Mildred's New Daughter Part 17

"Yes; for she is now old enough to earn her own living. There's many a younger girl than she doing that."

"Nonsense! you know well enough, that neither papa nor Uncle George would let her do it," Ethel heard her cousin Minnie exclaim; but then, with a sudden recollection that she was hearing what was perhaps not intended for her ear, she closed the door with tears of wounded feeling rolling down her cheeks, and began her work of gathering together articles of clothing and other things she must take with her to her new abode.

She was glad that she had said positively she would go, for if her uncles should object she could tell them she had made a promise and must be allowed to keep it. Yet, oh, how she dreaded the telling!

At the six o'clock dinner she was very silent and a close observer might have detected traces of tears on her cheeks, but her uncle's thoughts were upon the news of the day and some business transaction, and he failed to notice anything peculiar about his little niece.

On leaving the table he went into the library and took up the evening paper. His wife and older daughters had gone to their own apartments to dress for an evening party or concert, the younger children to the playroom, and he was alone till Ethel stole quietly in after him.

He glanced up at her as she drew near his chair.

"What is it, Ethel, my dear? have you something to say to me?" he asked pleasantly, "something you want no one else to hear?" Then noticing how her color came and went, that her eyes were full of tears and she was trembling visibly, "Why, what is it, child?" and he drew her near to his side, put an arm about her as he spoke, and bade her not to be afraid to tell him all that troubled her.

"Oh, uncle, you are so kind!" she sobbed, the tears now rolling down her cheeks; "I do love you so, but--but I can't bear to stay here and be such an expense and burden to you when you have so many children of your own to provide for and I ought to be earning my own living."

"Tut, tut, who has put all that nonsense into your head?" he asked in a tone of mingled amus.e.m.e.nt and irritation. "I won't have it. I am entirely able to take care of my brother's little girl as well as my own. So stop crying, dry your eyes, and be as happy and merry as you can, nor ever think that uncle grudges you your home, victuals, and clothes."

"Oh, I don't, I don't think that, dear Uncle Albert," she said, putting her arms about his neck and kissing him with ardent affection; "but I'm almost a woman now and I want to earn my own living and, as soon as I'm able, to help my brother and sisters; and, and--oh, please don't be angry with me, but I--I've made an engagement to be a clerk in a little store with a very nice kind woman who will treat me just like one of the family and----"

"Is it possible, Ethel!" exclaimed Mr. Eldon, and his tone was full of displeasure. "Indeed I shall allow nothing of the kind. Let my brother's daughter go into a store? No, indeed! not while I have abundant means to support her as well as my own family."

"But, uncle, I've promised," sobbed Ethel, "and you know we must keep our promises."

"I dare say the woman will release you from the promise; at least for a consideration, if not without. Ah, here comes your Uncle George," as just then that gentleman entered the room.

"What do you think, brother? This foolish child has--without consulting you or me, or anybody else for that matter--engaged herself as clerk to a woman keeping a little thread and needle store."

"Well, that's astounding news!" exclaimed Mr. George Eldon, seating himself and looking very hard, with something of a frown on his face, at Ethel. "Come here, child, and tell me all about it."

Ethel obeyed, wiping her eyes and saying pleadingly, "Please, uncle, don't be angry with me. I--I can't bear to be such an expense to Uncle Albert now when I'm getting so old, and so----"

"Ay, yes, very big and very old," he returned, taking her hand and drawing her to him; "so big and so old that it must cost a great deal to feed and dress you. Uncle Albert ought to be very glad to get rid of such an expense. And you are never of any use; don't do any errands for Aunt Augusta or her daughters or make yourself useful in any way." He looked so grave and spoke in such a serious tone that Ethel felt puzzled.

"I have tried to be of use, uncle," she said humbly, "but I know they can do very well without me. And I want to learn to make money, so that I can help Blanche and Harry and Nannette; because after a while it will cost a great deal to clothe and feed and educate them; and you and Uncle Albert have your own children to take care of."

"Well, really! she's not so much of a baby as I had thought," he said, looking searchingly into her face with a grim sort of a smile on his own. "How old are you, Ethel, my sage niece?"

"In my sixteenth year, uncle. So you see I'm not a baby but almost a woman."

"Ah, well! let us hear all about these plans and prospects."

Thus encouraged, Ethel went at once into all the particulars of her interview with Mrs. Baker, what she had engaged to do, and what she hoped to accomplish. Her uncles listened attentively, and finding they could not persuade her to a willing relinquishment of her project, finally consented to allow her to make the trial; stipulating however that if she found the exertion too great, or for any reason was unhappy or uncomfortable in her new quarters, she should at once give up the effort at self-support, and return to her present home; Uncle Albert a.s.suring her of a warm welcome there.

CHAPTER XV.

