Three Pretty Maids, etc

Front matter

© ROUND TABLE BOOKS ONE SHILLING EACH; Post-free, is. i&d. each. Four Flirts, Winning Ways, White Cat, A Pair of Madcaps, Laughing Eyes. With this Ring. Queen of Coquettes, Three Pretty Maids, By ERNEST WARREN. Each containing Fifty Illustrations by HAL LUDLOW. "JUDY" Office, 99 Shoe Lane, London, E.C. THE PUDDING-MAKE!-.. THREE PRETTY MAIDS EY ERNEST WARREN,,^ Author of " Four Flirts," " A Pair of Madcap," etc., etc. WITH FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY HAL LUDLOW. LONDON : "JUDY" OFFICE, 99 SHOE LANE, FLEET STREET, E.C. Early in Decemier. PRICE THREEPENCE ; Post, z\d. "JUDY" ALMANAC for 1887. Most Profusely and Elaborately Illustrated ey "Judy" Artists. ] Judy" Office, 99 Shoe Lane, Fleet Street, London, E.C.

Preface

. The Public, which has received with favour seven " Round Table " books, will, I trust, welcome with equal friendliness the eighth. Since the autumn of 1880, when the first of the series, "The Four Flirts," achieved a success beyond my highest expectations, the sale of shilling novelettes has increased to an enormous extent ; but nevertheless I am proud to say that the stories which it has been my pleasure (and profit) to write have always met with bountiful patronage. Last autumn, owing to circumstances beyond my control, the " Round Table Annual " did not appear, so in concluding this short preface I can only venture to express a hope that my former readers, in consequence of this lapse, will neither forget the earlier issues of the " Round Table " books, nor their author, ERNEST WARREN.

A FATAL MISTAKE IN AMERICA. the stomach, and, in order to save] the patient's life, an operation was justifiable. Accordingly, on February 22nd, 1883, the operation was performed by Dr. Vance, in the presence of Dr. Tuckerman, Dr. Perrier, Dr. Arms, Dr. Gordon, Dr. Lapuer, and Dr. Halliwell, of the Police Board. The operation consisted in laying open the cavity of the abdomen and exposing the stomach, bowels, liver, and pan creas. When this had been done, an exami nation of the organs was made, but, to the horror and dismay of the doctors, there was no cancer to be found. The patient did not have a cancer. When too late, the medical men discovered that they made a terrible mistake. They sewed the parts together, and dressed the wound that they had made, but the poor woman sank from exhaustion and died in a few hours.

How sad it must be for the husband of this poor woman to know that his wife died from the effects of a surgical operation that ought never to have been per formed. If this poor woman had taken the proper remedy for dyspepsia (for this is what the disease was), she would have been living to-day. Seigel's Curative Syrup, a remedy made expressly for dyspepsia or indigestion, has restored many such cases to perfect health after all other kinds of treatment have failed. The evidence of its efficacy in curing this class of cases is too voluminous to be published here, but those who read the published evidence in favour of this dyspeptic remedy do not question its convincing nature, and the article has an extensive sale. Sold by all Chemists and Medicine Vendors throughout the world, and by the proprietors, A. J. White.

Limited, 35, Farringdon Road, London, E.C. The Cleveland (Ohio, U.S.A.) Press, of February 23rd, 1883, publishes an account of a fatal surgical operation, which has caused a great commotion among medical men through out the whole country, Dr. Thayer, the most eminent surgeon in Cleveland, pronouncing it scandalous. It appears that a Mrs. King had been suffering for many years with some disease of the stomach, which had resisted the treatment of all the physicians in attendance. The disease commenced with a slight derange ment of the digestion, with a poor appetite, followed by a peculiar indescribable distress in the stomach, a feeling that has been de scribed as a faint, "all gone" sensation, a sticky slime collecting about the teeth, causing a disagreeable taste, especially in the morning.

