'I would like to go out there,' she said. P. 115
Celestina was not very much given to laughing, but this was too funny.
'The North Pole, you mean,' she said. 'Oh no, you couldn't see tothere, I'm quite sure. Besides, there isn't anything to see like that—not a pole sticking up in the ground—it's just the name of a place. Father's told me all about it. And so did the old man at the lighthouse. Oh, I would like to go there—better than anywhere—just think how strange it must be, all the snow and the ice mountains and everything quite,quitestill!'
'Up where the world grows cold,Under the sharp north star.'A North Pole Story.
Biddy stared at Celestina. The little girl's face was quite flushed with excitement.
'Go on,' said Biddy. 'Tell me some more. I never heard about it.'
'It's what they call the arctic regions,' said Celestina. 'The old sailor at the lighthouse has been there. Once he was there in a ship that got fastened into the ice, and they thought they'd never get out again, and they'd scarcely nothing to eat. Oh, it was dreadful; but I did so like to hear about it. And fancy, in the summer it never gets night up there—the sun never goes away; and in the winter it never gets day, the sun doesn't come up at all.'
'How very funny!' said Biddy. 'What makes it like that? Is it the same sun as ours?'
'Oh yes, but I can't quite explain,' said Celestina, looking rather puzzled. 'Father showed it me with the candle and a little round globe we've got, but I'm afraid I couldn't tell you.'
'Could the old man tell it?' asked Biddy. 'I would so like to go to see him. Don't you think we might some day?'
'Perhaps,' said Celestina. 'When the summer comes perhaps your papa would take you in a boat. Lots of ladies go out to the lighthouse in the summer. It's too cold in a boat in winter.'
'But I don't mean in a boat,' said Bridget; 'I mean walking. I'm quitesurewe could jump over the little bit of water if we gave a great big jump. I once jumped over a whole brook at grandmamma's—I did really.'
'It's much bigger than that—it is indeed. You don't understand,' said Celestina. 'If you'd ask your papa he'd tell you, I daresay. But I think we must be going home now. I'm sure it's time.'
'I'm sure it isn't,' said Biddy crossly. 'We haven't talked about the dolls at all yet, and I want you to tell me more about that funny place where the snow is.'
'I'll try to think of more to tell you if your mamma will let you go out with me another time, and I'd like dearly to show you my dolls' room if you could come to our house one day,' said Celestina. 'But we must go home now, Miss Biddy.'
Bridget flounced about, looking very much put out.
'I'm not going yet. I don't want to go in,' she said.
Celestina began to look troubled. Then her face cleared.
'Imust go home,' she said, 'whether you do or not. I wouldn't for anything have mother worrying about me. You wouldn't like your mamma to be worrying about you, would you, Miss Biddy?'
'I daresay she wouldn't care; I'd only get a scolding, and I don't mind much,' said Biddy, who had got on to a very high horse by this time.
Celestina stopped short and looked at her. She could not understand Biddy at all.
'Mother never scolds me, but I'm very unhappy when she's not pleased with me,' she said gently; 'and I'm sure your mamma's very kind and good. I'm sure she does care about you a great deal.'
Her words reminded Bridget of what hadhappened that very afternoon. Perhaps what Celestina said was true: mamma had pressed her hand when she said she was sorry. With one of the quick changes of mood which seemed so strange to Celestina she turned suddenly.
'I'll go home,' she said. 'Come on, Celestina, before I get naughty again. But it isn't all for being good. It's a great deal that I want to come out with you again, and perhaps I mightn't if I was late to-day.'
'No. Very likely your mamma would think I made you disobedient,' Celestina replied; 'and I shouldn't like her to think so.'
'If I might go into the kitchen and get the tea ready for papa and mamma like you do, I'd never want to stay out late,' said Bridget thoughtfully.
Celestina considered.
'You don't need to do that,' she said. 'It wouldn't be any good to your mamma, for she's got servants to do it. But there must be other things you could do if you want to help her.'
'No,' said Biddy, shaking her head, 'there's nothing. And I don't think I want very much; it's just sometimes. Alie helps mamma because she's the eldest.'
