Etheldreda the Ready | Page 9

have sense enough to realise what is before me,
while you are so taken up with sentiment and--"
"Oh, shut up, girls! Stop wrangling, for pity's sake!" cried Hereward,
impatiently. "Things are bad enough as they are, without making them
worse. If you are going to nag, we'll go downstairs and leave you to
yourselves. It's such bad form to kick up a fuss; but girls are all alike.
You wouldn't find a boy going on like that--"
Rowena turned upon him with wide, challenging eyes.
"Wouldn't I? Are you so sure? Suppose father were to tell you to-
morrow that you couldn't be a soldier, but must go into an office and
try to earn money for yourself... Suppose he took you away from Eton,
Gurth, and sent you to a cheap school! How would you like that?"
Silence... The two lads sat staring into the fire with dogged faces. They
scorned to cry aloud, but the horror of the prospect had for a moment a
so paralysing effect that they could not reply. Leave Sandhurst in the
middle of one's course, and become--a clerk! Leave Eton and the
fellows, and go to one of those miserable, second-rate shows which all
good Etonians regarded with ineffable contempt! Was it possible to
suffer such degradation and live?
Rowena was touched to compunction by the sight of the stricken faces,
for though at the moment the worst side of her character was in the
ascendant, she was by no means hard-hearted, and, moreover,
Hereward was her especial friend and companion. She laughed again,
and gave an impatient shrug to her shoulders.
"Oh, don't be afraid ... He never will! Whatever happens, nothing will
be allowed to interfere with `the boys' and their careers! We shall all
pinch and screw and live on twopence-halfpenny a week, so as to be
able to pay your bills. It's always the same story. Everything is
sacrificed for the sons."

"Quite right, too," maintained the eldest son, stoutly. "How are you
going to keep up the honour of a family if you don't give the boys a
chance? It doesn't matter a fig whether a girl is educated or not, so long
as she can read and write. She'll marry, of course, and then she has
nothing to do but add up the bills."
At this truly masculine distinction, Rowena and Dreda tossed scornful
heads and rolled indignant eyes to the ceiling.
"I shall never marry!" announced the former, thinking ruefully of the
bare countryside, with never a house of consequence within a radius of
miles ... "I am a suffragette. I believe in the high, lofty mission of
women!" cried the second, who had been converted to the movement
the day before by the sight of some sketches in the Daily Graphic. Only
nine- year-old Maud sniffed, and opined, "I shall marry a lord! Then
he'll have lots of money, and I'll give it to father, and we'll live happily
ever after."
Poor Maud! Her millennium was not to begin just yet, at least; for
Nannie, her immaculate but austere attendant, rapped at the door at that
moment, and summoned her nursling to be bathed and put to bed.
Maud was every evening enraged afresh at being called at such a
ridiculously early hour, and to-night her annoyance was increased by
the fact that she was torn ruthlessly from the rare treat of a conference
with her elders, in which she had really been and truly on the level of a
"grown- up." She fumed with anger, but presently consolation came
with the idea of a dramatic disclosure upstairs. She waited until she and
her attendant were alone together in the bedroom, and then sprung the
bolt in her most impressive fashion.
"Nannie, we're ruined!"
"Indeed, miss. Sorry to hear it, I'm sure," returned Nannie, unperturbed.
It is safe to predict that any important family news will be known as
soon in the servants' hall as in the drawing-room, and Nannie had the
air of listening to a very stale piece of information.
Maud was distinctly disappointed, but nerved herself for fresh efforts.

"Yes. Bankrup'! There's nothing left. I'm going to give up all my
savings. What will you do, Nannie--leave?"
"I shall be pleased to stay on, miss, as long as your mother can afford to
give me my wages and a nursery maid."
"Oh, Nannie, how mean! The Pharisees likewise do as much as that! In
storybooks the nurses always stay on, whether they are ruined or not,
and give their money to help. You are mean!"
"No impertinence, please," said Nannie sharply. She was just beginning
to comb out Maud's hair, and it was astonishing how many knots there
appeared to be that evening. "I'm sorry I spoke," reflected poor Maud.
CHAPTER FOUR.
In