Sisters Three Part 6

"He is not reserved to me!" said Hilary consequentially. She had not forgiven Madge Newcome for her desertion an hour earlier, and shook hands with an air of dignified reserve.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

A PAINFUL AWAKENING.

A fortnight in London pa.s.ses quickly enough; but the time seems much longer to the friends who are left at home, and who have no variety in the quiet course of their lives. Half-a-dozen times a day Lettice and Norah said to each other, "What will Hilary be doing now?" And when a letter came, telling the plans of the next few days, they followed her movements hour by hour, telling each other, "Now she will be driving into town!" "Now she will be looking at the pictures!" "Now she will be dressing for the evening!" When the day of the traveller's return arrived, there was quite a bustle of excitement in the home. Lettice ordered Hilary's favourite puddings for dinner, Norah gave the drawing- room a second dusting in the afternoon, while Miss Briggs put on her cap with the pink ribbons, and dressed Geraldine in her best frock. They were all in the hall, ready to receive the travellers, as the fly from the station drove up to the door, and while Mr Bertrand stayed without to pay the driver, Hilary lost no time in hurrying indoors. Within the first two minutes the sisters noticed a change in her manner. Her voice seemed to have a new tone; when Miss Briggs held out a welcoming hand, she extended her own at an elevation which made the good lady stare, and even while kissing the girls, her eyes were roving round the hall with an expression of dissatisfaction.

"Why have you not lighted all the lamps?" she inquired, and when Lettice replied in amazement that there were as many lamps as usual, she shrugged her shoulders, and muttered something about "inky darkness."

If Mr Bertrand had not appeared at that moment it would be difficult to say what would have happened, but he came rus.h.i.+ng in like a breeze of fresh, wintry air, seizing each of the girls in turn, and folding them in a bear-like hug.

"Well--well--well--here we are again! Glad to be back in the old home.

How are you, dear? How are you, pet? Miss Briggs, I see you are flouris.h.i.+ng! How have all these young people been behaving while I was away? What about dinner? I'm so hungry that I shall eat the Mouse in desperation if I am kept waiting. Well, little Mouse, glad to see your father back again, eh? Come upstairs with me while I change my coat for dinner."

It was like another house when the cheery, bustling master was at home, and Lettice and Norah forgot their pa.s.sing annoyance in rejoicing over his return. During the evening, however, Hilary managed to give offence more than once. She kept frowning to herself as she sat at the head of the table, and looking up and down with a discontented air which was very exasperating to those who had done their utmost to study her tastes and to give her a pleasant home-coming. When dinner was over and the family party adjourned into the drawing-room, she kept jumping up from her seat to alter the arrangement of plants and ornaments, or to put some article in its proper place. Norah elevated her eyebrows at Lettice, who nodded in sympathetic understanding, but both girls controlled their irritation out of consideration for their father, whose pleasure in the first evening at home would have been spoiled if his daughters had taken to quarrelling among themselves.

Mr Bertrand had brought home a perfect treasure-trove of presents for the stay-at-homes. A beautiful little brooch and bangle for Lettice; music, books, and a paint-box for Norah: furs for Miss Briggs; and a small toy-shop for the dear little "youngest of seven."

Such an excitement as there was in the drawing-room while the presentations were going on! such shrieks of delight! such exclamations of "Just what I wanted!" such huggings and kissings of grat.i.tude! Mr Bertrand declared at last that he would be pulled to pieces, and ran upstairs to the shelter of his beloved study. After he had gone, Hilary seemed for the time being to forget her grievances, whatever they might be, and drawing her chair to the fire, settled down to one of the good old-fas.h.i.+oned gossips which her sisters loved Lettice and Norah had a dozen extra questions which they were burning to ask about every incident of the visit to London; and they were not more eager to hear than Hilary was to tell, for what is the good of going away and having adventures if we cannot talk about them when we come home?

The meeting with Madge Newcome was a subject of much interest. "Quite grown-up, you say, and very grand and fas.h.i.+onable! And you went to lunch with her one day. Are the boys at home? What are they like?

There was Cyril, the little one in the Eton jacket, who used to play with Raymond; and Phil, the middy; and the big one who was at college-- Arthur, wasn't he? What is he like now?"

"I saw him only once, but it was quite enough. He is in business with his father--a terribly solemn, proper person, who talks about books, and says, 'Were you not?'--'Would you not?' Miss Carr says he is very clever, and good, and intellectual, but all the same, I am sure she doesn't like him. I heard her describe him to father as 'that wooden young man.' It will be nice to see Madge in the summer, though I haven't forgiven her for leaving me alone that afternoon. Oh, and I must tell you--" And the conversation branched off in another direction, while the girls crouched over the fire, laughing and talking in happy reunion.

