by L. T. Meade
the sense ofdiscomfort which now surrounded her. She had borne with her supper,which consisted of porridge and milk, the night before, but herbreakfast was by no means to her taste. When the boys had gone toSunday school, she said almost timidly:
"If I can't help you in any way can't I go out?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake do, my dear. I don't want to see you exceptwhen you want to see me. You're welcome to half my bed, although I washalf perished in the night, for you would take all the clothes and wrapyourself in them. I've got rheumatics in my back, and I could havecried out with the pain. You're a selfish young miss, I take it."
Nesta was accustomed to home truths, but Mrs Hogg's home truths hurther more than most. She felt something like tears burning at the backof her eyes.
"Perhaps I am," she said. "I know I'm not at all happy."
She went out of the house, and wandered down the summer road. Soon shegot into an enchanting lane where wild flowers of all sorts grew in wildprofusion. Here also was a distant, a very distant glimpse of the blue,blue sea. She was glad to be away from it; she was glad, of course, tobe here. She had not an idea what would become of her in the end. Shefelt as though all her life had suddenly been drawn up short, as thoughthe thread of her existence had been snapped. It was her own doing; shehad done it herself.
She heard the church bells ringing in the distance, but she knew it wasimpossible for her to go to church. She began to wonder what they weredoing at home, and to wonder what the Griffiths were doing. She foundshe did not like to think either of her home or of the Griffiths. Whatcould she do when her eight and sixpence was gone? Mrs Hogg was not atall an affectionate woman; she would exact her pence to the uttermostfarthing. Nesta felt that if she were to live on red herrings for aweek, she would feel very thin at the end of it. She detested redherrings She sincerely hoped there would be a variety in the Hogg menu.But Mrs Hogg's emphatic statement did not seem to point that way. Atleast for to-day she was to be supported on butterless bread and redherrings.
Still she wandered on, the country air fanning her cheeks. There waspeace everywhere except in her own troubled heart. As yet she was notat all sorry, there was only sorrow for herself, she was not sorry forthe pain she was giving others. Had the temptation come to her againshe would have succumbed.
"The people at home don't love me much," she thought, "or they'd havesent for me. I gave them every chance. It might have been naughty ofme to run away, but I gave them the chance of sending for me. But theynever sent a line or a message; they never would have done it, if MrGriffiths had not gone to see mother and found out the truth. Oh, tothink of what he would say when he came in. I wonder what he did say.I wonder what Flossie is doing. I wonder--oh, I wonder!"
She went on until she was tired, then she sat down by the edge of ababbling brook, dipped her hand into the water, and amused herselfwatching the minnows and other small fish as they floated past her inthe bed of the stream. There were forget-me-nots growing on the edge ofthe bank; she picked some and tore them to pieces. Then she started upimpatiently. What was she to do when the eight and sixpence was out?She began to think of Mary Hogg up at the Castle. It must be nice tohave something to do. She wondered if the St Justs would take her onas one of their servants. They kept such a lot, perhaps they might haveroom for her. She did not relish the idea. She had some pride, and shedid not care to sink to the position of a domestic servant.Nevertheless, she thought it would be better than doing nothing at all;better than going back to her family; better than starving. But thenthe St Justs might not have her. She could not honestly say she wouldmake a good servant. She felt certain in her heart that she would beunpardonably careless, thoughtless, unable to do any one thing properly.Why, she could not even make a bed! She used to try at home,sometimes, and always failed miserably.
Then she began to consider another fact. The St Justs would veryquickly discover who she was. Oh, no, she must not go there; she mustgo to somebody else. But who else? She had really no time to lose.Perhaps she could go as reader or companion. That was much better.That would be quite nice. There must surely be a blind lady in thevillage, and blind old ladies always wanted companions to read to them.Nesta could read--how often she had read to her mother. Oh, yes, shewould really do that part quite nicely. She was the quickest reader sheknew. She could gabble through a story at breathless speed; it did notmatter whether she pronounced her words right or wrong. Yes, a blindold lady was the very thing.
