The porch was almost like a room. It had cushioned seats all round, a rustic table at one side, and stained glass, tiny-paned windows. The old lady hurried through it, looking back over her shoulder to say, 'Sit down for a minute or two. I will order some milk for the little boy,' and nothing loth, the children did so, though in silence.
Then Eugene glanced round in triumph.
'There now,' he said, 'you see I was right. She doesn't mind a bit. I shouldn't wonder if she brought us out cakes too.'
'Hush,' said Frances, 'you needn't talk like that, Eugene. You were as frightened as anything when she first came out. And how can you be so greedy?'
'Hush,' said Jacinth in her turn, and still more authoritatively. 'Don't you hear? she's coming back.'
The door standing slightly ajar was pushed open more widely, disclosing a trim-looking maid, carrying a tray with a large glass jug full of milk, and—joyful sight!—a plate of small brown crisp-looking cakes. Eugene's eyes glistened, though, poor little chap, it was more at the sight of the milk than the cakes, for he was very thirsty indeed. But he sat still, to outward appearance patiently enough, forjust behind the maid came the old lady again, looking quite eager and excited, a bright spot of colour on each cheek.
'Put the tray on the little table,' she said. 'Yes, that will do. You need not stay;' and the trim maid disappeared again.
Lady Myrtle poured out a glass of milk and gave it to Eugene.
'Your sisters will excuse my attending to you first, I am sure,' she said. 'You are very thirsty, I know.—Now, will you two have some milk and some cake?' she went on, turning to Jacinth and Frances.
Jacinth felt half inclined to refuse, but something in the old lady's manner made it difficult to do so. She did not seem accustomed to have even her suggestions disregarded, and her invitation was more like a command.
'After your brother has finished his milk,' their hostess went on, 'perhaps he would like to walk about the garden a little with your maid, or if he is tired, there is a nice arbour over there in the corner. I want to speak to you two a little. I have some questions to ask you, but I want you to understand that I will not invite you to come in till you have got leave from—from your parents or your guardians. When I was a child I would not have entered any stranger's house without leave, and I approve of strict ways of bringing up children.'
The girls listened respectfully, making a little sign of assent. But Eugene's whole attention had been given to the milk and cakes. Now that his thirst was satisfied, he began to think about others, and for the first time found his voice.
'Mayn't Phebe have some milk and cake, too, please?'he said. 'We've been a drefful long walk. I'm sure Phebe's firsty too.'
Phebe blushed scarlet, but in spite of her terror, her good manners—and she was a specially good-mannered girl—did not forsake her.
'Master Eugene, my dear,' she said quietly. 'You forget I am not a little young gentleman like you.—If I might take his glass and plate to the arbour, my lady, he would be very happy, and out of the way.'
Lady Myrtle smiled benignly. She liked 'tact.'
'Certainly, my good girl,' she said, 'and take a glass and some cakes for yourself too.—That is a nice-mannered girl,' she added to Jacinth and Frances. 'She is both modest and sensible.'
'Yes,' said Jacinth, 'we like her very much. Aunt Alison got her for us before we came here.'
Lady Myrtle's face grew grave.
'Is Aunt Alison the relation you live with?' she asked. 'Is her name Mrs Alison? And where and with whom did you live before? Have you no parents? I am not asking out of curiosity, but because I think you must be related to a very dear friend of mine—now dead.' Here her breath seemed to catch her voice. 'I may be mistaken, but I do not think so.'
'Our parents are in India,' said Jacinth. 'Our father is Colonel Mildmay, and Aunt Alison is his sister. Alison is her first name. We have only lived with her since our—grandmother, Mrs Denison, died.'
'Denison!' repeated Lady Myrtle, 'I was sure of it. ButMrsDenison? I cannot understand it. Are you not making a mistake, my dear? Are you sure that your grandmother wasMrsDenison? Was she not'——
'Mrs Denison was only ourstep-grandmother,' interrupted Jacinth, eagerly. Frances could not blame her now for explaining this! 'She was very good to us, but—she wasn't our own grandmother.Shedied before we were born. She was mamma's mother, and I am called after her. She was Lady Jacinth Denison, and'——
'I knew it,' exclaimed the old lady. 'And her name before she was married was'——
Jacinth hesitated a little. It is sometimes rather confusing to remember relations so far back.
'I know,' said Frances; 'it was More'——but here she too stopped.
'Moreland?' said Lady Myrtle.
The girls' faces cleared. Yes, that was it.
'But the Christian name—"Jacinth"—satisfied me,' said the old lady. 'The name, and your face, my dear,' to Jacinth herself. 'Thank you, for answering my questions. Perhaps I must not keep you any longer to-day, but I will write to your aunt—Miss Mildmay—Miss Alison Mildmay—I think I have heard of her at Thetford—and ask her to allow you to come to see me again very soon. If I keep you longer just now, she may be uneasy.'
'Oh no,' said Frances, 'she won't be at home when we get back. It's one of the days she's out all day—till after we're in bed, generally.'
'Dear me!' said Lady Myrtle, 'she must be a very busy person.'