Alas! the next day the clouds gathered over the family horizon and culminated in such a storm as was happily of rare occurrence. The moment that she left her bedroom Hilary began to grumble, and she grumbled steadily the whole day long. Everything that Lettice had done during her absence was wrong; the servants were careless and inefficient; the drawing-room--Norah's special charge--looked as if no one had touched it for a fortnight; the house was dingy and badly lighted, and each arrangement worse than the last. Lettice hated quarrelling so much that she was prepared to bear a good deal before getting angry, but quick-tempered Norah exploded into a burst of irritation before the afternoon was half over.

"The fact is you have been staying for a fortnight in a grand London house, and you are spoiled for your own home. I think it is mean to come back, after having such a lovely time, and make everyone miserable with your grumbling and fault-findings! Lettice did everything she could while you were away, and the house is the same as when you left it."

"Perhaps it is, but I didn't know any better then. I know now how things ought to be done, and I can't be satisfied when they are wrong."

"And do you expect things to be managed as well in this house with five of us at home, besides father and Miss Briggs, and three servants to do all the work, as it is at Miss Carr's, with no one but herself, and six or seven people to wait upon her?" Lettice spoke quietly, but with a flush on her cheeks which proved that she felt more than she showed.

"It's very foolish if you do, for you will only succeed in upsetting everyone, and making the whole house miserable and uncomfortable."

"As you have done to-day!" added Norah bluntly. "I would rather have an old-fas.h.i.+oned house than the finest palace in the world with a cross, bad-tempered mistress going about grumbling from morning till night."

"Norah, you are very rude to speak to me like that! You have no right.

I am the eldest."

"You had no right to say to me that I haven't touched the drawing-room for a fortnight."

"I have a right to complain if the work of the house is not properly done. Father has given me the charge. If I see things that can be improved, I am certainly not going to be quiet. Suppose Mr Rayner or the Newcomes came here to see us, what would they think if they came into a half-lit hall as we did last night?"

"Yes, I knew that was it. It's your grand London friends you are thinking of. If they are too grand to come here, let them stay away.

Father is a greater man than any of them, if he is not rich."

"Girls, girls, girls! what is all this?" Miss Briggs pulled aside the curtain over the doorway, and came hurriedly into the room. "I heard your voices across the hall. Are you quarrelling the first day Hilary is at home? Don't let your father hear, I beg you; he would be terribly grieved. What is the matter?"

"It's Hilary's fault. She has done nothing but grumble all day long, and I can't stand it. She has made Lettice miserable; the servants are as cross as they can be, and there's no peace in the house."

"Norah has been very rude to me, Miss Briggs. I am obliged to find fault when things are wrong, and I can't help it if the servants are cross."

Miss Briggs looked at the younger girls. "Go upstairs, dears, and change your dresses for dinner. I want to speak to Hilary by herself,"

she said quietly, and Lettice and Norah left the room with awed faces.

The kind old governess did not often interfere with the girls now that they were growing up, but when she did, there was a directness about her speech which was very telling, and this afternoon was no exception to the rule.

"Hilary," she said slowly, when the door had closed behind the two younger girls, "I have been with you now for ten years, and have watched you grow up from a little girl. You were my first pupil, and I can't help taking a special interest in you. You were a dear little child. I thought you would grow up into a sweet, lovable woman; but you will have to change a great deal, Hilary, if you are to do that! You will think me cruel; but your mother is dead, and I must be truthful with you for your own good. I think you have behaved very unkindly to your sisters to-day. You have been away enjoying yourself while they were left at home; they did their best to fill your place, and counted the days until your return, and you have made them miserable from the moment of your arrival. The house is as you left it; but even supposing you had noticed a few things which were not to your taste, you could have put them right quietly, or spoken of them in a pleasant, kindly manner.

Things have gone on smoothly and quietly while you were away--more smoothly than when you are at home, my dear, for though Lettice is not such a good manager, she has a sweet, amiable manner which makes the servants anxious to please her by doing their best. You are very young, Hilary, and you make the mistake of over-estimating your own importance, and of thinking you are necessary to the welfare of the household. You can easily make yourself so, if you wish, for you are a very clever housekeeper; but if you continue to be as self-satisfied and as regardless of the feelings of others as you are at present, I tell you plainly that you will end in being a hindrance rather than a help. I am not saying that the other girls are faultless, but instead of setting them a good example, in nine cases out of ten you are the one to begin a quarrel. You think me very cruel to speak like this--it's not easy to do, Hilary--but you may thank me for it some day. Open your eyes, my dear, and try to see yourself as you really are, before it is too late!"

Miss Briggs swept from the room in a flutter of agitation, and Hilary sank into the nearest chair, and gazed blankly at the fire. Her heart was beating in heavy thuds, and she put her hand to her head in stupefied fas.h.i.+on. For several minutes she sat motionless, unable to form any definite thought. She only felt a curious shattered sensation, as though she had come through some devastating experience, which had laid waste all her fondest delusions. _What_ had Miss Briggs said?

