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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE FAMILY AT MISRULE</title> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="48304" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Family at Misrule" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-02-18" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Ethel Turner" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="A. J. Johnson" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Family at Misrule" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1895" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Family at Misrule" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="/home/ajhaines/family/family.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> -<meta content="2015-02-18T22:56:39.572872+00:00" name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48304" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Ethel Turner" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="A. J. Johnson" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2015-02-18" name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-family-at-misrule"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE FAMILY AT MISRULE</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Family at Misrule -<br /> -<br />Author: Ethel Turner -<br /> -<br />Release Date: February 18, 2015 [EBook #48304] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE FAMILY AT MISRULE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE FAMILY AT MISRULE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">ETHEL TURNER,</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF -<br />"SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS," "THE STORY OF A BABY," ETC</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="small">"Ah that spring should vanish with the Rose! -<br />That youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!" -<br /> THE RUBÁIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYÁM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="small">"To youth the greatest reverence is due." -<br /> JUVENAL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. J. JOHNSON.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON: -<br />WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, -<br />WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. -<br />NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">TO -<br />CHARLES COPE, -<br />MY STEPFATHER AND FRIEND</span></p> -<p class="left pnext"><span class="medium small">E. S. T., -<br />LINDFIELD, SYDNEY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAP.</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#picking-up-threads">PICKING UP THREADS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#school-troubles">SCHOOL TROUBLES</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-passage-at-arms">A PASSAGE-AT-ARMS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-summer-s-day">A SUMMER'S DAY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#between-a-dream-and-a-dream">BETWEEN A DREAM AND A DREAM</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#to-morrow">TO-MORROW</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-little-maid-errant">A LITTLE MAID-ERRANT</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#one-particular-evening">ONE PARTICULAR EVENING</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#that-mischievous-cupid">THAT MISCHIEVOUS CUPID</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#needles-and-pins">NEEDLES AND PINS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-day-in-sydney">A DAY IN SYDNEY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#three-courses-one-shilling">THREE COURSES ONE SHILLING</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#parnassus-and-puddings">PARNASSUS AND PUDDINGS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mushrooms">MUSHROOMS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-government-of-meg">THE GOVERNMENT OF MEG</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#more-mutiny">MORE MUTINY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-dinner-party">A DINNER PARTY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-good-you-ought-to-be">"HOW GOOD YOU OUGHT TO BE!"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#headache-and-heartache">HEADACHE AND HEARTACHE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-little-one-daughter">MY LITTLE ONE DAUGHTER</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-seventh-day">THE SEVENTH DAY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#amaranth-or-asphodel">AMARANTH OR ASPHODEL</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#little-faithful-meg">LITTLE FAITHFUL MEG</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-midnight-in-the-silence-of-the-sleep-time">"IN THE MIDNIGHT, IN THE SILENCE OF THE SLEEP-TIME"</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#here-endeth">HERE ENDETH</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 29%" id="figure-271"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Contents tailpiece" src="images/img-008.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Contents tailpiece</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="picking-up-threads"><span class="bold x-large">THE FAMILY AT MISRULE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PICKING UP THREADS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">"Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was discord at Misrule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell, in some mysterious way, had let down -a muslin frock of last season till it reached her -ankles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Meg was doing her best to put her foot -down upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a metaphorical sense, of course. Meg Woolcot -at twenty-one was far too lady-like to resort to a -personal struggle with her young sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But her eyes were distressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't say I don't look nice," Nell said. -"Why, even Martha said, 'La, Miss Nell!' and held -her head on one side with a pleased look for two -minutes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're such a child, Nellie," objected Meg. -"you look like playing at being grown up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fifteen's very old, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> think," said Miss Nell, -walking up and down just for the simple pleasure -of hearing the frou-frou of muslin frills near her -shoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah well, I do think I look nice with my hair -done up, and you can't have it up with short frocks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then the moral is easy of deduction," said Meg -drily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bother morals!" was Nell's easy answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tripped down the verandah steps with a -glance or two over her shoulder at the set of the -back of her dress, and she crossed the lawn to the -crazy-looking summer-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh dear!" sighed Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She leaned her face on her hands, and stared -sadly after the crisp, retreating frills and the shimmer -of golden hair "done up." This was one of the -days when Meg's desires to be a model eldest sister -were in the ascendency, hence the very feminine -exclamation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had not altered very much in all these live -long years—a little taller perhaps, a little more -womanly, but the eyes still had their child-like, -straightforward look, and the powdering of freckles -was there yet, albeit fainter in colouring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She still made resolutions—and broke them. She -still wrote verses—and burnt them. To-day she -was darning socks, Pip's and Bunty's. That was -because she had just made a fresh resolve to do -her duty in her state of life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At other times she left them all to the fag end -of the week, and great was the cobbling thereof to -satisfy the demands of "Clean socks, Meg, and look -sharp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides darning, Meg had promised to take care -of the children for the afternoon, as Esther had -gone out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Who were the children? you will ask, thinking -five years has taken that title away from several of -our young Australians.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The General is six now, and answers to the -name of Peter on the occasions that Pip does not -call him Jumbo, and Bunty, Billy. Nell, who is -inclining to elegant manners, ventures occasionally -in company to address him as Rupert; but he -generally winks or says "Beg pardon?" in a vacant -kind of way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Baby also has become "Poppet," and handed -down her name of long standing to a rightful -claimant who disjointed the General's nose nearly -three years ago and made our number up to seven -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just a wee, chubby morsel of a girl it is, with -sunshiny eyes and sunshiny hair and a ceaseless -supply of sunshiny smiles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even her tears are sunshiny; they are so short-lived -that the smiles shine through and make them -things of beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys generally call her "The Scrap," though -she is as big as most three-year-olds. She was -christened Esther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Poppet is still a child,—to be nine is scarcely -to have reached years of discretion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She has lost her chubbiness, and developed -abnormally long, thin legs and arms, a surprising -capacity for mischief, and the tenderest little heart -in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Meg's hands were fairly well filled for the -afternoon, to keep these three young ones in check, -darn the socks, and superintend kitchen arrangements, -which meant Martha Tomlinson and the cook.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had not bargained for the tussle with Nell too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That young person was at a difficult age just now: -too old—in her own eyes, at any rate—to romp with -Bunty and Poppet; too young to take a place beside -Meg and pay visits with Esther,—she hung between, -and had just compromised matters by letting down -her frocks, as years ago Meg had done in the privacy -of her bedroom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her early promise of good looks was more than -fulfilled, and in this long, pale blue muslin, and -"picture" hat, cornflower-trimmed, she looked a -fresh enough young beauty to be queen of a season. -The golden hair had deepened, and was twisted up -in the careful, careless way fashion dictated. The -complexion was wonderfully pure and bright for -Australia, and the eyes were just as dewy and soft -and sweetly lashed as ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But not yet sixteen! Was ever such an -impossible age for grown-up rights? Just because she -was tall and gracefully built was no reason why -she should consider herself fit to be "out," Meg -contended—especially, she added, with a touch of -sisterly sarcasm, as she had a weakness for spelling -"believe" and "receive" in unorthodox ways, and -was still floundering wretchedly through her first -French author—</span><em class="italics">Le Chien du Capitaine</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's legs dashed across the gravel path under -the window; Peter's copper-toed boots in hot pursuit -shone for a second and vanished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Baby, I wonder?" Meg said to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child had been playing with a chair a little -time back, dragging it up and down the verandah -and bumping it about noisily; now all was silent. -She went to the foot of the stairs, one of Bunty's -socks more "holey" than righteous drawn over her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What you doing, Essie?" she called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nosing, Mig," said a little sweet voice from a -bedroom,—"nosing at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Essie!"—Meg's voice took a stern note,— -"tell me what you are doing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nosing," said the little voice; "I'se velly dood."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-272"> -<span id="i-se-velly-dood"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'I'SE VELLY DOOD.'"" src="images/img-015.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'I'SE VELLY DOOD.'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite sure, Essie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twite; I isn't dettin' wet a bit, Miggie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up the stairs Meg ran at a swift pace; that last -speech was eminently Baby's, and betokened many -things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you wicked child!" she cried, and drove an -unsummoned smile away from her mouth corners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The big water-jug was on the floor near the -washstand, and small Essie with slow and deep -enjoyment was standing with one wee leg in the -jug and the other on the oilcloth. The state of the -lace sock and little red shoe visible betrayed the -fact that the operation had been reversed more than -once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was an odd little characteristic of Essie's, -and no amount of scolding and even shaking could -break her of it. Innumerable times she had been -found at this work of iniquity, dipping one leg after -the other in any water-jugs she found on the floor. -And did Martha, in washing floors, leave her bucket -of dirty water one moment unguarded, Essie would -creep up and pop in one little leg while she stood -her ground with the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg dried her, scolding hard all the time. -"All your shoes are spoiled, Baby, you naughty -girl; what </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> I to do to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Velly solly," said Baby cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She squeezed a tear out of her smiling eyes when -Meg bade her look at the ruin of her pretty red -shoes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you told me a story, Essie; you said you -were good, and were not getting wet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg held the little offender away from her, and -looked upon her with stern reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But on'y my legs was dettin' wet—not me," -explained Essie, with a sob in her voice and a dimple -at the corner of her mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was nothing of course to be done but put -the water-jug into its basin, and carry the small -sinner downstairs in dry socks and ankle-strap -slippers that showed signs of having been wet -through at some time or other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was lying on his back on the dining-room -couch, which Meg had left strewn with footwear -waiting to be paired and rolled up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, John!" she said vexedly, seeing her work -scattered about the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John" took no notice. I should tell you, perhaps, -that, since starting to school, Bunty's baptismal -name had been called into requisition by authorities -who objected to nicknames, and his family fell into -the way of using it occasionally too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was a big, awkward lad, tall for his thirteen -years, and very loosely built. Nell used to say -complainingly that he always looked as if he needed -tightening up. His clothes never fitted him, or -seemed part of him, like other boys' clothes. His -coats generally looked big and baggy, while his -trousers had a way of creeping up his ankles and -showing a piece of loose sock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the matter of collars he was hopeless. He -had a daily allowance of one clean one, but, even if -you met him quite early in the morning, there would -be nothing but a limp, crooked piece of linen of -doubtful hue visible. He had the face of a boy -at war with the world. His eyes were sullen, -brooding—his mouth obstinate. Every one knew -he was the black sheep. He knew it himself, and -resented it in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet understood him a little—no one else. He -was at perpetual enmity with his father, who had no -patience with him at all. Esther excused him by -saying he was at the hobbledehoy stage, and would -grow up all right; but she was always too busy to -help him to grow. Meg's hands were full with Pip; -and Nell, after a try or two to win his confidence, -had pronounced him a larrikin, undeserving of -sisters at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Poppet undertook him. She was a faithful -little soul, and in some strange way just fitted into -him, despite his awkward angles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes he would tell her things, and go to -a great deal of trouble to do something she -particularly wanted; but then again he would bully her -unmercifully, and make her life not worth living.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you play cricket, or do something, -John?" Meg said, snipping off an end of cotton very -energetically. "I hate to see a great boy like you -sprawling on a sofa doing nothing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you?" said John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What made you so late home from school? It's -nearly teatime. I hope it wasn't detention again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was," said John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Bunty, that means Saturday taken again, -doesn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It does." John rolled over, and lay on his other -side, his eyes shut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty, why </span><em class="italics">don't</em><span> you try?" Meg said; "you -are always in scrapes for something. Pip never -got in half so many, and yet </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> wasn't a model boy. -Will you promise me to try next week?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a grunt from the sofa cushion that -might be interpreted at will as negative or affirmative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell came into the room, her hat swung over her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get up, John," she said; "what a horrid boy -you are! Look at your great muddy boots on the -sofa! Meg, I don't know how you could sit there -and see him. Why, if we sat down, we'd get our -dresses all spoiled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good job too," said John, not moving a hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie regarded him with frankest disgust. "What -a collar!" she said, a world of emphasis on the -"what." "I declare the street newsboys and -match-sellers look more gentlemanly than you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tea-bell rang upstairs; John sat up instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope you saved me more pudding to-day, -Meg," he said. "I never saw such a stingy bit as -you kept yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell's scarlet lips formed themselves into -something very like "pig" as she turned on her heel to -leave the room. Then she said "Clumsy wretch!" -with startling suddenness. John had set his "great -muddy boot" down on one of her pretty flounces, -and a sound of sundering stitches smote the air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon," said John, with a fiendish light of -triumph in his eyes. Then he went upstairs two -steps at a time to discuss his warmed-up dinner -while the others had tea.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="school-troubles"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SCHOOL TROUBLES.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"A heart at leisure from itself</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To soothe and sympathise."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Poppet and Peter were discussing many things -in general, and the mystery of life in particular. -They were sitting crouched up together in an -old tank that had been cast out in the first paddock -because it leaked. It was after tea, and Poppet had -a little dead chicken in her hand that she had picked -up in the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ith got wheelth inthide it, and when they thop -ith deaded," Peter was saying,—"thust like my -thteam engine, thath what tith."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think being alive is very funny," Poppet said, -looking earnestly at the little lifeless body. "All -those chickies was eggs, and then sud'nly they begin -running about and enjoying themselves, and </span><em class="italics">then</em><span> -sud'nly they tumble down dead, and even the doctor -can't make them run again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yeth," said Peter, his eyes very thoughtful as -he tried to grasp great things. "Prapth you might -tumble down like that, Poppet; all </span><em class="italics">your</em><span> wheelth -might thtop."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or yours," urged Poppet. Death was in her -hand. She did not like to feel that ever her active -little body could lie like this fluffy, silent one, and -so made the likelihood more general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yeth," said Peter; "and </span><em class="italics">oneth</em><span>, Poppet, I nearly -</span><em class="italics">wath</em><span> deaded, and Judy thaved me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">You</em><span> don't remember," Poppet said, in a voice of -great scorn. "You was only a little, tiny baby, just -beginning to walk, Peter. But I was there, and -remember </span><em class="italics">everything</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wath athleep, Poppet," Peter objected,—Poppet's -air of superiority irritated him. "Meg told -me about it when I had the meathleth, and the thaid -that you wath athleep, tho there!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At any rate, Peter, I think you are old enough -to stop lisping," Poppet said severely, finding -herself worsted. "You are six now, and only -babies of ten months lisp. </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> never lisped at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter went red in the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't lithp; you're a thtory-teller, Poppet -Woolcot!" he said, drawing in his tongue with a -great effort at straight pronunciation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet jeered unkindly, then she caught sight of -Bunty strolling aimlessly about the garden, and she -squeezed herself out of the tank and stood upright.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't go," said Peter. "Leth play Zoo, Poppet, -and you can be the lion thith time, and I'll feed -you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But not even this inducement had any effect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to talk to Bunty," the little girl said, -looking across with a half-troubled light in her eyes -to where Bunty's old cap was visible. "I can play -with you when he's at school. You can go and -have a game with Baby."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went away, leaving him disconsolate, and -crushed herself through a broken paling into the -garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She would like to have gone up to Bunty and -slipped her arm through his and asked him what -had made him so exceptionally glum and silent these -last few days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she knew him better than that. She was -very wise for her nine years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fell to weeding her garden with great industry -while he was walking on the path near it. Then -when he rambled farther away, she hovered about -here and there, now plucking a flower, now giving -chase to a great praying mantis. She was within -a few feet of him all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> you buzznaccing about like this for?" -he said at last irritably, when her short holland -frock appeared at every path he turned down. He -threw himself down on the grass, and pulled his -cap over his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flibberty-Gibbet had a tic in his head this morning," -said the little girl, sitting down beside him -Turk fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> don't care," Bunty said, with almost a -groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A look of anger crept up into the little sister's, -earnest eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'spect it's that old Burnham again," she said -wrathfully. "What's he been doing </span><em class="italics">this</em><span> time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty groaned again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it your Greek?" she said, edging nearer. -"Howid stuff! As if you could be espected to get -it right </span><em class="italics">always</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was another smothered sound from beneath -the cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it that nasty algebra?" said the little, -encouraging voice. It was so tender and anxious -and loving that the boy uncovered his eyes a -little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm in the </span><em class="italics">beastliest</em><span> row, Poppet," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's little, fair face was ashine with sympathy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to </span><em class="italics">hammer</em><span> that Mr. Burnham," she said. -"How did it happen, Bunty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty sat up and sighed. After all, it would be -a relief to tell some one; and who better than the -faithful Poppet?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know Bully Hawkins?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," said the little girl; and she did, -excellently—by hearsay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, on Monday he was on the cricket pitch -practising, and Tom Jackson was bowling him—he'd -made him. And when I went down—I was crossing -it to go up to Bruce—he jumped on me, and said I -was to backstop. I said I wasn't going to—why -should I go after his blooming balls?—and he said -he'd punch my head if I didn't. And I said, 'Yes, -you do,' and walked on to Bruce. We were going -to play marbles. And he came after me, and hit me -over the head and boxed my ears and twisted my -arms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bully!" said Poppet, with gleaming eyes. -"What did you do, Bunty? did you knock him -down? I hope you made his nose bleed,—I'd—I'd -have </span><em class="italics">flattened</em><span> him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty gave her a look of scorn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's sixteen, and the size of a prize-fighter!" -he said. "I'd have been half killed. No; -Mr. Burnham was just a little way off, and I let -out a yell to him, and he came up and I told of -him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty!" said Poppet. The word came out like -the report of a pistol, and her red lips shut again -very tightly to prevent any more following.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 70%" id="figure-273"> -<span id="mr-burnham-came-up-and-i-told-of-him"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""MR. BURNHAM CAME UP AND I TOLD OF HIM."" src="images/img-025.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"MR. BURNHAM CAME UP AND I TOLD OF HIM."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>This touch of cowardice, this failure to grasp -simple honour in Bunty's character, was a perpetual -grief and amazement to her little fearless soul. But -he would brook no advice nor reproach from her, -as she knew full well, and that is why her lips had -closed with a snap after that one word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he had seen the look of horror in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"D'ye think I'm going to be pummelled just as -that brute likes?" he demanded angrily. "He's -always bullying the fellows in our form, and it'll do -him good to get a taste of what he gives us. -Mr. Burnham said he hated a bully, and he just walked -him up to the schoolroom and gave him six."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still Poppet was silent; her face was flushed a -little, and she was pulling up long pieces of grass -with feverish diligence. In her quick little way she -saw it all, and felt acutely just how the boys would -look upon Bunty's behaviour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an idiot you are, Poppet!" he said -irritably, as she did not speak; "as though a bit of -a girl like you knows what it is at a boys' school. -I'm sorry I told you—I—I won't tell you the -rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet choked something down in her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do tell me, Bunty," she said; "I didn't mean -to be howid. Go on—I only couldn't help wishing -you could have foughted him instead of telling, -because—well, I espect he'll be worse to you than -ever now, and the other fellows too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's it," Bunty said, with a groan. "Oh, but -that's not half of it yet, Poppet. I almost wish I -was dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something like a tear forced itself beneath his -eyelids and trickled down his cheeks. Poppet's. -heart expanded and grew pitiful again instantly -His face was close to her knee, and wore so miserable -an expression that in a sudden little burst of love -she put down her lips and kissed him half-a-dozen -times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He sat up instantly and looked ashamed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How often am I to tell you I hate mugging?" -he said gruffly. "If you go on like this, I won't tell -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg your pardon," Poppet said very humbly; -"really, I won't again, Bunty. Do go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, after that, I went round the side of the -school—you know that path, near the master's -windows. Well, I'd nothing much to do, and the bell -hadn't gone, and I was just chucking my cricket -ball up and down; there was a tree, and I tried to -make it go up in a straight line just as high, and -the next minute I heard a crash, and it had gone -through Mr. Hollington's window."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good gracious!" Poppet said, with widening -eyes; then she gave a little joyful jump. "I've -got thirteen shillings, Bunty, from the pound -Mr. Hassal gave me; I'll give it to you to get it mended -with. Oh, it won't be such a very bad row; you -can 'splain it all to Mr. Hollington."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not all," Bunty said. "Thirteen shillings! -You might as well say ha'pennies. I stood there -for a bit and no one came, and at last I went in -and looked about, and what do you think?—no one -had heard!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" breathed Poppet. She scented the old -trouble again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you see it was such an awful crash. I -knew it was more than the window. And every one -was out in the playground,—even Mr. Burnham had -just gone out again for something, and Mr. Hollington -had gone home early. So I first went quietly -upstairs, and no one was about, so I went into -his room to get the ball, because my name was on -it. And there were two glass cases on top of one -another under the window with eggs and specimens -and things in, and they were all smashed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet drew a long breath that ended in a whistle. -She was wishing she had not bought that set of -gardening tools that cost six shillings, and that -shillingsworth of burnt almonds—perhaps a -sovereign——</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It wasn't school-time," Bunty was whispering -now, "and no one had seen—not a soul, Poppet. -Poppet, it was an accident; why should I go and -tell of myself? Why, I might have been expelled; -and think what the governor would say. So——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Poppet steadily, "go on, Bunty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had paused, and was digging up the earth with -his broken pocket-knife. "So—go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So, when we were all in afternoon school, -Mr. Burnham came in and asked who did it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Bunty—</span><em class="italics">dear</em><span>." A red colour had crept up -into the little girl's cheeks, her eyes were full of -painful anxiety. "You said you had, Bunty—didn't -you, Bunty dear? Oh, Bunty, of </span><em class="italics">course</em><span> you said you -had."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I didn't," burst out her brother. "How -could I after that, you idiot you? What is the good -telling you things? Why I didn't know what would -have happened. When he asked us separately I -just said 'No' in a hurry, and then I couldn't say -'Yes' after, could I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Poppet was silent, again there was the look -of amaze and grief in her wide, clear eyes. Bunty -pulled his old cap over his face again—he hated -himself, and most of all he hated to meet the honest, -sorrowful eyes of his little sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Couldn't you tell now, Bunty?" she said softly. -"Go to-night—I'll come with you to the gate—oh, do, -Bunty dear. Mr. Burnham is not vewy howid -perhaps, and canings don't hurt vewy much—let's go -to-night, and by to-morrow it'll all be over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no good." A sob came from under the cap. -"Oh, Poppet, it'll be awful to-morrow! Oh, </span><em class="italics">Poppet</em><span>! -Some one had seen, after all. Just as I left school -Hawkins came up to me. He hadn't been there -when Burnham asked us, and didn't hear anything -till after school, and he said he saw me coming out -of Hollington's room, and creeping down the passage -with a cricket ball in my hand, and he went in to -report it to Burnham just as I came home, to pay -me out for getting him a swishing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet was crying, though she hardly knew it. -Such a terrible scrape, and such a lie at the back of -it—what could be the end of it?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Bunty!" she said, and put her face right -down in the long grass. The earth and the tears -got mixed, and smirched the clearness of her -skin—there was a wet, black smudge all down her poor -little nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poppet!" cried Meg's voice, preceding her down -the path in the dusk. "Are you really sitting on -the grass again when I've told you so often how wet -the dew makes it? John, how can you let her, when -you know how she coughs! Go to bed at once, -Poppet, it's after eight; and you haven't touched -your home-lessons, John—really it's one person's -work to look after you—and where is that coat with -the buttons off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On my bed," "John" said sulkily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you'd hang it up—what's the use of pegs? -Poppet, go in when I tell you—don't be naughty. -Now, John, go and start your lessons. You'd better -do them in your bedroom, you make such a litter -downstairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg turned to go back, Poppet's reluctant hand -held fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't I stay five minutes, </span><em class="italics">please</em><span>, Meg?" the -little girl said, looking up beseechingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even in the fading light Meg saw the sweet -brimming eyes and quivering little lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John!" she said angrily, "you've been bullying -the poor little thing again; I simply </span><em class="italics">won't</em><span> have -it—I shall speak to father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, shut up!" said John; and he moved away -wearily up to the house.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-passage-at-arms"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A PASSAGE AT ARMS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh the day when thou goest a-wooing,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Philip, my king."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meg was a little "put out," as it is popularly -called, this evening,—she was not generally -so short with the young ones. The good fit had -worn away during the endless process of darning, -and she had jumped up at last, stuffed all the work -into the gaping stocking-bag, and said to herself -that eldest sisters were mistaken and wrongful -institutions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that did not give Baby Essie her tea, nor -yet put her lively little ladyship to bed; and since -Esther was out, there was no one else to undertake it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when that was done Pip came in and asked -her in his off-hand manner to "just put a stitch in -that football blazer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stitch meant a hundred or two, for it was -slit from top to bottom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Esther came home—a quieter Esther, -an Esther of less brilliant colouring than you used -to know, for there are not many "fast colours" -beneath Australian skies—and with her the Captain, -grown more short-tempered with the lapse of years, -and an income that did not grow with his family. -And again it was "Meg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The seltzogene was empty. The Captain asked -some one to tell him what was the use of having -a grown-up daughter—he could not answer the -question himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lamb was a shade too much cooked, and the -Golden Pudding a shade too little. He wanted to -know whether Meg considered it below her to -superintend domestic matters. In his young days -girls, etc., etc. She went from the dinner-table at -the end of the meal with hot cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never chose to be eldest—I was made so; -and I don't see I should be scapegoat for -everything!" she said, sitting down on the arm of the -lounge on which lay six feet of the superior sex in -the shape of Pip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a wrathful look in her blue eyes, and -she had ruffled her fair hair back in a way she -always did in moments of annoyance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you make that conceited little chit -help?" Pip said between puffs at his cigar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nellie!" ejaculated Meg in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Nellie," said Pip. He looked across to -where she was making a picture beautiful to the -most critical eye in a hammock a yard or two -distant. "Is her only mission in life going to be -looking pretty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," Meg said, "she's too young, of course, -Pip. Why, she's only fifteen, though she is so tall! -Oh, of course it can't be helped—only it's annoying. -But what have you got your best trousers on for, -Pip, again, and that blue tie? You had them last -night and the night before!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip's handsome face coloured slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've got a fair amount of cheek of your own, -Meg," he said, collecting the cigar ash in a little -heap very carefully, and then blowing it away with -equal industry. "I wonder when you'll learn to -mind your own business. I should imagine I'm -old enough to choose my own clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only she's a horrid, vulgar girl, that's all," Meg -said slowly, and colouring on her own account. -"Pip, I don't know how you can, really I don't—a -common little dressmaker. Oh yes, we know all -about it; Peter saw you last night, and Poppet the -night before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter be—Poppet be—— What the deuce do you -mean spying after me?" stormed Pip, sitting upright -and looking wrathfully at his sister. "If I choose -to take a walk with a pretty girl, is it any concern of -yours?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 72%" id="figure-274"> -<span id="pretty-said-nell-pretty-why-she-blackens-her-eyebrows-i-m-certain"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'PRETTY!' SAID NELL—'PRETTY! WHY, SHE BLACKENS HER EYEBROWS, I'M CERTAIN.'"" src="images/img-035.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'PRETTY!' SAID NELL—'PRETTY! WHY, SHE BLACKENS HER EYEBROWS, I'M CERTAIN.'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty!" said Nell, who had come up at his -raised voice,—"pretty! Why, she blackens her -eyebrows, I'm certain; and you should have seen -her hat last Sunday—a green bird, some blue, -lumpy plush, and a bunch of pink chiffon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Upon my word," said Pip,—he was white with -anger, and his eyes blazed,—"upon my word, I've -got two nice sisters. Trust a girl for running down -another pretty one. You're jealous, that's what it -is, because you know you can't hold a candle to her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her father sells kerosene and butter—he's a -</span><em class="italics">grocer</em><span>!" Nellie said, with a fine swerve of her delicate -lips. "Upon </span><em class="italics">my</em><span> word, Pip, I should think, with -all the pretty girls there are about here, you might -fall in love with a lady."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a lady," Pip contended hotly. "She -works with her needle, perhaps—she's not been -brought up in selfish idleness like you girls—but her -manners are a long sight better than yours, and -she'd blush to say small-minded things like you do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It occurred to Meg that it </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> small-minded, and -she said no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was nothing Nellie enjoyed more than -a sparring match with her eldest brother when the -advantage was on her side, and had he not called -her a conceited chit?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's one thing—you'd get your groceries at -a reduction," she said meditatively. "I think their -sardines are only 5-½*d.* a tin; they'd let </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> have -them for 5*d.* perhaps, considering all you've spent -in chocolates and eight-button gloves. Meg, I </span><em class="italics">did</em><span> -think that packet of lovely gloves in his bedroom -was for his dear little sisters, until——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Until you forfeited them by your abominable -behaviour!" Philip cried jesuitically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie gave him a pitying glance. "Until -I saw the size was too utterly impossible for -the hands of ladies,—o-o-h, Pip, don't, you hurt -me—ah-h-h, you're bruising my arm—stop it, Pip!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip was twisting her soft, muslin-covered arms -back in the torturous way boys learn at school, -and in a minute she was compelled to call for -mercy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Down on your knees!" he cried, forcing her -down into that humble position. "Now, apologise -for all the caddish things you've said about Miss -Jones; begin at once,—now, one, two, three—say, -'I apologise.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never!" screamed Nell, struggling desperately; -"I'll die first,—o-o-h, ah-h-h, oh—'I—I—I -apologise'—you donkey!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"More than that,—'I should be glad to be half as -beautiful and good and lady-like.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'B-beautiful and good and l-l-lady-like," repeated -Nell, with a gasp and a cry between each word. -"Oh, Meg, make him stop!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'I only said those caddish things because I -was jealous of her superiority'—hurry up, now!" A -scientific turn accompanied his sentence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'C-caddish things because I was jealous—superiority,'—oh, -Pip! Meg! somebody, quick—he's half -killing me!" Tears of pain and mortification had -started to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let her go, Pip," Meg said; "you really hurt." She -pulled at his arm, and he released his victim, -who fell in a heap on the floor, and said he was -"a h-h-horrid w-wretch, and she w-wished she had -no brothers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip picked up his hat and settled his pale blue tie, -which had become somewhat disarranged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night; I hope you'll learn and inwardly -digest your lesson, my child," he said, going out -upon the gravel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie sprang to her feet, and called after him -all down the path till he reached the gate, "Candles, -sardines, needles and pins, size nine gloves! ask -her what she blacks her eyebrows with!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was looking troubled. She was sitting on -the lounge he had quitted, and her fair brows were -knitted beneath the soft, straying hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nell dear, it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> vulgar," she said, "and it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> -small. I don't know where the distinction of ladies -comes in if we say things like that. Perhaps the -little dressmaker really wouldn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we are ladies," Miss Elinor said, her small -head in the air,—"nothing can alter that. Our father -is a gentleman, our mother was a lady—we are ladies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not if we act like servant girls," Meg said quietly. -"If you found a bit of glass under all the conditions -you'd expect to find a diamond, and yet it didn't -shine like a diamond, then it wouldn't be a diamond, -would it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now don't get elder-sistery and moralous," -said Nell; albeit she was a trifle ashamed, for she -prided herself certainly upon being a little lady to -her boot toes. "Meg, I thought of doing up that -white crepon Esther gave me into a kind of evening -dress, just for little evenings, you know, at the -Baileys or Courtneys, or anywhere, or when we -have people here. Would you make the body as -a blouse with big frills over the shoulders, or with -a yoke and gathered into the waist? The blouse -way would be easier, for there's no lining, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, the blouse, I think," Meg said, half -abstractedly. "Do you know if Poppet has gone to -bed, Nell? I don't think I saw her come in, and -her cough was bad last night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know. Meg, I'll give you half-a-crown -for that silver belt of yours; I've got a little money -left in my allowance yet, and you never wear it. -Half-a-crown would buy you a new book, or one of -those burnt straw sailor-hats, and the belt would -look lovely with the white dress." The younger -girl looked persuasively at the elder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I gave seven-and-sixpence for it," Meg -objected, "and it's nearly new."