Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
A Houseful of Girls
By Mrs George de Horne Vaizey
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Another book by Mrs de Horne Vaizey, also known as Jessie Mansergh,
about the lives of five girls in one family, and their friends, in
Edwardian times. Of course every time there is a major event, such as
an engagement, or the cancellation of one, the different girls all have
different takes on the situation. NH
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A HOUSEFUL OF GIRLS
BY MRS GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY
CHAPTER ONE.
HALF A DOZEN DAUGHTERS.
There were six of them altogether--six great big girls,--and they lived
in a great big house, in the middle of a long high road, one end of
which loses itself in London town, while the other goes stretching away
over the county of Hertford. Years ago, John Gilpin had ridden his
famous race down that very road, and Christabel loved to look out of her
bedroom window and imagine that she saw him flying along, with his poor
bald head bared to the _breeze_, and the bottles swinging on either
side. She had cut a picture of him out of a book and tacked it on her
wall, for, as she explained to Agatha, her special sister, she felt it a
duty to support "local talent," and, so far as she could discover,
Gilpin was the only celebrity who had ever patronised the neighbourhood.
Christabel was the youngest of the family--a position which, as every
one knows, is only second in importance to that of the eldest, and, in
this instance, Maud was so sweet and unassuming that the haughty young
person of fourteen ruled her with a rod of iron.
Fair-haired Lilias was a full-fledged young lady, and Nan had had all
her dresses let down, and was supposed to have her hair up; but as a
matter of fact it was more often down than not, for it was heavy and
plentiful, and Nan's ten thumbs could by no chance fasten it securely.
Hair-pins littered the schoolroom floor, hair-pins stood out
aggressively against the white paint on the stairs, hair-pins nestled in
the little creases of velvet chairs: there were hair-pins, hair-pins
everywhere, except just where they should have been--on Nan's dressing-
table; and here there was such a dearth of these useful articles, that
on one memorable occasion she had been compelled to effect a coiffure
with the aid of a piece of string and a broken comb. The effect was
striking for a good ten minutes, and then came the inevitable collapse;
but, "Dear me," as Nan observed, "accidents will happen, and what is the
use of making a fuss about a thing like that, when the world is full of
suffering!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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