Lady Betty Across the Water

								

toes as I have, I believe I might tick off every human being I've ever
met as actual acquaintances, outside my own relations.
I've lived always at dear, beautiful old Battlemead (it seems doubly
beautiful as I think of it now, from far away); and till last year most
of my time was spent in the schoolroom, or walking, or pottering about
in a pony carriage with one of the governesses I used to drive to
distraction. When we had house parties I was kept out of the way, as
Mother said it spoiled young girls to be taken notice of, and I should
have my fun later. When the others went up to town for the Season, as
they often did, I was left behind, and though Battlemead is within
five-and-twenty miles of London, I suppose I haven't been there more
than two dozen times in my life. When I did go, it was generally for a
concert, or a matinée, and, of course, I enjoyed it immensely; but I
don't know that it taught me much about life. And the one time I was
taken abroad we had nothing to do with anyone we met at hotels. Being
on this big ship seemed at first exactly like being at a play when I
had been brought in late, and found it difficult to know which were the
leading actors, which the villains and villainesses, and what the plot
was about.
Now, though, I've been through so many experiences, I feel as if I were
in the play myself, not watching it from outside.
Everything was very nice, though very strange, to begin with.
Dear old Stan came out of his shell and actually travelled all the way
to Southampton to see me off, which was good of him, especially as Vic
explained that he and Sally Woodburn had been thrown at each other's
heads, in vain.
He'd brought me a great box of sweets, a bunch of roses, and several
magazines; and just as we were starting he slipped something small but
fat into my hand.
"That's to help you keep your end up, Kid, in case you're imposed on,"
said he. "You are only a kid, you know; but all the same, don't let
them treat you like one, and if you get the hump over there, just you
cable me. I'll see you through, and have you back again with your own
sort, Mater or no Mater, hanged if I don't."
Stan never made me such a long speech before, and after we sailed and I
got time to look at the fat thing he'd put in my hand, I found it was a
lot of goldpieces bundled up in two ten-pound notes. The gold made
twelve sovereigns more, so Stan had given me altogether more than
thirty pounds. All that money, with the twenty pounds Mother had told
me to use only "when strictly necessary," made me feel a regular
millionaire. I've never had a sixth part as much before, in my life.
Stan's kindness was just like a cup of something warm and comforting
when you're tired and cold, so that I began to brighten up and feel
happy.
I liked our suite, with two staterooms, a bath, and a dear little
white-and-blue drawing-room, about as big as the old dolls' house I
inherited from Vic. I was thankful to find I was to chum with Miss