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you never wear it—what's the good of a -thing you don't wear?" contended Nellie, who had -set her heart upon it. "If you think it's too little, -say two shillings and that light blue blouse of -mine that you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg put the blouse on mentally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I like myself in pale blue," she said; "yes, -I'll do that—only I hope it's not torn or anything. -Oh! and Nell, I think you might go and see if -Poppet is in the garden; I've done ever so much -to-day, and you've only been reading."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie was comfortably in the hammock again -among the cushions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Poppet never does anything </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> tell her," -she said; "you'd better get her yourself—all the -children mind you more than me, you have so much -more patience, Megsie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was Meg who had disturbed the important -</span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> between Bunty and his little sister; Meg -who had separated them abruptly, almost unkindly, -at a crisis of great moment; and Meg who had seen -the little girl actually into bed, and administered a -dose of eucalyptus against the cough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was also Meg who went down in the -drawing-room presently, and played Mendelssohn's -tender, exquisite Love Song, and a rippling, laughing -little bit of Grieg, and a Sonata of Beethoven's, to -a father half asleep on the sofa and a young man -very wide awake on a neighbouring chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was Poppet who made hay, and crept -along the passage in her little nightgown to the -room where Bunty was sitting with his head on -his arms and misery in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was Poppet who, after torrents of abuse -and vituperation from the unhappy lad, succeeded -in extracting a promise that he should own up -everything bravely in the morning, and not shirk -his punishment whatever it was.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-summer-s-day"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A SUMMER'S DAY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Happy in this, she is not yet so old</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But she may learn; happier than this,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She is not bred so dull but she can learn."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The next day was exceedingly hot, one of those -moist, breathless days that make February -the most unpleasant month in the year to Sydney -folks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one in the house felt utterly limp and cross -and miserable, and daily duties were performed in -as slipshod and languid a manner as possible. The -cook had made a great pan of quince jam, and -brought it into the breakfast-room on a tray for -Esther to tie down. And Esther was sitting in the -rocking-chair trying to make up her mind to do -it, and wondering whether it would be easier to -use string or paste. Small Esther was making a -terrible noise. She owned dolls and bricks, little -tea-services, and baby furniture—all the toys that -well-regulated little girls are supposed to love; she -generally tired of them, however, after a few minutes' -play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At present she had made a tram of six heavy -leather chairs, with the armchair for "motor," and her -little sweet face was scarlet and wet with the exertion -of dragging them into place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In addition to this she had taken the fire-irons -out of the fender, and was rowing, or in some way -propelling the train forward—to her own satisfaction, -at any rate—by brandishing the tongs wildly about -while she stood in the motor and shouted and cried, -"Gee up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Essie," big Esther said at last, "you must be -quiet. Poor mamma's head aches. Where's your -doll? That's not a pretty game."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All bwoked," said Essie; "gee up, old twain." -Bang, bang, clatter, clatter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Essie, put those things away at once." Esther -noticed the poker for the first time. "You naughty -girl, you are scratching the chairs dreadfully."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I can't make ze twain puff-puff wifout," -objected the engine-driver, "an' we has to go to -Bwisbane; det up wif you." She leaned over the -tall back of her locomotive, and made vigorous hits -at the legs of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So vigorous indeed that the chair went over with -a crash, precipitating Essie and the poker and tongs -and shovel in four different directions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh dear," said Esther, and sighed before she -attempted to go to the rescue. Essie was always -tumbling from somewhere or other and never got -much hurt, and really it was terribly hot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oo-oo-oh!" said a very small voice. It -quavered for a minute. If the anxiously examined -little fat knees had been scratched, it would have -broken into a despairing yell, but they were whole, -and the motor had misbehaved itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beast!" she said, picking herself up in a great -hurry,—"howid old pig!" Then she seized the -poker and beat the prostrate chair with all her -small, angered strength.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Essie," big Esther said languidly—she had found -with thankfulness she need not move from the -chair,—"Essie, I shall whip you, if you use naughty -words like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I was zust dettin' to Bwisbane—so it </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> a -pig," Essie maintained. Then she climbed up again, -and the journey proceeded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the nursery Meg was supposed to be giving -lessons to Peter and Poppet, and superintending the -more advanced studies of Nellie; for the last nursery -governess had left suddenly, and the Captain had -professed himself unable to afford another until the -next quarter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg used to provide herself with a book during -these daily struggles, to be indulged in at times when -her supervision was not required. It had been an -"improving" book for the last month, for she had -lately been finding out how wofully ignorant she -was when she talked to the young man who had -listened to her playing last night. To-day it was -Browning, because he had looked horrified to find -she never read any of his poems, on the plea that he -was acknowledged to be difficult to understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a pity she chose "Filippo Baldinucci on -the Privilege of Burial" for her first essay, -especially as it was such a hot day; but she had -determined to read, dauntlessly, the first poem the book -opened at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do this sum, Poppet," she said, setting a multiplication -with eight figures in each line—"dear, </span><em class="italics">what</em><span> -a greasy slate; and Peter, if you drop any blots on -your copy, you will have to write it again this -afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter was sucking a little lump of ice he had -stolen out of the ice-chest. Poppet asked him for -a bit to clean her slate with, but he considered this -such waste of precious material that he swallowed it -in a hurry and choked. Poppet asked if she might -go and wet her sponge; but Meg said no, it always -took a quarter of an hour to do that simple act, if -she escaped from the room. So Peter offered to -breathe on it for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both of us will," said Poppet,—"you on the top -half, and me on the bottom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was taking a cursory glance at "Filippo," -and groaning mentally; she did not hear the -arrangement for the slate-cleaning until the -heads bumped violently and the two began to -quarrel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You licked it with your tongue," Poppet said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never—I wath only breathing with my lipth on -it," declared Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I saw the end of your tongue hanging out," -Poppet maintained.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a thtory-teller, Poppet." Peter's face -began to get red. "I wath only breathing, tho -there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter, go and sit at the other end of the table. -Poppet, if you put out your tongue at Peter again, -I shall make you stand in the corner." Meg put a -pen in the Browning to keep it open, and went over -to Nell at the window to see how "Le Chien du -Capitaine" was progressing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Nell!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The French dictionary lay face downwards on the -broad window-sill; "Le Chien" was face upward on -Nell's knee, but on the top of it was "Not Wisely, -but too Well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Nell, with a gasp, her eyes misty, her -cheeks flushed,—"oh, it's no use scolding, Meg,—I -absolutely must finish this; I'm just where Kate -is—Oh, Meg, you </span><em class="italics">are</em><span> horrid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Meg had taken forcible possession of the dark -green book, and had picked up the dictionary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know you are not to read in the morning," -she said; "and I don't think you ought to read a love -story like this till you're eighteen at least. Really, -Nellie, it's no use me pretending to overlook you; -you've done one page of 'The Dog' in three mornings. -I'll have to tell father I must give up the pretence of -teaching."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, give it to me," Nellie said, sighing -wistfully; "it ought to be called 'The Pig,' I think, -it's so detestable. Put 'Not Wisely' on the table, -Miggie, so I can see the title and get occasional -refreshment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Meg returned to the "Privilege of Burial." Her -first thought, when she had read the piece -through, was that Browning was not a true poet, -however great a man he might be; and her second -that Allan Courtney must be exceedingly clever to be -able to enjoy such reading; her third was sorrow at -the poor brains she felt she must possess not to be -able to enjoy it too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tried another at random—"Popularity." It -was rather better she decided, though she had no very -clear idea of the meaning; and oh! that terrible last -verse,—was it an enigma, or could clever people see -the sense instantly?—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Hobbs hints blue—straight he turtle eats:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nobbs prints blue—claret crowns his cup</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Nokes outdares Stokes in azure feats,—</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Both gorge. Who fished the murex up?</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>What porridge had John Keats?"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The deep sigh that accompanied the third vain -reading of it, disturbed Peter in his occupation of -putting flies in the ink, fishing them out, and letting -them crawl over to Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet at her side of the table was similarly -occupied, only she had captured a March-fly, and it -made beautifully clear tracks right across to Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your sum finished, Poppet?" Meg said abstractedly, -pondering even as she spoke, what Keats, -who was a god to her, had to do with porridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet put her hand over the March-fly and -confessed it was not quite.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many rows have you done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer came in a whisper, "Not quite one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall keep you in to do it then after four," -Meg said in her sternest voice; "and, </span><em class="italics">Peter</em><span>, look at -your copy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the excitement of getting the half-drowned flies -safely across Peter had made a landing-place of his -copy-book, and great was the inkiness of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, bleth it!" he said ruefully.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 72%" id="figure-275"> -<span id="peter-look-at-your-copy"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'PETER, LOOK AT YOUR COPY.'"" src="images/img-049.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'PETER, LOOK AT YOUR COPY.'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's head was within an inch of her slate. -She was working now at a startling pace, and -counting on her fingers in a loud whisper. What -would Bunty say if he came home, and she was not -there to ask how he had got on, and sympathise with -the red marks that were sure to be on his hands?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie had translated five lines, and was occupied -in a vain search for the dictionary meaning of -</span><em class="italics">pourra</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe it's 'pour,' and 'ra' is a misprint that's -got tacked on," she said, "or else this beautiful -dictionary has left it out, there are ever so many -words I can't find, Meg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Meg, her patience flying away on -sudden wings, "what is the use of anything? I -won't teach you any more, any of you. Peter wrote -far better a month ago than he does now; Poppet's -taken an hour to do a row of multiplication by six, -and you are looking in the dictionary for </span><em class="italics">pourra</em><span>. -It's simply wasting all my time to sit here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The problem, "who fished the murex up?" had -not improved my eldest heroine's temper. Her -cheeks were pink, and her eyes sparkled, she threw -out her hands in a little dramatic way. "You can -go, Peter, you can go and make mud pies of the -universe, if you like; Poppet, you can go too, tear your -dress, and climb as many trees as you please; Nellie, -you can sit in front of the looking-glass the rest of -the day and read every novel in the house,—why -should </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> care? I won't teach any more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flung herself down on the old horse-hair sofa, -opened her Browning, and turned her face to the wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they all went, not at first, but presently and -by degrees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The thaid we could," whispered Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did she </span><em class="italics">mean</em><span> it?" Poppet said doubtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of courth," said Peter; "I'm going, at any rate. -The thaid I wath to; I'm not going to dithobey her," -and he slipped out on tip-toe. Poppet worked to the -end of the line by seven, then she remembered she -had forgotten to "carry" all the way, and she grew -afraid that Peter would get to the birds' eggs she -was putting in compartments for Bunty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she also, after a glance or two at her sister's -back hair, slipped off her chair and stole softly -away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nellie drew "Not Wisely" to her own end -of the table with the aid of a long ruler; then she -followed the example of her iniquitous juniors and -departed noiselessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nearly an hour before Meg turned round -again. She had lost herself in some wonderful -poems now,—"The Flight of the Duchess," "By the -Fireside," and some of the shorter love pieces; she -began to see possibilities of beauty and enjoyment, -and felt glad with a great gladness that she was able -to appreciate them even in a slight degree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the silence struck her. Surely if Poppet -were doing her sum, her pencil would be squeaking; -and surely if Peter were engaged as he should be -on his copy, he would be breathing laboriously and -giving occasional little impatient grunts to testify to -each fresh blot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked round, and saw the deserted room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Took me at my word!" she said aloud. "They -might have known I didn't mean it, young -scamps,—Nellie too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she smiled indulgently. The exquisite -tenderness and the strength of the love pieces had -softened and braced her at the same time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're very young," she said, as she went out -after them, "and—really it's very hot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was all in the morning. At night there was -another breeze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty did not eat his pudding. That of itself -was phenomenal, for it was brown with sultanas -and had citron peel at wide intervals; generally -he managed three servings, and, even then, said they -might have made it in a bigger basin. But to-night -he said "No pudding" in a sullen voice, and kicked -the legs of his chair monotonously with his boot -heels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might have the common politeness to say -thank you, I think," said Nellie, who was officiating -at nursery tea in Meg's absence. "What a boor -you are getting, John."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go and hang yourself," he returned. He -pushed his chair back from the table, and went out -of the room with lowering brows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet slipped down from her chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down instantly, Poppet; do you think I'm -going to allow you to behave like this?" Nellie -cried. "If John has no more manners than a -larrikin, you are not to follow his example. Sit down, -I tell you, Poppet; </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> you hear me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can't you see how white he is?" said the little -girl, her lips trembling. "Nellie, I can't stay—no, I -don't want pudding." She darted across the room -and down the passage after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys' bedrooms opened on to a long landing -with a high staircase window at the end that looked -straight out to the river and the great stretch of -gum trees on the Crown lands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was standing staring out, his hands thrust -in his pockets; the setting sun was on the stained -window-panes, and his face looked ghastly in the -red light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it very bad?" said the little, tender voice -at his elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned round, and looked at his young sister -for a minute in silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here, Poppet," he said, and his voice -sounded strange and strangled; "I know I tell lies -and do mean things—I can't help it sometimes, I -think I was made so; but I haven't done this new -thing they say I have—Poppet, I swear I haven't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you haven't," the loving voice said; -"what is it, Bunty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave her a fleeting, grateful glance. "I can't -tell you, old girl—you'll know soon enough,—every -one thinks I have; it's no good me saying anything -nothing's any good in the world." He leaned his -forehead on the cold window-pane and choked -something down in his throat. "To-morrow, Poppet, -they'll say all sorts of things about me; but don't -you believe them, old girl—will you?—whatever they -say, Poppet—promise me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I pwomise you, Bunty, faithf'lly," the little girl -said, an almost solemn light in her eyes. She could -never remember Bunty quite like this before. There -was a despairing note in his voice, and really the red -sunset light made his face look dreadful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give us a kiss, Poppet," he whispered, and put -his face down on her little, rough, curly head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child burst into tears of excitement and -fright—everything seemed so strange and unreal. -Bunty had never asked her for a kiss before in his -life. She clung to him sobbing, with her small, thin -arms around his neck and her cheek against his. -Both his arms were round her, he had lifted her -up to him right off the ground, and his cheeks were -almost as wet as hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a step, and he set her down again and -turned away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you going?" she asked half fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To bed," he said gruffly. "My head aches. -Good-night."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="between-a-dream-and-a-dream"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BETWEEN A DREAM AND A DREAM.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"It isn't the thing you do, dear,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>It's the thing you leave undone,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>Which gives you a bit of heartache</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>At the setting of the sun—</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>The loving touch of the hand, dear,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>The gentle and winsome tone,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>That you had no time nor thought for,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>With troubles enough of your own."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Such a troubled night poor little Poppet had. -Twice she woke up with a stifled scream, and -lay awake afterwards hot and trembling in the dark. -The third time she slept, she dreamed Bunty had -thrown a stone at the schoolmaster's house, which -was all built of glass; she heard the crashing and -splintering of it as it came down in a heap, forms, -blackboards, boys, and masters, all flying in different -directions. Then a great voice that sounded like -thunder asked if John Woolcot had done this, and -all the world seemed listening for the answer. And -Bunty was standing near a great red window, with -a frightened look on his face, and he said, "No, I -never." Then there was a loud shouting and hissing, -and a dozen hands caught hold of the boy and -hurried him away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are they going to do with him?" some -one asked of a giant who was sitting peeling a -cricket-ball as if it were an orange. And the -giant, who had Bully Hawkins' face, laughed, -and said, "They're putting him in the guillotine; -listen to that snap—his head has just fallen off; -I'm going to have it for a ball because he wouldn't -scout!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The snap that woke the poor dreaming child was -the banging of the bedroom door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell had just come in, gone to the glass, given her -hair a few pats and light touches, and hurriedly -slipped on her best bronze shoes,—it was nine -o'clock, and some late visitors had come—men with -gold buttons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh-h-h!" said the little sobbing figure, sitting -up in bed. "Oh-h-h—oh-h—oh, </span><em class="italics">Nellie</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be silly, Poppet; go to sleep at once,"—the -elder sister gave her a hasty pat. "Lie down, -and don't be naughty; you've been eating apples -again late, I expect, and it's made you -dream,—there, I must go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child clung to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty!" she said,—"is he dead? did they -take his head?—oh, Bunty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You silly little thing, don't I tell you you've been -dreaming!" Nellie laid her down impatiently and -tucked the clothes round her. "There, go to sleep; -I have to go down, there are visitors. I'll leave the -candle if you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet put her head under the clothes and sobbed -hysterically; the little, narrow bed with its spring -mattress was shaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Nellie,—"oh dear, this </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> tiresome! -Poppet, do you want anything? Would you like -a drink?—oh, I'm in such a hurry,—what is it, -Poppet? What's the use of being silly, now? -When a dream's gone, it's gone. Stop crying at -once, or I shall be very angry, and go and leave -you in the dark!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bed shook even more violently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"M-M-Meg!" was the word that came with a -choking sound from under the counterpane,—"oh, -M-M-Meg!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, I'll send her if you'll be good,—not -for a minute or two, because she's talking to some -gentlemen, but as soon as I can whisper to her. -Here, drink this water before I go, and stop -sobbing. You're too big a girl to go on like this, -Poppet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie's voice had a stern note in it,—she thought -kindness would make her cry more, and there really -was not time to argue with her.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-276"> -<span id="meg-caught-a-glimpse-of-something-white-outside-bunty-s-door"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""MEG CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING WHITE OUTSIDE BUNTY'S DOOR."" src="images/img-059.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"MEG CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING WHITE OUTSIDE BUNTY'S DOOR."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five, six, seven minutes slipped away after she -had gone; then Meg came running lightly upstairs -and into the room the child shared with Nellie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's too excitable—I'll have to make her go -to bed earlier," she thought, as she crossed over to -the tossed bed. "Nightmare—poor little mite!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was only a pillow and a tossed heap -of clothes—the bed was empty!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's gone down for more light and company. -How unkind of Nellie!" she said aloud, starting -off in quest of her. She looked in the different -bedrooms as she passed, then in the nursery, which -was brightly lighted but deserted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys' landing was in darkness; but at the -end of it she caught a glimpse of something white -outside Bunty's door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poppet!" she cried, hurrying down. "Oh, -Poppet, nothing on your feet, and only your -nightgown!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She picked her up in her arms, nine years old -though she was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the child was nearly beside herself, and -struggled back to the ground, beating with her -small hands against the lower panels of the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty!" she said, "Bunty! Bunty! Can't you -hear me, Bunty? Oh, Bunty!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"John!" Meg called sharply, "answer at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" said Bunty's voice in its gruffest tone. -"For goodness' sake leave me alone! What on -earth do you want? Don't be an idiot, Poppet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very gruffness and crossness of the reply -reassured the child—it was so unmistakably Buntyish. -Her sobs grew less and less wild—she even -permitted Meg to lift her up in her arms again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night, Bunty," she said in a small voice -with a pitiful hiccough at the end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, good-night," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then Meg carried her off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a tender, gentle, soothing Meg she was, -even though some one was waiting impatiently in -the drawing-room and the evening was almost over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She took the child into her own room, and put -her into her own bed with the pink rosebud -hangings and pale pink mosquito nets that Poppet had -always thought the prettiest things in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she bathed her face with lavender-water, and -sprinkled the same refreshing stuff on the white, -frilled pillows, and talked to her in a pleasant, -matter-of-fact way that dispelled the horrors of the -night entirely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl told her dream. She longed to pour -all Bunty's troubles into this dear, big sister's ear! -But that of course was forbidden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One thing she did venture to say, as she lay -cuddled up with her face luxuriously against Meg's -soft breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Megsie, couldn't you be sweet and dear -to Bunty too? Poor Bunty, everybody gets on to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My pet, he won't let people be nice to him," -said Meg in a troubled way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean kiss him or anything," the little -girl said; "only don't call him 'John'—it's such an -ugly name; and don't keep saying 'Don't!'; and -don't let Nellie keep telling him he's dirty and -clumsy,—please, dearest Megsie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg kissed her silently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a wise little child it was! What a dear little -child! And oh, what a poor little child, for it had -never in its life known a mother!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her thoughts leapt back across the years to that -dear, fading memory of her mother. She saw the -bedroom, with the bright lights that seemed strangely -painful in such a place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to see them all, John, please," the voice -from the pillows had said when the Captain moved -away to turn the gas down; "it can't hurt me now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they had gathered up close to the white -pillows that gleamed with the loose, bright hair—all -the little, frightened children,—herself, hardly -thirteen; Pip in a sailor suit and his eyes red; little -dear Judy with wild, bright eyes and trembling -lips; Nellie with a headless doll clasped in her -arms; Bunty in a holland pinafore stained with jam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nobody heeded the tiny baby that lay just in the -hollow of mother's arm,—what was a baby, even -one almost new to them all, when mother was -dying?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the next day, when all was over, and every one -was tired of crying and feeling the world had stopped -for them for ever, the strange nurse brought in the -little lonely baby and gave it to Meg to nurse, -because she was the eldest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll have to be its mother now, little miss," -she said, as she laid it in all its long, many clothes -in Meg's frightened arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Its mother!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scene came vividly before Meg's eyes to-night, -as she sat with the poor child close in her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bent her head in an agony of shame and sorrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How she had failed! how she had neglected, -scolded, grown impatient with, laughed at, her little -trust! Loved her, of course; but life was such a -confusing, busy, quarrelling, pleasure-seeking kind -of thing at Misrule, and she had forgotten so often, -and been so taken up with her own affairs, that she -had not had time to "be a mother" to her little -sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Poppet!" she said, in a voice full of -passionate regret; and Poppet slipped her dear, thin -little arms around her neck and clung closer, as if -she almost knew what the trouble was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But presently the child fell asleep, and Meg -stayed there, motionless, on the bed edge, looking -down at the small, flushed cheeks, where the black -lashes lay still heavy and wet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a strange look of Judy about the little -face to-night, and altogether it made Meg forget the -visitors downstairs, Alan, Nell's impatience, -everything but the little dead mother and the knowledge -that her place was not well filled. She thought of -Bunty, sullen, hard, untruthful, and growing more -so every day—Bunty, whose nature no one but -Poppet had a key to, and even hers would not -always turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If the little mother had lived, he would have been -very different. Poor lad! perhaps he was unhappy -too—he had been even more gloomy and silent than -usual these last few days; she would go to him now, -and try to get into his confidence by degrees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slipped Poppet's little warm hand out of her -own and put it softly on the pillow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> too bad of you," said Nellie, putting -her head into the door. "You've no regard for -appearances, really, Meg. It's an hour since you -left the room, and I've been making excuses for you -all the time. Why don't you come down? There's -only Esther and me to entertain them all, and Alan -Courtney's been looking at the photograph album -for half an hour, and not spoken a word. You are -too bad. Sitting here with Poppet all this time—she's -asleep too. Talk about spoiling the children!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg got up, her eyelashes wet, her face very -sweet in its new gravity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I sha'n't come down again," she said in a low -tone. "Tell them Poppet was not well, and I had -to stay with her; indeed, I cannot come, Nellie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie glanced at her impatiently; she did not -understand the strange, moved look on her sister's -face—it had been unclouded and laughing an hour -ago; how could she guess she had been holding -hands with the dead all this little while?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Besides, her conscience reproached her about -poor little Poppet, and it made her feel irritable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never saw any one like you for moods, Meg," -she said crossly. "A minute ago you were laughing -and talking to Alan Courtney, and now you're -looking like a funeral hearse; and I think it's very -rude not to come down and say good-night. They -asked me to sing the 'Venetian Boat Song' too, and -you know I can't play my own accompaniment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Nell, another night," Meg whispered; "and -hush, you will disturb Poppet. Go down again -yourself now, or Esther will be vexed. Wish -them good-night for me; I have to speak to Jo—Bunty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie's face still looked vexed. She had practised -her somewhat difficult song, and was ambitious to -sing it since they all pressed her so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can see Alan thinks it strange of you vanishing -like that," she said grumblingly. "He told me to -be sure to make you come down again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Meg blushed—a beautiful, warm, tender -blush that crept right up to the little straying curls -on her forehead. They had been talking about -books, she and Alan, before she came upstairs; and -in a sudden fit of petulance with herself she had -said she was "a stupid, ignorant thing, and would -not talk to him about books again, because she -knew he was laughing at her for knowing so little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And oh! what was it his eyes had said when they -flashed that one quick, eager look into hers? what -was it that softly breathed "Meg" had meant?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie had whispered in her ear the next second, -"Poppet's crying herself nearly into a fit for you; -can you go to her for a minute?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed almost a week ago now since she had -gone. In some indefinable way she seemed to have -grown older in that one hour, to have got away from -all these things that had engrossed her before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on; why </span><em class="italics">shouldn't</em><span> you?" Nell said persuasively, -quick to take advantage of that sudden blush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just a moment Meg hesitated,—it would be very -sweet to go down to the room again and lose this -heavy-heartedness in "the delight of happy laughter, -the delight of low replies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But poor, misunderstood Bunty whom they all -"got on to"—her neglected duty! Had she any -right to be enjoying herself just now, any right to -chase away these new feelings?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned away with a sudden lifting of head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am not coming; say good-night for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay away then," said Nellie in exasperation. -So Meg went down the landing once more to the -boys' end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty," she said, knocking softly, "I want to -come in; may I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an impatient grunt inside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What on earth do you want? Can't you give a -fellow a bit of peace? What are you after now? -Yes, I've put my dirty socks in the linen basket."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't that, Bunty; I only want to talk to you -for a little." Meg's voice was very even and patient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "Blow being talked to!" was Bunty's grateful -and polite reply. He was weary of sisterly -"talkings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not going to lecture you or anything like -that, Bunty. I </span><em class="italics">wish</em><span> you'd open the door. What -have you fastened yourself in for?" Meg beat a -little tattoo on the wood and rattled the handle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a nuisance you are, Meg; why on earth -can't you go away and let a fellow be quiet? I'm -not going to open the door, so there." His voice -sounded from the bed across the room; he had not -even attempted to come near the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, very well," said Meg, seeing it was useless, -to-night, at least, with that barrier of pine between -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night, old fellow. I don't see why you -should be so grumpy with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll talk to him to-morrow," she said, as she -went downstairs with a free heart to the -drawing-room again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, alas! to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="to-morrow"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">TO-MORROW.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"What's done we partly may compute,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>But know not what's resisted."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They did not find it out till nearly nine o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was frequently late for his breakfast, -so no one remarked upon his absence this particular -morning. Only Meg kept his coffee hot, and sent his -chop back to the kitchen to be put in the oven—an -unusual piece of consideration, for she used to say -he deserved everything to be cold and greasy if he -got up so late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie, who was cutting the sandwiches as -usual for his school lunch, cried out for him. "I -can't find John's lunch serviette anywhere," she -said, putting in a generous supply of fat beef. -"I ask him every day to leave it out of his bag. -What a tiresome boy he is! I won't give him -another one this morning; he had one yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poppet, go and tell John he'll be late for -school," Meg said. "Tell him it's a quarter to -nine—he won't have time to eat his breakfast." Poppet -departed, her own bright merry self again; -the events of last night had vanished from her with -her dreams.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she came back with a half-startled face. -"He's not there, Meg; his hat's gone too, and his -school-bag. I 'spect he got something in the pantry -and went early; perhaps there is something on at -school; and—and—I think he must have made his -bed himself, because—it—it's made."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked half pitifully, half eagerly at Meg, as -if asking for a denial of her horrible suspicions. -"Come and look," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg got up and followed her; Nellie laid down -the breadknife and went too,—it was beyond credence -that Bunty should be up early and make his own -bed. Peter and Essie brought up the rear, of -course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It—it's very strange," Meg said, her face quite -pale as she looked round the room. The bed had -evidently not been slept in, for no boy could have -made it look as neat as it did; it was just as Martha -had left it yesterday morning. There was a suit -missing—not his best one, but the one he wore -alternate weeks at school—a couple of shirts too, and -some socks and collars. Nellie darted to his little -red post-office money-box; it had been prised -open—he had lost the key long since—and was empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He had two and fourpenth ha'penny in it," said -Peter, "cauth I athked him one day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's run away," said Nellie. "Oh, the bad, -wicked boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush," said Meg. She feared for the effect -the blow would have on Poppet, and caught the -child's hand and drew her to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Run away!" repeated Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every vestige of colour had dropped out of her -face; it wore a strained, unchildlike look, and her -eyes were heavy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg drew her closer still and stroked her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps it's a mistake, dear. Oh, he's only -gone to school, or camping, or something, and didn't -tell us; there's no need to trouble," she said. But -she felt terribly uneasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet did not look up. She was thinking of -the red-stained window and the kiss last night—thinking -of the school troubles, and the boy's strange -behaviour, and hints at worse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a loud, angry voice calling from the -nursery, and every one trooped back in amaze. -What was the Captain doing in their own special -room at breakfast-time?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther was there, too, with horrified eyes, and -Pip with a look of fierce disgust on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How red their father's face was! how his moustache -bristled! Peter shrank close up behind Meg, and -wondered if it was about yesterday's lessons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," Meg said, white to the lips, "what </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> -the matter? Esther, can't you speak? Oh, Pip, -what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Matter!" shouted her father; "I'm disgraced—we're -all disgraced. Where is he? Heavens! I'll -cut the skin off his back! Peter, get my horsewhip; -he's no son of mine! I'll turn him off—I'll have -him locked up. Where is he? where is the young -thief? Only let me get hold of him. Bring him -here at once, Pip. Where's that horsewhip, -Peter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's run away, we think," Nellie said in a -trembling voice; and there was a great silence for -two minutes, broken only by a very deep breath from -Poppet. Then Meg's voice was heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What has he done?" she said, "because—because—oh, -indeed, I believe we have all been -misunderstanding the poor boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Misunderstanding!" echoed her father, with -almost a snort of anger. "Read that, miss, and -don't talk nonsense!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-277"> -<span id="read-that-miss-and-don-t-talk-nonsense"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'READ THAT, MISS, AND DON'T TALK NONSENSE!'"" src="images/img-073.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'READ THAT, MISS, AND DON'T TALK NONSENSE!'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He passed her a letter that had just been brought -him, and Meg read it and grew pale; Nellie read it -and crimsoned; Poppet picked it up in her little -shaking hands and looked piteously from one to the -other,—that black, thick writing—oh, what was it -all about?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg told her afterwards, for it was no use trying -to put the child off, and indeed it seemed she knew -more than they did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The letter was from the head master. It stated -everything that Bunty had confessed to Poppet -about the broken window and glass cases, about the -lie he had told when taxed with it. But then the -terrible part came. On the desk five sovereigns were -lying in a little heap when the master was called -out of the room; it was one of the boys' fees, and -the master was in the act of entering the amount -in the book when he was sent for. He was detained -a quarter of an hour, and when he returned the -window and the glass cases were broken, and the -money had gone!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now there was no one on the top floor at all -during the time, it seemed—that was the mystery -that had puzzled every one. But then it came -out that Hawkins, who was waiting in Mr. Burnham's -own room for his caning, had seen John -Woolcot come creeping down the stairs just after -the crash, with a white face and the cricket-ball in -his hand. Woolcot, too, when he found his lie of -no avail, had confessed to the smashing, but denied -having taken the money. The head master regretted -having to perform such a painful duty as communicating -the intelligence to his father; but there seemed -no doubt that the boy had committed the theft, and -under the circumstances perhaps it would be wiser -if he were removed from the school.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No wonder the Captain raved and stormed! no -wonder Esther and the elder girls looked pale and -horrified, and Pip disgusted beyond words! He was -guilty—there was no doubt of it in their minds. -The fact of his running away was sufficient proof of -it; and they all remembered his strange behaviour -yesterday. It was in vain poor little Poppet -protested again and again and again that "he didn't do -it—oh, indeed he didn't do it. Yes, he had broken -the glass; and yes, he had told a lie; but oh, indeed -he had not stolen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you know, miss?" her father said -sharply; "what proof have you that he didn't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told me he didn't," said the poor little mite. -"Oh, he </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> he didn't,—oh, why won't you believe -it? Meg, I tell you he </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> he didn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even Meg could not believe, so lightly was -Bunty's word held amongst them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the first day the Captain was too angry even -to attempt to find traces of his son. He declared he -would never own him again, never have him inside -his doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But afterwards, of course, he saw this was -impossible, and he put the matter in the hands of the -police, gave them a full description of the lad's -personal appearance, and offered a reward for -finding him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the head master of the school he sent a curt -note stating the boy had run away, so he could -make no inquiries, and enclosing a cheque for five -pounds to make up for what was lost. Of course -the cheque was a tacit acknowledgment of his -guilt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week slipped away without any clue being -found. Then a detective brought news.