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diff --git a/48304.txt b/48304.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9bab17c..0000000 --- a/48304.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7407 +0,0 @@ - THE FAMILY AT MISRULE - - - - -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 Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at -http://www.gutenberg.org/license. 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. - - - -Title: The Family at Misrule -Author: Ethel Turner -Release Date: February 18, 2015 [EBook #48304] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAMILY AT MISRULE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - - *THE FAMILY AT MISRULE.* - - - BY - - ETHEL TURNER, - - AUTHOR OF - "SEVEN LITTLE AUSTRALIANS," "THE STORY OF A BABY," ETC - - - -"Ah that spring should vanish with the Rose! -That youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close!" - THE RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM. - -"To youth the greatest reverence is due." - JUVENAL. - - - - _WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. J. JOHNSON._ - - - - LONDON: - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED, - WARWICK HOUSE, SALISBURY SQUARE, E.C. - NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE. - - - - - TO - CHARLES COPE, - MY STEPFATHER AND FRIEND - -E. S. T., -LINDFIELD, SYDNEY. - - - - - *CONTENTS.* - -CHAP. - - I. PICKING UP THREADS - II. SCHOOL TROUBLES - III. A PASSAGE-AT-ARMS - IV. A SUMMER'S DAY - V. BETWEEN A DREAM AND A DREAM - VI. TO-MORROW - VII. A LITTLE MAID-ERRANT - VIII. ONE PARTICULAR EVENING - IX. THAT MISCHIEVOUS CUPID - X. NEEDLES AND PINS - XI. A DAY IN SYDNEY - XII. THREE COURSES ONE SHILLING - XIII. PARNASSUS AND PUDDINGS - XIV. MUSHROOMS - XV. THE GOVERNMENT OF MEG - XVI. MORE MUTINY - XVII. A DINNER PARTY - XVIII. "HOW GOOD YOU OUGHT TO BE!" - XIX. HEADACHE AND HEARTACHE - XX. MY LITTLE ONE DAUGHTER - XXI. THE SEVENTH DAY - XXII. AMARANTH OR ASPHODEL - XXIII. LITTLE FAITHFUL MEG - XXIV. "IN THE MIDNIGHT, IN THE SILENCE OF THE SLEEP-TIME" - XXV. HERE ENDETH - - - -[Illustration: Contents tailpiece] - - - - - *THE FAMILY AT MISRULE.* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - *PICKING UP THREADS.* - - "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?" - - -There was discord at Misrule. - -Nell, in some mysterious way, had let down a muslin frock of last season -till it reached her ankles. - -And Meg was doing her best to put her foot down upon it. - -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. - -But her eyes were distressed. - -"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." - -"But you're such a child, Nellie," objected Meg. "you look like playing -at being grown up." - -"Fifteen's very old, _I_ think," said Miss Nell, walking up and down -just for the simple pleasure of hearing the frou-frou of muslin frills -near her shoes. - -"Ah well, I do think I look nice with my hair done up, and you can't -have it up with short frocks." - -"Then the moral is easy of deduction," said Meg drily. - -"Oh, bother morals!" was Nell's easy answer. - -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. - -"Oh dear!" sighed Meg. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -Besides darning, Meg had promised to take care of the children for the -afternoon, as Esther had gone out. - -Who were the children? you will ask, thinking five years has taken that -title away from several of our young Australians. - -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. - -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. - -Just a wee, chubby morsel of a girl it is, with sunshiny eyes and -sunshiny hair and a ceaseless supply of sunshiny smiles. - -Even her tears are sunshiny; they are so short-lived that the smiles -shine through and make them things of beauty. - -The boys generally call her "The Scrap," though she is as big as most -three-year-olds. She was christened Esther. - -And Poppet is still a child,--to be nine is scarcely to have reached -years of discretion. - -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. - -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. - -She had not bargained for the tussle with Nell too. - -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. - -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. - -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--_Le Chien du Capitaine_. - -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. - -"Where's Baby, I wonder?" Meg said to herself. - -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. - -"What you doing, Essie?" she called. - -"Nosing, Mig," said a little sweet voice from a bedroom,--"nosing at -all." - -"Now, Essie!"--Meg's voice took a stern note,-- "tell me what you are -doing!" - -"Nosing," said the little voice; "I'se velly dood." - -[Illustration: "'I'SE VELLY DOOD.'"] - -"Quite sure, Essie?" - -"Twite; I isn't dettin' wet a bit, Miggie." - -Up the stairs Meg ran at a swift pace; that last speech was eminently -Baby's, and betokened many things. - -"Oh, you wicked child!" she cried, and drove an unsummoned smile away -from her mouth corners. - -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. - -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. - -Meg dried her, scolding hard all the time. "All your shoes are spoiled, -Baby, you naughty girl; what _am_ I to do to you?" - -"Velly solly," said Baby cheerfully. - -She squeezed a tear out of her smiling eyes when Meg bade her look at -the ruin of her pretty red shoes. - -"And you told me a story, Essie; you said you were good, and were not -getting wet." - -Meg held the little offender away from her, and looked upon her with -stern reproach. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"Oh, John!" she said vexedly, seeing her work scattered about the floor. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -So Poppet undertook him. She was a faithful little soul, and in some -strange way just fitted into him, despite his awkward angles. - -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. - -"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." - -"Do you?" said John. - -"What made you so late home from school? It's nearly teatime. I hope -it wasn't detention again." - -"It was," said John. - -"Oh, Bunty, that means Saturday taken again, doesn't it?" - -"It does." John rolled over, and lay on his other side, his eyes shut. - -"Bunty, why _don't_ you try?" Meg said; "you are always in scrapes for -something. Pip never got in half so many, and yet _he_ wasn't a model -boy. Will you promise me to try next week?" - -There was a grunt from the sofa cushion that might be interpreted at -will as negative or affirmative. - -Nell came into the room, her hat swung over her arm. - -"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." - -"Good job too," said John, not moving a hand. - -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." - -The tea-bell rang upstairs; John sat up instantly. - -"I hope you saved me more pudding to-day, Meg," he said. "I never saw -such a stingy bit as you kept yesterday." - -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. - -"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. - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - *SCHOOL TROUBLES.* - - "A heart at leisure from itself - To soothe and sympathise." - - -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. - -"Ith got wheelth inthide it, and when they thop ith deaded," Peter was -saying,--"thust like my thteam engine, thath what tith." - -"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 _then_ -sud'nly they tumble down dead, and even the doctor can't make them run -again." - -"Yeth," said Peter, his eyes very thoughtful as he tried to grasp great -things. "Prapth you might tumble down like that, Poppet; all _your_ -wheelth might thtop." - -"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. - -"Yeth," said Peter; "and _oneth_, Poppet, I nearly _wath_ deaded, and -Judy thaved me." - -"_You_ 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 _everything_." - -"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!" - -"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. _I_ never lisped at all." - -Peter went red in the face. - -"I don't lithp; you're a thtory-teller, Poppet Woolcot!" he said, -drawing in his tongue with a great effort at straight pronunciation. - -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. - -"Don't go," said Peter. "Leth play Zoo, Poppet, and you can be the lion -thith time, and I'll feed you!" - -But not even this inducement had any effect. - -"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." - -She went away, leaving him disconsolate, and crushed herself through a -broken paling into the garden. - -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. - -But she knew him better than that. She was very wise for her nine -years. - -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. - -"What _are_ 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. - -"Flibberty-Gibbet had a tic in his head this morning," said the little -girl, sitting down beside him Turk fashion. - -"Well, _I_ don't care," Bunty said, with almost a groan. - -A look of anger crept up into the little sister's, earnest eyes. - -"I 'spect it's that old Burnham again," she said wrathfully. "What's he -been doing _this_ time?" - -Bunty groaned again. - -"Was it your Greek?" she said, edging nearer. "Howid stuff! As if you -could be espected to get it right _always_!" - -There was another smothered sound from beneath the cap. - -"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. - -"I'm in the _beastliest_ row, Poppet," he said. - -Poppet's little, fair face was ashine with sympathy. - -"I'd like to _hammer_ that Mr. Burnham," she said. "How did it happen, -Bunty?" - -Bunty sat up and sighed. After all, it would be a relief to tell some -one; and who better than the faithful Poppet? - -"Well, you know Bully Hawkins?" he said. - -"Oh yes," said the little girl; and she did, excellently--by hearsay. - -"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." - -"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 -_flattened_ him!" - -Bunty gave her a look of scorn. - -"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." - -"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. - -[Illustration: "MR. BURNHAM CAME UP AND I TOLD OF HIM."] - -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. - -But he had seen the look of horror in her eyes. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -Poppet choked something down in her throat. - -"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." - -"That's it," Bunty said, with a groan. "Oh, but that's not half of it -yet, Poppet. I almost wish I was dead." - -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. - -He sat up instantly and looked ashamed. - -"How often am I to tell you I hate mugging?" he said gruffly. "If you -go on like this, I won't tell you." - -"I beg your pardon," Poppet said very humbly; "really, I won't again, -Bunty. Do go on." - -"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." - -"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." - -"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!" - -"Oh!" breathed Poppet. She scented the old trouble again. - -"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." - -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---- - -"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----" - -"Yes," said Poppet steadily, "go on, Bunty." - -He had paused, and was digging up the earth with his broken -pocket-knife. "So--go on." - -"So, when we were all in afternoon school, Mr. Burnham came in and asked -who did it." - -"Yes, Bunty--_dear_." 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 _course_ you said you -had." - -"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?" - -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. - -"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." - -"It's no good." A sob came from under the cap. "Oh, Poppet, it'll be -awful to-morrow! Oh, _Poppet_! 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." - -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? - -"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. - -"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?" - -"On my bed," "John" said sulkily. - -"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." - -Meg turned to go back, Poppet's reluctant hand held fast. - -"Can't I stay five minutes, _please_, Meg?" the little girl said, -looking up beseechingly. - -Even in the fading light Meg saw the sweet brimming eyes and quivering -little lips. - -"John!" she said angrily, "you've been bullying the poor little thing -again; I simply _won't_ have it--I shall speak to father." - -"Oh, shut up!" said John; and he moved away wearily up to the house. - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - *A PASSAGE AT ARMS.* - - "Oh the day when thou goest a-wooing, - Philip, my king." - - -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. - -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. - -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." - -The stitch meant a hundred or two, for it was slit from top to bottom. - -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." - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -"Why don't you make that conceited little chit help?" Pip said between -puffs at his cigar. - -"Nellie!" ejaculated Meg in surprise. - -"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?" - -"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!" - -Pip's handsome face coloured slowly. - -"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." - -"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." - -"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?" - -[Illustration: "'PRETTY!' SAID NELL--'PRETTY! WHY, SHE BLACKENS HER -EYEBROWS, I'M CERTAIN.'"] - -"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." - -"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." - -"Her father sells kerosene and butter--he's a _grocer_!" Nellie said, -with a fine swerve of her delicate lips. "Upon _my_ word, Pip, I should -think, with all the pretty girls there are about here, you might fall in -love with a lady." - -"She _is_ 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." - -It occurred to Meg that it _was_ small-minded, and she said no more. - -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? - -"There's one thing--you'd get your groceries at a reduction," she said -meditatively. "I think their sardines are only 5-1/2*d.