"Well—aren't you?"
"I expect you are sometimes," Lulu replied, ignoring the other's question.
"Oh, I hope not, I try not to be. Mother says to act deceptively is as bad as telling deliberate lies, and that's why I feel Celia ought not to have borrowed that book from you, for she knew exactly what mother would say about it. With you it is different, you have no mother, and—and—"
Joy paused in some confusion, realizing that it was not her place to take her companion to task. Lulu regarded her with a steady scrutiny which was rather discomposing as she asked:
"Are you very religious, Joy? You seem to think so much about whether things are right or wrong. I never trouble my head whether they are or not."
"Oh, but you should, Lulu! Mother says—"
"Well, tell me what Mrs. Wallis says. I want to hear."
"That we ought to live as in God's sight—remembering He sees us, you know!"
Lulu made no response for a few minutes. She thoughtfully smoothed the little animal upon her lap, but she was not thinking of the puppy. At last she said:
"No one would imagine to see you sometimes that you could be so serious. Why, there's much more real fun in you than in Celia!"
Joy laughed, for her companion's face was full of perplexity. They remained in the arbour some time longer talking upon various subjects, and when they returned to the house, after having conveyed the puppy to the stable, found tea was ready in the dining-room.
Celia hoped Lulu meant to spend the evening by her side; but, greatly to her disappointment, as soon as tea was over and all repaired to the drawing-room, Joy soon wandered out into the garden, and Lulu was not long in following her.
"I am afraid you find it very tedious being kept indoors," Mr. Tillotson said kindly to Celia, noticing her wistful look.
"Oh, yes," she assented, "but I hope I shall soon be able to get about again now; my foot is really nearly well, but I must not try it too much."
"Celia is not fond of reading, I am sorry to say," Mrs. Wallis remarked, "so time hangs heavily on her hands."
At that moment a servant knocked at the door, and requested to speak to Mrs. Wallis, who, accordingly, left the room for a few minutes, and thus lost the conversation which followed.
"Better not be fond of reading than have such an insatiable appetite for light literature as some people possess!" Sir Jasper exclaimed.
"Ah, yes!" Mr. Tillotson agreed. "My little girl, now, used to borrow novels from one of my servants, and I had to interfere, and put a stop to her doing so. Incalculable harm, in my opinion, is being done to the rising generation by the trash in the shape of light literature that is being circulated broadcast everywhere."
"I believe that is so," Sir Jasper responded.
"I found Lulu with a novel called—let me see, what was it?" Mr. Tillotson reflected a moment ere he proceeded: "I remember! 'Lady Isabella's Treachery.' That was it. A novel of the most sensational character! And my little girl was thoroughly enjoying the reading of it. I don't know that I was ever so angry with her before. She had waded half through it, too, and begged me to let her finish it, but I would not. I made her return it at once."
Celia's cheeks were perfectly white, and her heart palpitated with alarm, for she fully expected Sir Jasper would remember the title of the book which Wag had torn to pieces; but if he did so, he did not choose to remark upon it, and when Mrs. Wallis re-entered the room, he changed the conversation into another channel.
Celia breathed freely again, and the colour returned to her cheeks. How thankful she was that her mother had not been present to hear all Mr. Tillotson had said! Lulu attached herself to Joy for the remainder of the evening, and as there had been a feeling of constraint between the sisters since the night of the elder's accident, Joy preferred to keep her distance from the sofa where Celia lay. It was the same the next day. After the way of spoilt children, Lulu considered her own pleasure, and never thought of studying the wishes of her friend, or even troubled herself to inquire what those wishes might be, so she walked to Crumleigh Church with Mrs. Wallis and Joy in the morning and evening, whilst Celia remained at home disconsolately, and Mr. Tillotson kept Sir Jasper company in the library.
In the afternoon Celia spent half an hour with Lulu, and limped as far as a garden seat on the terrace, but Lulu was of far too restless a temperament to be satisfied to remain quiet long, and she soon wandered off, presumably to ascertain what had become of Joy, who was somewhere in the rock garden. Tears of mortification and disappointment filled Celia's blue eyes as she watched Lulu's fashionably attired figure disappear from sight; and great was her astonishment when not more than a quarter of an hour later Lulu reappeared, and hurried back to her side.
"Celia," she cried, her cheeks aflame with excitement, "I've seen Sir Jasper, and what do you think he has discovered? That it was I who lent you that wretched book there's been so much fuss about! I came upon him in the rock garden. He was quite alone. 'Well, young lady,' he said, frowning at me, and looking—oh, you know how sharp his eyes do look!—'so, not content with poisoning your own mind with reading trash, you must recommend it to that silly little niece of mine!' I didn't know what to say, so I held my tongue. I longed to run away, but that would never have done, so I stood staring at him. 'You are a foolish, forward chit,' he said.—Yes, Celia, that was what he called me!—'But understand, I will have none of your mawkish novels brought into my house. Was "Lady Isabella's Treachery" your book?' I didn't answer for a moment, but he asked me again, and then,—what could I say?—I told him the truth. I said it was mine, or rather I had borrowed it from one of the servants at home. He nodded at that, and said he was glad I spoke the truth, that he did not wish to get me into trouble, so he should never mention the subject to me, or to anyone again. I was so relieved to hear that, that I thanked him most gratefully, and left him, as soon as I could, you may depend."
"Did he mention my name?" Celia asked, in a voice that sounded positively hoarse with anxiety.
"No, but of course he meant you when he spoke of 'that silly, little niece of mine.' He couldn't have meant anyone else."
Celia was silent, her busy mind going over the conversation Lulu had repeated to her, and she came to the conclusion that Sir Jasper had referred, not to her, but to Joy. She drew a breath of intense relief, never for a moment reflecting upon the injustice of allowing her sister to remain beneath the weight of Sir Jasper's displeasure, a weight which should rightly have been hers to bear.
"I hope I shall never hear anything of 'Lady Isabella's Treachery' again!" Lulu cried. "I am beginning to hate the book as much as I once liked it. I wish heartily I had never lent it to you, Celia. I ought not to have done so. I see that now. I felt so mean and small when Sir Jasper was talking to me."
Celia glanced at her friend in surprise, for she had never known her anything but self-complacent before. There was a flush, born of shame, on Lulu's face as she recalled Sir Jasper's looks and words, and for the moment, at any rate, she was really out of conceit with herself. She had been told she was 'a foolish, forward chit,' and almost she was inclined to believe that Sir Jasper had named her truly, though it filled her with a sense of the keenest humiliation to own it even to herself.
When Lulu left the Moat House with her father on the following morning, there was no cordiality lacking in her host's words of farewell, but, she was conscious of the opinion he had formed of her, and her manner was wonderfully meek and subdued; so much so, indeed, that her father noticed it, and inquired if anything was wrong. She reassured him upon that point; but she did not tell him of her interview with Sir Jasper on the preceding afternoon, for that would have entailed the confession that she had set his wishes at defiance, and had not only finished reading "Lady Isabella's Treachery" herself, but had lent it to her friend, and the latter fact she knew it would not be easy for him to forgive.
