Wild Kitty by L. T. Meade

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"What is that?"

"Let us go back to the house with our arms round each other's waists. It
will show Alice that we have come to an understanding. I don't care
twopence about Miss Harley nor about that other girl--I don't remember
her name; but I want Alice to see us. Why, it's mad with jealousy she'll
be. Come along, aroon. Here's my arm firm round your waist; now let us
dance up to the house."

"Oh Kitty, Kitty, you are incorrigible!" cried poor Bessie, and a
feeling of despair certainly visited her at that moment.

CHAPTER VI.

THE TUG-OF-WAR.

A few days after the events related in the last chapter Alice Denvers,
Bessie Challoner, Elma Lewis, and Gwin Harley met once more at Gwin's
pretty home, to discuss the rules of a little society which they were
drawing up among themselves. The nicest girls in their set were to be
invited to join; but the important subject of the rules was first to be
discussed. Gwin Lad drawn up a plan which she now submitted to her eager
companions.

"The most important thing of all is the name," she said. "I thought of
calling it 'The Early Rising, Devoted to Study Society.'"

"Oh, twice too long," said Bessie. "Who could be bothered saying all
these words? You know when we are in the rush of school-life we cannot
be bothered talking of the 'Early Rising, Devoted to Study;' it would
never, never do. We must express what we mean in a single word if
necessary."

"Then let us get one," said Gwin. "You have not the least idea what a
headache I had last night searching in the dictionary and cudgelling my
brains; but a sensible word which would express all our meaning I could
not get."

"Let us think what our meaning clearly is," said Elma.

"Don't you know that yet?" exclaimed Bessie. "The society is to be
formed as an incentive to make us work extra hard. You know," she added
"I always think the motives of school-life are quite wrong."

"Oh, do listen to the words of Miss Wisdom," said Elma, in a very
mocking tone.

Bessie's big gray eyes flashed for a moment with indignation; but she
soon recovered her usual calm.

"I think the motives of school are wrong," she repeated; "there are
prizes offered, and there is a lot of emulation--"

"And how could we live without emulation?" cried Alice. "Why, it is the
very breath of life."

"But the desire of each to excel the other is not surely why we are sent
to school," continued Bessie. "We are sent to school because our parents
want us to learn something. They don't want us specially to get prizes,
although they are glad when we do, because they suppose that we have
accomplished some of the objects of our school life; but their real wish
is that we should know English history, and history generally, that we
should be well acquainted with geography, that we should speak French
fluently, and understand German so as to be able to converse in that
tongue, and to read the literature."

"Oh, do listen to the bookworm," cried Elma.

"In short," continued Bessie; "that we should become accomplished
women--that is undoubtedly the real object of school."

"Well, we are not gainsaying it," said Gwin. "We all know, dear Bessie,
what you feel about learning; it is the breath of life to you."

"It is, I rejoice in it," said Bessie. "A good vigorous tussle with a
tough subject is the keenest pleasure which I can possibly have."

"But the rest of us are not made the same way," continued Gwin. "Now I
like my studies very much--that is, in moderation. When I am learning
and mastering French, and getting through my music creditably, and, in
short, going through the usual curriculum of work, I feel interested;
but I also have a delightful sense that if I work for so many hours I am
entitled to play for so many hours."

"Oh, bother the play," interrupted Bessie.

"You see, Bessie Challoner, that is the difference between us. I like
work just to form part of my life, but not the whole; you want work to
form the whole of your life."

"Yes; that I do," said Bessie.

"But now to return to the society," interrupted Elma. "We all know that
it won't be the slightest effort to Bessie to join; but she will be a
good incentive to the rest of us. She will always be at the top of the
tree, at the head of her class, and all that sort of thing. She won't
require to be told to get up early, because she always does."

"I tell you what," interrupted Bessie; "let us put things into our rules
which will be a tug-of-war for me too. For instance, now, I am untidy."

"Well, yes; just a little bit," said Gwin, her eyes dancing.

"It's more than a little bit," said Bessie. "Oh, Gwin, you don't know
what a nuisance it is to keep my room in order, and sometimes I forget
the things dear mother tells me, and I am impatient with poor little
Judy, who takes, I must say, a fiendish delight in putting my things in
hiding. Now, our rules might include tidiness of person and order
generally. It's no trouble to me to keep my books in order, nor my mind
in order; but I do hate washing my hands before every meal, and brushing
my hair and doing it up in a fashionable roll at the back of my head."

