'her life had many a hope and aim,

duties enough, and little cares.'

this story is so much about peggy and her satellite bobby that we have rather neglected lilian, and she deserves a chapter all to herself; for she was one of the sweetest, gentlest, most unselfish of girls, who filled a quiet niche in the little world of her home which would have been sadly empty without her.

if anyone had asked lilian what was her favourite study she would promptly have replied: 'music.' she practised away patiently at the old piano, much to the delight of her german teacher, who was wont to hold her up as his pattern pupil.

'mees vaughan, she take pains, ver' great,' he would say to miss martin. 'as for ze ozer yong ladies, zey have no more musique in zem zan an old hurdy-gurdy. all zat vill please zem is a tune to make dance, but for ze vorks of ze best composers zey have no heart at all.'

lilian's secret ambition was to go to germany to study at the leipzig conservatoire, which herr frankenburg always described as the very home and abode of the spirit of music, and made her sadly envious with accounts of the wonderful concerts and[52] operas which might be enjoyed in that favoured city, where the very street vendors would not be tolerated if they cried their wares out of tune.

lilian's experience of concerts was confined to an occasional afternoon performance in the warford assembly rooms, or the military band in the spa gardens; but she bravely hid her longings for better things, for she knew that a musical education would be an utter impossibility in the family circumstances, and that father had strained a point already to allow her to learn from herr frankenburg, who was the most expensive teacher in the school.

she had a sweet, true voice, though not of any great volume, and would sing away with much delight when she got the rose parlour all to herself, often composing little things of her own, which were really quite pretty, though she was generally too modest to own to them.

one saturday towards the end of may six of lilian's most particular school-friends had been invited to spend the afternoon, and there were great preparations at the abbey. rollo had been newly washed and combed, the rabbits' hutch had been scrubbed, the arbour swept out, the museum tidied, and nancy had baked a supply of cakes and tarts calculated to provide for the healthiest appetites.

'here they are!' cried bobby, who, perched on the archway that surmounted the gate, could command a view of the distant prospect, and report progress, like sister anne in the story of bluebeard.

'all of them?' asked lilian, hurriedly tying a pink ribbon round the neck of the pet lamb, whose toilet had been forgotten among the many arrangements.

'yes; i can see six bicycles coming along the road. one girl's got red hair, so i'm sure it's evelyn proctor, and the two in the blue hats will be susie and mary.[53] oh, it is really, for they're turning up from the village over the bridge, and waving their hands.'

and bobby climbed down quickly from his point of vantage, so as not to miss the interesting arrival.

they were a very jolly set of schoolgirls whom aunt helen came out on to the front steps to welcome. kathleen o'riley was a bright irish girl, with the prettiest suspicion of a brogue imaginable, and that winning manner which seems specially to belong to the children of the emerald isle. susie and mary hirst were the daughters of a rising warford physician, and were pleasant and amusing, though they had not the racy humour of dorothy gower. evelyn proctor was full of high spirits, while shy lucy thorburn was perhaps lilian's favourite among them all.

'it must be stunning to have a bicycle,' said bobby, regarding with envious eye the row of bright machines neatly stacked against the wall, and spinning the pedals with a not too gentle hand.

'yes, it is pretty good fun,' said susie hirst, good-naturedly giving him a ride round the carriage sweep. 'but, you see, you have pixie instead, and i think a pony's really nicer.'

'she can't go so fast,' complained bobby, determined not to be consoled.

'perhaps not, but you couldn't bike to school in the pouring rain or snow. it's no joke to get a side-slip, i can tell you.'

'come along, girls,' cried lilian; 'i have such heaps to show you.'

it was the first visit that some of the guests had paid to gorswen, so they were delighted to make a tour of inspection round the garden, farmyard, and ruins. they duly admired the pet lamb, laughed at jack, stroked the rabbits, declared rollo to be a[54] black-and-tan angel, and screamed with horror at toby, a harmless grass snake, which was the very latest addition to the menagerie.

tea was a lively meal, for father was full of jokes and funny stories, and aunt helen enjoyed schoolgirls' society almost as much as the children themselves, while nancy's delicacies melted away like snow in summer.

