A Bevy of Girls. Meade L. T.
do we mean?” said Nesta, who was far and away the most pert of the sisters. “Why, this is what we mean: Dear old Marcia, the old darling, has come back, and we’re free.”
“I wish to tell you,” said Marcia, “that this is a mistake.”
“What do you mean?” said Molly. “Do you mean to insinuate that you are not our sister, our dear old sister?”
“I mean to assure you,” said Marcia, “that I am your sister, and I have come back to share your work and to help you, but not to take your duties from you.”
“Our duties!” cried Molly, with a laugh. “Why, of course we have heaps of duties – more than we can attend to. We make our own clothes, don’t we, Nesta?”
“And beautifully we do it,” said Nesta. “And don’t we trim our own hats?”
“Yes, I’m not talking about those things. Those are pleasures.”
“Pleasures? But we must be clothed?”
“Yes, dears; but you will understand me when I speak quite plainly. Part of your duty is to try to make your poor mother’s life as happy as you can.”
“But you will do that, darling,” said Nesta, coming close up to her sister and putting her arms round her neck.
Nesta had a very pretty and confiding way, and at another time Marcia would have done what the little girl expected, clasped her to her heart and said that she would do all, and leave her dear little young sister to her gay pleasures. But Marcia on this occasion said nothing of the sort.
“I wish to be absolutely candid,” she said. “I will look after mother every second morning, and every second afternoon. There are four of us altogether, and I will have every day either my morning or my afternoon to myself. I will take her one day from after breakfast until after early dinner, and afterwards on the day that I do that, I shall be quite at liberty to pursue my own way until the following morning. On alternate days, I will go to her after early dinner, and stay with her until she is settled for the night. More I will not do; for I will go out – I will have time to write letters, and to study, and to pursue some of those things which mean the whole of life to me. If you don’t approve of this arrangement, girls, I will go back to Frankfort.”
Marcia’s determined speech, the firm stand she took, the resolute look on her face, absolutely frightened the girls.
“You will go back to Frankfort?” said Nesta, tears trembling in her eyes.
Just at that instant Mr Aldworth and Horace came into the room.
“My dear girls, how nice to see you all four together,” said the father.
“Marcia, I trust you are rested,” said Horace.
“Oh, Horace,” said Nesta, “she has been saying such cruel things.”
“Not at all,” said Marcia. “I am very glad you have come in, father, and I am glad you have come in, Horace. You must listen to me, all of you. I am twenty, and I am my own mistress. My stepmother does not stand in quite the same relation to me as my own mother would have done. She is not as near to me as she is to Ethel, and Molly, and Nesta; but I love her, and am willing, abundantly willing, to take more than my share of nursing her.”
“That’s right, Marcia,” said her father.
“Listen, father. I haven’t said all I mean to say. I will not give the girls absolute liberty at the expense of deserting their mother. I refuse to do so; I have told them that I will look after my stepmother for half of every day, sometimes in the morning, and sometimes in the afternoon; but I will not do more, so Molly or Ethel or Nesta, who is no baby, must share the looking after her with me. You can take this proposal of mine, girls, or leave it. If you take it, well and good; if you leave it I return to Frankfort to-morrow.”
Had a bombshell burst in the midst of that eager, animated group, it could not have caused greater consternation. Marcia, the eldest sister, who had always been somewhat downtrodden, who had always worked very, very hard, who always spared others and toiled herself, had suddenly turned round and dared them to take all her liberty from her.
But even as she spoke her heart sank. It was one thing to resolve and to tell her family so; but quite another thing to get that family to carry out her wishes. Nesta flung herself into her father’s arms and sobbed. Molly and Ethel frowned, and tears rolled down Ethel’s cheeks. But Horace went up to Marcia, and put his hand on her shoulder.
“I do think you are right,” he said. “It is fair enough. The only thing is that you must train them a bit, Marcia, just a bit, for they have not your orderly or sweet and gracious ways.”
“Then you take her part, do you?” cried the younger sisters in tones of different degrees of emotion.
“Yes, I do, and, father, you ought to.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Marcia, who somehow seemed not even to feel Horace’s approval of much moment just then. “I do what I said; I stay here for a month if you accede to my proposal. At the end of a month, if you have broken my wishes, and not taken your proper share of the nursing of your mother, I go back to Frankfort. Mrs Silchester has promised to keep my situation open for me for that time. Now I think you understand.”
Marcia went out of the room: she had obtained at least a moral victory, but how battered, how tired, how worn out she felt.
Chapter Three
Taking Mother
“Now, my dear,” said Mrs Aldworth, when Marcia entered her room, “I really expect to have some comfort. You have such a nice understanding way, Marcia. Oh, my dear, don’t let so much light into the room. How stupid. Do you see how that ray of sunlight will creep up my bed in a few moments and fall on my face. I assure you, Marcia, my nerves are so sensitive that if the sun were even to touch my cheek for an instant, I should have a sort of sunstroke. I endured agonies from Nesta’s carelessness in that way a few days ago.”
“Well, it will be all right now, mother,” said Marcia in a cheerful tone.
She was brave enough; she would take up her burden, what burden she thought it right to carry, with all the strength of her sweet, gracious womanhood.
Mrs Aldworth required a great deal of looking after, and Marcia spent a very busy morning. First of all there was the untidy room to put straight; then there was the invalid to wash and comfort and coddle. Presently she induced Mrs Aldworth to rise from her bed and lie on the sofa.
“It is a great exertion, and I shall suffer terribly afterwards,” said the good woman. “But you always were masterful, Marcia.”
“Well, you see,” said Marcia gently, “if I nurse you at all, I must do it according to my own lights. You are not feverish. The day is lovely, and there is no earthly reason why you should stay in bed.”
“But the exertion, with my weak heart.”
“Oh, mother, let me feel your pulse. Your heart is beating quite steadily.”
“Marcia, I do hope you are not learning to be unfeeling.”
“No,” replied the girl, “I am learning to be sensible.”
“You look so nice. Do sit opposite to me where I can watch your face, and tell me about your school, exactly what you did, what the girls were like; what the head mistress was like, and what the town of Frankfort is like.”
(Four pages missing here.)
“I am sorry, dear.”
“How could we go? Whoever is with mother this afternoon will be too fagged to go. We simply couldn’t go. And to think that this is to go on for ever. It’s more than we can stand.”
“I am waiting to know, not what you can stand, or what you cannot, but which of you will look after mother this afternoon? You won’t have a very hard time; her room is in perfect order, and her meals for the entire day are arranged. You have but to sit with her and chat, and amuse her.”
“We’re