path: root/76619-0.txt

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76619 ***

Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.



                      Hetty's Garden-Party,

                              AND

                        WHAT CAME OF IT.


                               BY

                          EMMA LESLIE

       _Author of "Harry Lawley," "Constancia's Household,"_
                          _Etc., Etc._


                         [Illustration]


                   LONDON: SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION
                    55 & 56, OLD BAILEY, E.C.



                           CONTENTS.

                         [Illustration]


                          CHAPTER I.

HETTY'S PROPOSAL

                          CHAPTER II.

THE COUSINS

                          CHAPTER III.

AN UGLY DILEMMA

                          CHAPTER IV.

COMPLICATIONS

                          CHAPTER V.

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

                          CHAPTER VI.

CONCLUSION



                         [Illustration]

                      Hetty's Garden-Party,

                              AND

                        WHAT CAME OF IT.

                            ——————

CHAPTER I.

HETTY'S PROPOSAL.

"MAMMA, dear! A letter for you, from Uncle John, I believe," said Hetty
Golding, as she paused at the breakfast table, where the letter was
lying near her mother's plate.

"Yes, it is from Uncle John. I wonder whether he will let Harry and
Lettice come to us for a week?" said the lady, as she opened her letter.

"Oh, mamma, did you ask him? I hope he has consented, for I have told
Ellen Ross and the other girls so much about Lettice that they are
quite wild to see her. Is she coming?" asked Hetty, impatiently.

"Wait a minute, my dear, and you shall have the letter to read
yourself. Yes, they are both coming," said the widow, as she handed the
letter to her daughter the next minute.

But Hetty did not want to read it now. "Oh I 'am' glad," she said,
clapping her hands. "Mamma, what shall we do when they come?" she added.

"Do, my dear? Make them as comfortable as we can, to be sure," said
Mrs. Golding, calmly.

"Yes, of course. But you know what I mean, mamma. They are used to
having everything so nice at home."

"Well, I hope we shall be able to have everything nice here. We always
do, Hetty."

"But, mamma, it will be so different; we only keep one servant. Don't
you think we had better have Mary Riley as housemaid? Uncle John keeps
two, besides a cook and kitchenmaid."

"Your Uncle John is a rich man, while I am only a poor
widow—comparatively poor, at least—for my income, as you know is only
sufficient for our wants, barely allowing me to lay aside a trifle for
a rainy day. But Lettice knows this, and will not expect a house full
of servants. No, I don't think I shall have Mary Riley; she has grown
such a pert, forward girl since she went to live in London."

A cloud gathered on Hetty's good-tempered face.

She did not like to be reminded of their narrow means, and already had
begun to lay plans for making a little display before their neighbours.
For Hetty had told one or two dubious stories about her mamma having
plenty of money, but preferring to live in strict retirement on account
of her health. And when it was remarked that the Goldings never gave
even a quiet party, Hetty had nodded, "Wait till my cousin Lettice
comes, we shall have a party then." And she had given her invitations
pretty freely among her schoolfellows and friends. Many a time she had
taken some congenial spirit into her confidence, and together they had
discussed the subject. And now, though she had left school, she was not
much wiser, and clung tenaciously to her pet project.

"Mamma, we must do something to amuse Lattice while she is here,"
said Hetty, after gazing abstractedly into her coffee cup for a few
minutes. "All the girls are wild to see her, so we must have a party,
or something of the kind."

"Well, we will have a little picnic in the woods if the weather is
fine. Ring the bell, please dear, I want to speak to Hannah about the
dinner."

Hetty shrugged her shoulders as she turned to the bell. "Picnics are so
old-fashioned, mamma. Let us have a garden-party," she said.

Mrs. Golding laughed. "A garden-party on our tiny lawn, Hetty? It would
be quite ridiculous."

"Yes, if we only had the lawn, mamma. But, you know, before Mrs. Mavor
went away, she begged us to use her garden whenever we liked, and
nothing could be better than that large, old-fashioned garden. And only
being separated from our own by that low wire fence, and having a gate
opening into ours, no one need know but what it is our own. It used to
belong to this house, you know, mamma."

"Yes, I know it did, my dear. But I should not like to use it for a
garden-party, it would be encroaching on Mrs. Mavor's consideration.
For I was glad to give up the garden when I took the house, on account
of the difference it made in the rent. And, besides, it would be
assuming a false position, to say nothing of the expense of such a
grand affair as a garden-party."

"But it need not be a grand affair, mamma. And as to the cost, we shall
eat no more in the garden than we should in the woods, only we can lay
a table tastefully on the lawn or under the trees, and have a cup of
tea in comfort, instead of sitting on the ground getting the cramp,
and perhaps a bad cold, and eating earwigs and ladybirds with the
sandwiches."

Mrs. Golding laughed. "I never heard of your dislike to ladybirds
before," she said.

"Well, I don't mind them so much, but I hate the creepy-crawly things
that get about you when you sit on the grass," rumbled Hetty, who was
determined to find fault with every detail of the proposed picnic.

"But what would you do to amuse yourselves in the garden?" said Mrs.
Golding, after listening to Hetty's numerous objections to her plan.

"Oh, we could play at croquet and hide-and-seek, and walk about, and we
might manage a dance on the lawn."

"Well, my dear, as you seem to have set your heart upon having it this
way, I suppose you must do so. But don't blame me, or Hannah either, if
things don't turn out as you expect, for I know nothing about garden
parties. If it were only a picnic now—"

"There, mamma, don't say another word. I'll manage everything now you
have given your consent. It won't make half the fuss a picnic would,
for there will be no packing baskets and breaking plates, and losing
knives and forks. I know how we had things at the Eastlakes, and can
manage it."

"But, my dear, we cannot pretend to have things as Mrs. Eastlake would.
She has plenty of money and a house full of servants, while we have
only—"

"If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Newton's servant has brought a message,
asking you to go over as soon as you can, for old madam has had a bad
fall, and seems very ill." The interruption came from Hannah, who had
been indulging in a little private gossip with Mrs. Newton's maid, and
had not heard the parlour bell ring some minutes before.

It was Hannah's one failing, this love of gossip. It seemed useless for
Mrs. Golding to try to check it, for scolding and reasoning had alike
proved ineffectual, and so she had given it up altogether.

