'Little girl,' she called, when she got close to the other child. P. 75
The little girl turned, and looked at Biddy full in the face with her grave earnest eyes without speaking. And for half a moment Bridget did feel something approaching to shyness, but it gave her a comfortable fellow-feeling to see that the small stranger was also still carrying the little chairs she had bought. They were not done up in paper like Biddy's—she had not waited for that,—but she had covered them loosely with a very clean, very diminutive pocket-handkerchief, and Bridget saw quite well what they were.
'Please,' Biddy went on, slightly breathless—it did not take much to put Biddy out of breath—'please can you tell us where Mr. Fairchild's is in this street? Rough's got a letter for him, but we don't know if it's a shop or only a house.'
'Mr. Fairchild's,' repeated the little girl, 'he's my father; it's our shop. I'll show it you,' and a faint pink flush of excitement came into her pale face. These were the Rectory young ladies, she had been sure of it when she saw them in the bazaar. Fancy—wouldn't mother be surprised to see them coming in with her? And father, who had said she'd maybe never see them. Was that the French ma'amselle with them?—and Celestina glanced back at honest Jane Dodson, from 'grandmamma's' village, walking along in her usual rather depressed fashion—if so, French ma'amselles were very like English nurse-maids, thought her little observer.
'How funny!' said Biddy, quite interested. And Celestina began to like her better—she had been rather disappointed in Biddy at the bazaar. She was not pretty, and Celestina, though she scarcely knew it, was very much taken by beauty, and shehad been rather, almost a little rude—at least Celestina knew thatshewould have been told she was rude had she behaved as Bridget had done. But now she seemed so bright and natural—'She is quite a little girl,' thought Celestina; 'and perhaps if she's the youngest she's treated rather like a baby.' 'Howveryfunny!' Biddy repeated. 'I must run back and tell Alie and Rough. And have you a doll-house, little girl, and will you show it me? I've bought a chair too and a table. Perhaps if I saw your doll-house and teeny-weeny dolls I'd get to like to play with them too. We have a—— Oh, Alie,' as Alie, surprised at the length and apparent friendliness of the conversation proceeding between the two children, hastened up. 'Oh, Alie,isn'tit funny? She's his little girl. The note's for her house.'
Rosalys turned her soft blue eyes full on Celestina.
'How like an angel she is!' thought Celestina.
'Who's?' said Alie. 'Do you mean Mr. Fairchild's? Why don't you explain properly, Biddy?'
'Yes, that's it,' said the stranger child. 'I'm Celestina Fairchild. I'll show you the shop.'
'Thank you,' said the elder girl. But Biddywould scarcely let her say the two words. Her eyes were very open, looking rounder than ever.
'Whata funny name!' she exclaimed. Biddy's collection of adjectives did not seem to be a very large one. 'Do say it again; oh, please do.'
'Biddy, I think you are rather rude,' said Alie severely. 'You wouldn't like any one to say your name was funny.'
'I didn't mean——' began Bridget as usual, but Celestina quietly interrupted.
'I don't mind; she's only a little girl. Don't be vexed with her,' she said to Alie with a sort of childish dignity that seemed to suit her. 'I think my nameisfunny; mother called it me 'cos—, but p'raps we'd better go on. I've been out a good while and mother might be wondering what I was doing, and then if the letter for father matters much——'
'Yes,' said Alie; 'you're quite right; we'd better be quick.'
So the little party set off again up the street. Biddy and Celestina—for now that Biddy's interest was awakened in the stranger child she had no idea of giving her up to the others—in front; Rosalys and her brother following; Jane Dodson, discreet and resigned, bringing up the rear.
They had not far to walk, but Bridget's tongue made the most of its opportunities.
'Have you got a doll-house, then?' she inquired of Celestina; and as the little girl shook her head rather dolefully in reply, 'What do you get furniture' (Biddy called it 'fenniture') 'for, then? Is it for ornaments?'
'No; I've got a room, though not a doll-house,' Celestina replied. 'It once was a kitchen, but I played with it too much when I was little, and the things got spoilt. So father did it up for me with new paper like a parlour—a best parlour, you know. Not a parlour like you use every day.'
'I don't know what a parlour is,' said Biddy; 'we haven't got one at the Rectory, and we hadn't one in London either. We've only got a schoolroom, and a dining-room, and a droind-room, and a study for papa, and——'
'I forgot,' said Celestina. 'I remember mother told me that they don't call them parlours in big houses. It's a drawing-room I mean; only the dolls have their dinner in it, because I haven't got a dining-room. They haven't any bedroom either; but I put them to bed in a very nice little basket, with a handkerchief and cotton-wool. It's very comfortable.'
'Yes?' said Bridget, greatly interested, 'and what more? Tell me, please. It sounds so nice.'
'Sometimes,' Celestina went on—'sometimes I take them to the country—on the table, you know—and then I build them a house with books. It does very well if it's only a visit to the country, but it wouldn't do for a always house, 'cos it has to be cleared away for dinner.'
