A Houseful of Girls | Page 3

country house," the girls called the rooms facing south, "Our town
house," those at the front; but though they adored the garden, and spent
every available moment out of doors, the busy high road still held an
attraction of its own. Mrs Rendell had her own entertaining rooms at
the back of the house, but the girls were faithful to the little porch
chamber which had been their property since childhood--a quaint little
den built over the doorway, with a window at each of the three sides,
through which an extended view was afforded of the comings and
goings of the neighbourhood.
"I love this dear little bower," sighed Lilias sentimentally. "There's
something so quaint and old-world about it. I feel like Elaine in her
turret-chamber, looking out upon the great wide world."
"And it's such sport watching the people pass, especially on rainy days
when the wind is high, and they are trying to hold up their dresses, and
carry an umbrella and half a dozen parcels at the same time!" cried Nan
with a relish. "Last Saturday was the very worst day of the year, and all
the good housewives went past to shop. Chrissie and Agatha and I
offered a prize to go to the one who guessed rightly who would have
the muddiest boots. It was lovely watching them! Old Mrs Rowe,
clutching her dress in front, and showing all her ankles, while at the
back it was trailing on the ground; Mrs Smith, stalking like a grenadier,
with a skimpy skirt and snow-shoes a yard long; dear, sweet little Mrs
Bruce, as neat as ever, with not a single splash; and Mrs Booth,

splattered right up to her waist, with boots as white as that rag. I had
her name on my paper, so I got the prize, and spent it in caramels. I'm
getting rather tired of caramels--I've had such a run on them lately. I
must turn to something else for a change."
"You are getting too old to eat sweets, Nan," said Lilias severely. "You
ought to set the children a better example. If all the money you spend at
the confectioner's was put together, you would be surprised to find how
much it was. And it's bad for your teeth to eat so much sugar. Why
don't you save up, and put it to some really good use?"
"Such as frilling, and ribbons, and combs for the hair!" suggested Nan
slily, rolling her eyes at the younger girls, who chuckled in the
consciousness that Lilias had got her answer this time at least, since
every one knew well how her pocket-money went! "What is your idea
of something useful, my dear? We'd be pleased to take into
consideration any scheme which you may have to propose, but in its
present form the suggestion is somewhat vague."
"My dear child, you know as well as I do that there are a hundred
different ways. The only difficulty is to choose." Lilias stared out of the
window, trying hard to cudgel up one idea out of the specified hundred,
in case she should be pressed still further. That was the worst of Nan,
she always persisted on pushing a subject to the end. "You--er--you
might help the poor of the parish!"
"Just what we do! I heard the vicar say myself that Mrs Evans was a
striving little woman who ought to be supported. If we took away our
custom--"
"I mean the really poor. Mrs Evans would not shut up shop for the want
of your threepenny-pieces, but the Mission at Sale is always short of
funds. If you had a collecting-box, you could send in a subscription at
Christmas."
"`The Misses Margaret, Elsa, Agatha, and Christabel Rendell--four and
sixpence halfpenny,'" quoted Chrissie derisively. She marched across
the room and stationed herself with her back to the fire, her thin face

looking forth from a cloud of hair, an expression of dignified disdain
curling her lips. "How important it sounds, to be sure! It's all very well
talking about saving up, Lilias, but it's not so easy to do with sixpence a
week, and birthdays every month, and Christmas presents, and pencils
and indiarubbers, and always seeing fresh things in the shop- windows
that you want to buy. It's not that I wouldn't like to help: if I had a
sovereign, I'd give it at once, but I won't be put down in the list for
eighteenpence, and that's all I could save, if I tried, from now to
Christmas. I gave a threepenny-bit to old `Chairs to mend' only last
Saturday, and one the week before to a woman who was begging. I am
most charitably disposed!"
"So am I," agreed Agatha--"especially when it's cold. Rags wouldn't be
so bad in summer, but