Celestina scarcely knew how to answer this,though she felt there was something wrong about her little companion's way of looking at things. But Celestina had not much power of putting her thoughts and feelings into words. Her solitary life had made her a very silent child, not intentionally, but by habit. She found it difficult to express her meaning even to herself. Just now she gazed at Biddy without speaking, so that Biddy began to laugh.
'What are you looking at me so for?' asked the younger child.
'I don't know,' said Celestina. 'I was only thinking.'
'What?' asked Biddy again.
'You should help too, even though you're the youngest,' said Celestina bluntly.
'Oh, bother,' was all Biddy's reply.
They were at the Rectory gate by this time.
'Good-bye, Miss Biddy,' said Celestina. 'I must run home fast. But I don't think it's late.'
'Good-bye,' said Biddy. 'I've got my shells; have you got yours? Oh yes,' as Celestina held up a tiny little basket she was carrying. 'How dreadfully careful you are! Good-night. I'll ask mamma to let me come and see you very soon.'
On her way up the short drive to the house Bridget came face to face with Randolph.
'Oh, you're there, are you?' he said. 'Mamma was just asking if you'd come in, so I came to look out for you.'
Biddy was silent. This did not seem very like mamma's 'not caring,' as she had been saying to Celestina.
'It isn't late,' she remarked at last. 'Mamma said I might stay half an hour.'
'She was beginning to worry about you a little, all the same,' said Rough. 'Were you with the little Fairchild girl?'
'Yes,' said Biddy.
'Is she a nice little girl?' asked Rough.
'Yes,' said Biddy again.
'Then why don't you like her? Why are you so cross?' asked her brother.
'I'm not cross, and I never said I didn't like her,' replied Bridget impatiently.
Rough began to whistle.
'I can't say I agree with you,' he said. 'Well, I'll run on and tell mamma you're all right;' and off he set.
Biddy followed him slowly, feeling rather depressed.
'I didn't mean to be cross,' she said to herself inher usual way, though she really did feel what she said this time. 'It was kind of Roughie to come to meet me. They're all good 'acept me. Celestina's good too. I'm made all the wrong way,' and she sighed deeply.
She brightened up again, however, when she met her mother at the door.
'That's right, Biddy dear,' said Mrs. Vane. 'You've not stayed too late.'
Rough was there too; he had not told about her being cross evidently, and Biddy felt grateful to him. It was very nice when mamma spoke like that; it reminded her of the way her hand had been pressed that afternoon. But a sudden thought rather chilled her satisfaction. Biddy was beginning to be troubled with thoughts, and thoughts too that would not be driven away and forgotten, as she had been accustomed to drive away and forget anything that made her feel at all uncomfortable. This thought teased and pricked her for a few seconds, and though she wriggled herself about and stamped her feet down with hard thumps on the gravel, it would not go.
'Biddy,' it said, 'Biddy, you know what you should do.'
So that at last, in sheer impatience of its teasing, she gave her mother's sleeve a little tug.
'Mamma,' she said, 'it washerthat made me not stay longer than you'd said. I wanted to. I wasn't very good, but she's good.'
Mrs. Vane turned with real pleasure in her face.
'I'm very glad you've told me, Biddy,' she said. 'Yes, it was nice and good of Celestina to remind you. I think she must really be a very conscientious child.'
'I don't know what that is,' said Bridget. 'At least, p'raps I do know, but it's such a trouble to think. But Celestinaisgood. I almost think she's a little too good.'
Her tone was very melancholy. Rough burst out laughing, but Mrs. Vane looked rather disappointed.
'It will be so vexing if Biddy takes a dislike to her just when I was hoping it would be a good thing,' she thought to herself.
Still, the remembrance of the little talk with Mrs. Fairchild was in her mind. She took no notice of Biddy's remark, only telling her cheerfully to run in quickly and get ready for tea, as it was almost ready.