Sending a message in reply, she merely told Hannah to come back at once
and receive her orders for dinner.

"Shall you go soon, mamma?" asked Hetty when Hannah had left the room.

"Yes, my dear, I must go at once. Old Mrs. Newton is such a dear
friend. She will expect me to be with her a great deal."

"Well, I hope she won't be ill long," said Hetty. "What shall I do
about this letter? Will you take it with you, mamma?"

"No, I think you can answer it. Tell Uncle John we will be at the
station to meet your cousins."

"And about the garden-party, mamma, we ought to have that the day after
Lattice comes, because it is to be a sort of introductory affair. And
some of them might like to give another when they once know Lettice."

"Very well, my dear, have it when you like. It is to be your party, not
mine, for I don't understand such things. I was always content with a
picnic and a ramble about the woods and hills, so you and Hannah must
manage things between you."

"Very well, mamma, I'll see to everything. You shan't have a bit of
trouble," said Hetty, kissing her mother as she spoke, for no one could
be more amiable and affectionate than Hetty when she could have her own
way, and, unfortunately, she had been allowed to have it rather too
much of late.

As soon as Mrs. Golding had gone out, Hetty flew downstairs to consult
Hannah about the garden-party, for she must be propitiated and coaxed
into putting forth her best culinary skill for the occasion.

"Hannah, my cousin Lettice is coming, and I have persuaded mamma to let
me have a garden-party," said Hetty, plunging at once into the matter.

Hannah looked up from her work of washing glasses. "A garden-party!"
she repeated. "Who is to get things ready for it, I should like to
know?"

"Oh, we can do it between us, Hannah. I came to tell you about it—to
ask you what we should want, for, you see, mamma knows nothing about
such things, and so she has left it all to me."

"And you know about as much as the mistress," said Hannah.

"Oh, but I know you could help me, and I have been to the Eastlakes and
one or two other places."

"And played croquet and ate custards," said Hannah contemptuously, but
in a mollified tone.

"Well, I don't suppose I could make them," said Hetty. "But you can,
and I could beat the eggs, and do little things to help."

"Well, well, we'll see what can be done," said Hannah, bustling about
her work, but smiling as she spoke, for she was gratified that Hetty
had come to consult her upon this all-important matter.

"What should we want besides—?"

"Besides custards and croquet? Oh, lots of things—cheese-cakes and
tartlets, and pound cake and whipped cream. Mary Riley told me they had
all those things at the Eastlakes, for she was there to help."

"I wish she could come and help us," sighed Hetty.

"Well, I shall have to get some help, if I am to do all this fine
cooking," said Hannah. "How many are you going to invite?"

"I don't know yet, I must talk to mamma when she comes home."

"Well, you ought to make up your mind soon, for there is scarcely a
week to get everything, and the young ladies will want a few days'
notice to get their dresses ready."

"Yes, I will talk to mamma as soon as she comes in," and Hetty ran off,
humming a lively air, to write her letter to Uncle John, and wish that
Mrs. Newton's accident had occurred at any time rather than the present.

She had deep and bitter cause to reiterate this wish again and again,
but it simply vexed her now that her mother should be away just when
she wanted her. For Mrs. Golding was out all day, and when she came
home in the evening she looked so tired and worried that Hetty hardly
liked to say a word about the party.

"Is she so very ill, mamma?" she ventured to ask.

"Yes, my dear. She will never leave her room, or even her bed again, I
fear. And there are other troubles as well in the family, so that I am
afraid I shall have to be away from home a good deal in the next few
days. Have you posted your uncle's letter?"

"Yes, mamma. I told him we would meet Lettice at the station, and that
we were going to have a little garden-party to introduce her to our
friends."

Mrs. Golding smiled. "I had almost forgotten this party," she said.
"But I suppose you may as well have it."

"Oh, yes, mamma, we settled that this morning. And I have been telling
Hannah about making us some tarts and custards," said Hetty, eagerly.

"Yes, you will want a few little things like that," remarked Mrs.
Golding, absently.

"Hannah was very good-tempered about it, and will do everything, only
she wants to know how many there are likely to be. How many shall I
invite, mamma?"

"My dear, I must leave that to you. I am sure you know whom to invite,
and I shall be so much away from home I think it will be best for me
to give you a sovereign, to meet the extra expenses. Only consult
Hannah in spending it. And remember, I cannot afford more than this for
extras. Tea, and sugar, and bread, and butter you need not count in,
but you must make this suffice for extras."

"Oh, thank you, mamma, I am sure it will do that," said Hetty, who
know very little of the practical value of money, and fancied that a
sovereign would purchase unheard-of luxuries.

Before she went to bed that night, she made out a list of friends
to be invited, and they numbered nearly forty. Remembering Hannah's
suggestion that these would want a few days' notice, she sat down
before breakfast, and began to write her notes of invitation. But she
did not show the list to her mother, for she knew that one or two names
would be struck out, even if her mother did not object to such a large
party. And so the writing was put away as Mrs. Golding came into the
room.

She did not notice her daughter's hurried movements, for her mind
was full of her friend's trouble. And as soon as she had eaten her
breakfast, she put on her bonnet to go out, saying she might not be
home again until the evening.

Hetty hurried over her breakfast too, and by twelve o'clock had written
and despatched all her notes of invitation.

"There now, I have done the worst part of the work, Hannah. I have
written all those notes," she said, as she came in after her walk to
the post office.

"How many have you sent?" asked Hannah.

"Thirty-six, and Lettice, Harry, and our two selves will make just
forty—a nice number."

Hannah held up her hands. "A nice number you call it—and you have just
one sovereign to feed all those people!"

"Well, isn't that enough?" asked Hetty, with rather a dismayed look.
"It's all nonsense about the feeding, you know; they're not like poor
people going to a tea-meeting. People don't come to a garden-party to
eat; I'm sure I never eat much."

"Well, you're not everybody, Miss Hetty, and I know enough about money
and parties to know that a sovereign is not half enough to feed all
those people."

"They don't want to be fed, I tell you. We only want a few things to
make the tables look nice; custards and cheese-cakes don't cost much,
and a few tarts and strawberries and currants, with plenty of tea and
coffee, and nice cake and bread-and-butter, are all we shall want."

