SWEEPING THE DRAWING-ROOM
The day after the drive to Lantig, Mrs. Carlyon was having a large
“At Home” in the afternoon--large, that is, for Trelint--and all the
household was very busy. There were cakes to make, and biscuits, and
tea-cakes, and sandwiches, and ices, and all kinds of good things, for
there were not many shops in the town; besides which, it was considered
a point of honour to make most of the things at home.
Ellen always grew very cross at these times, but she cooked her best,
for every one in Trelint knew who Dr. Carlyon’s cook was; just as
every one knew how many servants every one else had, and who they
were. Nurse, too, was not as patient as usual, she had so many things
on her mind, for where there are only two maids to help, a big party
makes every one very busy, and the children had to amuse themselves
as best they could--at least, Priscilla and Loveday had to; Geoffrey
had gone to spend the day in the country with some friends, glad
enough to escape “such silly things as At Homes,” he said. Priscilla
and Loveday almost wished that they had been invited too, for the day
seemed very long and dull without mother, or Geoffrey, or Nurse. They
were told, too, to keep in the nursery and play, for they would be in
the way anywhere else, but to be told to amuse oneself makes it a very
difficult thing to do; everything seems, at once, to be not the very
least bit amusing.
The dining-room was to be arranged for the guests to go to, to
partake of tea and coffee when they arrived; and the drawing-room
was, of course, to be decorated with flowers, and arranged a little
differently. Priscilla and Loveday were not wanted anywhere, and they
could not play in the garden, for there had been heavy rain during the
night.
“Oh dear!” sighed Priscilla, “there is nothing, nothing that I feel I
want to do, and there is more than an hour before we can see the guests
coming.”
Loveday glanced at the clock, too. “So there is,” she sighed; “it isn’t
free yet.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Priscilla crossly; “you know you can’t tell the
time, so why pretend?”
“You said so, too,” protested Loveday; “and I know the people are going
to begin to come at four, ’cause mother said so, and if it is more than
an hour before they come, that shows that it isn’t free yet by the
clock.”
In her heart Priscilla thought that it was very clever of her little
sister to have found out all that, but she did not tell her so; she
thought Loveday was a vain enough little person already. She dropped
down with a weary sigh beside her doll’s house, but they had already
given that a thorough cleaning from top to bottom, and there was
nothing more to do to it. They had dressed and undressed all their
dolls and put them to bed, so that they were settled for the night,
and wanted no more attention. Every animal had gone out of the ark for
a walk, and marched back to it again, and there really seemed nothing
left to do that was worth doing.
“I _wish_ I could help mother,” sighed Priscilla, who always loved real
work much more than play work--she would far rather help to dust a room
than dust or tidy her doll’s house; “and if they are so busy,” she
added, “I am sure there must be lots that I can do.”
After another moment or two had passed, she shut the doll’s house door
with a bang, and got up from the floor. “I am going downstairs just a
teeny-tiny way,” she said softly. “Don’t you come too, Loveday; you
needn’t do everything that I do.”
But it was really too much to expect Loveday to stay in that dull
nursery by herself, and very soon she was creeping out after Priscilla.
Priscilla had reached the foot of the nursery stairs, and was standing
on the landing looking over the banisters, and listening for any
sounds of life below, and Loveday joined her. No one was about, that
they could see, but from the dining-room came the rattle of china.
Presently, however, they heard their mother’s voice; she was speaking
to Nurse.
“I will leave you to finish arranging the cups and saucers,” she said,
“and I will go to the kitchen and place the cakes out on the plates;
then it will be time for me to dress. I ought to rest for a few
minutes, for I am so tired already I can scarcely stand.”
Priscilla and Loveday drew back while their mother passed along the
hall below, for they did not want to be seen; they were doing no harm,
they thought, and it was very much more interesting to be there than in
the nursery. They must run away, though, before mother came upstairs to
dress, but by that time it would be nearly time for them to watch from
the nursery windows to see the first guests arrive.
