A COUNCIL OF WAR
"OH, mummie dear, somefing so inciting has happened!"
"Run away, pet; don't you see how busy we are with lessons?" and Mrs.
Rose, as she said these words, shook her head reprovingly at little
Elsie, who with flushed cheeks and excited eyes had bounded into the
room.
"But I must tell you the news—York House is took."
She had roused her listeners at length. What were reading, writing and
arithmetic compared with such interesting information?
"That isn't all," she cried delightedly, "I've somefing more to tell
you—the lady's name is Rose, Mrs. Wilfrid Rose, and she comes from
'Merica."
"How strange!" ejaculated the mother, a flush of colour coming into her
cheeks. "It must be your Aunt Mary and her three children."
Intense excitement prevailed in the room, and as lessons were nearly
over, Mrs. Rose thought it advisable to excuse the remainder.
The house in question, which was a detached one situated next to The
Gables, was a large, handsome residence, but, on account of its high
rent and sundry defects, it had stood empty for more than two years.
"I suppose," said Mrs. Rose, reflectively, "you won't be allowed to
play in the meadow any more, as it belongs to York House."
"Mother!" cried four indignant voices.
"Well, darlings, you see the landlord has only given you permission to
make use of it while York House was untenanted."
"We don't want them to come and take away our medder," said Elsie,
plaintively.
"Oh, well," said Ronnie, "I 'spect as we're all cousins, we shall play
there together. That'll be fine fun."
But a troubled look came into the mother's eyes at his words.
"I don't want to disappoint you, dears," she made reply; "but I'm
afraid your Aunt Mary may not care for you to be too friendly. However,
we shall see. Now run and play in the meadow, and make the most of your
opportunities."
Away scampered the children, and Mrs. Rose was left to her own
reflections, which, to judge by her expression, were not altogether
pleasing ones.
Once and once only had she met Mrs. Wilfrid, and the memory of that
meeting gave her no cause for pleasure.
The two brothers, Gilbert and Wilfrid, who were married about the same
time, were wide apart in many respects. Gilbert Rose had early chosen
the "better part," but Wilfrid's overmastering characteristic was
worldly ambition. The latter gave his father great satisfaction by his
marriage with the grand-daughter of an earl, a lady who was possessed
of both beauty and fortune. For a time all went well with the young
couple, and by Sir Matthew's desire they took up their abode at The
Towers, as the baronet's residence was named. Gilbert was forbidden to
cross the threshold; and Wilfrid, to further enhance his own prospects,
helped to poison his father's mind against his elder brother.
These facts came to Gilbert's knowledge, and gave him considerable
pain, but nothing he could do or say had any power to counteract his
brother's influence.
At length came an unlucky day for Wilfrid. The baronet, who was
extremely irascible, took dire offence at some words spoken by his
haughty daughter-in-law, and Wilfrid was consequently bidden to accept
an influential post in America, which had just been offered him.
In less than a month, he and his wife bade good-bye to English shores,
and Matthew, the third and youngest son, was named as his father's heir.
Matthew Rose was slightly deformed, but possessed withal such a bright,
cheerful temperament that his physical defect had no power to sour or
embitter his life.
Wilfrid Rose, after a sojourn of some ten or eleven years abroad, died
suddenly of heart disease, and his widow shortly afterwards made her
way to England, with her three children.
By a strange coincidence, or shall we not rather say by the overruling
Hand of Providence, she took the very house next door to her despised
sister-in-law. It is probable that had she been aware of it in time,
not even the salubrious air of Linwell-on-Sea would have tempted her to
take up her dwelling in such close proximity to Mrs. Gilbert Rose.
But the deed was done, and painters and paperhangers were set to work
to make York House a habitable dwelling-place.
The day of their arrival was a most eventful one in the annals of The
Gables. It was a wet afternoon, and Mrs. Rose was busy in the kitchen
preparing some dainty for Miss Beaumont's late dinner. The three boys
and Elsie, unable to go out and play, watched from the nursery window
(which overlooked the front of the house) for the carriage to appear,
for Ronnie had questioned the gardener and had thereby learnt that Mrs.
Wilfrid Rose and her family were expected that same afternoon.
For a long time they watched and waited, Elsie, with her nose flattened
against the window, anxious to be the first to communicate the tidings.
