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THE GIRL'S OWN PAPER
VOL. VIII.--NO. 358.
NOVEMBER 6, 1886.
PRICE ONE PENNY.
MERLE'S CRUSADE.
BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of "Aunt Diana," "For Lilias," etc.
[Illustration: "I WAS UNDRESSING THE BOY BY THE BEDROOM FIRE."]
CHAPTER V.
MRS. GARNETT'S ROCKERS.
I had plenty of time for such introspective thoughts as these during my
brief railway journey, and before my luggage and I were safely deposited
at 35, Queen's Gate.
Again I rang the bell, and again the footman in plush and powder
answered the door, but this time there was no hesitation in his manner.
"Miss Fenton, I believe," he said, quite civilly. "If you step into the
waiting-room a moment I will find someone to show you the way to the
nursery," and in two or three minutes a tall, respectable young woman
came to me, and asked me, very pleasantly, to follow her upstairs.
On the way she mentioned two or three things; her mistress was out in
the carriage, and Miss Joyce was with her. The nurse had left the
previous night, and Master Reginald had been so fretful that the
housekeeper had been obliged to sleep with him, as Hannah had been no
manner of use--"girls never were," with a toss of her head, which showed
me the rosy-cheeked Hannah was somewhat in disfavour. Mrs. Garnett was
with him now, and had had a "great deal of trouble in lulling him off to
sleep, the pretty dear."
We had reached the children's corridor by this time, and I heard the
full, cosy tones of Mrs. Garnett's voice in "Hush a bye, baby," and the
sound of rockers on the floor. The sound made me indignant that my baby
should be soothed with that wooden tapping. No wonder so many children
suffered from irritability of the brain; for I was as full of theories
as a sucking politician.
"Ook, gurgle-da," exclaimed baby, and pointed a fat finger at me over
Mrs. Garnett's shoulder. Of course he was not asleep; it would have been
an insult to his infantine wisdom to suppose it.
"Oh, Master Baby," exclaimed Hannah, reproachfully. "I did think he had
gone off then, Mrs. Garnett; and you have been rocking him for the best
part of an hour."
"Ah, he misses his old nurse," returned Mrs. Garnett, placidly. She was
a pretty-looking woman, with flaxen hair, just becoming streaked with
grey. Perhaps she was a widow, for she wore a black gown, and a cap with
soft floating ends, and had a plaintive look in her eyes. "I hope he
will take to you, my dear, for he nearly fretted his little heart out
last night, bless him; and Mrs. Morton crept up at two o'clock in the
morning, when Mr. Morton was asleep, but nothing would do but his old
nurse; he pushed her away, and it was 'Nur, nur,' and we could not
pacify him. Poor Mrs. Morton cried at last, and then he took to patting
her and laughing at her in the drollest way."
"I will just take off my bonnet and try and make friends with him," I
returned, and Hannah, who really seemed a good-natured creature, ushered
me into the night nursery--a large, cheerful room, with a bright fire,
and a comfortable-looking bed, with a brass crib on each side--and
pointed out to me the large chest of drawers and hanging wardrobe for my
own special use, and then went down on her knees to unstrap my box.
"Thank you, Hannah, I will not wait to unpack now, as I daresay Mrs.
Garnett is wanted downstairs," and as soon as she had left the room I
opened the box and took out the pretty cap and apron, and proceeded to
invest myself in my nurse's livery. I hope Aunt Agatha had not made me
vain by that injudicious praise, but I certainly thought they looked
very nice, and gave me a sense of importance.
The tall housemaid--Rhoda they called her--stared at me as I re-entered,
but Mrs Garnett gave me an approving glance; but it was baby who
afforded me most satisfaction, for he screwed up his little rosebud of a
mouth in the prettiest fashion and said, "Nur, nur," at the same time
holding out his arms for me to take him. I must confess I forgot Aunt
Agatha in that moment of triumph.
"He takes to you quite nicely, my dear," observed Mrs. Garnett, in her
cosy voice, as the little fellow nestled down contentedly in my arms.
"Yes, you may leave him to me I think now," I returned, quietly, for I
felt that I should be glad to be left to myself a little. I was very
thankful when my hint was taken, and Mrs. Garnett and Rhoda went
downstairs and Hannah disappeared into the next room. My charge was
becoming decidedly drowsy, and after a few turns up and down the room, I
could sit down in the low chair by the fire and hear the soft, regular
breathing against my shoulder, while my eyes travelled round the walls
of my new home.