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A boy answering to the written description had -gone on board a vessel to San Francisco as cabin -boy the very day in question. There seemed no -doubt as to his identity. The Captain said it was -the best thing that could have happened. It was -a rough ship, and the boy would have exceedingly -hard work and discipline—it might be the making -of him. He sent a cable to reach the captain in -America, when the boat arrived, to ask him to -see the lad was brought safely back in the same -capacity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then everything at Misrule resumed its -ordinary course. Bunty was safe, though they -could not hear of him or see him for four or five -months; it was no use being unsettled any longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Poppet made a small discovery one day. -She found her little money-box empty under her -own bed, with a bit of dirty paper stuck in the slit. -"I'll pay you back," it said in Bunty's straggling -hand; "you said you'd lend me the thirteen shillings. -I have to go, Poppet; it's no good stopping here—no -one believes you. Don't forget what you promised. -You can have my tortoise for your own. It's -in the old bucket under the house. Don't forget to -feed it; it likes bits of meat as well as bread. I'd -like to say good-bye, but you always cry and make -a fuss, and I have to go. You're the only one worth -anything anywhere. Oh, and don't forget to change -its water often,—well water has more insects in -than tap."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't forget what you promised," repeated -Nell, as she read the almost undecipherable epistle -in her turn. "What did you promise, Poppet?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I would believe him," the little girl said, -with a sweet, steadfast look in her eyes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-little-maid-errant"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A LITTLE MAID-ERRANT.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"There's nothing on earth half so holy</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>As the innocent heart of a child."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was in the midst of morning lessons soon after -at the Beltham Grammar School that an odd -thing happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was very hot; not a breath of wind came in at -the open doors and windows—nothing but the blazing -sunlight that lay in hot patches on the floor, and -slowly baked blackboards and slates and desks. -It was a very long room, this "Great Hall," as they -called it; half-a-dozen classes were at work in it, -with as many masters; and at the end, on a little, -raised platform, sat Mr. Burnham in front of his -desk. He was looking through the Euclid exercises -of the fourth form, and his brow kept criss-crossing -with lines of annoyance at any noise,—the hot, -slumbrous air was quite enough to bear, without -the occasional down-crashing of a pile of slates or -the upsetting of a form.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the loud note of the locust—the -whir-r-r, and pen-inimitable sound of its wings, -inside the room, not out. Who had dared to bring -one of the prohibited creatures into school, after the -endless penalties that had been imposed for the -offence? Mr. Burnham scored a red line through -one of the exercises and stood up in his place, a -heavy frown on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at the same moment a very small shadow -fell just inside the entrance door at the far end of -the room, and a very small knock sounded there. -Nobody said "Come in," though a hundred and -fifty pairs of eyes went in the direction with the -swiftness natural to gratitude for any break in -the monotony of morning school. Then there -stepped over the threshold a little, slight -girl,—a little girl with a very short, holland frock, a -great sun-hat, and no gloves; a little girl with a -white, small face, great frightened eyes shining -strangely, and soft lips very tightly closed. Up -the long, long room she went, both little hands -held tightly together in front of her. No one could -tell from the way she walked how her poor little -knees were shaking and her poor little heart was -beating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a minute Mr. Burnham's frown did not -disappear—not till he noticed how white her face was; -he told himself he had never seen a child's face -so white in all his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, little girl?" he said, and really -thought he made his voice quite gentle and -encouraging, though to Poppet it sounded terrible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I——" she said—"you——" Something rose -in her throat that would not be strangled away, -her face grew even whiter, and her lips, white -too, twitched a little, but the words would not -come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her hand, the little trembling, shut, brown -hand, and held it between his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is nothing to be afraid of, my child; tell -me what it is you want"; he drew her closer to the -desk, and sat down. He seemed less formidable in -that position than towering above her—his eyes -looked strangely kind; could it really be the terrible -Mr. Burnham she had heard so much about? The -hand he held fluttered a minute, then her lips moved -again:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty didn't do it," she said in a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eh? what?" he said, mystified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He didn't do it—Bunty didn't do it—oh, indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But who is Bunty? and who are you, my little -maid?" Mr. Burnham said, with a smile that lit up -his thoughtful eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's my brother," she said in a voice that had -gained a little strength.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 76%" id="figure-278"> -<span id="bunty-didn-t-do-it-she-said-in-a-whisper"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'BUNTY DIDN'T DO IT,' SHE SAID IN A WHISPER."" src="images/img-081.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'BUNTY DIDN'T DO IT,' SHE SAID IN A WHISPER."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then it struck her Bunty was not so called at -school.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His name's John Woolcot," she added, with -downcast eyes; "I'm Poppet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Mr. Burnham remembered everything, and -his eyes grew stern as he thought of the boy there -had been so much trouble with; but they softened -as they fell again on the little, white, eager face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And his little sister is taking up his cudgels; -thankless work, I'm afraid—eh?" he said quizzically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet was calm now,—the worst part of the ordeal -was over, and she had actually gained the dread -head master's ear; she must make the most of her -time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you believe him?" she said; "indeed he -didn't do it—oh, indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" he asked,—"break the window—tell -a lie—anything? Why, my little child, he owned -to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Poppet, "he bwoke the glass, I know; -and yes, he did tell one story." Her face fell after -the last sentence, and a little red crept into her cheek. -"But he didn't take the money—oh no, no!—oh, -Bunty wouldn't be a thief—oh, not for anything and -anything—oh, indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boys were staring at the little, white-faced -girl at the head master's desk, though they could -not hear what was being said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like to come and talk to me -privately?" Mr. Burnham said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "Oh-h-h!" was Poppet's only answer; but -the gratitude in her eyes was so intense, he guessed -a little what the ordeal had been to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Away down the long room she went again, only -this time her hand was being held in a firm, kindly -grasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" she said again, when near the door a -great, slouching fellow with a big head moved to -help another boy with a blackboard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" said Mr. Burnham, when they were -outside; he had noticed her intense interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was that Bull-dog Hawkins—the fellow that -told?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smiled somewhat; Hawkins was not a -favourite of his, and the fitting name sounded odd -on the little girl's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His name is Hawkins," he said; "and yes, he -gave the information; but that has nothing to do -with it, my child. Now, tell me what it is you have -to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had taken her into a little room the walls of -which were lined with books; he drew up a chair for -himself, and one for her, but she preferred standing -against his knee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Almost she convinced him, so great was the belief -in her shining eyes, so utterly unshaken her trust. -She told him everything, and he listened patiently -and attentively even to the smallest detail, asking -a question here and there, but for the most part -letting her tell her story in her own way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she told of the kiss by the staircase window, -she broke down a little; but he slipped his arm round -her waist, and she shed her tears on his coat -sleeve,—how Bunty would have stared! She showed the -dirty scrap of paper, and he read it thoughtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only he had never told a lie before," he said, -"then perhaps——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, if only she could have flung back her head -and said, "He has never told a lie in his life, sir; -never—never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shame at not being able to do so made the dear, -curly head droop a little, and two more tears forced -their way from under her eyelids and fell sadly -down her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure he never will again!" she said, with -sorrowful hopefulness. "But, oh, sir, he couldn't -be a thief! Oh, how </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't see how he could be altogether -bad with such a little sister," he said slowly. -"What sort of a boy is he at home? Is he good -to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," said Poppet,—"oh yes, indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it is a fact that not a single act that disproved -this came to the little girl's mind. She remembered -nothing but the times he had been good to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twice I was sent to bed without tea, and he -bwought me all his pudding in some newspaper," -she said eagerly; "and when I had difeeria, and -they wouldn't let him in, he used to climb up the -creeper when no one was in the room and smile at -me through the window. An' another time I was -ill he sat on the mat outside the door all night; -Meg found him in the morning asleep with his head -on the oilcloth. An' when it was my birthday—I -was nine—and he had no money, so he sold his -guinea-pigs to one of the fellows—and he liked them -better than anything he'd got—and he went and -bought me a doll's pwambulator, 'cause Peter -smashed mine with filling it with stones. Oh, and -lots and lots and lots of things! He was </span><em class="italics">vewy</em><span> -good to me—oh, indeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a flushed, little, eager face it was now—such -a fluent little tongue that told of Bunty's goodness! -The child's beautiful trust, affection, and courage -had quite touched the head master's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took a bunch of keys from his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a dear, brave, little girl, Poppet," he -said. "By the way, haven't you a prettier name -than that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it's Winifred, of course, really," said Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something in a name," he said, half to himself. -Then aloud:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Winifred, then, just because you have -believed in your brother and done this for him, I -am going to reward you in the way I know will -gladden you most."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He unlocked a tin box on the table, and counted -out five sovereigns, while the surprise in Poppet's -eyes deepened every minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you a purse?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said in a very low tone. It made her -feel fit to cry to think he should give her money, -even such a large, beautiful amount, for doing this.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because I want you to give this to Captain -Woolcot," he continued, "and tell him I have had -reason to doubt whether John was guilty, and until -I am perfectly sure it is not fair to the lad to take it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How Poppet's eyes shone, albeit the tears were -not dry! how her lips smiled and quivered! and how -the glad, warm colour rushed all over her little, -sweet face! Not a word of thanks she said, and -he would not have had it; only she clung very tightly -to his arm for a minute, and hid her face. When -he saw it, he felt he had had more than thanks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that was not all he did. He took her back -with him to the schoolroom, and walked up to the -raised platform, and held her hand all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Boys," he said, in his clear, far-carrying voice, -"I have reason to believe that John Woolcot is not -guilty of the theft that you have all heard of. I -wish you all to give him the benefit of the doubt, -since he is not here to clear himself. For my part, -I believe him innocent."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How the boys cheered! It was not that Bunty -was a special favourite, though he had his own -friends; but they felt it was expected of them, and -it was another break in the monotony to be able -to do so. Besides, they felt a vague pity and -admiration for the little girl standing there, with -such a smiling, tear-wet face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that Mr. Burnham took her all the way -home to Misrule himself. Meg and Nellie went into -the drawing-room to see him, and Poppet slipped -away. He told them what the child had done, -praised her high courage and simple faith. "If," -he said, as he took his leave an hour later,—"if all -my boys had such sisters as little Poppet is, my -school would be a better place, and later, the world."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="one-particular-evening"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ONE PARTICULAR EVENING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"O world, as God has made it! All is beauty,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And knowing this is love, and love is duty."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Peter who first noticed Meg's face one -particular evening. He and Poppet were doing, -or making a pretence of doing, preparation for the -next day, and Nellie was reading a novel in the -only armchair the nursery held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg came in at nine o'clock—nearly an hour -past the usual time to send the little ones to bed. -"Thust look at Meg'th fathe!" Peter said, and -rounded his eyes at her. Of course every one -looked instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was like a blush rose. A delicate, exquisite -flush had crept over it, her eyes were soft and -dewy, her lips unsteady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter dear, come to bed; now, Poppet," she -said; and even in her voice there was a new note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie laid down her book and looked at her -sister in surprise. She had only just discovered she -was beautiful. Hitherto it had seemed to be tacitly -allowed that she herself had monopolised the good -looks of the family; so to discover this sudden beauty -in Meg rather amazed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked to see if it had anything to do with -her dress; no, she had worn it scores of times -before. It was a muslin, pale blue, rather -old-fashioned in make, for the body fitted plainly with -the exception of a slight gathering at the neck. -The skirt was very long, and ended in a crossway -frill at the hem,—how graceful it made her look! -In her waistband she had stuck some cornflowers -vividly blue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And her hair! Nellie devoted a surprisingly long -time daily to the erection of an elaborate coiffeur -on her own beautiful head; but surely Meg's had a -grace of its own, from its very simplicity. It was -drawn back loosely that it might wave and curl as -it pleased, and then was twisted into a shining knot -halfway down her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that exquisite pink in her cheeks!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Meg!" Nellie said, half guessing, half shy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Peter—oh, Poppet, do come!" Meg entreated. -The pink had deepened, her eyes had -grown distressful. Both children rose and followed -her without a word; they had the native delicacy -that every unspoiled child possesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie had lost interest in her book,—what -was a fictitious tale of love, when she might hear of -one in real life within these very walls?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went downstairs and into the drawing-room. -"Who's in the study, Esther? I can hear voices," -she said sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther was reading, lying on the sofa, her dark, -beautiful head against the yellow, frilled cushions. -She turned a leaf before she replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, only father and Alan Courtney," she said, -with a studiously matter-of-fact air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">thought</em><span> so!" Nell exclaimed, with a deep -breath; then she sat down at the foot of the sofa -and looked at Esther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" Esther said, feeling the gaze before -she reached the end of the next page; then she -smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he really asking father?" Nell asked breathlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not at the keyhole," Esther replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I wish I was," Nell said with fervour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they looked at each other again, and again -Esther smiled. "How pretty she looked to-night!" -she said meditatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very, very," Nell answered eagerly; "why, I -couldn't help staring at her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very fond of Alan myself; he's a thoroughly -good fellow. I think they are excellently suited," the -young stepmother said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie was silent a minute. "I wish he looked -older," she said; "thirty is the proper age for a -man, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> think. And I'd rather he had a long, fair -moustache; his eyes are not bad; but I wish he -wouldn't rumple his hair up straight when he gets -excited."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther smiled indulgently at Nellie's idea of a -hero.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As long as he makes her happy," she said, "I'll -forgive him for being clean-shaved. Why are you -looking at me like that, Nell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinking how very pretty you are yet, -Esther," was the girl's answer, spoken thoughtfully. -Esther's beauty did strike her on occasion, and -to-night, with the dark, bright face and rich, crinkly -hair in relief against the cushions, it was especially -noticeable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yet," repeated Esther, "I'm not very old, Nell, -am I? Twenty-five is not very old." Her eyes -looked wistfully at the very young lovely face of -her second step-daughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, dear—oh no, Esther," said Nell, quick -to notice the wistfulness; "why, of course it is very -young; only—oh, </span><em class="italics">Essie</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" said Esther in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> you marry father?" She crept up -closer, and put her shining head down beside the -dark one. "Of course I don't want to hurt your -feelings, but really he is so very middle-aged and -ordinary; were you really in </span><em class="italics">love</em><span>, Essie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Esther was spared the embarrassing answer -by the entrance of the Captain and Alan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>You all saw Alan last five years ago, when he -used to go on the river boat every morning to his -lectures at the university. His face is even more -earnest and grave than before; life is a serious -business to this young doctor, and the only -relaxations he allows himself are football and Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His eyes are grey, deeply set; his patients and -Meg think them beautiful. His dark hair has a -wave in it, and is on end, for of course he has been -somewhat excited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Captain does not look unamiable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alan has only just begun to practise, certainly; -but then he has three hundred a year of his own, -and his prospects are spoken of as brilliant. Still, -he has the air of having grudgingly conferred a -favour, and he goes out to smoke his cigar and -think it over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All well?" ask Esther's arched eyebrows. And -"All is well" Alan answers with a grave, pleasant -smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear boy, I </span><em class="italics">am</em><span> so glad," she says. There is a -moisture in her dark eyes as she gives him her -hand, for Meg is very dear to her.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-279"> -<span id="he-bends-his-tall-boyish-looking-head-suddenly-and-kisses-the-hand-he-holds"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE BENDS HIS TALL, BOYISH-LOOKING HEAD SUDDENLY, AND KISSES THE HAND HE HOLDS."" src="images/img-093.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE BENDS HIS TALL, BOYISH-LOOKING HEAD SUDDENLY, AND KISSES THE HAND HE HOLDS."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looks at her in silence for a minute; then he -bends his tall, boyish-looking head suddenly, and -kisses the hand he holds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad too," Nellie whispers, with something -like a sob in her throat; she too holds out her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear little Nell!" he says; and such a happy -light is in the eyes that look down at her that she -quite forgives his lack of good looks. "Dear little -Nell!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He does not kiss </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> hand—it is too little and -childish, he considers; but he stoops and takes a -first brotherly kiss from the soft cheek nearest to -him, and though she blushes a little, she is -impressed with the dignity that attaches to a future -brother-in-law.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he goes. Meg has refused to be visible again -to-night to him, and Nellie flies up the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">Dear</em><span> Meg," she pleads at the door—it is locked, -and doesn't open for a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the tone turns the key, and the sisters are -in each other's arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just the room you might expect Meg to have. -It is fresh, simple, and daintily pretty. The floor is -covered with white China matting; the bed hangings -have loose pink roses on a white ground; the pillows -have hem-stitched frills. There is a bookcase on -one wall, in which the poets preponderate; the -dressing-table is strewn with the pretty odds and -ends girls delight in; there is a writing-table that -looks as if it is used often; and in the window -stands a deep wicker chair with rose-pink cushions -double frilled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the walls there are some water-colours of Meg's -own, pretty in colouring, but shaky as to perspective. -Two lines she has illuminated herself,—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Lord, help us this and every day</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To live more nearly as we pray."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The gold letters are a little uneven, perhaps; but she -wears them in her heart besides, so it does not matter. -There is an engraving in an oak and gold frame—"Songs -of Love"; Meg loves the exquisite face of -the singer, and the back of the sweet little child. -There is a long photo-frame with a balcony rail: -here is Essie all dimpled with her sauciest smile; -Poppet and Peter's heads close together like two -little bright-eyed birds; Nell, a little self-conscious -with the camera so close; Esther looking absurdly -girlish; Pip in his cap and gown when they were -delightfully new. Bunty always refused to put on -an engaging smile and submit himself to the -photographer, so he is not represented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And over the mantelpiece, in an ivory frame, is -an old, fading likeness of a little thin girl with a -bright face and mischievous eyes, and rough, curly -hair—Judy at ten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had taken all the time you have been looking -at the room for the girls to kiss each other and say -little half-laughing, half-crying words. Then Nellie -forced Meg into the wicker chair, and knelt down -herself, with her arms round her sister's waist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You darling," she said. "Oh, Meg, how glad -I am! Dear, dear Meg, I do hope you'll be -happy—impossibly happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the first connected sentence either of them -had spoken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't be happier," was Meg's whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But always, always, dear—even when your hair -is white, and there are wrinkles here and here and -here." She touched the smooth cheeks and brow -with tender fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a little silence fraught with love, the -two bright heads leaning together; then Meg spoke, -shyly, hesitatingly:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alan—Nell dear—you do—like him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's well enough—oh yes, I'm very fond -of Alan," said Nell. "Of course I don't consider -him half good enough, though, for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Nellie!" Meg looked quite distressed. -"Why, it is the other way, of course. He is so -clever—oh! you don't know how clever; and I am -such a stupid thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very stupid," assented Nellie; but her smile -differed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And he is always thinking of plans to do good -to the lower classes. Nell, you cannot think how -miserable some of them are; though they don't half -realise it, they get so dulled and weary. Oh, Nellie -dear, I </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> think he is the very best man in the -world." The young, sweet face was half hidden -behind the deep cushion frill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you are the very best woman," Nell said -very tenderly, and meant it indeed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pretty giddy little butterfly, that she was just -now, she often paused in her flights to wish she -could grow just as sweet and good and true and -unselfish as Meg without any trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The </span><em class="italics">very</em><span> best woman," she repeated; but Meg's -soft hand closed her lips and stayed there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you </span><em class="italics">knew</em><span> how I'm always failing," she said, -with a deep sigh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the trying is everything," Nell said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there were more tender words and wishes, -and Nellie went to bed, stealing on tip-toe down the -passage, for time had flown on noiseless wings and -the household was asleep. And Meg took down the -ivory frame, and put her lips to the laughing -child-face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Judy," she said, "I wish you knew. Dear -little Judy, I </span><em class="italics">wonder</em><span> if you know?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="that-mischievous-cupid"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THAT MISCHIEVOUS CUPID.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"For boys say, Love me or I die."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>University examinations are not things to -be postponed with polite little notes like -inconvenient balls or picnics. And, given the early days -of December, and a young man who steadfastly -refused to acknowledge this fact, what use was it -even to trouble to scan the lists?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course Philip was plucked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In October he had brought down his father's -wrath upon him by failing to get through in a class -examination; and any one who had had experience -of the Captain's would have thought that would -have been quite enough to make him take a good -place at the end of his second year.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, as I said, his name was conspicuous by its -absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Philip!" Nell said, an accent of reproach -on the first syllable; "and even that stupid Burton -boy is through."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Pip!" said Meg. "What </span><em class="italics">will</em><span> father say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the day the lists were out at the university, -and Philip had just communicated the agreeable -intelligence to his sisters in the midst of his third -pipe after dinner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the strange part was, he did not seem to care -twopence—the orthodox measure of indifference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He lolled back on the lounge, and made fantastic -figures with the smoke from his pipe; he did not -even seem to hear what the girls were saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when he came out of his father's study, after -a </span><em class="italics">mauvais quart d'heure</em><span> of unusual elasticity, there -was not a trace of repentance on his face, nothing -but obstinacy in his eyes, and lips all pursed up -for a careless whistle when the distance from the -room should be respectable enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But later on in the evening Meg caught a glimpse -of his face when he thought he was quite unobserved, -and its restless, unhappy look gave her a curious -feeling of surprise and anxiety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remembered all at once that she had quite -forgotten of late to take an interest in this eldest -brother of hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The "time o' day" that it was just now in her -life made it excusable, perhaps. She had a latchkey -to a little heaven of her own, where she might -retreat whenever earth grew troublous or commonplace; -sometimes she stayed there too long and -grew forgetful. And though she had taken Poppet -as her special charge, and formed endless resolutions -as to her future treatment of poor, prodigal Bunty, -she had let Pip slip away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was from home so much was the excuse she -made to herself now—at lectures most of the day, -and no one knew where in the evening; how could -she be all she should to him? She had kept a -sisterly eye on his clothes, darned all manner of -sweet little dreams into the heels and toes of his -socks, and even embroidered him a 'varsity cap so -that he should not be jealous of the one she had -worked for Alan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there she had stopped, and it struck her -suddenly to-night that this big, tall fellow with the -manly shoulders and boyish, unhappy face was -almost as a stranger to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where had all his fun, his schoolboy teasings, -his high spirits and absurdities, gone to? Surely -it was only yesterday he used to pull their hair and -slaughter their dolls and come for three servings of -pudding!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed at him with great earnestness as he -sat motionless at the table, looking, not at the book -before him, but straight opposite at the wall where -Poppet had spilt the ink; and it came to her with -a strange pang of pain that Pip, dear old madcap, -merry Pip, was a man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the young light had gone from his eyes; they -were graver, sterner than the boy's eyes, and yet -full of a troubled unrest. Then his mouth was -firmer, and it was not only the soft, dark line of an -incipient moustache that made it seem so; the -careless laughter lines around it no longer showed, his -very lips seemed to have grown straighter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even as Meg watched, all her heart in her -eyes, those same lips unclosed, and a half -tremulous curve of pain appeared at each corner and -made them look very boyish again. He put up -his hand and pushed his crisp hair away from his -forehead with a weary gesture. She could look no -longer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went up to the table and slipped an arm -round his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear old fellow," she said; "oh, I am so sorry -about the exam."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The exam.!" he repeated. "Oh, you needn't -bother, old girl; I don't care. What's an -exam. fifty years hence?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His lips were under his own control again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl's arm went from his shoulder to his neck. -"Dear Pip, I wish you'd tell me things sometimes; -don't shunt me altogether because I'm only your -sister. Pip, couldn't you tell me? I know you're -in trouble; couldn't I help a bit? Dear old fellow, -there's nothing I wouldn't do." Such an earnest, -loving voice it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he freed his neck, and put her away almost -roughly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Help me!" he said bitterly; "you're the last -in the world who would. Yes, I'm in trouble, -perhaps; but it's a trouble you girls and Esther -would do your best to increase."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's eyes filled, but she would not be repulsed. -"Try me," she said. "Is it gambling, Pip? Are you -in need of money? Is it debts? Have you done -anything you daren't tell father?" She put her arm -round his shoulder again; but he stood up hastily -and pushed her aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's nothing you can help, Meg. No, it's none -of those things. As to telling you, I'd sooner cut -my tongue out! There, I didn't mean to hurt you," -for Meg's lips had trembled; "but oh, it would -be impossible for you to understand. Why, you'd -be the first to be against me." He went over to -the door, and picked up his straw hat from the -side-table on the way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg followed him. "Sha'n't you ever tell me?" -she said. "Not to-night, perhaps, as you don't want -to, but another time Pip; indeed, you shouldn't be -disappointed in me. Just promise you'll tell me -another time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll know before the month's out," he said, -and laughed half wildly as he closed the door behind -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As a matter of fact, a trivial accident happened, -and she knew before the next day was out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were having afternoon tea down near the -river, and it being Sunday afternoon and pleasantly -cool, the Captain had strolled down with Esther, and -was seated on the grass leisurely examining some -letters that had come by the Saturday afternoon's -post and been laid aside. There was a bill amongst -them that he had had no part in making, a tailor's -bill, with what seemed to him superfluous blazers, -flannels, and such things, down. On ordinary -occasions he would only have grumbled moderately -and as a matter of duty, for Pip was not particularly -extravagant. But to-day, with his son's recent -failure fresh in his mind, he felt he could be -explosive with perfect justice. So he despatched -Peter up to the house to request Pip's immediate -presence. Pip was on the point of going out, and -came with a half-aggrieved, half-aggressive look on -his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before there was time for even the preliminaries -of warfare, Essie created a diversion by -tumbling out of the moored boat in which she and -Poppet were sitting into the deep, clear water of -the river.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip's coat was off before any one had even time -to scream, he flung it into Meg's lap right over the -teacups, and was swimming out to the little dark -bobbing head in less time than it takes to write it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie and Poppet had screamed, a strange, -strangled cry had broken from Esther's lips, and -the Captain had put his arm round her and said, -"Don't be foolish, she's quite safe," in a sharp -voice; but his face was white under its bronze,—this -little saucy-faced baby daughter of his had crept -closer to his heart than any of his other children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course she was quite safe. Here was Pip -scrambling up the bank again, and holding her up -in his arms, a little dripping figure in a white frock -and pinafore, one foot quite bare, the other with -only the sock on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such gurgling little sobs of fright and relief she -gave, such leaps and shudders of joy and terror, as -they carried her up to the house wrapped in her -father's coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now she was safe and unhurt Meg did not -follow the rest of the family into the bedroom with -her. Instead she went into her own, and sank down -on the ottoman at the bed foot, white to the lips and -trembling like an old, old woman,—not on Essie's -account, the danger had been so short-lived, but in -that breathless moment something terrible had come -to her knowledge.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-280"> -<span id="a-little-dripping-figure-in-a-white-frock-and-pinafore"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""A LITTLE DRIPPING FIGURE IN A WHITE FROCK AND PINAFORE."" src="images/img-105.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"A LITTLE DRIPPING FIGURE IN A WHITE FROCK AND PINAFORE."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told you Pip had thrown his coat to her over the -tea-things; it had fallen on her lap with a jerk, and -the contents of one pocket had been precipitated on -to the tray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A tobacco pouch, a fountain pen, and a pipe she -had replaced hastily. A letter had fallen face -upwards—even in the confusion she had seen it was addressed -to "Miss Mabelle Jones," in her brother's bold -writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the thing that had taken all the colour and -life from her face, she had not put back in the pocket -at all, when Pip had taken the coat. She held it at -the present time in her tightly shut, trembling hand, -and every minute the horror in her eyes deepened. -Then she said, "Pip!" in a low, wailing voice, -and opened her hand and looked again at the thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tissue paper was still there, and on its -whiteness, shining bravely up into the wild eyes above -it, lay a little gold wedding-ring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a step outside her door—Pip's step; he -had been to his room to change to dry things, and -was coming back. For a minute he stopped, and -Meg went paler than ever; then he went on, along -the passage and down the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could hear him in the lower hall,—could he -be going out again? She started to her feet as the -door banged, and went hastily over to the window. -No; he had his old tennis cap on, and was going very -slowly across the grass towards the river, his eyes -searching the ground. He had evidently missed it -already, and surmised it had fallen from the pocket, -either as he carried his coat to the house or when -he flung it to Meg. She gave him just time to get -down to the water, and then, with the small, terrible -thing tightly held in her hand, she went almost -blindly down the stairs and over the grass after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was kneeling down just beside the tea-things, -groping about in the long grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you lost anything?" Meg asked, in a -voice that seemed to have no connection with -herself, so faint and far away it sounded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—only the stem of my pipe," Pip said, a dull -flush on his forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He overturned a cup, spilt the milk into the -biscuit barrel, and said something under his breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this what you have lost, Pip?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's voice came in almost a whisper, with a note -of great yearning in it,—oh, if only he would laugh, -and give a ridiculously simple explanation of it all! -She hardly dared to look at his face for fear of what -she should find there; her hand, outstretched to him -with the gold circle on its palm, trembled like a -leaf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The scarlet leaped up into his face as if he had -been a girl; his very brow and neck and ears were -deeply dyed. He snatched the ring from the little -soft palm, and held it in his own closed hand; his -eyes were like coals on fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Meg faced him quietly; all her courage -gathered in her hands now the need had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were going to marry the little dressmaker, -Philip," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told her a lie, two or three lies; then he -abused her violently for her interference and prying; -then, kneeling as he was, he put both his arms -round her waist and prayed her, if she had any -love for him, not to try to ruin the happiness of his -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh the young, wild, passionate face, the imploring -words! It almost broke Meg's heart to see him. -Such a boy again,—oh, surely not a man now,—not -twenty yet, and so headstrong. She felt years and -years older than he—felt almost as if she were his -mother, and he a child begging to play with the -fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange wisdom came to her. She neither railed -nor mocked, reproached nor wept. "And after -you are married, what then, Pip?" she said, her -voice quite even. "Fifty pounds a year won't -go very far; and I suppose father will stop even -that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung back his head with its crisp waves and -curls, the light came into his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can work," he said, and smiled proudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg looked merely thoughtful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you can," she said; "but of course -you will get a bare nothing at first. And, Pip, -excuse me saying it, aren't you rather selfish? </span><em class="italics">You</em><span> -might be able to rough it; but wouldn't it be very -hard on her? Dear Pip, haven't you too much -pride to ask any woman in the world to be your -wife, and not have a penny to offer her or a house -to take her to?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was a new view of the case to Pip. It had -certainly not occurred to him it was hard on her; all -the sacrifice had seemed on his side, and he had -rejoiced to make it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She doesn't mind; she knows I'd have to begin -from the beginning," he said, half sulkily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But wouldn't she rather wait? There is every -chance of a bright future before you, as you know, -Pip, with all the influence father has. Pip, I am -sure she would rather wait and come to you when -you are able to take her proudly before every one, -than marry you now and make you sink into a -fifth-rate clerk for the rest of your life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held her head on one side argumentatively; -the colour was beginning to creep back into her -cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Pip, he was both surprised and sobered at -her moderation. She had not said a word against -the girl he loved, she had not been contemptuous; -she was only laying before him, clearly and rationally, -what he had seen and refused to see himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The conversation spread itself out over hours; -dusk was beginning to fall before they turned to go -in again. It would take half this book to narrate -everything that was said, but in the end the victory -was to Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When it came to the crisis she had been very firm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Unless he would promise her, before God and -before heaven, before their dead mother and all he -held holy, not to marry the girl secretly, she should -immediately inform his father, who, until he was of -age, could make the thing impossible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If, on the other hand, he would go back to his old -life and work with all his will, as it was only right and -just he should do, and if at the end of two years he -was just as much in love with her as ever, and if there -was nothing against her but her lowly position, then -she, Meg, would withdraw her opposition, and even -do all she could to help him forward. She felt safe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think how much better you will know each -other by then," she said cheerfully, as they walked -back to the house, both feeling they had been near -a volcano's edge. "Why, how long have you -known her, Pip?