diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/62631-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62631-8.txt | 9745 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 9745 deletions
diff --git a/old/62631-8.txt b/old/62631-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d80fa51..0000000 --- a/old/62631-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9745 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Three Bright Girls, by Annie E. Armstrong - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Three Bright Girls - A Story of Chance and Mischance - -Author: Annie E. Armstrong - -Illustrator: W. Parkinson - -Release Date: July 13, 2020 [EBook #62631] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE BRIGHT GIRLS *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines - - - - - - - - - -[Frontispiece: MOLLY READS A LETTER FROM HUGH.] - - - - - Three Bright Girls - - A Story of Chance and Mischance - - - BY - - ANNIE E. ARMSTRONG - - Author of "Madge's Mistake" "A Very Odd Girl" - "Violet Yereker's Vanity" &c. - - - - _WITH SIX PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. PARKINSON_ - - - - BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED - LONDON GLASGOW AND DUBLIN - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAP. - - I. Hot Chestnuts - II. Doris's First Dinner-party - III. Shopping and a Rehearsal - IV. Hugh's Mentor - V. Husband and Wife - VI. Tableaux Vivants - VII. Startling News - VIII. Gone! - IX. A House of Mourning - X. Facing the Future - XI. The Brothers Talboys - XII. A New Home - XIII. The Horton Boys distinguish Themselves - XIV. A Council of War - XV. Doris makes a Pudding - XVI. Trying to make both Ends meet - XVII. Daisy's Birthday - XVIII. Dr. John Sinclair - XIX. A Visit from Aunt Sophia and the Horton Boys - XX. Becky - XXI. A Disastrous Visit to a Frog Pond - XXII. Daisy's Illness - XXIII. Dick's Good News - XXIV. Doris's "Knight of the Woods" - XXV. Honor answers an Advertisement - XXVI. The Mr. Talboys resort to Strategy - XXVII. Two Departures - XXVIII. Brighter Days - XXIX. "What a Tease you are, Molly!" - XXX. Hugh's Parting Gift - XXXI. Preparations for a Ball - XXXII. John Sinclair's Fairy Tale - XXXIII. The Wood-Cutter and the Princess - XXXIV. "I am Lancelot," says Sir Edward - XXXV. Doris's Wedding - XXXVI. The End of a Fairy Tale - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS. - - -Molly reads a Letter from Hugh .... _Frontis._ - -Honor assists Doris to dress for Dinner - -Doris sings "The Sands of Dee" - -"Listen!" said Molly, "there is the Ghost again" - -Daisy and the Mr. Talboys visit Whitestar - -"You are not going to disappoint me, Honor?" - - - - -THREE BRIGHT GIRLS: - -A STORY OF CHANCE AND MISCHANCE. - - - -CHAPTER I. - -HOT CHESTNUTS. - -Pop! - -"There's one!" cries an excited voice. - -Pop! bang! - -"There's another! look, two! and both on my side," exclaims an -equally eager though older voice. - -"Here, Doris, you just sheer off to your own side and pick up your -own, if you've got the pluck to risk burning those white fingers of -yours;" and casting contemptuous glances at the hands in question, -the speaker, a bright, handsome boy of about thirteen, dives down -upon the rug and commences making sundry ineffectual snatches at -several chestnuts which are lying smoking and gleaming amongst the -cinders. - -"Not so fast, good sir," cries the owner of the white hands, -following her brother's example and, despite her seventeen years, -prostrating herself beside him. "White or black, I bet you twopence -I pick them up quicker than you. Here, Molly, hold the plate. Now, -Dick, start fair, you know. Oh! there's another!" And thereupon -commences a hot skirmish, in every sense, over the nuts, which by -this time are besprinkling the hearth pretty freely: so hot and -energetic, in fact, that the other occupants of the room wisely -retire from the contest, contenting themselves with looking on, and -exploding with laughter now and again at the suppressed exclamations -indicative of the warm nature of the undertaking. - -A breathless silence for at least two minutes, then, flushed with -victory, Doris rises from the floor and is about to lay her plate on -the table, when, lo! another loud pop. Whereupon Dick rushes over -with great violence to the spot where his sister is standing, and -knocking against her in his efforts to reach the prize first, Doris -loses her balance, and clutching wildly at the back of a chair which -Daisy is sitting on and tilting back comfortably, down come Daisy, -chair, Doris, and nuts, all in an indiscriminate heap on the floor. -Loud exclamations arise on all sides, and a pitiful howl is wrung -from Daisy, who has planted her hand, in falling, on an almost -red-hot chestnut. Doris does not attempt to get up, but, still -sitting where she has arrived in such summary fashion, she rates Dick -soundly for his ungallant behaviour, her voice subsiding into a sort -of wail as she concludes with the remark, "And now I suppose I shall -have to do my hair again, you _wretched_ boy. I can't appear before -every one like this. Look here!" and giving her head a shake -forward, down comes the pretty erection of golden curls which half an -hour ago had crowned so becomingly the small neat head. - -"Bless me!" exclaims the incorrigible boy, "I quite forgot my lady is -to grace the festive board downstairs to-night. But don't you tell -me, Miss Doris, that you wouldn't have done your hair again anyhow! -_I_ know what a time girls take dressing, and my name is not Dick -Merivale if you don't spend a good hour this evening pranking and -prinking before the glass." - -"Help me up, Dick, and don't talk so much," says Doris, quietly -ignoring this tirade; "and now, if you have _quite_ finished and will -be kind enough to let Honor speak, I shall be glad. To my certain -knowledge she has been trying to make herself heard for the last five -minutes." - -The noise having now subsided, a clear, gentle voice is heard from -the neighbourhood of the fireplace, where Honor is kneeling beside -the afflicted Daisy and examining the small burn caused by the hot -chestnut. - -"I was only saying, Doris, that if Lane is too busy with mother to -help you I will turn lady's-maid and do your hair and dress you. -Molly, do put down that poker." - -"You're a dear!" exclaims impetuous Doris throwing her arms round -Honor's neck. "I would ever so much rather you helped me than Lane. -She's so prim and fussy. Where is Lucy, though?--mother will not -want them both." - -"O, I meant to tell you. Her sister is worse again, so mother let -her go home to see her. Now let us have these chestnuts if we're -going to. Pull your chairs up to the fire again and let us be cosy. -Good gracious, what an untidy rug you've made! What would Miss -Denison say if she saw it? Dick, my boy, you will have to mend your -manners before she returns, or she will be looking every hour of the -day in that quiet way of hers which speaks such volumes. Really I am -glad she is coming back to-morrow, for I have had about enough of -keeping order, or trying to, since she left." - -"Why didn't she appoint _me_ commander-in-chief?" says Doris, pouting -over the skinning of a still-hot nut. "I am the eldest, though no -one ever seems to think so." - -"Because you are such a scatter-brained piece of goods," puts in her -polite brother. "No one with a grain of sense would ever credit your -being the elder by twelve, nay, thirteen months. Why, Honor looks a -hundred compared to you!" - -"Thanks, Dick. You are monstrously polite this afternoon," said -Honor quietly. "In what consists my antiquity, pray?--has my hair -turned white? or have I lost all my front teeth?" - -"O, I meant nothing about your appearance," replies the boy, looking -rather sheepish; "I mean as to sense and cleverness and--and all that -sort of thing, you know. Of course Doris is considered the beauty of -the family, with her light fluffy hair and her great blue eyes, but -to my thinking old Honor is every bit as good-looking. What say you, -Molly?" - -"She's a dear old Honor, that's what she is," says Molly, looking up -and patting her elder sister's hand affectionately. To be sure the -effect of this statement is somewhat marred by the fact of the -speaker's mouth being full of chestnuts. The sentiment is the same, -however, and Dick, banging his hand down on the table, cries -triumphantly, "There you are, you see--_old_ again! _Now_ what have -you got to say, Miss Honor?" - -"That you are a goose and that Molly is another, for if she will -persist in tilting her chair like that she will follow Daisy's -example and come to the ground." - -Molly brings her chair on to its fore-legs with a bang, then proceeds -to announce solemnly, "We don't seem to be getting a bit nearer to -settling these theatricals. Here's Miss Denison coming back -to-morrow expecting us to have arranged everything and to have been -rehearsing our parts, and--" - -"_Parts!_" echoes Dick; "how can you call it a part when you have -nothing to do but to sit or stand still?" - -"Well, it _is_ a part all the same," cries Molly, not to be put down. -"Each one is a part of the whole picture, I suppose; so if you can't -allow it in one sense you can in another." - -"Hum, especially when there is only one person in the picture!" -mutters Dick. But here Honor's voice is heard saying, "Well, -children, no disputing or we shall never settle anything. Now, who -has got the list of the subjects that we made out last night?" - -"Here it is," says Doris, who has had it spread out on her knees -studying for some time. "Now, first of all, is it quite settled that -we are only to have nursery rhymes; or do you think people will think -it silly?" - -"We _might_ have one or two historical scenes, perhaps," says Honor -reflectively. - -"Or one or two Shakespearian or Tennysonian," suggests Dick, who has -rather high-flown ideas. "Let us do the 'play scene' in Hamlet. -_I'll_ be Hamlet, and--I--suppose Doris would have to be Ophelia." - -"How absurd you are, Dick!" exclaims that damsel satirically. "Where -would you get all the people from? Do for goodness' sake bring the -picture before your mind's eye for a moment. Why, besides Hamlet and -Ophelia there are the king and queen, all their ladies and gentlemen, -and then all the players. Why, we couldn't do it, not with _all_ the -boys next door even; and just think what a bother the scene would be -to arrange. We should want a double stage, and all sorts of regal -appendages which I am sure we could not find anywhere. You Hamlet, -too!" she finishes up with scorn. - -"All right! Don't excite yourself," says Dick calmly. - -"I think," says Honor, "we shall be wiser to keep to the nursery -rhymes, because we can take any amount of license with them, and use -our own discretion about the dressing of them. But if we take a -scene that everybody knows we _must be_ careful to have everything -perfectly correct; and though I should be sorry to underrate the -talent of such celebrities in the art of acting as ourselves, I -_don't think_ we are up to it. Now, Doris, read your list." - -"Mother Hubbard," reads Doris; "verse where she looks in the -cupboard. Vic will do the dog capitally. Molly will coach her up in -her part and--" - -"There, you hear!" exclaims that young lady. "Doris calls them parts -too, and so they are, of course!" and looking at her brother -defiantly she attacks the chestnuts with renewed ardour. - -"What shall we do for the cupboard?" inquires Daisy with wide-open -eyes. - -"We can get Mrs. Mason to let us have one of her portable safes up, -and if there are a few plates and dishes left inside, with anything -in the eatable way on them, Vic is sure to sit up and beg." - -"Well, that one will do," says Molly, getting up and hanging over her -sister's shoulder; "but read on, Doris. Look! the time is going on -awfully fast; in another hour you'll have to dress." - -So Doris reads the list, which gives general satisfaction. Then -laying it down, she says, "If only father helps us, we shall _do_. -He only wants a little petting and coaxing, and I am sure he will. -Hark! that's the carriage now, isn't it? Run and look, Dick; is it -father?" - -"Yes, and it's snowing like anything. I declare he has got quite -white while standing a minute to speak to Rawlings. We must give him -time to get off his coat and speak to mother, and then we'll fetch -him up here, and not let him go until he promises all we want." - -"Hey! what's that I hear?" cries a cheery voice at the door. "Come -now, that is what one might call a very moderate request, ladies and -gentlemen. Why, where is Bobby? Oh, gone to tea next door; a common -occurrence, eh? Now, come and kiss me, girls. Bless my heart, one -at a time, one at a time; there are plenty of kisses for all. And -here's mother, looking jealous, I declare!" - -"I shouldn't wonder," says Mrs. Merivale, who, almost unobserved in -the midst of all the tumult, has quietly entered the room behind her -husband. "Enough to make anyone jealous, I should think. Honor, -dear," her tone changing to one of anxiety, "I hope you haven't been -letting Daisy eat many of those nasty indigestible nuts." - -"O, no, mother!" replies Daisy herself promptly, "I wanted heaps -more, but Honor said 'No.'" - -"Yes, and with a capital N too," remarks Molly. - -"I came up with your father because I want to speak to you two -girls," resumes Mrs. Merivale. "Lucy has not come back yet, so I -don't think she will now, that is in time to dress Doris. So I -thought you would help her, Honor, for I want her to look nice. You -know what dress; the new plain white silk. And, mind, not a single -ornament, not one!" - -"O, mother!" exclaims Doris, pouting; "not my pearl cross that father -gave me on my last birthday?" - -"Tut, my dear!" puts in Mr. Merivale, who has overheard this touching -appeal, "let her wear it. What's the use of having things if they -are never to see the light?" - -"Well, as it is only pearl, I don't mind. I will send Lane to see -that all is right," continues Mrs. Merivale, "and to give any -finishing touches that may be wanted; and now I must go downstairs -again. There are several things I want to see to before I dress. -Don't be late in the drawing-room, Doris, that is all I beg. And, -James, don't stay long up here. They will be trapping and inveigling -you into all sorts of rash promises if you do;" and Mrs. Merivale -leaves the room, putting her head in again, however, to say to Honor, -"Let Jane come up and sit with the children whilst you are with -Doris, and _don't_ let them be up late. If Lucy is not back, Jane -can call for Bobby; William will be too busy to-night. _Please_ see, -Honor, that Daisy and Bobby go up to nurse punctually at half-past -seven. Molly and Dick, I trust to you both to go up at nine." - -There is a chorus of "All right, mother!" and as the door closes they -all five flock round their father; questioning, demanding, coaxing -and wheedling, until, becoming confused amongst them all, he begs to -be allowed to sit down and take the questions in turn. - -"Have I been to the carpenter's?--Yes, I have, and he is going to -look in to-morrow morning to take a look at the room. Have I been to -the costumier's?--No, I haven't, for I don't know what you do want -and what you don't. Moreover, I think if you can do without anything -from there, all the better. I can't say I like the idea of your -wearing hired costumes. Anything like swords, sceptres, helmets, or -such like you may order, or I will for you; but anything in the way -of gowns, I'd rather you bought the stuff for them and have them -made. You will then be better able to please your own tastes. Get -your mother to let you have Mrs. Needles-and-pins, or whatever her -name may be, here for a day or two, and if you like to put down all -that you are likely to want, I will undertake that you have the money -for it. Now, I can't say more than that, can I?" - -General approbation of this plan is expressed, and Mr. Merivale is -about to escape, muttering something about "Mother fidgeting herself -into fiddle-strings," when he is once more seized upon, and Molly, -who is generally to the fore where speaking is concerned, asks in a -stage-whisper, "What about the music for the dancing, father?" - -"Why, bless my soul, there's plenty of time for that, surely! Now, -let me see, what evening is fixed?--the 27th, isn't it? Very well, -then, this is only the 13th; so you have a clear fortnight before -you." - -"Yes, father, I know," says persevering Molly; "but you see, dear old -Dad, we want to feel that it is _all_ settled, and nothing left on -our minds, you know!" - -"O, _do_ you, now?" says Mr. Merivale, pinching his daughter's rosy -cheek. "Well, I wish _I_ could get everything in my business settled -off so satisfactorily, and nothing left on _my_ mind. Well, well, we -will see; I will go and look up someone to play in a few days--don't -you fuss about it, I won't forget. Now, really, children, I _must_ -go down. Let me go, there's good girls." - -"And make mother promise to give us a real _good_ supper, not -sandwiches and sweets only!" they scream after him down the passage. - -"Yes, yes, I'll see to it all," calls back the victimized parent, -only too thankful to escape at any price, and never stopping to -consider what extra responsibilities he is taking upon himself. - -Having settled down quietly once more, there is an animated -consultation on the important subject of the dresses, and the -respective prices of chintz, velveteen, silk, lace, &c. &c., are -discussed with interest. - -"It is so difficult to tell what sum we really shall want," says -Doris, leaning her chin on her hand and staring absently into the -fire. "However, I propose that you and I, Honor, go to Miss Renny -to-morrow morning and just consult her as to quantities and so on, -and then we could arrange about her coming to work at the same time." - -"Yes, I think that will be the best plan. Good gracious, Doris! look -at the clock! What time is dinner to-night?" - -"Eight," replied Doris, "and mother said I was to be in the -drawing-room not a moment later than half-past seven;" and starting -up, the girls dart out of the room and up the stairs like a lightning -flash into Doris's room, where, on the bed, is carefully arranged the -toilette she is to wear on this the occasion of her first -dinner-party. - -"And now come and help me with my hair, there's a good girl," cries -Doris presently; "and _do_ you think you could curl it at the back -without burning me _very_ terribly? You did horribly last time you -undertook it, you know. My gracious! there's the second gong! Why, -Lane will be up in a moment, and sha'n't I catch it if I am not -nearly ready!" - -"My dear Doris, if you would only sit down in this chair and not fuss -so, we should get on much faster. Now give me the hair-pins as I -want them, and keep quiet for a few minutes if you can." - -[Illustration: HONOR ASSISTS DORIS TO DRESS FOR DINNER.] - -After having brushed the long silky hair through, Honor with a few -skilful twirls and twists raises a becoming erection which (as Doris -says) would do credit to a court hair-dresser. - -"And now for the awful moment!" exclaims Honor, grasping the -curling-tongs and thrusting them ferociously into the fire. "Now sit -still, dear, if you can, and it shall not be _my_ fault if you are -burnt. There, I think I have really made you look lovely!" and she -steps back gazing admiringly at her sister, who, with cheeks slightly -flushed, and eyes almost preternaturally bright, looks in her soft -white dressing-gown as pretty a picture as one would wish to see. - -"Now tell me who is coming to-night, and all about it? Anyone from -next door?" - -"Why, there is only one of them old enough--Hugh; and he is only -nineteen," says Doris with all the conscious superiority of a -seventeen-and-a-half-year-old girl. "I believe he _is_ coming, -though; with his mother, of course. I wish mother would let me go in -to dinner with him; it will be so dreadfully slow and dull if I have -to sit through two whole mortal hours with some stupid old fogy who -thinks of nothing but his dinner. Well, then, let me see if I can -remember the rest. Oh, _Honor_, don't squeeze so; I can't bear that -hook. Good gracious! how tight Madame Cecile has made the waist!" - -"You'll _have_ to bear it," says Honor, gasping, and remorselessly -pulling and tugging at the refractory hooks and eyes. "I heard -Madame Cecile mutter to herself the other day that she must make your -waist smaller, so I suppose she means to systematically pull in an -inch or so every time she makes you a new dress. Ah--there it is at -last! How do you feel?" - -"O dreadfully tight and wretched. Now if I have any breath left I -will go on telling you who is asked for to-night. Aunt is coming for -one, with the Pagets, you know. That means a party of three at once. -Then the rector and Mrs. Benson. Now, let me see, with father, -mother, and myself that is eight; and I am sure we are to be -fourteen. O, I know--Colonel and Mrs. Danvers, Captain Hall, that's -eleven: Mrs. Horton and Hugh, thirteen--now _who_ is fourteen?" - -"Why, Molly's old friend, Sir Peter Beresford," chimes in Honor. "I -know he is coming, because I heard mother telling Rankin that he must -be put up near the end of the table out of all the draughts. O, here -comes Lane. I wonder what she will have to say to the capabilities -of the new maid." - -"Now, young ladies, sharp's the word. Turn yourself round, Miss -Doris, and let me see if all's right;" and the woman proceeds to turn -and twist her young mistress about with the scant ceremony of an old -and privileged servant who, as she is fond of saying, "dressed and -waited on your ma before ever you were born or thought of, my dears." -Giving a pull here, and a twist there, Lane at length is pleased to -announce that all is satisfactory. - -At this moment Mrs. Merivale glides into the room, a floating -ensemble of velvet, silk, lace, bugles, feathers, and what not; one -of those costumes in which you can accuse nothing of being -predominant, and as a whole is perfect. - -"Mother!" gasp both the girls. "What a _lovely_ dress, and how -nicely Lane has done your hair!" - -Lane sniffs gracious approval of this compliment, and turning to her -mistress says, "I think Miss Doris will do, ma'am?" - -Holding her double eye-glass up by its beautiful mother-of-pearl -handle, the mother makes a critical survey of her daughter from head -to foot, then dropping it languidly to her side she nods -encouragingly. "Yes, very nice. Nothing like white _silk_ for very -young girls. Satin is too old looking. Honor, your dressing does -you credit, dear; you have done her hair charmingly. Now you may as -well come down at once with me, Doris. Have you everything--fan, -handkerchief, gloves? Oh, I see you have those on! wise girl to get -them nicely arranged before you leave your room." - -"O! that was Honor's doing, not mine," says Doris promptly. "She -would have me rigged out all complete, as Dick would say." - -"_Doris!_" exclaims Mrs. Merivale as she sails out of the room -followed by that young lady, "_pray_ do not always be using those -expressions which Dick seems to delight in,--troublesome boy! You -are always down upon him for these Americanisms which he has picked -up (at school, I suppose), but it seems to me you are ready enough to -make use of them too. I do hope you will be careful to behave nicely -altogether to-night, and not like a hoydenish school-girl as you do -more often, I fear, especially when Miss Denison is not by." - -"O don't be anxious about me, mother; _I_ shall pull through somehow, -and conduct myself with such propriety as even to satisfy Aunt -Sophia. If you _should_ see me doing anything dreadful at the -dinner-table, and I am too far away for a stage-whisper, you might -'hail' like Mary Ann the scholar in _Our Mutual Friend_, you know, -then I shall understand and pull myself together." - -"You incorrigible girl," says Mrs. Merivale with something between a -laugh and a sigh; "but now run back, dear, and get my fan off the -dressing-table in my room. O, and look in and tell Honor that she -can come down for an hour or so to-night if she likes. Tell her to -wear her white nun's veiling with the moiré sash and ribbons." - -Charmed with this message Doris is soon back in her own room, where -she finds Honor still helping Lane to put things a little straight, -in Lucy's prolonged absence, which is irritating the older maid not a -little. - -"Honor, my girl, you are to come down into the drawing-room to-night; -mother says so. O, and you are to wear your nun's veiling, &c. Now -_don't_ say you don't want to!" - -"I don't, truly," says Honor, looking from Doris to Lane and back -again. "I am tired and sleepy now, and it is a bother to have to -change one's dress just for an hour, when I'd _far_ rather be in bed." - -"Well, I call it downright spiteful of you, Honor. Just the evening -of all others that I want you. I was looking forward to telling you -all about the dinner, and we could have had a jolly time in a -secluded corner with Hugh. And oh, I forgot, Regy is coming in after -dinner; so we four might have some rare fun. _Do_ come, there's a -dear!" And Doris looks at Honor so beseechingly that she sacrifices -her own feelings in the matter and says, "Very well, dear, I'll come. -Now run away, there's mother calling you." - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -DORIS'S FIRST DINNER-PARTY. - -That quarter of an hour before dinner, which to people who are used -to it is generally rather a bore than otherwise, is quite an -amusement to Doris, whose only experience of dinner-parties hitherto -has been a bird's-eye view, obtained by hanging over the balustrade, -of the guests filing into the dining-room. To-night the girl feels -all the importance of being for the first time an actual participant -in the entertainment; and flushed with the consciousness of her own -dignity in having to assist her mother in receiving their friends, -and the proud knowledge that she is wearing a properly-made dress, -she feels there is at last some advantage in being the eldest girl of -the family. A long peal at the bell, and Doris rushes hastily across -to her mother. - -"Do you _really_ wish me to talk to every one, mother, and divide my -attentions between them all, as I have seen you doing?" - -"Yes, dear, of course. You will soon take it up and get accustomed -to the ways of society. I want you to see a little in your own home -before coming out next season, so that you may gain a little -experience; otherwise I should not let you dine with us at your age. -I don't know, I am sure, what your aunt will say to what I suppose -she will call my injudicious haste in bringing you forward. She -considers eighteen quite the correct age for introducing girls, but -six months the other side--" - -"Dr. and Mrs. Benson," announces Rankin; and Mrs. Merivale, followed -by her daughter, goes forward to receive the first guests. The -rector takes immediate possession of his host, and getting him on to -the rug before the fire enters into an animated discussion with him -on the prime minister's speech of the previous night; dashing into it -so suddenly that Doris, who is standing by, is inspired with the idea -that they must have begun this conversation some time during the same -day somewhere, and having perhaps been interrupted, have now taken it -up again at the exact point at which they left off. Mrs. Merivale -and the rector's wife being seated together on a sofa talking softly -about their respective families, Doris roams about the room a little -until another loud peal at the bell causes her to retire a little -behind her mother's chair, in order to be in readiness when the next -visitors are announced. This time it is Colonel and Mrs. Danvers and -almost close upon them are ushered in Mrs. and Mr. Hugh Horton and -Captain Hall, as if they had all come together. There is quite a -buzz of conversation in the room now, and Doris finds herself seated -by Mrs. Danvers, with Captain Hall and Hugh standing before them, -laughing and chatting as if she had been accustomed to this sort of -thing all her days. - -"Well, how do you think you will like your first dinner-party, -Doris?" inquires Hugh, going round and leaning over her chair. - -"O, I think it will be jolly. I am enjoying it all so far; only if -mother sends me down with one of the old fogies the dinner part of -the performance will be awfully dull. You take me down, Hugh, _do_; -then we can discuss the tableaux and the party, you know. We have -got a lot settled to-night, and the carpenter is coming to-morrow to -see about arranging the room. It only remains to be decided which we -shall choose." - -"All serene!" replies the young fellow. "I'll take you down if I -can, Doris; but your mother may have other views for me, you know. -Ah! here come some more. I say, Doris, is Honor coming down -to-night?" - -"No--that is, yes," hurriedly answers Doris, rising as the door is -thrown open, and "Mr. and Mrs. Paget" and "Lady Woodhouse" are -announced. - -"Why, bless my heart, child, what does this mean?" exclaims the -latter lady, bearing down upon her niece, and lifting her eye-glass. - -"What does _what_ mean, aunt?" inquires Doris demurely, and meeting -the astonished stare of her aunt with unmoved gravity. - -"Why, your being down here, dressed up in a gown which I am quite -sure Miss Renny was never guilty of making. You are never going to -dine?" - -"Yes, I am, aunt, of course, or I shouldn't be down here at all. -Mother says she means me to appear a little at home before really -coming out. She wants me to get a little into the ways of society." - -"Ways of fiddle-sticks, _I_ should say!" rejoins Lady Woodhouse -tartly. "In my young days one was never seen or heard of until -properly introduced. Let me see, how old are you, child--seventeen, -eighteen?" - -"Seventeen and a half, aunt." - -Lady Woodhouse holds up her hands in horror. "Not even eighteen! -What is the world coming to? But there, your mother is one of the -most injudicious women I know, and always will be, I suppose. Well, -Mr. Hugh Horton, and how are you? I suppose you two young people are -going down together, eh?" - -"No such luck, I'm afraid. I believe I'm to take one of the other -ladies--Mrs. Danvers, in fact." - -"Nothing of the sort!" exclaims this energetic lady. "I have made up -my mind you shall take me, young man. Go over and tell your mother, -Doris, that I insist upon going down with Mr. Hugh Horton. Then we -will see if we can't contrive to sit next to you and your escort. -Mind now, child, when you see me leaving the room, you follow; then -we shall manage, I daresay. Ah! here comes Sir Peter--last, as -usual. Now I suppose the party is complete. Run, Doris, or you will -be too late." - -Almost before Sir Peter has greeted his host and hostess, the door is -once more thrown wide, and the announcement "Dinner is served" brings -the assembled guests to their feet. Doris is standing obedient, -close by her aunt, who has already taken forcible possession of Hugh, -when a cheery, manly voice from behind says "Now, Miss Doris, your -mother tells me I am to have the honour of taking you in to dinner on -this auspicious occasion of your first appearance in public;" and -Colonel Danvers stands before her with smiling face and outstretched -hand. - -"I couldn't come and speak to you before," he explains, "for your -father and the rector pinned me at the other end of the room and -dragged me into a political discussion." - -"O, I am so glad I am to sit beside you!" exclaims Doris with genuine -pleasure. "I was dreadfully afraid it would be Captain Hall; and he -is so stupid, you know. It takes him about five minutes to get out -the most ordinary remarks with his silly affected drawl." - -"Now, Doris;" and Lady Woodhouse turns to leave the room, closely -followed by Colonel Danvers and her niece, Mrs. Merivale and Sir -Peter Beresford bringing up the rear. As Doris and the colonel turn -the corner of the stairs a smart wrap on the former's head causes -them to look up to the flight above, where they descry Molly, armed -with a battledore, hanging over the balustrade. "Hush! don't say -anything. How is Doris behaving?" she says with breathless -inconsistency. Colonel Danvers looks up laughingly and nods a -greeting. "O, pretty well, considering;" and Doris adds, "Do go -away, Molly. Did you actually dare to rap my head with that thing?" -But Molly, seeing that her mother is close at hand, disappears -mysteriously, and there is much scuffling and giggling heard on the -next landing, where evidently the others are collected also. - -Although Doris finds herself seated between Hugh and her favourite -the colonel, she is so dazzled and confused with the brightness of -the scene and the incessant flow of talk that she at first sits -perfectly silent. - -With the assistance of Colonel Danvers she gravely studies her -_ménu_, he explaining the meaning of some of the elaborate names of -the dishes, which to her, fresh from the school-room, are as Greek. - -Presently Mrs. Benson, who is on the other side of the colonel, takes -up his attention for a time; and as Hugh and Lady Woodhouse are now -carrying on a spirited conversation on her right, Doris quietly takes -a look all round the table. - -There is old Mr. Paget sitting next to Mrs. Horton, with his -table-napkin tucked up over his shirt-front, looking as if he had not -tasted food for the last month, such undivided attention is he giving -to his soup; Mrs. Danvers is carrying on a rather one-sided -flirtation with Captain Hall; and good-natured Mrs. Paget is talking -with all her might to old Sir Peter, who is looking worried to the -last degree by the palpable exertions of the good lady to make -herself agreeable and entertaining. - -"Why, how quiet we are!" suddenly remarks the colonel, looking down -at the bright face beside him. - -"Yes, I should think so," says Doris laughing. "It's a terrible -ordeal, the responsibility of having to keep one's self in order, you -know, and do all that is right and nothing that is wrong. Do you -remember your first dinner-party?" she continues. - -"Yes, I remember it only too well; I have reason to, I assure you." - -"Why? Did anything dreadful happen?" - -"Well, yes; I thought it dreadful. What! no champagne?" - -"I don't know that mother would like me to have it; I told her to -'hail' when anything important was likely to happen, but she is so -taken up with Sir Peter that I believe she has forgotten all about -me. Never mind, I'll telegraph to father." - -"No, you need not do that!" exclaims the colonel, as well as he can -for laughing. "Say 'yes' the next time it comes round, and I will -take the responsibility. There, I see Rankin looking this way, I'll -beckon him. Some champagne for Miss Doris, please," he says, and in -another moment her glass is filled with the sparkling, foaming wine, -at which she looks half frightened however. - -"Well, now, what were you going to tell me about your first -dinner-party?" she asks. "What dreadful thing was it that happened?" - -"Well, I must tell you that I had to take a severe-looking old -dowager in to dinner that evening. She was very rich, I suppose, for -I remember that the flashing of her diamonds made me quite nervous, -especially as she had a sharp way of suddenly turning round to speak -to one with a kind of jerk, which made me jump, and more than, once I -nearly dropped my spoon or fork, or whatever it chanced to be. I -must also mention that this good lady was also very fat and very -ugly. Well, matters went on pretty well altogether until dessert. I -had just had my glass filled with port, when suddenly a voice on my -right said, 'Mr. Danvers, may I trouble you to crack these filberts -for me?' I turned so suddenly, that before I saw what I was doing my -elbow had overturned the glass of port, and away it went in one -remorseless stream down the old lady's gown. I was so horrified at -the awful catastrophe that I sat helpless, as if stunned, and the old -lady was just about to pour forth a torrent of wrathful reproaches on -to my defenceless head, her eyes meanwhile flashing as much as her -diamonds, when a man sitting on the other side of her (a fellow of -about my own age now) suddenly jumped up, seized a decanter of -sherry, and saying hastily, 'Allow me, madam,' he quietly and -deliberately poured a good half of its contents upon the gown where -the darker wine had left a deep red stain." - -"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris with wide-open eyes, "was that to -take the old lady's attention from off you?" - -"Well, yes and no," says Colonel Danvers taking up a pear and slowly -peeling it with great nicety; "but the fact is I didn't wait to see, -for the much ill-used lady, on receiving what she thought to be an -insult added to the injury she had sustained, flew, so to speak, at -this gentleman, one Major Carpenter; and seeing that for the moment -my very existence was forgotten, I must confess that I was cowardly -enough to slip out of my place unperceived and into the hall, where a -good-natured young footman, who had seen the whole thing, I suppose, -opened the library door, remarking as he did so, 'There's a nice fire -in here, sir.' You see, I couldn't go into the drawing-room when -even the ladies had not left the table." - -"Poor old lady!" says Doris, cracking nuts perseveringly; "she _must_ -have been put out with such outrageous behaviour on the part of _two_ -gentlemen. Now, don't you think so?" - -"Well, I don't know. You say 'poor old lady,' but you never give a -thought to the agonies of mind which _I_ suffered. You are rather -hard on _me_, I think." - -"Well, but you _were_ rather cowardly, by your own confession you -were, to run off and leave Major Carpenter to bear the full brunt of -the old lady's displeasure. O yes, it certainly was _very_ bad of -you!" - -"Ah! yes, I suppose it was," says the colonel, leaning back in his -chair; "and yet, Doris, since that time I have stood before a -cannon's mouth without flinching. I have ridden across an open plain -with, not cannon, but shot of all description 'to right of me' and -'to left of me,' without so much as a friendly shrub to protect me -from the sight of the enemy. Oh! I assure you, that was a very warm -position in more senses than one. However, here I am still, safe and -sound; but I verily believe if I spilt a glass of port upon another -old lady's dress I should feel just as inclined to turn coward and -run away as ever, for the truth must be told, Doris, ever since that -eventful night I have felt a mortal antipathy, not unmixed with fear, -in the company of fat, cross old ladies." - -Doris sits silent for a few seconds, giving her attention to the pear -which Colonel Danvers has just put upon her plate. Then she says, -"You haven't told me yet what your friend threw the sherry upon the -dress for?" - -"No, neither I have. Well, the sherry it seems, if poured over a -ready-made stain of port-wine, takes it out, only leaving a sort of -ring round the place, which, I suppose, can be easily removed with a -little ordinary cleaning. Somebody explained afterwards to the old -lady why Major Carpenter had done it, and in a few days he received a -note from her, thanking him for the service he had rendered her on -the occasion of Mrs. Mordant's dinner-party, and begging to apologize -for any little annoyance she might possibly have shown when the -accident occurred. Ever after that evening she designated me as -'that young man, Mr. Danvers,' whilst my friend was 'that charming -Major Carpenter.' There's your mother, Doris, signalling for the -ladies' departure. You must tell me all about these theatricals in -the drawing-room afterwards, will you?" - -Arrived upstairs, Doris makes at once for a secluded niche draped -with curtains in one of the windows, wherein she knows she will find -Honor ensconced, probably with a book. - -The book is at a discount this evening, for Regy Horton, a fair, -delicate-looking boy of seventeen, has already arrived, and he and -Honor are deep in a discussion about some picture they have lately -seen, painting being an art of which they are both passionately fond. - -"Now this is really delightful!" exclaims Doris, throwing herself on -the wide window-seat beside her sister. "We will just keep here by -ourselves until the gentlemen come up, and then I will fetch Hugh and -Colonel Danvers, and we will all talk over the 27th." - -"That's all very well, Doris, but you can't do just as you like -to-night, you know. You will have to talk to people; bless you, your -duties are not _half_ over yet. Here comes mother now to fetch you. -There, didn't I say so?" - -"Doris, you must not hide yourself in a corner," remonstrates Mrs. -Merivale, coming up to the little group; "you must come and do your -share of talking. And have you brought any of your songs down? I -shall expect you to sing by and by." - -"O, mother, I _can't_--I can't really! I should sink through the -floor. Besides, Molly is not here to accompany me; and she is the -only one who can, decently. Honor's a goose at accompaniments." - -"Never mind, dear, we will see," says Mrs. Merivale vaguely. "Come, -Honor, and you too, Regy; we can't have any more whisperings behind -curtains when as yet there is no one to amuse the ladies." - -So Doris and Honor are both dragged out of their corner, much to -their chagrin, and there is a suspicion of a pout on the rosy lips of -the former as the three advance into the middle of the room. - -Later on, when the gentlemen have come up, and tea and coffee have -been served, Doris, with much mystery, beckons Colonel Danvers over -to the little group consisting of herself, Honor, and the two Horton -boys. - -"You _will_ be the 'old woman,' won't you?" gasps Doris excitedly. -"You would do it so beautifully. And you _promised_, you know, to do -anything we wanted; now, didn't you?" - -"A very rash promise apparently. May I be permitted to inquire to -what 'old woman' you are referring?" - -"Why, the 'old woman' who lived in a shoe, to be sure. Honor and I -have talked it all over, and if we dress you up in one of nurse's -gowns, with an apron and cap, you will look _lovely_!" - -"Upon my word, I feel highly complimented. I hope I shall not be -considered inquisitive if I ask whether this old woman was considered -handsome or not? By the by," adds the colonel with a crestfallen -look, and stroking his moustache, "how shall I dispose of this -commodity? You will never be so despotic as to command me to cut it -off, will you?" - -Both the girls cry simultaneously "Oh, no, of _course_ not!" and Hugh -adds reassuringly, "Oh, that's nothing; you can flatten it down -easily with a little cosmetic, and it won't show at all if you powder -your face after." - -"Very well, then. I will undertake to promise anything in that line -if one of you girls will consent to be in my custody with a view to -receiving the first whipping. Really," adds the colonel laughing, "I -don't think the picture will be half bad if there are plenty of -children forthcoming and the shoe is well managed. What are your -plans concerning it, Hugh?" and the two proceed to enter into a deep -discussion relative to the height, depth, and width thereof, when -suddenly Honor and Doris are electrified by the sight of Molly -entering the room, arrayed in a white frock matching that which Honor -wears. Molly has a roll of music under her arm, and with the -greatest self-possession in the world she marches up to the grand -piano and lays it down. She then stands as if awaiting further -orders, with flushed face, bright sparkling eyes, and hair tumbling -over her forehead and ears and curling down upon her neck in rather -wild but pretty confusion. - -"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris aside to Honor, "what can it mean?" - -"It is very plain to _me_ what it means," replied Honor. "Didn't you -see the music she brought in with her? That music is _yours_, my -dear,--your songs; and mother has sent for Molly to play the -accompaniments. So now you can't escape." - -"Well, I really call that _mean_ of mother!" exclaims Doris. "Molly, -why weren't you in bed and asleep, you wretched child, like any other -reasonable being? then you _couldn't_ have come down, you know." - -"Mother sent me a message not long ago," replies Molly promptly, "to -say I was to get dressed and to look out some of your nicest songs, -and come down when I was sent for. So of course I was arrayed in my -white frock, with more speed than elegance, I'm afraid, for my sash -is all awry, and I can't reach round to do it for myself; and," she -adds, lowering her voice mysteriously, "I have actually come down in -odd shoes. Look!" holding out first one foot and then the other. -"One rosette is nearly twice as large as the other, and I verily -believe one shoe is kid and the other patent leather! It _is_--look! -Then it is your shoe I caught up, Honor, and that accounts for it -pinching so horribly; why _will_ you persist in having such small -feet? Well, I must take care not to show both feet at once, and then -it will be all right--they're both nice shoes of their kind." - -"Why didn't you go back and change them?" inquires Doris turning over -the songs. - -"I never knew they were odd until I was on the landing outside the -door, and Rankin, as soon as he saw me, threw the door wide open, so -I couldn't do anything but walk in and make the best of it." - -"Doris, will you sing us something, dear?" says Mrs. Merivale from -the distance; and Doris, somewhat reassured by her feeling of -complete confidence in her young accompanist, resigns herself to her -fate with a tolerably good grace. Gounod's graceful little chanson -'Au Printemps' is the first the girls select from the goodly pile -which Molly has brought down, and the effective accompaniment with -the fresh young voice soon draw an appreciative group round the -piano. 'The Sands of Dee' is next placed upon the stand by Colonel -Danvers, and Molly, nothing loth, starts off at once with the prelude -without ever consulting Doris's inclination in the matter. - -[Illustration: DORIS SINGS "THE SANDS OF DEE."] - -One or two other songs quickly follow, and then some of the guests -take their leave, while one or two, Colonel Danvers and old Sir Peter -being amongst the number, go up and speak kindly to Molly, who, now -that her duties are over, is standing a little abstractedly by the -piano, running her fingers noiselessly up and down the keys. - -"What a pity the Hortons had to leave so early," says the colonel to -Molly. "With you here to accompany so well we might have prevailed -on Hugh to sing. I do so like of all things to hear his tenor voice -in 'Molly Bawn,' and also the immortal 'Sally in our Alley.'" - -"One would think he could sing nothing else," remarks Molly, "by the -way in which he persists in dosing us with those two, and especially -the former. I am always wanting him to learn others--there are such -heaps of pretty tenor songs--but it's no use; he will keep on with -those and other old ones. He says none of the new songs can hold a -candle to them, but I don't know--I believe it is laziness, really." - -The example of the first departures being quickly followed by others, -the room is soon cleared of all the guests, save Sir Peter Beresford, -who being passionately fond of music, begs his hostess to allow Molly -to sit up five minutes longer that she may play him one more piece. - -Mrs. Merivale looks doubtfully from Molly to the clock and then back -again. - -"Well, sit down, Molly, and play something to Sir Peter--you know -which are his favourites,--then you must all three run away off to -bed instantly. Here is Doris yawning behind her fan, and Honor looks -whiter than her frock, if anything. I don't know what father will -say, I am sure." - -"O, let them stay a bit longer," says indulgent Mr. Merivale, and -crossing over to the piano he seats himself beside his three girls, -and listens with no little pride to Molly's musicianly playing. The -piece ended, Mrs. Merivale keeps to her word, and hardly allowing Sir -Peter time to thank Doris and Molly for the musical treat which he -declares they have given him, she bids her daughters say -"good-night," and with a kiss to each, dismisses them. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -SHOPPING AND A REHEARSAL. - -The next morning breaks dismally enough outside. The streets are -thickly carpeted with snow, which has fallen plenteously and almost -without cessation during the previous night. There is a deadened, -muffled sound of occasional traffic only in the usually busy streets, -and even this is soon drowned in the scrape, scrape of shovels with -which armies of small boys parade the quieter streets and terraces, -wherein are the houses of the rich and prosperous men of the large, -smoke-begrimed manufacturing town, whilst the fortunate occupants of -these large fashionable mansions, who are still curled up comfortably -under warm eider-down quilts, are unpleasantly roused to a -consciousness of what awaits them by the loud persistent cries of -"Sweep yer doorway, ma'am,--doorway ma'am?" - -Indoors things look somewhat more cheerful, especially at the -Merivales, who are an early-rising family. It still wants a few -minutes to eight, but Doris and Honor, true to habit, are already -kneeling on the rug before the bright fire, spreading their hands as -near as they dare over the glowing coals, and carrying on a spirited -talk, which proves that the few hours' sleep of which they have been -deprived has not done them much harm. The door opens, and enter -Molly--yawning hopelessly, and it must be confessed looking haggard -and pale, with dark rings round her large blue eyes. - -"Hallo, Moll! late hours don't evidently suit you, my dear. You _do_ -look an object of pity, upon my word. Here, come to the fire and -stop chattering your teeth, for goodness' sake!" - -Molly accepts the invitation and joins her sisters, and after a few -minutes Mr. Merivale comes in rubbing his hands briskly. - -"Now, girls, let the old man see a bit of the fire! Ah! just eight," -taking out his watch and comparing it with the clock on the -mantel-piece. "Good girls, to be punctual after your late hours. -Ring the bell, Honor; it's no use waiting for your mother this -morning. She has one of her bad headaches, and I shouldn't wonder if -she does not come down at all. She said she would send word by Lane -after prayers, so we need not wait now." - -By this time the servants have filed into the room and taken their -places; and the old nurse having also appeared with her two -particular charges, Daisy and Bobby, Mr. Merivale takes his place at -a side-table, and morning prayers are commenced. Before leaving the -room again nurse places the two children in their usual places at the -breakfast-table, and at the same moment Lane steps forward from the -row of servants, and going up to Honor says, "If you please, Miss -Honor, your ma says will you make breakfast this morning, for her -head is that bad she can't raise it from her pillow?" - -"_Honor_, of course!" and with a pout and a flounce Doris takes her -usual seat at the table, while Honor moves to the end opposite her -father, who is busily occupied in sorting the letters. - -Breakfast is generally a quiet meal at No. 4 Lancaster Terrace, for -Mr. Merivale leaves the house at half-past nine punctually every -morning in order to be at the bank before it is opened to the public. - -There is little or no conversation therefore this morning, the mother -being absent, and the six girls and boys take their breakfast in -almost complete silence, speaking, if at all, in low subdued voices -which will not disturb their father over his newspapers and letters. - -Presently he puts these aside, however, and as he passes his cup up -to be refilled by Honor says, "Didn't I hear mother say Miss Denison -was to return to-day?" - -"Yes, father," answers Doris. "Mother heard from her yesterday, and -she is to arrive by the 12.45 train." - -"O, I wonder if mother will let us meet her," says Honor, looking up. - -"Well, why not ask her?" says Mr. Merivale, rising from the table. -"I don't suppose she will be going out herself this morning, so you -might take the carriage in that case." - -"O, that _would_ be jolly!" cries Doris, jumping up and clapping her -hands; "and I tell you what, Honor, we'll try and get mother to let -us have it all the morning, then we shall get through no end of -business. Father will ask her--won't you, dear?" - -"Not I, indeed; go and ask her yourself. Besides, it is time I was -off--there will be no one to open the safe, and then what will they -do, eh?" and so saying Mr. Merivale bustles into the hall, where -William is standing waiting to help his master into his overcoat, and -snatching the _Times_ from Honor's hand, who, with Doris and Molly in -her wake, has pursued him out on to the steps, he makes his escape -into the brougham which is waiting at the door. - -Doris and Honor hold a consultation on their way back to the -dining-room as to the pros and cons of their getting permission to -use the carriage, and on Doris promising to be spokeswoman, they both -run up to their mother's room. - -"Mother, we want the carriage, Honor and I, to do our shopping, you -know. And father says if we are out we may as well take it on to the -station and meet Miss Denny; so we can, can't we, mother?" And Doris -takes up one of the slender white hands lying upon the coverlet, and -softly pats and strokes it between her own. - -Mrs. Merivale shrinkingly turns her head away from her anxious young -daughter's appealing gaze, and closing her eyes says, "My _dear_ -Doris, you might have a little more consideration for my nerves, I -think. Here I am, completely prostrated, and you rush into the room -like an earthquake, thinking of nothing but yourself. Do _pray_ -leave me alone, and, oh yes! you can have _both_ the carriages if you -like, only leave me in peace; and Honor, give me the Cologne, and -then find Lane and send her to me. And _do_, all of you, try to walk -a little less like elephants than you generally do. Oh! pray shut -the door quietly." - -The girls are quenched, and leave the room much more quietly than -they entered it. - -"I hope to goodness _I_ shall never have any nerves," says Doris -pouting, as she links her arm in Honor's. "Mother is fussy and cross -this morning. I believe she would like us all to sit perfectly mute -through the livelong day whenever she has one of her headaches. Now -don't look shocked, Honor, my girl! You know in your own heart of -hearts you think so too, only you are too good to say it, even to -yourself. I often wonder what mother would do if father were a poor -man, and she had to make her own dresses, and do her own hair, and we -had the washing done at home. Ah! that would just suit mother, -wouldn't it? Fancy how delicious--a perpetual smell of washing!" - -"Hush, dear!" says Honor gently, "you must not talk like that about -mother; she is delicate, of course, and you know what Miss Denison -says about the back being fitted to the burden." - -"O, that's all very well! but you know there are burdens clapped on -people's backs when they least expect it sometimes, at least so I've -read in books, so I don't altogether believe in _that_ statement." - -In half an hour's time the two girls, radiant and comfortable, with -rugs, foot-warmers, and muffs, are being whisked through the now -slushy streets by a pair of fresh young horses. A very delightful -morning of shopping follows, until Honor, looking at her watch, is -startled to find that they have only just time to get to the station -to meet the train by which their governess is travelling. - -"Be quick, dear," she says to Doris, who is divided between the -conflicting beauties of two delicate chintzes, one of which is -destined to adorn the person of "Mary," of the perverse character, -"or we shall not be there before the train comes in, and then poor -Miss Denny will think there's no one there to meet her." - -Honor's fears of being late are not without some foundation, they -find, for as they step on to the platform the train is already -gliding into the station. A hand is seen waving a recognition from -one of the carriage windows, and as Doris and Honor rush up to the -door, a tall pleasant-looking woman steps down, and is quickly being -nearly stifled and smothered in the embraces of her impetuous pupils. - -"And now, girls," straightening her bonnet and then giving a hand to -each, "how are all at home?" - -"O, all right!" replies Doris, promptly dismissing the subject; "and -we have no end to talk to you about. The theatricals will be a -_tre-men_-dous success. Honor and I have been shopping this morning; -that's how it is we have got the carriage. Mother had one of her -headaches, you know, so she couldn't come and meet you herself; and -oh, isn't it _splendid_?--Colonel Danvers is really going to be the -old woman!" - -"My _dear_ Doris, how you do run on!" says Miss Denison, smiling down -at the bright face by her side. "A few moments ago you said all were -well at home, and now you say your mother has a bad headache. Now do -let Honor speak too, dear," she adds laughing, as Doris shows signs -of starting off on a fresh subject. - -All chatting pleasantly together the drive home seems to be -accomplished in about half the usual time, and as soon as Miss -Denison has been extricated from the carriage, which, in addition to -the three occupants, is filled almost to overflowing with packages, -she has to undergo a warm reception from Molly and Dick, who are -dancing a sort of Highland fling of expectation on the door-step as -the carriage drives up. - -Then they all follow Miss Denison up to Mrs. Merivale's boudoir, -where, now almost recovered, she is languidly looking over her -letters of the morning. - -"My _dear_ Miss Denison," she says, holding out both hands as the -governess approaches her, "you can have no conception what an -unspeakable relief your return is to me. I thought I should have -_died_ sometimes with the terrible racket these children have made. -Their father doesn't seem to mind it--indeed I really believe he -_likes_ it rather than otherwise; but oh, what my poor nerves have -gone through!" and Mrs. Merivale shudders and looks round for her -smelling-salts. - -"_What_ we shall do without you when you leave us for good I really -_don't know_," she continues. "Honor and Molly will have to go to -school, I think. Doris must stay at home, of course, if she is to -come out next season. O, how I wish Honor was the eldest!