Maud Florence Nellie; or, Don't care!

by L. T. Meade

one of the owners ofthe jewels which Harry had been accused of stealing. Intense curiosity,and a sort of impulse for which she could not account, determined her ongoing to Ravenshurst at all costs. She went upstairs after dinner,screwed her hair up into a neat knot behind, brushed it back from herbrows, and generally stroked herself down into a much tidier-lookingyoung person than she had ever before appeared.

  Wyn had also heard the hint, and sat listening, open-eared, to thestrange coincidence.

  "Wyn," said his mother, "it's a good thing Mr Edgar doesn't want youto-day. You get out the trap and bring it round by four o'clock so asto drive Florrie and me over to Ravenshurst, and then you can take it onto the junction and pick up Bessie and her things; I'll walk backthrough the wood."

  "But--but Mr Edgar sent word I was to get flowers."

  "Mr Edgar can't want the flowers to-day. It can't matter when you getthem--if you have them ready for him to-morrow morning. Now don't makedifficulties, Wyn, you get idle with going after flowers and dawdlingabout."

  Wyn rushed out of doors in despair. There was nothing for it but to goat once to the ash-tree in the hope that Mr Alwyn might be there beforehis time, and if he did not appear to write a message on a bit of paperand leave it where he could find it. Alwyn, however, impatient for themeeting, was already sitting under the ash-tree on the look-out for hisbrother, and started up in dismay as Wyn appeared alone.

  "Please, sir, Mr Edgar's ill to-day. He can't come. I think he meantme to come and tell you so."

  "Ill? What is the matter with him? What did he say?"

  "Please, sir, I expect it's only one of his headaches, and I only got amessage, but I thought I'd better come and tell you."

  "Is he likely to be able to come to-morrow?"

  "No, sir, I don't expect so. He often doesn't come out for a long timewhen he takes to having his headaches, except just to lie on theterrace."

  "But you can see him?"

  "Yes, sir, when he's a bit better. He likes to have me come and tellhim about the ducks and the peacocks and all the creatures, andsometimes I take him the dogs to look at."

  "My poor boy! Is that all he has to amuse him?" murmured Alwyn, half tohimself.

  "No, sir, there's the garden, and the wild flowers I get him. But,sir--please, sir, I've got to go. Is there anything for me to take him,sir? Most likely I shall see him to-morrow."

  Alwyn hesitated; but the fear of disappointing Edgar prevailed, and hegave Wyn the thick packet, to be kept with the greatest care, and to bedelivered to his master in private. Mr Alwyn looked so miserable as hedelivered it up that Wyn tried to say something consolatory.

  "Please, sir, Mr Edgar ain't no worse than usual. Often and often hehas his headaches and a pain in his back. I don't think he minds itmuch, sir. He'll talk quite cheerful most times." Alwyn did not lookmuch consoled by this information.

  "Tell him not to think of me," he said; "not to make any exertion to seeme. Come here again to-morrow, and bring me news of him."

  Wyn hurried off without more words to get the trap up for his mother,and it was not till he had deposited her safely with Florence atRavenshurst, and was waiting for his sister's train at the distantjunction, that it suddenly flashed into his mind how much he andFlorence had done to set the keepers on the track of the strangers whomthey had met in the wood. What had he done? It was worse than losingthe letter. Suppose they caught Mr Alwyn or Harry, whom he had himselftaken for a suspicious character, and took them up to the squire or tohis father, saying that they had been warned by Wyn Warren. What wouldMr Alwyn and Mr Edgar think of him? He must go and put them off itsomehow. Would the train never come? What possessed it to be so late?And when it did come groaning into the station what a time Bessie wasbefore she appeared with her box behind her, well-dressed, smiling, anddignified, the sister Bessie that he was ordinarily so glad to see.

  Now he could think of nothing but getting home quick, and started off ata rattling pace before Bessie had had time to remark on his growth orinquire for mother.

  "You ought not to drive that young horse so fast downhill, Wyn," saidBessie presently; "the road's so bad, you'll have him down. Isn't itthe one father says isn't sure-footed?"

