Dora Mickle's Tea-Party
ANGEL was enabled to give Dora Mickle a birthday present after all,
for, knowing his little daughter's penniless condition, Mr. Willis
presented her with half-a-crown as she was starting for school
on Monday morning, in addition to her regular pocket-money.
"Remember, my dear," he said gravely, and Gerald, who was standing
near, heard his words, "this is for yourself. There is to be no more
lending. I hope you understand that?"
"Yes, father," she answered. "Thank you so much. If I am rather late
home from school this morning, you will know I am in the town buying
a present for Dora Mickle."
Accordingly, when Angel returned to Haresdown House to dinner,
she exhibited a white and gold photograph frame, which she had
purchased for her little friend.
"I asked Dinah what she thought Dora would like," she explained,
"and she suggested my buying this frame, because Dora admired it the
other day—it was in the shop window, you know."
"It is very pretty," Mr. Willis said. "By the way, I have had a note
from Mrs. Mickle, asking you and Gerald to tea to-morrow. Am I
to accept the invitation for you?"
"Oh, please, father!" both children answered in a breath.
Gerald had said nothing further about making Dora a present himself;
his sister rightly guessed that he had no money, and she generously
suggested that the photograph frame should be presented to Dora
in his name as well as hers. But Gerald would not hear of this.
He stoutly negatived the idea, refusing to entertain it for a moment.
It was a merry, happy party that assembled in the Mickles' back
garden on the following afternoon to partake of tea, and strawberries
and cream, not to mention other dainties, including Dora's birthday
cake. The principal charm of the whole affair lay in having it out
of doors. Dora, in the arbour at the far end of the garden, with her
mother at her side, poured out tea, whilst the boys did the waiting,
and the little girls of the party, amongst whom were several of
Dora's school-fellows, sat on a long form, sheltered from the hot
sunshine by a row of kidney beans. Gerald made himself very useful
in assisting the Mickle boys, who had good-naturedly volunteered
to help entertain their little sister's guests, thus winning Dora's
approval, and doing much to obliterate the not altogether favourable
opinion she had previously formed of him. She had not wanted
to invite him, and Gerald little guessed that Mrs. Mickle had found
some difficulty in persuading her to include him in her party,
but now she was really glad she had done so.
The white and gold frame had been duly presented, and Dora had
expressed herself delighted with it, and had declared her intention
of putting her mother's photograph in it, and giving it a prominent
position on her bedroom wall. She had received several presents,
including a dark tabby Persian kitten from Dinah, which had already
been named "Ruffy" by its proud mistress. Only Angel, besides the
members of the Mickle household, had known that the kitten had been
coming, and great had been every one's anxiety lest it should not
have reached Wreyford by Dora's birthday, for it had been ordered
from a breeder of Persian cats in London; but Ruffy had come several
days before it had been expected, and consequently had been kept
safely locked up in an outhouse until the proper time for its
appearance in public had arrived. How often Dora had been on the
point of discovering the secret of the outhouse! And yet she had
never had the faintest suspicion why the door was locked against her,
supposing the boys had done it for some reason or other. After tea
the children played games, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Gilbert joined his mother in the arbour by-and-by. He was looking
very cheerful and happy to-day, for in trying to amuse his little
sister's friends he had forgotten his own grievances; indeed, it had
seemed lately that his temper had improved, and he was more contented
altogether. He had painted Dora a small picture of a pretty spot near
the river, which she had once admired in his hearing—a mossy bank
with a hawthorn tree in full bloom—and her pleasure had greatly
gratified him, whilst his father had added to his happiness
by declaring the sketch remarkably well done.
As he seated himself opposite to his mother on one of the benches
which served as seats in the arbour, she looked at him with a smile
as she said, "Tired, Gilbert?"
"A little. They're playing 'Last Touch' now, but that's not much
in my line. I'm rather too much handicapped for a game of that kind."
She glanced at him in surprise, for he spoke quite cheerfully, with a
touch of humour in his tone, and without his usual bitterness.
"So I thought I'd come and talk to you a bit, mother," he added,
after a brief pause; "I consider I've earned a rest."
"Yes," she agreed, "I'm sure you have. I'm glad Dora consented
to inviting Gerald Willis; he is very amusing, is he not? Dora did
not want to ask him, because she said he 'put upon' Angel, as she
expressed it; but I'm sure he seems a very nice boy."
"He would be much nicer if only Reginald Hope would let him alone."
"He is very good friends with Tom now?"
"Oh yes, and always would be if Hope did not come between them.
Tom can't bear Hope, and he's always trying to get Gerald to break
with him; then, naturally, Gerald thinks Tom is prejudiced against
Hope."
"I see!"