--she is so -quiet and sensible compared to that child there. It is all very well -when I am quite well myself, but these headaches completely prostrate -me, and when they are all at home together it is almost _more_ than I -can stand. Molly, _do_ stop shuffling your feet!" - -"I am sure, dear Mrs. Merivale, I would willingly have made my -engagement a longer one still," says Miss Denison sitting down close -to her, while Doris squeezes up to her side, Honor sits on a stool at -their feet, and Molly and Dick take up their position behind the -sofa; "but Frank declares he will wait no longer, saying--which is -quite true, of course--that I have put him off twice already. I -should like to have finished Honor as well as Doris, especially as I -fear that young lady has not done me as much credit as she might have -done. Now, Honor is more studiously inclined, and so I _think_ is -Molly." - -"Now, I call it mean talking like that!" cries Doris pouting. "If I -haven't a natural taste for study it isn't _my_ fault, and it's twice -and three times as easy for people to learn when they really _like_ -it, and not half so praiseworthy in _my_ opinion. Never mind," she -adds, tossing her head, "I shall marry a duke; and it won't matter -then whether or not I can speak French, German, or Italian!" - -"O my stars, hark to that, Miss Denison!" exclaims Dick. "Why, my -good Doris, if you marry a duke you will have to go to court, you -know; and supposing the queen invited you to dinner, and she took it -into her head suddenly to have nothing but Chinese, or--or Fi-ji-an -spoken all the time, where would you be _then_, my girl?" - -"Don't be absurd!" retorts Doris loftily; "and do let Miss Denny go -on with what she was saying." - -But at this moment the gong sounds and there is a general move. A -merry and noisy meal is the luncheon to-day; Mr. Merivale, who has -come home unexpectedly, being himself one of the merriest of the -party. - -After much discussion and a few passages-at-arms between Doris, -Molly, and Dick, which are promptly suppressed, however, by Miss -Denison, a rehearsal is called for half-past six o'clock, after the -school-room tea. A note, in a somewhat sprawling masculine hand, is -written and despatched by Molly to command the presence of the five -Horton boys at that hour; and as the carpenter has pronounced the -school-room to be most suitable for the erection of a stage, the time -before tea is devoted chiefly to the clearing of all superfluous -articles (of which there are not a few) away into cupboards and -ottomans, &c. Presently Hugh, Regy, Alick, Ted, and Joey Horton -arrive, and hard, steady rehearsal is the order of the evening until -bed-time. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -HUGH'S MENTOR. - -The time soon flies past, every one being in a whirl of excitement -which passes Mrs. Merivale's comprehension. But at last the day -before that fixed for the party arrives, and the house is in a -perfect uproar from attic to basement. - -Mrs. Merivale has struck a bargain with the girls that, so long as -they undertake to keep everything in connection with the theatricals -out of her sight and hearing, she will promise to eschew all aches -and pains, and take into her own hands the entire management of the -rest of the entertainment. This is more in her line; and from little -things the girls overhear from time to time they feel satisfied as to -their Christmas party being a success. - -On the day in question the general excitement reaches a pitch which -defies description. Downstairs the cook has lately been reduced to a -pitch of frenzy by the constant demand for paste, glue-pots to be -heated, flat-irons, &c. To-day, however, she has struck against -this, for has she not the supper of the next night to prepare? So -she has shut her kitchen doors, and announced emphatically that under -no pretext whatever will she open them to any of the young ladies or -gentlemen until the party is over. Mr. Merivale is heard to declare -that "there is not a place whereon to rest the sole of my foot," for -even his bedroom is not exempt (on this the last day) from litter of -various kinds. On one occasion, when sitting down for a few minutes' -chat with his wife, Doris, looking in to ask a question, suddenly -rushes across the room, and seizing her astonished parent by the -lapels of his coat exclaims, "O, _father_, you're sitting on my Queen -of Hearts dress! and you _must_ have smashed the crown flat! O, how -_could_ you?" - -There is to be a dress rehearsal this evening at half-past seven, and -Colonel and Mrs. Danvers are coming to dine quietly, so that the -former can enter upon his duties as stage-manager as well as practise -his part of the "old woman." - -It is about five o'clock, and Miss Denison and the young people are -seated at tea in the school-room, when Jane enters, and addressing -herself to Molly says rather mysteriously, "O, if you please, Miss -Molly, Mr. Hugh is down in the hall, and he wants to speak to you -most particular for a minute. I asked him to step into the -drawing-room, but he said 'no,' nor he wouldn't come up here neither." - -"What can he want?" says Molly, rising from her chair; "may I go, -Miss Denny?" - -Permission granted, down she runs and finds Hugh sitting -disconsolately on one of the hall chairs, his hands in his pockets, -and his eyes fixed moodily upon the ceiling. - -"What are you sitting there for like a hall-porter?" she cries with -scant ceremony; "and why couldn't you come upstairs like a reasonable -being? Why, _what_ is the matter? You look as doleful as a -crocodile!" And copying the expression of his face to a nicety, she -plants herself before the young fellow and thrusts her hands into -imaginary pockets. Then she suddenly bursts into irrepressible -laughter. - -"Well, you needn't laugh at a fellow! _You_ would look gloomy if -after days and days of work you found yourself in the same quandary -as I am. It's the shoe, that's what it is!" - -"O, it's the _shoe_ that pinches, is it?" and teasing Molly goes off -into fresh fits of laughter. - -"Well, you needn't laugh! as I said before. The fact is I don't know -how to get it here: it is so large, you see. It's really a beautiful -shoe, and will hold a lot of youngsters, but the fact remains that I -can't even get it out of the door of my own room! What's to be -done?" A pause. Then Hugh goes on, "You see I want to get it in -here while it is dark, because if anyone saw it being taken in they -would think we were all lunatics, naturally." - -Molly rests her chin upon her hand and ponders deeply. "How many -pieces is it in?" she asks. - -"Only three," mutters Hugh despondently. - -"Well, now," says Molly, "why can't you take it to pieces again? I -will help you, and it will be such fun lacing it all up again. We -ought to have had it made _here_, in the house; then there would have -been no bother at all. As it is, to take it to pieces is the only -thing I can suggest. Shall I run and ask Miss Denny if I may go in -now with you, and then we shall get it put together again in time for -the rehearsal to-night?" - -"Yes, do, and I will wait here. What a clever girl you are, Molly! -I knew you would think of a way out of the difficulty." - -"Pooh!" says Molly. "That's nothing. It's you boys who are so -_helpless_ without us girls to manage for you! I won't be a second;" -and away she bounds up the staircase. - -In two or three minutes she reappears with a large piece of cake in -one hand. Tucking the other through Hugh's arm she remarks (rather -unintelligibly, her mouth being full of cake), "Miss Denny said I -might, so I drank my tea standing, and--oh, have a bit of cake, do! -I have only begun it on this side." Hugh with great gravity accepts -the offer, Molly breaking off a good-sized piece of the great slice; -and this matter being satisfactorily arranged, they quickly slip out -of one door and in at the other. As they pass through the hall a -door opens, and a refined, gentle-looking woman of about four or five -and forty pauses on the threshold in surprise at the unexpected sight -of Molly under the escort of her son at that time of the evening. - -"My dear boy," she says, "what _are_ you doing with Molly? Why, do -you know that the child has no hat on, nor even a wrap of any kind?" - -"I _had_ a wrap, Mrs. Horton, but I have just thrown it off, and it -was not worth while to put anything on my head." - -"O, if you have only just come from next door that is a different -matter," says Mrs. Horton, reassured. "What has Hugh dragged you in -here for now?" she continues kindly while she puts one arm -affectionately round the girl's shoulders. "It is surely your -tea-time now, dear, and it is too bad if he has taken you away from -that." - -Hugh looks guilty, but Molly comes to the rescue for the second time. - -"O, I didn't mind, indeed, Mrs. Horton," she says. "Hugh was so -dreadfully put out about the shoe, you know, so I thought it best to -come in and see what we could do about it. He didn't ask me to come -at all; I offered to myself." - -"I shouldn't have bothered Molly about it at all, mother," the young -fellow puts in; "but you see it is your 'at home' day, and I didn't -know whether every one had gone. And what to do about this blessed -shoe I didn't know, with the time running on so fast too; and I had -_promised_ to have it ready for to-night's rehearsal. Molly's a dear -good-natured girl, and I knew she would find some way of managing." - -"Well, Hugh, you know I would gladly have done anything I could for -you about it; but of course, as you say, I couldn't very well leave -my guests. Now, shall we go up and see what this tyrannical shoe -requires?" - -On reaching the large room upstairs which is devoted exclusively to -the use of the boys, they find all the other four engaged in -different occupations, more or less noisy. The babel of tongues -ceases, however, at the sight of the trio looking in upon them, and -there is a general rush towards the door. While Ted and Joey seize -upon their mother, Regy and Alick dart at Molly, and dragging her -across the room to where a funereal-looking object is reclining -against the wall, they proceed to describe noisily the difficulties -of the case. - -"I wanted it lowered out of the window!" cries Alick, determined to -be heard, "and hauled up again into yours. That would have been -_quite easy_, you know, and not half the fuss in my opinion." - -"Who cares for _your_ opinion, Alick?" says Regy contemptuously. - -"No, but really," goes on the boy, not to be suppressed, "it will be -an awful shame to take it all to pieces. Why, I declare I never knew -Hugh to work at anything so hard before." - -"Nor I," mutters Regy, glancing at his brother, who is leaning up -against the mantel-piece staring gloomily at the object of discussion. - -"Well, Molly knows best," he remarks decidedly, "so it's no use -discussing it any longer. Who's got a pair of sharp scissors or a -knife or something? Mother, you will help us take it to pieces, -won't you?" - -"And you and I and Colonel Danvers will soon have it together again -when once we get it in there," says Molly, jerking her head in the -direction of the next house. "O, good gracious, what's this?" she -exclaims, as she trips up over some hard object sticking out from -under the shoe. - -"Why, it's one of the supports--_wood_, you know," explains Ted, -nodding solemnly at Molly. "You weren't such a goose as to think -cardboard would stand up in that way alone, were you?" - -"Where are your manners, Ted?" puts in Hugh. "Molly, did you hurt -yourself? Come round, and let me show you the whole concern." - -The "whole concern" having been duly admired, and all its points of -beauty expatiated on, they all set to work, and in a very short time -the shoe is once more in three distinct pieces; and while the boys -are busily taking the laces out with elaborate care, Molly, -thoroughly at home in the house, as indeed are all the girls, strolls -out of the room and down the passage to a little room at the -end--Hugh's private sanctum and study. - -"_Study_, indeed!" thinks Molly to herself as she stands looking -scornfully round; for the room, it must be confessed, does not -suggest the idea of any very violent mental work going on within its -four walls. Books there are in plenty, certainly: good, substantial, -solid reading too; but there they are, comfortably reposing on their -shelves, "looking," as Molly says to herself, "as if they had not -been touched for the last six weeks." She has just marched up to the -books in question, and is in the act of drawing her finger along -their dusty backs, when Hugh puts his head in at the door. - -"Now, Miss Molly, what are you doing in my study?" he demands, "and -what are you turning up that elegant little nose about? Come, what's -wrong, eh?" And crossing over hastily, he reaches the girl's side -just in time to see her finish writing with her finger the word -"dust" in large capital letters. - -"_That_ is what is wrong," she says, turning round slowly and facing -the young fellow; "d-u-s-t, _dust_! A fine study indeed!" she -continues, glancing round contemptuously. "Look how painfully tidy -the rest of the room is! My goodness, you should just see our -school-room when we are in the thick of our lessons and really mean -business! Doris and I get covered with ink, and our hair gets all -rumpled up, and sometimes we stick pens into it without knowing. -Honor knits her brows and frowns away like anything, and Miss -Denison's voice is several degrees more severe than usual. Oh, I -assure you we look _tragic_ when we really _are_ working! I should -like to know, now, what use it is your going to Sandhurst," she -continues severely, "when you never so much as open a book at home? -Ah! you are a lazy fellow, Hugh; and I don't believe you will ever -pass all your exams. If you ever do get into the army (which I very -much doubt) it will be by the backdoor, I verily believe." - -"Why, what do _you_ know about the backdoor, Molly?" exclaims Hugh, -bursting into uncontrollable laughter. - -"O, I know all about it," replies Molly, nodding gravely. "I heard -father talking about it to Colonel Danvers the other evening. Father -was saying he wondered how Cyril Harcourt got into the army. And -Colonel Danvers said, 'Oh, _he_ got in by the backdoor, you know.' -So I asked father afterwards what it meant, and he told me by getting -into the militia first; and I thought to myself, 'Ah! that's what -Hugh will have to do.' And so you will, you know, if you ever do get -in, which, as I said before, I very much--" - -"No, don't say it again," says the young fellow, putting his hand -over Molly's mouth. "I'll do anything in the world to please you, -Molly, and I'll work like--like fury, only don't pitch into me any -more. Encourage me a bit sometimes, and I shall do wonders yet. I -daresay you could even help me sometimes if you only would. I don't -mean in the actual way of studying, you know, though I believe you -are a hundred times more clever than I am; but I mean as to keeping -me up to the mark, and all that sort of thing." - -"Yes, that's all very well," says Molly, shaking her head. "I do try -to do that, I'm sure; but if you won't help yourself, _I_ can't help -you. And look here, Hugh, it is all very well to say you will do it -to please _me_; but what about your mother, who I know worries -_dreadfully_ about you? It's downright wicked of you, when you come -to think of it. Upon my word it is." - -"So it is, Molly. You are quite right, and I deserve every word you -are saying," says Hugh dejectedly. - -"Now, will you make me a promise, like a dear, good boy?" - -"Yes, that I will!" he cries with energy. "And what is more, I will -keep it, my wise little mentor." - -"That is right, Hugh. Well, I won't say anything about to-morrow, of -course, because until that has come and gone I don't suppose we shall -any of us know whether we are on our heads or our heels. But will -you promise me that the next day you will really set to work--real -_hard_ work, such as other young men do? Then you will soon make up -for lost time, with your talents, which it is perfectly _sinful_ to -throw away. You will very soon get used to it, and after a bit it -won't seem such a trouble to you to work. And look here, Hugh," she -adds, suddenly growing grave, and speaking in a whisper, "'Help -yourself, and God will help you,' you know. Now, will you promise -me?" And looking anxiously up into her companion's face, Molly holds -out her hand. - -"I will, Molly; upon my word I will," replies Hugh earnestly. And -taking the girl's hand in both his own, he adds, "What a dear, good -girl you are, Molly, and how I wish I had a sister like you! Ah! -never fear, I shall fire away now and pass all my exams, in less than -no time; and then you shall see what I can do afterwards, Miss Molly!" - -"O, yes!" says the girl, moving towards the door, "I have no fear for -you when once the studying is over; it is _that_ which is the -stumbling-block, eh? But thanks so very, very much for your promise, -dear Hugh. I consider your exams, all as good as passed, now that I -have that. Hark! there they are calling us. All right--coming!" -And away she darts down the passage, all life and fun again. - -Hugh follows, in time to see her pounced upon by all the four boys, -who, it seems, are in the midst of a violent dispute as to who shall -have the honour of carrying in the several portions of the shoe next -door. At last the question is settled, and the parts are carried -with much caution and solemnity out of the Hortons' house and into -the Merivales' by the three elder boys, Molly, escorted by Ted and -little Joey bringing up the rear with the laces, &c. - -"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris, whom they meet half-way up the -staircase, "what a _time_ you have been! We are all ready; and Miss -Denny, and nurse, and Honor have been dressing up Colonel Danvers, -and he looks splendid!" - -"Does he? All right! we shall not be two minutes in putting the shoe -together again; come along, boys!" And away scampers Molly up to the -school-room, closely followed by all the Hortons. - -At last it is ready, and Colonel Danvers and Mr. Merivale, assisted -by most of the boys, hoist it up satisfactorily into its place. - -As the colonel is looking somewhat embarrassed in his petticoats, -shawl, and big poke-bonnet, it is decided that the "old woman who -lived in a shoe" shall be rehearsed next. It is also settled that -this picture shall be placed first in the programme, instead of third -as originally intended. This is partly because Colonel Danvers -declares he shall be consumed with nervousness until his part is -over, and he can once more appear in his own proper attire. - -"You see, I am not used to petticoats and long gowns," he remarks -plaintively; "so _please_ let us get that tableau over as early as -possible!" - -It being necessary to have everything in working order, the curtain -is let down, and in the first trial rests itself triumphantly at one -end on a part of the shoe, leaving a startling array of ankles and -feet plainly visible to those looking on. - -This being remedied, great consternation is caused by the sudden -mysterious disappearance of Bobby. On search being made it is -discovered that the curtain in its first descent has knocked him over -into the interior of the shoe, from which strange, unearthly sounds -are issuing. He is speedily rescued, however, apparently none the -worse for his sudden collapse, except that his mouth, eyes, and hair -are pretty freely filled with dust. Having, however, been once more -set upon his legs, he soon recovers from his sneezing fit and joins -in the laugh with the rest. - -In the second trial all goes well, and the other pictures are duly -rehearsed according to their order on the programme. After a few -hours' steady practising they are one and all pronounced to be -satisfactory by the audience, which, though limited (consisting only -of Mrs. Merivale, Mrs. Danvers, and Mrs. Horton), is decidedly -critical; and after a little light refreshment, for which they all -betake themselves to the dining-room, the party is dispersed, the -colonel in a devout state of thankfulness at feeling himself, as he -expresses it, a man once more. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -HUSBAND AND WIFE. - -Mr. and Mrs. Merivale are still seated at the breakfast-table on the -morning of the 27th, the former deep in his newspaper, the latter -taking another glance through her letters. The children have already -taken themselves off some time, and with Miss Denison are busy -upstairs putting finishing touches to some of the costumes for the -evening. - -"Here is a letter from Sophia," presently remarks Mrs. Merivale to -her husband. "She proposes coming to us for a few days on her way -back to town when she leaves the Pagets; would you like-- Why, -James, what is the matter?" and rising quickly from her chair she -hurries round to his side, startled by the ashy paleness which has -suddenly overspread his face. - -"No--no, it is--nothing!" gasps Mr. Merivale; but at the same moment -he drops the paper and presses his hand against his side with a -little smothered moan. Mrs. Merivale snatches up her salts (which -are always at hand) and holds them under her husband's nostrils, then -hastily unscrewing the other end of the pretty toy she deluges her -handkerchief with _eau de Cologne_, and bathes his forehead and -temples until there is once more a little colour in his face. -"Thanks, dear," he says at last feebly. "I am all right again -now--it was only--a stitch--that's all! You need not look so -frightened, Mary, my dear. The pain was sharp while it lasted, but I -am quite myself now, indeed I am. Give me a little strong coffee, -Mary; and perhaps I had better have a spoonful of brandy in it." - -"You must call and see Dr. Newton," says Mrs. Merivale as she busies -herself with the coffee; "and now _do_ try and get home an hour or -two earlier to-day. I am sure there is no reason why you should not." - -"Oh, but there is!" says Mr. Merivale, sipping his coffee. "That's -just it. Waymark has gone away for a few days, and I shall have -double work until he comes back, instead of being able to take things -easily." - -"How very provoking! What could he want to take a holiday for just -now? Surely it is an unheard-of time for a holiday." - -"Yes, so it would be. But this is no holiday, I fancy, for I believe -he said something about an aunt being very ill and being summoned to -see her; but really I was so busy at the time I hardly noticed what -he did say. I had called him into my private room to show him a -letter from Clayton & Co., who have a large account with us, you -know. It was merely advising us as a matter of form that they would -be withdrawing the bulk of their deposit on the 30th instant, and as -Waymark sees to all the books and that sort of thing, I wanted him to -have the letter of course; then it was that he told me he must leave -for a few days, said he was just coming in to tell me about it." - -"Well, and what about the letter? didn't he see that this would give -you extra trouble?" - -"Well, he didn't seem to concern himself much about that; which after -his bad news was natural, I suppose. But he said Mr. Hobson knew as -much about the books as himself, and that I need have no trouble -about the matter, as I could leave it all to him. He only looked in -a moment after that to say good-bye, and that very possibly he would -be back himself by the 30th, in time to give a look to the affair. -So now you see, Mary, instead of sitting here I ought to be hurrying -off. Of course I shall get home as soon as ever I can, for the -children's sake as well as my own; but as to seeing the doctor -to-day, I can't promise. It will do very well in a day or two when I -have more time. It seems quite ridiculous to have made such a fuss -about nothing, for I feel as right as a trivet now." - -"_Nothing!_" repeats Mrs. Merivale testily. "If you could have seen -your face as _I_ saw it, James, you would not talk of 'nothing' in -that manner. Besides, you have had these _stitches_, as you call -them, more than once lately, and you _ought_ to have advice. But -there! you won't, of course. I never knew any man so care-less about -himself--_never_; and I might just as well talk to the wind for any -notice you take of what _I_ say. O, dear me! was ever any woman in -this wide world tried and worried as I am?" - -"Well, there, there, Mary; don't worry yourself about me," and Mr. -Merivale comes up to his wife and kisses her affectionately. "I -promise you I will go, only I _cannot_ spare time for the next day or -two. But the moment Waymark comes back, we will go together if you -like. Now, I can't say more than that, can I?" - -His wife looks somewhat consoled, and for her husband's sake she -shakes off the anxiety she really feels. With a once-more smiling -face she helps him on with his overcoat herself, and stands at the -street door until the brougham has driven away. There is not much -time for thinking when she gets back into the dining-room, for with a -rush like a whirlwind the girls run down the staircase and quickly -surround her, each one proffering a different request. Poor Mrs. -Merivale! her hands go distractedly to her head at last, and sinking -into a chair she cries, "Oh, my _dear_ girls, do run away and leave -me now! You _promised_ not to worry me about the tableaux, and if -you _will_ persist in doing so I shall be completely prostrated -before the evening comes, and then what will you do? You have got -poor Miss Denison up there slaving for you, and I am sure she is a -host in herself. That's right, run away! Oh, _don't_ slam the door! -Now, cook, what is it?" and with a sigh of resignation the -unfortunate lady gives her attention to the final arrangements for -the supper. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -TABLEAUX VIVANTS. - -After a day of rush and bustle for every one in the house alike, the -hour of eight, at which the guests have been invited, at length -arrives, and whilst Mrs. Merivale receives them herself on the first -staircase landing, a man-servant conducts them to the school-room, -where they are placed in their seats by two maids dressed in neat -black dresses and dainty little lace caps and aprons. These damsels -present each guest with the prettiest of programmes, which sets forth -a sufficiently attractive list of _Tableaux Vivants_, finishing up -with the information, "At the piano, Miss Denison and Miss Mary -Merivale." - -These two are already seated at the piano, waiting with exemplary -patience for the signal to begin the overture. There have been -extensive practisings going on for some time between the two, and now -the "ballet music" from Gounod's "Faust" is spread open before them, -and Molly is leaning back in her chair gazing abstractedly at the -curtain, while Miss Denison is making futile efforts to shield one of -the candles which shows a disposition to gutter. - -Suddenly the little bell is rung, rousing Molly from her reverie, and -the sweet strains of the above-mentioned music soon reduce the -audience to a state of quietude and attention. - -Molly, thorough musician that she is, plays on with such rapt -attention to the music and naught else that a gradually increasing -agitation of the curtain at the nearest wing is entirely lost upon -her. Quite forgetful of the fact that she is bound to make a -precipitate retreat the moment the final chord is struck, in order to -swell the number of the children belonging to the lady who resided in -the shoe, she plays on until she becomes aware of Miss Denison's -voice whispering in her ear "They are _ready, Molly_, and we must -hurry the end of this." - -Still Molly only half catches the words, till suddenly Dick, reduced -to desperation, puts his head out from behind the curtain, and after -making frantic signs to cease, says in an audible whisper, "That's -enough, Molly, we're all ready and waiting for you." - -This peremptory summons recalls the girl to the business of the -evening, and giving a quick nod of comprehension to her governess, -they both hurry through the few remaining bars, and finishing up with -two or three banging, crashing chords, as Molly puts it, she pushes -back her chair and promptly disappears. - -There is only a delay of a few seconds before the little bell tinkles -again, and while Miss Denison plays a soft melody the curtain rises -on the first tableau. - -Certainly "There was an old woman who lived in a shoe" was a great -success. - -Colonel Danvers, arrayed in one of the nurse's cotton gowns, with a -little shawl pinned over his shoulders and a large poke-bonnet, looks -the character of the "old woman" to perfection, as with one hand he -grasps Honor's arm with a firm grip, whilst a formidable-looking -birch is raised threateningly over her with the other. The rest of -the children are all seated round and about the shoe in various -attitudes; some half in and half out of it. All are supplied with -basins, popularly supposed to contain broth, and Molly, well to the -fore, with bare feet and rumpled head, is pausing in the act of -carrying her spoon to her mouth, with a distinct expression of "Will -it be _my_ turn next?" in her wide-open blue eyes. - -The curtain goes down amidst a storm of applause; and it being -arranged that no encores will be accepted, there is instantly a rush -of pattering feet across the stage, accompanied by much giggling and -whispering, and then a mysterious sound of pushing and dragging, -which duly announces the removal of the shoe. - -Honor's "Mother Hubbard" comes next, and Molly once more takes her -place at the piano, her presence not being required again on the -stage until the end of the first part of the programme, where her -much-dreaded part of the "Maiden all forlorn" comes on. Molly is -anything but happy in her mind about this part of the programme, she -having grave misgivings as to Hugh's intentions in the matter. - -"Look here, Hugh," she says, when his services not being in request -elsewhere he strolls into the room and hangs over the piano, -nominally to turn over the music, "I shall ask Colonel Danvers to -make our picture awfully short. I don't know, I'm sure, how you mean -to manage about that stupid kiss; but it is very certain you can't -keep on kissing me all the time; and another thing is, if you have -your face so close to mine I _know_ I shall be tempted to bite you. -I shouldn't be able to help it, I am sure." - -"Well, I suppose I must risk that," laughs Hugh good-naturedly; "and -I don't suppose you would bite very hard either." - -"O, wouldn't I though! my teeth are as sharp as anything. You have -no idea what they can do when they give their mind to a thing. Hush! -here is Doris's 'Mary, Mary.' Doesn't she look pretty?" - -And so she does. A chintz with a green ground has carried the -day,--green being, Doris had declared, the colour best suited to -Mary's contrariness of nature. So green it is, even to the neat -little high-heel shoes of which Doris is not a little proud. - -A miniature garden has been quickly improvised for this picture; and -the girl standing in the middle of it, with finger on pouting lip and -a general air of discontent and vexation, looks natural and well. -Truth to tell, the pouting expression is not altogether foreign to -Doris's face; and while the audience is thinking how well she has -assumed the contrariness, Dick whispers to his sister, "I say, Honor, -Doris's pouting propensities have come in useful at last, haven't -they?" - -There is only one more picture now before the end of the first part, -so Molly once more disappears, and is in time to help in placing -Daisy in position as "Miss Muffit," with her companion the spider, of -which she feels rather a wholesome dread. Unfortunately for her -feelings, Regy, who has manufactured it, has made one of the -creature's legs a shade shorter than the rest. The consequence is -that, when the spider is standing, this short leg dangles loosely and -suggestively, inspiring poor Daisy with genuine terror. The best -side is, of course, turned towards the audience, and when the curtain -goes up the little girl is discovered in a very natural attitude of -fright, as she shrinks away from the monster, with her cup of -curds-and-whey in one hand and her spoon in the other. Molly emerges -from the dressing-room just as a storm of vociferous applause informs -her that the curtain has descended on the much-appreciated picture of -"Little Miss Muffit." As she passes into the school-room behind the -huge screen which hides the actors and actresses from view as they -enter, she meets Hugh, who is evidently feeling as forlorn as the -"maiden" herself in his ragged and tattered garb. He is keeping well -in the shadow at present, and only steps forward as Molly comes up. - -"You don't look very handsome," she remarks laconically; "and--yes, I -verily believe your face is dirty." - -"Yes," says Hugh guiltily, "I'm afraid it is. The fact is, I smudged -it with a bit of burnt cork. I was going to wash it--I was indeed," -he adds hastily, "but we heard the applause beginning for 'Miss -Muffit,' and Colonel Danvers said there wasn't time, and declared it -was not the least likely that the 'Man all tattered and torn' would -have a clean face. I can go and wash it now," he says humbly, "if -you think it will do to keep everybody waiting." - -"O, no!" says Molly hastily, "we can't do that, of course; but do for -goodness' sake give it a rub with your handkerchief. Have you got -one?" she adds, looking doubtfully at him; "perhaps you haven't even -got a pocket in that tattered old coat. Well, here's mine;" and -diving into the depths of the capacious pocket which is hidden away -in the folds of the still-room maid's cotton dress which she is -wearing, she produces a small dainty cambric affair, which Hugh, with -a mixture of amusement and awe, accepts gratefully. At this moment -Colonel Danvers hurries up. - -"Come, you two," he says, "they will be tired of waiting. Now, you -sit here on this stool, Molly. That's right--capital! Show your -face a _little_ more to the audience; now lean it on your hand--so, -and twist up your apron with the other. I'll see to the 'man'--don't -you move on any account now, there's a good girl. Now, Hugh, just -here. All right! you'll remember the sign, and don't fall over the -pail;" and before Molly has time to ascertain his whereabouts the -bell tinkles, and up goes the curtain. - -It is a pretty picture enough; for a neat little rustic scene has -been painted for the back of the stage, in which the refractory cow -may be seen grazing, rather peaceably perhaps considering its -reputation for bad temper. A sun-bonnet is lying on the green baize -in front of Molly, and at her side is a genuine milking-pail borrowed -from the dairy. Molly herself is staring straight before her in a -truly dejected manner, while Hugh has the appearance of having crept -up stealthily till within about half a yard of her. The seconds -creep on, and as Hugh has not moved an inch Molly reassures herself -with the thought that after all it was only his nonsense about being -obliged to give the kiss. She congratulates herself too soon, -however, for as the bell rings for the curtain to descend, Hugh -suddenly darts forward and kisses her lightly on the cheek just as it -is about half-way down. - -The peals of laughter which, with the applause, ring through the room -testify to the audience's thorough appreciation of the joke; but -Molly as she rises expresses extreme indignation at what she called -Hugh's "horrid meanness," throwing dark hints over her shoulder as -she marches from the room as to all favours being discontinued for -the remainder of the evening. Hugh looks so disconsolate that -Colonel Danvers slaps him on the shoulder, saying with a hearty -laugh, "Come, cheer up, man! the fun of the picture was in the kiss, -you know, and Molly doesn't mean what she says. You leave her little -ladyship to me and I'll see that it's all right; she is only put out -for the moment. Now clear the stage for the first scene of 'The -queen was in the parlour.' Where is the queen? Oh, here you are, -Doris! Yes, you will do very well; but your crown is all on one -side, and the effect is rakish in the extreme. Come here, and let me -straighten it." - -"O, for goodness' sake mind the honey!" cries Doris excitedly. "It's -trickling down the sides now, I do believe!" and she holds up the pot -down the side of which a thin stream of the sticky substance is -steadily making its way. "I found Teddy and Dick at it, you know," -she continues, deliberately drawing one finger up the side of the pot -to stay the stream; "and in the scuffle it got knocked over, and -before I could rescue it of course some must needs run over. I have -stuck to it ever since though!" she adds triumphantly. - -"It seems to me that it has stuck to _you_," says the colonel dryly. -"How in the world can you endure to have such sticky fingers?" - -"O, I don't mind," says Doris carelessly. "I shall require to have -some of it spread upon bread by and by, you know, and I shall be sure -to smear myself then. I always do with honey or jam or anything of -that kind. Besides, having once got the pot I don't intend to put it -down again. Oh, good gracious, Bobby, you're standing on my train! -_Do_ pull him off, Colonel Danvers!" The stage-manager does as he is -desired, and Master Bob is led off by the ear mildly protesting at -the indignity offered him. - -Molly has long ago returned to her duties at the piano, for during -the "interval of ten minutes" the audience must, of course, be -sufficiently amused. - -That over, the three pictures of "The queen was in the parlour, -eating bread and honey," "The king was in his counting-house, -counting out his money," and "The maid was in the garden, hanging out -the clothes," rapidly follow, with Doris as queen, Regy Horton as -king, and Honor as the maid, a stuffed magpie having been engaged for -the role of the blackbird. - -Directly the curtain descends on the last of these three Molly once -more leaves Miss Denison at the piano, it being imperative that she -shall increase the number of domestics appertaining to the kitchen in -which the Queen of Hearts is discovered making tarts. - -Honor is the queen on this occasion, and Dick personates the knave in -the second scene. Great care and thought have been expended on the -dressing of this set of pictures, and in the last, when a goodly -crowd, all representing the suit of hearts, is collected on the -stage, the effect is really good. Hugh manages to get up the bland, -vacant kind of expression in which the kings of a pack of cards -generally rejoice, and Honor, after the manner of cardboard queens, -looks decidedly cross, presumably at the abduction of her tarts; -while Dick has the debonair, impudent manner peculiar to the knaves. -If anything mars the effect of this last tableau it is the painful -fact that the knave of hearts, as he stands with his arms folded, -scornfully glancing down at the dish of tarts, shows distinct signs -of having tasted as well as purloined those dainties; for his flushed -countenance is embellished here and there with little streaks of jam, -which if not becoming are at least highly suggestive. - -This last picture brings the dramatic portion of the evening to a -close, and the actors and actresses dash madly from the room, -regardless of the dire confusion left behind them; for in another -moment the audience will be making their exit by the same door on -their way to the study, where light refreshments are being served -before the next business of the evening, namely the dancing, begins. -Honor and Doris are soon ready to join the throng below, for it has -been arranged that they shall keep to their last dresses in the -tableaux for the remainder of the evening. Molly, however, is to -wear the new white silk which is to do duty for the round of -Christmas parties which the girls are generally in request for. It -is some time, therefore, before she makes her appearance in the -drawing-room. The dancing has already commenced, but Doris and Honor -are still standing, the centre of a congratulatory group, and it is -only when their respective partners come forward to claim them that a -truce is given to the compliments which might have turned the heads -of any less sensible girls than they. - -When Molly at length appears she feels, to use her own expression, -rather "out of it," for during her absence engagements have of course -been made for the first one or two dances, so she leans rather -disconsolately against a doorway from which the door has been -removed, and half hidden by a curtain she looks on at the gay scene -before her. She is just answering some energetic signs from Alick -Horton, and telegraphing back her willingness to finish the dance -with him if he can safely pilot himself round to her retreat without -being run down by the many couples now whirling round the room, when -her shoulder is touched from behind, and Colonel Danvers puts back -the curtain, saying as he does so, "Now, Miss Molly, I have brought a -penitent sinner with me who is desirous of having the honour of -dancing with you." - -Molly glances up, and seeing Hugh standing beside the colonel with a -crestfallen and guilty appearance, looks down again saying, "I am not -going to dance this time, thank you; or if I do," she adds hastily, -seeing Alick approaching slowly and surely, "it will be with Alick; I -have promised him." - -The mention of his brother's name appears to have an irritating -effect on Hugh, for he says hastily, and not without some temper, "O, -Alick is nobody! he can wait. Come now, Molly, you promised me, you -know." - -But Molly shakes her head. - -"Well, but you know, Molly, that kiss could not be helped," puts in -the colonel at this juncture; "and for my part I think Hugh managed -it in a highly commendable manner. Besides, poor boy, he is really -dreadfully put out at having been compelled, as it were, to annoy -you, and I am sure he will never dream of doing such a thing again; -will you, Hugh?" and he turns towards the young man with a roguish -twinkle in his eye. - -Hugh does not respond, but he looks pleadingly towards his little -favourite, and holding out his hand says, "Come, Molly, won't you?" - -Molly considers a moment, then slowly moving towards Hugh she says, -"Just this one dance then, Hugh, as Colonel Danvers wishes it." - -"And plenty more when that one's done!" calls the Colonel after them, -as he goes off with Alick to find another partner for him. - -The evening goes on merrily and fast, and Molly's programme is -speedily filled up, the initials H. H. figuring pretty often in it -notwithstanding her previous displeasure. Doris and Honor are heard -to confess more than once during the evening that they are sorry they -were tempted by feelings of vanity to keep on their regal attire, the -trains thereof constantly tripping them up and embarrassing them -generally, to say nothing of an unfortunate habit, which their -respective crowns possess, of tumbling off on the slightest -provocation. Thus they are seen to look envyingly from time to time -at Molly, who in all the independence of short skirts and crownless -head, is enjoying herself thoroughly. - -Most of the guests have departed, and only a few familiar friends are -still standing about the staircase and hall when Hugh goes up to -Molly, who, now completely tired out, is sitting on one of the hall -chairs, gazing abstractedly into the dining-room opposite. - -"Good-night, Molly," he whispers, "and I wanted to tell you that -to-morrow will be the first day of my hard work: _real hard_ work, -you know, that even _you_ would approve of. I haven't very much more -time at home now, but I mean to make the most of it, and when once I -get back to Sandhurst I shall work like a nigger if I can feel that -you are trusting me." - -"O, I am so glad, Hugh!" says the girl, looking up brightly at the -handsome, earnest face above her; "because I know you will do so well -if you only give yourself a fair chance, and do not give way to that -wicked laziness. I do so want you to be famous and distinguished and -all that sort of thing when you go out to India, if you do go." - -"I don't know exactly what I am to distinguish myself in, unless it -is pig-sticking or some other pursuit of that character," laughs -Hugh; "but seriously, if I do get on well out there, or anywhere else -indeed, I know whom I shall have to thank for it. And now good-night -again, Molly; sleep well, and if it is still fine and frosty -to-morrow, I'll come and take you for a spin on the ice." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -STARTLING NEWS. - -It is ten o'clock in the morning, and Mr. Merivale, senior partner of -Merivale, Waymark, & Co., bankers, is seated at the table in his own -private room, meditating an attack upon the formidable pile of -letters which lies before him. He is looking pale and depressed on -this, the morning after his children's party, and is saying to -himself that if only Waymark were back, he really would take a few -days' rest. He is just about to open one of the letters when a tap -comes to the door, and the head and confidential clerk, Mr. Hobson, -enters the room. He starts back, however, as Mr. Merivale raises his -head from the still unopened letter in his hand, and muttering to -himself "God bless my soul!" hurries to the mantel-piece, where a -glass jug of cold water stands, and quickly pouring out a glassful he -takes it to his principal, saying, "You look a little faint and tired -this morning, sir; will you drink some water, and then I will ring -for the sherry? Dear, dear, how very pale you are, to be sure!" and -the kind old man bustles over to the bell, which he pulls vigorously. -Then hastening to the door, and at the same time keeping one eye on -Mr. Merivale, he opens it, and pouncing on a young clerk who is -leisurely strolling down the passage with his hands in his pockets, -gives him a sharp peremptory order, which astonishes that young -gentleman not a little. - -On turning back into the room the old man is immensely relieved to -see a little colour once more in the face of Mr. Merivale; but he -will not allow him to speak as yet, and the housekeeper at the bank -entering at this moment with the sherry, he seizes the decanter from -the tray, and pours out a glass. Then Hobson stands by his elbow, -waiting patiently until the short gasps of breath become longer and -more regular, and the spasm, which had frightened him very -considerably, has passed off. Then he quietly insists on Mr. -Merivale taking the sherry, and in a few minutes has the satisfaction -of seeing him sit upright in his chair, apparently himself again, -though with a face still pale and drawn-looking. - -"Thanks, Hobson, thanks!" he says, passing his hand over his -forehead. "Don't look so anxious, old friend; I have had these -little attacks once or twice before, but I assure you it is nothing -serious. My wife was telling me only a day or two since that I ought -to have advice; but I know just what the doctor would say--'General -debility and want of tone,' &c. &c., and then he would suggest rest, -and change of air and scene, and all the rest of it, which you know, -as well as I do, I cannot get while Waymark is away. Take some -sherry, Hobson, and do sit down." - -"Ay, that's just where it is," replies the old man slowly. "This is -really what I came to speak to you about, sir. Is it your wish that -I should attend to this matter of Clayton & Co." - -"Yes, by all means, Hobson. I shall be really grateful if you will -take it all off my shoulders; and, of course, if there is any little -thing you want to talk over, why, you will know where to find me if I -am not here." - -"Just so, just so," replies the old man, getting up. "And now, sir, -if you will take my advice you will go straight home and rest for the -remainder of the day. You trust me, sir, to see that all's right, -and if anything particular should take place during the day, I might -perhaps step round in the evening. Now, shall I send for a cab for -you?--the brougham has gone off long ago, of course." - -A cab being procured, Mr. Merivale gets into his overcoat, and, -accompanied by Mr. Hobson, goes down the steps of the bank. As the -cab drives away, the old man, who is still watching it, shakes his -head, and says mournfully to himself, "No, no, I don't like it at -all. I have never seen such pallor but once before, and then-- Oh, -a telegram--answer prepaid, eh? All right! I'm coming;" and the old -man goes back to his desk with a heavy heart, and opening the yellow -envelope returns to the business of the day. - -* * * * * * * * - -Miss Denison and her pupils are all seated round the school-room -fire, in various stages of fatigue and sleepiness. There has been a -sociable high-tea at seven o'clock instead of the usual late dinner, -at which all the family, from Mr. Merivale down to Bobby, have been -present. - -Conversation is being carried on in rather a desultory sort of -fashion, the only variety being Dick's persistence in asking riddles, -which are invariably proved to have no answers. - -Discussion waxes warm presently on the subject of that beautiful poem -on the letter H, often attributed to Lord Byron, but written by -Catherine Fanshawe. Dick protests loudly that it is Shelley's, while -Honor and Doris are equally sure it is Byron's. - -"What do _you_ say, Miss Denny?" asked Doris raising herself on to -her elbow and looking up from her place on the hearth-rug. "You know -everything, so surely you can settle the question." - -"I was not aware that I am such a walking encyclopædia as you seem to -imagine," replies Miss Denison laughing, and shaking out a skein of -wool preparatory to placing it on Molly's hands; "and, to tell you -the truth, Doris, my own personal experience is that the more one -learns, the more one finds there is to learn. At the present moment -I cannot recollect the author of that enigma, but my impression is -that you are both wrong, though I could not say so for certain. Now, -who can recite it without a mistake? If someone can, very likely I -shall call to mind the name of the author. But first ring the bell, -Dick; Daisy and Bobby must go to bed." - -"A capital idea!" cries Dick, referring to the suggestion about the -poem, "and I'll give anyone who says it through without a single -hitch a whole packet of butterscotch. There!" - -"I don't believe you have got the money to buy it," says Molly -crushingly; "for I heard you only this morning bewailing the fact -that you had only three halfpence left in the wide world." - -"You can get penny packets," mutters Dick; but he is promptly -suppressed, for Honor in a clear melodious voice is already -beginning-- - - "'Twas whispered in heaven, 'twas muttered in hell, - And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; - On the confines of earth 'twas permitted to rest, - And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed. - 'Twill be found in the sphere when 'tis riven asunder, - Be seen in the lightning, and heard in the thunder. - 'Twas allotted to man in his earliest breath, - Attends at his birth, and awaits him at death. - It presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, - Is the prop of his house and the end of his wealth. - Without it the soldier and seaman may roam, - But woe to the wretch who expels it from home. - In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found, - Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. - 'Twill not soften the heart, and though deaf to the ear, - 'Twill make it acutely and instantly hear. - But in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower-- - Oh, breathe on it softly--it dies in an hour.'" - - -A burst of applause greets Honor as she steps down from the footstool -upon which Molly has previously handed her with much ceremony. No -one, however, seems any nearer settling the author than before. - -"Most annoying, to be sure," says Miss Denison, tapping the fender -impatiently with her foot; "I do dislike to be baffled like this. -I'll tell you what, we will send down and ask your father to let us -have both Byron and Shelley from the study. After all I think it -_must_ be one of those two--anyway, we will search until we _do_ find -it. Now, who will be my ambassador?" - -All start up at the same moment, each signifying his or her -willingness to undertake the commission. But Miss Denison singles -out Doris, as being most accustomed to putting in an appearance -downstairs at that time of the evening, and Doris accordingly leaves -the room with a look of calm superiority at the others. The interval -is spent in hot argument as before, and Dick is just offering Molly a -bet consisting of a new book of travels against her recently -purchased tennis racquet when the door opens, and Doris with a white, -scared face re-enters the room. - -"_Doris!_" exclaim all the voices in a breath, "what is the matter?" - -The girl comes slowly towards the table, and resting one hand upon it -she pushes back her ruffled fair hair with the other. - -"I--I hardly know--" she gasps, "but something is wrong. I don't -know what--only old Mr. Hobson is shut up with father in the study, -and mother said I must not go in. Then father came rushing into the -room and asked mother for his keys which he had left on the -dining-table, and oh, it was his face that frightened me so--it was -so white, and drawn, and old-looking!" and with a smothered sob -Doris's head falls on the shoulder of the kind governess, who has -risen and is standing with her arm round her pupil's waist. - -"Courage, dear!" she whispers, gently stroking the bowed head. "This -trouble, whatever it is, may not be so serious after all. Come, dry -your eyes and wait here with the others whilst I go down to your -mother and see if there is anything I can do;" and Miss Denison -leaves the little group, with the exception of Doris, who is still -crying quietly, standing staring at each other in blank dismay. - -Before many minutes have elapsed Miss Denison returns, and though her -face looks grave and anxious, she makes an effort to speak cheerfully. - -"Your father has had some bad news in connection with his business, -girls; but I do not know yet to what extent. We must all hope for -the best, therefore, until we know more; and in the meantime, every -one must do his and her best not to increase the trouble by showing -grief which, after all, may prove to be quite uncalled for. It is -already after nine, so Molly and Dick had better go to bed. I want -you, Doris, to go down to your mother. You will find her in the -drawing-room; and your father wants you to go to him in the study, -Honor. I heard the hall door shut just now, so I expect Mr. Hobson -has gone: he was just leaving as I came up. Now, dears, I will run -up and say just a word to nurse, and then I will go down again to -your mother. Honor, you will know where to find me. Your father may -want to send some telegrams, and I may be able to help you." - -When Doris enters the drawing-room she looks with a little surprise -at her mother, who with closed eyes, handkerchief pressed to her -delicate nose, and smelling-salts well within reach, is now -gracefully reclining on the sofa. - -Advancing further into the room she says softly, "Miss Denny sent me -to you, mother, and she is coming down again herself after she has -spoken to nurse. Honor is with father in the study." - -"Yes, very well," says Mrs. Merivale languidly. "And now lower the -lamps, Doris; and oh! do move about quietly. Now bring a chair and -come and sit here, close to the sofa. I suppose you have heard the -wretched news that old Mr. Hobson has brought to-night? It seems -that your father's partner has embezzled immense sums from the bank, -and when he heard of the probability of something occurring which -would expose the whole thing, he quietly decamped, taking care to get -a sufficiently good start to do away with any chance of his capture." -Mrs. Merivale pauses a moment to give a vicious little pull to the -sofa cushion, then she goes on impatiently, "I don't suppose it would -have gone on to such an extent in any other case; but your father is -the most unsuspecting man that ever breathed. He would allow himself -to be cheated by anyone, under his very nose. I always disliked that -man, and I told your father so; but of course I might just as well -talk to the chairs and tables for all the attention there is paid to -anything I say. Oh, good gracious! here is that dreadful dog! _Do_, -for goodness' sake, take the creature away!" - -Doris is just in time to catch up Vic as she bounds on to the sofa -with a view to settling herself for a comfortable nap on the end of -Mrs. Merivale's dress. Being put on the floor and told to lie down, -she does so under protest, and with a "whoofa" of indignation. But -presently discrying an attraction in the shape of a misguided fly, -that with reckless confidence has emerged from some safe nook and is -flying feebly towards one of the lamps, she starts up, and making -snap after snap, careers madly after it round the room. Suddenly -catching sight of her own stumpy tail, however, which in the -excitement of the hunt bids fair to wag its owner's body off its -legs, she pulls up suddenly, then whirls round and round, teetotum -fashion, in pursuit of the offending object. Mrs. Merivale is in a -state of frenzy. - -"Doris!" she exclaims angrily, "do catch the dog and put it out of -the room. I call it downright cruel of you to encourage it as you -do. But there, I must say you are all alike in that respect; no one -ever considers _me_! Even in this tiresome upset (and I am sure I -don't clearly understand _what_ it is or _why_ it is) your father's -one thought seems to be 'the children,' and what will be done about -this, that, and the other concerning them." - -"O _mother_! I'm sure you do father an injustice in saying that!" -cries Doris indignantly. "You _must_ know that you are always his -first thought in everything." - -"Well, I don't know. And what," continues Mrs. Merivale, giving -another little impatient pull to the sofa cushion--"what am I to -understand when your father talks of ruin? I suppose we shall have -to give up one of the carriages, perhaps; though which I don't know. -It will be _too_ dreadful to think of stifling in a brougham during -the day, and yet if we kept the victoria, how in the world could I go -out at night?" - -A brief pause, in which Doris reads for about the twentieth time the -advertisement which is staring her in the face from the back of a -periodical which lies uncut upon the table. - -Then Mrs. Merivale sighs rather than says, "I suppose too we shall -have to do with a servant or two less. I do really think"--a bright -idea suddenly striking her--"that you could very well do without a -maid in the school-room now; and perhaps we could manage with only -one housemaid, though I should dread proposing such a thing to -Louisa, and of course I could not think of letting _her_ go. It is -equally impossible too that I could spare Lane, after having her with -me such a number of years. I don't really see what else I can do. -We need not give so many dinner-parties, perhaps; a light supper -costs less than a dinner, and one need not be so particular about the -wines. You, Doris, will have to come out at one of the county balls, -instead of being presented in London; and Honor will have to take -painting lessons from some cheaper master than Signor Visetti. I -daresay, after all, we would only have been paying for his name." -Another short pause, and then "I suppose if things are really so -serious as your father makes them out to be, Dick, poor boy, will -have to make up his mind to give up Oxford in the future. Oh, thank -goodness, here is Miss Denison! Now, Doris, you can go; and do hurry -Lane with that cup of tea she is getting--and, Doris," as the girl, -only too glad to escape, nears the door, "_pray_ shut that dog up; -and if it cannot be quiet _in_ the house, let it go to the stables. -It is what most other dogs have to do." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -GONE! - -In the meantime a very different conversation is being carried on in -the study, whither Honor has gone to her father. Although Mr. -Merivale has had some difficulty in making his wife understand the -extent of the trouble which has come upon them, he finds it quite -another matter with his daughter. In a very few minutes Honor's -clear head has completely taken in the situation; and it is an -unspeakable relief to Mr. Merivale to feel that there is one in the -family at all events upon whose aid he can rely in that hard and -difficult task which now lies before him, that of beginning life over -again. The girl's loving sympathy also goes far towards softening -the blow which has fallen with such cruel force, and though still -haggard and wan-looking it is with a little smile that he at length -looks up and says, "So we must all make the best of it, Honor; and -after a time, I daresay, we shall manage very well. If only your -mother understood a little better; but you see, dear, she has always -from her birth upwards lived in affluence and luxury, and it will -come very hard upon her, poor thing, to have to live such an utterly -different kind of life." - -Honor, who with her chin resting upon her hand is staring -abstractedly into the fire, merely nods acquiescence to her father's -remarks, until after a brief silence she looks up. - -"And will there be absolutely nothing left for us, father? Will all -mother's fortune have to go too?" - -"Yes, all of hers, my dear, except a trifling sum which, thank God, -is safely invested in something else. I don't know what she will -say, poor thing, when she comes to learn this. No, Honor, we must -make up our minds to face the worst; for even with the cursory glance -I have taken into the bank affairs to-night with Hobson, I can see -that when we have given up every farthing that we possess there will -still be a deficiency which is perfectly frightful to contemplate. -Ah! Honor, if we were the only sufferers I could begin again with a -comparatively light heart; but when I think of the numbers who are -ruined by the dishonesty of one scoundrel--of the hardly-earned -savings of many an honest, hard-working man, all swamped, all -swamped--I feel that to sit here, powerless to alleviate the -sufferings of all the victims of this gigantic fraud, is enough to -drive me out of my senses. Oh, if only I had known, if only I could -have guessed! But for some time past Waymark has taken more and more -upon himself, saying always that it was to save me trouble as my -health became uncertain; and how could I tell? _how_ could I tell?" -And with a smothered sob poor Mr. Merivale's head falls forward on -his arms. - -"Don't, father,--don't!" says Honor, putting her arms lovingly round -him and drawing his head down upon her shoulder. "The thought that -no blame can possibly rest on you should be a comfort to you; and you -cannot do more than you are going to do, dear father, in giving up -everything you possess." - -"No, dear; alas! that is all I _can_ do. But do that I will to the -uttermost farthing; and if it would only mend matters I would give -the very coat from off my back only too gladly." - -"Will they try to overtake Mr. Waymark, father?" presently asks Honor. - -"They will try, dear, but with little hope of success, for he has too -good a start to be easily found. Now, are you sure you have got -those telegrams worded exactly as I dictated? Very well, then, let -William take them off to the station at once. I am anxious your aunt -should have hers, because I am sure she will come over and see your -mother at once, and I think she will very likely be able to explain -matters to her better than I can. And now, dear, leave me, and at -ten o'clock bring me a cup of strong coffee with your own hands; and -don't let me be disturbed by anyone until then, for I have papers to -look through and writing to do which may keep me up half the night. -Tell your mother this, Honor, and beg her not to be anxious about me, -but to go to bed soon. Poor thing! this will be a terrible blow to -her. But you must help her to bear it--you and Doris. Ah, poor -little Doris!--send her to me for a minute, Honor. I should like to -say a few words to her too. Molly and the others have gone to bed, I -suppose?" - -"Yes, some little time ago. I will bring your coffee punctually, -father; and after Doris has left you I will see that no one disturbs -you." - -As Honor a few minutes later mounts the staircase, lost in thought, -she comes suddenly upon a white-robed figure which is standing with -rumpled hair and wide-open blue eyes gazing anxiously down into the -hall below. - -"Hush! don't say anything, Honor!" whispers the figure excitedly; "I -can't stay in bed--it's no use, so I have just slipped on my -dressing-gown, and here I am. O, _don't_ send me back, Honor!" the -girl adds imploringly as she sees symptoms of nervousness as to cold, -&c., pass over her sister's face. "Let me go into the school-room, -do. I'll be as still as a mouse, _really_ I will, only _don't_ ask -me to go back to bed!" - -"Poor Molly!" says Honor, putting an arm round her sister. Then -relenting she turns down the passage towards the school-room, and -pushing open the door leads her in and ensconces her in a big -arm-chair by the still-smouldering fire. - -"Ah! that's better," sighs Molly as Honor seizes the poker and stirs -the embers into a cheerful blaze; "and now _do_ tell me, Honor dear, -what this trouble is, and all about it." - -"It is soon told, Molly," says the girl, and seating herself in a low -chair opposite her sister she tells her of the dishonesty of their -father's partner. Then there is a brief pause, during which Honor, -poker still in hand, knocks a "stranger" off the second bar, and -Molly drops a slipper. "So now, dear," continues Honor, "you will -know what father means when he speaks of ruin; for ruined we are, -Molly, as to fortune, though, thank God, father still bears an -unstained name and can hold his head as high as ever he did." - -That Molly at length grasps the situation is evinced by the way she -sits staring at her sister with eyes wide open and full of trouble. -She does not speak for a few minutes, but at last she leans forward, -and taking Honor's face between her two hands she says slowly and -with a little painful sort of gasp, "When you speak of father giving -up all he possesses you mean his own fortune, I suppose, all his -_money_, I mean, and perhaps mother's too--eh, Honor?" - -"No, dear," says the elder sister gently, and taking one of Molly's -hands between her own. "We shall not only lose that, but everything! -The houses will be sold, both this and Sunnymeade; all the furniture, -pictures, and plate; the horses and carriages; and, in fact, as I -said, Molly, _everything_. Poor father says he must begin life over -again, and that we shall all have to help him." - -"Poor mother!" says Molly presently, after another pause. - -"Ah, poor mother!" repeats Honor, rising and kissing her young -sister. "We shall have to take care of her now, dear, and do all we -can to prevent her feeling the great change that is coming into all -our lives. And now, dear, you _must_ go to bed again; you will feel -happier now that you really know the worst, so you must try and not -think about it now, but go to sleep." - -Having seen Molly comfortably tucked up once more, Honor wanders -downstairs, and is just turning into the drawing-room in an aimless -sort of way when she meets Miss Denison coming out. - -"I was just looking for you, Honor," she says, putting her arm -through her pupil's and turning back with her into the room. "Your -mother seems so poorly that Doris and Lane have been seeing her to -bed; she had one of her hysterical attacks, but she is better now, -and I think it will be best to leave her quiet." And Miss Denison -sighs as she tries to stir the fire into some little semblance of -life. "Your father has sent for Mr. Trent, has he not, dear?" - -"Yes, and for Aunt Sophia too," replies Honor, sinking into a chair -opposite her governess; "though I don't know exactly what good _she_ -can do." - -"I don't know about that," says Miss Denison quickly. "Your aunt is -a very sensible, clear-sighted woman, and I daresay he thought she -would be a comfort to your mother, and that she may be able to -explain things better to her than he can." - -And so governess and pupil sit talking, until the little French clock -on the mantel-piece striking ten, Honor jumps up, remembering her -promise to take her father's coffee to him at that hour. As she lays -her hand upon the bell, the door opens, and Rankin appears with a -little tray which Honor takes from him. - -"I shall not be many minutes, Miss Denny," she says as she leaves the -room. "Father is busy writing, so he is sure not to keep me." - -Arrived at the study, Honor opens the door softly and goes into the -room. Her father is still seated where she left him, his head a -little bent forward over the papers spread open on the table. He -appears so engrossed in looking at these that Honor's entrance does -not even disturb him, and she carries the cup to the table and places -it within reach, quietly waiting by her father's side until he shall -speak to her. - -The girl's eyes wander to the fireplace. The fire is out, and with -the exception of the ticking of the large clock on the mantel-piece, -which sounds louder than usual, there is an unnatural stillness in -the room which oppresses her. - -She glances down at the quiet figure by her side, which still seems -unconscious of her presence. Then she notices for the first time -that the pen in her father's hand, although resting on the paper, is -not moving. She leans forward quickly and lays her warm hand upon -the motionless one near her; she shudders and draws back, then moves -rapidly to the other side of the chair, and with tender hands raises -the drooping head. With one glance at the dearly loved face, now so -ashen and white, Honor learns the fearful truth, and with a shriek of -anguish which rings from cellar to attic she falls senseless to the -ground. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -A HOUSE OF MOURNING. - -When Honor opens her eyes again it is to find herself on her own bed, -with kind Miss Denison leaning over her, bathing her forehead and -temples with _eau de Cologne_. Molly stands on one side of the bed -at a little distance looking pale and frightened; and an elderly -gentleman is standing by the other side with his finger on Honor's -pulse. He nods across the bed to Miss Denison as the girl looks -round and then tries to sit up. - -"She will do now," he says quietly, "so I will go down to Mrs. -Merivale again;" and he quietly slips out of the room, beckoning -Molly to follow him. - -Honor lies quite still for a few minutes; then, slowly turning her -eyes towards her governess, she asks the question which Miss Denison -has been so dreading. Then gently and kindly she breaks the sad news -to her: tells her how Dr. Newton had said that her poor father had -been dead for more than an hour when he was called in; that it was -disease of the heart, and the shock of the bank failure had been too -much for him. - -"And mother? Poor mother!" says Honor at length, when, a long and -violent fit of crying over, she leans back against her pillows, calm, -though pale and exhausted. - -"She is better now, dear. We had great trouble with her at first--or -rather Lane and Doris and the doctor had, for I was with you, dear. -She went from one fit of hysterics into another; and now, of course, -she is utterly worn out. Your Aunt Sophia took her in hand directly -she came (it is really most providential that she was so near); and -then kind Mrs. Horton has been such a comfort to her. I sent in to -her, you know, and she came herself the moment she got my message." - -"But how came aunt here to-night?" asks Honor, putting her hand to -her head and knitting her straight little brows. "I can't remember -clearly, but surely I spoke of _to-morrow_ morning in my telegram." - -"Yes, dear; so you did. But when this happened I got Doris to write -a hasty line which I sent off with the brougham to the Pagets', and -your aunt came back in the brougham. She will be a great help to you -all till your mother has got a little over the shock; she always had -great influence over her, you know. And now, dear Honor, I shall -give you the little draught the doctor ordered for you, and then I -will leave you to sleep, for that will bring you strength to bear -your trouble better than anything else. I shall be within call, for -I have promised Doris to sleep with her to-night; so we will put the -door ajar between your rooms. Now, dear, God bless you! And you -must promise me, Honor, to be brave, and not to fret any more -to-night. You know you told me your dear father's last words to you -were of thankfulness for the comfort and help he was sure you would -be to him. And now, more than ever, you must prove that you are -worthy of the trust he placed in you--for a trust it is, dear -Honor--and one, I know, that with God's help you will faithfully -discharge. Your poor mother will need a long time to recover from so -severe a shock. And although Doris is older than you, she is younger -in ideas and character, and has not, I fear, so much common sense as -my little Honor. But now, dear child, good-night once more. I shall -not let anyone else come near you, as I am most anxious you should -get to sleep." And kissing the girl most affectionately, Miss -Denison softly leaves the room. - -A little later and the house which but a short time since was the -scene of so much happiness and rejoicing is wrapped in silent gloom; -and as nature asserts its rights with the younger members of the -family, giving them temporary relief from their sorrow in blessed -sleep, older heads are resting on their pillows with wide-open, -sleepless eyes, looking vaguely into the future which has changed so -quickly from sunshine into shadow. - -* * * * * * * * - -Three days have passed since Mr. Merivale's death and Honor has -already taken most of the cares and responsibilities of the family -and household upon her young shoulders with a quiet dignity and -gentle patience which amaze her mother completely. The old family -solicitor, Mr. Trent, has already called several times and had long -and serious talks with Honor--Mrs. Merivale having sent down a -message to the effect that she was too completely prostrated to see -_anyone_, and would he say anything he had to say to Honor, as it -would be quite the same thing. It was doubtful whether Mr. Trent -entertained the same idea on this subject, for whereas he had before -quaked in his shoes at the bare idea of the task which lay before him -of trying to make his late client's widow understand certain facts -which he felt morally certain she was incapable of grasping, he now -found that he had a very different sort of person to deal with--one, -in fact, to use his own expression, "with her head screwed on the -right way." With a kindness and delicacy which went straight to poor -Honor's heart, he took all the arrangements for the funeral upon -himself, and proved indeed a most kind and valuable friend in more -ways than one. - -"You and your aunt, my dear Miss Honor," the kind little gentleman -had said, "will have to put things clearly, so to speak, before your -mother, since she cannot see me. It will, I fear, be very difficult -to make her understand that all--literally _all_--she has now to -depend upon is £50 a year; and that is only owing to a fortunate -chance, the money having been invested in some other concern; of -course had it been placed in the bank it would have gone with the -rest. To be sure there is your own little bit of money left you by -your godmother, but that only amounts to about £20 a year. Dear me, -dear me! it is terrible; a paltry sum of £70 a year to bring up a -large family upon, and without a stick or a stone to start with!" - -And now Honor is standing just where the old lawyer has left her -after the foregoing conversation, gazing dreamily into the fire. -"You and your aunt must make her understand"--those are the words -which keep repeating themselves over and over; but to a girl of -Honor's sensitive nature the task of doing so is no light one. - -"Ah me!" sighs the girl as she leaves the room and slowly mounts the -stairs, "I wish Aunt Sophia were here!" - -But Aunt Sophia is not there, so Honor has to open the door and go in -alone. Mrs. Merivale is seated at a little writing-table, which is -strewn with deep black-edged paper and envelopes. She is not -writing, however, but leaning back in her chair looking drearily -before her. As Honor enters she rouses herself, and wiping away the -tears which stand in her eyes she motions the girl to come and sit -beside her. - -"I wanted to speak to you, dear," she says, taking Honor's hand in -her own, "and I was just going to send Lane for you. Now that I am -better you must tell me a little of what has been done. How have you -managed about the mourning?" - -"Miss Renny has been here, mother, ever since--ever since it -happened, and all our dresses are nearly finished now, and I expect -yours from Mrs. Carey will be home to-night. We couldn't disturb you -the other morning about it, so aunt and I together chose a style we -thought you would like. Ours are all alike--cashmere and crêpe made -quite plainly; and yours, dear mother, will be of crêpe cloth, and of -course heavily trimmed with crêpe." - -"Yes, dear; that is all quite right. Only I wish Mrs. Carey had made -all your dresses as well. Miss Renny would have made you others for -common wear afterwards, you know. But now, dear, this is what I -wanted to consult you about, you are so much more clear-headed and -sensible than Doris. About my better dresses, dear,--I mean those -that Madame Cecile will have the making of. I shall not have any -dinner dresses made at present, because I shall not be going out or -receiving for some time to come, but I was just going to write to -Cecile to ask for patterns." - -"Dear mother," says Honor gently, "I am so glad you spoke to me about -this first, because it would have been so awkward if you had already -sent." - -"Why awkward, dear? What do you mean, Honor?" - -"Don't you remember, dear mother, the sad news poor, dear father had -before this other dreadful trouble came upon us?" - -"Well, of course I do," Mrs. Merivale answers rather testily; "but I -don't really see why you should take this time to remind me of it, -and I must say, Honor, I think it very inconsiderate and unfeeling of -you to come and worry me like this, and your poor, dear father not -yet laid in his grave. I should think I have gone through grief and -trouble enough," continues Mrs. Merivale, weeping, "without my -children making things harder for me!" - -"Dear mother," cries poor Honor, sobbing in concert, "pray, pray do -not think I mean to be unkind; but Mr. Trent has been talking to aunt -and to me, and it seems, dear mother, as if we shall hardly have -enough to live upon when everything is settled up." - -"Hardly enough to live upon!" repeats Mrs. Merivale, sitting up and -drying her eyes. "My dear child, don't talk nonsense. As if I did -not know more about these things than you do. I know we shall have -to cut down our expenses, and diminish our household probably; do -with a servant or two less, I mean. But as for being _poor_, Honor, -you are talking ridiculous nonsense, child, as I said before. Why, -even if your father's money were all lost--which I should say is very -unlikely, people do exaggerate so,--but even if that were all gone, -there is my fortune, which if necessary we could very well manage -with somehow." - -Poor Honor sighs at the hopelessness of the situation; but with a -feeling of desperation she is just about to speak when the door -opens, and to her great relief Lady Woodhouse enters the room. - -"O, Sophia!" exclaims Mrs. Merivale with a little hysterical gasp, "I -_am_ so glad you have come in, my dear. Here is Honor talking the -most outrageous nonsense; trying to make out that all our property is -gone, and--well, in fact that we are as poor as church mice!" - -"Well, and so you are," remarks Lady Woodhouse, sitting down and -untying her bonnet-strings with a jerk, "the child has said nothing -but the truth. I am sorry," she adds, softening a little on seeing -the cambric handkerchief drawn from her sister's pocket preparatory -to a fresh burst of grief--"I'm sorry to have to speak so plainly; -but it seems to me that poor James did his best to make you -understand the state of affairs in his conversation with you the -night of his death; and considering all he said to you then, I must -say it passes my comprehension that you can still be ignorant of your -true position. Mr. Trent begged me to speak to you on the subject, -and that is why I have come now, because I think it is so much better -than putting it off until after the funeral; for I am sure there will -be little or no time to arrange anything then. Now, Mary, be -sensible, my dear, and let us talk quietly over a comfortable cup of -tea." - -Mrs. Merivale, however, is not in a humour to do anything quietly, -and Lady Woodhouse on her way to ring the bell for tea is suddenly -electrified by a sound behind her, partaking of the nature of a -scream, a gasp, and a convulsive laugh all at once. In plain words, -the trying nature of the past conversation has reduced Mrs. Merivale -to a violent fit of hysterics; and Lady Woodhouse, deeming it -advisable that she should be left alone with her sister for a time, -takes the smelling-salts from Honor's hand, and whispering "Leave her -to me, child, and I will bring her round," signs to the girl to leave -the room. - -On going downstairs Honor sees Hugh Horton standing in a hesitating -sort of manner on the door-mat; a wreath of rare white flowers in one -hand, and a note in the other. - -"I told William I wouldn't see anyone, Honor," he whispers, coming -forward and laying the wreath on the hall table, "but he would go off -to see if there was anyone about, and as I wanted to leave a message -from mother I was obliged to wait till he came back. How are you -all, Honor dear? No, I won't come in," he adds, as the girl silently -motions him towards the dining-room; "I won't really. I only wanted -to give you that (nodding towards the wreath), with love from us all. -And I was to tell you, Honor, that mother will come in to-night after -dinner to have a talk with Mrs. Merivale and Lady Woodhouse about a -suggestion she wants to make." - -"It is very kind of her," says Honor simply. "She has been such a -comfort to us all;" and with a little stifled sob she buries her face -in the wreath which she has taken up. "White violets, how beautiful! -and the flower that father loved best. How good of you, Hugh!" - -"I remembered that when mother and I were giving orders for it this -morning, and I knew you would like them. How is Molly, Honor?" - -"She is a little better now, I think; but her grief has been -something terrible. Poor girl! She idolized father almost, and the -shock has been almost too much for her. She is so highly sensitive, -and she feels the loss so much, never having seen him alive again -after dinner on that dreadful evening. Doris and I were both with -him, you know; and of course it was just chance that Molly was not -there too. At first she was nearly wild with grief, then she sank -into a sort of dull apathy, taking notice of nothing and of nobody. -Miss Denny has been kindness itself to her, as she has to us all, -indeed; and to-day Molly seems more like her old self." - -"I am so glad," Hugh says feelingly, "Good-bye, Honor, for the -present; let me know, mind, if there is _anything_ I can do for any -of you;" and hastily pressing the girl's hand the young man runs down -the steps and out of sight. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -FACING THE FUTURE. - -The day of the funeral has come and gone. The last fond look has -been taken, and the last kiss given to the calm, placid face, so soon -to be hidden from sight. And now the mortal remains of the fond -husband, loving father, and kind master have been carried from the -once happy home, and, followed by a large number of sympathetic -friends and acquaintances, in addition to the little train of -mourners, are laid in their last resting-place. - -The blinds are once more drawn up, and the winter sunlight streams -into the dining-room, where are assembled Lady Woodhouse, Miss -Denison, Doris, and Honor, with Mr. Trent and the old head clerk, Mr. -Hobson, who is visibly overcome by the sadness of the occasion. - -"It is no use," remarks Mr. Trent, moving some papers about, and -seeming chiefly to address himself to the old man seated opposite -him. "It will be no use going through my late client's will, -although it was properly drawn up and witnessed only a few months -back." - -"Not the least in the world," asserts Mr. Hobson, taking off his -spectacles and carefully polishing them up. - -"Therefore," continues Mr. Trent slowly, "we may dispense with the -usual forms and give our attention, Mr. Hobson, to settling the -future affairs of Mrs. Merivale and these poor young ladies here. I -have looked through Mr. Merivale's papers, and I find that there will -be absolutely nothing but your own little property, Miss Honor, and -the small portion of your mother's fortune, which is safely invested. -The two together will amount to £70 per annum, and that, I regret to -say, is absolutely all." With that the old gentleman looks kindly, -and with eyes not altogether free from dimness, at the two orphan -daughters of his late client, and for a few moments there is a dead -silence in the room, broken by Honor, who presently asks: - -"But, Mr. Trent, ought we to keep this--I mean, ought we not to give -up _everything_ in such a case as this?" - -Lady Woodhouse gasps, and is about to pour forth a torrent of -remonstrances, when Mr. Trent, also looking slightly taken aback, -replies: - -"My dear young lady, just consider a moment. You have a perfect -right to this money, and, pardon me if I ask, what would you propose -to do without it? You cannot even realize what a paltry sum it is -when house-rent, food, and clothing, to say nothing if any other -expenses have to come out of it. You are doing as much as it is -possible to do; indeed more than some persons would do; and I can -assure you, Miss Honor, that there is not one among the unfortunate -sufferers in this collapse who will not be satisfied with the course -that is being taken." - -Honor sighs and brushes away a tear. "I was thinking," she says, "of -some of the last words my dear father ever spoke. He said he would -give the very coat from off his back if that would be of any use." - -"_If_ it would be of any use," repeated the old gentleman kindly; -"but would it, my dear? would it? You must not allow your proper -judgment to be run away with by your feeling--through an exaggerated -feeling--of justice." - -"Exactly what I was going to observe," says Lady Woodhouse with a -jerk of her bonnet-strings. "You are your father's child all over, -Honor; and I will say this of you: you are conscientious almost to a -fault, and so was he, poor man. You can, I am sure, take the £70 a -year with a clear conscience; so for goodness' sake let us hear no -more about it. You have yet to learn what a mere drop in the ocean -it will be when you come to try living on it--and that at once. Now -do, girls, let us be plain and business-like, and give up talking -nonsense. I have only an hour before I must return to the Pagets', -and I have promised to have a cup of tea with your mother before I -go, so that we can make our final arrangements for the journey -to-morrow. Now, I understand that there is a certain amount of -furniture in the house which belongs to your mother. I'm afraid it's -not much; but still it is better than nothing. Where is it?" - -"There is some in the school-room," answer the girls together, "and -the rest is in the nurseries." And Honor adds despondently: - -"I'm afraid there are not more than two beds." - -"Well--now this is what I want you to do, Honor. Mr. Trent, I -understand, has most kindly invited you and Miss Denison, while she -is with you, to go and stay with him and Mrs. Trent for a little -while. Now I want you while you are there to make out a list of what -else is absolutely necessary in the way of furniture and send it to -me. Mr. Hobson, it appears, has very kindly been looking at the -advertisements of houses, and he tells me he has brought one or two -to show you, which might, perhaps, be worth answering. He will, I -feel sure, give you all the advice and help that he can in this -matter. I am thankful, too, that good Miss Denison will be with you -a little while longer, for I know what a comfort she will be to you; -and if you are in any doubt or perplexity on any point you must go to -her, Honor; she will give you the best and wisest advice." - -"I shall indeed look forward to being of some use to Honor while I am -with her," says Miss Denison; "and you may rest assured, dear Lady -Woodhouse, that I shall do all in my power to help her and the rest -of my young charges in settling and arranging all that has to be -done." - -"You are a good, kind creature," exclaims Lady Woodhouse impulsively, -"and these girls ought to be grateful to you for the way in which you -have brought them up. I always told my sister that if any of them -turned out well she would have you to thank for it. Now, Honor, I -must go. See that your mother and the two girls are ready when I -call in the morning. You know Mr. Paget cannot bear to have his -horses kept waiting a moment; and I'm sure _I_ don't want to be the -cause of their taking cold. You will have all the rest of the -packing to see to with Lane after we have gone." - -"O, our packing will not take long," replies Honor, "with Miss Denny -and Lane to help us." - -"Not take long, child! Why, what can you be thinking about? Your -mother's wardrobe will be something to get together and pack." - -"O, I didn't think of packing anything of mother's excepting what she -will be requiring now. I mean," adds Honor with a little tightening -of her lips, "that I do not think it would be right to keep any of -mother's handsome dresses, and certainly not her jewels. Doris and I -have, of course, very little in that way; but," with a little -threatening look at her sister, "I shall expect her to do as I do, -and give up _everything_ that is of value." - -Doris does not look highly pleased at this proposition, but she says: - -"Of course, Honor," meekly enough, though she is immensely relieved -at her aunt's next words: - -"What you say about the jewels is quite right, Honor,--that is to -say, your mother's; in fact we have already talked over the subject -together. Little personal gifts, and indeed any jewellery your -mother had before she was married, she will, however, keep," adds -Aunt Sophia rather decidedly. "And Doris and you must keep the -little trinkets you have; which are, I suppose, most of them birthday -presents. You say yourself they are not worth speaking of. As to -the dresses, you are really quite quixotic, Honor; no one would -expect such a sacrifice; and when you all go out of mourning it is -more than probable that you will feel very thankful that you have -taken my advice. Now I really must go, or I shall be late." And -shaking hands with Miss Denison and the two gentlemen, Lady Woodhouse -leaves the room. - -Those left behind immediately enter on a discussion touching the -question of the new house. Mr. Hobson has cut out one or two -advertisements which on consideration are not found to be -particularly _un_suitable, which, perhaps, is something, in the -matter of house-hunting! One of them states that there is a -nine-roomed house to let--good drainage, large garden, hen-house, and -pig-sty. Low rent to careful tenant.--Apply to Messrs. E. & B. -Talboys, care of Messrs. Gilmore, solicitors, High Street, Edendale -Village, &c. - -Taking it altogether, this sounds hopeful. So Honor sits down, and -with Mr. Hobson's assistance answers the advertisement, while Doris -and Miss Denison leave the room with Mr. Trent, whom Mrs. Merivale is -now equal to seeing "just for a few minutes," prior to her departure -with her sister next day for London. For the rest of that day and -all the morning of the next Honor and Miss Denison are engaged in -packing and directing all that is theirs to take, and with the -assistance of Lane and of the school-room maid (who has begged with -tears to be allowed to remain with the family, at any rate until they -are settled in the new house) they get through a great deal. And -when at last they have watched the departure of the carriage -containing Mrs. Merivale, Lady Woodhouse, Doris, and Daisy to the -station, they enter the house again, to see if all is in order for -the sale which is so soon to follow their own departure, with that -feeling of blank melancholy attendant on that much-to-be-pitied -condition of having "nothing to do." Dick and Bobby are already -established next door with their good friends the Hortons--Molly to -follow later, according to the kind suggestion made a few days before -by Mrs. Horton; and there they are to remain until the family plans -shall be more settled. - -While Miss Denison and Honor are making a last pilgrimage round the -house, Molly stands disconsolately at the dining-room window pressing -her little _retroussé_ nose against the pane. Suddenly she sees a -telegraph-boy running up the steps, and her nerves being all unstrung -by recent grief and sorrow Molly rushes with pale affrighted face to -the door, fearful of more trouble to come perhaps, to take the -message from the boy. She gives a little sigh of relief, however, as -she glances at the direction and sees her governess's name upon it, -and her long legs soon carry her upstairs to her mother's boudoir, -where Honor and Miss Denison are. As Miss Denison reads the telegram -her face changes, and in a voice trembling with agitation she says: - -"My poor girls! I shall have to leave you directly after all. This -is from Frank's mother saying that he is dangerously ill, and that I -must get there without a moment's delay. O, how unfortunate, to be -sure! I cannot bear to leave you all alone at such a sad time; and -nothing but this would induce me to do so. But you see, Honor--you -see--how imperative it is. Indeed I fear even now that I may be too -late;" and thinking of her own trouble for the first time Miss -Denison breaks utterly down, and with her pupils' arms round her, -their tears mingling with hers, she sobs uncontrollably for a few -seconds. - -Active steps have to be taken, however, and in less than an hour the -remaining occupants of the house have left it for ever, and Honor and -Molly are standing on the platform at the station by the locked door -of the compartment in which Miss Denison is seated, looking down upon -them with wet and sorrowful eyes. One last hand-clasp and a -half-stifled sob, and the train moving slowly from the platform -leaves the two girls standing, hand in hand, desolate and alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE BROTHERS TALBOYS. - -It is ten o'clock on one of those warm balmy mornings which in this -erratic climate of ours sometimes come upon us in the month of -February. The bushes and hedges, and even some of the young trees, -lacking experience and knowledge, allow themselves to be deluded into -the idea that spring is coming, and are making feeble attempts at -budding. They are apparently ignorant of the fact that the next -frost will cut off the too venturesome little sprouts, and breathing -upon them with its chilling breath reduce them all to the little -brown lifeless-looking twigs that they were before the week's spell -of mild weather had turned their heads. Even the rose trees, in -which the garden of "The Rosery" abounds, show signs here and there -of succumbing to the seductively balmy air, and it is with real grief -that the two little old gentlemen, who are trotting round the garden -taking their usual after-breakfast constitutional, shake their heads -at these unlooked-for symptoms of frivolity in their much-cherished -pets, murmuring plaintively: - -"The blossoms will not be half so fine this year; this will weaken -them dreadfully." - -These two little old gentlemen are none other than the Messrs. E. and -B. Talboys alluded to in the advertisement of the nine-roomed house -to let, and owners of the same. In appearance and manners they are -almost exactly alike, being in point of fact twins; the only -noticeable difference being that one, Mr. Edward, is in all points a -little more strongly developed than his brother, Mr. Benjamin. Mr. -Edward is perhaps a trifle the taller of the two, but as he is at the -same time also a trifle stouter the difference in height is hardly if -at all perceptible. Both have good, benevolent faces; but here again -is the slight, very slight, difference referred to. Both brothers -have bright blue eyes; but while Mr. Benjamin's have the mild, limpid -expression which tells of the more placid nature beneath, Mr. -Edward's have a keenness, amounting at times almost to a glitter, -which is entirely absent in those of his brother. Both have the same -perfect aquiline nose; and while the mouth and chin in both faces are -equally good in a measure, the curves of Mr. Edward's mouth, and the -slight extra squareness of his chin, testify to his having the -stronger character. The same thing is to be noticed in the matter of -dress; for although the brothers are always dressed exactly alike, -they appear to wear their clothes differently. Both have high shirt -collars, but there is, or appears to be, always less starch in those -of Mr. Benjamin; and while his cravat is tied in a modest little bow, -which has a trick of being always either a little to the left or the -right of the stud which fastens the collar in front, Mr. Edward's is -always tied with the greatest precision, the end of one loop -protruding exactly the same distance from the middle of the collar as -the other. There are also little creases and folds to be sometimes -detected in Mr. Benjamin's coat, which never by any chance can be -discovered in that of his brother. Mr. Benjamin walks with a slight -limp, owing to an accident which had occurred years ago when they -were young men. Both the old gentlemen, therefore, carry a stout -black walking-stick, with a gold knob at the top. The subject of -this accident is a sore one to both brothers, and it is without -exception the only one upon which they have ever been known to -disagree. - -A cricket match in which both brothers were playing was being held on -the village cricketing ground. Edward was batting, and his brother -was fielding close to the opposite wicket. The rays of the setting -sun were streaming down upon the field, right in the very eyes of the -batsman; and as the ball came swiftly bounding towards him straight -as a dart from the practised hand of the bowler, it seemed to -Edward's dazzled sight that there were two balls instead of one to -claim his attention. With a feeling of desperation he rushed, so to -speak, at the ball; but in the flurry he received it on the edge of -his bat, and sent it flying with the strength for which he was envied -by the whole field exactly in the opposite direction to that he -intended. It was a few seconds before he noticed that the other -wicket was deserted, and that nearly all the men were clustered round -one who was stretched upon the grass at their feet. With a terrible -fear at his heart he strode across to the little throng, to find, to -his grief and horror, that it was indeed his brother lying helpless -before him. Though nearly fainting with agony Benjamin was in the -wildest state of anxiety that the truth should be kept from his -brother as to his having been unwittingly the cause of his broken -ankle, the pain of which was rendering him half unconscious as he -leant back, faint and white, in the arms of the wicket-keeper. - -"Don't let him know it!" he gasped, unconscious of the fact that his -brother was standing close beside him; "let him think I -slipped--and--fell. You see the sun was in my--eyes--or I would have -seen it--coming; I ought to have got out of the way. Don't let him -know--don't let--" and with these words he fainted, and was carefully -carried from the ground by his sympathetic friends, Edward being -still too much stunned to take any active part in the proceedings. -Ever since that hot early evening in August it had been a subject of -discussion between the brothers as to whether the sun could possibly -set in two places at once, each one being perfectly convinced that he -himself had been standing opposite to its dazzling rays. - -Only two days ago the brothers Talboys had met Honor and Molly -Merivale by appointment at "The Rookery," as the house they had been -advertising was called. Old Mr. Hobson had come down with the girls, -rightly thinking that there should be someone older than Honor -present on such an important occasion as taking a new house. - -"You cannot be expected to understand anything about bad drainage, -damp, and such things, my dear," he had said to Honor, "and it will -do me good to run down into the country for an hour or two; so let us -consider it settled that I go with you and Miss Molly whenever it is -convenient for you to fix a day. No--not a word of thanks, my dear; -I am only too glad to be of use to the children of my dear old -friend, your father." - -And so at the appointed time Mr. Ned and Mr. Ben, waiting about for -their possible new tenants, passing now in now out of the -quaint-looking old house, were not a little surprised to see bearing -down upon them from the road, two young ladies, an old gentleman who -was walking by their side, and four youths, or more correctly -speaking two youths and two boys, who made a sort of straggling -procession in single file. For at the last moment, when Honor, -Molly, and Hugh Horton were just starting with old Mr. Hobson, Dick, -accompanied by Regy and Alick, suddenly arrived upon the scene, -determined to look over the new house also. - -"Why, bless my soul, Brother Ben!" exclaimed Edward, planting his -stick firmly on the ground and looking with undisguised dismay at the -troupe now entering the gate, "these boys can never all belong to the -family. Why, why--they will make havoc of the garden before they -have been a week in the place." - -"I do not suppose they _all_ belong to the family," mildly responded -Brother Ben, "and even if they do they may turn out to be quiet, -well-disposed lads enough." - -And of that the boys themselves gave ample proof, so polite and -respectful were they to the two old gentlemen, whose minds being now -relieved on the score of the possible if not probable destruction of -the garden, soon found themselves chatting away with them and showing -them about (as Mr. Ben said afterwards to his brother) "as if they -were our own boys, you know." The house proved to be a thoroughly -old-fashioned, rambling place, although small as to the actual number -of rooms. There were long passages with deep capacious cupboards, -"which would have made delightful store-closets, if we only had -anything to store," whispers Honor to Molly with a sigh. Upstairs -were the funniest old-fashioned bed-rooms, with two steps leading up -to one and three down into another, and so on. Altogether there were -five bed-rooms on that floor, and two attics above which had not been -included in the advertisement, and which Honor, who, followed by -Molly, had crept up the few steep steps which led to them, declared -to be "lovely!" partly on account of the odd nooks and corners caused -by the roof, which seemed to slope in half a dozen different ways, -and partly from the fine and extensive view to be obtained from the -window in each attic. But on speaking of these attics to the -brothers they shook their heads, and Mr. Ned, who was always -spokesman, said: - -"My dear young ladies, we did not include them in the number of rooms -mentioned, because we consider them to be uninhabitable. If they -should prove to be of any use we shall indeed be glad; but I would -recommend their not being used as sleeping-rooms, as we fear--nay, we -feel sure, of there being not a few mice already in possession, to -say nothing of spiders. Is it not so, Brother Ben?" - -Mr. Ben nodded, folded his hands over his stick and glancing up at -the chimneys of the said attics, murmured, "Surely, surely!" his -invariable reply to any of his brother's statements. - -The good old men had been much distressed and interested on hearing -from Mr. Hobson, who took them aside for the express purpose, some of -the sad circumstances of Mr. Merivale's sudden death, and the ruin -which had come upon his family as upon so many others. This they had -of course heard of, and when, from two or three little remarks that -the old clerk let drop respecting his late employer, they found that -he was the James Merivale who had been at the same school with them, -their delight knew no bounds. - -"You see, my dear sir," cried Mr. Ned, excitedly pinning Mr. Hobson -by the button-hole, "it places things in such a totally different -light. The fact of our having known the father of these young ladies -when a boy enables us to render them many little services which we -might otherwise perhaps have hesitated to offer. To be sure," he -added, looking doubtfully at his brother, "James Merivale was a very -little chap when he came to Dr. Gurney's; you remember, Ben, he -entered the school much about the time that you and I were -leaving--not before I had thrashed the bully of the school in his -service though. Ah!" continued the old gentleman, chuckling to -himself, "Tom Yates was the boy; don't you recollect, Ben? He -remembered _me_ for many a long day, I reckon. There was another big -lad in our form, too, who detested Yates as much as we did--Arthur -Villiers (poor fellow, he's gone too). I remember giving him the tip -to keep an eye on the youngster after we left; bless you, Yates -daren't lay a finger on anyone when Villiers was by. A cowardly lump -of humanity he was, like all bullies. Eh, Ben?" - -And so the old men ran on; and the girls and Mr. Hobson were as -pleased with them as the brothers were with the unaffected natural -manners of Honor and Molly. So now the two brothers are in the -garden, as has been said, looking at their plants and watching for -the postman; and at length their minds are set at rest by the -appearance of that ancient individual, and they eagerly seize the -letter (the only one this morning) which he holds towards them. It -is, in fact, neither more nor less than the expected letter from the -Merivales, which is to decide whether or not they will take "The -Rookery." - -Hastily tearing it open Mr. Ned proceeds to read it aloud for the -benefit of his brother, who is nevertheless looking over his shoulder. - -"There!" he says as he folds it up and puts it into his pocket with a -little sigh of gratification, "I thought they _would_ take it, -Brother Ben; but I am really sorry we asked as much as twenty pounds -rent, under all the very sad circumstances, because, you see, Ben, -fifteen pounds would be five pounds less! A mere nothing to us one -way or the other; but a great deal, I expect, to them, poor things. -It wouldn't have done, however, to run the risk of hurting their -feelings in the matter, and perhaps fifteen pounds a year is rather a -low figure for a house like 'The Rookery.' - -"Dear me! dear me! How sad, to be sure, to be thrown in an hour, as -one may say, from affluence into poverty; for poverty it is, Brother -Ben, you may take my word for it. But now really, brother, we must -not stand gossiping here like this when there are a thousand and one -little things to see to up at the house before the family takes -possession. You really are a terrible old chatterbox, Ben, when you -once get a start." - -And Brother Ned, who as usual has been keeping the conversation -exclusively to himself, shakes his head and his stick at quiet old -Ben, as together they pass out of the garden gate and trot down the -road towards "The Rookery." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -A NEW HOME. - -Three weeks have passed, and Honor and Molly have just stepped out of -the old station fly at the door of their new abode, possession of -which they are to take that very day. There have been not a few -expeditions backwards and forwards from town; but now everything is -settled, the house ready for their reception, and the furniture -actually on its way. The two girls are standing on the steps -watching the driver, who, with the assistance of Jane, is bringing -their trunks and boxes into the hall. Although the deep, heavy -mourning of the sisters tells of their recent bereavement, the -sorrowful look which seemed to have settled on their young faces but -a few weeks since has now passed away; for at fifteen and seventeen -the spirits are elastic, and however sharp and painful the grief may -be at first, the buoyancy of youth soon asserts itself, and the -trouble melts away into the past, ere long resembling a dream which, -though vivid at the time, gradually becomes more shadowy and -indistinct as time rolls on. - -"I can't think why some of the boys didn't come down with us," -remarks Molly rather crossly, as she kneels down and unfastens the -cords of a hamper in which her pet cat is packed. "Now they really -_would_ have been of use to-day, whereas, whenever they came with us -before, they seemed to do nothing but get in the way." - -"O, Molly!" remonstrates Honor, "how _can_ you say so? Look how -beautifully Hugh trained all the creepers over the front of the -house; and I'm sure it must have been a work of patience too, for -they were in a fearful tangle. It quite distressed those nice old -gentlemen to see how persistently Hugh worked at them; but they were -simply delighted when they were done. They told me afterwards that -they were most anxious to save him the trouble by sending in their -own gardener to do it; but Hugh was determined, so they let him have -his own way." - -Molly shakes her head as, with Timothy now enthroned upon her -shoulder, she gazes out of the open door. - -"Boys are always a nuisance, more or less," she observes, "though I -don't deny that I like them well enough in their place; and of course -I allow that Hugh has fastened up the creepers well, especially the -yellow jasmine." - -Molly says this quite magnanimously, and is about to descend the -steps with a view to receiving an armful of the small packages now -being extricated from the interior of the fly, when a loud knocking -from inside the house suddenly startles both the girls into a -listening attitude. - -"Hark!" says Molly with finger on lip, "it's the family ghost coming -down to receive us! Not _our_ ghost--the late occupant's, you know. -Listen! there it is again. Who'll come up with me to see who or what -it is? It _sounds_ from the attics." - -[Illustration: "LISTEN!" SAID MOLLY, "THERE IS THE GHOST AGAIN."] - -"O, I durs'n't, miss!" exclaims Jane, dropping a whole bundle of -parcels as Molly glances in her direction; "ghost or no ghost, I -durs'n't go a-nigh the attics while that knocking is going on. O, my -gracious, Miss Honor--there it is again! I shall drop with fright, -my legs is that trembling!" - -And suiting the action to the word, Jane, regardless of appearances, -subsides in a sitting posture on the top of the hamper which the cat -has lately vacated. - -"Hush--h!" cries Molly theatrically, and secretly enjoying the girl's -discomfiture; "he's dragging something about up there! Perhaps it is -the old arm-chair of his deceased great-grandmother, or possibly his -own coffin--" But here Honor interposes, seeing signs of a further -collapse in Jane's frightened face, and frowningly signing to Molly -she says: - -"Nonsense! how can you both be so silly? It is probably some workmen -still attending to something at the top of the house. I'll call out -and see." And mounting a few steps she calls loudly: "Is anyone up -there?" - -"No!" answers a ringing voice from the attic regions. "Half a -second, Honor, and I'll be down; I'm just finishing." - -"_Finishing!_" echoes Molly, puckering up her eyebrows; "what in the -name of goodness is Hugh finishing here? Let us go and see. Jane -can come too if she likes." - -But that young person prefers to remain where she is, deeming perhaps -that her greater safety lies in proximity to the man who is still -unloading the heavily-laden fly. - -"I'd rather stay here, if you please, miss," she says with her hand -pressed against her side; "the fright has give me such a turn, and -the air will do me good perhaps if--" But Honor is off up the stairs -after Molly, whom she finds pounding away with her little doubled-up -fists at the closed door of the largest and best attic. - -"All right, all right!" cries a voice within; and then suddenly the -door is thrown wide open by Hugh, and both girls cross the threshold -cautiously. - -The floor of the room, which had looked so shabby and bare three -weeks ago, is now stained and polished from one end to the other. -There is a small square of Turkey carpet in front of the fireplace, -while several skins are scattered at intervals over the rest of the -floor. At both little windows thick oriental curtains are -artistically draped, and across a large angular recess is hung -another on large brass rings. Just on this side of the curtain -stands an easel--Honor's, with a sketch of her own lying upon it; -while on a little rough table, half hidden by the curtain, lie all -her painting materials. Two or three high-backed oak chairs, which -had formerly been part of the furniture of Mr. Merivale's study, are -standing about the room; while three little dainty-looking wicker -chairs are placed invitingly near the bright crackling fire so -merrily burning at the other end of the room. In a recess near the -fireplace is a low, pretty book-case containing all the girls' -favourite books, while on the top stand several little bronze -statuettes. A large basket work-table with "a second floor," as Hugh -describes the upper shelf, completely fitted up with materials of all -kinds, stands near one of the chairs; and a nice little table, with a -reading-lamp upon it, completes the furniture of the room. - -Both the girls gasp as, taking courage, they advance further into the -room. Their eyes fill with tears as they recognize some of their -much-prized belongings which they had never expected to possess -again; and they are both so touched at the kind delicacy of thought -for them which is so plainly visible in every little detail of the -room, that for a second or two they are too much overcome to speak. -Hugh, who is leaning with one elbow on the mantel-piece, sees the -struggle which both the girls are making for composure, and fearful -of the consequences, having already all an Englishman's horror of "a -scene," he says rather abruptly, "I hope you will all like it. The -working affair is mother's arrangement, and I believe it is well -furnished. The easel, the painting things,--and the statuettes were -Regy's thought; and everything else is--well, among us all, as it -were;" the real fact being that the "everything else" alluded to had -been Hugh's own particular care. - -"O, Hugh," cry both the girls, darting forward and each seizing one -of the young fellow's hands, "how good--how _kind_ of you! and how -beautifully you have arranged everything, in this short time too!" - -"Well, to tell you the truth, I believe Alick, Regy, and I have each -worn out a pair of trousers walking round the room on our -knees--doing the staining and polishing, you know; for that was a big -job, and we were so afraid we wouldn't get it done in time. We had -to press Ted and also Dick (under strict promise of secrecy) into the -service the last day or two." - -The girls having now quite recovered themselves, they proceed to make -a tour of inspection round the room; and Molly, having dived behind -the curtain, discovers Honor's old big portfolio filled to -overflowing with sketches, good, bad, and indifferent, which the poor -girl, thinking sketching and painting days were over, had had no -heart to bring away with her. Making this discovery Molly cries with -enthusiasm: - -"Why, here is Honor's dear old portfolio! You _are_ good to have -thought of that! I know it was you, because here is the label in -your own handwriting. I could hug you for that, Hugh!" - -"Well, why don't you?" asks Hugh promptly. - -At this moment Honor, who is standing at one of the windows feasting -her eyes on the lovely view which is stretching far and wide, -exclaims: - -"Why, what is this huge thing in the cart turning in at the gate? It -isn't the furniture, I'm sure! It must be a mistake. I had better -go down and tell them before they begin to unpack it--whatever it is." - -But Hugh is before her; and Honor and Molly arrive on the front steps -just in time to hear him say "All right!" to the men in charge of the -van with so much confidence that Honor stares stupidly at him and -says nothing. Then one of the men comes forward and touching his hat -presents a letter to her. - -"I don't know which of the young ladies it is for, miss," he says, -then retires down the steps again to where the others are already -unpacking the mysterious contents of the van. - -"It is for you, Molly, I suppose; you are the only 'Miss M. Merivale' -in the family excepting Daisy." And when her sister has broken the -seal Honor looks over her shoulder and reads the following:-- - - -"My dear Miss Molly, - -"Please accept the accompanying little present from an old man whom -you have often delighted with your playing. My old enemy the gout -has necessitated my leaving England again for a time; so young Mr. -Horton has promised to attend the sale at Lancaster Terrace and to -manage this little business for me. I have written to your mother -expressing the great sympathy I feel for you all in your sad -bereavement, and to say that I shall take the earliest opportunity of -calling to see you on my return, when you will perhaps oblige me with -your admirable rendering of the 'Sonata Pathetique.' This will be -the pleasantest thanks I can receive. - - "Believe me to remain, - "Yours very truly, - "PETER BERESFORD." - - -Molly turns to Honor with eyes full of grateful tears at this -unexpected kindness from a fresh quarter, but she is unable to say -anything, for at the same moment the head man approaches them again -and asks which room the instrument is to be taken into. It had been -a bitter trial to poor Molly to have to leave her beloved piano to -the mercy of strangers, and her unbounded delight may be imagined, -therefore, now that she finds herself looking upon it once more with -the proud consciousness that it is her own--her very own! Honor -calls her into what will be the drawing-room, where she and Hugh are -standing consulting with the man as to the best place to put it. - -"Not _too_ near the window, and certainly not near the door," says -practical Molly promptly. "It mustn't be in a draught. _Here_ would -be a good place. Don't you think so, Honor? O, good gracious! here -they come with it, staggering under its weight. How nicely it will -help to furnish the room, Honor! And oh, what a dear old man Sir -Peter is! I hope you'll grow up like him, Hugh!" - -"Thanks! I shall want to strike out in a line of my own before I -reach Sir Peter's age," laughs Hugh. "Do you wish me to be the same -height also, Molly? because I can't accommodate you there, being -already about half a foot taller." - -At this point all three are driven ignominiously into a corner by the -piano, which, being now placed on the little wheeled platform used -for such purposes, runs into the room in quite a jaunty manner. - -"I suppose it _is_ ours," hazards Honor, looking rather dubiously at -the back of it. - -"Of course it is; can't you recognize it? Besides, look here"--and -Molly takes up one of the legs which have been laid down in a -corner,--"don't you see where Timothy sharpened his claws one day -just before Christmas? Here are the long scratches, down the right -leg. What a way mother was in! I remember it quite well. Don't -you, Honor?" - -"I think I can vouch for its being your own also," says Hugh, -"considering that I bought it at the sale; besides, Sir Peter sent -the note to me, and asked me to give it to the man to bring with it, -and I saw it packed up myself." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE HORTON BOYS DISTINGUISH THEMSELVES. - -The three young people are just leaving the room, all deploring the -protracted absence of the furniture vans, which the men had solemnly -declared to Honor would be there by ten o'clock, if not sooner (it -being now between twelve and one), when they are suddenly startled by -a tremendous commotion outside in the garden, and rushing down the -steps they hear a series of "chuck-a-chucks" in every key and style, -coming from round the other side of the house. Hastening to that -part of the garden they rush right into the midst of a panting group -of boys, whose heated countenances denote excitement in the highest -degree. Alick is leaning, flushed with victory, against the wall of -the chicken-house, a pendent hen in each hand, which, notwithstanding -the disadvantages of an inverted position, still give utterance now -and then to mildly remonstrating "chuck-a-chucks." Ted is at the -same moment engaged in gravely dodging a fine duck, which appears -anxious to betake itself to the flower-garden; and just as Hugh and -the girls are all opening their mouths together to speak, Regy -appears from behind the chicken-house also the triumphant captor of -two indignant hens. They all look at one another, and then burst out -laughing simultaneously, and Regy, not stopping to explain matters, -says: - -"We've got them all now, I think, Alick, except the second speckled -hen--hang her! She's got right out into the road again, with Dick, -hatless, in hot pursuit. I can't do anything with that old rooster! -He seems to have some extraordinary aversion to the henhouse, and -shows a distinct preference for the pig-sty; these hens got in there -too, but I routed them all out; but old Pincher, not to be done, flew -up to the top of the sty, and there he is now, standing on one leg -and crowing with all his might. Here, Ted, out of the road! Let's -get these beggars shut up; and then, perhaps, with our united -exertions we may capture Mr. Pincher. O, here's Dick! You've caught -her then; hold her tight while I open the door again. I declare -there are enough feathers flying about to stuff a bed almost." - -Then they all set to, and after an animated chase succeed in -capturing and housing the "old rooster." Honor and Molly are quick -in their efforts to thank the boys for this kindness, but nothing -will induce them to listen; and some words that Honor lets drop -leading them to infer that she and Molly have come to the house -prepared with some temporary refreshment, Alick, Ted, and Dick -instantly make for the kitchen, where the others, following, find -them busily engaged in emptying a hamper of its contents. - -"You'll have to make shift without chairs and tables, ladies and -gentlemen," remarks Alick, diving into the hamper again and -reappearing with a large, tempting-looking pie in his hands. - -"Nonsense!" cries Dick. "Why should we, when there's a comfortably -furnished room with a large fire upstairs?" - -"Indeed, you boys are not going to have the run of _that_ room," -Molly puts in hastily, and Honor adds: - -"No, certainly not! And just think, what a litter we would make -having our lunch up there. This will do very well; only I _wish_ we -had something to sit down upon." - -Hugh, suddenly appearing to be inspired with some grand idea, darts -across the kitchen and begins vigorously pulling at the dresser -drawers. - -"Stop a bit!" he cries. "I've got an idea; here, Regy, lend a hand!" - -And in a trice they have got out two of the drawers and have seated -the two girls on them with grave politeness; Molly's being placed -sideways, propped against the wall, in consideration of the extra -length of her legs; while Honor's is turned upside down, and makes -quite a comfortable seat. - -"If you don't feel comfortable you can change with us, you know," -says Regy, as he and Hugh seat themselves on the wide window-sill. -"The rest of you must dispose yourselves on the dresser and the -hamper--Ted's the lightest, so he'd better have the hamper." - -Then follows an impromptu sort of picnic, which gives complete -satisfaction to all, especially as to the fare; for kind Mrs. Trent -has not forgotten that boys and girls, especially when working hard, -are apt to get hungry, and rightly thinking that it would probably be -a long time before anyone had leisure to think about cooking, she has -included many useful things, with an eye to future needs. - -"O, I say!" cries Alick, suddenly laying down his knife and fork; -"isn't there anything to drink?" - -"Pump, out there," briefly explains Molly, waving a jam tart in the -direction of the garden. - -"Oh, yes! so there is. Let's go and get a drink all round; I'm -awfully thirsty too." And Dick scrambles down from the dresser to -the floor, and then pauses, "We've nothing in the world to drink out -of!" he says ruefully. This proves only too true, for though Mrs. -Trent and her cook have had the forethought to pack a few small -plates and knives and forks, anything in the shape of a drinking -vessel has been utterly forgotten. - -"Wouldn't a flower-pot do?" mildly inquires Ted, doubtful as to how -his brilliant suggestion will be received. - -"Why, you muff!" replies Alick scornfully, "what about the hole? But -try it yourself by all means if you like, unless you'd rather have a -sieve." - -But here Honor, who has been roaming about in hopes of finding -something to answer their purpose, rushes into their midst -triumphantly flourishing a tin can above her head. - -"Look!" she cries. "I found this on the copper; it is what old Mrs. -Evans brought her beer in, I expect, and I suppose she forgot to take -it back when she went to her dinner. Will it do, do you think?" - -But to Honor's dismay a chorus of groans greets her. - -"_Honor!_" exclaims Molly indignantly, "a nasty beery thing like -that! And most likely the old woman has been drinking out of it!" - -"Well, and if she has; there's plenty of hot water. We can wash it, -I suppose! At any rate I can't think of anything else," concludes -poor Honor, looking rather sat upon, "but the inkstand in our room -upstairs. Will _that_ do?" - -But Regy is already at work washing and rinsing the tin can, and as -he has heroically promised to take first drink and report thereon, -they all troop out to the pump in a body. While there engaged old -Mrs. Evans, who has been hired to scrub the floors and make herself -generally useful, arrives simultaneously with the furniture. Hugh, -equal to the occasion, gravely hands back the tin can to its owner, -and thanks her so politely, and with such a courtly bow, for the -service she has rendered them in leaving it behind, that the old -woman is thrown into a perfect frenzy of curtsies, accompanied by -assurances of being honoured, and proud, &c. &c. - -Hard work begins in earnest now for all, it being two o'clock, and -everything yet to be done. The men are at first inclined to be -independent, thinking doubtless that with only these young people to -direct matters they can do pretty much as they like. They soon find -out their mistake, however, and are not a little impressed with the -quiet persistence with which Honor asserts her will and gets her own -way in everything from first to last. The men appear to have a -rooted objection to put up the bedsteads until the last thing, but -they are soon overruled by Honor, who stands over them, so to speak, -until every bed is in its place. By six o'clock everything is -brought into the house, and Hugh and Regy, who have packed off the -younger boys by an earlier train, are taking a general look round -after having seen the men safely off the premises. They have tried -all the bolts and bars and put up the shutters outside, and Molly -having declared for the twentieth time that if Honor is afraid she is -not, the two youths take their departure, promising to come again the -next morning to help get things straight before the arrival of Mrs. -Merivale with Doris and Daisy, who are expected the day after. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -A COUNCIL OF WAR. - -The two days have quickly flown, and the family have all settled down -into their places in the new house, which Honor's and Molly's busy -fingers have rendered not only habitable, but almost comfortable. -Mrs. Merivale plaintively approves of all that has been done, but -soon announces her intention of retiring to her room for the rest of -the day, her nerves, she declares, being quite unequal to the ordeal -of going over the house with the girls. They, poor things! have been -looking forward to this pleasure. - -"Never mind," whispers Doris to Honor, "we'll settle mother -comfortably in her room, and then we will all go round together. -What time is tea?" - -"O, any time we like to have it! What time is it now, Doris?" - -"Four o'clock. Well, let us have it at five; that will give us an -hour to look at everything, and to get tea ready. What fun, getting -tea for ourselves!" - -"Yes, all very well at first," says practical Molly, as with hands -clasped behind her she follows her mother and sisters upstairs. -"You'll soon get tired of it, though, and other things too, when it -comes to having to do them whether you like it or not." - -Mrs. Merivale is almost enthusiastic--for her--over the arrangements -of her bed-room, which the girls have fitted up with much loving -forethought and care. There is a tiny dressing-room leading out of -the large airy bed-room, into which all ablutionary arrangements have -been banished; while the room itself is fitted up as half sitting-, -half bed-room. - -The tears came into the poor woman's eyes as, looking round the room, -she recognizes certain little nick-nacks, which, though valueless in -themselves, are from old associations worth much to their owner. -Even Honor thought there could be no possible harm in collecting -these little possessions when packing for her mother; and so there -are a few favourite books, some pretty photograph-frames, a -work-basket, and other little trifles, which give the room a cheery -and home-like appearance. Although the furniture is of the plainest -description, the room is brightened up and made pretty with dainty -muslin draperies; and the really warm carpet and the thick curtains -at the windows give an air of comfort at once. Indeed the room -presents a marked contrast to those of the girls, with their little -strips of carpet and curtainless windows, and only what is absolutely -necessary in the way of furniture. - -Having left their mother comfortably settled in her easy-chair, the -girls and boys all go off on a tour of inspection round the house, -both inside and out, Honor and Molly proudly doing the honours. - -"These are no vagrant fowls, bought anywhere, allow me to inform -you," says Molly as the party approach the hen-house; "they came, -every one of them, from the Mortons' own farm at Oakleigh. Don't you -recognize Mr. Pincher? A rare lot of trouble he gave the boys the -other day; but he has settled down pretty well now, I think." - -Daisy especially is delighted with this addition to the -establishment, and asks anxiously if she may take the fowls into her -own care. She and Doris, indeed, are both enraptured with all the -arrangements. So far from feeling any dismay at the prospect of -living a totally different life from that to which they have been -accustomed from infancy, their spirits rise, and with the hopefulness -and love of change which are invariably found in youth, they all seem -to look forward to their new life with real pleasure, which is only -damped when they think of the kind and dear father, still so sorely -missed by all at times. - -"After all, I think it will be really jolly living in a small house," -remarks Dick, following the girls into the house again. "One won't -be able to roam about wondering which room to go into; which will be -rather a relief, to _my_ mind. There is the dining-room, and the -drawing-room, and if they won't do, why, one can just sit on the -stairs!" - -Unanimous approval of these sentiments is expressed; but as they come -to the end of their peregrinations round the house Doris suddenly -becomes grave, and putting her arm within Honor's as they turn into -the sitting-room for tea, she says: - -"Honor, my girl, we must have a good long talk together very soon. -I've no end of messages from aunt, and if I don't deliver them at -once I shall forget half. Shall we hold a council of war when the -children have gone to bed to-night?" - -Here Dick begs to be informed if he is expected to consider himself -one of "the children" referred to; but being reassured on this point, -renews his attack on the bread-and-butter with unruffled composure, -while his sisters continue their conversation. - -A few hours later Honor looks into the room where Doris is on her -knees before a large trunk, busily unpacking, and says softly, Daisy -being asleep: - -"Let us go down, Doris, dear, and have our chat. The fire is out in -the sitting-room, but there's a splendid one in the kitchen, and Jane -won't be there, for mother, feeling a little nervous, said she would -like her to sit beside her with her work. I left Dick and Molly -roasting apples," she adds, "so if we want to have any we had better -look sharp, I expect." - -In a few minutes the four young people are comfortably settled round -the fire, Honor in state in the only available chair, the second one -being occupied by Timothy. Doris, having extracted from Molly a -solemn assurance that there is no such thing as a beetle (black) in -the house, establishes herself on the corner of the large -kitchen-fender, while Molly occupies the opposite one, and Dick -perches himself on the table, within easy reach of the plate of -apples. - -"Well now, to begin," says Doris, "aunt sent her love, and she was -very glad indeed that you were able to make her cheque do, because, -she says, it shows you _must_ have some ideas of management; and you -know what _that_ means with aunt, and she considers it augurs well -for the future. She says, too, that she thinks we ought to manage -now, with the sum we have yearly, and what we may be able to -earn--for of course I told her, girls, that we should all turn to and -do _something_,--though goodness knows what _I_ am fit for!" Doris -gloomily adds, "However, that's neither here nor there. What was I -saying? Oh yes, about the money! Aunt says--what is, of course, -very true--that she has given us a fair start, and that, unless any -dire calamity should fall upon us, we must not expect her to do -anything more, as she would not like to ask uncle again for a long -time. She wants you to write, Honor, and tell her everything--what -we decide on trying to do, and all that sort of thing, you know; and -she implored me not to forget to ask what wages you are paying Jane; -because, she says, we have no business to keep an expensive servant. -We ought to have some strong girl from the village to do the rough -work, and manage all the rest--cooking and all, mind--among us. -Well, now wait a minute"--for here Molly shows signs of breaking into -the conversation,--"I haven't half finished yet! Aunt has been -talking to me about mother, as well. She has had her own doctor to -see her; and he says that this shock and trouble have really brought -her into a very low and delicate state of health. You know, Honor, -aunt _used_ not to have a spark of patience with mother's nervous -attacks, and headaches, and so on; but she quite astonished me the -other day by suddenly taking hold of my arm and saying: 'Doris, your -mother now is really what she has fancied herself for years past--she -is a delicate woman, and if you and the others are not careful she -will become a confirmed invalid. You are not a child now, and I can -speak openly to both you and Honor, I think." And then aunt went on -to say plainly that it is not in mother's power--she is sure--to take -the management of affairs now; and that _we_ must take all the -trouble and worry on our own shoulders, and not bother her about -money and so on. 'Let her keep quiet, child,' aunt said, 'and give -her little bits of work to do--she likes needle-work, you know; and -you girls must learn to do for yourselves; it will be a good lesson -for you before you get husbands and homes of your own, if you ever -do'" (here Dick laughs softly and derisively), "'and,'" proceeds -Doris with dignity, "'your husbands will thank their stars that they -have got wives who can do something besides eat and sleep, and dress -and make calls!' There--I think I've said everything now; so you can -all talk away as much as you please; I am going to eat apples!" - -A slight scuffle here ensues between Doris and Dick, both of whom -have made a simultaneous dash at the largest apple. - -Order being restored, Honor begins to unfold the plans which she and -Molly have been making--namely, that she herself means to try and -turn her talent for painting to account; while Molly, after many -misgivings as to her competency to do so, has made up her mind to try -and get pupils for music. - -"How do you mean to set about it?" inquires Doris, not without a -certain spice of incredulity in her voice. - -"Oh, we've settled that--Honor and I!" answers Molly, stirring the -fire energetically. "We have the nicest landlords--the dearest old -fellows in the world--and they are most anxious to do anything for us -that we will let them do. In fact," concludes Molly, "they would -jump over the moon, willingly, I am sure, if they thought it would do -us the least little bit of good!" - -"Molly!" exclaims Honor. "But she is right, to a certain extent; -they are the _kindest_ old gentlemen. And they knew father at -school, you know, only as quite a small boy; but they make so much of -this, and have been, oh, so kind to us! We must take Doris and Daisy -to see them, Molly. We promised we would; they are most anxious to -make your acquaintance." - -"When you have quite finished, Honor, I'll go on with what _I_ was -saying," says Molly in an aggrieved tone; adding, "We mean, Doris, to -consult these old gentlemen. They know every one about the place, of -course; and surely there must be some children wanting the very -superior musical education that _I_ can give them--a-hem! Then they -are already tremendous admirers of Honor's drawings; I saw them -nodding their old heads over that little village scene of hers the -other day, and Mr. Ned said, 'Excellent! admirable! so true to -nature--is it not, Brother Ben?' And Brother Ben answered, 'Surely! -surely!' as he always does, you know." - -"It's all very well for you, girls," suddenly breaks in Dick, who, -having finished the last apple, finds leisure now for putting in a -word, "but no one seems to consider _me_ in any way. I suppose _I_ -should like to do something to help also." - -"Well, so you can. There will be heaps of things to do about the -house that you could easily manage; and that would be really a help," -says Doris. - -"I don't mean that sort of thing," answers the boy testily. "If you -girls are going to work and make money, I must say I should like to -do the same. And I would too--only the worst of it is I haven't half -finished my schooling yet;" and Dick breaks off with a sigh. - -"Poor Dick'" says Honor, taking his hand in hers, "I have been -thinking so much about that, and what is best to be done. Bobby's -and Daisy's education we can easily carry on among us, and I shall -keep Molly up to her French, and teach her the little German I know; -but what we are to do about Dick, I don't know, girls. I do know a -good bit of Latin, but I daresay he knows as much as I do. Oh, how I -wish Uncle John had offered to keep him at Marlborough--if only for -another year! he might have done much in that time." - -"Well, don't you worry about me, girls," says the boy, looking up -with a flushed face; "I daresay I shall get along somehow." - -"Well now," says Doris, "I want to know all about the Horton boys. -Were they really of much use in the moving? and is Hugh reading hard -now? Oh, and that reminds me!" she cries, without waiting for -answers to her questions, "Colonel and Mrs. Danvers called while we -were at aunt's to say good-bye; they start for India in a week's -time. The colonel told me to tell you both how sorry he is not to -see you before leaving; and he begged me to say to you especially, -Molly, that if Hugh is ordered to the same part of the country when -he goes out he will keep an eye on him." - -Molly, with a lingering remembrance of "the maiden-all-forlorn" -episode, tosses her head with a slightly heightened colour, but takes -no notice of the message otherwise. There is rather a long pause; -then Doris, clasping her hands behind her head and leaning back -against Honor's knees, says: - -"How good every one has been to us in all this trouble! If it were -not for the loss of dear father, the rest would have been almost -worth going through if only for those proofs of real friendship which -have been shown us--by Sir Peter and others--to say nothing of aunt's -and Uncle John's kindness in starting us afresh." - -"Yes," says Honor musingly, "we have indeed been fortunate. Who -would have thought that the dear old piano would ever he ours again! -and how glad dear father would be if he could know that some of his -favourite pictures were hanging on these walls! That was such a kind -thought of Colonel Danvers." - -"Yes; it touched mother very much; and so did the Hortons' -kindness--I don't know what you girls would have done without them. -It's all very well for people to talk about the world being hard and -cold; but to _my_ thinking it's a very pleasant world, with lots of -kind-hearted people in it." - -Molly shakes her head dubiously. - -"It has certainly been the case so far," she says, "but we don't know -what is in store for us; we are none of us very old yet!" - -"Well, you _are_ a Job's comforter!" cries Doris, getting up and -shaking herself. "I think after that we had all better shut up and -retire to bed--don't you, Honor? We had better get all the sleep and -strength we can before we are all hurled into this sea of trouble -which Molly apparently descries looming in the distance! Hallo! -here's Dick asleep! Wake up, my boy, wake up!--we're all off to -bed!" and Doris administers sundry little sisterly pullings and -pinchings, which eventually arouse Dick sufficiently to enable him -lazily to follow his sisters up the stairs to bed. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -DORIS MAKES A PUDDING. - -"Seventeen pounds ten! seventeen pounds ten!" mutters Honor to -herself, as with paper and pencil in hand and with knitted brows she -makes little notes, seated the while on a corner of the kitchen table. - -"I wish you wouldn't shake so!" says Doris, who, with sleeves rolled -up and in a huge white apron, is in all the agonies of making a -steak-pudding. "If you keep on chattering too," she goes on, "I know -I shall leave out half the things, and then you'll never consider how -you harassed me with those pounds, shillings, and pence; but 'blame -it all on to me,' as Bobby says. Let me see, now: have I got -everything in? Oh, I know! a little pot in the middle to keep the -gravy in. Now, I shall have to move some of the meat again. There! -Oh, goodness me! I do hope the crust will be eatable; but I don't -suppose it will in the least. It seems brick-bat-ified to me. Well, -I've done my best, anyway." And with a prodigious sigh of relief -Doris ties the cloth. "Now," she says, "you can go on, Honor; what -about this horrid money? I really wish we had lived in the time of -the ancient Britons, then we shouldn't have wanted money at all. It -is no doubt a very nice thing when one has plenty of it; but when one -hasn't!--" Words fail to express Doris's horror of such a situation, -and her cast-up eyes and elevated floury hands finish the sentence -for her. - -"We are not quite so badly off as that," Honor says, returning to the -attack. "I was just saying, seventeen pounds ten a quarter. Take -five pounds from that--for rent, you know--and it leaves twelve -pounds ten. That's not much is it, Doris? If we want to live we -shall _have_ to do something to make both ends meet. Hark, there's -the door-bell! Who can it be, I wonder?" - -In a few seconds Jane appears with the intelligence that she has just -ushered the two Mr. Talboys into the drawing-room, having been quite -ignorant of the fact that Molly is there, serenely seated on the -floor, working away at the chintz covers which she and the other -girls are making for some of the shabby old school-room furniture -which now has to do-duty for the drawing-room. Molly is arrayed in -one of Jane's large aprons, to keep her black frock from soiling the -delicate colours of the stuff; and, as usual, when she is busy, her -hair is rumpled up in a fashion which is perhaps more becoming than -tidy. - -"Don't fuss yourself, Honor," says Doris composedly. "Molly will not -mind a bit, and I daresay she will explain the situation in some way -of her own which will amuse the old gentlemen immensely. Here she -comes; now we shall hear." - -"Girls!" cries Molly, dancing into the kitchen, "here are the Mr. -Talboys. They found me sitting on the floor amongst all the work; -and I couldn't get up at first, because my legs were so cramped. So -they came and helped me up, and then we all stood and laughed, till I -remembered my manners and asked them to sit down. I only just saved -Mr. Ben from seating himself on the broken chair, but I rushed up in -time and explained that that was only to be looked at. Then I told -them Doris was making a pudding, and that you were busy about -something, Honor; but that I would come and see if you had finished. -What's the matter? Why do you both look at me as if I had been -committing high treason?" - -"Well, you _have_ in a way," says Doris reprovingly, "talking all -that nonsense. Weren't the old gentlemen surprised?" - -"Not a bit," answers Molly promptly; "they enjoyed the fun, and I -left them chattering away to Daisy and Bobby as if they had known -them all their lives. Now, don't stand there, you two, as if you -were going to preach me a sermon five miles long; come and see the -old gentlemen. They are most anxious to make Doris's acquaintance." - -"Yes, that's all very well," says that young lady as she and Honor -follow Molly; "but you needn't have said anything about the pudding." - -"Well, I must say I don't see anything very extraordinary in either -the making or the eating of a pudding," argues Molly, leading the way -to the drawing-room with her head in the air. - -With that she opens the door, and waving her hand towards her sister, -says: - -"This is Doris, Mr. Talboys. She was dreadfully shocked because I -told you she was making a pudding, which I think very silly." - -"_Molly!_" exclaims Honor, whereupon the young lady lapses into -silence. - -"I am very glad to hear you were so sensibly employed, my dear Miss -Doris," says Mr. Ned, taking the girl's hand and warmly greeting her. -"I am afraid there are not many young ladies in these days who can -boast of such useful knowledge as that of making a pudding; but in -our young days it was considered as necessary for the daughters of a -family to be taught to cook, to bake, to preserve, and so on, as it -was to learn reading and writing and all the rest of it. Was it not, -Brother Ben?" - -"Surely, surely!" answers Mr. Ben, nodding to his brother from the -opposite end of the room. - -In a very short time they are all chatting freely together; and -Honor, thinking it a good opportunity, gathers up her courage, after -a little nervous glance at her sisters, to tell the brothers of their -wish to turn their talents to account in order to increase their -income. The old gentlemen are delighted, and enthusiastically -promise all the help that they can possibly give in the matter. -Indeed, they express profound regret that their age prevents their -becoming pupils of the young ladies themselves. - -"Ben had a decided talent for drawing as a youngster," says Mr. Ned -with a roguish twinkle in his eye. "You remember that wonderful -quadruped you once drew, Ben, about which there were such divided -opinions? My own idea was that it was a sheep of unusual dimensions; -but I believe finally it was settled that it was a horse--possibly an -Arab. They are small animals, you know." - -"I think I intended it for a cow, Brother Ned," remarks Mr. Benjamin -modestly; "but I assure you, young ladies, my talent for drawing was -not to be compared to my brother's--shall we say genius--for music. -He was actually known one day, after many hours of hard study, to -have picked out and played (with one finger) that difficult and -classical work popularly known as 'God Save the Queen.' Now, what do -you think of _that_?" - -Amidst the general laughter which arises at this good-natured -sparring between the two old men, they rise to take their leave; and -while Mr. Ned intrusts to Honor a courteous message to her mother to -the effect that he and his brother will shortly do themselves the -honour of calling upon her, when they shall hope to find her -sufficiently recovered to receive them, Mr. Ben is entreating Doris -to allow Daisy and Bobby to go to tea with them the next day. - -"Master Dick here would consider himself too old to join such a -juvenile party, I expect," says the old man, patting him on the back -kindly; "but we mean to ask you all to come and spend an evening with -us soon, if you can put up with two such old fogies as Brother Ned -and myself for hosts. We must have someone from the town to come and -tune the piano; and then, perhaps, my brother will play his piece to -you--eh, Ned?" - -"Certainly, Ben; but then we must also bring down that wonderful -picture of yours for the young ladies to see. Miss Honor might -perhaps take some very useful hints from it;" and with that parting -shot Mr. Ned gives Mr. Benjamin his arm, and they trot down the steps -together, away down the garden, and into the road. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -TRYING TO MAKE BOTH ENDS MEET. - -Things go on quietly enough for some time, but as each day comes -round it is pretty sure to bring with it some little trial and -vexation; trifling in itself perhaps, but none the less wearying to -the three girls, who with hopeful hearts are striving laboriously to -cut and contrive in order to get the utmost out of every halfpenny. - -Honor has shown from the first an almost dogged determination to have -nothing brought into the house that cannot be paid for at once. - -"We know to a farthing what our income is," she says quietly and -firmly; "and what we cannot afford to have we must learn to do -without." - -Nevertheless it goes to the girl's heart when, having had to draw -perhaps from the little sum set aside for the week's living for some -other incidental expense, she has to say, "No meat to-day, girls and -boys; we must make our dinners from potatoes and bread and butter." - -"And very good fare too," some will say perhaps; but for girls and -boys who have been brought up in the lap of luxury, and who in their -sudden transition from affluence to well-nigh poverty have retained -their usual healthy appetites, it is a little trying it must surely -be allowed. To Doris and Honor the fact of having to deny themselves -meat, and sometimes other things which are almost necessaries, is no -great trial so long as they can somehow or other make both ends meet; -but it does pain them to see that Molly's and Dick's faces are no -longer so round and plump as formerly, and that little Daisy pushes -away her plate of untempting food from before her sometimes, -plaintively saying she is "not hungry to-day." The novelty of the -situation having worn off also to a great extent, the spirits of -Doris and Molly especially flag visibly at times; and while Doris -sighs over her work with a generally listless air, Molly grows -despondent, and even a little cross, as she goes about her daily -duties. Poor Honor makes brave and determined efforts to preserve -both her cheerfulness and her temper for the sake of all, but there -are two little upright lines between her straight brows which tell of -constant care and anxious thought; and many a quiet tear is shed -when, tired in body and anxious in mind, the girl finds herself alone -in her room with no one to witness her giving way to her overwrought -feelings. - -Still, there are gleams of brightness in the new life, and many an -act of kindness is shown to the girls by the neighbouring families; -on all of whom the Merivales have been most thoroughly impressed by -the brothers Talboys. The first to call are the clergyman and his -wife, and they prove to be affable, kindly-disposed people. Then -most of the families round about call on Mrs. Merivale also, and do -their best to cheer the girls with accounts of what goes on during -the summer months, saying kindly that they hope they will look -forward to plenty of games of tennis with their own daughters. - -But although every one promises to remember their wishes to obtain -teaching, and to do his or her best in the matter, no pupils come for -Molly; and although Honor takes up her painting again with renewed -ardour, nobody seems to require lessons in that either. - -The brothers Talboys hold many a serious conversation over the trials -and difficulties of their young friends, as they call them; but -beyond sending them some game from time to time, or something from -their own poultry-yard, dairy, or garden, they do not see their way -to helping them much without running the risk of hurting their -feelings. - -One morning the old gentlemen are leaning over a gate looking -admiringly at their sleek Alderneys grazing in the distance, when -suddenly down the lane behind them come Daisy and Bobby hand in hand. -During the short time that the family has been settled at the -Rookery, these two children, and especially Daisy, have taken a firm -hold on the warm hearts of the two old brothers. Their blind -devotion to the latter would bid fair, indeed, to turn the head of -any less good and demure little maiden than Daisy, for she can hardly -express a wish in their hearing which is not gratified; and when the -children go to tea at the Rosery--which event occurs once a week, if -not oftener--the recklessness of their two frolicsome hosts in the -matter of cakes, jam, cream, &c., defies description. - -The brothers no sooner now see the children approaching than they -pounce upon them instantly, and after duly inquiring after every one -at home, Mr. Ned unfastens the gate, and taking Daisy by the hand -leads her away into the field. - -"I know you would like to come and speak to White-star," he says; -"they are both going to be milked in a few minutes, and if you like -you shall stay and see them, and have a drink of nice new milk too. -What are we to do for a tumbler though, eh?" - -"I'll run and fetch one, sir," pipes up little Bobby, who is -perfectly at home in all the arrangements of the Rosery, both in and -out of the house, "or shall I run to the dairy and ask Susan to bring -something?" - -"Yes, yes, my boy, that would be better, for you might fall down and -cut yourself. Here, wait a minute, Master Bob, a piece of cake would -not come amiss with the milk, I take it, eh? Go and ask Mrs. Edwards -to put some cake, several large slices, into a little basket for you; -and then we will all have lunch out here together." - -[Illustration: DAISY AND THE MR. TALBOYS VISIT WHITESTAR.] - -"And give White-star some," cries Daisy excitedly. - -"Oh, certainly, give White-star some," repeats Mr. Ned approvingly; -"it would be a poor return after giving us her milk not to offer her -any refreshment herself. I am not certain, however, that she would -not prefer some nice fresh grass even to plum-cake if you were to -pluck it and offer it to her. Ah! I thought so!" as the little girl -goes fearlessly up to the placid-looking animal, her hands full of -sweet-smelling grass. White-star stoops her head, gravely inspecting -Daisy at first, then she puts her soft velvety nose into the child's -hands and gently gathers up the contents into her mouth. - -"It seems to me," says Mr. Ben, folding his hands over his stick and -looking at the gentle pair--"it seems to me that White-star has a -great deal to say to this little maid. What say you, Brother Ned? -Now I shouldn't be the least surprised if she is thinking how much -she would like you to have a lot of her good milk every day to fatten -up your cheeks a little, don't you think so, Brother Ned?" - -"I was thinking the very same thing myself," answers Mr. Ned, nodding -approval of his brother's idea. "Oh! here comes Susan with the pail -and the glasses, and here is Master Bob also heavily laden with the -cake and the milking-stool. Now then, the first drink for the lady -of course." - -"And so it is your birthday to-morrow," suddenly remarks Mr. Ned -after a longish pause, during which undivided attention is given to -the milk and cake. - -"Yes," says Daisy gravely nodding; "who told you?" - -"Master Bob there. And he told me, moreover, what present he is -going to give you, and I can assure you it will be--well, to use the -young gentleman's own words--a regular stunner." - -"Oh!" cries Daisy, "_do_ tell me, Mr. Talboys." - -"Oh, I couldn't think of such a thing. And why, bless my soul, it is -getting quite late, Brother Ben; if we are to see these little folks -home I think we had better be starting." - -And so after a time the quartette appears at the Rookery, and the -children are handed over to Honor, who has seen them coming through -the gate. It is an everyday occurrence now this finding of the -children with the two Mr. Talboys. If they are missing for any -length of time, someone says, "Oh, they are up at the Rosery, of -course;" and after a time sure enough they arrive either in charge of -Priscilla, the parlour-maid, or with the old gentlemen themselves. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -DAISY'S BIRTHDAY. - -The next morning every one is on the _qui vive_ for the postman, for -is it not Daisy's birthday! and will there not be mysterious packets, -from the Horton's alone, enough to fill his bag! - -The excitement of receiving the presents from her own family has now -subsided; and Daisy, having seen Bobby's offering, consisting of a -pair of black and white rabbits, duty installed in a separate hutch -improvised for the occasion, and on which is scrawled, in somewhat -doubtful caligraphy, Daisy's own name as proprietress, that young -lady betakes herself to the drawing-room, where Mrs. Merivale is -installed (feeling a trifle stronger to-day), in honour of her little -daughter's birthday. At last the postman appears, and there is a -general rush to the door. - -A packet from Mrs. Horton, one from each of the boys, one from Aunt -Sophia, and another from Miss Denison. There is also a letter for -Honor from the last named, and one for Jane. With these two Bobby is -despatched to the kitchen regions, where Honor and Doris are--the -former making a cake--and where Jane is also. Doris seizes on the -letter, and Honor's hands being floury, opens it and reads it to her, -Jane having retired into the scullery with her missive. - -Miss Denison's letter is like herself--kindness throughout. Not one -little incident with which they have acquainted her is forgotten, and -the whole letter conveys with it such an air of her affectionate -manner that it almost seems to the girls as if she were standing -there and speaking to them in person. She sends good news about the -recovery of her _fiancé_; and in order that she may accompany him in -his prescribed sojourn to the south of France, they are about to be -married almost immediately. Doris and Honor are still chatting over -the contents of the letter, when Jane, deluged in tears, rushes into -the kitchen and startles them both with the announcement that she -must leave at once. - -"Oh, if you please, Miss Honor, mother's been taken ill so sudden, -and my sister Sarah says I sha'n't never see her alive again very -like if I don't hurry off at once." - -"Of course you shall go, Jane," says Honor, suspending the operation -of egg-beating and rubbing her hands upon a cloth. "Of course mother -will let you go by the first train there is. Poor girl!" she adds -kindly, putting her hand on her shoulder, for Jane with her apron to -her eyes has subsided into a chair,--"poor girl! it is indeed sudden; -but doesn't your sister give any hope, Jane? Perhaps your mother may -get over this attack; while there is life there is always hope, you -know." - -"I don't know, I'm sure, miss," returns the girl with alternate sobs -and sniffs. "There's the letter, Miss Honor; perhaps you'd like to -read it." - -Honor does so, and finding the case more serious than she had thought -it might be--being in fact the doctor's own report--she hands the -letter without speaking to Doris, and making her a sign to follow, -quietly leaves the kitchen. - -A fearful thought has just struck Honor, and as Doris comes out to -her in the passage she stares at her blankly, saying: - -"What in the _world_ shall we do for her wages, Doris? She _must_ -have them before she goes." - -"I have got the ten shillings aunt gave me when I left," says poor -Doris dolefully. "I must give that towards them, of course. And I -think mother has a little money by her. We must try and make it up -among us, Honor, and we must borrow again from the house-keeping -money, and dine off puddings and potatoes and such things a little -more often." - -Here Molly comes bounding out into the passage. - -"Why, what is the matter with you two?" she asks. "You look as if -you had discovered a dynamite plot or something." - -Whereupon Honor tells her of the difficulty, and Molly, diving into -the recesses of her pocket, draws forth a jubilee half-crown, which -she has been hoarding up for future emergencies. - -"Take it, Honor," she says, "it will have to go some time or other, -so it may as well go now!" - -And with a sigh of resignation she is turning away again, but Honor -stops her. - -"No, dear," she says, kissing her young sister, "it is like your -generosity to give up all you possess; but with a little management, -and perhaps a little help from mother, we shall be able to arrange, I -am sure; and Doris shall not give up hers either." - -"Well, but _you_ are giving up every farthing of your own little -private income for the good of everybody," exclaims Doris. "And I'm -sure it is only fair that Molly and I should do the little we _can_ -do." - -"Well, you know, Doris, I am only thankful that I have that little -income to devote to us all. It would not give me the very slightest -pleasure to keep it to myself; and, after all, girls, it benefits me -as much as it does anyone. It's share and share alike with us all -now, I think, isn't it?" - -"You're a good old soul, and that's a fact!" cries Molly impulsively, -"and the most unselfish creature that ever breathed." - -"What nonsense, Molly!" says Honor, blushing at this burst of praise. - -"She is quite right, of course," says Doris, "and I only wish I was -half as good." - -"And now," remarks Molly, "after this digression, as the books say, I -suppose you mean to come and consult mother about Jane and all the -rest of it, don't you?" - -"Of course. You run and get the time-table, Molly, and we will look -out a train." - -It is with great difficulty that Jane can be persuaded to take all -the money that is due to her. - -"I'm sure, Miss Honor, I never thought about such a thing as wages," -says the girl with her apron to her eyes. "I would readily have -stayed with you young ladies and the mistress without thinking of -money, miss, except when you pleased to give me a little now and -again. And if you will just give me enough for my journey, Miss -Honor, and so as I have a shilling or two in my pocket when I gets -home, I would rather not take any more, if you please, miss." - -But Honor and Doris together gently overrule the girl's generous -impulses, and insist on her taking what is due to her, Mrs. Merivale -adding a trifling present as a little return for the kindness of -heart which Jane has shown to them all in their days of adversity. - -In little more than an hour's time Jane has departed with all her -belongings, and the girls and Dick are still standing at the door -watching her, as with handkerchief to her eyes she goes down the -road, when their attention is drawn to a novel kind of procession, -consisting of the Mr. Talboys' stable-boy, Joe, bearing something -resembling a pail, with elaborate care, the under-gardener with a -wheel-barrow containing some large and odd-looking packages, and -lastly Priscilla, holding in her arms with as much solicitude as if -it were a baby, a long, mysterious-looking parcel. The party enters -the gate with much gravity and makes for the side entrance. - -"From the Mr. Talboys, Miss Merivale," says Priscilla, the man and -boy bashfully hanging back. "Put the pail inside the door, Joe," she -adds, and then she takes the packages from the barrow, and turning to -Honor says: "Shall I step inside with them, ma'am? The masters told -me I was to be sure and deliver them myself. Oh, and there's a -letter for Miss Daisy as well. And I was to give the masters' -compliments, and ask how Mrs. Merivale finds herself this morning." - -Up to this point the girls have done nothing but stare with mute -astonishment at the oddly-laden trio. But at length, when the -parcels are actually laid down, and the maid stands waiting for her -answer, Honor finds her tongue: - -"Tell your masters, please," she says, "that mother is feeling a -little stronger this morning." - -And before Honor can say another word the maid is out of the house -and through the gate, where the man and the boy--both grinning from -ear to ear--are awaiting her. - -"What _can_ it mean?" cries Doris, beginning to feel the parcels, -while Timothy, the cat, walks gravely up to the pail and commences a -deliberate inspection of the outside. "This is knobby!" Doris goes -on; "and this soft--O, my gracious! what's that?" as a sound like a -rather squeaky voice is heard to issue from the long parcel. - -"Let us read the letter," says prompt Molly; "then we shall -understand it all. No, let Daisy open it--it's her letter. I quite -expect they are birthday presents from the old gentlemen. Now, let -us see!" - -And they all crowd round the child while she carefully opens the -envelope and unfolds the letter. - - -"To Miss Margaret Merivale. - -"My dear Miss Daisy, - -"Brother Ben and I are sending some little presents for your -birthday, with our best love. The young lady herself is from Brother -Ben, whilst her carriage and luggage (including her bed) are from -myself. I believe the young lady is rather particular about her -sleeping arrangements, and has therefore thought it better to take -her own bed with her. White-star is most anxious that we should -deliver a very important message from her. She sends her love, and -hopes you will accept for a birthday present the can of new milk she -is sending you, and that you will let her send you some every day for -the future. White-star thinks it will fatten up your cheeks, and she -would far rather you had her milk than that the pig should. - - "Wishing you many happy returns of the day, - "We are, dear little Miss Daisy, - "Your affectionate friends, - "EDWARD TALBOYS. - "BENJAMIN TALBOYS." - - -"There, didn't I say so!" exclaims Molly. "What dear old boys they -are, and how fond of Daisy! Come along, child, and let us undo the -parcels." - -"O, what a _lovely_ doll!" - -Daisy stands perfectly entranced, and, truth to tell, a little in awe -of the fashionable young lady which emerges from the many wrappings -of soft white paper in which she has been carefully enshrouded. A -young person of most eccentric character she proves to be, for on a -certain spring being touched she walks along for some yards with her -head in the air in a truly martial manner; and when (on her showing -deliberate intention of walking into the coal-scuttle) Honor snatches -her up from the ground, she gives vent to loud cries of "Papa! -Mamma!" which astonish her hearers not a little. Finally, on being -placed in a reclining position in her new owner's arms, she shows -symptoms of faintness, and closing her eyes in a melodramatic manner -lies back quite motionless. Daisy looks anxious at this catastrophe, -but is reassured on finding that the young lady opens her handsome -brown orbs again the moment she is made to sit up. - -Honor and Doris presently suggest that all the presents shall be -taken into the room where Mrs. Merivale is sitting, and a good hour -or more is spent by Doris and the others in unpacking the handsome -perambulator which has arrived with her ladyship, and also her -beautiful bed. This last is completely fitted up, even to a little -eider-down quilt. But the unpacking of the wardrobe--that is the -thing! and Doris, at heart as great a baby over dolls and their -belongings as Daisy herself, sits on the floor surrounded with -walking costumes, dinner dresses, ball dresses, &c., and enjoys -herself with her little sister to her heart's content. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -DR. JOHN SINCLAIR. - -That same afternoon Honor puts on her hat and walks into the village -in search of a girl to take Jane's place, if such an individual can -be found, which she privately doubts. She first goes to old Mrs. -Evans, the charwoman, and makes a few inquiries about the girls in -the village. This lady, however, probably with an eye to "No. 1," -discourages the idea of "keepin' a gal permanent." With regard to -herself she is "willin' to oblige, and don't mind how often she goes -up to the 'ouse, pervided she gets one day in the week to do her own -bit o' washin'." This not being at all Honor's idea, and the old -woman appearing to have no other by which she may benefit, she takes -her departure. - -She next goes to the little grocer's shop and makes inquiries there, -learning that they believe they know of a likely young woman. She -has been living at the butcher's over the way, partly as nurse, they -think, and having left about a week ago is likely to be looking out -for a new place. Flora Smart is the name by which this young person -is known. So Honor thinks she may as well go "over the way" as -anywhere else to pursue her inquiries. - -Mrs. Masters, the butcher's wife, is a brisk and chatty little woman, -who enters into the discussion of possible and impossible girls with -a keen and lively interest. She thinks Mrs. Phips possesses a -granddaughter who, though not calculated to set the Thames on fire -with her cleverness, is a good girl enough as far as honesty, -truthfulness, and cleanliness go. She is greatly desirous of -"bettering herself," whatever that may be; and Mrs. Masters thinks -that if Miss Merivale don't mind the trouble of training her, she may -turn out a handy kind of girl. - -"I have just been recommended a girl called Flora Smart," remarks -Honor presently. "I believe she was with you for a time, Mrs. -Masters." - -"Yes, miss; for a very short time though, I'm thankful to say. I had -her to help with the children, and to give a hand when it was needed -to my own servant that I've had with me for years. She was an idle -hussy though, and didn't care to do anything but take the children -out. Ah, and they nearly met their death, or might have done, with -her wicked carelessness!" she adds with an involuntary shudder. - -"How was that?" asks Honor, impressed with Mrs. Masters' manner. - -"Well, miss, she had taken the two youngest out in the perambulator; -and from what I heard after I suppose that, when she got half-way -down Meadow Lane, there she saw some acquaintance of hers--a young -man it was; and as she thought the perambulator might be seen if she -took it with her, she just left it in the middle of the lane and ran -back round the corner, quite out of sight of the children. Well, -miss, it was market-day; and presently there came along the usual -drove of cattle, the drovers far behind. Fortunately the doctor was -coming along that way too, and recognizing them and seeing their -danger at once, he just took and wheeled them home to me, saying as -he brought them up to the door, 'I think your little ones will be -safer with you, Mrs. Masters, than in the middle of Meadow Lane by -themselves on market-day.' Dear! it did give me such a turn, to be -sure, miss; for he told me after that he quite thinks the -perambulator would have been overturned, some of the cattle were so -wild and unruly. Ah, a kind-hearted gentleman is Dr. Sinclair! He -would do anyone a good turn, from the highest to the lowest." - -"Dr. Sinclair!" repeats Honor. "Is that the name of the doctor here, -Mrs. Masters? I really didn't know there was a doctor here at all; -though I suppose there always is, even in a little village like this." - -"Dear me, now, Miss Merivale, to think that you don't know him even -by sight, and he often rides up your way too!" - -"I am generally too busy to notice many passers-by," says Honor -smiling; "but now I think of it, I believe I have heard the Mr. -Talboys mention him." - -"Ah, to be sure you would, miss; if 'twas only on his father's -account; though I'm not sure if the old gentlemen don't like the son -just as well, if not better. But you see, miss, it was the old -doctor that attended Mr. Benjamin with his broken ankle; I think they -were all boys at school together--so I've heard my husband say. Yes, -it was quite a blow to the old gentlemen when the old doctor died. -There! talk of the angel--why, that's the young doctor himself coming -up the road yonder. Now you can see him for yourself, miss. - -Honor lifts her eyes as a rider comes slowly up the remainder of the -steep hill which leads into the village. She sees a well-made, -broad-shouldered man, who cannot be much under six feet in height, -bestriding a handsome glossy chestnut, which in the matter of -muscular strength and powerfulness of build is as noticeable as his -master. - -Dr. John Sinclair appears to be deep in thought, for his eyes are -raised no higher than his horse's head as he sits flicking its ears -softly with the end of his riding-whip, a performance which the -creature apparently rather enjoys than otherwise, judging by the -tossing of its head, accompanied by little whinnyings of approval. -As he rides past the butcher's shop, though, the doctor raises his -head, and catching sight of Mrs. Masters smiles brightly and -courteously. As he lifts his hat, his eyes rest upon Honor with a -little inquiring expression. - -"Aye, that's just like him," says the woman with a gratified look as -she acknowledges the young man's salutation with a pleased little -bow, "he would lift his hat to a poor beggar woman just as quickly as -to a duchess; and that's what makes every one about here worship him -so. There's no thoughts of class or the like with Dr. John Sinclair, -miss; and one to him is as good as another, where there's help and -kindness needed. But there now, I am wasting your time, Miss -Merivale, as well as my own. My husband always tells me mine is a -terrible tongue to go, especially when any talk of the young doctor -comes up, for then I always feel as if I could never say enough for -him. Besides everything else he has done, he pulled my youngest boy -through with croup, when every one else had given him up; and I have -never forgotten that--no, nor ever shall. Well, miss, I think you -will do well to go to Mrs. Phips. I know her grand-daughter is a -decent sort of girl, though she ain't very bright. But I do think it -would be worth trying her, perhaps. Oh, no thanks needed, I'm sure, -miss," as Honor expresses gratitude for the information. "Good-day -to you, miss; and I hope the girl may suit." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -A VISIT FROM AUNT SOPHIA AND THE HORTON BOYS. - -After a tolerably satisfactory interview with Mrs. Phips and her -granddaughter Becky, Honor at length returns home, where she finds -unusual excitement reigning, all sorts of unexpected things having -happened in her absence. - -The moment her hand touches the latch of the gate Molly comes flying -down the garden to meet her, her eyes sparkling, her hair blown -about, her apron all awry. - -"Such news!" she cries breathlessly. "That nice clergyman has been -here, and he wants his little girl to have music lessons; so now I've -got a real live pupil, Honor! Isn't that _splendid_? To be sure -they can't give very good pay," she adds, a little ruefully, "but it -will all help, won't it?" - -"Of course it will, dear!" says Honor, kissing her. "I am so glad--" - -Molly cuts her short: - -"But that isn't all," she says. "Aunt's here, sitting with her -bonnet on as usual, though we've all had a try to make her take it -off. And mother seems quite cheered up. Well, then Hugh and Regy -arrived by the same train, Hugh nearly bursting with most important -news. Come along in; you can go and talk to them all while Doris and -I finish getting the tea. Oh, and give me the key of the -store-cupboard; I want to get out some of that lovely jam the Mr. -Talboys sent Daisy. The boys wanted to come and help in the kitchen, -but I shut them out and locked the door. I do hope Doris hasn't let -them in in my absence!" - -And being tormented with doubt on this score Molly retires in haste, -and Honor enters the drawing-room, where she finds Daisy, with the -assistance of Miss Celestine Ermyntrude Talboys--as she has persisted -in naming her doll,--gravely doing the honours to Hugh and Regy, -while her mother and aunt are seated close together in earnest -confidential conversation. - -In due course tea is announced, and as Mrs. Merivale expresses her -intention of joining them to-day, there is quite a large party when -Dick and Bobby also arrive home from a long ramble they have been -having in the woods. - -Lady Woodhouse, it appears, has come down with the intention of -having a good long chat with them all, and to see how things are -going generally. - -Hugh's important piece of news is that he, having "worked like a -nigger" for the last few months with a "coach," has sent in his -papers, and is awaiting the result anxiously, but hopefully too, his -"coach" having spoken in the highest praise of his ability when once -he had put his shoulder to the wheel. - -They have a very merry tea, and when it is over and the visitors have -returned to the drawing-room, Doris and Honor remain behind to clear -away and wash up the tea-things, while Molly goes to look after the -poultry. She is engrossed in trying to prevent Mr. Pincher and one -or two of the greediest hens from snapping up the entire supply of -maize and other luxuries, which she is scattering amongst them, -before their more modest companions can get a chance, when she hears -a clear tenor voice not far off ringing out the words-- - - "O, Molly Bawn, why leave me pining, - All lonely waiting here for you, - While stars above are brightly shining - Because they've nothing else to do!" - -Molly listens a moment, and then turning the basket upside down, and -shaking out the last grains, she wheels about and faces Hugh as he -comes round the corner and stands before her. - -"It's a pity you have nothing to do but to go about singing such -nonsense," she observes. "It may be all very well for the stars, -perhaps--I don't know their ways and habits--but I should think _you_ -might easily find something else to do." - -"Well, so I can, and _do_ in fact, at least I have done lately," -returns poor Hugh confusedly. "Come now, Molly," he pleads, "don't -be hard on a fellow! I thought you would be so pleased with the news -I brought down to-day." - -"Well, so I am, of course; but," rather unkindly adds Molly, "you -hav'n't passed yet, you know!" - -Hugh looks a trifle hurt for a moment; but then he says quietly -enough: - -"No; you are right there, Molly. But if I fail this time I do think -it will be my misfortune rather than my fault; for ever since you -lectured me so on the subject of my work I _have_ worked with a -vengeance, and chiefly, I believe, for your sake." - -"Why, what nonsense, Hugh! Why in the world for my sake?" - -"Well, it's hardly likely I would want you to think that all your -words were thrown away on me--pearls before swine, you know, and all -that sort of thing. No; but seriously, Molly, I have done my level -best to deserve the little bit--the _very_ little bit, I'm -afraid,--of good opinion you have of me. Though I don't mean to say -that I hav'n't worked for my own sake too, and for mother's. But, -upon my honour, I don't believe I ever saw the matter in a proper -light until you put it so plainly before me, Molly. My mother has -often said a few words to me on the subject, of course, but no one -but you ever had the courage to tell me out to my face that I was -fast drifting into an idle, useless vagabond; and--" - -"I never said such a thing!" exclaims Molly, firing up indignantly. -"How dare you say I said what I didn't!" - -"Well, really, you know, you implied something of the sort. Now, -didn't you? But you won't let a fellow finish what he is saying. I -was going to add that no one had ever tried to show me what I might -have drifted into but you; and I shall always feel that I owe you a -debt of gratitude for it, whatever you may say to the contrary. And -I tell you what, Molly dear, I have felt happier during these few -months of hard work than I have for a long time past. It has roused -me, and given me a taste for work, and made me feel that there is -something worth living for beyond the little everyday pleasures of -life. Ah! I shall often think of my little mentor and the _d-u-s-t_ -she wrote on my books, when I am miles and miles away; that is if I -go," he adds hastily, anticipating any incredulous remark which Molly -may be about to make. - -"Of course you will go away, if it depends on your passing your -exam," says the girl quietly, as they go slowly back together by the -laurel hedge, she pulling off a dead leaf here and there. "I always -said that, if you remember; I mean that it rested with yourself, as -it were. You see, too, what your 'coach' told you." - -"Oh, hang the 'coach!'" exclaims Hugh disrespectfully. "I care a -hundred times more for your opinion than for old Dobson's; though -he's not a bad sort of fellow, and a perfect rattler at cramming." - -"Of course," says Molly demurely, "I know my opinion is of exceeding -great value; but, you see, I haven't been in the habit of _cramming_ -a lot of young men for a good many years past, and therefore his -experience may possibly be wider than mine. Now, come in, and talk -to mother and aunt; your train will be going before long." - -"Stop a minute," cries Hugh, catching her hand and detaining her -before she opens the door; "will you write to me if I _do_ go away, -Molly?" - -"Oh, yes," she replies graciously; "I'll write. And, look here, -Hugh, if you should go _very_ far away, say to China, or New Zealand, -or--or--Kamtchatka--I'll work you a pair of slippers--there!" And -with a grave, emphatic nod, she pushes open the door and runs into -the house. - -In the meantime Lady Woodhouse has been hearing all the news from -Doris and Honor, the former of whom is seated on a footstool at her -aunt's feet, her chin resting in her hands, and with a generally -doleful sort of air about her. - -"No, it's no use, aunt," she is saying. "I hate domesticating, and -that's all about it. I've tried my hand at everything pretty nearly, -and I think each has failed in an equally successful manner. A -beef-steak pudding is a thing to be spoken of with bated breath in -this house, ever since I made one, not long after we settled here. I -believe the whole family suffered from violent indigestion for a week -and more; and now if it is proposed to have a pudding for dinner, -someone--generally Dick or Molly--inquires in a most pointed manner, -'Who's going to make it?' I tried a treacle pudding one day, when -they had well recovered from the other; but I was so flurried with -thinking how in the world I should prevent the treacle from running -out at the ends that I forgot the lard altogether; so no one suffered -from the richness of the paste that day, because it was simply flour -and water. It doesn't seem to matter _what_ it is," poor Doris goes -on after a pause; "I even failed in boiling some potatoes the other -day, for the water all boiled away (I suppose I didn't put enough), -and I found the potatoes all stuck to the bottom of the pot, and -burnt horribly! And it's just the same in other things. If I feed -the chickens in the evening one of them is sure to be found either -dead or dying the next morning. The very milk goes sour if _I_ by -chance put it away!" - -"Hum--that's because you don't put it in the right place, I suspect," -remarks Aunt Sophia grimly. - -"Very likely; but that doesn't alter the fact that it _does_ go sour, -and that everything I have to do with is bound to go wrong in some -way or other. Now, aunt, _do_ take off your bonnet!" - -"I tell you I'm not going to, child," says Lady Woodhouse, holding on -to it with both hands. "You know very well that until my trunk is -unpacked I cannot get a cap, and sit bareheaded I will not. But if -you are so very anxious upon the subject you can take my keys and go -and find one." - -Molly, who has just entered, volunteers to do this, and after this -little interruption Lady Woodhouse says abruptly: - -"Well then, Miss Doris, I take it that you are not of very much use -in this establishment, eh?" - -"No, I am afraid not," answers Doris, looking rather crestfallen. -"The only thing I can do decently is needlework, and I _am_ of use in -that sometimes. Am I not, Honor?" - -"You are lots of use in all sorts of ways, Doris; only you allow -yourself to be so easily discouraged. But she does do plain -needlework beautifully, aunt; and, oh, there has been _such_ a lot of -mending and darning to do in the house linen since we came here. We -only brought what was very old. The best was all included in the -sale." - -"I don't believe it need have been," grumbles Doris in an undertone; -"but you know, aunt, Honor became quite _aggressively_ conscientious -by the time we were actually leaving. I declare I wonder she allowed -us to keep our own hair!" - -"_Doris!_" exclaims Honor, in the midst of a general laugh. - -"Very well, then," resumes Aunt Sophia, quite regardless of the -interruption, "you would not, I suppose, be missed from home so much -as one of the others. Now, how do you think you would like to go -abroad with your uncle and me for a time? Mind you," she adds -quickly, "it would not be a _short_ time probably; our travels might -possibly extend over a year, or even more. Now, the question is, can -your mother and sisters and these boys spare you--and can you spare -them?" - -Doris gasps. Poor girl! to travel is always what she has so greatly -longed to do. And her father had promised her that "he would think -about it one fine day." And now to have the chance after all, when -she had fancied it had gone for ever! No wonder Doris gasps with -delight as she looks eagerly round to read in the others' faces their -ideas on the subject. - -"I don't know yet when we shall be going," continues Lady Woodhouse, -without waiting for anyone to speak. "Your uncle has some law -business on hand, and he can't leave till that is settled; and -goodness knows when that will be. However, you'll want a little time -to get ready, won't you? And I think you might decrease your -mourning now, Honor, or certainly in another month. People don't now -wear the heavy crêpe that they used, even for a parent. Oh, my cap? -Thank you, Molly." - -"I hope it is the right one, aunt," says the girl as she stands -waiting for the bonnet. - -"It can't very well be the wrong one, child, since I only brought one -with me. Did you think I would bring a dozen for a visit of two -days?" - -So at length, after a good deal of argument for and against, it is -settled that Doris is to hold herself in readiness to accompany her -uncle and aunt whenever they feel disposed to summon her. - -Honor does not disguise the fact that she will miss her sister not a -little. - -"Of course it is all nonsense Doris saying she is of no use," she -remarks, stroking Vic's soft drooping ears. "She has for one thing -taken Daisy and Bobby regularly to their lessons lately, and even -Dick has joined them sometimes, but somehow he and Doris don't pull -very well together on the subject of study, and I'm afraid just -lately it has been dropped altogether. Of course, when Doris goes -this will fall to me or Molly, but Molly would be as sorry as I -should to let poor Doris miss such an opportunity; and for aunt's -sake too we shall be glad for her to go. It is the least we can do -after all her goodness to us." - -"Tut, child," says Lady Woodhouse, "that is nothing; you are all good -girls, and I am glad to do anything I _can_ for you. But it seems to -me that Doris is the best, taking her altogether, to come with us to -see something of the world; and then, of course, she is the eldest." - -"Yes!" cries Doris, jumping up and clapping her hands; "and, who -knows, I may marry a duke yet!" - -"Marry a fiddlestick!" snaps Lady Woodhouse; and there the subject -drops for the present. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -BECKY. - -Just as Lady Woodhouse is about to take her departure two days later, -the new domestic, Becky Phips, arrives, accompanied by her -"gra'm'ther," who assists in carrying her small box and a mysterious -brown paper bag on which much care is lavished by Becky, and which -afterwards turns out to contain nothing more nor less than that young -person's "best 'at." - -Aunt Sophia, who is standing on the steps peering up and down the -road in search of the fly, now due, which is to convey her to the -station, catches sight of the girl as she goes round to the back -entrance, and raising her hands and eyes at the same time turns to -Honor, exclaiming-- - -"Good gracious, child! Where did you pick up such an -eccentric-looking piece of goods as that? Did anyone ever see such a -remarkable head! My dear Honor, mark my words: that girl will either -turn out extraordinarily clever or surprisingly stupid. She could be -nothing between the two with a head like that, you know. Let me -know, child, which she proves to be. I shall quite look forward to -hearing whether she is an unsurpassable treasure, or whether she -drives you all to despair and madness by her outrageous stupidity. -Ah, here's the fly! That's right. Now, Honor, don't forget. All -right, driver." And away goes Aunt Sophia, nodding her head out of -the window until a bend in the road hides the fly from view, and the -girls go indoors again to interview Becky. Certainly she is a -remarkable-looking young person; and many a grave discussion is held -as to the phrenological meaning of the enormous bumps on either side -of her head. To Becky herself they chiefly mean that not all the -bonnet-pins and hair-pins in the world will keep her cap straight; if -it is not leaning over too much on one side, it is sure to be on the -other. This imparts a rakish sort of air to the girl, which is -trying in the extreme to Mrs. Merivale. - -At last Dick settles the matter off-hand one day, by announcing once -for all that they are the bumps of hunger--the girl proving to have -an insatiable appetite, and the consumption of bread, potatoes, and -anything in the nature of pudding being truly astonishing--not to say -alarming--since her arrival at the Rookery. It does not take Honor -long to make up her mind as to what will be the report to her aunt -regarding the girl's possible cleverness or stupidity, for she -presently developes such an apparently inexhaustible fund of the -latter commodity as often to reduce the entire family to the verge of -frenzy. There are only two things which Becky appears capable of -doing with any regularity or determination, and these are "swilling" -the back-yard and letting the kitchen fire go out. Thus little -scenes are constantly taking place as follows: Mrs. Merivale -expresses a wish to have a cup of tea somewhat earlier than usual. -Honor goes into the kitchen. Kettle ostentatiously placed over what -was once a fire, but is now a depressing collection of black cold -cinders. - -Honor--"I thought I told you, Becky, _always_ to have the kettle -boiling by three o'clock. Just look at it." - -Becky (with cap awry)--"Ain't it boiling, miss? Why, I put it on -nigh two hours ago. I'm _sure_ I did!" - -Honor (desperately)--"What is the use, Becky, of putting the kettle -over a fire that has gone out. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I don't believe -I shall ever be able to teach you anything; I really don't!" - -Becky (resignedly)--"No, miss." - -Then perhaps Doris, in an unusually domestic frame of mind, will come -rushing into the sitting-room one morning, her arms full of the -little light muslin draperies with which, at small cost, she and her -sisters have so smartened up the scantily furnished bedrooms. - -"Now, girls," she cries, "anything in this line that you want washed? -Mother has actually trusted me with her lawn collars and cuffs. She -remarked (in a not very complimentary manner, I think), 'that at -least I could hardly do them _worse_ than old Mrs. What's-her-name -does them.' Yes, do you know, I really think I _shall_ develop a -talent for washing and ironing--so long as it is something light and -pretty--laces or muslins, or something. I feel that it is _in_ me -somehow. Now, don't laugh! I'm going to _dare_ Becky to let the -fire out, on pain of death or instant dismissal." - -All goes well and merrily for some time. The fire burns brightly, -the kettle sings, the boiler hisses; and Doris, also singing, and -attired in a big coarse white apron, stands over a small tub, her -pretty arms plunged up to the elbows in soap-suds. - -In the afternoon, however, loud and wrathful lamentations rend the -air when Doris, having enjoyed a well-merited lounge in the only -comfortable chair in the sitting-room, goes into the kitchen to -commence her ironing, and finds--a plentiful supply of irons indeed, -but carefully arranged before a fire which has been out a good hour -or more! Doris does not take these little _contre-temps_ so quietly -as Honor, so there ensues a stormy torrent of scolding on her side, -and mild protestations and feeble efforts at self-justification on -Becky's, until the latter finally retires in floods of tears into the -scullery, and Doris, being remonstrated with by Honor, rushes up to -their bed-room in a fit of the sulks and locks herself in. - -On the first Sunday that comes round, however, the whole family is -electrified by an unexpected talent, not to say genius, for -boot-cleaning, which Becky suddenly proves herself to possess. - -It has been noticed that from the neighbourhood of the wood-cellar -where she keeps all the paraphernalia of brushes and blacking, sounds -of one of Moody and Sankey's hymns have been issuing, pitched in an -unusually high key, and when, a little later, Becky places all the -boots in a row at the foot of the stairs, saying with pride, "There, -miss; I think I've made them look proper!" the girls feel that the -joyful sounds are accounted for. - -Indeed, as Honor, Molly, Dick, Daisy, and Bobby are all seated -afterwards in the little village church, on a conspicuous bench -without any front, and right under the reading-desk, the eyes of the -eldest girl travel proudly down the row of neat-looking boots and -shoes, till they reach Bobby's little high-lows, when her pride -receives a sudden shock, for right across the left one she notices -for the first time an ugly-looking crack, which will of a surety -develop into a split in a day or two. It is to be feared that poor -Honor's attention wanders from the sermon more than once that -morning, her mind being harassed and distracted with the constantly -recurring thought, that unless Bobby is to go almost barefoot he will -certainly have to be re-shod before that week is out. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -A DISASTROUS VISIT TO A FROG POND. - -But before that day is out Honor finds that there are likely to be -more troubles before her than the want of new boots. For Daisy, who -has been trusted to the care of Dick and Bobby for a long walk in the -fields, comes home with flushed little cheeks, cold feet and hot -hands, and while declining in her quiet, determined way to touch a -morsel of anything to eat, begs, almost with tears in her eyes, for -cup after cup of tea. - -"The child looks really ill," says Mrs. Merivale anxiously. "I can't -think what can have made her feverish so suddenly." - -"What have you been doing with her?" demands Molly of her two -brothers as she cuts bread with an energy almost terrible to behold. - -Bobby mutters something unintelligible about "frogs," his mouth being -full of bread-and-butter at the moment. But at length, after a -cross-examination of both boys, it turns out that Daisy, who is a -lover of anything in the way of an animal from caterpillars upwards, -has been standing for a good half hour and more on the wet, marshy -banks of a large pond, admiring the frogs with which it abounds. - -"I suppose the time passed quicker than we thought," Says Dick -apologetically. "It was such fun, you know; for some of them came -quite close to us. I had a job to keep Daisy from going right into -the shallow water after one old fellow, who was sitting up on a kind -of plank." - -"He was washing his face," explains Daisy in a husky little voice. - -"He wasn't," says Bobby; "he was scratching his ear!" - -"I don't believe they've got any ears to scratch," remarks Dick -placidly. "You'd better pile it on, young Bob, and say he was wiping -his eyes with a fine cambric handkerchief." - -"You should have been more careful, Dick," puts in Mrs. Merivale. -"You know how susceptible Daisy is to cold; and I'm sure we thought -you might be trusted with her." - -The poor boy looks terribly taken down at this mild reproof, for his -devotion to his little sister is great, and there is nothing he would -not do for her sake. He almost gulps, therefore, as he explains -further that he had tried in vain to make the child leave the spot -when once he had remembered how imprudent it was for her to be -standing there in the damp. - -At this point there is an unexpected diversion, caused by Daisy -demanding to be put to bed--a most unprecedented request, it being, -as a rule, her one aim and object to keep _out_ of bed as long as -possible. - -She is taken off, therefore, by Doris and Honor, having first kissed -Dick, and stroked his cheek with her feverish little hand, saying: - -"It wasn't Dick's fault, you know. I wouldn't come away from the -frogs when he wanted me to; so you mustn't scold him, mother, dear." - -As the evening wears on the child seems to grow so much worse that -Honor consults her mother as to the advisability of sending for the -doctor; and in a short time Dick is despatched with a little note -begging him to look in as soon as possible. He soon returns, with -the information that the doctor is expected in soon, and that the -note would be given to him at once. The boy has hardly hung up his -cap in the hall when a firm, brisk step is heard on the gravel path -outside, and in another minute (the front door being open) Honor, who -is crossing the hall, finds herself shaking hands with the young -doctor in as friendly a manner as if she had known him all her life. - -"I was out at rather an important case," he says, making for the -staircase as a matter of course, "when your brother left the note; -but I believe I caught sight of him just as he was leaving my place. -I was only half-way up that dreadful hill, and not near enough to -call to him, or I might have ridden on at once. My horse was tired -though, and when I found there was no immediate hurry I thought I had -better walk up and see the little patient. Is she in bed, Miss -Merivale?" - -"Oh, yes," Honor replies, leading the way upstairs; "and as soon as -we got her into bed she became very feverish. And she is dreadfully -restless, poor child. I hope," stopping abruptly on the landing and -facing the doctor, "I do hope, Dr. Sinclair, there is no scarlet -fever about here. She is so dreadfully flushed, and so thirsty that -Doris--Doris is my eldest sister--and I have been getting quite -nervous." - -"Do not alarm yourself on that score," says the doctor reassuringly. -"I can honestly tell you that there has not been a case of scarlet -fever in this healthy village for years. No; your little sister has -always looked to me a delicate child, and to tell you the truth I -have noticed lately that she has certainly become more fragile than -she seemed to be when you first came here. We doctors notice these -things where others would not, perhaps. Now for my little patient," -and he walks into the room, closely followed by Honor, never noticing -the painful flush which his words have called to the poor girl's face. - -"She has certainly become more fragile since you came here!" - -Yes; these words fall on Honor's heart like lead, and cause it to -feel as heavy; for has it not been her constant and painful -reflection that ever since they left the old life poor little -delicate Daisy, with the exception of White-star's milk, has had very -little of the nourishing, strengthening food to which she has been -accustomed ever since her birth. - -After a brief introduction to Doris, Dr. Sinclair makes a grave and -careful inspection of little Daisy. Presently, with his cool firm -hand resting on the child's forehead, he turns to the girls, and -speaking in a slightly lowered voice he says: - -"There is no danger of its being infectious fever of any kind. She -is suffering from a severe form of low fever; a thing that with so -delicate a child is even more difficult to treat sometimes. Her -constitution has completely run down, and she has no strength to -speak of at all. Has she had no appetite? What have you been giving -her to eat?" - -Honor flushes again painfully as she answers in a low voice: - -"She has had a good deal of milk lately, Dr. Sinclair; and sometimes -a little fowl--and--eggs, of course. And Daisy is fond of -milk-puddings; and--and in fact she has a great many puddings of all -kinds--" and here the poor girl breaks off suddenly, feeling in her -heart that it is not a very extensive list of dainties she has -enumerated. - -"But meat," says the doctor, turning smilingly towards Honor; "what -meat has she had? She wants good steaks and chops and strong -beef-tea, jellies and a little good port, and that sort of thing. -Hasn't she cared for meat lately?" - -The tears fill Honor's eyes and a lump rises in her throat, but she -swallows it down bravely; and turning a little away from the keen -eyes of the doctor, says sadly: - -"My little sister used to have all these things in my father's -lifetime, doctor, but since he--since he died we have not been so -well off, and," with a pitiful little smile, "we have not been able -to afford all these nourishing things which we know dear little Daisy -ought to have." - -Honor's face is almost as white now as it was flushed before, for the -effort to speak thus has been great. She turns towards the window, -but before she can reach it the doctor is at her side with -outstretched hands. - -"Forgive me," he says simply; "I had forgotten all your trouble. -Please forgive my careless, and what must have seemed to you, my -heartless words." - -"Indeed," replies Honor gently, and accepting his proffered hand, -"there is no need of forgiveness. You only spoke the truth, though -it sounded a little cruel at the moment; but it was my fault in being -so silly as to feel it," and she hastily wipes away two obstreperous -tears which have forced their way from beneath her lowered eyelids. - -"It was my unfortunately straight way of speaking," resumes the -doctor moving towards the bed again; "speaking right out what I think -without considering the consequences." - -"Unfortunate," repeats Honor, raising her eyebrows; "I should call it -a very good way of speaking. I think it must be dreadful to lack the -courage to say what one really thinks." - -"Oh, yes, of course," the doctor agrees; "but there are always two -ways of saying a thing, Miss Merivale; and I assure you I often get -myself into hot-water with my bluntness of speech, especially with -touchy old gentlemen whose ideas as to their ailments, either real or -imaginary, do not always agree with mine. Now then, I will tell your -mother what to do for the little patient if you will take me to her, -and I will send round a draught directly I get home." - -"Mother will be very pleased to see you, Dr. Sinclair, but please -give me all the necessary directions about Daisy. Doris and I will -have to nurse her, so it will be better." - -"Certainly. But is your mother ill, then?" - -"No, not _ill_ exactly," replies Honor truthfully; "but she is very -delicate and extremely nervous, and we, my sisters and I, always save -her all the trouble and anxiety that we can. Indeed," she adds -hastily, seeing a slightly incredulous expression pass across the -young man's face, "she would not be strong enough to do _anything_ in -the way of nursing." - -"Hum!" mutters the doctor grimly, and following Honor walks down to -the drawing-room, where Mrs. Merivale, with smelling-bottle close at -hand, is reclining on the sofa. It does not take the clear-sighted -doctor long to sum up this lady's character. - -"Full of fads and fancies," he thinks to himself as he stands, hat in -hand, answering the questions she puts to him concerning the state of -her little daughter. - -So, preferring to make Honor responsible in all matters connected -with the sick-room, he takes his departure as speedily as politeness -will let him, saying as he shakes hands with her that he will look -round early in the morning. By that time poor little Daisy is -considerably worse, the fever having increased greatly during the -night. Dr. Sinclair looks grave, and thinking it better to be open -with his "sensible little friend," as he calls Honor to himself, -tells her plainly that the child will in all probability be seriously -ill. - -"Do not alarm yourself unnecessarily as yet," he says kindly to her -and Molly, who with widely opened eyes is scanning his face -anxiously, "she is very young, of course, and although her strength -is at a very low ebb she will very likely pull through it quite -nicely. It is wonderful what children do go through. So we must all -cheer up and hope for the best." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -DAISY'S ILLNESS. - -About an hour after the doctor has gone that morning the garden gate -is rather hastily opened, and there is a ring at the door-bell. The -Mr. Talboys, in the last stage of anxiety, have arrived to inquire -about their little favourite. - -"Now, my dear Miss Honor," they both cry, each seizing one of her -hands, "is there _nothing_ we can do--either for the poor child or -for yourselves, you know? I am quite sure there must be something, -if we can only think of it. Calves-foot jelly now, for instance. -Mrs. Edwards makes most delicious calves-foot jelly. She shall make -some this very day--eh, Brother Ben? Yes, we'll call at the -butcher's on our way home and see if they have any calves' feet, and -if not, why, they must kill a calf, that's all." - -Then the two old gentlemen explain that they had met Dr. Sinclair in -the village, and he had told them about poor little Daisy--the first -they had heard of it; and so they had come right off to inquire -without delay. - -"And now," says Mr. Benjamin, taking the initiative for once, "you -must remember your promise, Miss Honor, my dear, to let my brother -and myself know at once if you can think of anything--no matter -what--that we can do for you. Now Priscilla, for instance. Don't -you think she would be a help if we sent her over to you for a few -hours every day? I don't mean actually for the nursing, but to give -assistance in a general sort of way in the house, you know. She is a -good-natured, warm-hearted girl, is Priscilla, and I am sure would be -glad to turn her hand to anything--eh, Brother Ned?" - -"Just so, just so," agrees Mr. Edward, planting his stick firmly on -the floor; "a very excellent idea, Brother Ben; but of course it is -to be exactly as Miss Honor thinks herself. And now we must not -waste her time any more. You will give Daisy the flowers, with our -love, and--oh, yes, I remember--the boy will be round by and by with -a few little things that we thought might be useful. Good-bye, -good-bye!" - -And before Honor has a chance of saying a word of thanks off the -brothers trot together, waving their hands smilingly to her as they -look back from the gate. - -It is a long, long time, however, before poor little Daisy can touch -any of the tempting and strengthening things which the kind old -gentlemen are constantly sending up to the house, for she soon -becomes so much worse that a little of White-star's milk, with -soda-water, is almost all she lives upon for some time. It is, -indeed, an anxious fortnight for all while Daisy--the pet and darling -of the household--lies so weak and helpless, and, in the intervals -between the attacks of fever, so patiently on her bed of sickness. -Her little frame is so wasted, and her weakness so great, that to -those watching around her it sometimes seems as if each breath drawn -might free the spirit from the little frail body. - -Through all this period of sadness and trouble Dr. Sinclair proves -himself a most kind and untiring friend. Indeed, before many days -are over the good-hearted young fellow is on perfectly familiar terms -with the whole family, and besides attending to his patient he looks -after each one individually, from Mrs. Merivale, whom he gets -gradually to like and pity, down to young Bobby, whom he finds on his -arrival one day prostrated with a violent bilious attack, an almost -inevitable consequence of his having taken both dinner and tea with -the Mr. Talboys on the previous day. At length there comes a day -when the doctor looks even graver than usual as he stands by the bed -of his little patient, who has become in those weary days of watching -almost as dear to him as a little sister might have been. And his -affection is warmly returned by Daisy, who looks forward with -feverish excitement to his every visit, lying with her great blue -eyes--now seeming so much larger in the thin, pale, little -face--turning ever towards the door, and gleaming with brightness the -moment the step of her "dear old doctor," as she calls him, is heard -outside. Once in the room his presence has a singularly soothing -influence upon the child; and more than once has the sleepless, weary -little body succumbed to the almost magnetic touch of his large, cool -hand, when, resting it firmly but gently upon her forehead, he has -stood and watched the heavy eyelids droop and droop, until, if only -for a few minutes, his little patient sleeps. - -Dr. Sinclair says very little as he makes his examination on this -particular morning. But as Honor follows him downstairs he turns -into the empty sitting-room, and taking up his hat and stick from the -table suddenly faces her. - -"Can you bear to hear the truth?" he asks abruptly. - -Honor feels her heart tighten at these ominous words, but she meets -the doctor's keen inquiring gaze unflinchingly, and answers bravely: - -"I would far rather know the worst than be kept in suspense." - -Then the young man gently and pityingly tells her that the next -four-and-twenty hours will decide whether little Daisy will live or -die, and that almost everything will depend on the care and attention -she receives during that time. - -"Do not be afraid for me," she says a little brokenly. "I am not one -to give way, you know; and I am quite strong, and perfectly able to -sit up for many more nights yet. When will you send the draught?" - -"I shall not send it at all," he answers briefly. "I would far -rather that this exhaustion should end, as I still hope it may, in a -healthy and natural sleep. But sleep the child _must have_ somehow; -so I shall look in about five, and, with your permission, Miss Honor, -I shall remain during the night to help watch my little patient." - -"Oh, how good of you!" exclaims the girl. "It will be such a relief -to feel that I am not responsible, as it were; not that I am -afraid--please, don't think that." - -Having thus arranged, the young man hurries off to get in all the -work he can before returning to the Rookery. He has not got far on -his road, however, when suddenly turning a corner he runs straight -against the brothers Talboys, who are hurrying from the opposite -direction. Before the doctor can open his mouth to speak, one has -seized the lapel of his coat and the other his arm, and -simultaneously they pant out the same question: - -"How is she? How have you left her? My dear Dr. John, we have been -so anxious, and we have been watching for you this hour or more; we -felt we couldn't trouble the family by calling to inquire this -morning." And Mr. Ned, who, it is needless to say, has quickly -out-distanced his brother in speaking, shakes the doctor's arm -roughly in his anxiety. - -"I left the poor child in a very critical state, sir," he replies, -trying to conceal his impatience at being detained thus unexpectedly; -"but I am returning there at the end of the afternoon, and should -there be any change, either for better or worse, I will try and send -you up a message." - -"Not for the worse, Dr. John?" repeats Mr. Ben, while both the kind -old faces express much emotion. "You don't look for a change for the -worse, do you?" - -"No, no, my dear sirs; God forbid that I should look for it. But as -yet I cannot tell, though to-night must decide the case one way or -the other. We will pull her through yet, Mr. Talboys, if it be God's -will; and if not--" - -A lump rises in the young man's throat which prevents his finishing -his sentence, and shaking off Mr. Ben's detaining hand as gently as -he can, he tries to make his escape. But Mr. Ned hurries after him, -and once more seizing his hand cries, with tears in his eyes: - -"Save her, Dr. John! only save the child, and my Brother Ben and I -shall owe you a debt of gratitude that we can never sufficiently -repay." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -DICK'S GOOD NEWS. - -The message which Dr. Sinclair promised the Mr. Talboys is despatched -about ten o'clock the same night by his own errand-boy, whom he has -brought with him to the Rookery and installed in the kitchen, in case -of his wanting anything from his surgery during the night, as also to -make himself useful in any way that he can in the house, all Becky's -energies being concentrated on keeping the kitchen fire in. - -The message is one that brings tears of joy and thankfulness to the -eyes of the soft-hearted old gentlemen, for it tells them that their -little favourite sank into a deep sleep about seven, and that if it -continues, as Dr. Sinclair hopes and thinks it will, all danger will -be at an end. - -The old gentlemen retire to their beds, therefore, in a happier frame -of mind than that in which they had left them the same morning. A -long, anxious night of watching follows, through most of which Dr. -Sinclair sits patiently, his large hand clasped tightly by Daisy's -little thin one, until he becomes too cramped almost to move, though -not all the agony in the world would have induced him to do so at the -risk of rousing his little patient. - -But presently, with the dawn, comes the knowledge that the little -girl will live, for she still sleeps soundly. It is only then that -Honor (on the doctor quietly persisting in her doing so) consents to -give up her place to Molly, and with a thankful heart she goes to -take the rest which, now that the suspense is over, she is obliged to -confess that she sadly needs. As the doctor returns to his own house -that same morning, he looks in at the Rosery, and delights the two -old gentlemen with the good news he has to tell them. Not very long -afterwards the brothers walk up to the Rookery together, but -declining to stir an inch beyond the doorstep, make their inquiries -of Doris--who comes out to see them--in a hushed, low voice, and -having intrusted her with the lovely posy of spring flowers which -they have brought for Daisy, go softly down the steps and gravel-walk -on tiptoe, that no sound may reach the room above, where lies the -little sufferer. - -Daisy, now having taken a turn for the better, makes rapid progress -for a little while; but once having left her bed, an intense weakness -and lassitude set in which take the united strength of the whole -family to battle against. For Daisy will not eat, unless someone -stands over her and compels her to do so. She becomes fretful too; -and being too young herself to see the necessity of trying to take -the strengthening food that is brought to her at intervals, she gets -quite cross, telling them all plainly that it is very unkind to tease -her so, and that if she likes to give the greater part of her dainty -food to Timothy (who is always in close attendance at meal-times), -she doesn't see why she shouldn't. So Mrs. Merivale implores, the -girls coax and persuade, and the doctor scolds a little sometimes, -till finding he must exert his authority, he proceeds to do so in a -manner which astonishes no one so much as the little lady herself. - -The effort once made, Daisy's appetite improves little by little, -until at length she gives very practical illustration of that -sensible French proverb, "_L'appetit vient en mangeant_." - -Every one (with the exception of Timothy, perhaps) is delighted with -this improvement, and it is now that Honor has reason to be so -grateful to the Mr. Talboys; for when once the little invalid is -sufficiently convalescent to take such things, jellies, both sweet -and savoury, strong soups, good old port (a hint as to which, -perhaps, Dr. Sinclair is answerable for), and, indeed, all the -nourishing things that can be thought of, are showered down upon the -household for little Daisy's benefit. - -It is a subject for deep thankfulness to Mrs. Merivale and her elder -daughters that, in their days of adversity, they should have been -thrown amongst such generous, warm-hearted friends; for although no -one actually puts the thought into words, they all know full well in -their secret hearts that were it not for the generosity of their two -kind old landlords, little Daisy would never have thrown off the -terrible weakness which assailed her when the actual illness was a -thing of the past. - -The day of the Messrs. Talboys' first visit to their little favourite -was an occasion to be remembered by all; so overcome with emotion -were they at first, and then so almost boyishly delighted when they -found that Daisy could manage to chat with them a little. Both the -old gentlemen's handkerchiefs did active duty for a few minutes at -first, but they soon recovered their spirits in presenting the child -with the little gifts, with which, as a matter of course, they had -come laden. - -The time allowed for the first visit soon slips away, however; but it -is arranged that directly Daisy is well enough to sit up for any -length of time, the Mr. Talboys shall come to tea with her one day. -They take their departure quite satisfied therefore, looking back and -nodding and smiling so many times that Mr. Ned, who is gradually -backing towards the stairs, is only saved from shooting headlong down -by Doris, who, appearing on the scene just at the critical moment, -grasps his arms and restores his balance before he knows where he is. - -From this time the days go on monotonously enough. The doctor comes -and goes, though not every day now, of course; and the two old -gentlemen trot backwards and forwards, always bringing something for -the little invalid, until her mother and sisters have to tell them -that they are fast doing their best to spoil their pet. - -Household matters also go on very much as before; and now that the -greater trouble is lifted off their shoulders, the same little -everyday annoyances and vexations begin to harass and worry the girls -again. Clothes wear out, especially boots and shoes. Then Becky one -day, with her cap more awry even than usual in the excitement of the -moment, suddenly announces the startling and pleasing intelligence -that "There ain't no more coals in the cellar than what'll light the -kitchen fire to-morrow morning!" - -Honor, too, begins to worry terribly about the entire cessation of -Dick's studies. Daisy (before her illness) and Bobby, she and the -other girls could very well manage between them, but Dick they feel -to be altogether beyond them; and many an hour is spent by Honor at -night, tossing and turning, and wondering what can be done for the -boy. - -One Saturday, when Daisy is promoted to the sofa in the sitting-room, -and, domestic work being over for the day, the others are all seated -delightedly round her with work, books, &c., Dick suddenly bursts -into their midst, wildly waving his cap in the air. - -"Hooray! hoo-ray!" he shouts. "You'll never guess what news I've -brought you, not if you guess for a hundred years! No more bothering -and thinking for you, Miss Honor, as to how you can contrive to get -your reprobate brother a decent education! Hooray!" and up goes his -cap to the ceiling, greatly to the peril of the gas globes. - -When the boy can be persuaded to calm down and talk like a reasonable -being, the good news is gradually extracted from him, and proves to -be as follows:-- - -The night before being Friday, and therefore practice-night at St. -Luke's, Dick had been prowling round the church as usual, in the hope -of having a musical treat from the organ, which in the hands of a -promising young musician (a native of the village), pealed forth -harmonies which flew straight to Dick's music-loving soul. As he -entered the half-lighted church, and made for a secluded corner where -he was in the habit of enjoying the choir-practice unseen, he -suddenly ran full tilt against the vicar, who was emerging from the -vestry. - -"Ah, my lad!" exclaimed Mr. Bolton, with a little gasp at the -collision; "have you come to listen to our practice? Perhaps you -sing yourself, do you?" - -"A little, sir," answered Dick shyly, as they moved more towards the -light together; "but I am _very_ fond of it," he added with -enthusiasm. - -"Why, now I see you better," exclaimed the vicar suddenly, "I am sure -I know your face! Don't you come with your sisters to church every -Sunday and sit just about there?" pointing with his stick. "Ah, I -thought so; and I have noticed how very much you seem to enjoy the -music, and that you have a fine clear voice of your own." - -And then it ended in Mr. Bolton asking him how he would like to join -the choir; and afterwards, greatly to his delight, he was actually -given a stall in the chancel and allowed to follow the choir as best -he could, one of the boys good-naturedly sharing his music-books with -him. All through the practice Mr. Bolton kept a sharp look-out on -Dick, noting with what evident enjoyment the boy joined in anything -that he was familiar with, while listening with rapt attention to all -that he was not. - -After it was all over he came up to the boy, who (the choir having -dispersed) was standing aloof, wondering whether he ought to thank -the vicar for his kindness, and placing his hand on his shoulder -kindly said, "I have asked Mr. St. John to stay behind after the -others have gone, I want him to try your voice;" and motioning to the -boy to wait, he disappeared into the vestry. - -Mr. St. John, the organist, expressed himself delighted with Dick's -voice, and when at last after a little kind encouragement and -pressing on the part of the young man he sang with genuine feeling -and taste Handel's thrilling recitative, "There were shepherds -abiding in the field," the delight of both gentlemen knew no bounds. - -After questioning the boy a little Mr. Bolton closed the interview by -telling him to come and see him on the afternoon of the next day. - -"And now comes the cream of the whole thing!" cries Dick excitedly, -after having given the foregoing information in a series of short, -spasmodic sentences. - -"After I had told Mr. Bolton that I most distinctly _should_ like to -join the choir, he asked me all the questions imaginable about my -education, and, oh, ever so many things that I can't remember now. -But to continue (as the books say), I let out that you were all -worrying about my schooling having to stop, and directly I said that -he quite brightened up, and told me that if I liked he thought he -could be of service to me about that. It seems, you see, that he -generally gives his chief choir-boys about four pounds a year; but -that would not be of very much use to me, he said (I thought to -myself it just _would_, though). And so he proposed that in return -for my services--my _services_, mind--he would carry on my education -with his own boy and the two pupils he has living at the vicarage. -'The more the merrier, my boy,' he said; 'and Mr. Holmes and I can as -well tackle _four_ as three youngsters like you.' Mr. St. John is to -train my voice, of course; and now, which of you girls can make a -surplice? And, oh yes, I forgot, Mr. Bolton is coming to see you -about it all to-morrow, mother. There now! don't you think I have -done a good day's work? _I_ do!" And up goes the cap to the ceiling -once more. "Ah! you little thought," he goes on, suddenly calming -down--"you little thought what I meant some time ago when I said I -had a plan in my head about something; but, honestly, you know, I -didn't expect it would turn out in this stunning fashion. What I -intended doing was to offer myself for the choir, you see, because I -guessed they paid something, though I didn't know what. And that is -the reason I have been going to the practices so much lately, trying -every time to screw up my courage to speak to Mr. Bolton. But now, I -suppose, you girls and mother will all think the education plan the -best, though I must say I think it rather hard on a fellow. But -still," he adds magnanimously, "if it takes a load off all your -shoulders, of course I shall be very glad." - -It need hardly be said with what delight Dick's news is received by -every one, and as she lays her head upon her pillow that night, Honor -thinks of her brother's words, and feels that a "load" is indeed -lifted off her heavily burdened shoulders. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -DORIS'S "KNIGHT OF THE WOODS." - -It is a lovely, warm day at the beginning of June, and Doris, having -made the beds in conjunction with Molly, and afterwards drifted round -the rooms with a duster in a desultory sort of fashion which, had she -seen her, would have driven energetic Honor well-nigh crazy, presents -herself in the kitchen where her sister is engaged in certain -culinary matters. - -"That soup smells good!" she remarks, as Honor, pepper-caster in -hand, gives a final stir round the saucepan over which she is -bending, and turns to confront her sister. - -"There is not much in it besides the pea-flour, and a flavouring of -carrots and onions--oh, and the bacon bone, which has been stewing -ever since the early morning. But it's cheap," Honor winds up with a -sigh; "and really Dick's and Bobby's appetites seem to grow larger -every day, to say nothing of Becky's!" - -"Well, I came to tell you that I can not stay indoors any longer on -such a lovely morning as this. I know it's no use asking you to come -too, because you would be certain to find some very good reason -against it. So, as Molly is going to the vicarage to give Dolly -Bolton her lesson, I shall just take my book and go and sit in Lord -What's-his-name's woods for a time." - -"He is not a lord, I tell you," says Honor rather testily, "any more -than you or I. He is only a baronet.--Sir Something Somebody, I -forget what now. It was only the other day that Mr. Edward Talboys -was pointing out the house (The Court, I think he called it) to me, -and he said that the owner was nearly always abroad, and that it had -been shut up for years in consequence." - -"All the better for us," remarks Doris. "Well, I'm off. Good-bye, -Honor; if I find any flowers worth having, I'll bring you some." - -Walking briskly along, Vic bounding forward in advance, elated at the -idea of a prolonged hunt, Doris and she soon come to the woods, and -climbing over a little stile, strike off down a path to the right -which they both seem to be familiar with. Following this for some -distance, Doris turns suddenly to the left, and in another instant is -in the most lovely little glade imaginable. The girls have named it -their "parlour," for it is carpeted with a rich emerald turf, which -is dotted over at intervals with numberless wild flowers of the -woods. Several trees have been felled at this spot, and the -moss-covered stumps afford capital resting-places, especially one -stump, which has two straggling sort of boughs behind it, thus -forming quite an inviting arm-chair. - -Opposite this is a curiously-shaped tree, which when once climbed -into makes a luxurious lounge for anyone who is lazily inclined. - -There being no one to embarrass Doris on this particular occasion by -watching her ascent into the tree, she is established there in a very -few seconds, and ordering Vic (greatly to the animal's surprise and -indignation) to "lie down," she opens her book and leans back -comfortably in her leafy couch. The minutes fly quickly, and the -book being an interesting one, Doris hardly raises her eyes from it -until a whole hour has sped away. Not till then does she become -aware that Vic has entirely disappeared from view, and is not to be -heard any more than seen. Doris sits up and looks round, with no -satisfactory result, however; and she is just screwing up her mouth -to whistle, when she is startled by a shrill cry away in the -distance, followed by a shout in a man's voice of "Drop it, drop it, -you brute!" - -Then in another moment Vic, with a young rabbit in her strong jaws, -bursts through the thicket to the right, runs across the glade, and -is at once out of sight again. She is closely followed by a tall, -broad-shouldered young fellow, who, while making one last abortive -attempt to rescue the unfortunate rabbit from its captor, catches his -foot in a straggling briar and measures his length on the soft turf, -almost at Doris's feet. - -"Now or never!" thinks the girl to herself, preparing to descend--for -with an exclamation which would doubtless have been suppressed had he -guessed his close proximity to a lady, the young man commences to -pick up first himself and then his hat. - -With a desperate jump Doris alights safely on the stump below; but, -as with a little less caution she prepares to leave that also, an -unkind branch above hitches itself into one of the bows of her hat -and whisks the whole erection off her head, so that when the young -man suddenly turns round he finds himself confronted by a hatless -young lady, who has apparently sprung from nowhere! They both look -up at the hat, then they look at each other, and burst into a merry -laugh. - -Lifting his hat, which he has just replaced on his head, the young -fellow says, "Really I must apologize for my very abrupt appearance. -I had not the least idea that anyone was here. I hope I did not -startle you very much. May I be permitted to inquire if you have -dropped from the clouds?" - -Doris indicates with a wave of her hand the place from which she has -descended, and without paying attention to the words addressed to her -says, "O, I wish you had been a little quicker! Do you think the -poor thing was dead?" - -His manner changes the moment he sees the genuine anxiety in the -young face looking up at him, and he answers gently, "O, yes, I think -so, certainly; and even if not then, I am very sure it must be dead -now. I wish too that I could have been quicker, though for my own -personal comfort I was rather disastrously so. I am afraid it is no -use going after them now. It is a game little dog: does it belong to -you?" - -"Yes, the wretched little creature! Who would have thought of her -going off hunting like that? I told her to lie down too." - -An amused twinkle comes into the young man's eyes. "You could hardly -expect her to do that, I think," he says, "especially in a place like -this. It would not be in dog's nature to do it, you know. Have you -been here long?" - -"Well, yes, I suppose I have," says Doris, glancing furtively at her -hat, which is wholly out of her reach. "My book was interesting, and -I forgot all about time and Vic too. I suppose it _was_ hardly -reasonable to expect her to keep quiet all that time." - -"I think so," says her companion with a smile. "Let me put in a word -for her and intreat your pardon on her behalf. But dear me, how -thoughtlessly I am behaving! allowing you to stand bareheaded in the -sun and never making an attempt to recover your hat for you." - -"It _is_ rather hot," remarks Doris somewhat reproachfully. "The sun -penetrates even this shady nook after a time;" and then she watches -with keen interest the jumps and snatches which are being made at the -refractory hat. "We call this our 'parlour,'" the girl goes on. -"Isn't it pretty here? But I really think you had better get up on -one of those stumps. I don't think you will ever get it down with -your stick." - -This advice being followed, the hat is captured in due course of time -and handed to its owner. Then jumping down he says, "O, your -'parlour' you call it? Well, I am sure it is a very lovely one. How -beautiful those shadows are! Do you know these woods well? do you -often come here?" - -"Yes, pretty often," replies the girl briskly. "Have _you_ ever been -here before?" - -"O yes, I know the place well; in fact I spent a good part of my -boyhood here. Will you think me very unpardonably curious if I ask -your name, and how long you have been living in Edendale? I know Sir -Charles Ferrars, and I don't remember his having ever spoken of any -new arrivals; and he generally keeps himself _au courant_ with the -affairs of the neighbourhood, though he seldom honours it with his -presence. That is why I ask." - -"No, I don't suppose he _would_ have spoken of us even if he had been -at the Court when we came here," says Doris a little bitterly. "We -didn't arrive here with a flourish of trumpets exactly. But I am not -paying attention to your questions. My name is Doris Merivale, and -we have been here, let me see, rather more than four months, or -_about_ four, I think. Now, I think you ought to tell me _your_ -name. One good turn deserves another, you know." - -"Exactly. My name is Ferrars--Lancelot Ferrars," he says carelessly -and a little absently. "In fact I am a distant relation of Sir -Charles." - -"Oh," says Doris, and subsides into silence. - -"Merivale!" repeats Mr. Ferrars softly to himself. "Have you an aunt -living in London, Miss Merivale, by name Lady Woodhouse? I am sure I -have seen your face somewhere before, and I can only think that it -was in a frame on one of her tables." - -"Very likely," remarks the girl sadly. "She used to be rather fond -of talking about her eldest niece, who was to have been presented at -the first drawing-room this season. Yes, she is our aunt. And so -you know her? Did she tell you of our come-down in the world?" - -"She told me," says Mr. Ferrars, looking kindly at the flushed face, -which showed the girl's bitter thoughts and emotions, "of the sudden -misfortunes of a sister and her family--not of any _come-down_, as -you express it. One need not necessarily come down with adversity, -you know." - -Doris looks gratefully at him, then swallowing the lump in her throat -she says, trying to smile, "No, perhaps not; but it makes one very -cross and discontented, I think." - -"Does it? You do not look either the one or the other, so far as I -can see." - -"O, you don't know what I am at home," says the girl shaking her head -gloomily. "Now, although I have certainly enjoyed my morning out -here, I have an uncomfortable sort of feeling (conscience, I suppose) -that I ought to be at home domesticating. But I am not above -confessing that I cordially _hate_ anything of the kind; and so I was -wicked and played truant and left poor Honor to do all the work by -herself." - -"Honor!