MAKING FRIENDS
BEFORE she dressed, Anstice went again to her window, and this time she
could not help giving a cry of delight.
Such an exquisite view was before her. First a sloping green park
with magnificent old spreading trees grouped here and there, under
which cattle were browsing, then the blue lake like a sheet of glass
lying between the purple Fells, which ranged themselves around it, in
various heights and shapes, and with beautiful shadows passing to and
fro. Directly underneath her window was a wide terrace walk; then,
on a lower level, a well-kept lawn, on one side of which was a long
herbaceous border already bright with flowers. At the bottom of the
lawn was an old wall covered with fruit trees and flowering shrubs and
creepers, and a gate in the middle of it which led into the park.
An hour later she left her room; for a big bell was ringing, and that
was a summons to breakfast.
She had heard childish voices about the house, and once, from her
window, had a flying glimpse of two short-frocked, long-legged girls,
chasing each other across the lawn.
As she was crossing the corridor outside her room to go downstairs, she
passed a room which had the door open, and heard her husband's voice:
he evidently had caught sight of her, and called her in.
"I want to introduce my son to you."
It was the old nursery. Anstice saw at once that it was a large and
sunny room, and was far more comfortable in every way than the room
downstairs. Justin sat upon a chintz-covered couch under one of the big
windows, and in his arms was his boy.
For a moment Anstice surprised a look upon his face, that she had never
thought possible for him to wear. It was of passionate tenderness and
love; and then, as he looked up from the little face nestling against
his shoulder, the hard light was in his eyes again, and the easy,
indifferent tone upon his lips.
"This is Rufus, commonly known as Ruffie, and this, Ruffie, is your
stepmother. Shake hands with her and wish her well."
Anstice impulsively went down on her knees before the child. She
almost started, as she saw a face of exquisite beauty. Red gold curls
clustered about a broad white brow with large brown eyes, which looked
up at her with a mixture of pathos and mischief in their depths. A
little delicate oval face, with small pointed chin and a most beautiful
mouth, belonged to Ruffie. His complexion was like a blush rose, his
tiny white hands were those of an artist, the rest of his poor little
body was crippled and deformed. He wore a tussore silk shirt with a
pale blue tie, but a shawl was wrapped round his legs. One small hand
shot out in response to his father's words.
Anstice took it, and held it for a moment in both hers. But she met a
look of horror and incredulity from the child.
"We are going to be friends," she said, smiling at him.
"A stepmother!"
Ruffie's voice rose shrilly.
"Does that mean she's going to live here always, or are you going to
take her away with you, Dad?"
"She has promised me she will stay here with you," said Justin.
His voice sounded helpless, and his eyes met Anstice's with a hint of
appeal in them. She came to his rescue, and said cheerfully:
"Yes, we're going to have good times together, I hope, Ruffie. I am not
a governess, you mustn't think of me as one, for I'm not half clever
enough to teach your sisters."
"You're a new mother," said Ruffie, scowling heavily at her. "We've got
our own mother. She's dead, and we don't want another. If Dad doesn't
want you to go with him, we don't want you to stay with us, so you can
go home where you came from."
Anstice shook her head and smiled, whilst her dimples came in play.
"When I got up this morning, Ruffie," she said, "I looked out of my
window, and I saw such a beautiful corner of the world, that I knelt
down and said my prayers before it. And I said to myself when I got up:
'Every one who lives in such beauty must be happy and kind.' That's
what I mean to be; will you join me?"
The scowl faded away. Ruffie was now regarding her curiously.
"Are you frightened of things?" he asked. "But all women are, we
know them. First they try to frighten us, then they get frightened
themselves, and then they go."
"If I don't go till I am frightened," said Anstice, "you will have to
wait a long time, Ruffie. But this is my home now as well as yours.
I shall soon fit into my corner, you see if I don't! And one person
determined last night to be friends with me and give me a welcome. I
mean to see more of him. Do you know his name? Joshua."
Ruffie's face was a picture. Interest, curiosity and ripples of
mischief showed themselves in his eyes.
"Did he prick you?" he asked impishly.
"I should think not. He thought he was in a prison with hot, heavy
clouds suffocating him. First he thought he was under the earth, but
he couldn't burrow a way out. Then he turned head over heels, and
was preparing to give a squeal, when suddenly the clouds lifted, and
then he was lifted. In a few minutes, he was back again in his usual
bedroom, and if you asked him about it this morning, he would tell you
it was a bad dream."