Mrs. Mickle watched Gerald thoughtfully. His face was flushed with
exercise, his blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and his laugh rang
out merrily every now and again. He appeared the life of the party.
"It's a pity he doesn't go in for sports more at school," Gilbert
remarked, following his mother's glance, "instead of spending his
time loafing about with Hope and his crew. Idleness is sure to lead
a fellow into mischief."
At that moment the game came to an end by mutual consent, every one
being hot and tired. The little girls strolled down to the river,
which flowed at the bottom of the garden, and Tom, followed by
Gerald, joined Mrs. Mickle and Gilbert in the arbour.
"There's plenty of room," Mrs. Mickle said smilingly, as Gerald stood
hesitating at the entrance.
She moved her skirts nearer to her as she spoke, and pointed to the
space by her side, which the boy immediately appropriated, whilst Tom
sat down opposite with his brother.
Conversation flowed easily. Gerald found Mrs. Mickle a very
interesting companion; she appeared to know all that went on at the
Grammar School, and surprised him by her acquaintance with several
trivial incidents which had occurred during the term. Evidently she
was the confidante of both her sons.
The following Saturday a cricket match was to take place between the
first eleven of the Grammar School and an eleven from a neighbouring
town. There would doubtless be a great many onlookers and Mrs. Mickle
expressed her intention of being present.
"I shall expect you boys to come and talk to me, and explain how the
game is going," she told them. "You'll bring Angel, won't you,
Gerald?"
Gerald looked rather taken aback at this, for he had had no such
intention, thinking that if he took Angel to watch the cricket match
he would have to devote his time to her instead of being able
to spend it with his boon companions; so he made answer that his
sister did not understand the game of cricket, and he did not know
if she would care about it. The truth was, he did not mean
to consider or consult his sister in the matter at all.
Mrs. Mickle could not guess what was passing through his mind;
she looked at him, evidently rather puzzled, then said—
"Oh, but I'm sure Angel will like to watch the match. You must bring
her with you, for Dinah and Dora will be there, and—"
"Oh yes!" Gerald interposed quickly, his countenance suddenly
brightening as he reflected that if the Mickle girls were amongst
the onlookers he would be able to leave his sister with them, and
therefore she would not be in his way at all. "Oh, yes! I dare say
Angel will enjoy it!"
Gilbert and Tom exchanged amused glances at Gerald's sudden change
of tone. The former remarked—
"I don't want to miss my painting lesson next Saturday, but this will
be the great match of the season, and I shouldn't like to miss that
either."
"You must ask Mr. Willis to excuse your absence on Saturday
afternoon," Mrs. Mickle said; "perhaps he will like to see the match
too."
"I dare say he will!" Gerald cried eagerly, "And Uncle Edward!
He's very interested in cricket. If he and father go to watch the
match they're certain to take Angel with them."
"And you will be free to do as you please," Tom exclaimed
involuntarily.
There was a short, awkward pause. Gerald grew crimson with annoyance
and mortification. He was very vexed with Tom for so plainly reading
his thoughts, and darted an angry look at him, which was greeted
with a teasing smile.
"How fast the summer term is passing!" Mrs. Mickle exclaimed
presently, wisely ignoring her younger son's remark. "Why, we shall
soon have the holidays here!"
"Another month before that, mother," Gilbert reminded her. "Look!
Here comes father. And Mr. Willis with him."
"Father said perhaps he'd come to fetch us," Gerald explained.
"I hope it is not quite time for us to go yet."
Mrs. Mickle rose, and went to meet the newcomers. The boys now joined
the girls, and suggested another game, leaving the arbour for the use
of their elders. Very pleasantly the remainder of the evening slipped
away, and the little party broke up regretfully at last.
"Having tea out of doors is lovely," Angel remarked on her homeward
way; "it's ever so much nicer than in the house isn't it, Gerald?"
"Rather!" her brother responded heartily. "I had a spider in my tea,"
he added, "but I didn't mind that."
Mr. Willis laughed amusedly. They were now passing Myrtle Villa, and
Miss Goodwin's piping voice addressed them from the other side of the
sweetbriar hedge.
"Has dear little Dora's tea-party been a success?" she asked.
"You see, children, I know where you've been. I saw your father
on his way to fetch you."
"It has been a very great success," Angel replied; "we have had such
a happy time! I saw your present to Dora, Miss Goodwin.—It is a
beautiful little pincushion made of velvet, and embroidered
in silks," she explained, turning to her father.
"I embroidered it myself," the old lady said, her face beaming
with smiles. "It pleased the child! I am to drink tea with the
Mickles to-morrow, and Dora will show me all her treasures.
Ah, Gerald, you've not been to see me for a long while. Do come in
one day soon. Well, good-night, good-night."
Mr. Willis and his children passed on, whilst Miss Goodwin, who had
only been waiting for them, now went into the house.