The children's mother went to Seacove again thenext day, but this time she did not take either of them with her. She went straight to Pier Street, and as soon as Mrs. Fairchild saw her coming into the shop she came forward with a smile and showed her into the parlour. There Celestina was sitting quietly working at some new clothes for her little dolls: she wanted them to be very smart indeed, in case the Rectory young ladies came to see them. She rose from her seat at once when Mrs. Vane came in, but a shadow of disappointment crossed her face when she saw that the lady was alone.
'I have not brought Biddy this time,' said Mrs. Vane kindly. 'I have come to see Mrs. Fairchild myself. But Biddy shall come some day soon. I want you to show her your doll-house, for I should be glad for her to get into the way of playing with one. She has always been a difficult child to amuse,' she went on; 'she is so restless, and never seems to get interested in her toys or games.'
Celestina opened her lips as if she were going to speak, but said nothing.
'What is it, my dear?' said Mrs. Vane, seeing the look in the little girl's eyes. Celestina grew pink.
'It was only,' she began. 'It's not so nice to play alone.'
'No, that is true,' said Biddy's mother, 'and true of other things as well as play.' Then she turned to Mrs. Fairchild: 'Have you been able to——' she was beginning, but with a little gesture of apology Mrs. Fairchild glanced at her daughter.
'Go upstairs, Celestina, for a few minutes,' and in a moment Celestina gathered together her small concerns and noiselessly left the room.
'How obedient she is,' said Mrs. Vane with a little sigh. 'I should have had quite an argument with Biddy, or at least cross looks.'
'Children are very different,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'Still there is not much you can do with them without obedience. And if they get the habit of it quite young, it costs them so much less; they obey almost without thinking about it.'
'And have you seen Miss Neale?' asked Mrs. Vane after a little pause.
'She came to see me yesterday, and I think it can be nicely arranged. She is a very good girl: I feel sure you will be pleased with her. The only difficulty would have been her promise about Celestina, which she would not have liked to give up; but what you have so kindly proposed puts this all right of course. It will be a great pleasure and interest to Celestinato learn with a companion. I feel that I cannot thank you enough.'
'On the contrary,' said Mrs. Vane, 'I have to thank you. I am in hopes that your little daughter's companionship will be of great good to Bridget.'
Mrs. Fairchild's gentle face grew a little red.
'I think I may at least assure you of this,' she said, 'little Miss Bridget will learn no harm from Celestina.'
'I am sure of it,' said Mrs. Vane warmly. 'By the bye,' she added, 'Celestina is a very uncommon name. I have never heard it except in its French form of "Célestine."'
'Celestina was named after a French lady,' said Mrs. Fairchild—'a lady who was very kind to my sisters and me when we were young. She happened to be living near the town where our home was for some years. Her husband had an appointment there. They had only one child, a daughter named Célestine like her mother, who died, and my mother helped to nurse her in her last illness, which made Madame d'Ermont very fond of her. Indeed, I think she was very fond of us all,' she added with a little smile, 'and I think I was a special pet of hers. Through her kindness I had many advantages in my education.But when she and Monsieur, as we always called him, went back to France troublous times came on. We lost sight of them altogether. Still, I have never forgotten the dear lady, and I determined to give my little girl her name.'
Mrs. Vane listened with the greatest interest.
'"Madame d'Ermont," did you say?' she asked eagerly, and on Mrs. Fairchild's answering 'Yes'—'It must be the same,' she went on; 'our Madame d'Ermont's name was Célestine too. She was, or is, for I hope she is still living, a great friend of ours too, Mrs. Fairchild. We spent two winters in the south of France near her home, and we saw a great deal of her. It is a pity for you not to have kept up writing to her; she is very kind and very rich and childless—she might be a good friend to her little name-daughter.'
Mrs. Fairchild's face flushed again: I rather think Biddy had inherited something of her habit of hasty speech from her mother, kind-hearted and good as Mrs. Vane was.
'It would not be from any motive ofthatkind I should like to hear from Madame d'Ermont again,' said Celestina's mother. 'It is true our child has no one to look to but ourselves, and neither her fathernor I can boast of very strong health—but still——'
'Oh, Ibegyour pardon,' interrupted Mrs. Vane impulsively; 'I quite understand your feeling, and I did not mean to say anything you could dislike. But still I will look out Madame d'Ermont's address, or get it from my mother, and when I write to her I may tell her of you, may I not?'