She began to feel hungry, for her breakfast had not been verysatisfying. Whatever happened she must be in time for the Hogg dinner.This was the principal meal of the day; it would cost her threepence.She began to think that she was paying dear for the sort of food she gotat the Hoggs'.
She walked back without meeting any one, and entered her new home. Shewas right; they were preparing for dinner. Mrs Hogg was stirringsomething over the fire; the boys were in their old attitude of raptattention, their hands in their pockets. There was a cloth on the tablewhich had once been white; it was certainly that no longer. There werecoarse knives and forks and very coarse plates, with the thickestglasses to drink out of that Nesta had ever seen. Mrs Hogg said:
"If you'll take your 'at off, Miss, dinner'll be ready in a twinkle."
Nesta retired into the bedroom; she came back in a few minutes. Whenshe did so the youngest boy came up to her, and whispered in her ear:
"Pease pudding for dinner." He then said, looking round at his brother,"Hurra!" and the brother, as was his invariable habit, cried "Hooray!"
The pease pudding was lifted out of the pot in a bag; the bag wasopened, the boys looking on with breathless interest. It was put in thecentre of the table on a round dish, and the family sat down.
"Your grace, Dan," said Mrs Hogg.
Dan said:
"For all your mercies--" He closed his eyes and mumbled the rest.
Then Mrs Hogg cut liberal slices of the pease pudding and helped Nestaand the two children. She gave Nesta the largest share. Nesta dislikedpease pudding as much as she disliked fried herring, but that did notmatter; she was so hungry now that she ate it. The pease pudding wasfollowed by a dumpling, which the boys greatly appreciated. There werecurrants in it, so few that to search for them was most exciting andcaused "Hurras!" and "Hoorays!" to sound through the cottage. This wasa dinner which was, as the boys expressed it, "filling."
"Seems to puff you out," said Ben.
"Seems to stuff you up," said Dan.
"Out you both go now," said Mrs Hogg, and she and Nesta were alone.Mrs Hogg washed up and put the place in perfect order. She then satdown by the table, put on her spectacles, and opened her Bible.
"Ain't you got a Bible with you?" she said.
"No," replied Nesta, "I haven't got anything with me."
"Shall I read aloud to you, Miss?"
"No, thank you," replied Nesta.
Mrs Hogg glanced up at Nesta with small favour in her face.
"Please," said Nesta, coming close to her, "I want to get something todo. I am a young lady, you know."
"Maybe you be; but you took all the clothes off me last night, and thatain't young-ladyish to my way o' thinking."
"I'm sorry," said Nesta, who thought it best to propitiate Mrs Hogg,"Please," she continued, in a coaxing tone, "do you happen to know ablind lady in the village?"
"A blind lady--what do you mean?"
"Isn't there one?" cried Nesta, in a tone of distress. "Why, you talkas though you wanted some one to be blind. What do you mean?"
"Well, I do; I want to read to her."
"Sakes alive! what a queer child."
"But is there one?"
"There ain't as far as I'm aware. There's old Mrs Johnston, but sheain't blind; she has the very sharpest of eyes that were ever set intoanybody's head. She's crool, too, crool, the way she snaps you up. Sheused to have a lady to read to her, but that lady has gone to Ameriky tobe married. She went a week ago, and they say Mrs J
ohnston almostcried, crool as she used to be to Miss Palliser. Now, if you reallywanted to--"
"But I do; I do," said Nesta. "I want to very badly indeed. May I goto see her? What is her address?"
"What ails her is rheumatism. She can't stir without screeching outloud, and she wants some one to bolster her up. Not that I think muchof you myself, but anyhow you might as well go and see."
"Would she like me to go and see her to-day?"
"Bless you!" said Mrs Hogg, "on the Sawbath? Not a bit of it. She'dnever give you nothing to do if you went and broke in on her Sundayrest. It's church with