IT was with deep concern that Mrs. Wallis I noted that Sir Jasper appeared to have taken a dislike to her younger daughter; and as she had not the faintest idea that he believed his suspicion that Joy had persistently lied to him had been confirmed, she considered his conduct both unjust and ungenerous. He seldom took any notice of Joy nowadays, and when he did, it was generally to cast some sarcastic remark at her; consequently she kept out of his sight as much as possible, whilst Celia, as soon as she was able to get about again, saw more of him than ever. This state of affairs was not likely to heal the breach between the sisters, and it daily widened, so that when Eric arrived at the Moat House for the summer holidays he was not long in discovering that his favourite sister was in disgrace with Sir Jasper, and that she was far from being at her ease with Celia.
"Why is it, mother?" he questioned Mrs. Wallis. "What has poor Joy done?"
Mrs. Wallis briefly explained that her uncle had suspected Joy of reading a sensational novel, and had not accepted her denial; but she knew of no reason why the girls should not be on their old confidential terms, she declared, and had not noticed there was anything wrong between them.
Eric considered the matter in silence for a few minutes, then he said:
"Of course Joy is very fond of reading—she's a regular little bookworm; but I'm quite sure she wouldn't tell a story. Uncle Jasper doesn't know her as we do, mother."
Later, the boy spoke to Joy upon the subject, but she firmly refused to discuss it with him; and appeared so distressed when he would have persisted in "trying to get the root of the matter," as he expressed it, that his heart was quite touched.
"Never you mind, Joy," he told her sympathetically. "Uncle Jasper will find out the truth sooner or later."
"It's dreadful he should think so badly of me," sighed Joy; "he used to be so nice me when we first came—though I don't think he ever liked me so well as Celia—and now he's quite different."
"Celia seems to be prime favourite with him," Eric remarked reflectively; "she knows which side her bread is buttered, does Celia."
This was not an elegant speech, but rightly expressed the opinion Eric had formed of his elder sister. For the first few days after his arrival at the Moat House he had watched her in rather a puzzled fashion, surprised at her attentions to Sir Jasper; then a light had seemed to dawn across his mind, and her conduct had apparently caused him much amusement.
Sir Jasper had welcomed Eric very warmly; but the blunt, outspoken school boy had not made the immediate favourable impression upon him that Celia with her pretty, smiling face and winning ways had done; and Eric, on his part, had not much taken to the little old man with his wrinkled face and sharp inquisitive eyes.
It was August now, and the weather was so intensely hot that the geraniums drooped in the flower beds around the terrace at the Moat House, and the earth cracked for lack of moisture. One sultry afternoon found Eric and his sisters in the sitting-room in the east wing, "enjoying a lazy time, doing nothing," as Joy said, for the air was so oppressive that it made everyone feel languid, and disinclined for exertion of any kind.
"I believe we shall have a thunderstorm," Celia remarked, uneasily.
She was sitting on the window-seat, and as she spoke her eyes wandered anxiously across the wide expanse of woods and meadow lands to the sweep of hills beyond, noting the heavy banks of gathering clouds.
"How still it is! A sort of hush is over everything. Oh, surely we must be going to have a storm!"
"I rather hope we may," Joy replied, "for perhaps it will be a little cooler afterwards. Eric and I spoke of walking to Crumleigh this afternoon; but I don't think it would be wise to venture even such a short distance from home as that, now the weather looks so threatening."
"Where's mother?" asked Eric.
"Gone to Home Vale," Celia answered. "I expect she'll have tea with Miss Pring and Miss Mary."
"And we shall have Uncle Jasper to ourselves at tea-time!" Eric exclaimed, making a grimace. "I never know what to say to him. He takes no interest in cricket or any game. Celia, what do you talk to him about?"
"Oh, I don't know," Celia returned with a smile; "I generally let him choose the subjects."
"Does he ever mention his son?"
"Very seldom."
"Why doesn't he go for a drive, sometimes? Isn't it strange he has no friend?"
"He is very friendly with Mr. Tillotson," Joy interposed, "and he likes Miss Pring; but I heard him tell mother that he had no inclination to make new friends, and that he had outlived all his old ones."
"Tillotson? Oh, he's the lawyer who has the dressy daughter you were speaking about—Celia's great friend!" Eric's eyes sparkled mischievously as they rested on his elder sister's pretty face. "Let me see, what is it she is called?"
"Lulu," Joy answered. "I don't think she's a bad sort of girl, but she's certainly very fond of dress and jewellery; she has a lot of nice things, and she wanted to give Celia a turquoise brooch, so you see she is really good-natured. Of course Celia wouldn't accept it."
"Of course not," said Celia. "It was a nice enough brooch in its way, but I daresay I may have a better one some day," she continued, "for Uncle Jasper says when I am grown up, he will give me—"
She paused abruptly as she met her brother's eager, inquiring glance, and looked a trifle confused.
"Go on. What is Uncle Jasper going to give you when you are grown up?" Eric questioned. "A silver new nothing, perhaps."
Celia could never stand teasing, and her colour rose, whilst her eyes gleamed angrily. "Uncle Jasper has most lovely jewels locked away in the safe in the library," she declared with a ring of triumph in her tone. "He showed them to me one day. They belonged to his wife. There is a pearl necklace, and diamonds—"
"Diamonds!" Eric interrupted. "Joy, no wonder Celia is inclined to disparage her friend's humble turquoise brooch if she is looking forward to wearing diamonds. Did Uncle Jasper say he was going to give them to you, Celia? Joy, you and I will have to take back seats when our sister is decked out in her diamonds!"
Joy could not help laughing, but Celia exclaimed wrathfully:
"How silly you are! I wish I had not mentioned the jewels to you!"
"Do you think Uncle Jasper would let me have a peep at his treasures?" Eric questioned.
"You had better ask him," Celia replied. She leaned her flushed face out of the window. "Oh, how hot it is!" she exclaimed; "and see how dark the sky is growing! What inky clouds! Oh, I fear the storm is coming! Hark, surely that is thunder?"
It was, in the distance, but it was drawing nearer and nearer every minute. At length the rain began to fall in slow, heavy drops.
"Mother will be sure to remain at Home Vale," Joy said. "What is the time, Eric?" The boy drew out his watch—a treasured possession, for it had been his father's—and looked at it.
"Nearly five o'clock," he replied. "Why, I declare it's getting dark! There, wasn't that a brilliant flash of lightning! Now for the thunder."
It came, a tremendous clap, just as the door opened and Sir Jasper entered. The children were surprised to see him, for he had never visited them in the east wing before. Eric sprang up from the arm chair in which he had been reclining much at his ease, and offered it to the old man, who sank into it rather breathlessly.
"We are going to have a terrible storm," Sir Jasper said; "indeed, it has come," he continued as another flash of lightning almost blinded them for a moment, and the thunder rolled overhead. "Your mother is at Home Vale, and will doubtless remain till the weather clears. You are not afraid of a storm?" he questioned.
They all assured him they were not; but Celia, whose colour had paled, left the window for a seat further back in the room. The rain was descending in torrents now from the leaden sky; the lightning was almost incessant; and the thunder sounded like the roar of artillery. It was indeed a fearful storm, the like of which the children had never witnessed before. Joy sat quietly on the sofa, her eyes fixed on Sir Jasper's withered visage; and presently Celia crept to her side and grasped her hand tightly.
"Joy, isn't it awful?" she whispered, hoarsely.
