getting it, till all of a sudden Miss Burton is inspired to invite the girl to go with her for several years to Italy. Think of the luck of that dear soul, the advantages she’ll have, the good it will do her, and, best of all, the lovely way in which it comes to her. Miss Burton wants her as a friend, asks nothing of her but her company, and Anna will go through fire and water for her, of course. Now isn’t that fine?”
It was good to see how heartily these girls sympathized in their comrade’s good fortune. Polly danced all over the room, Bess and Becky hugged one another, and Kate laughed with her eyes full, while even Fanny felt a glow of pride and pleasure at the kind act.
“Who is that?” she whispered to Polly, who had subsided into a corner.
“Why it’s Kate King, the authoress. Bless me, how rude not to introduce you! Here, my King, is an admirer of yours, Fanny Shaw, and my well-beloved friend,” cried Polly, presenting Fan, who regarded the shabby young woman with as much respect as if she had been arrayed in velvet and ermine; for Kate had written a successful book by accident, and happened to be the fashion just then.
“It’s time for lunch, girls, and I brought mine along with me, it’s so much jollier to eat in sisterhood. Let’s club together, and have a revel,” said Kate, producing a bag of oranges, and several big, plummy buns.
“We’ve got sardines, crackers, and cheese,” said Bess, clearing off a table with all speed.
“Wait a bit, and I’ll add my share,” cried Polly, and catching up her cloak, she ran off to the grocery store near by.
“You’ll be shocked at our performances, Miss Shaw, but you can call it a picnic, and never tell what dreadful things you saw us do,” said Rebecca, polishing a paint knife by rubbing it up and down in a pot of ivy, while Kate spread forth the feast in several odd plates and a flat shell or two.
“Let us have coffee to finish off with; put on the pot, Bess, and skim the milk,” added Becky, as she produced cups, mugs, and a queer little vase, to supply drinking vessels for the party.
“Here’s nuts, a pot of jam, and some cake. Fan likes sweet things, and we want to be elegant when we have company,” said Polly, flying in again, and depositing her share on the table.
“Now, then, fall to, ladies, and help yourselves. Never mind if the china don’t hold out; take the sardines by their little tails, and wipe your fingers on my brown-paper napkins,” said Kate, setting the example with such a relish that the others followed it in a gale of merriment.
Fanny had been to many elegant lunches, but never enjoyed one more than that droll picnic in the studio; for there was a freedom about it that was charming, an artistic flavour to everything, and such a spirit of goodwill and gaiety, that she felt at home at once. As they ate, the others talked, and she listened, finding it as interesting as any romance to hear these young women discuss their plans, ambitions, successes, and defeats. It was a new world to her, and they seemed a different race of creatures from the girls whose lives were spent in dress, gossip, pleasure, or ennui. They were girls still, full of spirits, fun, and youth; but below the light-heartedness each cherished a purpose, which seemed to ennoble her womanhood, to give her a certain power, a sustaining satisfaction, a daily stimulus, that led her on to daily effort, and in time to some success in circumstance or character, which was worth all the patience, hope, and labour of her life.
Fanny was just then in the mood to feel the beauty of this, for the sincerest emotion she had ever known was beginning to make her dissatisfied with herself, and the aimless life she led. “Men must respect such girls as these,” she thought; “yes, and love them too, for in spite of their independence, they are womanly. I wish I had a talent to live for, if it would do as much for me as it does for them. It is this sort of thing that is improving Polly, that makes her society interesting to Sydney, and herself so dear to everyone. Money can’t buy these things for me, and I want them very much.”