'let us come to the rose parlour,' said lilian, when cups were emptied for the last time, and 'no, thank you's' began to be responded to invitations to more cake and pastry.

peggy followed, feeling very grand and grown-up among so many elder girls, and shut the door sternly in bobby's face.

'we don't want little boys in here,' she said crushingly.

'i don't care,' shouted the indignant youth through the keyhole. 'i don't want to play with a lot of stupid girls—so there! i shall go and talk to joe.'

the museum proved a great fund of interest, for nearly every article had a history, and the guests wandered round the room examining the maps and various specimens of art which adorned the walls. dorothy was trying the piano, for she played well, though her touch had not half the firmness of lilian's.

'what's this?' asked mary, hunting through a pile of old music inside the ottoman, and fishing out a manuscript page in lilian's neat hand.

'oh, don't!' cried lilian, blushing hotly. 'let me have that, mary, please. i didn't know i had left it there.'

'what is it?' exclaimed all the girls, whose curiosity was naturally aroused. 'peggy, you tell!'

'if you dare, peg!' said lilian.

[55]but for once peggy turned tell-tale, and disclosed the secret.

'it's a coon song she's made up herself,' she declared stoutly.

'oh, do sing it!' cried susie. 'i couldn't write a note of music if i tried for a year.'

'yes, yes, you must!' echoed the others.

thus urged, the unwilling composer was hauled to the piano and pressed on to the music-stool, where, with many protestations and much bashfulness, she sang the following song:

'it's lovely!' cried the admiring girls. 'did you make up the words too?'

'of course she did,' said peggy, who was proud of her sister's talents. 'she has made lots of others, too. lil, do let me find "dinah's baby" and "stealin' melons 'neath de moon"!'

'no, no,' said lilian; 'i've shown off quite enough for one day. it's somebody else's turn now. come along, dorothy!'

but dorothy declared she had played everything she knew, with the exception of scales or five-finger exercises, and none of the others could remember any[57]thing without their notes, so the piano was closed and the music put away.

'there's your little brother outside, tapping on the glass,' said susie. 'what a cherub he looks, with his pink cheeks and little tight brown curls!'

'sure, i'll let him in, the darlint!' said kathleen o'riley, running to open the french window and admit the smiling bobby, who entered with an expression of such angelic innocence that peggy's suspicions were instantly aroused.

'i thought you might like some chocolates,' he said winningly, handing a noble box to mary hirst with an air of much generosity.

'dear little fellow! how sweet of him!' murmured the girls as they collected round with pleased anticipation.

mary opened the box, but dropped it with a howl of dismay, for in place of the tempting sweetmeats she had expected lay a writhing mass of fat green caterpillars, newly picked from the gooseberry-bushes, a subtle revenge on bobby's part for his expulsion from the sanctum.

'you wretch!' cried lilian, endeavouring to catch and chastise the rejoicing offender, who was off through the window and over the wall long before the girls had finished screaming and shaking their skirts.

'he's a broth of a boy!' laughed kathleen, who rather enjoyed the joke. 'get out the fire-shovel, peggy mavourneen, and we'll be after sweeping them up from the carpet. they're too soft and juicy to be treading under foot.'

'what shall we do now?' asked susie, sinking back luxuriously into the basket-chair, when the contents of the chocolate-box had been successfully removed.

[58]'suppose we play at nonsense verses,' said lilian, tearing a few pages from an exercise-book, and hunting out a supply of pencils. 'you all know the famous one about the lady of riga:

"there was a young lady of riga,

who smiled as she rode on the tiger;

they came home from their ride

with the lady inside,

and the smile on the face of the tiger."

well, the game is this. we each write down the name of a person we all know on a slip of paper; they are folded up and shuffled, and everybody draws one, and you must write a nonsense rhyme about the person whose name you find upon your particular slip. then we elect a president and read them out.'

'it sounds dreadfully difficult,' sighed lucy. 'i'm not at all clever at poetry.'