"We must come to breakfast."
Justin spoke abruptly. He very gently put Ruffie back upon his couch
amongst his cushions, and Anstice left the room saying to Ruffie:
"We will see each other later on."
Justin and she had hardly taken their places at the breakfast table in
the library, when the door was flung open, and the two little girls,
arm in arm, came in most defiantly.
"Good morning," said their father gravely, "come and speak to this
lady. She is going to be a second mother to you."
They stood perfectly still, astonishment and disgust plainly
discernible on their faces.
"She's only another governess. You're pretending, Dad."
The taller of the two, Josephine by name, was spokeswoman.
"Aren't you glad I am not another governess?" said Anstice, pouring out
a cup of coffee and handing it to her husband as she spoke. Her tone
was easy, and a little indifferent.
"We don't want any sort of mother fussing round here," said Josie,
tapping the carpet impatiently with her foot. "We manage ourselves. You
know we do, Dad."
Justin looked at them for a moment in silence, then he said:
"I don't think your manners do you credit. You make a poor sort of show
beside other children of your age."
"Oh, come on, Josie," cried Georgie, the smaller girl, "if she's come
to manage us she won't stay long."
And like a whirlwind they both swept out of the room, banging the door
behind them.
Justin gave his short, indifferent laugh.
"Now you've seen them at their worst," he said. "I'm sorry they've
given you such a poor welcome, but my aunt seemed to think troublesome
children interested you more than good ones."
"Much more," said Anstice. "They interest me very much. You have very
nice-looking children, and if their high spirits can be turned in the
right direction, they will grow up delightful girls."
"Well, they will be a test of your powers. I must tell you I have
a good bit of business to do before I leave, which I hope will be
to-morrow afternoon. But I shall be in this evening. I have to go round
and look up my tenants; I have about half a dozen tenant farmers, and
they always expect a call from me when I'm home, and they live far
apart. You wouldn't think it perhaps, but though I can't manage my
house, they say my estate is one of the best run of its kind in these
parts."
"I can't think why you aren't content to live here," said Anstice,
gazing out of the window with a dreamy look in her eyes.
Justin made no reply. He made short work of his breakfast, and then
Anstice saw a beautiful bay mare being brought round to the door. As he
was mounting, he called out to her:
"Don't wait dinner for me, but I think I shall be in by eight o'clock.
Brenda will take you over the house, and give you all the information
you need."
He was gone; and Anstice drew a long breath of relief. She felt at last
that she was free and independent.
As she stood outside on the terrace, drinking in the fresh sweet air,
the little girls suddenly appeared holding between them by the collar a
huge mastiff.
"It's Hercules and he wants to see what you're like," announced Josie.
"You'd better make friends with him quick—while we hold him; he's awful
to strangers, he's a kind of bloodhound, and seizes you with his teeth
if he doesn't like you."
"He looks good tempered," said Anstice happily. "I'm very fond of big
dogs."
She advanced towards him as she spoke, but as she was about to lay her
hand on his head, a blood-curdling deep growl emitted from his great
throat.
"There! He hates you, he won't be friends!" cried Georgie triumphantly.
"If you stop pinching his tail and let him loose, I'll see whether he
likes me or not."
Anstice spoke quietly, but she had quick eyes, and the children looked
slightly abashed.
"He'll knock you down, if I let him go," Josie said.
"I'll risk that."
Very reluctantly they loosed their grip of his collar.
Hercules made a bound towards her. Anstice stood her ground, and smiled
at him. He sniffed at her shoes, wagged his tail, and then as she
patted his head, he turned up his beautiful brown eyes, and regarded
her with favour, even going so far as to lick her hand.
Then Anstice turned to the little girls.
"Won't you show me the animals? I expect you have a good many pets and
I want to know them."
But they took to their heels, whistling for Hercules, who bounded after
them, and a wave of depression passed over Anstice's soul. Then she
turned with brisk steps to search for Brenda.
"Can you leave your little charge?" she asked her when she met her on
the stairs.
"Indeed, yes, ma'am. He's accustomed to loneliness, poor little soul!