Biddy's mouth and eyes were wide open.
'We have dinner in the dining-room with papa and mamma,' she said; 'so we don't need to clear away off the schoolroom table except for tea. That's in London. I don't know where we're to have tea here, when Miss Millet comes back. Don't you have dinner with your papa and mamma—when they have luncheon, you know?'
In her turn Celestina stared.
'I don't know how you mean. We all have dinner in the parlour,' she said, 'like—like everybody. But this is our shop,' she added, stopping and turning so as to face the others. 'If you please, miss,' she went on to Rosalys, 'this is father's shop. If you'll come in, he'll be there.'
Not a little surprised was Mr. Fairchild to see his daughter showing the way in to the three children,whom he rightly and at once guessed to be the new rector's family. Celestina looked quite composed; though so very quiet and silent a child, she was neither shy nor awkward. She was too little taken up with herself to have the foolish ideas which make so many children bashful and unready: it never entered her head that other people were either thinking of or looking at her. So she was free to notice what she could do and when she was wanted, and her simple kindly little heart was always pleased to render others a service, however small.
'Father,' she said in her soft voice; 'it is young Master Vane and the young ladies with a letter for you.'
Mr. Fairchild came forward, out from behind the counter. He made a little bow to Rosalys, who was the foremost of the group, and a little smile brightened his thin face as his eyes rested on hers. Every one was attracted by Alie, and her voice was particularly gentle as she spoke to Mr. Fairchild, for the first thought that darted through her mind was, 'How very ill he looks, poor man—much worse than papa.'
'It is a letter for you, Mr. Fairchild,' she said. 'Mr. Redding asked my brother to give it to you. It is from pa—from Mr. Vane.'
'But I don't know if there is any answer,' said Rough. 'Redding didn't say. Please see, will you?'
Rosalys and Randolph and Jane in the doorway stood waiting while he read. But Biddy's eyes were hard at work. She caught Celestina as she was disappearing through an inner door.
'Oh, please,' she said, 'don't go away. Won't you show me your dolls? And oh, please, whatisthat funny little window up there in the wall? I would so like to look through it.'
'Will you step into my parlour?'The Spider and the Fly.
Celestina hesitated. She was anxious to be friendly to Bridget, and she had a strong instinct of hospitality, but the little girl rather took away her breath. Just at that moment, luckily, the door between the shop and the parlour—a door in the corner behind the counter—opened, just a little, enough to admit Mrs. Fairchild, who came in quietly. She had heard voices in the shop, and thought she was probably needed there, though at this time of the morning, especially when Celestina was out, she had to be sometimes in the kitchen.
'Celestina,' she exclaimed, surprised and not quite sure if she should be pleased, 'what are you doing? You should have come in at once. I have been expecting you.'
Then her eyes fell on the three—or four—three and a half, one might say, to be very correct—strangers in the shop, for Jane was still wavering on the doorstep, one foot on the pavement outside and one inside.
'Won't you come in?' said Mrs. Fairchild to her civilly; 'it is a cold morning—and then I could shut the door.'
Jane moved inwards, though without speaking, and Rough darted forward and shut the door carefully.
'Thank you, sir,' said Mrs. Fairchild, with a little smile that lighted up her whole face. She gave a half unconscious glance at her delicate-looking husband, which explained her anxiety. Bridget drew near her and looked up in her face. Somehow since Mrs. Fairchild had come in every one seemed more friendly and at ease.
'Are you Ce—Cel—the little-girl-in-the-bazaar's mamma?' asked Biddy.
Mrs. Fairchild smiled again.
'Yes,' she said, touching Celestina on the shoulder, 'I amhermother. Did you see her at the bazaar?'
'She was buying chairs, and that made me buy one too,' replied Biddy rather vaguely.
'The young ladies met me after that in the street and asked me the way here. I showed them. That was why I was in the shop,' explained Celestina, on whose brow a little wrinkle of uneasiness had remained till she could tell her mother the reason of her moment's lingering.
'I see,' said Mrs. Fairchild, who would indeed have found it difficult to believe that Celestina had been careless or disobedient; and at the words Celestina's face recovered its usual quiet, thoughtful, but peaceful expression.
Bridget pressed up a little closer to Mrs. Fairchild.
'You're not vexed with her then,' she said. 'She was quite good. I thought at first you were going to be rather a cross mamma.'
'Bridget,' said Rosalys, colouring, and in an awful tone. When Alie said 'Bridget' like that it meant a great deal.
'I didn't mean,' began Biddy as usual.
Celestina's mother turned to Rosalys.
'Please do not be vexed with her, miss,' she said, with again that winning smile. And the smile that stole over Alie's face in response made Mrs. Fairchild's gaze linger on the lovely child. 'No, my dear,' she went on, speaking now to Biddy, 'it wasquite right of Celestina to show you the way; and I am glad you happened to meet her.'
