A hearty but somewhat unnecessarily noisy welcome awaited them. Arthur,
Ted, and Noble were all in the drawing-room with their mother. She had
insisted on the muddy boots being discarded, but beyond this, as the
boys were tired, and it was late when they came in, she had not held
out; and Charlotte glanced at the rough coats and lounging-about
attitudes with a feeling of annoyance, which it was well "the boys" did
not see. "Mamma" herself was always a pleasant object to look upon,
even in her old black grenadine; _she_, thought Charlotte, with a throb
of pride, could not seem out of place in the most beautiful of the
Silverthorns' drawing-rooms. But the boys--how can they be so rough and
messy? thought the fastidious little sister.
"It is all with being poor--all," she said to herself.
But she felt ashamed when Arthur drew forward the most comfortable chair
for her to the fire, and Ted offered to carry her hat and jacket
up-stairs for her.
"No, thank you," she said. "I'll run up-stairs, and be down again in a
minute. It's messy to take one's things off in the drawing-room," and
so saying, she jumped up and ran away.
"What a fuss Charlotte always makes about being messy, as she calls it,"
said Ted. "She's a regular old maid."
"Come, Ted, that's not fair. It's not only for herself Charlotte's
tidy!" Arthur exclaimed.
"No, indeed," said Noble, chiming in.
"You needn't all set upon me like that," said Ted. "I'm sure I always
thank her when she tidies my things. I can't be tidy, and that's just
all about it. When a fellow's grinding at lessons from Monday morning
till Saturday night."
This piteous statement was received with a shout of laughter, Ted's
"lessons" being a proverb in the house, as it was well known that they
received but the tag end of the attention naturally required for
football, and cricket, and swimming, and stamp-collecting, and
carpentering, and all his other multifarious occupations.
Mrs Waldron, scenting squabbles ahead, came to the rescue.
"Tell us your adventures, Jerry. Is it a fine evening? Where is your
father?"
"He'll be in in a moment," Jerry replied. "He went round to the
stables; I think he had something to say to Sam. Yes, mamma, we had a
very nice drive. It was beautiful moonlight out at Silverthorns, but
coming back it clouded over."
"Silverthorns!" Noble repeated. "Have you been out there too? Why,
we've all been there--how funny! I thought mamma said you had gone to
Gretham. I say, isn't Silverthorns awfully pretty?"
As he said the words the door opened, and Charlotte and her father came
in together. They had met in the hall. Mr Waldron answered Noble's
question, which had indeed been addressed to no one in particular.
"It is a beautiful old place," he said. "But `east or west, home is
best.' I like to come in and see you all together with your mother,
boys. And what a capital fire you've made up!" He went towards it as
he spoke, Charlotte half mechanically following him. "It is chilly out
of doors. Gipsy, your hands are quite cold." He drew her close to the
fire and laid one arm on her shoulder. She understood the little
caress, but some undefined feeling of contradiction prevented her
responding to it.
"I'm not particularly cold, papa, thank you," she said drily.
Mrs Waldron looked up quietly at the sound of Charlotte's voice. She
knew instinctively that all was not in tune, but she also knew it would
not do to draw attention to this, and she was on the point of hazarding
some other remark when Jerry broke in. Jerry somehow always seemed to
know what other people were feeling.
"Papa," he said, "were you in earnest when you said there was a haunted
room at Silverthorns?"
Every one pricked up his or her ears at this question.
"I was in earnest so far that I know there is a room there that is said
to be haunted," he replied.
"And how?" asked Charlotte. "If any one slept there would they be found
dead in the morning, or something dreadful like that?"
"No, no, not so bad as that, though no one ever does sleep there. It's
an old story in the family. I heard it when I was a boy."
"Don't you think it's very wrong to tell stories like that to frighten
children?" said Charlotte severely.
"And pray who's begging for it at the present moment?" said Mr Waldron,
amused at her tone.
"Papa! we're not children. It isn't like as if it were Amy and Marion,"
she said, laughing a little. "Do tell us."
