L. Meade - The School Queens

“Here they are! here they are!” said Andrew. “Beauties, all four; my own – my very own! Maggie, you may share one of them with me while you are here. He must live in his hutch, but he shall be yours and mine. Would you like Spot-ear? He is a character. He’s the finest old cove you ever came across in your life. Look at him now, pretending he doesn’t care anything at all for his lettuce, and he’s just dying for it. Clover is the greedy one. Clover would eat till he-burst if I let him. As to Angelus, she squeaks sometimes – you’ll hear her if you listen hard – that’s why I called her Angelus; and Dove – why, she’s a dear pet; but the character of all is Spot-ear. You’d like to share him with me, wouldn’t you, Maggie?”

“Yes, yes; he is so ugly; he is quite interesting,” said Maggie. She flung herself on the ground by the side of the hutch, and gazed in at the occupants as though her only aim in life was to worship rabbits.

“You take that leaf of lettuce and give it to Spot-ear your very own self,” said Peterkins. “He’ll love you ever after; he’s a most affectionate old fellow.”

Maggie proceeded to feed the rabbit. Peterkins hopped about in a state of excitement which he had seldom experienced before. Maggie asked innumerable questions. Belle seated herself on the fallen trunk of an old oak-tree and looked on in wonder.

Maggie was a curious girl. She seemed to have a power over every one. There was Andrew – such a shy little fellow as a rule – simply pouring out his heart to her.

Suddenly Belle rose. “It’s time for lunch,” she said, “and you must be hungry. Andrew, go straight to the house and wash your face and hands. No lady would sit down to lunch with such a dirty boy as you are.”

“Oh, I say, am I?” said Andrew. “Do you think so, Maggie?”

“You are a most disreputable-looking little scamp,” said Maggie.

“Then I won’t be – I won’t, most truly. I’ll run off at once and get clean, and I’ll get into my Sunday best if you wish it.”

“Dear me, no!” said Maggie; “I don’t wish it. But clean hands and face – well, they are essential to the ordinary British boy, if he’s a gentleman.”

“I am your gentleman – for evermore,” said Andrew.

“I think you are, Peterkins.”

“Then I’m off to clean up,” said the small boy.

“I say, Andrew,” cried his sister; “before you go take that door away from Jack’s hutch. He’ll be so furious at your keeping the light and air away from his rabbits.”

“Not I. I can’t be bothered,” said Peterkins.

“Please take it away at once,” said Maggie.

Andrew’s brow puckered into a frown.

“But you’ll see ’em, and he’s got five!” he said in a most distressed voice.

“Honor bright,” said Maggie, “I’ll turn my back and shut my eyes. Jackdaw shall show me his rabbits himself.”

Peterkins immediately removed the door, dragging it to its former place, where it leaned against a high wall. He then rushed up to Maggie.

“I’ve done it,” he said. “Promise you won’t like his bunnies.”

“Can’t,” said Maggie, “for I’ll love ’em.”

“Well, at least promise you won’t love him.”

“Can’t,” said Maggie again, “for I shall.”

“I’ll die of raging jealousy,” said Peterkins.

“No, you won’t, you silly boy. Get off to the house and make yourself tidy. Come along, Belle.”

“I say, Maggie,” said Belle, “you mustn’t set those two boys by the ears. They’re fond enough of each other.”

“Of course I’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Maggie. “That’s a charming little chap, and Spot-ear is my rabbit as well as his. Jackdaw shall share two of his rabbits with me. Oh, it is such fun turning people round your little finger!”

Just then Molly, rather red in the face, ran up.

“Oh, you darling, darling Maggie!” she said. “So you’ve come!”

“Come!” cried Maggie. “I feel as if I’d been here for ever.”

“I am delighted to see you,” said Molly.

She kissed her friend rapturously. Maggie presented a cool, firm, round cheek.

“Oh, how sweet you look, Mags!”

“Don’t talk nonsense, Molly; I’m not a bit sweet-looking.”

“To me,” said Molly with fervor, “You’re the loveliest girl in all the wide world.”

“I’m very ugly, and you know that perfectly well,” said Maggie; “but now don’t let’s talk of looks.”

“Whatever were you doing in this part of the garden?” inquired Molly.

“Oh, she was making love to Andrew,” remarked Belle. “She calls him Peterkins, and he allows it, and he has given her one-half of Spot-ear; and she means to make love to Jack, and he’s to give her a couple of his rabbits – I mean, to share them with her. She’s more extraordinary than ever, more altogether out of the common.”

“As if I didn’t know that,” said Molly. “It’s all right about this afternoon, Maggie. Oh, what do you think? We’re to stay to supper, and I have a special invitation for father and mother to come and join us then. Won’t it be fun! I do wonder, Maggie, if you will like the Cardew girls.”

“Probably not,” replied Maggie in a very calm voice; “but at least I can promise you one thing: they’ll both like me.”

“No doubt whatever on that point,” replied Belle with fervor.

They entered the house, and soon found themselves seated round the table. Mr. Tristram greeted Maggie with his usual gentle dignity. Molly delivered herself of her message from the Castle. Mr. and Mrs. Tristram said that they would be delighted to join the Cardews at supper.

The meal was proceeding cheerfully, and Maggie was entertaining her host and hostess by just those pleasant little pieces of information which an exceedingly well-bred girl can impart without apparently intending to do so, when a shy and very clean little figure glided into the room, a pair of bright-brown eyes looked fixedly at Maggie, and then glared defiance at Belle, who happened to be seated near that adorable young person.

Peterkins was making up his mind that in future that coveted seat should be his – for he and Maggie could talk in whispers during the meal about Spot-ear, Angelus, and the rest – when his father said, “Sit down, my boy; take your place at once. You are rather late.”

The boy slipped into his seat.

“I am glad to see you looking so tidy, Andrew,” said his mother approvingly.

Andrew looked across at Maggie. Maggie did not once glance at him. She was talking in her gentle, lady-like tone to the rector.

Presently another boy came in, bigger and broader than Andrew.

Andrew said in a raised voice, “Here’s Jack, and his hands aren’t a bit clean.”

“Hush!” said the rector.

Jack flushed and looked defiantly at Maggie.

Maggie raised her eyes and gave him a sweet glance. “Are you really Jack?” she said. “I am so glad to know you. I have been making friends with your brother Andrew, whom I call Peterkins. I want to call you Jackdaw. May I?”

Jack felt a great lump in his throat. His face was scarlet. He felt unable to speak, but he nodded.

“I have been looking at Peterkins’s rabbits,” continued Maggie. “I want to see yours after lunch.”

“They’re beauties!” burst from Jack. “They’re ever so many times better than Andrew’s. I’ve got a cream-colored Angora. His name is Fanciful, and I’ve got–”

“Hush, my boy, hush!” said the rector. “Not so much talking during meals. Well, Maggie, my dear – we must, of course, call you by your Christian name–”

“Of course, Mr. Tristram; I should indeed feel strange if you didn’t.”

“We are delighted to see you,” continued the rector, “and you must tell the girls all about your new school.”