During this time, which was really only a minute or so, for it takes much longer to relate a little scene of this kind than for it actually to pass, Mr. Fairchild had been busy with the contents of the envelope Randolph had given him. It contained, besides a note, a list of some books which Mr. Vane wished to have sent as soon as possible. After knitting his brows over this for some moments, the bookseller came forward.
'I find that Mr. Vane would like this order executed at once,' he said, addressing Randolph.
'I don't know, I'm sure,' said Rough; and indeed how was he to know, seeing that the letter had only been given over to his charge by Mr. Redding?
Mr. Fairchild looked perplexed.
'Oh,' he said, 'I thought that possibly you could have explained a little more fully'—then he considered again. 'I think perhaps I could send specimens of some of the hymn-books, and I can make out a list of the prices, etc., so that Mr. Vane would have no trouble in selecting what he requires. It will only take me a few minutes, and it would save time if——' he hesitated. 'My errand-boy has gone some distance away this morning.'
'If you mean that it'll save trouble for me to carry the parcel, I don't mind,' said Rough in his boyish way.
Mr. Fairchild thanked him.
'I will see to it at once,' he said, and turning to his desk he began writing down the details of some books which he took down from the shelves behind.
The four children, Mrs. Fairchild, and Jane Dodson stood together in the middle of the shop; it was quite small, and with these six people it seemed crowded. There was only one chair, pushed up in a corner by the counter.
'It is draughty near the door, even when it is shut. Will you not come farther in, Miss Vane? or,' with a little hesitation, 'would you step into the parlour—there is a nice fire—and sit down for a few minutes?' said Mrs. Fairchild to Rosalys.
Rosalys began to thank her, but before she had time to do more than begin Bridget interrupted.
'Oh yes, Alie, please do,' she said eagerly. 'I do so want to see what a parlour's like. But, please,' she went on to Mrs. Fairchild, 'would you first tell me what that dear little peep-hole window up in the wall is for? I would so like to look through it.'
Alie's face grew red again; she really felt ashamed of Biddy.
'And it's worse,' she said to herself, 'to be so forward to people who are not quite the same as us, though I'm sure Mrs. Fairchild is as nice as any lady.'
And Mrs. Fairchild confirmed this feeling of Alie's by coming again to the rescue.
'Certainly, my dear,' she said, smiling. 'You shall look through the window from the other side. There's pretty sure to be a chair in front of it, if you are not tall enough. My little girl is very fond of looking through that funny window.'
She led the way through another door—a door facing the street entrance—into a very small passage, whence a narrow staircase ran up to the first floor. The children could scarcely see where they were, for the passage was dark, till Mrs. Fairchild opened another door leading into the parlour, and even then it was not very light, for the parlour window, as I think I said before, looked on to a little yard, and there were the walls of other houses round this yard.
It was a very neat, but to the children's eyes a rather dreary-looking little room.
Biddy turned to Celestina.
'I think I like droind-rooms better than parlours,' she said, returning to their conversation in the street, 'except for the sweet little window,' and in another instant she had mounted the chair and was peering through. 'Oh, itisnice,' she said. 'I can see Roughie'—for Rough, had considered it more manly to stay in the shop—'and Mr.—your papa, Celestina. It's like a magic-lantern; no, I mean a peep-show. I wish we had one in our house. Alie, do look.'
'It's like a magic-lantern; no, I mean a peep-show.'
Rosalys came forward, not so eager to take advantage of Biddy's obliging offer as to seize the chance of giving her a little private admonition.
'Biddy,' she whispered, 'I'm ashamed of you. I never knew you so free and rude before.'
Bridget descended dolefully from the chair.
'I'm very sorry,' she said; 'please, ma'am,' and she turned to Mrs. Fairchild, 'I didn't mean to be free and rude.'
The babyishness of her round fat face, and her brown eyes looking quite ready to cry, touched Mrs. Fairchild, though it is fair to add that she approved of Alie's checking the child. She would have been perfectly shocked if Celestina even when younger than Biddy had behaved to strangers as the little visitor was doing. Children were kept much morein the background forty years ago than now. On the whole I don't know that it was altogether a bad thing for them, though in some cases it was carried too far, much farther than you, dear children of to-day, would find at all pleasant, or than I should like to see.
'No, my dear, I am sure you did not mean any harm,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'We all have to learn, but it is very nice for you to have a kind elder sister to direct you.'
Biddy did not seem at that moment very keenly to appreciate this privilege.
'I'd rather have a littler sister,' she said; but as she caught sight of Celestina's astonished face, 'I don't mean for Alie to be away—Alie's very kind—but I'd like a littler one too. It's very dull playing alone. And oh, please,' as the word 'playing' recalled the bazaar and their purchases, 'mayn't I see her dolls' house?' and she pointed to Celestina.
Rosalys sighed. Bridget was incorrigible.
