by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER VII.
SHORTLANDS.
"A most extraordinary thing has happened," said Mrs. Ellsworthy thatevening to her husband. "We have lived for several years atShortlands, and except when we have people in the house I haveactually been without any society. My dear Joseph, you will forgive mycounting you as nobody at all. Well, we have lived here, and I haveoften been dull beyond words, and yet the nicest creatures have beenwithin a stone's throw of me."
Mr. Ellsworthy was at least twenty years older than his wife--areserved individual, with a rather long and melancholy face. Mrs.Ellsworthy was plump, and round, and pretty--kittenish some peoplecalled her.
She was certainly fond of emphasizing her words, and of going intoraptures, and her husband now only raised his eyebrows, and said,"Well, Kate?" in a somewhat lethargic voice.
Mrs. Ellsworthy left her seat, and drew a small easy-chair close tothe fire, for though the weather was hot Mrs. Ellsworthy alwaysinsisted on indulging in this evening luxury.
Planting herself luxuriously in this chair, the little lady began hernarrative.
"Now, Joseph, I will tell you my story. Do you remember thatoutlandish-looking governess who came up here for a week to try tokeep Frankie in order before we sent him to school? Oh, what ablessing it is to have that boy at school! Do you remember MissMartineau, Joseph?"
"There was an authoress of the name, my love; but surely she diedbefore we came to Shortlands?"
"Joseph, how stupid you are! I mean a dear, obsolete creature in thevillage. However, it is not the slightest matter whether you rememberher or not. She came here again this morning, and begged of me tointerest myself in the cause of three destitute orphans who lived in alittle house in the village. She spoke most kindly about them, butsaid they were a little unfinished, and not, in her opinion, verycapable; but she described them as pretty and young, and, oh, soappallingly poor! And somehow the good old creature touched my heart,and I said I would certainly help them. I ordered the carriage anddrove into the village. I expected to see--well, you know, the sort ofgirl who is likely to be found in a little village like Rosebury,Joseph--the awkward and shy young miss. I imagined them as being sograteful for my notice; indeed, a little overpowered; for, you know, Idon't know the Rosebury folk. Well, my dear, what do you think Ifound?"
"It is really difficult to tell, Kate. I should judge, however, fromyour excited manner and your unusual enthusiasm, that you found youngladies."
"Joseph, you are a genius. I did. In the funniest, pokiest, queerestlittle house that you can possibly imagine; I discovered threecharming, well-bred girls. The two youngest made friends with me intheir shabby little garden. They greeted me, I assure you, with themost delightful frankness and ease. I told them who I was, and theywere not the least impressed; on the contrary, the one they calledJasmine--oh! she is a pretty creature--fancied I was dying for somecarnations like hers, and the little one holds out hopes that some dayI may possess a kitten similar to the one she thrust into my arms.They were as shabbily dressed as possible, but who could look at them,dear pets, and think twice about their dresses? We got on mostpleasantly, and found we had many interests in common, for the littleone shared my love for animals, and the elder my passion for flowers.On this scene the eldest sister made her appearance. I assure you,Joseph, it is almost too absurd, but it is a fact; she actuallycontrived to snub me. I read as plainly as possible in those pretty,serene eyes of hers the question, 'How is it that you, who nevercondescended to know my mother, intrude upon us now, in our loss?' Shewas most gentle and most dignified, but I could as soon take libertieswith her as with--with--you, Joseph, when you choose to exert yourauthority. After Miss Mainwaring came, I thought it best to run away;but before I went I extracted a promise from the three darlings tocome and spend the day here to-morrow. Really, Joseph, I have had asurprising day; but I remember now that Miss Martineau did saysomething about these children being well born."
Mr. Ellsworthy again raised his eyebrows.
"I had an acquaintance once of the name," he said, "but I lost sightof him years ago. It is a good name. Well, Kate, you will do what youcan for your _protegees_. I am glad you have found some objects ofinterest close to your own gates."
Here Mrs. Ellsworthy dropped her slightly frivolous tone, and risingfrom her seat, went up to her husband.
"Joseph," she said, "I want you to contrive to be at home for lunchto-morrow. I want you to see my girls, and to advise me how best tohelp them. Primrose is so proud and so inexperienced; the two youngerones, of course, know nothing of either poverty or riches; they liveas the flowers live, and are happy for the same reason. Do you know,Joseph, that the eldest of these sisters is not seventeen, and theyoungest only ten; that they seem to be absolutely without relations,almost without friends, and that between them they have only aGovernment grant of thirty pounds a year."
Here Mrs. Ellsworthy's pretty bright blue eyes filled with tears, andher husband, stooping down, kissed her.
"I will make a point of seeing those girls to-morrow Kate," he said."I am glad you have come across them."
Then he went off to his library, where he sat, and read, and losthimself in great thoughts far into the night. It is to be feared thatduring these hours he forgot the Mainwarings and their troubles.
Mrs. Ellsworthy had appointed noon the next day to receive her youngguests, and punctual to the moment the three walked into herdrawing-room.
Daisy instantly commented on this fact. "There's the last stroke oftwelve striking from the church clock," she exclaimed. "Oh, please!where's the Persian kitten?"
"I have brought you all the carnations that were in flower," saidJasmine. "Smell them; aren't they delicious? Mamma used to love themso--I would not give them to any one but you."
Mrs. Ellsworthy stooped and kissed Jasmine, and taking her hand, gaveit a little squeeze. "Thank you, my love," she said--"I value yourbeautiful flowers--you shall arrange them yourself in this ambervase."