--what a pretty name!" says Mr. Ferrars, while he -industriously peels off the bark from a little stick. "Is she your -domestic?" - -Doris breaks into a rippling laugh. "Honor is my sister," she says, -"and the dearest old girl in the world." - -"Is she much older than you?" - -"Older?---she is _younger_ than I am!" exclaims Doris, fairly -laughing out this time. - -"I beg your pardon," begins Mr. Ferrars, looking a little vexed, "but -I thought I understood you to say 'old girl' in reference to your -sister just now." - -"O, yes, I daresay I did," replies Doris checking her laughter; "but -that is a way we all have of speaking of her. She seems like a -little mother to us all, and appears to take a delight in all those -things which _I_ hate. Honor has always been the industrious one of -the family, and it was just the same in the school-room. Miss Denny -(our late governess) used to complain dreadfully of my laziness over -my lessons; and although I was supposed to be 'finished,' and was -going up to town for my first season, I am _sure_ I couldn't speak a -whole sentence in French without at least two mistakes. I used to -tell them all not to bother about me, because I had made up my mind -to marry a duke after I was presented and had 'come out;' then, you -see, I could have done just as I liked, and should always have had -everything done for me." - -"You couldn't have had French spoken for you though," objects Mr. -Ferrars smiling up at the girl, who is seated in state in the -arm-chair; "and I fancy even a duchess would sometimes be called upon -to speak another language than her own. Would _nothing_ less than a -duke do?" - -Doris shakes her head solemnly. - -"I had _quite_ made up mind to be a duchess, nothing more nor less. -But that is all at an end now," she adds with a little sigh. "I -suppose I shall remain plain Doris Merivale to the end of my days." - -"O, I don't know; why should you?" - -"Well, you see, all chance of a duke or anybody of that sort is quite -at an end now, and no ordinary person would care to have me." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I am such a useless sort of girl. Now, Honor, and even -Molly (Molly is another of my sisters), would I think make good wives -for poor men, because they seem to be able to turn their hands to -anything, whereas every single thing I undertake, no matter what it -is, is bound to fail. No, it's no use. I must make a good marriage -or live and die an old maid. Aunt says that is all I am fit for, and -she ought to know." - -"Which, a good marriage or an old maid?" the young man inquires -mischievously. - -Doris suddenly stops and laughs. - -"What dreadful nonsense I am talking!" she says half apologetically, -and blushing a little. "I never can stop myself when I once begin, -and I get dreadfully scolded at home for it. It is really quite an -event to have someone to talk to though, out of the family I mean; -and we are so horribly dull at home. I hope you don't think me -dreadfully silly?" - -"Silly! why should I?" says Mr. Ferrars kindly. "On the contrary I -like to hear anyone talking naturally, and I assure you I have been -very much interested in all that you have told me. Are you fond of -pictures?" - -"Yes; that is, I like looking at them _very_ much, but I don't -understand them in the least. Honor is the one for that sort of -thing." - -"Does your sister paint, then?" - -"Yes, she really paints well, I believe; and just before poor father -died, and we became so horribly poor, she was going to have lessons -from some good artist. But of course it all came to nothing. Poor -Honor was bitterly disappointed." - -"I am _sure_ she must have been," says Mr. Ferrars feelingly. "I -know what I would have felt under the circumstances." - -"Why, do _you_ paint, then?" inquires Doris, opening wide her bright -blue eyes. - -"Yes, oh yes; I paint a little," he answers smiling. - -"Then you are an artist, I am sure!" exclaims the girl eagerly. "I -was trying to settle in my own mind whether you were in the army or -an artist. I was sure it was one of the two. Ah, you wretched -little creature, here you are at last!" - -This last remark is addressed to Vic, who with depressed tail and -ears has suddenly appeared before them, looking guilty to the last -degree. - -"Don't scold her now, poor creature!" says Mr. Ferrars, stroking the -dog's head encouragingly. "You promised to let her off, don't you -remember?" - -"Very well," says Doris, "I'll forgive her this time. Good -gracious!" she exclaims after a little pause, "just look where the -sun has got to. Why it must be one o'clock or more!" - -"It is a quarter past," says Mr. Ferrars consulting his watch; "and -that reminds me if I don't put my best foot foremost I'll not catch -my train." - -"Are you leaving Edendale then?" - -"Yes, I am only passing through the place; but I could not resist -taking a walk in the woods on this lovely morning. Are you in a -hurry too?" - -"My goodness, yes!" exclaims Doris excitedly, "I ought to have been -home ages ago." - -"I am so sorry," says Mr. Ferrars holding out his hand, "that I -cannot accompany you home; but I fear it is impossible. I shall hope -to meet you, however, some day at your aunt's. Good-bye, and thank -you for the pleasant hour's talk we have had, and which I have -thoroughly enjoyed." And first stooping to pick up Doris's book from -the grass, on which it has been lying unnoticed ever since it fell -there, he lifts his hat and walks away at a brisk pace, looking back -once, before he turns off the path, to smile and wave his hand to her. - -"A nice unaffected little girl," thinks Lancelot Ferrars to himself -as he walks quickly towards the station. "I hope I shall see her -again some day, poor child!" - -And Doris, as she calls Vic to follow her, says softly to herself, -"Lancelot! Lancelot Ferrars! What a pretty name! And what a nice, -gentlemanly fellow he seems. Just the sort of man poor father would -have liked, I think. I wonder if I shall ever see him again. I -suppose not." - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -HONOR ANSWERS AN ADVERTISEMENT. - -When Doris gets home she finds them all seated at dinner, partaking -of the pea-soup, which appears to be popular. Honor and Molly seem -to be rather elated about something concerning themselves, and Doris -is inclined to be put out at the scant attention they give to the -account of her adventure in the wood. - -Only Dick and Mrs. Merivale appear at all interested in her story; -the former beginning without loss of time to tease his sister about -her "knight of the woods." When there is once more a little quiet, -it transpires that the postman has arrived in Doris's absence, and -besides bringing letters for Mrs. Merivale and Molly, from Hugh -Horton, telling them of his having obtained his commission, and of -the probability of his leaving soon for Ireland after all, there is -one for Doris from her aunt, and also a newspaper with an -advertisement marked with a large cross in red ink, to which Lady -Woodhouse begs Honor will give her particular attention. - -This is to the effect that persons with any knowledge of painting can -easily earn a pound weekly, by painting on tin--the latest novelty in -art, and greatly in demand. Then the advertisement goes on to say -that by applying at a certain place in the town, those desirous of -taking up this very remunerative employment can be instructed in this -branch of art in two lessons, at one-and-six each. - -"So you see I have made up my mind to go and inquire about it all -this very afternoon if I can get away," says Honor folding up the -paper. "Just think, if I can earn a pound a week, what a difference -it will make to us! With that and what Molly makes by her teaching, -we shall really be getting along quite famously. O, and that reminds -me: have you told Doris about your probable new pupil, Molly?" - -"No, but I was just going to. It seems that some new people have -taken the house opposite the Vicarage, and Mr. Bolton has spoken to -them about me. There are several children, I believe, and he seems -to think that if I get the eldest girl on well (if I have her at all, -that is) I may have the others when they are old enough. I fancy -they are not very aristocratic sort of people: retired bakers or -something, but they have lots of money, so I shall hope to get good -terms. I shall have to bring all the dignity I can muster to the -fore, I expect, for Mr. Bolton said in his quaint, quiet way that he -was 'afraid they were not very good children from all he heard;' so -if he confesses to that much you may depend upon it they are pretty -bad. I am going to call on Mrs. Hallam, that is the bakeress's name" -("_Molly!_" exclaims her mother), "to-morrow," continues that young -lady unmoved, "so then I shall know all about them. O, by the by, -Hugh says he shall very likely run down to-morrow afternoon. What -does aunt say, Doris?" - -"Aunt?" says Doris, who has been absently looking out of the window. -"Oh, she tells me she may want me to join her next week; but uncle's -business is still a little uncertain, so it may not be till the week -after. She has sent me five pounds to get myself a few new things. -Kind of her, isn't it?" - -"O, you lucky girl!" exclaims Molly. "How I wish someone would give -me five pounds to rig myself out with!" - -"You will be _earning_ as many soon, Molly, and that will be better," -says Doris with a little flush. "If I were not such a poor useless -creature I might be at home doing something too, instead of going -away from everybody for ages!" and to everyone's surprise the girl -suddenly bursts into tears. - -The general consternation caused by this unexpected end to the -conversation does not prevent plenty of loving sympathy being shown -towards Doris. Poor little light-hearted Doris! who, though -overwhelmed with joy at first at the prospect of travelling, now -discovers down in the depths of her soft little heart a feeling which -amounts to nothing less than dismay, now that she is brought face to -face with the fact that before many more days have passed over her -head she will have to say good-bye to the mother, sisters, and -brothers from whom she has never before been separated beyond a week -or two. - -Molly comes to the rescue presently with one of her short, practical -remarks, having first suppressed Dick, whom she--not Doris -fortunately--has heard to mutter something to the effect that his -sister "is fretting because she will never see her 'knight' again." - -"Well now, cheer up, my girl," she says briskly. "Eighteen months or -even a couple of years will slip round and carry you with them before -you have time to look about; and just think what an awfully jolly -time we shall all have when you come home again! Now," proceeding -coolly to tuck up her frock and pin it behind her, "who's coming with -me to help Becky clear away the dinner things and prevent her -smashing them all? O, dear me, Dick, how you do worry! _Do_ go out; -there's a good boy. Now, Honor, if you want to catch that next train -you had better be off to dress. We will leave mother and Daisy to -rest quietly together, and Doris will come with me, won't you?" - -Thus running on she carries her sister off with her, and it is not -long before plenty of laughter is heard from the regions of the -kitchen, Becky having retired into the depths of the wood-cellar to -black Honor's boots. - -No. 3 Prospect Road, which is the address given in the advertisement, -does not look a very flourishing sort of place in Honor's idea. -There are a few little insignificant pictures in the window, chiefly -water-colour and crayon drawings, very indifferently executed; a -portrait of a severe-looking lady, half of it very dark, half -restored presumably to its former state; some frames, looking rather -the worse for wear; and a few artists' colours scattered about -indiscriminately. Behind these a dirty-red curtain is drawn, giving -a sort of private air to the interior of the shop. - -Honor had expected to see some imposing studio, where perhaps -photography was carried on also, and it is with a feeling of -disappointment that she turns the handle of the door, after having -looked once more at the advertisement to make sure she has made no -mistake. - -As the girl enters the shop, a fat little man emerges from behind -some lumber which is piled up at the other end, and coming forward -and rubbing his hands begins to talk very quickly, with a strong -German accent. Gesticulating and chattering the whole time, Mr. -Nathan (that being this gentleman's name) proceeds to show Honor some -specimens of the painting on tin, which are certainly very pretty. -Some, about a foot square, representing charming little winter -scenes, consisting merely of a foreground of snow, innumerable firs, -a frozen stream with a rustic bridge, a church, through the windows -of which a comfortable-looking red light streams, and a background of -peaky snow-clad hills. Others represent waterfalls, with the usual -surroundings, and others are simple rustic scenes. - -Now, Honor is quick enough to see that beyond the knowledge of -preparing the tin for the application of the colours, there is no -instruction needed at all; at least for herself, and in the course of -conversation she is more than once led to suspect that she knows more -about painting than Mr. Nathan himself. So she plainly tells the man -that the two lessons mentioned in the advertisement will not be -required in her case, and that if he will supply her with the tin, -and tell her the secret of the preparation, that will be all she -needs, finishing up with the inquiry of how many little pictures he -expects her to do for the stated pound a week. - -"I have everything else that I require," says Honor, anxious to -conclude the bargain. "You will see by these that I know something -about painting;" and with very pardonable pride she places before the -astonished little man several sketches which her former master, who -was no mean artist, had pronounced "excellent." - -Mr. Nathan looks with supreme and undisguised astonishment first at -the sketches and then at Honor. Then he pulls himself together, and -with many "hums" and "haws" and waves of the hands he says, "But -pardon me, my dear young lady, will you be so obliging as to look -once again at my advertisement, which I fear you do not rightly -comprehend?--or stay, I have a paper here;" and running his dirty, -fat forefinger down one of the columns he at length stops and points -out to Honor the words, "One pound a week may be earned," &c. &c. -"You see, mees, it does not say I myself will give one pound. I give -two lessons, one-and-six each; then my pupils paint the views, four, -six, what they please, and I put them in my window and on my counter, -so; then customers will come, and one will say 'I will buy this,' and -another 'I will buy that.' And sometimes many are sold, and -sometimes also _none_. It depends much"--with a little shrug--"on -the merit of the painting, without doubt; and therefore, my dear -young lady, yours would sell well, _ve-ry_ well, I should say. The -commission I charge is not much, and--" But here Honor, who begins -to see through the old impostor, interrupts him, and moving towards -the door says, "Thank you, I think it is useless to continue the -conversation. I understood from your advertisement that you could -offer employment for which you would give certain payment. But it -seems to me," she adds with justifiable warmth, "that the only -_certain_ part in the matter is the fact that your possible pupils -would be paying _you_ for the two lessons, which I notice are made -rather a point of in the advertisement. Good-afternoon!" And poor -Honor, trembling with suppressed indignation and disappointment, -hurries out of the shop and is out of sight before the old man can -recover from his astonishment. Thoroughly disgusted and discouraged -by the result of her expedition to the town, poor Honor gets back to -the station with all possible speed, and before long is safely -ensconced in a corner of a third-class carriage, where, finding -herself alone, she indulges in a good cry, which somewhat relieves -her feelings; though she cannot, poor girl, forget the dreadful fact -that the three shillings expended on her fare there and back have -been utterly wasted and thrown away. She has dried her eyes again, -and is trying, with her usual common sense, to reconcile herself to -the loss, which cannot now be helped, when suddenly, just as the -train is about to start, the door of the compartment is flung wide -open, and a stout little elderly gentleman shoots past her right to -the end of the seat opposite, while a good-natured-looking porter, -who is standing on the step closing the door, says, touching his cap, -"There weren't no time for the 'firsts,' sir; they be right at the -other end." "Thank you, thank you," gasps the old gentleman, sitting -up and straightening his hat, "this will do very nicely, very nicely -indeed. Dear me, now, what a fortunate, I may say providential -thing, that my brother was not with me! Why, bless my soul, if it's -not Miss Honor!" And leaning forward Mr. Edward Talboys, for he it -is, seizes the girl's two hands and shakes them up and down in such a -kind, affectionate manner that Honor, still feeling a little -hysterical, has hard work to keep her tears from rising again. "And -now," says Mr. Ned, who, though he appears not to do so, notices the -girl's pale cheeks and swollen eyelids--"now, you must tell me where -you have been and what you have been doing. Wait a minute, I mean to -have a guess. You have been, perhaps, to see your kind old friend -Mrs. Horton? or perhaps that very excellent old gentleman Mr. -Dobson--no, Hobson, who came down with you when you paid your first -visit to the Rookery?" Honor smiles and shakes her head. "Then -perhaps," says the old gentleman, with his head on one side, "you -have been doing a little shopping?" - -"No, not shopping, Mr. Talboys," says the girl with a tremulous -voice; and then, longing for a little sympathy, she tells the whole -history of the advertisement from beginning to end. - -Mr. Ned works himself into a regular heat over the story, and for -some time Honor scarcely knows which predominates--indignation at the -man or pity for herself. First he is for taking the next train back -again and giving Mr. Nathan "a good round piece of his mind," as he -expresses it. Then he calms down a little, and shaking his head -solemnly, says, "A hoax, my dear--nothing but a rascally hoax to -extort money. You may see the advertisements every day in some form -or another. The paper is full of them. Now, if only you had come -and asked our advice about it. But dear me, how should a young girl -like you know that there are such cheating rogues in the world!" -Then, after a few more remarks of a similar character, Mr. Talboys -leans back in his seat for a while quite lost in thought, and it is -not until they are nearing the little station of Edendale that he -rouses himself again. - -He startles Honor, who has also been wrapped up in her own thoughts, -by suddenly leaning forward and saying, "Now, can you find time, my -dear, to run up to us to-morrow morning--any time, any time after -breakfast that is convenient to yourself, you know? I am inclined to -be interested in this painting on tin of which you have been telling -me, and I should like to know more about it. I should like my -brother Ben to hear something about it too. With his artistic taste, -I am sure he will be deeply interested in the subject. Now, what -time would you like to fix, Miss Honor,--shall we say eleven? Are -you _quite_ sure that will be convenient?" Honor satisfying Mr. -Talboys on this point, they part outside the station gates; and while -the old gentleman trots off to the village on some -suddenly-remembered business, Honor, with a heart lightened and -cheered by his kindness and sympathy, goes her way towards home. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -THE MR. TALBOYS RESORT TO STRATEGY. - -On arriving at the Rosery the next morning Honor finds the two old -gentlemen waiting in the garden to receive her, both in an unwonted -state of excitement. For they have been arranging a little plot -together, which they are burning to disclose (partially) when the -right moment shall arrive. - -Mr. Edward had gone home the evening before with his thoughts running -on the tin painting, and pinning his brother Ben by the button-hole -without loss of time he told him of a plan which he had thought of -for Honor's benefit, and which only required discussion with him, Mr. -Benjamin, to be carried into instant effect. - -"And although I should still like to break Mr. Nathan's head with -this stick," says Mr. Edward to his brother, and shaking the said -stick menacingly, "I cannot help feeling grateful to the rogue, Ben, -for having, as it were, paved the way for our helping Miss Honor, -poor child, in a manner which cannot possibly hurt her feelings. -That was a good thought of yours, Ben, a capital thought, about -Spaull the picture-dealer. If this tin painting is to come into -vogue for a time--and I suppose it will from what Miss Honor said--he -will be just the man to place the paintings with; and of course we -must bind him over to strict secrecy as to our part in the business, -eh, Ben?" and Mr. Ned nudges his brother playfully with his stick. - -"Yes," answers Mr. Benjamin, nodding and smiling. - -"Why, bless me," adds Mr. Ned, "we shall have to do quite a nice -little piece of acting. But here comes Miss Honor. Now we shall see -what she says to our plan. Mind you must be very careful, Ben, not -to let the cat out of the bag--you run on at such a rate sometimes, -you know; and it would never do for her to think we were paying for -the paintings in the first instance, though of course it will be -quite the same to us when Spaull refunds the money." And here they -trot forward to open the gate for Honor, who has just reached it. - -After inquiring rather breathlessly as to the welfare of the roses at -the Rookery, and Molly's real, honest opinion about them, they dash -straight into the subject of the painting. - -"We have been talking it all over, Brother Ben and I, and it seems to -us that with your gift for painting, my dear, you might make a very -nice thing of this. Now, we happen to know a man in the -picture-dealing trade, a Mr. Spaull, a most respectable man, who -would be just the very person to suit our purpose; and what we -propose--" - -"Yes, what we propose," repeats Mr. Ben, nodding at Honor. - -"Is," resumes Mr. Ned, "that you shall paint so many pictures, -varying in size and style perhaps, for a fixed price, which will be -paid--be paid by--by--" - -"By the _party_," says Mr. Ben, frowning a little at his brother. - -"Exactly--by the party," repeats Mr. Ned. - -"Mr. Spaull," quietly suggests Honor with a smile. - -"Just so, just so--Mr. Spaull, of course!" cry both the brothers -together. "Dear me, how very warm it is this morning!" continues Mr. -Ned. "Did I say that this--er, this _person_ would pay for the -pictures at once, on completion, you know? and sell them at his, that -is to say, Mr. Spaull's convenience?" And Mr. Ned, concluding rather -abruptly, looks helplessly towards his brother for encouragement. - -"The fact is," remarks Mr. Ben, coming nobly to the rescue, "my -brother is apt to become a little confused when speaking of this -firm. There are partners--" - -"Yes, yes; partners!" cries Mr. Ned delightedly. "Two partners!" - -"_Three_," corrects Mr. Ben; "although only the one name, that of -Spaull, appears. I think my brother wants you to go up to the town -with him to-morrow, to the proper art shop there, where, he says, you -can provide yourself with the necessary materials, and get what -information you require respecting the preparation of the tin at the -same time." - -"Yes, that is exactly what I mean, my dear Miss Honor," says Mr. Ned, -nodding approvingly at his brother. "And while you are seeing to -_your_ business, _I_ will go and have a talk with Mr. Spaull. You -see, I think it will be so much more pleasant if you transact your -business with him _through_ me, as it were. So what do you say to -going with me to-morrow? When I say 'me,' of course I mean _us_. -Brother Ben will like to give his opinion as well, I am sure, and we -all know what a valuable one it is on a subject like this. Don't we, -Ben?" - -It is useless to try to describe poor Honor's delight and gratitude -at this kind thought of her old friends. As they all go down the -little drive together, she tries to say a few words of thanks, first -to one, and then to the other; but the brothers have so much to say -on their own account that she cannot get a word in edge-ways. When -they reach the gate, Mr. Benjamin takes Honor's hand, and tapping Mr. -Edward on the shoulder with his walking-stick, says: - -"My brother here is taking such an active part in the management of -this little affair, that I hope, my dear, you will allow _me_ to -purchase for you all the materials which you are likely to require; -merely as a set off against his part in the business, you know," he -adds hastily, "for I can see plainly that he will become quite -conceited if he has _everything_ his own way." - -Honor, with her almost over-scrupulous objection to accepting -anything which actually costs money, hesitates a moment, but she sees -such a look of disappointment creeping over the old man's countenance -that she quickly changes her mind, and thanks him for his kindness -with such a beaming face as to effectually set at rest any fears he -may have had at first of having offended her. - -As Honor walks home she takes herself to task about what some people -have called her _fault_ of independence. - -"I wonder whether I _do_ carry it too far sometimes," she says to -herself. "Mother and Molly say I do, and Molly at any rate has a -very fair amount of independence in _her_ composition. I suppose if -shown too much it amounts to ungraciousness, as I know it did with -dear Mr. Ben just now, though I do hope I made up for it afterwards. -Yes, I suppose I overdo it sometimes; and I know Dr. Sinclair thought -so the other day, when he spoke so kindly of there being plenty of -time for sending in his bill. I _know_ I answered him ungratefully, -and as if we had ten thousand a year at least, when he knows just as -well as I do, I daresay, that ten thousand pence is much nearer the -mark. I felt what an idiot I had made of myself, with my nasty, -false pride; for where in the world the poor man is to get his money -from at all _I_ can't see, unless anything really comes of this -painting and I can save up. Yes, it is all very well; but where, I -wonder, would I have got the money for the tin and things, if good -old Mr. Ben had not taken it upon himself to buy them. I am sure I -am thankful enough now that he told me he would, especially after -wasting those three shillings yesterday. O, dear me, I hope the Mr. -Talboys know how grateful I am to them! I wonder what would have -become of us all since we came here if it hadn't been for them. Ah, -well! I must try and remember in future that real, proper -independence is a perfectly different thing from the feeling which I -know has been growing on me lately, and which I am _sure_ now is -false pride. Aunt was quite right in what she said to me the other -day; I am afraid I do not consider the feelings of others enough -sometimes." - -Therefore it comes about that Honor has a softened manner with her -from this time. Not that it is in the girl's nature ever to be -anything but gentle and kind to every one around her. But, -nevertheless, there is a _something_ different now which causes her -mother to say, "Ah, poor girl! anyone can see what a load is lifted -from her shoulders, now that she has the prospect of making a little -money." - -And Doris says to Molly one day, "Honor is not so excruciatingly -particular in the spending of a penny or so as she used to be, is she -Molly? Poor old girl! I'm afraid the struggle to make the best of -our poverty has been a hard one for her---harder than we think, I -expect, for she is not one to _say_ much, you know. She never talks -openly about what she feels, as some people do." - -"No," says Molly. "Honor's a little brick, there's no doubt about -that; and it is plain to see that this painting, for which she is -sure to be properly paid, is an immense relief to her mind." - -It is now that the attic which the Horton boys had taken such pains -to fit up, comes to be thoroughly appreciated. - -Honor and the Mr. Talboys have paid their visits respectively to the -ironmonger's (where Mr. Benjamin was with difficulty prevented from -purchasing a whole roll of tin), to the art material shop, and to Mr. -Spaull's the picture-dealer. To this last, however, Mr. Edward -preferred going alone, telling his brother with a very palpable nod -and wink that he is sure Miss Honor will like to have a look at the -shops, and that it will save time, therefore, if they separate for a -while. - -Well supplied with everything she can possibly need, Honor now -snatches every spare moment and spends it in the "studio," painting -away with an energy which Doris and Molly declare takes their breath -away. Sometimes Daisy sits up there, cosily curled up in the most -comfortable arm-chair. But this does not happen very often, as the -smell of the oils and turpentine turn the child faint. - -Molly, however, who has taken to "reading herself up," as she calls -it, is often up there, and may be found in her favourite attitude -when particularly absorbed in anything--her elbows planted on the -table, and her fingers buried in her hair. - -Doris at this time is much taken up with needlework, her five pounds -having been expended chiefly in materials for underclothing, boots -and shoes, and other really necessary things for a prolonged visit -abroad. - -"I would far rather your aunt found you a little badly off as regards -dresses or hats, than in linen and such things," said Mrs. Merivale -sensibly. "Your aunt is a generous woman, and if she finds that her -present has been wisely spent, I do not suppose she will let you -suffer in the matter of dresses." - -So between them all they had managed to cut out these garments, and -Mrs. Merivale and Doris are busily engaged in making them, with -occasional assistance from the others. - -Doris, therefore, is often to be found upstairs also; and Honor and -Molly, having suddenly awakened to the necessity of their sister -being able upon her arrival on foreign shores to say a sentence or -two in French without utterly disgracing herself, they form a sort of -class, which Doris (under protest) is made to join. - -"And for one whole mortal hour," said Doris, complaining to Hugh -Horton afterwards, "did we sit like three noodles, hammering away at -French conversation, Molly with a huge dictionary at her elbow, and -both she and Honor pretending they liked it. You may imagine that -_my_ remarks were few and far between. They call it 'rubbing up' my -French, you know; and I'm sure it is all labour thrown away, for all -the rubbing up in the world, even with the best French polish, would -never make me express myself decently in any language but my own. -And to tell you the truth, Hugh," lowering her voice, "I am not -always so _very_ confident of doing that. It's dreadfully shocking, -of course, but none the less true." - -And so there is often quite an industrious party to be found up in -the attic studio, with the windows wide open, letting in the sweet -soft air, laden with the scent of the rich grass (so soon to fall -beneath the scythe), and the multitudes of early summer flowers; and -the girls feel that they are happier in their busy useful life, even -though there are still crosses and trials for all to bear at times, -than in former days, when living a life of luxury and ease. There is -one never-to-be-forgotten sorrow which all share, however, and though -some time has elapsed now since their kind and indulgent father -passed away, his memory is still as fresh as ever in their young -minds. It is, indeed, a common thing with them all, even still, to -study what probably would have been his wishes in settling little -matters concerning their own affairs, saying to themselves, "I wonder -if father would have approved," or "I think that would have pleased -father," showing, therefore, that the good influence of his gentle -though firm training still remains with them. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -TWO DEPARTURES. - -The month of June goes on auspiciously both out-of-doors and in at -the Rookery. Besides having brought the rose-trees to a state of -perfection, which charms and delights the Mr. Talboys beyond measure, -Molly has secured not only one, but two of the retired baker's -daughters for music pupils. Indeed, Mrs. Hallam is so charmed with -the progress that Violet and Lilian (who are really musical by -nature) are making in the hands of their clever little instructress, -that she, Molly, is promised the whole family (which is numerous) in -succession so soon as each one becomes old enough. - -To be sure, Violet and Lilian Hallam give poor Molly a good deal of -trouble between them, their tempers being anything but sweet; but she -is not a girl to brook the slightest disrespect or impertinence from -anyone, much less from a child who is under her own control for the -time being. The consequence is, that having found this out for -themselves in their very first lesson, and discovered that their -usual method of treating their governess is not practicable in Miss -Merivale's case, they take it out of each other. On duet days -especially they often actually come to blows, and on these occasions -the music, it is to be feared, sometimes obtains scant attention; -Molly's whole time being taken up in preventing the sisters from -doing one another an injury. - -Their mother they rule with a rod of iron. The head nurse, who has -been with Mrs. Hallam since the birth of her first child, is in a -chronic state of giving notice, though she is generally persuaded -into staying on by her master and mistress, and yet the young rebels, -though such termagants in a general way, have at heart warm and -affectionate natures. Not one governess has ever been known to stay -beyond the first quarter, so that Mrs. Hallam, coming suddenly into -the room one day and seeing her daughters hanging round Molly, to -whom they have taken an immense fancy, throws up her hands in -amazement. - -"I cannot think how you manage them so well, Miss Merivale! You -never give way to them, and yet they always seem as docile as lambs -with you, and they are so fond of you too! I never can get them to -attend to a word _I_ say. Their father is the only one in the house -that can manage them." - -Molly smiles, and while pinning on her hat mutters something about -their mother being "too indulgent perhaps." She does not say what is -really in her mind, however, that the very fact of her not giving way -to her obstreperous pupils is probably the reason that they are -better behaved with her than anyone else. - -Besides the Hallams, Molly has one or two other pupils in prospect, -so that before long she hopes to help very considerably with the -household expenses. As it is, indeed, she contributes a nice little -sum from time to time, her pride and delight being unbounded when, -having completed her first course of lessons to Dolly Bolton, she -brings home her first earnings and pours the little pile of money -into Honor's lap. - -Honor also is now making a steady little income every week by her -painting on tin, which has become most popular, especially in the -immediate neighbourhood. Besides the stipulated number of landscapes -for Mr. Spaull, which are taken up at stated intervals by Mr. Edward -Talboys with most elaborate care, Honor has a good many odd orders; -for the old gentlemen were so charmed and delighted with the effect -of the pretty little scenes that they immediately made a round of -calls, with a view to showing their specimen to all their friends and -perhaps getting some pupils for their _protégé_. - -The time is now rapidly drawing near when Doris is to join her aunt -in town, previous to their departure for the Continent. - -The weather having taken a capricious fancy to be extremely hot, in -fact more like late July or August than June, the girls sit -out-of-doors a great deal with their work and their books. - -Although no one speaks openly of it, there is a feeling with them all -that Doris cannot be made too much of in these last few days before -her long separation from them. Doris's pillow is often wet with the -tears which she quietly sheds at night, when she thinks Honor is -asleep, at the thought that to-morrow will bring her one day nearer -to the parting she so much dreads. - -Time marches on, however, in his inexorable fashion, and the last day -having really come, all go about their work with an elaborately -indifferent air, each one making heroic efforts to keep up for the -others' sake. The whole family (with the exception of Mrs. Merivale, -who has taken leave of her daughter at home quietly) is now standing -by the door of a third-class compartment in the London train, in -which Doris, surrounded by small packages, is standing up, with -tear-bestreamed face, a large smut on her forehead, and a general -limpness which extends itself to the handkerchief in her hand, which -just now is doing double duty as it were, as are those of all the -others. - -Doris has been kissed by each one in turn several times, and the -usual last questions have been asked and answered, and now the guard -comes along with his key, and having locked the door quietly moves -them all back a little; with no lasting result, however, for they are -all crowding round again the moment he is gone. - -"Are you _sure_," says Honor with a trembling voice, "that you have -got everything?" - -"O yes, _everything_!" answers Doris with a gasp of despair. - -Honor looks round incredulously, for each one has been carrying to -the station a bag, basket, or something belonging to her sister, and -as her careful eye travels round she suddenly pounces on Molly, who -is discovered still clinging desperately to Doris's umbrella, her -thoughts being entirely taken up with the direful fact that the -dreaded moment has indeed arrived at last! The umbrella is handed in -through the window, and kissing being now rather a daring thing to -attempt after the stentorian "Stand away there!" of the guard, Honor -and Molly are reaching up their hands for a final squeeze, when -Doris, first feeling wildly in the little pocket of her jacket, then -diving after her purse, exclaims: - -"Good gracious! my ticket; who's got it? I haven't!" - -In the excitement of the search Doris overturns her little luncheon -basket, and, oblivious of the fact that the cork of her travelling -flask has come out, and the milk it contains is quietly spreading -itself out on the cushion until it comes to a little ridge in the -leather, where it collects in a nice little pool, she leans -distractedly out of the window to see the result of the hurried -search which they are all making in all sorts of impossible places. - -But at this critical moment, and just as the guard is about to blow -his whistle, Dick, who has strolled off to look at the -advertisements, appears on the scene, and Honor, suddenly remembering -that she had intrusted him with the money for the ticket when first -they arrived at the station, rushes at him and grasps his arm wildly. - -"The ticket!" she gasps; "you've forgotten to take the ticket!" - -"I haven't," returns Dick, much injured. "I thought I gave it to -you. Oh, here it is; better late than never!" and with supreme -indifference at the anxiety depicted on every face he hands it up to -Doris, and at the same moment the train moves. - -They all run along beside it for a second or two, but its pace soon -gets beyond theirs, and they are left disconsolately on the platform, -waving their hands to a white handkerchief which is fluttering from -one of the windows, and is literally all of Doris that is now to be -seen. - -* * * * * * * * * - -That same afternoon Hugh Horton runs down to bid them all farewell -before leaving for Ireland the next day. He is naturally not in the -best of spirits, and looks so gloomy and melancholy while reminding -Molly of her promise regarding the slippers, that that young lady -tells him plainly that if he cannot look a little more cheerful over -it he shall not have them at all. - -"Don't be unkind, Molly," remonstrates Honor. - -"I'm not," replies the girl, reddening; "besides he is not going to -Kamtchatka. I said I would make them if he went there, or to some -other outlandish place." - -"It does not matter, Molly, _where_ one goes particularly, when -leaving all one loves behind;" and Hugh sighs heavily. "It would be -just as painful to me to take up my quarters in the next village -merely, if I knew for certain that I should not see my mother or--or -any of you for some long time to come." - -Molly looks a little abashed. - -"But you will have leave," she says. - -"O yes, of course I shall have leave; but not very often, I suppose." - -"You must write to us as often as you can," says Mrs. Merivale -kindly. "You know I take just as much interest in all you boys as if -you were my own." - -Molly strolls down to the gate with Hugh when he has taken leave of -all the others; but he is very silent, and she, thinking that perhaps -she has hurt his sensitive feelings with some of her random talk, is -silent also. - -In a minute or two Hugh rouses himself, however, and says: - -"Molly, I have never told you how awfully glad I am that you are all -getting on so much better now, as to funds and all that sort of -thing, you know. I do think you have all shown yourselves such good -girls in having met your misfortunes so bravely; and I cannot tell -you how glad I feel that you have all had your reward, and have a -little more peace and comfort now than you had. Mother is always -talking about you all, and saying how much she admires the spirit and -unselfishness with which you turned to and made the best of -everything." - -"_I'm_ not unselfish!" cries Molly, looking surprised. "Why, I'd -take a footstool or an easy-chair from anybody! It's no use saying I -don't care about being comfortable, because I _do_!" - -Hugh takes no notice of this interruption, but goes on as if nothing -had been said. - -"Yes, we were talking about you last night, mother and I, and what do -you think she said about you, Molly, particularly?" - -Molly shakes her head. - -"I don't know," she says. - -"She told me she considered that you had had quite as much to do with -influencing me for good as she had. I told her of some of your -lectures too, and she says you are a right-minded, good girl, and she -admires you for what she calls your 'spirit' in taking me to task as -you did." - -Molly blushes up to the roots of her chestnut curls at this praise -from one whose opinion is to be valued. - -"Did you tell her about the _dust_?" she inquires. - -"Of course I did!" replies Hugh, laughing, "and she enjoyed the story -immensely. And now, Molly, you will write to me while I'm away, -won't you? You can lecture and blow me up as much as you like, only -let me go away thinking that my little mentor will still take the -same interest in scapegrace Hugh that she has hitherto." - -"Yes, I will, Hugh; here's my hand upon it. Of course it is all -nonsense," she adds suddenly; "but if--if I have really been of any -use in--in urging you on, you know, I am _very_ glad. And now, would -you like me to tell you a secret? Well, the slippers are more than -half done already! Good-bye; be a good boy!" and without waiting for -another word she runs back to the house, never stopping till she has -reached the steps, when she turns round and waves her hand with -rather a feeble smile. - -She is not _quite_ sure whether it is Hugh still standing where she -left him, or whether it is only the gate-post, for there are two -large tears trickling down the now saddened and softened face of -plain-speaking little Molly, which seriously obstruct her vision. - -There is quite a feeling of desolation all through the house after -this second departure, for although not actually one of themselves, -Hugh and his brothers have so often been down to see them that he is -missed as much as if he were almost. - -In a few days Doris's first letter arrives, and they are all relieved -to find that she is less home-sick than might have been expected. -Their own spirits rise in proportion therefore. - -Part of Doris's letter runs thus:-- - - -"We had a bad passage across, at least so aunt says. I didn't feel -it a bit though. Uncle disappeared mysteriously, and as he looked -rather pale when he reappeared on our reaching Calais, I strongly -suspected he was not very flourishing either. I have made a grand -discovery, however, through this bad weather. Nothing more nor less -than the reason why aunt will never take off her bonnet unless she -has a cap at hand to put on immediately. Aunt, I must tell you, very -soon expressed her intention of going down into the cabin, so I went -with her and made her as comfortable as circumstances would permit. -It was such a dreadfully close, stuffy atmosphere that I was thankful -to get up into the air again. After a time I thought I ought to go -down and see how poor aunty was getting on; so after a good deal of -stumbling and floundering (for the boat was rolling very much) I at -last managed to get down, and there I found her in a truly pitiable -state. She had been dreadfully ill, but so it seems had been nearly -all the other people, and I suppose the stewardess could not pay much -attention to so many, for I found aunt in a miserable state, half on -and half off the sofa, and looking as pale as death. 'O, Doris -child!' she gasped faintly, 'if ever I get out of this boat alive I -will never go into another, if I have to live all my life in France!' -Well, I raised her up and placed her a little more comfortably, and -in doing this her bonnet fell off, and--you girls won't believe me, -perhaps, but I daresay mother knows--there, as plain to see as -anything, was a little bald patch, about as big as half-a-crown, on -the top of her head! Poor aunt! she was in far too great misery to -think about such trifles then, and only told me to put her feet a -little higher and to bring her smelling-bottle. But I shall _always_ -think of it whenever anyone asks her to take her bonnet off! By the -by, aunt says she knows Mr. Ferrars quite well. She calls him 'A -very estimable young man!' How _dreadful_! She says, too, we may -meet him somewhere or other abroad. He told her he was going to -'knock about a little' on the Continent. The expression did not come -spontaneously from aunt; I dragged it out of her, under protest! I -wonder if we _shall_ see him!" - - -Mrs. Merivale folds up the letter. "I wonder if they will!" she says. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -BRIGHTER DAYS. - -Two years have sped quickly, and it is once more a warm, lovely day -in June. The French windows of the Rookery sitting-room are wide -open, letting in the still, summer air, and Mrs. Merivale and Honor, -both with their work, are seated just inside, so as to get full -benefit of any little fitful breeze which may spring up, without -exposing themselves to the glare of the sunlit garden. - -Yes, two years have flown since Doris left home to go abroad with her -aunt, and her mother and sister are talking over a letter which they -have received from her that morning, and which, with two others, is -lying in the former's lap. - -Honor is a little taller than when we last saw her, though not much; -but her figure has filled out, making her look more womanly, though -still small and slight altogether. She has still the same quaint -little oval face, and the same steadfast, earnest look in her soft -brown eyes; but, with the exception of the two little straight lines -between her brows, the anxious, care-worn look has gone from it, and -in its place there is a happy, contented expression, which her mother -looks upon with thankfulness. The two years have also changed Mrs. -Merivale, though not perhaps so much in appearance as character. - -She has to a great extent lost that fretful nervousness and -selfishness which, before her husband's death, and, indeed, for some -time after, had seemed to be growing upon her. Though still feeble -in health her disposition has grown more cheerful, and she has become -more self-reliant than of old. Honor has unconsciously taken to -consulting her more in the management of their household affairs, and -although she still takes all the active part upon herself, she often -finds her mother's advice of great value now. - -To such matters as banging doors, creaking boots, loud voices, &c., -which used formerly to "jar" upon her nerves, she has become almost -impervious, whilst to be "completely prostrated" is a calamity of -rare occurrence, excepting on occasions of real and genuine nervous -headaches. - -The two years have been quiet, uneventful ones enough to the -inhabitants of Edendale. The most exciting thing that has taken -place, perhaps, being the sudden and unexpected death, while in -Africa somewhere, of Sir Charles Ferrars of Ferrars Court. But as he -had never lived at the Court for long together, and latterly not at -all, his death was not an event to stir the sympathies of the -surrounding neighbourhood greatly. Of course every one said, "How -very sad--so sudden, you know!" and then they began to speculate as -to what the heir would be like, and whether he would take possession -soon, &c. &c. But in a few days the whole affair was forgotten; and -as no heir arrived on the scene to satisfy their curiosity, they soon -forgot that there was one to speculate about. - -Dr. John Sinclair is constantly to be seen at the Rookery; indeed, he -has fallen into the habit of going there, at one hour or another, -almost every day. - -With the first really hot weather of the year before, Daisy's health -had flagged rather alarmingly, and the young doctor began to fear -that her illness of the previous spring had left a permanent mark -upon her. Thus had he become a constant visitor in order to watch -the child closely. - -At the present time Daisy is, for her, in comparatively robust -health, but every one knows how difficult it is to get out of any -habit once taken to, whether it be good or bad, and young Dr. -Sinclair is to be seen at the Rookery almost as frequently as ever, -although there is now no special need for looking after his little -patient from a medical point of view. - -Dick, now a strapping lad of fifteen, has pleased the Rev. Mr. Bolton -beyond measure during the two years he has been with him, and the -good old vicar does not know which to be most delighted with--his -beautiful voice, or the industry and perseverance which he has -displayed regarding his own studies. - -Molly's pupils have so increased in number that she has for some time -past been making a nice steady little income, and she has even felt -justified in affording herself some finishing lessons from a good -master. - -Mrs. Horton, always ready to do the girls any kind service now that -their mother cannot go about with them, and more especially since -their aunt left England, has taken both Honor and Molly up to London -for a few weeks' visit at different times; and the former also, -considering that it would be money well spent, has given herself the -benefit of a little "brushing up," as she calls it, in her art. Both -the girls, therefore, are able to take a better stand in their -teaching (for Honor has pupils now in addition to her own painting), -and Molly often finds herself correcting, encouraging, or -remonstrating, as the case may be, with girls a good deal older than -herself; for her fame as a musicianly teacher has spread far and -wide, and she has as many grown-up girls as pupils, who are anxious -to keep up their practice, as younger ones. Molly has three of the -Hallam children now, and a fourth is nearly ready to begin, Indeed, -were it feasible, Mrs. Hallam would like to include the baby still in -arms in her list of pupils, so anxious is she that they shall all -commence early enough and get all the benefit they can from what she -is constantly quoting to her friends as "first-class teaching, my -dear." - -The Mr. Talboys look if anything younger than they did a couple of -years back. They have residing in the stables of the Rosery a -pretty, knowing-looking pony rejoicing in the name of Puck, the pet -and property of Miss Margaret Merivale. At the time previously -spoken of, when little Daisy had drooped so with the heat of the -summer, and Dr. Sinclair had been racking his brains to think what -could be done to revive the feeble strength, which at times seemed -ready to ebb away altogether, a bright idea struck him one day. -Riding!--the very thing. But how in the world could such a thing be -managed? Although the Merivales were in a very different position -now to that which they were in when they first came to the village, -they were not, he was sure, well enough off to buy and keep a pony. - -"Now, if only she could ride Jack," thought the doctor to himself, -"he would, I know, be as gentle as a lamb with a child upon his back. -But, bless me! his back would be far too broad for little Daisy! -Besides, who would there be to ride with her? I don't think Jack -would care to consent to a leading rein at his age!" - -But nevertheless the doctor goes on thinking and thinking (for during -the long time he has now attended the child she has become very dear -to him), until he suddenly becomes possessed of a still brighter -idea. He will go to the Mr. Talboys and talk it over with them. - -One would certainly have thought, from the almost childish delight -which the generous old men expressed at this brilliant idea of their -young friend's, that it was one which would benefit themselves -greatly. But so indeed it was, for they could know no higher -privilege than to do good to others. - -"My _dear_ Dr. John," they had both cried, "you could not have done -us a greater kindness than by coming to consult us about this capital -plan of yours. I think," continues Mr. Ned, "I may with truth say -that Brother Ben and myself have been worrying as to what could be -done to pick up the child's strength as much as you have, my dear -boy, and we _know_ how it has troubled you, do we not, brother?" - -And so there had been no rest for anybody until a desirable animal -had been found and purchased. The old gentlemen were somewhat -particular in making their choice, and a trifle difficult to please. -Of course it was to be pretty. Not too tall, nor too small. Neither -too old nor too young. It was to be a thoroughly respectable pony, -and reliable as to temper; but while wishing it to possess a "spice -of spirit," as they expressed it, it was to be steady and -sober-minded at heart! It must be confessed that to find all these -excellent qualities possessed by one ordinary pony was rather -difficult, and, perhaps, more than ought to have been expected. But -the brothers did not want an ordinary pony! On the contrary they had -made up their minds to have an extraordinary one; and it is to be -feared that more than one horse-dealer lost his temper when, having -trotted out his best ponies before the two exacting old gentlemen, -who stood watching their paces with heads on one side, it turned out -that not one of them came up to their ideas of what a pony _ought_ to -be. - -Indeed one man was overheard to say to his ostler (taking it for -granted that the Mr. Talboys were deaf as well as old) that he -"should think the old gents had better get one made to order!" which -caused Mr. Ned to wish him "good-morning." - -At length, however, a desirable pony was found, and having been -presented to Daisy in due form, was installed in the comfortable -stable at the Rosery. - -There being no one at home who could take out Daisy for her airings -on Puck--for the doctor said _walking_ would be of no use; she must -have a good canter every day--the young man begged that he might be -allowed to take her under his charge. He could give her a good run, -he said, every day, when going his distant rounds on Jack, and the -Rosery lying between his own house and the Rookery, he could always -call for Puck on his way for Daisy. - -This arrangement met with the little girl's entire approval, in fact -she very soon confided to her dear Doctor John that there was _no -one_ else she would have trusted herself to in her first attempts at -riding. - -Ere long, however, the young doctor had made a very fair little -horsewoman of Daisy, and the pair were constantly to be seen -cantering over the country together, with Rufus, the doctor's red -setter, and Vic (who condescended to be friendly under the -circumstances) at their heels. - -The letters mentioned at the beginning of this chapter are, besides -the one from Doris, from Lady Woodhouse and Mr. Lancelot Ferrars, the -latter containing a formal proposal of marriage for Doris. - -The two have been thrown together a great deal abroad, and Lady -Woodhouse has smiled with grim approval whenever the young fellow has -appeared, quite by accident as it were, at the same place in which -they are staying. - -"Your uncle and Mr. Ferrars seem to have taken quite a fancy to each -other lately," judicially remarked Aunt Sophia, with a little, almost -imperceptible sniff, which always accompanied any attempt at acting -on her part. - -"You see, Doris, it must be lonely work for a man to be travelling by -himself; though, of course, Mr. Ferrars has his profession as an -artist to attend to. But your uncle has only you and me to talk to, -so I am very glad Mr. Ferrars seeks his society for that reason; for -people may say what they like, child, but men do like talking to each -other when they get the chance better than to us women. I suppose -they think they have more brains than we," with a slight toss of her -head, "though all I can say is that if they have, they don't always -know how to use them." - -So, although Lady Woodhouse saw plainly that this constant visitor -was becoming attached to her niece, she prided herself immensely on -her diplomacy and tact in not allowing the girl to get what she -called any nonsensical ideas into her head, at any rate for the -present. - -She has written to her sister now on the subject in high spirits, and -though certain parts of the letter are for Mrs. Merivale's own -private perusal only, she is reading out most of it to Honor. - - -"Doris seems genuinely fond of the young man now," writes Lady -Woodhouse. "At first, I tell you candidly, I thought I would have -some trouble with her, for she seemed to have a fixed idea in her -silly head that by making some great match she might retrieve the -fortunes of the whole family. She told me plainly one day that she -would see plenty of people during the two years that she was -travelling about, and that if she got a good chance she would -certainly take it. But all this, I am bound to acknowledge, was -before Mr. Ferrars began to pay her any attention. As ill luck would -have it, however, a wretched little elderly French count, with false -teeth and dyed hair and moustache, began to pay her attention also -just at the same time (Doris is certainly a pretty girl, Mary), and -for a little while I shook in my shoes; for common report set him -down as being enormously rich. Well, I saw at last that the child -was getting worried over it all. So was Mr. Ferrars, naturally. And -so one fine day I gave my lady a talking to. 