"Oh, my dear child," said Elma, "do you imagine for a moment that that
excrescence at the back of your head is fashionable? I never saw
anything more dowdy."

"Dowdy? Is it?" said Bessie. "I spent five minutes over it this morning,
and twisted it up three times in order to give it that horrid little
handle of a jug look which you all aspire to. Well, well, I don't
suppose we need add to our rules that the girls who belong to the
society are to be fashionable."

"It would be a really good idea if we did," said Elma. "I cannot see why
schoolgirls should be a lot of frumps. Our society is to effect a
certain object which can never be acquired unaided in a great school
like Middleton. We want to be as ladylike, as refined, as nice as if we
belonged to a very small and select school. We get the best teaching at
Middleton, but I don't suppose we get the best manners."

"Well, let us add all these things to the rules," said Gwin, "and let us
begin to put them down at once. First, as to the name. Until we can
think of a better we must call it the 'Mutual Improvement Society.'"

"A hateful word," said Bessie. "The M.I.S.!"

"Yes, it does sound priggish," said Elma.

"Well, I dare say some one will have genius enough to think of a more
flashy and brilliant name," said Gwin, "but for the present we will call
it the 'Mutual Improvement,' for that is exactly what it means. Now then
for the rules."

As Gwin spoke she drew in front of her a sheet of foolscap paper; and,
dipping her pen in ink, looked eagerly at her three young companions.

"Rule I.," she said.

"For goodness' sake," cried Bessie, "let Rule I. apply to study. Do let
down lightly with regard to tidiness and fashionable hair, and all that
sort of thing."

"Yes, we will begin about the most important matters first," said Gwin.
Here she began to write rapidly in pencil. "I must copy this out in my
best and most copperplate hand presently," she continued; "but while we
are correcting matters and getting down our rules somehow pencil will
do. Well, Rule I. Shall it be something like this, girls? 'The members
of this society are expected to aim for the top of the class in each
branch of their study at Middleton School. They are expected to gain at
least one prize at the midsummer examination.'"

"That sounds rather like emulation coming in," interrupted Bessie.

"It must come in, Bessie--it must," said Elma. "We must have something
to work for."

"I thought the love of the thing--" began poor Bessie.

"Oh, Bessie Challoner, do shut up. Yes, Gwin, that first rule goes very
well," said Elma. "We are to aim for the top of the class, and we are to
secure at least one prize each. Hurrah! for the Mutual Improvement
Society! Now, then let us get to Rule II."

"That applies to deportment," said Gwin. "'The members of the Mutual
Improvement Society are to aim at ladylike manners, they are to refrain
from slang in conversation, and they are to refuse to make friends with
girls who indulge too largely in that special form of vulgarity.' Poor
Kitty Malone!"

"But she does not talk slang," said Bessie. "She talks Ireland, and
Ireland and England are as far apart as the poles."

"Rule III.," continued Gwin, "relates to tidiness; and now, Bessie,
comes your tug of war. 'The members of the society must engage to keep
their home things in perfect order, as well as their school desks. They
must be neat in their persons, exquisitely clean with regard to hands
and teeth, and tidy with regard to hair.'"

"I don't think I'll join," said Bessie.

"Nonsense, Bessie; it was you who told us to put all this in. I, as a
matter of course, always do these things," said Gwin, looking very sweet
and the essence of young ladyhood as she spoke.

"Oh, yes, you dear old thing, you are perfect; but you don't live in the
sort of ramshackle house we do," said Bessie. "However, never mind. I am
quite agreeable to go in for the tug-of-war. And, now, is there anything
else?"

"Oh yes, there is," said Elma, "and I think it is a most important
thing. 'The members of the Society, as far as they possibly can, are to
adhere to fashionable dress, to hair done in a stylish manner, and in
short to that distinction of appearance which ought to characterize the
lady of the present day.'"

"Well done, Elma," said Gwin, "that is a capital rule."

"It is a hateful rule," said Bessie. "I really don't think I can join. I
don't know what fashionable clothes are. I never study the fashions. I
have not the slightest idea whether sleeves are worn stuck out to the
size of a balloon or skin-tight to the arm. All I ask for in a sleeve is
that it should be comfortable; all I ask for in a dress is that I should
not know I have it on. I like to be warm in winter and cool in summer.
More I do not ask for."

"Then the rule will do you a wonderful lot of good," said Gwin. "And now
is it decided? If so we will draw up the rules in proper form, and----"

"I tell you what," said Bessie. "I have thought of a name and a good one
too. Let us call the society the 'Tug-of-war Society.'"