"Are you very frightened?" Joy asked. "Don't cry, Celia. Why, you're shaking like a leaf!"
"Oh, Joy, we shall be killed! I believe the walls of the house will fall in, and crush us to death! Oh," her voice rising almost to a shriek as the thunder crashed overhead, "this is terrible!"
"Nonsense, child," said Sir Jasper, soothingly; "no harm will come to you."
But for once Celia took no heed of his words. She clung closely to Joy, sobbing and shivering with fright, whilst Joy whispered to her that there was nothing to fear.
"Don't be such a coward, Celia!" Eric said, sharply. "I'm ashamed of you. Why should the storm affect you more than any one else? Stop that whimpering, do."
"Oh, don't be hard on her, Eric," Joy remonstrated; "she can't help being frightened."
Sir Jasper watched the two girls in silence. He noticed how the elder clung to the younger as though for protection, and wondered, for Celia had always appeared to him so self-reliant till now. By-and-by the fury of the storm abated, the thunder became more and more distant, and the lightning flashes less forked and vivid. Then Celia raised her face from her sister shoulder, where she had hidden it, and looked around rather nervously, meeting an encouraging smile from Sir Jasper.
"Cheer up, my dear," he said, "the worst of the storm is over, so I suggest we all adjourn to the dining-room to tea."
Celia, much subdued in spirits, went to her bedroom, followed by Joy, to smooth her ruffled hair and bathe her tear-stained face, whilst Sir Jasper requested Eric to give him his arm to lean upon as he went downstairs.
"We do not often get such a storm as the one we have had this afternoon in Devonshire," Sir Jasper remarked a few minutes later, when they were all seated at the tea-table; "it came on so suddenly too, though the air has been heavy with thunder all day. I think I never saw more vivid lightning. I do not wonder poor Celia was alarmed."
"It was silly of her to make such a fuss, though!" Eric exclaimed, scornfully.
"I couldn't help it," Celia murmured, hanging her head.
"You didn't try not to help it," Eric retorted. "You always were a little coward."
"Eric, that is not the way to speak to your sister," Sir Jasper told the boy, reprovingly. "Were not you frightened?" he inquired, turning to Joy.
She started in surprise, and blushed crimson, for he had not addressed her for days previously, and for a minute she was too confused to reply.
"I think I was a little frightened," she confessed at length. "The lightning was so blinding, I felt I must scream once, then I remembered—"
She paused abruptly, overawed by the keen scrutiny with which Sir Jasper was observing her, and trembled far more than she had done when the storm was at its height.
"What did you remember?" he asked, puzzled by her manner.
"That God was with us," she answered in a low tone.
Sir Jasper sat in silence for a few seconds, then a sarcastic smile crossed his face, and he said meaningly:
"It is a pity you do not always remember that. If you did, perhaps you would learn to be less deceptive, and more truthful."
A dead silence followed this speech. Celia looked at Joy quickly, her blue eyes full of alarm; but Joy uttered no word, only sat perfectly still with her cheeks, which had been so flushed a minute before, as white as the table cloth. It was Eric who at length burst into an indignant protest.
"What a shame of you to speak to her like that, Uncle Jasper!" he cried. "If you think Joy is not truthful you are very much mistaken."
"Eric, that is not the way to address me," Sir Jasper told the boy, severely. "And you do not know what you are talking about. Joy is perfectly well aware to what I refer."
"And I know to what you refer!" Eric declared. "Mother told me all about it. Joy knew nothing about that nasty novel, I'm certain she didn't. She never told you a story, Uncle Jasper. She's as true as steel. Speak up, Joy, and tell Uncle Jasper he's mistaken."
Joy raised her eyes, and turned them slowly from her brother to Sir Jasper. "What use is it my telling Uncle Jasper that?" she asked, her voice full of pain; "he would only consider I was saying what was untrue. I told him I had never seen that novel before, but he did not believe me—he would not believe me now." She stood up, and pushed her chair back from the table, and without another word walked out of the room. Celia uttered a gasping cry, and bursting into tears, covered her face with her hands. Sir Jasper essayed to comfort her; but she only wept the more, whilst Eric looked at her in utter bewilderment.
"The storm has upset her," Sir Jasper said, as he glanced from Celia to her brother; "she is a very sensitive child—and, I think she troubles about her sister too."
"Why did you speak to her so harshly?" wailed Celia.
"There, there," said the old man, soothingly, "I promise I will not do so again but it aggravated me to hear her talk so—so piously. I dislike anything approaching hypocrisy."
"Joy is not a hypocrite," Eric declared, bluntly. "You are mistaken in her character altogether. She's heaps better and truer in every respect than either Celia or me, isn't she Celia? Why can't you speak up for Joy? Why don't you go and see what become of her, instead of whimpering like that?" he added, in exasperated tones.
Celia rose from her chair as her brother spoke, and walked slowly out of the room her eyes brimming over with tears, her bosom heaving with sobs. Eric regarded Sir Jasper gloomily. The old man looked perturbed and was regretting the words which had been the cause of the late stormy scene. He trembled with agitation as, leaning heavily on his stick, he crossed the room to the window, where he stood gazing out upon the newly-washed face of the landscape, conscious that Eric's eyes were watching his movements. He could not but admire the boy for taking his sister's part; but was annoyed at the defiant tone in which he had addressed him. Had not Eric said it was a shame that he should have spoken to Joy as he had done? He thought the boy owed him an apology; but apparently no idea of offering him one crossed Eric's mind, for he lingered in the room but a short while longer; then went into the hall, and putting on his cap, started to meet his mother, who by that time, he considered, would most likely be on her way home.
ERIC had not gone far beyond the grounds of the Moat House when he encountered Mr. Cole, the Vicar of Crumleigh, who drew up, and addressed him with a smiling: "Good evening."
"Good evening," Eric responded. He recognised the Vicar, having seen him at church on the preceding Sunday, when he had been favourably impressed by his kindly, open countenance, and general appearance of manliness. "Isn't it jolly after the storm? You were in shelter?"
"Yes, fortunately. I found refuge in a labourers' cottage. I was bound for the Moat House when the storm overtook me. We are well met, for it was you I wanted to see."
"Really?" Eric cried in surprise, a pleased and flattered expression crossing his face. "Then, you know who I am?"
"You are Eric Wallis, if I mistake not?"
"Yes. And you are Mr. Cole, the Vicar of Crumleigh."
"Having made ourselves known to each other, suppose we shake hands," the Vicar suggested with a smile.
They accordingly did so. Their eyes were about on a level, for Eric was tall for his age, and the Vicar, though broad-shouldered and athletic, barely reached the middle-height.
"I wonder what you want of me," Eric remarked, not a little curiously. "How did you find out my name? Who told you about me?"
The Vicar laughed at the perplexity in the boy's tone, and replied: "Miss Pring told me about you, and it was from her I learnt your name. I have met your mother on several occasions, but though she mentioned her son, she did not say much concerning him. I hear you are a great cricketer, and a first-rate hand at wicket-keeping. Well, we have a cricket club at Crumleigh, and I want you to join it, and give the members—farm lads they are mostly—a few lessons in the noble game. Will you?"
"Of course I will!" Eric answered, flushing with pleasure.