'You can do as you -like,' I said, 'subject to your mother, of course, but don't say -afterwards you were not warned. You can accept this made-up old fop -with his million of francs (mind _francs_, not pounds) and be a -miserable woman for the rest of your life if you like. On the other -hand here is a young, good-looking fellow who is sincerely attached -to you, and though he may have only his few hundreds, he is not the -man to take a wife unless he can keep her comfortably.' I think my -words came just at the right time. Anyhow, it all came right; and -when Doris came to me and told me she would rather be the wife of -Lancelot Ferrars with only one hundred a year than marry the richest -duke in the world, I knew, my dear Mary, that the child's heart was -in the right place after all. I can congratulate you heartily, for -young Ferrars is one of the nicest young men I know, and will be just -the right sort of husband for Doris. Then, of course, his good -position--" - - -"Good position!" echo both Dick (who has just entered the room) and -Honor, pricking up their ears. - -"Position as a painter," remarks Mrs. Merivale, folding up her letter -with dignity. "That is all I need read to you. The rest is all upon -business matters." - -"Then we may expect to see Mr. Ferrars some time this week, I -suppose," says Honor presently. For in his short courteous note he -has begged leave to call on Mrs. Merivale, previous to his departure -for some distant part of the world where he has some important -business to transact. - -"I do hope he will let us know beforehand," says Honor, already -tormenting herself as to culinary matters, "or else he will be quite -certain to choose a day when we have nothing but cold mutton for -dinner--and none too much of that, very likely." - -"Hooray!" shouts Dick, tossing up his cap. "Fancy little Doris being -engaged! Good gracious! the house won't hold her when she comes -back!" - -"She seems to be very happy," says Honor, who is reading her sister's -letter for about the sixth time. "She little thought what would come -of her adventure in the wood that day. Dear little Doris, I hope she -has a happy life before her." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -"WHAT A TEASE YOU ARE, MOLLY!" - -In the meantime a conversation of quite a different character is -going on in the garden, under the drooping boughs of a fine old -weeping-ash, the welcome shade of which is much sought by the girls -in hot weather. - -Molly is seated on a garden chair, working away industriously at -something in the dress line, her work-basket on another chair by her -side. - -Seated just opposite to her is Dr. John Sinclair, his hat lying on -the grass at his feet, and his head resting on his arms, which are -folded behind it. - -"And so this is what you have dropped in for," remarks Molly, shaking -out her work. - -"Yes," he says, gazing up into the sky. "We were on our way back, -and just passing the Rosery gate when Mr. Ned ran out and stopped us. -I represented that you would all be expecting Daisy home, that she -had only her habit on, that she might be tired. All to no purpose, -as I have told you. She must stop to tea, and surely someone could -call for her later; and if not, why, Priscilla could take her home. -And so," he concludes rather slowly, "I said I would call about eight -o'clock. I--I thought perhaps Miss Honor would like to walk up with -me in the cool of the evening, you know." - -"O!" says Molly, shooting a little glance at him over her work. - -"Do you think she would care to?" asks the doctor, bringing his arms -forward and stooping to pick up his stick, which is also on the grass. - -"I don't know really," replies Molly carelessly; "you had better ask -her. I am not sure, though, that I shall not go myself. I suppose I -should do as well? Dick wanted one of us to walk over to the mere -this evening with him and Jack Bolton, and--yes, I think he said -Ernest Hildyard was to be one of the party. Why, what in the world -are you getting so red about? Don't, it makes one hotter than ever!" -and Molly, biting her thread, takes another little look at her -companion. - -"Better stick to his reading," she hears him mutter to himself, and -then he begins hitting at the turf with his stick. - -"Well, he is a bit lazy, I suppose; but then so are lots of other -people, and I don't see why he should be expected to stay in on such -a lovely evening as this will be. Oh, _please_ take care! You'll -hit my foot in a minute; besides, you are spoiling the turf." - -"I'm sure I beg your pardon," says Dr. John, now stooping for his hat -also. "I think I had better be going. I will call for Daisy alone, -then." - -"What has made you so cross?" inquires teasing Molly, searching -amongst her cottons. "I really think it is most ungracious of you to -say you 'will go _alone_ to fetch Daisy' when I have only this moment -offered myself as a companion. Now, don't go--sit down again, and I -will tell you something." - -"Pooh!" mutters the young man crossly, "what's the use?" - -"It _isn't_ pooh," says Molly severely; "and it is a great deal of -use, if you choose to listen. _I_ am going on this expedition with -the boys this evening, and Honor, as far as I know, is going to stay -at home; unless," she wickedly adds, "you should care to ask _her_ -instead of _me_ to walk up to the Rosery with you. If you do, and -she does go, I advise you to be a little more amiable. Now, _please_ -leave that silk alone: you are getting it into a frightful tangle!" - -"What a tease you are, Molly!" says Dr. Sinclair, looking, however, -more cheerful on the whole. - -"I? Why? What have I said or done?" - -"You said Honor was going for a walk with that young idiot, Hildyard." - -"Well, why shouldn't she? But, as it happens, I did _not_ say -anything of the kind. I said the boys wanted _one_ of us to go, and -Honor never dreamed of going any more than _you_ did. You shouldn't -jump at conclusions so quickly. Now, tell me, what do you think of -this news about Doris?" - -"O, I am awfully glad. I think from what you have all told me that -Ferrars must be a nice fellow. We shall have you going off next, -Molly." - -"Me?--oh, dear no! Besides, it is Honor's turn before mine, you -know." - -"Is it true this that I hear about young Horton, or rather his -regiment, being ordered off to the Soudan?" - -"Yes," says Molly quietly, bending over her work. "It is quite true." - -"When does he arrive from Ireland?" - -"Mrs. Horton wrote us word that she expected him to-morrow." - -"And _you_ will expect him the day after, I suppose?" - -"I daresay he will come to see us soon," says Molly simply; "his time -will be very short before he leaves altogether." - -"Poor fellow!" says the doctor musingly. "It is a pity he is being -sent so far away. Well, I must really be off now--by Jove, it's -later than I thought! Good-bye for the present, Molly. Perhaps you -would not mind asking Miss Honor if she will stroll up for Daisy with -me? I'd no idea it was so late, or I would have run in and asked her -myself." - -"All right," says Molly reassuringly. "I'll see that she goes." - -The girl looks after him as he goes swinging down the road. - -"He's a nice fellow," she says to herself. "I shouldn't at all mind -having him for a brother. I wonder, now, whether Honor likes him as -much as he does her. Anyone can see with half an eye that it is not -Daisy alone that he comes here to see. He's dreadfully jealous, -though. He makes himself quite ridiculous over that young Hildyard, -just because he stares at Honor so in church. Such a _child_, too, -as Ernest is; and I don't believe Honor has ever spoken to him more -than two or three times at the outside. It really is absurd. I -can't help teasing Dr. John about it. All right, coming!" she cries, -in answer to a summons to tea from Honor; and gathering up her work, -she goes slowly back to the house. - -There is perhaps more alteration in Molly's appearance than in any of -the others in these two past years. She is now turned seventeen, and -tall for her age. She carries herself gracefully, and her slight -though rounded figure is shown to advantage to-day in the light, -simply-made dress which she is wearing on account of the heat. - -Molly's hair has been turned up for some time now, ever since she -took to teaching, in fact. "You cannot expect me to command respect -from my pupils with my hair hanging down my back," she had said when -the others had been inclined to remonstrate. It is all gathered up, -therefore, in a pretty top-knot of bright, sunny, chestnut curls, -which, notwithstanding the number of pins she uses, do their best to -escape and tumble, as of old, about her forehead, ears, and neck. -She is not, perhaps, what most people would call strictly pretty; but -she is _very_ charming, and her deep blue eyes, with their long -lashes, are really beautiful. Her complexion though brilliant is at -the same time delicate, and one of her greatest charms is in the -ever-varying expression of her face. Her nose is not strictly -aquiline, but her pretty sensitive mouth and firm little chin make up -for its deficiencies; and last, but not least, there is the pretty -way in which her hair grows about her forehead and temples. - -Altogether Mrs. Merivale has reason to feel proud of her three now -grown-up daughters, and she often turns away with a heavy sigh when -she thinks with what fond pride their dead father would look upon -them could he see them now. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -HUGH'S PARTING GIFT. - -A few afternoons later Honor and Molly are both seated at work under -the weeping ash, but the weather being hotter than ever they have -retired to the very back of the natural arbour which the drooping -boughs form. Of course they have the advantage of being able to see -all that goes on outside, while quite invisible themselves. - -They are talking on the usual inexhaustible subject of the present -time, namely, their future brother-in-law, Mr. Lancelot Ferrars, who -has been down, and having had a mysterious talk with Mrs. Merivale in -the drawing-room, has taken early dinner (not cold mutton) with them -in quite a brotherly sort of fashion. After dinner he had been -introduced to the studio, as being a place likely to interest him. -Then after a stroll round the garden, and an early cup of tea -insisted upon by Molly, he had gone off to the station to catch the -next train back to town. - -Altogether they are very pleased with their new relative in -perspective, and are never tired of discussing his merits, either -real or imaginary. - -"He looks as if he had a little spice of temper in his composition," -says Molly, while hunting for her scissors. "I saw it in his eyes." - -"Well, I don't like him any the less for that," replies Honor, "so -long as he knows how to control it. He looks as if he was accustomed -to having his own way too, and--well, as if he wouldn't stand any -nonsense from anybody." - -"All the better for Doris," says Molly sagely. "She wants keeping in -order, you know, and he will do it. I don't mean to imply that he -will beat her, or anything of that sort, Honor; but, it is as you -say, I am sure he would stand no nonsense from anyone. And quite -right, too. I hate people without a will of their own. Why, there's -a man going up the drive to the front door!" - -"Dear me, you don't say so. Probably it is the baker," and Honor -goes on with her work serenely. - -"Nonsense, Honor!" cries Molly, peering excitedly through the close -branches. "The baker goes to the backdoor, too. It's a gentleman--a -_gentleman_, I tell you. Come here and look!" - -At this startling announcement Honor rises and looks over Molly's -shoulder. - -"I believe it is Hugh," she says; "only somehow he looks so much -older. How long is it since we have seen him, Molly?" - -"I saw him about a year ago; but I expect it is longer since you did. -It was while I was in London with Mrs. Horton. Good gracious, Honor, -it _is_ Hugh, and he's got a moustache!" - -This remark is called forth by the fact of the visitor having turned -round on reaching the steps, and given an inquiring glance round the -garden, as if in search of someone. - -"O, thank goodness, Mary is answering the bell; not but what Hugh is -used to Becky's shortcomings. Now he will be shown into the -drawing-room in style. I hope mother isn't asleep on the sofa." - -"Come along, Molly," cries Honor, preparing to leave the arbour. "We -need not wait to have his name brought to us." - -But Molly shows distinct signs of cowardice as they approach the -drawing-room together, and as Honor actually opens the door and -enters, she hangs back, and peeps curiously at Hugh from behind her -sister. - -"Why, Molly, have you forgotten me? Don't you know me?" he says, -taking her two hands in his, and looking down into her fair flushed -face. - -Molly laughs. - -"You _have_ changed," she says a little shyly, "and if we hadn't -watched you all the time you were walking up to the door, I don't -know that I _should_ have known you in this half light." - -"Ah," says Honor, "you little thought we were in our 'leafy retreat,' -as we used to call it. I expect you would have found your way to us -there if you had." - -"I am very sure I should," answers Hugh, going over to the window. -"Shall I draw up the blinds, Mrs. Merivale? the sun is off the room -now." - -"O, _don't_!" cries Molly, who seems to be seized with an -unaccountable fit of shyness. "I do hate a light room; so does -mother." - -Mrs. Merivale, however, happens to prefer a little light on this -occasion, now that the sun is going down, and says in the same breath -with Molly, "Yes, do please, Hugh." - -So, with a little deprecating look towards Molly, up go the blinds -and in comes the light. - -Molly ensconces herself in a corner behind her mother, and allowing -nearly all the conversation to fall on the others, sits very still, -making silent observations of the alterations in her old playmate. - -It turns out that Hugh is under orders to sail for Egypt a good deal -sooner than he expected, and as his time is much taken up in dodging -about at the Horse-guards, he finds he will not probably have the -opportunity of coming down again before leaving for good. He has -come, therefore, with the intention of staying the evening, if they -will have him. - -Honor, on hearing this, immediately becomes exercised in her mind as -to the state of the larder, and making a sign to Molly to follow her, -she quietly leaves the room. - -So Mrs. Merivale and Hugh sit chatting together while the two girls -consult with Mary about the arrangement of a nice little supper. It -must here be explained that with their improved position the -Merivales have engaged a more capable servant, it being necessary to -have someone who can do without the perpetual looking after and -directing which Becky, even in her brightest moments, always -required--both Honor's and Molly's time being taken up now with other -than domestic matters. Becky, however, still remains, greatly to her -delight, she having become much attached to "missus" and the young -ladies. She is useful in the rougher work of the house, all rights -as to swilling the backyard and blacking boots being reserved by her. -Thus the delinquency of the fire, and, indeed, others which have been -almost beyond endurance sometimes, are not so constantly brought -before the family now. Mary is a good-natured girl, and as a rule -the two get on very well, unless the kitchen fire is let out. Then, -her face is a sight to see. - -Presently Hugh comes out, and finding his way to the kitchen as of -old, tells the girls he is going to run up to see the Mr. Talboys -between tea and supper. Perhaps Molly will go with him? - -But Molly, perverse to the last, remembers some most important -business she has to do, and says "no." - -Hugh turns away, looking hurt, as well he may, and Honor, after -frowning her displeasure at her younger sister, follows him out. - -"I would go with you myself, Hugh, but I have a little bit of -painting which I really _must_ do before the light goes. I didn't -know," she adds, "that Molly had anything very important to do; but I -suppose she knows her own business best." - -But Molly, who does not wait to hear her sister's opinions on the -subject, beats a retreat out to the back-yard, nominally to look -after the fowls. - -When Hugh has gone to the Rosery, and she joins her mother and Honor -in the drawing-room, they both fall upon her, metaphorically -speaking, and scold her roundly for what they call her unkindness and -vanity. Hard words these for poor Molly to hear as she stands -abashed before them, especially coming from either her mother or -Honor, who are both so gentle with her always. - -"It is not as if you were a child now," says Mrs. Merivale in a vexed -tone of voice. "What might have passed for fun two or three years -ago amounts to rudeness in a girl of your age. And how you can like -to be unkind--yes, unkind, Molly,--I really do not know. What made -you refuse to walk up to the Rosery with Hugh? You are certainly his -favourite of all the girls" (here she tries to speak carelessly), -"and when he is going away, goodness knows how far and for how long, -you must needs be almost uncivil to him. Now, I must beg, Molly, -that you do your best to make Hugh's last evening here a happy one. -I don't suppose he is in very good spirits, poor fellow! and we don't -want to put him into worse. Do you hear me? Very well. Come here -and give me a kiss. Now, you can run away if you like." - -Molly, who is almost on the verge of tears, is glad to avail herself -of this permission. Catching up her large white garden hat she -returns to the ash, with the intention of getting her work, which she -has left there in a state of chaos. - -Sitting down, however, she begins thinking, and presently a tear -drops on her hands, which are lying loosely clasped in her lap. -Others seeming likely to follow, she is just raising her hand to -brush them away, when at a little distance she, hears, in Hugh's fine -tenor, the old familiar song he is so fond of singing: - - "O, Molly Bawn, why leave me pining, - All lonely waiting here for you, - While stars above are brightly shining, - Because they've nothing else to do!" - -In another moment he has caught sight of her white dress through the -branches of the tree, and going quickly round to the entrance, he -goes in and sits down by her side. - -"Why, Molly! In the dumps?" he says kindly. - -Molly shakes her head, but says nothing, and there is a long pause. - -"I wish you could have found time to go up to the Rosery with me, -Molly," Hugh says at length. "It was so cool and pleasant. I think -it would have done you good after the hot day." - -A little gasping kind of sigh, then, "I _could_ have gone if I had -chosen," says truthful Molly. "It was all humbug about the business." - -Hugh looks at her a little curiously. - -"Why didn't you come then?" he asks. - -"I don't know," says Molly, and again there is silence. - -"And so you think I have changed so much?" queries Hugh presently. - -"Yes, that is just it," replies Molly more briskly. "You _do_ seem -to have become so--so _different_ somehow." - -"In what lies the difference, Molly?" - -"Well, I hardly know, Hugh--and yet I _do_ know; only I don't like to -say." - -"Say away," he says, leaning back in his chair and laughing. "_I_ -won't mind." - -"O, it is nothing disparaging," and Molly takes her hat off and -swings it round. "The fact is you seem so--so dreadfully _old_ now -to what you were. Do you know," she adds, sinking her voice and -nodding in her old way, "I felt quite afraid of you when I came into -the drawing-room and peeped at you from behind Honor; I did indeed. -Then there was your moustache, too. It makes you look quite severe, -and I could not help wondering how I ever had the face to lecture and -blow you up as I did in the old days. But you seemed so boyish then -to what you do now. The alteration quite startled me at first." - -Hugh laughs. - -"I am awfully sorry, Molly. But you didn't expect me to go on being -boyish to the end of my days, did you? You see, I have knocked about -the world a little now: I don't mean as to distance; that has to -come," he adds with a little sigh. "But since I joined my regiment I -have, of course, been thrown much more into the society of men--men -much older than myself mostly, and I suppose the life altogether does -change a fellow. My mother says the same as you, Molly. But -notwithstanding the ferocious appearance that my moustache gives me -generally," he goes on after a pause, "I assure you I am just the -same in heart as ever. Just the same old playmate and companion if -you will let me be, and as ready and anxious for lectures and -scoldings from my little mentor as ever; so I hope she will not throw -me over as a bad job, now that I am no longer a _boy_. Now, do you -know, I think _I_ have more reason to complain of the change in -_you_, Molly, of the two. What with your long frocks and your -turned-up hair, and--oh, lots of things, really you are quite -alarming to contemplate. You have grown so tall, too; why, I don't -believe I am a head taller than you now, and I was a good deal more, -you know." - -"I am _sure_ you are not," returns Molly promptly, "Stand up and let -us see." - -Standing back to back, it is somewhat difficult to decide, so it is -agreed that Honor shall settle the point later. - -When they have done laughing they sit down again, Hugh remarking, -"'Fair play is a jewel,' you know, and if you grow up, as you call -it, I don't see why I should not too. What pretty work that is, -Molly! Do you know, my slippers are beginning to wear out." - -"Are they? Well, I'll see if I can find an old pair of somebody's -for you. Do you think mine would fit you?" and Molly holds out her -foot with a neat little morocco slipper on it. - -"Too large, by a long way!" he mutters, shaking his head. Then there -is silence for a few minutes, and Molly puts exactly five stitches -into her work. - -"Will you wear this as a little keepsake, Molly, and think of me -sometimes when you look at it?" - -"This" is a beautiful though simple pearl ring, which Hugh has put -into her lap. - -"O, how beautiful!" exclaims the girl, her eyes lighting with -pleasure. "But--I don't know whether mother would care for me to -wear it, Hugh." - -"I have asked her, Molly, and she has no objection at all. It is -only a keepsake, you know." - -Hugh does not add that he has been asking Mrs. Merivale's permission -to place a more important ring on her daughter's finger on his return -from Egypt, provided that young lady raises no objections herself. -Molly knows naught of this, however, and proceeds to place the ring -on the third finger of her right hand with elaborate propriety, -turning it round, and looking admiringly on the shimmering pearls, -for they are fine ones, and being set with diamond dust, are shown to -advantage. - -"It is kind of you, Hugh; but I did not want anything to remember you -by. I don't think I should have forgotten you. They are _lovely_ -pearls, and I am so fond of pearls, too." - -The young fellow looks pleased. - -"Don't you think it would look nicer on the other hand, Molly? I -think rings look awkward somehow on the right." - -"Well, it hurts awfully if anyone squeezes one's hand when shaking -it. Now, who was it who used to make me scream nearly, rings or no -rings? Oh, I know! poor old Sir Peter Beresford. You know, I -suppose, that he died last year?" - -"Yes, poor old fellow! What a nice old man he was. Here, let me put -it on for you, Molly. There! it looks ever so much nicer on that -finger. You _will_ think of me and write regularly too, won't you, -dear?" - -"Yes," says Molly hastily; but she looks rather frightened, and Hugh -hastens to change the subject. - -"We are quits now," he says. "I have still got the ring you gave me!" - -"The ring I gave you!" exclaims Molly staring. - -"Yes, the ring you gave me. It is no use your pretending that you -hav'n't given me one, because here it is!" and from a compartment of -his pocketbook, in which he has been industriously hunting, he takes -out and holds up a gorgeous arrangement of blue and white beads, -strung on horse-hair--a present which Molly now remembers having made -him with great solemnity when she was about ten years old. - -"You can't say another word now, Molly," he says laughing. - -"Diamonds and sapphires!" says Molly taking this valuable ring in her -hand, "my favourite mixture; but how very absurd of you to keep it -all this time, Hugh." - -"Not at all. I assure you I value it very much," and he returns it -to his pocket-book with great care. - -"I call it highly ridiculous. But now I am going round to my roses, -and you may come too if you like. I want to cut some for the table." - -"I am glad you are getting over some of your terror of me," laughs -Hugh following her. - -"The brothers Talboys tell me you are quite a little witch with your -roses; they say you have brought them to such perfection." - -"I believe I _do_ know something about them," answers Molly. - -"Becky!" she calls, catching sight of that damsel through the kitchen -window, "bring out the large blue china bowl and put it on the front -steps. Where no one will step into it; _not_ in the middle. And -fill it with water, please. Do you know," she says as she catches up -Hugh again, "that Becky is perfectly overcome by the sight of your -moustache. I do hope she won't smash the bowl in consequence. She -is a great admirer of yours, you know," she runs on, snipping a rose -off here and there. "When you went away last time she confided to me -that you were 'the nicest gentleman as she ever see!' There's a -pretty compliment for you. This afternoon she said to me, 'Mr. Hugh -_has haltered_!' I wondered for the moment if you had ridden down -and 'tethered your roan to a tree.'" - -Hugh laughs heartily. - -"I am sure I feel immensely flattered. What a lovely bud that is you -are cutting now, Molly!" - -"It is for you, Hugh. Stand still a moment and I will pin it in your -button-hole." - -Hugh's pleased and gratified look defies description as he obeys -orders, and stands looking down at the busy little fingers while they -deftly fasten the bud in his coat. - -"I shall never--" he is beginning to say, when Molly cuts his remark -short. - -"There is Honor!" she cries; "she shall help us to put all these in -water," and running down the path she leaves him to follow. - -In the evening, after supper, there is a little music. Molly plays, -and Hugh sings one or two songs with a voice that trembles a little -sometimes, Molly, after a slight skirmish on the subject, -accompanying him. - -Then Honor nobly struggles through a pianoforte duet with her younger -sister by way of a change, her modest bass sounding rather feeble in -comparison with Molly's spirited treble. It is only Schulhoff's -"Grand Waltz" they are playing; nevertheless, Honor quakes when they -come to the last two or three pages; but she centres all her hopes on -Molly, and, amidst plenty of laughter (for Hugh and Dick are both in -attendance to turn over), she is landed safely by her at the last -chord. Then Dick sings, but notwithstanding the efforts made by -every one to be cheerful their spirits seem to go down lower and -lower as the evening advances; and when, after a long unbroken -silence, Hugh suddenly seats himself at the piano, and sings with -simple expression and pathos Hatton's "Good-bye, Sweetheart," tears -rise to the eyes of nearly every one in the room. - -It is a relief almost when Hugh rises and says he must be leaving. -Mrs. Merivale having suggested that Honor and Molly shall walk down -to the gate with him, and sent them on before, takes an affectionate -leave of the young fellow, saying as she does so, "We will not let -her forget you, dear Hugh." He is too much overcome to speak, but -the look of gratitude upon his face as he stoops and kisses her is -understood and appreciated by Mrs. Merivale. - -The two girls are standing quietly by the gate when Hugh reaches it, -and for a moment he stands beside them, silent also. Then he turns -to the elder girl: - -"Good-bye, Honor," he says gently. "You will let me hear everything -that goes on, won't you?--all about Doris too; and tell her, with my -love, how sorry I was not to see her again. I will write pretty -often; as often as I can that is, unless I am knocked over by the -Arabs one day." Then he kisses her and moves towards Molly, who, a -little pale and very quiet, is leaning against the gate-post. He -takes her two hands in his, and looks earnestly into her face for a -moment. Then-- - -"God bless you, Molly!" he says brokenly. "Don't forget me!" and -stooping he presses a lingering kiss almost reverently upon her -forehead, and--the gate swings back and he is gone. - -Honor is just wondering whether Molly is crying or what, so quietly -is she standing, just where Hugh left her, when suddenly a figure -rushes past them in hot haste. - -"I'm going to walk to the station with him!" cries Dick's voice. -"Great dolt that I was not to think of it before!" and away he dashes -through the gate. - -After this little diversion the girls walk slowly back to the house, -and joining their mother they stand talking together, or rather she -and Honor do. After a few minutes Molly, still very quiet, says she -is tired and will go to bed. - -"Poor child!" says Mrs. Merivale as the door closes, "I think she -feels his going. I wonder if she _does_ care for him, and is just -finding it out? I think we were right, though, Hugh and I--don't -you, Honor?" - -"What about, mother?" - -"Why, I told you. Where is your memory, child? When he asked if he -might give her that ring, he told me of his attachment to Molly. But -he said it should be just as I wished whether he said anything to her -or not. He said she was still so young in many ways that he did not -want to frighten her, and perhaps destroy his chances later. He -said, very sensibly I thought, that there is plenty of time; that -they are both young, and he would rather that Molly grew to care for -him on her own account as it were, than by its being suggested, so to -speak. _Don't_ walk up and down so, Honor! You fidget me to death, -child, and I am expressing myself anyhow!" - -Honor seats herself, and her mother goes on: - -"Well, that was the gist of what he said, and I think it was a very -right way of looking at things. What do you say?" - -"Yes, I think so, certainly," replies Honor warmly. "I always liked -Hugh, and I only hope Molly will be as fond of him one day as he is -of her." - -"He says," resumes Mrs. Merivale, paying no heed to this remark, -"that if he does not come back in the ordinary course of things, he -shall get short leave if he finds the time running on. There's Dick! -Mind, not a _word_ to him, Honor; he would tease the child out of her -senses. I think the safest way will be for only you and me to know -it. Doris will be so taken up with her own affairs that she will not -give any thought to the matter. Of course his mother knows. She has -always hoped for this, it seems. Ah, Molly is a good girl! You are -_all_ good girls, Honor. Now, good-night, dear; you look tired too, -and I am sure _I_ am." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -PREPARATIONS FOR A BALL. - -About a week after this Doris comes home, arriving in such wild -spirits that the household, which has lately become a little dull, -does not seem the same. Since Hugh's departure Molly has certainly -been more quiet and subdued than of old, often sitting lost in -thought, till Dick one day was reduced to telling her she seemed -always "wool-gathering" now, and asked was "it a paying business?" -The fact of the case was, that Hugh's manner and gift on the evening -of his last visit had set Molly thinking. No one can resist the -influence of Doris's happy gaiety, however; and though still disposed -to be a little thoughtful at times, Molly is soon roused into her own -bright self again. - -For some days after her arrival home, Doris's tongue hardly ever -ceases going. - -"Aunt was awfully kind to me, and I can tell you she is as pleased as -Punch about my engagement. Only she will call Lancelot (a little -blush) 'an estimable young man,' which does sound so dreadful, -doesn't it? And so poor Hugh has gone," she runs on. "Yes, it's a -pretty ring, Molly, very simple"--and here she glances rather -complacently at her own half-hoop of fine diamonds--"but good taste; -oh, yes, very. I always thought there would be something between you -two; but I suppose I was mistaken," she says airily. - -"Yes, aunt was very kind. Uncle is _much_ better, and looks quite -ten years younger. It was such fun! Aunt, I suppose, thought I -should be conceited if I thought Lancelot was coming so much for my -sake, so she told me that uncle and he had struck up a wonderful -affection for each other, and that amused uncle immensely. He used -to wink at me openly whenever Mr. Ferrars was announced. - -"Uncle and I are regular chums; and when he said good-bye he patted -my face, and told me I was a good girl, and that he was going to send -me a cheque when I begin to get my 'fal-lals and furbelows' together -for my marriage." - -The wedding has been fixed for about six months later, but Doris does -not consider it a bit too soon to commence the all-important business -of her trousseau, and soon the house is a perfect sea of long-cloth, -cambric, and lace. For it is settled that all the under-linen shall -be made at home, with the assistance of the girls at the schools, -perhaps, in which both Honor and Molly have for some time held -classes on Sunday. - -"Plenty of time for dresses and such things later on," said Mrs. -Merivale; and Doris agreed with her. Lancelot Ferrars was now in -London, Mrs. Merivale and Doris had heard, and up to his eyes in -business. He would run down to see them soon, however, he said. - -Some few weeks after this, when they are all settled down quietly -once more, a startling piece of intelligence is spread through -Edendale, which throws every one, from the highest to the lowest, -into an unwonted state of surprise and expectation. - -The new heir to the Court is said to be about to return from "foreign -parts," and intends coming down in about a fortnight's time to take -formal possession of his inheritance. - -There is to be first a tenants' dinner, and then a ball, to which -every one for miles round is to be invited. Of course the whole -neighbourhood is in a tremendous state of excitement over this -unexpected news, more especially as it is reported that the new -baronet intends living at the Court a good deal. There is much -speculation on many points, and mothers who have unmarried daughters -on their hands still, nod approvingly at all they hear of the -preparations in connection with the proposed gaieties--all hoping for -the best. For some declare that he is as yet a bachelor, though -others are equally certain that he has been married for years. - -Sir Edward Ferrars does not, it appears, feel disposed to gratify -their curiosity on this point any more than any other. For he does -not attempt to come near the place, leaving all arrangements as to -the entertainment entirely in the hands of those appointed to carry -it through, calmly announcing that he does not intend putting in an -appearance himself until absolutely necessary. People are obliged -perforce to be content, and they can only look forward to the day of -the ball with redoubled zest. - -In course of time cards of invitation are sent out for July 10th, the -Merivale's being for "Mrs. and the Miss Merivales." Doris goes up to -town soon after this to stay for a few days with her aunt, and -Lancelot coming in one day she shows him the invitation. - -"I brought it up to show aunt," she says. - -Mr. Ferrars laughs a little. - -"Sir Edward thought it best to say 'the Miss Merivales,' I suppose. -I did say there were three of you, but I daresay he forgot. He's a -queer sort of fellow, I believe. His predecessor was also rather -eccentric, you know. Of course you are all going, Doris?" he says -presently. "I shall be there. One of my aunts is going to play -hostess for Sir Edward, and I have promised to go and help them. -It's an awful bore, though." - -"Honor and I are going," says Doris, referring to the first remark. -"I am not quite sure about Molly." - -"O, let little Molly go! Besides," cries Lancelot with energy, "she -must, as my future bride's sister, you know." - -Doris stares a little. - -"How in the world are people to know that you and I are engaged; and -even if they did, what would they care about either me or Molly? We -are nothing to Sir Edward." - -"Ah, true, I forgot that. But you know what country places are, -Doris; and I wouldn't mind betting five pounds that before you have -been in the room half an hour the fact of our engagement will have -leaked out." - -"Do you know much of this Sir Edward?" inquires Doris after a pause. -"Is he married? Some say he is, some say he isn't." - -"I don't _think_ he is," says Lancelot slowly. "I fancy I heard -something about his being engaged, though." - -"O, _what_ a pity!" - -"Why, Doris?" - -"Because I thought he would have done nicely for Honor, or Molly -perhaps." - -"It strikes me there are two people who would strongly object to such -an arrangement," says Mr. Ferrars, leaning back in his chair and -smiling at Doris. "I don't think Dr. Sinclair would care about it, -nor young Horton." - -Doris opens her eyes. - -"Hugh!" she says with astonishment in her voice. "Why, nothing has -been said about these two, Lancelot." - -"Perhaps not," he answers lazily; "but there will be, sooner or -later, you will see, my dear. Don't say anything to Molly, though; I -don't think your mother wishes it. As for Sinclair, anyone can see -he is fond of Honor." - -"O yes, of course, I know that. But fancy Molly! My goodness, it -seems only yesterday that she was in short frocks!" And Doris falls -to musing. - -It is finally decided that Molly _shall_ go to the ball with her -sisters, and now an important question comes up. What are they all -to wear? - -"I would rather not go at all than go badly dressed," says Doris with -a suspicion of a pout. "How _horrid_ it is to be poor! There will -be all the Trevelyan family there: they are _sure_ to be, because -even Lancelot knows them quite intimately, and so also of course Sir -Edward must, to some extent; and they are the greatest people about -this part of the world, I suppose. I can just imagine how Lady Anne -will put up her eye-glass and examine us from top to toe." - -"I don't care if she does," says Molly promptly. "You can afford to -be looked at, Doris, for you are a hundred times better looking than -she is, and you are sure to get a lot more partners, notwithstanding -her title." - -But here Mrs. Merivale suddenly becomes possessed of an idea, and -intimates that such is the case by holding up her hand and saying -"Hush!" - -She then reminds Honor of the trunks of dresses belonging to her, -which, it will be remembered, there had been some little argument -about keeping at the time of the sale. - -"Were they kept, Honor?" - -"Yes, mother. Aunt insisted that it was more than anyone would -expect or even think of (I mean to leave them), so she had her own -way, and they are up in the second attic now in those big boxes." - -"Quite right, too," remarks Doris, referring to her aunt's having -come off victorious in the matter. - -So then and there a tremendous turn out takes place; and Mrs. -Merivale's bed-room, where the foregoing conversation has taken -place, is the scene of trying on and taking off for a good hour. - -Doris and Molly turn out their own particular hoards also, though the -latter's, in the matter of evening apparel, is somewhat scanty. -Still it is found that their white silks, which were their winter -party dresses, and only new shortly before the death of their father, -are in perfectly good condition still, and with judicious management -the two together can be made into one very presentable dress for -Molly. - -Doris's few evening dresses provided by her aunt when abroad, and -modest enough in themselves, prove to be a little shabby when seen by -daylight, and the girl's spirits begin to sink accordingly. - -"That pale pink of mother's is lovely," she says, looking at one -which Honor is in the act of shaking out, "but Lancelot insists on my -being in white. Such nonsense! I declare I would spend my last few -shillings in having a new white net or something; but it would look -absurd for Molly to be in silk and me not. What about Honor, too?" - -At this critical moment Becky appears staggering under the weight of -a large milliner's box, her cap a little more awry than usual. - -"For you, miss," she says, planting it on the floor close before -Doris. "There ain't nothing to pay;" and looking very much as if she -would like to stay, she slowly leaves the room. - -"For me? Good gracious! what can it be?" and Doris pounces on the -box, and tearing off both paper and string she very soon gets at the -contents. A new dead, white silk is then triumphantly displayed, -made with artistic simplicity, the only trimming being a little good -lace. - -Off comes Doris's dress in a trice, and in almost less time than it -takes to tell she is in the new one, pulling here and patting there -until it is all fastened (Doris gasping a little, but striving to -conceal that fact), and pronounced by one and all to "do" charmingly. - -"My stars," says Dick, appearing suddenly on the scene, "you _do_ -look stunning! What a pity our knight is not here to gaze upon his -future bride in this--shall I say, regal attire," and the boy falls -into an attitude of admiration and devotion. Doris bows her -acknowledgments of these graceful compliments with a heightened -colour; but whether the colour is due to the undeniable tightness of -the bodice or the mention of the "knight" we will leave an open -question; Dick inclining to the latter opinion, Doris (privately) to -the former. - -"You ungrateful girl!" suddenly cries Honor, who is engaged in -smoothing out the many sheets of crumpled tissue paper strewn about -the box and on the floor. "Here is a letter from aunt; how came you -not to see it?" - -It appears that the present is from Sir John. He wishes Doris to -look well at the coming ball, Lady Woodhouse goes on to say, young -Ferrars being of the same family as Sir Edward. - -"Well, that is kind of uncle, isn't it? Now I shall not care two -straws for Lady Anne Trevelyan or anyone else." - -On further examination of the hoards another white silk (one of Mrs. -Merivale's) is discovered, which will do nicely for Honor if altered -and renovated. - -"I want you all to be dressed alike in that respect," says Mrs. -Merivale. "You know, girls, I always liked white silk for you in the -old days before your poor father died," and she sighs heavily. - -And so the weighty subject of the ball dresses is settled, and a -young woman in the village, whom the girls have found to be possessed -of some ideas as to style and so on, is engaged to come into the -house to alter those destined for Honor and Molly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -JOHN SINCLAIR'S FAIRY TALE. - -All this time Daisy and Dr. John Sinclair continue to take their -almost daily rides, greatly to the delight of the former if not the -latter. Not that the young man feels one whit less the pleasure of -having his little favourite intrusted to his care, and of watching -her slow but steady return to health and spirits. - -But of late he has become dull and spiritless, going about his work -in a listless sort of way which is quite foreign to him as a rule, -and which cannot fail to be noticed by anyone who knows him well. - -It will have been gathered from some foregoing hints that ever since -the young doctor had been called in to attend Daisy in her illness, -he had been gradually becoming attached to her sister Honor. - -At first he had been amused, afterwards attracted, by all her quiet -little motherly ways when nursing Daisy, and when he came to be a -daily visitor at the house he soon learned to appreciate and admire -the girl who, for the sake of all around her, was making such brave -and heroic efforts against an adverse fate. - -It was not difficult for the doctor's keen eyes to see that Honor, -young as she was, was the guide and mainstay of the whole household, -nothing, not even the merest trifle being ever settled or arranged -without consultation with her first. - -And all this was done with graceful cheerfulness and sweetness of -temper; for it was very seldom, sorely tried though she was at times, -that Honor allowed herself to become ruffled or cross, even with poor -Becky in her most stupid fits; and no one but the girl herself knew -what a weary, tired-out little frame it often was she stretched upon -her bed at night with a sigh of thankfulness for her well-earned -rest. Then when better times came, and cares and anxieties lessened, -the young doctor saw a new side to her character; for whereas she had -before been almost unnaturally sober-minded for one so young, she was -now like a bright sunbeam in the house. - -No wonder Dr. Sinclair began to think how cheerless his house (which -hitherto had appeared to be all that was desirable) looked on his -arrival home, and how different it would all be if there was someone -always waiting to receive him. In summer-time he would picture this -person sitting in the porch, perhaps, with needlework, and when -winter came, in a cozy sitting-room all aglow with firelight, with -possibly a pair of slippers warming near the fender. O, yes, it was -a charming picture! In truth the young doctor, hitherto so matter of -fact and prosaic, had taken to painting many such pictures in his -mind's eye, and the centre figure always bore, strange to say, a -strong resemblance to Honor Merivale. But John Sinclair had got his -way to make in the world, for although he had stepped into his -father's practice on the latter's death, the list of well-to-do -patients was not a very extensive one, there being but few -(comparatively) large houses round about the neighbourhood; and the -young fellow being kind-hearted and lenient in such matters, fees -came in but slowly from his poorer patients, often not at all. - -This had been of no consequence to the old gentleman during his -lifetime, for he had money of his own which made him independent of -his profession. In later years, however, he had speculated largely -and unsuccessfully, and when on his death-bed he was obliged to tell -his son that all he had to leave him was his house and just the bare -practice. This intelligence had in no way disconcerted John -Sinclair, however. He said he had his brains and his hands, and with -those useful commodities had no fears for the future. - -He had soon worked the practice up into something very much better -than it had been formerly, and, what was more encouraging, he was -beginning to be looked upon with favour by his brother practitioners, -it being now no uncommon thing for him to be sent for to neighbouring -towns to hold consultations with men of long standing and experience. - -Still his fortune was not made, and in his castle-building moments he -now became painfully conscious of many defects in his bachelor home. - -The carpets, which a little while back had appeared quite handsome in -his eyes, now look threadbare and worn. The curtains are all of them -old-fashioned and dingy. The leather of the dining-room furniture -has suddenly become shabby and scratched, whilst the coverings of all -the drawing-room chairs and sofas, &c., are faded to the last degree. - -No, he could not ask Honor to share his home as it is. He must wait -until he shall have the means to brighten up the old house with -modern furniture, and to make it both pretty and comfortable. He -must wait, too, until he has a certain income (how much, he has not -quite decided even to himself) to depend upon yearly. - -"She has slaved and laboured enough, poor child!" he says to himself -sighing, "and she shall never have to do it again through any -rashness of mine." - -So altogether John Sinclair is not in the best of spirits just now, -for while he is waiting might not someone else step in and secure the -prize. - -Mrs. Merivale sees the change, and guesses pretty accurately the -reason of it. But while she pities him from her heart she feels -rightly that nothing she can do will mend matters. - -Daisy does not find her companion nearly so amusing and cheerful now -as she used to, and one morning, feeling in extra good spirits -herself, and only getting mono-syllabic answers to all her childish -flow of chatter, she plainly informs him of that fact without the -slightest regard to his feelings. - -"Am I not?" says Sinclair, laughing a little and pulling himself -together; for he had been leaning forward in his saddle wrapped in -gloomy thoughts, until the child's abrupt remark roused him. - -"Well, I am very sorry, Daisy. I'll try to be a little more lively -in future. Shall I tell you a new story?" - -Daisy looks at him, and then shakes her head. - -"I like the old one best," she says, "about the princess, you know, -and the wood-cutter. But I don't like the way it finishes up. You -must make it end differently, Dr. John." - -"Why, how did it end?--I almost forget now;" and he passes his hand -over his eyes and strives to take his memory back to please his -exacting little patient. - -"Why, I believe _I_ know it all better than you!" remarks the child -with some contempt. "Don't you remember? The princess had a lot of -brothers and sisters; but, you know, she can only have been a -princess in disguise, because she was a kind of Cinderella at home. -Then the wood-cutter, just because he _was_ a wood-cutter, would not -ask the princess to marry him, although he was _dreadfully_ fond of -her; and _I_ think that was silly, you know, because it was quite -likely that some fairy would have made him a prince when they were -married, and then, you see, it would have been all right. You must -make up a new ending," concludes Daisy authoritatively, "and make the -wood-cutter ask the princess to marry him, and then they will both be -happy ever after." - -"Do you think they really would be?" asks Dr. John anxiously. - -"Of _course_ they would--they always are!" replies Daisy, with firm -conviction that the approved manner of winding up fairy tales in -general cannot fail to be successful in this case also. - -"You can arrange it all nicely when you are at home to-night," -continues the child, "and mind you make it very long." - -"To be sure," says the young man as he lifts his little charge off -her pony and stands her by the gate. "Yards long, if you like, -Daisy; and we will take an extra long ride so as to get it all in -comfortably." - -As he stops at the Rosery stables to leave Puck, the old gentlemen at -work in the garden catch sight of their young favourite; and nothing -will do but he must go in and take a glass of ale and some cake with -them, the brothers being devoted to cake themselves, and thinking of -necessity that every one else must be likewise. So Jack is taken in -company with Puck to the nice cool stable, where he is entertained -with a fresh drink and a few oats, while his master goes into the -shady, old-fashioned dining-room with his old hosts. It soon becomes -apparent that they have lured him in with some special object, for -after a humming and hawing from both gentlemen in turn Mr. Edward at -length says: - -"The fact is, my dear Dr. John, we have been wanting to speak to you -for some time past on a little matter of business; and I do not see -that we could have a better opportunity than now." - -Mr. Benjamin nods approvingly, and saying "exactly," looks at his -brother expectantly. - -"You see, my dear boy," resumes the elder brother slowly, "if you -will pardon us for saying so, we do think it is time you were -thinking of getting married. Hush! pray let me finish what I was -about to say. Of course Mrs. Mildew, though a truly excellent woman -in her way, is, it cannot be denied, advancing in years; and we fear -that she does not always make you as comfortable as--as, well, as she -might. Now, Brother Ben and I, you must remember, have known you -ever since you were a little chap--so high, and have looked upon you -as a son almost. Naturally, therefore, we have put you down in our -will for a trifle. But we have lately been thinking that the wiser -plan would be to let you have the benefit of this little sum during -our lifetime--in fact, at once. It will bring you in about a hundred -a year, and with your own practice, we think you might make a -sufficient income to keep a wife very comfortably. - -"Of course," says Mr. Ned, holding up his hand again for silence--"of -course _this_ is a matter in which we cannot advise you, and which -must be left entirely to yourself. I daresay, however, you know -plenty of young ladies in the different towns about;" and he nods and -smiles archly at the young fellow. - -"You see, my dear boy, it looks so much better for a doctor to be a -married man," suddenly puts in Mr. Benjamin; "and should you be so -fortunate as to meet with anyone in the future whom you would like -to--to make Mrs. John, you know, you would naturally want to furbish -up the old place a bit--now, wouldn't you?" - -"Another thing," strikes in Mr. Edward, both brothers seeming equally -determined that John shall not have an opportunity of getting in a -single word edgeways until they have said all their say, "it would be -an immense relief to both Brother Ben and myself to feel that we -still had you at hand to fly to in any case of emergency. We have -always had the fear that you might perhaps be running away to set up -in some more prosperous place than this." - -Here the old gentleman pauses, and John Sinclair, seizing his -opportunity, speaks at last--not that he is allowed to say much, -however, for the old fellows have not half finished yet, and they -will not listen to a single word of thanks. - -When John once brings in the word "obligation" they are both down -upon him at once. - -"There is no obligation in the matter at all, my dear boy, unless it -is on our side. As I said to Brother Ben this morning, 'It is pure -selfishness on our part, Ben, nothing more nor less. Because, you -see, we like to see with our own eyes that what we intend doing is -really done, and without any haggling with lawyers and executors.' -Why, bless me, if every one acted on this principle there would be a -little more justice and comfort in the world, I'm thinking." - -After a little more brisk conversation and some chaffing on the -subject of the future "Mrs. John" (Mr. Ben having declared that his -young friend was blushing, and that he believed he already had his -eye on some charming young lady, though whom it could be he couldn't -tell), the young doctor is allowed to take his departure. - -Riding slowly down the cool, green lanes, Jack rather enjoying the -unusual pace, Sinclair repeats over and over to himself Daisy's -words, "The wood-cutter must ask the princess to marry him," till at -last, giving the saddle a sounding smack with the handle of his -riding-whip, he exclaims to himself, "He shall ask her, and that this -very day! Only," his face falling a little, "will she raise any -objections to leaving all her brothers and sisters, I wonder?" He is -put to the test sooner than he expects, for as he comes out of the -lane at the crossroads, a little way down one of which his own house -stands, whom should he see seated on the stile, a small basket by her -side, but Honor Merivale! - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -THE WOOD-CUTTER AND THE PRINCESS. - -In a moment John Sinclair is off his horse, and drawing his arm -through the reins he approaches Honor. - -"Now I am fortunate," he says, putting one foot up on the lower plank -of the stile. "I was just wishing for someone to communicate a piece -of good news to; and lo! here is someone ready and waiting, as it -were." - -"I was waiting for a fresh stock of breath after climbing up that -hill, Dr. Sinclair, not for you." - -"Possibly," he returns, smiling; "but now you are here you will let -me tell my news, won't you?" - -Then in a few words he tells her of the conversation that has been -held that morning by the Mr. Talboys and himself. - -"I am so glad!" exclaims Honor, holding out her hand in the impulse -of the moment, "and they will be so delighted at home too! You work -so hard and are so good to every one, I am sure you thoroughly -deserve this good fortune." - -"The brothers find serious fault with me for one thing, however," -resumes the doctor after a short pause. "They think it is high time -I thought of getting married." - -"Oh!" says Honor, and suddenly discovering that her hand is still -resting in that of Sinclair, she gently draws it away and strokes -Jack's velvet nose. - -"Yes, they say a doctor ought to be a married man. I think so too. -What do _you_ say, Miss Honor?" - -"O, I daresay it may be well in some cases, but you have got on very -well so far." - -"Yes, so far perhaps," and letting the reins drop, that Jack may -graze at will, Sinclair seats himself on the stile, a plank below -Honor. - -"By the by," he says, looking up suddenly, "you remember that story I -have often told Daisy, about the wood-cutter and the princess? You -must have heard it, because I am sure I have told it some hundreds of -times altogether. Well, I have to revise it, to suit her little -ladyship's taste. She no longer approves of it as it was. I -thought, perhaps, you might help me. First of all the princess, so -far as I remember, had no name. I don't think I ever troubled myself -about giving her one. Now, what do you think of 'Honoria'--Princess -Honoria? I think it sounds well; do you?" - -"O yes," replies the girl, laughing a little. "That would do very -well, I daresay." - -"Well then, do you think 'John' too commonplace a name for the -wood-cutter?" - -Honor starts a little. - -"I think you might find one better suited to a fairy tale," she says -quietly. - -"Do you? Oh, I think it would do so well. O yes, certainly; his -name must be John. You can settle the next question for me. Daisy -says the wood-cutter is to ask the princess to marry him. Shall he -do so, Honor?" - -Poor Honor! She cannot get off the stile, because there sits the -doctor below, making her descent practically impossible until he -chooses to move; and her broad-brimmed hat, though effectually -shading her eyes from the sun, cannot shield her from the earnest -eyes looking up so anxiously into her face. She cannot put up her -sun-shade either, for both her hands are now imprisoned, and while -flushing painfully she tries to withdraw them, she looks away across -the fields and says nothing. - -"Won't you answer me, Honor?" he says after a minute. - -"I--I think it would be a pity for him to ask her," she says in a low -voice. - -"Why?" - -Honor brings her face round again, and with a great effort continues -speaking in the light manner in which they began, notwithstanding -that her hands are still held tightly. - -"Why," she says with a little smile. "Don't you remember that the -princess had a lot of brothers and sisters, and--and they might not -like her to go away, and she might not think it right to leave them, -you know." - -"They might marry too," mutters Sinclair gloomily. Then suddenly -bending forward again, he says with trembling voice, "Honor, dear -child, do not trifle with me. You know that I have loved you for a -long, long time, almost ever since I first knew you. But I have been -waiting--oh, such a weary waiting!