'oh, never mind, do try;' said peggy, dealing out the pencils. 'it's ever such fun when once you begin.'

the names were written out, the papers shuffled and drawn, and for ten minutes or more the girls sat knitting their brows and biting their pencils in all the agonies of composition. when everyone had finished the slips were folded up and placed in a basket, and lilian, who had been chosen to read the effusions, shut her eyes and drew one out at a venture. the name was 'mademoiselle,' and the lines ran as follows:

'there once was a french mademoiselle

who thought she knew english quite well.

when she meant "i am happy,"

she said "i am snappy,"

which made us all laugh, i can tell.'

[59]the girls tittered, for mademoiselle's mistakes in english were a by-word all over the school.

'i wonder who wrote that!' said susie, with an innocent air.

'don't give yourself away, my dear,' answered evelyn. 'we can all guess now.'

the next paper was headed 'mary hirst.'

'there was a wild schoolgirl named hirst,

who of all the bad pupils was worst,

till she started to cram

for the cambridge exam.,

and, to everyone's surprise, came out first.'

'i hope that's a true prophecy,' laughed mary, who was studying hard for the senior local.

'this writing is not very clear,' said lilian, unfolding another slip and reading: 'peggy.'

'there was a young lady named peg,

who was terribly strong in the leg:

with the boys in a race

she could set her own pace;

but pray do not name it, i beg.'

'that's your own, lilian,' said the astute kathleen, 'for you said the writing was hard to make out, and yet you read it straight off, quite glibly.'

'you may guess as you like, but i shan't tell,' replied the president sternly.

the fourth paper was described 'herr frühl.'

'there was an old german named frühl,

who a respirator wore as a rule.

when the weather was bad,

oh, his temper was sad,

till we wished he were muzzled in school.'

this proved a favourite, for poor herr frühl, the german master, was famous for his bronchitis and his[60] bad temper, and the general opinion ascribed the authorship to dorothy, though she would not acknowledge her laurels.

'the next,' said lilian, 'is on kathleen.'

'there once lived a maid named kathleen,

who never a boat-race had seen;

when they brought her a bow

of bright red, she said "no,

my national colour is green!"'

the lines referred to a joke which was never forgotten against kathleen. when she first came to warford high school, fresh from her native erin, she had been taken with the rest of her class to witness a grand boat-race between the grammar school and a rival college from oswestry. many of the girls had brothers in the contest, and the warford favours were freely distributed on the bank. a little boy had come up to kathleen and politely begged her to accept the scarlet bow of the grammar school, and sport it as a token of goodwill towards the heroes of the town.

'is it a red riband, then, ye'll be after askin' me to wear?' inquired the indignant young irishwoman. 'it's the shade of the tyrant, bad cess to it! and don't suit me complexion neither. sure it's nothing but green favours ye'll see on kathleen o'riley.'

'miss james' was the subject of the sixth poem.

'a teacher there was called miss james,

the most domineering of dames:

when she passed by their places,

all the girls made bad faces;

but she never found out, all the same!'

'same doesn't quite rhyme with james,' remarked evelyn.

'well, i told you i was no good at poetry,' began[61] poor lucy, then stopped in much embarrassment at having betrayed herself.

'i think it's very nice,' said lilian hurriedly; 'i like it one of the best. don't you want to hear this one about "dorothy gower"?

'a maiden named dorothy gower

could never eat anything sour;

to plain biscuits or bread

a "no, thank you," she said,

but candy or cakes she'd devour.'

'it's a slander!' cried dorothy. 'a vile slander! and if i discover the authorship, i'll bring an action for libel. go on, lilian dear, and give us the last.'

the final effort was on the theme of 'joe.'

'there was a young fellow named joe:

who gave him that name i don't know,

but i do know that he

gave a puppy to me,

and that's why i take to him so!'

'that's peggy's!' cried the girls in chorus. 'it couldn't belong to anyone else. well done, peggy! you will have to show that to joe; he'll be quite flattered.'

they sat laughing over the rhymes and chattering as only schoolgirls know how until aunt helen came in to announce that a light repast of cake and lemonade awaited them in the dining-room, and to gently hint that, if warford were to be reached before darkness had fallen, it was getting time for the six bicycles to be set in motion. so there was a grand collecting of hats and gloves, and pumping of tyres, and many 'good-byes' and 'thank you's,' and the merry party at last started off on their homeward way, ringing their bells as a parting salute, and declaring they would not soon forget their afternoon at the abbey.