"Thank you. I am sure Sir Jasper will raise no objection to your giving me your help; he is a subscriber to the Crumleigh Cricket Club, but, perhaps I had better go on and speak to him about it. Are you going far?"
"No, only to meet my mother, who has been spending the afternoon at Home Vale."
"Then I will proceed alone, and hear what Sir Jasper has to say."
The Vicar nodded, and went on, whilst Eric hurried forward, meeting his mother at the next turn in the road. He had started from the Moat House vastly indignant with Sir Jasper, but he had had time to cool down, so instead of pouring into Mrs. Wallis' ears the tale of Joy's wrongs to begin with, he first of all informed her that he had seen Mr. Cole, who wanted him to join the Crumleigh Cricket Club.
"That would be rather nice for you, would it not?" she asked, herself pleased with the idea. "You were saying only last night how much you would enjoy a good game of cricket. This club is composed of village lads, I suppose?"
"Yes. Mr. Cole had heard about my wicket-keeping, mother."
"Had he? I wonder who told him. I don't think I did."
"It was Miss Pring, I believe."
"Oh, very likely. How fresh and beautiful the country looks after the storm! And what a storm it was!"
"Celia made herself ridiculous as usual. And, oh, mother, Uncle Jasper was so disagreeable at tea-time!"
"Was he? How?" Mrs. Wallis inquired, anxiously.
Eric explained all that had taken place; his mother looking grave and concerned as she listened.
"I wish I had remained at home this afternoon," she said, uneasily. "Poor Joy! My dear little girl! It was too bad—" She checked herself suddenly, and continued: "I cannot imagine why Uncle Jasper should be so unjust to her. She took his unkind remark very quietly, you say?"
"Yes, but Celia began to howl at once, and that seemed quite to upset him! I cannot think why he's so fond of Celia, unless it's because she always agrees with what he says, and dances attendance upon him."
"Celia is very sweet-tempered, and desirous of pleasing, and she is wonderfully patient with Uncle Jasper."
"That's what I can't understand, mother. She never used to put herself out of the way for anyone. Oh, I'm not running out against her; but she was never half so obliging, really, as Joy—at least, not to me. Poor Joy! It must be dreadfully hard to be treated so unjustly."
Mrs. Wallis agreed with her son, though she did not say so. Arrived at the Moat House they ascertained that Sir Jasper was perfectly willing for Eric to join the Crumleigh Cricket Club, and it was there and then arranged that the boy was to take tea at the Vicarage on the following afternoon, and in the evening was to make the acquaintance of the village cricketers.
Mrs. Wallis, as soon as Mr. Cole had taken his departure, and she had answered the questions Sir Jasper had put to her concerning the inmates of Home Vale, hurried upstairs to the east wing in search of her daughters. She found them in the sitting-room. Joy, with her elbows on the table and her head between her hands, was apparently deeply engrossed with a book whilst Celia was engaged in rearranging the trimming on a hat. To look at the two quiet figures no one would have imagined that there had been a stormy scene between them. Such had been the case, however for Joy had spoken hard, bitter words to her sister, which Celia had listened to silently though with many tears.
Joy did not raise her head as her mother entered the room, but Celia looked up from her work, and smiled a welcome, saying in her usual level tones, for she had quite recovered her equanimity: "We were so glad to know you were safe indoors during that dreadful storm, mother. How are Miss Pring and Miss Mary?"
"Very well," Mrs. Wallis answered "Joy, come with me to my room. I want you for a few minutes."
"Yes, mother," was the response in a subdued voice, as Joy closed her book, and rising, followed Mrs. Wallis into the adjoining apartment.
"Shut the door, my dear."
Joy did so, and waited for what was to follow. Mrs. Wallis took off her bonnet and cloak, and put them away; then she turned to her little daughter, and, laying her hands lightly upon her shoulders, examined her downcast countenance with anxious, loving eyes. Joy had not been crying, but she looked very sad, though her mouth was set in hard, defiant lines.
"Eric has been telling me all that took place at tea-time," Mrs. Wallis said, gravely. "I am so sorry for you, my dear. It must have been very hard to have been unable to right yourself."
Joy's big, grey eyes flashed, and for a moment she was undecided whether or not she should tell her mother of Celia's cowardly silence; but even now she felt she could not justify herself at her sister's expense.
"Uncle Jasper is a cruel, wicked, old man!" she cried, passionately. "I wish we had never come to the Moat House, that I do! We were happier at home!" —and bursting into tears, she flung her arms around her mother's neck, and sobbed out all her grief. "Why should Uncle Jasper treat me like this?" she demanded, when she was more composed; "why should he not believe my word?"
"I cannot understand it, Joy," Mrs. Wallis replied, greatly distressed herself; "it is as much a mystery to me as to you; but do have patience, my dear, and depend upon it Uncle Jasper will find out he has formed a very false estimate of your character. You have a clear conscience, and you know 'a good conscience is able to bear very much, and is very cheerful in adversities.' If you are accused wrongfully, remember there is One who knows the truth, therefore do not grieve. You have a cross to carry, it has come to you through no fault of your own, and it is a particularly heavy one for you to bear because it is an accusation of insincerity, and that is an evil trait which you do not possess. But take up this cross like a Christian, little daughter, don't let it sour your temper, or fill your mind with resentful thoughts."
"Oh, mother, how can I help being resentful against Uncle Jasper, who is so cruelly unjust? I did try to keep my temper at tea-time; but if you had seen the way he looked at me, you would have felt angry, too. Eric stood up for me, though, but I am afraid Uncle Jasper did not like his doing so."
"I hardly think Uncle Jasper would blame your brother for that. By the way, Eric is going to join the Crumleigh Cricket Club; he met Mr. Cole this evening, and it has all been arranged. I believe the members of the club play in one of Uncle Jasper's fields near the village; we shall be able to go and watch them. Eric is to coach them."
"Oh, is he?" Joy cried, her face brightening. "He will like that. I know the cricket field, it's close to the Vicarage, and I've often noticed Mr. Cole there playing with a lot of boys. Oh, it will be great fun to go and watch them!" Joy was delighted on her brother's account. She forgot her troubles in thinking of his pleasure, and went off in search of him, whilst Mrs. Wallis returned to the sitting-room to Celia, to whom she imparted the news concerning Eric.
"Eric is going to join the village cricket club!" Celia exclaimed. "Why, I thought the members were all common boys. I saw them playing in a field near the Vicarage the other day, and they were such a queer looking lot, with hobnail boots, and corduroy trousers, and—"
The girl paused suddenly, as she caught the look of displeasure on her mother's face. She flushed, and did not finish her sentence.
"The club is comprised of village lads, I believe," Mrs. Wallis said, quietly, "common boys as you term them, who work in the fields, wear coarse clothing, and speak a broad dialect. Are you afraid that your brother will copy them?"
"Oh, no, but—"
"You would ignore all those who are not well-to-do, or educated, I suppose? Oh, Celia, if you had your own way what a narrow life you would lead! I do not like to hear you talk of people as common; to my mind to do so is a sign of vulgarity. Don't do it again."
"I will not," Celia answered, in a subdued tone, "I spoke without thinking. I daresay it will be very nice for Eric to have a game of cricket now and then. Does Uncle Jasper know about it, mother? Does he wish Eric to join the club?"