* a tin; they'd -let _you_ have them for 5*d.* perhaps, considering all you've spent in -chocolates and eight-button gloves. Meg, I _did_ think that packet of -lovely gloves in his bedroom was for his dear little sisters, until----" - -"Until you forfeited them by your abominable behaviour!" Philip cried -jesuitically. - -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!" - -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. - -"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.'" - -"Never!" screamed Nell, struggling desperately; "I'll die first,--o-o-h, -ah-h-h, oh--'I--I--I apologise'--you donkey!" - -"More than that,--'I should be glad to be half as beautiful and good and -lady-like.'" - -"'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!" - -"'I only said those caddish things because I was jealous of her -superiority'--hurry up, now!" A scientific turn accompanied his -sentence. - -"'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. - -"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." - -Pip picked up his hat and settled his pale blue tie, which had become -somewhat disarranged. - -"Good-night; I hope you'll learn and inwardly digest your lesson, my -child," he said, going out upon the gravel. - -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!" - -Meg was looking troubled. She was sitting on the lounge he had quitted, -and her fair brows were knitted beneath the soft, straying hair. - -"Nell dear, it _is_ vulgar," she said, "and it _is_ 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." - -"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." - -"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?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"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. - -"But I gave seven-and-sixpence for it," Meg objected, "and it's nearly -new." - -"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." - -Meg put the blouse on mentally. - -"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." - -But Nellie was comfortably in the hammock again among the cushions. - -"Oh, Poppet never does anything _I_ 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." - -So it was Meg who had disturbed the important _tete-a-tete_ 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - *A SUMMER'S DAY.* - - "Happy in this, she is not yet so old - But she may learn; happier than this, - She is not bred so dull but she can learn." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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!" - -"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." - -"All bwoked," said Essie; "gee up, old twain." Bang, bang, clatter, -clatter. - -"Essie, put those things away at once." Esther noticed the poker for -the first time. "You naughty girl, you are scratching the chairs -dreadfully." - -"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. - -So vigorous indeed that the chair went over with a crash, precipitating -Essie and the poker and tongs and shovel in four different directions. - -"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. - -"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. - -"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. - -"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." - -"But I was zust dettin' to Bwisbane--so it _is_ a pig," Essie -maintained. Then she climbed up again, and the journey proceeded. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Do this sum, Poppet," she said, setting a multiplication with eight -figures in each line--"dear, _what_ a greasy slate; and Peter, if you -drop any blots on your copy, you will have to write it again this -afternoon." - -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. - -"Both of us will," said Poppet,--"you on the top half, and me on the -bottom." - -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. - -"You licked it with your tongue," Poppet said. - -"I never--I wath only breathing with my lipth on it," declared Peter. - -"I saw the end of your tongue hanging out," Poppet maintained. - -"You're a thtory-teller, Poppet." Peter's face began to get red. "I -wath only breathing, tho there." - -"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. - -"Oh, Nell!" she said. - -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." - -"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 _are_ horrid!" - -For Meg had taken forcible possession of the dark green book, and had -picked up the dictionary. - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -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?-- - - "Hobbs hints blue--straight he turtle eats: - Nobbs prints blue--claret crowns his cup - Nokes outdares Stokes in azure feats,-- - Both gorge. Who fished the murex up? - What porridge had John Keats?" - - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -Poppet put her hand over the March-fly and confessed it was not quite. - -"How many rows have you done?" - -The answer came in a whisper, "Not quite one." - -"I shall keep you in to do it then after four," Meg said in her sternest -voice; "and, _Peter_, look at your copy." - -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. - -"Oh, bleth it!" he said ruefully. - -[Illustration: "'PETER, LOOK AT YOUR COPY.'"] - -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? - -Nellie had translated five lines, and was occupied in a vain search for -the dictionary meaning of _pourra_. - -"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." - -"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 -_pourra_. It's simply wasting all my time to sit here." - -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 _I_ care? I won't teach any -more." - -She flung herself down on the old horse-hair sofa, opened her Browning, -and turned her face to the wall. - -And they all went, not at first, but presently and by degrees. - -"The thaid we could," whispered Peter. - -"Did she _mean_ it?" Poppet said doubtfully. - -"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. - -So she also, after a glance or two at her sister's back hair, slipped -off her chair and stole softly away. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -She looked round, and saw the deserted room. - -"Took me at my word!" she said aloud. "They might have known I didn't -mean it, young scamps,--Nellie too." - -Then she smiled indulgently. The exquisite tenderness and the strength -of the love pieces had softened and braced her at the same time. - -"They're very young," she said, as she went out after them, "and--really -it's very hot." - -This was all in the morning. At night there was another breeze. - -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. - -"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." - -"Oh, go and hang yourself," he returned. He pushed his chair back from -the table, and went out of the room with lowering brows. - -Poppet slipped down from her chair. - -"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; _do_ you hear me?" - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -"Was it very bad?" said the little, tender voice at his elbow. - -He turned round, and looked at his young sister for a minute in silence. - -"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." - -"I know you haven't," the loving voice said; "what is it, Bunty?" - -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." - -"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. - -"Give us a kiss, Poppet," he whispered, and put his face down on her -little, rough, curly head. - -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. - -There was a step, and he set her down again and turned away. - -"Where are you going?" she asked half fearfully. - -"To bed," he said gruffly. "My head aches. Good-night." - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - *BETWEEN A DREAM AND A DREAM.* - - "It isn't the thing you do, dear, - It's the thing you leave undone, - Which gives you a bit of heartache - At the setting of the sun-- - The loving touch of the hand, dear, - The gentle and winsome tone, - That you had no time nor thought for, - With troubles enough of your own." - - -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. - -"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!" - -The snap that woke the poor dreaming child was the banging of the -bedroom door. - -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. - -"Oh-h-h!" said the little sobbing figure, sitting up in bed. -"Oh-h-h--oh-h--oh, _Nellie_!" - -"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." - -The child clung to her. - -"Bunty!" she said,--"is he dead? did they take his head?--oh, Bunty!" - -"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." - -Poppet put her head under the clothes and sobbed hysterically; the -little, narrow bed with its spring mattress was shaking. - -"Oh!" said Nellie,--"oh dear, this _is_ 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!" - -The bed shook even more violently. - -"M-M-Meg!" was the word that came with a choking sound from under the -counterpane,--"oh, M-M-Meg!" - -"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." - -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. - -[Illustration: "MEG CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING WHITE OUTSIDE BUNTY'S -DOOR."] - -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. - -"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!" - -But there was only a pillow and a tossed heap of clothes--the bed was -empty! - -"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. - -The boys' landing was in darkness; but at the end of it she caught a -glimpse of something white outside Bunty's door. - -"Poppet!" she cried, hurrying down. "Oh, Poppet, nothing on your feet, -and only your nightgown!" - -She picked her up in her arms, nine years old though she was. - -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. - -"Bunty!" she said, "Bunty! Bunty! Can't you hear me, Bunty? Oh, -Bunty!" - -"John!" Meg called sharply, "answer at once!" - -"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." - -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. - -"Good-night, Bunty," she said in a small voice with a pitiful hiccough -at the end. - -"Oh, good-night," he said. - -And then Meg carried her off. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -One thing she did venture to say, as she lay cuddled up with her face -luxuriously against Meg's soft breast. - -"Dear Megsie, couldn't you be sweet and dear to Bunty too? Poor Bunty, -everybody gets on to him." - -"My pet, he won't let people be nice to him," said Meg in a troubled -way. - -"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!" - -Meg kissed her silently. - -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! - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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? - -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. - -"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. - -Its mother! - -The scene came vividly before Meg's eyes to-night, as she sat with the -poor child close in her arms. - -She bent her head in an agony of shame and sorrow. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -She slipped Poppet's little warm hand out of her own and put it softly -on the pillow. - -"Well, this _is_ 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!" - -Meg got up, her eyelashes wet, her face very sweet in its new gravity. - -"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." - -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? - -Besides, her conscience reproached her about poor little Poppet, and it -made her feel irritable. - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -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." - -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? - -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?" - -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. - -"Come on; why _shouldn't_ you?" Nell said persuasively, quick to take -advantage of that sudden blush. - -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." - -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? - -She turned away with a sudden lifting of head. - -"No, I am not coming; say good-night for me." - -"Stay away then," said Nellie in exasperation. So Meg went down the -landing once more to the boys' end. - -"Bunty," she said, knocking softly, "I want to come in; may I?" - -There was an impatient grunt inside. - -"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." - -"It isn't that, Bunty; I only want to talk to you for a little." Meg's -voice was very even and patient. - -But "Blow being talked to!" was Bunty's grateful and polite reply. He -was weary of sisterly "talkings." - -"I'm not going to lecture you or anything like that, Bunty. I _wish_ -you'd open the door. What have you fastened yourself in for?" Meg beat -a little tattoo on the wood and rattled the handle. - -"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. - -"Oh, very well," said Meg, seeing it was useless, to-night, at least, -with that barrier of pine between them. - -"Good-night, old fellow. I don't see why you should be so grumpy with -me." - -"I'll talk to him to-morrow," she said, as she went downstairs with a -free heart to the drawing-room again. - -But, alas! to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow! - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *TO-MORROW.