"Well done," said Gwin; "that will be capital. And now is there to be a
subscription or is there not?"

"Oh, certainly," said Alice. "It would make it much more distinguished,
and prevent too many girls asking to join. We want to have the
Tug-of-War Society rather select, don't we?"

"I suppose so," said Gwin; "but I don't think that really depends upon
the amount of the subscription. What do you say to half a guinea,
girls?"

Alice looked thoughtful, and Elma's face turned rather pale; but she was
the first to say she thought Gwin's suggestion an admirable one.

"Then that is all right," said Gwin, "and I will set to work to write
out the rules as neatly as I can. After they are all set out in due
form, we can see if there are any improvements to be suggested."

Gwin set to work, bending low over her foolscap paper, and Alice offered
to help her. Elma and Bessie wandered out of the room, and soon their
conversation turned to the much-discussed subject of Kitty.

Bessie stood up warmly for the harum-scarum Irish girl, as Elma called
her.

"She has a lot of good in her," said Bessie warmly. "She would be a
splendid girl if she were tamed down a little. I really don't think we
want to take much of the fire out of her; but if she would only restrain
some of her wild speeches it would be all the better; for if she remains
as frank as she is at present to the end of the chapter she cannot help
making enemies."

"I want to ask you a question, Bessie," said Elma, dropping her voice to
a low tone; "is it true that Kitty Malone is rich?"

"Rich?" echoed Bessie. "I really cannot tell you."

"I thought you might happen to know, as you have made such chums with
her. She is your greatest friend now at Middle ton School, is she not?"

"Certainly not," replied Bessie. "What do you mean by asking me such a
strange question, Elma? Alice is far and away my greatest friend, and
after Alice I like Gwin best."

"Oh, everybody likes Gwin Harley," said Elma; "who could help it? She is
so beautiful to look at, and she has such a delightful, lovely home."

"I cannot see that her having a lovely, delightful home has anything to
do with our liking her," said honest Bessie.

"Not to you perhaps," answered Elma, and a queer look, half-wistful,
half-defiant, came into her eyes.

"I thought you would be sure to be able to tell me if Kitty were rich,"
she said again after a pause.

"I cannot. You must ask Alice--she lives with Alice. She has plenty of
pretty dresses, and all that sort of thing; but I don't know anything
about her having money."

"I will run into the house this minute and ask Alice," said Elma.

"Do, of course, if you are anxious; but I cannot imagine what difference
it makes to you."

"No, it doesn't, but I am just curious on the subject. I won't keep you
long."

Elma dashed into the house. She presently came back.

"I have found out all about it," she said.

"All about what?" asked Bessie.

"What I went into the house for. How forgetful you are, Bessie!"

"I was wondering if I might steal into the library," said Bessie. "I did
not get all the information I wanted about magnetic iron ore, but--Well,
what is it, Elma?"

"Kitty Malone is rich, very rich, and----"

"I can't see that it matters," said Bessie--"I mean to us."

"Oh, but it matters a good deal. You don't understand. I shall certainly
vote that we ask her to join the Tug-of-War Society."

"You will?" cried Bessie--a look of great pleasure came into her eyes.
"Then I am really glad, for to join such a society would do Kitty more
good than anything else in the world. Only the nicest girls will belong,
and she will get at once into the best set. She is as wild as she can
be, but she has got plenty of honor; and if she once gave her word that
she would do a certain thing no one would do it better."

"Let us have her by all means. Let us put it to the vote as soon as we
go back to the house," said Elma. "Come Bessie, no slinking away in the
direction of that fascinating library. They have nearly copied the
rules, and we are to read them over and make comments."

"I think it will be a delightful society," said Bessie. "I am sure it
will do me good."

"It is meant to do us all good," said Elma. "Tug-of-war! I should rather
think it will be! How I shall hate that terrible effort to get to the
head of my class; not that I am stupid or dislike my lessons."

"That would be the nice part as far as I am concerned," said Bessie;
"but oh! the fashionable sleeves and the stylish hair. Oh dear! I often
feel inclined to have my hair cut short."

"Well, Bessie, you would be a fool if you did," said Elma. "Your
splendid hair; why, it's nearly down to your knees."

"Yes, and that's the bother," said Bessie, "for mother insists on my
brushing it out every night for at least ten minutes, and all that time
is taken from my books. I tell you, Elma, I would gladly change with
you."

