A Fourth Form Friendship (4 page)

Aldred was not used to being overlooked; she felt both indignant and offended at this neglect. She almost wished she had never left home, or, at any rate, that she had been sent to some other school than The Grange.

"If I can't make them like me, I shall never be happy here," she said to herself. "They're a stupid set! Well, if I don't get along any better than this, I shall ask Father to take me away, and send me to Oakdene with the Ropers. They always admire me; Doris writes two letters to my one, and Sibyl fights with Daisy to sit next to me at tea!"

It is generally the unexpected that happens. Aldred had nearly made up her mind that she would never be popular with the Fourth Form, and would be obliged to remain a permanent outsider, when quite suddenly the whole aspect of affairs was altered.

The change arose from a most unanticipated quarter. One day Mabel Farrington came up to Aldred with an unusual warmth of manner, and an evidently newly awakened interest.

"By the by, Aldred, do you happen to live at Watersham?" she began.

"At Dingfield. It's really a part of Watersham, only the river runs between," replied Aldred, rather astonished at the question, for no one had seemed to care to hear about her home before.

"And were you staying at Seaforth in June?"

"Yes; we had rooms on the Promenade."

"I thought you must be the same girl! I've just had a letter from a cousin. I don't expect you've met her, but at any rate she has heard all about you, and she wrote to tell me. I'm so glad you have come to The Grange! I hope we shall be great friends. Will you sit next to me in class?"

Aldred's amazement was extreme. That Mabel Farrington, so exclusive and particular, should have singled her out, and actually wished to sit near her, was an honour which had been bestowed upon no one else in the school. It was evidently no empty compliment, but a genuine offer of friendship, for Mabel went promptly to Miss Bardsley and arranged for an exchange of desks, with the result that she and Aldred were placed side by side. At lunch-time she took Aldred's arm as they walked down the passage, she chose her for a partner at tennis during the afternoon, and sat talking to her during evening recreation.

She even made a more astonishing proposal.

"It's horrid for you to be obliged to sleep in No. 2, with Fifth Form girls," she said. "There's plenty of room in my bedroom for another bed. Would you care to join me? I should be delighted to have you, if you will."

The sudden fancy which Mabel had taken for Aldred could not fail to attract the notice of the other members of the Fourth Form. It was so unlike her to seek to be on such intimate terms with a classmate that at first they could scarcely believe the evidence of their own eyes. When they saw, however, that she appeared to have formed, not only an affection, but also an intense admiration for Aldred, they began to yield the latter a higher place in their estimation. As an ordinary new-comer, she had seemed of little importance; but as the chosen friend and elect companion of Mabel Farrington, she was at once raised to a very superior and important position. Girls who had hardly noticed her before, now made much of her; and her opinions were consulted, her remarks listened to, and her suggestions well received. It was an understood thing that to offend her would be to offend Mabel also, and to please the one was the best way of pleasing the other.

Aldred found this new state of things extremely gratifying. It was exactly what she had hoped for; success had come with a bound, and granted her the popularity for which she had craved. Added to this, she liked Mabel immensely, and keenly enjoyed her society. Once Mabel had unbent and thrown off her usual cloak of reserve, she proved a most delightful and winning comrade, and it gave a special zest to her confidences to feel they were shared by no one else. Aldred knew well that she was regarded as supremely lucky by the rest of the class, each one of whom would have jumped at the chance of being Mabel's room-mate, and envied her good fortune. She held her head a little high in consequence, and was ready almost to patronize those who, while they had had a much longer acquaintance with the school favourite, had not been considered worthy of her particular esteem.

It was about a fortnight after the establishment of this friendship, when the two girls had already grown very fond of each other, that Aldred happened one day to be standing inside the book cupboard in the classroom. It was quite a large cupboard, almost like a separate little room; and it had shelves all round, where spare exercise-books, bottles of ink, and boxes of chalk for the blackboard were kept. No one but the monitress was supposed to enter, and that only by the mistress's orders; so Aldred had no business there, and had gone in out of curiosity to see what it contained. She was examining the new pens, paper fasteners, bundles of pencils, and other articles which she found, when she heard voices in the classroom. Mabel Farrington and one or two other girls had evidently come in, and, to judge from their conversation, were discussing no less a person than herself. Aldred pricked up her ears. What were they saying about her? Strict honour urged her to step out of the cupboard at once, before she heard any more; but prudence advised her to stay where she was, and not to let her companions know that she had been prying in a place where she was not allowed to go: and it was the latter counsel that prevailed.