* - - "What's done we partly may compute, - But know not what's resisted." - - -They did not find it out till nearly nine o'clock. - -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. - -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." - -"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. - -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." - -She looked half pitifully, half eagerly at Meg, as if asking for a -denial of her horrible suspicions. "Come and look," she said. - -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. - -"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. - -"He had two and fourpenth ha'penny in it," said Peter, "cauth I athked -him one day." - -"He's run away," said Nellie. "Oh, the bad, wicked boy!" - -"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. - -"Run away!" repeated Poppet. - -Every vestige of colour had dropped out of her face; it wore a strained, -unchildlike look, and her eyes were heavy. - -Meg drew her closer still and stroked her hair. - -"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. - -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. - -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? - -Esther was there, too, with horrified eyes, and Pip with a look of -fierce disgust on his face. - -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. - -"Father," Meg said, white to the lips, "what _is_ the matter? Esther, -can't you speak? Oh, Pip, what is it?" - -"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?" - -"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. - -"What has he done?" she said, "because--because--oh, indeed, I believe -we have all been misunderstanding the poor boy." - -"Misunderstanding!" echoed her father, with almost a snort of anger. -"Read that, miss, and don't talk nonsense!" - -[Illustration: "'READ THAT, MISS, AND DON'T TALK NONSENSE!'"] - -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? - -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. - -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! - -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. - -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." - -"How do you know, miss?" her father said sharply; "what proof have you -that he didn't?" - -"He told me he didn't," said the poor little mite. "Oh, he _said_ he -didn't,--oh, why won't you believe it? Meg, I tell you he _said_ he -didn't." - -But even Meg could not believe, so lightly was Bunty's word held amongst -them. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -A week slipped away without any clue being found. Then a detective -brought news. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -"Don't forget what you promised," repeated Nell, as she read the almost -undecipherable epistle in her turn. "What did you promise, Poppet?" - -"That I would believe him," the little girl said, with a sweet, -steadfast look in her eyes. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII.* - - *A LITTLE MAID-ERRANT.* - - "There's nothing on earth half so holy - As the innocent heart of a child." - - -It was in the midst of morning lessons soon after at the Beltham Grammar -School that an odd thing happened. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"What is it, little girl?" he said, and really thought he made his voice -quite gentle and encouraging, though to Poppet it sounded terrible. - -"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. - -He took her hand, the little trembling, shut, brown hand, and held it -between his own. - -"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: - -"Bunty didn't do it," she said in a whisper. - -"Eh? what?" he said, mystified. - -"He didn't do it--Bunty didn't do it--oh, indeed." - -"But who is Bunty? and who are you, my little maid?" Mr. Burnham said, -with a smile that lit up his thoughtful eyes. - -"He's my brother," she said in a voice that had gained a little -strength. - -[Illustration: "'BUNTY DIDN'T DO IT,' SHE SAID IN A WHISPER."] - -Then it struck her Bunty was not so called at school. - -"His name's John Woolcot," she added, with downcast eyes; "I'm Poppet." - -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. - -"And his little sister is taking up his cudgels; thankless work, I'm -afraid--eh?" he said quizzically. - -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. - -"Won't you believe him?" she said; "indeed he didn't do it--oh, indeed." - -"What?" he asked,--"break the window--tell a lie--anything? Why, my -little child, he owned to it." - -"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." - -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. - -"Would you like to come and talk to me privately?" Mr. Burnham said. - -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. - -Away down the long room she went again, only this time her hand was -being held in a firm, kindly grasp. - -"Oh!" she said again, when near the door a great, slouching fellow with -a big head moved to help another boy with a blackboard. - -"What?" said Mr. Burnham, when they were outside; he had noticed her -intense interest. - -"Was that Bull-dog Hawkins--the fellow that told?" she said. - -He smiled somewhat; Hawkins was not a favourite of his, and the fitting -name sounded odd on the little girl's lips. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"If only he had never told a lie before," he said, "then perhaps----" - -Oh, if only she could have flung back her head and said, "He has never -told a lie in his life, sir; never--never!" - -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. - -"I'm sure he never will again!" she said, with sorrowful hopefulness. -"But, oh, sir, he couldn't be a thief! Oh, how _could_ he?" - -"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?" - -"Oh yes," said Poppet,--"oh yes, indeed!" - -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. - -"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 _vewy_ good to me--oh, indeed!" - -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. - -He took a bunch of keys from his pocket. - -"You are a dear, brave, little girl, Poppet," he said. "By the way, -haven't you a prettier name than that?" - -"Oh, it's Winifred, of course, really," said Poppet. - -"Something in a name," he said, half to himself. Then aloud: - -"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." - -He unlocked a tin box on the table, and counted out five sovereigns, -while the surprise in Poppet's eyes deepened every minute. - -"Have you a purse?" he asked. - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -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." - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - *ONE PARTICULAR EVENING.* - - "O world, as God has made it! All is beauty, - And knowing this is love, and love is duty." - - -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. - -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. - -It was like a blush rose. A delicate, exquisite flush had crept over -it, her eyes were soft and dewy, her lips unsteady. - -"Peter dear, come to bed; now, Poppet," she said; and even in her voice -there was a new note. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -And that exquisite pink in her cheeks! - -"Oh, Meg!" Nellie said, half guessing, half shy. - -"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. - -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? - -She went downstairs and into the drawing-room. "Who's in the study, -Esther? I can hear voices," she said sharply. - -Esther was reading, lying on the sofa, her dark, beautiful head against -the yellow, frilled cushions. She turned a leaf before she replied. - -"Oh, only father and Alan Courtney," she said, with a studiously -matter-of-fact air. - -"I _thought_ so!" Nell exclaimed, with a deep breath; then she sat down -at the foot of the sofa and looked at Esther. - -"Well?" Esther said, feeling the gaze before she reached the end of the -next page; then she smiled. - -"Is he really asking father?" Nell asked breathlessly. - -"I'm not at the keyhole," Esther replied. - -"And I wish I was," Nell said with fervour. - -Then they looked at each other again, and again Esther smiled. "How -pretty she looked to-night!" she said meditatively. - -"Very, very," Nell answered eagerly; "why, I couldn't help staring at -her." - -"I'm very fond of Alan myself; he's a thoroughly good fellow. I think -they are excellently suited," the young stepmother said. - -Nellie was silent a minute. "I wish he looked older," she said; "thirty -is the proper age for a man, _I_ 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." - -Esther smiled indulgently at Nellie's idea of a hero. - -"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?" - -"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. - -"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. - -"Oh no, dear--oh no, Esther," said Nell, quick to notice the -wistfulness; "why, of course it is very young; only--oh, _Essie_!" - -"What?" said Esther in surprise. - -"How _could_ 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 _love_, Essie?" - -But Esther was spared the embarrassing answer by the entrance of the -Captain and Alan. - -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. - -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. - -The Captain does not look unamiable. - -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. - -"All well?" ask Esther's arched eyebrows. And "All is well" Alan -answers with a grave, pleasant smile. - -"Dear boy, I _am_ 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. - -[Illustration: "HE BENDS HIS TALL, BOYISH-LOOKING HEAD SUDDENLY, AND -KISSES THE HAND HE HOLDS."] - -He looks at her in silence for a minute; then he bends his tall, -boyish-looking head suddenly, and kisses the hand he holds. - -"I am glad too," Nellie whispers, with something like a sob in her -throat; she too holds out her hand. - -"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!" - -He does not kiss _her_ 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. - -Then he goes. Meg has refused to be visible again to-night to him, and -Nellie flies up the staircase. - -"_Dear_ Meg," she pleads at the door--it is locked, and doesn't open for -a minute. - -But the tone turns the key, and the sisters are in each other's arms. - -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. - -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,-- - - "Lord, help us this and every day - To live more nearly as we pray." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"You darling," she said. "Oh, Meg, how glad I am! Dear, dear Meg, I do -hope you'll be happy--impossibly happy." - -It was the first connected sentence either of them had spoken. - -"I couldn't be happier," was Meg's whisper. - -"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. - -There was a little silence fraught with love, the two bright heads -leaning together; then Meg spoke, shyly, hesitatingly: - -"Alan--Nell dear--you do--like him?" - -"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." - -"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." - -"Very stupid," assented Nellie; but her smile differed. - -"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 _do_ -think he is the very best man in the world." The young, sweet face was -half hidden behind the deep cushion frill. - -"Well, you are the very best woman," Nell said very tenderly, and meant -it indeed. - -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. - -"The _very_ best woman," she repeated; but Meg's soft hand closed her -lips and stayed there. - -"If you _knew_ how I'm always failing," she said, with a deep sigh. - -"But the trying is everything," Nell said. - -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. - -"Oh, Judy," she said, "I wish you knew. Dear little Judy, I _wonder_ if -you know?" - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - *THAT MISCHIEVOUS CUPID.* - - "For boys say, Love me or I die." - - -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? - -Of course Philip was plucked. - -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. - -But, as I said, his name was conspicuous by its absence. - -"Oh, Philip!" Nell said, an accent of reproach on the first syllable; -"and even that stupid Burton boy is through." - -"Oh, Pip!" said Meg. "What _will_ father say?" - -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. - -And the strange part was, he did not seem to care twopence--the orthodox -measure of indifference. - -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. - -And when he came out of his father's study, after a _mauvais quart -d'heure_ 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. - -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. - -She remembered all at once that she had quite forgotten of late to take -an interest in this eldest brother of hers. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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! - -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. - -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. - -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. - -She went up to the table and slipped an arm round his shoulder. - -"Dear old fellow," she said; "oh, I am so sorry about the exam." - -"The exam.!" he repeated. "Oh, you needn't bother, old girl; I don't -care. What's an exam. fifty years hence?" - -His lips were under his own control again. - -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. - -But he freed his neck, and put her away almost roughly. - -"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." - -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. - -"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. - -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." - -"You'll know before the month's out," he said, and laughed half wildly -as he closed the door behind him. - -As a matter of fact, a trivial accident happened, and she knew before -the next day was out. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "A LITTLE DRIPPING FIGURE IN A WHITE FROCK AND -PINAFORE."] - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -He was kneeling down just beside the tea-things, groping about in the -long grass. - -"Have you lost anything?" Meg asked, in a voice that seemed to have no -connection with herself, so faint and far away it sounded. - -"Er--only the stem of my pipe," Pip said, a dull flush on his forehead. - -He overturned a cup, spilt the milk into the biscuit barrel, and said -something under his breath. - -"Is this what you have lost, Pip?" - -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. - -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. - -But Meg faced him quietly; all her courage gathered in her hands now the -need had come. - -"You were going to marry the little dressmaker, Philip," she said. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -He flung back his head with its crisp waves and curls, the light came -into his eyes. - -"I can work," he said, and smiled proudly. - -Meg looked merely thoughtful. - -"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? _You_ 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?" - -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. - -"She doesn't mind; she knows I'd have to begin from the beginning," he -said, half sulkily. - -"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." - -She held her head on one side argumentatively; the colour was beginning -to creep back into her cheeks. - -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. - -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. - -When it came to the crisis she had been very firm. - -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. - -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. - -"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?" - -And his answer was the least bit shamefaced. - -"Three months--nearly four, at least." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -His face looked quite young and bright again by the time they reached -the front door. - -"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. - -Meg drew a series of long breaths of relief as she took off her hat -upstairs and smoothed her hair for tea. - -"Oh, _who_ would have brothers?" she asked her image in the glass; but -it only looked back at her and smiled mournfully. - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - *NEEDLES AND PINS.* - - "Something attempted, something done." - - -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. - -"What ever was she?" sighed Miss Mabelle Jones. - -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? - -"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 _Young Ladies' Journal_; and the comment, -"Thirty-five inches, fat old thing," had a connection. - -She held the webbing against the tape measure, and cut it off at -thirty-five with quite a vicious little snip. - -"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." - -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. - -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." - -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. - -Good Mrs. Jones was cutting up carrots for haricot mutton in the back -kitchen, when her daughter burst in upon her. - -"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. - -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." - -"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." - -Mrs. Jones with a sigh set aside her toothsome "'arryco" and proceeded -to the door. - -"Can I see Miss Jones?" asked the pale young lady on the doorstep. - -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. - -"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. - -It was more than a quarter of an hour before Miss Jones made her -appearance, and oh, what a change was there! - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -Only she accented the second half of "circumstances," and deprived her -poor little last word of its rightful "h." - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -"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. - -"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." - -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. - -"He told you?" she asked in a low tone. - -"Yes, when I had found out everything," Meg answered. Then she leaned a -little more towards the pretty dressmaker. - -"Miss Jones, he is such a boy, poor Philip. Since you love him so much, -how can you bear to spoil his future?" - -[Illustration: "'MISS JONES, HE IS SUCH A BOY, POOR PHILIP.'"] - -Miss Jones lifted her eyes and bridled a little. - -"Of course, I knew you wouldn't think me good enough," she said. - -"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?" - -Miss Jones was silent a minute. - -"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." - -"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." - -"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." - -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." - -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?" - -"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?" - -"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." - -"Oh-h-h," said Miss Jones,--"oh-h dear!" - -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. - -"W-what is it you want me to do?" the young dressmaker said. "Oh-h, you -are cruel." - -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." - -"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." - -"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." - -Miss Jones looked a little gratified, though still somewhat mournful. -She felt very much like one of the heroines in her favourite _Bow Bells_ -or _Family Novelettes_, sacrificing herself in this noble manner for the -good of her lover. But secretly, like Pip, she too felt a trifle -relieved. - -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. - -"Well?" said Meg softly, breaking in at length upon her train of -thought. - -"Oh, I s'pose I'll give him up," she answered, somewhat ungraciously. - -"How good you are!" Meg said. - -"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." - -Meg had no doubt of it. - -"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." - -"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. - -Then Meg shook hands with her warmly, affectionately even--she felt she -almost loved her--and took her departure. - -"But Pip will never forgive me," she said to herself, as she walked home -again. "Oh, never, never, never!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - *A DAY IN SYDNEY.* - - "To Mr. O'Malley in foreign parts." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 L75. Martha had L15 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. - -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----" - -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. - -Esther, after a consultation with Meg, gave permission; the child was -fretting herself thin and pale, and any change did her good. - -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. - -"You're a thneak, Poppet, going and having pleathure, and me thtuck here -doing nothing," he said. "I'm coming too." - -"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. - -"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?" - -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. - -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. - -He contented himself with looking after them enviously as they went down -the drive, and kicking the verandah post with his small strong boots. - -"Tthuck up thingth!" he muttered, turning away to look for means of -amusement. "I'll thutht pay that Poppet out." - -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. - -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:-- - - - "TO BUNTY IN AMERICA. - -"On the ship _Isabela_ plese will the capten give this to Bunty." - - -There was a pencil mark through Bunty, and John Woolcot was written in -brackets. - -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. - - -"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. - -"Your loving sister, - "POPPET. - -"P.S.--Be sure to come quick." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Martha spoke to a sailor who was sitting smoking on an inverted cask. - -She "supposed the boats to America went from the Quay, didn't they -now?--or was it from Wooloomooloo?" - -But he "supposed there were boats and boats to America. There was sich -as the _Mariposa_, which carried swells and was a fine boat; and sich as -the _Jenny Lind_, which took oil and was not a fine boat!" - -"Do you know the _Isabella_?" said Poppet's little eager voice. - -"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." - -Poppet nearly fell upon him,--she could not wait while he said all he -knew about it in his slow roundabout way. - -"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?" - -But it turned out that the _Isabella_ 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." - -Poppet's face had fallen again. - -"Do you know of _any_ boats that go to America?" she said in a forlorn -tone. "Oh, do please try and think if you know of _any_." - -Martha explained rapidly, _sotto voce_: "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." - -The sailor looked kindly at the little sweet face under its -broad-brimmed hat. - -"I have a mate on the _Jenny Lind_, 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 _Isabella is_, and could easy send it." - -"That would be best, Miss Poppet dear," said Martha; "give it to this -nice kind man and he'll send it." - -"Is he going to America soon? Do you think he would see the -_Isabella_?" the little sad voice said. - -And the sailor's answer was certainly very reassuring: the _Jenny Lind_ -sailed in two days, and was sure to meet the _Isabella_, in which case -the letter would be delivered into Bunty's hands. - -Poppet handed over her letter with a sigh of relief; she had hardly -dared to hope a boat would leave so soon. - -Martha thanked the man, opened her green parasol, and walked on. Poppet -lingered half a minute. - -"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?" - -"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." - -Then she caught up Martha, who was beckoning impatiently, and felt a -load was off her mind. - -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. - -[Illustration: "THEY WENT TO THE WAXWORKS IN GEORGE STREET FIRST."] - -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. - -"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. - -So away they posted, up King Street, down Macquarie Street, and away -down the broad, beautiful, shady walk in the Domain. - -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. - -"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." - -But Martha had been selfish enough to desire fervently that Malcolm -should never go on strike again. - -"Oh, you never get your wish if you tell what it is," she said -evasively. - -"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?" - -"Not the slightest," said Martha of the warm heart,--"not the least -little bit, Miss Poppet." - -"And you always get your wish, Martha?" - -"Oh, of course." - -Years after, Poppet's faith in that wonderful wishing-tree was unshaken. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - *THREE COURSES, ONE SHILLING.* - - "Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover; - Yesterday's wounds which smarted and bled - Are healed with the healing which night has shed." - - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -"Why," said Poppet, "we have _those_ things at home. No, I'll have -sucking pig too, please, Martha; I like tasting new things." - -"Did you ever!" remarked Martha, looking troubled; "it might make you -ill, Miss Poppet dear. Have corned beef like a good little girl." - -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. - -"Sucking pig for two," said Malcolm to the waiter, and paused for -Poppet's order. - -"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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"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. - -But Poppet flung up her arms, and with a wild, piercing shriek darted -from her place and flew across the room. - -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. - -"Oh-h-h-h!" she sobbed, "oh-h-h! oh-h-h-h! _Bunty!