THAT GIRL.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 76, 28 March 1908, Page 13

THAT GIRL.

By ETHEL TURNER. ftrtkwof "Betty and Co.", "Three little Maifis," "Seven. Little Australians," " Tie Family at Misrule," etc.

CHAPTER XTV. —Continued.

There was no loitering over these 'dainties either, with Lizzie feverishly impatient to dear away and get out, and took ill-tempered for days if the washing np were delayed. Marie rarely took longer than eight minutes to bolt this meal, and escape to the breakfast-room, where she prepared —or did not prepare _her lessons for the next day, |jet there was' no one in? Miranda who would not have been extremely indignant at the idea thai there was anyone under the roof habitually underfed. With all her parsimony in small matters relating to Marie, JJrs"Henderson was fairly liberal-hand-ed in the commissariat department of her house, and she would have told you the "irl bad the same food as themselves. Jlr Henderson took this for granted. And cook and Lizzie had too much to do to sire more than the hastiest heed to her appetite. If she were hungry they supposed she could come and get something; the food was not locked up. It Tras ont of tbe question that they could go out of their way to study the likes and dislikes of such a girL

On the infrequent occasions of her staying to a meal at Roanoke, it was only that fierce pride of hers that presented Marie from eating prodigiously when so many daintily served and delirious dishes were presented. For she was growing amazingly and her lanky vonng frame craved nourishment. Not the least bitter of the sobs that shook her when she flew back to Miranda and refused to stay to tea at Roanoke with the little Merriles was the thought of ■that dining-room table and its burden or lot and delicate foods.

The Merriles had been in the Terrace about a month when Marie and the three pugs set out one Thursday afternoon for their usual hour's exercise.

Mrs. Henderson was out, so Marie lingered about the front gate of Hamlet. it a quarter past four Joan might be expected out, Joan in one of her prettiest frocks, and with her dancing shoes sticking out of her basket. The girls were leaving in twos and threes, all chattering eagerly of some new excitement. Marie hung back, dogs at heel, close to the fence of Laertes. Only a few of these happy, mothered-looking girls recognised her though to most of them she was a well-known figure, in her almost ludicrous clothing and with the fhree •wrinkled faced pug dogs behind her. The girls of the Terrace who knew her -would throw her a hasty smile or a nod, but they rarely got further. For, indeed, Marie gave them little encouragement, either staring ahead of her with a cold end indifferent gaze or actually Kowiing at them.

Thursday afternoon was dancing afternoon for the elder girls, and this afternoon as .they streamed out into the afternoon sunshine, pink and bright-eyed from the exercise, dressed in dainty muslins and washing silks with the simple sashes and pretty hair ribbons and white gloves that they donned for this lesson, Marie saw irith terribly clear eyes the difference oetween her own appearance and theirs.

-She looked down at her magenta Inxsde, her rusty black cotton stock.iegs, her heavy boots, and it seemed as if something alive was gripping at her yonjig-heart.

She stared before her, her throat contracted, and iar eyes somhre in. their intensity.

Thafts the girl Jean w*s roamg about to Miss Macintosh," murmured Laura Porter to a newcomer as they came out, ann in arm, "what do you think of her 1 -Joan says she's lovely."

The new-comer stared at Marie, 1 Marie gripped and writhing inwardly with an anguish her happy nature had never felt

"I think she's positively ugly," \vas ier reply, "Joan must be crazy. I kope Miss Macintosh will refuse to intite such a girl to the party." In a few minutes out came Joan, followed by the younger Miss Macintosh. ''"Here she is—here she is, I knew she'd he here," cried Joan, and dragged the teacher to the gate. Hiss Macintosh looked keenly at the •ombre young face. 'Joan has been telling mc about you, ifarie, and how fond you are of acting," the said pleasantly. " "I should be. so Teiy pleased if you would come to our school play and breaking-up party next ,«eek. Will you ask Mrs. Henderson, or .would you like mc to come and ask?"

A play—a breaking-up party! She, Marie, actually asked! A colour sprang out on the sallow cheeks, a light leaped lip to her eyes, her mouth broke away norn its firm line and curved into delated smiles.

"Oh, thank you," she said; "oh, thank Jon. Oh, I wonder if I could came. She's away—she's gone for a week — «he won't be back till Saturday—oh, yes, I could come."