'It isn't a house,' said Celestina, 'it's only a room. May I get it, mother? I do so want to see if the new chairs will do,' she went on, for the first time disengaging the toys from her handkerchief. 'The others are so big that when the dolls sit on themtheir legs go all over the top of the table instead of underneath.'
'I know,' said Alie, 'that's how mine used to do when I was a little girl and played with our doll-house. But mamma got some for me from Germany all the proper size, on purpose. The doll-house was really very pretty then.'
Celestina looked up with eager eyes.
'Oh, I would like to see it,' she said. 'It must be beautiful.'
'No' said Rosalys, 'it isn't now. Some of the furniture's broken, and nearly all the chair-seats need new covers. But it might be made very nice with a little trouble, only you see Bridget has never cared to play with it.'
Biddy had drawn near and was standing listening.
'I daresay I would care if I had anybody to play with me,' she said. 'You know you're too big, Alie. I wish Celestina could come and play with me. Won't you let her, if mamma says she may?' she went on, turning to Mrs. Fairchild.
Celestina's eyes sparkled, but her mother looked rather grave.
'My dear young lady,' she said to Biddy, 'you are rather too young to plan things of that kind till youhave talked about them to your mamma. Besides Celestina almost never goes anywhere.'
'I went to tea at Miss Bankes's once,' said Celestina. 'That's where I used to go to school, but I didn't like it much—they played such noisy games and they were all so smart. And once I went to Nelly Tasker's, and that was nice, but they've left Seacove a long time ago.'
Mrs. Fairchild looked at Celestina in some surprise. It was seldom the little girl was so communicative, especially to strangers. But then, as she said to her husband afterwards—
'Miss Vane is a very sweet girl, and the little one chatters as if she'd known you for years. They certainly have a very friendly way with them: I couldn't exactly wonder at Celestina.'
'I'll ask mamma. You'll see if I don't,' said Biddy, nodding her head with determination. 'And please, Celestina, do let me see your doll-room, if that's what you call it?'
'May I fetch it, mother?' asked the child. But at that moment Randolph put his head in at the door.
'We must be going,' he said. 'Come along, girls. I've got the parcel. Thank you,' he added to Mrs. Fairchild, 'and good-morning.'
Alie and Biddy turned to follow him. But first they shook hands with Celestina and her mother.
'I'm so sorry,' said Biddy, 'not to see the dolls' room. Wouldn't Rough wait a minute, Alie?'
'No,' the elder sister replied. 'We've been out a good while and there's no reason for waiting now the parcel's ready.'
'Well I'll come again. You'll let me, won't you?' said Bride, and not content with shaking hands, she held up her round rosy mouth for a kiss.
'Bless you, love,' kind Mrs. Fairchild could not resist saying, as she stooped to her.
'She is a very nice mamma, isn't she, Alie?' said Biddy with satisfaction, when they found themselves out in the street again.
'Yes,' said Rosalys. But she spoke rather absently. She was wondering what made Bridget so nice sometimes, and sometimes so very tiresome and heedless.
'I wonder if it would have been better for her if she was more like that little Celestina,' she thought. 'I'm sure they're very strict with her, and yet I'm sure she's very fond of her mother and very obedient. But it must be rather a dull life for a little girl, only she seems so womanly; as if she really felt she was useful.'
It was almost dinner-time—their dinner-time, that is to say—when the children reached the Rectory, and there was something of a scramble to get hands washed, hair smoothed, and thick boots changed so as to be in time and not keep papa and mamma waiting. Randolph came into the dining-room, carrying the parcel of books.
'Papa,' he said, 'these are the books you told Redding to order for you—at least there are some of them, and if they are right, or if you'll mark down which of them are not right, Fairchild the bookseller will order what you want at once.'
'I'll look at them immediately after luncheon,' Mr. Vane replied. 'But how did they come into your hands, my boy? Has Redding been here again?'
'No,' Rough explained, 'we met him,' and then he went on to tell the history of the morning.
'And she 'avited us—the little-girl-in-the-bazaar's mother, I mean,' Biddy hastened to add, 'to step into the parlour. I never saw a parlour before; it's not as nice as a droind-room, except for the dear little window up in the wall. Couldn't we have a little window like that in our schoolroom, mamma? And I'm to go another day to see the room; it's not aproper doll-house, she says; only a room, and I said I was sure I might ask her to come here, but she said I must ask my mamma first. I thought at first she was going to be rather a cross sort of a mamma, but I don't think she is—do you, Alie?'
Biddy ran off this long story so fast that Mrs. Vane could only stare at her in amazement.
'My dear Biddy!' she said at last. 'Alie, you were there? You don't mean to say that you let Bride run into the toy-shop people's house and make friends with their children, and—and——' Mrs. Vane stopped short, at a loss for words.
Mr. Vane looked up.
'My dear child,' he said too, to Bridget, 'you must be careful. And here—where everybody is sure to know who you are, and when you should set a good example of nice manners—you must not behave in this wild sort of way.'
'I didn't mean,' began Biddy plaintively.