This sensation was not removed by food, on the contrary, it was increased. The eyes then became tinged with yellow, and were sunken. After a while, the hands and feet became cold and sticky — a cold perspiration. There was a constant tired and languid feeling. Then followed a dreadful nervousness, with gloomy forebodings. When rising suddenly, there came a dizzy feeling like vertigo. After a time the bowels became costive, so that it was difficult to procure a movement without a cathartic Soon followed a disposition to spit up the food after eating, sometimes in a sour, fermented condition. AU this derangement caused a terrible palpitation of the heart, so as to make the breathing difficult. Finally, the patient was unable to retain any food whatever, and there was constant pain in the abdomen. All prescribed remedies failing to give relief, a consultation was held, when it was decided that the patient had a cancer in

Chapter I. Those Girls

" TD ATHER nice-looking girls," said Clement Morland, as he ■^ *■ cantered by the side of Madeline Stapleton, beneath the shade of the wide-spreading beech trees, which lined the avenue leading to the Priory. " Do you think so ? " she answered, with just a slightly super cilious expression on her pretty lips. " I suppose it is what people call a gentleman's style of beauty. I never heard that any ladies ad mired them." "Who are they?" " Oh ! I don't suppose you will find much difficulty in making their acquaintance if you desire it," she replied, disdainfully, adding the next minute, " This is a glorious piece of turf for a gallop. Shall we race to the terrace steps ? " " Could I refuse such a chal lenge ? " responded the Colonel gallantly. And away they went, tearing across the soft level of the park, Madeline leading on her bright bay mare, and Colonel Mor land in close attendance, mounted on a powerful roan.

It was a the mistress of the house. rare gallop ; and when they reined in their panting steeds at the terrace steps, where a groom met them, Madeline's usually pale cheeks were flushed with exercise and excitement, and the some what peevish look her features too often wore when in repose, was replaced by a bright, merry smile as the Colonel assisted her from the saddle, and walked up the broad stone steps at her side. " I always heard you were such a famous horseman," she laughed ; " and yet you could not overtake poor little me." Clement Morland smiled, but made no answer. He was a t,all, thin, grave man, of about forty, with hair and moustache slightly grizzled; erect in bearing, with fine clear-cut features and dark piercing eyes. Those eyes he turned somewhat curiously upon Madeline, when presently she plucked two roses, and offered one to him, while she adjusted the other coquettishly in her riding-habit.

" And you never told me who they were after all," he said. " Who ? Oh, those girls ! They must have made a great im pression, that you should keep them in remembrance till now. They are some people named Temple ; not at all of our class ; not in society. You see, it was rather a mistake of Papa's, he let them rent the Cedars— that house nearly opposite the Lodge gates — and we find them quite inconveniently close neighbours." "Are they offensive in any way ? " " Well, we don't care to see much of them. Of course, as Papa's tenants, we are obliged to bow, and even speak sometimes when we meet, and it is a great nuisance never being able to go in or out without some of them watching us. Oh ! and then they expect to be asked to dinner occasionally. I wish they would take a house somewhere else."

" Surely they do not live by themselves ? " " Oh, no ! there is some sort of a mother, but she is very seldom visible, and they are frightfully poor — not at all pleasant neighbours. The eldest one, Jessica " " The one with the blue eyes ? " interrupted the Colonel. " How observant you are ! I think they are a kind of greenish blue. Yes, Jessica is the actual mistress of the house, talks to the tradespeople, and manages the servants, and orders the dinners, and all that." " Very praiseworthy of her ; don't you think so, Miss Staple ton ? " said the Colonel, stroking his moustache. " It is a pity you did not remain behind, to examine the internal economy of the Cedars, instead of riding home with me," replied Madeline, sharply. "Jessica Temple would have made much of a cavalry colonel. She never aspired to anything higher than a lieutenant in a foot regiment before."