'Yes,' said Jacinth, 'she is. She is very,veryuseful, I know. And one couldn't have expected her to give up all the things she'd been at so many years, all of a sudden, when we came. We don't mind, except that it seems a little lonely sometimes; but—I don't think Aunt Alisoncares much for children or girls like us. She says she's got out of the way of it. But she's quite kind.'
'You have a governess, I suppose?' asked Lady Myrtle.
'No,' said Jacinth, 'we go every day but Saturday to Miss Scarlett's school.'
She coloured a little as she said it, for she had an instinct that 'school' for girls was hardly one of the things that her hostess had been accustomed to inheryouth, and notwithstanding Jacinth's decision of character, she was apt to be much influenced by the opinions and even prejudices of those about her. But still she knew that Miss Scarlett's was really a somewhat exceptional school.
'To Miss Scarlett's,' repeated Lady Myrtle. 'I have heard of it. I believe it is very nice, but still—I prefer home education. But perhaps I should not say so. No doubt your parents and guardians have acted for the best. I should like you to tell Miss Alison Mildmay all I have asked you, and I will write to her. And in the meantime, that she may not think me too eccentric an old woman, pray tell her that I was—that your own grandmother—I like you to call her that—Lady Jacinth Moreland, afterwards Lady Jacinth Denison, and I, were the—yes, the very dearest of friends when we were young. It is possible that Miss Alison Mildmay may have heard my name from your mother. I think your mother—what is her name—"Eugenia," oh yes, I remember—I think your mother must have heard of me even in her childhood. My unmarried name was Harper, "Myrtle Harper;" your grandmother and I first took to each other, I think, because we had such uncommon names.'
'Harper!' exclaimed Frances eagerly, 'there are some—what is it, Jacinth?—I mean Bessie and Margar'——
'We must go,' said Jacinth, getting up, as she spoke. 'Frances, will you call Eugene? and'—turning to her hostess, 'thank youverymuch for being so kind. And oh, if you will ask Aunt Alison to let us come again, it would be such a pleasure.'
She raised her beautiful eyes to Lady Myrtle's face. A mist came over the keen bright old pair gazing at her in return. Partly perhaps to conceal this sudden emotion, Lady Myrtle stooped—for, tall though Jacinth was for her age, she was shorter than her grandmother's old friend—and kissed the soft up-turned cheek. 'My dear, you aresolike her—my Jacinth, sometimes,' she murmured, 'that it is almost too much for me.'
Then a practical thought struck her.
'You have not told me your address at Thetford,' she said. 'I had better have it, though no doubt Miss Alison Mildmay is well known in the place.'
Jacinth gave it.
'Number 9, Market Square Place,' she said.
'Oh, I know where it is—a row of rather nice quaint old houses. Still, you must feel rather cooped up there sometimes, after Stannesley; was not that the Denisons' place? I was there once.'
'We miss the grounds, and—yes, we miss a good many things,' said Jacinth simply.
'Then I hope that Robin Redbreast will make up to you for some of them,' said Lady Myrtle. 'You know the name of my funny old house, I daresay?'
'Oh yes,' said Francis, who had just rejoined them with Eugene and Phebe, 'we heard it the very first day. And we've always thought it lovely—both the house and the name. And we always pass by this way when we can,because of the gates. We call them 'Uncle Marmy's gates,' for it was here we said good-bye to him—good-byeproperly, I mean.'
'Kissing, and trying not to cry,' added Eugene, by way of explanation.
Lady Myrtle seemed a little startled.
'Uncle Marmy!' she repeated, 'that was your grandfather's name. I thought your mother was an only child.'
'Yes,' said Jacinth, 'Uncle Marmaduke is not our real—not our full uncle. He is mamma's half-brother only.'
'Oh,' exclaimed the old lady, 'now I understand.'
'But we love him just as much—quiteas much as if he was our whole uncle,' said Frances, eagerly. 'He's perfectly—oh, he's as nice as he canpossiblybe.'
Lady Myrtle smiled, and gave a little pat to Frances's shining tangle of curly hair.
'Good-bye then, my dears, for to-day,' she said.
But she stood at the gate looking after them till they reached the corner of the lane, when some happy impulse made Jacinth—undemonstrative Jacinth—turn round and kiss her hand to the solitary old figure.
'She's like a sort of a grandmother to us,' said Eugene. 'What a good thing,' with extreme self-complacency, 'I made you go in!—what a good thing I was'—after a great effort—'wursty!'
But Jacinth's face was slightly clouded. She drew Frances a little apart from the others.
'Frances,' she said severely, 'you must have more sense. How could you begin about those girls at school?' Lady Myrtle, if she does notice us, won't want to hear all the chatter and gossip of Miss Scarlett's. And it's such a common sort of thing, the moment you hear a name, to startup and say "Oh,Iknow somebody called that," and then go on about your somebodies that no one wants to hear anything of.'