'I should be very grateful if you would do so,' Mrs. Fairchild replied.
Then they went on to speak of the details of the arrangement they had been making, and soon after Mrs. Vane left.
That afternoon she called Bridget to her.
'Bride,' she said, 'I have something to say to you.'
'Yes, mamma,' Biddy replied, but without giving much attention. It was probably, she thought, only to reprove her for her way of sitting at table, or for having been cross to Jane, or for one of the hundred and one little misdemeanours she was always being guilty of. And Biddy was in a queerish mood just now: there was a good deal of battling and pulling two ways going on in her baby heart. Was the lazy littlesoulbeginning to grow, I wonder?
'Yes, mamma,' she said indifferently, with her peevish 'I didn't mean,' quite ready to trot out on the smallest provocation.
'You must give your attention, my dear,' said Mrs. Vane; 'it is something rather particular I want to tell you about.'
'Iamgiving my attention,' said Biddy, though it did not look very like it.
'Well, then,' her mother went on, determined not to notice Bride's evident wish to pick a quarrel, 'listen. You know that Miss Millet cannot come back to us for a good long while. Alie's lessons do not matter so much as yours, for she is very well on for her age and a little rest will do her no harm; besides, she will have some lessons with papa and some with me. But we have not time for you too.'
'And you couldn't manage me if you had,' said Biddy gloomily.
Mrs. Vane took no notice—'And besides, at your age it is most important to be very regular. So I have engaged a daily governess for you, my dear Biddy—that means a governess who will come every morning for three hours, just to teach you. But she won't live in the house with us as Miss Millet does.'
'Won't she take us walks?' demanded Biddy.
'Not every day, for some days she is engaged in the afternoons. But twice a week she will come back in the afternoons and take you a walk and stayto have tea with you. Her name is Miss Neale; she is very nice, though she is younger and—less experienced than Miss Millet. I hope you will be very good with her, Bride.'
Bride gave herself a little shake.
'No, mamma,' she said. 'I don't want to be naughty, but I can't help it. I'm sure I shall be very naughty with her.'
Mrs. Vane kept her patience. She looked at Biddy quietly.
'Why, Biddy?' she asked. 'You are old enough to understand that I have taken a good deal of trouble about this for you.'
'I needn't have lessons till Miss Millet comes back; I'd be quite good without. I don't like having lessons quite alone without Alie or nobody,' said Biddy.
'Would you like it better if you had some one to learn with you—some one nearer your age than Alie, who would do the very same lessons?' asked her mother.
Biddy's eyes sparkled.
'I should think I would,' she said, 'but there isn't nobody'—then she gave a sort of gasp. 'Oh, if only—if Celestina could do lessons with me,' sheexclaimed. 'She knows lots, mamma, all about up at the top of the world, where there isn'treallythat stick I thought there was, but lots of snow and always light—no, always dark, I forget which. I'll ask her—the old lighthouse man told her. I'm sure she'd help me with my jography, mamma, and she'd teach me to dress dolls and——' Biddy stopped, quite out of breath.
Mrs. Vane smiled; she looked very pleased.
'I am very glad you have thought of it yourself, Biddy,' she said, 'for it is the very thing I have planned. Celestinaisgoing to have lessons with you. Her mother had already settled for Miss Neale to give her lessons, as they don't care about Celestina going to school, so it would not have been fair for Miss Neale to give her up to come to us. And besides, both papa and I thought it would make our little girl happier to have a companion—eh, Biddy?'
Mrs. Vane had hardly time to finish her sentence before she felt her breath nearly taken away by a pair of fat little arms hugging her so tightly that she could scarcely free her head.
'Mamma, mamma,' cried Biddy, 'I love you, I do really love you now. I never thought I did so much. Oh, I am so glad. Thank you, dear mamma.'
Never in her life had Biddy been so affectionate; never, at least, had she shown her affection so much. Mrs. Vane kissed her warmly.