But Miss Macintosh did not look so secure. _■

/ T. suppose you mean Mrs. Henderson £ away," she said, "still we must ask «ome one., dear."

Marie's breast rose and fell tumultu-

"Perhaps he'd let mc," she breathed. I "Suppose I ask him?" said Mrs. Ma-e----?tosh, touched at the expression of extiedhig joy that she bad "called up into P girl's face.

Marie turned suddenly white, look," she murmured, "here he is close."

Tien we'll make sure straight away," Miss Macintosh. Only for the fear of looking ridiculous .iarie would have clutched at tbe nearest railing for support during the .next „ agonising moments of suspense. .Good afternoon, Ml. Henderson," Kudllfas Macintosh. .Afternoon," said Mr. Henderson, liftS his hat, and trying to hurry past. "May I detain you a minute?" said Miss Macintosh. Mr. Henderson stopped perforce, hut «Wt her a glance of suspicion that she ° e J a merry smile. Don't he afraid," she said. 'Tm not going to tell you tbe kitchen stove ? out, or ask you to paper the i yet again. You have been E0 good in attending to our conscienceess demands that really we are not gong to make any more for quite a little

■ <~o now he smiled too, for the younger ■Miss Macintosh had been really a pretty feature in her youth, and was still posted of charm. *J? „ know ." he said, "you're collecting |g«the hospital, and—-»» j.2*ot even thai," said 'Mrca Macintosh; :™sngh. if. i mxi . t ajj i gbouid

CHAPTER XV. A PLAN OF ACTION.

get a subscription promptly from youIt is simply that we are having a school party next week, and I should'be glad if you would allow Marie to be present," He flung a glance at Marie—Marie waiting with every sense a-quiver for (Ms decision.

'Oh, yes, certainly," he said, indifferently ; "my wife's away, but that need make no difference." Marie tore home ten minutes later, and flew two steps at a time up to her attic refuge, there to fling herself on the bed as usual and bury her head in the pillow to relieve her feelings. But there were no sobs this time, just ecstatic little gurgles and bubbles of delisht.

Then, as if a sudden thunderbolt had come hurling through the sloping roof, she sat up and her eyes -widened and her jaw dropped.

"T haven't got a party frock!" she said in a strangled voice.

Others remembered that it was more than likely the girl wou.a have no party frock. Indeed, the kindness of different people in the Terrace, when it got about that "that girl" was going to the party was surprising. Mrs. Porter was the first to make an offer. Marie was upstairs at her house amusing Wilfred, who was positively ill with terror lest the party should find him ill. "What dress are you going to this party in, Marie?" she asked curiously, looking across from Laura, who was being fitted on for a new dress by the dressmaker, to Marie, who was sprawled on the floor close to Wilfred, helping to make up a dissected puzzle. "Yes," said Laura, with a little giggle. "What dress are you coming in, Marie?" Marie yawned. "Haven't decided yet," she said. Mrs. Porter was not ill-natured. "It's not breaking. anyone's bones to say some people have no taste in dress, is it?" she said. "I tell you -«hat it is, Marie, you can't go in one of those guys of dresses. I'll give you Laura's lasi party one; you can easily spare it, Laura." "Oh, yes," said Laura, graciously, "she may have it. I've worn it at three' breakings-up at least." "Thanks," said Marie, "I sha'n't need it; I have a frock. Wilf, I think that! must be the piece; see, it's got a helmet; on it." "But not like this!" cried Mrs. Porter, and bustled off to lift the dress in question out of a drawer. "See, it is pale pink silk, really good quality; and, see, these little frills of lace; why, you'll be as fine as any of them. Come here end let us fit it on. Miss Jones, you shall alter this to- fit this little girl nicely. Come here, Marie."

Marie did not move, but went on fitting strangely-shaped bits of wood into their places. "I don't want it, thanks," she said: "I'd rather wear my own frocks."

Bubble Blandford was equally unsuccessful in a similar kind endeavour.

She came flying down to tbe beach one day the moment she caugnt signt of Marie and the.three pugs. She had a large dress-box in her arms.

"Now, don't break my heart, Marie-Mary-Maria," she cried, "for I've set my mind on it. You'll just look lovely at the party in this buttercup silk of mine, and I look a horrid sickly yellow in it. If you don't take it I'll tear it up."