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his answer was the least bit shamefaced.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three months—nearly four, at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had the unpleasant feeling of having been -conquered; but deep in his secret heart there was -relief; that it had been taken out of his hands. He -had known he was making shipwreck of his life, -known he was bringing bitter trouble upon his family -by this hot haste; but Mabel (with two l's and an e) -had been so insistent about an immediate marriage, -and he so deeply in love and fearful of losing her, -that he had felt the world was well lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And what Meg said was very true. It would be -more manly of him to work first, and take a wife -when he had something to keep her on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His Spanish castles raised themselves rapidly -against the early evening sky. He would work for -two or three years as never man worked yet, and -marry "Mabelle" at the end of that time; then he -would take her to England that she might grow -a little more educated and polished (oh, Pip, Pip!), -and then bring her back and present her proudly -to Esther and his father and sisters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His face looked quite young and bright again by -the time they reached the front door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a well-meaning little thing, Meg," he said, -and kissed her patronisingly; it was not in nature -that he should feel quite proper gratitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg drew a series of long breaths of relief as -she took off her hat upstairs and smoothed her -hair for tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">who</em><span> would have brothers?" she asked her -image in the glass; but it only looked back at her -and smiled mournfully.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="needles-and-pins"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">NEEDLES AND PINS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"Something attempted, something done."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Snip, snip. Bits of silesia and common red -cashmere worked their way to the edge of the -table, and from there dropped to the floor where -there was a glorious litter. Buzz, buzz, bang -against the window-panes went the body and wings -of a great "meat" fly. Whirr, whirr, the sewing-machine -fled frantically over the silesia in the places -where the scissors had gone snip, snip. From the -trees across the road came the maddening sound of -many locusts; the great fly on the hot window-glass -was half killing itself in the effort to outdo -them in noise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What ever was she?" sighed Miss Mabelle Jones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She got up from the machine with a length of -grey webbing in her hand, and looked absently -about for a few minutes. She had written the -measurement of a customer's waist on the back of -a card of buttons, she remembered; but the question -was, where were the buttons?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If only he had money of his own now," she -said aloud, which had no apparent connection with -waist measurements, but showed that dressmakers' -thoughts occasionally run on other things besides -gatherings, crossway flounces, and boned bodices. -Then she found the card in the leaves of the </span><em class="italics">Young -Ladies' Journal</em><span>; and the comment, "Thirty-five -inches, fat old thing," had a connection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held the webbing against the tape measure, -and cut it off at thirty-five with quite a vicious little -snip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stuck up things," she muttered. "I wouldn't be -seen in the plain, common dresses they wear for -anything—no style at all. Why, Miss Woolcot's -at church on Sunday was just fourpence-ha'penny -print, and nothing else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she gasped, and put down the underskirt she -was making in a great hurry. Just outside the -window stood Miss Woolcot herself, looking -half-hesitatingly at the fly-spotted card that said "Miss -Mabelle Jones, Costumiere and Modiste." The next -minute the knocker sounded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The father of Miss Mabelle Jones, as mentioned -before, earned an honest livelihood by vending tea -and sugar, wax candles, and such—not to speak of -sardines. There were great white letters on his -window that asked, for the benefit of humanity, -"Who brought down Sydney prices?" and vivid -red ones that answered boldly and with generous -flourishes, "Why, Thomas Jones of course, the -People's Friend. One pound of fine white sugar -given away with every pound of tea."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The shop was at the corner. The little side-door -and window had been given to Miss Jones when she -had set up for herself and lengthened her baptismal -name by two letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Good Mrs. Jones was cutting up carrots for haricot -mutton in the back kitchen, when her daughter burst -in upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go and let that young lady in; say I'll be down -presently—say I'm engaged for a bit," she said, -pulling off as she spoke the housewifely apron that -protected the front of her mother's dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "Bless us, girl" was Mrs. Jones's rather -aggrieved reply; "you always see folks in that -dress, and you always let 'em in yourself. This -'arryco won't be fit for pa if I go and leave it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't ordinary folks—it's a real swell; it's—it's -his sister, the eldest one," said Miss Jones, in -great agitation. "There, she's knocked again; oh, -for goodness' sake be quick, ma! The room's all in -a mess too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Jones with a sigh set aside her toothsome -"'arryco" and proceeded to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I see Miss Jones?" asked the pale young -lady on the doorstep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "She'll be down presently; she's cleanin' -herself," answered Mrs. Jones, leading the way into -Mabelle's room, and moving a heap of work off a -chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, miss, and I'll go and 'urry her up. -You can be lookin' at the fashun plates; they're the -latest styles in London"; and she kindly put a heap -of coloured supplements, depicting ladies' fearfully -and wonderfully arrayed, at Meg's elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was more than a quarter of an hour before -Miss Jones made her appearance, and oh, what a -change was there!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wore a "costume" of bright terra-cotta -poplin, with insertion bands of black lace over pink -ribbon at intervals up the skirt and round the -body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sleeves were enormous—gigot shape; there -were numberless gold and silver bangles at her -wrists, several brooches at her neck, and a gold-headed -pin was stuck through her hair. She had white -canvas shoes with tan bands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That she was pretty there was no doubt. She had -a bright complexion, scarlet lips, and large heavily -lashed brown eyes, very soft and beautiful; her -hair, which was much frizzed, was black and silky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I regret that circumstances over which I had -no control compelled me to keep you waiting so -long; but I was engaged with some one who was in -a great hurry," she said, which sounded very well, -for she had composed it while she curled her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only she accented the second half of "circumstances," -and deprived her poor little last word of -its rightful "h."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have plenty of time," Meg said. "It does not -matter at all." Then she paused, and in the little -space of clock-ticking Miss Jones examined her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's dress was one of the despised prints—a -tiny blue spot on a white ground, very clean and -fresh. There was a band of blue belting at her -waist, and one on her sailor-hat. Her shoes were -very neat, black with shining toe-caps; her gloves -fitted without a crease, and were beyond reproach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No jewellery at all, as Miss Jones noted, but a -little gold-bar brooch fastening her spotless collar. -A lady every inch, though the dress was home-made -and had cost under five shillings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a vague, slow way Miss Jones felt the difference -and was dissatisfied. She almost wished she had -not put on her best dress, as it was only early -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You want to see me; is it about a dress?" she -asked; for Meg had half unconsciously picked up -one of the magazines and opened it at "The Latest -in Skirts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Meg. "It is about my brother Philip -I have come." She put the paper down; and Miss -Jones, somewhat overawed by the quiet dignity of -her manner, had small idea of the way her heart -was beating.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By an accident it came to my knowledge that -you and my brother were thinking of an immediate -marriage," Meg said; "and I came to have a quiet -talk to you, Miss Jones, because I felt sure you -could not know quite all the unhappiness such a -course would bring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Jones's fine eyelashes were lying on her -cheek; her face glowed a little with sudden colour. -Pip had not been to see her the night before, as -Meg knew; he had had an engagement that she -took care he should not break, and now this early -morning visit anticipated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He told you?" she asked in a low tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, when I had found out everything," Meg -answered. Then she leaned a little more towards -the pretty dressmaker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Jones, he is such a boy, poor Philip. Since -you love him so much, how can you bear to spoil -his future?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-281"> -<span id="miss-jones-he-is-such-a-boy-poor-philip"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'MISS JONES, HE IS SUCH A BOY, POOR PHILIP.'"" src="images/img-119.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'MISS JONES, HE IS SUCH A BOY, POOR PHILIP.'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Jones lifted her eyes and bridled a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I knew you wouldn't think me good -enough," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But," said Meg simply, "how could I think so? -I do not know you. What I mean is, marriage with -any one till he is older would be ruin to him. Surely -you must see the unhappiness it would bring upon -you both. In the first place, what could you live -upon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Jones was silent a minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He could work like other people, I suppose," -she answered; "he said he could, and I wouldn't -mind going on sewing too for a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he would be willing to work, I know," -Meg said; "but what could he do? It is harder -in the present state of things for sons of gentlemen -to find anything to do than labouring men. And he -is not half educated yet. Now, in a few years he -will be, I trust, in very different circumstances, and -able to support a wife in comfort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mind being rather poor," Miss Jones -replied; "and I'm not going to give him up just -because you don't think me fine enough for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg looked at her steadily. "Of course," she -said, "now I have found it out, there is no possibility -of a marriage for two years. My brother is not of -age, and my father naturally will forbid it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she softened again, for the girl's eyes had -an unhappy look in them. "I expect I seem severe -to you, Miss Jones; but, indeed, all I am thinking -of is my brother's happiness. If I thought it would -truly be for his good, I would not say a word. And -you—you love him too—won't you show your love -by not standing in his light?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You seem to think it's as easy to give him up -as drop your 'andkerchief," said Miss Jones, in a -voice that shook a little. "If you'd a young man, -how d'you think you'd feel if any one came to you -and said as you couldn't make him happy because -you wasn't as fine as him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I had a lover," Meg said softly, "I would -not bring unhappiness upon him for all the world. -If I had a lover, and thought my love could only -do him harm, I would never see him again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh-h-h," said Miss Jones,—"oh-h dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some tears gathered on her black lashes, and -slipped slowly down her cheeks. They were clear -tears too, and the lashes had not changed colour. -Meg remembered Nellie's accusation and blushed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"W-what is it you want me to do?" the young -dressmaker said. "Oh-h, you are cruel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg felt she was, but kept telling herself she -must save Pip. Still, the girl's tears and large, -beautiful eyes touched her tender heart. She put -out her hand impulsively and took the one with -needle-marked fingers; she held it in hers while she -talked to her gently and wisely and firmly. She -spoke of Pip's extreme youth, of his penniless -condition, his dependence on the Captain. "My -father is a hard man, and a poor man. I don't think -he would ever forgive or recognise my brother again -as long as he lived," she said. "Then again, Philip -has been used to comfort and certain luxuries all his -life—to mixing in good society. He would be -miserable, and make you miserable too, to go to -such utterly changed conditions. Not one unequal -marriage in fifty is happy—it is almost impossible -they should be; and think how young he is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I 'adn't quite made up my mind," Miss Jones -said, feeling she needed some justification. "Yes, I -know he'd got the ring—he bought it as soon as I -said yes; and at first I thought as it would be nice -to be married straight off, but often when he wasn't -here I used to think as I wouldn't after all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was very wise of you," said Meg fervently, -"very good of you. Oh, I knew I should only have -to represent things to you a little for you to see -how unwise it would be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Jones looked a little gratified, though still -somewhat mournful. She felt very much like one -of the heroines in her favourite </span><em class="italics">Bow Bells</em><span> or </span><em class="italics">Family -Novelettes</em><span>, sacrificing herself in this noble manner -for the good of her lover. But secretly, like Pip, -she too felt a trifle relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All her life she had been used to poverty. Things -had been a little more "genteel" with them since -she had been earning money of her own; but still -there was the never-ending struggle of trying to -make sixpence buy a shillingsworth. And, from -all accounts, it would only be intensified by marriage -with this handsome youth she had been so taken -with lately. She thought of a certain faithful -ironmonger whose heart had been half broken lately by -her coldness to him. He was spoken of already -as a "solid" man—a shilling need only do its -legitimate work if she yielded to his entreaties and -married him. Perhaps, after all, it was unwise for -a girl in her position to think of a "gentleman -born"; and yet Pip's way of speaking, his nice linen -cuffs and gold links, his well-cut serge suits, had -been a great happiness to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" said Meg softly, breaking in at length -upon her train of thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I s'pose I'll give him up," she answered, -somewhat ungraciously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How good you are!" Meg said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course it's 'ard and all that; but I don't want -to make him un'appy and his family set against -him—I'd rather sacrifice myself." Miss Jones cast down -her lashes and looked heroic. "I suppose, though, -I'll have a fine piece of work with him when he -comes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg had no doubt of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you will be very firm, won't you?" she -said anxiously. "Remember, you have promised -me to leave him quite free—to refuse to be even -engaged for at least two years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll manage him, someway; but I quite -expect he will want to shoot either himself or me," -was the dressmaker's answer, spoken with a certain -melancholy enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Meg shook hands with her warmly, affectionately -even—she felt she almost loved her—and -took her departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Pip will never forgive me," she said to -herself, as she walked home again. "Oh, never, -never, never!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-day-in-sydney"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A DAY IN SYDNEY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"To Mr. O'Malley in foreign parts."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Once a month Martha Tomlinson had a day's -holiday. She generally chose Wednesdays, -because, she used to say, if there was any luck -flying about in a week, that was the day on which -it fell to earth. She certainly had illustrations for -her theory that Poppet at least used to think were -wonderful. For instance, one Wednesday she had -picked up a sixpence with a horseshoe on the side -the Queen's head is generally seen—the omen had -struck her as almost good enough to be married on. -Another time the young man she "went walking -with" had been within an ace of buying a pee-wit -hat that was cheap certainly, but was moth-eaten -in a place or two. If, now, she had gone on Thursday, -it would have been too late to prevent it, and -Tuesday it would have been too soon. It was a -clear case of luck, there was no doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One time, indeed, she had been tempted to take a -Thursday instead, as the weather looked threatening -on the Wednesday; but after a little deliberation, -she thought it would be better to keep to her rule. -And on the Thursday she had almost gone there -was a collision between the river boat and one -going to Balmain,—no one hurt certainly, but then, -as she very truly remarked, there might have been. -There had never been a collision in the memory of -any of the family, for she questioned each and all, -on a Wednesday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man in corduroy trousers still came to see -her, and they still only talked of their marriage as -the "far-off divine event" of their lives; in all -probability they would be talking of it just the -same ten years hence. They were not like the -usual happy-go-lucky, improvident Australians -of their class, who married first, and wondered -where the bread and meat were coming from second.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm was a Scotchman, and was saving up to -buy a house of his own—he did not believe in lining -landlords' pockets with his earnings. It would, with -the strip of land he wanted, be four hundred odd -pounds, and he had already saved £75. Martha -had £15 in the bank, but then hers would have -to go in furniture and clothing. Pip calculated -that Malcolm would be seventy-two, and Martha -a gay young thing of sixty-nine, by the time -the house was built and furnished; but Martha -was more hopeful, and did not leave such a -margin for the "strikes" Malcolm seemed to revel in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this particular Wednesday, Martha had -asked, as a great favour, that Poppet might go with -her to town. The little girl was her favourite -among all the children, and her warm heart quite -ached to see the child moping as she had done since -Bunty's disappearance. Every day, while the nursery -tea-things were being washed up, Poppet used to -stand beside her, with big mournful eyes, wondering -"if just this minute Bunty was climbing a mast; if -he was very tired of salt meat and weevily biscuits; -if his feet got very cold swilling the decks down; -if—if—if——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha's brother had been a sailor, so Martha -knew more about life on board ship than any -one else in the house; hence her great attraction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther, after a consultation with Meg, gave -permission; the child was fretting herself thin and pale, -and any change did her good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of course when Poppet was dressed and standing -on the verandah, engaged in the vexatious task of -pulling her gloves over her little brown hands, Peter -wanted to come too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a thneak, Poppet, going and having -pleathure, and me thtuck here doing nothing," he -said. "I'm coming too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In that dirty old suit, and mud on the end of -your nose?" said Poppet, with the virtuous tone a -spotless white frock, whole stockings, and clean boots -made justifiable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of courth I can wath my noth, and the thuit -ithn't dirty if you bruth it." He took out a crumpled -ball of handkerchief, dipped one corner in the goldfish -bowl inside the hall door, and polished his small -nose with great energy. "There, ith it off?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha came out, resplendent in a green cashmere -made in the very latest style, a green hat with pink -ostrich feathers, and a green parasol.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter looked impressed, and said nothing more -about accompanying them; Poppet was nobody, -of course, even though her new boots had twelve -buttons against his own six; but even his young -soul felt the impossibility of a sailor suit no longer -new being seen within a yard of that magnificent -new costume of Martha's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He contented himself with looking after them -enviously as they went down the drive, and kicking -the verandah post with his small strong boots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tthuck up thingth!" he muttered, turning away -to look for means of amusement. "I'll thutht pay -that Poppet out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha had ideas of her own as to the proper way -a holiday should be spent, and had determined -Poppet should have a day she would long remember. -One thing only Poppet asked for, and that was that -they should walk about Circular Quay for a little -time and look at the great ships, and especially any -that were bound for America.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her pocket the little girl had a blotted note -she had written some days ago. On the envelope, -in very bad, unsteady writing, there was this -strange address:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"TO BUNTY IN AMERICA.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the ship </span><em class="italics">Isabela</em><span> plese will the capten give -this to Bunty."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There was a pencil mark through Bunty, and -John Woolcot was written in brackets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Inside the envelope was much paper and many -smudges made by the tears that fell all the time the -pen went slowly along the lines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Oh Bunty do come home, Bunty dere there is -nothing to be fritened of. Mr. Barnham doesn't -beleeve you took it and the boys chered you like -anything and Meg is going to be nice always the -tortus is very well and I give it beefstake every day -I can get any you would be serprised to see what -it can eat. Oh Bunty do be quick home oh you -mite have told me you were going Bunty I'd have -come with you or anything do you have to go up -the masts. I'm so fritened you'll fall overbord I've -put 10 pense in here so you can buy things when -you're on shore I wish I had more Martha says the -biskits are full of weevuls. Dere Bunty oh do -come home quick quick oh Bunty if only you'll -come I'll always do things for you and never -grumbil whatever it is I know I used to be horid -and grumbling before but just you see do you have -to swil the deks with no boots. Martha says so. -Oh dere Bunty DO come home. I've beleeved you -all the time Bunty dere of corse.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Your loving sister,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"POPPET.</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"P.S.—Be sure to come quick."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For a long time the little girl could think of no -possible way of getting this letter to her brother. -Meg had said the post-office would be no use, for -in all probability the boat bearing it would pass in -mid ocean the one bringing Bunty back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it had struck Poppet lately that if only -she could give it to the captain of some other boat -going to America, he would know just where the -boat was and be able to send it on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was the hope that was making her eyes -grow full of light as the river boat got nearer and -nearer to Sydney, and hundreds of tall masts and -interlacing yards stood against the blue of the sky -or the brown-grey of the great warehouses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How beautiful the harbour looked to-day! There -was a cool breeze blowing, and it ruffled the waters -into a million little broken waves that leaped and -danced in the clear morning sunshine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up near the Quay there was all the picturesque -untidiness and bustle of busy shipping; but out -farther the sun and the waves and the drifting -clouds had it their own way, and made a hundred -shifting pictures. Sometimes a white sail glittered -in the sun, then a brown one would make a spot -of warm colour. The great boats to Manly left -long majestic trails of white foam behind them, -and little skiffs got into the wash and rocked -joyously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the North Shore the many buildings showed -white and clean in the sunlight; farther to the left -the houses were fewer, and beautiful gardens stretched -down to the water's edge. Still farther away, across -the white-tipped waves, were shores with backgrounds -of thickly-growing gums; and higher, the soft blue -line of hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's very heart was in her eyes as the boat -stopped at the Erskine Street Wharf and the gangway -was put down. She pinched Martha's arm gently -and whispered to her not to forget.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha spoke to a sailor who was sitting smoking -on an inverted cask.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She "supposed the boats to America went -from the Quay, didn't they now?—or was it from -Wooloomooloo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he "supposed there were boats and boats -to America. There was sich as the </span><em class="italics">Mariposa</em><span>, which -carried swells and was a fine boat; and sich as the -</span><em class="italics">Jenny Lind</em><span>, which took oil and was not a fine boat!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know the </span><em class="italics">Isabella</em><span>?" said Poppet's little -eager voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Captain Brown?—well, I reckon I do, little -miss," he said, and chewed a bit of tobacco thoughtfully. -"Bloomin' old tub! I was on her five year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet nearly fell upon him,—she could not wait -while he said all he knew about it in his slow -roundabout way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he a cruel man? don't they have vegetables -to eat? do the little boys have to go up the masts? are -there weevils in the biscuits? oh! and won't he let -them have their boots on when they swill the decks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it turned out that the </span><em class="italics">Isabella</em><span> he was on was -a schooner plying between Melbourne and the -South Sea Islands. He rather fancied there was a -brig of the same name that went to San Francisco -or Boston, or "one of those places."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's face had fallen again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know of </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> boats that go to America?" -she said in a forlorn tone. "Oh, do please try and -think if you know of </span><em class="italics">any</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha explained rapidly, </span><em class="italics">sotto voce</em><span>: "The -young lady's brother had run away, and was on -that boat; she was fretting her little heart out to get -a letter to him; couldn't he pacify her some way? she -herself knew it was impossible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sailor looked kindly at the little sweet face -under its broad-brimmed hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a mate on the </span><em class="italics">Jenny Lind</em><span>, little miss,—how'd -it be if I gave him the letter? He's a good-hearted -chap, and would try his best; he'd be sure -to know where the </span><em class="italics">Isabella is</em><span>, and could easy -send it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That would be best, Miss Poppet dear," said -Martha; "give it to this nice kind man and he'll -send it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he going to America soon? Do you think -he would see the </span><em class="italics">Isabella</em><span>?" the little sad voice said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the sailor's answer was certainly very -reassuring: the </span><em class="italics">Jenny Lind</em><span> sailed in two days, and -was sure to meet the </span><em class="italics">Isabella</em><span>, in which case the -letter would be delivered into Bunty's hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet handed over her letter with a sigh of -relief; she had hardly dared to hope a boat would -leave so soon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha thanked the man, opened her green -parasol, and walked on. Poppet lingered half a -minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you should happen to meet him anywhere," -she said hurriedly,—"you might, you know, as -you're a sailor too: he's a tallish little boy, with -brown eyes, and his hair's rather rough,—you won't -forget, will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," he said warmly, shaking the small hand -she held out,—"a tallish little boy with brown -eyes,—oh! I'd easy know him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she caught up Martha, who was beckoning -impatiently, and felt a load was off her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a morning they had! They went to the -waxworks in George Street first, and saw -bush-rangers, an aboriginal murderer, and other pleasing -characters, with life-like eyelashes and surprisingly -beautiful complexions. Then they climbed all the -way to the top of the Town Hall—Martha knew the -caretaker—and had the pleasure of seeing the city -in miniature far below. The Cathedral being next -door came in for a turn, but seemed rather flat after -the waxworks. After that they went through the -five arcades systematically, flattening their noses at -each interesting window, and telling each other -what they would buy if they had the money.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-282"> -<span id="they-went-to-the-waxworks-in-george-street-first"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THEY WENT TO THE WAXWORKS IN GEORGE STREET FIRST."" src="images/img-135.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THEY WENT TO THE WAXWORKS IN GEORGE STREET FIRST."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was twelve o'clock when they had finished with -the Strand, and they were to meet Malcolm, who -was going to take them somewhere to lunch, at -half-past one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's just time for the Botanicking Gardens," -said Martha, wiping her heated face and setting her -splendid hat straight at one of the narrow slits of -mirror in the arcade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So away they posted, up King Street, down -Macquarie Street, and away down the broad, -beautiful, shady walk in the Domain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was not time to "do" the Gardens -thoroughly, so they only walked rapidly up some -of the paths, paused for a moment to look at the -blue harbour beyond the low sea wall, and then -walked three times solemnly and backwards around -the wishing-tree near the entrance gates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you wish, Martha?" Poppet said, -as they walked up again towards the statue of -Captain Cook, where they were to meet Malcolm. -"I hope you wished about Bunty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Martha had been selfish enough to desire -fervently that Malcolm should never go on strike -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you never get your wish if you tell what -it is," she said evasively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you?" said Poppet anxiously. "Oh dear, -and I was nearly telling mine. You can't guess in -the slightest, Martha, can you? You have no idea, -have you, Martha?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not the slightest," said Martha of the warm -heart,—"not the least little bit, Miss Poppet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you always get your wish, Martha?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Years after, Poppet's faith in that wonderful -wishing-tree was unshaken.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="three-courses-one-shilling"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THREE COURSES, ONE SHILLING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yesterday's wounds which smarted and bled</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Are healed with the healing which night has shed."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Poppet had been for lunch with Esther or -Meg to the Fresh Food and Ice Company, -Quong Tart's, and such places on various occasions. -But the restaurant to which Malcolm and Martha -took her was quite a new experience. She did not -know the name of the street it was in, but it -was not very far from the Quay, and there was -a rather mixed, if interesting, assembly of diners. -Not that it was a particularly low-class place; it -had a very good name for the excellency of its -food and its moderate prices, and its patrons -comprised poor clerks who minded fashion less than -a good dinner,—tradesmen, sailors, and occasional -wharf labourers. Martha had asked Malcolm -whether, as she had Poppet with her, they had -better go to some place higher up town. Malcolm, -who dined there regularly, seemed to see no reason -why he should change his custom for a little slip -of a girl under ten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Poppet, it was all one with her where -she went, and while Martha and Malcolm were -studying the bill of fare, she fell to watching some -sailors at an adjoining table with the deepest -interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Miss Poppet," said Martha, "what will you -have? Me and Malcolm have fixed on sucking pig, -sweet potatoes and baked pumpkin, but I think -you'd better have something plainer; there's roast -mutton, or corned beef, or beefsteak pie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," said Poppet, "we have </span><em class="italics">those</em><span> things at -home. No, I'll have sucking pig too, please, Martha; -I like tasting new things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you ever!" remarked Martha, looking -troubled; "it might make you ill, Miss Poppet dear. -Have corned beef like a good little girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Poppet could be firm on occasion. She did -not dine at a restaurant every day, and when she -did she had no intention of confining herself to -ordinary things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sucking pig for two," said Malcolm to the waiter, -and paused for Poppet's order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For three," said Poppet, softly but firmly. -While he had gone to execute the order, she -occupied herself with considering what pudding she -would have. There were five or six down on the -list: plum duff, apple pie and custard, treacle -rolypoly, stewed pears, and macaroni and cheese. She -was wavering between macaroni and plum duff, -when the waiter returned with the three great -steaming plates of sucking pig and vegetables.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm and Martha were soon busily occupied, -both considering it would be sheer wilful waste, after -paying a shilling each, to leave an atom on their -plates; but Poppet found a very little satisfying, and -fell to watching the sailors again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard them give their orders—five of them, -each a different meat and different vegetables; -she wondered how the waiter could keep it all in -his head, and watched quite anxiously when he -returned with the tray to see if he made any -mistake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just behind the screen where they filled the -trays somebody stood handing plate after plate to -the one busy waiter. Presently, as the place filled -more and more she heard him say he must have -some one to help at once, a number of people were -waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A boy in a long white apron stepped out from -the screen, a tray with three corned beefs, two -sucking pigs, and a roast mutton in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Poppet, dear, do eat up your potato," said -Martha, pausing with a knifeload midway between -her plate and mouth. But Poppet's face was deadly -pale, and in her eyes was a look of strange wildness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's ill," said Martha; "I knew she oughtn't -to have it." She looked at Malcolm in a helpless -way for a second, and then pushed back her chair -to go round to the child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Poppet flung up her arms, and with a wild, -piercing shriek darted from her place and flew across -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a crash of crockery, one of those slow, -piece-after-piece crashes, when you wonder if there -can be anything left to be broken, angry words from -the waiter and manager, confusion and laughter on -the part of the diners, blankest amazement on the -faces of Martha and Malcolm, and in the midst a -small girl in a white frock and big hat clinging -frantically to "a tallish little boy with brown eyes -and dark, rough hair,"—a shabby, white-faced boy -in a waiter's apron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh-h-h-h!" she sobbed, "oh-h-h! oh-h-h-h! </span><em class="italics">Bunty!</em><span>" She -laughed and sobbed and laughed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This extraordinary scene went on for two or -three minutes; then the manager recovered his wits -and began to storm, and Martha, still wearing an -expression of stupefaction, made her way to the -group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Malcolm, after an expressive shoulder shrug, -returned to his sucking pig, which he was enjoying -immensely.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 72%" id="figure-283"> -<span id="poppet-flung-up-her-arms-and-with-a-wild-piercing-shriek-flew-across-the-room"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""POPPET FLUNG UP HER ARMS, AND WITH A WILD, PIERCING SHRIEK FLEW ACROSS THE ROOM."" src="images/img-141.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"POPPET FLUNG UP HER ARMS, AND WITH A WILD, PIERCING SHRIEK FLEW ACROSS THE ROOM."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing them kids </span><em class="italics">could</em><span> do as 'ud -surprise me," he said, as he took a fresh supply of -mustard and settled down again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had known the family for seven years, so the -remark was not unjustifiable. Martha had withdrawn -to a back room with the manager. She explained -that his young waiter was the son of a gentleman; -she gave him Captain Woolcot's address that he -might be reimbursed for the breakages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But 'owever he got 'ere, so help me, I can't -imagine," she said. "Why, he's in America." She -put out her hand to touch the lad and feel if he were -real flesh and blood, the evidence of her senses -could not be accredited. "It's really you, is it?" -she said slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bunty did not answer; he seemed half stupefied, -and was standing perfectly still, while Poppet -sobbed and asked questions and clung to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a tall, gaunt boy he had grown. His face -was thin and sharp, there was a look of silent suffering -in his eyes and round his lips, his clothes hung -loosely on him, and were threadbare to the last -degree.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get your hat and come with us, Master John," -she said, a touch of her old sharpness in her manner -to him. "Don't take on so, Miss Poppet. -Hush! every one is looking at you; be quiet now, an -we'll go to the Gardens, or somewhere where we -can talk, and then we'll go home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't go home," Bunty said faintly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He wondered if those five terrible months behind -him were a dream; or if little trembling Poppet, -who was holding him so tightly, was a vision his -disordered imagination had called up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I can't go home, of course," he said, and -pushed his thick hair back in a tired kind of way. -"Hush, Poppet; go home with Martha like a good -girl, and, on no account, say you've seen me. -Promise me——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He did not wait for an answer, however, but made -fresh confusion by fainting dead away on the floor -at Martha's feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The manager of the restaurant felt himself a very -ill-used man that such things should happen at his -busiest time; but he was not inhuman, and the -boy's deathly face and the little girl's exceeding -distress touched him. Besides, Malcolm was his -most regular customer; it would be unwise to offend -him. So he helped to lift the boy into an inner -room, gave Martha brandy and water, and -recommended burnt feathers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll go and send a tellygrum for the Captain," -Malcolm said, picking up his hat. He too felt -ill-used, for there were some choice morsels still on his -plate, and there was no knowing when he would get -his pudding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Poppet caught his coat sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not father, on </span><em class="italics">any</em><span> account," she said. "Esther, -or Meg, or even Pip—but oh, not father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you'd better not fetch the Captain," Martha -said. "Oh no, he wouldn't do at all. Better -telegraph for Miss Meg—she's got a head on her. -The missus is ill with a headache, so it's no good -fetching her—yes, send for Miss Meg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was between half-past one and two when all -this happened; at five Bunty was half-sitting, -half-lying on the old, springless sofa in the nursery. -Poppet had squeezed herself on the half-inch of -space he had left, and was gazing at him, a look -of great content and unspeakable love on her little -face; and Meg on the low rocking-chair beside them -was holding a hand of each.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The others had been turned out. Bunty lay with -his face to the wall and his lips shut in a dogged -kind of way when they had all crowded round -asking questions; and at last Meg, seeing he was -totally unfit for any excitement or distress, -persuaded them to leave him to Poppet and herself till -he was stronger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when the room was quiet, and Meg rocking -softly to and fro, and Poppet occasionally rubbing -her smooth little cheek against his old coat, he told -them everything of his own accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not been to America at all, he had never -even heard of a boat called the </span><em class="italics">Isabella</em><span>; it must -have been some other boy the police had heard of, -and a chance resemblance that made them connect -the two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had been in or near Sydney all the time, -living he hardly knew how. The first month he -had done odd jobs, fetched and carried for a grocer -in Botany. Then he had managed to get a place -on a rough farm in the Lane Cove district, where -he was paid four shillings a week and given board -and lodging—of a kind. But there had been a long -spell of rainy weather and rough westerly winds, -and he had been in wet things sometimes from -morning to night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it gave me fever—rheumatic—pretty badly," -he said; "so they shipped me down to the hospital -here in Sydney."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet buried her nose in the sofa cushion, and -Meg gave an exclamation of horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you didn't tell the people who you were, -and send for us?" she said, wondering if this could -be the same boy who, when he was small, required -the sympathies of the house if he scratched his -knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I?" was Bunty's low reply, "when -you didn't know about </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg held his hand closer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't the people at the hospital ask who you -were?" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told them I hadn't any home, and my name -was John Thomson," he answered. "Of course they -thought I was nothing but a farm boy. Well, I -was there a long time—about two months, I think; -it seemed like years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's face was pale, and her eyes full of hot tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pictured the poor lad lying in that hospital -bed week after week, strange faces all around him, -strange hands ministering to him,—weak, racked -with pain, and yet with almost incredible strength -of mind persevering in his determination not to let -his family know anything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you </span><em class="italics">help</em><span> sending for us?" she said, -in a low tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He moved his head a little restlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you were all sick of me, and ashamed -of me. I know I'm not like the rest of you, and I -kept saying I'd get well and work hard and do -something to make you respect me before I came -back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Respect him! In Poppet's eyes Nelson was less -of a hero, Gordon had infinitely less claim to glory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Two or three times I nearly told the nurse," he -continued, half-shamefacedly; "the pain was pretty -bad, I couldn't go to sleep for it, and I thought -I'd like Poppet to come,"—he gave her hand a rough -squeeze,—"but then I used to stuff the blanket in -my mouth and bite it, and it kept me from telling -her. I used to have to shut my eyes so I shouldn't -see her coming to my end of the ward; I used to -get so frightened I'd say it without meaning to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then," said Meg—the narration was almost -too painful—"what did you do then—when you -got better?