Frances looked rather ashamed. She was barely two years younger than her sister, but on almost every subject—on questions of good manners and propriety above all—Jacinth's verdict was always accepted by her as infallible, though whence Jacinth had derived her knowledge on such points it would have been difficult to say. No one could have been less a woman of the world than the late Mrs Denison; indeed, the much misused but really sweet old word 'homely' might have been applied to her in its conventional sense without unkindly severity. And no life could have been simpler, though from that very fact not without a certain dignity of its own, than the family life at Stannesley, which was in reality the only training these girls had ever known.
'I'm very sorry, Jass,' said the younger sister, penitently. 'It was only—it did seem funny that her name was Harper, when I am so fond of Bessie and Marg'——
'I'm getting tired of your always talking of them,' said Jacinth. 'I daresay they're nice enough'——
'And they'requiteladies,' interposed Frances, 'though they are so very poor.'
'I wouldn't look down on them forthat; I should think you might know me better,' said Jacinth. 'We're not at all rich ourselves, though I suppose papa and mamma seem so in India with all the parties and things they're obliged to have. And I never said the girls weren't "quite ladies," as you say. But I know how it will end: in a little while you won't like Bessie and Margaret any better than Prissy Beckingham. You fly at people so at first.'
'I don't think it will be that way this time,' said Francesin a tone of quiet conviction. 'There's somethingdifferentabout the Harpers.'
'It isn't a very uncommon name,' said Jacinth. 'There are all sorts of Harpers. Why, at Stannesley, the village schoolmaster's wife was called Harper before she married, I remember. And then Lord Elvedon's family name is Harper.'
They had drawn nearer to the other two by this time, and Phebe overheard the last words.
'If you please, Miss Jacinth, that is Lady Myrtle's family. Her father was Lord Elvedon, two or three back, and the Lord Elvedon now is a nephew or a cousin's son to her, though they never come near the place; it's been let ever since I can remember.'
'I wonder if she was brought up at Elvedon,' said Frances. 'It must seem rather sad to her, if she was there when she was a little girl, to have no one belonging to her there now.'
Altogether the adventure—and a real adventure it was—gave them plenty to think of and to talk about all the way home and after they got there. Eugene forgot his fatigue, and chattered briskly about the goodness of the little brown cakes, till he got a snub from Jacinth about being so greedy. His appetite, however, did not seem to have suffered, and he was quite ready to do justice to the tea waiting for them at home, though not without some allusions to Lady Myrtle's delicious cakes, and wishes that Aunt Alison would sometimes give them 'a change from bread and butter.'
For one of Miss Mildmay's fixed ideas about children was that they could not be brought up too plainly.
'We do have a change sometimes,' said Jacinth. 'We always have golden syrup on Saturdays and jam on Sundays,and you know we've had buns two or three times on birthdays.'
'Other children have buns and cakes far oftener than us,' said Eugene. 'Like we used to at Stannesley.'
'It was quite different there,' said Jacinth; 'a big country-house and baking at home.'
'Everythingwas nice at Stannesley,' said Frances with a sigh. 'Granny and Uncle Marmy really loved us; that makes the difference.'
'Aunt Alison loves us in her way,' said Jacinth. 'Everybody can't be the same. I think you're getting into a very bad habit of grumbling, Frances. And this afternoon you really should be pleased. For I shouldn't at all wonder if Lady Myrtle often asks us to go to see her, and that would be a treat and a change. But what you say about poor granny and Uncle Marmy reminds me to say something. You really needn't fly up so on the defensive every time I name them; you did it again to-day, and I'm sure Lady Myrtle must have thought it very queer, just as if I'——
But this second reproof for her behaviour at Robin Redbreast did not find Frances as meek as the former one, which, in deference to Jacinth's superior knowledge on such subjects, she had felt she perhaps deserved.
'I will "fly up" as you call it,' she interrupted angrily, 'when you talk in that cold measured way about dear granny and Uncle Marmy, as if you were almost ashamed of them. For one thing I can't bear you to say "poor" granny; it's not right. She was a sort of a saint, and I'm quite sure that now she's'——But here Frances burst into tears.
Jacinth felt sorry, but annoyed and irritated also. She blamed herself for having begun any private talk of the kind before Eugene and Phebe; for, as sometimes happenedwhen they had come in late, Phebe was having tea with them this evening. And she felt conscious also of deserving, to a certain extent, her sister's blame. But Jacinth had a good deal of self-control.
'I cannot understand,' she said quietly, though the colour rose to her cheeks—'I cannot understand how you can think such things of me—as if I—as if anybody could have lovedthemmore than I did; as if'——But here the tears rose to her own eyes.
Frances was at once melted.
'I didn't meanthat,' she said. 'I know you did. I wouldn't loveyouif I didn't know it. But it's your manner; you seem in such a hurry always to explain that granny wasn't our own grandmother.'
'I don't think that's fair,' said Jacinth. 'How could I possibly have helped explaining about it when it isonlybecause of our own grandmother that Lady Myrtle cares anything at all about us. And I wasn't in a hurry to explain; don't you remember that Lady Myrtle kept asking if we were sure our grandmother was onlyMrs?'
Yes, that had been so, but still the slightly hurt feeling which Jacinth's tone about the dear Stannesley people had more than once given Frances still remained, and she might have said more, had not her sister prevented her doing so.
