Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: With what pleasure the boy presented his mother
with his first week's earnings.]
ROSE COTTAGE
A Story
BY
ELEANORA H. STOOKE
Author of "Polly's Father," "Little Gem,"
&c.
London:
GALL AND INGLIS, 25 PATERNOSTER SQUARE;
AND EDINBURGH.
PRINTED
AND BOUND BY
GALL AND INGLIS
LUTTON PLACE
EDINBURGH
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER.
I. THE NEW ARRIVALS.
II. "WE DIDN'T MEAN."
III. JIM GETS WORK.
IV. THE GOOD SHEPHERD.
V. A REQUEST.
VI. THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL TREAT.
VII. THE ACCIDENT.
VIII. A GREAT CHANGE.
ROSE COTTAGE
CHAPTER I.
THE NEW ARRIVALS.
SUNLEIGH was a beautifully situated little village lying between two
hills, with a rippling stream flowing close by through fertile meadow
lands, now golden with daffodils. In the most sheltered hedges, white
violets and primroses were peeping through beds of moss, and ferns were
unfolding their tender green fronds to the welcome warmth of the kindly
March sun.
Yet, it felt keenly still in the shade, and Marian Morris, the vicar's
only daughter, drew her fur boa closer around her throat as she walked
up the village street, pausing for a moment at the baker's, and then
passing on to Mrs. Mugford's establishment, the post-office and general
shop of the place.
One could buy almost anything at Mrs. Mugford's—drapery, grocery,
stationery, ironmongery, and, in fact, nearly every commodity one
was likely to require. Whilst making her purchases, Miss Morris was
entertained by Mrs. Mugford with all the latest village news.
The owner of the village shop was a large, red-faced woman, with bright
brown eyes like a robin's, and sleek, neatly banded iron-grey hair. She
was a bit of a gossip, it is true, but a very kindly one. Never was
there a case of distress in the parish that did not reach her ears, and
receive a sympathetic hearing, and such help as she could give.
"I have new neighbours," she told Miss Morris, nodding towards a pretty
thatched cottage on the opposite side of the street. "Rose Cottage
has been taken by a family called Lethbridge—father, mother, and four
children. They moved in only yesterday."
"Lethbridge!" said Miss Morris thoughtfully. "I don't think I know the
name."
"No, miss. They come from a distance. The man was groom in some
gentleman's stables, I hear."
"Has he work in the village, then?" in interested tones.
"Mr. Talbot at the Hall has engaged him as under stableman. The wife's
a sickly-looking, pale-faced poor body; but there are two sturdy boys,
a little girl and a baby. I went across last night to see if there was
anything I could do for them, but Mrs. Lethbridge didn't ask me in,"
she added in slightly aggrieved accents.
"Perhaps she wants to get her new home in good order before seeing
strangers," suggested Miss Morris, smiling, for she guessed Mrs.
Mugford would have liked to have found out more about her neighbours.
"Yes, miss, I daresay. I'm glad to see Rose Cottage inhabited, anyway.
I think an unoccupied house looks so depressing. What else can I do for
you, miss?"
"That's all I want to-day, thank you, Mrs. Mugford; good afternoon."
With a nod and a smile, Miss Morris stepped into the street again, just
as the door of Rose Cottage opened, and a pale-faced woman came out
with a baby in her arms, and a little girl of about eight years old at
her side. The woman looked weary, but as she glanced at the vicar's
daughter, an expression of interest crossed her face. Acting on the
impulse of the moment, Marian went across the road.
"Good morning," she said brightly. "You are Mrs. Lethbridge, are you
not? I am Marian Morris, the vicar's daughter, and I have now heard
that you have come to live in our village. I hope you will soon feel at
home. I always think Rose Cottage so very pretty."
"Yes, miss," with a slight flush, and a somewhat timid smile.
"What a dear little girl!" Marian exclaimed in sudden admiration, as
a pair of blue eyes were raised to meet hers, and a delicately-tinted
face, crowned with a mass of golden curls, became suddenly illuminated
with a sweet smile. "What is your name, little one?"