But I've carried him down to the library and his sisters will be in and
out concocting mischief with him. For the matter o' that 'tis his brain
that hatches most of their plots, and they carry them out."
"Is he able to read?"
"Yes, indeed he is, but his doctor doesn't like him to do too much of
it. It gives him headaches. He's great at drawing, and has books and
books full of his funny figures."
"Oh, that's good to hear! Now, will you take me over the house?"
For an hour Anstice talked and planned with Brenda, making arrangements
for the comfort of them all. There evidently seemed no lack of money,
but utter lack of organization. Brenda said that no good servants would
come, where there was no proper mistress.
"I haven't the authority, ma'am—nor am I good at getting others to
work. I'd rather do it all myself. There's an aunt of mine—she's lately
been left a widow. She's a good cook and was living with some gentry
about eight mile from here. I asked her wouldn't she come to us; but
she knew the master was always away, and didn't like the idea of doing
for the governesses who've been driven away one after the other owing
to the children's wicked ways."
"Where does your aunt live? Could she come and see me? Or I could go to
her?"
They discussed the matter together. Anstice longed to get help in and
have the empty rooms all prepared and got ready for use.
The house was of grey substantial stone, with several quaint buttresses
and corners. The windows on the ground floor all opened to the ground.
There was a very large conservatory on one side of the drawing-room,
but beyond one creeping rose that covered the outside wall there was
not a plant in it. Old boxes and lumber of all sorts were stacked up
inside it. As Anstice walked about, and noted the possibilities of the
house, she felt glad that she had come to it.
"I can make it into a pretty and comfortable home, I know I can; but I
wonder whether I can make it into a happy one."
A little sigh left her lips. Later on she unpacked her trunks and
arranged her room according to her liking.
At luncheon the little girls appeared, expecting to meet their
father at it. Anstice told them that he was away for the day. They
sat together, whispering and giggling. Then suddenly Josie addressed
Anstice:
"Are you afraid of ghosts? There's one in your room. We think it's
mother."
"I shouldn't be afraid of her, or of any other spirit," said Anstice
very gently.
"You wait and see. Our mother will be furious to find you in her room.
You'd better get out."
"My dear Josie," said Anstice, "no one could drive me out of my room.
And as to your mother, I am sure she would only be too thankful to me
for coming here to give you a more comfortable and, I hope, a happier
home."
"We don't want you," said Georgie sullenly.
"Look here," said Anstice impulsively, "I tell you what we will do. We
will have a 'pow-wow' to-morrow evening in the nursery. Do you know
what a 'pow-wow' is?"
"Some old rubbishy thing!" muttered Josie scornfully.
"It's what the Red Indians have. They sit round a fire, all the heads
and chiefs are invited, and then they talk and talk and talk. Every one
can have a say."
"What do they talk about?" inquired Georgie, a gleam of interest in her
deep blue eyes.
"Whether they're going to have peace or war. It is settled once
for all. Ruffie must take part in it. Shall we all dress up as Red
Indians to make it real? And the evenings are chilly, we'll have a
delicious drink that I know how to make. I used to make it for the
school children in my old home where we had treats. And I call it
'Honeybunny'!"
"You're trying to make us like you," said Josie deliberately; "and we
don't want to like you."
"Don't tell me that now. Tell me to-morrow evening. You will have the
chance of saying anything you like then. I shall want you to listen to
me, and then I will listen to you. Do you agree?"
"We'll talk to Ruffie about it, and see what he says."
But there was a little sparkle in Josie's eyes as she spoke.
Anstice felt that she had already scored a point.
When lunch was over, the little girls tore up to the nursery, and
Anstice went out of doors. She crossed the lawn and had a few words
with the old gardener, Stephen Cross, who seemed delighted to see her.
"Ay," he responded to some pleasant words of hers, "th' 'ouse ha'
wanted a mistress these mony years, an' a mistress who'll bide in it,
an' ha' an interest in it."
Then she went out through the little gate into the park, rejoicing
in the fresh green underfoot and around her. A wide beaten path led
her across the sward down to the edge of the lake. Here she found a
boathouse and small landing stage, and in an enclosure fenced off from
the cattle was a very pretty little chalet evidently used for making
afternoon tea. The door was unlocked, and inside she found remains of
a meal. Unwashed cups and saucers were on the table. An open cupboard
showed more crockery and a small oil stove.