'Anyway,' she said, 'we need not say any more about it just now.'
After tea they got out their lesson-books, anxious to do all they could, so as to wake on Saturday morning with the delightful sensation of a real whole holiday. But their long walk, perhaps the excitement of their adventure, had tired them. Lessons, with Frances especially, seemed more difficult than usual, and after a good many yawns and nota few groans, she decided that it was no use to attempt anything calling for a 'clear head' that evening.
'I'll just copy out my dictation and exercises,' she said, 'and do all the fresh learning to-morrow morning. Won't you do so too, Jass, for there are two or three things we can learn together?'
'Very well,' said Jacinth, though with a little sigh, 'perhaps it would be better.'
It was not only that she was tired—her head was full of Robin Redbreast and its owner, and all manner of fancies and castles in the air were crowding upon her. It was really so romantic, she thought; it was not silly to picture to herself the delightful possibilities of the future.
'Suppose Lady Myrtle really gets very fond of us'—she said 'us,' but 'me' would perhaps have been more correct, and after all this was scarcely unnatural, as it was she who had specially recalled the Jacinth Moreland of her enthusiastic youthful affection to the old lady—'supposing she in a sort of way adopted us—or me'—for Jacinth was not selfish in the common acceptation of the word, though self-important and fond of ruling, 'what happiness it might bring us! She doesn't seem to have any relations, and she must be very well off. Supposing she took us to live with her, and treated us just like her own children, I wonder if mamma wouldn't come home then, and papa too perhaps. For of course, if they knew we were going to be well off, papa wouldn't worry so about staying out in India his full time and all that. How I shouldloveto be the one to be able to do everything for them all.'
Still it would not do to begin speculating on what might happen in the far future when—Jacinth felt shocked when she realised that, in picturing herself as Lady Myrtle'spossible heir, she was anticipating the old lady's death; yet she certainly could not 'fit in' the idea of their all living together at Robin Redbreast with its present châtelaine. And she laughed at her own absurdity.
'Papa is so independent,' she reflected. 'Even ifmammahad a lot of money, I don't believe he'd be satisfied without working as hard as ever. And of course he loves his profession.'
Then she determined not to be silly, and to think no more about it. But her dreams that night were very fantastic and rosy-hued. She awoke in the morning from a vision of a wonderful room of which the walls were painted all over with robins, which suddenly burst out singing her name, 'Jacinth, Jacinth,' to find that Frances was awake and calling to her.
'Oh Francie, I was havingsuchan interesting dream,' she said. 'I wish you hadn't awakened me: I can't remember what was dreams and what wasn't,' she went on sleepily. 'Did we really go inside Uncle Marmy's gates, and see?'——
'Of course we did,' said Frances, 'and I've got such a good thought. Don't you think we might go that way again to-day and take mamma's last photograph with us? Lady Myrtle would be sure to like to see it, and we needn't ask for her, you know. And it would keep her from forgetting us, and anyway we might walk round the garden, I should think.'
'No,' said Jacinth, 'we can't do anything like that without Aunt Alison's leave, and of course we can't ask for leave unless Lady Myrtle writes to Aunt Alison. And there's no telling if she will. She may be one of those whimsical old people that mean to do a thing, and then think better of it and do nothing.'
Frances's face fell.
'Oh, I do hope not,' she said. 'Somehow I don'tthinkshe's that sort of old lady.'
Nor in her heart did Jacinth. The expression of her misgivings had been as much or more to damp or check herself as Frances. For she was startled to find how wildly she had been indulging in building air-castles. Few, if any, even of those she had spent her life among, knew Jacinth Mildmay thoroughly, or had any suspicion of the impressionableness, the almost fantastic imagination, hidden under her quiet, almost cold exterior. But to some extent she knew herself better than is often the case at her age. She was well aware that she needed strict holding in hand; she sometimes even went too far in judging as contemptible weaknesses, feelings and impulses which were full of good.
But as regards the fancies which since yesterday had been so absorbing her, she was in the right. Even apparently harmless hopes and wishes dependent on the caprice, or, if carried where theymaylead to, contingent on the life or death of others, are better checked at once. Indulgence in such can do no good, andmaydo harm.
They had not seen their aunt the night before. And her manner was somewhat 'carried' and preoccupied when she kissed the girls as they entered the dining-room, where she was already seated at the table waiting to read prayers.
A slight misgiving came over Jacinth. She glanced at the sideboard where the morning letters were always placed. Yes, one or two torn wrappers were lying there: evidently the letters had come and been opened. For Miss Alison Mildmay was, as Frances expressed it, 'adreadfullyearly getter-up,' and had always an hour or more to herself before the younger members of the household appeared.
I am afraid Jacinth's attention that morning was rather distracted. She sat glancing at her aunt's profile, cold and almost hard, as she was accustomed to see it, but with just now the addition of some irritable lines about the forehead which were certainly notalwaysthere.
'Something has vexed her, I am certain,' said Jacinth to herself. 'I do wonder if it has anything to do with Lady Myrtle. Oh dear, if she has written so as to vex Aunt Alison, and we get blamed for it, and everything is spoilt!'