"Well, Miss Hetty, I'll do the best I can. But you had better tell
your mamma how many you have invited, and I daresay she will give you
another sovereign, rather than people should come here to starve."

"You're dreadfully afraid of people starving," said Hetty, crossly,
as she walked away, swinging her hat and mentally denouncing Hannah's
vulgar notions about genteel people's appetites.

That afternoon, Hetty set out to make her purchases. She found her
sovereign considerably diminished before she came home, and then Hannah
provokingly declared she had not ordered more than half enough.

"Tell the boy when he brings them what more you want, then," said
Hetty, crossly. "I have seen Mary Riley," she added, "and she has
promised to come in and help us."

"Ah, she will tall us what we ought to have, for she has been living in
a fashionable family, only you must not forget to ask your mamma for
some more money, Miss Hetty."

But Hetty did forget, or rather felt afraid, to ask for any more, for
fear her mother should question her as to the number invited, and
insist upon the whole affair being given up. She did not feel quite so
happy when she went to bed that night, for there was a little fear, a
little anxiety as to what the end of this would be. But it was too late
to draw back now, she thought, the invitations had been issued, and she
"must" make her garden-party a brilliant success, for she had boasted
so much among her friends of what a grand affair they were going to
give when her cousin came to visit them.



[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

THE COUSINS.

ONLY this garden-party could be talked of for the next few days, and
all was bustle and preparation at Mrs. Golding's. Hannah was too busy
preparing for their expected visitors to question her young mistress
about money matters. She supposed Hetty had consulted her mother upon
this, and had sanctioned all that was being done. She ordered what she
wanted of the tradespeople, as she was told to do, giving Hetty the
bill when the things were brought, merely remarking that it had better
be paid at once, as she knew her mistress did not like bills left
unpaid.

Hetty put the bill into her pocket, without replying. In fact, she
had no money to pay it with, and she was wondering how much she could
save out of her next monthly allowance to meet these little bills, for
she knew that eggs, butter, and milk would not be the only items left
unpaid. Her sovereign had melted she hardly knew how. The party was
to be on Tuesday, and by the time Monday came, she had not a farthing
left. But she would not let Hannah know this.

"My cousin will be here, I dare say, when they send the things from
the confectioner's," she said, "and so you must tell them to leave the
bill, I can't be bothered with that just as Lettice comes in."

"I could pay it, Miss Hetty, if you leave the money with me. You know
how particular mistress is about the bills being paid."

"Oh, it won't matter for once, we don't have my cousin and a party
every day," said Hetty, turning out of the kitchen, for fear the boy
should appear at once, with his pastry-box on his head.

She did not want to be present when this arrived, for she had not
ordered so much as Hannah had told her was necessary. Jellies and ices
were so expensive that she could not venture upon many of these, and
Hannah would be cross, she knew, for she had made up her mind that
it should be a grand affair, as well as her young mistress, and was
throwing all her energies into the preparations for it.

Mrs. Golding contrived to leave her friend for an hour or two, and went
with Hetty to meet her cousins, but she was obliged to return to Mrs.
Newton soon after dinner, leaving the young people to rest and amuse
themselves until the evening.

"Hetty has invited a few friends to meet you to-morrow, so that you
will not be at a loss for company, and will hardly miss me, even if I
should not be able to leave my friend," said Mrs. Golding.

"Indeed, aunt, but you must spare us one day for a picnic in the woods.
I remember you telling me what a beautiful place it was, and there was
a sort of half promise given that we should spend a whole day there."

"Hetty is afraid of the creepy-crawly things," laughed Mrs. Golding.
"She thought you would like a garden-party best."

"Oh no, aunt; a garden-party is not half so delightful as a real
picnic. Everybody gives a garden-party now; I am quite tired of them."

If Lettice had glanced at her cousin's face, she would not have said so
much, but, intent only on winning her aunt's consent to the picnic, she
never looked at Hetty.

Her brother, however, saw that something was amiss, and said quickly,
"Of course, we should like a picnic, aunt. But I daresay we shall enjoy
a garden-party quite as much if you have arranged for one. By the bye,
where is the garden, Hetty?" he asked, looking out of the window upon
the little square grass plot which Hetty called a croquet lawn.

She reddened at the question, and her mother laughed.

"I asked how we could call it a garden-party when we had no garden,"
remarked Mrs. Golding.

"But we have a garden, at least for the day, mamma. You see, Lettice,
we could not possibly use that large old-fashioned garden at the back,
we are such a small family, and so we gave it up to Mrs. Mavor, merely
retaining the right of occasionally using it."

Hetty thought her mother had left the room, or she would hardly have
given such an explanation as this in her hearing, but it was the little
fiction she had so often repeated to her young friends, and she forgot
that her mother was likely to be startled by hearing it.

"What are you saying, Hetty, about Mrs. Mavor's garden? We have no
right there; it is by her kindness that we are allowed to walk in it,
and you know it quite well." Mrs. Golding spoke sharply, for Hetty's
words had pained her deeply, and she went out without another word, but
a feeling of bitter disappointment in heart, for she had prided herself
on her daughter's open truthful character.

Hetty felt very uncomfortable as her cousin looked as her with his
clear, truthful eyes. They were a greater reproach even than her
mother's angry words, and she had the bitterness of feeling that she
had forfeited his esteem through that falsehood. She tried to shake off
the impression, and turned to Lettice, who was looking over an album at
the table.

"What do you think of that?" she said, pointing to a portrait.

"I don't think I should care for the original. She looks a vulgar,
over-dressed girl. Is she a friend of yours, Hetty?"

"Yes, we were schoolfellows. Her father, Sir Charles Hodson, is one of
the richest men in this neighbourhood."

"It does not make his daughter a lady," remarked Lettice, carelessly,
as she turned over the leaves.

But here came an interruption from Hannah.

"What am I to tell Mary Riley about to-morrow, Miss Hetty?" she asked.

"She must come, of course, and I will speak to mamma this evening about
it," said Hetty.

In point of fact Mary Riley had been helping Hannah some hours every
day lately, but Mrs. Golding did not know it.

