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ERKEIEY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 

CHILDREN'S BOOKS 
 
 FOR 
 
 CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. 
 THE STORY BOOK SERIES. 
 
 Royal 16mo. 
 Price Two Shillings and Sixpence each Volume. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 STELLA. 
 
 By Mrs. G. S. REANEY. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. F. WHITEHEAD. 
 
 Vol. II. 
 
 MY AUNT CONSTANTIA JANE. 
 
 By MARY E. HULL AH. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. F. WHITEHEAD. 
 
 Vol. III. 
 
 LITTLE GLORY'S MISSION, 
 
 AND 
 
 NOT ALONE IN THE WORLD. 
 
 By Mrs. G. S. REANEY. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY L. CALDECOTT. 
 
 Vol. IV. 
 
 HANS AND HIS FRIEND. 
 
 By MARY E. HULL AH. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. F. WHITEHEAD. 
 Mr. RUSKIN says: 
 
 " I have read Miss Hullah's story with very great pleasure to myself, and 
 heartily think she has the power to take good position and make her living 
 very happily. It is of course a little founded on Andersen and other people 
 . . but she's very clever herself." 
 
 OTHER VOLUMES ARE IN PREPARATION. 
 
THE 
 
 MODERN 
 
 LIBRARY. 
 
 VOLUME THREE 
 
PREVIOUS 
 VOLUMES. 
 
 Volume 
 One. 
 
 A LATTER-DAY 
 
 ROMANCE. 
 
 Volume THE WORLD'S 
 Two. 
 
 PLEASURES. 
 
 Volume Five of this Series 
 
 WILL BE 
 
 "HEAVENSI" 
 
 *' 
 
 ALOIS VOJTECH 
 
 SMILOVSKY 
 Translated by 
 
 PROFESSOR MOUREK, 
 of Prague University ', 
 
 AND 
 
 JANE MOUREK. 
 
A NAUGHTY 
 
 GIRL 
 
 A STORY OF 1JB93 
 
 J. ASHBY STKRRY 
 
 LONDON 
 
 BLISS, SANDS & FOSTER 
 
 CRAVEN STREET, STRAND. 
 
 I8 93 . 
 
OTHER WORKS BY THE 
 AUTHOR OF "A NAUGHTY GIRL." 
 
 THE LAZY MINSTREL. 
 NUTSHELL NOVELS. 
 TINY TRAVELS. 
 BOUDOIR BALLADS. 
 CUCUMBER CHRONICLES. 
 SHUTTLECOCK PAPERS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG ... i 
 
 II. AT LADY ANKERWYKE'S ... ... 13 
 
 III. IN CHURCH ... ... ... ... 25 
 
 IV. DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT ... ... 34 
 
 V. BEAUTY AND PAINT ... ... ... 42 
 
 VI. LOST IN THE FOG ... ... ... 53 
 
 VII. A NEW PATIENT ... ... ... 61 
 
 VIII. BEE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR ... 69 
 
 IX. COMEDY AND TRAGEDY ... ... ... 78 
 
 X. THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT ... 86 
 
 XL LADY ANKERWYKE'S TROUBLES ... ... 95 
 
 XII. IN BERYL'S BOUDOIR ... ... 102 
 
 XIII. DOCTOR GREYFINNE'S PRESCRIPTION ... in 
 
 XIV. A LOST CHANCE ... ... ... 118 
 
 XV. "AUNT KATE" ... ... ... ... 125 
 
 XVI. Music AND MISGIVINGS ... ... 135 
 
 XVII. IN A MINOR KEY ... ... ... 144 
 
 XVIII. JACK AT A DISCOUNT ... ... 150 
 
 XIX. AN APOLOGY FOR JACK ... ... ... 158 
 
 XX. DISCORD AND HARMONY ... ... 164 
 
 182 
 
A NAUGHTY GIRL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG. 
 
 DRURY LANE Theatre is possibly the best place in the 
 world to see a holiday audience, and never was it seen to 
 more advantage than on Boxing Night, 1892. 
 
 The Spirit of Christmas and King Holiday seemed to 
 have combined in order to do the highest honour to the 
 occasion on the stage of Old Drury. People may speak 
 disrespectfully of Father Christmas ; they may try to pull 
 hi in from his pedestal ; they may tear his wreath from his 
 brow, shake the snow from off his garment, and proclaim 
 to the world what a senile, doddering old humbug he is ; 
 they may say that holly is nothing but prickles, and that 
 poison lurks in the berries of the mistletoe ; they may 
 aver that mince-pies mean nothing but biliousness, and 
 that plum-pudding is concentrated indigestion ; that 
 Uncle John never arrives laden with presents, and that 
 illustrated newspapers are liars ; that the turkey is the 
 Pecksniff of poultry, and that brawn is an oleaginous 
 abomination ; that Christmas hampers are a snare, and 
 Christmas boxes a tax ; that Scrooge was a sensible saint, 
 
 B 
 
2 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 and Tiny Tim a tiresome sinner they may say all these 
 offensive things and a great many more, but they will 
 never venture to speak disrespectfully of Drury Lane 
 Theatre on Boxing Night. 
 
 At any rate, they would not have dared to do so on 
 the occasion already referred to, when the house was 
 crammed from floor to ceiling to witness the first per- 
 lormance of Sir Augustus Harris's new pantomime, Little 
 Bo-peep, Little Red Riding-hood, and Hop 0' My 
 Thumb. Every place was full ; there was not standing 
 room for a walking-stick in the gallery, and ti thin 
 sardine would have felt uncomfortable in the pit. Every 
 one came early, and seemed determined to have full 
 money's worth out of the entertainment. Every box was 
 crammed, and there were such clusters of faces hanging 
 over the gallery-rails that they looked like some novel 
 form of decoration, especially devised for the festive 
 season. Behind this might be seen heads upon heads, 
 gradually diminishing, till they were lost sight of in 
 the darkness, and half-recalled some weird pictures by 
 Gustave Dore. Then what a bright scene was the dress 
 circle the crowd of laughing children in front, with 
 a more sober background of papas, and mammas, and 
 elder sisters. 
 
 Boxing Night is undoubtedly a children's night, and 
 so thought Caversham as he lounged into the stalls and 
 waved his hand to six merry little cousins, all of a row, 
 leaning over the velvet cushions of the dress circle. 
 
 He just came in during the uproar and confusion that 
 immediately precedes the overture. The " gods " shouted 
 from one side of the house to the other, the stalls talked 
 at the top of their voices, doors banged, people disputed 
 with box-keepers, and seemed to be in a generally uiv 
 
AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG. 3 
 
 comfortable state, till the conductor tapped thrice with 
 his bdtotty started the overture, and then the whole assembly 
 seemed to settle down to thorough enjoyment. All the 
 chubby little heads in the dress circle were nodding, and 
 all the stentorian voices in the gallery were singing. 
 
 And what an overture that was to nod to and sing to ! 
 Here comes "Auld Lang Syne," first pretending to be 
 a hymn, then a march, and finally appearing in its own 
 Scotch kilt. Then all kinds of old-fashioned tunes look 
 in for a moment, as much as to say, " Here we are 
 again ! " And what larks the various musicians had with 
 them. How they were chivied by the violoncello, tickled 
 by the first violin, whistled for by the flute, brayed at by 
 the trombone, growled at by the ophicleide, rung for by 
 the triangle, crushed by.the cymbals, and thumped by the 
 drum ! How they play at hide and seek ! How they take 
 flying leaps through the orchestra ! how they turn up in 
 unexpected places ! how they pretend to be some other 
 tune ! and how, finally, the cornet tears off their disguise 
 in a solo, and in crisp and elaborate " double-tonguing " 
 proclaims distinctly who they are ! 
 
 Then a wonderful unanimity seems to suddenly pervade 
 the band. All the instruments, from the first violin down 
 to the triangle, assert " Then up came I with my little 
 lot," and a similar asseveration is made in excellent time 
 by the " gods " in the gallery. An old gentleman in the 
 stalls, who ought to know better, noddles his head and 
 conveys the same idea in an undertone, and then turns 
 round and looks severely at the gallery, as if he were 
 ashamed of them. Subsequently the orchestra seems to 
 change its mind ; so do the gods ; so does the old gentle- 
 man who ought to know better. They make violent 
 asseverations concerning " Knocking 'em in the Old Kent 
 
4 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Road ; " they have unmistakable notions with regard to 
 " Tarara-boom-de-ay," and become rapturous in respect 
 of the " Rowdy Dowdy Boys ; " they are wildly enthusiastic 
 about "The Seventh Royal Fusileers," and wax frantic 
 concerning "The Man who broke the Bank at Monte 
 Carlo ! " This seems to be quite too much for them. A 
 lot of airs of every description of nationality then come 
 trooping in from all points of the compass. 
 
 They change clothes, so to speak ; they have a " rally," 
 they " take the slap," and have a " pelt and spill " all over 
 the orchestra. Then the drum and cymbals interfere, 
 and read the Riot Act ; the heavy wind instruments are 
 sworn in as special constables, who take all the tunes into 
 custody, and bind the cornet over to keep the peace. Then 
 at last, when all the resources of the orchestra have been 
 exhausted, and the conductor has apparently done all 
 he knows, the whole affair is brought to a loyal and 
 triumphant conclusion with "God Bless the Prince 
 of Wales," "Rule Britannia," and "God Save the 
 Queen/' 
 
 Caversham was beginning to feel all the better. The 
 full house, the merry company, and the excellent overture, 
 had done him a power of good. By the time Mr. Dan 
 Leno and Mr. Herbert Campbell had appeared he was 
 getting into excellent spirits, and he was charmed with 
 "Arcadia" and its dainty Dresden-china population. 
 When the vastly pretty " Slumber Song " was being sung 
 he happened to look up, and he saw a little grey-gloved 
 hand on the cushion of the box above him beating time 
 to the music. He leant back, and could just catch a 
 glimpse of the occupants of the box. There were some 
 children who appeared to be enjoying themselves pro- 
 digiously, and there was the proprietor of the little grey- 
 
AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG. 5 
 
 gloved hand, whose face he could not help fancying he 
 had seen somewhere before. 
 
 Those eloquent eyes, that closely-coiffed chesnut hair, 
 that laughing mouth, all seemed familiar to him. They 
 seemed to bring back old recollections, and it worried him 
 very much that he could not put a name to the owner of 
 that pretty face. He kept on looking round, and once or 
 twice he used his opera-glass covertly, but could not arrive 
 at any satisfactory conclusion. One has, even at eight and 
 twenty, some romance left, and the sight of this face caused 
 Master Jack Caversham to become for a moment very 
 thoughtful. And then he laughed, twirled up those light 
 mustachios of his, and gave his attention to the enter- 
 tainment before him. 
 
 He however, noticed from time to time that the young 
 lady in the first tier box had nobody with her save the 
 children, and that she looked round every now and then 
 anxiously as if she were expecting some one to join them. 
 Very few people ever dream of leaving their seats till the 
 green curtain comes down on Boxing Night, and cer- 
 tainly no one would dream of such a proceeding till the 
 Transformation Scene was shown. Caversham did not 
 feel much inclined, despite the veteran Mr. Harry Payne, 
 and the excellent company of pantomimists, to remain 
 for the comic business ; so he just heard Miss Marie 
 Loftus, as Bo-peep, sing to the most popular air of the 
 moment 
 
 11 As you go along, in joyful song 
 Now mind you all declare, 
 With most contented air, 
 That you've had good Christmas fare 
 Here at our jolly pantomime ; 
 You have enjoyed a better time 
 Than the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo." 
 
6 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 He then watched the splendour of " The Language of 
 Flowers " begin to develop ; then he shut up his opera- 
 glass, sprung his Gibus, and went in search of his over- 
 coat. You may be sure he did not forget to glance up at 
 the box on the first tier. In the glare of the red fire he 
 could see the lady's face more distinctly than ever he 
 thought he never saw one more charming and he noticed 
 that the children were in high glee at the advent of the 
 clown, and the party evidently had no intention whatever 
 of leaving till the whole entertainment was finished. 
 
 In the lobby whom should he meet, in the lightest 
 gloves, and in a bulging cuirass of white waistcoat and 
 snowy shirt-front, and the most Brobdignagian of button- 
 hole bouquets, but Kit Crickleum Kit Crickleum, who 
 is known as the " Pepys of the period," who may be seen 
 at every show that is worth seeing, who is " accom- 
 modated with a seat on the Bench " at a sensation trial, 
 and may be found at everything that partakes of the 
 nature of a sight. It does not matter what it is. Any- 
 thing, from a new comedy at the Garrick Theatre to the 
 private view of a popular execution at Newgate. 
 
 " Well, Kit, what did you think of the show ? " 
 
 "Very good. I can't stop for the harlequinade. I 
 promised to run up to a children's party at Lady Larrin- 
 ders. I dined very early to get here in time, and I'm 
 prodigiously hungry. I'm going round to Rule's to have 
 some oysters. Come along." 
 
 And they went along. They found the well-known 
 " Bivalvium " full of people. The inner room was crowded, 
 and as to getting a seat at the bar it was altogether out 
 of the question. The attendants had the greatest difficulty 
 in keeping pace with the requirements of hungry sight- 
 seers. How the oyster-knives flashed, how the corks 
 
AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG.' 7 
 
 popped, how the brown bread and butter disappeared, 
 and the gleaming pewter pots were emptied ! Still the 
 crowd of people kept flowing in, as the theatres closed. 
 Our friends edged in where they could, and took their 
 oysters in pic-nicky fashion. 
 
 And what a mixture of conversation was going on ! 
 " Yes, you ought to go and see Miss Batiste in Prince 
 Patissier"" It will be the hit of the season " " Thrown 
 out of a hansom" " More bread and butter" " One of 
 Toole's best stories " " Yes ; take his beard off, please " 
 "Full house at the Lyceum" "All in the deep shell" 
 " Been shouting over Charlie's Aunt at the Royalty" 
 " Pint of shout, please ; I mean a pint of stout " " You 
 made a pint of shouting, ha ! ha ! " " Another glass of 
 Chablis " " How the little cad got into the club nobody 
 knows " " Cayenne, please " " Capital account in the 
 Daily Graphic " " Three fat ones, please "-" Yes, of 
 course, Leslie Ward did him in Vanity Fair" " Possibly 
 Chevalier's best " " Burnand in Punchy of course " 
 "Pint of bitter" "Been again to the Empire to see 
 Round the Town " " You heard the tale about " " Just 
 half a dozen more" "The Court crammed " " That'll 
 do for me " " Seven and six " 
 
 " Quarter to twelve ? " said Kit Crickleum. " I really 
 must be off. It's a great bore. But I promised, don't 
 you know, to look in about supper time. Where are you 
 going ? " 
 
 "Well, I shall just look in at the Oleander to see if 
 there's any one there and have a smoke. May see you 
 later, perhaps. Good night, Kit." 
 
 Caversham started in the direction of the Oleande 
 and got nearly there ; then he changed his mind and 
 thought he would have a stroll first. He lit a big cigar, 
 
8 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 he wheeled round, went through Covent Garden, and 
 eventually found himself in Long Acre. The streets, 
 though they were getting somewhat sparsely peopled, 
 had quite enough vehicular traffic and uproarious holiday 
 folk about to keep them cheerful, and so Caversham 
 strolled on. As he turned down Endell Street he saw a 
 crowd, heard a deal of strong language and wrangling, 
 and evidently symptoms of what he would denominate a 
 "good fruity row." If there was a row or a fight within 
 half a mile he liked to be in it, so he approached and 
 endeavoured to find out what was the matter. There 
 was an old-fashioned carriage, with a pair of plump, 
 well-to-do horses, that had, apparently for no sufficient 
 reason, come to a stand-still. The crowd, which for the 
 most part were in that state that it behoves a British 
 crowd to be on Boxing Night, seemed to be chaffing the 
 coachman. 
 
 "Wake up, coachee!" "Way-ho, Old Blazes!" 
 " Touch 'em up, guvnor." " You're blockin* up the way, 
 old cockalorum." " Drink yer health, old man." "Who're 
 you're goin' to meet, Bill ? 'Ave yer bought the street, 
 Bill ? " And then the crowd began to sing in maudlin 
 fashion Mr. Chevalier's popular ditty. 
 
 The coachman, whom Caversham could see by this 
 time had been celebrating Boxing Night, not wisely but 
 too well, whose hatband was all awry, whose coat was 
 be-mudded, and who looked altogether out of harmony 
 with the equipage he was in charge of, glared at the 
 crowd, then smiled idiotically and said 
 
 "Shan't-go-on-unless-I please. 'Tain't-my-carrijanorses, 
 an'-I-dolecare. Came-out-to-joy-meself ; shall joy-meself. 
 Won't drive-on-noliday time unless I like. I'll shtrike, I 
 will. So let all shyranical livery-shables tremmle. I'm 
 
AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG. 9 
 
 fly-driversh friend, 7 am. I'm-free-an'-imipenant-britten. 
 I feel prerry-comforable, an'-I-shall-go-to-bed. So-you- 
 may-all-goterblazes." 
 
 With that he leered at the crowd again, and nearly fell 
 off his box. He dropped his whip, and he had the reins 
 hanging almost under the horses' tails. Had they not 
 been the quietest and most good-natured brutes they 
 would have bolted long ago. There was no policeman 
 anywhere about, and there did not seem to be a prospect 
 of one appearing. The windows of the carriage were 
 so steamed that Caversham could not tell for certain if it 
 had any occupants. The glass, however, was presently 
 lowered, and he saw, to his astonishment, the same face 
 that had so struck him earlier in the evening at Drury 
 Lane Theatre. 
 
 The same face, looking a trifle paler and a little 
 frightened. He noticed how the girl looked out hope- 
 lessly upon the drunken rabble ; but when she saw him 
 her face brightened. He advanced at once, pushing his 
 way through the growling crowd, and, raising his hat, 
 asked if he could be of any service. She said that her 
 aunt's coachman had been taken ill at the last moment 
 when they were going to the theatre, and that they had 
 been obliged to get a fly-driver to take his place ; that 
 she feared he was tipsy ; and that her cousin was to have 
 met them at the theatre and seen them home, and alto- 
 gether it was so very awkward, that really . . . Caversham 
 said he should be most happy to have the tipsy coach- 
 man removed and drive the carriage home himself. She 
 thanked him very much. " If you wouldn't mind driving 
 as far as Great Ormond Street, I should be so much 
 obliged." The window was once more put up. " Great 
 Ormond Street," said Caversham to himself ; " what an 
 
io A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 odd place to live in ! " However, he went to the coachman 
 and said 
 
 " Now, my good man, just please to come down ! " 
 
 "Not yer gooman. An* don't just please ter come 
 down." 
 
 " Bravo ! Ooray. Go it, coachee ! " shouted the crowd. 
 " Go's he ? Wot's he got to do with it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; worra you got to do wi' it, me fine fler ? " asked 
 the tipsy driver. 
 
 " Why, just this," said Jack, springing on the wheel and 
 seizing the little man by the collar and rolling him off his 
 box with a flop on the pavement. 
 
 "Shame! Yah! Shame I" yelled the crowd. "Knock- 
 in* a pore, 'onest man about. Wot's 'e done to yer? 
 Yah ! Grrrr ! 
 
 A policeman, by this time, came up. The driver was 
 given in charge by Caversham for being drunk, and 
 several of the crowd were anxious to give him in charge 
 for assault. They showed a disposition to hustle the 
 horses and lay hold of their heads. 
 
 " Now, stand clear, all of you ! " shouted Caversham, 
 when he had the reins well in hand. But they would not 
 stand clear ; there was one man kept hold of the horses' 
 heads, and the rest of the people crowded round. What 
 with the yelling and the hustling, the horses, though 
 naturally quiet, were becoming somewhat restive, and 
 Caversham was beginning to lose his temper. He lashed 
 freely to the right and the left, but still the man kept 
 a tight hold of the horses' heads. Jack bent forward, 
 and with the butt-end of the whip dealt the fellow a 
 tremendous blow across the shoulders, so that he 
 gave a yell and let go. At the same time Caver- 
 sham hit up his horses, and at the risk of knocking down 
 
AN OVERTURE AND A LOVE SONG. II 
 
 half a dozen people he galloped off amid the groans, 
 howling, and execrations of the mob. The two sober old 
 horses went spanking along as they had scarcely ever 
 done before, and their driver found himself in Bedford 
 Square before he had time to pull them up into a steady 
 pace. Great Ormond Street is not so easy to find, unless 
 you are quite clear in your geography, and Caversham's 
 knowledge of these parts was decidedly limited. It took 
 him some time to get on the right track, for it may be 
 recollected that Great Ormond Street is, as far as 
 vehicular traffic is concerned, a cul-de-sac, and only 
 approachable from the eastern end. 
 
 At last he found it, and was slowly driving up the grim 
 old street, not knowing where to stop, and wondering at 
 the strange adventure of the evening. There was tapping 
 at the window and a waving of hands, and he pulled up. 
 A door was immediately flung open, letting a flood of 
 light across the pavement, and a grey-headed old butler 
 came out. Jack got down from his box, and the rescued 
 maiden thanked him very much for all he had done, and 
 asked him to come in and see her aunt. He said he 
 should be most happy, but asked where he should take 
 the carriage to first. " Oh, it is very kind indeed," replied 
 the owner of the blue-grey eyes as they stood on the 
 threshold of the ancient mansion. " I am quite ashamed 
 to trouble you any more ; but if you wouldn't mind taking 
 it round to South Keppel Mews, I should be so much 
 obliged. And you'll come back here afterwards, won't 
 you?" 
 
 Caversham promised he would. But he found South 
 Keppel Mews a great deal more difficult to discover than 
 even Great Ormond Street. He lost his way several 
 times, and when at last he arrived at his destination he 
 
12 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 had to wait for ostlers" and stable-boys, and by the time 
 he had seen everything in the proper hands he found, 
 on looking at his watch, that it was past one o'clock. He 
 was by no means clear of his way back to Great Ormond 
 Street. He did not know the number of the house nor 
 the name of its proprietor ; it would probably be getting 
 on for two o'clock by the time he reached the house, 
 thus calling was most assuredly out of the question. So, 
 acting like a wise man, Mr. John Caversham went home 
 and went to bed. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 AT LADY ANKERWYKE'S. 
 
 " LET me see, aunt. To-day is Tuesday. Really we've 
 been about so much lately that I've lost all count of time. 
 No ; to-day's Thursday. It seems an age since my 
 adventure, when that preux chevalier rescued me from 
 the savage barbarians of St. Giles's. And I have seen 
 nothing of my Bayard with a blonde mustache. I 
 wonder where he can be. Perhaps the driver challenged 
 him to mortal combat. Don't you think it's odd he has 
 never called, aunt?' 1 said Beryl, looking up from the 
 World. 
 
 " My dear," answered Lady Ankerwyke, " I dare say 
 he has forgotten all about it. Perhaps he has gone out 
 of town. Besides, Ideally don ? t see any necessity for his 
 calling. It was very polite of him to rescue you and see 
 you home. But, my dear, we don't know who he is and 
 what he is. I think he shows his good sense in keeping 
 away altogether. I'm sure I should have been terribly 
 frightened had I known of it that night, when I was 
 in bed with that fearful cold. If I had been up I 
 should never have allowed you to start without an 
 escort. It was very unfortunate Charles missing his 
 train." 
 
14 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 "Well, aunt, I didn't like to disappoint the children, 
 and I'm sure the man was sober when we started, and 
 I declare I rather liked the fun of the whole thing. 
 It isn't every day one has such a good-looking coach- 
 man " 
 
 " My dear Beryl, my dear Beryl," replied her aunt, as 
 she shook her head, and then asked, " Has Charles called 
 this morning ? Where are the children ? " 
 
 " Yes, aunt ; he called quite early. So kind of him. 
 He has taken the children out. They are going to have 
 a look at the shops in Regent Street ; then they're to 
 have luncheon at PreVitali's ; then they're going to 
 German Reed's to see "All at Sea" and hear Corney 
 Grain's new song. They've gone off in high glee, I can 
 tell you. They talked about going to Walker's to have 
 their portraits taken; but I don't fancy they'll have 
 time. By the way, I don't think they've either of them 
 recovered yet from the scientific lecture they went 
 to on Monday. I am sure, if I were a child, I should 
 resent any attempt to improve my mind during the holi- 
 days. It's quite as bad as Tozer's uncle. Don't you 
 recollect Tozer's uncle, aunt, in ' Dombey and Son,' who 
 always took his nephew to exhibitions where he might 
 ask him questions with regard to historical events, and 
 so on. So poor Tozer had to read up before he went 
 for a day's outing with his uncle. ' Oh, Tozer, read up 
 for your uncle, there's a little dear ! ' " 
 
 " Beryl, my dear Beryl. Really " 
 
 " I beg pardon, aunt ; but those comic songs will run in 
 my head so. 1 I was playing a lot of them over last night for 
 the children. By the way, I have been going all through 
 Sir Arthur Sullivan's Sorcerer again. How refreshing 
 that bright and sparkling music is ! " 
 
A T LAD Y A NKER WYK&S. 1 5 
 
 "Will you ring the bell, Beryl? I think I'll have a 
 cup of tea." 
 "Yes, certainly, aunt ; and I think I'll have one, too. 
 
 ' O now for the tea of our host, 
 The bun and the hot buttered toast ; 
 The eggs and the ham, and the strawberry jam, 
 And the rollicking, rollicking bun. 
 And the gay Sally Lunn, and the rollicking bun ; 
 And the gay Sally Lunn, and the rollicking bun 
 And the rollicking, rollicking bun,' " 
 
 sang the vivacious young lady. 
 
 " My dear Beryl," interposed Lady Ankerwyke. 
 
 "My dear aunt, that's from the Sorcerer. I always 
 feel sorry that the Gilbert and Sullivan pieces have come 
 to an end, but Charlie heard the other night at Mrs. 
 Snargate's that they were both hard at work at a new 
 piece that will be produced at the Savoy in the autumn. 
 Now, you dear auntie, will you promise to take us all the 
 first night ? " 
 
 " My dear child, how you do run on ! I certainly 
 cannot go anywhere till I get rid of this terrible cold. 
 I want particularly to go and see the Old Masters 
 at Burlington House. What did you think of the 
 exhibition ? " 
 
 " Well, I suppose it was very good, aunt ; but do you 
 know I was just a little bit bored. I suppose it was 
 very wrong of me. And Maud Feyton, who's mad about 
 Art, you know, and who paints very well herself I 
 promised to sit for her for something, I declare I forget 
 what it is told me all about Constable and Gains- 
 borough, Hoppner, Sir Joshua, and Romney. She told 
 me about the Norwich School and Old Crome. Don't 
 you think it's rather rude to call an artist Old Crome ? It 
 
16 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 sounds so like a portrait painter in a farce. Old Crome ! 
 Ha ! ha ! And do you know, aunt, I'm nearly certain 
 that I saw the Great Unknown, my deliverer, my pre- 
 serverthe Bayard with a blonde mustache looking 
 at the portrait of Mrs. Rattray by Romney. There ! " 
 
 " My dear 
 
 "Yes, auntie, it's a fact. I just turned away to a 
 picture Maud was pointing at, and when I looked again 
 he was gone ! I verily believe he went through a trap 
 in the floor.'* 
 
 " My dear child, you're fancying all sorts of things 
 about this marvellous young man who officiated as ama- 
 teur coachman the other night. I have heard of gentle- 
 men who formerly held her Majesty's commission driving 
 hansom-cabs ; so perhaps your preserver, as you call 
 him, may be a hansom-cab driver out of employment." 
 
 "Oh, you bad auntie! I declare I'll renounce my 
 nieceship altogether if you talk in that way. Pray, would 
 a hansom-cab driver be walking about at midnight in 
 evening dress ? " 
 
 " I don't see what your paragon was doing in the 
 middle of a Seven Dials mob at midnight " 
 
 " S-s-sh ! you ungrateful auntie. He was saving your 
 beloved Beryl ! Do you think there are no more knights 
 because suits of mail are substituted by evening dress ? 
 Think you that as tee-reu a heart cannot beat beneath 
 a snowy shirt-front as can palpitate under the panoply 
 of war ? Go to ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Beryl, as 
 she continued. " Besides, you most unbelieving auntie 
 you are the most unbelievingest unbeliever that ever I 
 did see the hansom cabman out of employment would 
 scarcely be likely to spend his time looking at Qlcf. 
 Masters at Burlington House," 
 
AT LADY ANKERWYK&S. 17 
 
 "Though, perhaps, he might employ his leisure in 
 looking at young misses ! " 
 
 "Lady Ankerwyke," said her niece, with mock 
 solemnity, " this is no time for merriment. Let me give 
 you some tea, and let us be serious. You should not 
 have gone out without wrapping up sufficiently, then 
 you would not have caught cold, then would your niece 
 have not got into all this trouble. This is the result 
 of not taking your own Beryl's advice at first." 
 
 " I see I must make haste and get well, or you'll be 
 getting into more mischief. Are you going out this 
 afternoon ? You might drive for a little while, I think.'' 
 
 " No, my dear aunt ; it is getting too late. Besides, 
 I fear the Bandits of Bloomsbury might waylay this poor 
 maiden, and after the experiences of the other night 
 I must be careful. Another thing, I've been routing out 
 a lot of books upstairs, and I find some that I am 
 ashamed to say that I have never read, but they are 
 positively delightful." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " Well, one is Hawley Smart's ' Breezie Langton.' I've 
 just finished it ; and a real, bright, dashing story it is, 
 with plenty of healthy sentiment as well. And now I'm 
 up to my eyes in Lewis Wingfield's ' Lady Grizel. 3 I'm 
 so cross because they did not let that dear little Lady 
 Sarah marry the Prince. I think I like her better than 
 anybody in the book. I've just got to the part where 
 
 Lady Grizel surprises them all by marrying the Duke 
 
 But this house is just the very place of all others to 
 read it in. Last night, when I was reading it in my 
 bedroom, I seemed to quite drift back to the times, and 
 live in the very period itself. I say, auntie, if I had 
 lived in those times, and I had met my Bayard as I 
 
 C 
 
IS A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 did on Boxing Night, and I had disappeared and been 
 married by a Fleet parson, and some day called on you 
 as the Duchess of Tewkesbury what would you have 
 thought of that ? " 
 
 Beryl was quite right. Lady Ankerwyke's house was 
 the very place to read any book which treats of the early 
 period of the House of Hanover or the reign of Queen 
 Anne. It was the very spot to read " Esmond," and to 
 thoroughly enjoy it. There are few portions of London 
 less changed within the last twenty years than Great 
 Ormond Street and its neighbourhood. It is true the 
 building ,fiend and the great rage for improvement have 
 not altogether spared it. There is the new wing of the 
 Children's Hospital, concerning which Mrs. Keeley 
 pleaded with such eloquence and to such good purpose, 
 and there are otheV new buildings that have asserted 
 themselves even more recently, but the main features 
 of the street remain much as they have been for many 
 years past. It has the same flavour of bygone grandeur, 
 the same smack of faded gentility, the same savour of 
 impoverished aristocracy about it that has ever clung 
 to the place and its neighbourhood. 
 
 If you stroll up that quaint old street after dark, or 
 walk along it just as twilight is deepening, you can 
 indulge in many a dream of Old London, and can weav s e 
 for yourself countless romances of long ago. Every house 
 seems to tell its tale of faded fashion, and the scandal 
 of bygone ages. In one room you might fancy Lady 
 Betty Modely taking her dish of chocolate in bed, while 
 her tirewoman was getting ready some marvellous cos- 
 tume to astonish the whole of Ranelagh ; in another, 
 Dorinda might be torturing the harpsichord, or teasing 
 her pug dog ; while in a third, Phyllis might be sub- 
 
AT LADY ANKERWYKES. 19 
 
 mitting to the final shower of hair-powder, or Belinda 
 might be luxuriating in a fit of the vapours. Sometimes 
 as you glance through the half-lighted windows you may 
 see saloons suggestive of the courtly cotillion, or the stately 
 Menuet de la Cour^ or chambers that may hint green- 
 clothed tables and crimp, basset, faro, and quadrille up 
 to any time you please in the morning. 
 