'Were you very late last night, Aunt Alison? Are you tired?'
The questions came from Frances, who had noticed the unusual silence at the breakfast-table—not that they were ever very loquacious, for Eugene had his meals up-stairs and he was the chatterbox of the party—but without any of her sister's fears or misgivings. So that she looked up at her aunt in happy freedom from any self-conscious embarrassment.
'I was not later than I am usually on Fridays,' said Miss Mildmay. 'No, thank you, I am not tired. Will you have some more tea, Jacinth?'
'Yes, please,' said the elder girl. She was growing more and more nervous, and yet her anxiety to know if Lady Myrtle really had written already made her remain near her aunt as long as possible.
Miss Mildmay had apparently finished her own breakfast, for after handing Jacinth her cup, she took up a little pile of letters which lay beside her, and drew out one, which she unfolded and glanced at with a peculiar expression on her face.
'Have you—have you nothing to tell me—no message to give me?' she said at last, still fingering the letter.
She spoke to both girls, but it seemed to Jacinth as if her words were more specially addressed to her, and she started, while a flush rose to her face. And suddenly she remembered—or realised rather—that Lady Myrtlehadgiven them a message for their aunt; though, oddly enough, in spite of her thoughts having been so much absorbed with the adventure of the day before, it had never once occurred to her during that silent breakfast that she should have spoken of it to her aunt—should, in fact, have related all that had passed. There had been no reason for her not doing so—the old lady had specially desired it—it was only that her strong impression that Miss Mildmay had something to say to them had made her wait.
'Of course,' she exclaimed nervously. 'I really don't know what we've been thinking ofnotto tell you. For wehavea message for you.—Frances, why didn't you remind me?'
Frances stared. It was seldom her way to take the initiative, she was so accustomed to follow Jacinth's lead; and just now she had been quite contentedly waiting to speak of their visit to Robin Redbreast till her sister saw fit to do so.
'I—I didn't know. I thought'——began Frances confusedly.
Miss Mildmay turned upon her sharply.
'Have you been planning together not to speak of this—this curious affair to me?' she said. 'I don't pretend not to know all about it. I do,' and she touched the letter, 'by this, but I must say I think I should not have heard of itfirstfrom a stranger. There is one thing I cannot and will not stand, I warn you, girls, and that is any approach to want of candour.'
'Aunt Alison,' exclaimed Jacinth in hot indignation, 'how can you? Did you not hear me ask Frances why she had not reminded me to tell you?'
'No, I cannot understand that,' said her aunt, still coldly. 'It is quite impossible that you hadforgottenabout it, when it only happened'——She glanced at the letter and hesitated. 'When was it, it happened?'
'Only yesterday,' said Jacinth quietly. 'No,of course, I hadn't forgotten. But I had forgotten that I had a message for you that I should have given immediately I saw you. That Ihadforgotten, and if you don't believe me, I can't help it.'
Her voice choked, and the tears rushed to her eyes, though with a strong effort she kept them from falling.
Frances glanced at her, her face working with sympathy.
Miss Mildmay seemed perplexed.
'Only yesterday!' she said. 'I don't see how I have got this letter so quickly. I thought it was at least the day before.'
'No,' said Frances, 'it was only yesterday. We went a long walk in the afternoon, and of course we didn't see you till this morning. We couldn't have told you till just now, and I thought—I think—I thought Jass was waiting to speak to you alone after breakfast.'
'It wasn't that,' said Jacinth. 'If you want to know exactly why I didn't begin about it at breakfast, Aunt Alison, it was because I had a sort of idea or fancy that you had heard already from Lady Myrtle. I thought you looked just a little annoyed, and I kept expecting you to say something about it, and then, of course, I would have told you everything there was to tell.'
Miss Alison Mildmay was severe, but she was not distrustful or suspicious, and the candour of the two girls was unmistakable.
'I am sorry,' she said, 'to have judged you unfairly. Tell me the whole story now, and then I will read you what this eccentric old lady says.'
She smiled a little.
'That was just what she said you'd call her,' broke in Frances. 'But she said her letter would make you understand.'
'Oh yes, of course it does, to a certain extent,' replied her aunt. Then her eyes fell on the envelope—'Miss Alison Mildmay.'
'Considering I have lived twenty years at Thetford,' she said, rather bitterly, 'I think it, to say the least, unnecessary to address me like this, though of course I don't deny that it is, strictly speaking, correct.'
Jacinth glanced at it.
'I am sure'—she began. 'You don't thinkIhad anything to do with it?'
'Oh no, I don't suppose you ever thought of it. But Lady Myrtle Goodacre has never seen fit to call upon me, so it is all of a piece. I really must not waste any more time, however; I have a dozen things waiting for me to do. You say it was yesterday afternoon?'
'Yes,' said Jacinth. 'We went a long walk—to Aldersmere, and coming back, Eugene was tired and very thirsty, and he begged us to let him ask for a drink just as we were getting near Robin Redbreast, and the old lady heard us talking over the wall'——
'And she heard Jass's name,' interrupted Frances, 'and'——
'Let Jacinth tell it, if you please, Frances,' said Miss Mildmay.
So Jacinth took up the story again, and related all that had happened.
Her aunt listened attentively, her face softened.
'I don't think I need read you what Lady Myrtle has written, after all,' she said, when Jacinth had finished speaking. 'I understand it well enough, and I have no doubt your father and mother would like you to go to Robin Redbreast now and then; of course, not to any extreme, or so as to interfere with your lessons or regular ways.'
'Does Lady Myrtle ask you to go to see her too?' inquired Jacinth, half timidly.
'Oh dear, no,' replied Miss Mildmay: 'she is straightforward enough. She does not pretend to want to makemyacquaintance, and after all why should she? She has had plenty of time to do so if she had wished it during all these years; and honestly,' and here again she smiled quite naturally, 'I don't want to know her. I have no time for fresh acquaintances. And her interest in you children, Jacinth especially, has nothing to do with our side. It is entirely connected with the Morelands.'
'I wonder how she and our grandmother came to be such friends,' said Jacinth. 'Lady Myrtle's old home was near here, and the Morelands didn't belong to this neighbourhood.'
'No, but the Elvedons have another place in the north near your grandmother's old home,' said Miss Mildmay, who was very well posted up in such matters. 'They have never lived all the year round at Elvedon, I fancy, and now of course it is let.'
'Lady Myrtle's name used to be Harper, she told us,'said Frances, who never cared to be very long left out of the conversation, 'and there are some girls called Harper at our school. But Jacinth says it's quite a common name.'
'No, Frances, I didn't say that,' said Jacinth. 'I said it wasn't anuncommon name; that sounds quite different.'
'Possibly the Harpers at Miss Scarlett's may be some connection—distant, probably—of the Elvedons,' said Miss Mildmay, carelessly. 'But of course it is not, as Jacinth says, an uncommon name.'
But her remark set Frances's imagination to work.
'They are very,verynice girls—the nicest at the school,' she said. 'Their names are Bessie and Margaret. If you could only see them, Aunt Alison! I dosowish you would let us ask them to tea some Saturday.'
'Nonsense, child,' said Miss Mildmay, impatiently. 'I cannot begin things of that kind, as you might understand. You have companionship at school, and when you are at home you must be content with your own society. Now you must leave me: I have to see the cook, and I have made myself late already.'
'Frances,' said Jacinth on their way up-stairs to their own little sitting-room, 'I do think you are thesilliestgirl I ever knew. Just after all that discussion—and I can tell you I was shaking in my shoes for ever so long—just when it had ended so well, you must go and vex Aunt Alison by wanting to have the Harpers here at tea. I think you are absurd about those girls, as you always are about new friends.Idon't want them here at tea, or at anything.'
'Well, I do, then, or rather I did,' said Frances doggedly. 'That's just all the difference. No girls have as dull a life as we have.'
'It's a very silly time for you to begin complaining, just when we have a chance of some amusement and change,' said Jacinth. 'I'm almost sure Lady Myrtle will ask us to spend the day, or something like that, very soon.'
'I don't want to go. It's you she cares for, and you may keep her to yourself,' said Frances, waxing more and more cross. 'I wish I was a boarder at school. I'd like it far better than being always scolded by you.'
It was not often that Frances so rebelled, or that their small squabbles went so nearly the length of a quarrel. But this morning there seemed disturbance in the air; and to add to it, when Frances had finished her English lessons, and was about to begin her French translation, she found, to her dismay, that she had forgotten to bring an important book home with her.
'WhatshallI do?' she exclaimed, forgetting, in her distress, the unfriendly state of feeling between herself and her sister. 'I really must have it, or I shall miss all my marks in the French class, and you know, Jacinth, I had set my heart on getting the prize.'
Jacinth's sympathy was aroused. She herself was in a higher class than her sister, but she was greatly interested in Frances's success. For Frances was rather a giddy little person. Till the companionship and emulation at school had roused her, she had never bestowed more attention on her lessons than was absolutely unavoidable.
'I don't know what to do,' said the elder girl after some reflection. 'I don't see how you are to get the book till Monday.'
For there was a strict rule at the school, that day-scholars were neither to go there nor to send messages from their homes, out of school hours. So that forgettings of booksrequired for preparation, or other carelessnesses of the kind, became serious matters.
'If I don't get it till I go to school on Monday, I needn't get it at all,' said Frances. 'There's no comfort in telling me that. You know the classison Monday morning, so I've as good as lost my chance already, and I needn't bother about it any more. I'll never try for a prize again, I know that.'
She began to hum a tune in a would-be-indifferent, reckless way, but Jacinth knew that this was only bravado, and that it would be followed by great vexation of spirit, and she felt sorry and anxious.
'I'll tell you what, Frances,' she said at last, after sitting for some time, her head resting on her hand, her own work at a standstill for the moment—'I'll tell you what: the only plan is this—for you to go straight to Miss Scarlett herself and tell her all about your having forgotten the book, and how anxious you are about the prize. I daresay she'd let you go to your shelf and fetch it; she would see you had not broken her rule.'