Elma's locks were very thin and straggly, and she could not help
coloring at this left-handed compliment; but at that moment Alice
appeared on the balcony to tell the other two girls that the rules were
ready, and that they might return to the house. They did so, and the
rules were then read carefully over (by Elma on this occasion),
criticized by Gwin, Alice, and Bessie, and finally carried as far as the
original members of the society were concerned. The next important thing
was to put to the vote who was to be asked to join and who was to be
excluded. Several girls were named, and among them Elma suddenly
introduced the name of Kitty Malone.

"Now what do you mean by that?" said Alice, her eyes flashing angrily.
"If Kitty joins the society, I, for one, will resign."

"But you cannot, dear," said Gwin in her placid voice. "Remember you are
one of the founders; you are bound to uphold the society now for at
least one term of its natural life. At the end of that time you are
permitted to resign, but certainly not before."

"Then, as I presume I have a vote with regard to the election of
members, I certainly do not wish for Kitty Malone," said Alice.

"I think the votes must go by the wishes of the majority," replied Gwin;
"does any one else want her?"

"I do." said Elma, holding up her hand.

"And I think it would be good for her," said Bessie.

"Dear me, Bessie, how spiteful of you to say that," cried Alice.

"But I do think it, Alice; I do truly."

"Why, Bessie?" asked Gwin.

"Well, you know there are the sort of things mentioned in our rules
which would just give Kitty the sort of restraint she wants," began
Bessie.

"Yes, I think I begin to understand you, Bessie. I too will vote that
she is asked to join," said Gwin.

Alice looked very sulky, but did not say anything further, and soon
afterward the girls broke up their conference.

CHAPTER VII.

ELMA.

Kitty Malone was admitted to a low form at Middleton School, her
acquirements being the reverse of distinguished. This fact did not give
her the smallest sense of discomfort. On the contrary, she was pleased;
and although her fellow-scholars were all younger and smaller than
herself, she soon became a sort of queen among them, laughing and joking
with them, and flying round the playground with half a dozen small girls
at her heels, feasting them with unlimited chocolate and telling them
stories. She soon got through her somewhat easy lessons, and was wilder
and more incorrigible than ever. The only sober moments she seemed to
enjoy were when she was with Bessie; for Bessie Challoner took a sincere
interest in her, and was very anxious to get her into a higher form,
where she would be with girls nearer her own age, and would thus be
forced to submit to more discipline than she could enjoy with the
younger girls. Bessie also hoped great things from the Tug-of-war
Society, and soon told Kitty that she was to be asked to become a
member.

"I will certainly join when I am asked," answered Kitty. "I have not the
least idea what you are all driving at, but I'll become a member if it's
to be in the same society with you, my darling duck of a girl!"

Bessie then read her a copy of the rules.

"Why, then, you can't expect me to adhere to the first of them," was
Kitty's answer. "It's no, it's no to that, Bessie. I wouldn't tell a lie
for any earthly thing, and I could not drive myself to the head of that
class. Why, I wouldn't take the place from sweet little Agnes Moore for
all the world. Why it's tears I'd bring to the pretty eyes of the
creature. Oh, I couldn't get ahead of her. I'd just as lief be at the
tail--just as lief."

"But, Kitty, have you no ambition?"

"Well, no, dear, I don't think I have. I never could see the fun of
taking a prize from another; it's no use I'll be in the society, not the
least bit."

"Well, all the same it would do you good," said Bessie, "for you know
you love your father, and you said you would try to acquire knowledge to
please him."

"Oh, where's the good of reminding me of that," said Kitty, looking very
thoughtful and somewhat pensive. "Why did you come out with it, Bessie,
aroon; it's fretting the heart out of me you are. Dear old dad! there's
nothing I wouldn't do for him."

"I am glad I did remind you, Kitty, for you know you have come here to
learn."

"Ah, dear, I'll shut my ears if you talk any more in that sort of way,"
said Kitty. "If I must learn, I must; but don't be reminding me of it,
there's a good creature--it's play out of school if it's work in."

"Much work you do, Kitty! Why, I always see you laughing and winking
and twinkling your eyes, and pushing your feet about."

"Pushing my feet about! And is it to keep them in a corner I would,
pretty feet like mine! Why, they are meant to be seen. That's the only
reason why I object to a long dress, because it does not show so much of
the feet and ankles. Ah, sure it's dear little ankles I have, as neat
and trim as you please."

"Kitty, you are getting wilder than ever."