Then she went outside, and sitting on the short grass under the shade
of an acacia tree, she looked out upon the blue lake before her. It
was very still, only a little ripple washed up at her feet. Opposite
were the blue Fells and mountains, some in the background crested with
wreaths of cloud. She watched the wonderful lights and shadows playing
across them, and her thoughts were lifted for the time away from
rebellious children and a disordered house.
Suddenly a voice beside her broke in upon her musings.
"Good afternoon."
She turned quickly. A tall, broad-shouldered man in clerical attire
stood before her. She encountered a pair of keen, kindly eyes looking
at her between shaggy brows.
"I must introduce myself. I am the new parson. I was only inducted a
few weeks ago and I heard Mr. Holme was here for a day or two, so came
to pay my respects to him. He is my nearest neighbour."
The hearty, pleasant voice brought relief to Anstice's heart. Here was
some one who would be friendly, possibly a real help-giver.
She shook hands with him.
"My husband is out visiting his tenants. I am so glad to see you. I am
enjoying this most exquisite view."
"May I do the same, and sit down beside you? I have come from a busy
life in Liverpool, so you can imagine what all this means to me."
"It must be a great contrast," said Anstice.
"Yes, I feel I am too young to be relegated into such a retreat, but
heart trouble has enforced rest, and I'm only a crock at present."
"I expect you have been overdoing it."
"I have been told so. It is difficult to prevent it. I have a scattered
parish here, a good many farm-houses amongst the Fells. I hear that Mr.
Holme is seldom here. But his tenants seem devoted to him. I am sorry
to miss him."
"He leaves to-morrow for a sea voyage."
"And do you go with him?"
"No, I shall stay here. There are his children to be mothered, and I am
going to try to do it." Then she added impulsively: "I am a stranger
here, and I am wondering whether I am going to prove a success or
failure. Can you give me a receipt for winning love?"
He looked at her with a smile.
"You will not find that difficult. Love as you are loved."
"Ah, but I have come into a hostile atmosphere, as far as the children
are concerned."
"Love as you are loved," he repeated. "The Hand that fashioned all this
fair beauty before us is holding your life in its loving keeping."
Anstice looked grave.
"I had a good mother, and heard about good things from her till I was
sixteen, yet somehow they have never taken a vital hold of my heart. I
was thinking just now, as I looked over to those beautiful hills, how
remote and serene they are, so near heaven that earth's little worries
cannot touch them. I believe some people's lives are like that. My own
mother's life was, but I could never attain to it."
"I don't believe in straining and climbing overmuch," said Anstice's
new friend. "Thank God that He reaches down just where we are and as
we are. A child has only to raise its arms to its mother. She does the
lifting."
Anstice drew in a quick breath, and looked at him with glowing eyes.
"I dare say it is because I have always felt so capable, that I have
never wanted to be raised," she said. "Now to-day I am feeling my own
helplessness."
"It's a good attitude in our soul's affairs."
Silence fell between them. Then he began to talk about village
interests. He told her his wife was an invalid, and that he was in need
of an organist, for the last rector's wife had always played for the
services.
"Are you musical?" he asked her. "I wonder if you could help me?"
"I can play. I always used to in our little village church at home, but
I cannot promise to undertake outside work just yet. I must feel my
way. May I let you know later on what I can do?"
After a little more talk, they walked back to the house together.
"May I see the children?" he asked, as walking along the terrace they
heard their voices through the open library window.
Anstice took him into the room at once. Here they found the little
girls on the carpet sorting over a bag of feathers, Ruffie looking on
with the keenest interest. They looked up surprised at the grown-ups'
intrusion, but the Rector quickly put them at ease.
"I'm not going to stay, I only want to shake hands, and say that I hope
we're going to be friends."
Hands were shaken in grave silence.
"Now, did I see any of you at church?"
Josie shook her head vigorously.
"We don't hardly ever go. It's so dull. And Mr. Penfold looked so cross
and old."
"I'd like to go one day," announced Ruffie. "I'd like to hear the
music."
"You shall," promised Anstice.
Then the Rector took his leave. But he placed his hand on Ruffie's head
before he went, and said softly, "May the Good Shepherd gather His lamb
with His Arm and carry him in His Bosom."
And Ruffie stared at him with open eyes and mouth, as if he were an
unknown wonder.