It was a good idea, and Frances recognised this, but all the same she did not like it at all.
'I'd have to go to the front-door,' she said reluctantly, as she sat drumming her fingers on the table, 'and I can't go alone.'
'There's no need for you to go alone: take Phebe. Aunt Alison wouldn't mind your taking her in the morning for once. I'll help her to put away our things from the laundress, or whatever it is she's busy about. And I think you'd better go at once, Frances, if you're going.'
'Aunt Alison won't be in till dinner-time, so I can't go till after then,' said Frances.
'Yes, you can,' Jacinth persisted. 'You know you can. I undertake to put it all right with Aunt Alison. Do go at once. If I have half an hour quietly to myself, I shall have finished my lessons by the time you come in—it won't take you more than half an hour—and then I can help Phebe.'
'If I could see Miss Marcia Scarlett I shouldn't mind so much,' next said Frances, still irresolutely.
Jacinth's patience began to give way.
'You are too bad, Frances,' she said. 'You are spoiling my work and losing any chance you have of getting the book. If you wait till the afternoon, most likely all the Miss Scarletts will be out or engaged, and I rather think—yes, I am sure the boarders told me that the school-books are locked up at noon on Saturday till Monday morning. Ask for Miss Marcia, if you like; you've just as good a chance of seeing her as the others. But you must decide. Are you going or not?'
Frances got up slowly from her seat and moved towards the door.
'I suppose I must,' she said in a martyrised tone. 'You do scurry one so, Jacinth.' And then when, having borne this certainly unmerited reproach in silence, Jacinth with relief heard the door close on her sister and began to hope she was going to have a little peace, it was opened again sufficiently to admit Frances's fluffy head, while she asked, in a half-grumbling, half-conciliatory tone, if she might take Eugene.
'Of course,' said Jacinth; 'a little fresh air in the morning is always good for him.'
She heard no more except, ten minutes or so later, the closing of the front-door, and the next three-quarters of anhour passed, rapidly, so absorbed was she in her own work, till the old church clock striking twelve—for St Blaise's in the Market Square was but a stone's-throw from Miss Mildmay's house—made her look up suddenly, and at that moment came a rushing of eager feet across the stone-tiled hall, quickly followed by Frances's voice in great excitement.
'Jacinth, Jass!' she exclaimed, and almost before the elder girl had time to say to herself, 'I do hope nothing has gone wrong,' her sister's bright face reassured her.
Frances was like a veritable April day—gloom and sparkle, tears and laughter, succeeded each other with her as swiftly as the clouds rushing before the wind alternately veil and reveal the sun's bright face, though underneath all this fitfulness and caprice lay a sturdy foundation of principle and loyalty which circumstances, so far, had scarcely brought out, and which Jacinth certainly did not as yet realise or appreciate.
'Oh Jass,' exclaimed the little girl, 'I am so glad I went.Sucha nice thing has happened! I saw Miss Marcia—I asked for her at the door, and she was crossing the hall; wasn't it lucky? Shewasso kind about the book, and she took me herself to the big schoolroom to fetch it. None of the girls were there—it looked so funny all empty, you can't think—they were out in the garden. And Jass, to-day they 're going to have their last out-of-doors tea for this year, you know, as it's getting cold. They have tea in the garden every fortnight all through the fine weather. And she invitedme, Jass—just fancy! She said she was sure you wouldn't mind, as it's quite an extra thing to invite a day-scholar, you see, and'——
Here Frances was forced to take breath, and Jacinth got a chance of putting in a word.
'Of course I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm very glad indeed,veryglad for you to have a little fun. And we couldn't have gone much of a walk this afternoon, as Eugene is still tired with yesterday.'
'And you think Aunt Alison will let me go?' said Frances.
'Oh yes, I'm sure she will. If you will get on with your lessons now, Frances, so as to be able to say at dinner that you have quite finished, I will go down-stairs and watch for Aunt Alison. She will be in by one, to-day, and I'll ask her for you.'
'Oh thank you, Jass,' said Frances gratefully. 'Yes, I'll hurry up. But—Jass'——
'Well?'
Francie's face grew very grave.
'It's about my things, Jass. What do you think I should wear? I'm so afraid Aunt Alison will be vexed if I put on my best things—and of course black frocks do get spoilt if one runs about much—and yet my every-day frock is so shabby now, and—I don't want the girls to think we're never properly dressed.'
Jacinth considered. They were still in deep mourning, for Miss Mildmay's ideas on such subjects were 'old-fashioned,' and she quite recognised that the late Mrs Denison's memory should be treated with the fullest respect. But Jacinth sympathised with Frances's feelings.
'I was looking at our dark-gray frocks with Phebe the other day,' she said. 'The ones we had new just before—before our mourning. You know they were got for half-mourning because of old Sir George Mildmay's—papa's uncle's—death, and they look quite fresh and nice. I don't think you've grown much, Francie—and oh, by-the-bye, I believe there's a tuck that could be let down.'
'Yes,' said Frances, 'there are little tucks—a lot—above the hem.'