"They are such a vivid crimson, they would look best against white,"answered Jasmine, raising her eyes a little anxiously. "I like toarrange flowers to look like a picture. Mamma always allowed me toarrange the flowers, and Primrose will in the future." Here Jasminewent up to Primrose, and took her hand, and the elder sister smiled ather with great affection, and said, looking at Mrs. Ellsworthy, "Wecall Jasmine our artist at home."
"And our poet--she makes poetry about the Pink at home," said Daisy."Oh, dear!" she continued, giving a deep sigh, "I can't see thePersian kitten anywhere. I do hope what Miss Martineau said is nottrue."
"What did she say, my dear?" asked the lady of Shortlands.
"Oh, a lot of nonsense--that this was a great house, and we were tosit on chairs, and not speak unless you spoke to us, and we were notto play with the Persian kitten, nor see the dogs. She said you werea very grand lady, and that was the proper way to go on--we didn'tagree with her, did we, Jasmine?"
"No, of course we didn't," said Jasmine; "we knew better."
"We said you were a romp," continued Daisy. "You seemed like it in ourgarden. I wouldn't have come if I thought you were one of those ladieswho wanted little girls to sit on chairs. Oh! do say you are a romp."
Here there was a laugh heard behind them, and Mr. Ellsworthy came upand joined the group. He greeted the girls kindly, and very soondiscovered that their father had been the old acquaintance whom he hadknown of the name. Then he and Primrose went off together, and Mrs.Ellsworthy took the two young girls' hands.
"My darling," she said, "with the single exception of my only son,Frankie, who is at present at school, I am the greatest romp inexistence. Now let us come out into the sunshine and enjoy ourselves."
The few hours the girls spent at Shortlands passed only too quicklyfor Jasmine and Daisy. Mrs. Ellsworthy laid herself out to becharming, and no one could be more charming than she when she chose.She had naturally a good deal of sympathy, and taking her cue from thelittle ones, she entered into their lives, and became one with them.Jas
mine and Daisy became quite merry. An indiscriminating observerwould have said: "How shocking to hear such merry laughter--theirmother has only been dead a month." But Mrs. Ellsworthy had far tookind a heart to do these children such an injustice. She knew that thedark lines under Jasmine's bright eyes were caused by the passion of agreat grief; but she also knew that with such a nature sunshine mustfollow storm. Daisy in the midst of her play, too, began suddenly tocry.
"What is the matter, my little one?" asked the lady of the house. Thechild put her arms round her neck, and whispered through sobs: "I amso happy now; but I know I'll be miserable bye-and-bye. I'll want sobadly to tell mamma about you, and mamma won't be there."
Primrose was also serenely happy--she was glad to hear her sisters'laughter, and she liked to walk about the beautiful place, and to feelthe soft summer air on her cheeks.
The village of Rosebury lay low; but Shortlands stood on risingground, and the more bracing air did Primrose good. When she saw howhappy Mrs. Ellsworthy made her sisters she forgave her for not callingon her mother.
Mr. Ellsworthy took a good deal of notice of Primrose, and showed hersome of his pet books, and talked to her in a sensible grown-up way.Jasmine and Daisy were young for their years, but Primrose was old,and she liked to ask practical questions. Had she known Mr. Ellsworthya little better she might have even consulted him as to the best wayof laying out thirty pounds per annum, so as to cover all the expensesof three girls who wished to live as ladies; but she was both shy andreserved; and when Mr. Ellsworthy, goaded on by certain looks from hiswife, referred to the subject of money, Primrose started aside from itlike any frightened young fawn.
The day, the happy day for all three, passed only too quickly, and itwas Mrs. Ellsworthy at last who determined to plunge boldly into theheart of the subject which was uppermost in her thoughts.
"Primrose," she said, taking the elder sister aside, "you must forgiveme for speaking plainly to you, dear. I call you Primrose, because youdo not seem to me altogether a stranger, and my husband knew yourfather. I may call you Primrose, may I not, love?"
"Please, do," said Primrose, with that sweet smile which came onlyrarely to her quiet face; "I like it--it is my name. When people sayMiss Mainwaring I feel--lonely."
"You are Primrose, then, to me, dear. Now, Primrose, take my hand,and sit quietly in this chair. I am going to confess something to you.I called to see you and your sisters yesterday morning, intending topatronize you."
"To patronize us--why?" asked Primrose.
Mrs. Ellsworthy laughed in a slightly nervous manner.
"My dear child, we won't go into the whys and the wherefores. I foundI could not do it, that is all. I have not, however, half finished myconfession. I called to see you because Miss Martineau asked me to."
Here Primrose flushed a very rosy pink, and Mrs. Ellsworthy saw adispleased look fill her eyes.
"You must not be angry with Miss Martineau, Primrose. She loves youthree girls very much. She is most anxious about you. She--my dear,she told me of your poverty."
Here Primrose rose from her seat and said, in the quietest tone--
"We are certainly poor, but I don't think that is anybody's concern.We don't mind it ourselves--at least, not much. You see, we have neverknown riches, and we cannot miss what we have never had. It would be agreat pity for people to try to make us discontented. I think it wasill-bred of Miss Martineau to mention our private affairs to you; butstill, as we have got to know you through these means, I forgive her.You are a very delightful friend. Mrs. Ellsworthy, I think you mustlet us go home now--Daisy is not accustomed to being up so late."
"Of all the tiresome, hard-to-be-understood young people I ever cameacross, Primrose Mainwaring beats them," thought Mrs. Ellsworthy toherself; but aloud she said very sweetly--
"Yes, dear--and you shall drive home in the carriage I could not hearof your walking."