 It is just the very street of all others in London in 
 which you would not be at all surprised in meeting any 
 number of sedan chairs. A four-wheel cab is out of 
 harmony with the place, and a hansom you cannot 
 tolerate. The only wheeled vehicle that seems suitable 
 for the surroundings is Lady Ankerwyke's old-fashioned 
 carriage, which looks almost as old as the street itself. 
 After dark it would not astonish you in the least to be 
 involved in one or two broils, to be called upon suddenly 
 to " draw," and to have manfully to defend yourself with 
 your umbrella. Indeed, one might almost fancy that 
 the spirits of defunct Mohocks yet haunt the neigh- 
 bourhood for the purpose of annoying respectable folk, 
 and it would not surprise you to see the sedan chairs 
 of Lady Dorothy and Lady Bab come round the corner, 
 and their footmen put out their flambeaux at one of 
 those gigantic extinguishers that are still affixed to some 
 of the doorways. 
 
 Though its days of belles and of beaux, of rapiers and 
 bag-wigs ; its times of the dancing of minuets, the rustling 
 of brocaded skirts, and the flirting of fans ; its period 
 of black servants, of hard-drinking bouts, and of "meet- 
 ings behind Montague House" have quite passed away, 
 Great Ormond Street is not altogether given over to 
 charitable institutions and lodging-houses. There are 
 yet some people of position residing there ; there are 
 
20 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 several of the good old houses yet remaining ; and 
 notably among these is that belonging to Lady Anker- 
 wyke. 
 
 It is a fine old mansion of the age of Queen Anne. 
 It is not very conspicuous from the outside, save on 
 account of the exquisite workmanship of its brickwork 
 such work as the bricklayers of to-day could not achieve 
 if they were paid any amount of money to do it some 
 finely-wrought iron palisading, a canopied doorway shel- 
 tering a massive door with a most elaborate knocker. 
 The casual observer would note possibly nothing par- 
 ticular about this house ; but the lover of old buildings, 
 and sterling, honest, British workmanship, would be 
 charmed with this oasis in the desert of stucco, pale 
 yellow bricks, and bogus sculpture, that London is fast 
 becoming. 
 
 If charmed with the outside, he would be even more 
 pleased with the interior. It is an oddly-built house, 
 with a deal more room in it than the exterior would lead 
 you to imagine. It is full of curious corners, cupboards, 
 and powdering-rooms ; while at the very top of the house 
 is a room at one time used as a chapel, but now converted 
 into a play-room for Lady Ankerwyke's little nieces. 
 There are odd staircases, quaint landings, and unaccount- 
 able corridors. The principal chamber looks on a small 
 terrace paved with diamonds of black and white ; this is 
 edged with ancient iron railings, and here are steps de- 
 scending to a little bit of mouldy garden which has cost 
 the present owner a small fortune in trying to render 
 presentable. In the middle of the enclosure is a leaden 
 statue of a naked figure, which is so old and has been so 
 battered about by ill-usage, so time-stained and weather- 
 beaten, that at the present moment it is impossible to 
 
AT LADY ANKERWYKE 1 S. 21 
 
 say if it was originally intended for Venus or Apollo 
 Cupid or Psyche. 
 
 The fitting up of the house is quite in harmony with 
 the house itself. Long, long before the " aesthetic craze " 
 had taken the town ; at a period far remote from the 
 present rage for Morrisian wall-papers, for dados, for 
 blue and white china, for sad colour hangings, and for 
 indiscriminate bric-ct-brac Lady Ankerwyke had come 
 to reside in this house. It had belonged to her family 
 for many years, and on the death of her husband she left 
 her country house for a time and went to live in Great 
 Ormond Street. It was an odd fancy for her to take, but 
 still it answered her purpose. She wanted perfect quiet, 
 and it was a great amusement to her fitting up the place, 
 buying old furniture, tapestry, and hangings, and gradually 
 getting it to its present perfection. Having done this, 
 she had such a liking to the place that nothing would 
 induce her to leave it. She let her house in Chesham 
 Place, and whenever she came to town, which was pretty 
 often, she stayed in Great Ormond Street. 
 
 People said she was eccentric, but the simple fact was 
 she did as she pleased. She loved quiet, and most 
 assuredly she had that in her present abode. Though 
 she did not see much company, she was very fond of 
 having people to stay with her, and nobody's society did 
 she like better than that of her niece Beryl. Captain 
 Halibourne, a nephew of her husband, called in this 
 unfashionable quarter pretty frequently. People said 
 but then you know what people say is frequently wrong 
 altogether that Halibourne would eventually have the 
 greater part of the old lady's money. And it was also 
 rumoured that Lady Ankerwyke was very desirous of 
 making a match between her nephew and her niece. 
 
22 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Then she could leave all her property to her two 
 favourites. 
 
 Though those two were no relations whatever, they had 
 been so much thrown together at their mutual aunt's, 
 both in town and country, ever since they were children, 
 that a very pleasant sort of cousinhood had been estab- 
 lished. They had romped together, they had gone for 
 madcap races on ponies, they had even had a turn at 
 birds'-nesting in company, when he was an Eton boy and 
 she was in short frocks. They called one another 
 "Charlie" and "Bee," and conducted themselves 
 generally in cousinly fashion. But probably they knew 
 one another too well to have any idea of aiding and 
 abetting the carrying out of what people averred was 
 their aunt's pet project. 
 
 Beryl's father, Colonel Cheyn, lost all his property 
 in some unfortunate speculations, and his wife died 
 when their daughter was but a child. Beryl was sent to 
 school and the colonel travelled abroad. In Rome he 
 met with Miss Curleywayne, the heiress, whom he sub- 
 sequently married. Her fortune enabled him to return 
 to the old family mansion Mossmoore, and keep it up in 
 its original fashion. They had two daughters the little 
 girls already mentioned. The colonel died soon after 
 the birth of the last, and his wife survived him about six 
 years. It was found by the second Mrs. Cheyn's will 
 that all her property went to her own children, and that 
 there was only a moderate sum left to Beryl, on the 
 condition that she would look after and be in some wise 
 a guardian to her two half-sisters. Thus the little girls 
 would be very well off, while Beryl had next to nothing. 
 As she often had been heard laughingly to declare, she 
 was a "naughty girl," quoting Miss Kilmansegg to the 
 
AT LADY ANKERWYKE S. 23 
 
 effect that she had long been forcibly impressed with the 
 fact "that people with naught were naughty." Lady 
 Ankerwyke had been left guardian to Beryl, and, on the 
 death of the second Mrs. Cheyn, the three girls had all 
 come to reside in Great Ormond Street. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke and Beryl were half-slumbering over 
 the fire. Bunnidge had just brought in the candles- 
 there is not a single jet of gas to be found in this house 
 from attic to basement when they heard the big knocker 
 
 go- 
 
 " There they are," said Beryl, as she jumped up. 
 
 And in came Captain Halibourne with Beryl's two 
 little sisters, Flo and Baby. They were a couple of 
 bonny children, of ten and twelve real honest, rosy- 
 cheeked, hearty little lasses and uncommonly nice they 
 looked in their little black velvet Dame Trot hats, their 
 grey jackets trimmed with chinchilla, their short frocks 
 showing their shapely legs in sable hose. They were not 
 unlike Beryl ; they had her blue-grey eyes, their hair was 
 lighter, and it was cropped in Gainsborough-like fashion 
 across the forehead. They had a keen sense of enjoy- 
 ment and a great appreciation of fun, and had nothing 
 whatever of the blase " child of the period " about them. 
 Ever since the Drury Lane pantomime they had been 
 striving to imitate various portions of the entertainment ; 
 they never went to see anything but they attempted to 
 reproduce it in some form or other. 
 
 "Well, how have you enjoyed yourselves? What did 
 you see ? It was awfully good of you to take the children 
 out, Charlie. I hope they behaved properly." 
 
 " No, it was awfully good of them to take me out. I 
 never go anywhere unless I'm 'took.'" 
 
 " Oh, we had such fun," cut in Flo. " We saw c All at 
 
24 A. NA UGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Sea,' and ' The Dolls' House ' was splendid : we're 
 going to do it to-night ; and Mr. Corney Grain it isn't 
 a real name, is it, Bee? It sounds like the name in a 
 pantomime Miller : Mr. Corney Grain sang ' Boys and 
 Girls,' and we shouted ! And then we saw " 
 
 "And then we saw," said the captain, with a merry 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 " And then we saw," said Baby, with a laugh. 
 
 " And then you three conspirators saw what ? " asked 
 Beryl. 
 
 " It wasn't a what ! " said Halibourne. 
 
 " It wasn't a which ! " said Flo. 
 
 " Nor a they, nor a she, nor an it," said Baby. " It 
 was " 
 
 " Come you children had better come and take your 
 things off at once," said Beryl, as she hurried them out 
 of the room. " I'm certain you ve all been behaving very 
 badly." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 IN CHURCH. 
 
 PROBABLY there is nothing so disagreeable as being 
 stranded on Sunday in London, and having to dine at 
 the club. 
 
 Caversham found it so to his cost one Sunday, some 
 weeks after his romantic adventure in Bloomsbury. He 
 had four invitations to dinner, and had accepted one of 
 them. On Sunday morning he received a message to the 
 effect that the dinner was put off on account of illness in 
 the family, and so he was compelled to fall back on the 
 Oleander. He made a lot of calls in the morning ; he 
 endeavoured to hunt up friends to dine with him but all 
 to no purpose. The Oleander is particularly dull on 
 Sundays ; all the most uninteresting people turn up, 
 together with a curious set of fossils that you never see 
 on other days. One has often been inclined to ask 
 whether these are bogus members, who are kept in the 
 cellar all the week and turned on on Sundays by the 
 committee in order to make the place lively, and give 
 trouble to the waiters. 
 
 One thing, however, is certain they do not make the 
 place lively, but they probably give more trouble to the 
 waiters than all the other members put together. Caver- 
 
26 A NAUGHT? GIRL. 
 
 sham was certainly in a bad temper ; all the nice people 
 he had called upon were out, and all the dull people were 
 at home. Just as a foggy twilight was closing in he 
 looked in at the Oleander. He had the morning-room 
 all to himself, and he had well-nigh gone through all the 
 weekly and Sunday papers. In sheer desperation he 
 dined early, and found himself growling very much in the 
 smoking-room afterwards. 
 
 He felt very much irritated with two harmless old 
 gentlemen who kept up an everlasting babble, and read 
 extracts from a newspaper. It was " Mumble, mumble, 
 mumble certainly high time some action was taken in 
 the matter mumble, mumble, mumble we understand 
 that last Sunday morning only three and twenty persons 
 attended the church of St. Ticklish Tonsure, and the 
 congregation at the evening service at St. Tympanum- 
 by-the-Wardrobe consisted of eight grown persons and 
 two small children mumble, mumble, mumble." 
 
 Jack brightened at this, for it gave him an idea. He 
 would pay a visit to an old musical friend, Dayne, who 
 had recently accepted the appointment of organist in an 
 old Bloomsbury church. He had not a clear idea where 
 the church was situated, and he found it was getting near 
 the hour of evening service. However, a swift hansom 
 put him down somewhere in the neighbourhood. He 
 wandered about, asked questions of policemen, followed 
 in the wake of those he thought looked like church-going 
 folk, and by the time he reached his destination the bell 
 had ceased, and there was no doubt about it he was very 
 late. He began to question himself whether he would go 
 in or not. 
 
 His labours, however, were by no means over yet. 
 Although he was within a stone's throw of his friend, and 
 
IN CHURCH. 27 
 
 could hear the organ booming away in the distance, he 
 was by no means clear how he should reach him. After 
 he entered the principal door, he found himself in a 
 panelled vestibule that had a smell something between 
 an old library and a family vault. In the dim light he 
 could manage to distinguish some old benches, a few 
 leathern buckets, and an inscription in faded gilt letters 
 something about " churchwardens." He was wondering 
 whether he should have to wander about in this vestibule 
 all night, when he espied a door with oval glass windows, 
 protected by a green curtain, which made them look like 
 " port " lanterns grown old and serious. He opened this, 
 and found himself opposite to another glazed door, through 
 which he could have a full view of the church. 
 
 Here he stood till he was conscious the eyes of the 
 more wakeful portion of the congregation were upon him, 
 and were viewing him in the light of a depraved criminal 
 in a glass case just as they used to regard Marat 
 in his bath at Madame Tussaud's Waxworks. Then, 
 when he imagined a suitable opportunity had arrived 
 to enter and interrupt the service as little as possible, 
 he opened the door with that peculiar difficulty, scroop, 
 and clatter, which seems to be the especial attribute of 
 all doors at quiet churches on Sunday evenings, and 
 entered. Whereupon the pew-opener, an active little 
 lady, with a face like a withered apple, bore down upon 
 him and whispered mysteriously 
 
 "Seat, sir?" 
 
 " No ; Mr. Dayne," answered Jack. 
 
 The pew-opener, who was a little deaf, beckoned 
 furtively, sailed up to the top of the aisle, and threw open 
 the door of a roomy pew ; but on looking round she saw 
 this belated worshipper still standing where she left him. 
 
2S A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 " I want Mr. Dayne," said Jack, when she returned, so 
 loudly that he awoke the beadle out of his first sleep, and 
 caused him to look fiercely and shake his head at a small 
 boy who was playing with his prayer-book. 
 
 "Oh ! the Horgin, sir; beg pardon, this way, please." 
 
 And she opened a door, and Caversham found himself 
 shunted into a mysterious chamber, with apparently no 
 outlet, but where he could hear the organ grunting and 
 growling overhead. After feeling his way round two sides 
 of the room he discovered a small doorway with a smaller 
 staircase like the companion-ladder of a steamboat 
 whose steps were very steep, and creaked alarmingly at 
 every footfall. He proceeded up the staircase till he 
 knocked his head severely and unexpectedly against what 
 he imagined to be a particularly hard ceiling. 
 
 " Confound it ! " he exclaimed, rubbing his head, as the 
 ceiling, which in reality was a trap-door, opened, and he 
 saw the smiling face of Willy Dayne. 
 
 Now, Dayne was an old friend of Caversham's, and 
 for one so young had made already a marvellous position 
 for himself in the musical profession. He was equally at 
 home on the organ and piano, and was generally supposed 
 to be able to play any instrument, from the hurdy-gurdy 
 to the violoncello ; he could play with similar facility the 
 accompaniment to a comic song, or the most difficult 
 compositions of Beethoven. He composed all kinds of 
 music himself, and some of his latest efforts became 
 vastly popular, and were already beginning to be whistled 
 in the streets. 
 
 " S-s-sh ! Don't swear, Jack," whispered Dayne. 
 " What a jolly row you've been making on the stairs ! 
 Couldn't think who it was." 
 
 " Well, it's enough to make a fellow swear, I'm sure," 
 
JN CHURCH. 29 
 
 replied Jack, still ruefully rubbing his head. " I never 
 saw such a confounded breakneck place in all my " 
 
 " Get out of the way ! " said the organist, suddenly 
 springing to his seat, sharply pulling out stops and 
 plunging at pedals, as if he were working a beer-engine 
 and a bicycle at the same time. And thereupon a 
 mysterious gurgling, knocking, and pumping, horribly 
 suggestive of blowing-up, began to take place behind the 
 organ. Then Dayne gave a glance at the mirror over 
 his head, where he could see a reflection of the clergyman, 
 and began playing the prelude to the hymn. 
 
 While this was going on, Caversham's temper was 
 soothed. He forgot all about his contused head, and 
 found plenty to amuse him with the novelty of his situa- 
 tion. The gallery itself was particularly warm and snug. 
 Its occupants were concealed from the congregation by 
 means of a curtain running on a brass rail, and composed 
 of red serge, such as you only find in old-fashioned 
 churches, and the tap-rooms of country public-houses. 
 This curtain, however, by no means prevented those in 
 the gallery having a good view of the congregation 
 through the various apertures and rents which time and 
 circumstance had made in its fabric. The organ itself 
 was so ancient and weatherbeaten that it looked as if it 
 might have played a march of triumph on the occasion 
 of the accession of Queen Anne. 
 
 It had a battered, mellow, mahogany case. There were 
 two rows of keys, so worn and shabby that they looked 
 like old yellow teeth that might drop out at any minute ; 
 and there were stops labelled " Hautboy Swell," " Principal 
 Swell/' "Stopped Diapason," " Cremona," and "Sesquial- 
 tera," which were enough to cause considerable speculation 
 by the uninitiated. Jack found himself wondering whether 
 
30 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 the " principal swell " was really such a swell after all, 
 and what " diapason " had done that it should be stopped ; 
 and then, glancing upwards, he noticed the mirror, in 
 which the priest, clerk, and congregation appeared to be 
 singing very much out of the perpendicular. Above this 
 towered the vast pipes, looking like dusty old gilt masts 
 bereft of rigging and cross-trees. If you looked below 
 the organ, the floor appeared by no means safe. It 
 seemed to be composed of a shifting tangle of gas-pipes 
 and bamboo-canes, into which the organist was con- 
 tinually plunging his feet in a mad and vindictive 
 manner. 
 
 When the hymn had come to a conclusion, Caversham 
 and his friend turned round, and, sitting on the well-worn 
 leather-covered bench, were enabled to take a compre- 
 hensive bird's-eye view of the church and its congregation. 
 It was rather more cheerful than the majority of such 
 buildings, inasmuch as it had no gallery surrounding it 
 to block out light in daytime, and add to its sombreness 
 at night. It had a large and elaborately-carven rood- 
 screen, which was the show-piece of the place ; and 
 occasionally enthusiastic Americans would come and 
 look at it, and give the beadle or the pew-opener half a 
 crown. So the rood-screen was mightily respected an^l 
 well looked after by the church officials. Beyond this, 
 in the dim light, might be seen the altar, with its well- 
 worn velvet cushions, its black carvings, and balustrade 
 surmounted by a dusty Decalogue, well-nigh invisible by 
 reason of age and neglect. Here and there might be 
 seen wonderful old mural tablets, commemorating the 
 good deeds of rare old benefactors who had long passed 
 away ; and one could not fail to notice the gigantic 
 double-grated fireplace in the middle of the aisle, that 
 
IN CHURCH. 31 
 
 the beadle always persisted in poking violently during 
 the most moving part of the sermon. 
 
 As Dayne and Caversham looked down from their 
 vantage ground they noticed many curious things. They 
 saw the backs of everybody's bonnets, they observed 
 faulty arrangements with regard to ties and collars, 
 and they also noted that the clergyman had a good- 
 sized bald place on the top of his head, although to 
 the majority of his parishioners he appeared to be 
 luxuriantly thatched. The pews were very high and of 
 dark oak, and of all shapes and sizes, which threw up 
 a few venerable heads in startling relief. Some of 
 these enclosures were large enough for a family party : 
 they were like ecclesiastical loose boxes, and seemed 
 especially adapted for slumber ; others were mere slips, 
 with no space for your knees, and were so painfully un- 
 comfortable that the sleepiest person would be compelled 
 to keep awake during the longest and driest discourse 
 on record. 
 
 Jack could see one or two persons were comfortably 
 composing themselves already in the loose boxes, and 
 were beginning to wriggle uncomfortably in the slips. 
 He saw two young men shaking with laughter, and en- 
 deavouring to smother it by cramming their pocket- 
 handkerchiefs into their mouths. He also saw a respectable 
 young fellow and a pretty girl, who ought to have known 
 better, flirting disgracefully ; and he noted the free seats 
 sparsely occupied by a few old ladies in grey cloaks and 
 wondrous bonnets, whose faces had not been seen within 
 the memory of living man. 
 
 All these things Caversham saw, but noticed not at the 
 time. They were like an undeveloped photograph on his 
 brain, which came out with a marvellous clearness and 
 
32 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 elaboration when he thought of the scene afterwards. 
 He put up his glass, and his eye wandered about here 
 and there. Presently he fixed his gaze upon a pew just 
 under the screen, wherein were seated a young lady and 
 two little girls, and giving Dayne a terrific nudge with 
 his elbow, and dropping his glass at the same time, 
 exclaimed sharply 
 
 " There they are ! " 
 
 " S-s-sh ! What do you mean ? There who are ? Who 
 are ' they '?" 
 
 Caversham replied by nodding and winking in the 
 direction of the aforesaid pew. " Who are they ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Don't know at all. Don't you ? Only seen them 
 here twice. Fond of music, I fancy. They always stop 
 to the end of the voluntary, especially if I play something 
 out of the common." 
 
 Caversham looked again to be sure he was making no 
 mistake. Undoubtedly the lady sitting before him was 
 the same that he saw in the box at Drury Lane Theatre 
 on Boxing Night, that he rescued in Endell Street, and 
 subsequently drove home to Great Ormond Street. He 
 was not quite certain of it at first, but looking again 
 steadily 'he was quite sure of it. How charming she 
 looked against the background of the dark oak pew ! And 
 those two bonny children, he was convinced, were the 
 same that he saw at the pantomime. He could not help 
 recalling to himself some lines which he had once read 
 somewhere, he could not for the life of him remember 
 where : " She sits in a high, ancient, black oaken pew 
 which almost conceals her fair face from my view the 
 sweetest of pictures, it can't be denied with two tiny 
 sisters who sit by her side who lisp the responses, or 
 
IN CHURCH. 33 
 
 kneel down to pray with little hands locked in the palm 
 of Saint May." 
 
 He then wondered whether her name was May, and 
 what her surname was, and how he could find out. He 
 blamed himself for not having called in Ormond Street. 
 Indeed, Jack Caversham, who usually did not trouble 
 himself much about anything or anybody, found himself 
 beginning to take an immense deal of interest in some- 
 body he might possibly never see again. But it suddenly 
 struck him what an excellent opportunity this was for 
 apologizing for not having called, and that he would get 
 away quickly and be just in time to meet his unknown 
 friends at the door and make explanations. 
 
 He therefore listened to the remainder of the sermon 
 with considerable impatience, and it is to be feared very 
 much that Jack did not pay much attention to the words 
 of exhortation that fell from the good man who occu- 
 pied the pulpit. It was rather a relief when the words, 
 " And, finally, my brethren," were uttered ; and he felt 
 considerably comforted when his friend turned round 
 and commenced to play the voluntary. 
 
 Contrary to their usual custom the " Saint May party," 
 as Jack was beginning to call the young lady and her 
 sisters, did not await the conclusion of Dayne's perform 
 ance, and when Caversham reached the porch of the 
 church he was only just in time to see a certain old- 
 fashioned carriage, drawn by a pair of plump, lazy horses, 
 drive away. 
 
34 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT. 
 
 THERE was no doubt about it, the revival of Diplomacy 
 at the Garrick Theatre was a very great event. Saturday, 
 February 18, 1893, was a memorable night to most people, 
 and it turned out to be one of especial importance to 
 Mr. Jack Caversham. 
 
 He among many there present could remember it's 
 first production at the Prince of Wales's Theatre, 
 when under the management of Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, 
 some fifteen years previously. Jack was only a boy 
 then, but on the strength of his having witnessed the 
 initial performance he gave himself the air of a very 
 old playgoer. And from the knowing way he shook 
 his head, and the important airs he assumed, you 
 might think he had assisted at some of the early 
 triumphs of Edmund Kean and the Kembles. There 
 were other playgoers there, however, who could carry 
 their memory back somewhat further, who could re- 
 collect squeezing into the little house in Tottenham 
 Street when it was first opened by Miss Marie Wilton 
 with The Winning Hazard, and the burlesque of La 
 Sonnambula ; or, the Supper, the Sleeper, and the Merry 
 Swiss Boy. There were many more who remembered 
 
DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT. 35 
 
 the production of Tom Robertson's Society, and there 
 were still more who recollected Ours, Caste, Play, and 
 School, and other dramas which became a speciality at 
 this theatre, and established an entirely new school on 
 the British stage distinguished for careful rehearsal, ela- 
 borate finish, and studious attention to the most minute 
 detail and most trivial accessory. 
 
 At five minutes to eight there was scarcely a seat 
 unfilled in any part of the house. It gave one more the 
 idea of a theatrical entertainment at a large country 
 mansion than anything else. Everybody seemed to know 
 everybody else. People were shaking hands with one 
 another in the stalls, and those in the boxes were waving 
 recognitions to their friends in the dress circle. It seemed 
 like a large family party, with every one having the best 
 possible wishes for the welfare of the host. To make the 
 thing complete, a little while before .'the curtain went up 
 the Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, and the Duke 
 and Duchess of Fife, took their seats in a private box. 
 
 Jack Caversham was in his place at ten minutes to 
 eight, so was Drayton Drawler, so was Dolly Lamer, so 
 were twenty other men who are in the habit of dropping 
 in during the middle of the first act. From the moment 
 of the entrance of Mrs. Bancroft, who had a tremendous 
 reception, there was no doubt about the emphatic success 
 of the revival, and the enthusiasm of the audience was 
 again thoroughly aroused by the fine rendering of the 
 notable three men scene in the second act, and Miss 
 Rorke's passionate impersonation. 
 
 Caversham had been so much occupied in witnessing 
 the play, and in talking to friends in his immediate 
 neighbourhood, that he had scarcely glanced round the 
 house. When, however, the hum of congratulation had 
 
36 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 somewhat died away, and people were beginning to stand 
 up and move about, he took a general look round. He 
 put up his glass and was slowly making the circuit of the 
 boxes, when he came to a sudden stop and nearly dropped 
 it. There again was the face there was the face of 
 Drury Lane, the face of the old church in Bloomsbury, 
 and, to his surprise, there was Captain Halibourne, whom 
 he knew passing well as a club acquaintance, in the same 
 box. Halibourne smiled and nodded ; he turned towards 
 the lady, and they exchanged a few words and laughed. 
 He presently left the box, and Caversham, who was on 
 his way to find some friends in the dress circle, met him 
 in the lobby. 
 
 " How are you, Caversham ? Just the man I was 
 looking for. I've been signalling to you all the evening, 
 but you would look just in the opposite direction. I 
 believe the man who sat next you thought I was chaffing 
 him. I want you to come up and be introduced to Miss 
 Cheyn. I've heard all sorts of things about your 
 rescuing her from a frantic mob in Bloomsbury fighting 
 half a dozen giants, and throttling an unknown quantity 
 of inebriated coachmen. How long have you established 
 yourself as such a useful member of society? Come 
 along ! What a lot of people there are here to-night ! 
 Everybody one knows." 
 
 And he led the way to the box. 
 
 " Miss Cheyn Mr. Caversham," said he. " I dis- 
 covered him with great difficulty, Bee, and here he is. 
 Now, I'm just going to run round to see the Clarrymores, 
 and explain why I can't come next Sunday. I'll be back 
 directly." 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Mr. Caversham," said Beryl. 
 " I want to thank you so much for all the trouble you 
 
DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT. 37 
 
 took the other night. If it had not been for you I don't 
 know what would have become of us. Aunt has been 
 going to write and thank you, but we did not know even 
 your name and address. The children thought they 
 saw you the other afternoon at St. George's Hall, but 
 were not quite sure. If it had not been for Charlie 
 suddenly saying he knew you to-night, when I pointed 
 you out, I don't suppose we ever should have discovered 
 you." 
 
 Jack bowed, though he felt an inward pang at the free 
 way she talked about " Charlie." 
 
 " I am afraid," continued she, laughing, and her 
 delicious dimples playing at hide-and-seek more than 
 ever, " that you had terrible trouble with the carriage at 
 the Mews. They are so very stupid there, and it was 
 too bad to make you take it round after all your 
 kindness. But really, you know, I was at my wits' end. 
 The coachman was ill, and as for Bunnidge, he was not 
 half so well able to take the horses round as I am. 
 Indeed, if it had been in the country I should not have 
 minded in the least. It really was very good of you." 
 
 Jack protested he had enjoyed the whole affair very 
 much, and then he asked Miss Cheyn what she thought 
 of the comedy. 
 
 " Well, I never was more pleased with anything in my 
 life. How admirable are Mr. Bancroft and Mr. Forbes 
 Robertson ! And how excellent Mr. Hare is ! I haven't 
 seen him since the Pair of Spectacles. But Mrs. Bancroft 
 oh, how charming she is ! Do you know I have never 
 seen her before, and I am more delighted with her than 
 I can possibly tell." 
 
 "She is an actress of such wonderful resource, such 
 thought and finish, that really I envy any one the pleasure 
 
38 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 of seeing her for the first time, and yet feel inclined to 
 condole with them on account of all they have missed. 
 It is really too bad that she has never appeared on the 
 stage since she retired from the management of the 
 Haymarket Theatre." 
 
 "But she is only going to play here for a month, I 
 think." 
 
 "So they say. But when once the British public 
 get an old favourite back, they are very loth to give 
 her up." 
 
 " What a magnificent reception she had to-night ! " 
 
 " Yes, it was glorious ! And I hear that a lot of her 
 friends are going to present her with a bracelet behind 
 the scenes after the play is over. This I was told as a 
 great secret, and I oughtn't to tell you. But I dare say, 
 Miss Cheyn, you can keep a secret " 
 
 " Yes," answered the young lady, with a flash of fun 
 in her pretty eyes, "even better than you can, Mr. 
 Caversham. I don't think you would make a good 
 Baron Stein. By the way, how admirably Mr. Arthur 
 Cecil played the character ; but it's such a small part, 
 and we see so little of him. What a lot of people are 
 here to-night ! I suppose you know every one, Mr. 
 Caversham ? " 
 
 "Well, not every one, Miss Cheyn. Yes, it's pretty 
 full to-night. It's what the newspapers call a 'repre- 
 sentative house.' I, however, don't happen to be a 
 representative person." 
 
 " I'm quite certain I'm not." 
 
 tf Then we're both a couple of nobodies ; but perhaps 
 I may be able to show you a few of the somebodies," he 
 added, feeling a thrill of delight in" their temporary 
 partnership in nobodyism. 
 
DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT. 39 
 
 And he proceeded at once to point out to her a number 
 of the notable authors, painters, musicians, legal lumi- 
 naries, leaders of fashion, and political celebrities who 
 happened to be present. 
 
 " I have understood," said he, " that Mr. and Mrs. Ban- 
 croft may be said to have inaugurated the success of such 
 evenings as this. Before the Prince of Wales's Theatre 
 was established, the best people never used to go to a 
 play till it was what they called in good working order. 
 Of course a first night here is an especial thing. But at 
 many places the function is getting over-done, and the 
 next thing you will see that people will be struggling to 
 go to dress rehearsals. That will probably suit some of 
 them better ; for there they would go for nothing. But 
 on an occasion like this to-night of course every one 
 pays, except the critics " 
 
 u And where have you been to all this time, Charlie ? " 
 said Miss Cheyn, as he entered. 
 
 " Well, I don't know where I hem erf t been to. First 
 I went over to the Clarrymores' box. And I was a long 
 time getting there, for I met Dolly Lamer, who wanted 
 to know all about our little play what we were going to 
 do, when it was going to be done, and whether we had 
 a good part for him." 
 
 " Are you fond of acting, Mr. Caversham ? " said Beryl. 
 "We're trying to get some performances, but I don't 
 know whether we shall be able to accomplish it. Aunt 
 doesn't want the house upset, and says she's quite sure 
 people won't come all the way to Great Ormond Street 
 to see the very finest play that ever was written. Oh, 
 there goes the curtain up again ! " 
 
 Jack took leave of his friends, and made his way back 
 to his stall, and was obliged to content himself with a 
 
40 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 distant view of Miss Cheyn for the rest of the evening. 
 At the fall of the curtain there was but little doubt that 
 the management had scored a most distinct success by 
 the revival of an old favourite most admirably played. 
 You could tell this by the observations you heard as you 
 slowly passed out of the theatre. " Mrs. Bancroft was 
 simply marvellous ! " " Going down to the club ? " 
 "Don't grudge my half-guinea to-night" "I should 
 think not indeed" " I'll join you in a hansom" 
 " Wonderful finish about Forbes Robertson " " Bancroft 
 excellent" "Safe run for the season" "Hope it's not 
 raining " " Certainly the finest thing Miss Rorke ever 
 did " " Wait while I see after the carriage " " Yes, in 
 Edmund Yates's excellent verses about the first produc- 
 tion at the old Prince of Wales's " " Wasn't Miss 
 Nethersole just delightful as Zicka?" "Come in to 
 luncheon to-morrow " " Superbly put on the stage " 
 "Left my opera-glass behind" "I've lost the number 
 of my coat" "I shall certainly come and see this 
 
 again " All these things were said and a great deal 
 
 more as people passed out. 
 
 In the lobby there was a crowd of ladies waiting for 
 carriages there was an odour of freshly kindled 
 cigarettes, and Caversham felt in his pocket for his 
 case. Just as he was doing this, he heard a pleasant 
 voice saying, at the same time that a little hand in a 
 grey glove was extended from beneath a white fleecy 
 cloak 
 
 "Well, good night, Mr. Caversham !" 
 
