Lady Betty Across the Water

								

fairly treated, to be disposed of in such an offhand way. After all, I
am eighteen; and a person of eighteen isn't a child.
I'm not sure I wasn't pouting when Vic came in, ready for dinner,
asking if she should fasten up my frock. I had nearly finished it, for
practice has made me almost as clever as a conjurer about manipulating
my hands behind my back, but when Vic flew at me and began giving
useless little touches, I guessed that she wanted to whisper something
in my ear without Mother seeing, if she should happen to prance in at
the wrong moment--as she often does.
"Look here, Betty, are you going to be a good little girl, and do what
you're bid, without making a fuss?" she asked, in a quick, low voice.
"I'm not certain yet," said I. "I'm thinking it over. I don't see why I
should be sent off across the water with strangers, at a moment's
notice, and I----"
"'Tisn't a moment's notice. It's five days. They're not sailing till
Wednesday, and as they've a suite engaged,--the best on the ship, Mrs.
Ess Kay says,--your going won't put them out a bit, and they'll love
having you. As for the whys and wherefores, Mother's been telling you,
hasn't she?"
"She talked about my health and valuable experiences, and a lot of
things in the air, but I feel there's something behind it, and I hate
mysteries----"
"If I can convince you it's for the good of the family in general, if
not yours in particular, will you be a nice, white, woolly lamb, and go
with your kind little American friends?" Vic broke in, with her head on
my shoulder and an arm slipped round my waist.
"Mrs. Ess Kay's neither little nor kind," said I, "but, of course, I'll
do anything to help, if only I'm treated like a rational, grown-up
human being."
"And so you shall be. I told Mother it would be much better to be frank
with you, if you are a Baby. It's too late to explain things now, but
if you'll be sweet to Mrs. Ess Kay, and agree with everything everybody
says about your trip, when we come up to bed and Mother's door's shut,
I'll make a clean breast and show you exactly how matters stand."
With this, we separated, for we could hear Mrs. Ess Kay's voice in the
corridor, talking to Sally Woodburn on the way downstairs. Her voice is
never difficult to hear; rather the other way; and Miss Woodburn's soft
little drawl following it, reminded me of a spoonful of Devonshire
cream after a bunch of currants.
Mother was with them both in the oak drawing-room when Vic and I got
down, and I found myself staring at Mrs. Ess Kay with a new kind of
criticism in my mind; indeed, it hadn't occurred to me before to
criticise at all. I'd only felt that I didn't want to come any closer
to her. Now I was to come much closer, it seemed, and I looked at the
glittering lady, wondering how it would feel to be so close--wondering
what she herself was.
Outside, she's more like the biggest and most splendid dressmaker's
model ever made for a Paris show-window than anything else I can think