'I am very pleased too, dear,' she said. 'I do think you will be a good and happy little girl now.'
'I'll try to be good, mamma, I will really. But it would take me a dreadfully long time to be as good as Celestina, I'm afraid.'
'If the sun could tell us halfThat he hears and sees,Sometimes he would make us laugh,Sometimes make us cry.'Christina Rossetti.
'You must eat your breakfast properly, Celestina, my dear,' said Mrs. Fairchild to her little daughter one morning in the following week. 'You will be quite faint and tired before dinner-time if you don't, and that would be a bad beginning.'
Celestina on this set to work once more on her bread and milk. She was too excited to feel hungry; her pale cheeks had each a bright spot of colour and her eyes were shining. It was the day on which she was to begin her lessons at the Rectory. Miss Neale was to call for her on her way there, and though she had three-quarters of an hour to wait till Miss Nealecame, the little girl was sure she would not be ready in time.
'I never saw her so taken up with anything before,' said her mother; and Mr. Fairchild, who was sometimes disposed to take rather a gloomy view of things, said he hoped they should not regret having agreed to the arrangement, and that it would not lead to disappointment, on which Mrs. Fairchild set to work, as she always did, to cheer him up.
'It will give Celestina a little experience,' she said; 'and even if there should be a little disappointment mixed up with it in any way, it will do her no harm, and Celestina is a reasonable child.'
She was very quiet but very happy as she set off with Miss Neale. It was a bright pleasant morning, 'quite spring-like,' said the young governess, and a walk at that early hour was of itself a pleasure to Celestina. She had not been inside the Rectory since the Vane family had replaced old Dr. Bunton and his wife, and scarcely was the door open when the little girl noticed a difference. The old, heavy, stuffy furniture was gone, and though it was still plain, the house looked lighter and brighter. The schoolroom was a nice little room looking towards the sea; there was a good strong table with a blackoil-cloth cover and four hair-seated chairs, such as were much used at that time. But there were two or three pretty pictures on the walls, and a cottage piano, and in the bookcase were a few bright-coloured tempting volumes as well as the graver-looking school-books. Everything was very neat, and there was a bright fire burning, and in a pot on the window-sill a geranium was growing and evidently flourishing. To Celestina it was a perfect picture of a schoolroom, and she looked round with the greatest interest as she took off her hat and jacket, according to Miss Neale's directions, and hung them on a peg on the door.
'You must be very neat here, you know, my dear,' she said; to which Celestina meekly replied, 'Oh yes,' quite agreeing with Miss Neale.
In a moment or two the door burst open and in came Biddy. A very pleasant-looking Biddy, with a spotlessly clean apron, tidy hair, and smiling face, and just behind her appeared her mother.
'Good-morning, Miss Neale,' said Mrs. Vane. 'Here is Bridget, whom, you have not seen before. Good-morning, Celestina. I hope you will be two very happy and good little girls, and that Miss Neale will have no trouble with you.'
Then she went on to explain a little about the books Biddy used, saying that Rosalys would look out any that might possibly be missing, and after telling Miss Neale to keep up a good fire and one or two other small directions of the kind, she left the schoolroom.
Everything went on most smoothly. Miss Neale could hardly believe that Bridget was the child she had been warned that she would find 'tiresome and trying and requiring great patience.' For, for once Biddy really did her best. She was interested in finding out how much Celestina knew 'compared with me,' and anxious that neither her little friend nor her new teacher should think her stupid or backward. And though Celestina's habits of steady attention had made her memory better and her knowledge more thorough than Biddy's, still Miss Neale could hardly feel that either of her pupils was more satisfactory than the other; both were so obedient and attentive and intelligent.
So the morning passed delightfully.
'And won't it be nice?' said Biddy, as she stood at the gate, whither she had accompanied Miss Neale and Celestina on their way home; 'the day after to-morrow Miss Neale will come back to take usa walk in the afternoon, and you may come too, mamma says, and stay to tea if your mamma will let you.'