“I do wish I could help mother,” sighed Priscilla again. “She is so
tired, and has such lots to do. Can’t we do something to help? Oh!”
with sudden delight, “I know what I’ll do! I’ll dust the drawing-room!
Now, don’t you come too, Loveday. I thought of it first, and I can do
it by myself, and you are sure to break something and get us both a
scolding.”
But Loveday was not to be put off in that way, and, to save a howl,
Priscilla said, “Well, come along; you may come if you will promise to
be good.”
The drawing-room was on the very landing on which they stood. Priscilla
crept over to the door and looked in. Of course it was empty, and to
her it looked as though the furniture had all been pushed back, just
as when the room was going to be swept, only there were no dust-sheets
over the things.
“I believe it hasn’t even been swept yet!” she whispered, in a shocked
voice. “We’ll sweep it first, shall we?”
It was a grand idea, and Loveday agreed delightedly. Nurse still kept
her nursery brushes in a cupboard on the top landing; they would get
those, then no one would know what they were doing, and when Nurse came
up presently, all hot and tired, to sweep and dust the room she would
find it all done, and have a most beautiful surprise; and she would
not scold them at all; she would be so glad, and perhaps she would let
them have some of the “At Home” cakes for their tea!
They hurried up the stairs very gently, and Loveday carried down a
long-handled brush, while Priscilla carried the dustpan in one hand and
the brush in the other, so that they should not clatter.
“Now close the door,” whispered Priscilla; and Loveday turned to do
it, bringing her broom-handle with a sharp tap against a picture which
hung by it. Priscilla was too busy to hear the blow, or to see what had
happened.
“It was such a _little_ tap,” said Loveday to herself, as she gazed
ruefully up at the crack which ran quite across the glass of the
picture.
Priscilla was on her knees by that time, brushing the carpet as hard as
she could with the short-handled brush.
“What shall I do?” asked Loveday. “I can’t use this brush; it is so
tall it knocks my head.”
“You shall dust,” panted Priscilla, looking up with a very red face.
“But I haven’t a duster!”
“You have a handkerchief, haven’t you? Use that.”
“No, I haven’t,” said Loveday.
“Oh, how you do worry! Here, take mine!”
Loveday pounced on it gladly, and began to rub the legs of a chair.
“I think mother will be surprised to see the carpet so well swept.
Won’t she?” said Priscilla contentedly.
“Yes; and to see everything so well dusted. P’r’aps the guests will
notice it, too, and will say, ‘Here, Mrs. Carlyon, is sixpence for the
person who dusts your room so well.’”
But Priscilla scouted the idea with the utmost scorn.
“As if they would!” she cried. “Why, you silly child, people don’t say
things about other people’s rooms, not even if they aren’t dusted at
all. Of course, you can dust easy things like chairs, but I’ll have to
do the vases, and all the--take care, Loveday, the door is opening; oh,
do mind your head!” and Loveday stepped back just in time to allow the
door to be opened a little way. “Who is there? You can’t come in yet,”
cried Priscilla.
But the door opened wider, and Nurse’s agonised face appeared, and
behind her, gazing amazedly at Priscilla through a haze of dust, stood
Lady Carey.
“Miss Priscilla! Oh, what _are_ you doing? Oh, you naughty, naughty,
mischievous children!” cried Nurse, horrified, and not knowing what to
do, or which to attend to first. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said, turning
to the visitor, “but--but--oh, what can I do? The guests will all be
coming in a few minutes, and the room is like this!”
Lady Carey smiled.
“Are the little people too zealously industrious?” she asked. She saw
at once that something was amiss, and wanted to make as light of it as
possible. “How do you do, children? Are you Mrs. Carlyon’s two little
daughters?”
Priscilla dropped her brush, sprang to her feet, and went forward to
shake hands. Her checks were crimson with hard work and shame.