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest of the story he hurried over; it made -him shudder a little to think of it all, now he was -lying in this dear old room with two faces full of -love close to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had not been strong enough for any regular -work after he came from the hospital. He had twelve -shillings of his wages left, and this kept him for a -fortnight, with the help of what he received for an -odd job or two. The last week had been the worst -of all. On Saturday he had elevenpence only left; -he lived on it that day, Sunday, and Monday, -sleeping in the Domain at night. On Tuesday -he had in the course of his wanderings come to -Malcolm's favourite restaurant, and lingered around -it, trying to feed his poor hungry body with the -appetising smells that issued from the door. At -last he could bear it no longer; he went in and -asked if they wanted a boy to wash up or wait, -offering to do so in return for food and a bed at -night. They had been very pushed for help, for -one of the waiters had fallen ill, and they told him -he could try it for a day or two. All Tuesday he -worked hard there, washing up, peeling potatoes, -running errands; the meals seemed more than ample -repayment to him in his half-starved state.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On Wednesday the absent waiter had sent word -to say he would be at his duties the following day. -Just as Bunty was lading his tray to carry it round -he dropped a couple of tumblers,—he had broken -two or three things the previous day,—and the -manager in annoyance told him he could stay the -rest of the day but need not come back to-morrow. -Sick at heart at the thought of the streets again, the -poor boy had picked up his tray and gone out into -the big room with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the next minute there came that wild, glad -shriek, and Poppet had flung herself upon him half -mad with joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as the tale ended Nellie burst into the room. -She went straight over to the sofa and fell down on -her knees beside it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, how can you ever forgive us, Bunty!" she -said, tears brimming over in her eyes. "Oh, Bunty, -I shall never forgive myself, never!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther had followed, her face' shining with -gladness. "Mr. Burnham is here," she said, -"and——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty never did it, 'twath Bully Hawkinth!" -burst out Peter, pushing Nellie aside, and actually -trying to kiss his injured brother in his excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty rose to his feet, pale, trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Esther?" he said. "Nellie—tell me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only it </span><em class="italics">was</em><span> young Hawkins after all who took -the money," said Esther, in tones that trembled with -gladness for the news, and grief for the poor boy's -unmerited sufferings. "He broke his collar bone at -football yesterday, and he thought at first he was -going to die; he confessed it to his mother, and made -her send word to school. Mr. Burnham has come -straight here with the news, and says he can never -forgive himself for all you have suffered over it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Bunty! how hateful we were not to believe -you," said Nellie, wiping her eyes; "we don't deserve -for you to speak to us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bunty put his poor rough head down on the -cushions again, and great hard sobs broke from him, -sobs that he was bitterly ashamed of, but that he -had absolutely no strength to restrain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one would ever know quite how wretched this -thing had made him. However warm the welcome -home had been, there would always have been that -cloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The relief was almost too much for him in his -weak state.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At night, when Meg was tucking Poppet up in bed, -the little girl sat up suddenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meg, that is the most wonderfullest tree in the -world," she said in a low, almost reverential tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg asked her to explain, and she told how she -and Martha had walked backwards three times, -around the "wishing-tree" in the Botanical Gardens.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg stooped down and kissed the dear little face; -how she envied Poppet to-day! she was the only one -who had had faith all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you wish?" she asked, though she -knew without telling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That Bunty might be found this vewy day, and -that they might find out about the money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I think I know a little girl who has said that -in her prayers every day for five months," whispered -Meg. "Which do you think answered, God or the -tree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little girl was quiet for a minute, then she -knelt up on her pillow and drooped her sweet, grave -face with its closed eyelids over her two small hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she cuddled down among the clothes again, -she drew Meg's bright head down to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thanking Him," she said.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="parnassus-and-puddings"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">PARNASSUS AND PUDDINGS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When for the first time Nature says plain 'No</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To some 'Yes' in you, and walks over you</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>In gorgeous sweeps of scorn."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Pip had not spoken to Meg for over three weeks. -There had been one fiery outbreak consequent -upon Miss Jones' dismissal of him. When he learnt -Meg had been to her he had accused his sister of -treachery, of trying to ruin his happiness; he had -been willing, he said, to put off the question of -marriage for a year or two, but no power on earth -would have made him promise to give Mabelle up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she had given him up! Put him aside as -if he had been a schoolboy, or a worn-out glove! -And with astonishing firmness. He had even seen -her already walking out with a man who sold saucepans -and kettles and fire-grates in the one business -street of the suburb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No wonder his cup of bitterness seemed running -over; no wonder he felt Meg had sinned beyond -forgiveness in thus interfering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His last examination had not, it was found, been -hopelessly bad, and he had been granted a "</span><em class="italics">post -mortem</em><span>." But even then he did not attempt to work. -He used certainly, to stay in his bedroom, where his -table stood with its wild confusion of books and -papers, but he would sit hour after hour staring -moodily in front of him, with never a glance at the -Todhunter or Berkeley that so urgently required -his attention. Or he would read poetry, lying full -length on his bed,—Keats, Shelley, and Byron, -tales of blighted passion and hopeless grief, till -his eyes would ache with the tears his young -manhood forbade to fall, tears of huge self-pity and -misery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely since the creation there had been no one -quite so wretched, so utterly bereft of all that made -life worth living! How grey and monotonous -stretched out the future before him! The probable -length of his life made him aghast. The sheer -uselessness of living, the hollow mockery of the sunshine -and laughter and birds' songs, and the intolerable -length of hours and days, seemed each day to strike -him with fresh force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a certain time his mood induced poetic -outpourings. He thought himself just as wretched,—even -more so, indeed; but the mere fact that his -feelings were able to relieve themselves in this way -showed the first keenness was passing.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-284"> -<span id="he-would-sit-hour-after-hour-staring-moodily-in-front-of-him"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE WOULD SIT HOUR AFTER HOUR STARING MOODILY IN FRONT OF HIM."" src="images/img-153.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE WOULD SIT HOUR AFTER HOUR STARING MOODILY IN FRONT OF HIM."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sheet after sheet of University paper was covered -with wild, impassioned addresses in the shape of -sonnets and odes, or, when the pen was too full -for studied forms, of eloquent blank verse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For instance, the following poem struck him as -exceptionally fine. He composed it at midnight, after -eating his heart out in misery all the day. It was -written in his blackest writing, as might be expected, -and upon a sheet of grey note paper,—the University -buff had suddenly offended his sense of fitness.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, what is life when all its joys are fled!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I am in love with Death's long dreamful ease.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Over my head I hear th' unwelcome tread</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Of future years; my aching eye still sees</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>New suns arise and set, and seasons wane.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I would take arms against this sea of pain,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I would embrace Earth's sea and sink to rest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>For ever lulled upon her soothing breast!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I would fling off this gift of Life, as you,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O bitter Love, flung me aside, your you!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>O Love, O Love, O bitter, beauteous Love,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Heartless and cold, but still my one fair dove!</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What is this life that some find strangely fair,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When but to think brings sorrow and despair?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>What is this life when love, your love, lies dead,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And mine, too much alive, slays me instead?</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I will give up, go down,—there is a sea,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A winding sheet, kept cool and green for me.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>I will give up, go down! Yet, Love, but smile,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>But stretch to me that hand so soft and white,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That seemed my own, that sad, sweet little while,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all grows day, for ever dead the night."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>He was not at all sure when he read it the eighth -or ninth time that the mantle of the "Sun-treader" -had not fallen upon him, that Helicon's drying fount -would not spring up afresh at his bidding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Other men in love, he knew, had made verses, -but they were of the mawkish, sentimental kind his -more fastidious taste rejected, the kind that -generally began something like—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, Star of Beauty, all the night</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Thou shinest in the sky;</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>For thee the dark doth grow quite bright—</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, hear my plaintive sigh!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>His, he felt, were strong with the strength born of -fathomless misery, and sweet with the bitter-sweet -of undying and spurned love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day he met Mabelle; she was walking to -church with her fat, honest old mother, who preferred -a man of saucepans with money far before one of -irreproachable shirt cuffs and empty pockets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled at him from her brown, beautifully -lashed eyes, a kind of for-goodness-sake-try-to-make- -the-best-of-it-and-don't-look-so-tragic smile, but he -interpreted it as a sign of softening. When he got -home he sent her the poem,—if anything in the wide -world could touch her beautiful, stony heart he -thought that would.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He entrusted it to the common post, and waited -with an undisciplined heart for the answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came on a Monday morning. Poppet took it -from the postman and carried it up to him, but she -was too busy with a scheme of Bunty's to notice -how white he turned, and how his hand trembled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was painfully short and to the point:—</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"What's the use of writing poetery to me when -all's up and done with? I showed it to Ma and Pa -and some one else, and they thort it very fine; but -said you oughtent to write it as some one else -writes poetery for me now. I think it's very nice -of course and I'll keep it this time but don't send -any more.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Your friend only and nothing more,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"Miss JONES (not Mabelle).</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"P.S.—I suppose I may as well tell you as I'm -engaged to be married to Mr. Wilkes."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That was Pip's death-blow, and, if a paradox -may be allowed, from that minute he began to -live again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought that his cherished poem had been -submitted to the critical gaze of a man who sold -frying pans and wrote "poetery" himself, stung -him to madness. He sat down and attacked his -hydrostatics with savage frenzy to prevent himself -doing anything desperate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He even played in a football match the next week, -a thing he had not done for a long time; and he -took food less under protest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Meg he could not forgive; his manner to her, -if compelled to speak, was cold and contemptuous; -when possible he totally ignored her presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl found such conduct very hard indeed -to bear from her favourite brother, especially as it -was only her keen anxiety for his welfare that had -made her act as she had done; she bore it in silence, -however, and without reproaching him. Some day, -she knew, he would thank her from his heart, and -for the present she must content herself to lie under -the ban of his displeasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To solace herself she took to making puddings, -learning the technicalities of meat cooking, and -concocting queer-smelling bottles of stuff she labelled -mushroom ketchup, tomato sauce, and Australian -chutnee in her neatest hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther smiled a little when first these operations -began. Meg had hitherto expressed the frankest -dislike for culinary engagements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie laughed openly.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Her 'prentice hand she tried on us,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then she cooked for Alan, oh!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>she said one day, shaking her head as she eyed -a surprisingly queer-looking conglomeration Meg -called amber pudding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Many thanks, but no, Meg dearest; I think I -will finish with honest bread and cheese!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Esther?" said Meg, pausing with uplifted -tablespoon, and taking no notice of Nell's sarcasm -beyond blushing finely. "You'll try a little, won't -you? I'm sure it's very nice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even Esther looked dubious; the frothed -icing on top had an elegant appearance certainly, -but underneath was a mass of strange colour and -consistency.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Meg," she said, "I am like the French -lady, you know,—I eat only my acquaintances. -Nellie, pass me the cheese."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this sort of thing did not damp Meg's spirits, -not at least for more than a day or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Perhaps the next three or four puddings would -be long-established favourites that no one could -take exception to, but after that there would appear -one or two of French title and unknown quantities. -Now and again indeed they turned out brilliant -successes, that every one praised and longed for -more of; but most often, it must be confessed, -they were failures, very trying to the tempers and -digestions of all who ventured on a helping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was well to be Alan," Nellie said, "with nine -innocent people submitting themselves daily to the -dangers of poisoning or lifelong indigestion, just that -in future he might escape and have his palate -continually pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can't practise on my own family," demanded -Meg, smiling however, "how am I to get experience? -All of you have excellent digestions, so it -will not do you any real harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she persevered with so much determination -that they only groaned inwardly when a "confection -à la Marguerite," as Nellie called it, took the place -of old favourites, such as plum puddings, apple pies, -roly-polys and Queens. Every one accepted their -portion in meekness, and really tried to say -encouraging things, especially if her face was hot and -anxious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was just beginning to find his place in the -family again. But he was a changed boy. No one -could doubt that those five hard months had had the -most beneficial effect on his character, although they -had made him so white and hollow-cheeked. He -was stronger morally, more self-reliant. The -rough usage he had received seemed to have quite -dissipated his cowardice, and with it the inclination -to falsehood. He was almost pitifully careful not to -make the slightest untrue statement about anything; -and now the barriers of reserve between himself and -Meg were broken down, she was able to help him -more, and put herself more in his place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet was as much as ever his faithful little -companion; there was absolutely nothing the child would -not have done for this dear, recovered brother. She -even consulted Meg as to the practicability of learning -Latin, just that she might look up his words for him -every evening in the dictionary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as three-syllabled words in her own language -made her pucker up her poor little brows, and as -English grammar still had power to draw weary, -dispirited tears, Meg advised a short postponement.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mushrooms"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MUSHROOMS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"In what will all this ostentation end?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A new house had been built lately not very far -from Misrule, a grand, showy-looking place, or -red brick, in the Elizabethan style, which the suburbs -of Sydney are just beginning to affect largely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The grounds were laid out by a landscape gardener, -and there were velvet lawns, carpet beds, and -terraces reaching down to the river, where at -Misrule there was only a wilderness of a garden with -broken palings, and a couple of sloping paddocks -where long rank grass and poppies flourished. -Then the carriage drive,—such a grand, smooth, red -sweep, serpentining up to the great porch. The -Misrule drive was hardly red at all; the gravel had -mostly vanished, the dead leaves were generally of -Vallambrosian thickness, and weeds raised cheerful -heads at intervals. The name of the people who -had built the new house was Browne,—Fitzroy-Browne, -with a hyphen and an e.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Fitzroy-Browne was a railway contractor, -and had builded himself an ample fortune out of -a Government that not yet had need to cheese-pare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were three or four Misses Fitzroy-Browne, -that fashionable boarding-schools, dressmakers, and -several seasons had done their best for. There was -a Mr. Fitzroy-Browne junior, who waxed his -moustache, wore clothes of chessboard device, and kept -racehorses. And there was Mamma Fitzroy-Browne, -who was fat and good-natured, and said "Bless yer -'art" with a cheeriness refreshing in these days of -ceremony, and then pulled herself up short and -looked unhappy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Mamma Browne! who sometimes thought -wistfully of the long-dead days when Papa had -been only an honest navvy, and her little girls and -boy too small to snub and suppress her, and order -her about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mamma Browne, who had liked her little old -"best" room, with its big round table, holding the -Bible, three gilt-edged books, and some wax grapes -under a glass shade, far better than her grand new -drawing-room, that was like a furniture show-place, -all mirrors and cabinets, and green and gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How many Mamma Brownes there are in -Australia! It is quite pitiful. Good dear creatures, -with their bones too set to adapt themselves to -the change the golden days have brought; poor -simple-minded things, who, having consistently -left "h" out of their language for forty or fifty -years, cannot remember it now till an embarrassed -cough or a blush and sneer from a Miss Hyphen -Browne makes their old hearts ache for shame of -themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dear housewives, who wasted not their husbands' -substance in the old days, and now bring down -vials of contempt from the daughters for anxious -watchfulness over reckless servants! Sociable old -bodies, to whom a cup of tea in the kitchen with -a gossiping friend had been happiness, but "At -Homes," thronged with stylish people whose speech -fairly bristled with h's and g's, bewildering misery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Comfortable women who have weaknesses for -violet, crimson, and bright brown, with large bonnets -heavily trimmed, and are sternly arrayed in fashionable -no colours, and for bonnets forced to wear a -bit of jet, a flyaway bow and strings, that they say -piteously feels as if they had no head covering -at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I should like to build a Home for them, these dear, -fat, snubbed orphans of society that is altogether -too fine for them—I said </span><em class="italics">fat</em><span>, because if you notice -it is always the fat ones who get into trouble: the -thin ones can shape themselves into place better,—to -build a Home full of small cosy rooms, with -centre tables, and chairs, not artistically arranged -but set straight against the walls, with vases -(pronounced vorses) in pairs everywhere, waxen fruit -and flowers under glass, and china animals that -never were on sea or land. There should always -be a tea-pot, warmly cosied, cups big enough to -hold more than one mouthful and not sufficiently -precious to make one uncomfortable, plates of cake, -cut, not in finikin finger strips, but in good hearty -wedges.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These to be in readiness for all the dear old -vulgar friends who had not got to fortune yet and -loved to "drop in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And if I had a uniform at all for my orphans -it should be of a good warm purple, with plenty of -fringe and plush and buttons; and the standard -weight of the bonnets should be thirteen ounces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this because of Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Captain Woolcot had told Esther she need not -call when the new people came to the district: he -said he "hated mushroom growths, especially when -they were so pretentiously gilt-edged,"—which was -rather a mixed metaphor, by the way but no one -could tell him so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For some time therefore all the young Woolcots -saw of the "mushrooms" was on Sundays, when a -pew that had belonged to two sweet old -maids—grey-clad always, sisters and lovers, never apart -even in their recent deaths—blossomed out into a -gay dressmaker's showroom, from which all the -congregation could during sermon time take useful -notes for the renovation of their wardrobes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie's hats were good signs of the times. The -boys chaffed and scorned her unmercifully, but -the poor child had such a weakness for having -things "in fashion" that for her very life, when the -Misses Fitzroy-Browne's trimmings were all severely -at the back of their hats, she could not leave hers -at the front. Or if their frills crept up into the -middle of their skirts and had an insertion heading, -how could she be strong-minded enough to let hers -remain on the hem with only a gathering thread at -the top?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Nellie! she had a great, secret hankering -for the flesh-pots of Egypt. The love of pretty -things amounted to a passion with her, and the -shabby carpets, scratched furniture, and ill-kept -grounds of Misrule were a source of real trouble -to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Privately, she took a great interest in the rich -Brownes, and envied them not a little. Their grand -house and beautiful grounds, their army of -trained servants, their splendid carriages and horses, -and their heaps of dresses and jewellery seemed to -the half-grown girl the most desirable things on -earth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if you had put it to the test whether she -would change Esther's beautiful, quiet grace of -manner for Mrs. Browne's nervous fussiness; her -soldierly, upright father for little, mean-looking -Mr. Browne; handsome, careless Pip, who looked -like a king in his flannels and old cricket cap, for -Mr. Theodore Fitzroy-Browne of the careful toilets -and bold eyes; or sweet, gracious Meg, who always -said the right thing at the right time, for one of -the over-dressed, gushing Miss Brownes, I -think—even with all the money thrown in—she would -have clung to Misrule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For their part, the Brownes took a great interest -in the Woolcot family, and felt themselves much -aggrieved that, with all their shabbiness, they had -been too "stuck-up" to call upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They would have liked Pip for their "At Homes" -and dances; and the young, grave-faced doctor, who -was always turning in at the Misrule gate; Meg, -who looked "such a lady"; and Nellie, whose -beautiful face would be so great an attraction -to—at any rate—the masculine portion of their -guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When, after some five or six months, no cards -from Captain, Mrs., and Miss Woolcot had been -deposited at the shrine of their wealth, they began -to make overtures themselves.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-285"> -<span id="meg-and-nellie-had-been-helping-to-decorate-the-church-one-afternoon"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""MEG AND NELLIE HAD BEEN HELPING TO DECORATE THE CHURCH ONE AFTERNOON."" src="images/img-167.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"MEG AND NELLIE HAD BEEN HELPING TO DECORATE THE CHURCH ONE AFTERNOON."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg and Nellie had been helping to decorate the -church one afternoon,—it was Easter-time,—when -two of the Misses Browne came in, followed by a -man in livery, bearing a great basket of exquisite -white roses, and kosmea. Mrs. Macintosh, the -clergyman's wife, introduced the girls to each other, -since they were so close, and they hammered their -fingers and exchanged civilities together for the -next hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne at the end of that time wanted to -know if they were not passionately fond of tennis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes—very," said Nellie. "We love it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you have a court?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a chip one the boys made; but it does -very well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Meg's answer. Nellie grew red, and -wondered why her sister could not have contented -herself with "Yes, of course!" seeing there was -small chance the Fitzroy-Brownes would ever be -asked inside the gates of Misrule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne was silent a minute, then she said,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have three beautiful grass courts. I wish, -Miss Woolcot, you would come up and have a game -with us sometimes—and your sister, of course; we -should be glad to see your brother as well, if he -would care to come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg tried not to look surprised, and did her best -to find "the right word for the right place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you very much," she said; "but our -afternoons are very much filled, I am afraid we -should not be able to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then come in the morning," urged Miss Browne. -"We always practise in the morning—it fills the -time, for, of course, there is nothing else for us -to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am always busy in the morning, and my -brother is at lectures," Meg said; "thank you all -the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, your sister," said Miss Browne. "Won't -you come, Miss Nellie? You can't be busy as well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell looked at Meg as much as to say, "Why -can't we?" but Meg was somewhat annoyed at the -persistency.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry, but Nellie still studies in the -morning," she said, just a little stiffly; "she is not -old enough to be emancipated yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I think it's very mean of you, you know," -was Miss Browne's answer; but she had not taken -offence, for Meg's tone had been pleasant. "Still, -if ever you can find time, we shall be delighted to -see you; we are always at home on Tuesdays and -Fridays, evenings as well as afternoons; or if you -just sent me a little note to say you were coming I -would stay in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Meg thanked her politely, if not warmly, -and managed not to commit herself to a promise. -She moved away, however, from the danger of it -as soon as she could, and helped Mrs. Macintosh -to decorate the chancel with kosmea and asparagus -grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Misses Browne kept the not unwilling -Nellie close to them, chattering to her, flattering her -adroitly, altogether treating her as if she were quite -grown up, instead of not yet sixteen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was much easier to get on with than Meg, -although she was a little shy. They found out from -her, by dint of much questioning, that the young -man with earnest eyes was Dr. Alan Courtney, and -that—"yes, he was engaged to Meg." They learnt -that Pip was in his second year, and went out a -great deal; also that he played tennis splendidly, -and had won the singles tournament at the University, -but that he liked football much better. That the -thin boy with brown, rough hair was John, and -the little bright-faced girl who wore big hats and -always sat next to him was Winifred. How Poppet -would have smiled to hear her baptismal name! -That Pete—Rupert and Essie were the "second -family," and that the tall, beautiful girl they at first -had thought was the eldest Miss Woolcot was the -step-mother. Meg intimated to Nellie it was -glove-putting-on time, and tried to draw her away, but -Mrs. Courtney came up at the moment and engaged -her attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">wish</em><span> you could have come to tennis," the -eldest Miss Browne said, "or to our evenings; we -have such awfully jolly ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie admitted, half hesitatingly, that she should -like to "very much indeed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a shame for a pretty girl like you to stay -at home," Miss Isabel said. "It isn't fair to the -poor men, my dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie blushed exquisitely, and both the Misses -Browne thought she was the sweetest-looking girl -they had ever seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not out yet, of course," she said shyly. "I -suppose I shall go to places when I'm as old as Meg."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they seemed to think that was a very -old-fashioned notion. When they were fifteen, and -even younger, they said, </span><em class="italics">they</em><span> had gone to parties -and no end of things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't suppose you could just run up to us -one day next week by yourself, and have a game -with us?" insinuated Miss Browne, who would fain -show the glories of Trafalgar House to this young -girl, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to hide her -well-worn gloves from their gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie was "afraid not," but the "not" was very -dubious; she was wondering if she could not manage -it in some way, and when Meg, released from -Mrs. Courtney, came down the church for her, the first -seeds of the intimacy had been sown.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-government-of-meg"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GOVERNMENT OF MEG.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>"Alas! how easily things go wrong."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A week later, cards, very thick, gilt-edged, and -perfumed, arrived at Misrule, requesting the -pleasure of the company of Mr. Philip and the Misses -Woolcot's company at an "At Home" at Trafalgar -House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip said it was "fair cheek." Meg raised her -eyebrows, but Nellie longed ardently to accept, and -almost wept when a formal answer pleading regret -and a prior engagement was sent in return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A fortnight passed, and more cards arrived.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>MR. AND MRS. FITZROY-BROWNE. -<br /></span><em class="italics">The Misses Woolcot,</em><span> -<br />FRIDAY EVENING. -<br /></span><em class="italics">Dancing. R.S.V.P.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meg left out the "prior engagement" this time -in her reply, and merely "regretted the Misses -Woolcot could not have the pleasure, etc."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the girls gushed over Nellie just as much -whenever they met her. She used to go occasionally -to the Parsonage to play mild tennis with -Mr. Macintosh's delicate son, who had been ordered the -exercise. The Misses Browne also went there at -times; they considered that to visit there on equal -terms was a hall mark of gentility, and persevered -therefore, even though they yawned afterwards all -through the drive home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They always drove wherever they were going, -they seemed to think foot exercise below them. It -was even said that when they went to return a call -of the Macarthys who lived two doors off, they went -in their great open carriage, with high-stepping -horses, coachman, and footman complete. So, also, -whenever they went to the little homely Parsonage -on the hill top, the imposing equipage took them -there, the footman stood in petrified state while they -alighted, and afterwards handed the two racquets -out with as much ceremony as if he was assisting -in some public function.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Innate good taste sometimes whispered to Nellie -that these things ought not to be so, but she -generally chose to be conveniently blind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How could she find fault with them when they -petted her and flattered her till her silly little head -was swimming? when they pressed gifts upon her,—a -gold bangle that one of them wore and she had -admired, a brooch with a tiny chrysophrase heart, -even a parasol composed of billowy chiffon. She -had the good sense certainly to refuse the presents, -though she looked at them with longing eyes, but -none the less she admired and envied girls who had -it in their power to make the offers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your people seem determined not to come to -our house," Miss Isabel said one day on the Parsonage -tennis ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They—they have so many engagements," said -Nellie, with hesitating mendacity and a blush of -distress. What would they say if they knew the -contempt the cards met with at Misrule?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne spoke of the great ballroom at -Trafalgar House, of illuminated grounds, of the -throngs of guests; to Nellie, who had not yet been -allowed more harmful dissipation than tea-parties, -picnics, and children's romps, it sounded -entrancing. "Yes, I should love to come," she said -wistfully, as they once again regretted she should -not give the world an opportunity to see her -beauty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child naturally was flattered that two grown-up -young ladies should take so much notice of her, -and tell her so frequently of her good looks; it -seemed strange, even to her, that with all their -money and friends they should trouble to make -much of a girl of her age who never wore anything -more expensive than muslin, crepon or serge, and -always trimmed her own hats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The reason was that the Misses Browne, though -they had really taken a genuine liking to the shy, -beautiful-faced child, had a great respect for the -name of Woolcot, the high esteem in which the -family was held, peccadilloes notwithstanding, and -envied greatly their unquestioned entry into the -society that, strive as they would, opened not its -doors for them. And they thought, if they could -once get on to a friendly footing at Misrule, other -people in the neighbourhood who had looked coldly -on them hitherto would immediately hold out hands -of friendship, and come to their doors with the magic -bits of pasteboard they so desired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The best means to this end they considered would -be to dazzle the eyes of the family with the luxury -and unstinted wealth at Trafalgar House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie was the only one they could get hold -of, so they fed her young vanity without stint, and -tried to lure her up to the great red mansion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I should love to come," she had said on -this occasion. They were standing on the Parsonage -court after a sett, Nell in a pink cambric blouse -and well-worn serge skirt, the Misses Browne in -elaborate costumes of Liberty silk with crossed tennis -racquets worked all round the skirts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, </span><em class="italics">come</em><span>," they said,—"don't wait for the -others; we want </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>,—why can't you come even if -they won't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Nell, who had not dreamed of -independent action, "how could I if Esther and Meg -don't?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Browne gave a little laughing sneer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a good little girl it is! Does it always -ask permission for everything, and do exactly as it's -told? Why, when we were your age we never -dreamt even of consulting our parents where we -went, and they never dreamt of interfering. Why, -it's a very old-fashioned notion to be in bondage -like that to your parents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell flushed half-shamefacedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She began to believe that she really gave in too -much to her elders, that she ought to have more -freedom, and be more independent, now she was -nearly "grown up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps I will come some day," she said a little -uncertainly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just show them a few times that you are not a -child, to be dictated to as they wish," advised Miss -Isabel; "after that it will be quite easy. Why, I'd -just like to hear ma or pa say we shouldn't go -here or mustn't go there, shouldn't you, Beatrice?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beatrice's laugh of utter scorn was sufficient -answer. "Why, it's just the other way," she said: -"we tell ma what to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some day" Nellie had said, but had not imagined -how soon the day would be offered to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>General Blaxland, the head of the forces in New -South Wales, had decided to send a certain -Lieutenant Holloway and Captain Birsted to India, with -a view to gaining information from the forces there -about several reforms he wished to introduce into -the colony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just at the last Lieutenant Holloway fell ill, and -the General had asked our Captain whether he could -manage to tear himself away from the bosom of -his family for the time required, or whether they -must send one of the younger lieutenants. The -Captain had asked for a day to think it over, -hastened home to Misrule, and told Esther if she -would go with him he would accept, for it would be -a delightful holiday for both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther was charmed with the idea. India had -always seemed a kind of beautiful enchanted country -to her, where Arabian Night kind of entertainments -went on from morning to night. She begged for -small Essie's company, but the Captain would not -hear of such a tie. So as they would only be -away four months Esther at length consented, and -delivered her baby into Meg's care with numberless -injunctions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was one week of wild confusion at Misrule. -The children had holidays from lessons; dressmaking -and millinery seemed going on all over the house; -trunks, cabin boxes, and portmanteaux stood gaping -open in Esther's room, and the Captain had a fit of -intense irritability all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Monday, the day the </span><em class="italics">Orotava</em><span> started, came at -last, and Meg awoke from the confused dream she -had been in all the week to find herself on the -Quay waving a wet handkerchief to a boat almost -out of sight, and only refraining from more tears by -a hastily got up argument between Peter and Essie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ze tissed me last," said Essie, trying to derive -tearful superiority from the fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The waved to me latht, tho there!" Peter said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ze never!" said Essie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The did!" cried Peter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg thought it time to put away her handkerchief -and interpose herself between the two "grass -orphans," or the quarrel would end in Essie slapping -Peter, and Peter growing red and pushing her -down on the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one was looking a little grave and upset. -It is impossible to see a great ship bearing our dear -ones move slowly away toward the wide, terrible -ocean without quickened heart-beatings, and serious -if not misty eyes, even if they are only going for a -very little time, and accidents are unheard-of things -with such splendid ships.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg proposed an adjournment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's go and have tea and cakes or ice-creams -at Quong Tart's" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who'll pay?" asked Bunty the practical.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg waited a moment; she half hoped Pip would -come with them, his own merry self again, and -offer to "go halves," but he made no movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I might take it out of the housekeeping money -just this once," she said. "Seven of us,—that would -be three-and-six; only, Peter, you mustn't ask for -ice-cream too if you have a custard roll or anything; -every one can only have one thing, or it makes it -too expensive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip moved away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you come, Pip?" she said half beseechingly, -and catching his coat sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he gave her a cold look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thanks," he said, and walked off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So only six of them went to drown their grief in -tea and ice-cream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There had been talk of asking Mrs. Hassal to -come down and look after Misrule and its inmates -for the four months; but then, what would have -become of Yarrahappini?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg begged her father to have no one. Surely, -she said, for that short time she was capable of -being head of the house. The cook was a married -woman, and would give an air of steadiness to the -place; Martha was thoroughly reliable; and Pat had -the virtue of doing as he was told. There would -be herself and Pip in authority, with Nellie as -aide-de-camp; Bunty was a changed character; and -as to Poppet, Peter, and Essie, any one with a little -tact could manage them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was decided at last, and Meg picked up the -reins of government with a pleasurable feeling of -responsibility and no misgivings whatever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip felt he had done his duty for the time when -he spoke a word in season to Peter and threatened -"hidings" innumerable if he waxed obstreperous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the aide-de-camp was tried and proved -wanting,—all the trouble that followed came through -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg, who desired everything to go on smoothly -and pleasantly, made a point of consulting Nellie -in many things, and treating her as an equal in age. -As it happened, it was the worst policy she could -adopt just then, for it strengthened the younger -girl's growing ideas of independence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little firmness—a mother's firmness—and the -enforcement of unquestioned authority at this -juncture would have saved her from many a -subsequent heartache. But alas! there was no mother, -and Meg's rule was certainly not despotic, though -it was firm in its way, and answered excellently -with the young ones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you going, Nell?" she said one -afternoon, going up into the bedroom, and finding -her young sister in the midst of as elaborate a toilet -as her simple clothes would allow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Up to Trafalgar House for tennis, that's all!" -Nell replied, in a tone whose studied nonchalance -was somewhat overdone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg fairly gasped. Was she going to have open -rebellion among her subjects as soon as this?