Marie turned her eyes resolutely away from the sheeny, delicate colour that by instinct she knew would suit her own colouring better than anything else.

"It's awfully nice of you, Bubble," she said, "and I sha'n't forget it. But it's all right, really. I'm getting a frock of my own,"

So Bubble had to carry her box back again.

.Mrs. Curtis wrestled with the delicate question, together with Claude and Joan. She dared not offer a frock outright, knowing how offensively such an action might be interpreted by Mrs. Henderson.

"But since she is actually away, children, this Mrs. Henderson," sue said, "and cannot get the child a frock—even if she wished —I think, I really think I might do this. Have a pretty dress made, and invite Marie here to tea ana to dress on the evening—if Mr. Henderson will allow it. Then she could leave it here afterwards, if she thinks best. I really don't think Mrs. Henderson would trouble her head about it."

Joan thought it a delightful plan, but suggested that she should be allowed to whisper it at once to Marie, so that Marie herself could say just what the colour should be. Marie would accept it from her, she felt sure, just this once, if she threw her arms around her neck and told her how much she had set her mind upon it.

She flew to meet Marie at the end of the day —Marie dashing about the beach with the dogs, like one possessed.

"Dear, darling, darling Marie," she began, "oh, don't be horrid—oh, Marie, dearest, it is nearly your birthday, and we do want our present to be a lovely party frock."

Marie shook her head, happily, mysteriously.

"No, no; this duck has resolved to come in its own feathers, or not at all."

Joan's eyes went unhappily to the girl's ugly dress.

"You would be cooler, Marie, darling, in a thin muslin, that's all," she said, nervously;. "it's—it's so hot at parties."

"Oh, you precious duck," laughed Marie; "you didn't think I meant to come in these feathers? You wait and see the nice white fluffy ones I'll put on for that great night."

"Ch, you might tell mc, Marie; has she got you one? Will it be really nice?" cried Joan.

"Nice!" said Marie. "You just wait and see mc burst up on the astonished visions of you all. You will all want to go home and burn your own frocks. But it's a deep and deadly mystery at present, so don't you ask mc one more word."

This was most comforting, even though exciting to the curiosity, and Joan was able to set Mrs. Curtis' mind at rest by reporting that Marie was getting a newdress specially for it, and seemed as pleased as possible about it, so it could not be one of the made-over affairs which she so detested.

Tbe day of tbe invitation—the day that it had suddenly burst like a thunderbolt upon Marie that she had no party frock was Thursday, and the party was fixed for the following Tuesday. 'She lay and smouldered that first night, awake through, hoar after hour, plotting

extravagant ways of getting, the de? sired garment.-- She was quite aware 7 that less than half a hint would -bring •her one from Roanoke, but a curious mood had taken hold of her. She wanted to burst suddenly in dazzling attire upon the view of Claude; -this big, kind, Claude, who was always trying to help, her, poor little lame dog as he seemed to think Her, over'some stile or other. She wanted him to see her' sailing proudly and independently into- the room, not dressed by the kind charity of ; his mother, but daringly and becomingly arrayed; and as mysteriously as Cinderella. It was as if a germ of the undying story were' sprouting in her . poor young heart. "' '■ ■

Before morning she had rejected all j the wild ideas she had entertained, one J after the other, of making money for herself, and had determined on a straightforward plan of action. She would dejmand the frock from Mr. Henderson. He owed her—ah, God! what did he not owe ( her? Sometimes the thought of all that l had been buried for her of life in that island grave was too much for her, and she would clench her hands and bite her lips in a very paroxym of futile passion and misery.

