LILLA MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.
"Lo here hath been dawning
Another blue day;
Think, wilt thou let it
Slip useless away?
Out of eternity
This new day is born,
Into eternity
At night will return."
THOMAS CARLYLE.
WHEN Lilla reached her room, the first words which came into her head
were—
"'Do the thing that lies the nearest.'"
"I wonder if that is what I have been doing to-day," she said to
herself. And, setting her candle down, she drew aside the blind to look
at the stars.
They were wonderfully bright in the clear, keen air. But Lilla remarked
that those constellations which had been on the horizon when she looked
out some hours earlier were now high in the heavens, whilst others had
crept up to take their places.
"They never appear to hurry," she said to herself, as her eyes wandered
from one to another, "yet the morning never comes before they are
ready. I suppose they are different from human beings. I haven't done a
scrap more for hurrying up this morning. But it isn't my fault, because
I helped grandmother dust, and then she was ill. And, after all, it was
a good thing I learnt my vocabulary before breakfast, or I shouldn't
have had time for it at all. I must make haste into bed, so as to wake
early again. Perhaps I shall succeed better to-morrow."
And Lilla came away from the window, and was soon in bed and fast
asleep.
When she awoke next morning, she knew by the position of the sunlight
on the wall that it was even earlier than on the preceding day, but she
jumped up immediately, and, without losing time over looking out of
window, at once began to dress.
Her grandmother's door was still ajar when she opened hers; her heavy
breathing told that she was still asleep.
"Now I shall have nice time," she said to herself. "Perhaps I can learn
double vocabulary. I ought to be getting on now."
But something else came into her head at that moment, and she stopped
short, half-way down the stairs. Then, turning back, she tip-toed into
her grandmother's room, found her large apron and gloves, and crept out.
"Grandmother will be glad to find the kettle ready," she said to
herself. "And it is a shame she should do everything now that I am old
enough to help, especially as she is not well."
So Lilla noiselessly opened the shutters, and then, collecting her
materials, set to work to kindle a fire—for the first time in her life.
Now fires are like most other things, very easy to manage if you know
the right way, but Lilla having had no experience, did not go about her
task in the very best method. The consequence was that, after poking
and puzzling between the bars for a considerable length of time, and
striking lucifers enough for a dozen fires, she succeeded in getting
the coals to catch, just as a step in the doorway made her turn. There,
to her dismay stood her grandmother.
"Oh! Grandmother," she exclaimed, in a disappointed tone of voice. "You
'are' early!"
Mrs. Eden smiled. "Not so early as you think, my dear," she said. "Time
passes quickly when you are trying to do anything you are not used to.
I am half-an-hour later than usual."
"And I meant to have had the water boiling by the time you came down,"
cried Lilla.
"Ah! You mustn't expect to do wonders all at once," said Mrs. Eden.
"You have managed very well for a first attempt. But I suppose you
would like to finish, as you have begun," she added, looking down at
the hearth, which had yet to be cleared and brushed up.
Lilla went down on her knees again, feeling a certain sort of comfort
in being permitted to retrieve her honour. And in course of time, the
stove was tidy, and she had carried away her brushes and shovel. There
was no chance for the vocabulary, however, for almost as soon as she
had washed her hands, breakfast was ready, and she was glad to sit
down, feeling an unusually good appetite.
Lilla was rather silent for the first few minutes, thinking how another
morning had gone without the accomplishment of her resolve to devote it
to her studies. Still, she could not help feeling that she had done her
duty. And a word from her grandmother made her quite happy.
"Many hands make light work, Lilla," Mrs. Eden said, as she sipped her
coffee. "You have been a very good girl this morning."
Lilla's eyes brightened. "I meant to do my lessons when I got up,
grandmother," she said, "but this seemed to come between me and them,
so I suppose it was 'the thing that lay the nearest.'"
"Well, if we are successful in our search after a maid," returned her
grandmother, "neither of us will have to do it. Meanwhile, it is useful
experience for you, for every woman—lady or not—ought to be 'able' to
light her own fire and brush her own stove."
"I suppose a lady ought to be able to do anything that a servant can
do, grandmother, or else she cannot really be the greatest."
After dinner Mrs. Eden and Lilla set out on their expedition in search
of a maid. Fortunately, however, before they started, they heard
from the baker's man of a girl who seemed likely to meet Mrs. Eden's
requirements. She had never been to service before, the man said,
being the eldest girl of a large family, most of whom were boys. But
her mother was anxious now to place her out, as some of the others
were growing old enough to be left in charge when she went out for a
day's charing. Accordingly, Lilla and her grandmother started for the
cottage, which was about a mile and a half up the lane.
It was a pretty walk. The way lay over undulating country: sometimes
between fields, over which they could see far and wide to the horizon
on either hand; sometimes through roadside plantations, where the trees
met overhead in graceful arches, and the underwood, already bursting
into leaf, showed like a pale green veil amongst the brown trunks. It
was very beautiful, and Lilla did not miss it; for, as I have already
said, she had a quick eye for the beauties of nature. But she was much
more quiet than usual, and seemed pre-occupied.
Presently she said, "I don't altogether like the idea of having a
servant, grandmother."
"Why not?" asked Mrs. Eden, in surprise. "I thought you would be
pleased."
"It will be so horrid to have a stranger always in the house. We shall
never be all to ourselves, as we have been."
"Oh! Yes," replied the old lady, "she will be in the kitchen, and we in
the sitting-room. Besides, it really is getting too much for me."