That the household arrangements had been managed _better_ in her absence than when she was at home. That if she did not alter, she would end in being a hindrance rather than a help. That she set a bad example to the younger girls and was the instigator of quarrels!--Hilary's cheeks burnt with a flush that was almost painful. Her pride was wounded in its most sensitive point. She would have been ready enough to acknowledge that she was not so sweet-tempered as Lettice, or so clever as Norah, but she had been secure in her conviction that no one could touch her in her own department--that she was a person of supreme importance, without whom the whole fabric of the household would fall to pieces. And things had gone on _better_ while she was away! _Better_! Hilary writhed in humiliation, and the flush burnt more fiercely than before. If she could only manage to disbelieve it all, and wave it aside as a piece of foolish prejudice; but she could not do this, for her eyes were opened, and she saw the meaning of many things which she had misread before.

Miss Carr's quizzical, disapproving glance; her father's anxious gaze; the little scornful sniff on the face of the old cook as she took her morning's orders. Could it be that they all felt the same, and were condemning her in their hearts as a stupid, consequential little girl, who had no importance whatever except in her own estimation? And--"_a hindrance_!" The word brought with it a throb of something deeper than wounded pride, for, with all her faults, Hilary was devoted to her father and her brothers and sisters, and the thought stung like a whip that they might not care for her--that the time could come when they might even wish for her absence!

The light was growing dim in the deserted room, and, as Hilary laid her head back in the old-fas.h.i.+oned chair, the tears which rose to her eyes and trickled down her cheeks were the bitterest she had known in the course of her short life.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE VIOLIN LESSON.

Three days after Mr Bertrand's return, Rex Freer arrived at the house in a state of triumphant excitement. This was by no means his first appearance since he had left Cloudsdale, for he never pa.s.sed the house on any of his numerous expeditions without running in for ten minutes'

chat, so that the girls were getting accustomed to see his head appear at the window as they sat at work, or to hear the loud rat-tat on the door which heralded his coming. They soon had practical demonstration of his "managing powers," for more than once, after definitely making up their minds that nothing would induce them to stir from the house, they found themselves meekly putting on hats and jackets to join a tobogganing party, and to accompany the young gentleman part of his way home. Lettice was always easily influenced, but high-spirited Norah made many protests against what she was pleased to call his "Indian ways," and on one occasion even went so far as to dare a direct refusal.

Lettice had left the room to get ready for a walk along the snowy lanes, but Miss Norah sat obstinately in her chair, the heel of one slipper perched on the toe of the other, in an att.i.tude which was a triumph of defiance.

"Well!" said Mr Rex, putting his hands in his pockets, and standing with his back to the fire in elderly gentleman fas.h.i.+on. "Why don't you get on your coat? I can't wait many minutes, you know, or it will get dark. Hurry up!"

"I'm not going. It's too cold. I don't like trudging over the snow. I am going to stay at home."

Norah raised her thin, little face to his with an audacious glance, whereat "the strange boy's" eyes dilated with the steely flash which she knew so well.

"Then please go upstairs and tell Lettice not to trouble to get ready.

I can't allow her to come home alone, along the lonely roads," he said quietly; and Norah slunk out of the room and put on her snow-shoes in crestfallen silence, for it did Lettice good to have a daily walk, and she could not be so selfish as to keep her at home.

This afternoon, however, the call was longer than usual, for Rex came as the bearer of good news. "You have only to make up your mind to do anything, and the rest is quite easy," he announced coolly. "The mater has made a point of speaking to everyone she has seen about the music lessons, and she has heard of a capital man in Lancaster who is willing to come down for an afternoon once a fortnight. I met your father in the village, and he agrees to the terms, so now there is nothing left but to write and fill in the day to begin. Thursday suits him best. Do you say Thursday first or Thursday fortnight?"

"Oh, the first Thursday. I don't want to wait a day longer than I can help. Oh, how lovely! So it is really settled. I wanted it so badly that I was afraid it would never come true. How am I to get over to your house, I wonder?"

"I'll drive over and bring you back next morning. We might use our bicycles, but the violin case would be rather a nuisance, and I suppose you'll need a bag of some description. I'll be here at eleven, and then we shall get home to lunch. Edna is in a great state of excitement at the thought of seeing you."

Norah pulled a funny little face of embarra.s.sment. "I'm rather shy, you know," she said, laughing. "I've only seen your mother once, and the other two are absolute strangers; it seems funny to be coming over to stay. Is your father a formidable sort of old gentleman?"

"Humph--well--I think he is rather! He is awfully fond of getting his own way," said Rex, in a tone which implied that he failed to understand how anyone could be guilty of such a weakness. "But he is an awfully decent sort if you take him the right way; and poor little Edna would not frighten a mouse. You will feel at home with her in five minutes.

I only wish she knew Lettice. We must arrange for her to come over some time."

Norah looked at him with a feeling of curiosity which was not altogether agreeable. "Why do you wish that she knew Lettice! Do you think she would like her better than me?"

"Oh, yes," said Rex easily. (He was just like other boys, Norah told herself, and had not the slightest regard for a poor girl's feelings!) "She is such a jolly, affectionate little thing, you know, that Edna would take to her at once. And she has heard so much of 'Lovely Lettice'! I say, _isn't_ she pretty?"