"Here they come!" she cried at last, and then four pairs of eyes full
of intense interest peered over the blind.
Two lads of about ten and eight years of age were the first to alight
from the carriage, and then a little girl stepped forth, followed by a
respectable middle-aged woman, who looked like a housekeeper.
Shortly afterwards another carriage drew up, which contained Mrs.
Wilfrid and a maid, who had charge of several boxes and packages.
But the children were the chief objects of interest to the four
watchers at the nursery window.
"Shouldn't be surprised if we were regular enemies," said Frank; "they
look as if they all thought a mighty deal of themselves."
"So they do," agreed Hugh. "I vote we show 'em we don't want their
friendships. Now, I've just thought of something—we'll keep up the
family feud."
"What's that?" said Ronnie. "Is it anything to do with breakfasts?
'Cause I'm getting so tired of bread and milk. We never have nice
things like Miss Beaumont does."
"You are a silly, Ronnie," said Hugh, "a regular baby. Why, Elsie has
more 'go' in her than you have."
Ronnie, a fair-haired, blue-eyed little lad, looked quite hurt, whilst
Elsie, elated at her brother's praise, said in a chirpy voice—
"Yes, much more 'go.' I can run nearly as fast as Kitty." Kitty, by the
way, was the little maid-of-all-work.
"Family feud, I said, not food," went on Hugh in an explanatory voice;
"that means the same as a quarrel. The Rose family don't seem to have
agreed very well in the past, so I vote we keep it up with these little
jackanapes."
"The Wars of the Roses over again," said Frank, laughingly.
"That's a clever idea!" Hugh replied. "We'll just take them down a peg
or two."
"The meadow 'll do for the field of Waterloo, where the Roses fought,"
said Ronnie vaguely, anxious to say something clever too.
"Hark at him!" cried Frank, with a roar of laughter. "Bravo, my boy!
You shall have the first prize for history."
"I'll take the big chap, if he has any of his nonsense," continued
Hugh; "you, Frank, can tackle the second one, and Ronnie, the girl."
"Men can't fight women," said Ronnie indignantly; "'sides, I don't want
to fight."
"Then you've got to do so, and if the girl shows any of her high and
mighty ways, you must stand on your dignity. I don't say you are to
strike her, but just show her our family is as good as hers any day."
"I wish she was a boy," said Ronnie regretfully, slightly impressed by
his brother's long speech.
"That won't matter," said Frank, in a would-be soothing tone, "you are
more than half a girl yourself."
Ronnie looked so fierce for a moment that there was danger of war in
the camp, but Elsie unconsciously saved the situation.
"Who am I to fight?" she cried distressfully, for she felt sadly out of
it. No one appeared to have thought of Elsie joining the fray.
"You are too little for a soldier," said Hugh gently; "besides, there's
nobody for you to fight. We must be equal, else it won't be fair." Then
turning to his brothers, he added, "Now, boys, you must kiss the book."
"What book?" cried both lads in surprise.
"Oh! I'll soon find one; here's a Markham's history, that will do well.
Now you've got to say, after me, 'I promise to fight in the Wars of the
Roses, and do my duty as a brave soldier.'"
Hugh looked so serious that his brothers refrained from laughing, and
little Elsie watched the scene in wonderment.
"I'm glad I'm not a soldier," she said in baby scorn. "Fancy kissing a
silly old hist'ry! I'd rather kiss mummie."
"Grapes are sour, Elsie," said Frank loftily.
"They isn't. They are getting lovely and ripe, Miss Beaumont had some
this morning."
No notice was taken of this speech, for Frank immediately broke in with
a most important question.
"Well, what side are we going to be, York or Chichester?"
"Look here, now, Frank," said Hugh, his bright eyes gleaming with fun,
"you're as bad as Ronnie. I suppose you mean Lancaster."
"Oh, well, it's all the same thing!" answered Frank hurriedly.
"Why, of course they are 'York,' 'cause of York House," said Ronnie,
delighted at his own brilliance.
"Bravo, Ronnie!" cried his brothers.
At which praise he was so lifted up that he felt for the moment equal
to carrying on the battle all by himself.
At this juncture the tea-bell rang, and in spirits the children
scrambled downstairs to join their mother in the dining-room.
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