Such a pleasant room it was, large and bright, and sunny, and furnished
so tastefully. The canaries were singing blithely; the Persian kitten
was rolled up into a furry ball on the rug; a small Skye terrier, who I
afterwards discovered went by the name of Snap, was keeping guard over
me from a nest of cushions on the big couch opposite. Now and then he
growled to himself softly, as though remonstrating against my intrusion,
but whenever I spoke to him gently, he sat up and begged, so I imagined
his animosity was not very bitter.
"My lines have fallen to me in pleasant places." I wonder why those
words came to my mind. I wished Aunt Agatha could see me now, sitting in
this lovely room, with this little cherub on my lap; she would not be so
despondent about the future. "I do believe it will answer; I mean to
make it answer," I said to myself, energetically. Indeed, I was so
absorbed in my reverie, that Mrs. Morton's soft footsteps on the thick
carpet never roused me until I looked up and saw her standing beside me,
smiling, with Joyce beside her.
I coloured with embarrassment, and would have risen, but she put her
hand on my shoulder, still smiling, to prevent me. She looked lovelier
than ever in her rich furs, and there was a happier look on her face
than I had seen before, as she stooped down and kissed her boy.
"He is sleeping so nicely, the darling. Mrs. Garnett tells me he has
taken to you wonderfully, and I hope my little girl will follow his
example; it is such a relief to me, for he nearly broke our hearts last
night with fretting after nurse. He looks a little pale, do you not
think so?" And then she stopped and looked in my face, with a puzzled
smile. "What am I to call you? I never thought of that; shall it be Miss
Fenton? but there are the children, they could not manage such a
difficult name."
The difficulty had never occurred to me, and for the moment I hesitated,
but only for a moment.
"The children will always call me nurse, and I suppose your household
will do the same, Mrs. Morton. I think for yourself, you will find Merle
the handiest name; it is short."
"It is very pretty and uncommon," she returned, musingly, "and it has
this one advantage, it hardly sounds like a Christian name; if you are
sure you do not object, perhaps I will use it, but," speaking a little
nervously, "you need not have worn this," pointing to my cap. "You
remember I said so to your aunt."
"I think it better to do so," I returned, in a decided voice; in fact, I
am afraid my voice was just a little too decided in speaking to my
mistress, but I was determined not to give way on this point. "I wish to
wear the badge of service, that I may never forget for one moment what I
owe to my employers, and--" here the proud colour suffused my face--"no
cap can make me forget what is due to myself."
I could see Mrs. Morton was amused, and yet she was touched too. She
told me afterwards that she thought me that moment the most original
young woman she had ever seen.
"You shall do as you like," she returned; but there was a little fun in
her eyes. "It certainly looks very nice, and I should be sorry if you
took it off. I only spoke for your aunt's sake and your own; for myself
I certainly prefer it."
"So do I," was my independent answer; "and now, if you please, I think I
will lay baby in his cot, as he will sleep more soundly there, and then
it will be time to get Joyce ready for her dinner," for, in spite of my
cap, I had already forgotten to say "Miss Joyce," or to call my mistress
"ma'am," though I have reason to know that Mrs. Morton was not at all
displeased with the omission.
"It might have been a princess in disguise waiting on my children,
Merle," she said to me, many months afterwards. But I knew nothing of
the secret amusement with which my mistress watched me as she stood by
the nursery fire in her furs, warming herself; I only knew that I loved
to see her there, for from the first moment my heart had gone out to
her. She was so beautiful and gentle; but it was not only that.
Baby woke just as I was putting him in his cot, and I had some little
trouble in lulling him to sleep again. Hannah was dressing Joyce, and as
soon as she had finished, I tried to make friends with the child. She
was very shy at first, but I called Snap, and made a great fuss over
him. I was just beginning to make way, when the gong summoned Mrs.
Morton to luncheon, and soon after that the nursery dinner was served.
Hannah waited upon us very nicely, and then took her place at the table.
She was a thoroughly respectable girl, and her presence was not in the
least irksome to me. I always thought it was a grand old feudal custom
when all the retainers dined at the baron's table, taking their place
below the salt. Surely there can be nothing derogatory to human dignity
in that, seeing that we shall one day eat bread together in the kingdom
of Heaven.
I wonder if half the governesses fared so luxuriously as I that day;
certainly the chicken and bread sauce was delicious. As soon as we had
finished, baby woke up, and I fed him, and then Joyce and he and I had a
fine game of romps together, in which Snap, and the kitten, and all
Joyce's dolls joined.
I had dressed the kitten up in doll's clothes, and the fun was at its
height, when the door opened, and Mr. Morton came in. I discovered
afterwards that it was his custom to make a brief visit to the nursery
once in the four and twenty hours, sometimes with his wife, but oftener
alone.
Joyce ran to him at once; she was devoted to her parents, especially to
her mother, but the boy refused to leave me, unless his father would
take the kitten too.
"I suppose I must humour you, my fine fellow," observed Mr. Morton,
pleasantly, as he kissed the little fellow with affection, and then he
turned to me.
"I hope you find yourself comfortable, nurse, and that my children are
good to you."
"They could not be better, sir, and I am quite comfortable, thank you,"
I returned, with unusual meekness. I was not a very meek person
generally, as Uncle Keith could testify, but there was a subduing
influence in Mr. Morton's look and voice. I must own I was rather afraid
of him, and I would not have omitted the "sir" for worlds, neither would
I have seated myself without his bidding; but he took it all quite
naturally.
"As my wife and I are dining out, Joyce will not come down in the
drawing-room as usual," he observed, in his business-like manner. "Do
you hear, my little girl? Mother and I are engaged this evening, and you
must stay upstairs with Reggie."
"Werry tiresome," I heard Joyce say under her breath, and then she
looked up pleadingly into her father's face. "Her is coming by-and-by,
fardie?"
"Oh, no doubt," stroking the dark hair; "but mother is driving at
present. Now, say good-bye to me, Joyce, and you must give me a kiss,
too, my boy. Good-evening, nurse." And that was all we saw of Joyce's
father that day; only an hour later, when the nursery tea was over, and
I was undressing the boy by the bedroom fire, while Joyce stood beside
me, removing the garments carefully from a favourite doll, and
chattering as fast as a purling brook, I saw Mrs. Morton standing in the
doorway, looking at us.
Joyce uttered a scream of delight, and threw herself upon her. "Mine
mother! mine mother!" she repeated over and over again.
Mrs. Morton had the old, tired look on her face as she came forward,
rather hurriedly. "I cannot stay; there are people downstairs, and when
they have gone I must dress for dinner." She gave a sort of harassed
sigh as she spoke.
"Could you not rest a little first?" I returned. "You have been out the
greater part of the day, and you do not seem fit for the evening's
fatigue," for there was quite a drawn look about the lovely mouth.
She shook her head, but, nevertheless, yielded when I gave her up my
chair and put the boy in her arms; in his little chemise, and with his
dimpled shoulders and bare legs, he was perfectly irresistible to his
mother, and I was not surprised to see her cover him with kisses. "My
bonnie boy, my precious little son," I could hear her whisper, in a sort
of ecstasy, as I picked up the little garments from the floor and folded
them. I seemed to know by instinct that it was only this that she needed
to rest her; the drawn, weary lines seemed to vanish like magic. What a
sweet picture it was! But her pleasure, poor soul, was short lived; the
next moment she had recollected herself.
"There are all those people in the drawing-room! What would my husband
say at my neglecting them? Good-night, my darling; be good; and
good-night, Merle." She smiled at me in quite a friendly fashion, and
hurried away without another look.
"I always do say master does make a slave of mistress," grumbled Hannah,
as she filled the bath; "she never has a moment to herself that I can
see. What is the use of having children if one never sees them." And
though I refrained from any comment, I quite endorsed Hannah's opinion.
As soon as Hannah had cleared the room, I shaded the light and began
quietly arranging my clothes in the wardrobe, and then I sat down in the
low chair beside the fire. Through the open door I could see Hannah's
bent head as she sat at her sewing. The nursery looked warm and cosy--a
very haven of comfort; but I wanted to be alone for a time to think over
the occurrences of the day. "To commune with one's own heart and to be
still." How good it is to do that sometimes. For a few moments my
thoughts lingered lovingly in the little cottage at Putney. Aunt Agatha
and Uncle Keith would be talking of me, I knew that. I could almost hear
the pitying tones of Aunt Agatha's voice, "Poor child! How lonely she
will feel without us to-night!" Did I feel lonely? I hardly think so; on
the contrary, I had the warm, satisfied conviction at my heart that I
was in my right place, the place for which I was most fitted. How
tenderly would I watch over these helpless little creatures committed to
my care! how sacred would be my charge! What a privilege to be allowed
to love them, to be able to win their affection in return!
I had such a craving in my heart to be loved, and hitherto I had had no
one but Aunt Agatha. It seemed to me, somehow, as though I must cry
aloud to my human brothers and sisters to let me love them and take
interest in their lives; to suffer me to glean beside them, like loving
Ruth in those Eastern harvest fields, following the reapers lest haply a
handful might fall to my share, for who would wish to go home at
eventide empty handed as well as weary?
(_To be continued._)
GIRLS' FRIENDSHIPS
By the Author of "Flowering Thorns."