Yes, she would simply demand the frock of him. If he refused, as he undoubtedly would at first, she would unlock her pent torrent of wrath and reproach—would blister him with bitter words and reminders of that far-off tragedy of which she was paying so infinitely a bigger price than he had done. Mr. Henderson would have been amazed beyond words could he have realised as he sat down to his zwiebach and his nut butter and other life-supports that at the other end. of the table smouldered a volcano that one word from him would put into active eruption. Marie let him lay the foundation of his daywith a square or two of the brown and brittle substance, that, lauded as it is by the health reformers, is still but a melancholy substitute for hot buttered toast. She allowed him to dispose of two cups of his' so-called coffee. She waited until he had taken the edge off his newsappetite with the cables and the summary of events, but before he could fold the paper for a prolonged survey of the monetary and commercial column, she opened the attack. "Mr. Henderson," she said. He took no notice whatever. "Mr. Henderson," she repeated, in a slightly higher key, "I want a party frock." ""Eh ?" he said, and lcok-?d over the top of his paper at her. "What's that— the butter? Why don't they set you another dish of it down at your end?" He felt it was inhuman that his dislike of passing things at table should be thus neglected. "I have plenty of butter." said Marie, st?adily.' "I said I wanted a .party frock. You gave permission for mc to go to Miss Macintosh's party, and I have no frock." "No frock!" he repeated. He had heard plainly enough, but the repetition of her words gave him time to collect his thoughts. He had no recollection of the silent child -who inhabited his house ever making a request direct to him before. "How can I see to your frocks?" he said, testily, at last. ""Mrs. Henderson does all that." "She is away," said Maris, calmly; "and if she were at home she would tell mc to go in one that I have." "Well," he said, "and why not? You have plenty, I expect." Marie rose from her seat and walked deliberately to his end of the table. "This is the sort of dress I have," she said, and revolved slowly that he might see the magenta creation in all its horror. "What's the matter with it?" he said. Marie looked him full in the eye. "Do you think it is pretty?" she said. "Do you think it would look nice at a party?" And he really looked at it, saw the clumsy folds swathing the slight girl figure, saw the sharp, colourless face above it rendered yet more colourless by reason of its unsuitability. "Well," he said, "perhaps not. But haven't you any other?" 'Yes," said Marie, "two or three. All much uglier." He rubbed his chin and looked at her furtively. Something in her determined attitude and quiet vofca brought vague memories of that shipboard scene to his mind, when her mother had bargained with him. "Well," he said, "What is it you want? How do you generally get your dresses?" "Lizzie make 3 them," she returned, "out of old ones of Mrs. Henderson's." "And if you had new material, could Lizzie make one to suit yourself, and in time?" "Oh, yes—l think so. If she would." "Go and find out." Marie went like a bow from an arrow, and returned in three minutes. "Yes; Lizzie says she will do it with pleasure. She could do it in one good day sitting at it." "Then it is only a matter of material r" "Yes," she breathed. "How much would buy it?" he asked. "I—don't know " she said. In very truth she had never bought an article for herself in her knew less at 14 about dress values than an ordinary child of eight. "Go and ask Lizzie if a soveriegn will be sufficient." Again the rapid visit to the kitchen. "Yes, Lizzie says I can get five yards of very nice stuff for a sovereign." "Very well, here you are," he said. "You've given mc two!" she gasped. "Oh," he said, "it will come in. Pity to be tied to a few shilling; if you see something you like better." After he put his hat on, he came back along the hall, and actually out to the kitchen door. "Cook," he said. That amazed woman appeared before him. "See that girl has two chops cooked for her breakfast every morning for the future," he said. "There's no need for her to be restricted to toast." , It seemed to him that he had seen the colourless young face for- the first, time this morning. He was almost down at the boat when he heard light footfalls behind him,, and a gasping, "Mr Henderson —oh—please." He turned round, and there was Marie again. There was colour enough in her face now. "Well?" he said, as sharply as usnaL "The party frock!" she gasped. "Need I go to school —may I have holiday today to go to buy it?" Almost for the first time since he hid known her he joked with her. "Wouldn't it be better if Lizzie bought it, and you attended school as usual'/" he said with perfect solemnity. Down dropped the flood of colour; the girl looked positively sick with misery in a moment. ■.->■■■. "Oh, he off with you," he said, testily. "Of course you may." He pondered her future for the rest of .the way to the boat; he even pondered, vaguely^, her • past—so little of- it was reallyknown to him. He realised.

that he had.-taken no more heed of her jin his household than of the cats and the pug dogs-that crossed his path from, time to time; "it never had occurred to him to stay to satisfy himself that they were happy in their state of life, and it had not occurred to him to question whether the girl was.

! But if it only took, the price of a party frock to transform a dull, colourless, face into' the- sparkling glowing ;one that had; confronted him for one jmqment—■wjelk.he must find time to see to it thai more party frocks came along.

[(To be continued next Saturday.);