Henrietta's Wish; Or, Domineering Part 12

"A short winter's day, too!" said Beatrice. "One thing is certain--that we can't go home to luncheon."

"What will grandmamma think of that?" said Henrietta doubtfully. "Will she like it?"

Beatrice could have answered, "Not at all;" but she said, "O never mind, it can't be helped; we should be late even if we were to set off now, and besides we might be caught and stopped."

"Oh, that would be worse than anything," said Henrietta, quite convinced.

"So you mean to starve," said Alex.

"See what slaves men are to creature comforts," said Beatrice; "what do you say, Henrietta?"

"I had much rather stay here," said Henrietta; "I want nothing."

"Much better fun to go without," said Fred, who had not often enough missed a regular meal not to think doing so an honour and a joke.

"I'll tell you what will do best of all!" cried Queen Bee. "You go to Dame Reid's, and buy us sixpennyworth of the gingerbread papa calls the extreme of luxury, and we will eat it on the old men's bench in the porch."

"Oho! her Majesty is descending to creature comforts," said Alex. "I thought she would soon come down to other mortals."

"Only to gratify her famis.h.i.+ng subjects," said Beatrice, "you disloyal va.s.sal, you! Fred is worth a dozen of you. Come, make haste. She is sure to have a fresh stock, for she always has a great baking when Mr.

Geoffrey is coming."

"For his private eating?" said Fred.

"He likes it pretty well, certainly; and he seldom goes through the village without making considerable purchase for the benefit of the children in his path, who take care to be not a few. I found little Jenny Woods made small distinction between Mr. Geoffrey and Mr. Ginger.

But come, Alex, why are you not off?"

"Because I don't happen to have a sixpence," said Alex, with an honest openness, overcoming his desire to add "in my pocket." It cost him an effort; for at school, where each slight advantage was noted, and comparisons perpetually made, Fred's superior wealth and larger allowance had secured him the adherence of some; and though he either knew it not, or despised such mammon wors.h.i.+p, his rival was sufficiently awake to it to be uncomfortable in acknowledging his poverty.

"Every one is poor at the end of the half," said Fred, tossing up his purse and catching it again, so as to demonstrate its lightness. "Here is a sixpence, though, at her Majesty's service."

"And do you think she would take your last sixpence, you honour to loyalty?" said Beatrice, feeling in her pocket. "We are not fallen quite so low. But alas! the royal exchequer is, as I now remember, locked up in my desk at home."

"And my purse is in my workbox," said Henrietta.

"So, Fred, I must be beholden to you for the present," said Beatrice, "if it won't quite break you down."

"There are more where that came from," said Fred, with a careless air.

"Come along, Alex."

Away they went. "That is unlucky," soliloquised Queen Bee: "if I could have sent Alex alone, it would have been all right, and he would have come back again; but now one will carry away the other, and we shall see them no more."

"No, no, that would be rather too bad," said Henrietta. "I am sure Fred will behave better."

"Mark what I say," said Beatrice. "I know how it will be; a dog or a gun is what a boy cannot for a moment withstand, and if we see them again 'twill be a nine days' wonder. But come, we must to the work; I want to look at your wreath."

She did not, however, work quite as cheerily as before, and lost much time in running backwards and forwards to peep out at the door, and in protesting that she was neither surprised nor annoyed at the faithlessness of her envoys. At last a droll little frightened knock was heard at the door. Beatrice went to open it, and a whitey-brown paper parcel was held out to her by a boy in a green canvas round frock, and a pair of round, hard, red, solid-looking cheeks; no other than Dame Reid's grandson.

"Thank you," said she. "Did Master Alexander give you this?"

"Ay."

"Thank you, that's right!" and away he went.

"You see," said Queen Bee, holding up the parcel to Henrietta, who came out to the porch. "Let us look. O, they have vouchsafed a note!" and she took out a crumpled envelope, directed in Aunt Mary's handwriting to Fred, on the back of which Alex had written, "Dear B., we beg pardon, but Carey and d.i.c.k are going up to Andrews's about his terrier.--A. L."

"Very cool, certainly!" said Beatrice, laughing, but still with a little pique. "What a life I will lead them!"

"Well, you were a true prophet," said Henrietta, "and after all it does not much signify. They have done all the work that is out of reach; but still I thought Fred would have behaved better."

"You have yet to learn the difference between Fred with you or with me, and Fred with his own congeners," said Beatrice; "you don't know half the phases of boy nature."

Henrietta sighed; for Fred had certainly not been quite what she expected him to-day. Not because he had appeared to forget her, for that was nothing--that was only appearance, and her love was too healthy and true even to feel it neglect; but he had forgotten his father's grave.

He was now neglecting the church; and far from its consoling her to hear that it was the way with all boys when they came together, it gave her one moment's doubt whether they were not happier, when they were all in all to each other at Rocksand.

It was but for one instant that she felt this impression; the next it had pa.s.sed away, and she was sharing the gingerbread with her cousin, and smiling at the great admiration in which it seemed to be held by the natives of Knight Sutton. They took a short walk up and down the churchyard while eating it, and then returned to their occupation, well pleased, on re-entering, to see how much show they had made already.

They worked together very happily; indeed, now that all thought of her squires was quite out of her head, Beatrice worked much more in earnest and in the right kind of frame; something more of the true spirit of this service came over her, and she really possessed some of that temper of devotion which she fancied had been with her the whole day.

It was a beautiful thing when Henrietta raised her face, as she was kneeling by the font, and her clear sweet voice began at first in a low, timid note, but gradually growing fuller and stronger--

"Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the new-born King, Peace on earth, and mercy mild, G.o.d and sinners reconciled."

Beatrice took up the strain at the first line, and sweetly did their tones echo through the building; while their hearts swelled with delight and thankfulness for the "good tidings of great joy." Another and another Christmas hymn was raised, and never were carols sung by happier voices; and the decorations proceeded all the better and more suitably beneath their influence. They scarcely knew how time pa.s.sed away, till Henrietta, turning round, was amazed to see Uncle Geoffrey standing just within the door watching them.

"Beautiful!" said he, as she suddenly ceased, in some confusion; "your work is beautiful! I came here prepared to scold you a little, but I don't think I can. Who made that wreath and Monogram?"

"She did, of course, papa," said Beatrice, pointing to her cousin. "Who else could?"

"It is a very successful arrangement," said Uncle Geoffrey, moving about to find the spot for obtaining the best view. "It is an arrangement to suggest so much."

Henrietta came to the place where he stood, and for the first time perceived the full effect of her work. It was placed in front of the altar, the dark crimson covering of which relieved the s.h.i.+ning leaves and scarlet berries of the holly. The three letters, I H S, were in the centre, formed of small sprays fastened in the required shape; and around them was a large circle of holly, plaited and twined together, the many-pointed leaves standing out in every direction in their peculiar stiff gracefulness.

"I see it now!" said she, in a low voice full of awe. "Uncle, I did not mean to make it so!"

"How?" he asked.

"It is like Good Friday!" said she, as the resemblance to the crown of thorns struck her more and more strongly.

"Well, why not, my dear?" said her uncle, as she shrunk closer to him in a sort of alarm. "Would Christmas be worth observing if it were not for Good Friday?"

"Yes, it is right uncle; but somehow it is melancholy."

"Where are those verses that say--let me see--

'And still Thy Church's faith Shall link, In all her prayer and praise, Thy glory with Thy death.'