 He found that Halibourne had gone to see after the 
 carriage, and so he waited till it was announced, and had 
 the satisfaction of escorting her to it. That ancient 
 equipage seemed to be quite familiar to him now, and 
 
DIPLOMACY AND DOUBT. 41 
 
 when Miss Cheyn bade him good night from the 
 window, again it puzzled him what made her face so 
 familiar, and with what events in his life of some years 
 ago it was associated. He thought this matter over as he 
 buttoned up his coat, and lit a cigar. He strolled briskly 
 down to the club, and began to find he was falling very 
 deeply in love with Miss Cheyn, although at the same 
 time he was in doubt as to whether she was not already 
 engaged to Halibourne. 
 
42 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BEAUTY AND PAINT. 
 
 " HEAD a little more to the right, Me," said Harry Hey- 
 sham. 
 
 " How's that, Mr. Heysham?" said his model, with a 
 coquettish smile as she moved her head in the direction 
 indicated. 
 
 " Charming," replied the artist as he lazily puffed a 
 cigarette and critically contemplated the young girl 
 before him. 
 
 This conversation took place in Mr. Heysham's studio, 
 which studio might be found in an ancient, autumnal 
 square, which though somewhat out of the beaten track 
 is well known to many. It was certainly not an artists' 
 quarter ; it was most assuredly not fashionable, neither 
 could it be said to be popular. It was not in the right 
 situation for family men, who wanted a large house at 
 a moderate rent, nor was it near enough to the City to 
 be utilized for offices, nor close enough to any inn of 
 court to make it valuable for chambers for solicitors 
 and barristers. Between fashion and respectability, law 
 and commerce, this handsome, well-built square well- 
 nigh came to the ground, and had sunk into a stately 
 
BEAUTY AND PAINT. 43 
 
 decrepitude in the autumn of its days. Curiously enough 
 it always seems to be autumn in these parts. 
 
 There is ever that atmosphere of melancholy decay 
 that we only associate with the dullest season of the year. 
 Go round the place what time you will : in the brightest 
 morning in spring, or the hottest afternoon in summer, 
 you will feel a deadly chill in the atmosphere, and hear 
 the rattle of dry leaves along the roadway. There is no 
 thoroughfare through the square, so it is just possible the 
 dry leaves continue to blow round and round it all the 
 year ; and the few meagre trees in the dismal enclosure 
 shed enough foliage to keep the square in gloomy remi- 
 niscence from autumn to autumn. Though rents were 
 undoubtedly moderate in this square it was not often 
 you found houses vacant ; they were mostly occupied by 
 .people entirely in harmony with its autumnal charac- 
 teristics. 
 
 There were several mouldy boarding-houses with 
 decayed landladies and sere and bilious boarders ; 
 there were one or two withered lodging-houses with 
 shrivelled occupants ; there were societies for the relief 
 of wrecked humanity, mostly under the care of a de- 
 pressed secretary, assisted by a faded Board, which came 
 once a week and transacted business in a melancholy 
 sort of way ; there were a few sad merchants whose trade 
 seem so uncertain that it was only worth their while to 
 visit their offices occasionally. Besides these there were 
 low-spirited agents who never had sufficient energy to 
 have their windows cleaned, and feeble publishers who 
 brought out books in parcels, mostly of an educational, 
 theological, or disputatious character, which nobody ever 
 bought but subscribers, and few people ever read. 
 
 Despite the sad, weary, autumnal character of the 
 
44 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 square, there were one or two houses that were notably 
 bright and cheerful when you happened to get inside 
 them, and chief among these was undoubtedly Number 
 Forty-two. It was a roomy house with a wide stair- 
 case, perhaps one of the oldest in the square. On the 
 ground-floor front was the Knock- Kneed Benevolent 
 Society, and over this was a large saloon which served 
 as Heysham's studio. Indeed, besides the Knock- Kneed 
 Benevolent there were no other tenants, so, virtually, 
 Heysham had the house to himself. The secretary of 
 the occult society on the ground floor did not interfere 
 with anybody : he only came when he pleased, which 
 was not very often, and only made himself obnoxious 
 when there was some talk of the Charity Commissioners 
 disestablishing the Knock- Kneed Benevolent, and then 
 he called a special meeting of the Board, made him- 
 self generally disagreeable, and objected to everything 
 and interfered with everybody. 
 
 On a dull, biting March day you could scarcely find a 
 more cheerless place than this odd, old-fashioned square, 
 and, as a contrast, on a miserable March afternoon, 
 when it began to promise to be foggy, you could scarcely 
 run into a snugger port than Heysham's studio. Let us 
 walk in ; past the Knock- Kneed Benevolent, up the broad 
 staircase with its spiral balusters ; let us push open a 
 door on the first floor, and we shall find ourselves in the 
 studio, or the Den, as this apartment is usually called. 
 It is a lofty room with an elaborately moulded ceiling, 
 with a marvellous mantelpiece and panelled walls. A 
 large three- windowed bow is at the end of the room ; 
 two of the windows are blocked up altogether, and the 
 centre one is darkened all but the upper panes. A 
 stream of light pours down from this aperture and illu- 
 
BEAUTY AND PAINT. 45 
 
 mines the head of the fair young girl who is sitting to 
 the painter, and whose wondrous hair glows about her 
 head like a nimbus. A bright fire is burning in the old- 
 fashioned grate ; there is nothing new nor raw about 
 the room, the whole place looks thoroughly seasoned, so 
 to speak, and has the tone of an old picture about it. 
 
 There are curious old chairs, quaint carven cabinets, 
 ancient oak presses, Cordovan leather screens, bits of 
 armour, casts, draperies, costumes, and a lay figure 
 grotesquely distorted in the background. The walls are 
 so closely covered with studies, sketches, and water- 
 colour drawings and prints, that it is indeed difficult to 
 say what their original tint might have been. A striking 
 contrast to all these art treasures and old-fashioned 
 lumber are the two young people who figure in the scene. 
 If you had cut the figures out of a picture by Meissonnier 
 and introduced a couple of merry young people in the 
 costume of the end of the Nineteenth Century, you could 
 not have possibly obtained a contrast more complete. 
 
 There was Harry, one of the pleasantest fellows you 
 could wish to meet, well-grown, broad-shouldered, and a 
 certain amount of well-knit muscularity in his figure, 
 which, had he lived in the country, and devoted himself 
 to athletic pursuits, would probably have developed into 
 great strength. His features were well formed, though 
 one would scarcely call his face handsome in repose, but 
 when his grey eye twinkled at some bit of fun, and he 
 twirled up his mustachios or ran his fingers through his 
 closely-cropped thick brown hair, there seemed to be 
 something so winning and genial about him, that one 
 almost felt inclined to accord him the claim of being 
 good looking, as well as the two attributes universally 
 allowed him by his friends cleverness and kindhearted- 
 
46 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 ness. He had already made some mark in his profession ; 
 he had cut out a line for himself, he was a hard worker, 
 though, it must be confessed, he worked by fits and starts. 
 There were many bilious " high art " professors, gentle- 
 men who wore their hair long and affected all sorts of 
 eccentricity in the way of costume, who said that he did 
 not think sufficiently of the dignity of his profession, and 
 even went so far as to say that he looked at his art too 
 much from a commercial point of view. 
 
 The real fact was he did not believe in what he 
 was pleased to call the " humbug of genius." He did 
 not see what right any one had to make a grievance 
 out of the fact that the British public would not buy 
 a particular class of picture. He was not a rich man, 
 and he felt that if he pleased to paint he must paint 
 to please ; if his big picture did not sell he would 
 turn its face to the wall and set to work joyfully on 
 "pot-boilers." If one thing did not answer his purpose 
 he would try another ; he did a prodigious quantity 
 of work in black and white for the illustrated papers, 
 and his enemies averred that he would have designed 
 Paris fashions, painted tea-trays and public-house signs, 
 could he have made it worth his while. Be that as 
 it may, he always had plenty to do ; he never had a 
 feud with the Academy, nor did he growl about the 
 want of art patronage in England. Better still, he was 
 always able to live comfortably, and did not go about 
 a genteel pauper with a grievance and the knack of 
 continually borrowing small sums from over-confiding 
 friends a condition, by the way, that your vast unpractical 
 genius not infrequently arrives at. So much for Harry 
 Hey sham. 
 
 The young lady whose portrait he was now engaged 
 
BEAUTY AND PAINT. 47 
 
 upon was Miss Mignonne Batiste, but known more fre- 
 quently among her friends as Me. She was engaged for 
 small speaking parts at the Trifle Theatre, and hap- 
 pened, by the indisposition of one of the principals, to get 
 a chance in the new burlesque. Of this opportunity 
 she had successfully availed herself, and was already 
 becoming vastly popular. She was as pretty a little girl 
 of eighteen as you could desire to meet, and had the 
 most superb head of hair, of the real deep "Titian tint" 
 with gleams of gold in it. As a great favour she was sit- 
 ting to our friend for a charming picture he was painting. 
 Heysham appeared to be in the best of spirits ; he was 
 working away his hardest, for the light was just be- 
 ginning to fail, and between touches on the painting, 
 puffs from a cigarette, snatches of operas and comic 
 songs, he contrived to keep up a continual fire of conver- 
 sation with his sitter, so that she was thoroughly amused 
 and entirely lost that wearied, insipid look that sitters 
 too often assume. 
 
 " How's Prince Patissier go now, Me, since they've cut 
 the third scene ? " asked Heysham. 
 
 " A good deal better," replied Mignonne ; " they've 
 taken out the Bon-Bon Dance, so we get a longer rest. 37 
 
 " I shall look in again to-morrow night. I see the 
 papers go into raptures over Mademoiselle Batiste's quaint 
 dress, and when I reflect that / designed that costume I 
 feel covered with glory." 
 
 " It's the prettiest dress of the whole lot, Mr. Heysham. 
 Miss Dasolite, who plays Prince Patissier, was asking me 
 all about it- " 
 
 " My goodness, Me, don't you tell Miss Dasolite any- 
 thing about it, or I shall have all the young ladies from 
 the Trifle Theatre coming here in a body and insisting 
 
48 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 upon my designing their dresses. You want to be off 
 now ? " he added, seeing the little lady glancing at the 
 clock. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Heysham, it's a quarter to four, and I wish, 
 if possible, to get home by a quarter past ; and the 
 light's going." 
 
 "One moment, and your grace shall be liberated," 
 replied Harry, as he softened the hair into the flesh-tint 
 of the forehead with his finger. There, and there, and 
 there. 
 
 " ' And now, my friend, as business is most pressing, 
 I'll thus dismiss you briefly with my blessing.' " 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" pealed Mignonne, musically, as she 
 jumped from the throne, recognizing a quotation from 
 the popular burlesque in which she was engaged. She 
 then struck an attitude, and began 
 
 " ' Friends, countrymen, dairymaids, and daughters, 
 Foes, magistrates, publicans, and porters.' 
 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! that's the beginning of Miss Dasolite's 
 speech, you know. Then at the end I have my speech 
 about Baby Bon-Bon's pastrycook lover. 
 
 ' His gages amour have sweet meringues for caskets, 
 And love-notes come in barley-sugar baskets ; 
 He'll send a sonnet, p'r'aps, or loving ballad, 
 Enveloped in the choicest lobster salad. 
 A mayonnaise for lunch he'll sometimes take her, 
 Which isn't right, it may onaisy make her.' 
 
 I always get a laugh there. And then " 
 
 Heysham began to whistle the air of the " Tank," whicli 
 formed the basis of the most popular song and dance in 
 the entire piece. 
 
BEAUTY AND PAINT. 49 
 
 u Yes, yes," exclaimed the little lady, excitedly, as she 
 threw down her hat and began to sing 
 
 " ' 'Tis well, to dwell, in barley-sugar palaces, *, 
 
 And take, hard-bake, whenever we incline ; 
 We laugh, and quaff sweet nectar out of chalices, 
 3 And praise, all our days, Princess Saccharine ! 
 
 Ev'ry kind of luxury you'd like to see your plate upon, 
 With brandy-balls for breakfast, we're careful to provide ; 
 
 Snowy sugar icing is quite good enough to skate upon, 
 Fine old sponge-cake elephants are very safe to ride ! ' " 
 
 " Capital, capital, Me ! " interrupted Harry. " And then 
 the dance, you know," he added, as he began to hum the 
 air and gave a walk round. 
 
 " No, no ! NO ! ! NO ! ! ! " shouted Me ; " it begins like 
 this. You sing it ! " 
 
 And Heysham stood up gravely and began to sing the 
 lively music, taking a mahl-stick to serve as a species of 
 imitation banjo. Me gravely gave the " walk round," 
 and then faced about and did the break-down, Heysham 
 facing her and coming in where he could, which was not 
 always in the right place. At last, just at the finish, 
 which was done in double-quick time, Me brought her 
 foot down with a stamp, bent her head forward, and all 
 her beautiful hair fell in a torrent over her face. She 
 looked up, laughed, and shook her locks back ; and 
 then Heysham saw a terrified expression come into her 
 countenance, as she glanced at a reflection in the cheval 
 glass, and then it changed to a sunny smile, as she said 
 
 "Why, here's Mr. Caversham!" 
 
 "Yes," answered that gentleman, as he walked in. 
 " How are you, Miss Batiste ? How do, Heysham ? 
 I've been knocking for the last ten minutes. But you've 
 both been making such a row, so I turned the handle 
 
 E 
 
50 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 and came in, and here I am. This is what you call hard 
 work, is it ? \ 
 
 " Yes. Considering the state of the atmosphere, I think 
 TVe done a fair day's work. Don't you?" answered 
 Hey sham. 
 
 " Well, let's have a look. I've just come from the Old 
 Masters, and so am prepared to criticize the New. Let's 
 see if you can beat Sir Joshua, or Romney, or even 
 Hoppner. Excellent ! " he continued, approaching the 
 easel. " My dear Harry, quite the best thing youVe done, 
 and ought to make a sensation. Don't you think it very 
 good, Miss Batiste ? " he added, turning to the little lady, 
 who was busy getting ready to depart. 
 
 "I really don't know, Mr. Caversham," replied Mig- 
 nonne, as she settled a coquettish little hat on, and patted 
 her rebellious tresses into submission. " I'm not allowed 
 to see it. Isn't it too bad ? " 
 
 " Well, it's nearly finished now," replied the artist, " so 
 you may have just a peep at it to-night. But, mind, tell 
 me exactly what you think of it." 
 "Really?" 
 " Yes, really." 
 
 She regarded the picture with a pleased and puzzled 
 expression. She locked her hands in front of her, 
 bending her fingers back, and gazed for a long time 
 at it. 
 
 " It's very lovely," she said, with a sigh. " I wish I 
 were half as pretty." 
 
 " I can assure you, Me, it is not half pretty enough for 
 you. I must say, as Gainsborough said to the Duchess 
 of Devonshire, ' Your Grace is too beautiful for me.' Sir 
 John Millais liked the picture very much when he saw it 
 yesterday, and everybody has been wild to know the 
 
BEAUTY AND PAINT. 51 
 
 name of the fair original. But that is a secret that 
 I keep locked up in my " 
 
 "Don't be silly, Mr. Heysham," interrupted Miss 
 Batiste, who had been nodding her head gravely while 
 he was talking, and tapped her foot impatiently at the 
 latter portion of his discourse ; " I must be off. I shall 
 be late if I don't go at once. Good-bye, pretty Mignonne, 
 your ugly sister wishes you adieu," she added, as she 
 crossed her arms over her bosom and made a most pro- 
 found mock-curtsy to the picture. "Will you call at 
 the theatre to-night ? " 
 
 " Very likely," answered the artist. 
 
 "I shall have the good luck to see you in Prince 
 Patissier one day next week," said Caversham. " I'm 
 going to bring Doctor Greyfinne." 
 
 " Good ! Be sure be in time for my scene. Give 
 my love to the doctor, and tell him to applaud. I shall 
 look out for both of you, and shall be sure to hear your 
 laugh. Now, good-bye, both of you," she added, giving 
 a hand to each at the same time, and relinquishing 
 Harry's last. " No, don't stir, either of you, I command. 
 I know my way downstairs ! " And with that she opened 
 the big mahogany door and departed, apparently taking 
 all the sunshine with her. 
 
 The fog and twilight seemed to combine in gloom. 
 Heysham stirred up the coals into a ruddy blaze, and 
 the two old friends dropped languidly into easy-chairs, 
 lit pipes, puffed continuously, conversed intermittently, 
 and became confidential as only two old friends under 
 the influence of firelight and tobacco can become. In 
 the course of this confidence, Caversham heard more 
 about Miss Batiste than he had ever heard before. He 
 was told that her father, who was an Englishman, and 
 
52 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 her mother, who was French, were both dead, and that 
 she had no relatives save an aunt near Calais ; how that 
 she expected to come into a little money eventually, but 
 till that time had adopted the stage as a profession, 
 where, in spite of her dislike of it, she had made a great 
 success. Jack, who was dining out, after an hour's gossip 
 departed, and as he was most carefully perfecting the 
 arrangement of his white tie before his dressing-glass 
 in Hanover Street, said to himself 
 
 " Poor old Harry ! He is tremendously gone on 
 little Miss Me there's no doubt about that. ' Oh, Mr. 
 Porter, what shall I do ? '" he sang, and then added 
 gravely, " I don't wonder at it ! " 
 
C S3 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 LOST IN THE FOG. 
 
 "I'VE a great mind not to take you children to-day," 
 said Beryl. " I don't know whether it's going to rain or 
 to snow ; it looks uncommonly like a fog. I think I'll 
 drive up to Regent Street by myself, and come back as 
 soon as I can. How will you amuse yourselves ? " she 
 added, as she approached her two pinafored sisters, who 
 were sitting on the broad window-seat. 
 
 " Oh, Bee, it won't rain, I'm sure," said Flo ; " besides, 
 they haven't sent home our new jackets " 
 
 " Oh, Bee, you promised that you would get me that 
 doll, and I must go and see about it," said Baby. 
 
 "Well, you must be very quick, and put on your 
 warmest things. Ring the bell for Ray, and don't be 
 long, for I shall start in a quarter of an hour." 
 
 And off bounded the children, and long before Beryl 
 was ready, they were dressed. Ray must certainly have 
 been very clever to get them so perfectly costumed in so 
 short a period. Their print frocks, their pinafores, their 
 russet shoes were gone ; and in their stead might be 
 seen an entire change. They were dressed in short 
 frocks of mouse-coloured velveteen, trimmed with otter 
 skin ; they had toques of otter skin, with a tiny scarlet 
 
54 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 feather; this red was again repeated in the ribbons 
 that tied up their long fair hair and in the clocks of their 
 black stockings. The dazzling little collars found an echo 
 in the white cuffs at their wrists, and in the snowy frills 
 that peeped below their knees. Altogether, what with 
 their rosy cheeks, their light hair, they looked as bonny a 
 pair of little ladies as you might wish to jmeet. Beryl 
 was proud of them, too, and always insisted upon their 
 being neatly and well dressed. She was very particular, 
 and would not allow them to go with her unless they 
 were perfect in every detail. 
 
 " Now let's see how we all look," said Miss Cheyn, as 
 she gave a twist to Baby's toque to get the feather on the 
 proper side. Then she arranged Flo's skirt, and looked 
 them both critically over. Beryl was a very martinet in 
 such matters. At last she espied the fur torn on the edge 
 of Flo's boot. 
 
 " Put up your foot, Flo ! " . 
 
 11 Oh, it's all right, Bee." 
 
 " Put it up at once, Flo ! " 
 
 And Flo had to rest her leg on the sofa, while her 
 sister lamented over the unsewn strip of otter skin that 
 edged the child's boot. The boot was taken off. Ray 
 was sent for, a deal of sewing and repairing had to 
 take place, and the consequence was they were much 
 later in starting than they intended. This delay made 
 all the difference in the events of the day. By the time 
 they reached Piccadilly it looked very likely to be foggy ; 
 but, on the other hand, there was an uncertainty about 
 it, and it might clear up at any moment. A prettier 
 group of sisters nineteen, twelve, and ten it would be 
 difficult to discover. Beryl looked wonderfully young ; 
 indeed, as she sat beside Flo in the carriage, you would 
 
LOST IN' THE FOG. 55 
 
 hardly think there was so much as seven years difference 
 between them. 
 
 At the first shop they stopped at they paused a long 
 while. There were all sorts of things to be bought, there 
 were matters to be discussed, and a vast quantity of 
 new garments were required for the children. When 
 they came out it looked so like a real London fog 
 coming on, that Miss Cheyn was for driving straight 
 home at once. But her sisters begged and implored 
 so much, that, against her own judgment, she gave in. 
 They ordered the coachman to wait for them at Oxford 
 Circus, as they wished to look in at the shop windows 
 as they passed along. Indeed, shopping cannot be 
 satisfactorily accomplished by driving from one shop 
 to the other. Half the pleasure is to look and long for a 
 thing in the window, and wonder whether you will have 
 it or not. Probably the shop-windows of London, taking 
 them all round, are the best exhibitions that we can boast 
 of. Certainly a day's shopping in Regent Street or Bond 
 Street is the finest treat you can possibly give to a fair 
 country cousin. 
 
 It certainly gave unbounded delight to the children. 
 They looked in at Swan and Edgar's, and spent a con- 
 siderable time gazing upon the various pictures displayed 
 in the windows of the Stereoscopic Company. Then 
 they were a long time in choosing gloves at one shop ; 
 and Baby was mightily pleased at their eventually turn- 
 ing into another, and selecting a most wonderful doll, 
 with a complete outfit, which Lady Ankerwyke had 
 promised her for a birthday present. They then went 
 to Duvelleroy's, as Beryl wanted to buy a fan for her 
 aunt. Miss Cheyn was very difficult to please in such 
 matters, so the selection took a considerable time. By 
 
56 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 the time all this business was gone through, there was 
 no doubt whatever about the fog. The lamps had beer 
 lighted in the shops and in the streets, and there seemed 
 to be a probability of a real November darkness en- 
 veloping everything. 
 
 Beryl saw it was high time they found their carriage if 
 they meant to get home safely, and she told the children 
 they must make haste. The fog was getting so thick 
 that it was difficult to see any one two yards in front of 
 you, so she took Baby by one hand and Flo by the 
 other. When they reached Oxford Circus they could not 
 find the carriage, and Beryl then recollected that she had 
 not told the coachman which side he was to wait, so not 
 finding him the side she expected, she thought she would 
 cross to the other. They went into Jay's to inquire if the 
 carriage had been waiting there, and then recollected 
 that the children wanted some more of those black silk 
 stockings with red clocks. These had to be inquired 
 about, and ordered specially for them. All this took a 
 considerable time. When they emerged from Jay's it 
 was almost like night, and Beryl took her two sisters and 
 held them tightly by the hand, in case they might slip 
 away and be lost in the fog. 
 
 It was no easy matter to cross the road. People were 
 shouting, drivers were yelling, and lights were flashing in 
 that deceptive manner which is always so confusing in a 
 fog. People that were far off appeared to be close to 
 you, and vehicles that were nearly running over you 
 seemed to be at a considerable distance. The fog 
 deadened sound as well as sight, and the crossing of 
 such a thoroughfare as Regent Street was attended with 
 no little danger. A polite policeman came to the rescue, 
 who saw the three standing on the kerb, uncertain 
 
LOST IN THE FOG. 57 
 
 whether they would wait till the fog cleared or make 
 a run and risk it. He told the ladies when the road was 
 clear, and Beryl, keeping tightly hold of both the children, 
 was about to cross. 
 
 Just as she was going to make the attempt, her muff 
 slipped, and she stooped down to recover it, and rushed 
 across the road. In doing this she let go of Florry's 
 hand. She thought the child was close beside her, but 
 when she reached the other side she was nowhere to be 
 found. 
 
 She seemed to have suddenly slipped away ; she melted 
 in the mist ; she vanished in the fog, and was nowhere to 
 be found. 
 
 " Where's Flo, Baby ? " said Beryl, with no little anxiety. 
 
 " I thought she had hold of your hand, and then when 
 you let go I fancied she ran on in front." 
 
 " There's S pinkie and the carriage, at any rate. Perhaps 
 she is inside." 
 
 No ; the coachman, the carriage, and the plump horses 
 were all right, but the child was nowhere to be seen. 
 Spinkle had not seen anything of Miss Florence any- 
 where ; he had been waitin' there a matter of an hour 
 and a half, but he had been scarcely able to see anything. 
 Perhaps she had gone into a shop. They inquired at 
 the shops in the neighbourhood, but no one had seen 
 the child. They spoke to the polite policeman, but he 
 had seen nothing of her since she crossed the road with 
 the others. They waited and waited ; they called her 
 anxiously by name whenever a child of her stature came 
 looming through the fog; but they got no response. 
 They drove to all the shops they had visited to inquire 
 whether she had returned to any of them, but without 
 success. 
 
53 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Somewhere near the Stereoscopic Company, Beryl 
 trod on something on the pavement, and stooping down 
 and picking up what she had trodden on, found it was 
 the little strip of otter skin off the top of her sister's boot. 
 This was sufficient evidence that she had walked down 
 Regent Street, instead of remaining to seek for her sister 
 at Oxford Circus. She spoke to several policemen on 
 the subject, and they promised to look after the matter 
 and report. She knew Florry was a brave girl, and she 
 thought it was just as likely as not that, when she missed 
 them, she jumped into a cab and went home. 
 
 All things considered, Miss Cheyn thought the best 
 thing to do was to drive straight back to Great Ormond 
 Street. When they returned they found to their dismay 
 that nothing whatever had been heard of Flo. The fog 
 had not been so thick in Bloomsbury, and so Lady Anker- 
 wyke had been by no means distressed at the long 
 absence of her nieces. But when she heard of the dark- 
 ness that reigned in Regent Street, and the sudden and 
 unaccountable disappearance of Florry, she was very 
 much disturbed. She was for sending immediately to 
 all the police offices, and telegraphing a description of 
 the missing maiden all over London. 
 
 Luckily Captain Halibourne called in to see his aunt 
 before dinner, and when he heard a detailed account of 
 what had taken place, he took a very serious view of the 
 matter. He even made his aunt and Beryl look at the 
 matter in a far graver light than they had hitherto 
 done. He looked so serious about it that Baby, who had 
 hitherto kept her spirits up pretty well, went upstairs 
 with Ray and nearly cried her eyes out over the matter. 
 Halibourne, who was engaged to dine with his most par- 
 ticular friends, the Clarrymores, said he should at once 
 
LOST IN THE FOG. 59 
 
 telegraph an excuse, and that he should immediately go 
 and use every effort in his power to obtain some tidings 
 of the lost child. 
 
 Beryl was doubly anxious when she saw what a serious 
 view Halibourne took of the matter. She had great faith 
 in Flo's ability to take care of herself, and would not be 
 a bit surprised at her driving up to the door any moment 
 in a hansom cab. Miss Cheyn was alternately sorrowful 
 and indignant on the matter. 
 
 " Poor Florry," she said, with tears in her eyes, " She 
 will come back all right. Don't you think so, aunt ? j; 
 
 " Yes, my dear child, there's no doubt of it," replied 
 her aunt, doubtfully. 
 
 " Silly child," added Bee, biting her lips, " running 
 away from me in that heedless fashion ! I declare she 
 ought to have a good sound whipping, giving people 
 all this anxiety and trouble ! Yes ; I should just like to 
 poor darling ! She must come back, aunt." And then 
 Miss Cheyn tried to rub her tears away with the back of 
 her hand. 
 
 Halibourne had said that he would return directly he 
 had some information, and dinner was put back half an 
 hour. They waited till the half-hour had expired, and 
 longer. 
 
 Dinner was at last ordered up, but it was a very melan- 
 choly affair. Both Lady Ankerwyke and her niece tried 
 to persuade each other that the child would come back 
 any moment. At every ring of the bell and at every 
 knock at the door they listened anxiously, hoping for 
 some tidings ; but none came. And, as it always happens 
 on such occasions, there were more knocks at the door 
 and rings of the bell than usual. They augured ill from 
 Halibourne's non-appearance, as they made sure that 
 
60 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 they should see him the moment he had any news, or, at 
 any rate, would receive a message from him. 
 
 Eight o'clock came. Nine o'clock, but still no tidings. 
 Baby was sent off to bed, but she did not go to sleep, you 
 may be sure. Every noise in the street, every stopping 
 of a cab caused her to jump out of bed and see whether 
 it was her sister returned, or if any one had brought any 
 intelligence of her. The suspense was getting terrible 
 for everybody, and Beryl said, if she did not hear by ten 
 o'clock, she would certainly take a four-wheel cab and 
 go, accompanied by Ray and Spinkle, in search of some 
 intelligence. 
 
( 6i ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 A NEW PATIENT. 
 
 CAVERSHAM'S rooms in Hanover Street were pleasant 
 enough. He occupied the first floor, and the rest of 
 the house was occasionally let in apartments, during the 
 London season. It belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Froat. 
 The first had been butler, the second had been cook, at 
 Lord Vauxhall's ; consequently, Master Jack was well 
 looked after. Whenever he wished to give a little dinner, 
 he found it much more economical and far better served 
 at his own rooms than if he gave it at the Oleander or 
 even at that most exclusive of clubs, the Periwig. 
 
 He had invited, on the Friday evening already alluded 
 to, an old friend of his, Doctor Greyfinne, to have a 
 quiet little dinner with him, and go to the play afterwards. 
 Doctor Greyfinne, despite his frosted hair and his count- 
 less reminiscences of life and society at home and 
 abroad, was one of the youngest men in London. He 
 had a large practice, and was unsurpassable as a racon- 
 teur. He affected a cynical hardness, which only covered 
 innumerable acts of benevolence and unostentatious 
 charity, of which few people ever knew anything save the 
 donor and the recipient. You rarely saw his name in a 
 subscription list, and he was seldom present at a charity 
 
62 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 dinner ; but, for all this, half his income was spent upon 
 other people, and the greater part of his time was ex- 
 pended on those patients who could not afford to pay 
 him a fee. 
 
 He had been a great friend of 'Caversham's father, and 
 had known Jack himself ever since he was a small boy. 
 He was particularly fond of the society of young people. 
 Indeed, he had been heard to say, when, after the fashion 
 of the day, somebody began to grumble about growing 
 old, " All your own fault ; you associate with old people, 
 and of course you catch their complaint." When he had 
 an evening to spare there was nothing he liked better 
 than a quiet dinner with Jack and a couple of hours at 
 the play afterwards. On this especial evening Jack had 
 taken stalls for the Trifle Theatre, and thither they 
 proposed going to see the popular burlesque, Prince 
 Patissier. 
 
 " I never say I will go to the play, after dining with 
 you, Jack, but what I repent. Now, really, I don't feel 
 much inclined to stir." 
 
 " Well, you must go to-night, doctor," cut in Jack ; 
 " I saw Miss Batiste sitting to Heysham the other day, 
 and told her we were going, and she sent her love to 
 you ! " 
 
 u Ah ! bless her. What a clever little lady she is ! 
 She'll make a great hit some day, if she gets a chance. I 
 hear that Heysham is very much pris in that quarter. 
 Well, he might do worse. There's a wondrous charm 
 about her " 
 
 " Yes, with all her high spirits and fun, there's a 
 distinguished air of refinement about her. And I am 
 very much afraid Master Harry is a gone coon in that 
 direction." 
 
A NEW PATIENT. 63 
 
 " Don't blame him either," said the doctor, looking at 
 his watch. " I again repeat, I wish we hadn't to turn 
 out. I should like to stop here all the evening, and chat 
 over old times. Really this claret is excellent," added 
 the doctor, holding his glass up to the light. 
 
 " Glad you like it, doctor. It's some of the old tap 
 from Wraysbrick. I don't think there is much of it left 
 now." 
 
 " Excellent ! " said the doctor. " They used to have 
 some good old Thirty-four there, too. But you boys don't 
 drink port nowadays." 
 
 " There's still some left, doctor ; and the next time you 
 go down, I'll take care you shall have a turn at it. Now, 
 I'm not going to let you be late. Just a cup of coffee 
 and a glass of curagoa, and a teeny cigar to smoke on 
 the way down to the theatre, and off we go. The fog is 
 getting worse and worse," added Caversham, as he went 
 to the window and drew back the curtain. 
 
 "Now we'll be off," said the doctor, putting on his 
 greatcoat. " If I sit down again I shall just light a big 
 cigar and become a fixture for the evening." 
 