_" She laughed and -sobbed and laughed again. - -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. - -Malcolm, after an expressive shoulder shrug, returned to his sucking -pig, which he was enjoying immensely. - -[Illustration: "POPPET FLUNG UP HER ARMS, AND WITH A WILD, PIERCING -SHRIEK FLEW ACROSS THE ROOM."] - -"There's nothing them kids _could_ do as 'ud surprise me," he said, as -he took a fresh supply of mustard and settled down again. - -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. - -"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. - -But Bunty did not answer; he seemed half stupefied, and was standing -perfectly still, while Poppet sobbed and asked questions and clung to -him. - -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. - -"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." - -"I can't go home," Bunty said faintly. - -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. - -"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----" - -He did not wait for an answer, however, but made fresh confusion by -fainting dead away on the floor at Martha's feet. - -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. - -"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. - -But Poppet caught his coat sleeve. - -"Not father, on _any_ account," she said. "Esther, or Meg, or even -Pip--but oh, not father!" - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -He had not been to America at all, he had never even heard of a boat -called the _Isabella_; it must have been some other boy the police had -heard of, and a chance resemblance that made them connect the two. - -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. - -"And it gave me fever--rheumatic--pretty badly," he said; "so they -shipped me down to the hospital here in Sydney." - -Poppet buried her nose in the sofa cushion, and Meg gave an exclamation -of horror. - -"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. - -"How could I?" was Bunty's low reply, "when you didn't know about -_that_!" - -Meg held his hand closer. - -"Didn't the people at the hospital ask who you were?" she said. - -"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." - -Meg's face was pale, and her eyes full of hot tears. - -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. - -"How could you _help_ sending for us?" she said, in a low tone. - -He moved his head a little restlessly. - -"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." - -Respect him! In Poppet's eyes Nelson was less of a hero, Gordon had -infinitely less claim to glory. - -"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." - -"And then," said Meg--the narration was almost too painful--"what did -you do then--when you got better?" - -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. - -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. - -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. - -And the next minute there came that wild, glad shriek, and Poppet had -flung herself upon him half mad with joy. - -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. - -"Oh, how can you ever forgive us, Bunty!" she said, tears brimming over -in her eyes. "Oh, Bunty, I shall never forgive myself, never!" - -Esther had followed, her face' shining with gladness. "Mr. Burnham is -here," she said, "and----" - -"Bunty never did it, 'twath Bully Hawkinth!" burst out Peter, pushing -Nellie aside, and actually trying to kiss his injured brother in his -excitement. - -Bunty rose to his feet, pale, trembling. - -"What is it, Esther?" he said. "Nellie--tell me!" - -"Only it _was_ 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." - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -The relief was almost too much for him in his weak state. - -At night, when Meg was tucking Poppet up in bed, the little girl sat up -suddenly. - -"Meg, that is the most wonderfullest tree in the world," she said in a -low, almost reverential tone. - -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. - -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. - -"What did you wish?" she asked, though she knew without telling. - -"That Bunty might be found this vewy day, and that they might find out -about the money." - -"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?" - -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. - -When she cuddled down among the clothes again, she drew Meg's bright -head down to her. - -"I was thanking Him," she said. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - *PARNASSUS AND PUDDINGS.* - - "When for the first time Nature says plain 'No - To some 'Yes' in you, and walks over you - In gorgeous sweeps of scorn." - - -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. - -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. - -No wonder his cup of bitterness seemed running over; no wonder he felt -Meg had sinned beyond forgiveness in thus interfering. - -His last examination had not, it was found, been hopelessly bad, and he -had been granted a "_post mortem_." 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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "HE WOULD SIT HOUR AFTER HOUR STARING MOODILY IN FRONT OF -HIM."] - -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. - -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. - - "Oh, what is life when all its joys are fled! - I am in love with Death's long dreamful ease. - Over my head I hear th' unwelcome tread - Of future years; my aching eye still sees - New suns arise and set, and seasons wane. - I would take arms against this sea of pain, - I would embrace Earth's sea and sink to rest, - For ever lulled upon her soothing breast! - I would fling off this gift of Life, as you, - O bitter Love, flung me aside, your you! - O Love, O Love, O bitter, beauteous Love, - Heartless and cold, but still my one fair dove! - What is this life that some find strangely fair, - When but to think brings sorrow and despair? - What is this life when love, your love, lies dead, - And mine, too much alive, slays me instead? - I will give up, go down,--there is a sea, - A winding sheet, kept cool and green for me. - I will give up, go down! Yet, Love, but smile, - But stretch to me that hand so soft and white, - That seemed my own, that sad, sweet little while, - And all grows day, for ever dead the night." - - -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. - -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-- - - "Oh, Star of Beauty, all the night - Thou shinest in the sky; - For thee the dark doth grow quite bright-- - Oh, hear my plaintive sigh!" - -His, he felt, were strong with the strength born of fathomless misery, -and sweet with the bitter-sweet of undying and spurned love. - -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. - -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. - -He entrusted it to the common post, and waited with an undisciplined -heart for the answer. - -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. - -It was painfully short and to the point:-- - - -"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. - -"Your friend only and nothing more, - "Miss JONES (not Mabelle). - -"P.S.--I suppose I may as well tell you as I'm engaged to be married to -Mr. Wilkes." - - -That was Pip's death-blow, and, if a paradox may be allowed, from that -minute he began to live again. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Esther smiled a little when first these operations began. Meg had -hitherto expressed the frankest dislike for culinary engagements. - -Nellie laughed openly. - - "Her 'prentice hand she tried on us, - And then she cooked for Alan, oh!" - -she said one day, shaking her head as she eyed a surprisingly -queer-looking conglomeration Meg called amber pudding. - -"Many thanks, but no, Meg dearest; I think I will finish with honest -bread and cheese!" - -"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." - -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. - -"Dear Meg," she said, "I am like the French lady, you know,--I eat only -my acquaintances. Nellie, pass me the cheese." - -But this sort of thing did not damp Meg's spirits, not at least for more -than a day or two. - -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. - -"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." - -"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." - -And she persevered with so much determination that they only groaned -inwardly when a "confection a 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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - *MUSHROOMS.* - - "In what will all this ostentation end?" - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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 _fat_, 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. - -These to be in readiness for all the dear old vulgar friends who had not -got to fortune yet and loved to "drop in." - -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. - -All this because of Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne! - -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. - -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. - -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? - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "MEG AND NELLIE HAD BEEN HELPING TO DECORATE THE CHURCH -ONE AFTERNOON."] - -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. - -Miss Browne at the end of that time wanted to know if they were not -passionately fond of tennis. - -"Oh yes--very," said Nellie. "We love it!" - -"Of course you have a court?" - -"Only a chip one the boys made; but it does very well." - -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. - -Miss Browne was silent a minute, then she said,-- - -"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." - -Meg tried not to look surprised, and did her best to find "the right -word for the right place." - -"Thank you very much," she said; "but our afternoons are very much -filled, I am afraid we should not be able to." - -"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." - -"I am always busy in the morning, and my brother is at lectures," Meg -said; "thank you all the same." - -"Well, your sister," said Miss Browne. "Won't you come, Miss Nellie? -You can't be busy as well." - -Nell looked at Meg as much as to say, "Why can't we?" but Meg was -somewhat annoyed at the persistency. - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"I _wish_ you could have come to tennis," the eldest Miss Browne said, -"or to our evenings; we have such awfully jolly ones." - -Nellie admitted, half hesitatingly, that she should like to "very much -indeed." - -"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." - -Nellie blushed exquisitely, and both the Misses Browne thought she was -the sweetest-looking girl they had ever seen. - -"I'm not out yet, of course," she said shyly. "I suppose I shall go to -places when I'm as old as Meg." - -But they seemed to think that was a very old-fashioned notion. When -they were fifteen, and even younger, they said, _they_ had gone to -parties and no end of things. - -"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. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV.* - - *THE GOVERNMENT OF MEG.* - - "Alas! how easily things go wrong." - - -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. - -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. - -A fortnight passed, and more cards arrived. - - MR. AND MRS. FITZROY-BROWNE. - _The Misses Woolcot,_ - FRIDAY EVENING. - _Dancing. R.S.V.P._ - - -Meg left out the "prior engagement" this time in her reply, and merely -"regretted the Misses Woolcot could not have the pleasure, etc." - -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. - -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. - -Innate good taste sometimes whispered to Nellie that these things ought -not to be so, but she generally chose to be conveniently blind. - -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. - -"Your people seem determined not to come to our house," Miss Isabel said -one day on the Parsonage tennis ground. - -"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? - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"Well, _come_," they said,--"don't wait for the others; we want -_you_,--why can't you come even if they won't?" - -"Oh," said Nell, who had not dreamed of independent action, "how could I -if Esther and Meg don't?" - -Miss Browne gave a little laughing sneer. - -"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." - -Nell flushed half-shamefacedly. - -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." - -"Perhaps I will come some day," she said a little uncertainly. - -"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?" - -Beatrice's laugh of utter scorn was sufficient answer. "Why, it's just -the other way," she said: "we tell ma what to do." - -"Some day" Nellie had said, but had not imagined how soon the day would -be offered to her. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Monday, the day the _Orotava_ 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. - -"Ze tissed me last," said Essie, trying to derive tearful superiority -from the fact. - -"The waved to me latht, tho there!" Peter said. - -"Ze never!" said Essie. - -"The did!" cried Peter. - -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. - -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. - -Meg proposed an adjournment. - -"Let's go and have tea and cakes or ice-creams at Quong Tart's" she -said. - -"Who'll pay?" asked Bunty the practical. - -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. - -"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." - -Pip moved away. - -"Won't you come, Pip?" she said half beseechingly, and catching his coat -sleeve. - -But he gave her a cold look. - -"No, thanks," he said, and walked off. - -So only six of them went to drown their grief in tea and ice-cream. - -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? - -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. - -So it was decided at last, and Meg picked up the reins of government -with a pleasurable feeling of responsibility and no misgivings whatever. - -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. - -But the aide-de-camp was tried and proved wanting,--all the trouble that -followed came through her. - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -"Up to Trafalgar House for tennis, that's all!" Nell replied, in a tone -whose studied nonchalance was somewhat overdone. - -Meg fairly gasped. Was she going to have open rebellion among her -subjects as soon as this? - -"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!" - -"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!" - -"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!" - -[Illustration: "'NELLIE, I FORBID YOU TO GO!' MEG CRIED."] - -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. - -"I can't believe you're in earnest," Meg began again; "why, you _must_ -remember father expressly said we were not to go!" - -"He did not tell me; he only said Esther needn't call,--that's not -forbidding _me_!" Nell said calmly. - -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. - -"Nellie, I _forbid_ 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 _forbid_ you to go near those Brownes!" - -"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 _going_!" - -And she went. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI.* - - *MORE MUTINY.* - - - "Gently scan your brother man. - Still gentlier sister woman, - An' if they gang a trifle wrang - To step aside is human." - - -That was the first battle; another followed quickly on its heels; and -then there came a long and sorrowful peace. - -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. - -"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!" - -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. - -But she warned her with much resolution in her tone. - -"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." - -Then she softened, and put her arms round her sister. - -"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." - -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. - -"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." - -Then came the next war. - -Cards for a dinner-party arrived from the "unsnubbable" Brownes--Bunty's -adjective. - -"Put them in the fire," Pip said. "No answer is the best for such -people." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Where are you going?" she said, merely as a matter of form--of course -she knew. - -"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?" - -Meg went a little white. - -"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!" - -Nellie twisted a long lace scarf round her beautiful shining head. - -"It's no use making a bother," she said; "I've made up my mind to go, -and I'm going!" - -"I refused the invitation," Meg said, catching at a straw. - -"But I accepted," was Nellie's answer. "I met Isabel yesterday and -promised." - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -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." - -He caught Nellie on the staircase. - -"Don't be such a little idiot!" he said. "Go and take that frippery off -at once!" - -"Go and mind your own business, Philip Woolcot!" retorted Nellie. - -"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?" - -"I certainly do think she's losing her senses!" Meg said in -exasperation. - -Philip surveyed her in silence for a minute--her exquisite, childish, -unformed beauty even appealed to his coldly fraternal eyes. He smiled -almost benignly. - -"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." - -Three or four years! Nellie's eyes flashed defiance at them both. - -"I'm _going_," she said, in a low, very determined voice. She brushed -past Meg and went down five stairs. - -But "Are you, my lady?" quoth Pip. He jumped the steps, caught her, and -held her fast. - -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! - -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. - -"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. - -"No, I'm not!" she said stormily. - -For answer he picked her right up in his arms as if she had been Poppet. - -"Where shall I put her, Meg? I'm going to lock her up," he called -breathlessly; she was not fragilely light. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -"You must have been exceedingly careless, Meg, to let her get to know -them," Pip said, with masculine inclination to locate blame. - -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. - -When they were separating some time later she looked wistfully up at -him. - -"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." - -He looked at her very coldly and sternly; the old bitter curve showed at -his mouth. - -"No," he said, "I shall never forgive you while I live, Meg." Then he -turned and went out of the room. - -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. - -[Illustration: "HER DESCENT FROM HER OWN BEDROOM WAS ALMOST EASY."] - -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! - -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. - -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. - -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. - -She stopped and inserted the key with a flush of shame: how ignominious -it must feel to be locked in! - -"Dear Nell----" she began, and then stopped aghast. - -The room was empty. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII.* - - *A DINNER PARTY.* - - "Oh, would I were dead now, - Or up in my bed now, - To cover my head now - And have a good cry!" - - -Trafalgar House, if you please. Time, about eight o'clock. Dramatis -personae some fifteen brilliantly-dressed ladies, and as many gentlemen -in regulation evening attire. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "AWAY DOWN NEAR ONE END SAT NELLIE."] - -At intervals down the sides the Misses Fitzroy-Browne, in _decollete_ -dresses of latest style. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Poor little Nell! Never perhaps in all her fifteen years had she been -so immeasurably miserable and uncomfortable. - -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. - -"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." - -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." - -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. - -He asked her whose dancing she liked best, Sylvia Grey's or Marion -Hood's. - -"--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 pate-de-something that the footman had just given her. - -"Haw," said the youth, "at the theatre,--don't-cher-know,--haw--haw, -very good." - -Nellie's cheeks burned. He looked at her with impertinent admiration. - -"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?" - -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. - -But she did not speak; her long eyelashes lay almost tremblingly on her -cheek, and she took a mouthful or two of the pate; 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. - -"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. - -She looked up in desperation, her cheeks aflame again. - -"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." - -Then the Hebrew neighbour claimed her attention. - -"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. - -"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. - -"And vich horse vos it you vos backing?" he pursued. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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! - -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. - -"What _were_ you dreaming of?" she said. "Why, you haven't even got -your gloves on." - -"Dear Miss Isabel," Nellie said, entreaty almost tearful in her voice, -"do let me go home now. Indeed I must,--oh do, do, do!" - -But "What nonsense, child!" Isabel answered, and bore her along with the -others into the brilliantly lighted drawing-room. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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?" - -"Why, of course," said Mrs. Browne; "why, I'll be glad to 'ave you; you -ain't been enjoyin' yourself, I'm thinkin'?" - -"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." - -"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." - -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. - -"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. - -"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." - -She rocked herself to and fro unhappily; her state of bondage was -beginning to tell upon her. - -"Ha' you got a mother?" she asked, turning sharply on her young guest. - -And Nellie's reply was very low and sad: "She died nine years ago." - -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. - -"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." - -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." - -"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." - -Then the gentlemen came in, and there was a louder buzz of talk, a new -settlement of chairs, and presently some excessively noisy music. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -"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. - -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. - -"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." - -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. - -"Well, really!" she said, sweeping into the bedroom, and looking vexedly -at the two on the sofa. - -Mrs. Browne struggled instantly to her feet. - -"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." - -"Oh, I never expect _you_ to do things like other hostesses," her -daughter answered rudely. Then she turned to Nellie. - -"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?" - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII.* - - *"HOW GOOD YOU OUGHT TO BE!"* - - "Greater than anger - Is love, and subdueth." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Every one in the house was asleep but Meg. - -She was sitting up for Nellie. - -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. - -So Meg kept her lonely watch with cold feet and low spirits. - -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. - -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. - -But not if she made fresh ties for herself. - -She told some of her fears, half falteringly, to Alan. - -"I think you must give me longer," she said. - -But he only laughed at her. Men never understand these things. - -"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?" - -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." - -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. - -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! - -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. - -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! - -"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!" - -What could Meg do? - -Be angry when the wilful, beautiful creature was sobbing so pitifully? - -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. - -"Come and get your wet things off, dear," she said; "you should have -driven up to the door, the drive's so long." - -"I was afraid it would wake every one," was Nellie's answer, broken in -three places. - -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. - -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. - -She put her head on the arm of the easy chair, and all her body shook -with sobs. - -Meg only stroked the wealth of beautiful hair she had let down to dry; -she felt it better not to speak at all. - -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 _cafe-au-lait_, two cups, sugar in a saucer, the end of a -loaf of bread, and some pineapple jam. - -"I couldn't find the butter," she said, half apologetically, as she set -down her load on the bed edge. - -"Oh, I don't deserve it!" wept Nellie, meaning less the butter than -Meg's kindness. - -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. - -"Oh, _Meg_, 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?" - -[Illustration: "'LOOK!' SAID MEG."] - -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. - -She declared their own comparative poverty seemed beautiful against the -Brownes' wealth and glaring vulgarity. - -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. - -But she dropped one little word in season before she went to her own -room to bed. - -The dressing-gown suited the girl's exquisite young beauty marvellously; -all the time they had talked Meg could not help admiring. - -When they got up she drew her quietly to the long glass of the -dressing-table. - -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! - -"Look!" said Meg. - -The girl looked at her image shyly, almost shamedly, but with a certain -little glad quickening at her heart. - -"Oh, _Nellie_! how good you ought to be!" whispered the elder girl, and -kissed her and slipped away. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX.* - - *HEADACHE AND HEARTACHE.* - - "Look where the healing waters run, - And strive and strain to be good again." - - -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. - -She consulted Meg as to the best study she could take up--she said she -felt ashamed to be so dreadfully ignorant. - -"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. - -Meg suggested the "Essays of Elia," "The Professor at the Breakfast -Table," "Sesame and Lilies," Lives of various poets. - -"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." - -But Nellie's zeal was too tremendous for half measures. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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. - -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. - -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." - -"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." - -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. - -And one of the grooms from Trafalgar House came in with a prescription. - -"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." - -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. - -The man said he would call back for the medicine in half an hour, and -departed. Then she went back to the counter. - -"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!" - -"Yes, she's down with scarlet-fever--several of the servants too," he -said, and went to the gas to melt some sealing-wax. - -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. - -But the pulse was calm, the tongue healthily red,--she laughed at -herself. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -The young doctor laughed, and put himself very much at her service. - -"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." - -"It's about the state of my health," she said sententiously,--"I wish to -consult you _professionally_, Dr. Courtney!" - -He put on a sympathetic look. - -"The heart, I suppose?" he said. - -But Nell stopped short in the summer-house. - -"Don't be stupid!" she said. "Look here, Alan, have I, or have I not, -got scarlet-fever?" - -He could not help laughing. It seemed so absurd for a fine girl--the -picture of health--to ask such a question. - -"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." - -"I was talking to some one who had scarlet-fever just after," Nell -returned,--"that's all." - -There was no fun in Alan's face now. - -"When?" he said sharply. - -"Oh, nearly a fortnight ago!" - -"You've not got it, then," he said. "Did you change your things -after?