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are going to do nothing of the kind, I -hope," she said, with considerable warmth in her -tone. "What are you thinking of? Of course you -can't accept hospitality from people we refuse to -visit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's all nonsense!" Nellie replied, fluffing -a strand of hair backward with the comb and -pinning it up into a roll. "I consider Esther and -you were very rude and unneighbourly not to call -on them, and it's no reason I should be impolite -as well!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you can't do such an impossible thing!" -Meg cried. "Don't be such a child, Nellie. Go -to the Parsonage, or the Courtneys, or anywhere -if you want a game; but, for goodness' sake, keep -away from that horrid place!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 73%" id="figure-286"> -<span id="nellie-i-forbid-you-to-go-meg-cried"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'NELLIE, I FORBID YOU TO GO!' MEG CRIED."" src="images/img-182.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'NELLIE, I FORBID YOU TO GO!' MEG CRIED."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie proceeded quietly with her dressing, the -resolute light in her eyes not a whit diminished. -She buttoned her blue tennis blouse, brushed some -specks of dust off her skirt, and put a piece of -clean belting in her silver waist-clasp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't believe you're in earnest," Meg began -again; "why, you </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> remember father expressly -said we were not to go!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He did not tell me; he only said Esther needn't -call,—that's not forbidding </span><em class="italics">me</em><span>!" Nell said calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put on her sailor hat, stuck the pins through -with great care, and made a few little deft dabs -at her fluffy side hair. Then she put on her very -best gloves and picked up her racquet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nellie, I </span><em class="italics">forbid</em><span> you to go!" Meg cried, finding -neither reasoning nor asking would answer. -"Remember, I have been left here in charge of you -all, and I absolutely </span><em class="italics">forbid</em><span> you to go near those -Brownes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pooh!" said Nellie, "I'm nearly as old as you—I'm -too big to be forbidden. Give your orders to -Peter and Poppet—I'm </span><em class="italics">going</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she went.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="more-mutiny"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MORE MUTINY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Gently scan your brother man.</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Still gentlier sister woman,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>An' if they gang a trifle wrang</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>To step aside is human."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That was the first battle; another followed -quickly on its heels; and then there came a -long and sorrowful peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg had been exceedingly angry about it—and -with justice. She marvelled, not only at Nellie's -rebellion, but that she should care to mix with -such "impossible" people, as she called them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't as if they were merely homely and -uneducated," she said; "but their vulgarity and -pretentiousness are enough to make any one sick!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, as Nellie was very quiet—docile even—after -the one outbreak, and as it was not possible -to keep up an unfriendly spirit for ever, she thought -she had better overlook it as a first and last offence; -more especially as she remembered her own mad -infatuation for Aldith MacCarthy, when she had -been even older than Nell was now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she warned her with much resolution in her tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You only leave me one course, Nellie," she -said. "I have been left in charge, and if you won't -obey orders—I'm sure I try to give as few as -possible—I shall be compelled to write to -Mr. Hassal and ask him either to send you to school -till father comes back or else to let some one come -here whose authority you will respect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she softened, and put her arms round her -sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make it so hard for me, Nell," she said, -almost with tears in her eyes; "there's nothing -in moderation I'd try to stop you, but you really -must see I can't let you grow intimate with these -people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie had not responded with her usual -sisterly hug and kiss. She wriggled away from the -encircling arms and gave a little impatient toss of -her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a fuss you make about things, Meg!" she -said pettishly. "I do wish you'd leave me alone! -I'm not a child, and I'm not going to be ordered -about like one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the next war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cards for a dinner-party arrived from the -"unsnubbable" Brownes—Bunty's adjective.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put them in the fire," Pip said. "No answer -is the best for such people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If there had been some pretty faces among the -feminine portion of the Browne household Pip -would not have been so scornful of the overtures, -but the girls were each and all undeniably plain. -For the days that intervened between the arrival -of the cards and the date of the dinner-party Meg -was exceedingly busy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had a dressmaker in the house making winter -frocks for Poppet and Essie; that took up much -of her time. Besides this, two great cases of quinces -and apples had been sent to them from Yarrahappini, -and, with Martha's help, she was converting -them into jam and jelly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty also had been unwell, and from school a -day or two, and Peter had one of his perverse fits -upon him. She had not had time to give the -Fitzroy-Brownes as much as a passing thought; and as -the new daily governess made no complaint about -Nellie's morning studies she concluded all was -going on well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Judge therefore her immeasurable amaze when, -going up to the bedroom on the date of the -dinner-party, and just after nursery tea was over, -she discovered Nellie again in the act of making -a "toilette." She had the white crepon dress on; -it nearly touched the ground in front, and trailed a -little behind. There was soft lace in the neck and -sleeves of it, and on her bosom a cluster of the -exquisite pink roses that climbed all over the tool-shed. -She had white suede gloves and black pretty shoes, -both new, as the gap in her small allowance -testified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Excitement had lent a brilliant colour to her -cheeks; her eyes, with their thick, curled lashes, -were like stars. For one second Meg paused, -struck with the wondrous, exceeding beauty of her -young sister; the next she realised what she was -dressed for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you going?" she said, merely as a -matter of form—of course she knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to the Fitzroy-Brownes at Trafalgar -House for a small dinner-party,—seven to ten, -carriages at half-past," Nellie said, with elaborate -attention to detail. "Is there anything else you -would like to know?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg went a little white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't move from this house, Nellie!" she -said, and her lips set themselves firmly. "You can -take off that dress as soon as you like!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie twisted a long lace scarf round her beautiful -shining head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's no use making a bother," she said; "I've -made up my mind to go, and I'm going!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I refused the invitation," Meg said, catching at -a straw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I accepted," was Nellie's answer. "I met -Isabel yesterday and promised."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For ten long minutes did Meg argue, reason, -coax, and appeal to Nellie's better judgment: the -fear of Isabel's sneers, together with the thought -of the cost of her shoes and gloves, were of more -avail. The girl was quietly obdurate; Meg found -she was not even listening to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They are sending a brougham down to pick -me up at the Bentleys," she said, when Meg was -almost exhausted; "I shall miss them if I wait any -longer." She moved to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a flame of righteous anger sprang up in -Meg's eyes. She hastened down the corridor to -Pip's room, and laid the case in a few words before -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Offended as he was with his sister, he could not -refuse to uphold her in a matter like this—especially -as he had such a vast contempt for the "mushrooms."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caught Nellie on the staircase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be such a little idiot!" he said. "Go -and take that frippery off at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go and mind your own business, Philip -Woolcot!" retorted Nellie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, of all little donkeys!" he said. "Do you -actually mean to say, Meg, she was going off on -her own hook, without you or me or any one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I certainly do think she's losing her senses!" -Meg said in exasperation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Philip surveyed her in silence for a minute—her -exquisite, childish, unformed beauty even appealed -to his coldly fraternal eyes. He smiled almost -benignly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be a good little chicken," he said; "wait three -or four years, and you shall revel in this sort of -thing till you find it's all vanity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Three or four years! Nellie's eyes flashed -defiance at them both.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm </span><em class="italics">going</em><span>," she said, in a low, very determined -voice. She brushed past Meg and went down five -stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "Are you, my lady?" quoth Pip. He jumped -the steps, caught her, and held her fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She struggled violently—anger and excitement -lent her unnatural strength—and she freed herself -at length, and fled in wild, mad haste down the -stairs and to the front door. Once in the brougham, -which was only a little way off, and she knew she -could bid defiance to all the Megs and Pips in the -world!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Pip's blood was up. He had no intention of -letting a little chit like Nellie get the upper hand -of him, even if there were no real object at stake. -As it was, the thought of his pretty, innocent little -sister in the company of the "off crowd" of men he -had seen young Fitzroy-Browne take home, and the -loud women with whom he felt instinctively the girls -consorted, made him shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going to stay at home quietly?" he -said, fire in his dark eyes as he caught her by the -arms just as she was pulling the door handle back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I'm not!" she said stormily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer he picked her right up in his arms as -if she had been Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where shall I put her, Meg? I'm going to lock -her up," he called breathlessly; she was not fragilely -light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was a little startled at such a summary -proceeding; then she decided rapidly it was the only -thing to be done at the juncture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here!" she cried, "in her own bedroom." She -flung open the door, and he strode down the passage -with his struggling burden in its dainty dress and -sweet, crushed roses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They left her the light. There was a shelf of books -to occupy her if so she liked, also her work-basket, -with a fleecy cloud she was crocheting; she would be -able to fill the time. But they locked the door very -carefully, and took the key downstairs with them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must have been exceedingly careless, Meg, -to let her get to know them," Pip said, with masculine -inclination to locate blame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg told of the introduction and subsequent -meetings—how it seemed impossible to get the -people to accept the frequent if delicately-conveyed -hints that their acquaintance was not desired. She -kept the tennis episode to herself, for she feared it -would only make him more harsh and overbearing -to Nellie, and do no good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they were separating some time later she -looked wistfully up at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Pip, aren't you ever going to forgive me?" -she said; "can't you see I only did it for your -good? Do let us kiss and be friends again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her very coldly and sternly; the old -bitter curve showed at his mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," he said, "I shall never forgive you while -I live, Meg." Then he turned and went out of the -room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg went upstairs, tired, dispirited. Tears -smarted in her eyes from her rebuff. Nellie, she -knew, was thinking hard thoughts of her; Alan had -not written to-day, for some reason or other; and all -the world seemed wrong. She went into her room -and sat down, with a sob and some splashing tears, -in the dark by the window.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 76%" id="figure-287"> -<span id="her-descent-from-her-own-bedroom-was-almost-easy"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HER DESCENT FROM HER OWN BEDROOM WAS ALMOST EASY."" src="images/img-192.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HER DESCENT FROM HER OWN BEDROOM WAS ALMOST EASY."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a great calm sky of pale, sweet stars; such -a hushed, faint breath in the tall gum trees; such -a low, soothing lapping of little river waves!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In an hour she was very strong again; her eyes -were dry and calm and brave; there was a great, -sweet peace in her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought she would read for a little time, and -grow still calmer. There was her Browning on the -writing table—he had strengthened her often since -she had begun to know him; and there were a couple -of books Alan had lent her: "At the Roots of the -Mountains," and something of Pierre Loti's. She -fingered them a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But first she would go and speak to Nellie, who -would be calmer too by now,—poor pretty Nellie, -with her childish defiance and longings for "other -things." She went down the passage, softly, by -Peter's room and Bunty's. The light was shining -beneath Nellie's door; the poor little prisoner was -not asleep, then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and inserted the key with a flush of -shame: how ignominious it must feel to be locked in!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Nell——" she began, and then stopped aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room was empty.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-dinner-party"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A DINNER PARTY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Oh, would I were dead now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Or up in my bed now,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>To cover my head now</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And have a good cry!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Trafalgar House, if you please. Time, -about eight o'clock. Dramatis personæ some -fifteen brilliantly-dressed ladies, and as many -gentlemen in regulation evening attire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A great long table, magnificently set, and ablaze -with tiny electric lamps cunningly hidden among -foliage and splendid flowers. At one end -Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne in rich black satin, a truly astonishing -cap, and twice as many glittering rings as she -had fingers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne, with a large fixed smile -that only her fork or spoon ever -disturbed—Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne, with one anxious eye on the -waiting servants, one half frightened on her son -and daughters, and only the large smile for the -guests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the head Mr. Fitzroy-Browne, a small, neat -man, with little eyes and a half-apologetic, -half-assertive manner, as if he were begging your -pardon for the great wealth that made you mere -nobodies, and at the same time hugging himself -mightily.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-288"> -<span id="away-down-near-one-end-sat-nellie"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""AWAY DOWN NEAR ONE END SAT NELLIE."" src="images/img-195.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"AWAY DOWN NEAR ONE END SAT NELLIE."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>At intervals down the sides the Misses Fitzroy-Browne, -in </span><em class="italics">decolleté</em><span> dresses of latest style.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sandwiched with them and other females with -large bare arms and rough, fashionally-coiffeured -hair, net-covered, men of various sorts and -conditions,—self-made men like their host, who came -to approve the show money could make; a few of -better position, who enjoyed the wines and good -dinner and despised the vulgarity of the givers; a -good-looking adventurer or two of higher society, -remittance men, who, having almost outrun the -constable, as a last resource came heiress-hunting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the middle of one side Mr. Adolphus Fitzroy-Browne, -with a large expanse of white shirt front, -a pink-edged tie, great diamond studs, and a red -silk sash tied at one side instead of a waistcoat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And away down near one end, a stout American -Hebrew, dinner intent, on one side, a young man -of the puppy order on the other, sat Nellie,—Nellie, -looking like a little lonely field flower sprung up -in a bed of gaudy dahlias,—Nellie, in a white, simple -dress of home make, high-necked, long-sleeved, with -the dying pink roses at her breast, and a silver -"wish" bangle that cost half-a-crown for her only -jewellery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor little Nell! Never perhaps in all her fifteen -years had she been so immeasurably miserable and -uncomfortable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the drawing-room the women had stared her -up and down in scorn, and rustled about in -voluminous silken and velvet skirts; the thought of her -own plain, high-necked dress made her cheeks burn. -The Misses Browne had been too busy with -entertaining to do more than give her a nod and a word -or two as they introduced several of the men to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Daughter of Captain John Woolcot," she overheard -one of them whisper once,—"poor, but of very -good family, related to a title; great friend of dear -Isabel's; pretty little thing, yes; quite a charity to -show her some life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie had blushed hotly, and shrunk back into -a corner. Oh, if only there had been a door near -and she could have slipped out and flown through -the night back to dear, despised Misrule. If only -the floor would open and mercifully swallow her out -of sight! If only there was a window near, through -which she could make her exit from Trafalgar House -for ever! But alas! the drawing-room was upstairs -here, and there were no convenient tanks and -thickly-wooded creepers such as had made her -descent from her own bedroom almost easy. There -was a little patch of green on her skirt, and a pin -held together a ripped flounce, but, certainly, no one -in that gay assemblage suspected her of leaving her -own home by any more unusual mode of exit than -the front door. It was even worse when a move -was made towards the dining-room, and she was -assigned to a youth in a chokingly high collar, a -youth who said ya-as and haw, and left out his r's -and g's because he had been told it was "as done in -London."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was in a hot state of nervous distress even -when no one was speaking to her; it was increased -tenfold when she found this man evidently expected -her to talk and be talked to all the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He asked her whose dancing she liked best, -Sylvia Grey's or Marion Hood's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"—I don't know either of them," she answered, -wondering distressfully if she ought to use her -silver knife and fork or an ordinary fork only for -the paté-de-something that the footman had just -given her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haw," said the youth, "at the -theatre,—don't-cher-know,—haw—haw, very good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie's cheeks burned. He looked at her with -impertinent admiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like to see a garl blush myself, don't-cher-know," -he drawled, "shows they're young. Lord! what -wouldn't the old ones give to do it—our friend Miss -Isabel, for instance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell's pink deepened to scarlet under the cool -audacity of his stare. This was the first experience -of the kind she had had in her life; all the men she -had hitherto met on equal terms had been gentlemen -unmistakably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she did not speak; her long eyelashes lay -almost tremblingly on her cheek, and she took a -mouthful or two of the paté; she had decided to use -the fork, and then crimsoned afresh to see most of -the others employing knife as well. The pastry broke -up into little flaky pieces; in vain her one implement -chased them round her plate, she could only get a -crumb to stay on the prongs each time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haw—what lovely long lashes you've got, -Miss—haw—Woolcot, wasn't it? I suppose that's why -you keep persistin' in lookin' down, isn't it now?" -said the voice at her elbow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up in desperation, her cheeks aflame -again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haw, that's better," he said; "now I can see -your eyes. I couldn't when you kept them so cruelly -hidden, don't cher see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Hebrew neighbour claimed her attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grand finisht dot vash at Randwick, Sat'day," -he said. The servants were bringing him fresh -supplies, so he could spare time for a minute to -speak to the pretty little girl beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," assented Nellie in a hurry. She had not -caught what he said, but thought it would be easier -to assent than tell him so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And vich horse vos it you vos backing?" he -pursued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she had to explain she had not heard what -he said; and afterwards, that she had never been -to the races in her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Hebrew had no other conversation at command -just then, so he returned to his fresh plateful, -and left her to her other neighbours, who smiled -openly, but made no movement to help her when -a servant brought champagne, and she was perplexed -to know whether she ought to offer one of the many -glasses beside her or remain passive. She had never -thought it possible for a meal to last the interminably -long time this one did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The others seemed to be enjoying themselves -exceedingly. There was loud talking and laughing -on both sides, wine was flowing freely, and there -was an exhaustless supply of good things to eat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie wondered miserably if Meg had found her -out, as she dipped her finger tips into the Venetian -glass finger bowl. There was a tiny William Alan -Richardson rosebud floating there; Meg had had -a cluster stuck in her waistband when she had been -entreating her to give up this dinner. Dear, dear -Meg! and to think she had vexed and worried and -grieved her like this, just for the sake of these -horrible people and their thrice horrible dinner-party!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes ached with tears, there was a lump in -her throat, a tightness at her heart; the young man -at her elbow was talking, but she neither heard his -words nor turned her head. Then he laughed out, -and the Hebrew gentleman touched her arm. All -the ladies had risen and were on their way to the -door; she only was sitting still, her gloves yet off, -her young, unhappy face downcast. A wave of -colour rushed into her cheeks, and as she jumped up -hurriedly, every one was looking at her, half amusedly, -half admiringly. Isabel at the door waited for her, -a little vexed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What </span><em class="italics">were</em><span> you dreaming of?" she said. "Why, -you haven't even got your gloves on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Miss Isabel," Nellie said, entreaty almost -tearful in her voice, "do let me go home now. -Indeed I must,—oh do, do, do!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But "What nonsense, child!" Isabel answered, -and bore her along with the others into the brilliantly -lighted drawing-room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here it was not quite so bad. Nell saw a chair -half hidden behind a window-curtain, and felt she -had indeed come into a haven of peace when she -gained it. No one disturbed her for a time; some -of the girls yawned openly, and kept their speech for -the arrival of the gentlemen; one or two frankly -closed their eyes to show the small appreciation they -had for their own sex; the others discussed the -men, their moustaches, money, eyes, figures, in a -way that made the one violet in the room want to -shrivel up or turn rosy for the shame of her -girlhood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all ignored Mamma Browne, who had a -spacious velvet sofa all to herself; she would have -liked to knit or do something with her fingers, but -the girls had told her it wasn't "good form," so she -only twisted them in and out of each other, and -wondered if the people would go at eleven or twelve, -and whether they had noticed that only three servants -waited instead of the five they always had for -the parties.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she noticed the little lonely figure in white -by the great window. There was a droop about the -little sweet mouth and a misty look in the sweet eyes -that quite touched her kind old heart. She got up -and waddled slowly across the floor. "Come and -sit on the sofy with me, dearie," she said; and all -Nellie's heart went out to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sofa was in a deep window at the end of the -room, quite away from the loud-voiced, finely-dressed -girls who so overpowered her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, do let me stay with you all the time, please!" -she said, as she nestled down close to the motherly, -capacious-looking old lady. "Oh, it is much nicer -here—may I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course," said Mrs. Browne; "why, I'll -be glad to 'ave you; you ain't been enjoyin' yourself, -I'm thinkin'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Nellie, who was a polite little soul, -even in distress, "oh, it has been very nice, I'm sure, -only I don't go to dinner parties yet, and so I am a -little shy, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I ain't enjoyed it," said Mrs. Browne, with -a sigh; "they worrit my life out, these parties, and -unsettle the servints, and make all the house rumpled -up, and then no one says thank you or likes you a -bit better for it all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She felt she might ease her poor old heart a little -to this young girl, whose dress was not fine enough -to make her haughty, and whose face was sweetly -sympathetic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm sure every one has enjoyed it very much, -and thinks it is very kind of you to give such a nice -party," Nellie said, touched by the tired quaver in -the speaker's voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me!" the old lady replied, with a touch of bitterness. -"I'm only their mother, I don't give it, bless -your soul!—all the good mothers is nowadays, is to -mind the servints and take blame when things go -wrong. Me! All I 'ave to do is to order dinner and -stay up till every one's gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rocked herself to and fro unhappily; her state -of bondage was beginning to tell upon her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha' you got a mother?" she asked, turning -sharply on her young guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nellie's reply was very low and sad: "She -died nine years ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poor child was in the mood to-night to -long inexpressibly for the soft arms and breast -of a mother. There was silence for a few -minutes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" said Mrs. Browne, and her voice also was -very low, and a little unsteady with tears, "she was -fortunit, mothers had oughter die when their childers -is little and loves them. When childers is growed -up mothers is only in the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie stretched out her young hand and stroked -the poor old fat one that was tremblingly smoothing -imaginary creases out of the sofa seat. "Why, I -would give all the world if my mother were alive," -she said, with eager hurrying lips, "and Meg and Pip -would,—all of us, dear Mrs. Browne. I think it is -just when we are grown up we love mothers best, -and want them most."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not me," was the slow, sad answer, accompanied -by a furtively wiped tear. "Not mothers as ain't been -learned grammar proper when they was young. -Them's the kind of mothers as had oughter die -afore their boys and girls are growed up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the gentlemen came in, and there was a -louder buzz of talk, a new settlement of chairs, and -presently some excessively noisy music.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm just goin' to get something for my 'ed, it -aches so bad," Mrs. Browne whispered to Nellie -after a time; "they won't notice if I slip out when -Miss 'Udson goes to the pianee."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie lifted eager eyes. "Let me come with -you,—oh, please!" she said impulsively, and the next -minute the two were stealing out of the nearest -door together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the dimly-lighted bedroom the old lady gave -way altogether, and sobbed for a long time in a -heartbroken way, much to Nellie's distress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I wish I was dead, I do—I wish I was -dead!" she said, with a little rocking movement to ease -the sorrow of her poor old heart. She mopped at her -eyes occasionally with her lace-trimmed handkerchief; -in olden days she would have put her apron -over her head and shed her tears behind its screen; -but even that solace was denied her now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell found eau-de-Cologne on the dressing-table, -and insisted on bathing her head with it, and then -fanning slowly with a palm leaf till the poor thing's -agitation calmed and the burning head was a little -cooler.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I've let things worrit me too much -to-day," was her faltering excuse when, half an hour -later, she awoke to the fact that Nellie was still -fanning her; "but no one knows what my poor 'ed -'as been lately. Marthy the parlour-maid was sick -last night, poor thing, and I sat with her till near -two; and James the other footman begged me to let -'im go off—they said 'is little girl was bad with -scarlet-fever. I 'ad to let 'im, of course, and you -could see 'ow vexed Pa was when we was -short-'anded at table. It worrited me awful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a rustle of silken skirts along the -corridor, and a patter of high-heeled shoes. Isabel -had suddenly missed her young guest, whose eyes -she had so wanted to dazzle; it struck her with -infinite vexation that it was more than probable -she was with her mother, despising her hugely for -her ungrammatical language and many banalities.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, really!" she said, sweeping into the -bedroom, and looking vexedly at the two on the sofa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Browne struggled instantly to her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm just comin', my dear,—comin' this minute," -she said, in a voice whose nervousness struck Nellie -as strangely pathetic. "I thought the folk wouldn't -be missin' me just for a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I never expect </span><em class="italics">you</em><span> to do things like other -hostesses," her daughter answered rudely. Then -she turned to Nellie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you want to run away like -this for; I shall begin to think you're not enjoying -yourself. Come, we're going into the ballroom to -have a dance or two: can you do the cotillon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She swept her away to the lights and music again, -to fresh vexation of spirit that self-forgetfulness for -a time had made less keen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the midst of a waltz with her odious dinner -companion Nell caught sight of her so-called hostess, -who had followed her daughter back to the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sitting, poor fat old creature, on a stiff -chair near the wall, blinking patiently at the dancers, -the large set smile on her face again, and a headache -pucker on her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Nellie the one bright spot in that dreadful -evening was the thought of her touching, surprised -gratitude at the trifling service she had done her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I just wish you was my little girl!" was her -wistful speech at parting, when twelve o'clock put -an end to the revels,—"oh, 'ow I wish you was -my little girl!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="how-good-you-ought-to-be"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"HOW GOOD YOU OUGHT TO BE!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Greater than anger</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Is love, and subdueth."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The silence of midnight hung over all the -house—there was darkness in all the rooms -save one. Outside, the rain was falling, but -without noise; sometimes the wind blew it against the -window-panes in little gusts like the light spray of -waves, but for the most part it fell in straight, -silent sheets upon the soaking garden and paddocks. -Now and again the same fitful wind stirred a -Japanese sun-blind at the end of the side verandah. -It had a broken pulley, and was hauled up slant-wise; -when the wind stirred, it moaned and creaked -like a live creature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was sitting on the drawing-room hearthrug, -her head in her hands, her fair hair rumpled back -from her forehead, her eyes, intensely thoughtful, -fixed on the ashes in the grate. Early in the -evening a fire had been lighted; for, although it was -only May, it had been a chilly day. The fire had gone -out, however, and Meg had not noticed this, though -she had been staring hard at it most of the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only one gas-jet was alight, and it was turned low—the -room had almost an eerie look in the faint light. -A great vase of pampas grass and bulrushes loomed -tall and ghostly from the corner near the piano; and -a wet, dull moon—when the drifting clouds -permitted—looked in at a little side window where the -blind was not drawn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every one in the house was asleep but Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was sitting up for Nellie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip had gone out before she had found the bird -was flown from the cage in which he had locked -her. There was a smoking concert at one of the -Colleges, and he had left word that he should not -be back that night at all—the last boat left so -ridiculously early that one of the men had offered -him a bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Meg kept her lonely watch with cold feet and -low spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was wondering if it was not very selfish of -her to think of being married. Alan had given her -a year, under protest,—at the end of that time he -would assuredly claim her. No one was less -conceited than our sweet, pale Margaret, but she could -not help seeing that things would be much worse -at Misrule when her place knew her no more. -There was little, eager Poppet with her excitable -nature and wonderful capacity for feeling -everything,—who would listen patiently to all her funny -little plans and thoughts, or take an interest in her -keen childish troubles and joys? Poor, reclaimed -Bunty, whose sullen reserve and brooding fits of -depression she was just beginning to understand -and sympathise with—if the old days of "John" -and carping blame began again, his character would -be ruined.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Pip, who had just left his glad boyhood paths -and was stepping so carelessly into the strange, -sorrowful ones of manhood, where there were -precipices and pitfalls at every turn,—how she -longed to be at his elbow again, giving him the -right kind of help! He had spurned her away just -now, she knew; but soon, she felt certain, she could -slip back to him as if nothing had happened, and -keep him from worse things, perhaps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But not if she made fresh ties for herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She told some of her fears, half falteringly, to -Alan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you must give me longer," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he only laughed at her. Men never -understand these things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't think you were conceited, Meg," he -said; "why, Nellie will make a model eldest sister, -by-and-by, of course. And I have far more need -of you than these children have. And I'm not -going to take you to New Zealand or the Islands; -we shall live somewhere in Sydney, and you will -still be able to keep your eye on Bunty's -collar,—that's the greatest grievance, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was trying to imagine beautiful, spoilt Nell -as a model eldest sister this evening as she sat on -the hearthrug. Why, not one of the young ones -would have acted so wrongfully, so utterly foolishly -as she had done about these Brownes; the girl had -no "balance" naturally, and her great beauty already -seemed likely to prove as much of a snare as -beauty is popularly supposed to be. She was not -even decently educated; the daily governess they -had had so long had been a person of weak will, -and Nellie in especial had learned or refused to learn -much as she pleased. True, she could play and -sing fairly well, and write a ladylike hand; but her -French was hopeless, her slate pencil had not -travelled beyond discount and the rule of three, and -her acquaintance with the great lights of English -literature was so restricted that, though she knew -Shakespeare wrote "Romeo and Juliet," and -"Paradise Lost" was composed by one John Milton, -nearly all the other names she met conveyed nothing -more to her mind than that they were "men at the -end of the history book."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's lips grew severe as the night wore on. -In truth she did not know what to do in this -crisis, she felt so young and powerless. If Nellie -insisted on going to Trafalgar House every night -of her life, how could she prevent it? She told -herself her sister knew this, and was taking -advantage of their father's absence in an exceedingly -unworthy way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through the rain came the half-deadened sound -of wheels along the road. Meg stood up, cramped -and cold, sick at heart. How she did dread and -detest "scenes," and she knew there must be one!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The gate clicked, but no wheels came up the -drive. Meg pulled herself together and went out to -the front door with a little shiver. She knew exactly -how it would all be: Nell would be flushed and -beautiful and defiant; she would brush past her and -go upstairs in her pretty, white trailing gown, her -head very high. She would most probably say -"Mind your own business" or "Hold your tongue," -for both these phrases were in Miss Nellie's -vocabulary of anger. And then she would lock her -bedroom door and go to sleep, rebellious as ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her cold hand pulled back the heavy fastening of -the door when light footsteps fell on the verandah. -She stood there in silence. But oh! such a little -woebegone, dripping wet figure was there, with no -wrap on at all, and only a bit of soaking lace on -her head!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Meg!" she said, and sprang into her sister's -arms with a hysterical sob of relief. "Oh, Meg, -Meg, Meg! oh, my darling old Meg!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could Meg do?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Be angry when the wilful, beautiful creature was -sobbing so pitifully?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Shake her aside and speak coldly when she was -clinging to her with such a passion of love and relief? -She kissed the face, wet with rain and tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and get your wet things off, dear," she -said; "you should have driven up to the door, the -drive's so long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was afraid it would wake every one," was -Nellie's answer, broken in three places.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even when Meg had taken off, with her own -hands, the poor spoiled white dress, and wet white -gloves, and little muddy shoes; when she had made -up a crackling fire of wood in the bedroom open -fireplace, and brought her own cosy red dressing-gown -and a white shawl for array, Nellie still wept -heartbrokenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was overwrought with the excitement of her -escape, the evening, and her return. And now -Meg's tenderness and utter absence of reproach -broke her down altogether.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She put her head on the arm of the easy chair, -and all her body shook with sobs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg only stroked the wealth of beautiful hair she -had let down to dry; she felt it better not to speak -at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By-and-by she slipped out of the room and stole -down to the kitchen. When she returned, Nellie -was a little calmer, and even gave a wet look of -interest at the tray she carried. There was a little -old saucepan on it, a tin of </span><em class="italics">café-au-lait</em><span>, two cups, -sugar in a saucer, the end of a loaf of bread, and some -pineapple jam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't find the butter," she said, half -apologetically, as she set down her load on the bed edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I don't deserve it!" wept Nellie, meaning less -the butter than Meg's kindness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had to use the water out of the wash-stand -bottle, and in the absence of spoons had to stir their -cups with the bone ends of their toothbrushes, but -the meal gave them both new life and spirits. Meg -toasted the bread on the end of her knife and spread a -piece thickly with the toothsome jam. She proffered -it to Nell with burnt cheeks and a gay little laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">Meg</em><span>, you are the best girl on earth!" the -girl said, flinging her arms impetuously around her -sister's neck. "I'm not fit to black your boots! -there's nobody just like you, Meg, in all the world. -Oh, Meg darling, why can't you make me more like -you?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-289"> -<span id="look-said-meg"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'LOOK!' SAID MEG."" src="images/img-215.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'LOOK!' SAID MEG."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg only kissed her for answer, kissed her with -a sweet, moved look on her face. And then Nellie -told everything: how she had dropped from the -window on to the tanks and scrambled down from -there with the help of the creeper, how she had -been in time for the brougham they had sent, how -utterly miserable she had been all the evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She declared their own comparative poverty -seemed beautiful against the Brownes' wealth and -glaring vulgarity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg saw all the girl's sensitive nature had suffered, -and uttered not a word of rebuke; she even said they -would keep the affair to themselves, and not tell Pip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she dropped one little word in season before -she went to her own room to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dressing-gown suited the girl's exquisite -young beauty marvellously; all the time they had -talked Meg could not help admiring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they got up she drew her quietly to the -long glass of the dressing-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh the wonderful picture it showed! the rich, -warm colouring of the graceful gown, the young -sweet face with its dewy eyes and tremulous lips -and pink flush, and all the soft great waves of riotous -hair one golden splendour to her waist!