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Betty Trevor
by: Victor Prout
Description:
Excerpt
The “Pampered Pet.”
“There goes the ‘Pampered Pet’ again! Got its little keeper with it, as usual. Why don’t they lead her by a chain, and be done with it?”
Miles stood by the schoolroom window, hands jingling in pockets, as he surveyed a prospect, sufficiently grey and drear to make any diversity doubly welcome, and at his words there came the sound of a general pushing-back of chairs, as the four other occupants of the room dashed forward to share in the view.
They jostled each other with the scant courtesy which brothers and sisters are apt to show each other in early days; five big boys and girls, ranging between the ages of eight and nineteen. Miles kept his central position by reason of superior strength, a vigorous dig of his pointed elbow being enough to keep trespassers at a distance. Betty darted before him and nimbly dropped on her knees, the twins stood on either side of the window-sill, while poor Pam grumbled and fretted in the background, dodging here and there to try all positions in turn, and finding each as unsatisfactory as the last.
The Square gardens looked grey and sodden with the desolation of autumn in a city, and the road facing the window was empty, except for two female figures—a lady, and a girl of sixteen, who were slowly approaching the corner. The lady was dressed in black, the girl was noticeably smart, in a pretty blue costume, with dainty boots on her tiny feet, and a fur cap worn at the fashionable angle on her golden head.
“That’s a new dress,—the fifth I’ve seen her in this month!” sighed Betty enviously. “Wearing it on an afternoon like this, too. The idea! Serve her right if it were soaked through!”
“Look at her mincing over the puddles! She’d rather go a mile out of her way than get a splash on those precious boots. I’m sure by the look of them that they pinch her toes! I am glad you girls don’t make ninnies of yourselves by wearing such stupid things.”
“Can’t! Feet too big!” mumbled Jill, each cheek bulging in turn with the lump of toffee which she was mechanically moving from side to side, so as to lengthen the enjoyment as much as possible.
“Can’t! Too poor! Only four shillings to last out till the end of the quarter!” sighed Betty, dolorous again.
“Boots! Boots! What boots? Let me see her boots. It’s mean! You won’t let me see a thing!” cried Pam, pushing her shaggy head round Miles’ elbow, and craning forward on the tip of her toes. “I say! She’s grander than ever to-day, isn’t she?”
“Look at the umbrella! About as thick as a lead pencil!” scoffed Jill, flattening her nose against the pane. “Aunt Amy had one like that when she came to stay, and I opened it, because mother says it spoils them to be left squeezed up, and she was as mad as a hatter. She twisted at it a good ten minutes before she would take it out again. She’d never get mine straight! I’ve carried things in it till the wires bulge out like hoops. An umbrella is made for use; it’s bosh pretending it’s an ornament....