When she turned to her cousin again, Lettice said, "I am afraid aunt is
very much troubled by old Mrs. Newton's illness, she looks so pale and
worried. I hope we have not given you extra trouble by coming just now."

"Oh no, Lettice. You know we have wanted you all the summer, and mamma
was quite pleased when Uncle's letter came, saying he would spare you
for a week."

"But this party, Hetty. I wish you had not taken so much trouble about
that, for indeed I shall enjoy the quiet chats with you and aunt much
more than I shall meeting a lot of strange people. Don't think me very
disagreeable, Hetty, but I am obliged to see so many people at home
that I have quite looked forward to being quiet with you," said Lettice.



[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

AN UGLY DILEMMA.

THE morning of the much talked of garden-party brought the news that
Mrs. Newton was worse, and Mrs. Golding would not be able to leave her
until late in the day. When she came home, Mary Riley opened the door,
and Mrs. Golding looked at her in no small astonishment.

"You here, Mary Riley?" she exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am. Miss Hetty sent for me," said Mary, in a pert tone.

"Where is Miss Hetty?" said the lady, turning into the small
dining-room.

She paused at the door, wondering whether it was her own house she had
come into, as this had been turned into a cloak-room for the company.
And from the window Mrs. Golding could see a crowd of people scattered
about, while two or three tables stood on the lawn, covered with fruit,
flowers, and delicate confectionery.

"Why, Hetty must be mad to ask all those people here!" she said, half
aloud.

She did not know that Lettice had come into the room.

"Hetty has done it for my sake, I am sure, aunt, so you must not be
vexed with her," she said, gently.

"But, my dear, I had no thought of a garden-party like this," said Mrs.
Golding, still gazing from the window.

"How pretty everything looks!" said Lettice. "How clever Hetty must be
to get everything done so nicely!" she said, for she was anxious to
smooth matters as well as she could, seeing her aunt was so angry.

"She is too clever, I am afraid, Lettice," said her aunt, in a deeply
pained tone. And then she went upstairs to change her dress before
going into the garden.

From her bedroom window she could hear the laughter and snatches of
conversation going on below. It seemed that one of them had just found
the croquet set, and another was inquiring if they could not have lawn
tennis.

"No lawn tennis, nothing but croquet," said another loud voice, which
Mrs. Golding, to her further annoyance, recognised as Julia Hodson's.

"Did you ever see such a mean, shabby affair as this is, Miss Hodson?"
said another.

Mrs. Golding could not catch the reply, but there was a jeering laugh
from both.

And then Miss Hodson said, "Have you looked at those fine tables?
They look smart enough for a show, but I don't believe there's five
shillings' worth of eatables on all of them: a few paltry home-made
custards, and a jelly put here and there, as though it was ashamed of
being seen in such company, and a little cheap fruit, with plenty of
leaves to make the most of it."

Mrs. Golding, peeping from the window, saw that Miss Hodson's
description was pretty accurate; the provision for so many people was
very scanty, and she felt vexed and mortified.

She sat hesitating whether she would go down at all or leave Hetty to
reap the full harvest of mortification which she knew was in store for
her unless she came to the rescue. Then if she did, and sent out for
what was wanted, would it not be encouraging her in her foolish love of
display.

At last Mrs. Golding decided to go down, but to leave Hetty to get out
of the dilemma as best she could. She would let it be known that it was
Hetty's affair, not hers, and, perhaps, the bitter remembrance of this
day might prove a salutary warning to her for the future.

By the time Mrs. Golding reached the garden, there was little left on
the tables but empty plates, leaves, and flowers, and Hetty was already
looking more anxious and worried than she had ever been in her life
before.

"Oh, mamma, I thought you were never coming," said Hetty, when she met
her mother.

"So it seems, my dear, or you would never have asked all these people
here, I should think."

"Mamma, what shall we do? Hannah says we have not enough things."

"My dear, I have nothing to do with it. This garden-party is entirely
your own affair. I will talk to you about it by-and-by, but that can
wait."

And Mrs. Golding passed to look for Lettice, leaving Hetty and angry
Hannah to do the best they could.

Tea was served, but the cake and fruit were exhausted before the
visitors' appetites were appeased. Hetty was afraid to eat a mouthful
herself for fear of this, but she had the mortification of seeing
one plate after another emptied of its contents, and knew there was
little, if any, in reserve to fill them again, and hearing anything but
flattering remarks passed upon her much talked of garden-party. Oh!
How sick and weary of it all she felt before the evening was over, for
everybody seemed ill at ease and out of sorts. Lettice and Harry, she
could see, were exerting themselves to please and amuse other people,
but they, too, looked almost as uncomfortable as the rest, and as
though they would be glad to escape at the first opportunity.

But fresh trouble was in store for Hetty when Mrs. Mavor's gardener
came in at the lower gate and met a group of young ladies heedlessly
trampling down a bed of young onions.

"What business have you here? I'll get you all locked up for
trespassing," said the angry gardener, and he ventured to push Julia
Hodson as she stood in his path.

"How dare you touch me? I'll call your mistress," said angry Julia.
"We have more right here than you, and I don't care for the rubbishing
onions," and, to show her defiance, Julia walked again over the ground
they had been ordered to leave.

"Well, now I'm not going to put up with this in my own garden, for this
bit is mine. I agreed with Mrs. Mavor about it, and—"

"Why, it's Mrs. Golding's garden, you old stupid," interrupted Julia.
"Here, Hetty, Hetty, this old man says we have no right here!"

"Did you bring this lot here, Miss Golding?" called the gardener, as he
too caught a glimpse of Hetty.

She would have got away if she could, but her guests soon came up with
her, and she was obliged to face the angry gardener.

"What right had you to bring a lot of people in here?" he demanded.
"The garden isn't yours, and you've no right in it. And if my missis
give your mother leave to walk here sometimes, she didn't expect you to
bring all the parish in."

Hetty felt so dumbfounded that she could not say a word, and her guests
slipped away one by one, whispering among themselves, while Hetty made
her escape in another direction, for she was ashamed to meet anyone now.

The crowning mortification came when Hetty discovered that her two
cousins, with one or two of the guests, had wandered out of the garden
away into the woods.