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look!" said Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl looked at her image shyly, almost -shamedly, but with a certain little glad quickening -at her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">Nellie</em><span>! how good you ought to be!" whispered -the elder girl, and kissed her and slipped away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="headache-and-heartache"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HEADACHE AND HEARTACHE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Look where the healing waters run,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And strive and strain to be good again."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Poor little Nell,—it was almost pitiful to see -how good she tried to be after her escapade. -There was absolutely nothing she would not have -done for Meg. She begged to be allowed to help -in the housekeeping, offered to take the darning -of Bunty's socks and Peter's terrible stockings as -her own particular work, and sternly refrained from -looking in her glass when it was not necessary for -the straight set of her collar or respectable -appearance of her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She consulted Meg as to the best study she could -take up—she said she felt ashamed to be so -dreadfully ignorant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I haven't read anything better than Jessie -Fothergill and Rhoda Broughton this year," she -said, in a tone of stern surprise at herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg suggested the "Essays of Elia," "The Professor -at the Breakfast Table," "Sesame and Lilies," -Lives of various poets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can go then gradually to something deeper," -she said. "I'm afraid you might be discouraged if -you started on anything more solid just yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie's zeal was too tremendous for half -measures.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During the morning of the day after the dinner -party, Meg had occasion to go into the nursery for -something or other during Miss Monson's hours, and -with difficulty restrained a smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie always studied—or pretended to—at a -rickety-legged draught-table in the window. Her -working materials hitherto had consisted of a chased -silver pen that looked too elegant to write with, -an ornamental inkstand with violet and red ink, -a box of chocolates, a novel in brown paper covers, -"Le Chien," highly dilapidated, and "Samson -Agonistes," which she was supposed to be studying -in detail.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This morning all was changed. There was -black ink in the bottles, the silver pen was invisible, -and a plain penny red one occupied its place on the -stag's head. No trace of chocolates, no covered -fiction at all. Instead, a pile of books selected from -the study simply because they were the most solid -looking and driest on the shelves. The choice -had occupied Nellie for almost an hour; if any she -took down had spaced matter, light-looking -conversations, or broken-up paragraphs she instantly -replaced them. She had finally selected and carried -to the nursery, to Miss Monson's incredulous -surprise, the following six: "Sartor Resartus," "The -Wealth of Nations," "Marcus Aurelius," "Mazzini's -Essays," the "Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire," -and Johnson's "Rasselas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Meg came in she was struggling with -Carlyle, fingers at ears to keep him quite apart from -the object lesson on Ants which Miss Monson was -delivering to Poppet and Peter. In the afternoon -she practised for two consecutive hours, not waltzes -and scraps from the "Mikado" and "Gondoliers" -and "Paul Jones" as usual, but Plaidy's technical -studies and Czerny's Velocity Exercises and a fugue -from Bach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At night she took out a quantity of red wool -that she found in a box, and began to crochet a -petticoat for an old woman who lived in a tumble-down -bark hut near the river, and had the reputation -of being mother of two bushrangers who had been -shot, sister to a famous murderer, and daughter -of one of the early Botany Bay convicts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But of course such an abnormal state of goodness -could not be expected to continue uninterruptedly, -at any rate in its early days. In less than a -fortnight the silver pen made its reappearance, and -violet ink crept back into one of the bottles. The -crochet needle was slipped out of the sixth row of -the petticoat and made to work fleecy white wool -up into that pretty style of head wrap known as a -"fascinator."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I didn't do anything so very dreadful, after -all," she said to herself, with the blunted memory of -ten days. "Dear old Meg is always a little inclined -to make mountains out of molehills."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first there had been a little real fright mixed -with the thought of the dinner-party. Five days -after it was over, she was in at the chemist's spending -eighteenpence of her allowance on a sweet little -bottle of scent for Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And one of the grooms from Trafalgar House -came in with a prescription.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old lady's pretty bad," he said, in answer -to a question of the chemist that Nell had not -caught, "and two more of the maids are down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie lingered a few minutes, counted her change -several times, examined the nail and tooth-brushes -displayed in a glass case, and read an advertisement -setting forth the merits of somebody's pills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man said he would call back for the medicine -in half an hour, and departed. Then she went back -to the counter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne who is ill?" she asked, -remembering with a pang the poor old woman's -wistful "I just wish you was my little girl!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she's down with scarlet-fever—several of -the servants too," he said, and went to the gas to -melt some sealing-wax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl went home with a grave face. Apart -from regret at the old lady's illness, there was the -fear that she herself might have caught it. She -went straight to her room and examined her tongue -anxiously at the glass; then she held one wrist -gravely with a finger and thumb, and asked herself -if she felt feverish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the pulse was calm, the tongue healthily -red,—she laughed at herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never felt better in my life," she said aloud. -After some deliberation she decided she would -not tell Meg. "She'd only worry, and prepare -herself for my immediate funeral," she thought. "I -should be all over red spots by now if I had -got it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that is how it happened, when ten days had -gone and she still felt exuberantly well, that the -silver pen returned and the fascinator was -commenced. One could not wear sackcloth for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She even borrowed "Comin' thro' the Rye" and -"Joan" from a girl-friend; and "Rasselas" and -"Sartor Resartus" slipped down behind the table -and were forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she had intended all the time to consult Alan. -He had been away for almost a fortnight in Victoria, -or she would have asked him before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The afternoon he returned, and as soon as she -could get him away from Meg, she asked him if he -would come down into the garden with her, as she -wanted to ask him something very particularly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young doctor laughed, and put himself very -much at her service.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope it's not about the style of hats in -Melbourne," he said in mock alarm, as they went down -the path; "for I culpably forgot to notice. If it's -only sleeves, now, I can tell you—they're up to the -ears, and a yard and a half wide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about the state of my health," she said -sententiously,—"I wish to consult you </span><em class="italics">professionally</em><span>, -Dr. Courtney!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put on a sympathetic look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The heart, I suppose?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nell stopped short in the summer-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be stupid!" she said. "Look here, Alan, -have I, or have I not, got scarlet-fever?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He could not help laughing. It seemed so absurd -for a fine girl—the picture of health—to ask such -a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your skin is cool—your pulse normal—your -tongue fit for a health advertisement. If you have -got it you're managing to conceal it very well," he -said. "You might give me the recipe for my other -patients."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was talking to some one who had scarlet-fever -just after," Nell returned,—"that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no fun in Alan's face now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When?" he said sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nearly a fortnight ago!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've not got it, then," he said. "Did you -change your things after?—take every precaution? -How did it happen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She told him everything, blushing hotly at the -surprise in his face when he heard she had been to -Trafalgar House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked exceedingly serious over it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no knowing what may be the end of it," -he said, a frown of anxiety on his brow. "How -could you do such a thing, Nellie? You might -have known Meg's judgment would be good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you say I haven't got it," the girl answered, -resenting the elder-brotherly tone of reproof, "so -there's no need for any more fuss."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do I know you did not bring it home with -you and give it to one of the others?" he said -shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell looked aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I couldn't do that, could I?" she said, -with startled eyes. "I never dreamt any one but -I could have got it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You ought not to have been allowed with the -others," he said. "However, as things are, I -daresay no harm has been done. No one has been -complaining of headache or sore throat, have they?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie thought hard for a minute or two. She -reviewed each member of the family rapidly in -succession, and tried to remember if any one's appetite -had failed at any meal lately, that was always the -great test of health at Misrule.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," she said at last. Then she caught her breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Essie had a headache this morning," she faltered. -"Oh, but she fell down and bumped her head, so -that accounts, and she ate four jam tarts yesterday -when no one was in the room; that's the cause of -hers, Alan, isn't it?—oh, you can see it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll look at her," he said. "Does Meg know -anything about all this?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't like to worry her," Nellie answered, -and followed him up the path like a criminal found -out in blackest iniquity. She had never dreamed -she was endangering the others. Poppet met them -on the second path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Afternoon tea's ready, and Meg says aren't -you two ever coming in. No, I don't want any, -there's only gingerbread."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 74%" id="figure-290"> -<span id="peter-was-engaged-in-chasing-a-fat-duck"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""PETER WAS ENGAGED IN CHASING A FAT DUCK."" src="images/img-225.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"PETER WAS ENGAGED IN CHASING A FAT DUCK."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alan felt her pulse, and asked to see her tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something alarming in a little girl who -doesn't like gingerbread," he said; but there was a -professional look in his eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She never eats gingerbread," Nell exclaimed, -almost indignant with him for having fears when -the child looked so rosy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poppet's all right," he said in a low tone, as -they went on; and Nellie could have cried in her -relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Peter next," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They went down into the paddock, where Peter -was engaged in chasing a fat duck from end to end, -without a thought in his mind of being cruel to it. -He was hot, certainly, but that was the exertion of -running and shouting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is your throat sore?" Nellie burst out, before -they fairly reached him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thould think I can thout if I like," he said -in an injured tone, taking her anxious query for -sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alan caught him by the back of his sailor -coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mad, quite mad," he said—"only lunatics rush -about like this. Hold him while we find out the -symptoms, Nellie, and see whether we'll have to -extract his teeth, or put his legs in -plaster-of-Paris."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's all right too, I think," he said, when the -released boy sprang away again after the duck, that -was panting in a corner with one anxious eye on -its enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunty's </span><em class="italics">beautifully</em><span> well," Nell said eagerly, as -they went up to the house again. "You should -just see him eat, Alan. And Pip is splendid, so is -Meg, as you can see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg was standing on the front verandah, a -troubled look in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there you are!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here we are," said Nellie. She drooped her -eyes guiltily. "Is the tea cold?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Meg did not answer her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish you'd come and look at Essie, Alan," -she said. "She's been eating pastry, and it's -upset her, poor little thing. I don't like her looks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does her head ache?" Nellie asked with dry lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She says her head aches, her throat aches, -and her legs ache,—everything aches," was Meg's -answer. "Esther always gives her aconite if she's -out of sorts, Alan. I gave her five drops this -morning: was that right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite," he said; "I'll go up and look at her now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went up the stairs behind Meg, a very grave -look in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nellie followed with a face as colourless -as the great white roses she had stuck in her belt -so lightheartedly half an hour ago.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-little-one-daughter"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MY LITTLE ONE DAUGHTER.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>"Misery,—oh! Misery,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>This world is all too wide for thee!"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The very next day came a letter from India.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, this beautiful, beautiful country!" wrote -Esther. "Oh, the colouring, the life in everything I -I cannot tell you how </span><em class="italics">new</em><span>, painfully new, Australia -seems compared with it. Imagine a little perky, -pretty cottage beside a grand old castle, whose -walls bear the mark of centuries. India is the castle. -Or a nice, clean, healthy child in pinafores, very -fond of play, and more than a little inclined to -be spoilt, beside an old, old seer with a grand -head grown white with wisdom, and wide eyes dim -with staring at eternity. Australia is the nice clean -child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the age of the place that sobers me. I feel -I ought to go about on tiptoe and speak in a whisper -half the time. We are at Ajmere just now: from -the window here I can see a white temple on the -peak of wild mountains. It is called Taraghur, or -the abode of the stars, and the Mohammedans make -pilgrimages to it. Yesterday we rode (I wear a white -linen habit and a helmet, girls) to Pookur, twelve -miles away. It is a spot considered sacred by the -Hindoos; indeed, it is one of the most sacred places -in India. There is a lake lying in a basin among -the hills, with its banks studded with buildings, old -temples, and gardens, and in the centre a ruined -fane I am afraid to say how many hundreds and -hundreds of years old.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow we go to Musseerabad, where the -garrison is that your father has to take notes about; -then on to Oodeypore; after that I am not certain of -the programme, only—don't all exclaim at once, or -I shall hear even at this distance—we cannot possibly -be back in the time we said. Your father has written -for two months' extension, and really, though of -course I want to see you all, and ache sometimes -for a sight of my baby's little dear dirty face, I -shouldn't like to come without seeing more. Fancy -if we had to come back without visiting the Taj -Mahal! My only anxiety is that any one should be -ill; but then, again, I don't see why any one should -be so inconsiderate,—you've all managed to keep in -splendid health for years; just keep a clean bill till -I get back, and then you shall all take it in turns -if you like. Dear Meg, keep Essie's hands from -picking and stealing. I dreamt the other night she -ate a cocoanut and went in a fit. And Peter, my -precious son, don't climb the pine tree till mum -comes back—if you must break your dear little -collar bone at least give me the satisfaction of seeing -it done. Of course there is no earthly reason why -any of you should be ill, but I worry a little at times; -I suppose it is because of the difficulty in getting -letters. We never know where we are going next, -so they can't send on the mails from Bombay to us -till we write for them. I will send you, by the next -mail, an address to write to: we have not decided -yet whether we are going to Hyderabad, Madras, -or Calcutta. We are picking up presents for you -all,—the loveliest chessmen for Pip, a wonderful -cabinet of Bhoondee carving for Meg, moonstones -from Ceylon for Nell,—something for every one. -Such a box we shall have.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, my chickies all; take care of yourselves, -and have as good a time as you can. If you -should be just a little extravagant with the -housekeeping money, Meg, I won't scold you much; you -can let Bennett's bill run if you like, and have a -little garden party or jollification. Every one kiss -my little one daughter for me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>"Your loving old mother,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>"ESTHER."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was only the last part they heeded. What -were descriptions of old temples to them with that -little tossing head on the pillow?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Esther,—poor, poor Esther!" Meg said, -with the first sob in her throat since Alan had -pronounced it to be the fever—"oh, </span><em class="italics">if</em><span> she -knew!" But she was mercifully spared that knowledge. -They held a grave consultation together, Meg, Nell, -Pipi and the family doctor, while Alan stayed at the -bedside. It really seemed useless to send for the -travellers to come home. If it was only a slight -attack the child would be quite well again by the -time they returned; if—there was a catching of -breaths—if even the very worst should happen, -still they could not be home in time, and oh! what -agony of mind they would have during the long -voyage. It was even no use sending a cable until -they received Esther's next letter, for they had no -address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The doctor decided the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't send," he said; "please God we'll have -the little woman up and well in no time. I will -send in a trained nurse, she shall have every care -possible. Mrs. Woolcot could not do anything -further if she were here herself. Now about the -other little folks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been decided at once to send the others -away from fear of infection. Pip had even suggested -packing them off by the early morning train to -Yarrahappini.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the doctor shook his head. There was the -chance that they had the germs in their systems -even now; it was neither fair to send them into other -families, nor yet wise to allow them to go far from -home nursing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a furnished cottage about half a mile -up the road: he advised that Poppet, Peter, and -Bunty should be removed there until all danger of -infection was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This young lady might go to look after them," -he said, laying his hand on Nellie's shoulder. "They -will want some one, of course, and Miss Margaret -will be quite sufficient to help the lady I shall send in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie lifted great beseeching eyes, rimmed with -the shadows of a sleepless night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let me stay! oh, I must stay,—it would -kill me to have to go!" she said, with a great sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course you will have to go, Nellie," Pip said -hastily; "don't make extra trouble by being -tiresome,—surely you have done enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush!" said Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip knew now how the infection had been brought, -and could not find any excuse for his sister.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-291"> -<span id="oh-let-me-stay-oh-i-must-stay"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'OH, LET ME STAY! OH, I MUST STAY!'"" src="images/img-233.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'OH, LET ME STAY! OH, I MUST STAY!'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Meg saw the wince of pain that his words -caused the poor girl, and knew a little what an -agony of remorse she was suffering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She'll be out of the danger, too," Pip added, a -little ashamed of himself when he saw the beautiful, -miserable eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Out of the danger! And the girl was in such a -frenzy of repentance and grief, she would gladly have -laid down her life just to see Essie go flying down -the drive in a losing race with Flibbertigibbet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She caught the doctor's arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would watch night and day—I would do anything -in the world, anything—oh! </span><em class="italics">let</em><span> me stay," she -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little girl!" he answered, and patted her -bright head; he had learnt something of the heart -apart from its physiological formation during his long -practice. "Poor little girl! standing still is very -hard work, isn't it? But all soldiers can't fight at -the same time, you know.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Yours not to reason why,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Yours but to do or die.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That's not for sword-soldiers only, little girl."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor Nellie! no punishment on earth could have -been harder for her. To die—that would be quite -easy, pleasant even; but to remain passive—oh! it -needed greater courage than hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To go away, to leave the house, and not even -venture past the gates again for weeks, not to see -the little sweet sister upon whom her wilfulness alone -had brought this suffering, not even to have the -relief of spending her strength in nursing! To go -away, and eat and sleep and pass the time doing -ordinary things, and trying to keep Bunty, and -Poppet, and Peter comfortable and happy!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one would ever know quite what it cost the -girl, but it had to be done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mayn't I just see her for one minute, Meg?" -she said, her courage failing her at the last minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It almost made Meg cry to see the utter despair -and misery on her face, and to have to refuse her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alan shall tell you every day how she is. -Dear Nell, you know I dare not let you go into the -room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she went away to take up her post with the -nurse. And Nellie, with that unutterable ache at -her heart, had to go and collect the clothes they -would all need, the books, playthings,—everything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She and Poppet, with Bunty's help, were to do the -work of the cottage between them. At first, Meg -had thought of letting Martha go with them, but -afterwards it occurred to her it might be better to -let Nellie cook, wash up, and see to everything, just -to keep her time occupied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was to go to school daily, but Miss Monson -relinquished her duties for a time. She had two -little sisters and a baby brother at home; no one -could say that Peter or Poppet would not sicken -personally, and she dare not run the risk. "But -Nellie can easily manage the little ones," she said, -"and even keep up her own studies; she will have -plenty of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little sick child was put into Esther's room, -and a bed made up on the sofa for Meg or the nurse. -The window looked straight to the gate, and could -be seen through a gap in the acacias. They arranged -a code of signals to be waved by Meg through it -three times a day. She kept a walking-stick of -the Captain's just near the window, and with it a -white towel, an old red dressing-gown of Poppet's, -and a black wool shawl belonging to Martha. The -black signal meant "Better,"—not for worlds would -they have used the black for "Worse"; the white -meant "No change"; the red, "Not so well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when that was settled, and every other little -matter, and the dogcart filled and sent off with the -luggage, then the four sorrowful little figures walked -slowly down the drive, waved with wet eyes to Meg -at the window, and disappeared round the bend in -the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Misrule, strangely quiet for days and days, -saw only the silent-footed nurse in her grey dress -and cap, and poor Meg with her young shoulders -weighed down with the responsibility; the two -doctors, Alan and the old one, on occasion, and the -maids. Nobody shouted in the nursery or quarrelled -and laughed along the passages; no little girls ran -lightly down the stairs; no boys tramped up with -muddy boots. No ringing voices floated from the -grounds through the open windows; no flying figures -and yelping dogs went down the drive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's face grew grave and old-looking those long, -slow, silent days when there was so little to be done -and so much to fight for. She lost her old trick of -dimpling when she smiled—she almost lost the trick -of smiling at all. Always there was a picture before -her eyes,—Esther coming towards her, radiant with -the happiness of home-coming, Esther with -outstretched arms and bright eyes with no shadow of -suspicion in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Always the picture was speaking—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meg, where is Essie?—what have you done with -my baby, Meg?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-seventh-day"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SEVENTH DAY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"When the heart is sick,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And all the wheels of Being slow."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Seven leaden days had come and gone. To-night -they said the little child would die or live. -But the second would need almost a miracle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All day the red signal had drooped out of a -front upstairs window of Misrule. Five times had -the children from the cottage trailed with sick hearts -up the long red road to the house, and each time -had that sorrowful signal been there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg's heart had bled as she floated it out in -the morning; only that they had her faithful -promise they should not be deceived, she could not -have borne to put it there. "Not so well," they -had agreed it should mean, but her heart said -"Dying" as she fastened it, and she knew the -little anxious-eyed group at the gate would read -it so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a tiny darling it was, such a wee frail body -for the fierce fever to feed upon. How could it -stretch out its little listless hands and grasp strongly -at that strange thing Life that was slipping so fast -away? And ah, God! that those standing by so wild -with grief might not put out their eager hands and -seize it for her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the fifth sad journey the children dragged -to the cottage again and cried themselves sick. -Poppet began. The minute they got inside the -little front room she dropped down in a heap on -the oilcloth and sobbed in a wild hysterical way -that shook her poor little body all over. Peter fell -down beside her and cried in the bitter, astonished, -whole-souled fashion of very small children. And -Bunty put his rough head down on the table with -both his arms round it. Nellie walked past them -all into her tiny bedroom, and only God saw her -despairing grief. They had had tea before they -went the last time, and the early winter darkness -had fallen already, though it was only seven o'clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alan had promised to come in at nine and give -them the latest report, but how could any of them -see the end of that interval with such wet eyes? -Time seemed to have ceased for them altogether just now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a time, however, Peter sat up straight and -looked around; childish tears, thank Heaven, dry -quickly. There was one of his little tin soldiers on -the hearthrug, and he picked it up gratefully and -held it in his small warm hand. Near the fender -two of the horsemen with red caps were lying; he -would like to have reached them as well, only -Poppet's chest was on his other arm, and he could -not bear to disturb her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Five more minutes ticked away by the funny old -clock on the mantelpiece. It pointed to a quarter -to eight, and had just struck eleven; they all knew -by that it was about twenty minutes past seven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter sighed, and very, very softly withdrew his -small cramped arm; he waited a minute or two -longer, and then crawled over to the horsemen. He -felt a chastened joy to find all the boxful in the -fender just as he had left them yesterday after the -war against the Matabele tribes. He had painted -one of them black for Lobengula, and it reminded -him of the exciting game he had had over his -capture. He wondered, poor little tear-weary boy, -would Essie mind very much if he had a little, only -a little, game very quietly on the floor now; the -oilcloth had beautiful yellow squares, all ready for -the different detachments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet's head was turned the other way; he -fancied she was asleep, she lay so still; Bunty at -the table had stopped breathing loudly; perhaps he -was asleep too; and Nellie was in her room.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-292"> -<span id="nelthoneth-copped-the-impith"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'NELTHONETH COPPED THE IMPITH!'"" src="images/img-241.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'NELTHONETH COPPED THE IMPITH!'"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He marshalled the little figures up in rows, army -against army; the brass toy cannon he gave to the -English, but to make up, he put a few more men on -the side of the Matabeles. He always felt secretly -sorry for them, and often gave Lobengula loopholes -of escape that he did not permit to Nelson, Gordon, -and Marlborough, who, with small-boy enthusiasm, -he had placed in command of his British forces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The clock struck six, indicated eight, and meant -half-past seven. Then the stillness of the little -lamp-lit room was suddenly broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nelthonth copped the Impith! hurrah—hip, hip, -hur——"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet sat up speechless. Poor little sinful Peter -lowered his head at her accusing eyes and whimpered -softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You </span><em class="italics">cwuel</em><span> boy!" she said</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wath only picking them up," he returned, so -bitterly ashamed he could not be quite truthful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">I've</em><span> been cwying hard all the time," was Poppet's -sorrowfully superior answer; she was feeling -disappointed with herself at being so near her own last -tear, and it made her more severe with him. "I -don't b'leeve you care a </span><em class="italics">bit</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm thorrier than you, tho there!" he retorted -tearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you've hardly cwied at all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have, I cried for hourth,—you're a thtory, -Poppet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty bade them hold their tongues. He got up -and reached "Hereward the Wake" off the side -table to try to occupy his thoughts with; he was -half through "Tom Floremall's School Days," and it -lay open on the same table, but he felt it would have -been unfeeling to read anything so light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The example, however, encouraged the children. -Poppet put out her hand and caught the black -kitten that had tapped her shoulder temptingly once -or twice; she cuddled down on the hearthrug with -it, after giving Peter a kiss of forgiveness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Peter, utterly relieved, banged Marlborough -and Lobengula together in such fierce single combat -that it is wonderful neither of them was decapitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door handle turned and Nellie came in again, -Nellie with a sheet-white face, heavy wet lashes, and -swollen eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going up again," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tho 'm I," said Peter, springing to his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' me," Poppet cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on," said Bunty, picking up his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know your cold's bad again, Poppet; and, -Peter dear, it's after your bedtime,—you </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> stay," -she said. "Oh, Bunty, </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> stop with them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure——" Bunty answered, with -contradictory accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie caught a sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall </span><em class="italics">die</em><span> if I don't go this minute," she said -passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She moved to the door, but Bunty had gone -before her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> leave them,—oh, </span><em class="italics">Bunty</em><span>, if only you'd -stay!" She held his coat sleeve and tried to force -him back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to hear as much as you do," he said, with -all his old gruffness; "here, let go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you I shall go mad—</span><em class="italics">mad</em><span>—if I don't go!" -the girl said wildly. He saw the burning look in -her eyes, the pain at her lips, and fell back suddenly, -awkwardly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, go on," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his just wakening brotherly-protection ideas -occurred to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, you can't go," he said; "don't be a silly. -You're only a girl, and it's dark,—let me go, Nell; -I'll run all the way, and come straight back and -tell you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> go," she repeated hoarsely. "Make them -go to bed; give Poppet her medicine; don't leave -the matches near Peter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slipped off his detaining hand, and the next -minute was flying up the road through the cold -white moonlight; a small dark figure with desperate -eyes, and the wretchedest little heart in the world.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="amaranth-or-asphodel"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AMARANTH OR ASPHODEL?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Falling with my weight of cares</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Upon the great world's altar stairs,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>That slope through darkness up to God."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>All the way she never stopped once,—it was -nearly a mile. Her heart was in her throat, -her breath coming in great choking pants; her knees -were trembling as she stumbled up against the old -Misrule gate, and clung to it blind and giddy for a -moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a step on the footpath—it stopped at -the gate. Some one came and peered at her and -uttered a cry of surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Nellie!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How—is—she?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gasped the words, swayed, and recovered herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm just going in again," Alan said. He slipped -his arm round her and steadied her—"I told you -not to come again, Nellie."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-293"> -<span id="oh-let-me-come-she-implored"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'OH, LET ME COME!' SHE IMPLORED."" src="images/img-246.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'OH, LET ME COME!' SHE IMPLORED."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He saw she couldn't, and did not scold her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what am I to do with you?" he said in -dismay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was anxious to get in, and now here was this -poor, trembling, wild-eyed girl on his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">let</em><span> me come!" she implored. There was a -sob rising in her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he did scold her a little. Surely she was -not going to trouble them on this terrible night? -Meg was all courage, and quite calm, and so relieved -to know the children were being well looked after,—she -must not fail them all now at the crisis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sob was strangled instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stay," she said,—"only—oh, </span><em class="italics">Alan</em><span>, come out -and tell me soon!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He promised he would. He drew her just within -the gate and wrapped his overcoat round her, for -she was jacketless, of course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I trust you not to come past the hedge," he said. -"See, stand here, and I can find you easily. There -now, dear, I </span><em class="italics">must</em><span> go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A minute—is she in—real danger, Alan? Is -she going to die?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh the wide, beseeching eyes, full of moonlight -and misery!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had never told a lie in his life,—never even -charged one to his medical conscience; but his arm -clasped her more strongly, more tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is in danger," he said quietly. "We are -afraid she cannot live; but there is always hope, -and the next hour will decide."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She pushed him forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go!" she said, "go!" and he kissed her -forehead and went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paced up and down by the low pittosporum -hedge that divided the garden from the shrubbery -next the fence, and she held her hands so tightly -together, that she felt the pain as far as her elbows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was full moon to-night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remembered when it had been new,—a little, -friendly, pretty crescent. They had sat out on the -verandah—four or five of them—watching it rise, -and Alan had said it</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Was like a little feather</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Fluttering far down the gulf."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Pip said he thought that man saw things -straighter who found "the curled moon more like -a bitten biscuit thrown out of a top-story window -in a high wind." Meg culled from "Endymion." "The -beautiful thing," she said,</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Only stooped to tie</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Her silver sandals, ere deliciously</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She bowed into the heavens her timid head."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And Bunty said, "What rot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How happy and light-hearted they had been -then! Oh the strange and sad and oh the glad -things that happen in this world between the -crescent moon and the full!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a white cold moon it was, so far away, -so wondrously large and calm. It suggested the -immeasurable vastness of the universe, the -infinitesimal smallness of herself. Her heart sickened -and died within her,—what use was it for her to -pray and weep and beat her hands to such a -far-off sky? What madness to suppose the great high -awful God beyond it would put forth His saving hand -just because one small insignificant creature down -on earth prayed to Him! Such a faultful creature -too; all her life through she could not remember one -really good thing she had done, nothing but wrong-doings, -littlenesses, and selfishness came to her mind. -She looked away from the sky and scornful moon, -she went to and fro with her eyes on the white -ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of </span><em class="italics">course</em><span> it's no use," she muttered, and held -her hands together more tightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A buggy stopped at the gate. The old doctor -got out; he told the coachman not to drive in, but -to wait there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Two people passing up the road saw him, and -crossed over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How's the little girl?" they said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "Very bad, poor baby," was his answer. -"I ought to have been here before, but have been -at a deathbed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Whose?" they asked, in the lowered tones death -claims.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne," he said, and hurried -away up to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nellie went back to the low hedge. From there -she could just see the palely-lighted window -upstairs, and the large shadows on the blind. She -saw Meg move across to the corner where the bed -stood, then the nurse's cap was outlined, Alan's head -and shoulders, the doctor's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More and more icy grew the hand at her heart, -whiter and whiter shone the moon, longer and -longer every minute took to pass. A sudden gust -of wind blew over the pampas clumps full into her -face, and the air was still again. Perhaps with that -very wind Essie had left them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She fell on her knees with wide, outstretched -arms, and dropped her face on the low hedge. The -twigs and leaves scratched and pricked her, the -ground made her knees ache, the night air was -freezing her; but that was happiness. The sky she -dare not look at; but she was compelled to pray -again, just to say God, God, God! and shiver and -writhe and bite her lips. There was no help for -her on earth, and she must shriek to God even -though He heard not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the moonlight faded, the garden, the -silent house, the pale lights.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was at the top of a hill, and at the foot was -the reddest sunset the world had ever seen. She -was a little child again, flying from the bark hut -and awful gathering shadows to the fence that -skirted the road along which help would come. -She was a child flinging herself on the ground, face -downward, and crying, "Make her better, God!—God, -make her better,—oh, </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> you make her better!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Judy had died. He had not listened to her -then, He would not listen now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lifted a face of agony and looked at the sky -again. It had grown softer, a grey more tender, -and deepened with blue; the moon hung lower, a -yellow warmth had crept into it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her tears gushed out again, and poured in hot -streams down her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear God!" she whispered,—"oh, my dear, -great God, I will be so good—only let her live, -just let her live—such a little thing, God, such a -little baby thing,—oh, you wouldn't take her from -us, my great God—I will give you all my life, God! -I will be good always, I will go to church always, -and do everything you want me to, only don't take -her away, God! Please, Jesus, ask Him,—dear, -sweet Jesus, don't let Him take her; oh, my sweet, -kind Christ, let her stay here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her face fell into the hedge once more, and her -lips babbled the wild, pitiful, bargaining prayer that -only One could understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed hours that she knelt there, praying, -sobbing, and shivering, before Alan came as he -had promised.