" You surely cannot suppose that when I am permitted the plea sure of riding with you, I could wish myself anywhere else ? " said Colonel Morland. The words were spoken softly and suavely, but to Madeline's quick ear there was a tinge of irony in the tone, and she looked up quickly as she answered, " I have not troubled myself to think upon the subject, Colonel Morland." He merely bowed his head slightly, and for a few moments there was silence, as with slow lingering steps they paced along the terrace, which ran the entire length of the picturesque old house, and commanded a charming view over a rural landscape, down the long beech avenue to the village of Market-Maybury. The Colonel was the first to break silence. " I fear it is rather indiscreet, Miss Stapleton, to ask questions about your neighbours, but " " What more do you wish me to tell you about them ?

" " Nothing. My question is not with reference to those girls, but Those Girls. 15 to — that man." And he pointed to the flower-garden, where a slim, compactly-built youth was wandering disconsolately to and fro amongst the flower-beds. " Oh, I am so glad ! " cried Madeline, clapping her hands. " He wrote he did not think he would be able to get away from London so soon. I wanted him so much, you cannot think. He's our villain." " He hardly looks villainous," rejoined the Colonel, languidly. " Oh ! with a black moustache, his arms folded, and a scowl, you never saw such a delightful villain as he makes. You know, Colonel Morland, we are getting up some private theatricals ? " " I did not know it. Where are they to be given ? Here — at the Priory ? " " Oh, dear, no ! Our ambition has prompted us to rent the large room at the Town Hall.

It's to be for the benefit of the county hospital. You'll stay for the performance, will you not, Colonel Morland ? Promise me, you will not go away before then." " I shall be pleased. What piece have you selected ?— comedy, tragedy, or burlesque ? " " Burlesque? Colonel Morland ! " cried Madeline, drawing herself up, and tossing her head indignantly. " All the characters are to be taken by ladies and gentlemen. We are going to play the Sclwol for Scandal." " And you will be the Lady Teazle ? " " Oh, no ! I don't aspire so high as that. I shall take quite a small part. A dear friend of mine is coming from London on purpose to oblige us. She has played the part before, and knows all about it. And now come with me into the garden, and I will introduce you to our Joseph." "What!— the villain?"

" You shan't laugh at him, Colonel," cried Madeline, laughing her self. " It is not his fault that he only pretends to be wicked." The villain regarded Colonel Morland with no particularly friendly expression, through a large eyeglass which he had the greatest diffi culty in maintaining in position, but relaxed sufficiently to lisp, " How d'ye do ? " on being introduced as Sir Green Gosling. After the first few words of greeting, Madeline and the young baronet became engrossed in things theatrical, for the fever was on them both ; and the Colonel strolled back towards the terrace, only to meet his host coming in search of him. Of all hearty, genial, apple-cheeked, sturdy, country gentlemen, not one could be found in the length and breadth of Britain to excel Randal Stapleton — a man of wealth and family, a keen sportsman, a hard rider to hounds ; hospitable, charitable, and with ever a good word for a neighbour.

He was loved not only in Market-Maybury, where two-thirds of the town belonged to him, but far and wide throughout the entire county. Never so happy as when a circle of friends met around his dinner table, he was the cheeriest host who ever bade a guest welcome, and never did a visitor worthy of his friendship pass a day beneath the roof of the Priory, but eagerly and earnestly desired to return thither as soon again as possible. Randal Stapleton was a widower. As a host, a hunter, a sports man, a landlord, and a magistrate, he had but little time to devote to the care of his children ; and when his wife died, Madeline was already of an age to deem herself beyond any other than maternal control, so he suffered her to grow the spoiled child of the family— his pet in whom he could see nothing but grace and beauty.

