Tom and Some Other Girls

Tom and some other Girls
A Public School Story
By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
CHAPTER ONE.
A CHANGE.
"Yes, she must go to school!" repeated Mr Chester.
A plaintive sob greeted his words from the neighbourhood of the sofa.
For once in her life Mrs Chester's kindly, good-tempered face had lost
its smiles, and was puckered up into lines of distress. She let one fat,
be-ringed hand drop to her side and wander restlessly over the satin
skirt in search of a pocket. Presently out came a handkerchief, which
was applied to each eye in turn, and came away bedewed with tears.
"It will break my heart to part from her!" she faltered. Her husband
laughed with masculine scepticism.
"Oh, nonsense, dear," he said; "hearts are not so easily broken. You are
too sensible to grieve over what is for the child's good, and will get
used to the separation, as other mothers have done before you. It will be
the making of Rhoda to leave home for a few years, to mix with other
girls, and find her level. She is getting an altogether exaggerated idea of
her own importance!"
"Her level, indeed! Find her level! I should like to know the school
where you could find another girl like her!" cried the mother, in a tone
which showed plainly enough who was responsible for Miss Rhoda's
conceit. The tears dried on her face for very indignation, and she sat
upright in her seat, staring across the room.

It was a gorgeous apartment, this drawing-room of Erley Chase, the
residence of Henry Chester, Esquire, and Marianne his wife; a
gorgeous room in the literal acceptance of the term, for each separate
article of furniture looked as if it had been chosen more from the fact of
its intrinsic value than for its usefulness or beauty.
Mr Chester, the son of a country clergyman, had considered himself
passing rich when a manufacturer uncle took him into his employ, at a
salary of £400 a year. The first thing he did after this position was
assured was to marry his old love, the daughter of the village doctor,
with whom he had played since childhood; and the young couple spent
the first dozen years of their married lives very happily and contentedly
in a little house in a smoky manufacturing town. The bachelor uncle
was proud of his clever nephew and fond of the cheery little wife, who
was always kind and thoughtful even when gout and a naturally
irritable temper goaded him into conduct the reverse of amiable. When
Harold was born, and christened after himself, he presented the child
with a silver mug, and remarked that he hoped he would turn out better
than most young men, and not break his parents' hearts as a return for
their goodness. When Jim followed, the mug was not forthcoming; but
when little Rhoda made her appearance six years later he gave her a
rattle, and trusted that she would improve in looks as she grew older,
since he never remembered seeing an uglier baby. He was certainly
neither a gracious nor a liberal old gentleman, but the young couple
were blessed with contented minds and moderate ambitions, so they
laughed good-naturedly at his crusty speeches, and considered
themselves rich, inasmuch as they were able to pay their way and were
spared anxiety for the future. And then an extraordinary thing happened!
The old man died suddenly, and left to his beloved nephew a fortune
which, even in these days of millionaires, might truthfully be called
enormous. Henry Chester could not believe the lawyers when the
amount of his new wealth was broken to him, for his uncle had lived so
unostentatiously that he had had no idea of the magnitude of his
savings. The little wife, who had never known what it was to spend
sixpence carelessly in all her thirty-five years, grew quite hysterical
with excitement when an arithmetical calculation proved to her the
daily riches at her disposal; but she recovered her composure with

wonderful celerity, and expressed her intention of enjoying the goods
which the gods had sent her. No poking in gloomy town houses after
this! No hoarding of riches as the poor old uncle had done, while
denying himself the common comforts of life! She herself had been
economical from a sense of duty only, for her instincts were all for
lavishness and generosity--and now, now! Did not Henry feel it a
provision of Providence that Erley Chase was empty, and, as it were,
waiting for their occupation?
Her husband gasped at the audacity of the idea. Erley Chase! the finest
place around, one of the largest properties in the county, and Marianne
suggested that he should take it! that he should remove from his fifty-
pound