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard his step coming down the path, and -she struggled to her feet and forced herself forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was going past her,—had he forgotten her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, she knew; the child was dead, and he could -not tell her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had passed the hedge and was going on to the -gate; she stumbled along after him, but he did not -seem to hear her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alan!" she said, as he pulled the chain aside -to go out. Her voice sounded hollow and far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped, but did not look at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—know," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dead—dead—dead!" she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he spoke then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Essie is better," he said; "she will live now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She caught at the palings; all the world was -moving about her, the sky, the ground beneath -her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better," she told herself—"better, better—can't -you hear?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she noticed Alan's face. It was deathly -white, his lips were trembling and twitching, his -eyes were wild.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meg has got it," he said with a great sob in his -voice; and he brushed past her and went away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="little-faithful-meg"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LITTLE FAITHFUL MEG.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"And shadow, and silence, and sadness</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Were hanging over all."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Pip had a time of unhappiness almost as great -as that Nellie had gone through.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was playing chess at the Courtneys to keep -from thinking, when Alan came in with the news -that Meg had the fever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All the colour dropped from his brown, handsome -face; he started up in his place, the queen he had -just captured still in his hand; he went out of the -room and out of the house without a word. Andrew -caught him up when he had gone some hundred -yards up the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's your hat, old fellow," he said, and Pip -took it without thanks and walked on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little faithful Meg, whose worst fault had been -loving him too well to let him spoil his life! And -he had shaken her aside time after time when she -had tried to end the quarrel—he had told her he -would never forgive her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now, perhaps, he would never have the chance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pulled back the gate at Misrule with fingers -as nerveless as the veriest girl; he turned to go up -to the house the short way, by the pittosporum -hedge. There was a little dark heap of something on -the wet grass in front of him; he touched it with his -foot, and then bent down in horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was his second little sister, sobbing as if her -heart would break; she was face downwards, her -arms spread out, her whole body convulsed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So stunned and shaken with his grief had Alan -been, he had utterly forgotten, when he left the -poor child, that she was not at her proper place for -the night; he had gone straight home to see if there -had been a call for him, then off to a serious case of -typhoid in Fivedock, for doctors cannot sit down -and give themselves up to their grief, however great -the cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip tried to raise the girl, but she stiffened herself -and resisted him; when she had flung herself down -she had prayed passionately that she might die, and -here was some one come to disturb her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But surely it could not be careless Pip who held -her so tenderly, when at last he did manage to lift -her,—Pip who stroked her hair, and rubbed his -cheek against hers, and let her finish her bitter -weeping on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he felt how cold and damp she was, he stirred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must come home, old girl," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," she said—"I must stay here! I -shall nurse her, but she'll die—oh! I know she'll -die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip groaned: he knew it himself, he would not -give himself the slightest hope; and the bitterness -was as of death itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he saw Nellie was totally unfit to go into an -infected house that night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To-morrow," he said; "come down to the -cottage now; there's the nurse there, and the -servants; you'll be ill yourself next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to be—oh, why </span><em class="italics">can't</em><span> I die?" she wailed. -"It's all me, every bit of this, and God won't let me -die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh the young miserable face, so white and wet -in the moonlight! A great lump came into Pip's -throat, and in his heart a sudden knowledge of the -dearness of his sisters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you poor little thing!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He put her on the old seat under the mulberry -tree near, and went away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he came back he was leading one of the -horses by the bridle over the grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do?" she asked -miserably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And "Ride you home," was his answer.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 77%" id="figure-294"> -<span id="he-led-the-horse-out-of-the-gate-and-carried-her-to-it"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""HE LED THE HORSE OUT OF THE GATE, AND CARRIED HER TO IT."" src="images/img-257.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"HE LED THE HORSE OUT OF THE GATE, AND CARRIED HER TO IT."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>He led the horse out of the gate, carried her to -it, and put her just on the saddle; then he got up -himself behind, and held her with one hand and -the reins with the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is how they reached the cottage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The children were in bed, and poor Bunty, weary -of waiting, had fallen asleep sitting bolt upright in -a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip woke him, gently enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make up the fire," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy fell to the task with all his heart, so -dreadful was his sister's face. The clatter woke -Poppet; she slipped out of bed and came in to them -in her little nightgown, her eyes heavy with sleep -and the struggle between forgetfulness and remembrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Baby!" she said. Then her eyes flew open, -and the colour died out of her little flushed cheeks. -What made Nellie look so terrible?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better, much better—getting well," was Pip's -hasty answer. He did not want another ill on his -hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The child gasped with relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go and get something on," said Pip; "and -bring Nell a big shawl or rug, and put something -on your feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came back with a great blanket for Nellie—she -had pinned her little flannel petticoat round -her own shoulders, and stuck her feet into -goloshes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty made coffee—a great jugful. The grounds -were floating on the top, certainly, but it was very -hot. Pip made the girl drink two full cups and -eat a big piece of bread and butter—he heard she -had had neither dinner nor tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she crept close to him again. What a dear -big brother he was, and how much less terrible -things looked here in the firelight, with his arm -round her, than when she lay prone on the wet -grass under the white, far moon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They dare not tell Poppet to-night, her eyes were -far too bright, her cheeks too flushed. So Bunty, -at a whisper from Nell, picked her up and carried -her off to bed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stop with you till you go to sleep," he said, -feeling her chest heave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I b'leeve they're 'ceiving me," said the poor little -child. "I heard Nell whisper to you! Oh, Bunty, -</span><em class="italics">tell</em><span> me!—oh, Baby, Baby!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He reassured her eagerly. The crisis was quite -past; the doctor said she could not </span><em class="italics">help</em><span> getting -better now. Why, they would be playing with her -again now in no time!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She cried a little from the relief, and then dropped -off to sleep, holding tightly to his gentle, roughened -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the sitting-room Pip was comforting Nellie as -tenderly and pitifully as if he had been a woman -and she a poor, little, hurt child. They had never -known each other before—these two—and both -were touched and surprised at the beauty of the -new knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He agreed that she must go to Misrule and help -to nurse, but thought they would wire up to -Yarrahappini and ask Mrs. Hassal to come down to the -cottage instead of getting any one strange. Nellie -thought it an excellent suggestion, and made him -draft a telegram immediately, so that it might be -sent first thing in the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he thought she was calm again, and fit to -be left he saw her into her own bedroom, and made -her promise to go direct to bed and try her best to -sleep, since so much depended on her now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Such a poor, scratched, swollen face it was lifted -to him for a good-night kiss, so different from the -brilliant, beautiful, rebellious one that had defied -him on the night of that trouble-causing dinner -party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took the front door key with him, and went -out, riding slowly back to Misrule, though he had -no business there, as he knew. He put his father's -horse back into the stable, and learnt from the man, -who had just gone to bed, that Martha was with -Essie and the nurse with Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went round into the garden, and to the -side of the house where Meg's bedroom was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a white, flat paling fence separating -that part of the garden from the paddocks; he sat -down on it and watched the light on her white blind -with a despairing expression in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would have given all the world for a kiss from -her, a smile of forgiveness; his love for Mabelle lay, -a cold thing, almost dead, in his breast; he felt he -could never breathe on it and warm it to life again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To him, as to Nellie, this great white awful night -brought back to memory the red red sunset and -purple black shadows of the evening Judy had died. -Like Nellie, he too fell on his knees, and prayed as he -had only prayed that one other time in his life. And, -like Nellie too, he prayed despairingly and -without faith because that other prayer had not been -answered. It was midnight when he had ridden -back; he stopped there in the white, hushed garden -till the moon began to fade out of the sky and a -pale flush of rose crept up from the river. He was -stiff and cold from his long watch; on the ill-kept -strip of grass beneath the lighted window he had -worn a path with his pacings, and his heart was -heavier than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When five o'clock came he still lingered; he was -watching for the first opening door. To wait for -her smile and forgiveness till she was better—to -wait—to miss it for ever, perhaps—was more than -he could bear to contemplate. He wrote her a little -eager loving note on the back of an envelope from -his pocket; his sister, his dear, sweet old Meg, -would she ever forgive him?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He thought he would give it to Martha the minute -there was a stir of life within the house, and he -went softly round the verandah to the side door; -it was always opened first, he knew. He stood there -more than half an hour, listening for a footstep on -the stairs, for the creak of a door or the sound of a -voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the weather-worn wall near there were a -number of marks and names and dates; it was the -measuring wall of the family. It carried his thoughts -back a long, long time. It was nearly seven long -years since the first marks were made: the little one, -only a couple of feet off the ground, was marked -"The General,"—Pip remembered Esther had to -hold him there, for it was before he could walk. -Then all the small steps above it—Baby, and Bunty, -and Nell—such a little Nell; Judy, with a crossing -out at her name and a mark lower down—he -remembered finding out after he had measured her -first, that she had tacked a bit of wood on to each -heel of her shoes; then himself, and Meg topping -them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The last marks were recent; they had measured -merrily just before Esther went away, to see if -any one could possibly grow in such a short time. -He himself was at the top now, ten inches past Meg, -and Nellie and Bunty were nearly up to Meg. How -nearly the new little mark that meant Essie had -never risen any higher! And Judy, dear, dear -little Judy, so quick growing, so eager-eyed—her -mark was no longer among them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It forced itself upon Pip that perhaps never again -would he put the flat book on Meg's bright head -and crush down, ere he measured her, the fluffy hair -that gave her an unlawful inch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned on his heel from the wall; the mark -seemed on his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some one opened a verandah door some distance -away and stepped out into the garden. It was the -nurse, heavy-eyed, pale-cheeked, come out for a -breath of the quickening morning. She did not see -the unhappy boy standing there, but went down the -path towards the sun-touched river, and left the door -open behind her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip slipped in, on uncontrollable impulse. He -stole through the quiet hall and up the staircase; -he went softly down the upstairs passage—and -Meg's door was open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was quite alone, lying among the pillows, -with her bright hair loose, her cheeks a little flushed, -but her eyes open and quite natural. The next -second he was in the room kneeling by the bedside, -and kissing the little hot hand on the counterpane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just say you forgive me, Meg darling—darling!" -he implored, the tears rolling down his cheeks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat up in distress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go away!" she cried. "Oh, Pip, how mad -of you—dear Pip, you'll catch it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he would not loose her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you?" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She moved to put her arm round his neck, then -remembered and shrank back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, there is nothing," she said; "it was you -to forgive me—if you do I am more than glad; -now do go, old fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie down," he said, standing up again; it had -only just struck him he might be doing her harm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, lie so,—keep still, for heaven's sake. I -only came to tell you you're the best sister on earth, -and I've been a brute to you. Meg, I'll promise you -faithfully never to think of Mabelle again—oh, good -God! I haven't made you worse, have I?" For -Meg put her hand up to her head with a sudden -movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not an atom," she said, "the cloth was wetting -my neck, that's all.—you've made me better indeed -with that promise; now go, Pip dearest, this minute, -and change everything—promise me; think of the -children; get a suit out of your room and have -a bath."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The nurse's step was on the stairs; he kissed her -hand again and fled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Afterwards he felt he had done a selfish thing, -and made himself miserable over it. Perhaps he -had excited and worried her, perhaps it would make -her worse; and suppose he gave the infection to -Peter or Poppet!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took his evening clothes, they were the only -ones left in his room, and he went down to the river -with a slow and heavy step.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he undressed and swam about for nearly -twenty minutes, so determined was he not to carry -home a microbe. He even struck out into the -middle, and braved any sharks that might be yet -unbreakfasted. Then he made his toilet again, -swallow-tail and all, carefully washed the clothes he -had taken off, and laid them on the grass to dry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A man he knew, coming down to the water with -his towels over his shoulder, met him on the way -to the cottage and stared amazedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're fairly late home, old chap," he said; -"where in the world have you been?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip only shook his head and pushed on. He was -far too unhappy to stay and explain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-midnight-in-the-silence-of-the-sleep-time"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"IN THE MIDNIGHT, IN THE SILENCE OF THE SLEEP TIME."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Have I not trodden a weary road</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Saint, my Saint?</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>And where, at last, shall be my abode,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Oh, my Saint?"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Meg only had it very lightly, or those two -poor human hearts could not have borne their -misery. She was not half so ill as Essie had been; -she was not delirious at all, and she never went -near to the great wide sea whose cold waves had -washed up to the little baby feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she woke after a troubled sleep in the -afternoon, there was Nellie standing by the bedside -looking at her, with all her heart in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What about the children?" she said with -instant anxiety. "You oughtn't to be here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nell stooped and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's just where I ought to be," she said, "and -Esther's mother will be here this evening, to look -after the children,—don't worry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg turned over restfully; how good it was -to feel there would be a sister near always -instead of the strange hands and face of a nurse! -What a relief, now the strain was over, to be able -to give up and be taken care of instead of taking -care!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the morning, when she woke, her first question -again, after hearing Essie was improving fast, was -what about the children?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hassal had come, Nell said; Mr. Gillet had -brought her, and they were both at the cottage. -Mr. Gillet was much distressed to hear she was ill, -and had sent kindest regards and hopes for a speedy -recovery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment the long-unheard name brought -no connection with it to Meg; then she saw the -burnt grass paddocks, the dingy sheep, the -homestead and clustering cottages of Yarrahappini.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She called to mind his little room as she had seen -it when she went for the keys of the storeroom. -She was surprised to still remember, after all these -years, her astonishment at finding the keeper of -the stores with the room of a gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She could remember the rows of books, the -medallion of Shelley, the pictures, the little -breakfast table—even the silver chased vase with the -passion flowers in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wondered if he had kept the blue ribbon she -had given him; even now her cheeks coloured above -their fever to think how intolerant she had been in -those days. But perhaps she was just as bad now, -or had other faults still worse; she tossed unhappily -and thought upon all the mistakes she was for ever -making. Then Nellie's cool fingers touched her -forehead and replaced a wet, lavender-sweet handkerchief, -and she dropped off into an uneasy slumber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thought they were binding her head round -and round with ribbon, pale blue with creases in it; -it held her down to the bed so that she could not -move; and there in the dancing river little Essie was -struggling, the grey look of death on her small -sweet face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then that torture shifted, and it was Pip who was -struggling, and he could not put out his arms to -swim because he had a monstrous gold wedding-ring -binding them to his body. And Peter was at the -top of the forbidden tree, and Poppet shrieking to -him to come down. And Bunty was in the hospital -with scarlet fever, and they could not give him -medicine because he would not tell his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For several days troubles of this kind lasted, with -short unrefreshing waking intervals when her mouth -was parched, her throat swollen, and her head throbbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the sixth morning she opened her eyes about -eleven o'clock. Nellie was mixing lemon drink at a -small table, and Alan was standing by the bedside, -Alan with a face grown quite haggard, and a look in -his eyes that had never quite left them since she fell -ill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I getting better or worse?" she said, for his -look made her suddenly fearful for herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he brightened instantly, for, in truth, the -anxiety was almost over, only he could not shake -it off at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Much better," he said. "Do you know you have -been asleep since nine last night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How many hours is that?" she asked, with -smiling languor; "my brain's asleep yet, I can't -count." But neither could he. His lip trembled -suddenly, and he put his face down on hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slipped her thin hands round his neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor old fellow!" she said, "dear old fellow! -I'm going to get better immediately now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try to go to sleep again," he whispered, putting -a kiss on each eyelid to keep them shut. "Please, -my little, pale daisy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The eyelashes lay quite still, but the lips smiled up -to him. Then, before she knew it, she was asleep -again, her breathing regular, her skin cool. And -when she woke she was far on the road to recovery. -But down in the cottage, while Essie and Meg were -struggling slowly up the beautiful tiring hill of -convalescence, a terrible tragedy had happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the middle of one night, Poppet, sleeping in a -little made-up bed in the room with Mrs. Hassal, woke -up hot and choking. One side of the room was in -a sheet of fire; the curled, leaping tongues of flame -came nearer every instant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang out of bed shrieking wildly, and pulled -and shook poor little Mrs. Hassal, who, half -suffocated with the smoke, lay motionless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip slept at the Courtneys now, since the cottage -was so taxed for room, Bunty and Peter across the -passage, and Mr. Gillet had a camp bed in the sitting-room. -No one had wakened till the little girl's wild -shrieks rang through the house; the smoke had -stupefied them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was a terrible scene of confusion. The -door of the bedroom was in a blaze—all the wall -adjacent; the flames were licking at the long French -window, and the curtains already burning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Gillet went back one second for his thick coat, -which he had not put on at first; then, shielding his -face with his arm, he sprang into the room through -the window, calling to Bunty to stand outside.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 75%" id="figure-295"> -<span id="he-sprang-through-the-flames-the-child-close-in-his-arms"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""He sprang through the flames, the child close in his arms." The Family at Misrule. Page 271." src="images/img-271.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"He sprang through the flames, the child close in his arms." The Family at Misrule. Page 271.</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poppet, mad with terror, was still pulling at -Mrs. Hassal, and the mosquito nets of the bed had just -caught.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He pushed the child aside, and bade her go into -the one safe corner. Then he enveloped Mrs. Hassal -in the blanket, carried her across the room, -and hastily put her through the window to -Bunty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went back for the little girl,—Meg's little -sister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took off his coat to wrap her in, as the other -bedclothes had caught, but as he did so Bunty -threw back the big blanket, and he used it instead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The flames at the window were growing worse, -but he sprang through them, the child close in his -arms. When they took the blanket off her not a -hair of her head was hurt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One breathless second they looked at the burning -room together from the safe vantage ground of the -grass plot at the side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Mr. Gillet started forward again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've left my coat," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Hassal held his arm. "As if that matters," -she answered indignantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But there's something I rather prize in it," he -said; "there's no danger,—see, I'll have the blanket -this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flung it round his head and shoulders, and -went through the window again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Catch!" he cried, and threw the rough serge -coat far out to them.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 76%" id="figure-296"> -<span id="the-boy-seized-him-by-the-shoulders-and-dragged-him-out-through-the-blazing-gap"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THE BOY SEIZED HIM BY THE SHOULDERS AND DRAGGED HIM OUT THROUGH THE BLAZING GAP."" src="images/img-272.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THE BOY SEIZED HIM BY THE SHOULDERS AND DRAGGED HIM OUT THROUGH THE BLAZING GAP."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>They saw him in the burning window putting his -arms up to dive out. But even as he did so there -was a crash and fall—a great burning rafter had -dropped from the ceiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty was the hero now. He put his coat over -his head and dashed into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Gillet had fallen just inside, the blanket still -around him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With incredible strength and courage the boy -seized him by the shoulders, dragged him out -through the blazing gap and into safety, amid the -shouts of the awakened neighbours, who had come -too late to be of use.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rafter had struck his temple, and he had no -more days of life to ruin, no more with which to -redeem past ruin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They did not tell Meg until long after, not until -Blue Mountain air had blown the last of the fever -away, and all the seven were together for the last -week before coming home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they gave her the something he had "rather -prized."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sobbed and went away from them all when -she had opened the little parcel and seen its -pitifulness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nothing but the length of ribbon, the blue -faded, and still creased as it had tied her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the paper wrapping it he had written, "My -soft-eyed girl St. Cecily."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="here-endeth"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HERE ENDETH.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<!-- --> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"God's in His heaven,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>All's right with the world."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Such a day! The spring of the year in the -sky, and on the river, and on the land. -September at its happiest, fresh and young, and -gladdening as a maiden stepping with shining eyes -and light feet into a world that she knows she is -going to brighten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Blue in the sky, blue deeper and sun-flecked in -the river, a glory of roses in the garden, a yellow -splendour of wattles in the bush.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tea was spread on the lawn, not under a tree, but -out in the sunshine that no one could get enough of. -Even the cakes had a light-hearted look; and as for -the shining kettle on the lamp, it was absolutely -bubbling with good spirits. They were all there,—the -seven and Mrs. Hassal, all mentally on tiptoe, -physically in comfortable attitudes, sitting or lying -round the cloth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Captain and Esther were expected every minute.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter wanted to begin on the little cakes that had -such a fascinating bit of peel on the top of each.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leth go halveth in one, Nell," he said; "we -ought to tathte them firtht,—prapth you forgot the -thugar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nellie assured him they were sweetness itself, -and removed the plate into the middle of the cloth, -where they could not lead his fingers into temptation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She consoled him with two lumps of sugar, and he -gave Poppet one and bet her he could suck his for -a longer time than she could without it breaking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alan was hammering at a tipsy-looking erection -of posts halfway down the drive, that said -"Welcome" in pink and white roses, and threatened to -fall and engulf any one passing underneath. Bunty -had made it, Alan was only trying to ensure the -safety of Esther's head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Near the door was another arch; it was very low—both -the Captain and Esther would have to go under -it doubled up: it was done in ferns and red geraniums -and blue flag lilies and yellow "bunny rabbits," -and it said "Wellcome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the architecture of Peter and Poppet; the -choice of flowers and handing up had been Essie's -work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kettle boiled over. Meg took the opinions of -the company as to whether she should make the tea -or wait. The travellers were coming overland from -Brisbane, and the man had already gone to the station -with the dogcart. It always made the Captain -irritable to be met by half his family on a station, -so they were all assembled at home instead. Nellie -counselled waiting, tea brewed too long was "horrid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip said no one would know what they were -drinking, so it did not matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Swift wheels on the road, a shriek from Peter and -Poppet, and the question was decided. Meg filled up -the teapot and cosied it, then snatched Essie up in -her arms and went down the path. Oh, thank God, -thank God she had her to take!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther leapt out before the horse fairly stopped, -just as impetuously young as ever. She devoured -Essie, lifted big Peter right up in her arms, laughed -and cried over the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No one said anything the pen could catch for -the next ten minutes; every one spoke at once and -laughed at once; every one asked questions and no -one waited for answers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the Captain of course who first made a -whole speech. "We've been travelling for -hours,—haven't you any tea for Esther, Meg?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they all trooped up under the arches to the -white cloth, flower-strewn, and Flibbertigibbet had -improved the shining time by drinking the milk.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 78%" id="figure-297"> -<span id="the-whole-six-rushed-to-pick-her-up"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""THE WHOLE SIX RUSHED TO PICK HER UP."" src="images/img-277.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"THE WHOLE SIX RUSHED TO PICK HER UP."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Martha came down with more, her very forehead -sharing in the great smile that widened all her -features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook the Captain's hand and Esther's; then -small Essie ran before her, and she pulled up her -apron to catch a sudden sob and went away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little Mrs. Hassal picked up the child,—just her -own little girl Esther over again. She gave her a -lump of sugar and squeezed her tenderly for nothing -in particular. Then Nellie crept round and took her -to find the prettiest cake of all, and Pip rode her -round and round on his shoulders and kissed her -again and again when she happened to stand near him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And once, when running back from the house with -her grand new doll for inspection, her eager little -feet tripped and she fell on the path, the whole six -started up and rushed to pick her up. Esther told -herself she had left her darling in loving enough -hands, she need not have worried so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But she seems a little thinner to me, Meg," she -said; "I don't know if it is my fancy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then they all grew silent, and each one waited for -the other to tell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Nellie who spoke at last, and told the story, -and Esther's tears fell and she clasped her baby -close to her breast and thanked God who had been -so good to her. And the Captain put out his hand -and drew his eldest daughter closer to him, and said -he did not think Alan could have her now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is only four o'clock, and the spring glad -sunshine is still over everything; the feast is at its -height, and all faces untroubled again. Let us leave -them here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther is leaning against her husband, her bright -face full of content and happiness; once or twice her -eyes have gone skywards, and the light in them has -deepened. Essie is in her arms, saucy and dimpled: -she knows she is the undisputed queen of that -gathering, and is taking advantage of her power by -giving all manner of sweet little commands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Peter is still engaged on the cakes; he is only -eating the tops of them where the peel nestles, but -no one has noticed. He has just informed Esther -of the progress he has made in her absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tharcely drop any blotht now," he said; "I've -gone into theven times, I'm learning peninthulath, -and I've thtopped lithping."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As no one disputes any of his statements, and as -no one smiles openly, he is quite happy in his -present occupation. Poppet seems to have grown; -she is thinner than ever,—arms and legs, as Bunty -says, and nothing else worth mentioning. He forgets -the heart; it is just the same dear loving tender little -one, with room for all the world, and one warm, -special corner for himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bunty's collar this afternoon is a sign of the times; -it is perfectly white and almost unrumpled; the whole -of it is visible, and his jacket does not fit -extraordinarily badly. His mouth is firm, but hardly -strikes one as obstinate now, and the brooding light -that used to be in his eyes shows very seldom. -Pip says if some day the boy becomes a great hero -it will not surprise any one in the family at all, -despite those early days he is so bitterly ashamed of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This is quite a different Nellie from the one who -went over this same lawn in her first long dress. -More beautiful if possible: the shining hair and -dewy, long-lashed eyes, the clear colouring, and slim, -straight figure are just the same, but there is a -deeper look in the young eyes, a sweeter, graver -expression about the young mouth. She will be -that gladdening thing, an exceedingly beautiful -woman; she will be more, a good woman and a noble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg,—well, Meg is Meg.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A little thin and pale-looking from the fever, a -little quieter, and, if possible, even more sweet, more -womanly and lovable than ever. Alan is at one -side of her, her family at the other; so far they -possess her equally, and perhaps the standing -between is the happiest time of her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pip is stretched on the ground, six feet of splendid -young manhood; his laugh is good to hear, his -cheeks have the tint of health, he measures a -surprising number of inches round the chest. Surely -it is reasonable to suppose his blighted affections -have not done him irreparable mischief! Peter lets -a light in on the subject. He has finished the -cakes, and is at liberty again to pour out all the -events of note that have happened during Esther's -absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He has informed her that "the catht had four -kittenth, that his betht thuith grown too thmall for -his legth, that the butcher thent the chopth and -thteak too late for breakfatht, and Meg got another -one named Thmitherth, and that a thtorm of hail -had thmathed the thtudy window."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then his eye fell upon his eldest brother, and -his young catholic mind found an item of news -concerning him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' Mith Joneth ith married to the man at the -thauthpan thop; me and Poppet peeped in at the -church, and the looked thplendid. And Pip wath awful -mad, but he'th gone on Mith Thybil Moore now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as Miss Sybil Moore was the exceedingly -pretty daughter of new delightful neighbours, and -as Mr. Philip coloured somewhat warmly and -inverted the young scamp in great haste, there seemed -a probability of pleasant truth in the statement. -Especially as Meg smiled contentedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Esther spoke of Indian scarfs and shawls and -gauzes the boxes held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They will do beautifully for charades and -theatricals," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or playing at being grown up," said Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Captain leaned back against a tree. "There -is not much playing about it," he said. "I must be -getting an old man; how fast you are all growing -up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's dwowing up?" asked Essie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I used to think it was just long dresses and -done-up hair," sighed Nellie; "or a stick and a -moustache."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And not doing as you're told," supplemented -Poppet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An' eating thingth and not getting thick." It -was Peter's amendment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meg only smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was a faint curve of sadness as well -as the smile on her young lips—and one was for -sweet, buried childhood, and one for the broadening -days.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">Works by Ethel Turner</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">(MRS. H. E. CURLEWIS).</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Story of a Baby.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN and others.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Seven Little Australians.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>With Twenty-six Illustrations by A. J. JOHNSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Family at Misrule.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>A Sequel to the above.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>With Twenty-nine Illustrations by A. J. JOHNSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Three Little Maids.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Illustrated by A. J. JOHNSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Camp at Wandinong.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN and others.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Miss Bobbie.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Illustrated by HAROLD COPPING.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Little Larrikin.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Illustrated by A. J. JOHNSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The "Tip-Cat" Series</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>(BY THE AUTHOR OF 'LADDIE')</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Tip-Cat.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A very pathetic story of hardships and sacrifice, telling how the -tenderness and generosity of one may make life smooth and happy for -others.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Dear.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The love-story of the daughter of a simple-hearted country clergyman. -The way she is deprived of her lover, and duped into marrying -the squire's son, and the final attainment of her heart's desire, are told -with great charm and pathos.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Pen.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A story of the neglect of two motherless children. The sketches of -character and touching love passages are exceedingly well told.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">My Honey.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is always a pleasure to meet with a book by the authoress of -'Tip-Cat.' The story is full of charming character -drawing."—</span><em class="italics">Graphic</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Rob.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Interestingly written, and will be read with equal pleasure by -members of either sex."—</span><em class="italics">Westminster Gazette</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Lil.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A volume of interesting reading that should attract all young -people."—</span><em class="italics">Sunday School Recorder</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Our Little Ann.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Laddie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story of a girl who from the time she left the country for town -led a chequered life. The various episodes are cleverly connected, and -the descriptive portions well told.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Laddie, etc.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By the Author of 'Tip-Cat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is possible that 'kiddie' may become a classic."—</span><em class="italics">Chambers' -Journal</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Captain of Five.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By MARY H. DEBENHAM.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Every human being over seven and under seventy will agree in -pronouncing it delightful."—</span><em class="italics">Daily Chronicle</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Hollyberry Janet.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By MAGGIE SYMINGTON ("Aunt Maggie").</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An excellent addition to a charming series."—</span><em class="italics">Academy</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Pattypats.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>By H. ESCOTT-INMAN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One of the most delightfully droll story-books that it is possible -to conceive of. Brimful of quaint and wonderful notions, and teeming -with mirth and 'go.'"—</span><em class="italics">The Teachers' Aid</em><span>.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold x-large">The Youths' Library.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>1 From Log Cabin to White House, By W. M. Thayer</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>2 Robinson Crusoe, By Daniel Defoe</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>3 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>4 Grimm's Fairy Stories</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>5 Grimm's Fairy Tales</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>6 Swiss Family Robinson</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>7 Andersen's Popular Tales</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>8 Andersen's Stories</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>9 Boys' Own Sea Stories</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>10 Two Years before the Mast, By R. H. Dana</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>11 Scottish Chiefs, By Jane Porter</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>12 Ivanhoe, By Sir Walter Scott</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>13 Romance of Navigation, By Henry Frith</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>14 Prisoners of the Sea, By F. M. Kingsley</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>15 Westward Ho!, By Charles Kingsley</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>16 Arabian Nights Entertainments</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>17 Black Man's Ghost, By J. C. Hutcheson</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>18 Frank Allreddy's Fortune, By Franklin Fox</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>20 Two Years Ago, By Charles Kingsley</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>21 The Last of the Barons, By Bulwer Lytton</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>22 Harold, By Bulwer Lytton</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>23 The Holy War, By John Bunyan</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>24 The Heroes, By Charles Kingsley</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>25 The Beachcombers, By Gilbert Bishop</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE FAMILY AT MISRULE</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48304"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48304</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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