THE HOUSE OF YORK
MRS. WILFRID ROSE'S face was puckered into a frown. She was an
extremely handsome woman, and were it not for the look of pride and
discontent in her eyes, she would have made a fair picture to look upon.
It was the breakfast-hour at York House, and the family had seated
themselves at the table.
Gwennie had been giving a detailed description of her encounter with
Ronald, to the amusement of her brothers and the intense vexation of
her mother.
"To think that after travelling these thousands of miles, we should
actually have settled down next door to these objectionable Roses,"
she said irritably. "Well, I suppose we must keep up a semblance of
friendship for the look of the thing," she continued, "but I do beg of
you children not to get too intimate."
"Don't you be afraid, mother," said the second son (Montague by name,
usually called Monty); "we'll soon lick 'em into shape—Wars of the
Roses indeed!"
"They must be original children," said Mrs. Rose languidly; "their idea
is somewhat novel, but I The hope you will not get mixed up in any
fight, Monty. The last one you had, you came home, I remember, with two
black eyes."
"Two lovely black eyes!" hummed Monty indifferently.
"It's Sunday, Monty! You forget," said Gwennie in a shocked voice.
"Yes, so I did, little Miss Prig. Here, pass me the marmalade."
Gwennie obeyed, but she was too taken up with the subject in hand to
eat much breakfast; but not so Reginald, the eldest son, to whom the
matter was beneath contempt.
He was an utterly spoilt lad, the pride of his mother's heart, and
partaking more of her disposition than either of the other children.
Seeing that his mother disdained the whole family at The Gables, he did
likewise, and summed up his three unknown cousins as "cads."
"There's a little girl too," said Gwennie, "'cause I saw her face at
the window."
"I think we've discussed the subject long enough," said Mrs. Wilfrid
with decision; "get on with your breakfast, children, or we shall be
late for church."
There was no fear of any member of "The House of York" being late for
church on their first Sunday at Linwell, so intense was their curiosity
to see their unknown aunt and cousins.
Mrs. Wilfrid, clad in mourning, followed by her three children, was
ushered by the verger into one of the very best seats, for the old man
realized at a glance that the stately-looking woman was "one of the
quality."
She was not above the feeling of curiosity herself, and when Mrs.
Gilbert Rose and her family took their place in close proximity to the
pulpit, she immediately recognized in the widow's sweet, worn features
the woman whom she had last met as a happy bride.
She could not see the lads' faces, as they were hidden by a massive
pillar, but little Elsie, who was sitting close beside her mother,
looked so sweet and winsome, that despite herself, Mrs. Wilfrid's heart
went out to the child.
To Gwennie's delight, from her seat beside her two brothers, she could
occasionally get a peep at Ronnie, but whether from shyness, or because
he thought he had already been too friendly, he refused to meet the
blue eyes which he felt instinctively were gazing at him.
Only once did he glance at his little cousin, but at this moment her
eyes were fixed upon the clergyman with intense interest, for the text
he had just given out were these few words:
"Love your enemies."
During the sermon heavy clouds gathered, and ere the words of the
benediction were uttered, the rain descended in a drenching shower.
Mrs. Wilfrid, in her widow's weeds, felt sadly the lack of an umbrella,
and whilst waiting in the porch, bade her son Reginald run home to York
House—which was but a short distance—to fetch her one.
His answer was audible to those around.
"It won't hurt your bonnet, mother, more than it will hurt me," he said
in a grumbling voice.
At this moment a little lad touched her hand.
"Please will you take this umbrella," he said shyly.
"Thank you so much," she answered, with a smile radiating her beautiful
face, which smile so subjugated Frank Rose, whose umbrella it was,
that he was her humble admirer from thenceforth. "I will return it
this afternoon, if you will tell me where I can send it," she said
graciously.
"To The Gables," answered Frank, flushing a little as he spoke.
The lady's manner stiffened, but as she could not well decline the
proffered loan, she merely repeated her thanks, and prepared to make
the best of her way homewards.
Whilst waiting in the porch, Gwennie found an opportunity to whisper a
few words to Ronnie.
"I can't come out this afternoon, 'cause of the rain. Will you show me
about the donkey next Sunday instead?"
"Yes, p'raps," said Ronnie, who with Hugh's eyes upon him felt it
incumbent not to be too friendly.
"I liked the text this morning," went on Gwennie unabashed, "'bout
loving your enemies, didn't you?"
"Didn't notice it much," answered Ronnie, with more indifference in his
tone than veracity.
"Oh, Ronnie!" The hurt voice aroused all his latent chivalry.
"Well, it was rather a nice one," he admitted half unwillingly, and
with this poor little Gwennie had to be content, as her mother's voice
was heard at this moment bidding her to hasten homewards.
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