The Two Sides of the Shield Part 21

CHAPTER X. -- THE EVENING STAR

'Oh, Connie dear, I had such a fright! Do you know you must never venture to give me anything when any one is there--especially Aunt Jane.

I am sure it was her, she is always spying about?'

'Well, but dearest Dolly, I couldn't tell that she would be there, and when I got your letter I could not keep it back, you know, so I made Mary come up and call on Lady Merrifield for the chance of being able to give it to you--and I thought it was so lucky Miss Mohun was there, for she and Mary were quite swallowed up in their dear G.F.S.'

'You don't know Aunt Jane! And the worst of it is she always makes Aunt Lilias twice as cross! I did get into such a row only because I didn't want to go driving with the two old aunts in the dark and cold, and be scolded all the way there and back.'

'When you had a letter to read too!'

'And then Aunt Lily said all manner of cross things about giving notes between us. I was so glad I could say I didn't, for you know I didn't give it to you, and it wasn't between us.'

'You cunning child!' laughed Constance, rather amused at the sophistry.

'Besides,' argued Dolores, 'what right has she to interfere between my uncle and my friends and me?

'You dear! Yes, it is all jealousy!'

'I have heard--or I have read,' said Dolores, 'that when people ask questions they have no right to put, it is quite fair to give them a denial, or at least to go as near the wind as one can.'

'To be sure,' a.s.sented Constance, 'or one would not get on at all! But you have no told me a word about your letters.'

'Father's letter? Oh, he tells me a great deal about his voyage, and all the funny creatures they get up with the dredge. I think he will be sure to write a book about them, and make great discoveries. And now he is staying with Aunt Phyllis in New Zealand, and he is thinking, poor father, how well off I must be with Aunt Lilias. He little knows!'

'Oh, but you could write to him, dearest!'

'He wouldn't get the letter for so long. Besides, I don't think I could say anything he would care about. Gentlemen don't, you know.'

'No! gentlemen can't enter into our feelings, or know what it is to be rubbed against and never appreciated. But your uncle! Was the letter from him?'

'Oh yes! And where do you think he is? At Darminster--editing a paper there. It is called the Darminster Politician. He said he sent a copy here.'

"Oh yes, I know; Mary and I could not think where it came from. It had a piece of a story in it, and some poetry. I wonder if he would put in my 'Evening Star.'"

'You may read his letter if you like; you see he says he would run over to see me if it were not for the dragons.'

'I wish he could come and meet you here. It would be so romantic, but you see Mary is half a dragon herself, and would be afraid of Lady Merrifield'--then, reading the letter,--'How droll! How clever! What a delightful man he must be! How very strange that all your family should be so prejudiced against him! I'll tell you what, Dolores, I will write and subscribe for the Darminster Politician my own self--I must see the rest of that story--and then Mary can't make any objection; I can't stand never seeing anything but Church Bells, and then you can read it too, darling.'

'Oh, thank you, Connie. Then I shall have got him one subscriber, as he asks me to do. I am afraid I shan't get any more, for I thought Aunt Lily was in a good humour yesterday, and I put one of the little advertis.e.m.e.nt papers he sent out on the table, and she found it, and only said something about wondering who had sent the advertis.e.m.e.nt of that paper that Mr. Leadbitter didn't approve of. She is so dreadfully fussy and particular. She won't let even Gillian read anything she hasn't looked over, and she doesn't like anything that isn't goody goody.'

'My poor darling! But couldn't you write and get your uncle to look at some of my poor little verses that have never seen the light?'

'I dare say I could,' said Dolores, pleased to be able to patronize.

'Oh, but you must not write on both sides of the paper, I know, for father and mother were always writing for the press.'

'Oh, I'll copy them out fres.h.!.+ Here's the 'Evening Star.' It was suggested by the sound of the guns firing at the autumn manoevres; here's the 'Bereaved Mother's Address to her Infant:'

'Sweet little bud of stainless white, Thou'lt blossom in the garden of light.'

'Mary thought that so sweet she asked Miss Mohun to send it to Friendly Leaves, but she wouldn't--Miss Mohun I mean; she said she didn't think they would accept it, and that the lines didn't scan. Now I'm sure its only Latin and Greek that scan! English rhymes, and doesn't scan! That's the difference!'

'To be sure!' said Dolores, 'but Aunt Jane always does look out for what n.o.body else cares about. Still I wouldn't send the baby-verses to Uncle Alfred, for they do sound a little bit goody, and the 'Evening Star'

would be better.'

The verses were turned over and discussed until the summons came to tea, poured out by kind old Miss Hacket, who had delighted in providing her young guests with b.u.t.tered toast and tea cakes.

Dolores went home quite exhilarated and unusually amiable.

Her letter to her father was finished the next day. It contained the following information.

'Uncle Alfred is at Darminster. He is sub-editor to the Politician, the Liberal county paper. I do not suppose Aunt Lilias will let me see him, for she does not like anything that dear mother did. There is a childish obsolete tone of mind here; I suppose it is because they have never lived in London, and the children are all so young of their age, and so rude, Wilfred most especially. Even Gillian, who is sixteen, likes quite childish games, and Mysie, who is my age, is a mere child in tastes, and no companion. I do wish I could have gone with you.'

Lady Merrifield wrote by the same mail, 'Your Dolores is quite well, and shows herself both clever and well taught. Miss Vincent thinks highly of her abilities, and gets on with her better than any one else, except the daughter of our late Vicar, for whom she has set up a strong girlish friends.h.i.+p. She plainly has very deep affections, which are not readily transferred to new claimants, but I feel sure that we shall get on in time.'

Miss Mohun wrote, 'Lily and I enjoyed your letter together. Dolly looks all the better for country life, though I am afraid she has not learnt to relish it, nor to a.s.similate with the Merrifield children as I expected. I don't think Lily has quite fathomed her as yet, but 'cela viendra' with patience, only mayhap not without a previous explosion. I fancy it takes a long time for an only child to settle in among a large family. It was a great pity you could not see Lily yourself. To my dismay I encountered Flinders in the street at Darminster last week. I believe he is on the staff of a paper there, happily Dolly does not know it, nor do I think he knows where she is.'

In another three weeks, Constance was in the utmost elation, for 'On hearing the cannonade of the Autumn Manoeuvres' was in print, and Miss Hacket was so much delighted that justice should be done to her sister's abilities, that she forgot Mr. Leadbitter's disapproval, and ordered half a dozen copies of the Politician for the present, and one for the future.

Dolores, walking home in the twilight, could not help showing Gillian, in confidence, the precious slip, though it was almost too dark to read the small type.

'Newspaper poetry, I thought that always was trumpery,' said Gillian, making a youthfully sweeping a.s.sertion.

'Many great poets have begun with a periodical press,' said Dolores, picking up a sentence which she had somewhere read.

'I thought you hated English poetry, Dolly! You always grumble at having to learn it.'

'Oh, that is lessons.'

"'Il Penseroso,' for instance."

'This is a very different thing.'

'That it certainly is,' said Gillian, beginning to read--

'How lovely mounts the evening star Climbing the sunset skies afar.'

'What a wonderful evening! Why, the evening star was going up backward!'

'You only want to make nonsense of it.'