"Yes. By the way, Celia, I am so distressed to hear how Uncle Jasper spoke to Joy at tea."
"It was very unkind of him," Celia replied, the ready tears filling her eyes; "but he promised he wouldn't speak to her like it again."
"I am glad of that. Don't cry, my dear. Uncle Jasper will find out he has misjudged your sister one of these days."
This speech had anything but a comforting effect on Celia. Her mother was touched by her very real distress, and continued kindly:
"I know how fond my little daughters are of each other, but you mustn't take this matter so much to heart. I have been talking to Joy, and I believe she will try to be patient with Uncle Jasper, and not resent the fact of his injustice. Come, dry your eyes. You have cried enough to-day."
"I have such a bad headache!" Celia sighed.
"Come, then, we will go out on the terrace, and the fresh air will do your head good. I hear Joy and Eric's voices, I think. Yes, and that's Joy's laugh. Dear child, she is recovering her spirits."
The remainder of the evening till supper-time, Mrs. Wallis and her children spent out-of-doors. Sir Jasper did not join them, for he was afraid to venture out after the rain; but he sat close inside the dining-room window, and watched Joy and Eric, who were playing with the spaniel puppy, whilst Celia and her mother strolled up and down the terrace. He noticed the traces of tears still on Celia's cheeks, and thought she had been grieving on her sister's account; then when he turned his eyes upon that sister, and saw how much she was enjoying her romp with her brother and the dog, he told himself that she was a shallow little thing, and that his sarcastic remark had made no lasting impression upon her; wherein he was greatly mistaken, for his words had cut like a knife, and had sunk deeply into Joy's tender heart.
THE Vicarage at Crumleigh was situated at one end of the straggling village street. It was a modern, red-brick building with bay windows in front; and had been built on the site of the former Vicarage, which had been destroyed by fire some years previously. A large garden, well cultivated, surrounded the house, which stood back some distance from the street, on the opposite side to the church; and next to the Vicarage grounds was the field where the members of the Crumleigh Cricket Club assembled during the summer evenings, after their day's work was done, to practice the famous old English game.
Mr. Cole had been only two years the Vicar of Crumleigh. Before that time, his work had lain in a large London parish, where he had laboured as a curate for more than twenty years; then, broken down by severe illness, he had accepted the living of Crumleigh, which had been offered to him most opportunely.
As he entertained Eric Wallis to tea in his comfortable dining-room, he told him some of his experiences in the great metropolis; and Eric confided in him that his chief friend at school was the son of a London clergyman, living in a very poor parish.
"What is his name?" Mr. Cole inquired.
"Lawrence Puttenham; but he's always called Putty. Why, you don't mean to say you know him!" the boy cried, as he noticed the Vicar's start of surprise.
"Know him? Why, of course I do! Then you are being educated at W— College? Lawrence Puttenham is the son of my oldest friend. I wonder if you mentioned Crumleigh to him that he did not tell you I was the Vicar here."
"I don't think I did mention Crumleigh to him," Eric said, reflectively. "I certainly told him all about Uncle Jasper, and the Moat House, and gave him to understand it was two miles from the town of T—, but, no, I'm sure I never spoke of the village."
"And not knowing the district, he would have no idea that Crumleigh was so near to T—."
"How very strange that you should know Putty!" Eric exclaimed.
"Not strange at all seeing that his father and I were at the same college together at Oxford, and have kept in touch with each other ever since. I know your friend very well; in fact, he's my godson."
"Oh!" cried Eric, gazing at the Vicar with additional interest.
"Now, I wonder what that exclamation means?" Mr. Cole said, inquiringly.
"It means that I've heard a great deal about you," Eric replied, frankly. "I've often heard Putty speak of his godfather. Fancy your being the man!"
"Yes, I'm the man!" and the Vicar gave an involuntary, amused laugh.
"Well, I'm glad," Eric said, with candour. He knew that Lawrence Puttenham's godfather was paying for his education, and had promised to start him in life; but he had received that information in confidence, and so he had never mentioned it even to his mother. "Won't Putty be astonished next term when tell him I know you!" he exclaimed.
"And won't he be astonished when he comes to pay me a visit next week, and finds you located near at hand!"
"Is he coming?" Eric asked, eagerly, his voice full of intense pleasure, his eyes bright with expectancy. "Have you invited him, really?"
"Yes, and if all's well he will arrive on Monday evening."
"And it's Thursday to-day. This is grand news! I say, Mr. Cole, please don't write and tell him anything about me. We'll give him a surprise."
"So we will," the Vicar agreed. "Are you sure you won't have any more tea? No? Well, then, suppose we adjourn to the cricket field, I expect most of the boys have arrived by this time."
"I thought you were married?" Eric remarked, as he strolled by Mr. Cole's side down the garden path towards the gate; "that is to say, I supposed you were," he amended, "because you have a nice big house, and—" He paused, looking slightly confused, but the Vicar smiled as he replied:
"And you thought me old enough to possess a wife and family? No, I'm not married," he continued, more seriously, "my sister always lived with me till her death, nearly three years ago now. She used to be my right hand, and assisted me both by helping me in my parochial duties and by her unfailing sympathy. You, who have sisters of your own, can imagine my feelings when I lost mine, the only one I had, who had ever been my most faithful friend. She would have been delighted with this pleasant home if God had spared her to share it with me, but that was not to be—still, His will be done." He sighed as he glanced back at the Vicarage, bathed in the mellow sunshine of the August evening. "There are voices in the cricket field. Let us see who has come."
More than half a dozen boys had arrived already; and therefore several pairs of curious eyes rested on Eric as he and the Vicar appeared upon the scene. Mr. Cole introduced his companion as a new member of the club, briefly explaining that he was considered rather a good cricketer. Eric spoke a few words to those who looked friendliest. Some of the boys stared at him in stolid silence whilst others whispered together as they stood apart, casting occasional glances him. The new member began to feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Us doan' want un!" one hulking lad of sixteen—Sam Dart by name—remarked audibly to a friend, gazing disapprovingly at Eric's tall, upright figure, clad in a white flannel suit.
"Hush!" whispered his companion; "'e's Sir Jasper Amery's nephew, an' Sir Jasper subscribes to the club."
Play now commenced, and Eric was placed as wicket-keeper, which post he filled so well that the boys began to view him with greater approval. Several of the lads showed that they had practised the game to some purpose; and Sam Dart, as he sent the ball flying across the field, and made run after run, glanced triumphantly at the newcomer, and demanded what he thought of that. Eric complimented him on his prowess as a batsman; but was not a little amused when a few minutes later the redoubtable Sam was caught out. After a while, Eric, at the Vicar's suggestion, gave a few lessons in bowling; and, on the whole, made a rather favourable impression on his new acquaintances. Sam Dart alone stood aloof, and declined to be at all friendly. He was a plain, red-headed boy, with a snub nose and a wide mouth, and he wore a "dicky," as he called the mock white shirt front, which had slipped all awry and dangled from his neck. More than once during the game the Vicar had been obliged sternly to call him to order for the language he had used; and though he had mended his speech at once, no very long time had elapsed before he had offended again. Afterwards, Eric learnt that Sam Dart was regarded as the roughest lad in the village; that the Vicar had hesitated whether or not to permit him to join the cricket club, but had finally deemed it advisable to allow him to become a member; and that Sam Dart had improved in every way since the Vicar had taken him in hand. Eric could not help wondering what he had been like before.