 " We'll come back again to-night it will be all on your 
 way home and have a chat after the play," said Jack, 
 when they had got their cigars in full blast, and were just 
 turning out. " How this fog makes one's eyes smart ! I 
 declare I don't think it's safe to take a cab. If we don't 
 take care we shall be run down before we can " 
 
 He did not finish his sentence. There was a flash of 
 lamps, a trampling of horses, a clattering of wheels, a 
 shouting of drivers, the sharp ting-tang of a bicycle bell, 
 and a shrill, childish scream. A young girl seemed to 
 spring from the fog, appeared to come from under the 
 wheels of a passing hansom, and fell almost at his feet. 
 
64 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 There was a pulling up of cabs, a wrangling, and a crowd 
 collected in that marvellous way that crowds will collect 
 in London on the smallest provocation. The number of 
 people who have nothing whatever to do at any hour of 
 the day or night in London, and are always ready to 
 assist at any passing spectacle, from a fight between 
 newspaper boys to an old lady in a fit, is something 
 astonishing. Caversham knelt down, and was about to 
 raise the girl. 
 
 " Wait a minute, Jack," said the doctor ; " let me see 
 to this. Just keep the crowd off." 
 
 The crowd showed an inclination to jostle and close in, 
 as if they did not see any reason why they should be 
 cheated out of one of their legitimate free exhibitions. 
 
 " Keep back, please," said Jack. " Don't you see you're 
 keeping all the air away from her ? " 
 
 The people did not stir, and there was one youth who 
 looked particularly aggressive. 
 
 " Now, my good people, stand back," said the doctor. 
 
 " Don't yer see 'tis the doctor ? Stand back," said the 
 young ruffian, as he speedily cleared away half a dozen. 
 " Can I do anything, doctor ? '' 
 
 " Yes, you can, Tipper," replied the doctor, recognizing 
 an old patient in one of the most irreclaimable boys in 
 London. " Keep the coast clear while I attend to this 
 young lady." 
 
 And Tipper walked round and round, and glared at 
 everybody, as much as to say, anybody who liked to 
 come any closer had better try, that's all. 
 
 "Anything very serious, doctor?" said Jack. "Any 
 bones broken ? " 
 
 " Well, I can't say. I hope not. She seems to have 
 fainted. She may be a trifle stunned. J jhope she djd 
 
A NEW PATIENT. 6$ 
 
 not hit her head on the kerb as she fell. She ought not 
 to be moved far. It would be a risk to take her even as 
 far as Charing Cross Hospital. It would be a greater risk 
 to take her to Portman Square, or she should go to my 
 house. I really hardly know what " 
 
 " My dear doctor, take her in here. She can have my 
 room, and Mrs. Froat can attend to her. Nothing better 
 here we are on the spot. So let us run as little risk as 
 possible." 
 
 " Oh dear, oh dear ! no theatre for me to-night," said 
 the doctor, turning on his cynical tap. " Isn't it odd how 
 womankind, even a small specimen like this, puts aside 
 all our projects in a moment? Now be very careful. 
 Mind how you go." 
 
 And the doctor took the child in his arms and carried 
 her upstairs as tenderly as a baby Jack Caversham 
 going before to clear the way, and Tipper staying behind 
 to do battle with the gaping multitude that gathered 
 around the door. 
 
 He put the child on the sofa, and carefully examined 
 to see if any bones were broken. He sent Jack off to the 
 Nurses' Co-operation in New Cavendish Street, with his 
 compliments to Miss Hicks, begging her to send a skilful 
 nurse round at once, and at the same time gave him a 
 prescription to take to the chemist's and have it made 
 up to bring back with him. Meanwhile the doctor and 
 Mrs. Froat undressed the child and put her to bed. The 
 sleeves of the mouse-coloured velveteen were ruthlessly 
 cut, and a similar fate befell one of the smart silk stockings 
 with scarlet clocks. The doctor kept on grumbling to 
 himself as he was carefully seeing what extent of damage 
 the child had met with. 
 
 " Pulse better. Yes, much better- No Prince Patissier 
 
 F 
 
66 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 for me to-night ! Just like my luck. Shoulder all right. 
 Shan't see the play, after all. Won't do to leave her at 
 present. No pool for me at the Grampus to-night. Ha ! 
 that hurt her. Awkward twist of the ankle. And I ought 
 to be looking at the enchanting Miss Batiste, instead of 
 being in attendance on this tiny, fair-haired witch. Am 
 I never to have a holiday ? That's right a little more 
 colour in her cheeks. I wish Jack would come back. 
 Very good of him. But I fear his happy home is ruined 
 for a time. Must be kept quiet. Wonder who she belongs 
 to. Fancy I've seen her face before, or some one like'her. 
 Just like my luck. Is not womankind always in the way 
 of everything ? " 
 
 "Well, doctor, what news? Any better?" said Jack, 
 as he came rushing in with the draught. 
 
 " S-s-sh ! Don't make a noise ! This is not the 
 Grampus smoking-room. Do be quiet. What a time 
 you've been. Give me the bottle." - 
 
 The child opened her blue-grey eyes and looked at 
 them dreamily. 
 
 "Where am I ? Where's Bee where's Baby where's 
 aunt ? Have I lost them all in the fog ? " 
 
 " They're all right, my child," said the doctor, in the 
 quietest voice. " Now just drink this and go to sleep, 
 and you'll see them all after a bit." 
 
 She drank her draught ; she looked at him with a sad, 
 pleading expression in her eyes, as if she would ask much 
 and would say a great deal if she had power and strength. 
 She trusted the voice of the good doctor, and she turned 
 round and closed her eyes, and in a few minutes dropped 
 off to sleep. 
 
 " Now," said Greyfinne, " she'll be all right for a time. 
 You'd better take a turn out and see where you're going to, 
 
A NEW PATIENT. 67 
 
 roost to-night. Go down to the Oleander, and see if you 
 can get any of your friends to put you up, or you may go 
 to my house if you like. I shall stop till the nurse 
 comes, at any rate. We shall get on better if you get out 
 of the way for a time." 
 
 "All right, doctor. I'll just take a turn down to the 
 club and see what's going on, and then come back for 
 further orders." 
 
 All this time Beryl and her aunt were in the greatest 
 state of anxiety. They had had one special messenger 
 from Halibourne to say that he had no definite report to 
 send at present, but he had received information that he 
 thought would put him on the right track. How hopeless 
 Beryl thought his message was ! but she had no idea how 
 utterly hopeless Halibourne judged it to be. At nine 
 o'clock they had this despatch, and Beryl put on her 
 walking dress, and had sent for a four-wheel cab, and 
 was resolved to go somewhere in search of some kind of 
 information at ten. 
 
 Halibourne was at his wits' end. He had been to all 
 the police-stations, and had inquired everywhere. As a 
 last resource, he thought he would pop into the Oleander, 
 and see the latest editions of the evening papers, in the 
 faint hope that he might obtain some clue. He was 
 hunting through these when who should turn in but 
 Caversham. 
 
 "How are you, Caversham? Been to the theatre? 
 Where's Greyfinne upstairs playing pool ? " 
 
 And then Caversham began to explain why they had 
 not been to the play ; how they were just starting ; all 
 about the accident, the pretty child with light hair laid 
 up at his rooms, when Halibourne suddenly cut in 
 
 "What, fresh colour? Mouse-coloured velveteen? 
 
68 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Otter trimmings? Otter cap? Black-stockings-red- 
 clocks " 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Caversham, wondering. 
 
 " Florry Cheyn ! " rejoined Halibourne, excitedly. 
 " Thank Heaven ! Come along." 
 
 And before he knew what he was doing, Halibourne 
 had seized him by the arm, led him into the lobby, 
 shaken him into his greatcoat, and put him into a 
 hansom cab. 
 
 " Great Ormond Street as quick as you can ! " he 
 shouted to the man through the trap. 
 
 Just as Beryl was about to start she saw the hansom, 
 with its flashing lights, come rattling up the street. She 
 turned pale when she saw Halibourne and Caversham 
 jump out without Flo, and fancied the very worst. 
 
 " Good news ! " shouted Charlie, directly he saw her. 
 And they both went in and made the very best of the 
 matter to Lady Ankerwyke. 
 
 And that night Beryl, along with the skilful nurse Miss 
 Hicks had provided, kept watch and ward over Florry 
 in Caversham's rooms, while Jack found temporary 
 accommodation at Limmer's, hard by. 
 
69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BEE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR. 
 
 FLORRY'S accident proved to be a more serious affair 
 than anybody imagined it would be. Doctor Greyfmne's 
 opinion the following morning was anything but encou- 
 raging. She had sustained, he said, what is known in 
 the profession as a " Pott's fracture," which would pre- 
 vent her walking for some weeks to come. She had been 
 very much frightened ; she had caught cold, and there 
 was a slightly feverish tendency. The doctor said on no 
 account should she be moved, or he would not answer for 
 the consequences. Jack Caversham went round to Great 
 Ormond Street with Beryl in the morning, and begged 
 Lady Ankerwyke would make any use she pleased of 
 his rooms, which he placed at her disposal during her 
 niece's illness. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke was greatly taken with Jack. His 
 hearty manner and his handsome face had quite won her 
 confidence, and had entirely dissipated the prejudice she 
 had formed against " Beryl's Bayard," as the unknown 
 young man had been christened in the family. 
 
 " Really, Mr. Caversham/' said Lady Ankerwyke, " we 
 are deeply indebted to you. First you rescue Beryl from 
 what she calls the savage tribes of St. Giles's ; then you 
 
70 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 take care of my horses and see them safely stabled ; and, 
 finally, you take charge of poor Florry and, if you 
 have not been the means of saving her life, you have 
 probably prevented her from having a long and serious 
 illness. I really cannot thank you enough," added the 
 stately old lady, with her voice trembling, and tears in 
 her eyes. 
 
 "Pray don't mention it, Lady Ankerwyke. I was 
 fortunate enough by an extraordinary piece of luck that 
 does not often fall to my lot to be on the spot when and 
 where I could be of some little use ; and if I can do any- 
 thing further, pray do not hesitate to command me, The 
 doctor tells me that it may probably be a case of some 
 duration, though not of danger, and I beg you will make 
 any use you please of my rooms. Mrs. Froat is a kind, 
 motherly sort of woman ; she is very good at nursing. I 
 believe there is plenty of room in the house just now, so 
 pray do not scruple to send any one there you like/ 1 
 
 The end of it was that the rest of the house was 
 engaged by Lady Ankerwyke. Ray was sent thither to 
 assist in nursing ; Beryl took up her abode there for a 
 time; and none of the family, but Baby and her aunt, 
 were left in the house in Great Ormond Street. Jack 
 went to reside at Long's, and an extraordinary change 
 came over the rooms in Hanover Street. Florry's case, 
 though it could scarcely be called one of absolute danger, 
 undoubtedly required the greatest care and the most 
 careful nursing. It was many days before she could 
 leave her bed. 
 
 When she first awoke and recovered sufficiently in 
 order to take notice of things, she wondered wjere she 
 was. She could not understand that row of beautifully 
 polished shoes, that looked so much too big for anybody ; 
 
J5EE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR. 71 
 
 and she wondered what was the use of their having 
 wooden feet wedged inside them. What did that row of 
 coats mean, and why was the looking-glass half obscured 
 with cards and notes ? There was a gigantic bath with 
 which she was not familiar, and a collection of the 
 roughest towels that made you feel rasped all over, even 
 to look at them. Where were the white hangings of her 
 own bed gone to, and why had she that gay shawl-pattern 
 coverlet over her ? How did those odd little statuettes 
 get on the mantelpiece, and what had they done with her 
 Christmas pictures from The Graphic and the Illustrated 
 London News ? Why had they been removed, and why 
 was there hung in their stead the picture of a little girl so 
 very scantily clothed that Florry feared she would catch 
 cold ? She did not know the flower-faced clock on the 
 mantelpiece, nor had it the familiar tick of the one in 
 Great Ormond Street. Where had all the dark panelling 
 gone to, and what was the meaning of this light, lively 
 wall paper ? 
 
 How long had she been asleep ? It must be very late. 
 She wondered she had not been called. What did they 
 do yesterday? Where was she yesterday? Yesterday 
 was a long, long time ago. If she knew what had been 
 done yesterday, or where yesterday was, she would be 
 happy. She would try and think. She tried very hard, 
 but her thoughts would not range themselves in order. 
 As fast as she established one fact it melted into some- 
 thing else. She was weary of this everlasting building 
 up of things that immediately fell down. It made her 
 feel so tired, so sad, so tearful. She would ask for Bee, 
 for Baby, for Aunt Ankerwyke, or for Ray; but it 
 pained her too much to even think which she would 
 ask for. 
 
?2 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 She wondered where they all were, and why they left 
 her in this strange room, with the strange fireplace, with 
 the new pictures, and that mysterious row of brightly 
 polished shoes, with their wooden feet. She attempted 
 to turn in her bed, when she felt an excruciating pain in 
 her foot, that made her cry out. She had a vision of 
 Beryl hastily pulling back a curtain and rushing in. She 
 fancied a tender, sweet-voiced nurse, whom she did not 
 know, was supporting her head. Then she had an idea 
 that a kindly, cheerful doctor, whom she fancied she had 
 seen many, many years ago she did not know whether 
 she had seen him or dreamed about him came in and 
 looked at her. Every one spoke in whispers, and every 
 one seemed a long way off. And then she dropped off 
 again to slumber. t 
 
 It was much against Lady Ankerwyke's ideas that her 
 niece should go and nurse her sister at Mr. Caversham's 
 rooms. But what was to be done ? Lady Ankerwyke 
 could not stir out herself, for her cold had recently 
 become worse than ever. There was no one to superin- 
 tend matters but Beryl. She had Sister Mona as head 
 nurse ; there was Mrs. Froat, the best cook in the world ; 
 there was Doctor Greyfinne in constant attendance ; and 
 Caversham himself had retired from his home altogether. 
 Everything was as proper as proper could be ; but still 
 there was something about it that the aunt did not 
 quite like, and she was anxious to get Florry home 
 again as soon as possible. She hinted as much to the 
 doctor. 
 
 " Mustn't think of moving that child yet, Lady Anker- 
 wyke," said he, with a twinkle in his eye, "or I won't 
 answer for the consequences. Why, the infant is in 
 clover ! I always knew Mrs. Froat was a good cook 
 
BEE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR. 73 
 
 Can't think why that cantankerous old Vauxhall parted 
 with her but I never knew how strong she could come 
 out in the invalid line. Beef-tea splendid ! Light 
 pudding marvellous ! Jelly superb ! Mutton chops 
 poems, simply poems, Lady Ankerwyke ! IVe done my 
 part now. There is nothing left but to pull the child 
 through with good nursing and good cooking. Both she 
 has at Hanover Street ; and I positively forbid her being 
 moved at present. I had luncheon there the other day 
 with Miss Cheyn. There was a vol-au-vent which was 
 a perfect symphony ; there was a Maraschino jelly that 
 was a culinary sonnet. Why doesn't Froat shoot him- 
 self, or get a divorce ? and I'll marry Mrs. Froat, and live 
 happily for ever afterwards. Seriously, my dear Lady 
 Ankerwyke, you must not think of moving Florry until I 
 give her marching orders." 
 
 -So nothing more was said on the subject, though Miss 
 Cheyn's aunt did not like the chance of her niece meeting 
 Jack Caversham too frequently. As a matter of fact, 
 Jack was at his old rooms very little. He had given 
 them up with great pleasure for an especial purpose, and 
 only returned there occasionally for a few minutes when 
 he was obliged to. He appreciated the delicacy of the 
 situation, and acted accordingly. 
 
 Beryl was much amused at the idea of her being 
 housed in the very rooms of her "Bayard with the 
 blonde mustache." She had a good deal of time to 
 herself; and while Sister Mona kept watch over Florry 
 in the adjoining room, she amused herself by perusing 
 Edmund Yates's " Broken to Harness," which she found 
 among the number of excellent novels with which Caver- 
 sham's room was stocked. She took great delight in 
 going through the collection of pictures, which were so 
 
74 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 numerous that it was difficult to say what the original tint 
 of the walls may have been. Over the mantelpiece was 
 a perfect " gallery of girls" that had, at one time or 
 another, broken Mr. Jack Caversham's heart into very 
 small pieces so small that each of them were supposed 
 to have become possessed of a portion of it, and that now 
 he had not an atom left for any one else. 
 
 Beryl took a peculiar delight of an evening, when her 
 charge had gone off comfortably to sleep, in going 
 through this gallery and giving a little history of her own 
 to each damsel. She would attempt to read the cha- 
 racter of that dark-eyed girl with a fan ; she would 
 ascribe weakness to the fair-haired damsel with cast- 
 down eyes ; and had composed quite a novelette in her 
 mind with regard to a bright, Leslie-faced girl, in an 
 oval frame. There was one striking picture of a grace- 
 ful damsel in apparently some fancy costume, charm- 
 ingly drawn in silver-point by Sainton, that forcibly 
 impressed her. Some of these pictures had autographs 
 beneath them, and Miss Cheyn would try to build 
 up their characters from their handwriting. It was 
 astonishing the interest that she took in this gallery 
 altogether. 
 
 There were other pictures that she took pleasure in 
 besides the portraits. One she never discovered till she 
 had been there a week, by reason of its hanging in a 
 recess, and being somewhat in the shade. One night 
 she came suddenly upon it, and she said aloud 
 
 " Wraysbrick ? Why, that is Wraysbrick. I wonder 
 what Mr. Caversham knows of Wraysbrick ?" 
 
 There undoubtedly was Wraysbrick, with its quaint 
 chimneys, its high-pitched roof, its curious ancient 
 windows, and its grand old elms. It was many years 
 
J3EE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR. 75 
 
 since Beryl had been there, but she now seemed to recol- 
 lect every stone of it. The next day it so happened 
 Caversham called for some books, and he was an- 
 nounced in as ceremonious a fashion as he would be if 
 calling on Lady Ankerwyke at her own house. He came 
 laden with fruit and flowers for Florry, and he stopped 
 for some little while, making inquiries after the child, 
 and chatting on general topics. 
 
 He only intended to remain five minutes ; but he found 
 Beryl more than usually agreeable, and he sat down and 
 stayed for an hour. The pair became so very friendly 
 and confidential that Lady Ankerwyke would have been 
 very anxious could she have seen them. Luckily, our 
 rightful guardians do not see everything, or the world 
 would be a much more anxious and unbearable place than 
 it is. Despite Doctor Greyfinne and Mrs. Froat, it is to 
 be feared, had Beryl's aunt seen how very amicable these 
 two young people were, Miss Florry would have been 
 fetched home without further delay. 
 
 It was during this call that Miss Cheyn told him all 
 about the theatricals that they intended to have in Great 
 Ormond Street, but which had been put off in con- 
 sequence of Flo's illness, but that now the child was 
 getting on so nicely would shortly take place. She also 
 informed him what a difficulty they were in, as Herbert 
 Themeter, who was to have played the Marquis de 
 Frontignac in A Wonderful Woman, was suddenly 
 ordered abroad, and they did not know who they could 
 possibly get to fill his place. 
 
 This matter was talked over for some time, and the 
 end of it was that Jack Caversham who had played the 
 part before consented to undertake it on the condition 
 that he was not compelled to shave off his mustachios. 
 
7$ A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 When Lady Ankerwyke came to hear of this she was 
 very much distressed. She had serious thoughts of 
 breaking up the party altogether and sending Beryl away 
 on a visit. This, however, could not be done, as the 
 invitations, after having been once rescinded, had again 
 been sent out, and most of the actors were already perfect 
 in their parts. 
 
 It was at the conclusion of this long call that Beryl's 
 eyes happened to light on the photograph of Wraysbrick 
 just as Caversham was leaving, and she said 
 
 " Do you know Wraysbrick, Mr. Caversham ? " 
 
 " Yes, very well indeed, Miss Cheyn. Have you ever 
 been there ? '' 
 
 "Yes, but not for years. That picture has recalled 
 some of my earliest reminiscences." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 " Yes ; indeed it has. I went there with my aunt, 
 Mrs. Clayvill Colonel Clayvill's widow. I was with her 
 when my father was in India. I was a little tiny child of 
 six. I have not seen the spot since, but the photograph 
 recalls every line of the place to my imagination. Have 
 you visited the house lately?" 
 
 " I was staying there only two months ago." 
 
 " Who has it now ? Any one nice ? " 
 
 "Well, I fancy so," replied Jack, laughing. " But then 
 I'm scarcely an impartial judge, for it happens to be my 
 own mother ! n 
 
 " Really ? " said Beryl, with much surprise. 
 
 4< And were you," added Jack, passing his hand across 
 his forehead, " the little child who was staying there 
 when I came home from Eton one summer that they 
 called Bonny Bee ? " 
 
 " I believe that was my pet name " 
 
BEE IMPROVES THE SHINING HOUR. 77 
 
 " Then the mystery is at last solved/' said Caversham, 
 as he rose to say good-bye. 
 
 And Beryl Cheyn pondered the matter in her mind 
 after he had departed, and wondered what on earth he 
 could mean. 
 
78 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 COMEDY AND TRAGEDY. 
 
 LONG before it was time for the curtain to go up at Lady 
 Ankerwyke's, the large room where the theatricals were 
 to take place was crammed, and when the overture had 
 commenced every one had settled down into his place, 
 and there was "not even standing room left in the 
 gallery," as Kit Crickleum said, who was busily engaged 
 in flirting with the prettiest girl in the room on one side, 
 and retailing the most recent scandal to a deaf dowager 
 on the other. 
 
 He was obliged to leave off suddenly in the midst of 
 one of his best stories, and in his confusion he put the 
 young lady's lace-bordered handkerchief, 'which he had 
 just picked up, into his pocket, and dropped his eyeglass 
 with a click, as a shrill-sounding bell announced the 
 rising of the curtain and the commencement of the 
 comedietta A Wonderful Woman. The audience 
 applauded tremendously, for they were quite taken aback 
 at the pretty picture set before them. Heysham had 
 done a good deal for this. Not only had he painted 
 some of the scenery, but he had carefully set the whole 
 scene, introduced real flowers, saw that everything was 
 properly grouped, and that the background was in liar- 
 
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY. 79 
 
 mony with the figures. In short, he had made Madame 
 Bertrand's boudoir as perfect as could be on so limited a 
 stage. A charming little drawing-room orchestra had 
 been arranged by Dayne, who presided at the piano. 
 Indeed, Caversham had pressed all his friends into the 
 service for this special occasion. 
 
 Kate Clarrymore, as Hortense, looked very charming. 
 The figured satin dress, the point-lace, and the powdered 
 wig suited her admirably. Both she and Charlie Hali- 
 bourne, who played Rodolphe, were somewhat nervous at 
 first ; but when Beryl Cheyn, as Cecile, came running 
 in exclaiming " Oh, good gracious ! " a new life seemed 
 to be infused into the whole thing, and the little scene 
 between her and her aunt went tremendously. The next 
 point in the performance was when Caversham entered 
 as Frontignac. He looked the character to perfection. 
 His puce silk suit, his muslin cravat, his point-lace ruffles, 
 his powder and bag, his sword and chapeau-bras, and 
 every minute detail of his costume, had been most care- 
 fully considered. The only thing that was a drawback 
 was the blonde mustache, which nobody had been able 
 to make him shave off. He seemed perfectly at home 
 as he rattled on, " What does all this mean ? A letter 
 with no signature ; a house with no one at home ; a 
 gentleman who is no relation ; and a servant who knows 
 nothing. Well, a man who is thoroughly ruined can 
 afford to take things easily, so here I'll stay till some 
 explanation comes to me." 
 
 All seemed to improve as they went along ; not a point 
 was missed ; and Kit Crickleum's high little chuckle was 
 frequently to be heard, indicating to the dull portion of 
 the audience " where the laugh came in." Every one was 
 anxiously awaiting the scene between Frontignac and 
 
8o A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Cecile, and wondered how it would be got through. 
 Jack was evidently a little bit nervous, and faltered 
 somewhat as he said, " It's very easy to say ' calm your- 
 self!' but I'm lost in a fog. How shall I employ my 
 last few single moments ? Once married, I shall no 
 
 longer be allowed to say Here's a pretty little girl 
 
 coming ! " 
 
 Then Beryl, as Cecile, enters crying, and saying, " I 
 will not go to school again ; I'm determined." The 
 half-pouting, half-tearful talk of Cecile was admirably 
 rendered, and the points were thoroughly appreciated 
 by her audience. It may be remembered that Cecile 
 says she is very miserable, and does not care who knows 
 it ; and then the following dialogue ensues : 
 
 Jack. " Miserable, and so young ? " 
 
 Beryl. " Yes, sir." 
 
 To this came a burst of applause. 
 
 Jack. "And so pretty?" 
 
 Beryl. " Yes, sir." 
 
 Here everybody became enthusiastic, and Kit Crick- 
 leum dropped his eyeglass and shouted u Brava brava! " 
 And when Caversham waited for the applause to die 
 away, and said, " Poor little candid child, can I help 
 you ? " the whole room seemed to have suddenly thawed, 
 and applauded vociferously. But people who knew the 
 piece were aware that the great scene was yet to come, 
 and they watched the following dialogue with the keenest 
 interest : 
 
 Jack. " Who is Rodolphe ?" 
 
 Beryl. " Oh, such a nice young man, sir ! " 
 
 Jack. " I dare say ; and has your aunt any affection for 
 him?" 
 
 Beryl. " I don't know, but / have," 
 
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY. Si 
 
 Jack. " Well, if the character of this young man should 
 prove good " 
 
 Beryl. " Don't say if, sir ; he's everything he ought to 
 be." 
 
 Jack. " No doubt ; however, subject to that, your 
 uncle gives his consent." 
 
 BeryL u Oh, how kind of you ! You're something like 
 an uncle, and I'm sure I shall love you very much." 
 
 Then she advanced as if to embrace him. Kit 
 Crickleum was delighted, and an old young lady from 
 Clapham looked very much horrified. Then Jack says, 
 in his airiest manner, " Don't check yourself, my dear 
 don't check yourself," and Beryl replied, " Well, then, I 
 won't," and then she ought to have embraced him and 
 rushed off. Instead of that she advanced a step, and 
 then said, " Oh ! good gracious, there's somebody there," 
 and rushed off on the wrong side, and upset something 
 or somebody in the wing that came down with a 
 tremendous crash. 
 
 " Sell for Caversham," said Kit, in an undertone, and 
 people shrugged their shoulders. Caversham began to 
 pull his mustachios nervously, and it was about a 
 minute before the piece proceeded. The rest of the act 
 went somewhat flatly. Jack seemed to have lost a good 
 deal of his spirit, and it required all the most careful 
 playing on the part of Halibourne and the others to 
 pull the thing together. Between the acts, whilst the 
 audience were talking over the performance, the actors 
 were disputing in the extemporized green-room. 
 
 Good-natured Kate Clarrymore had lost her temper 
 for once, and had told Beryl if she did not choose to play 
 the character properly she had better have left it alone. 
 Beryl retorted that she would throw up the part alto- 
 
 G 
 
82 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 gether. Caversham was growling in an undertone to 
 Halibourne, and it was only by the exercise of the most 
 crafty diplomacy on the part of the latter that the second 
 act was performed at all. However, it went fairly enough, 
 for Beryl and Jack did not come much together in it. 
 Just at its conclusion she had to say to him 
 
 " You're not going to make any more shoes, are you ? " 
 
 And Jack replied, "If you don't hold your tongue, my 
 last act of cobbling shall be to sew your mouth up ! " 
 
 He said this with such energy and bitterness that one 
 would fancy he would have liked to perform the operation 
 in earnest on the spot. Caversham, however, was 
 destined to endure a good deal of vexation that night. 
 His services were not required in the afterpiece, so, along 
 with Kate Clarrymore and others, he came round and 
 sat among the audience and received their congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 The next piece was The Little Rebel. Dolly Lamer 
 played Stephen Poppincourt ; Maud Feyton, Mrs. Win- 
 grove ; Beryl Cheyn, Laura ; and Captain Halibourne, 
 Arthur Ormeston. The whole thing was enacted with 
 great spirit. As the high-spirited girl, relegated to short 
 frocks by her juvenile mama, Beryl was admirable. 
 She seemed determined that nothing should prevent 
 her going into the whole character heart and soul; 
 and the way in which she frisked about the stage with 
 Lamer and made him jump and skip as the imbecile 
 old Poppincourt, was a thing to be remembered. Hali- 
 bourne was simply perfect in his part. He had 
 rehearsed it with Beryl over and over again the con- 
 sequence was that there was not a tone or a gesture 
 out of place, and it was the most finished bit of acting 
 of the evening. 
 
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY. 83 
 
 When he had to say to Beryl, " Laura, you love me, 
 then ? " and she replies, " Better than my biggest doll 
 better than lemon-drops or burnt almonds better than 
 all the world ! " every one laughed, and Caversham smiled 
 grimly. But when she gave him her hand and allowed 
 him to smother it with kisses, Jack looked very wrath 
 indeed, and inwardly vowed that private theatricals were 
 about the very worst form of amusement ever invented. 
 But he could not help admitting to himself that Beryl 
 acted the character to perfection. 
 
 With what spirit did she deliver the tag : " I should 
 have still been treated like a child, and kept at school, if 
 I hadn't had the spirit to rebel. Yes, I'm not ashamed 
 to confess it I rebelled. Ah ! it was very wrong." 
 And then she glanced at Caversham with a mixed look 
 of penitence and fun. "Rebellion is dreadful when it 
 breaks out in short frocks ; and though I gained a 
 husband by it, I promise never to give him cause after 
 marriage to call me ' The Little Rebel.' " 
 
 Caversham was delighted, in spite of his ill-humour, 
 and he tore the flower out of his button-hole and flung it 
 at her. Kit Crickleum and many other men followed his 
 example, and not a few of the ladies' bouquets went in 
 the same direction. 
 
 Despite his wrathful state of mind, Caversham some- 
 how or another found himself next to Miss Cheyn at 
 supper. He complimented her on her performance, and 
 spoke so much in earnest, and was so enthusiastic, that 
 Beryl was quite pleased. She said 
 
 " It's very good of you to say so, I'm sure, Mr. Caver- 
 sham. You know I felt more at home in the second 
 piece. I was not myself in the comedy, and I don't 
 think I knew what I was doing- " 
 
84 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Caversham smiled. 
 
 " I quite lost all idea of myself in the farce. Beryl 
 Cheyn was gone, and Laura Wingrove reigned in her 
 stead, and '' 
 
 "And was so much in love with Arthur Ormeston," 
 interpolated Jack. 
 
 " Yes ; oh yes ! " answered Beryl, as her eyes sparkled, 
 and, she blushed. " I loved him so much ; better than 
 my biggest doll better than lemon-drops or burnt 
 almonds." 
 
 "Better than all the world?" asked Jack. 
 
 " I'm afraid I spoiled your scene in the comedy, Mr. 
 Caversham," said the young lady, affecting not to hear 
 his question. "I'm very sorry; I couldn't help it. It 
 wasn't my fault, I think " 
 
 " You made the exit on the wrong side, Miss Cheyn, 
 which threw us into a little confusion," replied Caver- 
 sham, with assumed indifference. " If I had only known 
 what your intentions were " 
 
 " Oh, they oughtn't to have kissing in comedies at all." 
 
 " Or farces ? " asked Jack, mischievously. 
 
 " How well the farce was played," cut in Kit Crickleum. 
 " How thoroughly it was rehearsed. Well, you know, it 
 couldn't be otherwise," he added to Jack, in an under- 
 tone. "Halibourne and Miss Cheyn have played 
 together in amateur theatricals ever since they were 
 babies. All that love-making, too, was so natural ; and 
 no wonder." 
 
 "Why?" asked Caversham. 
 
 " Why," continued Kit, " because they've been lovers 
 ever since they were so high. And now, I believe, there's 
 no doubt about it, they're engaged. And a very good 
 thing it will be. Miss Cheyn, they say, hasn't a penny 
 
COMEDY AND TRAGEDY. 85 
 
 to speak of; but Halibourne will be well enough off 
 when his uncle Sir Charles drops old boy can't last 
 long, though they say gouty people live for ever and, at 
 any rate, Lady Ankerwyke's money won't be divided. 
 And Captain and Mrs. Halibourne will have what you 
 would call a very good start, and not an indifferent 
 prospect for young people. Well, that reminds me, don't 
 you know, of the tale they are telling about the Duke 
 of Tattlebury. Tattlebury, not half a bad sort of fellow, 
 don't you know, was staying down in Snipeshire. Well, 
 his man came in one morning ; he had been valet to the 
 Marquis de Galantine, don't you know " 
 
 "But about Halibourne and Miss Cheyn. When 
 were they engaged ? " asked Jack. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't stop a good story, Caversham, 
 I was just coming to the point. I don't know when. 
 But they are engaged, I know, for certain, and I should 
 think would be married this year. At any rate, I'm 
 engaged to Miss Cheyn for the first waltz after supper." 
 