Here Harry had seated himself on the bank of a little stream, and
Lettice, on a log close by was telling a story for the edification of
her brother and one of the younger guests, who had wandered to this
quiet nook with her. Another young lady was pulling autumn berries from
a bush close by, and altogether the group realised what her mother had
proposed this festival should be—a pleasant little picnic in the woods.

Poor Hetty had just run in here to escape from the angry gardener, and
now, as she stood behind a tree at the end of the rustic bridge, and
looked at the group opposite, who seemed to be enjoying themselves so
completely, it seemed that she had only escaped from one mortification
to meet another.

She kept herself out of sight, peeping from behind one of the trees,
but heartily wishing it was quite dark and time for her visitors to go
home. She longed for, yet dreaded, the departure of her guests, for
how she was to meet her mother and the questions that would be asked
she did not know. Her cousins too were vexed and annoyed, and she had
been so anxious to please them, and now everything was a failure, and
everybody cross, so that Hetty may be forgiven for thinking herself the
most miserable girl in the village.

[Illustration]



[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

COMPLICATIONS.

"IF you please, Miss Hetty, Thompson's have sent the bill for those
jellies and things, and the boy says he is to wait for the money."

"But I can't pay it, Hannah. I told you to tell him I would call in a
few days."

"It's a week now since we had these things," said Hannah, stolidly.

"Well, I can't pay it to-day. I'll talk to mamma when she comes home
this evening."

"You've told me that before, Miss Hetty, and if I hadn't thought you'd
done it, and asked the mistress for some more money, I shouldn't have
told her the things were all paid for last week."

"I wish you hadn't told her," said Hetty, fairly bursting into tears at
the thought of the complicated troubles she had got into through her
grand garden-party.

"Well, now, it's no good crying over spilt milk, Miss Hetty. Just
make a clean breast of it, and tell the mistress all about everything
to-night."

"I wish I could tell her, but, oh I Hannah, you don't know how
changed mamma is. She never speaks to me now as she used before this
garden-party. And I think my cousins saw that something was wrong, for
they seemed glad to go home to-day. Oh! Hannah, I do feel so miserable."

Hannah scarcely needed to be told this, for poor Hetty looked utterly
wretched. She sat indoors all day alone, because she felt ashamed to go
out. And yet there was a greater dread looming in the future, for Mrs.
Mavor had not yet returned, but an angry letter had been received from
her concerning the damage done to her garden.

Hannah sincerely pitied her young mistress, and went back to the door
to persuade the boy to leave the bill, with the promise that Hetty
would call and pay it in a day or two. But an hour afterwards another
bill was brought—from the fruiterer's this time—and this messenger was
also told to wait for the money, for Mrs. Golding was not a regular
customer, which made them the more pressing.

Hetty lifted her tear-stained face as Hannah opened the door. "What is
it now?" she said, impatiently.

"It's for the fruit, Miss Hetty," said Hannah, laying another bill on
the table, "and the boy says his master can't wait any longer."

"Tell him he shall have it to-morrow. I will ask mamma to let me have
my month's allowance this evening, and then I can pay this and nearly
all Thompson's, if mamma will advance me another month as well."

"Yes, do tell the mistress, Miss Hetty, it'll take off half the load I
know. And I'll coax the boy to go back without the money," and Hannah
did the coaxing effectually.

But this turning people away from the door without money was being
talked of in the village, for the boy had left a companion waiting for
him a few yards off, who casually asked if he had got what he went for.

"No, they'll pay to-morrow. They told me the same when I took the
things though."

"And they've just had a grand garden-party; why don't they pay their
debts?"

The boy made some such remark to his sister when he went home, and by
her it was carried to half-a-dozen others. And then another piece of
gossip was whispered: Madame Newton's son had failed in business, or
something; at all events, they were ruined, and Mrs. Golding was ruined
too.

Hetty heard nothing of this rumour, but when her mother came home that
evening, she received what would have seemed like a confirmation of
it if she had been told. Mrs. Golding looked worried and anxious, and
seemed very ill.

"Mamma, shall I get you a little wine?" said Hetty, in some alarm.

"No, thank you. I must learn to do without wine in the future," said
Mrs. Golding, in the stiff, stern voice she had always used to Hetty
lately.

Hetty dropped upon a chair, and her hands fell helplessly into her lap.
How could she tell her mother the trouble she was in while she kept her
at such a distance? But Mrs. Golding paused at the door before going
upstairs.

"Your money is due to-day, Hetty," she said, "but I shall not be able
to let you have it just yet, and you must be exceedingly careful in the
household expenses, for I have had some heavy losses lately." And Mrs.
Golding went on to her room without another word of explanation.

This was a cruel blow to Hetty. At any other time her mother would have
told her what had happened, for until this unlucky garden-party there
had been perfect confidence, as there always should be, between mother
and daughter. But now Mrs. Golding shut her lips firmly, and Hetty did
not dare ask her a question, although she was burning with curiosity as
well as anxiety to know how her mother could have had heavy losses.

After sitting for a little while waiting for her mother to come
downstairs, she ran into the kitchen to Hannah.

"Have you heard anything—anything about mamma losing money?" she said.
"Has she told you about it?"

"Bless me! No, Miss Hetty. And I hope she hasn't been lending the
Newtons any, for they do say they're ruined, for all they have held
their heads so high for years and years."

"The Newtons ruined!" exclaimed Hetty. "Oh! Hannah, then I am afraid we
are ruined too, for I know mamma drew money out of the bank to lend Mr.
Newton a little while ago." And Hetty began to wonder what they were to
do.

She went to bed that night feeling more anxious than over. Hannah
called her at breakfast time.

"I wish you'd rouse yourself, Miss Hetty, and come into the mistress's
room."

"Why, what is the matter?" she asked.

"Matter enough. Old Mrs. Newton is dead, and though I went to tell the
mistress an hour ago, she hasn't got up, and I don't know what to make
of her."

"Is she awake?" asked Hetty, springing out of bed, and hastily
scrambling on some of her clothes.

"I don't know what to make of her, but I'm afraid she must be very ill.
For she took no notice when I told her Mrs. Newton was dead, though I
thought at first she must have heard me, but felt too bad about it to
speak now. I'm afraid she's off her head with the worry of one thing
after the other."