"Yes, I think she's pretty," said Phoebe Stanhope, "and she's very clever, and can make herself pleasant; but (if you'll excuse my saying so, Mabel) I can't quite see why you admire her so blindly as you do."

"Because she deserves it!" exclaimed Mabel, with enthusiasm. "She did such an absolutely splendid thing that I feel proud to know her."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you. I didn't say a word about it before because I wanted to see if Aldred would mention it herself; but she's never hinted at the matter, and that's raised her higher still in my opinion. There are few girls who would not have made some reference to it."

"But what did she do?" asked Dora Maxwell.

"She was staying at Seaforth last June, and while she was there a terrible fire broke out in the middle of the night at the house where she was lodging. The people got safely on to the Promenade, and had sent for the fire engines, when suddenly it was discovered that the landlady's youngest little boy had been left asleep in the attic. The flames were blazing out at the windows, and the hall was filled with horrible, dense smoke. Nobody dared to go inside, and everybody said: 'Wait for the Brigade, and the proper fire-escape. One of the men will fetch him.' But Aldred knew that every moment wasted might mean the loss of the child's life. She ran and dipped her pocket-handkerchief in the sea, and tied it over her mouth; then, without consulting anyone, she dashed into the house, and crept on her hands and knees up the stairs. She could just manage to breathe, but she reached the bedroom, and groped her way to the crib where the little boy lay whimpering with fright. He was only two years old, and luckily not very heavy, so she took him in her arms and crawled down the stairs in the same way as she had gone up, so as to get the purer air close to the floor. The people nearly went wild with excitement as they saw her stumble out at the door carrying the baby; and its mother was ready to worship her. The Brigade was such a long time in arriving that the flames had gained a complete hold before it came, and the attics were flaring like a bonfire. If Aldred had not seized the opportunity, and gone the very moment she did, the child would have been burnt to death! I believe it made a stir in Seaforth at the time. The newspapers wanted to print her portrait, but her father wouldn't allow it. He said 'his daughter had no wish for notoriety, and did not desire any public recognition of an act she had only been too happy to perform. She would be grateful if people would kindly take no further notice of it.' Now, you see why I think so well of Aldred! She's as brave as anyone in the
Book of Golden Deeds
, and yet so modest about what she has done that she's content to let it be quite forgotten."

"How did you hear, then?"

"I happened to mention in a letter to a cousin that we had a new girl at The Grange, called Aldred Laurence; and Cousin Marion wrote back, sending me a newspaper cutting that she had kept describing the fire, and saying she was sure that was the name of the 'little heroine' whom everybody at Seaforth had been talking about when she stayed there in June. She knew her home was at Watersham, and could tell me that she was dark and pretty, for she had sat next to her at a concert, one afternoon, on the pier. To make quite sure, I asked Aldred if she lived at Watersham, and if she had been at Seaforth in June; so when she answered 'Yes' to both questions, I was certain that Cousin Marion must be right."

"Aldred was brave!"

"Yes, and she showed such particularly nice, delicate feeling afterwards. It's a privilege to have such a girl at the school! Although she mayn't want us to say anything about it, she can't help our honouring her for it. I shall always feel quite different towards her for the sake of this."

In the shelter of the book cupboard Aldred had overheard every word. Mabel's account almost took her breath away. It was all a mistake. She had certainly never been in a fire, or risen to any such pitch of heroism. She remembered the circumstances, which had occurred just before her visit to Seaforth, and she had been struck at the time with the fact that the author of the deed bore the same surname as herself. The latter's name was, however, spelt with a W instead of a U, and the two families were not related, nor even acquainted. Aldred had not, indeed, been aware that the Lawrences lived at Watersham.