"I shall come again to-morrow evening, Mr. Cole," Eric told the Vicar, as he shook hands with him at parting. "And mind you don't write and tell Putty he'll meet me here."
The Vicar promised he would not; and Eric started homewards in high spirits, his mind full of pleasant thoughts. He had taken a great fancy to Mr. Cole, and was really delighted at the discovery he had made anent his connection with his favourite school-friend.
At the entrance to the grounds of the Moat House he encountered Joy, who had come to meet him, eager to know how he had got on during the evening. To her he immediately confided the news that Lawrence Puttenham was expected at the Vicarage on a visit, and Joy, as was her custom, thoroughly entered into his happiness and rejoiced with him.
"How nice it will be for you, Eric!" she cried, after he had explained everything. "I am so glad. Fancy Mr. Cole being Putty's godfather! I am surprised!"
"Mr. Cole's a splendid fellow," Eric said. "We had such a jolly talk together at tea; he told me about his work in London, and how he caught typhoid fever, and nearly died. That was why he came into the country. The doctors told him if he didn't he'd never pick up. He says he thinks he's pretty well as strong as he ever was now, and I asked him if he meant to go back to London, but he said no, that God had sent him here, and there was plenty of work for him to do here. Do you know, when he first came to Crumleigh the boys of the village used to spend their spare time in loitering about the street, playing pitch and toss, and using bad language? It was a long time before they would have anything to do with him, always shirked out of his way when they saw him coming, and so on; but by-and-by they found out he meant them well, and now they're quite friendly with him."
"And what about the cricket club?" Joy asked, much interested.
"Oh, the Vicar started that, of course! The members are a queer set," Eric said, with a hearty laugh; "they talk the broadest dialect; but I think I shall get on with them—all except a great fellow called Sam Dart, who scowled at me every time he caught my eye; I'm not sure about him. He's the roughest of the lot, and the Vicar had several times to stop his swearing—I imagine he used bad language more from habit than any other reason. He appeared to look on me as an interloper."
"We have had visitors during your absence," Joy told her brother, presently, "Mr. Tillotson and Lulu. They came to invite Celia and me to spend a week or so with them."
"But you're not going?" Eric cried, reproachfully; "you wouldn't go while I'm at the Moat House?"
"No, I told mother I didn't want to go—Lulu talked of asking us some time ago, at least she spoke of asking Celia, and I guessed Mr. Tillotson would invite me too—so she made an excuse for me, said you and I generally spent most of the time together in the holidays. But Celia's going."
"Is she, though?" Eric exclaimed. "That's not very flattering to me, is it? But I don't mind," he acknowledged, candidly.
"She is to go the week after next," Joy explained "and she's to have several new frocks. Uncle Jasper said mother was to take her to T— to-morrow, and get her some pretty clothes. Celia is delighted."
"I dare say. She's as vain as a peacock!"
"I don't think mother wants her to go and stay with the Tillotsons, but Uncle Jasper wishes it. Do you know, I fancy Celia must have told him beforehand that we were going to have the invitation, for he said at once that if I did not care to go that was no reason why Celia should be done out of a pleasure, and he had no doubt Lulu would be satisfied with one visitor."
"Well, I'm glad you are not going, anyway."
"I'm afraid you will not want me when Lawrence Puttenham is at the Vicarage," and though Joy smiled, there was a very wistful expression on her countenance, which her brother was quick to notice.
"That's all you know about it!" he cried, catching her by the shoulder and giving her a playful shake. "Don't pull such a long face, Joy. But, I say, tell me one thing, what's come between you and Celia? You used to be such great friends."
"Yes, but she's altered lately," Joy acknowledged with a deep, regretful sigh. "I can't explain what I mean, but she's different."
"I see she is. I wonder if mother notices it. I believe it's Uncle Jasper's fault. He makes too much of her."
Joy made no response to this. Lately her eyes had been opened to many little flaws in her sister's character, to which she had been blind before; and she endured the rankling knowledge that Celia had allowed her to be put in a false position. There was no longer the old confidence between the two, who in their home at A— had been such close friends, so that they contemplated the coming separation for a few weeks with feelings of actual relief. Celia looked forward to a visit which she anticipated would be pleasantly spent in congenial society, whilst Joy regarded the prospect of her sister's absence with perfect equanimity.
Sir Jasper asked Eric many questions in reference to the Crumleigh Cricket Club when they met at supper-time, all of which the boy answered fully. The old man nodded his approval of what he heard. He was both interested and amused by Eric's description of the boys, and remarked that the Vicar deserved praise for the good order in which he had managed to set the parish, adding that Crumleigh had been notorious in the past for the ill-behaviour of the youths of the place.
"I believe there is to be a real match on Saturday," said Eric; "you ought to watch it, Uncle Jasper."
"I!" cried Sir Jasper, regarding the boy with amazement. "I!" he repeated.
"Yes, you," Eric nodded; "and mother and the girls might like to see it, too. You subscribe to the club, Uncle Jasper, so don't you think you might drive over and see us play—by way of encouragement, you know?"
"I have not been outside my own grounds for eighteen months," announced Sir Jasper. "Besides, a cricket match has no attractions me," he added, an expression of gloom crossing his withered face.
It was at this point that Joy ventured to turn the conversation by a remark about Lawrence Puttenham's expected arrival at the Vicarage, whereupon Eric informed Sir Jasper of his friend's relationship to Mr. Cole.
"I have heard so much about Putty's godfather," he said, "that as soon as I discovered he and the Vicar were one, I felt though I'd known him for ever so long. Won't old Putty be astounded when he finds I'm here! What jolly times we shall have together! I may ask Putty to the Moat House sometimes, mayn't I, Uncle Jasper?"
"As often as you please. As Mr. Cole's son he would be welcome, and he will be doubly so as your friend."
Sir Jasper's tone was so gracious that Eric thanked him very earnestly, adding: "I know you'll like Putty, he's such a good sort of fellow. No nonsense about him—nothing put on—and as straight as a line!"
"I like people to be straight," Sir Jasper replied gravely, and as he spoke his eyes rested for a moment on Joy, who, meeting his glance, suddenly grew crimson and hung her head, imagining he was thinking that she was not straight.
All at the table noticed the little girl's painful confusion with comprehension and sympathy, except Sir Jasper, who regarded it as an additional proof of a guilty conscience, and turned his gaze away from her with a decided frown.
After that, the meal was concluded in comparative silence, and it was a relief to every one when it came to an end.
MRS. Wallis and her children always breakfasted by themselves in the sitting-room in the east wing, for Sir Jasper did not, as a rule, rise till after ten o'clock. The meal was generally enlivened by the young folks' chatter; and on the morning subsequent to Eric's introduction to the members of the Crumleigh Cricket Club, there was so much discuss, and everyone was in such excellent spirits—Joy included—that the conversation never flagged.
"Celia and I are going to drive to T— this morning to do some shopping," Mrs. Wallis remarked, after Eric had informed them of few of the many plans he intended to carry out subsequent to Lawrence Puttenham's arrival. "Uncle Jasper gave orders last night for the carriage to be ready at ten o'clock. You would like to come with us, Joy?"
