. We did not stay till the end. Algie got tired of it—or rather, he had another engagement. We saw you well, Juliet. You looked so pretty in that white frock. I never saw you in white before. I suppose that nice-looking lady in black silk was your mother?"

"Yes, that was mother," said Juliet, with pleasure in her tones.

"But what an odd-looking individual it was who sat on the other side of you! I took her to be your other sister, by her likeness to Miss Grant. Does she always dress in that very severe style?"

"Always," said Juliet, with some sharpness in her tone, for she thought her companion a little too free with her comments. "Salome thinks it is wrong to dress like other people. You know she is very religious, works amongst the poor, and all that sort of thing, so she dresses plainly on principle."

"Oh dear, I am glad I do not feel it my duty to make a guy of myself!" laughed Flossie. "However, as Algernon remarked, she makes an excellent foil to you. Do you know he walked to school with me this morning because he wanted to see you? It was tiresome of you to come late."

"Oh, indeed! I do not at all regret it," said Juliet, tossing her head.

"Now don't be high and mighty. What harm would Algernon do by looking at you? He says you are an inspiration to him."

"An inspiration! Really! I like that!" And Juliet laughed merrily.

"Ah, you may laugh, but it is true. He has begun to write a dramatic play, and you are the heroine."

"Flossie!"

"It's quite true. You are a lovely maiden shut up in a castle, guarded by an ogre, and he is the hero who comes and delivers you. He told me so, indeed. Of course he may have been making fun; but I know he is writing a play."

"Has he written any before?" asked Juliet.

"Yes, but they have never been put on the stage. He thinks this will be a great success. He writes sometimes, and things of his have been published in the comic papers. Algernon is really very clever, though I say it."

"He must be," said Juliet, in a tone of conviction.

As they talked thus, Juliet had been walking on without noting how far she was going. Nov, as a turn of the road brought into view a wide grassy space enclosed by palings and intersected by paths running in various directions, she suddenly paused.

"Why, here we are at the Green!" she exclaimed. "I never meant to come so far. Now I must say good-bye, Flossie."

"No, indeed. You must come home with me, now you are so near. That is our house just over there on the other side of the Green. Do come, Juliet; Algernon will be so pleased if he is at home."

Juliet drew back, instinctively drawing up her slight figure.

"But he is hardly likely to be at home at this hour," said Flossie, with a quick perception that she had said the wrong thing. "I shall probably find the house empty. You might come and have a cup of tea with me, Juliet."

Juliet shook her head, but she felt tempted. She was curious as to her friend's home, and interested in the brother whom she had inspired to write a dramatic play. She shrank from the thought of meeting her admirer; but she would have liked well to get a clearer notion of him and his surroundings. But she knew that her mother would strongly object to her entering the Chalcombes' house, and to do so would be to flaunt the flag of defiance in Hannah's face.

"You need not tell them at home, if you are afraid of a row," suggested Flossie, as Juliet hesitated.

"I am afraid of nothing," exclaimed Juliet impetuously, "and I am not one to conceal what I do! But I cannot stay, Flossie. Mother would—"

"Consider that you had demeaned yourself by crossing our threshold," Flossie interrupted her, in a resentful tone. "I wonder what there is about us that people should shun us as if we were lepers."

"Mother does not feel so, Flossie; she does not know you. It is only Hannah who is—as horrid as possible."

"But you say you do not care for Hannah's opinion; you are not going to be controlled by her. Ha, ha! Juliet; I shall begin to think you are afraid of Miss Grant, after all, if you refuse to come in."

The colour rose in Juliet's face. She was one who could be dared into doing things, as Flossie knew well. Juliet forgot the pain her action would cause her mother, forgot every consideration which should have withheld her from entering the house of which she knew so little, in the passionate desire of her will to assert itself, and show she was in subjection to no one.

"I am afraid of nobody!" she exclaimed hotly; "I take my own way whenever I choose; and, just to show you that, I will come with you, Flossie; but you must not ask me to stay long."

Flossie smiled triumphantly as they started to walk across the Green. Juliet might boast of taking her own way; but in their intercourse it not seldom happened, as now, that it was Flossie and not Juliet who gained her end.

The house in which the Chalcombes lived stood back from the road, and was screened by a small shrubbery. The approach to the house was ill-kept, and the steps very dirty; but Juliet was not one to heed such details. On the top of the steps, a huge bull-dog was stretched. He roused himself at the sound of a strange voice, and broke into a fierce bark; but Juliet being absolutely fearless of animals, spoke soothingly to him and patted his broad head, whereupon his bark subsided into a whine, and he wagged his stump of a tail.

"Why, Sykes has quickly made friends with you," exclaimed Flossie, in surprise; "he is most suspicious of strangers, as a rule."

With that Flossie used the knocker vigorously, and, after some delay, the door was opened by a very untidy maid-of-all-work.

"Come in," said Flossie cheerfully.

And Juliet followed her across the threshold, not without an uneasy thought of how her mother would feel if she could see her.