 And Jack Caversham, like a foolish fellow, left the 
 house directly supper was concluded, and went home 
 and growled. He could see through the whole thing 
 now. He could perceive the reason why Beryl had 
 marred the principal scene in the comedy ; he could 
 understand her unaccountable behaviour, and could see 
 exactly that she wished to give him a hint that their 
 relationship could never be closer than it was at present. 
 How blind he had been, with Halibourne so constantly 
 before his eyes, not to see this before ! However, it was 
 not too late to attempt to remedy his misfortune. He had 
 been due at Mentone for some time, and on the morrow 
 he would pack his portmanteau and be off. 
 
86 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT. 
 
 IT was only a day or two before the fatal theatricals at 
 Lady Ankerwyke's that the temporary occupation of 
 Caversham's rooms by Miss Cheyn and her sister had 
 been surrendered. Jack had latterly called a great deal 
 oftener at his own rooms than was good for the peace of 
 mind of either Beryl Cheyn or himself. , 
 
 Of course there were all sorts of excuses. There was 
 the old acquaintance of ^childhood at Wraysbrick to be 
 talked over. Then Jack felt it incumbent on him to call 
 frequently to inquire after Flo. He brought her fruit and 
 flowers r from Covent Garden (the white camellias that 
 Beryl wore in A Wonderful Woman were Jack's pre- 
 sent, but nobody knew anything about this : had Lady 
 Ankerwyke dreamed of such a thing she would have been 
 horrified), and when the child was getting better he 
 came with books and newspapers. Of course, when the 
 theatricals were once started Mr. Caversham was always 
 wanting to see Miss Cheyn on one point or another. 
 One day he wished to consult her as to costume ; an- 
 other upon her idea on the reading of a certain line. 
 Sometimes he was compelled to call to ask some 
 question as to the scenery which he had undertaken to 
 
THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT. 87 
 
 superintend at others he was obliged to look in as he 
 had quite forgotten what hour was fixed for the next 
 rehearsal. 
 
 All this troubled Lady Ankerwyke immensely. Once 
 get the theatricals over, she would put an end to all this, 
 she had determined. Charlie Halibourne must certainly 
 come forward, Beryl would be a good and obedient niece, 
 and they would marry and live happily for ever afterwards. 
 There was some doubt, however, in the good old lady's 
 mind whether everything could be carried out in the way 
 she wished : she began to be conscious that it would not 
 be quite so easy to achieve her pet project. 
 
 She saw now that young people who had been so much 
 thrown together during childhood, and who had since 
 established such a confidential cousinship, might possibly 
 be disinclined to carry matters further. She noticed 
 that Halibourne called less frequently at Great Ormond 
 Street than he used to. She heard of his being frequently 
 at the Clarrymores', and had once or twice heard his 
 name coupled with Kate's. She also had a suspicion 
 that Beryl would not, in a matter of this kind, be "a 
 good and obedient niece," unless her views were in har- 
 mony with those of her aunt. She had known Beryl 
 from a baby, and was well aware how obstinate she could 
 be. From eight to fifteen there was probably never 
 known a more warm-hearted, hot-tempered girl than 
 Beryl Cheyn. Her mama, her governesses, and her 
 schoolmistresses had the greatest difficulty in controlling 
 her. Indeed, there was scarcely anybody who could 
 manage her. 
 
 After fifteen she changed very much, and it was only 
 when she felt very strongly indeed upon some subject 
 that she occasionally flashed forth in the old style. Lady 
 
88 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Ankerwyke, therefore, thought it would be unwise to say 
 anything to her niece on the subject, nor did she feel 
 inclined to hint anything to Captain Halibourne. She 
 thought it was best to bide her time, and see how matters 
 would arrange themselves. 
 
 Jack Caversham, who had certainly built a little castle 
 for himself, was sorely disappointed at rinding it proved 
 to be of such an aerial character. He was not a man easily 
 led away. He had been popular enough in his time, but 
 he never had the notion that every woman was in love 
 with him. Men who have that idea are not infrequently 
 those that women care least about. He could see that 
 his society was not disagreeable to Miss Cheyn ; he 
 noticed that she brightened when he called ; he knew by 
 intuition that there was a warm sympathy between them ; 
 and he thought it was by no means unlikely that the 
 sympathy might deepen as time went on. 
 
 Jack was by no means ignorant of the sex. Having 
 lived the life he had, at the age of eight and twenty 
 experience should have taught him wisdom. He fancied 
 that he could read a woman's character ; he flattered 
 himself that, he knew whom he could 'trust that he had 
 learned the art of distinguishing the false and the true. 
 If Mr. Jack had achieved this knowledge, he would 
 have accomplished that which students of double his 
 age have never arrived at. He would have been an 
 expert in that art in which grey-haired professors still 
 acknowledge themselves to be but explorers in an un- 
 known country. 
 
 Alas and alas ! Who can understand the ways of 
 girldom ? Who can read aright the ways of womankind ? 
 They sacrifice their own lifelong happiness for a moment 
 of pique ; they will endure years of misery for the want 
 
THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT. 89 
 
 of the breaking of some trifling rule of etiquette. Much- 
 enduring and long-suffering, patient and amiable as they 
 may be under reverses, when, for their own sake, they 
 ought to take immediate and decisive action to flout 
 Mrs. Grundy for a few days, they fail terribly. And their 
 own weakness brings its terrible punishment. 
 
 Was Beryl of this class ? No matter ! Jack was very 
 indignant over the whole affair. Not, perhaps, so indig- 
 nant as sorrowful. If he could have caught the Paris 
 mail the night of the theatricals, and gone straight off, 
 and travelled as hard as he could till he reached Mentone, 
 he would no doubt have felt considerably better by this 
 time. Or if he had stopped, and danced the dances that 
 Miss Cheyn had promised him, it would not only have 
 been more polite, but it would, at any rate, have led to a 
 clearer understanding. Instead of doing this, on the 
 strength of what Kit Crickleum says which after all 
 may be the purest gossip, with no foundation in fact he 
 loses his temper, bounces out of the house, and comes 
 home and growls. He not only behaves like a boor, but 
 acts like a fool. If, as has before been hinted, he had at 
 once taken a long journey, it would have refreshed him 
 bodily and mentally. He would have come back con- 
 vinced that he had been a fool ; he would have viewed 
 matters in a reasonable light, and tried to act like a 
 sensible man. 
 
 But he remained at home, and growled and grizzled in 
 the very worst atmosphere for his complaint. It may be 
 recollected that it was only a few days before all these 
 shocking events happened that Beryl and Flo and Sister 
 Mona had cleared out, and given up the rooms to their 
 legitimate proprietor. That is to say, the recent occu- 
 pants had departed, but they had left many of their 
 
90 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 belongings behind them. Jack had not intended to return 
 for a week till the place was thoroughly set to rights, but 
 his sudden determination to start for the south of France 
 brought him back unexpectedly. The rooms still bore 
 such reminiscences that they became peculiarly annoying 
 to him in his present state of mind. 
 
 He found Austin Dobson's "Vignettes in Rhyme," 
 with the paper-knife between the pages of that charming 
 poem " Tu Quoque." He recollected reading it to Beryl 
 one day, and how delighted she was with it. He remem- 
 bered her placing the paper-knife in it, and saying, "I 
 must read that again, Mr. Caversham !" He could recall 
 her exact expression, what a sparkle there was in her eye, 
 and he could see in imagination her exquisite little 
 dimpled hand grasping the ebony paper-cutter. Then 
 his eyes glanced at the photograph of Wraysbrick, and 
 he knew every word she said about the picture, the 
 remarks she made on Miss Batiste's portrait, and what 
 questions she asked about the sketch of Cecil Stillmere. 
 He called to mind that she had promised him a photo- 
 graph of herself, and he thought sadly that he would 
 never receive this now. 
 
 All this was very foolish it was unmanly, it was con- 
 temptible. When one sees it written in black and white 
 it appears absolutely childish and silly. But how many 
 of us have gone through the same thing and have not 
 behaved a whit better, and how many more of us will 
 go through the same thing again and behave very much 
 worse ? 
 
 All through the house there were reminders of his 
 departed guests. Outside on the landing was a gigantic 
 dress-basket that had not yet been fetched away. There 
 were a pair of Flo's boots standing on his bedroom 
 
THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT. 91 
 
 mantelpiece, and a lot of Beryl's music on the top of his 
 piano. He opened the piano and carelessly struck a few 
 chords : he found a little grey glove tucked behind the 
 music-desk. He took it up and smoothed it out : he 
 knew well enough to whom that belonged. 
 
 There was a sharp knock at his door. 
 
 " Oh, come in ! " shouted Caversham, somewhat 
 irritably. 
 
 And in came the pleasant face of Doctor Greyfinne. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter, Master Jack ?" 
 
 " Oh, I'm all right, doctor," answered Jack, wearily. 
 
 " All right ? Don't tell me ! I suppose I don't know 
 my business, do I ? Up late last night, I see. Couldn't 
 go to sleep when you went to bed. Got up early felt 
 worse. No breakfast to speak of. You scorned Mrs. 
 Froat's omelette, and sent her grilled bacon untasted 
 away. You have not shaved. You have had a B. and S. 
 since breakfast. Your room is in a muddle. Ypur mind 
 is disorganized. And," he added, pulling back the 
 portiere, and gazing into the next room, " you are pack- 
 ing up a portmanteau, and you meditate a sudden 
 flight. Mr. John Caversham, sir, I'm ashamed of 
 you!" 
 
 " My dear doctor," replied Caversham, laughing in 
 spite of himself, " I'm all right just a little down, you 
 know. One can't be always screwed up to concert 
 pitch ! " 
 
 " Concert pitch ! indeed, no. You cannot touch con- 
 cert pitch without being defiled. People are always try- 
 ing to keep up to concert pitch in the present day, 
 consequently they are always breaking down. If it were 
 not for fools and concert pitch I might put up the 
 shutters at once. It isn't a question of concert pitch with 
 
92 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 you, sir ; you're altogether out of tune. Instead of being 
 a good, honest Broadwood, you have become the hack 
 piano of boarding-school misses. I suspect some miss 
 or misses have been playing on your heart-strings to a 
 pretty tune. I see you one day a bold, healthy, hearty 
 Englishman an English man, sir. I find you another, 
 a love-sick boy, sir a boy, sir, I repeat toying with the 
 cast-off glove of a feather-brained girl." 
 
 Jack started, and coloured, for he had been quite un- 
 conscious that he had been caressing and smoothing out 
 that little grey glove all the time the doctor had been 
 talking. 
 
 " John Caversham, you are a fool ; but not such a fool 
 that you are not ashamed of your folly. You see that 
 glove it is a fit emblem of the occasion that I wish to 
 improve. That glove, sir, is crumpled it is soiled, it is 
 rent, it is useless." 
 
 " No, doctor only been worn once," cut in Jack, as he 
 held the glove up and laughed. 
 
 " No matter, sir ! For the sake of a hard fact, and the 
 plain, unvarnished truth, I decline to be deprived of my 
 illustration. We will say, for the sake of argument, that 
 that glove is crumpled, soiled, rent, and useless. It was 
 once smooth, spotless, brilliant, and necessary to the 
 existence of its owner. Then its owner cherished it and 
 fondled it, and made much of it. But when evil times 
 came upon it, when it was no longer necessary to her 
 well-being, then she tired of it, she flung it away ! How 
 true all this is ! A girl will fling you aside with just as 
 little ceremony as she would a worn glove, and she will 
 take up with a new lover with less thought than she would 
 bestow on buying a dozen pairs of gloves. Oh, listen 
 unto the words of wisdom that fall from the lips of 
 
THE CASTLE THAT JACK BUILT. 93 
 
 George Greyfinne, philosopher and medicine-man, at 
 your service." 
 
 " My dear doctor, how you run on ! This glove is one 
 that, I suppose, Miss Beryl Cheyn left behind, and I 
 found it only just now inside the piano. I am grateful 
 for your sermon, but I fail to see the point of your dis- 
 course. Have a glass of sherry? or shall Mrs. Froat 
 give you some luncheon ? " 
 
 " I will neither eat nor drink till I have prescribed for 
 you. ' Thou art in a parlous state, O shepherd.' I fear, 
 like Bo-peep of old, your sheep have gone astray. Beryl 
 Cheyn ! Wh-h-ew ! Never do a kind action, Jack, my 
 boy. It was all my fault. I ought to have sent that 
 child to the Charing Cross hospital, and risked every- 
 thing. I knew no good would come of it. To think that 
 pretty, grey-eyed child could have worked all this mis- 
 chief ! And then she is the cause of introducing a prettier 
 grey-eyed sister, who brings misery and desolation into 
 the * house that Jack built. 7 This is the reward for doing 
 good. Never go out of your way to oblige any one. 
 Keep straight on along the path you have chosen for 
 yourself turn aside neither to the right hand nor the 
 left. If a weaker man than you be in the way, run over 
 him ; if a sickly fellow-creature delays you with asking 
 alms, button up your pockets and kick him into the 
 gutter. Show no mercy to womankind, put not faith in 
 even the youngest of them, for they will deceive you 
 under the guise of childlike innocence whenever and 
 wherever they have the chance " 
 
 " Stay and have luncheon," interrupted Jack, laughing. 
 
 " My dear Jack, I will, for I have something serious to 
 say unto you. Mrs. Froat is the only woman I ever 
 loved, and she, unfortunately, is 'married to another, 
 
94 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 and never will be mine.' And she is the only woman to 
 be trusted with a mayonnaise ! " 
 
 And over luncheon the doctor gave a great deal more 
 sage advice, though he could scarcely persuade his young 
 friend that he had built his castle on a very unsubstantial 
 foundation. 
 
( 95 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 LADY ANKERWYKE'S TROUBLES. 
 
 IT was a great grief to Flo and Baby that neither of 
 them were allowed to be present at the performance of 
 A Wonderful Woman. They would both have liked 
 to ha^e- see# it, and if they had been allowed to give an 
 imitation of the skirt dance between the acts, their joy 
 would have known no bounds. But directly Florry was 
 better, and able to walk with a little assistance, the 
 moment she could be moved without any risk, she was 
 ordered off to Dover. 
 
 " Must have a change," said the kind medical attendant. 
 " Change of scene, change of air, change of food. Bath- 
 chair in the sunshine when the wind is not too cold, sea- 
 water to bathe the ankle every morning. Go to bed 
 early ; let the exercise be gradually increased every day. 
 When you get better go to the swimming bath and take 
 lessons in swimming, and if you take care, my little lass, 
 you'll soon be quite as strong as your sister. When you 
 come to town again Til show you how to fence the best 
 exercise in the world for girls." 
 
 Flo pleaded hard to be allowed to stay to see the 
 theatricals, but the doctor was inexorable. So was Lady 
 Ankerwyke, so was Beryl. Baby was sent off along with 
 
96 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 her ; and perhaps the wholesome idea of keeping these 
 damsels absolute children had as much to do with the 
 decision as anything else. Lady Ankerwyke followed 
 directly her party was over; but Beryl remained at 
 Great Ormond Street to see after some business for her 
 aunt, promising to join them as soon as she could. After 
 leaving town, Lady Ankerwyke addressed the following 
 letter to Captain Halibourne 
 
 1 ' Marine Parade, Dover. 
 
 " MY DEAR CHARLES, 
 
 "When you left us the other evening, you 
 said you were going down to Dullington for a few days, 
 so you will have heard nothing of our movements ; 
 and it will probably surprise you to receive a letter 
 from me with the above address. You knew, I believe, 
 that Flo and Baby had been sent down here for change. 
 We shall probably be here for some weeks. Beryl 
 remains in town for awhile, as she promised to look 
 after some matters for me, but I trust she will join us 
 before long. I fear the poor child will feel dull in my 
 absence, though her old friend Maud Feyton has promised 
 to stay with her for a few days if she can possibly manage 
 it. I wish you would kindly look in when you have an 
 opportunity, and cheer her up. She is always so glad to see 
 you. And she has often said there are no friends like old 
 friends. Have you had a large party down at Dullington, 
 and have you lost your heart to Miss Perooner, the great 
 heiress, whom I hear is in the neighbourhood? Or 
 have one of the everlasting Miss Ulverstones they 
 ought to have been married before you left school 
 succeeded in hooking you ? I think it is time, my dear 
 Charles, that you thought of marriage. I am getting 
 
LADY ANKERWYK&S TROUBLES. 97 
 
 older every day, and I should like to see you settled, 
 and come and see you in your own house, before I get 
 too old to enjoy your society and that of your charming 
 wife. I am sure she will be charming ; for the good 
 taste of the Halibournes is proverbial. It is quite time 
 you turned your attention to some one; for, between you 
 and me, I counted six grey hairs on the left temple of 
 Captain Halibourne's head the other day. But I suppose 
 an old woman ought not to venture to give advice on 
 such matters. But you must forgive your aunt, Charles, 
 for the love she bears you. I trust you found Sir Charles 
 better. Pray give him my kindest regards, and 
 " Believe me to be, 
 
 " Your affectionate aunt, 
 
 " GILIAN ANKERWYKE. 
 
 " Do not forget to call on Beryl. Flo and Baby send 
 lots of love to ' Uncle Charlie,' as they call you. 
 
 " I send this to the Oleander, as I do not know 
 whether you have returned to town or not." 
 
 This letter remained at the Oleander Club for some 
 time ; for it so happened that another note that Halibourne 
 received, which had been despatched direct to Dullington, 
 caused him to go straight through London without calling 
 for his letters. The note alluded to bore the same date 
 as Lady Ankerwyke's, and ran as follows : 
 
 "East Cliff, Dover. 
 
 "My DEAR CAPTAIN HALIBOURNE, 
 
 " It is an odd time to be in Dover, is it not? 
 But I know of no place so delightful to be in before 
 it becomes crowded with trippers and excursionists. 
 Besides, we have had a sad mishap with water-pipes in 
 
 H 
 
98 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Portland Place. The drawing-room has been flooded, and 
 other rooms rendered uninhabitable. Mr. Clarrymore is 
 obliged to be at the House just now, so we have managed 
 to arrange a couple of rooms for him, and have given up 
 the rest of the place to the workmen. I was so afraid 
 you might call in our absence and wonder where we Had 
 got to. Kate told me you were gone to Dullington, though 
 I don't know how she found it out. I hope Sir Charles 
 is better. He is most certainly a wonderful man for his 
 age and the constant illness he has suffered. Kate is very 
 well, though I think she has been looking somewhat pale 
 and out of spirits lately. Have you seen anything of 
 the charming Miss Cheyn lately? Kate says she thinks 
 she is one of the prettiest girls she ever saw. If Lady An- 
 kerwyke is staying at Dullington, pray give my kindest 
 regards. Her theatricals at Great Ormond Street were 
 some of the most perfect things of the kind I ever saw. 
 Should any chance bring you to Dover at this odd 
 time of year, do not fail to give us a call, and cheer 
 up two lonely women, whom a husband and a father 
 deserts for the good of his country. Kate has her 
 horses down here, and has been out once or twice with 
 the Lamers. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Captain Halibourne, to be 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "CATHERINE CLARRYMORE. 
 
 "Kate directs this, as I was not quite sure of your 
 address." 
 
 When Halibourne saw Miss Clarrymore's handwriting 
 on the outside of the envelope he was very much delighted, 
 but his countenance fell when he found the letter was 
 from her mother. However, it had the effect of changing 
 
LADY ANKERWYK&S TROUBLES. 99 
 
 his plans altogether. He had not had a very lively time 
 down at Dullington. Sir Charles had had more gout 
 than usual. Both the Ulverstones pounced upon Charlie, 
 and quarrelled violently over him after they got to their 
 bedroom at night. Miss Perooner had endeavoured to 
 establish a flirtation with him. He was altogether getting 
 very much bored, and caught gleefully at any excuse that 
 gave him the opportunity of returning to town. 
 
 He was very glad indeed to plead urgent business, to 
 tell his man to pack up as quickly as possible, and, after 
 a very rapid drive to the station, he just managed to 
 catch the eleven o'clock express. When he arrived in 
 London he was only just able, by means of a very fast 
 hansom from King's Cross, to save the Dover train at 
 Victoria. 
 
 Beryl remained in town much longer than she expected. 
 The new housekeeper whom she had to interview did not 
 appear. She was expected every hour, so Miss Cheyn 
 could not leave town even for a day or two. Lady Anker- 
 wyke and her two little nieces got on together famously. 
 Doctor Greyfinne was quite right the cure was being 
 completed in a most marvellous fashion by change of air, 
 of scene, and of food. Florry went out four times in a 
 Bath-chair, but her bright eye and her rosy, healthy face 
 made people look round and wonder whether the child 
 was playing a practical joke or not. 
 
 Her ankle was now getting so strong that she could 
 walk very fairly with a little assistance, and she hobbled 
 along with an ebony, silver-mounted crutch stick that 
 had belonged to Caversham, and which he had given her 
 just before she went away. She was very proud of this 
 stick, though it may be hinted that her aunt scarcely 
 regarded it with high favour. Lady Ankerwyke was con- 
 
ico A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 tinually suggesting it should be laid aside, or proposing 
 that an umbrella would do equally well ; but Florry would 
 not hear of it. However, it was not long before she 
 became as strong and as active as her sister. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke used every morning, before the chil- 
 dren's early dinner, to take a turn up and down the 
 Esplanade in her Bath-chair. Sometimes she would have 
 the hood up, and sit reading a novel in the sunshine. 
 Flo and Baby were often with her, and sometimes bowling 
 their hoops along the asphalte. The two pretty children, 
 with their short petticoats and long hair, were a good 
 deal noticed, and made not a few acquaintances, greatly 
 to her ladyship's annoyance. 
 
 One morning, when it happened to be unusually warm 
 and sunny, her ladyship was sitting in her chair, well 
 sheltered from the breeze, and was reading George 
 Augustus Sala's wonderful story, " The Ghost in the 
 Double Room." There is a good deal about Dover, you 
 may recollect, in this most entertaining recital, and Lady 
 Ankerwyke had a keen appreciation of humour. She was 
 thoroughly enjoying the description of Tilly Standfast, 
 Lieutenant Lamb, Mrs. Van Plank of Sandwich, ague- 
 stricken Alfred Starling, and Responsible Bonsor ; she 
 was shaking with laughter over all the uproariously 
 comic things that went on at Snargatestone Villa, when 
 she happened to look up. 
 
 She was startled to see the children in animated con- 
 versation with some strangers, and to see a tall, soldierly 
 man kissing Baby and patting Flo on the back. 
 
 " I must go and tell those children to come home 
 at once," said Lady Ankerwyke, closing her book 
 suddenly. 
 
 She was just telling her man to start in their direction, 
 
LADY ANKERWYK&S TROUBLES. 101 
 
 when she saw, to her horror, the four all join hands and 
 rapidly approach where she was sitting. 
 
 Her ladyship, who was very short-sighted, put up her 
 double glass, focussed it on the quartette, and saw, to her 
 surprise, that her nieces' companions were none other 
 than Captain Charles Halibourne and Miss Kate Clarry- 
 more ! 
 
102 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 IN BERYL'S BOUDOIR. 
 
 BERYL CHEYN felt rather dull after the theatricals were 
 over and all the family had gone away. The last few 
 weeks had been such a time of excitement, beginning 
 with her romantic introduction to Jack Caversham, pro- 
 longed through Flo's illness, and finally culminating in 
 the performance of A Wonderful Woman. 
 
 Now that all these things were gone and past she felt 
 everything flat and insipid. She was in that big house 
 all alone : she missed her aunt's society, for Lady Anker- 
 wyke was one of the most amusing old ladies you could 
 wish to meet with, although she had really nothing of the 
 old lady about her. It was, after all, though, somewhat 
 of a relief for Beryl to have got rid of her for a time, for 
 she had certainly thrown out hints lately that Miss 
 Cheyn could hardly mistake. She was desirous of 
 keeping friendly with her aunt ; but if the affair between 
 Charlie Halibourne and herself was likely to be forced, it 
 was certain that Beryl would speak her mind very dis- 
 tinctly on the subject. 
 
 She missed Flo and Baby terribly, for her very exist- 
 ence was bound up in those children. Her devotion to 
 them and the time she spent over them was something 
 
IN BERYL* S BOUDOIR. 103 
 
 extraordinary. She not only superintended their educa- 
 tion, but looked after their amusements, attended to their 
 physical as well as their mental welfare, devised and 
 designed new dresses for them. The residence at Caver- 
 sham's rooms, the many callers, the visits of Doctor 
 Greyfinne, her anxiety about her invalid sister, and, of 
 late, the frequent calls of Mr. Jack himself, had kept Beryl 
 in a whirl of excitement, so that the quiet old house in 
 Great Ormond Street seemed to be very dull indeed. 
 
 The whole affair had been a very pretty little drama, 
 from its commencement on Boxing Night. Somehow or 
 another the last act was not satisfactory. The beginning 
 was so bright and pleasant, but the end was weak and 
 undecided. The force and brilliancy of the first volume 
 of Beryl's romance seemed to have faded in some un- 
 accountable manner before she arrived at the third. 
 Whether she had read her third volume, or whether her 
 last act had been performed, she could hardly say. All 
 she knew was that she felt very weary, that she was not a 
 little sad, and exhibited a petulance that, had it been 
 shown by Flo or Baby, would have received instant 
 punishment. 
 
 She had callers in plenty after the party. They seemed 
 never tired of sounding her praises. She was quite weary 
 of the compliments they paid her with regard to her ren- 
 dering of Cecile, and the enthusiasm with which they spoke 
 of her impersonation of Laura Wingrove. The first she 
 was certain had been a somewhat mediocre performance, 
 but the second she was conscious had been played nearly 
 as well as it possibly could be. She had been somewhat 
 nettled by the contretemps of the early part of the even- 
 ing, and she threw all her power, with a little spice of 
 mischief and spite, into her impersonation of the " Little 
 
104 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Rebel." Every one seemed to have enjoyed the evening 
 so much that it was a wonder to Beryl herself that she 
 had not enjoyed it more. Indeed, though everything had 
 gone off so well, to her it appeared to be unsatisfactory. 
 Unsatisfactory was about the only word that would 
 adequately describe her feelings on the subject. 
 
 Everybody had called except the two people she espe- 
 cially wished to see namely, Charlie Halibourne and Mr. 
 Caversham. The former she fancied might have gone to 
 Dullington, but she knew he would not be there long ; 
 and the latter, she had been assured by that ubiquitous 
 and well-informed young gentleman, Mr. Kit Crickleum, 
 was still in town. She particularly wanted to see Charlie, 
 as she wished to find out how matters were going on 
 between Miss Kate Clarrymore and himself. She thought 
 she could see how things were drifting, but she knew 
 Charlie had been one of the most fickle of his sex from 
 his youth up, and she fancied the match would hardly 
 meet with the approval of Lady Ankerwyke. 
 
 She also wanted to see him to hear if he knew any- 
 thing about Caversham, or had heard anything concerning 
 his movements. She did not know exactly what she wanted 
 to say or to know. But she wished to find some one who 
 would talk to her about the subject that was uppermost 
 in her mind, without any questions or suggestions on her 
 part. Now, if Mr. Caversham had any sisters in town, 
 how nice it would be to go and call upon them. It is 
 astonishing if a girl takes an interest in a man, or a man 
 takes an interest in a girl, how very charming all relations 
 become for a time. How heavy fathers become "benevo- 
 lent/ 'stingy mothers "worthy people," ancient unmarried 
 sisters "charming girls with no nonsense about them/ 
 hulking, riotous brothers " good fellows with marvellous 
 
IN BERYL'S ZOUDOIR. 
 
 105 
 
 1 
 
 animal spirits," and most unbearable uncles and aunts 
 " the very best people in the world." 
 
 Miss Cheyn was, after all, in no good humour with Mr. 
 
 [paved well to him 
 1 of the very best 
 I had not come to 
 , but she sat out 
 Jer eyes anxiously 
 if her " Bayard 
 I back again, and 
 nued and disap- 
 i evidently scared 
 fcjd chose to take 
 rything his own 
 fences when Dolly 
 j)ri.|d.ci[im were dying for 
 Vnd not to come 
 I It was positively 
 ard afterwards! 
 quite done with 
 would think no 
 
io6 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 at the same time as that sweet, healthy, dimpled young 
 beauty, Beryl Cheyn. What sums some of those poor 
 old women would have given for her complexion, and 
 how surprised they would have been to hear that her 
 only cosmetics were plenty of exercise, early hours, and 
 cold water. Maud said she would come to breakfast 
 and spend a long day, as these two friends had a deal 
 to talk over. Breakfast, therefore, was laid in the 
 boudoir, and Bunnidge had received strict orders that 
 Miss Cheyn was not at home to any one else. 
 
 11 Bonnie Bee " as she used to be called in her days 
 of short-petticoatism most assuredly made a dainty 
 picture on this occasion. She was only just out of her cold 
 bath, her complexion was fresh and bright, her dimples 
 were provokingly playful, and there was a tender colour 
 on her cheek such as you sometimes see in the inside of 
 an apple-blossom. Her pretty chesnut hair was hanging 
 uncoiffed over her well-shapen shoulders, and she had 
 on a coquettish turquoise-hued tea-gown. This was 
 partly open in front, and displayed a snowy-broidered 
 petticoat, and from time to time, as she carelessly swung, 
 a little foot with a high instep, daintily shod in pale blue 
 kid. Yes, if Jack had seen Beryl as she sat and swung 
 in a rocking-chair, and alternately pouted and smiled over 
 " Archie Lovell " while waiting for her friend, he would 
 most assuredly have repented that his absurd impetuosity 
 had robbed him of the four dances already alluded to. 
 
 "Come in," said Beryl, in answer to a knock at the 
 door. 
 
 And in came Maud Feyton. 
 
 " My dear Beryl, what is the matter? " 
 
 " Nothing the matter, my dear Maud." 
 
 " Nothing ? Why, you said ' Come to breakfast, as I 
 
IN BERYLS BOUDOIR. 107 
 
 have something important to tell you.' I thought Lady 
 Ankerwyke was ill, or you were going to elope with 
 Captain Halibourne, or you had had another adventure 
 with another blonde mustache, or you " 
 
 "Now, do sit down, Maud! Tea or coffee? How's 
 Lucy? How's Mrs. Feyton? Is Loo behaving worse 
 than usual ? I haven't seen you since our play ; it was 
 good of you to take that small part, and you did play it 
 so well." 
 
 "Well, you know, I enjoyed it immensely. I like a 
 small part, because it doesn't 'give you much trouble, 
 and you have all the fun of the rehearsals and have most 
 of it at the performance. I never saw anything more 
 perfect than your Laura Wingrove. I declare when you 
 came on in the second dress in the short frock and 
 pinafore I thought it was Florry. And so did many 
 others. Every detail of the dress was so complete. I 
 made a sketch of it, which, if you will give me a sitting, 
 I will make into a picture. And talking of pictures, you 
 will have to give me a sitting for another, Miss Beryl. 
 I am going to paint this room just as it is, with yourself 
 in the blue tea-gown, swinging in the rocking-chair just 
 as I saw you when I came in. It would be perfect ! I love 
 these contrasts of the old and the new." 
 
 " You are an enthusiast, Maud a real enthusiast to 
 make such fuss about what Charlie Halibourne is rude 
 enough to call my 'baby face.' If I'm ever engaged, I'll 
 get you to paint my portrait and give it to my fiance" 
 
 "Well, then, I'd better begin immediately, for you'll 
 have but little time to give me sittings ; and as I'm 
 a somewhat slow painter, you'll probably be an old 
 married woman before it is completed, and then you 
 won't care about having it." 
 
io8 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 " Nonsense, Maud ! I shall not be married for a long 
 time if ever. I really have no time for it. If you had 
 two big babies to look after, like I have, you would find 
 not even time to make a pen-and-ink sketch. Indeed, 
 I don't see any possibility of my having a husband till 
 Flo is comfortably married and settled. She really will 
 be very pretty I fancy she is already a coquette and 
 will want a good deal of looking after. You cannot trust 
 children altogether to governesses or nurses. So you 
 see my work is pretty well cut out. I have to look after 
 these girls' lessons, I have to superintend their games 
 and their amusements. To see that they take proper 
 exercise, and that they read books of the right sort. I 
 supervise their dresses have made some, and designed 
 most. Those fur-trimmed velveteens you admired so 
 much were my own idea " 
 
 " They are charming," said Maud. 
 