'Then I'll run up and tell Phebe to get them out, yours at least. I'll explain to Aunt Alison; and if I lend you my wide black sash, I'm sure it will look quite mourning enough.'
'Oh Jass,' exclaimed Frances, 'howgood of you!'
The honour and glory of Jacinth's best black sash was almost too much for her.
'Really, I should never be cross to Jass. She is so very, very kind and unselfish,' thought the grateful little girl.
The gray frock was looked out and soon got ready. It was lying on a chair in the girls' room when Jacinth, a little before half-past one, at last heard her aunt's step in the hall, and ran forward to meet her, primed with her request.
Miss Mildmay was still in a somewhat conciliatory mood, and she listened to Jacinth's story with as much kindliness as was in her nature to show.
'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose she may as well go, though you know, my dear, I cannot encourage any schoolgirl friendships. It would be impossible for me to invite other children here, and yet I could not accept attentions for you which I could not return.'
'But this is different, being at Miss Scarlett's, where we go to school. You didn't mind our going to the breaking-up party before the midsummer holiday,' said Jacinth, trembling a little at the irresolution in her aunt's face.
'Oh, I don't mean to stop her going,' said Miss Mildmay. 'It is very nice of you to be so eager for Frances to have the little pleasure. But just warn her, if you can, not to get too intimate with the other girls. It will only causetrouble and annoyance. Frances is an impulsive little creature, but she is old enough to understand that she should be discreet. The worst of any girls' school, even the best, is the chatter and gossip that go on.'
'I have often warned Frances about that kind of thing,' said Jacinth. 'The girls are all very nice and lady-like, but of course we don't see very much of them; it is not as if we were boarders. Francie is more sensible about making friends than she was at first. The only two she really likesverymuch are the Harpers—Bessie and Margaret Harper—the girls she was speaking of to you.'
'They are nice girls, I believe,' said Miss Mildmay. 'Miss Scarlett told me about them. I don't think we need discourage her friendship with them. After all, any gossip one would dislike is more probable with the other day-scholars, and you have not much to do with them, I think.'
'There are so few compared with the boarders,' said Jacinth, 'and they're all great friends together. I don't think any of them are particularly interesting. Thank you so much, Aunt Alison, for letting Frances go. I'll run and tell her, she will be so delighted.'
And so she was, delighted and grateful, so that she took in good part the little lecture Jacinth proceeded to give her in accordance with her aunt's wish.
'Iamcareful, I really am, Jass,' she maintained. 'I don't care a bit for any of the day-scholars. They are rather common just because they think they're not, and they dosolook down on Miss Green's scholars. It's quite absurd. The only girls I really care for are the Harpers, and—well, a little for Prissy Beckingham, though she's rather silly.'
'It's the day-scholars Aunt Alison doesn't want you to be great friends with,' said Jacinth. 'In a little place like this,there's always a lot of chatter. She knows the Harpers are nice girls.'
'Well, that's all I want,' said Frances, with satisfaction. 'I don't want a lot of friends. Bessie and Margaret are quite enough for me—and you, Jass. If I hadn't any one but you I should be content, especially when you're so very kind to me as you've been to-day.'
And at the appointed time, Frances made her appearance dressed for her garden party, in great spirits, very conscious of the grand effect of her sister's best black silk sash.
'And what are you going to do with yourself, Jacinth?' inquired her aunt, who happened to be crossing the hall at the moment that the two girls came running down—Frances ready to start. 'Are you and Eugene going a walk? or have you lessons to do still?'
'No, I finished them all this morning, and Eugene is tired. I don't quite know what I'm going to do,' said Jacinth.
She was not the least of a complaining nature; she had no thought of complaining just then, but as Miss Mildmay's glance fell on the young figure standing there so interested in her sister's pleasure, it struck her almost for the first time, in any thorough way, that the life with her here at Thetford was somewhat lonely for her nieces, and that it was not by any means every girl of Jacinth's age who would accommodate herself to it so contentedly.
'It is always a pity when parents and children have to be separated,' she said to herself. 'It is unnatural. It should not have to be. From the effects of such a separation in my childhood, I believe I have suffered ever since. It made me hard and unable to understand family life as I might have done.'
And her tone was unusually kind and gentle when she spoke again.
'Would you care'——she began. 'I scarcely think you would, but would you care to come with me for once in a way to our girls' club? I shall be there all the afternoon giving out the lending-library books, and a good many volumes need re-covering. I could find you plenty to do, and we can have a cup of tea there.'
'Oh, I should like to come—very much,' said Jacinth, eagerly.
Miss Mildmay seemed pleased.
'Well, I think I had better make sure of you while I can have you for this one Saturday afternoon,' she said. 'In future I shall not be surprised if you spend Saturdays often with your old lady at Robin Redbreast. I have written to her, Jacinth. I am just going to post the letter.'
'Oh, thank you,' said the girl.—'Good-bye, Francie; you see I shall not be dull without you,' and the two kissed each other affectionately.
Then Frances, escorted by Phebe, set off, and Jacinth ran up-stairs to get ready for her expedition with her aunt.