No wonder that she was a little self-willed, a little too much impressed with the social importance of the Stapleton family, a little too much given to look upon the rest of the world — and the world to her meant little beyond Market-Maybury— as contrived especially for the particular benefit of the Stapleton family. It was different as regarded her brother and sister. They were but babies when they lost the advan tage of a mother's gentle guidance, and it was neces sary that some res training hand should check their natural propensity to run wild. It was on this ac count that Miss Mary Pennefather, a poor and very distant con nection of the family, was invited to take up her permanent abode at the Priory, and watch over the young Stapletons, instruct them as far as lay in her power, and make herself generally useful in the family ; be A distant connection. always forthcoming if a seat had at the last moment to be filled at a dinner party, always ready to play on the piano if music were needed for a carpet dance, and at the same time always prompt to efface herself when she was not required.

All this Miss Penne father did admirably. Whether she enjoyed the position was another matter ; whether Madeline strove to make her task an easy one was open to question ; but all the neighbours round, while pursing up their lips and shaking their heads, declaring she was far too young to occupy such a situation, acknowledged that she was a perfect model of discretion and propriety, and that Randal Stapleton was fortunate in having found such a treasure. The Squire — for so was Randal Stapleton usually addressed in the neighbourhood of Market-Maybury — had one great desire, and that was to see his daughter Madeline comfortably married and A River side-f uliet. 17 settled. To do this, was to him the one special duty devolving upon him after her mother's death, and when other cares, in cumbent upon a large landholder living on his estate, permitted, this was the matter which continually exercised his thoughts.

As may be easily imagined, Madeline did not lack suitors; before she was twenty she had had three offers, but now at twenty-two she was still unmarried. She was hard to please — so those who had approached her in vain declared — and the Squire loved his eldest born too well to seek to force her inclination. That Sir Green Gosling was smitten there was no doubt. He showed it in every action, speech, and gesture ; but though, as far as worldly goods went, he was a most desirable match, neither father nor daughter could attempt to deny that he was as nearly a fool as a young man, with a title and a rent-roll of eight thousand a year, could be. While Green Gosling, as a suitor, might have been said to be trembling in the balance, between doubtful and rejected, Randal Stapleton saw by the newspapers that Colonel Clement Morland had left the army, in which he had served with great credit, mostly in India, and had returned to England.

Clement Morland's father had been the Squire's old friend, and five-and-twenty years before, the young Clement had had many a sovereign as a schoolboy tip, from the pocket of his father's comrade. Now the Colonel was forty, grizzled, and retired from active service, with a fortune nearly as large as that of Sir Green Gosling, but no title. Thought Randal Stapleton, " If Madeline will overlook the disparity in years, Clement Morland is the husband whom, of all men, I should choose for her. He is clever, well-endowed with this world's goods, a charming companion, and, above all things, a gentleman." It was in consequence of this reflection, that Clement Morland, a few days after his arrival in England, received an invitation to pay a visit to his father's old friend at the Priory, Market-Maybury.

Chapter II

A RIVERSIDE-JULIET. CLEMENT MORLAND had not been long enough back in England to forget the hours of early rising to which he had been accustomed in the East, and long ere the other residents in the Priory were stirring, he was up and dressed. Tempted by the bright fresh sunshine of a summer morning, the library, to which he first betook himself, had not sufficient attrac tion to keep him within doors, so, with a light straw hat upon his close-cropped hair, he strolled out upon the terrace, thence across the flower garden, and by a narrow winding path to the banks of the little river Trebble, which foamed and fretted and fussed over its stony bed, as if it were really a stream of some importance. Still following the pathway, loitering idly and listlessly, he followed the windings and twistings of the stream till he reached a spot of such great beauty that he had no choice but to stop and admire.

The banks rose high on either hand, the river ran tumbling in a miniature cascade into a deep dark pool, which was completely overhung by the graceful trees surrounding it, while their boughs were mirrored in its placid depths. Adown the steep crumbling banks grew ferns, intermingled with bright-hued wild flowers, and a thin slender larch, which had fallen in some recent storm, had so dropped as to stretch from bank to bank, thus making a natural bridge immediately above the pool. The Colonel looked below at the fretting waterfall, above at the clear blue sky, seen between the interstices of interlacing boughs, and mentally compared the scene of peaceful rural hatless. England with the rough grandeur of mountain gorges and roar ing torrents, which of late years had been so much more familiar to him.