--until I should have something -else to offer you besides my worthless self. And now that I _can_ do -it, you are not going to disappoint me, dear? Say you will be my -wife, Honor." - -[Illustration: "YOU ARE NOT GOING TO DISAPPOINT ME, HONOR?"] - -"O don't, please don't!" cries the girl, trying distractedly to get -possession of her own hands again. "O, Dr. Sinclair, I _wish_ you -had not asked me!" - -"Why?" he asks again quietly. - -"Because--because, I cannot bear to seem ungrateful or unkind, and -yet I must. O, will you please let me go?" - -"I will let you go when you have answered me two questions, Honor," -he says, dropping her hands and drawing back. "Will you first tell -me why you are obliged to disappoint me?" - -Honor struggles bravely to keep back her tears, while she says in a -low voice: "I could not leave them, Dr. Sinclair. My mother and -sisters and the boys, I mean. Somehow I have never thought of such a -thing as marrying for myself." - -"Not lately, Honor?" - -Honor looks down, but does not answer. - -"I promised father, only a little while before he died," she goes on, -"that I would always do all I could to help the others." - -"But you did not promise him never to marry? Your father would not -have exacted such a promise, I am sure. Now, Honor dear, be -reasonable. Doris is going to be married, and Molly will follow -before very long." - -"Molly?" repeats Honor, looking up. - -"Yes, of course she will, as soon as young Horton comes home again. -Well, there are two off the list. You would not consider the boys so -much in the matter, I suppose; and your mother could divide her time -between Doris and ourselves. Daisy I have always looked forward to -having to live with us. Ah! what would poor little Daisy say if she -knew that the princess was refusing to marry the wood-cutter, and to -give her that big brother she so much covets! Ah, Honor, dear child, -think before you speak again. Don't decide hurriedly, I beseech you. -Take a day to consider--two or three, if you will; but remember, that -if your final answer is again 'no,' you give me a lifelong sorrow to -live down. - -"No!" he suddenly adds with an energy that startles Honor and Jack -both, "not a _life_-long sorrow, for I shall still hope, even if I -have to wait for years. There is only one thing that will rob me of -all hope. If you tell me that you cannot care for me, then will I -leave you here at once, and I will never open my lips on the subject -again." - -But Honor, who would rather die than tell an untruth, cannot tell him -anything of the kind, and so she turns a little reproachful look upon -him, shaking her head sadly, and as it droops lower and lower two -great tears fall upon the hands which are now again holding hers in a -firm grasp. - -At the sight of her tears the doctor has instant remorse. - -"Forgive me, Honor," he says gently. "I have been too hard on you; I -am a selfish fellow, and now I have distressed you." - -But Honor, who is still crying quietly, again shakes her head, and in -a whisper that he can hardly hear she says: - -"No, no, you have not. Please, do not think that. I--I am crying -for, for happiness, I think. But oh, I am so sorry too! _Please_, -let me get my handkerchief!" - -What would have been the result of this somewhat contradictory -statement, it would be perhaps rash to speculate upon, judging by the -look of happiness which suddenly overspreads the doctor's face. But -at this critical moment a small urchin turns the corner of the lane -and slowly comes into sight. He holds a tin-can in one hand and -something tied up in a red-cotton handkerchief in the -other--presumably his dinner. The fact of coming upon the party at -the stile so suddenly and unexpectedly appears to embarrass him -exceedingly, for he stands as if rooted to the spot, gaping and -staring, first at the horse, then at Sinclair, then at Honor; his -eyes travelling back again in reversed order, and finally resting on -Jack, with whom he seems struck with admiration. All chance of -private conversation being apparently at an end, John Sinclair rises, -and first possessing himself of Honor's basket, holds out his hand -and helps her down from the stile with elaborate politeness. Then -once more slipping the reins over his arm, he retraces his steps -(Jack meekly following, though it is the opposite direction from -home), and walks slowly along by Honor's side until they reach the -gate of the Rookery. - -When Honor enters the house it is with a confused sense of having -conceded so far as to make three distinct promises to Dr. John -Sinclair. One is that should Molly marry some day in the far distant -future, she, Honor, shall consider herself pledged to become Mrs. -Sinclair, at a moment's notice. The second is that she shall -straightway inform her mother of what has passed between them, as he -intends calling that evening to speak to Mrs. Merivale on the subject -himself. - -The third concession (and Honor blushes when she thinks of it) is -that "Dr. Sinclair" is to be dropped from that time forth, and that -she is to call him simply "John" for the future. Honor, however, -privately resolves to call him nothing, if she can avoid doing -otherwise, as a way out of the difficulty. - -They are all seated at the dinner-table when she enters the room, -Doris at the head carving, for which Honor is devoutly thankful, -feeling possibly that in her present state of confusion she would not -know a shoulder of mutton from a round of beef. Mrs. Merivale is at -the other end of the table. - -"You _are_ late," says Doris, brandishing the carving-knife. "Which -will you have, Honor, hashed mutton or cold beef?" - -"Cold mutton, please," replies Honor, and Doris, staring a little, -begins to carve her some beef, thinking to herself that the hot sun -has turned her sister's head a little. - -Dick presently pushes the salad over. - -"No, thanks," says Honor absently; and at that Dick arrests the -progress of the fork which is half-way to his mouth, and laying it -down again exclaims: - -"Why, what is the matter with Honor? She is as red as a poppy; she -calls beef mutton and refuses salad in the same breath!" - -"Mind your own business and don't tease!" says Molly, who had caught -sight of the doctor with Honor at the gate, and has her own private -opinion as to her sister's embarrassment. "Eat your dinner, Dick, -and get back to your lessons. That's the best thing you can do. -Can't you see," leaning over and helping herself to more salad, "that -Honor is done up with the heat? I really thought I should have -collapsed with it myself this morning when I was coming home, down -that hot, glaring, dusty road. What did Lancelot say in his letter -this morning, Doris?" - -Honor looks gratefully at her younger sister, and having had time to -recover herself, she tries to talk and to make a pretence of eating, -though the chief part of her meat is surreptitiously received by -Timothy under the table. - -The conversation at length becomes general, and is chiefly about the -ball, which is no further off now than the next evening. - -Later on in the day Lady Woodhouse is to arrive, she having promised -to chaperone her three nieces to the ball. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -"I AM LANCELOT," SAYS SIR EDWARD. - -The dresses for the ball have all been finished off satisfactorily, -and now that the evening of the 10th has really arrived, the three -girls are standing in the drawing-room, preparatory to starting with -their aunt for the Court. - -They make a pretty group in their simple, white silk gowns and -natural flowers. Doris is perhaps a little the most important -looking, as being the eldest of the three. Standing with a handsome -posy of choice hothouse flowers (sent down from London that morning -by Mr. Ferrars) in her hand, she looks, as she certainly is, a very -pretty and graceful girl. - -Honor, with an opposition posy, which had arrived with some mystery -that afternoon, and is explained with great persistency by Dick as -being an offering from Ernest Hildyard, looks almost equally pretty -to-night, with a soft flush upon her cheeks and a happy light in her -eyes, which seems lately to have become habitual to them. But it is -Molly who carries off the palm for beauty on this occasion, though -not, perhaps, looking in the same ecstatic spirits as her two -sisters; and her mother as she looks at her feels a little pardonable -pride in the thought that probably her three daughters will be the -best-looking girls in the ball-room. - -"She is looking lovely to-night!" whispers the delighted mother to -Honor. "I do wish Hugh were here to see her, poor fellow!" - -Lady Woodhouse and Molly are also provided with posies of choice -flowers, Priscilla having left them at the Rookery that evening about -six, with her masters' compliments, a card being tied on each, one -for "Lady Woodhouse," the other "Miss Mary Merivale." - -Evidently some little bird had whispered to the old gentlemen that it -would be quite unnecessary to send a similar offering to either Doris -or Honor. - -"We must take care what we are about, Ben," remarked Mr. Edward to -his brother, "or we shall have these two young fellows getting -jealous of us." - -When the only available fly in the village is at length announced by -Dick and Bobby, who have both been on the tiptoe of expectation for -some time, Lady Woodhouse gathers up her skirts, and followed by her -three nieces walks down the gravel path, Dick being in attendance to -receive her goloshes, which, though there has not been a drop of rain -for weeks, she insists on wearing over her evening shoes until she -shall be safely seated in the aforesaid fly. - -As the boy hands Honor in, he charges her to be sure to ask Sinclair -how he likes the flowers Mr. Hildyard has sent her, but on receiving -a smart rap on his head with a fan from Molly, who is close behind -him, he wisely retires into the background. - -"Bless me! what a rattle-trap kind of conveyance," says Lady -Woodhouse to Honor, who is seated opposite, "and _how_ it smells of -straw! You girls had better hold up your gowns off the floor; I -don't suppose it is any too clean. And, dear me, there is a piece of -glass out of the pane behind Molly! You had better pull the window -up on your side, child, or you will be getting a stiff neck or an -ear-ache." - -* * * * * * * * - -It is certainly not to be denied that those whose business it has -been to make all the arrangements for the ball have achieved wonders, -for the stately, gloomy-looking old place, which until now had been -shut up for so many years, is scarcely to be recognized in the -brilliantly-lighted and flower-bedecked mansion, at whose wide-thrown -doors the guests are being set down from carriage after carriage. - -The garden is so arranged as to look like a continuation of the -beautiful conservatories, and the trees and bushes all being hung -with coloured lamps, the whole scene is like a miniature fairy-land. -There is a large marquee at one end, with light refreshments, and -this arrangement is appreciated not a little by the guests, who are -thankful on this hot summer night to have the excuse of a stroll in -the open air in order to obtain their ices and claret-cup between the -dances. - -Just inside the great drawing-room stands an aristocratic-looking, -silver-haired lady, who, with the assistance of three gentlemen -(Lancelot and two younger-looking men), is receiving the guests. The -dancing is to be in the great hall, so when most of the visitors have -arrived they are conducted thither without delay. - -"I wonder which is Sir Edward?" whispers Doris to Honor; "they are -neither of them half so good-looking as Lancelot." For Mr. Ferrars -has merely said "my cousins" in introducing them to the girls. - -But at this moment there is a little stir near the door, and the next -moment the Earl and Countess of Castleton, with their daughters, Lady -Anne and Lady Margaret Trevelyan, enter the room. - -As the host and hostess have been waiting for the arrival of this -party before giving the signal for the dancing to commence, Lancelot -immediately leads the way to the hall with Lady Castleton. The rest -of the guests follow, Lord Castleton, rather to Doris's surprise, -begging the honour of the first dance with her, while the two -"cousins" bear off the Ladies Anne and Margaret. - -Doris, though appearing pleased enough, nevertheless feels rather put -out. As she had looked forward to dancing the first dance with -Lancelot, she cannot help wondering why _he_ should be opening the -ball with Lady Castleton, instead of his cousin Sir Edward. Lord -Castleton does not mend matters in her opinion by planting himself -and her immediately opposite to Lancelot and his partner, thus giving -her precedence of Lady Anne and Lady Margaret. - -The girl is so confused with this (to her) odd arrangement that her -conversational powers are seriously affected, and she thinks to -herself what a stupid little thing she must appear to his lordship. -She sees in the distance, in another set, Honor with John Sinclair, -and Molly with Lord Hinton, a friend and college chum of Lancelot's, -who has come down with him, and she finds herself privately thinking -that if her partner were any other than Lord Castleton she would -insist on leaving this very select set and joining the other. - -She makes the best of it, however, and meeting a little affectionate -and encouraging glance from her vis-à-vis just as the band plays the -opening bars of the quadrille, she brightens up, and chats to her -elderly partner while gracefully moving through the figures in a -manner which quite charms his lordship. - -Doris is once more standing by her aunt's side when Lancelot hurries -up. "I must have this one waltz before I do any more duty dances, -Doris. Come along!" and in another instant they are gliding round -the room together. After several turns Mr. Ferrars guides her to the -end of the hall, where some heavy curtains are hung. He lifts one, -and Doris, looking a little surprised, passes through. They are now -in a sort of inner hall, and hurrying Doris down it he throws open -one of the doors and stands aside for her to enter. It is a -cosy-looking study which they are now standing in, the windows, like -those of nearly all the rooms on that side, leading straight to the -garden. The only thing, however, that Doris notices particularly in -the room itself is a nearly full-length portrait of Lancelot over the -mantel-piece. - -"Are you tired?" he asks, putting her into a comfortable -lounging-chair, and taking his stand by the fireplace, one elbow -resting on the mantel-piece. - -"Tired!--after only two dances? Why, I shouldn't expect to be tired -if I danced all night long, Lancelot." - -"And now, tell me, Doris," he says after a short pause, "how do you -like Sir Edward?" - -"Sir Edward?" repeats Doris staring a little. "Why, I don't even -know who he is yet. You only said 'my cousin' when you introduced -them both to us. How can I possibly tell?" - -"And yet you have been dancing with him," says Lancelot with a little -smile. - -"I!--with Sir Edward?" says Doris evidently thinking that her -companion is wandering in his mind a little. - -"Yes, _you_, with Sir Edward. Look here, Doris," taking her arm and -raising her from the chair, "that is Sir Edward Ferrars up there!" -and he points to the portrait of himself. - -"_Lancelot!_" gasps Doris, and she turns her wonder-stricken face -towards him, while a little pained look comes into her eyes. "Why -have you called yourself Lancelot, then?" she inquires, her voice -sounding a little hurt and constrained. - -"Because I _am_ Lancelot," Sir Edward says gently, and taking her -hands into his. "But I am Edward too, Doris; the other is only my -second name, though I have always been called by it since my infancy. -You see, I never expected to come into this property, Doris. It came -almost like a blow to me. There was another man, a distant cousin, -who was the direct heir; but, poor fellow! he was a black sheep, I am -afraid, and he came to an untimely end. It was all hushed up at the -time, and I knew no more of it than anyone else. You may imagine, -then, how surprised I was when I found myself the happy possessor of -this property. Happy, because I have found someone to share it with -me, Doris. I should not have cared two straws about it otherwise." - -"But--but _why_ did you deceive me, Lancelot?" says Doris, with the -threatening of a pout on her fair face. - -"I did not deceive you, dear. I simply let things take their own -course, with you that is, and I was as much Lancelot Ferrars then as -now, now as then. The only two people I told of my accession to this -property were your aunt and your mother. I was bound to tell them, -of course." - -"And why," says Doris, still looking and feeling a little hurt, -"_why_ couldn't you tell _me_ too?" - -"You must forgive me, Doris. Do you remember what you said to me -over and over again about making some great match? I remember you -tossing your little head one day when we were sitting in the balcony -of the hotel at Venice and saying 'What was love compared to riches!'" - -Doris blushes and hangs her head. - -"Then there appeared this rich old French count--" - -"He wasn't _very_ old," interrupts Doris. - -"Older than I am at any rate. And I thought at first you were a -little bit dazzled with the prospect of horses and carriages and -diamonds and so forth, so, although I knew even then that I was in a -position to give them to you also, I made up my mind I would be sure -that you were accepting me for myself, even as the artist who could -only give you a very different position to that which the old (I beg -pardon, the middle-aged) count could, and I suppose _did_, offer you. -Am I forgiven, Doris? I must be hastening back to my duties now; but -you must tell me first, dear, if you care any less for Sir Edward -than for the Lancelot you have known so long?" - -Doris lifts her face, a little paler than when they entered the room -at first, and with unshed tears standing in her large blue eyes she -says: - -"Dear Lancelot, I care for you no less, no more than at first. I do -not think I could ever be fonder of you than I was when I promised to -become your wife. But I am glad now that you tried me, and that I -accepted you in ignorance of your real position. O," she adds a -little archly, "it was horribly mean of you, but I am very, very glad -now!" - -Sir Edward (for we may as well give him his title now) folds Doris in -his arms for one brief moment, then he hurries her out of the room. -As they are approaching the hall once more, he whispers, "Give me -your programme, Lady Ferrars! I must squeeze in every dance that I -can with your ladyship; but oh, these duty dances! I _must_ have one -with Honor, and Molly too. Now you understand, I suppose, why I -opened the proceedings with Lady Castleton, and why the Earl was -_your_ partner?" - -"But he doesn't know, does he?" says Doris, looking frightened. - -"Yes, I gave him a hint. We are old friends; my father and he were -very intimate in days gone by. Lord Castleton has just told me that -he thinks Miss Merivale is a very charming girl. I shouldn't be a -bit surprised if he proposes your health at supper to-night. There -will have to be a little speechifying, worse luck, because of the -occasion." - -"O, good gracious, I hope he won't!" exclaims Doris excitedly. "If -he does, I shall fall straight under the table with nervousness!" - -"Never mind," says Sir Edward calmly. "If you do I can fish you up -again." - -Presently the Mr. Talboys come up to Doris full of hearty -congratulations, as do also most of the guests in the room that -night, who have not known the true state of affairs any more than -Doris herself. Molly, indeed, is reduced to such a state of surprise -and wonder, that Honor thinks it well to whisper that her present -partner, a youth of tender age, will be frightened if she continues -to stare in that vacant manner. - -The Mr. Talboys, who, after their usual custom had been amongst the -first arrivals, have been immensely gratified and pleased by all the -attention their three favourites have been receiving. The little -surprise of Lancelot turning out to be Sir Edward, they take quite as -a matter of course. - -"Doubtless he had very excellent reasons, my dear Ben," observed Mr. -Ned. "You see, no one knew him down here, not a soul, excepting the -Merivales and ourselves, and I should say Mr. Ferrars--I mean Sir -Edward--is an unobtrusive sort of man. O yes, very, I should think." - -To Lady Woodhouse Doris is at the same moment saying, "Aunt, how -could you and mother play me such a trick? It was too bad of you -both." - -"Tut, child!" says Aunt Sophia with a little toss of her head, "it -was for your own good. If young Ferrars had really been a pauper and -was pretending to be a prince, I might have thought twice about it, -perhaps. Here he comes for you. Dear me, how tired I am getting!" -and the poor lady tries to stifle a yawn behind her fan. - -By and by, in one of the pauses in their waltz, Sir Edward suddenly -says, "You will have to call me 'Edward' now, you know. You can't go -on with Lancelot: no one would know whom you were talking about. Of -course it must be Edward." - -"Well, I suppose it must," says Doris, taking little sniffs at her -flowers. "But I don't like it half so well. It is so formal too. I -shall have to call you 'Ned' for short, shall I?" - -"You can't do that, because Mr. Talboys will always think you are -speaking to him when he is present. _Ted_ might do, though. It -sounds so romantic and pretty, doesn't it? Honor and Molly are -getting lots of attention, aren't they? Poor Horton, I wish he was -here. Shall we have another turn, Doris?" - -Not long after this there is a general move amongst the guests who -are still left, and while Lady Woodhouse and her three nieces are -waiting together in a little group, Sir Edward, his cousins, Lord -Hinton, and John Sinclair being in close attendance, Mrs. Cunnyngham, -Sir Edward's aunt, says a few kind, courteous words to her nephew's -promised bride, finally kissing her affectionately when saying -"good-night." - -Sir Edward takes Lady Woodhouse out to the carriage, Lord Hinton -following with Doris. - -Mr. Ernest Hildyard, who has been leaning against the wall consumed -with jealousy of his successful rival John Sinclair for the best part -of the evening, on seeing this move rushes forward, inspired by one -last glimmer of hope, and is about to offer his arm to Honor, when -Sinclair with a little triumphant smile strides forward and quietly -takes possession of her. - -The disappointed youth falls back to Molly's side just as one of Mrs. -Cunnyngham's sons also reaches her; but with a little smile at the -latter Molly puts her hand on young Hildyard's arm, and Cunnyngham, -understanding her smile, steps back, liking her all the better for -the little kind-hearted act. - -Both brothers, however, accompany her as well, and there is quite a -merry leave-taking amongst them all as the gentlemen stand -congregated on the lowest step, after having seen their fair charges -stowed away in the fly. The first rosy streaks of dawn are appearing -in the east as they drive away from the Court, and poor Lady -Woodhouse, tired and shivery, throws herself back in her seat -exclaiming: - -"There! thank goodness _that_ is over. I would not go through it all -again, no, not if I were paid for it!" Mary is in attendance with -the goloshes as the fly draws up at the gate, and they all go as -quietly and softly into the house and up the stairs as if, as Doris -says, they were housebreakers. - -The girls follow their aunt into her room and help her out of her -finery, as she calls it. - -"Why, dear me," says the good lady, sinking into a chair, "you girls -look as fresh as larks even now--excepting Molly perhaps: the child -looks pale. Get me my night-cap somebody, I am dying to get this -lace arrangement off. That diamond pin has been running into my head -the best part of the evening." - -"Poor Aunt!" says Doris. "Take off your cap and I'll have the other -ready in a minute." And the naughty girl winks at Honor as she turns -away to look for it. - -Molly, however, too tired for jokes, is before her, and is already -standing by her aunt with the night-cap in her hands. - -"That's a good girl," says Lady Woodhouse, drawing her face down and -kissing it. "And now be off, all of you. You have already lost -several hours of beauty-sleep, and you will be looking as haggard as -old women to-morrow!" And kissing them all affectionately, she -dismisses her three maids for the night, or more correctly speaking, -morning. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -DORIS'S WEDDING. - -Breakfast is considerably later than usual the next morning, in -consequence of the gaieties of the previous night. Mrs. Merivale has -therefore made an effort to be present on this occasion in order to -hear full accounts of the ball. - -Lady Woodhouse has now somewhat recovered from her fatigue, but the -girls all look pale and heavy-eyed, being altogether unaccustomed to -such late hours. Molly sits in a hopeless state of yawning, hardly -eating any breakfast, and leaving all the others to do the talking, -only throwing in a word here and there. Doris has been scolding her -mother for her part in what she calls the _trick_ played upon her as -to the real position of her _fiancé_, and Mrs. Merivale has more than -once been obliged to appeal laughingly to her sister for support in -what she holds out as her _reasons_ against her daughter's arguments. - -That young lady at length clinches the matter by emphatically -declaring it to be all "fudge," whatever that may be, and that she is -quite surprised at Lancelot having behaved so badly. - -"Yes," presently remarks Lady Woodhouse, chipping the top off an egg, -"I will say this for your girls, Mary,--a more lady-like, refined -trio you could not see. If they were not here," she continues with -an inconsistency worthy of the Emerald Isle itself, "I should go on -to say what is perfectly true, that they were the admiration of the -greater part of the guests, and the envy of the rest. Why, if their -programmes had been as long as my arm, they could have filled them -over and over. O, yes, I certainly feel well repaid for those long, -weary hours of sitting there, pretending I liked it, when I would -_far_ rather have been in my bed. Well, as I said before, the girls -do you credit, Mary. You and that excellent Miss Denison that was; -you would have brought them up to be refined even had they had to go -out charing. Good gracious! here's that cat of yours playing with my -shoe-strings. Take him away, Molly, do! And now, Doris, what is -this you are telling us about Sir Edward? If he wants you to marry -him in three weeks' time instead of several months, why in the world -shouldn't you do so?" - -"It is so quick, aunt," objects Doris. - -"Quick? What nonsense, child! And now, let me tell you this, Doris, -and I am sure your mother will agree with me. Considering that you -are going to your husband without so much as a sixpence of your own, -I think it is your duty--do you hear?--your _duty_ to consider his -wishes. Goodness knows, the property has been neglected long enough; -and if Sir Edward wishes to settle down on his estate as quickly as -he can, I don't see why _you_ should raise objections. _Do_ leave -off twirling that knife round, Dick. It fidgets me to death." - -After a good deal of argument on the subject, it is settled that -Doris (in her aunt's wording) shall behave herself like a sensible -young woman, and inform Sir Edward, who is to call at twelve o'clock -that morning, that she is ready to be borne off to the altar at any -moment he shall think desirable; and Molly, suddenly looking up at -the clock and remembering that she is due at the Hallams at half-past -ten, darts away from the table to put on her hat. - -And so it comes to pass that the wedding is fixed for that day three -weeks. - -Much as Sir Edward would have wished for a quiet wedding--just simply -the Merivale party and a few of his own relatives--it is found to be -impossible, under all the circumstances. So Doris finds (not -entirely to her chagrin) that she is, after all, to have the grand -wedding which she has always promised herself on the occasion of her -union with the much-talked-of duke. Although the house for the next -three weeks is in a perfect uproar of preparation regarding -everything appertaining to the bride's trousseau, much trouble, and -expense too, is taken off their hands by the Mr. Talboys, who insist, -taking no denial, on giving the breakfast at their own house. - -Grave and long, therefore, are the consultations held by the old -gentlemen with Mrs. Edwards, their cook and housekeeper, and anxious -the discussions with Priscilla, the parlour-maid, on the subject of -certain valuable silver and china, which are stored away in the -depths of a capacious closet, and have not seen the light of day for -years. - -Nearly all Doris's time is taken up in trying on and being fitted, -until she hardly knows what dresses she does possess. Many are the -notes of thanks, too, which she has to write for the really nice -presents she receives, conspicuous amongst which are a beautiful set -of amethysts from Mr. Edward, and another of fine pearls from Mr. -Benjamin Talboys. - -Sir John and Lady Woodhouse have come forward most generously in the -matter of the trousseau, the former having said to his wife: "We must -see that little Doris is well set up for gowns and bonnets and so -forth, my dear. I should not like her to step into such a position -scantily supplied. You see it is our duty, as it were, to see the -affair all through satisfactorily, the young people having met so -often while Doris was under our charge." - -And so the rich silk embroidered with seed pearls in which Doris now -stands, waiting for her carriage, has been the gift of her kind -uncle, as well as most of the other dresses; and while, before -starting for the church, he clasps upon the girl's wrist a slender -band of pearls (his wedding present), he whispers to her, "You must -never forget, my dear, that _I_ was the attraction, and that Sir -Edward always came to see _me_, not _you_, you know!" and laughingly -patting her cheek, he trots away after his wife. - -No less a personage than the Earl of Castleton has solicited the -honour of giving away the bride, partly on account of his friendship -with Sir Edward, but quite as much for the real liking he has taken -to "little Miss Doris," as he calls her. - -Lord Castleton seems every bit as nervous as Doris herself on this -occasion, for he fusses about the room, first to the window then to -the mantel-piece, taking little sniffs here and there at the flowers, -then back again to the window. He can think of nothing particular to -say either, excepting every now and then expatiating on the beauty of -the day, which has certainly turned out lovely, and also begging -Doris not to be nervous. - -He is just admiring the beautiful diamond necklace (Sir Edward's -gift) which Doris wears, when the carriage is announced, and the -earl, with a dignity which fills the stragglers at the gate with awe, -proudly conducts the bride to it. - -Lord Hinton acts as best-man to his friend, Sir Edward, and the -ceremony once over, he of course takes Honor into his charge as first -bridesmaid, Dr. John Sinclair accepting the inevitable with a fairly -good grace, remarking as he follows the rest of the party down the -aisle with Molly on his arm: - -"You and I must console each other, Molly; we both seem rather out of -it to-day, though your turn will come as surely as mine yet." - -The moment has now come when Doris must take leave of all her family -and the kind friends standing around her. She is looking lovely in -her plainly-made dress of dark green cloth and tan Suède waistcoat -and facings, with bonnet and gloves to match. Though when bidding -her adieux the tears are standing in her soft blue eyes, she wisely -keeps them from falling (for after all it is not a compliment to -one's bridegroom to start on the wedding tour in floods of tears); -and as she takes her husband's arm and goes down the steps, she turns -before entering the carriage and throws a beaming glance back to them -all. - -In another moment, amidst a perfect storm of rice, the Mr. Talboys -actually struggling with Dick and John Sinclair for the largest -quantities, Sir Edward and Lady Ferrars are off, _en route_ to -Seaforth Abbey, one of Lord Castleton's seats in the neighbourhood of -the English lakes, which he has placed at their disposal for the -honeymoon. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -THE END OF A FAIRY TALE. - -Another year has passed, and on a hot lazy afternoon in August a -group may be seen lounging on the lawn of the Rookery, under the -shade of one or two fine old trees. - -Mrs. Merivale and Lady Woodhouse are seated close together in earnest -conversation over some matter which is of importance to themselves -only. - -Sir Edward and Lady Ferrars, who have now been settled at the Court -for some long time, have dropped in at the Rookery, as they are fond -of doing, and are seated with Honor a little distance off. - -Presently Doris rises and joins her mother and aunt, and after a -little pause, during which Sir Edward rolls up and lights a -cigarette, he turns to his sister-in-law and says: - -"Do you know, Honor, I have come here this afternoon with the -deliberate intention of giving you a good talking to. I told Doris I -should this morning, and she quite agreed." - -"Why, what have I done?" inquires Honor laughing. - -"It is not what you _have_ done, but what you seem determined _not_ -to do, young lady," returns Sir Edward. "To speak plainly, I do not -think you are treating Sinclair fairly. That is what I want to tell -you." - -Honor is opening her mouth to speak, a little surprise on her face at -this accusation, when Sir Edward continues: - -"No, I really don't, Honor. Here is this letter, which came more -than a week ago, telling us of young Horton already being on his way -home, poor fellow! and you know very well what will take place when -once he does come, for Molly certainly returns his affection now. I -am sure of it. And yet you go on, putting off Sinclair still; and -for no reason at all as far as I can see." - -Honor looks a little abashed, but Sir Edward goes on again, first -sending a cloud of smoke up into the tree above. - -"You know what I intend doing for Bobby and Dick, Honor. Of course -it is high time now in any case that Bob went to a good -boarding-school, and he can divide his holidays amongst us when they -come round. Dick cannot do better than remain where he is for a -little while linger; but I have told the lad that when the right time -comes he shall have his heart's desire, and go to Oxford. Now, -Honor, be reasonable. What is there to prevent your marrying -Sinclair now? There are only your mother and Daisy left, and I am -sure the former would be very happy living with us, taking turns, I -mean, with you and ourselves. And as for Daisy, Sinclair has often -spoken of his great wish to have the child to live entirely with -himself and you in the future. Now, I don't think you can say -another word. I consider I have blown away all your scruples as -completely as I am blowing away this smoke. So now, Miss Honor, we -shall both, Doris and I, expect cards for your wedding shortly;" and -before the girl can say a word in reply Sir Edward gets up and joins -the other group, feeling doubtless that it will do more good if she -is left to digest his remarks at her own leisure. - -The Mr. Talboys are coming to tea this afternoon, bringing with them -two guests of their own--Daisy and Bobby. So, after sitting a moment -or two, Honor gets up and goes into the house to give a look to the -preparations for tea, which is to be in the garden on this occasion. - -While this conversation is going on, Molly is seated in a swing which -is suspended to a tree near a small arbour, at the back of which is a -little gate in the hedge, much used by the servants, it being a short -way to the back of the house. - -Often the girls use this way of entrance too, especially when they -want to get in quickly. - -To-day, on her return home from some of her pupils, Molly turns in -this way, and seating herself in the swing throws her hat down on the -grass before her. - -It is not because she is tired that Molly stays here instead of going -straight into the house, but because she wants to be quiet for a few -moments, in order to read again for about the twentieth time that -letter spoken of by Sir Edward to Honor, which is from Col. Danvers, -and is in her pocket at the present moment. Gently swinging to and -fro, one hand steadying the rope, the other holding the letter down -in her lap, Molly reads the words which she could now almost say off -by heart. - -The first portion of the letter is taken up with inquiries for all at -home, and a brief explanation of his having been ordered to the -Soudan some little time back. There, greatly to his surprise, he had -come across Hugh Horton, the two from that time being thrown much -together. Then comes the description of a small skirmish with the -Arabs one day when they were both out together, in which Hugh was -badly wounded in nobly going to the rescue of one of his own men. - -Having been cut off somehow from the rest of the party, this man -suddenly found himself face to face with three Arabs, who, promptly -attacking him, would soon have made short work of the matter, had not -Hugh, seeing the state of affairs from a distance, galloped up to his -assistance. Even then the two had a hard fight for it, and it is -doubtful whether either would have lived to tell the tale had not -others of the party ridden up to their rescue; for while the Arabs at -the sight of them took instant refuge in flight, Hugh at the same -moment rolled forward in his saddle and fell heavily to the ground, -close to where Private Williams had fallen a few seconds previously. - -Altogether the letter is a long one, but a little further on--after -describing the dangerous state in which Hugh (now Captain Horton) had -lain for weeks, the surgeon having in fact given up all hope of his -recovery--there are some words which Molly is never tired of reading. - - -"I nursed him through it all myself," the colonel goes on, "with the -assistance of his own servant, and altogether, when not raving in -delirium, he was as patient as a man with a broken arm, a deep sabre -gash across his forehead, and quite a nice little collection of -bullets in his body altogether, could be expected to be, I think. -Through all his delirium, and even when quietly sleeping sometimes, -the name of 'Molly Bawn' was constantly on his lips. I mention this -in case you should happen to know anything of the young lady in -question! Well, a truce to joking. I am sending poor Horton home to -you all a complete wreck of his former self. Take care of him, and -be kind to him, Molly. He needs it sadly. I think you may expect -him almost any time after you receive this letter, for I want to -start him off the moment I can." - - -A few more words and the letter ends. Not so the motion of the -swing. For Molly still sits, reading a little bit here and there -over again, until the tears slowly gather in her eyes, and fall one -by one with a little splash on to the paper in her lap. - -"Dear Hugh!" she says softly to herself, "I hope he will come soon." - -The words are hardly spoken when her heart tightens, and for a second -or two almost ceases to beat. For hark! A tenor voice somewhere in -the neighbourhood of the road is singing, or to speak more correctly, -humming, the first verse of "Molly Bawn." - -Molly arrests the motion of the swing and listens; her heart now -beating to suffocation almost, while a flush rises to her fair young -face. It dies away again suddenly, however, for in another instant a -tall figure stands beside her with pale haggard face, on which the -dark and now sweeping moustache looks fiercer than ever. - -There is the same soft light in the eyes as of old though, as Hugh, -with a little smothered cry of "Molly, darling!" throws his one -available arm round the startled girl, just in time to prevent her -from falling. - -"Hugh!" she cries. And in those three words all is said, all told; -and the next moment Molly is leaning her head upon his shoulder, -shedding tears of thankfulness for his safe return. - -A little later on, when (regardless of spiders and other innumerable -creeping things) they are seated in the arbour, Hugh having begged -earnestly for a few minutes' quiet talk before joining the others, -Molly suddenly looks up. - -"Poor fellow! you do indeed look as if you need to be taken care of. -Is your poor arm really getting stronger now?" and she gently strokes -the right arm, which he still wears in a sling. - -"O, that will soon be all right," he says, capturing the little hand -and holding it fast. "It was the knock on the head which nearly did -for me. Look here, Molly!" and lifting a lock of hair which falls a -little over one side of his forehead, he shows her a wound which -extends pretty far back. Not an ugly-looking scar, but a deep and -dangerous cut at the time. - -"Yes," he says, "I did not know much after getting that, Molly; but I -should have known still less if it had not been for _you_." - -"For me?" says the girl looking up inquiringly. - -"Yes, for you, dear. Here, help me to get into my breast-pocket, -Molly I have something to show you." - -With a little struggling Hugh's pocket-book is at length extracted -from his pocket, and after some fumbling among its contents he -presently produces a little flat silver box of oriental-looking -workmanship, which looks a good deal dented and a little bent. - -He gives it into Molly's hands. - -"Open it," he says, and the girl, wondering a little, does so. - -A faded white rose lies within it, a faint, sweet fragrance clinging -to it still. - -"My rose!" says Molly softly, her eyes filling with tears. - -"_Mine_," returns Hugh gently, and taking it out of her hand he puts -it away again carefully. - -"Yes, if it had not been for this rose, Molly, I should not be -sitting here beside you now. The bullet which would have been buried -in my heart struck this (touching the box), and glanced aside. So -you see, Molly, it was _you_ who saved my life!--a worthless one -enough until you took me in hand, dear. Well, now I suppose we must -go and join the others. What a start I shall give them!" - -When they reach the lawn they find the Mr. Talboys have arrived with -Daisy and Bobby; and when they have all got over their first -astonishment at the sight of the haggard-looking personage walking by -Molly's side, there is a general rush, and hearty congratulations are -showered on Hugh by every one upon his safe arrival home again. -Although nothing is actually said upon the subject, it is not -difficult to guess at the true state of affairs when they glance from -Hugh's speaking face to Molly, where she stands a little apart, with -downcast eyes and heightened colour; and there is extra warmth thrown -into the welcome to the returned wanderer on this account perhaps. - -"But where is Daisy?--not ill, I hope;" and Hugh looks inquiringly -towards Molly. - -"O no," says Mrs. Merivale rising. "I am thankful to say that she is -quite a little Samson to what she was formerly. But she and Bobby -have been dining with the Mr. Talboys to-day, and Daisy seems a -little done up with the heat. She complained of headache, so Honor -insisted on her lying on the sofa in the drawing-room for a little -while. I will take you to see her myself, Hugh;" and putting her arm -within his they turn towards the house together. - -"The fact is," remarks Honor, shaking her head gravely at the -brothers Talboys, "Mr. Ned and Mr. Ben have been giving the children -too many good things. Bobby already begins to look as if a powder -might be desirable sooner or later." - -"_Honor!_" exclaims that young gentleman indignantly, while Mr. Ned, -much concerned at the charge brought against himself and his brother, -says emphatically: - -"I _assure_ you, my dear, we have been most judicious in that -respect, and I am sure that Daisy at least had nothing richer than -apricot-tart and cream. To be sure," he adds after a minute, "I have -some slight recollection of my brother Ben and Daisy having finished -up the tart between them, but I _don't_ think it was a very large -one. Master Bob and I preferred something more substantial--didn't -we, young man?" - -"Yes," replies Bobby promptly. "We had a roly-poly jam-pudding, Mr. -Ned and I. And we had the jam-pot up as well, because we thought -Mrs. Edwards had not put enough in--didn't we, Mr. Ned?" - -"Hush--sh--sh!" says Mr. Edward, shaking his finger at the boy; "you -mustn't tell tales out of school, young Bob, or we shall have Miss -Honor after us with the cane!" - -When Mrs. Merivale a little later comes out of the drawing-room, -leaving Hugh still chatting to Daisy, Molly is just descending the -stairs, having been up to her room to take her hat off. She waits -for her, therefore, and tenderly folding her daughter in her arms she -whispers, "I am so glad, dear child! Now go into the drawing-room -and sit with him and Daisy in the cool for a little while. We will -call you out when tea is ready. I will tell the others and make it -all easy for you, dear. See if Hugh would like anything after his -dusty walk. Poor fellow, what a wreck he is indeed!" and opening the -door again Mrs. Merivale gently pushes her daughter into the room. - -Sitting there in the welcome shade of the darkened room, with one -hand in Hugh's strong grasp and the other clasped by Daisy's little -sympathetic fingers, Molly listens quietly to all that Hugh is -telling her little sister of his experiences and adventures abroad; -and presently he turns to her and tells her of the devotion and -kindness with which Colonel Danvers tended him while on his bed of -sickness, and indeed up to the time he had left Egypt. - -"He told me afterwards," Hugh adds, "that he was determined to pull -me through 'for little Molly's sake.'" - -At this moment Becky opens the door, and with a frightened glance at -the "capting" announces that tea is ready and waiting. So they leave -Daisy to herself, promising to send some tea in to her. - -There is such a large party on the lawn altogether that Honor and -Molly divide the labour between them and have opposition tables, -Honor with tea, Molly with coffee. Hugh is seated in a comfortable -wicker chair near Molly's table (he preferring coffee to tea), and is -being made much of by everybody. There is a beautiful sapphire and -diamond ring on the third finger of Molly's left hand now, the pearls -playing number two; and as Hugh watches the little hands moving about -the cups, the flashes emitted by the fine stones cause him much -inward satisfaction, as proving some really tangible arrangement _at -last_! - -Presently John Sinclair strolls in, and being a tea-drinker, -naturally comes to anchor beside Honor's table. He is very soon, as -usual, plunged in some scientific discussion with Sir Edward Ferrars, -a great liking for each other having sprung up between the two young -men. But notwithstanding the rapt attention he is apparently -bestowing on the subject, Doctor Sinclair reads the "signs of the -times" as quickly as anyone, and the sight of Hugh seated by Molly -and the flashing of the latter's diamonds and sapphires afford him -every bit as much satisfaction as they do Hugh. - -"I have come to the end of my cream!" suddenly exclaims Molly. "Who -will fetch me some more?" - -"I will," cries Honor, jumping up. "I can lay my hand on it at once. -Don't let Dick eat all the sugar while I am gone." - -In another moment John Sinclair rises quickly from his chair. - -"I will go and see how Daisy is getting on," he remarks, and, quite -oblivious of the fact that Sir Edward has just asked him some -abstruse question, the answer to which he is eagerly waiting for, off -he starts with rapid strides towards the house. Sir Edward, however, -looks at Doris and laughs, well pleased. After waiting patiently for -some considerable time Molly at length exclaims: - -"Good gracious! what a time she is fetching that cream! O, here they -all come together." - -"Daisy feels better," remarks Honor with some confusion in her -manner, "so we have brought her out with us." - -"Exactly," says Brother Ben, his eyes twinkling meanwhile. Molly -looks at her sister a moment, then with a little smile at Hugh she -says: - -"Yes, Honor, but where is my cream?" - -There is a general smile, and then Dick offers his services. - -"I _may_ perhaps manage to remember what I am going for," he says; -"but it is a long, _long_ walk to the house, and I fear it is -doubtful, as Honor has already shown. However, I'll try." - -"And don't drink half of it before you get back!" cries Sinclair -after him. - -While Dick is absent there is rather an awkward silence, which Sir -Edward suddenly breaks by bursting into a hearty laugh. - -"You must really forgive me," he says to Honor and Sinclair, "but it -is so very absurd to see you two sitting there trying to look as if -nothing at all particular has happened. Of course every one of us -here," and he looks round, "has long known of the tacit understanding -as to Honor's possible marriage in the future (I say 'possible' -because of her noble and generous scruples in the matter), and I am -sure, therefore, that she will forgive me for speaking thus openly -before this family party, and our old and valued friends, the Mr. -Talboys." The brothers bow delightedly. - -"So now, Sinclair," and Sir Edward holds out his hand, "may I -congratulate you and Honor on your formal engagement?" Of course -every one flocks round them, and the general excitement is at high -pitch for a few minutes, it being presently increased by Bobby -contriving to upset a milk jug. For this catastrophe Honor is -devoutly thankful, since it takes every one's attention away from -herself for a time. Moreover, it benefits Vic and Timothy, who -generally grace the tea-board with their presence. The former has -been industriously shaking Honor's dress for the last few minutes, -being under the impression that all the handshaking and kissing are -some new kind of game. But they both rush forward now with one -accord to the little pond of milk, which is rapidly sinking into the -thirsty turf, and lap energetically until it is gone. - -Presently, when they have all settled down again quietly, Mr. Edward -Talboys plants his stick firmly on the grass in front of him and says: - -"Now, there is one thing, my dear friends, that my brother Ben and I -have set our hearts upon, and in case of any little misunderstanding -in the future, we think it is best, perhaps, to mention it at once." - -"Just so, just so," says Mr. Ben nodding. - -"We wish very much to have the honour of giving away the two brides -when the time for the wedding (which will be a double one, I suppose) -shall come. We had looked forward, you know, to performing this -little ceremony for Doris on the occasion of her becoming Lady -Ferrars, but although we were obliged to make the best of it then, we -much hope there will be no similar disappointment in store for us -_this_ time." - -"My dear sirs, I am sure that nothing would please my sisters -better," answers Sir Edward for the two girls. "I had intended -taking that duty on myself, but you have a far superior claim; and so -with your leave we will consider that matter settled. I shall devote -myself exclusively to your mother, Doris, for the whole day, so you -must look out for someone else." - -"O, I shall find someone, never fear," retorts Lady Ferrars, tossing -her fair little head at her lord. - -"And what is to become of me, pray?" inquires Lady Woodhouse, looking -round at every one in turn. - -"O, I am going to be your cavalier, aunt," says Dick with a courtly -bow. "Just you wait until you see me. I mean to get myself up to -the nines, _I_ can tell you, and you will be able to congratulate -yourself on having the best-looking fellow in the church as your -escort, _not_ excepting the two bridegrooms." - -"Dick!" cries every one together, and Lady Woodhouse, giving him a -rap with the handle of her sunshade, says: - -"Go along with you, do! As if I should consent to having a young -jack-a-napes like you for a cavalier." - -Here Daisy, who had run after Dick when he went for the cream, and -has been absent ever since, reappears amongst them all with some -little sketches which she has been doing under Honor's supervision in -Hugh's absence, and which she is anxious to show to him. - -After they have been duly examined and admired, Sir Edward calls her -over to him. - -"I fancy your friend Dr. John can finish your story for you now, -Daisy," he whispers. "Go and tell him I say so." - -Nothing loth, the child goes across to where he is sitting, and -demands his instant and undivided attention. - -So John Sinclair, with one arm round the child as she stands close -beside him, begins briefly narrating the old fairy tale in a low -voice, hurrying over it until he comes to the part in which he has -made the required alterations. - -"Wait a minute!" cries Daisy excitedly; "you must speak out loud now, -because I don't believe any of the others know the new ending. Now -then." - -"So," resumes John, "the woodcutter asked the princess to marry him--" - -"He was a prince really, you know," puts in Daisy parenthetically, -for the benefit of the company generally. - -"And," continues John, "as all her sisters were married excepting -one--" - -"She said she would!" cries the child, clapping her hands and beaming -round upon everybody. Then there is a short pause, during which John -glances at Honor. - -"And--" at length queries Daisy, looking up into her favourite's face. - -"And--er--" says John. "Let me see. O yes, the princess took the -wood-cutter by the hand and led him up to her little sister, saying: - -"'Buttercup, I have brought you a new brother. Will you come and -live with him and me far away in the wood, in a little hut which is -covered with roses?'" - -"And what did Buttercup say?" inquires Daisy, who is listening with -breathless interest to this entirely new part of the story. - -"I don't know," says John rather lamely; "what would _you_ have said?" - -"O, _I_ would have said 'yes,'" she replies promptly. - -"Well, I think you had better finish the story, Daisy. You know it -quite as well as I do, if not better." - -"Well," says Daisy gravely, "Buttercup said she _would_ like to live -with them in the hut covered with roses. And then the wood-cutter -and the princess were married very soon, and they all lived happily -ever after." - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Three Bright Girls, by Annie E. Armstrong - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THREE BRIGHT GIRLS *** - -***** This file should be named 62631-8.txt or 62631-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/6/3/62631/ - -Produced by Al Haines -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |