AN UGLY DILEMMA.
THE morning of the much talked of garden-party brought the news that
Mrs. Newton was worse, and Mrs. Golding would not be able to leave her
until late in the day. When she came home, Mary Riley opened the door,
and Mrs. Golding looked at her in no small astonishment.
"You here, Mary Riley?" she exclaimed.
"Yes, ma'am. Miss Hetty sent for me," said Mary, in a pert tone.
"Where is Miss Hetty?" said the lady, turning into the small
dining-room.
She paused at the door, wondering whether it was her own house she had
come into, as this had been turned into a cloak-room for the company.
And from the window Mrs. Golding could see a crowd of people scattered
about, while two or three tables stood on the lawn, covered with fruit,
flowers, and delicate confectionery.
"Why, Hetty must be mad to ask all those people here!" she said, half
aloud.
She did not know that Lettice had come into the room.
"Hetty has done it for my sake, I am sure, aunt, so you must not be
vexed with her," she said, gently.
"But, my dear, I had no thought of a garden-party like this," said Mrs.
Golding, still gazing from the window.
"How pretty everything looks!" said Lettice. "How clever Hetty must be
to get everything done so nicely!" she said, for she was anxious to
smooth matters as well as she could, seeing her aunt was so angry.
"She is too clever, I am afraid, Lettice," said her aunt, in a deeply
pained tone. And then she went upstairs to change her dress before
going into the garden.
From her bedroom window she could hear the laughter and snatches of
conversation going on below. It seemed that one of them had just found
the croquet set, and another was inquiring if they could not have lawn
tennis.
"No lawn tennis, nothing but croquet," said another loud voice, which
Mrs. Golding, to her further annoyance, recognised as Julia Hodson's.
"Did you ever see such a mean, shabby affair as this is, Miss Hodson?"
said another.
Mrs. Golding could not catch the reply, but there was a jeering laugh
from both.
And then Miss Hodson said, "Have you looked at those fine tables?
They look smart enough for a show, but I don't believe there's five
shillings' worth of eatables on all of them: a few paltry home-made
custards, and a jelly put here and there, as though it was ashamed of
being seen in such company, and a little cheap fruit, with plenty of
leaves to make the most of it."
Mrs. Golding, peeping from the window, saw that Miss Hodson's
description was pretty accurate; the provision for so many people was
very scanty, and she felt vexed and mortified.
She sat hesitating whether she would go down at all or leave Hetty to
reap the full harvest of mortification which she knew was in store for
her unless she came to the rescue. Then if she did, and sent out for
what was wanted, would it not be encouraging her in her foolish love of
display.
At last Mrs. Golding decided to go down, but to leave Hetty to get out
of the dilemma as best she could. She would let it be known that it was
Hetty's affair, not hers, and, perhaps, the bitter remembrance of this
day might prove a salutary warning to her for the future.
By the time Mrs. Golding reached the garden, there was little left on
the tables but empty plates, leaves, and flowers, and Hetty was already
looking more anxious and worried than she had ever been in her life
before.
"Oh, mamma, I thought you were never coming," said Hetty, when she met
her mother.
"So it seems, my dear, or you would never have asked all these people
here, I should think."
"Mamma, what shall we do? Hannah says we have not enough things."
"My dear, I have nothing to do with it. This garden-party is entirely
your own affair. I will talk to you about it by-and-by, but that can
wait."
And Mrs. Golding passed to look for Lettice, leaving Hetty and angry
Hannah to do the best they could.
Tea was served, but the cake and fruit were exhausted before the
visitors' appetites were appeased. Hetty was afraid to eat a mouthful
herself for fear of this, but she had the mortification of seeing
one plate after another emptied of its contents, and knew there was
little, if any, in reserve to fill them again, and hearing anything but
flattering remarks passed upon her much talked of garden-party. Oh!
How sick and weary of it all she felt before the evening was over, for
everybody seemed ill at ease and out of sorts. Lettice and Harry, she
could see, were exerting themselves to please and amuse other people,
but they, too, looked almost as uncomfortable as the rest, and as
though they would be glad to escape at the first opportunity.
But fresh trouble was in store for Hetty when Mrs. Mavor's gardener
came in at the lower gate and met a group of young ladies heedlessly
trampling down a bed of young onions.
"What business have you here? I'll get you all locked up for
trespassing," said the angry gardener, and he ventured to push Julia
Hodson as she stood in his path.
"How dare you touch me? I'll call your mistress," said angry Julia.
"We have more right here than you, and I don't care for the rubbishing
onions," and, to show her defiance, Julia walked again over the ground
they had been ordered to leave.
"Well, now I'm not going to put up with this in my own garden, for this
bit is mine. I agreed with Mrs. Mavor about it, and—"
"Why, it's Mrs. Golding's garden, you old stupid," interrupted Julia.
"Here, Hetty, Hetty, this old man says we have no right here!"
"Did you bring this lot here, Miss Golding?" called the gardener, as he
too caught a glimpse of Hetty.
She would have got away if she could, but her guests soon came up with
her, and she was obliged to face the angry gardener.
"What right had you to bring a lot of people in here?" he demanded.
"The garden isn't yours, and you've no right in it. And if my missis
give your mother leave to walk here sometimes, she didn't expect you to
bring all the parish in."
Hetty felt so dumbfounded that she could not say a word, and her guests
slipped away one by one, whispering among themselves, while Hetty made
her escape in another direction, for she was ashamed to meet anyone now.
The crowning mortification came when Hetty discovered that her two
cousins, with one or two of the guests, had wandered out of the garden
away into the woods.
Here Harry had seated himself on the bank of a little stream, and
Lettice, on a log close by was telling a story for the edification of
her brother and one of the younger guests, who had wandered to this
quiet nook with her. Another young lady was pulling autumn berries from
a bush close by, and altogether the group realised what her mother had
proposed this festival should be—a pleasant little picnic in the woods.
Poor Hetty had just run in here to escape from the angry gardener, and
now, as she stood behind a tree at the end of the rustic bridge, and
looked at the group opposite, who seemed to be enjoying themselves so
completely, it seemed that she had only escaped from one mortification
to meet another.
She kept herself out of sight, peeping from behind one of the trees,
but heartily wishing it was quite dark and time for her visitors to go
home. She longed for, yet dreaded, the departure of her guests, for
how she was to meet her mother and the questions that would be asked
she did not know. Her cousins too were vexed and annoyed, and she had
been so anxious to please them, and now everything was a failure, and
everybody cross, so that Hetty may be forgiven for thinking herself the
most miserable girl in the village.
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