Then, from the admirer of Nature, he became the practical sportsman. "What a pool that ought to be for trout ! " he murmured to him self ; " I must come here some morning with a rod, and see if in all these years my right hand has forgotten its cunning." So speaking to himself, he leant over the bank ; and as he did so, a feeble, flower-scented morning breeze, eddying round, caught his light straw hat, and without further ado lifted it from his head, for a moment wafted it floating in the air, and then suffered it to drop into the stream. A man seldom looks more ridiculous than when wistfully gazing after his fast disappearing headgear ; and Colonel Morland was no exception to the rule, as, standing upon the very brink of the river's bank, he watched that unfortunate straw hat as it floated, bobbing and curtseying in the stream, away upon the opposite side of the river — now proceeding with an almost stately grace, now whirling round and round in an impromptu waltz, caught in some eddy twirling around a sunken root stump.

To reach it from where he stood was impossible ; from the opposite shore it was comparatively easy, but the only means of crossing the river was by the fallen larch, which offered so slender and in secure a foothold for a man of his weight that, after contemplating it a moment, he shook his head in mistrust. It was at this moment, just as he had made up his mind that he A Riverside-y tdiet. 19 would have to return hatless to the Priory, that a loud, clear, but not unmusical voice, the owner of which was hidden, cried encouragingly, " All right— I'll get it for you ! " Recklessly bounding and dashing through the tall ferns, and forcing her way, regardless of rents, amongst briers and thick undergrowth, a tall, well-built girl dashed down to the water's edge, and grasping a convenient willow-bough, bent down, down, till she overhung the river, and was easily able to intercept the hat as it floated towards her.

With a cry of triumph she seized it, and holding it dripping above her head, while she dashed back through bush and brier, called out victoriously to the Colonel, "Here you are ! " With light and agile footsteps she tripped without a moment's thought across the fallen larch, which swayed and bent beneath her weight. As she came towards him, Clement Morland recognised one of "those girls" whom he had noticed the previous afternoon when returning from his ride with Madeline. Yes, it was the one with the blue eyes, of whom the Squire's daughter had spoken so con temptuously — Jessica. " I'm sure I'm tremendously obliged. Quite too good of you," said the Colonel ; " it wasn't worth so much trouble." " Oh ! it was no trouble," said the girl, looking straight into his face with her fearless, but not bold, blue eyes.

" Oh, if you could only have seen yourself;" and a ripple of laughter passed across her face. " You did look so woful and so helpless, watching your hat floating down the river." " I had no idea I was affording you so much amusement," replied the Colonel, pulling his moustache rather viciously. " You're staying at the Monkeries, arn't you ? " asked Miss Temple. " At the ? Er — I beg pardon — what did you say ? " " Oh, I'm so sorry ! Please forgive me ; but we always call the Priory the Monkeries at home. Don't tell Miss Stapleton — she would never forgive me. Promise me you won't tell her." "After the service you have just rendered me" — and Colonel Morland looked ruefully at the dripping hat he carried in his hand — "after your courageous rescue you might command me in a matter of far greater importance.

I wish I could show my gratitude in some more satisfactory manner than a mere commonplace thank ,1 you. " But you can't," said Jessica Temple, carelessly ; then, after a moment's pause, she continued, "You're in the army, are you not?" " I have the honour to bear Her Majesty's commission." " That means you are, I suppose. Do you know George Brode rick ? " " I have not the honour." " He's in the army, too. He's a lieutenant. What are you ? " " Colonel Morland — at your service." " How long will it take George to become a colonel — I mean, Lieutenant Broderick ? Ever so long, I suppose. He often comes over to see us. He's about the only person who does. He's in bar racks at Millborough — quartered, don't you call it ? Oh, my ! in 2 — my hurry to bring you your hat, I left my book on the other side of the river.