"I would rather stay at home with Eric, if you don't mind, mother," Joy responded "I don't much care for shopping, and I shall see all Celia's new clothes afterwards."
"What are you going to have, Celia?" Eric inquired.
"Uncle Jasper said mother was to buy me whatever I wanted," Celia answered, sedately. "Lulu told me there is to be a grand flower-show at T—, whilst I am staying with her, so I suppose I shall want a new frock for that," and she cast an anxious glance at her mother as she spoke.
"Yes," Mrs. Wallis agreed; "since you are going visiting, I should like you to look as nice as possible, though I do not want you to be so gaily dressed as Lulu Tillotson, who, poor girl, has no one to guide her taste. Joy need not accompany us if she would rather remain at home with Eric."
So Mrs. Wallis and Celia started on their shopping expedition alone. It was a very dusty drive to T— on that hot August morning, but Celia enjoyed it, for she always felt particularly important when she was being driven out in Sir Jasper's handsome carriage, drawn by the sleek, bay horses, which were so well known in the district. She sat perfectly upright by her mother's side, and no one looking at the pretty, neatly attired girl, would have guessed that her mind was so full of vanity as it actually was. She glanced neither to the right nor to the left, yet as the carriage passed through the main street of the town, she was conscious that many pedestrians turned their heads to stare at the fine equipage, and remark upon its occupants, and her heart beat with exultation. Then, when she followed her mother into the draper's shop, where their purchases were to be made, she was deeply gratified by the attention they commanded, and by the anxiety of the proprietor that their wants should be supplied to their satisfaction.
"I expect he thinks we're very rich," Celia reflected, proudly.
She was a little disappointed that her mother turned aside the coloured silks and muslins, and selected a soft, white material to be made into a frock to be worn at the flower show, but she was more satisfied when Mrs. Wallis bought her a couple of bright blouses, and was delighted when a white hat was purchased to go with the white frock. On the whole she did not disapprove of her mother's selections.
After they came out of the drapery establishment, they walked along the street for a short distance, and looked into some of the shop windows, presently pausing before a jeweller's.
"Oh, how I should like a new brooch," Celia said, earnestly. "Oh, mother, look at some of these! Are they not lovely? Don't you think you might buy me one?" she asked, coaxingly.
"You do not want a new brooch, my dear. You have the little gold one, like Joy's, which I gave you last Christmas."
"The pin is out, mother."
"It can easily be put in again. That is a matter that will only cost a few coppers to rectify."
"But I should so like to have a brooch with stones in it," Celia sighed. "The one I saved my money to buy is quite unfit to wear because several of the brilliants have come out."
"I never liked it," Mrs. Wallis said, decidedly, "but as you bought it with your own money I did not say anything against it; I confess, though, I am not sorry to hear it is unwearable. Showy jewellery, in my opinion, ought never to be worn by young girls."
Celia did not pursue the subject, but she could not help thinking her mother might have gratified her desire, and she was very discontented.
"It is not as though it was her money," the little girl mused, "it is Uncle Jasper's, and he gave it to her to spend for me. I am sure he would not mind if she bought me a new brooch. The one she gave me at Christmas is all very well in its way, but it's so plain, no one notices it, I am sure."
"Are you not pleased with our purchases?" Mrs. Wallis asked, in a slightly reproachful tone, as they were being driven home, observing Celia's overcast countenance, and guessing the cause. "Uncle Jasper has been most generous, and you ought to be very grateful to him. What is the meaning of your discontented face?"
"I did not know I was looking discontented," Celia answered, rather ashamed of herself, "and indeed I am very pleased all the pretty things we have bought, but—but—"
"There is always something to mar your contentment, my dear," Mrs. Wallis said, seriously, as her daughter left her sentence unfinished. "Do you remember my saying to you once just before we left our home, that I questioned if you possessed all the luxuries wealth can provide, whether you would be satisfied even then? I think the same now. You were never so well off in your life as you are at the present time, but you appear no happier than you were in our little home at A—. Dear Celia, you will never be happy until you find peace in Christ, and are content to give your life to Him."
Celia made no answer, and her mother proceeded:
"Most people would deem you a very fortunate girl. Your desire to visit your friend is to be gratified, and Uncle Jasper is providing you with pretty new clothes, and you are dissatisfied because I refused to buy you a gaudy brooch. I really am ashamed of you!"
"Lulu has such a lot of jewellery," Celia murmured.
"Yes, I know she has. She wears so much that it quite spoils her appearance. I have no desire to see a daughter of mine decked out so showily as Lulu."
Mrs. Wallis looked a little uneasy. She had not wished Celia to visit the Tillotsons; but Sir Jasper had overruled her objections, and she could give no adequate reason for refusing the lawyer's invitation, for she had, in fact, grown to like Lulu, having discovered that her frivolities were mostly on the surface, and that at heart she was really good-natured, in spite of the selfishness which was the result of her bringing up rather than her natural disposition.
"In a way I wish Joy was going with you," Mrs. Wallis continued, "but she pleaded so hard to be allowed to remain at the Moat House now Eric is at home. Those two are devoted to each other."
Celia assented absently, her mind evidently far away. Her mother watching her, wondered what she was thinking about. The discontented expression had gone from the girl's face, and she looked as placid and sweet-tempered as she usually did. Presently she said:
"You mustn't think me ungrateful, mother, for I'm not really; only I was a wee bit disappointed that you wouldn't buy me a new brooch. I daresay you were right, and it was wrong of me to mind. I won't think any more about it."
"That's right, my dear," Mrs. Wallis responded. "I think you ought to trust to me to know what is suitable for you to wear, and what is not."
"Oh, yes!" Celia assented, raising her blue eyes to her mother's face with a confiding smile.
At that moment she was ready to acknowledge herself in the wrong; but later, when she reconsidered the matter, she still thought it had been very unkind of her mother not to gratify her wish for a new brooch.
"I have no ornaments worth mentioning," she mused, "and Lulu has so many. Lulu's father does not object to her wearing as much jewellery as she pleases. Mother is very strict with me. I wonder what Uncle Jasper would say if I told him mother would not buy me a new brooch? He would say she was right, I expect; he would not go against her."
Celia was standing in front of the dressing-table in her bedroom brushing her hair, preparatory to going downstairs to dinner, as she mused thus. She had reached this point in her reflections when Joy entered the room. The younger sister was looking remarkably well. She had spent the morning much to her liking, and her face, which was not a little sunburnt, glowed with health and exercise; whilst her expression was bright and happy. Celia wondered how she could look so contented when she knew herself to be in Sir Jasper's black books. It had troubled her that Joy should suffer on her account, though she had not the courage to speak openly, and right the wrong her silence had wrought.
"What did you buy?" Joy asked; "a lot of pretty clothes, I suppose?"
"Yes," Celia assented, and she forthwith gave an account of the purchases, the other listening with polite interest. "And where have you been all the morning?" she inquired.
"As soon as you and mother had gone, Eric and I started to take Wag for a walk, and as we were passing Home Vale we saw Miss Pring at work in her garden, so we thought we'd go in and talk to her for a bit. By the way, Celia, she's going to exhibit onions at the T— flower show. Vegetables and fruit are to be shown as well as flowers. She says she shall certainly go to the show, so probably you'll see her there."