How Celestina's eyes sparkled! To be invited to tea at the Rectory seemed to her far more enchanting than if she had received an invitation from the Queen of the Fairies to be present at one of her grandest festivals. She wassodelighted that she forgot to speak, and Miss Neale had to answer for her, and say that she would not forget to ask Mrs. Fairchild's consent.
'And some day, Celestina,' Biddy went on, 'I want you to ask your mamma to askmeto tea, for I want to see your dolls.'
Celestina looked rather grave.
'I'll ask mother,' she said, but there was a little hesitation in her manner. This did not come from any false shame—Celestina did not know what false shame was—but from very serious doubts as to what her father and mother would think of it. She had never had any friend to tea in her life; father was always tired in the evening, and she was far from sure that a chattering child like Biddy would not annoy him and make his head ache. So poor Celestina was rather silent and grave on the wayhome; Biddy's thoughtless proposal had taken the edge off her happiness.
On her way back to the house Bridget met Rosalys.
'Well,' said Alie, 'and how did you get on, Biddy? How do you like your new governess?'
'Everso much better than Miss Millet,' Biddy replied. Her superhuman exertions had somewhat tired her; she felt rather cross now, and half inclined to quarrel. She knew that Alie was particularly fond of Miss Millet, and she glanced at her curiously as she made her speech. But Alie was a wise little woman.
'I'm so glad,' she said. 'So glad you like Miss Neale, I mean. Of course I knew you'd like Celestina.'
'I don't like her so very much as all that,' said Biddy contradictorily. 'I like her well enough to do lessons with, but she's not very nice about my going there to tea.'
'Going there to tea,' Alie repeated. 'What do you mean, Biddy?'
'Mean what I say. She's coming here to tea two times every week if it's fine, so I think they might 'avite me sometimes, and when I said to herjust now I'd like to come, she looked quite funny and only said she'd ask her mother. Not a bit as if she'd like it.'
Rosalys felt very vexed.
'Really, Biddy, you might know how to behave,' she said. 'People don't offer themselves to other people like that.'
'They do,' Bride retorted. 'I've heard papa say he was going to "offer himself to luncheon" to Aunt Mary's, and——'
'She's a relation,' Alie interrupted.
'Well, and once mamma offered herself to tea to old Lady Butler—I know she did—just before we went away at Christmas.'
'That's quite different; she knows old Lady Butler so well—and—and—mamma's grown up and knows what's right, and you're a little girl, and you shouldn't do things like that without asking leave,' said Rosalys decidedly.
'You're a cross unkind thing,' said Biddy; 'and if you speak like that I'll not go on being good any more.'
Then she turned away from her sister and ran down a side-path of the garden, leaving Rosalys looking after her in distress, and half inclined to blameherself for having spoken sharply to Biddy. 'It will vex mamma so if this new plan doesn't do,' she thought regretfully. 'But perhaps Biddy will be good again when she comes in.'
The path down which the little girl had run led to a low wall from which you overlooked the sea. The tide was in, and though at some little distance from the Rectory, Biddy could clearly see the water shining in the morning sunshine, which was yellower and richer in colour now, for the season was getting on; the cold thin wintry look was giving place in this sheltered spot to the warmer feeling of spring. The little waves came lapping in softly; by listening intently and fancying a little, Biddy could almost hear the delicate sound they made as they kissed the shore.
'I wish it was warm enough to bathe,' thought Biddy. 'But if it wasthey'dbe sure to say I mustn't, or that I was naughty or something,' and in her anger at the imaginary cruelty of 'they,' she kicked the little stones of the gravel at her feet as if it was their fault! But the little stones were too meek to complain, and Biddy got tired of kicking them, and seating herself astride on the wall, sat staring out at the sea. Somehow it reminded her ofher good resolutions, though it was a quite different-looking sea from the evening tide, with the red sun sinking below the horizon, like that first time on the shore.
What a pity it was that she had spoilt the fresh beginning of being so nice and good at her new lessons by being cross to Alie! And in her heart Biddy knew that her sister had not blamed her without reason—it was her old fault of heedlessness; shewasquite old enough to understand that she should not have asked Celestina to invite her, and she knew too that Celestina had been right in answering as she did. But all these 'knowings in her heart' did not make Biddy feel more amiable.