From the library Ethel went up to the schoolroom, where Nannette and the younger cousins were engaged with their tasks for the morrow.

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come at last, Ethel, dear," said Nannette. "It always seems lonesome without you, and besides I want your help with this lesson; it's so hard, and you always know how to explain things and make them easy."

Ethel's eyes filled. What would Nan, dear little Nan, do without her big sister, who had always tried to bear every burden for her? But conquering her emotion by a great and determined effort, she took a seat by her little sister's side and gave the needed help.

The children were required to study only one hour in the evening, and soon books were laid aside and they ran off to the nursery for a game of romps before going to bed. But Ethel lingered behind, and Miss Olney, the governess, presently enquired in a kindly tone if there was anything she wanted to say to her. Then Ethel's story came out, and with tears she confessed that the hardest part was the leaving of Nannette without her sisterly care and a.s.sistance with her tasks.

"Never mind that, dear child," Miss Olney said, softly stroking the young girl's hair; "I will take your place in that. And though I am sorry indeed to part with so docile and industrious a pupil as yourself, I think you are doing just right; and I believe the Lord will bless and help you. And you know you will not be far away and we may hope to see you frequently. From what you tell me of Mrs. Baker I feel a.s.sured that she will prove a kind and pleasant employer, making you feel yourself just one of the family--not a stranger about whom they care nothing. Also I think the knowledge that you can come back to your home here at any time if you will, sure of a welcome from your kind uncle--and I dare say all the family--will make it all the easier for you to be happy in your new surroundings."

"Yes, ma'am, my uncles are very, very kind to me, to my brother and sisters too; and Harry and the girls can come to Mrs. Baker's sometimes to see me; any of the rest of course, but I hardly suppose my aunt, uncles, or cousins will care to do that."

"But possibly I may, one of these days," returned Miss Olney with a smile.

"I'd be delighted to see you," Ethel said, her eyes s.h.i.+ning. "Oh, I don't think I need feel unhappy or as if I were alone in the world.

Would you tell Nan about it to-night, Miss Olney?"

"No, I think not. Let her sleep in peace. I wouldn't tell her until after breakfast to-morrow."

Ethel intended to act in accordance with that advice, but on going to her own room found Nan there standing with her eyes fastened upon the trunk her sister had been packing.

"Why, what's this trunk doing here?" she asked. "Are we going away, sister? Oh, I hope it's to visit at Mr. Keith's again, though I didn't suppose we'd be going there so early in the season."

"No, we are not, Nan, dear," returned Ethel in trembling tones, and catching her little sister in her arms she held her close, kissing her again and again while the great tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs almost choked her.

"O, Ethel, what's the matter?" cried Nan in affright. "Oh, don't say you're going away from me! If you are going you must take me along, for I could never, never do without you! You know I couldn't."

Ethel struggled with her emotion, and presently finding her voice, "I'm not going very far, Nan, dear," she said with a fresh burst of sobs; "and I ought not to cry for it's best I should go--it will be the best in the end I'm sure, and our uncles are willing."

"Going where?" asked Nan wildly. "Oh, you shan't go! I can't do without you, you know I can't!"

"But it's to make the home for you and Blanche and Harry and me; besides, I'll not be far away and we can often visit each other, and when at last we get the dear home, oh, how happy we shall be!"

"But where are you going? and how do you expect to make the home?"

In answer to that Ethel told the whole story, winding up with, "You see, Nan, dear, it will not be so very hard; in fact, I think I shall like it very much--it will be so nice to feel that I am earning money toward the dear home we shall surely have some day. The worst of it is leaving you; but then it is not at all as if I were going far away; we can see each other very often, perhaps almost every day, and you can tell me all your little secrets just as you always have, and whatever I can do to help you I will. You're sure of that, aren't you, darling little sister?"

"Yes, yes; but oh, I shall miss you so much! I don't see what I can do without you."

"You won't be all alone, dear," returned Ethel soothingly; "the dear Lord Jesus will be just as near and able to help and comfort you as ever, and just as ready to hear your prayers as if you were a woman. You won't forget that?"

"No; but oh, I shall want you too!" wailed Nan, hiding her face on Ethel's shoulder.

"But, remember, I'm not going far away, dear Nan, and we may see each other very often," repeated Ethel. "Besides, you will be here with dear Uncle Albert; and the cousins are almost always kind nowadays. Now let us kneel down and say our prayers and then get into bed and go to sleep, and you will feel better in the morning."

"O Ethel, is this the last time we'll sleep together?" sobbed Nan, creeping into her sister's arms as they laid themselves down upon the bed.

"For a while, I suppose," returned Ethel, trying hard to speak cheerfully. "But don't think about that, dear Nan, but about the good time coming, when we shall have our own home--all four of us together--and oh, such a good, happy time!"