 "They cannot get on without me," continued Beryl. 
 " They look to me in everything. I reward them when 
 they are good, and whip them when they are naughty " 
 
 " My dear Beryl, I don't think they would fear your 
 whippings much." 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but I mention the fact to show what 
 absolute power I have over these big babies, and that 
 they are more like my own children than my half-sisters. 
 You will see I have not much chance of getting married. 
 A man could not even were he Brigham Young 
 marry three Miss Cheyns at once. Beryl Cheyn in a 
 temper as you know, my dear Maud is difficult for 
 any man to manage. If, in addition to this, there was 
 the chance of Florry Cheyn in a passion, or Baby 
 Cheyn in the sulks, he would be driven pretty well 
 out of his mind ! " 
 
IN BERYVS BOUDOIR. 109 
 
 Maud laughed. 
 
 "Ah ! you know what I am," continued Miss Cheyn ; 
 " but you've no idea what Flo and Baby can be when 
 they're naughty. I must look after both of them till 
 they're married. Flo ought to marry in seven years' time, 
 and Baby in nine. Say in ten years they will both be 
 disposed of. Then I shall be able to look out for myself. 
 And at the respectable age of eight and twenty or thirty 
 I shall try and entrap a bishop into matrimony. Do you 
 know, Maud, I think I should make such an excellent 
 Mrs. Proudie " 
 
 " Really, Bee, you have drawn a most charming picture 
 of what you, as a bishop's wife, would call self-abnega- 
 tion. At nineteen you cannot be expected to play the 
 part of the old woman who lived in her shoe. I am 
 sure that shoe," she added, glancing at the blue kid 
 slipper that Beryl was balancing on her toe, " would not 
 afford extensive accommodation. You're little more than 
 a child yourself, and it is absurd to think you can have 
 the trouble and care of two big girls thrust upon you." 
 
 " It is not a trouble nor a care ; it is not thrust upon 
 me. I undertake it willingly. I like it. But it gives me 
 no time to think of matrimony. Besides, I have no pro- 
 perty, as you have often heard me say before. I am 
 portionless. I have naught in point of fact, I am a 
 4 naughty girl,' " she added, with a laugh, " so no one will 
 marry me for money." 
 
 " Very likely not, but you'll be married for love, which 
 is ever so much better. My dear Beryl, I see through 
 all your philosophy, and enjoy hearing you talk. But 
 I know all about it." 
 
 " All about what ? " asked Miss Cheyn, starting up with 
 some alarm on her countenance. 
 
no A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 "And I come to offer my congratulations." 
 
 " On what?" 
 
 "On the betrothal of Miss Beryl Cheyn to Captain 
 Charles Halibourne. I wish you every happiness, and 
 shall expect to be a bridesmaid." 
 
 Beryl rippled back her gleaming locks, placed her 
 hand to her head, and took a long tress in her mouth 
 and bit it absently. She had a scared look about her, 
 and her friend saw that there was evidently something 
 wrong that she had gone beyond the boundary of 
 joking. 
 
 " How ? Where ? When did you hear it, Maud ? " 
 she said seriously. 
 
 " The night of your party," replied Miss Feyton. " I 
 heard Mr. Crickleum tell Mr. Caversham that he knew 
 it to be a fact; that he could give the date when the 
 wedding was to take place. I heard Mr. Caversham ask 
 him again. And he assured him that the particulars he 
 had given were substantially true." 
 
 Beryl covered her face with her hands, and rocked 
 slowly to and fro. Jack Caversham was not, after all, 
 piqued at her behaviour in the comedy, for she recollected 
 how pleasantly he had chatted to her at supper-time. It 
 was this bit of gossip that had driven him off, that had 
 made him leave those especial dances unclaimed, that had 
 caused him to neglect calling, and had marred the 
 denouement of what promised to be a very pleasant little 
 life-comedy. And Jack Caversham ? Where was he 
 now ? And Charlie Halibourne the only man who 
 could enlighten her on the subject and give her advice 
 had gone she knew not whither. 
 
( III ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 DOCTOR GREYFINNE'S PRESCRIPTION. 
 
 DOCTOR GREYFINNE, of course, affected to sneer at Jack's 
 complaint. He said he was a silly fellow ; that he had 
 brought all this trouble upon himself by doing a kind 
 action. He told him he had been a fool in the first 
 instance to go out of his way to rescue Miss Cheyn from 
 the Saint Giles's ruffians, and he had been a still greater 
 fool to give shelter to poor little Florry ; but he had been 
 greatest fool of all to return to his rooms while they were 
 still in the occupation of the enemy, and to flutter round 
 the flame until he had his wings burnt. 
 
 And there was no doubt about it Jack's wings were 
 very badly burnt indeed. The doctor had seen him and 
 had prescribed for him when he had been suffering from 
 hurts of a similar nature of a more trifling description, 
 and had been always able to make a safe and certain 
 cure. The doctor had seen Caversham through the 
 sundry attacks of love that a young man is as sure to 
 have as he is to be obliged to endure the whooping- 
 cough and measles of infancy. Jack had gone through 
 so much of this kind of thing that he had begun to think 
 himself invulnerable, to fancy he was case-hardened, to 
 give himself the airs of a cynical old bachelor, and to 
 
H2 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 talk of the things that might have been ; but the truth 
 was, Jack had never been hardly hit after all. He had 
 sighed over Cecil, he had broken his heart over Dora, he 
 had written verses to Mignonne, but he had recovered 
 before another London season came round. 
 
 This time it was a very different thing. If you have 
 the measles when you are young it does not much matter. 
 If you have them when you are verging on thirty it is a 
 very different affair. It is the same with love at least 
 as far as the sterner sex is concerned. Probably a 
 woman of thirty does not love with any great amount of 
 passion ; there is no such unselfish and pure love as that 
 of a girl of nineteen. At nineteen a girl loves with all 
 her heart, with all her soul, and with all her strength. 
 At nineteen a boy is a fool, and does not know the real 
 meaning of love. 
 
 At eight and twenty it is a far different matter ; he has 
 seen something of the world ; he has had some expe- 
 rience of womankind ; and he can, in some wise, dis- 
 criminate between the good and the bad. A youth of 
 nineteen cannot appreciate the devotion of a girl, even 
 if he could obtain it. And a girl of nineteen will rarely 
 conceive any affection for a youth of her own age. "If 
 young people will marry," said Doctor Greyfinne, "they 
 had much better leave it alone altogether ; but if they must 
 marry, let the girl be nineteen not more and the man 
 be not over thirty. Then there may be some chance of 
 happiness. The man might, in some cases, be older, 
 but the girl should never be a day over the age I have 
 mentioned. I have seen changes in damsels from eighteen 
 to one and twenty that have been really melancholy to 
 witness." The doctor was not a little concerned when 
 he saw how badly Caversham was hit, and he made 
 
DOCTOR GREYF1NN&S PRESCRIPTION. 113 
 
 many inquiries on the subject, but he could not see 
 exactly how he could help his friend. He gave him a 
 good talking to on the day he called, but it did not 
 appear to have much effect. 
 
 He was somewhat startled by receiving the following 
 letter from Jack : 
 
 " Hanover Street. 
 
 "MY DEAR DOCTOR, 
 
 u I am off. I am sick of the sight of these 
 rooms and all the associations they recall. I go by the 
 Paris mail to-night. I am sorry I shall be unable to 
 see you before I go, but I have a lot of things to see to. 
 I shall work my way down to Mentone, and will let you 
 have my address. If you have any news, I shall be glad 
 to hear from you. I wish we could have dined together 
 before I leave, but I find that is impossible. 
 
 " Ever yours most truly, 
 
 "JACK CAVERSHAM." 
 
 Greyfinne saw from this note that matters were getting 
 serious. He saw that Caversham was just in a state to 
 brook no interference ; that any attempt to stop him 
 leaving town at this present moment was likely to 
 prove a failure. He also knew that the best thing that the 
 young man could do for the prosperity of his suit was to 
 stop in town and see what might turn up. So the crafty, 
 kind-hearted doctor sat down and indited the following 
 most diplomatic note : 
 
 " Portman Square. 
 
 "Mv DEAR JACK, 
 
 " Why are you off in such a hurry ? If you 
 must go, you must, and there's an end of it. But I cannot 
 
 I 
 
U 4 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 have you running away without saying good-bye. I have 
 a little parcel I want you to be kind enough to take to 
 Mentone for Lady Yolkton, if it is not troubling you too 
 much. My patients are behaving very well just now, 
 which is an odd thing, seeing so many of them are 
 women, and I shall be free this evening. So bring your 
 portmanteau along with you ; come in your travelling 
 clothes, and dine with me at the Grampus at six. I will 
 promise to give you a better dinner and a better bottle 
 of claret than you will get before you return to England 
 again. So mind, I shall count upon seeing you. 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " GEORGE GREYFINNE." 
 
 This note settled the business. Jack thought it would 
 be a pleasant thing to have a chat with the doctor before 
 he left. His old friend, he knew, would come to see him 
 off at Charing Cross Station, and he felt assured that a 
 good dinner at the Grampus Club was no bad foundation 
 to a rough Channel passage. 
 
 At six o'clock precisely Jack presented himself at the 
 Grampus, deposited his portmanteau in the hall, and was 
 shown into the Stranger's Room. Here he was joined 
 by the doctor in a full suit of tweeds. Caversham's face 
 brightened. 
 
 "What, are you going with me, doctor?" said he. 
 " Are you going to take Lady Yolkton's parcel yourself, 
 
 after all?" 
 
 " No, no, my boy. No such luck ! But I like to fancy 
 I'm going somewhere. I shall go and see you off. And 
 then perhaps I shall go a little round of London amuse- 
 ments all by myself. It is such a treat to play at going 
 away. I shall keep the delusion up all through dinner, 
 
DOCTOR GREYFINN&S PRESCRIPTION. 115 
 
 and it will last until I see your train steam out of the 
 station. I mustn't forget that parcel of Lady Yolkton's, 
 or there will be a row,'' added Greyfinne, with a merry 
 twinkle in his eye. 
 
 The dinner was perfect. Although the Grampus was 
 a somewhat dull and ponderous club, the chef was a 
 prize, and its cellar one of the choicest in London. The 
 doctor was glad to see that his young friend's appetite 
 was excellent, and that he fully appreciated the good 
 things set before him that he partook in moderation of 
 the dry Giesler, that he neither sighed nor gulped down 
 his liquor after the custom of your ordinary love-sick 
 boy. 
 
 At the next table to them Crockett Gargoyle, the 
 architect, was giving a dinner to an eminent Q.C. and 
 the member for Budleigh Salterton. The conversation 
 was very lively at Gargoyle's table, and the talk was a 
 good deal about the House of Commons. 
 
 " One of the best speeches last night," said the member 
 for Budleigh Salterton, " was Clarrymore's. It was short, 
 pithy, and to the point. There was not a word too much 
 or a word too little." 
 
 " He's a very clever man," replied Gargoyle. " He's 
 one of the very few with his head screwed on the right 
 way. By the way, you heard what a flood he had with 
 the bursting of water-pipes at his house in Portland Place. 
 I expect that will put him about sadly." 
 
 " Losing his daughter will put him about more," I 
 fancy, said the eminent Q.C. 
 
 " How's that ?" said Gargoyle. 
 
 " Going to be married to Captain Halibourne. That 
 handsome young fellow. Lady Ankerwyke's nephew. 
 >o I hear,'' replied the eminent Q.C, 
 
Ii6 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Not a word of this was lost on the doctor or Jack. But 
 the doctor noticed that his young friend did not show 
 any disposition to hurry over his dinner ; nor was he 
 continually consulting his watch, as he had been at the 
 commencement of the meal. Greyfinne, however, saw 
 that time was kept, and at seven o clock precisely a bottle 
 of the famous claret was placed on the table. By this 
 time Jack had become somewhat more talkative ; he had 
 begun to what people call " open his mind " as if one's 
 mind were an oyster and to seriously discuss his chances 
 of winning Miss Cheyn. 
 
 " You heard what they said just now ? " said the doctor. 
 " It may be true and it may not. Halibourne has money 
 of his own and expectations that is to say, certainties 
 from his uncle and from his aunt, Lady Ankerwyke. 
 Lady Ankerwyke wishes him to marry Beryl, and my 
 belief is that if he asks her she will probably have him. 
 I generally find that money turns the scale, however good 
 or exemplary a woman may be. Indeed, I know it for 
 a fact. 
 
 ' If gold thou hast, fond youth, 
 
 'Twill speed thy suing ; 
 But if thy purse be empty, 
 Come not to me a- wooing.' " 
 
 " But, doctor, you don't think Miss Cheyn would " 
 
 " I think any woman would, Jack. If it's a question 
 between Halibourne and money or Caversham and love, 
 Halibourne wins the day. I only argue from facts that 
 have come before my eyes." 
 
 " But you don't mean to tell me that " 
 
 " I mean to tell you that you will do no good by going 
 away. That if you run off you leave the field clear for 
 Halibourne under any circumstances. And " 
 
DOCTOR GREYF1NN&S PRESCRIPTION. ii^j 
 
 " Eight o'clock, sir," said the waiter. " Cab at the 
 door, and portmanteau put up." 
 
 " Then we must go," said the doctor, gravely, " or we 
 shall miss the train." 
 
 " But do you think that if " 
 
 " If you stop and have another bottle of that excellent 
 claret, and subsequently smoke a cigar, you may possibly 
 win. If you go you will endure all the miseries of a 
 night Channel passage, and will most certainly lose. 
 Which is it to be?" 
 
 " Doctor, I yield to good advice. I stay." 
 
 " Another bottle of claret. Remove the portmanteau, 
 and send the cab away," said the doctor to the servant ; 
 and turning to Jack, he said, " I am certainly the most 
 unfortunate man in the world. Lady Yolkton will never 
 get that parcel now. It was of the utmost importance. 
 But there, it's just like my luck ! " 
 
 Jack and his friend had further talk, and concocted more 
 plots over their cigars ; and just as Mrs. Froat was going 
 to bed, about half-past twelve, she was greatly surprised 
 at the return of Mr. Caversham and his portmanteau. 
 
I IS A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A LOST CHANCE. 
 
 SAID Doctor Greyfinne to Jack Caversham on the night 
 of their memorable dinner at the Grampus Club, " It is 
 impossible to say how matters will turn out, my boy. 
 You must stay in town and watch it." And so Caversham 
 took the doctor's advice and remained in town for the 
 sole purpose of "watching it." It appeared to him very 
 much like Mr. Micawber waiting for something to turn 
 up ; yet it was some comfort to be on the spot in case he 
 was wanted. He had read in the Morning Post that 
 Lady Ankerwyke had left town for Dover. Halibourne 
 had disappeared, so he naturally concluded that he had 
 gone with her. He did not put much faith in the story 
 of the captain's engagement to Miss Clarrymore, for it 
 had been absolutely contradicted by some one who said 
 he ought to know, if any one ought. 
 
 He was one day in a shop in Bond Street buying some 
 gloves, when he heard a voice he thought he knew, 
 saying 
 
 " No, really this won't do. They're not quite the right 
 tint ; they should be pearly grey, with six buttons, just 
 like the last Miss Cheyn had. If you will get them by the 
 day after to-morrow at the latest, I shall be very glad." 
 
A LOST CHANCE. 119 
 
 He turned round, and whom should he see but Maud 
 Feyton. 
 
 " Good morning, Miss Feyton. Why, I've not seen 
 you since the play at Lady Ankerwyke's ! " 
 
 " What, Mr. Caversham? How are you? No one 
 has seen you since that evening. Everybody has been 
 inquiring where you have fled to. Popular report Num- 
 ber One says that the Marquis de Frontignac went 
 straight off that evening and threw himself over Waterloo 
 Bridge. Popular report Number Two says that Captain 
 Halibourne and Mr. Caversham went across the water to 
 fight a duel about the beautiful Madame de Bertrand. 
 Popular report Number Three says they were both shot 
 through the heart. But I can now contradict that. At 
 any rate, neither of them has been seen since that night. 
 I danced the best galop of the evening with Captain 
 Halibourne, and nobody has seen him since. Say, oh 
 say, Mr. Caversham, you have not shot Captain Hali- 
 bourne, have you ? " 
 
 " You have seen him since I have, Miss Feyton," replied 
 Jack, laughing. " I have no doubt he's wounded. Very 
 hard hit indeed ! The night of our play I left directly 
 after supper " 
 
 " I know you did, and very rude it was, without saying 
 good-bye to any of us " 
 
 "And Halibourne was, I suppose, dancing till four 
 o'clock in the morning? I say I suppose, for I have 
 seen nothing of him since. Have you heard anything of 
 Lady Ankerwyke or Miss Cheyn ? I suppose they are 
 still both at Dover. I had a charming little letter from 
 Flo the other day. I'm so glad to hear the child is 
 getting all right again." 
 
 It was a pretty little note of thanks Florry sent him ; 
 
120 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 he noticed that not a word throughout was said of Beryl. 
 In his suspicious and irritable frame of mind, he naturally 
 came to the conclusion that this was intentional, and it 
 made him very sad. Whereas the real fact was that 
 Beryl was in London, so the child never thought of 
 mentioning her. 
 
 " Lady Ankerwyke is at Dover, but Beryl is in Great 
 Ormond Street. Indeed, she has never left town at 
 all. I've been staying with her. I came to spend 'a 
 long day' a week ago, and have been there ever since. 
 She would have been with me this morning, but she was 
 obliged to stay at home to see a new housekeeper for 
 Lady Ankerwyke. I am afraid I shall be rather late for 
 luncheon as it is," added Miss Feyton, glancing at her 
 watch. 
 
 Caversham walked out with her, forgetting his change 
 and the pair of gloves he had just bought. Outside he 
 found the ancient carriage that he drove home that 
 memorable night, and Spinkle, who touched his hat, and 
 appeared to be very glad to see him once more. Jack 
 saw Miss Feyton to the carriage, and carried her parcel. 
 Maud had a great mind to ask him to drive back to 
 luncheon, but she thought he had behaved so foolishly 
 that he deserved to be punished, and she was not quite 
 certain what Beryl would say to the whole affair. When 
 Caversham said, with a grave face 
 
 " You'll give my kind regards to Miss Cheyn, please, 
 and convey my apologies I ' 
 
 " Oh, you must come and make your own peace, Mr. 
 Caversham ; don't drag me into the matter. I have 
 enough on my shoulders with my wild little sister Loo. 
 We have tea every afternoon at five, so if you wish to 
 conclude an armistice you had better come and join our 
 
A LOST CHANCE. 121 
 
 Conference. You can't expect me to be the bearer of 
 your flag of truce/' added Miss Feyton, as she drove off, 
 laughing. 
 
 Jack was well pleased, but at the same time rather 
 vexed, to think what a lot of time he had lost. What a fool 
 he had been for not calling before ! He recollected one 
 night when he had mooned down Great Ormond Street, 
 simply for the foolish purpose of gazing on the outside of 
 the mansion where once resided the girl he loved, he 
 had noticed the house looked well lighted, as if it were 
 inhabited. What a donkey he had been for not calling 
 and asking if the family had returned ! He had stopped 
 in town for the purpose of" watching it," and he seemed to 
 have let every favourable opportunity slip out of his grasp. 
 
 Over luncheon Maud and Beryl had a rare talk over 
 the unexpected discovery of Mr. Caversham. Maud was 
 very cruel in the description she gave of the miserable 
 appearance of Jack. 
 
 " He's a changed man, I declare, my dear Beryl. He 
 has aged wonderfully in the last few weeks. And those 
 light mustachios droop positively droop, my dear. He's 
 a sad wreck ! " she added, laughing. 
 
 " I wonder whether he'll come ? " said Beryl. 
 
 " Come ! Of course he will. I shouldn't be surprised 
 if he looked in this afternoon ! " 
 
 There was a thundering knock at the door. 
 
 " There he is ! " said Maud. 
 
 It happened to be the postman, who had let the 
 knocker slip out of his hand, and had given over and 
 above the professional rat-tat. But Miss Feyton could 
 see how Beryl Cheyn's colour came and went, how she 
 interlaced her fingers and bent them back, and listened 
 attentively till they were quite sure there was no caller. 
 
i::2 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 " Ah ! he cometh net, she said ; I am aweary, and 
 aweary, and I would that I were dead ! " said Maud, 
 laughingly. 
 
 "Don't be absurd, Maud, Do try and be a little 
 serious, for here are despatches from head-quarters," she 
 added, as Bunnidge brought in letters on a tray. 
 
 " Matters are getting complicated. I hope now, Miss 
 Fey ton, you'll see you're not so right as you fancied. 
 And there will be no occasion to think about your 
 bridesmaid's dress at present. Listen to this, and ter- 
 rimble ! 
 
 1 ' * Marine Parade, Dover. 
 
 "MY DEAR BERYL, 
 
 " 1 1 am very sorry you should have had to wait 
 in town for that tiresome housekeeper. I really think you 
 had better not wait any longer, though Mrs. Wivelsfield 
 tells me she is a treasure. I think treasures may be pur- 
 chased too dearly sometimes. It must be very dull for 
 you in that gloomy old house. I am glad Maud Feyton 
 has taken compassion on you, and I have no doubt she 
 has cheered you up.' (I think she has just a little bit !) 
 ' I am very sorry Charles has not called 3 (So am I) 
 'as under his escort you might have gone to various 
 entertainments. But the fact is, he has not been in town 
 at all.' (Now for an explanation of the mystery !) * He 
 is down here.' (Oh, the bad boy, what does he mean 
 by that ?) ' So is Mrs. Clarrymore ; so is Miss Kate 
 Clarrymore? ,(Ha ! ha ! Master Charlie ! ) ' It is curious.' 
 (Very odd.) ' He came straight through from Dulling- 
 ton. Never called for his letters. So he did not get 
 mine at the Oleander, or he would, of course, have re- 
 mained in town to look after you.' (Oh, would he ?) 
 
A LOST CHANCE. 123 
 
 * It is most extraordinary his being here at this time cf 
 year ; I cannot understand it.' (Oh, my dear auntie ! 
 And a woman of your vast experience and acute percep- 
 tion, too !) ' He had much better have remained at 
 Dullington and endeavoured to be of some use to Sir 
 Charles. I really do not think he is doing his duty to 
 one who will eventually leave him most of his property. 
 Dullington Park, my dear Beryl, is not to be' (to be 
 sneezed at ? Oh, Lady Ankerwyke, this is slang ! Oh, I 
 beg her ladyship's pardon) ' sneered at, nor is a snug 
 little mansion in Brook Street.' (Does your Beryl ever 
 sneer at such good things, auntie ?) * I have a terrible 
 idea that Charles is somewhat infatuated with Miss 
 Clarrymore ' (Ha, ha !) ' but I really shall have to 
 speak to him seriously.' (Poor Charlie !) * It is not 
 right for a man of his position to carry on with a girl if 
 his intentions are not serious.' (But supposing they 
 are ?) * For Kate is a very charming girl ; she is very 
 beautiful, as you know. She has quite won my heart ; v and 
 if Charles had not placed his affections elsewhere '(.Since 
 when, pray, auntie ?) ' I think she would make him an 
 excellent wife.' (I am sure she will /) 'We must take 
 the young man in hand ' (Who must ?) ' and give him 
 a good talking to. So I want you to come down and help 
 me ' (No, thank you, Lady Ankerwyke) ' in this as in 
 many other things. The children miss you terribly, and 
 want to see you ' (Poor darlings !) ' and I don't know 
 that I can manage them much longer if you do not 
 come.' (Oh, rebellious are you, Miss Flo and Miss 
 Baby? Shall your Beryl bring a birch-rod or a box 
 of bon-bons f) * Let me have a line to say what train 
 you will come by, and Ray shall be at the station to 
 meet you, and look after your luggage. I shall hope to 
 
124 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 see you.' % (Poor auntie, I'm afraid you'll be disap- 
 pointed.) 
 
 " ' Ever your affectionate aunt, 
 
 " l GILIAN ANKERWYKE.' 
 
 " There ! " said Beryl, as she screwed up the letter. 
 u Did you ever know such an auntie ? The dearest, the 
 best, the kindest, the most far-seeing in the world ! And 
 yet she thinks she can stop Charlie Halibourne marrying 
 Kate Clarrymore. And you know what her pet scheme 
 is, Maud. I told you all about it the other day. But 
 Charlie and myself have understood one another long ago, 
 or we should not be the excellent friends we are. I am 
 determined I will not be mixed up with this affair. And 
 what is more, I won't go to Dover at present." And Miss 
 Cheyn stamped her foot, and looked as if she meant 
 what she said. 
 
 Beryl wrote at once to Lady Ankerwyke, and urged all 
 sorts of excuses but the real one against her paying a 
 visit to Dover at present. While she was writing there 
 was another ring at the bell, and Beryl changed colour 
 and started, but it turned out to be only a parcel for 
 her aunt. 
 
 And where was Master Jack all this time, who started 
 in such hot haste to make his call and his peace? 
 Where ? Why, smoking a pipe in the studio of his old 
 friend Heysham, and listening to an especial communi- 
 cation of an entirely confidential nature that the rising 
 artist had to divulge concerning Mignonne Batiste. 
 
( 123 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 "AUNT KATE." 
 
 THE sudden advent of Captain Halibourne, alluded to 
 four chapters ago, especially in such company, was a sad 
 blow to Lady Ankerwyke's plans. 
 
 The last thing she thought of was that the Clarrymores 
 would be down at Dover. She had heard how their 
 house had been upset by the overflow of a cistern or the 
 bursting of water-pipes, and she was told at the same 
 time that Mrs. Clarrymore and her daughter were going 
 abroad for awhile ; she had been also informed that Mr. 
 John Caversham was to act as their escort. The real 
 fact was that they had said they meant to go South, and 
 somebody told them that Caversham was going to Paris. 
 Kate Clarrymore said how nice it would be if Mr. Caver- 
 sham would take care of them part of the way. And 
 then somebody stated definitely that they were all going 
 together, and a second somebody shook his head and 
 said it looked rather suspicious, and a third somebody 
 boldly stated that Kate Clarrymore was engaged to Jack 
 Caversham, and a fourth somebody averred that they 
 were already married, and that as there was little money 
 on either side, the young people had gone to the South 
 pf France to begin life economically. 
 
126 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke did not believe all these reports. 
 But she fancied the Clarrymores were gone, as she had a 
 long letter from Mrs. Clarrymore, stating her intention 
 of starting as soon as possible, and asking for information 
 with regard to hotels. To this letter she had replied, and 
 she thought by this time that a very serious obstacle to 
 the realization of her scheme was removed. She knew 
 that Charlie would not stay longer at Dullington than 
 was absolutely necessary, and that on receiving her note 
 he would very likely run down to Dover. She had 
 heard several times from Beryl. In all these notes the 
 fact was significantly mentioned that Charlie liad not 
 called. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke took heart at this circumstance being 
 so often alluded to, and resolved that Beryl should be 
 sent for at once ; that she would give her a good talking 
 to ; that she would have no more shilly-shallying, and 
 what her ladyship was pleased to call " missish non- 
 sense ; " that it must be pointed out to her that she had 
 been out a couple of years ; that she had been presented, 
 and that she no longer belonged to the nursery crew ; 
 that her days of bread-and-butterhood were long past, 
 and if she did not take care she would have nothing but 
 dry bread without any butter for the rest of her life. Oh 
 yes Lady Ankerwyke was going to say all this and a great 
 deal more. She was going to be very outspoken, matter- 
 of-fact, and firm, and quite intended to bring matters to a 
 satisfactory conclusion. If any excuse were urged with 
 regard to Flo and Baby, she would at once meet that by 
 sending them to school or engaging for them extra gover- 
 nesses. Lady Ankerwyke was a woman of great power 
 of mind ; she had a wide knowledge of the world, and 
 she had a great amount of shrewd common sense. She, 
 
"AUNT KATE? 127 
 
 had the rare art of commanding a situation at a glance, 
 and of taking immediate and energetic action. 
 
 She was perhaps the only person in the world who 
 could rule Beryl. One morning down at Mossmoore, 
 many years ago, when Beryl was about ten and her 
 stepmother was a confirmed invalid Lady Ankerwyke 
 found her niece in one of her terrible tempers. The 
 nurse could do nothing with her, the governess was 
 helpless, and her mama in tears. The aunt saw the 
 position of affairs immediately. When every one seemed 
 afraid of the naughty child, she coolly took her by the 
 hand and led her to her room. There she gave her a 
 good talking to, in a way that she had never been talked 
 to before, and, her ladyship being a somewhat old- 
 fashioned person, improved the occasion in an old- 
 fashioned way. From that time forth though she had 
 had many a tussle with her aunt since there was no 
 one who had such influence over her, and whom she 
 respected so much. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke knew this ; but she was also well 
 aware that Beryl was no longer a child, and was certain 
 that if she once put her foot down, there she would make 
 a stand. She fancied that if the young people could have 
 been brought together quietly at Dover, without the dis- 
 turbing influence of Miss Clarrymore on the one side 
 and Mr. Caversham on the other, things might be brought 
 to a satisfactory conclusion. But all her plans were 
 frustrated by the untimely arrival of two people whom 
 she was especially anxious to keep apart. She was, 
 however, a rare old diplomatist, and took care not to let 
 her nephew see she was either surprised or vexed. She 
 found out that he had never received her note, she 
 affected to take his visit to Dover as a personal compli- 
 
123 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 ment and made herself wonderfully pleasant to Kate 
 Clarrymore. 
 
 Though Captain'Halibourne's advent was not, under such 
 circumstances, particularly agreeable to his aunt, it was 
 hailed with the wildest delight by Flo and Baby. Uncle 
 Charlie was their criterion of everything that was good, 
 bold, brave, handsome, and generous. Halibourne had 
 already promised to marry them both when they were 
 old enough, and Flo and Baby had once quarrelled and 
 slapped one another, in consequence of a dispute as to 
 who should be the future Mrs. Charles Halibourne. They 
 were getting older and beginning to know better, and 
 they both of them felt that such a god as Uncle Charlie 
 would never be within their reach. 
 
 They continued their worship, and their enthusi- 
 astic admiration for him ; but they both agreed that 
 no one was good enough for him. Sometimes they 
 fancied Bee might be worthy of the honour, but they 
 were by no means sure of it. They would like Bee to 
 marry him, because they would be charmed to have him 
 for a brother-in-law. They would not like him to marry 
 out of the family, and they would hate any one else who 
 dared to aspire to wed their hero. All this amused and 
 pleased their aunt not a little. She delighted to hear 
 their remarks on her nephew, their praise of his appear- 
 ance, his good temper and his bravery, and she by no 
 means discouraged her little girls in their innocent hero- 
 worship. 
 
 With all the business he had on hand his having to 
 keep matters straight with his aunt, to call frequently on 
 the Clarrymores, to write frequent letters to gouty, 
 irritable Sir Charles he never forgot his old friends, the 
 big babies, and there was scarcely a day passed but what 
 
"AUNT KATE? 129 
 
 he took them somewhere and gave them amusement 
 of some description. This circumstance gave infinite 
 trouble to Ray, and made that excellent handmaid's life 
 a burden unto her. One afternoon when they were going 
 out for a walk with their hero, Miss Flo whom it has 
 already been hinted was something of a coquette 
 scorned the ordinary serge frock and sailor hat. She 
 vowed it was not half good enough she would have 
 something else altogether. Having something else, poor 
 Ray knew to her cost, meant an entire change, for Beryl 
 had very severe rules on costume, and Ray was aware 
 they were not to be infringed. She knew if the Dame 
 Trot hats were worn with the mouse-coloured velveteens 
 she would be sure to hear about it. 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke smiled when she saw the marvellous 
 transformation that had been effected when the children 
 entered, and was amused at the sudden assumption of 
 snowy embroidered muslins, pink ribbons, and Leghorn 
 hats. 
 
 Thus were they seen in at the old-established con- 
 fectioner's shop in Snargate Street, where Halibourne 
 was treating them to ices and giving them the free run 
 of the counter. It was Mrs. Clarrymore who saw them, 
 and, staring through her double eye-glass, she said to 
 her daughter 
 
 " My dear Kate, what lovely children ! What pretty 
 dresses ! What And there yes, I cannot be mis- 
 taken is Captain Halibourne ! " 
 
 "My nieces, Mrs. Clarrymore," said Halibourne, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Your nieces ? Well, I am delighted ! How well you 
 look, my dears ! Dover evidently suits you." 
 