"What a dear old soul she is," Angel said; "the Mickles are all
so fond of her. Dora wanted to invite her to the tea-party to-day,
but Mrs. Mickle thought it would be too much excitement for her."
"I should think so," Mr. Willis replied; "you were rather noisy.
Poor Miss Goodwin would have been quite bewildered if she had heard
your tongues chattering."
As they neared their destination they were startled by the cries of a
dog, evidently in pain, and a minute later came upon a scene which
made Angel's tender heart throb with mingled indignation and pity.
A big boy was holding a poor little terrier by the collar, and
beating it most unmercifully with a great stick.
The next moment Mr. Willis had sprung to the rescue, and wrenched the
weapon from the boy's hand, and smashed it in two pieces, which he
flung into the hedge.
"You coward!" he exclaimed, clutching the boy by the collar and
shaking him, whilst the dog, suddenly released, ran howling piteously
down the road in the direction of the town. "How would you like to be
thrashed as—"
He paused in intense astonishment as he recognized the scared face
the boy turned towards him.
It was Reginald Hope. He had been fishing in the clay pits, and had,
on his way home, encountered a favourite dog of his father's.
The little animal, overjoyed at the meeting, had jumped against his
young master, and had unfortunately knocked the pickle bottle he had
been carrying, and which had contained a few prettily marked fish,
out of his hand. Enraged beyond measure, Reginald had cut a stick
from the hedge with his pocket-knife, and seizing the dog, was giving
it a heavy thrashing when he was suddenly stopped by Mr. Willis.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Reginald cried, wriggling to get free
in vain.
"Not till I've had a few words with you," Mr. Willis replied firmly.
"Wicked boy, to thrash a poor dog so cruelly!"
"Aggravating beast!" Reginald exclaimed vindictively. "Look at that
smashed bottle, and those fish which I had trouble enough to catch!
The dog belongs to us, and I can do as I like to it. Let me go,
Mr. Willis."
But Mr. Willis would not do that until he had reproved him sharply
for the cruelty and cowardice of his behaviour; and Reginald was
obliged to listen to him, whilst Angel and Gerald stood by,
the former as indignant as her father, and the latter no less so
really, though he was afraid to show what he felt.
"I hope you will never treat any animal so viciously again,"
Mr. Willis said in conclusion. "I am sure your father would be pained
if he knew how you had served his pet."
"You will not tell him?" Reginald cried involuntarily.
"Not if you will promise never to thrash the dog so cruelly again."
"Oh, I promise that."
"Very well. I hope you will keep your word. Now I will let you go."
Mr. Willis released his hold of the boy, who picked up his
fishing-rod, which he had flung on one side, and, without even
glancing at Gerald, hurried away. The children and their father
looked after him as he slunk down the road, the latter's countenance
very grave.
"Oh, Gerald!" cried Angel, "how can you be friendly with a boy like
that? How dreadfully he thrashed that poor dog! He must be very, very
hard-hearted!"
"Perhaps he didn't mean to hurt it," Gerald replied, feeling he was
called upon to make some sort of excuse for his friend.
"What nonsense, Gerald!" exclaimed his father sharply. "He did mean
to hurt it! Children are often cruel when they are very young,
because they do not understand the nature of pain; but Reginald Hope
is a big boy, and he knew quite well the agony he was inflicting.
Come, let us get home."
Mr. Willis looked upset. Cruelty to even the least of God's creatures
was intolerable to him. When they reached the entrance to the grounds
of Haresdown House, he paused and addressed Gerald again—
"My boy," he said gravely, "I shall put an end to your friendship
with young Hope."
"Father!" Gerald burst forth in dismay, "you don't mean it?"
"I don't require you to break with him altogether," Mr. Willis
proceeded to explain, "or say you are not to speak to him, but I
forbid you to spend your spare time with him as you have done
hitherto. Surely there are boys at the Grammar School more fitting
to be your companions than Reginald Hope? I cannot imagine my son
on a level with him. We should be careful in our choice of friends,
remembering they are bound to influence us for good or evil. You need
not avoid young Hope altogether, but I cannot allow you to be his
constant companion."
Gerald made no response. He knew how difficult it would be for him
to break off this friendship, and he foresaw much unpleasantness
for himself if he did so. He shivered with apprehension as he
remembered his indebtedness to Reginald Hope; if only he had not owed
him money he would have gladly obeyed his father, and dissolved his
connexion with him altogether. Poor Gerald's thoughts were very
uneasy during the rest of the evening. He had enjoyed Dora Mickle's
tea-party as much as any one, but, as generally happened now when he
had forgotten his worries for the time, Reginald Hope had crossed
his path, and the mere sight of him had been sufficient to remind him
of the reality of them.