--take every precaution? How did it happen?" - -She told him everything, blushing hotly at the surprise in his face when -he heard she had been to Trafalgar House. - -He looked exceedingly serious over it. - -"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." - -"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." - -"How do I know you did not bring it home with you and give it to one of -the others?" he said shortly. - -Nell looked aghast. - -"Why, I couldn't do that, could I?" she said, with startled eyes. "I -never dreamt any one but I could have got it." - -"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?" - -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. - -"No," she said at last. Then she caught her breath. - -"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." - -"I'll look at her," he said. "Does Meg know anything about all this?" - -"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. - -"Afternoon tea's ready, and Meg says aren't you two ever coming in. No, -I don't want any, there's only gingerbread." - -[Illustration: "PETER WAS ENGAGED IN CHASING A FAT DUCK."] - -Alan felt her pulse, and asked to see her tongue. - -"There's something alarming in a little girl who doesn't like -gingerbread," he said; but there was a professional look in his eye. - -"She never eats gingerbread," Nell exclaimed, almost indignant with him -for having fears when the child looked so rosy. - -"Poppet's all right," he said in a low tone, as they went on; and Nellie -could have cried in her relief. - -"Peter next," she said. - -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. - -"Is your throat sore?" Nellie burst out, before they fairly reached him. - -"I thould think I can thout if I like," he said in an injured tone, -taking her anxious query for sarcasm. - -Alan caught him by the back of his sailor coat. - -"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." - -"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. - -"Bunty's _beautifully_ 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." - -Meg was standing on the front verandah, a troubled look in her eyes. - -"Oh, there you are!" she said. - -"Here we are," said Nellie. She drooped her eyes guiltily. "Is the tea -cold?" - -But Meg did not answer her. - -"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." - -"Does her head ache?" Nellie asked with dry lips. - -"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?" - -"Quite," he said; "I'll go up and look at her now." - -He went up the stairs behind Meg, a very grave look in his eyes. - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XX.* - - *MY LITTLE ONE DAUGHTER.* - - "Misery,--oh! Misery, - This world is all too wide for thee!" - - -The very next day came a letter from India. - -"Oh, this beautiful, beautiful country!" wrote Esther. "Oh, the -colouring, the life in everything I I cannot tell you how _new_, -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. - -"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. - -"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. - -"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. - -"Your loving old mother, - "ESTHER." - - -It was only the last part they heeded. What were descriptions of old -temples to them with that little tossing head on the pillow? - -"Oh, Esther,--poor, poor Esther!" Meg said, with the first sob in her -throat since Alan had pronounced it to be the fever--"oh, _if_ 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. - -The doctor decided the matter. - -"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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"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." - -Nellie lifted great beseeching eyes, rimmed with the shadows of a -sleepless night. - -"Oh, let me stay! oh, I must stay,--it would kill me to have to go!" she -said, with a great sob. - -"Of course you will have to go, Nellie," Pip said hastily; "don't make -extra trouble by being tiresome,--surely you have done enough." - -"Oh, hush!" said Meg. - -Pip knew now how the infection had been brought, and could not find any -excuse for his sister. - -[Illustration: "'OH, LET ME STAY! OH, I MUST STAY!'"] - -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. - -"She'll be out of the danger, too," Pip added, a little ashamed of -himself when he saw the beautiful, miserable eyes. - -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. - -She caught the doctor's arm. - -"I would watch night and day--I would do anything in the world, -anything--oh! _let_ me stay," she said. - -"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. - - "'Yours not to reason why, - Yours but to do or die. - -That's not for sword-soldiers only, little girl." - -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. - -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! - -No one would ever know quite what it cost the girl, but it had to be -done. - -"Mayn't I just see her for one minute, Meg?" she said, her courage -failing her at the last minute. - -It almost made Meg cry to see the utter despair and misery on her face, -and to have to refuse her. - -"Alan shall tell you every day how she is. Dear Nell, you know I dare -not let you go into the room." - -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. - -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. - -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." - -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." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Always the picture was speaking-- - -"Meg, where is Essie?--what have you done with my baby, Meg?" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI.* - - *THE SEVENTH DAY.* - - "When the heart is sick, - And all the wheels of Being slow." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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! - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "'NELTHONETH COPPED THE IMPITH!'"] - -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. - -The clock struck six, indicated eight, and meant half-past seven. Then -the stillness of the little lamp-lit room was suddenly broken. - -"Nelthonth copped the Impith! hurrah--hip, hip, hur----" - -Poppet sat up speechless. Poor little sinful Peter lowered his head at -her accusing eyes and whimpered softly. - -"You _cwuel_ boy!" she said - -"I wath only picking them up," he returned, so bitterly ashamed he could -not be quite truthful. - -"_I've_ 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 _bit_." - -"I'm thorrier than you, tho there!" he retorted tearfully. - -"Why, you've hardly cwied at all!" - -"I have, I cried for hourth,--you're a thtory, Poppet." - -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. - -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. - -And Peter, utterly relieved, banged Marlborough and Lobengula together -in such fierce single combat that it is wonderful neither of them was -decapitated. - -The door handle turned and Nellie came in again, Nellie with a -sheet-white face, heavy wet lashes, and swollen eyes. - -"I'm going up again," she said. - -"Tho 'm I," said Peter, springing to his feet. - -"An' me," Poppet cried. - -"Come on," said Bunty, picking up his hat. - -But Nellie shook her head. - -"You know your cold's bad again, Poppet; and, Peter dear, it's after -your bedtime,--you _must_ stay," she said. "Oh, Bunty, _do_ stop with -them." - -"I'm sure----" Bunty answered, with contradictory accent. - -Nellie caught a sob. - -"I shall _die_ if I don't go this minute," she said passionately. - -She moved to the door, but Bunty had gone before her. - -"We _can't_ leave them,--oh, _Bunty_, if only you'd stay!" She held his -coat sleeve and tried to force him back. - -"I want to hear as much as you do," he said, with all his old gruffness; -"here, let go." - -"I tell you I shall go mad--_mad_--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. - -"All right, go on," he said. - -Then his just wakening brotherly-protection ideas occurred to him. - -"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." - -"I _must_ go," she repeated hoarsely. "Make them go to bed; give Poppet -her medicine; don't leave the matches near Peter." - -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. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII.* - - *AMARANTH OR ASPHODEL?* - - "Falling with my weight of cares - Upon the great world's altar stairs, - That slope through darkness up to God." - - -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. - -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. - -"Why, Nellie!" - -"How--is--she?" - -She gasped the words, swayed, and recovered herself. - -"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." - -[Illustration: "'OH, LET ME COME!' SHE IMPLORED."] - -"I couldn't help it." - -He saw she couldn't, and did not scold her. - -"But what am I to do with you?" he said in dismay. - -He was anxious to get in, and now here was this poor, trembling, -wild-eyed girl on his hands. - -"Oh, _let_ me come!" she implored. There was a sob rising in her -throat. - -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. - -The sob was strangled instantly. - -"I'll stay," she said,--"only--oh, _Alan_, come out and tell me soon!" - -He promised he would. He drew her just within the gate and wrapped his -overcoat round her, for she was jacketless, of course. - -"I trust you not to come past the hedge," he said. "See, stand here, and -I can find you easily. There now, dear, I _must_ go." - -"A minute--is she in--real danger, Alan? Is she going to die?" - -Oh the wide, beseeching eyes, full of moonlight and misery! - -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. - -"She is in danger," he said quietly. "We are afraid she cannot live; -but there is always hope, and the next hour will decide." - -She pushed him forward. - -"Go!" she said, "go!" and he kissed her forehead and went. - -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. - -It was full moon to-night. - -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 - - "Was like a little feather - Fluttering far down the gulf." - -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, - - "'Only stooped to tie - Her silver sandals, ere deliciously - She bowed into the heavens her timid head." - - -And Bunty said, "What rot!" - -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! - -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. - -"Of _course_ it's no use," she muttered, and held her hands together -more tightly. - -A buggy stopped at the gate. The old doctor got out; he told the -coachman not to drive in, but to wait there. - -Two people passing up the road saw him, and crossed over. - -"How's the little girl?" they said. - -And "Very bad, poor baby," was his answer. "I ought to have been here -before, but have been at a deathbed." - -"Whose?" they asked, in the lowered tones death claims. - -"Mrs. Fitzroy-Browne," he said, and hurried away up to the house. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Suddenly the moonlight faded, the garden, the silent house, the pale -lights. - -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, _can't_ you make her better!" - -But Judy had died. He had not listened to her then, He would not listen -now. - -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. - -Her tears gushed out again, and poured in hot streams down her face. - -"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!" - -Her face fell into the hedge once more, and her lips babbled the wild, -pitiful, bargaining prayer that only One could understand. - -It seemed hours that she knelt there, praying, sobbing, and shivering, -before Alan came as he had promised. - -She heard his step coming down the path, and she struggled to her feet -and forced herself forward. - -But he was going past her,--had he forgotten her? - -No, she knew; the child was dead, and he could not tell her. - -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. - -"Alan!" she said, as he pulled the chain aside to go out. Her voice -sounded hollow and far away. - -He stopped, but did not look at her. - -"I--know," she said. - -He nodded. - -"Dead--dead--dead!" she said. - -But he spoke then. - -"Essie is better," he said; "she will live now." - -She caught at the palings; all the world was moving about her, the sky, -the ground beneath her feet. - -"Better," she told herself--"better, better--can't you hear?" - -Then she noticed Alan's face. It was deathly white, his lips were -trembling and twitching, his eyes were wild. - -"What?" she whispered. - -"Meg has got it," he said with a great sob in his voice; and he brushed -past her and went away. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII.* - - *LITTLE FAITHFUL MEG.* - - "And shadow, and silence, and sadness - Were hanging over all." - - -Pip had a time of unhappiness almost as great as that Nellie had gone -through. - -He was playing chess at the Courtneys to keep from thinking, when Alan -came in with the news that Meg had the fever. - -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. - -"Here's your hat, old fellow," he said, and Pip took it without thanks -and walked on. - -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! - -And now, perhaps, he would never have the chance. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -When he felt how cold and damp she was, he stirred. - -"You must come home, old girl," he said. - -"Here," she said--"I must stay here! I shall nurse her, but she'll -die--oh! I know she'll die." - -Pip groaned: he knew it himself, he would not give himself the slightest -hope; and the bitterness was as of death itself. - -But he saw Nellie was totally unfit to go into an infected house that -night. - -"To-morrow," he said; "come down to the cottage now; there's the nurse -there, and the servants; you'll be ill yourself next." - -"I want to be--oh, why _can't_ I die?" she wailed. "It's all me, every -bit of this, and God won't let me die." - -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. - -"Oh, you poor little thing!" he said. - -He put her on the old seat under the mulberry tree near, and went away. - -When he came back he was leading one of the horses by the bridle over -the grass. - -"What are you going to do?" she asked miserably. - -And "Ride you home," was his answer. - -[Illustration: "HE LED THE HORSE OUT OF THE GATE, AND CARRIED HER TO -IT."] - -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. - -That is how they reached the cottage. - -The children were in bed, and poor Bunty, weary of waiting, had fallen -asleep sitting bolt upright in a chair. - -Pip woke him, gently enough. - -"Make up the fire," he said. - -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. - -"Baby!" she said. Then her eyes flew open, and the colour died out of -her little flushed cheeks. What made Nellie look so terrible? - -"Better, much better--getting well," was Pip's hasty answer. He did not -want another ill on his hands. - -The child gasped with relief. - -"Go and get something on," said Pip; "and bring Nell a big shawl or rug, -and put something on your feet." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"I'll stop with you till you go to sleep," he said, feeling her chest -heave. - -"I b'leeve they're 'ceiving me," said the poor little child. "I heard -Nell whisper to you! Oh, Bunty, _tell_ me!--oh, Baby, Baby!" - -He reassured her eagerly. The crisis was quite past; the doctor said -she could not _help_ getting better now. Why, they would be playing -with her again now in no time! - -She cried a little from the relief, and then dropped off to sleep, -holding tightly to his gentle, roughened hand. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Then he went round into the garden, and to the side of the house where -Meg's bedroom was. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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? - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -He turned on his heel from the wall; the mark seemed on his heart. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Just say you forgive me, Meg darling--darling!" he implored, the tears -rolling down his cheeks. - -She sat up in distress. - -"Oh, go away!" she cried. "Oh, Pip, how mad of you--dear Pip, you'll -catch it!" - -But he would not loose her hand. - -"Will you?" he said. - -She moved to put her arm round his neck, then remembered and shrank -back. - -"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." - -"Lie down," he said, standing up again; it had only just struck him he -might be doing her harm. - -"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. - -"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." - -The nurse's step was on the stairs; he kissed her hand again and fled. - -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! - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"You're fairly late home, old chap," he said; "where in the world have -you been?" - -Pip only shook his head and pushed on. He was far too unhappy to stay -and explain. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV.* - - *"IN THE MIDNIGHT, IN THE SILENCE OF THE SLEEP TIME."* - - "Have I not trodden a weary road - Saint, my Saint? - And where, at last, shall be my abode, - Oh, my Saint?" - - -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. - -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. - -"What about the children?" she said with instant anxiety. "You oughtn't -to be here." - -But Nell stooped and kissed her. - -"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." - -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! - -In the morning, when she woke, her first question again, after hearing -Essie was improving fast, was what about the children? - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"Am I getting better or worse?" she said, for his look made her suddenly -fearful for herself. - -But he brightened instantly, for, in truth, the anxiety was almost over, -only he could not shake it off at once. - -"Much better," he said. "Do you know you have been asleep since nine -last night?" - -"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. - -She slipped her thin hands round his neck. - -"Poor old fellow!" she said, "dear old fellow! I'm going to get better -immediately now." - -"Try to go to sleep again," he whispered, putting a kiss on each eyelid -to keep them shut. "Please, my little, pale daisy." - -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. - -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. - -She sprang out of bed shrieking wildly, and pulled and shook poor little -Mrs. Hassal, who, half suffocated with the smoke, lay motionless. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -[Illustration: "He sprang through the flames, the child close in his -arms." The Family at Misrule. Page 271.] - -Poppet, mad with terror, was still pulling at Mrs. Hassal, and the -mosquito nets of the bed had just caught. - -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. - -Then he went back for the little girl,--Meg's little sister. - -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. - -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. - -One breathless second they looked at the burning room together from the -safe vantage ground of the grass plot at the side. - -Then Mr. Gillet started forward again. - -"I've left my coat," he said. - -Mrs. Hassal held his arm. "As if that matters," she answered -indignantly. - -"But there's something I rather prize in it," he said; "there's no -danger,--see, I'll have the blanket this time." - -He flung it round his head and shoulders, and went through the window -again. - -"Catch!" he cried, and threw the rough serge coat far out to them. - -[Illustration: "THE BOY SEIZED HIM BY THE SHOULDERS AND DRAGGED HIM OUT -THROUGH THE BLAZING GAP."] - -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. - -Bunty was the hero now. He put his coat over his head and dashed into -the room. - -Mr. Gillet had fallen just inside, the blanket still around him. - -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. - -But the man was dead. - -The rafter had struck his temple, and he had no more days of life to -ruin, no more with which to redeem past ruin. - -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. - -Then they gave her the something he had "rather prized." - -She sobbed and went away from them all when she had opened the little -parcel and seen its pitifulness. - -It was nothing but the length of ribbon, the blue faded, and still -creased as it had tied her hair. - -On the paper wrapping it he had written, "My soft-eyed girl St. Cecily." - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV.* - - *HERE ENDETH.* - - "God's in His heaven, - All's right with the world." - - -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. - -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. - -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. - -The Captain and Esther were expected every minute. - -Peter wanted to begin on the little cakes that had such a fascinating -bit of peel on the top of each. - -"Leth go halveth in one, Nell," he said; "we ought to tathte them -firtht,--prapth you forgot the thugar." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -This was the architecture of Peter and Poppet; the choice of flowers and -handing up had been Essie's work. - -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." - -Pip said no one would know what they were drinking, so it did not -matter. - -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! - -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. - -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. - -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?" - -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. - -[Illustration: "THE WHOLE SIX RUSHED TO PICK HER UP."] - -Martha came down with more, her very forehead sharing in the great smile -that widened all her features. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"But she seems a little thinner to me, Meg," she said; "I don't know if -it is my fancy." - -Then they all grew silent, and each one waited for the other to tell. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -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. - -"I tharcely drop any blotht now," he said; "I've gone into theven times, -I'm learning peninthulath, and I've thtopped lithping." - -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. - -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. - -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. - -Meg,--well, Meg is Meg. - -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. - -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. - -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." - -Then his eye fell upon his eldest brother, and his young catholic mind -found an item of news concerning him. - -"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." - -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. - -Esther spoke of Indian scarfs and shawls and gauzes the boxes held. - -"They will do beautifully for charades and theatricals," she said. - -"Or playing at being grown up," said Poppet. - -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." - -"What's dwowing up?" asked Essie. - -"I used to think it was just long dresses and done-up hair," sighed -Nellie; "or a stick and a moustache." - -"And not doing as you're told," supplemented Poppet. - -"An' eating thingth and not getting thick." It was Peter's amendment. - -Meg only smiled. - -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. - - - - THE END - - - - UNWIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON. - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *Works by Ethel Turner* - - (MRS. H. E. CURLEWIS). - - - *The Story of a Baby.* - - Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN and others. - - - *Seven Little Australians.* - - With Twenty-six Illustrations by A. J. JOHNSON. - - - *The Family at Misrule.* - - A Sequel to the above. - - With Twenty-nine Illustrations by A. J. JOHNSON. - - - *Three Little Maids.* - - Illustrated by A. J. JOHNSON. - - - *The Camp at Wandinong.* - - Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN and others. - - - *Miss Bobbie.* - - Illustrated by HAROLD COPPING. - - - *The Little Larrikin.* - - Illustrated by A. J. JOHNSON. - - - - * * * * * - - - - *The "Tip-Cat" Series* - - (BY THE AUTHOR OF 'LADDIE') - - - *Tip-Cat.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -A very pathetic story of hardships and sacrifice, telling how the -tenderness and generosity of one may make life smooth and happy for -others. - - - *Dear.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -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. - - - *Pen.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -A story of the neglect of two motherless children. The sketches of -character and touching love passages are exceedingly well told. - - - *My Honey.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -"It is always a pleasure to meet with a book by the authoress of -'Tip-Cat.' The story is full of charming character -drawing."--_Graphic_. - - - *Rob.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -"Interestingly written, and will be read with equal pleasure by members -of either sex."--_Westminster Gazette_. - - - *Lil.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -"A volume of interesting reading that should attract all young -people."--_Sunday School Recorder_. - - - *Our Little Ann.* - - By the Author of 'Laddie.' - -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. - - - *Laddie, etc.* - - By the Author of 'Tip-Cat.' - -"It is possible that 'kiddie' may become a classic."--_Chambers' -Journal_. - - - *The Captain of Five.* - - By MARY H. DEBENHAM. - -"Every human being over seven and under seventy will agree in -pronouncing it delightful."--_Daily Chronicle_. - - - *Hollyberry Janet.* - - By MAGGIE SYMINGTON ("Aunt Maggie"). - -"An excellent addition to a charming series."--_Academy_. - - - *The Pattypats.* - - By H. ESCOTT-INMAN. - -"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.'"--_The Teachers' Aid_. - - - - * * * * * - - - - *The Youths' Library.* - - -1 From Log Cabin to White House, By W. M. Thayer - -2 Robinson Crusoe, By Daniel Defoe - -3 Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress - -4 Grimm's Fairy Stories - -5 Grimm's Fairy Tales - -6 Swiss Family Robinson - -7 Andersen's Popular Tales - -8 Andersen's Stories - -9 Boys' Own Sea Stories - -10 Two Years before the Mast, By R. H. Dana - -11 Scottish Chiefs, By Jane Porter - -12 Ivanhoe, By Sir Walter Scott - -13 Romance of Navigation, By Henry Frith - -14 Prisoners of the Sea, By F. M. Kingsley - -15 Westward Ho!, By Charles Kingsley - -16 Arabian Nights Entertainments - -17 Black Man's Ghost, By J. C. Hutcheson - -18 Frank Allreddy's Fortune, By Franklin Fox - -20 Two Years Ago, By Charles Kingsley - -21 The Last of the Barons, By Bulwer Lytton - -22 Harold, By Bulwer Lytton - -23 The Holy War, By John Bunyan - -24 The Heroes, By Charles Kingsley - -25 The Beachcombers, By Gilbert Bishop - - - WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAMILY AT MISRULE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48304 - -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(tm) -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and -trademark. 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