"Molly, please, miss."
"Will you give me a kiss, little Molly?"
No answer, except the same smile, wholly sweet, but with a certain
appealing weakness in it that went straight to Marian's kind heart. She
bent down and kissed the child, and then turned to the mother who was
watching her earnestly.
"Our Molly is not quite like other children, miss," Mrs. Lethbridge
said, with a break in her voice. "We sometimes think she is not right
here," indicating her forehead with a quick motion of her hand.
Marian felt shocked. She looked again at the little girl, and was
conscious of a somewhat vacant expression in the clear, blue eyes that
had escaped her notice at first.
"She is not very bad," the mother continued hastily; "but she can't
learn. We have to send her to school; but she doesn't remember
anything. She's an affectionate, obedient child, but strange—very. It
does seem hard she should be different to other children," in slightly
aggrieved tones; "the only girl, too! My boys are right in mind and
body; but Molly—why, she don't know more now than a child of five years
old ought, and she's eight."
"God has given you a heavy trouble to bear," Marian said,
sympathetically.
"He has, indeed, miss. Sometimes I wonder what will become of Molly
when she grows up. If anything happened to her father or me, whatever
would she do?"
"Her Father in heaven would provide for her, Mrs. Lethbridge."
The poor mother brushed the back of one work-hardened hand across her
eyes, and tried to smile.
"We didn't notice anything wrong with her until a year or so ago," she
said, encouraged by the kindly interest on Marian's face to continue
the conversation. "We thought her backward-like; and James—that's my
husband—don't like to think she isn't like other children even now,
he's that fond of her."
"I can understand it. Perhaps her mind will strengthen as she grows
older. She is in God's hands, and He will take care of her. You must
always remember that."
Mrs. Lethbridge made no answer, but she sighed, and the tears welled up
into her eyes again. She began to sway the baby to and fro on her arm.
He was a bright looking child, and he crowed merrily, and laughed in
his mother's face.
"Will you please step inside, miss?" Mrs. Lethbridge asked.
"Not to-day, thank you; but I will come to see you soon, when you are
really settled in your new home, and make the acquaintance of your
other children."
"The boys are gone to school, miss. I sent them at once to keep them
out of mischief."
Marian laughed, and at that moment Molly, who had wandered a few steps
down the street, returned to her mother's side, and stood looking up at
her new acquaintance, with her sweet, wavering smile.
"She seems very happy!" Marian said, softly, to Mrs. Lethbridge.
"Yes, miss; there's one comfort, she's always happy. She never cries,
or is cross and fretty like some children."
"That is a great blessing, is it not?"
"It is, indeed, miss."
After a little more conversation, the vicar's daughter passed on her
way down the street, leaving Mrs. Lethbridge gazing after her with a
look of interest and approval on her face.
Presently the boys returned from school, and their mother went in to
prepare their tea, placing the baby in Molly's arms to nurse.
The little girl sat on the doorstep in the sunshine. Baby was heavy,
but she held him firmly. The village children, curious at the sight of
a strange face, paused outside Rose Cottage to stare at Molly, but she
did not mind, only smiled at them in her usual friendly fashion.
One little girl spoke to her at length, asking—
"What's your name, eh?"
"Molly," still smiling.
"What else?" Then, receiving no answer, "Where do you come from?"
Still no answer, except a shake of the golden head.
"I believe she's silly!" cried out one sharp-looking little girl,
whereupon there was a general laugh, which Mrs. Lethbridge heard. She
came out, and immediately dispersed the children.
But the sharp young eyes had noticed something unusual about Molly,
and when, a few days later, she appeared at the village school, the
children, with the thoughtlessness of youth, were ready to tease her
unmercifully. They called her "crazy Molly," but they soon found she
was not resentful in the least, and to all their laughs and taunts she
listened in silence, only sometimes her sweet, weak smile faded into an
expression of astonishment and pain.