"Probably," Celia replied, determining to keep out of Miss Pring's way if possible. "Going to exhibit onions, is she?"
"Yes, I saw them—such monsters! I should think they will be sure to get the first prize. Well, we stayed longer than we intended at Home Vale because Miss Mary came out when she saw us in the garden with her aunt, and then Mr. Cole happened to be passing, and he came in, and somehow the time simply flew. When Eric looked at his watch it was nearly one o'clock, so we had to hurry home at a great rate."
"So you have actually spent the whole morning at Home Vale!" Celia exclaimed in astonishment. "What did you talk about?"
"Oh, heaps of things," Joy returned, vaguely. "I told Miss Pring you were going to stay with Lulu Tillotson, and she said she hoped you'd enjoy your visit. Do you know, I don't think she dislikes Lulu."
"Why should she?"
"Oh, there's no reason why she should; but Lulu is always complaining that Miss Pring tries to snub her—that's because she laughs at her for being so fond of dress, I suppose. You haven't been to Home Vale once during the holidays, Celia; Miss Mary remarked it, and I thought she seemed rather hurt."
"Hurt?" echoed Celia, raising her eyebrows inquiringly.
"Yes. I think she expected you would call to see her. I said I had no doubt but that you would before you went to T—. I thought you liked Miss Mary?"
"So I do; but one doesn't want to see one's governess in the holidays. There's the dinner bell! You'd better hurry, Joy, or Uncle Jasper will be cross."
"I'll be down in a minute," Joy answered, and she was as good as her word.
After dinner it was Sir Jasper's custom to shut himself up in the library and indulge a nap in his favourite arm chair. To-day Celia followed him there, and thanked him very prettily for his kindness and generosity to herself in giving her mother the wherewithal to supply her wants for her forthcoming visit to T—. The girl had the happy knack of saying the right thing in the right place, and her words on this occasion were well chosen. Sir Jasper laid his hand very kindly on her golden head; and there was real affection in his sharp eyes as he answered, with an indulgent smile:
"You deserve some new clothes to set off your pretty looks, my dear, for you have proved yourself as good as you are pretty by your gentleness and kindness to a grumpy old man. I shall miss my little companion, and shall look forward with pleasure to her return. No more thanks, if you please! I don't like them."
After she had closed the library door behind her Celia ran swiftly upstairs, and shut herself into her bedroom. Her cheeks were suffused with burning blushes, born of the sudden sense of shame with which Sir Jasper's words— "You have proved yourself as good as you are pretty" —had filled her soul. She felt that she was not good, though she tried to appear so; she realized her conduct towards her sister had been wrong and cowardly in the extreme; she knew she had deceived Sir Jasper by pretending to like his society, and that even the sweet temper and desire to please which people admired in her disposition took their roots in selfishness.
For a few minutes Celia's self-complacency was in the background, and she saw the defects in herself; but the wish to be different was not very strong with her; slowly the sense of shame passed away, and a feeling of exultation that Sir Jasper had formed such a favourable opinion of her took its place. She glanced at her reflection in the looking-glass on the dressing-table, and a pleased smile curved her lips. To be told that she was as good as she was pretty was pleasant flattery indeed!
A WEEK had elapsed since Mrs. Wallis and Celia had driven into T— to make their purchases, and the latter had everything in readiness for her visit. To-morrow she was to say good-bye to the Moat House for "at least a fortnight," Lulu had said; and already she had commenced to pack her dress trunk, although she was not to leave till the latter part of the following day.
"You look in a flutter of excitement, Celia," her brother remarked, as he passed her in the hall; "you will not mind my leaving you on this, your last evening in our midst?" he asked, glancing back at her laughingly, over his shoulder.
"Certainly not," Celia answered with a smile; "where are you going, though?"
"To Crumleigh, to play cricket. The Vicar's away—gone to some meeting or other at T—, so I promised Putty to be at the cricket field early to keep him in countenance. He's so shy!"
Eric went off, whistling. Lawrence Puttenham had arrived at the Vicarage on the previous Monday; and great had been his astonishment when, the Vicar having offered to show him the cricket field, he had found Eric there in the midst of a group of village lads. The meeting between the friends had been of the warmest nature; and during the very short while which had elapsed since, they had seen a great deal of each other. Lawrence Puttenham had been introduced to the household at the Moat House, and Sir Jasper had assured him he would always be pleased to see him.
A quiet, rather reserved boy was Putty; shy, Eric called him, but he was not actually that, though his manner was somewhat diffident. No two boys could be more unlike than Eric and Putty, and yet they were the closest friends.
Celia stood hesitating in the hall after her brother had left her. She was feeling restless and unsettled; and, as she could do no more packing till the morning, she thought she might as well join her mother and sister, who were in the garden. She found them on one of the seats on the terrace; Joy was reading, whilst Mrs. Wallis was busy with some fancy work. The latter looked up as Celia approached, and said:
"Come and sit down with us, dear." Then, as Celia complied, she continued: "We shall be missing you by this time to-morrow evening; and Joy will feel lonely when bed-time comes, and she has that great room to herself. As soon as you are gone, Celia, we shall be looking forward to your return."
Celia smiled, and glanced at Joy, who had not looked up from her book. It struck Mrs. Wallis as strange that the sisters should show no regret at the coming parting, seeing they had never been separated in their lives before.
"Is that a very entrancing book, Joy?" she asked, with a note of reproach in her tone.
"Very, mother," was the concise reply.
"Where is Uncle Jasper?" Celia inquired, abruptly.
"In the library, I believe. He told me he had some letters he must write to-night. I daresay he has finished them by this time. Suppose you go and see."
Celia rose with alacrity, and went into the house. She was hurt that Joy had not put down her book and entered into conversation, as she would have no opportunity of speaking to her sister to-morrow night. Surely Joy had altered lately! With a pang of remorse she remembered why that probably was.
Celia found the library door ajar, and knocked softly. Receiving no answer she entered the room: and glanced around only to find it empty. To all appearances Sir Jasper had been called away whilst in the midst of his writing, for several addressed envelopes and an unfinished letter lay on the writing-table. The girl was turning to leave the room when her eyes chanced to rest on the big, fire-proof safe in the recess on the right side of the fire-place, and she noticed that the key was in the lock. On one occasion Sir Jasper had shown her the contents of the safe; and, amongst many papers and valuables had been his late wife's jewel case. The old man had been amused at Celia's very evident delight at the sight of the glittering jewels he had allowed her to examine; and when she had admired a brooch studded with diamonds, shaped like a butterfly, he had made her a promise which she had allowed her mind to dwell upon many times since.
"If you are a good girl," he had said, "I will give you that butterfly some day."
She had thanked him warmly, and the diamonds in her hand had not flashed more brightly than had her eyes at that moment.
"When do you mean by 'some day,' Uncle Jasper?" she had ventured to inquire.
"When you are a woman, my dear," he had answered promptly; and then he had taken the jewel from her and had locked it away with the rest.
Celia recalled all this as she stood with her eyes fixed on the safe.
How lovely that diamond butterfly would look in her new, white frock! It was indeed hard, if Uncle Jasper really meant to give it to her later on, that she might not have it now. How greatly Lulu would admire it! Her friend had nothing worthy of comparison with it for value or beauty.