But this time she was not chidden for her doleful tone—both Alie and Rough came to the rescue.
'Please, mamma, oh please, papa, you don't understand,' began Rosalys.
'It wasn't the bazaar people at all,' said Rough, chiming in; 'it was all right. Only, Biddy, youare really too stupid, the muddley way you tell things——'
'Yes,' agreed Alie, with natural vexation, 'you needn't make it seem as if we had all gone out of our minds, really.'
'I didn't mean,' started Biddy again, and still more lugubriously.
'Stop, Bride,' said Mr. Vane authoritatively, laying down his knife and fork as he spoke. 'Now, Rosalys, tell the whole story properly.'
Alie did so, and as Randolph had already explained about meeting Mr. Redding, it was not long before his father and mother understood the real facts clearly.
'We couldn't have refused to go into the parlour when Mrs. Fairchild asked us like that—could we, mamma?' Rosalys wound up.
'And she asked us to step in so nicely. And there were no chairs in the shop, 'cept only one. And I did so want to see a parlour,' added Biddy, reviving under Alie's support.
'No, you did quite right,' said Mrs. Vane to the elder ones. 'But Biddy must not begin making friends with every child she comes across and inviting them to come here. You are not a baby now; you should have more sense.'
The tears collected in Bridget's eyes; they were very obedient to her summons, it must be allowed. Rosalys felt sorry for her.
'Mamma,' she said, 'of course Biddy shouldn't invite anybody without your leave first, but still this little Celestina isn'tat alla common child. She's so neat and quiet, and she speaks so nicely. And her mother isnearlyas pretty as you, not quite of course.'
'She's awfully jolly,' put in Rough.
Mrs. Vane smiled.
'What an uncommon name,' she said. '"Célestine," did you say? It is French.'
'No, mamma, not "Célestine,"' said Alie, '"Celestina." I suppose it's the English of the other.'
'I never heard it in English before,' said Mrs. Vane, 'though I once had a dear old friend in France called "Célestine"—you remember Madame d'Ermont, Bernard? I've not heard from her for ever so long.'
'Celestina was going to tell us about her name, but something interrupted her and then she forgot,' said Alie. 'Perhaps they've got some French relations, mamma.'
'It isn't likely,' her mother replied. 'But someday when I am in the village, or town—should we call it "town," Bernard?'
'It is a seaport, so it must be a town, I suppose,' said Mr. Vane.
'I should like to see the little girl and her mother,' Mrs. Vane continued.
'And oh, mamma,' cried Biddy, jumping up and down in her chair as her spirits rose again, 'when you do,mayn'tI go with you, and then Celestina would show me her dolls' room?'
'We shall see, my dear,' her mother replied.
Biddy was not at all fond of the reply, 'We shall see.' 'It's only a perlite way of saying "no,"' she once said, but she dared not tease her mother any more.
'Nobody cares about what I like,' she said to herself disconsolately.
Perhaps she would not have thought so if she had heard what her mother and Rosalys were talking about later that afternoon.
'The sands of the sea stretch far and fine,The rocks start out of them sharp and slim.'A Legend of the Sea.
'Oh dear,' exclaimed Mrs. Vane one morning at breakfast two or three days after the children's walk in to Seacove. Everybody looked up—the two girls and Rough were at table with their father and mother. Mrs. Vane had just opened and begun to read a letter. What could be the matter?
'It is from Miss Millet,' she said; 'her sister's children have got scarlet fever, and she has got a bad sore throat herself from nursing them. They had no idea what it was at first,' she went on reading from the letter; 'but of course she cannot come back to us for ever so long on account of the infection.'
'Poor Miss Millet,' said Rosalys.
'Idon't mind,' said Biddy; 'I like having holidays.'
Alie, who was sitting next her, gave her a little touch.
'Hush, Biddy,' she said, 'that's just one of the things you say that soundsounkind.'
She spoke in a whisper, and fortunately for Bridget her father and mother were too much taken up with the letter to notice what she had said.
'I didn't mean,' Biddy was beginning as usual, but Mrs. Vane was speaking to Alie by this time, and no one listened to Biddy.
'I must write to Miss Millet at once,' their mother said, 'though I shall ask her not to write often till the infection is gone—she says this letter is disinfected. And, Alie, you had better put in a little word, and Biddy too, if she likes. It would be kind.'
'Yes, mamma,' said Alie at once, but Bridget did not answer.
It was not usual for Mrs. Vane to discuss plans and arrangements for the children before them, but this morning her mind was so full of the unexpected turn of affairs that she could not help talking about them.
'It will be a question of several weeks—even months, I fear,' she said to Mr. Vane; 'there are sucha lot of those children, and Miss Millet is sure to wish to nurse them all. We must think over what to do.'
'Perhaps you and I can manage the girls between us,' said Mr. Vane.
'Alie perhaps,' began Mrs. Vane doubtfully.
'Yes,' said Bridget suddenly, to every one's astonishment, 'if it was only Alie. But it would never do for me. I'd be too much for you and papa, mamma.'