  "All right, I understand him," said Wyn; but as he spoke there was astumble and a lurch, the horse fell, the trap tilted over, and BessieWarren, frightened, shaken, but otherwise unhurt, rolled out on to thehigh bank beside the road.

  She knew quite well enough what she was about to slip down the bank tothe horse's head and seize the rein as the beast righted himself with agreat struggle; then floundered, and stood up with broken knees,dragging the trap, which had been turned right over, and scattering onthe bank all its contents, Wyn included.

  "Wyn, Wynny darling, are you hurt?" cried Bessie, seeing little at thefirst moment but her brother's heels.

  It was a lonely road, and great was her relief when a gentleman onhorseback trotted up, and exclaiming, "Hullo! what's the matter?"dismounted hastily, and displayed the features of Mr Cunninghamhimself.

  "Oh, sir," said Bessie as he took the reins from her hand, "there's beenan accident."

  "So I perceive," said Mr Cunningham. "What, Wyn, my lad, let the younghorse down, have you? Are you damaged too?" as Wyn struggled up on tohis feet, looked at the horse's knees, and burst into a roar of crying,while his nose began to bleed violently from the shake and the blow, andhe would have fallen back again if Bessie had not caught him, and,sitting on the bank, laid him down with his head on her lap, and triedto stop the bleeding.

  "Is he hurt?" said the squire.

  "Not much, sir, I think; he'll come round directly. Keep quiet, Wyn.Where's your pocket-handkerchief? On the bank? Oh, sir, thank you," asMr Cunningham handed it to her, and saw the letter beside it with hisson's name on it.

  "A letter for Mr Edgar," he said, picking it up. He gave a secondglance, and put it in his pocket. "I'll give it to him," he said.

  Wyn was giddy and a little faint, and did not see what was passing; butpresently he sat up, and Mr Cunningham said:

  "Well, my boy, you'd better keep to Mr Edgar's pony for the future."

  "Mr Stapleton won't never forgive me," said Wyn, feeling the horse'sknees of far more importance than his own nose, and referring to thestud-groom.

  "Well, I hope there's nothing worse than Rex's knees on yourconscience," said the squire in the peculiar dry tone which made hisdispleasure so appalling. "You had better wait here, Elizabeth Warren.I'll ride back and send someone to help you."

  "Thank you, sir;" then, as he rode on, "Surely nothing could be worsethan breaking the horse's knees! What will father say? What's thematter, Wyn? here's your handkerchief."

  "But--but--where's--where's--"

  "Mr Edgar's letter? Mr Cunningham took it, so that's all right."

  Wyn jumped up with a positive howl.

  "Oh! oh! oh! Whatever have I done! Oh, I am the unluckiest boy in theworld! Oh, whatever will he say to me? But there--"

  Wyn suddenly stifled his lamentations and sat perfectly still, onlysobbing at intervals.

  "Why," said Bessie, "if anyone lets a horse down they must expect tocatch it. But there, Wyn, it's a mercy, to be very thankful for, thatwe're neither of us killed. I feel all of a tremble still. There,isn't that one of the stablemen coming? The master must have met him.Wipe your face, Wyn, dear, and don't cry; we'll go home to mother, andshe'll see to you."

  "Oh," sobbed Wyn, burying his face in the bank as his sister wentforward to meet the stableman, "I'd rather have let down all the huntersand broken all my bones than have let master have the letter. And Ilost the other, and I've set on the keepers! I'm--I'm a regulartraitor, and Mr Edgar'll never trust me no more--never!"

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

  THE FAIRY LETTER.

  In the meantime Florence Whittaker and her aunt, having been set down byWyn, waited in the housekeeper's room at Ravenshurst till Lady Carletonwas ready to see them. Mrs Warren was by no means co
nfident ofFlorence's success, and felt that she stretched a point in recommendingher. But Maud Florence Nellie was not quite the same girl as she hadbeen three weeks or a month before. Many new influences had beenbrought to bear on her some very ordinary, and others not quite socommonplace, and, like all young people, she was greatly influenced byher surroundings. If she had found herself on the Rapley road besideCarrie and Ada, she would probably have talked and acted exactly likeher old self; but she had thoughts that did not belong