 " Well, my nieces by courtesy, you know. They are 
 
 K 
 
I 3 o A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Miss Cheyn's sisters. This one, Flo, is an invalid the 
 one who hurt her ankle, you know." 
 
 " Yes, this is dear little Flo, and this is Baby," said 
 warm-hearted Kate, kissing both the children "the 
 pretty children I told you about, mama. Flo, you're just 
 like Beryl. Baby, I know you're up to any fun. They're 
 both full of mischief, mama. These are the two 
 naughty children who danced < Tarara-boom-de-ay ' in 
 their night-gowns on the landing after everybody thought 
 they were in bed. We're going to be great friends. Will 
 you children come out for a ride ? " 
 
 Florry's eyes sparkled ; but she told Kate that they had 
 no animals to ride. 
 
 " No matter. There are two ponies that belong to my 
 nieces down here. Captain Halibourne can get a mount 
 from his friend Morecamb, and we'll go for a glorious 
 scamper to-morrow morning. What do you say, 
 girls?" 
 
 The children were delighted. Not only did they adore 
 riding they had missed their sturdy sure-footed ponies 
 ever since they left Mossmoore but they were charmed 
 with Kate's hearty manner, and were not a little de- 
 lighted at being put on a sort of equality with herself and 
 called "girls." 
 
 It was agreed that, subject to Lady Anker wyke's 
 approval, they should all start the following day after 
 luncheon. Lady Ankerwyke did not, in her heart of 
 hearts, like this expedition at all, but she was quite 
 certain that she would do more harm than good to her 
 cause by opposing it. 
 
 By three o'clock the following day the two little lasses 
 were quite ready and were standing in the balcony on 
 the Marine Parade for their steeds and their escort. They 
 
" AUNT KATE." 131 
 
 had the smartest little hats, they had the neatest little 
 habits of dark blue thin cloth, most artfully constructed, 
 tiny white collars, cuffs, and gauntlets, and little sprigs of 
 riding whips. They had everything that a grown-up 
 horsewoman would have except the cloth trousers, and 
 Beryl had put her veto on these as being heavy, cum- 
 brous, and unfeminine. And no doubt she was quite 
 right. 
 
 Halibourne and Miss Clarrymore arrived first ; the 
 latter would insist upon dismounting and going in to 
 chat with his aunt. Lady Ankerwyke was charmed with 
 Kate : she was one of those warm-hearted and enthu- 
 siastic girls who made friends wherever she went. 
 
 " Now, big babies here are your fiery untamed 
 steeds," said the captain, who was looking out of the 
 window. " It's time to start." 
 
 The captain, having put Miss Clarrymore up, soon 
 tossed the children into their saddles ; the groom was 
 told his services would not be required ; and the whole 
 party waved their adieux to Lady Ankerwyke, who came 
 out on the balcony to see them start 
 
 It was a lovely day. They cantered off, down the 
 Marine Parade, across the market-place, and through 
 Biggin Street, intending to go as far as Buckland, and 
 perhaps beyond. The air was positively intoxicating, and 
 the little girls had not ridden for so long that they were 
 actually wild with delight. They laughed and they 
 chattered, the roses bloomed on their bonny cheeks, and 
 they were full of glee. Their merriment was infectious ; 
 Halibourne looked more cheerful than he had done for 
 weeks, and it was impossible to regard handsome Miss 
 Clarrymore without feeling life was glorious. No doubt 
 Captain Charles Halibourne thought so ; but he seemed 
 
132 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 to have to look in Kate's face a great many times to 
 assure himself of the fact. 
 
 " How do you like the pony, Flo?" said Miss Clarry- 
 more, as they were cantering along together. 
 
 " It is nice, Miss Clarrymore. I feel just as if I had 
 ridden it all my life. What is its name ? " 
 
 " Mouse." 
 
 " And Baby's ; what is that ? " 
 
 " That is Mouse also. Yours is ' Town Mouse ; ' Baby's 
 is c Country Mouse.' We have got into the habit of 
 abbreviating the names to ' T.M.' and l C.M.,' so recollect 
 yours is 'T.M.' They were brought down here for two 
 little nieces of mine, whom we expect shortly. How do 
 you like the saddle?" 
 
 " It's very comfortable indeed, Miss Clarrymore." 
 
 " I was afraid it might hurt you. It's rather old- 
 fashioned. It was made for me when I was a little 
 girl." 
 
 " No, it's all right, thank you, Miss Clarrymore. The 
 inside of the pommel is a little worn, and rubs my leg a 
 little. But it won't matter." 
 
 " I will have that seen to ; but my dear child, my 
 sweet Grey Eyes, do not keep on calling me ' Miss 
 Clarrymore,' or you and I will fall out," said Kate, 
 shaking her whip at Flo. "Why not call me Kate? 
 Everybody calls me Kate." 
 
 " Does Uncle Charlie call you Kate, Miss Clarry- 
 more ? " 
 
 " Well, you know, that's different, Flo quite different," 
 she added, evasively. " I mean all my girl friends." 
 
 " But I don't like to, Miss Clarrymore. I'm so much 
 younger " 
 
 " You don't call Uncle Charlie * Captain Halibourne,' " 
 
133 
 
 "No; that's different, you know. We've known him 
 ever since we can recollect." 
 
 " Well, mind, I won't be called Miss Clarrymore any 
 longer. If you must give me a title, why, call me Aunt 
 Kate." 
 
 "Capital!" laughed Flo "only you don't look old 
 enough. I don't think anybody ought to be an aunt till 
 they're as old as Aunt Ankerwyke." 
 
 By this time they were well away from the town, and 
 Halibourne and Baby took the lead and galloped on in 
 front. 
 
 " I wonder what mischief those two runaways are 
 after," said Kate, as she and Flo ambled along together. 
 They saw a heavy waggon coming ; and in passing it on 
 the wrong side, Baby had to go very close to the fence. 
 The pony started suddenly, and Baby's habit caught in 
 a gate. Had she not had a very good seat she would 
 have been thrown. As it was, the habit had a tremen- 
 dous wrench. It was slit in the skirt and torn out at the 
 gathers. They laughed a good deal over this ; but it 
 was rather a serious matter, and they had to make 
 temporary repairs, and ride slowly on to Charlton. Here 
 the two children descended at a cottage, and a clever 
 old lady undertook to do the necessary mending. 
 
 Flo was to wait with Baby, while Halibourne and Miss 
 Clarrymore rode on a little further. They took a con- 
 siderable time over this ride, for Baby's habit was 
 finished, and they had had a cup of milk a-piece ; they 
 had been round the old lady's garden, had fed her 
 chickens, had heard all about her son in China, and her 
 nephew, who was a master carpenter at Berkhampstead, 
 before their friends returned. Flo thought she never saw 
 Captain Halibourne look so happy, and came to the 
 
124 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 conclusion that Miss Clarrymore was the most beautiful 
 woman she ever saw. 
 
 Riding home, the children noticed that Uncle Charlie 
 was much quieter than usual, and that " Aunt Kate " 
 had none of the fun she had when they started. The 
 two little girls rode on in front, and seemed to know by 
 a rare intuition, common to the smallest of womankind, 
 that their elders would prefer to talk to one another. It 
 was somewhat late when they reached home. Miss 
 Clarrymore did not call at the Marine Parade again, and 
 Halibourne just saw the children safely in, and then 
 escorted her to East Cliff. 
 
 Flo and Baby had tea when Lady Ankerwyke was 
 taking dessert, and chattered over the adventures of the 
 afternoon. There was something said about ponies, and 
 Flo remarked 
 
 "Aunt Kate said when she was a little girl " 
 
 " Aunt whom, my love ? " said Lady Ankerwyke, 
 majestically. 
 
 "Aunt I mean Miss Clarrymore, aunt n 
 
 Lady Ankerwyke rose and rang the bell, and the 
 servant appeared. 
 
 " Send Ray at once, if you please, for Miss Flo and 
 Miss Baby ; they are tired after their long ride." 
 
 And the two children were packed off to bed, thinking 
 what an unjust world it was, and that they would 
 telegraph to their own Bee to come down and see them 
 on the morrow. 
 
( 135 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 MUSIC AND MISGIVINGS. 
 
 " WHAT a heap of letters ! " said Beryl, as she and Maud 
 were sitting down to breakfast. "What a nuisance the 
 post is ! How it mars your day altogether ! " 
 
 "And sometimes makes it," said Maud. 
 
 " Usually the other way, though. I declare I'm often 
 delighted when I find there's nothing for me." 
 
 " Yes ; but suppose in that heap you found a letter 
 from " 
 
 " I'm not likely to find any letter from any one that 
 will interest me," replied Beryl, shortly, and bit her lips 
 and blushed ; " unless it is from Flo. I'm afraid aunt 
 and the big babies don't get on very well together. 
 They're all right when I'm with them, but I think she 
 doesn't quite understand them. And both Flo and Baby 
 are difficult to manage sometimes. I shall probably have 
 to run down and set them to rights. Yes, here is one 
 from Flo. Listen. ' We want so much to see you. We 
 wish you would come down. Aunt sent us to bed the 
 other night at seven.' And a very good thing too, Miss 
 Flo. 'We have been out every day with Miss Clarry- 
 more.' Ho, ho ! ' She has lent us a pair of the splendidest 
 little ponies in the world. We went for a long ride with 
 
13$ A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 her and Uncle Charlie the other day, and were going 
 again to-day, but he was telegraphed for to Dullington 
 this morning. Sir Charles is not expected to live/ Yes, 
 I shall have to go down, there's no doubt, Maud. Here's 
 another letter for Lady Ankerwyke, and another, and 
 another, and another. Here's a begging letter, I've no 
 doubt, for it is addressed Lady Anchorwick. I wonder 
 what her ladyship would say to that ? " 
 
 " Here's one for 'Miss Feyton,'"she continued, turn- 
 ing over the letters. " I know that handwriting. That's 
 from your lovely little sister Loo. I wonder how many 
 more hearts she has been breaking? I declare that 
 girl has been a coquette from her cradle. I believe 
 she tried her hand at heart-breaking long before she 
 was out of short frocks. If she had had an Aunt Anker- 
 wyke to look after her she would have been kept in 
 order, I'll promise you, my dear Maud. Do you know 
 that I even I, your fearless Beryl confess to feeling a 
 leetle bit afraid of Lady Ankerwyke, even in the present 
 day? It is odd that she and the children don't always 
 get on well. I know that in my babyhood, when mama 
 was so ill, and aunt was continually at Mossmoore, there 
 was no one that I respected more, and I obeyed her 
 instantly. We frequently had struggles for supremacy, 
 but I must say that Lady Ankerwyke was always the 
 conqueror. What is it, Bunnidge ? " she added suddenly, 
 discovering that ancient servitor was waiting at her elbow 
 with a letter on a tray. 
 
 " Mrs. Snargate's servant has brought this, and is 
 waiting for an answer, miss." 
 
 " Well, I wonder what Mrs. Snargate has to say. Ask 
 him to wait, Bunnidge." 
 
 " Now listen, Maud. 
 
MUSIC AND MISGIVINGS. 137 
 
 " ' Cavendish Square, 
 
 ' ' ' Ever so early, Friday morning. 
 
 "'MY DEAR BERYL, 
 
 " ' I meant to have called yesterday afternoon 
 to have a chat with you, but was unexpectedly prevented. 
 I promised Lady Ankerwyke to look after you, and so, of 
 course, I haven't been near you. I want to have the 
 chance of appearing in the character of chaperon this 
 afternoon, so you must come to luncheon at one, sharp. 
 I will send the carriage for you at half-past twelve. Bring 
 Miss Feyton with you, if she is still staying with you and 
 cares to come. After luncheon we will all go to St. 
 James's Hall. It will be an excellent concert. And, my 
 dear Beryl, what do you say to Bach's Chaconne for the 
 violin, Beethoven's pianoforte trio in C minor, and his 
 quintet in C major for strings ? Eh ? I don't believe 
 you really care about music, you little Goth. But I dare 
 say Miss Feyton does. If she has only half the taste in 
 music that she has in painting (I saw some lovely sketches 
 of hers at Mrs. Chalkley's the other night) she will pass 
 a most enjoyable afternoon. Don't fail to come and 
 gladden the heart of 
 
 " ' Yours most truly, 
 
 "' SYLVIA SNARGATE.' 
 
 "The dearest little woman in the world, but mad 
 absolutely mad upon music," said Beryl ; " and, if 
 possible, madder still upon lions. It is a good thing 
 that your great lion is not always violently musical. If 
 Doctor W. H. Russell only played upon the ophicleide, 
 if Sir John Millais blew the trombone, or Mr. Irving 
 performed upon the violoncello, Syl Snargate's delight 
 
138 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 would be unbounded. She knows everybody in London 
 who is even a ghost of a celebrity, and her Thursday 
 evenings are sometimes very amusing. Now, I don't 
 care twopence about Bach's Chaconne but chacun a 
 son gout " 
 
 " Beryl, I'm ashamed of you ! " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Good very good for me ! Nor am I 
 anxious to hear a quintet in C major. I know they will 
 all look so solemn. They will look as if they were 
 Cabinet Ministers, and as if the settlement of the Irish 
 Question depended upon the way they fiddled, and I am 
 sure I shall laugh ; but Syl is so amusing that I vote 
 we go." 
 
 Maud was decidedly for going, and so Miss Cheyn 
 wrote word that she would be very glad to accept Mrs. 
 Snargate's invitation. 
 
 " I think you'll like Syl immensely, Maud," said Beryl, 
 as they drove along. " She is a charming edition of Mrs. 
 Leo Hunter. I was at school with her. She is a good 
 deal older than I am; she was what we thought then 
 grown up, and I was what is called now a green peach/ 
 She was mad about music then. She nearly ran away 
 with the Italian singing-master, and my real belief is that 
 she only married Mr. Snargate because he is one of the 
 best amateur performers on the violoncello in London. 
 They have no children, there is lots of money, and he is 
 at least twenty years older than she is. She goes out a 
 great deal, and I don't wonder at it, for it must be dull 
 work spending an evening at home, with old Snargate 
 droning away on the violoncello " 
 
 " My dear Bee ! " 
 
 "Well, I didn't mean to be disrespectful. But he is 
 old, and most decidedly dull. You probably won't see 
 
MUSIC AND MISGIVINGS. 139 
 
 him to-day. He holds some appointment in the Dumble- 
 dore Office, which he attends to when it suits him, and he 
 spends a great deal of his time at the Athenasum Club. 
 I should not like it if I were Syl. But it does not seem 
 to trouble her. With her enormous circle of acquaint- 
 ances, she has always an escort at command." 
 
 They found, as Miss Cheyn had predicted, that Mr. 
 Snargate did not show. There was an amateur tenor, 
 who had to rush off in the middle of luncheon, because 
 he had to sing at a morning concert at Lewisham, and 
 would only just be able to catch his train. Mrs. Snargate 
 and Miss Feyton soon became great friends, and made 
 common cause against Beryl because she sneered at 
 quintets in C major and chaconnes. She was a brilliant, 
 pretty little woman of seven and twenty, with a merry 
 laugh and with an enthusiasm that was perfectly infectious. 
 Even Beryl felt, before she had been there half an hour, 
 that she might get up some excitement over a quintet in 
 C major, and could even tolerate an ancient husband 
 who droned away on the violoncello. 
 
 " My dear Bee Bonny Bee, as we used to call that 
 little teetotum at Miss Demure's," said Mrs. Snargate 
 <{ it makes me feel quite old and wrinkled to see you so 
 grown up. I don't believe you're nineteen. As Laura 
 Wingrove yon only looked twelve. I believe it's a swindle 
 altogether. The idea of Bonny Bee getting married ! " 
 
 Beryl laughed and blushed, and Mrs. Snargate 
 noticed it. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know anything for a fact, Bee ; but I have 
 heard one thing and another. I can put two and two 
 together, just as well as I could at Miss Demure's most 
 select establishment for young ladies when we were 
 taught " 
 
MO A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 " Singing by Signer Firenze," suggested Miss Cheyn, 
 quietly. 
 
 " S-s-sh ! You bad child. Never tell tales out of 
 school ! What I was going to say was that I can read 
 clearly now, whereas I could only formerly spell. ' But 
 she made no impression on the artilleree, for the captain 
 with his whiskers took a sly glance at Bee ! ' " sang the 
 lively little lady. 
 
 "Mrs. Snargate, that is not classical music. I am 
 surprised at you ! " said Beryl. 
 
 " Well, child, I know you cannot appreciate classical 
 music, so you see I sink myself to your level. You ought 
 to have been here last Thursday. We had a very 
 good evening. Lots of talk and not too much of what 
 you would call 'fiddling/ but what people with well 
 regulated minds would call stringed quartets. George 
 Grossmith was here, and gave his humorous lyric about 
 the ' American Girl.' Later, Corney Grain appeared and 
 sang that excellent song called l Spring's Delights.' 
 Mr. Clarrymore was here, who has just got his house 
 in the hands of the workmen, and appreciated it im- 
 mensely. I never saw a man laugh so much. Very late 
 indeed Arthur Cecil came in and gave us his sketch 
 of sitting to a photographer. Altogether we had one of 
 the liveliest evenings we had for some time. It's half- 
 past two," she exclaimed, looking at the clock, " and I 
 wouldn't miss that quintet of Beethoven's for any money." 
 
 The hall was pretty well crowded when they arrived, 
 but stalls had been secured in the best position. Seated 
 behind them were two oldish young ladies, who seemed 
 to know everybody and the history of most people. 
 They kept on making their remarks to one another 
 in a tone so loud that it was distinctly audible to those 
 
MUSIC AND MISGIVINGS. 141 
 
 sitting immediately in front of them. They were very 
 caustic and smart, and acidulated drops of their conversa- 
 tion reached Beryl from time to time, and she was 
 mightily amused at the running commentary which these 
 ladies kept up with regard to the audience. 
 
 "There's Mrs. Shad-Thames," said one babbler to the 
 other. " I suppose she'll introduce a morning concert in 
 her next novel. She ought to introduce something in her 
 next there was nothing in her last. Who is Shad- 
 Thames ? I never saw him. Did any one ever see him ? 
 What position do the husbands of popular novelists 
 occupy ? What fun it would be to give a dinner to the 
 husbands of lady novelists ! It would be worse, I am 
 thinking, to be the husband of a lady novelist than the 
 husband of an actress " 
 
 At this moment a very distinguished young lady, in 
 a quiet but faultless toilet, took her seat in the stalls. 
 She had such an air about her, and such a sweet smile 
 as she bowed to some friends behind her, that Beryl 
 telegraphed with her eyes to Maud "Who is she?" 
 and Maud flashed in return an ocular message " I don't 
 know ; " and both the girls, at the same time, began to 
 ask the question of Mrs. Snargate. Beryl, however, felt 
 quite certain she had seen her somewhere before, but 
 could not think where. 
 
 " Yes ; and talking about actresses," continued one 
 of the garrulous couple behind them, " there is Mignonne 
 Batiste ! And how pretty she is looking, too ! How 
 faultless her toilet, and what a charming little hat ! Do 
 you know, I think she is looking just a little sad. She 
 is all alone. Where, oh, where is Mr. Caversham? I 
 trust he has not proved faithless " 
 
 Beryl bit her lips and held her breath. Now she knew 
 
i|2 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 it was the girl whose portrait occupied a distinguished 
 position over Jack Caversham's mantelpiece. How clear 
 and distinct came back the memories of that room and 
 those happy days now, and how long ago it seemed 
 since the sunshine of those hours had faded ! The two 
 ladies behind them had lowered their voices, and Beryl 
 could only just catch what they were saying. One of 
 them continued 
 
 " Oh, really, I believe there's no doubt about it. Some 
 people say they're married already ; but I don't believe 
 that. I fancy his family are strongly opposed to the 
 match. But he ought not to be seen about with her 
 so much if there's nothing in it. Why, / have seen them 
 at a dozen morning performances myself " 
 
 Then came a tremendous round of applause to some 
 music to which poor Bee had not been paying the 
 slightest attention. When it died away, she heard the 
 rill of conversation still trickling on. 
 
 " Oh yes, Mr. Curvely, the dramatist, told me that Mr. 
 Caversham always fetched her from the Trifle Theatre 
 every night, and there it was looked upon as a settled 
 thing ; in fact, it was he who made her send back the 
 diamond bracelet that old Lord Crackerdoom sent her. 
 I hope everything is all right. She's wonderfully clever, 
 and has been so good to all her people. Poor girl. She 
 certainly looks rather sad, and evidently misses her usual 
 escort to-day." 
 
 Maud Feyton looked round at this moment, and she 
 saw Beryl was as white as a sheet and her eyes half 
 closed. Maud 'nudged Mrs. Snargate, who was intent 
 on the music, and passed a scent-bottle across to Beryl. 
 Kind-hearted Mrs. Snargate was gently alarmed, and 
 despite the sundry "bushings" on the part of various 
 
MUSIC AND MISGIVINGS. 143 
 
 mad and irritable musicians who were among the 
 audience, the three quickly filed out. 
 
 Beryl revived very much when she got outside. She 
 said it was the heat of the room, and she would rather 
 go home. She insisted upon Mrs. Snargate returning to 
 the concert. Maud went home with Beryl ; and they had 
 just entered at the door, and the carriage had driven 
 away, when Jack Caversham, with his face beaming with 
 smiles, drove up in a hansom cab. He had seen them 
 from the other end of the street. He was going to make 
 a long call, and he felt sure of a favourable reception. He 
 therefore knocked gleefully at the door, which was almost 
 immediately opened. He thought he caught a glimpse 
 of skirts passing up the ancient staircase. He asked if 
 Miss Cheyn was in. Bunnidge informed him that Miss 
 Cheyn was in, but she could not possibly see any one 
 that afternoon. Bunnidge said this with so much serious- 
 ness, that Caversham had not a word to say. He left 
 his card, and returned to his hansom and drove away. 
 
 When Maud went into the boudoir half an hour after- 
 wards, she found Beryl swinging in her rocking-chair, 
 and sobbing as though her heart would break. 
 
144 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 IN A MINOR KEY. 
 
 FLO and Baby were just sitting down to their one o'clock 
 dinner when they heard a fly pull up at the Marine 
 Parade. They saw there was a lot of luggage on the 
 top, they heard the flyman ask if he should ring, and 
 they heard a voice reply that they thought they knew. 
 Flo peered cautiously round the window and saw who it 
 was, and almost shrieked for joy. 
 
 " Yes, Baby, it is. It is our own Bee ! " 
 
 And both the children came dancing out on the 
 balcony, and waving their hands. 
 
 " Go in, go in, you two rebels," said Beryl, laughing, 
 and looking better than she had done for the last four 
 and twenty hours. 
 
 When she got upstairs, and had recovered from the 
 enthusiastic embraces of the children, she looked round, 
 and said 
 
 "Where's aunt?" 
 
 " Why, don't you know, Bee ? She went up to London 
 by the twelve o'clock train ! " 
 
 The fact was, that the aunt and niece had passed on 
 the road, and at about the time Miss Cheyn was driving 
 up to the Marine Parade, Lady Anker wyke was arriving 
 at Great Ormond Street. Lady Ankerwyke was getting 
 
IN A MINOR KEY. 145 
 
 very uneasy in her mind with regard to Beryl's prolonged 
 sojourn in town, had a fancy to go and see what the 
 new housekeeper was like, and was getting just a little 
 bit bored with Dover, and somewhat worried with the 
 constant charge of her two young nieces. So she re- 
 solved she would go and see for herself, which, as she 
 very rightly argued, was far better than writing fifty 
 thousand letters. 
 
 Up to Saturday, Beryl had no intention whatever of 
 leaving town for some time. It was true the new house- 
 keeper had arrived, and seemed to be in all respects 
 satisfactory, but Miss Cheyn did not want to be in 
 Dover as long as Captain Halibourne was there, for 
 she felt certain her most wise and diplomatic aunt would 
 do something foolish that would make it disagreeable 
 for all parties. By the last post on Saturday night she 
 had a letter from Charlie at Dullington. In this letter 
 he said that Sir Charles still continued in a most pre- 
 carious state, that the doctors said he might go off at 
 any time, but still he had such a vigorous constitution 
 that it was possible he might last for months. " At any 
 rate," wrote Halibourne, te I don't see any prospect of 
 my being in town for a month, so I shall be unable to 
 
 look after you. But people do say But never mind 
 
 what people say ! " 
 
 This letter, combined with the events at the concert 
 at Saint James's Hall, irritated Miss Cheyn not a little, 
 but it showed her the coast was clear at Dover, and to 
 Dover she determined to go. Had it not been for the 
 affair at the concert, she probably would still have re- 
 mained in town, for she and Maud got on capitally. 
 They had plenty of callers, they had lots of invitations, and 
 they had one or two good-natured chaperons like Mrs. 
 
 L 
 
146 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Snargate, who were always able to find a good escort to 
 the theatres, or any place of evening amusement. Alto- 
 gether the girls had a prodigiously merry time of it. 
 
 Now everything was altered. That unfortunate conver- 
 sation she heard between two persons she did not know, 
 and had never seen before, at Saint James's Hall, in which 
 Mr. John Caversham's name was coupled with Miss 
 Mignonne Batiste, had made her determined to quit town 
 as soon as possible. She and Maud had talked the matter 
 over on Sunday. Both the girls kept clear of the real 
 grievance in the affair, but each knew well enough what 
 the other was driving at. It must be pretty evident 
 what Beryl's feelings were towards Jack, and Maud liked 
 him very much indeed as a friend, and nothing more. 
 
 But just let two women have a little fault to find with 
 a man, just let them go into committee about the matter 
 and talk it over, and they will make common cause 
 against him, and he will receive but little mercy. 
 Without a tittle of evidence, or an atom of direct infor- 
 mation, they will settle to their own satisfaction that 
 he has behaved very badly indeed. If a man wishes 
 really to marry, let him confide in no one else but the 
 girl herself ; but how few girls there are who are worthy 
 of such confidence ! Once an engagement or a pro- 
 spective engagement becomes common property, and a 
 number of people form themselves into a limited company 
 to look after it and advise upon it, the chances are that 
 the girl's mind gets poisoned, or the man is misinformed, 
 and everything goes wrong. 
 
 The two girls had a very dull Sunday. Maud said she 
 must really be getting home the next day, so on Monday 
 Beryl started for Dover. As luck would have it, the 
 cabman in driving to Victoria Station went through 
 
IN A MINOR KEY. 147 
 
 Hanover Street, and past Jack Caversham's rooms. Beryl 
 could not help glancing up at them, and thought of the 
 happy time she had spent there. It was but a few weeks 
 ago, and yet it appeared to be ages. She seemed to 
 fancy she was quite a different person then. 
 
 She looked upon the light-hearted Bee, who used 
 to sit at that window and wait anxiously for the 
 advent of good Doctor Greyfinne, and sometimes, let it 
 be whispered, of some one else, as a totally different 
 person to the sad, almost itearful, Beryl, who was now 
 driving past that very window in a four-wheeled cab. 
 She had half hoped Mr. Caversham might be at the 
 window ; and yet, if he had been, she did not see what 
 satisfaction it could possibly afford her. It seems a 
 strange thing to say, but Beryl, at nineteen, felt positively 
 old, and she looked upon Boxing Night at Drury Lane 
 as something that happened a very long time ago. What 
 casual observer as he saw the pretty Miss Cheyn handed 
 into the train, carefully looked after by her maid, and all 
 her belongings so studiously cared for by polite guards 
 and porters what casual observer would think that girl, 
 with her almost childlike beauty, had begun to speculate 
 on the hollowness of the world, and to fancy that the sun- 
 shine had gone from her life ? 
 
 In Beryl's unsatisfactory state of mind there is nothing 
 like change of air and scene, coupled with some good 
 wholesome occupation, and so doubtless her wisest course 
 was coming to Dover. It was fortunate that Lady 
 Ankerwyke had left, for with her marvellous perception 
 she would have at once found out that something 
 was wrong would have gradually got the whole par- 
 ticulars from her niece, which would have led to compli- 
 cations which would possibly have been awkward for 
 
1 4$ A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 everybody. It was no small satisfaction to Beryl to 
 receive a telegram, shortly after her arrival, from her 
 aunt, to say she found so many things requiring her 
 attention in town that she should probably remain there 
 a week. Beryl found Flo and Baby gave her plenty of 
 employment, so she, in a measure, forgot all her own 
 grievances. 
 
 "I declare, Flo, you look as well as possible," said 
 Beryl. " Is your foot quite strong? Let's see.". 
 
 And Flo's shapely leg was put on the sofa and duly 
 pinched and twisted without giving her any pain. 
 
 " Oh, that's all right, Flo. There's nothing the matter 
 with you now. As for Baby, she's getting quite fat. It's 
 quite time you two children got to work. What ! you've 
 been doing no lessons all this time ! I'm ashamed of 
 you. I see it's a good thing I came down. Your aunt 
 has been spoiling you ; and so has Miss Clarrymore. 
 You've been doing nothing else all the time you've been 
 here but ride and swim. Can you both swim well now ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, capitally, Bee." 
 
 " Ah, well, I shall come with you to-morrow, and if I 
 find you don't both swim like fishes, you'll get into trouble, 
 I can tell you. Mind, I shall have lessons begun to- 
 morrow morning. I never saw such a pair of idle little 
 girls. If you don't take care I shall have to send you 
 both to a very strict school. It is indeed high time 
 I came to look after you. No more rides, no more 
 luncheons with Miss Clarrymore. Nothing but lots of 
 lessons. Your Beryl will have no more laziness, and if 
 you don't behave yourselves you'll be well whipped." 
 
 And the two children laughed, and again kissed their 
 sister rapturously, and went off to prepare for an afternoon 
 drive. 
 
IN A MINOR KEY. 149 
 
 " Well, children, what do you say ? Let us go and call 
 on Miss Clarrymore, and take her for a drive ?" said 
 Beryl. 
 
 Yes oh yes ! " answered Flo. " Aunt Kate I mean, 
 Miss Clarrymore said she so wanted to see you directly 
 you came." 
 
 Miss Cheyn noticed her sister's title for Miss Clarry- 
 more, and smiled, but made no further remark. 
 
 " How is dear Mr. Caversham ? " asked Flo. 
 
 " Pretty well," answered Beryl, " the last time I saw 
 him!" 
 
 And all the sunshine seemed to fade out of her counte- 
 nance, and Flo thought she was going to cry. 
 
 They found Miss Clarrymore at home, and delighted 
 to go out driving with them. It amused Beryl very 
 much to see how friendly they had all become, and how 
 they sometimes called her " Miss Clarrymore," and some- 
 times "Aunt Kate." 
 
 " I'm so sick of hearing my hideous name ' Clarry- 
 more' continually reiterated," said Kate, "that I made 
 these children call me 'Aunt Kate.' It's so much less 
 formal, don't you see ? " 
 
 In the course of the ride the two girls became very 
 confidential, and Beryl was more sure than ever that 
 Kate Clarrymore and none other would become the wife 
 of her old friend, Charlie Halibourne. 
 
I5o A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 JACK AT A DISCOUNT. 
 
 "CAROL, young girl with the chesnut hair, Over the 
 ferry's a world of care ! " sang Beryl, when she was 
 splashing in her bath ; she continued to sing it to a tune 
 of her own all the time she was dressing. She did not 
 know why, but the words seemed to haunt her. The 
 occasion when she sang so merrily was one morning 
 after she had settled down at Dover for some time, and 
 Lady Ankerwyke had decided not to return, but to 
 enjoy for a brief period a little of the gaiety of the 
 London season. This particular morning Beryl was 
 about rather earlier than usual, for she had promised 
 to take the children to the Admiralty Pier to see the 
 Calais boat start before breakfast. 
 
 Her change from London, her quiet life, her hard work, 
 had to a certain extent brought back her peace of mind, 
 and had certainly added an indescribable charm to her 
 beauty. She found she had plenty of employment in 
 getting those little sisters of hers into order again. Flo's 
 accident had disorganized the whole system of training 
 and education. While one sister had been compelled by 
 illness to be idle, the other had taken advantage of the 
 fact to follow her example. Flo, too, was somewhat loth 
 
JACK AT A DISCOUNT. 151 
 
 to relinquish the privileges and advantages of inva^idism. 
 She was occasionally petulant and very difficult to manage. 
 It was decided that their governess should not come back 
 till they returned to town, so what with one thing and 
 another Beryl found her hands pretty full, and had little 
 time to sorrow o'er the faithlessness of mankind, and to 
 lament that her " Bayard with a blonde mustache " was 
 anything but sans peur et sans reproche. By the way, the 
 title of " Beryl's Bayard " had now by common consent 
 been entirely dropped in conversation, and was only 
 occasionally mentioned by Flo when she was very naughty 
 and wished to be unusually provoking. 
 