She spoke quite gravely, but the others had hard work not to laugh.
'How do you mean, Biddy?' asked her father.
'I'm very tiresome to teach; often I'm very cross indeed,' replied the child complacently.
'But youneednot be; you can help being so if you try,' said Mr. Vane.
'Well, I don't like trying, I suppose it's that,' she answered.
For the moment her father thought it wiser to say no more.
Mr. Redding happened to call that morning, and at luncheon Mrs. Vane told Alie and Bride that she was going to Seacove, and they might go with her.
Alie's eyes sparkled.
'Are you going to——' she began, and hermother seemed to understand her without any more words.
'Yes,' she said, 'I have got all the measures.'
'And oh, mamma,' asked Biddy, too full of her own ideas to notice these mysterious sayings, 'willyou go to Pier Street and let us show you where Celestina lives. And if youcouldthink of something you wanted to buy, just any little thing, a pencil or some envelopes or anything—they've goteverything—we might go into the shop, and Idaresayif the nice mamma saw you, she'd ask you to step into the parlour too.'
'We shall see,' mamma replied.
But 'We shall see' was this time accompanied by a little smile, which made Bridget think that the 'We shall see' was perhaps a way of saying 'Yes.'
Mamma had several messages to do at Seacove, and though Biddy was in a great hurry to get to Pier Street, she was rather interested in the other shops also. At the draper's, Mrs. Vane made some small purchases, as to which Alie showed great concern. One was of pretty pink glazed calico and of some other shiny stuff called 'chintz'—white, with tiny lines of different colours; she also bought some red cotton velvet and neat-looking white spotted muslin, and several yards of very narrow lace of a very small and dainty pattern, and other things, all of which interested Alie very much indeed, though after a while Biddy got tired of looking on, and went and stood at the doorway of the shop.
'I am sorry to give you the trouble of taking down so many things when I only want such a short length of each,' said Mrs. Vane civilly to the shopman—or shopwoman, I think it was. 'But the fact is I am buying all these odds and ends for my little girl's'—and here she glanced round to make sure that Bridget was out of hearing—'for my little girl's doll-house, which needs doing up;' by which information Mrs. Cutter, the draper's wife, was much edified, repeating it to her special cronies at Seacove, together with her opinion that the new rector's wife was a most pleasant-spoken lady.
One or two other shops Mrs. Vane and Rosalys went into; a paper-hanger's for one, or rather a painter's, where wall-papers were sold; and an iron-monger's, where she bought two or three different kinds of small nails, tin tacks, and neat little brass-headed nails. Bridget stayed at the door of both these shops: she thought them not at all interesting,and mamma and Alie did not press her to come in. The little girl was in a great fidget to get to Pier Street, and stood murmuring to herself that she didn't believe they'devercome; Alie might make mamma be quick, she knew how she, Biddy, wanted to see Celestina and her dolls' room.
'But nobody cares about whatIwant,' she added to herself, with the discontented look on her face which so spoilt its round rosy pleasantness.
Just then out came Mrs. Vane and Alie. They both looked pleased and bright, and this made Biddy still crosser.
'Well, now,' said her mother consideringly, 'is that all, Alie? Yes—I think it is. I must call at the grocer's on the way home, but I think we pass that way. No—I don't remember anything else.'
At this Bridget could no longer keep silent.
'Oh, mamma,' she exclaimed, 'and you said you'd come to Celestina's house. It's too bad.'
Mrs. Vane looked at her in surprise.
'I did not say so, Biddy; I said we should see. And we are going there now. You have no reason to be so impatient and to look so cross,' and she turned and walked on quickly.
'Biddy,' said Alie, 'you're too bad really. You spoil everything.'
Then she ran after her mother, and Bridget followed them at some little distance.
They went directly down the street which a little farther on ran into Pier Street, Biddy feeling more and more ashamed of herself. How she wished she had been less hasty, and not spoken so rudely and crossly to her mother. It did seem true, as Alie said, that she spoilt everything. But she did not appear as sorry as she felt; indeed, her face had a rather sulky look when at last she came up to the others, who were waiting for her at the door of the shop.
'I am going in to see Mrs. Fairchild,' said her mother. 'I have something to ask her. You may come in too, Biddy, and I will ask to see the little girl too.'
A naughty spirit came over Biddy, even though in her heart she was sorry.
'No,' she said. 'I don't want to see the little girl, and I don't want to come in,' and her face grew still more sullen.
'Very well,' said her mother, 'stay there then.'
But as she entered the shop with Alie she whispered to her, 'I really don't know what todo with Biddy. She has such averybad temper, Alie. Just when I am doing everything I can for her too.'
'Only she doesn't know about it, you see, mamma,' Alie replied. 'Still she is very cross, I know.'
Mrs. Fairchild was herself in the shop as well as her husband. As soon as she caught sight of Rosalys she seemed to know who Mrs. Vane was, and came forward with her gentle smile.