Will you wait till I fetch it, and I'll walk as far as the stile into the Park with you ? It's all on my way home." " Most delighted, I'm sure," said the Colonel, looking after the lithe, graceful figure, as with fearless step the girl crossed and re crossed the river on the larch tree, bringing back with her a thick, squat, well-conned volume. " And may I inquire what author you have been studying this morning ? " asked the Colonel. " This — Shakespeare." " Indeed. And what particular play ? " " Romeo and Juliet." " Then you are romantically inclined ? " " No ; I don't think I am. I can't say. I never thought about that. But to me the words are so beautiful, that when I read Juliet's speeches I forget everything else ; I think only of her words — her feelings. It seems to me as if I were really Juliet, and there was no such place as Market-Maybury, or dinners to order, or stockings to darn," and then, with a powerful voice, but so melodious as to have no masculine ring, she commenced reciting with wonderful expres sion, — " ' Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.

Fain would I dwell on form — fain, fain deny What I have spoke. But farewell, compliment, Dost thou love me ? ' " "Why, really, really, Miss Temple, you are quite an accomplished actress ; you would be an acquisition to the stage." " Do you mean that ? Do you think it, truly ? " cried Jessica, stopping short in her walk, and standing before Colonel Morland as if to bar his way till she had received his answer. " I never knew so much meaning could be put into words," replied the Colonel with enthusiasm. " Go on ; pray go on, if you do not mind." " Mind ! It is my only pleasure. I would give the world — the whole world to be an actress. Listen — " ' This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night ! good night ! as sweet repose and rest Come to thy heart as that within my breast.' " Can't you go on with Romeo's part, Colonel Morland ?

He says, " ' Oh ! wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?' — " Never mind. We'll skip that. Then Juliet says, " ' My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep : the more I give to thee, The more I have— for both are infinite.' " What a pity it is, Colonel Morland, you don't know the words ■ we could go through the whole scene." " I am afraid I am not very well fitted for the part of Romeo " said the Colonel, all amazement. ' A Riverside-Juliet. 21 " No ; you're too old, of course," answered matter-of-fact Jessica, with almost brutal abruptness. " Do you know," and she became confidential, " I have over and over dreamt that I was an actress — a real, famous actress ; and it appears to be the most beautiful thing in all the world. Not for the money. Though, goodness knows, we want that badly enough.

It must be a splendid thing to be able to send your boots to be soled without thinking first if you can afford it. No, not for the money ; and not altogether for the applause, though that must be very splendid if you don't think about it while you are acting. Do you know, Colonel Morland, I know nearly all Shakespeare by heart, and ever so many other plays besides ; and to identify one's self with this or that beautiful creation ; to live the life of a great writer's heroine ; to speak her thoughts, to do her deeds ; — oh ! you'll never understand me ; I can't explain myself.-- You wouldn't know what I meant if I did. — Do you have good breakfasts at the Monk — I mean, at the Priory ? " " Are you going to take any part in the private theatricals Miss Stapleton is getting up ? " inquired Clement Morland, ignoring the breakfast question.

" No such luck," sighed Jessica mournfully. " Miss Stapleton doesn't like us. We're not good enough for her. She'd be awfully angry if she knew you had been talking all this while with me. Don't you think she would ? " Colonel Morland was quite sure of it, but not liking to say so, hummed and ha'ed before he replied, that he could not flatter him self that Miss Stapleton would trouble herself to be angry about anything he might say or do. Jessica Temple looked up into his face with a half-inquisitive, half-roguish expression, as if a question were on the tip of her tongue ; but if it were, she let discretion on this occasion triumph, and after a moment's pause, asked if Colonel Morland knew what play Miss Stapleton and her friends intended to act for the benefit of the county hospital. " The School for Scandal, I believe," said the Colonel, not yet quite resolved whether he should be offended or amused at the eccentricities of this strange girl, whom he had so unexpectedly encountered.