 On the morning, however, of which we speak she was 
 on her best behaviour. She was as good as gold and as 
 pretty as possible. Indeed, the three sisters made a vastly 
 attractive picture as they walked along the Esplanade that 
 bright sunny morning. Both the children had grown 
 somewhat lately, and seemed to be in the finest health 
 and the wildest spirits as they ran on before Beryl and 
 flew across the asphalte like swallows on a pond, as 
 they fluttered their pretty pink frocks while the sun 
 gleamed on their golden hair and illumined the sheen 
 of sable hose and the flash of snowy frills. 
 
 The bright sunshine, the children's laughter, the sound 
 of bugle from the heights, the invigorating breeze, and the 
 gentle plash of the waves against the sea-wall, seemed to 
 put new life into Beryl. She felt brighter and better 
 than she had done since oh, since the theatricals at 
 Great Ormond Street, which seemed to have taken place 
 so many years ago. 
 
 "Carol, young girl with the chesnut hair, Over the 
 ferry's a world of care ! " What on earth made her think 
 of those lines, and where had she heard them ? Ah ! now 
 
152 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 she recollected. It was when she was staying in Hanover 
 Street during Florry's illness, and she remembered Jack 
 Caversham reading them one day when he called. The/ 
 were written, she remembered, by Mortimer Collins, 
 " most musical Mortimer Collins," Jack said. She was 
 calling him Jack, when she had determined yesterday to 
 forget him for ever, and though it was only to herself the 
 thought provoked the prettiest of blushes. 
 
 Once more she had doubts ; she might have mistaken 
 the name those two chattering ladies gave at Saint James's 
 Hall, but then again there was the portrait of Miss Batiste 
 hanging in his rooms, and, furthermore, why had he not 
 called ? What was the reason of that ? Possibly he had 
 found out that she was portionless, and made her be- 
 haviour in A Wonderful Woman an excuse for retiring 
 altogether. No, she did not think Jack Jack again ! 
 was a fortune-hunter ; and when she thought if Aunt 
 Ankerwyke had only known how far things had gone at 
 Hanover Street she absolutely shivered. 
 
 " Carol, young girl with the chesnut hair, Over the 
 ferry's a world of care ! " How those lines haunted her ! 
 As they approach the entrance to the old pier the sea 
 seems to take up the burden, the words insert themselves 
 within the brassy melody being softly brayed by an early 
 German band, they are intertwined in the cry of the seller 
 of prawns, and they accompany the musical clink clank 
 of the distant windlass. Her meditations are interrupted 
 by her two sisters coming wildly racing back to her, with 
 their hair all over their eyes, and their sailor hats well- 
 nigh off, and asking if they may, instead of walking along 
 the cross wall, go over the Ferry. This was always con- 
 sidered a great treat by the youngsters, for they had made 
 great friends with the jovial rugose seaman who rowed 
 
JACK AT A DISCOUNT. 153 
 
 them across. Bee readily gave her consent, and the 
 three merrily tripped down the green, slimy steps, and 
 got aboard the boat. 
 
 " Carol, young girl with the chesnut hair, Over the 
 ferry's a world of care ! " It sounded ominous, thought 
 Beryl, but she was not a bit superstitious, and laughed 
 merrily when Baby took a header into the boat, and was 
 only saved from immersion by the stalwart grasp of the 
 ferryman. 
 
 Notwithstanding the high spirits and merriment of the 
 whole party, Beryl found it impossible to suppress the 
 burden of the song that haunted her. It was taken up 
 by the brisk little billows as they slumped against the 
 broad-beamed boat, it was repeated in the metrical move- 
 ment of some coal trucks on the quay, and it was adopted 
 by the ponderous mud dredger, which some merry spirit 
 has christened the Doctor Johnson of shipping. As the 
 red buckets appeared with drowsy regularity, with white 
 jets of water streaming from their scuppers, and that 
 peculiar scroop and clank which appertains to all their 
 sleepy machinery, the song lurked in very slow time amid 
 revolving ponderous chains and gigantic cog-wheels. 
 
 When they reached the other side the two children were 
 out in a moment, and the way in which Flo bounded up 
 those steps showed Beryl that Doctor Greyfinne, supple- 
 mented by Dover air and swimming in the sea-water, had 
 made a perfect cure, and that the little lass's legs were 
 as strong as they were shapely, and there was no reason 
 for prolonging their sojourn in Kent. 
 
 When they reached the upper terrace of the Admiralty 
 Pier, a bell was going something in the railway, the 
 steamboat, or the workman's interest, it does not matter 
 what. It was resonant and musical, but would not echo 
 
154 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 the burden of Beryl's song in its entirety. It persisted in 
 saying over and over again, " A world of care, a world of 
 care," and declined to adopt any other version. This she 
 did not like quite as well. Besides, she felt that existence 
 was at the present moment anything but a " world of care." 
 She thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful panorama which 
 you see from this point of vantage. 
 
 She noted the old pier and the smoke wreathing up 
 from the valley of the Dour, the graceful sweep of the 
 shore, the houses in Waterloo Crescent, the trees in 
 Granville Gardens, the green balconies of their own 
 dwelling-place in Marine Parade, and the Clarrymores' 
 pleasant mansion in East Cliff, and tiny little Athol 
 Terrace nestling beneath its chalk background. Above 
 all the Castle Hill grandly rising in its variety of verdure 
 and chequering of white, with the Castle itself and Saint 
 Mary's Church as picturesquely placed as if especially 
 designed by some cunning artist. She did not see any- 
 thing like " a world of care " in this. 
 
 Neither did she find it in the colour, the sparkle, the 
 exhilaration with which she was surrounded ; nor in the 
 bright, lively waves dancing in the sunshine, the wondrous 
 and ever-changing variety of light and shade, on sea and 
 sky, on white cliffs, on green sward, and on red shore. 
 What with the sails flashing in the distance, and the glint- 
 ing gulls lazily flapping over the harbour, and the white- 
 funnelled packet in the foreground awaiting the arrival of 
 the London trains, the scene was such a cheerful one that 
 the young girl with the chesnut hair felt inclined to carol 
 with no misgivings with regard to a world of care. 
 
 It was somewhat early yet. Neither the South Eastern 
 nor the Chatham and Dover trains had arrived. There 
 were, however, a good many passengers on board, and 
 
JACK AT A DISCOUNT. 155 
 
 stragglers accompanied by porters and barrows were 
 coming down from the Lord Warden and the Dover 
 Castle hotels. The three sisters were walking up and 
 down, and Florry was chattering about a very pretty girl 
 they had noticed going about Dover with a stout what 
 Flo called a " hoosetty " old lady, whom they fancied 
 might be her aunt. Beryl was very much interested in the 
 description and laughing a great deal over it. Presently 
 they stopped in their walk, and Flo said suddenly 
 
 " Why, look, Bee ; why, there she is ! Isn't she pretty ? " 
 
 Bee looked and, standing on the top of the steps lead- 
 ing to the steamer, to her intense astonishment beheld 
 Miss Batiste, looking better than her picture in Caver- 
 sham's rooms and infinitely more lovely than she 
 appeared at the concert at St. James's Hall. She had on 
 the most coquettish soft felt hat, and wore the neatest and 
 most becoming of travelling dresses. She was evidently 
 going by the steamer, and she had a large quantity of 
 luggage. The queer old lady the children had spoken of 
 was not with her, but there was no doubt she was waiting 
 for somebody. She seemed anxious, and was continually 
 consulting her watch. 
 
 " Yes, dear," answered Bee, " she is lovely ! " 
 * " The old lady's late, and she's getting in a fever ! " said 
 Baby. 
 
 At this moment Ray came up and took the children for 
 a turn along the pier. 
 
 Beryl was absolutely fascinated, and could not take her 
 eyes off the girl who was evidently getting anxious and 
 was tapping impatiently with her umbrella. 
 
 Presently, Bee, who could not help feeling an inward 
 satisfaction that the graceful damsel was quitting Eng- 
 land, saw her face brighten. It became absolutely 
 
156 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 radiant, her eyes sparkled, and she was nodding enthusi- 
 astically to some one in the distance. Several luggage 
 trucks were in the way, and it was impossible to see who 
 was coming. 
 
 " Better late than never ! Here's Flo's friend the 
 hoosetty old lady at last," said Bee to herself. 
 
 The luggage trucks were suddenly rattled on one side, 
 and she saw, not a stout old lady, strange, weird, and 
 embarrassed with cloaks, umbrellas, and hand-packages^ 
 but a very good looking young man, who seemed to be 
 mightily contented with himself and the world in general. 
 That young man had a blonde mustache, and that 
 young man's name was Jack Caversham. Jack Caver- 
 sham with a very merry face and looking better than 
 ever. He had on a drab felt hat and a grey tweed suit ; 
 he was leisurely smoking a big cigar ; he was followed 
 by a porter carrying a large portmanteau and a bundle 
 of coats. 
 
 Miss Batiste took his right hand in both of hers and 
 appeared delighted to see him. And, truth to tell, he 
 seemed in no wise displeased to see her. They were 
 chattering in English and in French, and Bee, in the 
 midst of all her annoyance, could not help being struck 
 by the purity of Jack's accent. His merry laugh might be 
 heard as he stood with his back to the upper terrace and 
 pointed across the harbour and chatted to his companion. 
 At last the Chatham and Dover train was signalled, and 
 the pair descended the steps. The train came up and 
 partially obscured the view of the steamer. 
 
 The bell clanged and seemed to re-echo, " A world of 
 care," with knell-like distinctness. Bee was glad enough 
 that the children had been away all this time, and when 
 they returned and said they were desperately hungry 
 
JACK: AT A DISCOUNT. i$; 
 
 she sent them home with Ray, saying she would follow 
 presently. 
 
 She waited there till the South Eastern train came in and 
 the bell once more took up the burden of " A world of 
 care." She waited till the mails were all in, the hawsers 
 unhitched, and the steamer had started. She was the 
 last to remain leaning over the rail ; and if Jack Caver- 
 sham had not been so abominably short-sighted he 
 would have been pained by the sweet sorrowful look, 
 which gave a touching sadness to her childlike beauty. 
 
 She had taken her opera-glass and was gazing steadily 
 at the receding boat. She saw Jack and his friend had 
 selected a comfortable place well shielded from the wind, 
 she saw him place a stool for her feet, and arrange her 
 shawls : she observed that they were in animated conver- 
 sation as if they were the best friends in the world. 
 Long after the steamer was well on its way did she con- 
 tinue to gaze. The last 'thing she saw was Jack envelop- 
 ing his companion in one of his thick coats. 
 
 And then things began to be indistinct ; possibly there 
 was something wrong with the lenses ; perchance gazing 
 so long in the sunshine made the eyes water. At any rate, 
 a spotted blue pocket-handkerchief which she remem- 
 bered had been admired by Jack was raised to her 
 face pretty frequently as she took her way sadly and 
 slowly down the pier. 
 
 As she passed along the quay some shipwrights were 
 hammering her song into a brig. " Carol, young girl with 
 the chesnut hair, Over the ferry's a world of care ! " 
 They did it not pleasantly or tunefully. But they did it 
 in an angry, vindictive, and staccato manner, as if they 
 were knocking nails into a coffin. 
 
158 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR JACK. 
 
 IT is to be feared, in the estimation of those who are 
 good enough to peruse this story, that Jack Caversham 
 is no longer a hero. 
 
 If he has been fortunate enough to have been placed 
 on a pedestal and won the sympathy of some of the 
 readers at the commencement of this narrative, by this 
 time he has been hurled from his elevation and treated 
 without a grain of consideration. They probably regard 
 him in the same light that Beryl did, and say there 
 is no excuse for his abominable conduct. How easy 
 and delightful it is to condemn a man unheard, and how 
 inexpressibly delicious it is to hear one side of the 
 question and absolutely refuse to listen to the other ! 
 It is by no means certain that blind and obstinate 
 partisanship^ not the very essence of true friendship. 
 
 How cold, how calculating, how disgustingly business- 
 like does the judicial mind appear when friendship is 
 concerned, and how irritating are those persons who 
 weigh evidence, who calculate the relative value of pro 
 and con, and who make allowances ! Beryl's two great 
 friends, clear-headed Maud Feyton and warm-hearted 
 Kate Clarrymore, would not have heard a word in favour 
 
AN APOLOGY FOR JACK. 159 
 
 of Jack, and would probably have refused to hear his 
 name mentioned. 
 
 The hero of our little drama cannot, however, be quite 
 extinguished yet. It is necessary that he should play his 
 part until the fall of the curtain ; therefore one may hope 
 some among the readers of this little history are possessed 
 of judicial minds, and are not altogether such slashing 
 critics as Maud and Kate. Jack's friendship for Harry 
 Heysham, and his solicitude with regard to his affairs, had 
 already operated somewhat adversely to Jack's interest. 
 
 When the latter, through his own jealousy and folly, 
 had abstained from calling for so long at Great Ormond 
 Street, and when, after meeting Miss Feyton, he meant 
 to call that very afternoon, an urgent letter from Hey- 
 sham caused him to postpone the opportunity. Shortly 
 afterwards he called, just after the mishap at Saint 
 James's Hall, and was informed, as we know, that 
 Miss Cheyn could not be seen. He was told the same 
 thing on subsequent occasions; then he heard that she 
 was out of town; finally, the report concerning Hali- 
 bourne grew and magnified, and he gave the whole thing 
 up, and then he 
 
 " Of course he did. We knew exactly what he would 
 do," shout a thousand female voices ; "he ran away 
 with Me Batiste the little designing minx with her 
 
 Titian-tinted hair, who ought to be well whipped " 
 
 Patience, dear, kind, gentle, charitable ladies, before you 
 proceed with the chastisement of this admirable little 
 lass, and before you take away the character of two 
 exemplary persons ! Pray rest assured that Jack Caver- 
 sham's relations with Me Batiste were of the most 
 honourable description. He never ran away with her at 
 all. Now, perhaps, you are disappointed! It must be 
 
160 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 admitted that the case, as viewed from the Admiralty Pier, 
 did not look favourable for either of the parties concerned. 
 But everything was fair and square and aboveboard, 
 and Jack's appearance in a somewhat equivocal position 
 was simply in consequence of going out of his way to 
 oblige his old friend. 
 
 Heysham had been hopelessly in love with Mignonne 
 since we first knew them ; they had been engaged just after 
 the theatricals at Lady Ankerwyke's it was not known 
 to everybody how useful Miss Batiste had been in making 
 some of the performers perfect in their parts and it was 
 decided they should be married when the run of Prince 
 Patissier came to an end. Every one knows, who takes an 
 interest in theatrical affairs, that on account of previous 
 arrangements the piece was withdrawn in the heyday of 
 its success, and therefore the marriage took place rather 
 earlier than was at first intended. The wedding, it was 
 arranged, was to be celebrated at St. Omer, where 
 Me's aunt lived, who was her only relative, who was 
 fairly well off, and very fond of her clever niece. 
 
 Jack was very naturally " best man " on the occasion, 
 and it was arranged that Heysham, Caversham, and Miss 
 Batiste were to go over in company about a week before 
 the wedding. This seemed to suit all parties well 
 enough, but at the very last moment Heysham was 
 detained in town by business, and, as Me's aunt was 
 expecting her, he begged his old friend to take charge of 
 her. Jack safely delivered her into the hands of her aunt, 
 he returned to Calais, and again found himself at St. 
 Omer on the wedding-day. 
 
 Having given the young couple his blessing, and 
 having seen them off on their honeymoon, he bethought 
 him that he required a little change himself, and he 
 
AN APOLOGY FOR JACK. 161 
 
 would take a trip on his own account. All the excite- 
 ment of Heysham's wedding being over, he began to feel 
 very downhearted. He was in no humour to return to 
 town, and did not feel that he could at present see Beryl 
 again, or that he could put any heart into his congratula- 
 tions of Halibourne. Things appeared to be at a dead- 
 lock ; there seemed to be a sluggishness in his life and 
 a want of animation in his affairs that a little change of 
 air and scene might rectify. 
 
 Some people hold the theory, that if you go away for 
 change, your absence, by some mysterious law, affects 
 your entire circle. If you remain at home nothing hap- 
 pens, but everything goes on with a jog-trot regularity. 
 But directly your back is turned, Brown seizes the oppor- 
 tunity of getting married, Jones suddenly becomes bank- 
 rupt, Robinson appears in the Divorce Court, or Smith 
 commits suicide. There was something of this feeling 
 pervading the mind of Caversham when he determined 
 to absent himself for a time from London. 
 
 He made a little tour through the more secluded parts 
 of France. He had been reading that delightful volume, 
 " A Cruise upon Wheels," by Charles Allston Collins ; 
 and being at St. Omer, he thought he would travel 
 somewhat in the wheel-tracks of the excellent Mr. 
 Fudge and Mr. Pinchbold. He drove whenever he 
 could, sometimes he walked, occasionally got the 
 assistance of the railway, and in the course of his trip 
 visited St. Hilaire, Doullens, Chailly, Fontainebleau, 
 Sens, Joigny, Chablis, and Tonnerre, among other 
 places. 
 
 At the Lion d'Or at the last-named town he came 
 upon some English papers ; and as he had not seen any 
 for a fortnight, he perused them with considerable 
 
 M 
 
162 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 pleasure. He found a notice of the Royal Academy, 
 which spoke in high praise of a little picture by Mr. 
 H. Heysham as one of extraordinary beauty and sweet- 
 ness, and the reader smiled when he recognized it as the 
 one the artist was painting of Me last March. He also 
 saw that the hot weather was having its effect upon the 
 theatres, and among others that announced approximate 
 closing was The Trifle. 
 
 Then he saw an announcement that startled him con- 
 siderably : " We regret to announce the death of Sir 
 Charles Halibourne, Bart, who died after a long illness 
 at Dullington Park. The deceased baronet at one time 
 represented the county, etc., etc. He was greatly esteemed 
 for, etc., etc. It is understood that the main portion of 
 his property is inherited by Captain Charles Halibourne 
 of the Grenadier Guards, etc., etc." 
 
 He then read in another paper : " We understand the 
 engagement between the present Sir Charles Halibourne 
 and a lady well known in society, which has been 
 rumoured for some months past, will shortly be an- 
 nounced." And that suddenly reminded him he had 
 entirely forgotten about sending the announcement of 
 Heysham J s wedding to the Times. He went round to 
 the telegraph-office at once, and wired it, with a request 
 for its insertion, to a friend in London. Having done 
 this, he came to the conclusion he would return to 
 England at once. He did not exactly know why, but 
 probably it was because he felt his chance was altogether 
 at an end, and he knew the worst of it. 
 
 It seemed, though he could scarcely tell the reason, 
 to give him a feverish anxiety to return. He had had 
 enough of slow-crawling conveyances, walking, and 
 
AN APOLOGY FOR JACK. 163 
 
 secluded towns and neglected country lanes : he once 
 more seemed to pant for the noise, the bustle, and the 
 life of London. Thus it came to pass that he set his 
 face Londonwards by a series of the swiftest trains that 
 he could discover. 
 
164 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 DISCORD AND HARMONY. 
 
 AFTER all, Beryl was rather sorry to leave Dover ; for, 
 despite her sorrow and her disappointment, she had 
 altogether had a very pleasant time. But she was bound 
 to go ; she had scarcely, as yet, had a glimpse of the 
 London season, and, moreover, she and her aunt had 
 been invited by the popular Mr. Rudolph, of the War 
 Office, to his delightful rooms in Saint James's Street, to 
 see the Royal Wedding Procession pass, on the 6th of 
 July, and that day was now close at hand. 
 
 She had greatly enjoyed her quiet days with the children, 
 and the occupation they gave her in superintending their 
 lessons and amusements kept her from dwelling too much 
 on herself. She was very brave, was Beryl. No one 
 would think, from her cheerful aspect, the heartiness with 
 which she entered into the children's games, and the 
 sympathy she had with all their joys and troubles, how 
 much she suffered when she was alone. She talked but 
 little of her affairs, even to her dearest friends, therefore 
 there were probably none, save Jack and herself, who knew 
 how deep the affection had been between them. And 
 these two did not know how serious their feelings towards 
 one another were till it was altogether too late. 
 
DISCORD AND HARMONY. 165 
 
 Among other pleasant phases of the visit to Dover was 
 the ripening of her friendship with Kate Clarrymore. This 
 warm-hearted girl confided much in Beryl, although, 
 perhaps, she did not receive much confidence in return 
 Beryl had also received several confidential letters from 
 her old friend and playmate Charlie Halibourne ; she 
 was well assured that everything was practically settled 
 between him and Kate, and before the Clarry mores' 
 departure Beryl ventured to congratulate her friend in a 
 sort of informal fashion, and she felt, no doubt, that the 
 recent death of Sir Charles Halibourne would before long 
 lead to a definite announcement of the engagement. She 
 felt somewhat lonely after Kate's departure, and during 
 the last few days missed the bright companionship of 
 Flo and Baby, whom she had packed off along with Ray 
 and a greater part of the luggage, remaining only to pay 
 some bills and get everything cleared up. 
 
 The weather, which, on account of a few showers, 
 every one said was going to break up, had once more 
 become glorious, and the whole place wore that inviting 
 aspect which most maritime resorts invariably wear at 
 the very moment you are compelled to quit them. Every- 
 body seemed to be idler than usual, everybody seemed to 
 be enjoying themselves more than ever, and everybody 
 stared with commiseration so Beryl thought at her 
 luggage-laden fly being driven towards the South Eastern 
 station. 
 
 She felt quite angry with people who were pursuing 
 their ordinary avocation and amusements, while she was 
 being rapidly wafted away towards hot, stuffy, noisy 
 London, and she felt it a personal grievance that the 
 band, which she had so frequently encouraged, as it gave 
 such delight to Baby and Flo, should be playing " Oh, 
 
 M 3 
 
166 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Mr. Porter, what shall I do ? " and " Daddy wouldn't buy 
 me a bow-wow," with more spirit than usual on the 
 occasion of her departure. A glimpse of the Admiralty 
 Pier in the distance reminded her of that sad morning 
 there, and made her somewhat sorrowful as she reached 
 the station in plenty of time for the Two forty-five. 
 
 It happened to be a boat- train, but the steamer was 
 unusually early, so there was longer than the ordinary 
 pause at the town station. Though Miss Cheyn was 
 travelling alone, she had no lack of attention. The 
 station-master selected her carriage : the porters vied 
 with one another in their politeness ; the ticket examiner 
 was most courteous ; and the guard, who found there 
 was nothing left for him to do, looked in at the window, 
 touched his cap, and seemed to breathe a sort of railway 
 benediction on the whole undertaking that was absolutely 
 refreshing. Beryl made a very pretty picture as she sat 
 in the further corner of the carriage, with her wraps, her 
 travelling bag, her packages for, after all, there were a 
 whole lot of things that Flo and Baby had left behind 
 her books, baskets, and newspapers. 
 
 There were but very few in the train, so Beryl had the 
 whole compartment to herself, and but little chance of 
 any intruder. While waiting she took up " A Mere Child," 
 by Mrs. Walford, she had just bought, and found it to be 
 a story of extraordinary interest. She was so absorbed 
 in it that she quite forgot about the train, and it was like 
 waking up from a pleasant dream when she heard a shrill 
 whistle followed by a bass whistle, then a jerk of the 
 carriage, and she found the train had started. 
 
 At the same moment she heard a shout of voices, 
 " Too late, sir !" " Can't do it, sir!" "Jump in quick, sir ! 
 and she found the door of her carriage quickly opened, 
 
DISCORD AND HARMONY. 167 
 
 and a young man violently pushed in by porters. In his 
 haste he sat down on some of Beryl's parcels that were 
 strewn all over the seat. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Fm sure," said he, raising his hat, 
 as he got up and moved the parcels. " I was so nearly 
 too late and in such a hurry that " 
 
 "Jack! "said Beryl. 
 
 "Beryl! "said Jack. 
 
 "This is quite an unexpected pi circumstance, Mr. 
 Caversham," said Beryl, with a tiny tremble in her voice, 
 and recovering her self-possession in a moment. 
 
 " I really am most fortunate, Miss Cheyn, but I trust 
 I am not intruding," answered Jack, somewhat awkwardly, 
 and not knowing exactly what to say next. " I did not 
 mean to get in, you see ; but I was pushed into the first 
 carriage. Of course I can change if " 
 
 "I believe this train stops at Folkestone," rejoined 
 Beryl, coldly. 
 
 At that moment the train ran into darkness beneath 
 Shakespeare Cliff and the most clattersome of tunnels. 
 Conversation was hopeless, but there was plenty of time 
 for reflection. 
 
 He thought he had never seen her looking so lovely 
 before. He detected a certain reserve, which he put 
 down to his not calling at the right time, also to the 
 dignity that must belong to the future Lady Halibourne. 
 And yet the sweet look that came into her eyes, and the 
 pleased surprise with which she said " Jack ! " had not 
 escaped his observation. It immediately recalled some of 
 those bright afternoons in Hanover Street never to return. 
 
 She could not help thinking to herself how well he 
 was looking indeed, his trip had bronzed him and im- 
 mensely improved his personal appearance and yet she 
 
168 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 was provoked with herself for allowing it. She could 
 not help having a sort of liking for him one moment, 
 though she thoroughly despised him the next. " Why is 
 not his wife here?" she asked herself. "What has he 
 done with her ? Sick and tired of her by this time, no 
 doubt ! Dare say, he's run away from her ! He's quite 
 capable of doing that, or of breaking her heart, or break- 
 ing her head, or killing her, or any other villainy ! " And 
 she tapped impatiently with her foot on the floor of the 
 carriage. 
 
 By this time the train shot out of the tunnel into the 
 sunshine, and Beryl found Jack was looking straight at 
 her, and Jack found Beryl had her eyes fixed on him. 
 They both took up newspapers, and feigned to be deeply 
 interested in their contents. 
 
 Jack, however, furtively peeped over the top of his paper, 
 and could not fail to observe every detail of the pretty 
 picture in the further corner. He noted the artfully 
 crushed hat with its intertwisted ribbons of faint rose and 
 ruby, repeating the tones of the maiden's cheek and lips. 
 He was cognizant of provoking dimples, of downcast eyes 
 " dark-lashed, delicious, luminous, and sweet." He was 
 not unmindful of the exquisitely fitting frock of unbleached 
 cambric, the Malmaison carnation in her bosom, the 
 dazzling little white collar and cuffs, the hint of snowy 
 petticoat, the glimpses of gleaming Oxford shoes and 
 silken sable hose, the Suede gloves, and the dainty dust- 
 cloak; all deriving value from the cool celadon tint of 
 the Graphic which the damsel held before her. 
 
 Of course Beryl did not for a moment attempt to peep 
 over the top of her paper. Such an idea might have 
 occurred to her, and she might have been raising her eyes 
 with the intention of carrying such a notion into execu- 
 
DISCORD AND HARMONY. 169 
 
 tion, when the train plunged once more into darkness and 
 discord through the Abbot's Cliff tunnel. 
 
 The eclipse, however, did not last long, and by the time 
 they had got well into the open air again they were 
 approaching Folkestone. Jack rose and went over to 
 Beryl's side of the carriage. She drew back her petticoats 
 haughtily, so that they should not even touch him. 
 
 " I shall be able to change here, I hope." 
 
 "I hope so, I'm sure," answered Beryl. The train, 
 however, did not slacken, but shot through the station. 
 " Altogether hopeless/' she added, opening her newspaper 
 wide, as she saw Caversham had taken the seat opposite 
 to her. 
 
 Jack began to think it was about time to try and 
 make himself agreeable. As he imagined Miss Cheyn 
 to be engaged, he could not understand why she kept up 
 this tone of pique. 
 
 " I trust Sir Charles Halibourne is well," said he. 
 
 " What ! Haven't you heard of his decease ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; but I mean the new baronet, your old 
 friend " 
 
 " Oh, thank you, I believe he's well ; but I haven't seen 
 him for a month. He's so busy, you know " 
 
 " What a very odd thing ! " thought Caversham. " I 
 wonder why he is not looking after hisyfo/z^." 
 
 " I trust," said Beryl, with some hesitation, " that Mrs. 
 Caversham is well." 
 
 " I believe she's very well, thank you," said Jack; "but 
 I have not seen her lately." " Wonder why she is inquir- 
 ing after my mother ? " thought he. " They haven't met 
 since Bee was a baby." 
 
 " Just what I fancied," thought Beryl ; " he is neglect- 
 ing that poor girl." 
 
170 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 Then there was a long silence once more as the train 
 went whirling on. He took up the Morning Post, and 
 she took up the Times. They affected to be vastly in- 
 terested in the contents, but they really used them as 
 screens to prevent being looked at. 
 
 Jack found himself reading paragraphs over and over 
 again, not taking the least interest in them, and not even 
 understanding what they meant. At last he read one 
 that made him jump ; he rubbed his eyes, he read it 
 over twice, before he could thoroughly take it in and 
 absolutely believe it. He held the paper tight, he steadied 
 himself against the side of the carriage, and he read : " A 
 marriage is arranged between Sir Charles Halibourne, 
 Bart., who has recently succeeded to his uncle's title 
 and estates, and Miss Clarrymore, only child of Clamer 
 Clarrymore, Esq., M.P. for Bullock Smithy." 
 
 " What! " he shouted. " Is this true ? Beryl, tell me 
 if it is true ? " And he read the paragraph again. 
 
 " Perfectly true, Mr. Caversham, and I don't see why 
 it shouldn't be," she answered from behind her news- 
 paper ; " they've been as good as engaged for the last six 
 months. I don't see any cause for excitement ; and I think 
 you're forgetting yourself in using my Christian name." 
 
 " I beg pardon, I'm sure," answered Jack, most humbly, 
 " but I was surprised because I had understood for a very 
 long while past that he was engaged to somebody else. 
 Everybody said " 
 
 " If you pay any attention to what everybody says you 
 will always be wrong," she continued, still speaking behind 
 her paper. " I always make it a rule " 
 
 And then she stopped suddenly. She had been care- 
 lessly running her eye over the births, deaths, and 
 marriages column, and had seen something in the latter 
 
DISCORD AND HARMONY. 171 
 
 department that made her bite her lips and shut her 
 eyes. She opened them wide and read : " Heysham 
 Batiste. On June 7, at St. Omer, Pas-de-Calais, at the 
 church of St. Denis, Henry Heysham, of London, to 
 Mignonne, only child of the late Geoffry Batiste." 
 
 And then it suddenly struck her how similar in sound 
 were the names " Heysham " and t{ Caversham," and how 
 easily one might be mistaken for the other, if not very 
 distinctly pronounced. The voices of those chattering 
 ladies at Saint James's Hall, and the whole scene of that 
 eventful afternoon, returned to her with photographic 
 minuteness. 
 
 She felt out of breath and her heart began to beat 
 quickly : she gazed from the window, and the lovely 
 landscape through which they were whirling seemed 
 blurred and indistinct. 
 
 First she was hot, then cold. Now she felt faint, and 
 anon came a sudden thrill which gave a sweet earnestness 
 to a trembling voice that commanded the instant attention 
 of her fellow-traveller. 
 
 "Jack ! Mr. Caversham, I mean," she said, putting the 
 paper down and gazing straight at him with an expression 
 in those lovely blue-grey eyes that he had never seen 
 before. " Listen." And she read the paragraph through 
 again. " Is this true ? " 
 
 " True ? Of course it is. They're on their honeymoon 
 now. I ought to know ; I was best man. Went over 
 with them some weeks ago. Heysham couldn't start at 
 the right time, so I had to take charge of Miss Batiste, 
 and a most serious responsibility it was " 
 
 " Jack !" said Beryl. 
 
 " Beryl ! " said Jack. 
 
 And then the train went into a tunnel ! 
 
172 A NAUGHTY GIRL. 
 
 It was a long tunnel, but it seemed to these young 
 people to be the very shortest ever known. 
 
 When the train came out again Jack was not sitting 
 opposite to Beryl. 
 
 When the train emerged into the bright pure air, the 
 whole country seemed surpassingly beautiful, and life 
 supremely delightful. 
 
 The sun was shining gloriously, and the sun shone on 
 naught but hope and happiness ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 LONDON AND BECCLES. 
 
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