"Mamma has been worried lately," said Hetty, with a little twinge of
conscience, but feeling thankful now that she had not told her mother
of the monetary difficulties she had got into.

She went into her mother's room, and saw at once that she was very ill.
A doctor was sent for at once, who decided that it was a very serious
attack of brain fever, and ordered that a nurse should be obtained,
and nothing likely to excite the invalid was to be mentioned in her
presence.



[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.

AS soon as Hetty had somewhat recovered from the fright and
consternation into which her mother's sudden illness had plunged
her, she went to the Newton's to tell them what had occurred, and
ask her advice and help in this unforeseen difficulty. But she heard
to her dismay that the family had left for London, although it was
comparatively early in the day. The nurse who had been with Mrs. Newton
during the latter part of her illness knew Hetty, and came and spoke to
her.

Hetty easily persuaded her to come and take care of her mother, but
there was pressing need for money now to meet the current expenses.
She had searched her mother's desk and could find nothing beyond the
few shillings she had in her purse. Sore as her dilemma was, she was
ashamed to apply to her uncle, for she felt sure Lettice had told him
about her miserable garden-party, and how she had wasted her money in
an effort to make a foolish display.

Meanwhile, poor Hetty was driven to her wits' end to know what to do
to supply their daily needs, but at last she decided to write. He was
their only relative, the only friend she had to rely upon, or she would
certainly have chosen to go to some one else, for her cousins had taken
no good account of her to their father, she felt sure. But just as she
sat down to write, the postman knocked at the door, and the next minute
Hannah brought in a letter directed to her mother. Hetty took it up to
her own room to read quietly.

It was from Lettice, explaining that her father was not well, and that
they were leaving home to spend the autumn and winter in Italy. They
would have commenced their journey by the time her letter reached them,
she said, but she would write again when they got to Paris, and tell
her where a letter would find them.

Hetty dropped the letter as she read this, and looked at it in blank
terror and amazement. She had changed her last shilling, her mother was
very ill and still quite unconscious, and the tradespeople had refused
to give them any further credit.

[Illustration: TOO TROUBLED EVEN FOR TEARS.]

What would happen next? Utterly wretched and bewildered, she flung
herself on her bed, too troubled even to seek relief in tears.

How long she sat staring at her cousin's open letter she did not know,
but she was interrupted by Hannah announcing Mrs. Mavor.

Hetty rose and went down to receive her visitor, but without speaking,
for it suddenly rushed upon her mind that she had brought fresh trouble
with her through the hateful garden-party.

Mrs. Mavor was very stiff and formal in her manner, but she asked
kindly after Mrs. Golding, and this brought the tears to Hetty's eyes,
which somewhat softened her visitor's manner, though it seemed hard
enough to Hetty, as she said—

"Miss Golding, I have come to ask an explanation of your unwarrantable
conduct in taking a troop of people into my garden, and, moreover,
setting about the story that you had retained the right to do this. A
few friends walking there would have done no injury, and your mother
was perfectly welcome to take them, but to invite half the parish and
tell them it was your garden is an injury I cannot look over."

"I am very, very sorry, Mrs. Mavor," said Hetty, in a tremulous voice.
"My mother is not in the least to blame; she did not know how many I
had invited, and I trust you will look over—"

"No, Miss Golding, I cannot look over it. The damage must be paid for,
of course, but that is not all—it is my word against yours. And I
have heard since I have been home that it is not my garden, but Mrs.
Golding's, and I cannot let that pass." Mrs. Mavor spoke quickly and
angrily, but Hetty saw that she had made up her mind upon this point,
and the idea of prosecution for trespass, perhaps imprisonment, at once
presented itself to her and increased her distress.

"I know it was very wrong to say what I did," she sobbed, "but indeed,
indeed I am very sorry, Mrs. Mavor."

"Being very sorry is not enough. You will soon forget that, and have
another garden-party when I go away from home," said Mrs. Mavor,
angrily.

"Oh, no, indeed, I shall never want another. I shall never forget the
misery this has cost me, for everybody seems so hard and unkind towards
us because of this garden-party," said Hetty.

"People always are angry when they have to pay for other people's
extravagance. I hear the bills for your grand party are not paid yet."

Hetty coloured crimson. How people must be talking about them for Mrs.
Mavor to have heard this already.

"I don't know how your mother could think of such a thing as giving a
garden-party at a time like this," went on Mrs. Mavor, after a pause.
"I was very much surprised when I heard it, and so are many other
people."

"My mother had very little to do with it. I am the only one to blame, I
can assure you," said Hetty. And then, hard as it was, she was forced
into a confession of all she had done in the affair, and how little her
mother knew of who was invited until she came into the garden and saw
them.

Mrs. Mavor was certainly touched by this confession. Hetty had never
been a favourite of hers, for she thought her vain and pretentious,
and constantly aiming at display. But the frankness with which she
confessed her faults to clear her mother from blame, made her hope that
this bitter experience might be beneficial to her character hereafter.

"Well, Miss Golding, if your mother is not to blame for the invasion of
my garden, what reparation can you give me?"

"I will do anything to save my mother further trouble," said Hetty.
"Oh! Mrs. Mavor, tell me what I can do, and believe me I will make any
sacrifice to atone for what I did that day."

"Well, to begin with, you must write me a letter of apology for
trespassing on my grounds, frankly stating that you had no right there
and will not again offend in the like manner. I must have this to show
anyone who may question my right to the garden," concluded Mrs. Mavor,
sitting bolt upright and looking very hard at Hetty.

The young lady hung her head. It was a bitter pill she had to swallow,
for she did not doubt but Mrs. Mavor would make ample use of this
letter among the gossips of the village to complete her humiliation: a
thought in which she wronged Mrs. Mavor, for that lady had no intention
of showing it to anyone, but proposed this as a test of her sincerity.

She saw that a conflict was going on in Hetty's mind, for she did not
answer for a minute or two, but at last she said, "I will write the
apology you require, Mrs. Mavor, and send it to you this evening."

"Very well. I will send in the bill for the damage done to the fruit
and vegetables in a few days, and then we may consider the matter
settled, Miss Golding." And Mrs. Mavor took her departure, a little
less stiffly than her greeting had been.