"Really, my dear, there's nothing to tell. It is believed that some
long ago Osbert, a selfish and cruel man by all accounts, haunts the
room in hopes of getting some one to listen to his repentance, and to
promise to make amends for his ill-deeds. He treated the poor people
about very harshly; and not them only, he was very unkind to his
daughter, because he was angry with her for not being a son, and left
her absolutely penniless, so that the poor thing, being delicate and no
longer young, died in great privation. And he left the property, which
was not entailed, to a very distant cousin, hardly to be counted as a
cousin except that he had the same name. The legend is that his ghost
will never be at peace till Silverthorns comes to be the property of the
descendant of some female Osbert."
"Do you know I never heard that story before? It is curious," said Mrs
Waldron thoughtfully.
"But it's come all right now. Lady Mildred's a woman," said Ted, in his
usual hasty way.
"On the contrary, it's very far wrong," said his father. "Lady Mildred
is not an Osbert at all. Silverthorns was left her by Mr Osbert to do
what she likes with, some people say. If she leaves it away, quite out
of the Osbert line, it will be a hard punishment for the poor ghost,
supposing he knows anything about it, as his regard for the family name
went so far as to make him treat his own child unjustly."
"Is it certain that Lady Mildred has the power of doing what she likes
with it?" asked Mrs Waldron.
"I'm sure I can't say. I suppose any one who cares to know can see Mr
Osbert's will by paying a shilling," said Mr Waldron lightly. "Though,
by the bye, I have a vague remembrance of hearing that the will was
worded rather peculiarly, so that it did not tell as much as wills
generally do. It referred to some other directions, or something of
that kind. General Osbert and his family doubtless know all they can.
It is not an enormous fortune after all. Lady Mildred has a small
income of her own, and she spends a great deal on the place. It will be
much better worth having after her reign than before it."
"Any way she won't leave it to me, so I don't much care what she does
with it," said Ted, rising from his seat, and stretching his long lanky
arms over his head.
"No, that she won't," said Mr Waldron, with rather unnecessary
emphasis.
"My dear Ted," said his mother, "if you are so sleepy as all that you
had better go to bed. I'm not very rigorous, as you know, but I don't
like people yawning and stretching themselves in the drawing-room."
"All right, mother. I will go to bed," Ted replied. "Arthur and Noble,
you'd better come too."
"Thank you for nothing," said Noble, who as usual was buried in a book.
"I'm going to finish this chapter first. I'm not like some people I
know, who have candles and matches at the side of their beds, in spite
of all mother says."
Mrs Waldron turned to Ted uneasily.
"Is that true, Ted," she said, "after all your promises?"
Ted looked rather foolish.
"Mother," he said, "it's only when I'm behind with my lessons, and I
think that I'll wake early and give them a look over in the morning. It
isn't like reading for my own pleasure."
Another laugh greeted this remark, Ted "reading for his own pleasure"
would have been something new.
"But indeed, mother, you needn't worry about it," said Arthur
consolingly. "I advise you to let Ted's candle and matches remain
peaceably at the side of his bed if it pleases him. There they will
stay, none the worse, you may be sure. It satisfies his conscience and
does no harm, for there is not the least fear of his ever waking early."
Ted looked annoyed. It is not easy to take chaff pleasantly in public,
especially in the public of one's own assembled family.
"I don't see why you need all set on me like that," he muttered. "I
think Noble might have held his tongue."
"So do I," said Charlotte, half under her breath. Then she too got up.
"I'm going to bed. Good night, mamma," and she stooped to kiss her
mother; and in a few minutes, Noble having shut up his book resolutely
at the end of the chapter, all the brothers had left the room, and the
husband and wife were alone.
Mrs Waldron leant her pretty head on the arm of the sofa for a minute
or two without speaking. She was tired, as she well might be, and
somehow on Saturday night she felt as if she might allow herself to own
to it. Mr Waldron looked at her with a rather melancholy expression on
his own face.