[Illustration: ALDRED OVERHEARS A SURPRISING STORY]

So this was the explanation of Mabel's violent attachment! She had been attracted, not by Aldred's real personality, but by qualities which she believed her to possess. What would she think, when she learnt that Aldred was not the girl she imagined? Suppose she were to drop the friendship as suddenly as she had taken it up? She might possibly prefer to have her bedroom to herself once more, and would feel no further interest in one who had not done anything particularly worthy of admiration. Aldred turned quite cold at the idea. If such a catastrophe occurred, all her popularity in the school would be lost. She was shrewd enough to realize that it depended entirely upon Mabel's goodwill, and that her position really resembled that of a Court favourite. It would be worse, far worse, to have to fall again into comparative obscurity than if she had never been thus made much of. Her pride could not tolerate the thought of being once more a nonentity in her class. To be held in high repute by her companions was the salt of life to her.

She knew perfectly well that she ought to walk out of the cupboard, confess to Mabel and the others that she had been listening to their talk, and explain the exact state of the case. It was the only straightforward course to take, and would prevent any further misconceptions. And yet, she hesitated. A swift and strong temptation had assailed her. After all, why need she tell? No one was aware that she had overheard this conversation, and nobody had so far made the slightest reference to her fictitious deed. She would act as if she were quite unconscious that they credited her with it, and it would be time enough to disclaim it when it was alluded to in unmistakable terms. The longer she could keep Mabel's friendship the stronger it would be likely to prove; and if the rest of the class had grown accustomed to treating her opinions with deference, they would probably continue to accord her a certain amount of consideration, from sheer force of habit.

She could not deliberately give up all that she had gained; it was too great a sacrifice to be expected from anybody! On some future occasion, when she had had sufficient opportunity to win their approbation on her own merits, she could casually enlighten the girls, and set the mistake right. She was confident that when they knew her better they could not fail to value her for herself alone, and this exploit would sink into insignificance. Besides, it was surely Mabel's fault, for jumping at once to a conclusion without making adequate enquiries. She could not help all the absurd things people might set down to her account, and it was not her business to go about the world correcting them.

The girls had left the classroom and run downstairs. She could now emerge from the cupboard quite unobserved, and no one but herself would be any the wiser for what had happened. For the present, at any rate, she would temporize; she would let matters remain as they were, and be guided by future contingencies. There was really no deception about it, because she fully intended to tell some time, when it was more convenient.

Thus Aldred drugged her conscience, and allowed herself deliberately to take the first step in a course which she knew in her heart was dishonourable and unworthy, and which she was afterwards most bitterly to regret.

The Model Cottage

In her supposed character of a modest and retiring heroine, Aldred rapidly secured the favour she wanted in the school. Since the afternoon when Mabel had confided to Phoebe and Dora the story of the rescue, the whole class had waxed enthusiastic. Though nobody openly mentioned the subject, she could feel a marked difference in the general attitude towards her; she was no longer only Mabel's friend, but somebody on her own account. That this new esteem was not truly her due caused her an occasional pang, but she would put the thought hurriedly away, consoling herself by reflecting that the girls were beginning to discover her good qualities, and to appreciate her as she deserved.

Her intimacy with Mabel increased daily. The latter seemed hardly able to make enough of her. The two were always together, and Mabel, who possessed many luxuries that do not usually fall to the lot of the average schoolgirl, was ready to share everything with her room-mate. Aldred found it decidedly pleasant to be, not only encouraged, but actually begged to help herself to an unlimited quantity of the most delicious scent, to use dainty notepaper, or a delicate pair of scissors; to be lent a most superior tennis racket, and allowed to borrow any of the delightful volumes that filled the bookcase in the bedroom. To do her justice, she was really grateful for all this kindness, and absolutely adored Mabel. Had she loved her less, she might, perhaps, have been more willing to hazard the loss of her affection; but the thought of the blank which such a calamity would entail made her keep silence, in spite of the reproachful accusations of her better self.