'It's no good trying,' she said to herself as she got slowly down off the wall—Bridget was always deliberate in her movements—'I'll just not bother. I'll do my lessons, 'cos I don't want them to say I'm stupid, but I'm not going to try not to be cross and all that. I'm tired of trying.'
Mrs. Vane noticed at luncheon that Biddy was quiet and silent and not particularly amiable looking, but Alie whispered that it had nothing to do with lessons, which had gone off well.
'Don't notice her, mamma; it was only that shewas vexed with me for something,' Alie added; so nothing was said to Biddy, and she was allowed to nurse her grievances in silence.
She cheered up a little by tea-time, and told Randolph triumphantly that she had done all her lessons for Miss Neale 'by myself, without asking that nasty cross Alie or nobody to help me.' But she remained very surly to her sister, though Alie tried to prevent her father and mother noticing it.
Next day was rainy and blowy. Miss Neale and Celestina arrived smothered up in waterproofs and goloshes, and there was quite a bustle to get them unpacked from their wrappings and warmed at the schoolroom fire. Biddy made herself very important, and forgot for the time about being vexed with Rosalys.
Lessons went off well, thanks to Bridget's putting a good deal of control on herself, though thereweremoments that morning which made the young governess say to herself that she could understand its beingsometimestrue that Biddy was tiresome and trying. When Celestina was putting on her hat and jacket to go she gave Biddy a little touch on the arm.
'I asked mother,' she whispered, 'about what yousaid, and mother says perhaps some day you would come early in the afternoon, and we could play with the dolls and have tea for ourselves out of mother's toy cups that she had when she was a little girl. They are so pretty. It wouldn't be quite a real tea, for we don't have real tea till past five, but I'm sure mother would get us some little cakes, and we might make it a sort of a feast.'
Biddy's eyes sparkled.
'Oh, that would be nice,' she exclaimed. 'Yes, please, tell your mother I'd like to come very much. And just fancy, Celestina, that horrid Alie said it was very rude of me to have asked you to ask me. I'm sure it wasn't, now, was it?'
Celestina grew red and hesitated.
'I'm sure you didn't mean to be rude, Miss Biddy,' she said. 'Mother said——' but here she stopped.
'What did she say?' demanded Biddy.
'I didn't mean to say that she said anything,' poor Celestina answered, 'only when you asked me——'
'Whatdid she say?' Biddy repeated, stamping her foot.
'She didn't say you were rude; she said you wereonly a child,' Celestina answered quietly. Biddy's temper somehow calmed her. 'And I think so too,' she added.
'Then,Ithink you're very, very unkind, and I'll never come to your house at all,' said Biddy.
And thus ended the second morning.
Bridget was a queer child. By the next day she seemed to have forgotten all about it. She was just as usual with Rosalys, and met Celestina quite graciously. But it was not that she was ashamed of her temper or anxious to make amends for it. It was there still quite ready to break out again. But she was lazy, and very often she seemed to give in when it was really that keeping up any quarrel was too much trouble to her. I think, however, that Celestina's perfect gentleness did make her a little ashamed.
Lessons were on the whole satisfactory. Celestina worked so steadily that she would soon have left Biddy behind had Biddy been as idle as had often been the case under Miss Millet. And Mrs. Vane was pleased to think that the plan had turned out so well.
One day, about a week after Miss Neale had begun to teach the children, just as they were finishing lessons, Rosalys made her appearance inthe schoolroom. It was one of the days on which Miss Neale and Celestina came back in the afternoon to take the girls a walk and to stay to tea afterwards. Rosalys looked pleased and eager.
'Celestina,' she said, 'mamma has a little message for you. Please come into the drawing-room before you go home this morning.'
Up started Biddy.
'What is it, Alie? Do tell me. Mayn't I come into the drawing-room with Celestina?'
Alie shook her head, though smilingly.
'No,' she said; 'it's something quite private for Celestina.'
'I'll come,' said the little girl, but Bridget's face darkened.
'It's not fair,' she muttered, as Celestina, after carefully putting her books away, left the room.