'I hope you will excuse my troubling you, Mrs. Fairchild,' said the rector's wife, 'but Mr. Redding, whom I saw this morning, thought you would be the best person to apply to about a little difficulty I am in.'
She half glanced round as if to see that no one was in the way, and with quick understanding Celestina's mother turned towards the inner door.
'Will you please step into the parlour a moment?' she said. 'We should be less interrupted.'
Bridget, standing by the half-open shop door, heard the words. She felt almost inclined to run forward and beg leave to go in too. But she knew she must first ask pardon of her mother for her naughtiness, and the idea of doing so before Mrs. Fairchild was not pleasant.
'If Celestina would come out herself I could ask her to ask mamma to speak to me,' thought Bridget. But no Celestina appeared.
'They will be so comfortable in that nice warm parlour,' thought Biddy; 'and I daresay Celestina will be showing Alie all her dolls and things,' for she had not noticed that just as Mrs. Vane went into the parlour she had said a word to Rosalys, who had stayed behind.
So Biddy stood outside, very much put out indeed. The ten minutes during which she had to wait seemed to her like an hour; and when Celestina's mother came to the door to show her visitors out, it was not difficult for her to see that the little girl was not in at all a happy frame of mind.
'Good-morning, Miss Bridget,' said Mrs. Fairchild.
'Good-morning,' Biddy could not but reply.
She did not even wonder how Mrs. Fairchild knew her name; she was so taken up with her own thoughts. She would have been rather surprised had she known that it was about her, poor little neglected, uncared for girl as she chose to fancy herself, that the two mothers had been speaking those long ten minutes in the parlour—'Mayn't I see Celestina atall?' Biddy went on. 'I think Alie's very——'
'Very what?' said her mother. 'Alie has been quietly waiting in the shop for me as I told her.'
Alie came forward as she spoke.
'And Celestina is not in this morning,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'She had a headache, so I have sent her out a walk.'
Thus all Biddy's temper and jealousy had been thrown away. She felt rather foolish as she followed her mother and Rosalys down the street.
After stopping for a moment at the grocer's, Mrs. Vane turned to go home by the Parade, the same way by which the children had come to Seacove that Saturday. It was a fine bright afternoon, still early—a little breeze blew in from the sea—the tide was far out.
'Mayn't we go home by the shore, mamma?' Alie asked. 'It is nice firm walking nearly all the way.'
Mrs. Vane consented: they all turned down a sort of short cart-track, leading through the stony shingle to the smooth sands beyond. The sun was still some height above the horizon, but the cold frosty air gave it already the red evening look. Glancing upwards at it Biddy remembered the day she had watched it setting and the good resolutions she had then made. She almost felt as if the sunwas looking at her and reminding her of them, and a feeling of shame, not proud but humble, crept over her. She went close up to her mother and slipped her hand through her arm.
'Mamma,' she said very gently, 'I'm sorry for being so cross.'
'I am glad to hear you say so, Bride,' said her mother. She spoke very gravely, and at first Bridget felt a little disappointed. But after a moment's—less than a moment's—hesitation, the fat little hand felt itself clasped and pressed with a kindly affection that, truth to tell, Biddy was scarcely accustomed to. For there is no denying that she was a very trying and tiresome little girl. And Mrs. Vane was quick and sensitive, and of late she had had much anxiety and strain, and she was not of a nature to take things calmly. Rosalys was of a much more even and cheery temperament: she 'took after' her father, as the country-people say. It was not without putting some slight force on herself that Biddy's mother pressed the little hand; and that she did so was in great part owing to a sudden remembrance of some words which Mrs. Fairchild had said during their few minutes' conversation, which, as I told you, had been principally about Bridget.
'Yes,' Celestina's mother had replied in answer to a remark of the rector's wife, 'I can see that she must be a child who needs careful management. Firmness of course—but also the greatest, the very greatest gentleness, so as never to crush or repress any deeper feeling whenever it comes.'
And the words had stayed in Biddy's mother's mind. Ah, children,howmuch we may do for good, and, alas, for bad, by our simplest words sometimes!
So in spite of still feeling irritated and sore against cross-grained Biddy, her mother crushed down her own vexation and met the child's better mind more than half-way.
A queer feeling came over the little girl; a sort of choke in her throat, which she had never felt before.
'If mamma was always like thathowgood I would be,' thought Biddy, as she walked on quietly, her hand still on her mother's arm.
Suddenly she withdrew it with a little cry, and ran on a few steps. Some way before them a small figure stood out dark against the sky, from time to time stooping as if picking up something. Bridget had excellent eyes when she chose to use them.
'It's Celestina, mamma,' she exclaimed, running back to her mother and Alie. 'Mayn't I go andspeak to her? She's all alone. Come, Smuttie—it'll be a nice run for you. I may, mayn't I, mamma?'
'Very well,' said her mother, and almost before she said the words Biddy was off.