"Well, darling, I'll cool down if you'll just let me give you one of my
big hugs."

"I really can't; my ribs are quite sore. You must not do it to-day. I
told you, you might once a week, but no oftener."

Kitty sank down on the nearest chair and looked comically miserable.

"Go on with the next rule, Bessie," she said, after a moment. "I want to
belong to the Tug-of-war because it's close to you I'll be, darling.
What's the next rule?"

Bessie read it out to her.

"Why, now, it's the pink of a lady I am myself," said Kitty. "I was
always told I was; I don't mind that rule in the least. There won't be
much of a tug-of-war there; if Kitty Malone is to be a lady, why, a lady
she is. I wish you could hear Aunt Honora and Aunt Bridget talking about
our ancient family and our long and royal descent. Go on, Bessie; that's
not so bad as taking the prize from poor little Agnes. What's Rule
III.?"

Rule III. was read aloud to Kitty, who shook her head solemnly several
times.

"Now, to be frank with you," she said, "there's only one bond between
Alice and me, and that is we do make a froth of the things in our
drawers; and if we are both to struggle against our besetting infirmity,
it will go hard with us; but there, it will be fun to see her struggling
to be tidy and all to no purpose. I think I'll join on that account. I
shall like to see her fighting her drawers. I know if I'm put to it I
can keep mine twenty times tidier."

"I am now coming to Rule IV.," said Bessie; this she read aloud with
some qualms, for she disliked it so very much herself. Kitty's eyes
flashed with pleasure.

"Now, that is after my own heart," she cried, "fashionable dresses are
they, and hair done up in style. Mavourneen! mavourneen! you will have
to wear a fringe!"

Kitty burst into peals of laughter.

"Oh, Bessie," she said, "I have just been longing to attack that head of
yours. I'll bring my little tongs along, and I'll curl up such a lovely
fringe on your great intellectual forehead."

"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Bessie, clasping her hands over
her head to protect her thick, long hair.

"But you must, mavourneen, you must if you join the Tug-of-war Society.
Oh, it's beautiful you'll look! And I tell you what it is, Bessie, I'll
lend you the patterns of my new sleeves--those that are all crinkled
from above the elbow down to the wrist, and puffed ever so much at the
top, with little tucks, and little insertions, and little--"

"Kitty, I won't listen to you for another moment. I shall try to dress
as neatly as I can, and perhaps I must twist my hair into a more stylish
coil at the back of my head, but beyond that I absolutely refuse to go."

"Well, it's a delicious rule," said Kitty Malone, "and I hope I'll work
you round after a bit, Bessie. It seems but fair that if I yield to you
with regard to the other rules you ought to yield to me about Rule IV. I
am sure if I do take the prize from poor little Agnes Moore, and if I
never speak a word of slang, and if I keep my abominable drawers as neat
as a new pin, and all my clothes in perfect order, that you on your part
ought to wear a good thick, heavy fringe, and have your hair pointed out
ever so far at the back in the way it is worn in the present day. I'd
love to do it; and you have magnificent hair, Bessie, aroon! so you
have."

"I must ask you to leave me now, Kitty," was Bessie's answer. "You are a
very funny girl, and there is a great deal that I like in you; but I
cannot neglect my studies even for you."

"Oh, bother your studies!" answered Kitty.

Bessie, however, was quite in earnest, and Kitty had to leave her.

The next day there was another meeting at Gwin Harley's house, and the
members of the Tug-of-war Society were formally initiated into the
mysteries of what they had undertaken. About ten girls joined in all,
and it was decided to limit the number to these until the end of the
present term. In addition to the four chief rules it was also clearly
understood that the members were all to be absolutely faithful the one
to the other, that no member of the Tug-of-war Society was to speak
against another member; on the contrary, she was to uphold her through
thick and thin, to help her if possible, to aid her in moments of
difficulty, and to rejoice with her in moments of triumph. Once a week
the members were to meet at each other's houses. There they were to have
tea together, to discuss the rules if necessary, but at any rate to have
a pleasant time. As the summer advanced picnics were to be inaugurated
on Saturdays, and fun of some sort or another was to be the vogue.

Kitty, who had dressed herself for this auspicious occasion in a dress
of the palest blue, with a silver sheen running in zigzag lines all over
it, whose black hair was curled up on her forehead and coiled
fantastically round the back of her head, whose eyes were shining and
wreathing themselves in all sorts of smiles, could scarcely restrain her
spirits while the rest of the girls were debating on the rules.

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