Part 82

"Yes, sir," cried Clare. "Oh, thank you, Mr. King, ever so much!" as they all scampered off to get their lessons for the next day; for going to a play was always a special treat, on condition that no studies were neglected.

"Oh, Cathie," cried Polly, before she flew into the window-seat to curl up with her books, her favorite place for studying her lessons, "Grandpapa is taking us to the play because you are here."

"And I've never been to a play, Polly," said Cathie, perfectly overwhelmed with it all.

"Haven't you? Oh, I'm so glad--I mean, I'm glad you're going with us, and that Grandpapa is to take you to the first one. But, oh me!" and Polly rushed off to attack her books. "Now, don't let us speak a single word, Cathie Harrison," as Cathie picked out a low rocker for her choice of a seat; and pretty soon, if Miss Salisbury herself had come into the room, she would have been perfectly satisfied with the diligent attention the books were receiving.

But Miss Salisbury was not thinking of her pupils this afternoon. She was at this moment closeted with Miss Anstice, and going over a conversation that they frequently held, these past days, without much variation in the subject or treatment.

"If there were anything we could do to repay him, sister," said Miss Anstice mournfully, "I'd do it, and spend my last cent. But what is there?" Then she paced the floor with her mincing little steps, now quite nervous and flurried.

"Sister," said Miss Salisbury, doing her best to be quite calm, "it isn't a matter of payment; for whatever we did, we never could hope to replace that exquisite little vase. Miss Clemcy had pointed out to me the fact that it was quite the gem in his collection."

"I know; I thought my heart would stop when I heard the crash." Miss Anstice wrung her little hands together at the memory. "Oh, that careless Lily!"

"Sister, pray let us look at this matter--"

"I am looking at it. I see nothing but that vase, smashed to pieces; and I cannot sleep at night for fear I'll dream how it looked in those very little bits."

"Sister--pray--pray--"

"And if you want me to tell you what I think should be done, I'm sure I can't say," added Miss Anstice helplessly.

"Well, then, I must think," declared Miss Salisbury, with sudden energy, "for some repayment must surely be made to him, although they utterly refused it when you and I called and broached the subject to them."

"It was certainly a most unfortunate day from beginning to end," said Miss Anstice, with a suggestion of tears in her voice, and a shiver at the remembrance of the front breadth of her gown. "Sister, I hope and pray that you will never have another picnic for the school."

"I cannot abolish that annual custom, Anstice," said Miss Salisbury firmly, "for the girls get so much enjoyment out of it. They are already talking about the one to come next year."

"Ugh!" shuddered Miss Anstice.

"And anything that holds an influence over them, I must sustain. You know that yourself, sister. And it is most important to give them some recreations."

"But picnics!" Miss Anstice held up her little hands, as if quite unequal to any words.

"And I am very sorry that we were out when Mr. Clemcy and his sister called yesterday afternoon, for I am quite sure I could have arranged matters so that we need not feel under obligations to them."

Miss Anstice, having nothing to say, kept her private reflections mournfully to herself; and it being the hour for the boarding pupils to go out to walk, and her duty to accompany them, the conference broke up.

"Polly," called Mrs. Chatterton, as Polly ran past her door, her opera glasses Grandpapa had given her last Christmas in the little plush bag dangling from her arm, and a happy light in her eyes. Cathie had gone downstairs, and it was getting nearly time to set forth for that enchanted land--the playhouse!

Polly ran on, scarcely conscious that she was called. "Did you not hear me?" asked Mrs. Chatterton angrily, coming to her door.

"Oh, I beg pardon," said Polly, really glad ever since that dreadful time when Mrs. Chatterton was ill, to do anything for her. "For I never shall forget how naughty I was to her," Polly said over to herself now as she turned back.

"You may well beg my pardon," said Mrs. Chatterton, "for of all ill-bred girls, you are certainly the worst. I want you." Then she disappeared within her room.

"What is it?" asked Polly, coming in. "I shall be so glad to help."

"Help!" repeated Mrs. Chatterton in scorn. She was standing over by her toilet table. "You can serve me; come here."

The hot blood mounted to Polly's brow. Then she thought, "Oh, what did I say? That I would do anything for Mrs. Chatterton if she would only forgive me for those dreadful words I said to her." And she went over and stood by the toilet table.

"Oh, you have concluded to come?" observed Mrs. Chatterton scornfully. "So much the better it would be if you could always learn what your place is in this house. There, you see this lace?" She shook out her flowing sleeve, glad to display her still finely moulded arm, that had been one of her chief claims to distinction, even if nobody but this little country-bred girl saw it.