[Illustration]



[Illustration]

CHAPTER VI.

CONCLUSION.

WHEN Mrs. Mavor had gone, Hetty sat a long time pondering over the
task awaiting her before she began it, and it took her some time to
write the letter after she did begin. But it was finished at last, and
humbling as it was, Hetty was glad she had so far conquered herself
as to be able to write frankly and fully, taking all the blame, and
duly acknowledging that she had no right to enter the garden with her
friends.

Hetty would have felt a good deal happier if she could have seen what
became of her letter. For Mrs. Mavor, to make sure no one else ever did
see it, after she had once read it, tore it up and put it in the fire.
She would tell Hetty of this some day, but not just now, or she would
defeat the purpose for which she required it written. For somehow she
began to like Hetty better than ever she did before, and this letter
confirmed the liking, and she hoped that the faults of character that
had hitherto dimmed and hidden her better qualities might be overcome.

[Illustration: IT TOOK HER SOME TIME TO WRITE THE LETTER.]

She did not know what bitter distress Hetty was now in, that the little
household was positively threatened with starvation, that Hannah had
spent their last penny to buy a loaf of bread when she brought that
letter. Hannah would have told her readily enough if she had only had
the opportunity, but knowing the girl's propensity to gossip, she would
not give her the chance. And so the last loaf was cut and eaten without
butter, and no one knew where the next was to come from.

Mrs. Golding was still very ill, sometimes raving a little about Hetty,
and how cruelly she had deceived her; sometimes about her old friend,
Mrs. Newton, of whose death she was quite unconscious. But for the most
part she lay very quiet, except for the rolling of her head from side
to side.

Hetty was of very little use in the sickroom, for she could not control
her feelings sufficiently to do anything. She could only stand by the
bedside and shed silent tears of anguish as she looked at her mother,
and thought how much mischief her folly had caused, for that she had
been mainly instrumental in bringing on this illness she felt sure, as
she listened to her mother's plaintive reiteration of "Oh, Hetty, I did
not think you would do it! Hetty, Hetty, have you quite forsaken your
mother?"

Poor Hetty had to rush from the room very often for fear her sobs
should disturb her mother. And the thought that she might pass away,
and never know how bitterly she repented of the past, was agony indeed.
And she prayed to God to spare her life or restore her to consciousness
for a few hours at least, that she might ask her forgiveness for the
trouble and anxiety she had caused her.

Hannah did all she could to comfort poor Hetty, but she was at her
wits' end to know how she could help her in her distress.

When their last loaf was cut and eaten, she said, "Miss Hetty, why
don't you go and see your friend, Miss Hodson? She or her father might
be able to tell you what to do."

Hetty looked up quickly. "Do you think it would be any use, Hannah?"
she said. "I never thought of Julia helping anybody."

"Well, she is your friend, and Sir Charles might be able to tell you
what you ought to do."

"Something must be done certainly, for mamma must have what the doctor
orders, and we have no money and no credit now," said Hetty, as if to
stimulate her own courage for the disagreeable task before her.

Not for herself could she have done it, but for her mother she could
do anything now. And she put on her hat and jacket directly after
breakfast, and walked up to see Julia.

She caught a glimpse of her friend at one of the windows, but she moved
away directly she saw Hetty—to come and meet her as soon as the door
was opened she thought. But, instead of being invited to walk into the
drawing-room or meeting Julia in the hall, as she had anticipated, the
servant asked her to wait, and she would see if her mistress was at
home.

"Miss Julia is not at home," was the message she brought back.

Hetty knew it was a message, but it completely upset her, for Julia had
professed such love and friendship before that she did not anticipate
such a refusal as this. Julia might be cool in her manner towards
her—she had nerved herself to meet this—but to be kept waiting at the
door and then denied entrance almost overpowered her.

She stood for a minute or two unable to speak for astonishment, and
then by an effort recovering herself she said, "Can I see Sir Charles
Hodson?"

Julia's father, she knew, had been very intimate with Mr. Newton,
and he might be able to tell her how far her mother's affairs were
involved, and help her to tide over her present difficulties. But
Sir Charles could tell her nothing, and at last Hetty was obliged to
confess that they were on the verge of starvation at home, and until
she could obtain her uncle's address in Paris, she knew not where to
turn for a shilling.

"Dear me! That is very shocking, Miss Golding," said the gentleman. And
then taking out his purse, he laid a sovereign on the table saying,
"You will oblige me by accepting that for your present need, and I hope
in a few days you will have news from Paris."

Hetty coloured crimson at the thought of receiving charity, but what
was she to do? She looked at the sovereign and thought of her mother at
home. She felt choking, but she managed to stammer out. "Do you know
that we may never be able to repay this?—We may be quite ruined. We
have no money in the bank now I know, for I have written to ask."

"Never mind that, you are welcome to this trifle. And, if you do not
hear from your uncle in a day or two, come and see me again. I am very
sorry your mother is so ill, Miss Golding. I daresay Newton's affairs
have worried her a good deal, but I trust she will soon get over it."

"Thank you, I hope so," gasped Hetty, as she took up the sovereign and
put it into her little empty purse.

She tried to thank Sir Charles for this, but she was too much overcome
to utter a word, and walked out like one in a dream.

When she reached home, she flung herself into a chair, and burst into
an uncontrollable fit of sobbing. "Oh, Hannah, I never thought I should
come to this!" she said, throwing the sovereign on to the table.

"Well, Miss Hetty, I don't see what you've got to cry about now," said
Hannah, seizing the sovereign and looking at it complacently. "I can
get all the mistress wants now, and you and I and nurse can live on a
mere nothing till we hear from Miss Lettice again."

"I would not have taken it if it had not been for mamma," sobbed Hetty.
"Oh! If she would only get better, I would try and do something to earn
money myself. What do you think I could do, Hannah?" said the young
lady, trying to choke back her tears.

"Well, Miss Hetty, you used to say—"

"Oh, never mind what I used to say! I have been a vain, silly girl,"
interrupted Hetty. "Just tell me if there is anything I can do to earn
money."