'Come now, my dear,' said Miss Neale, not very wisely, perhaps—she scarcely knew Biddy as yet—'you shouldn't be jealous. It's a very little thing for Celestina to have a message to do for your mamma. Some other time there will be one for you to do, I have no doubt.'
Biddy wriggled impatiently.
'They've no business not to tell me,' she said,taking not the least notice of Miss Neale's words. Then she banged down her books and ran out of the room without saying good-morning to her governess.
Miss Neale did not see anything more of her till she and Celestina returned that afternoon. It was a lovely day, and so as not to lose any of the pleasant brightness of the afternoon, Mrs. Vane had made the girls get ready early and go a little way down the sandy lane to meet the two coming from Seacove. Bridget was gloomy, but Alie was particularly cheerful, and after a while the younger sister's gloom gave way before the sunshine and the fresh air and Alie's sweetness.
'There they are,' she exclaimed, as two figures came in sight; 'shall we run, Biddy?' and almost without waiting for a reply off she set, Bridget following more slowly.
When she got up to them Celestina and Alie were talking together eagerly. They stopped short as Biddy ran up, but she heard Celestina's last words, 'Mother says she'll be sure to get it by to-morrow or the day after.'
'What are you talking about?' asked Bridget.
Celestina grew red but did not speak. Rosalys turned frankly to her sister—
'It's a message of mamma's we can't tell you about,' she said, 'but you'll know some time.'
Alas, the brightness of the afternoon was over, as far as Biddy was concerned. She turned away scowling.
'Why should you know if I don't?' she said; 'and what business has Celestina to know—she's as little as me nearly?'
A SECRET. P. 148
'Oh, Biddy,' said Alie reproachfully.
But that was all. She knew that argument or persuasion was lost on her sister once she was started on her hobby-horse, ill-temper. She could only hope that she would forget about it by degrees. And after a while it almost seemed so. They went down to the shore, where it was so bright and pleasant that it did not seem possible for the crossest person in the world to resist the soft yet fresh breeze, the sunshine glancing on the sands, the sparkling water in the distance. And Miss Neale was full of such good ideas. She taught them a new play of trying to walk blindfold, or at least with their eyes shut, in a straight line, whichsoundsvery easy, does it not? but is, I assure you, very difficult; then they had a capital game of puss-in-the-corner, though the corners of course were only marks in the sand; andwith all this it was time to go home to tea almost before they knew where they were.
'How pretty it must be up in the lighthouse to-day,' said Celestina as they were turning away.
This was the signal for Bridget's quarrelsomeness again.
'Miss Neale,' she said, shading her eyes from the sun, as she gazed out towards the sea, 'Celestina does talk such nonsense. She says you can't walk over the sands to the lighthouse. Nowcan'tyou? I canseesand all the way.'
Miss Neale was anxious not to contradict Biddy just as she seemed to be coming round again, and she was really not quite sure on the point.
'I can't say, my dear,' she replied. 'It does look as if you could—but still——'
'There now,' said Biddy to Celestina contemptuously, 'Miss Neale's bigger than you, and she thinks youcan;don't you, Miss Neale?'
'Yes, yes, my dear,' Miss Neale, who was on some little way in front with Alie, replied hastily; 'but come on—what does it matter?'
But Biddy's tone had roused Celestina, gentle as she was.
'I know youcan't,' she said, 'and whether a big ora little person says you can, I justknowyou can't,' and she turned from Biddy and walked on fast to join the others. Seeing her coming, Rosalys called to her.
'Celestina, I want to ask you something,' and in a moment the two were talking together busily.
'It's only the secret, Biddy,' said Alie laughingly; she did not know of Biddy's new ill-humour. 'You mustn't mind.'
Down came the black curtain thicker and thicker over Bridget's rosy face; firmly she settled herself on her unmanageable steed.
'I don't care,' she said to herself as she trudged along in silence beside Miss Neale; 'they're horrid to me—horrid. And I'll be as horrid as I can be to them. But I'll let that nasty Celestina see I'm right and she's wrong. Iwill.'