"Yes," he said aloud, though in reality speaking to himself, "we pay
pretty dear for our power of sympathising."
"What did you say?" asked his wife, looking up.
"Nothing, dear. I was only thinking of some talk I had with Charlotte--
I was trying to show her the advantages of poverty," he said, smiling.
"_Poverty_!" repeated his wife; "but nothing like _poverty_ comes near
her, or any of them,--at least it is not as bad as that."
"No, no. I should not have used the word. I should rather have said,
as I did to her, of not being rich."
"Charlotte does not seem herself," said Mrs Waldron. "I wonder if
anything is troubling her."
"She is waking up, perhaps," said the father, "and that is a painful
process sometimes. Though she is so clever, she is wonderfully young
for her age too. Life has been smooth for her, even though we are so
poor--not rich," he corrected with a smile.
"But is there anything special on her mind? What made you talk in that
way?"
"She will be telling you herself of some report--oh, I dare say it is
true enough--that Lady Mildred Osbert is arranging to send this niece of
hers, this girl whom, as I told you, she is said to have adopted, to
Miss Lloyd's. And of course they are all gossiping about it, chattering
about the girl's beauty and magnificence, and all the rest of it. After
all, Amy, I sometimes wish we had not sent Charlotte to school at all;
there seems always to be silly chatter."
"But what could we do? We could not possibly have afforded a
governess--for one girl alone; and I, even if I had the time, I am not
highly educated enough myself to carry on so very clever a girl as
Charlotte."
"No; I sometimes wish she were less clever. She might have been more
easily satisfied."
"But she is not dissatisfied," said Mrs Waldron. "On the contrary, she
has seemed more than content, she is full of interest and energy. I
have been so _glad_ she was clever; it is so much easier for a girl with
decidedly intellectual tastes to be happy in a circumscribed life like
ours."
"Yes, in one sense. But Charlotte has other tastes too. She would
enjoy the beauty, the completeness of life possible when people are
richer, intensely. And at school she has been made a sort of pet and
show pupil of. It will be trying to a girl of fifteen to see a new
queen in her little world."
"But--she need not interfere with Charlotte. It is not probable that
she will be as talented."
"That was one of Jerry's consolations," said Mr Waldron with a smile.
"It was rather a pity I happened to take Charlotte to Silverthorns
to-night. It seems to have deepened the impression."
"She only waited outside. My dear, we cannot keep the children in
cotton-wool."
"No, of course not. It is perhaps because going to Silverthorns always
irritates me myself, though I am ashamed to own it, even to you. But to
remember my happy boyhood there--when I was treated like a child of the
house. It was false kindness of my grandmother and my grand-uncle. But
they meant it well, and I never let _her_ know I felt it to have been
so."
"Of course your uncle would have done something more securely for you
had he foreseen all your grandmother's losses. One must remember that."
"Yes; but it isn't only the money, Amy. It is Lady Mildred's determined
avoidance of acknowledging us in any way. The cool way she treats me
entirely as the local lawyer. She has no idea I feel it. I take good
care of that. And then, to be sure, she never saw me there long ago!
Grandmother never entered the doors after her brother's death."
"No, so you have told me. I suppose Lady Mildred, if she ever gives a
thought to us at all, just thinks we are some distant poor relations of
a bygone generation of Osberts," said Mrs Waldron. "And after all it
is pretty much the state of the case, except for your having been so
associated with the place as a child. I am always glad that the
children have never heard of the connection. It would only have been a
source of mortification to them."
"Yes; and my long absence from the neighbourhood made it easy to say
nothing about it. You will know how to speak to Charlotte when she
tells you, as no doubt she will, about this new class-fellow. I wish it
had not happened, for even if the girl is a very nice girl, I should not
wish them to make friends," said Mr Waldron. "It would probably only
lead to complications more or less disagreeable. As Lady Mildred has
chosen absolutely to ignore us as relations, I would not allow the
children to receive anything at all, even the commonest hospitality,
from her."