"I know, grandmother, but if I helped you we could manage. I should
soon learn to light the fire quickly, and you need never come down till
breakfast was ready."
"I am afraid you would tire of it when the novelty wore off," said Mrs.
Eden, "and I don't want you to waste your time over kitchen work. I am
anxious you should make the most of it for your studies now, so that
when you take your finishing lessons, you may be able to profit by
them."
Lilla brightened at the mention of finishing lessons. The prospect of
having masters seemed such a decided advance on the road to greatness.
"Besides," continued Mrs. Eden, "it is time you made some friends now."
"I don't want any friends, grandmother," said Lilla. "You are quite
enough for me."
"Aye! 'Now,'" returned Mrs. Eden. "But I am fading away, and you will
want some one to take my place."
"No one can ever do that, grandmother," cried Lilla, "because we two
have been so happy together, and you are all the world to me."
Just then Lilla caught sight of the bushy tail of a squirrel whisking
up a tree at a little distance, and off she bounded to watch it. So the
conversation dropped, and another bend of the road brought them to the
cottage.
Mrs. Rust looked pleased when the old lady stated her errand.
"It's what I've been wanting for her, ma'am," she said. "We're a large
family to keep, you see. And I must try and make shift without her now,
though she's been a power of help to me."
Mrs. Eden then proceeded to ask several questions concerning the girl's
capabilities and disposition, all of which the mother answered in a
very satisfactory manner. "But I'll call her, ma'am," she added, "and
then you can see her for yourself." And she forthwith went out into the
kitchen, where there was a sound of children's voices and some one at
work.
After a few minutes she returned, followed by a sturdy girl, whose face
bore traces of having been hastily washed, and in whom we recognise the
same girl whose wish that it was 'always Sunday' Mr. Munro overheard on
his way to church.
She glanced from Mrs. Eden to Lilla as she came in. Then, as her mother
brought her forward with the words, "This is Margie, ma'am," she
advanced and stood before the old lady, with her eyes demurely cast
down.
"How old are you, my dear?" asked Mrs. Eden, anxious to hear her voice.
For, of all qualities, she loved cheerfulness in anyone who was to be
constantly about her. And she believed very firmly that disposition
generally reveals itself in the tone of the voice.
"In her sixteenth year," replied the mother, before Margie could answer.
"I was fifteen last twelfth of January," added Margie, looking up for
an instant. And then, stealing another glance across at Lilla, "I'm
strong for my age."
"Are you afraid of work?"
"I've never been out, ma'am," replied Margie, looking up more
confidently this time, "but I'm not afraid of it at home."
"And she has plenty of it, too," added the mother, anxious to make the
most of the girl's capabilities.
Mrs. Eden had already made one discovery in Margie's favour: she
possessed a nice honest pair of brown eyes, which seemed to attest
their owner's truthfulness when they met yours. The old lady was
beginning to take a fancy to her.
"Are you a good riser?" she asked.
"I couldn't quite say, ma'am," replied Margie, candidly, "because the
children always wake me. But I could get up if I was called."
"And you would be willing to learn to do your work properly? Because I
shall have a great deal to teach you, if you come to be my servant."
"I 'want' to learn, ma'am," answered Margie, quickly. "That's just what
I've longed to do, ever since my cousin went to service."
Mrs. Eden then entered into detail with Margie's mother about her
outfit and wages. So the former, seeing that she was no longer required
to speak for herself, retreated to a little distance, and stood
furtively glancing at Lilla.
Margie would have been rather surprised if she could have read the
young lady's thoughts. For the fact was, the latter was quite as shy
of Margie as Margie was of her. Margie was thinking how glossy Lilla's
long, fair plait looked, and how prettily her large beaver hat shaded
her face, and wondering whether she would be very proud as her young
mistress, and despise her for her red cheeks and rough hair and her
coarse hands. Lilla, on her part, was thinking how strange it would
be for Margie to leave her mother and work for her living amongst
strangers; she very much wanted to say something kind to her, but,
somehow, she could not summon up courage.
At last she edged her chair a little nearer to where Margie stood. "Do
you think you would like to come and live with us?" she asked, timidly.
Something in her face won Margie's heart at once.
"I'm sure I should, Miss," she answered; "because—" And then she
stopped short and took up a corner of her apron, not exactly knowing
how to express what she meant.
Lilla wanted to be kind, but she could not think what to say next, so
she sat still for a few minutes. Then she glanced at Margie again, but
Margie was watching her with such a comical expression, that Lilla's
face puckered up into a smile. Whereupon Margie caught the infection,
and both of them laughed outright.
At last Margie said, "We've got some rabbits, miss, if you'd like to
see them."
So, at a nod from her grandmother, who had lost nothing of what passed
between them, Lilla followed her new acquaintance through the kitchen
into the garden, where half a dozen little brothers and sisters, on
perceiving a stranger, first of all huddled up towards the remotest
corner, and then gradually returned, one by one, and stood at a little
distance watching Margie exhibit the inmates of the rabbit-hutch.
"I shall like you to come and live with us," said Lilla, presently.
"Shall you?" returned Margie. "Why?"
"Because I believe we shall be good friends," replied Lilla. "Though I
daresay, we shall be a little afraid of each other at first."
"I shouldn't think 'you'd' be afraid of 'me,'" said Margie, bluntly;
"because you're a young lady."
"But we're both girls," replied Lilla, simply.
[Illustration]