“How do you do?” she said breathlessly. “Yes, I am the eldest; I am
Priscilla, and this is Loveday. Loveday” (in an angry aside), “stop
dusting, _do_! I am very sorry the dust is flying,” she went on,
turning to Lady Carey again. “We wanted to help mother and Nurse
because they were so busy getting ready for the ‘At Home,’ and I was
sweeping the carpet and Loveday was dusting the easy things, like
chairs and table-legs, but we didn’t know it was time for the guests to
be coming. Nurse,” turning to her with a distressed air, “what can we
do?”
“Aren’t you _very_ early?” asked Loveday of Lady Carey, as soon as she
had shaken hands with her, and said “How d’ye do?”
“Well, you see, dear, I am not come to the ‘At Home’; I did not know
your mother was having one. I came to return your mother’s call, and I
have unfortunately chosen an inconvenient day.” Then, turning to the
servant: “The dust has gone, I think, and I can sit here--unless, of
course, you want to be going round with a duster.” But before Nurse
could reply she went on: “No, I tell you what I would much rather do,
and what would be by far the best plan,” she added kindly; “I have some
other calls to pay, and Mrs. Carlyon is very busy, and as I wanted to
have a nice long talk with her, I will go away now and come one day
soon when she has more time. Don’t tell her about this call, at least
until after all her guests have gone, and then be sure to tell her I
quite understood, and would rather come when I can have her all to
myself.”
“I--I--but I am sure my mistress would wish to see you, ma’am,” said
Nurse, who was perplexed to know what she ought to do.
“Yes, I know,” said Lady Carey; “but it would be much more pleasant
for us both if I called another day. Now let me out, and hurry back to
set this room to rights. It is striking the quarter to four. Good-bye,
children. I hope I shall see you again soon.”
“Good-bye,” said Priscilla, but very, very shamefacedly; and as soon
as Lady Carey had gone she flew up the stairs to her own room, and,
flinging herself on her bed, burst into tears of shame and pain.
“And I meant to help! I meant to make such a nice surprise for mother,
and oh! I’ve done such a _dreadful_ thing!” and poor Priscilla sobbed
and sobbed until her head ached.
Presently soft footsteps came lightly up the stairs and to her room,
but Priscilla, with her hot face buried in the bed-clothes, did not
hear them.
“Prissy, dear,” said her mother, as gently and kindly as though nothing
had happened, “will you do something for me? Will you run down very
quickly and help Nurse to dust the drawing-room? If you will help her,
there will be just time to set it all straight again before our guests
arrive.”
“Oh yes, mother.”
Priscilla scrambled off the bed in a moment, and pushed her hair back
from her face.
“Here is a nice soft duster,” said mother; “run quickly, dear.”
But Priscilla, using the soft duster to mop her eyes with, stayed for
just a moment to throw her arms about her mother’s neck.
“Oh!” she cried, “I do think you are the very nicest mother in all the
world. I _am_ so glad I haven’t got any other,” and she hugged and
kissed her again.
“Now, don’t wipe your eyes on the duster any more, dear,” said Mrs.
Carlyon laughingly, and returning the kiss, “or it will make the things
quite dull instead of polishing them.”
Priscilla did not answer; she was gazing at her mother, lost in
admiration. Mrs. Carlyon had on a pretty brown silk gown, trimmed with
bands of little pink roses and green leaves, and the gown suited her
fair hair and delicate complexion to a nicety.
“I don’t wonder father married you, mother. You do look nice in that
gown.”
“Run away and dust my drawing-room,” cried Mrs. Carlyon, laughing
again, “and don’t waste time thinking of flattering things to say to
your mother. Hurry; it is close on four, and people will be coming
soon.”
“I wonder,” thought Priscilla, as she ran off, “if I shall ever have a
gown like that. But”--with a sigh--“if I had I shouldn’t look as pretty
in it as mother does.”