"I wonder if the girl is nice," said Mrs Waldron. "She must be spoilt.
I should be afraid, if Lady Mildred makes such a pet of her. Do you
know her name?" Mr Waldron shook his head.
"She is a niece of Lady Mildred's, I believe--perhaps a grand-niece.
She may be a Miss Meredon--that was Lady Mildred's maiden name, but I
really don't know. I did not catch her name when her aunt spoke to
her."
"Oh, you saw her then?" exclaimed Mrs Waldron with some surprise.
"What is she like?"
Mr Waldron smiled.
"Amy, you're nearly as great a baby as Charlotte," he said. "She was
quite excited when I said I had seen this wonderful young person. What
is she like? Well, I must own that for once gossip has spoken the truth
in saying that she is very pretty. I only saw her for half a second,
but she struck me as both very pretty and very sweet-looking."
"Not prettier than Charlotte?" asked Charlotte's mother, half laughing
at herself as she put the question.
"Well, yes, I'm afraid poor Gipsy wouldn't stand comparison with this
child. She is really _remarkably_ lovely."
"Ah, well," said Mrs Waldron, "Charlotte is above being jealous, or
even envious of mere beauty. Still--altogether--yes, I think I agree
with you that I am sorry Lady Mildred is going to send the girl to Miss
Lloyd's; for we cannot wish that Charlotte and she should make friends
under the circumstances. It would only be putting our child in the way
of annoyances, and possibly mortification. And I should be sorry to
have to explain things to her or to the boys. I do so long to keep them
unworldly and--unsuspicious, unsoured--poor though they may have to be,"
and the mother sighed a little.
"Yes," agreed Mr Waldron earnestly. "I am afraid the worldly _spirit_
is just as insidious when one is poor as when one is rich. And do what
we will, Amy, we cannot shelter them from all evil and trouble."
"I shall be glad if this Miss Meredon, if that is her name, is not in
Charlotte's class," said Mrs Waldron after a little pause. "I should
think it unlikely that she is as far on as Charlotte. Miss Lloyd was
telling me the other day how really delighted she and all the teachers
are with her."
"I hope they have not spoilt her," said Mr Waldron. "She is not the
sort of girl to be easily spoilt in that way," said Charlotte's mother.
"She is too much in earnest--too anxious to learn."
"I wish Ted had some of her energy," said the father. "He is really
such a dunce--and yet he is practical enough in some ways. We'll have
to ship two or three of those lads off to the backwoods I expect, Amy."
"I sometimes wish we could all go together," said Mrs Waldron. "Life
is so difficult now and then."
"You are tired, dear. Things look so differently at different times.
For after all, what would not Lady Mildred, poor woman, give for one of
our boys--even poor Jerry!"
"_Even_ Jerry!" said Mrs Waldron. "I don't know one of them I could
less afford to part with than him. Arthur is a good boy, a very good
boy as an eldest; but Jerry has a sort of instinctive understandingness
about him that makes him the greatest possible comfort. Yes, cold and
selfish though she may be, I can pity Lady Mildred when I think of her
loneliness."
"And I don't know that she is cold and selfish," said Mr Waldrop. "It
is more that she has lived in a very narrow world, and it has never
occurred to her to look out beyond it. Self-absorption is, after all,
not exactly selfishness. But it is getting late, Amy, and Sunday is not
much of a day of rest for you, I am sorry to say."
"I don't know about that," she replied, smiling brightly again. "Now
that the boys are old enough not to require looking after, and Charlotte
is very good with the little ones--no, I don't think I have any reason
to grumble. My hard-working Sundays are becoming things of the past.
Sometimes I could almost find it in my heart to regret them! It was
very sweet, after all, when they were all tiny mites, with no world
outside our own little home, and perfect faith in it and in us--and
indeed in everything. I do love very little children."
"You will be more than half a child yourself, even when you have grey
hair and are a grandmother perhaps," said her husband, laughing.