"Well, Miss Hetty, you are clever at music I've heard, and you might
teach it, I should think."

"I should think so too," said Hetty, brightening at once. "I wonder who
I could ask about it?"

"I wouldn't do more than think about it just yet, if I were you, Miss
Hetty. You're a lady, you know, and ladies never work for money. I've
heard you say it again and again."

"Oh, yes, I know I have, but I'm getting wiser now, I hope. I've tried
to make everybody believe we were rich people because uncle was, but I
know mamma would be glad if I tried to do something useful."

Hetty had learned another bitter lesson that morning. Julia Hodson
and her maxims of what the world deemed genteel and proper had been
thought of and studied far more than her mother's wishes. But she knew
how to value the professed love of such a friend now, and she resolved
to begin at once and carry out what she knew her mother would approve,
even though she could not ask her about it at present.

Her usual impulsiveness forbade her waiting long after she had once
made up her mind to do a thing. So as soon as dinner was over, she
put on her bonnet to go and consult her former governess about her
plan of becoming a music teacher, hoping she might be asked to teach
some of the juniors among her former schoolfellows—a hope that was
not disappointed. For the lady knew that if Hetty liked to be patient
and take pains with her pupils, she could soon be a very clever
teacher. She also recommended her to call upon Mrs. Mavor, who had been
inquiring for a music teacher for her little girl.

Mrs. Mavor was rather surprised to see the proud Miss Golding upon such
an errand. But, after hearing her reason for wishing to do something
towards helping her mother, she encouraged her to persevere, and
engaged her at once to teach her little daughter.

Hetty proved a more painstaking teacher than even her governess
anticipated. And by the time Mrs. Golding was well enough to be told
what Hetty had done, she was also able to add that her work was not
nearly so irksome as she had feared it would be. She had begun to take
an interest in the progress of her pupils, and really liked teaching
them.

[Illustration: FROM HETTY'S OWN LIPS SHE HEARD THE WHOLE STORY.]

Mrs. Golding could only wonder and be thankful for the change in Hetty,
for she was not told of the bitter experiences through which she had
passed until she got better. Then, from Hetty's own lips she heard the
whole story.

Meanwhile, a letter had come from Lettice, saying they were going to
stay a week or two in Paris. And, in response to Hetty's confused
letter about her mother's illness, and their distress, and her going
out as a music teacher, Uncle John came back post haste to see what
it all meant. For Mrs. Golding was his only sister, and he had taken
care that most of her money should be safely invested, so that he could
afford to laugh when Hetty told him that her mother had been ruined by
the downfall of their friend, Mr. Newton.

"Nonsense, child! I took care that your mother should never be able
to ruin herself through her kindness to friends. The most she could
have lent was the little surplus she had saved and put away in the
bank here, so you may make your mind easy about that, and give up your
teaching to-morrow if you like."

"But suppose I should not like, uncle?" said Hetty, laughing in her
turn, for she could laugh now this great dread was lifted from her mind.

"Well, I should say you were a more sensible girl than I thought you
were," said Uncle John, in a cordial tone. For the report brought him
by Lettice of the way her cousin had acted during her visit had not
disposed him to meet his niece in a very affectionate manner.

Hetty coloured. "I have been foolish, and worse than foolish, uncle,"
she said, "but I mean to act differently in the future. Mamma quite
approves of my effort to be independent, as she says, for she does not
know why it was so urgent for me to begin to earn money at once, or
why I was so anxious to see you. She is too ill to be troubled about
anything yet, and now there will be no need to tell her until she gets
quite well. I do think she will get well now, don't you, uncle?"

"Certainly, my dear, and the knowledge that you are acting in such a
sensible, womanly way will help her more than anything else. Keep on
with your music teaching by all means, and don't add to the number
of helpless women in the world. Never mind what your fine, frivolous
friends may say, but, believe me, an idle, helpless woman is always a
miserable one, and often gets herself into as much mischief as you did
with your grand garden-party. Lettice told me about that, but I shall
be able to give her a very different account of you, and she will be
pleased and proud to hear it. For it is one of her pet theories that
a woman may nearly always conquer adverse circumstances if she only
conquers herself first, and I think you have proved it. I am quite
proud of my little niece now," added Uncle John, gently patting Hetty's
blushing cheek.

He stayed with them a few days, long enough to set matters straight
from a pecuniary point of view, and seeing his sister fairly
progressing towards recovery. He also called upon Sir Charles Hodson,
to thank him for the assistance given to Hetty in her time of need. And
Miss Julia was so impressed by his noble appearance, and the fact that
Hetty Golding was not quite penniless, that she called to see her the
next day, to apologise, as she said, for not returning Hetty's call
when she was not at home.

But Hetty was only coldly polite to her gushing friend now. She would
have no time, she said, to continue the acquaintance, for she was
occupied in teaching several hours each day, and her mother would
require so much care and attention for some months to come, that she
would have no leisure for other companionship.

It was Miss Hodson's turn to be astonished, and she was both surprised
and vexed, for she really did like Hetty Golding as much as it
was in her nature to like any one, and to have a renewal of her
highly-esteemed friendship thus coolly declined was nothing less than a
positive insult, according to her view of the matter. But remembering
the past, and how glad Hetty had been to accept the smallest token of
favour from her, she thought she would soon forget her present notions,
and be glad to resume her former standing, if she waited. So she took
her leave very coolly, but resolved to wait and watch for Hetty to make
some overtures of friendship.

But Hetty had no desire whatever to go back to that time. As she
herself remarked, the number of things which now claimed her attention
and absorbed her leisure left no margin for idle gossip as to what was
the world's opinion of this and that. Moreover, when her mother in due
course was restored to health, Hetty's interest had centred so happily
in her work and her home that she had no inclination or motive to
induce her to cultivate friendship with girls of Julia Hodson's stamp.

Hetty's first earnings went to pay the debts incurred by her foolish
garden-party. Mrs. Mavor's bill of costs for the damage done to the
growing vegetables in the slip she had given to the gardener was the
heaviest item on the list.

Hetty, however, paid it cheerfully, saying the lessons she had learnt
through it would be a warning throughout her life, for she could never
forget that garden-party, and what came of it.



                               THE END.



[Illustration]






*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76619 ***