'She must be a nice little girl,' said Mrs. Vane; 'her mother seems such a sweet woman. But, Alie, did you ever see anything like Bride's changeableness?' and she gave a little sigh.
'But, mamma dear, she did say she was sorry very nicely this time—veryreal-ly,' said Rosalys.
'Yes, darling,' her mother agreed.
A minute or two brought them up to where the two children were standing talking together, greatly to Bridget's satisfaction, though Celestina looked very quiet and almost grave.
'How do you do, my dear?' said Mrs. Vane, shaking hands with her. 'I have just seen your mother; she said you were out a walk, but we did not know we should find you on the shore. Is it not rather lonely for you here by yourself?'
'I was looking for shells, ma'am,' Celestina replied. 'There's very pretty tiny ones just about here sometimes, though you have to look for them a good deal; they're so buried in the sand.'
'But she has found such beauties, and she takesthem home for her dolls to use for dishes, and some of them for ornaments,' said Biddy. 'Do show mamma howsweetthey are, Celestina. And oh, mamma, mayn't I stay a little with Celestina and look for them too?'
Mrs. Vane hesitated.
'I'm afraid not, Biddy,' she said. 'I must be going in—and Alie too. She must write to grandmamma to-day.'
'Oh, but mayn'tIstay?' asked Biddy entreatingly. 'It's quite safe for me if it's safe for Celestina, and she says her mamma often lets her come out on the shore alone.'
Mrs. Vane looked round; the seashore was perfectly quiet except for one or two old fishermen mending their nets at some distance. One could have thought it miles away from the little port and the ships and the sailors. Then, too, the Rectory was a very short distance off, and indeed from its upper windows this sheltered stretch of sand could be clearly seen.
'Well, yes,' she said. 'You may stay for half an hour or so—not longer. And indeed by then it will be quite time for you too to be going home, will it not, my little girl?' she added to Celestina.
'Yes, ma'am. I must be home by half-past four, and it takes twenty minutes from here. I can go past the Rectory and see Miss——' she hesitated over the name, 'Miss Biddy in at the gate, if you please,' said Celestina, in her womanly little way.
Mrs. Vane thanked her; then she and Rosalys walked on, and the two small damsels were left alone.
'Why must you be in by half-past four?' asked Biddy.
'It's getting dark by then,' said Celestina. 'Besides there's things to do. I get the tea ready very often. When mother's not very busy it waits for her till she can leave the shop, but to-day I know she's busy, 'cos father's got a great many letters to write. So I'll get the table all ready.'
Bridget gazed at her.
'Do you like doing it?' she asked. 'You're such a little girl, you see—not much bigger than me, and you play with dolls.'
'I like to be useful to mother,' said Celestina simply.
This was rather a new idea to Bridget, and she was sometimes very lazy about thinking over new ideas.
'Alie's useful to mamma, I suppose,' she said, 'but then she's the eldest. And you're the only one—that's why, I daresay. Is it nice to be the only one?'
'Sometimes it's very alone,' said Celestina, 'some days when mother's very busy and I scarcely see her, and I've nobody to show the dolls to.'
'I know,' said Biddy. 'I'm rather alone too, for Alie's so big, you see. Oh, Celestina, do look, isn't this a beauty? Look, it's all pinky inside. Now I've got six and this beauty. I think that'll do for to-day. I'm tired of looking.'
'Sometimes I look for ever so long—a whole hour,' said Celestina, rather taken aback by Biddy's fitfulness. 'But perhaps we'd better run about a little to keep warm. It isn't like as if it was summer.'
'I'm not cold and I don't like running,' said Biddy. 'Let's just walk, Celestina, and you tell me things. Oh, look at the sun—he's getting redder and redder—and look at the lighthouse, it's shining red too. Is it a fire burning inside, do you think, Celestina?'
'No, it's the sun's redness shining on the glass. The top room is all windows—I've been there once,' she said. 'It's a good way to walk though it looks so near, and there's some water too between. Fathertook us once in a boat, mother and me, when the tide was in, and we had dinner there; we took it with us, and there was a nice old man father knew. And when the tide went out we came over a bit of water till we got to the stones, in the boat, and then the boatman took it back, and we walked home right along the stones—you see where I mean?'
She pointed to the rocky ridge which I told you ran out from the shore to the lighthouse. Bridget listened with the greatest interest.
'How nice,' she said. 'Couldn't you have walked the whole way? I'm sure there isn't any water between now—Ican't see it. It must have gone away.'
'Oh no, it hasn't,' said Celestina. 'It's always there: it couldn't go away. You couldn't ever get to the lighthouse without a boat; once one of the men had to come in a hurry, and father said he had to wade to over his waist.'
But Bridget was not convinced. She stood there gazing out seawards at the lighthouse.
'I would like to go there,' she said. 'Can't you see a long way from the top room that's all windows, Celestina? I should think you could see to the—what do they call that thing at the top of the world—the north stick, is it?'