by Anonymous
IX.
_SUSETTE AND HER TROUBLES._
So we all came back to Beecham Park, and the holidays were over, and wehad to buckle to work again; work that had a pleasant mixture of play init, out-of-door fun, Saturday rambles and birthday treats.
When first we returned from the sea-side there came a very earnestletter from mamma, begging that Sissy might really be sent home now,for surely grandmamma had had enough, and too much, of her. Indeed, amessage was added at the end to say that papa had made up his mind totake a holiday and run down to fetch me. All seemed to be settled, and Imyself got into that doubtful state--glad to go home but, oh, so sorryto leave this happy Beecham home! I began to wonder, too, whether Ishould feel quite at home with papa when he came, and on the morningfixed for his arrival, a very shy fit came over me, so that, at first,it seemed rather a relief when Harry called out to me that a letter hadcome from my home, and that I was to go up to grandmother at once. Butwhat a grave, sad face met me! My very heart stood still as she kissedme. Then in gentle words she told me that Bobbie was ill, had caught thescarlet fever, so papa could not come.
And, to dear grandmamma, I think it was a very anxious time thatfollowed. My little head could not take in all it meant when news cameof danger, then of baby's illness, then of nurse's. I could see thatother people were sorry; once I found Jane crying, and was caught up onto her lap and kissed and talked to, till a clear memory of the dear,chubby little brother at home came back to me, and I had a long,miserable fit of sobbing. But, you see, I had been away from them allfor nearly six months, and the little brothers and sisters around me hadsomehow shut out the two little fellows at home, and my play and lessonsat Beecham seemed much more real than the sorrow all those miles away.In a few weeks all the worst time was over, but, of course, there was noidea now of my going home.
I wonder if grandmamma ever thought, in the early spring, that for awhole year she was to have her house full of children! For a long timewe fancied every week that we should hear of aunt and uncle coming home.Every now and then Lottie and I would fret a little bit at the idea ofparting, but still it did not come.
One morning brought a letter for Lottie, with a great deal of news init. She read it to me in the nursery, as we were having our hair brushedfor the evening in the drawing-room. It told us that her papa had justmade up his mind to take the work of a clergyman in a moreout-of-the-way part, somewhere between Switzerland and Germany, and thatit was just the place to suit her mamma, so they would probably staythere till Christmas. Besides, there were some little German cousins ofLottie's living close by with their aunt, so there was a great deal totell altogether. We were very eager talking about little Heinrich andCarl--so eager that at first we never noticed that Susette had thrownherself into a chair with clasped hands, and her black eyes full oftears. When we came to question her, she said Monsieur and Madame hadgone to a place close to her native village, and would they--oh, wouldthey--see her poor, poor father, in the misery extreme, frightful! Wewere quite used to Susette now, and not at all surprised at herpassionate manner; and if we did a little smile to each other at thatfavourite word "affreuse," yet Lottie was eager and sincere enough inher assurances that certainly papa would go and look for the poorfamily. Out came the foreign paper at once, and if the summons to thedining-room had not come at that moment, I believe the letter wouldhave been written there and then. As it was, it certainly went the nextday. It was our first piece of anything like charity, and we waitedeagerly for the answer from Lottie's papa, which, of course, did notarrive directly it was wanted.
At last the morning came, when the postman, met by three eager childrenhalf-way down the drive, was greeted by the happy cry, "Oh, there it is!I see it in his hand!" And the much-longed-for prize was snatched fromhim, and triumphantly carried off to the nursery.
"Oh, children, do keep off! You must let Susette hear!" cried Lottie,and then she read this. But first let me say that this wonderful letter,having been put away with other more important old papers, has becomevery worn and yellow, and you must forgive me if I leave out a piecehere and there, where it is too torn to read.
"'My dear Lottie and all the Chicks,--Your letter came very safely allby itself the other day, just as well as if it had been in grandmamma'sas usual; and papa knew what an eager little woman his Lottie was, andso he made his discoveries as soon as possible, and here they are! PoorSusette, I don't wonder she was anxious to know all about her poorfather, and the rest of them. They have had a hard time of it since sheleft them, but they are all so fond of her, and so glad to get news ofher. Such a good girl as she is to them all! Mind, children, you makemuch of her, and don't add to all she has to worry about."
SUSETTE'S SISTER.]
At this point we all looked at Susette, and little Murray squeezed herhand. Her black eyes were overflowing, and her rosy lips were pressedtightly together; yet she was looking very happy and pleased.
Then Lottie went on:--
"'Heinrich and I set off at once to ----' (reader, I _cannot_ read thename of the village!), 'but some time before we got there we met apretty Swiss girl, with a bundle of corn on her head, whose eyes andmouth reminded me very much of your kind nurse. So I put my hand onHeinrich's shoulder to stop him, and then I asked her if her name wasLaurec, and she said, "Yes." So we had a long talk, and she told me allabout them at home, and of the fever in the village, and the want ofwork, and all the rest. I fancy it has been little short of starvationfor them all this long time. Then I let her hurry on to tell them athome who was coming. Such a sweet hill-side village as I cannot hope tomake my little English birds understand, with its pretty chalets lyingagainst the rock, and the bushy trees shooting out of the cliff aboveand around them. I went up to the one pointed out to me, and there,lying on a heap of rags, was Susette's little blind sister, that she hasoften talked to you about. Dear little patient thing! turning her large,dark, sightless eyes towards me with such a bright smile! As she spokeof "le bon Dieu," I thought of the pretty French hymns you used to tryto learn, and it gave the soft French words a softer sound when theywere on such a happy theme. But we could not stay there; so making ourlittle present to the dear child, we set off up the mountain. We had notgone far, when, among a flock of goats scattered over the hill, we founda poor old man sitting on a rock, with very downcast look, and littlePierre Laurec, who had come to show us the way, told us it was hisfather. The poor old man was very much out of heart, and it was sometime before we could make him understand that we wanted to help him. AtSusette's name he looked mournfully in my face as I sat down by him,murmuring that she was gone, gone, bonne fille!
UNHAPPY.]
"'Well, you know, I must not make my letter too long. Tell Susette thatthings look brighter now in her old home; that Pierre has found somework in our garden, and his sister comes now and then to your aunt'shouse; and that we will look after them a little, and send you more newssoon.
"'Mamma sends ever so much love, and many, many thanks to deargrandmamma for offering to house her tiresome chicks for a few moremonths. What a grand, happy Christmas we will have together! That is, ifonly I can get mamma well enough to brave an English winter. Poor mammawants sadly to get a sight of her baby.--Ever your affectionate
"'FATHER.'"
That was the letter, reader. Don't you think it was well worth waitingfor?