"It's not fair. It was all Leila. She knocked over the things, and I'd
got up early on purpose."
"Chrissie," said her mother, and the one word silenced her again--"I
cannot trust you together, I see," Mrs Fortescue went on. "Go up to
your room, Leila, and you, Chrissie, stay in the dining-room."
Then with Harriet's help--Jasper carefully collecting the flowers--some
sort of order was by degrees brought about; the dangerous pieces of
glass swept up, and the carpet dried as far as was possible. But it was
necessary to leave the window open, and it was plain that some hours
must pass before the room could be occupied.
"Make as large a fire as you can, to help to dry the floor, Harriet,"
said Mrs Fortescue, and then she took Jasper's hand and left the room.
"Oh dear, oh dear!" she could not help murmuring, "it does seem too
bad--Aunt Margaret's first morning," and a little squeeze of her fingers
told her of Jasper's sympathy.
"I'm sure Lelly and Chrissie is really _werry_ sorry," he said, "and
Auntie is _so_ kind, Mumsey."
Kind indeed she was. For a few minutes later, when she came downstairs
and it had to be explained to her that a woeful catastrophe had
occurred, she declared that it would be a very good thing for her not to
be tempted to loiter in the drawing-room that morning, "for I really
must unpack and arrange my things upstairs. I suppose lessons have not
begun regularly yet," she went on, "so may Leila and Chrissie help me a
little?" and she glanced at them as she spoke. Leila looked down,
Chrissie grew scarlet.
"Ah," thought Aunt Margaret, "I fear what has happened was not all an
accident. Poor children--it would have been kinder to them in the end
if they had been less indulged. We have all been to blame in the
matter. Still, it is never too late to mend, and I must do my part."
But from now, her eyes, loving though they were, watched things more
closely and anxiously.
Neither of the little girls ventured to reply, but Mrs Fortescue,
glancing at them, could not keep back a start.
"Chrissie," she said, "have you looked at yourself this morning? Do you
know that your face is simply--well, to speak plainly, _dirty_, and your
hair `Like a crow's nest,' as my old nurse used to say? I hope Daddy
won't notice it."
For their aunt's sake, Mrs Fortescue tried to speak lightly, though she
was really feeling sadly discouraged. Chrissie tried to toss her head
in the way she usually did when found fault with, but I scarcely think
the effort was a success, and she was very glad that as her father was
late that morning, having had letters to write in his study, she had
finished her breakfast before he came in.
"Yes," said her mother, in answer to her unspoken question, "yes, you
can go upstairs at once and make yourself fit to be seen."
"Leila," said Mrs Fortescue in a moment or two, "I do think you might
take a little charge of Chrissie. After all she is younger and more
thoughtless by nature than you are. Did you not see how untidy she
was?"
"How could I?" said Leila gloomily. "She had left the room before I
awoke."
Just then Mr Fortescue's step was heard in the passage, and as Leila's
black looks were almost as much to be dreaded as Chrissie's dirty face,
their mother added quickly, "Well, at any rate, you can help her now.
So run after her;" and Leila, though with evident unwillingness, did as
she was told.
"I am so sorry, so terribly sorry," Mrs Fortescue had time to say to
her aunt in a low voice, "that you should have such an uncomfortable
first morning with us;" but Aunt Margaret only smiled quietly.
"My dear," she said, "I am here, I hope, to be of some little help to
you, not only to be comfortable, though really there is nothing that
matters as far as I am concerned. And don't lose heart. The little
girls will profit by all this in the end."
An hour or so later, when Aunt Margaret, up in her own room, was still
busy unpacking, there came a tap at the door, and in answer to her "come
in," a small voice replied--
"It's me, Auntie. Mumsey said p'raps I could carry things downstairs,
or rerange them for you."
"Thank you, my dear little boy. Yes--here in this corner are some books
and my knitting and some of my pet treasures that I should like to have
in the drawing-room. Mumsey showed me the nice table she has kept for
me."
"Yes," said Jasper, "the table with the splendid big drawer. Shall I
take them down now?"
"No, wait a minute or two till I have emptied this last trunk. You may
unwrap all those things and then we can throw away the paper."
"Auntie," said Jasper, while he worked away busily, "will the glowin'
plants come soon? I do so want them, 'cos you see they won't wither,"
and he sighed. "Roots is funny things--when I was very little I thought
flowers would grow wifout roots, just the same."
"And now you know better," said his aunt with a smile. "Boots are very
wonderful things--not only plant roots. We need them in our characters
too." Jasper looked puzzled. His dream was in his mind, though he was
too shy to tell it.
"You see," Miss Fortescue went on, "it is like this. We should do
things because we feel we _ought_, not just because we're inclined.
Being kind to each other, for instance, when we are feeling
good-humoured and pleasant is all very well, but we need more than that.
We need to be kind even when we are feeling cross or tired, or even
when others are unkind to us, because it is _right_. Passing feelings
are like plucked flowers--what are called good principles are like
plants with roots."
Jasper's face lighted up.
"And then being good _grows_," he said.
"Yes, indeed," said Aunt Margaret, almost startled by his quickness.
"Still it needs care. Watching, and above all, praying to God to help
us--that is like the refreshing, nourishing water that plants need if
they are to grow and prosper."
Jasper gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Now," said his aunt, "I think you might carry down some of these
things. Suppose you first take the books. Not too many at a time--can
you manage all those?"
"Oh yes. I could take more quite well," was the reply, for Jasper was a
most zealous helper.
"I don't think I want to send down any more, thank you, dear. I will
keep most of my books up here, on those nice little shelves."
So off trotted the small messenger with his load. Perhaps he was _too_
careful, glancing so often at the pile of books that he did not glance
enough at his own feet, for just as he was half-way down the last stair,
there came an accident. Somehow or other he tripped and rolled down six
or seven steps, the books on the top of him. Poor Jasper! He did not
cry out, though for a moment or two he could scarcely keep back his
tears--he felt bruised and giddy and rather mortified. But he was a
very brave as well as patient little fellow, and he was struggling to
his feet again when the dining-room door opened and Chrissie looked out.
"What was that noise?" she said. "Oh, it's you, Japs--have you fallen
downstairs?"
"Yes, I has," he replied, "but please don't tell Aunt Marg'ret or she
won't let me help her any more. I hasn't hurt myself much."
"Poor Jasper," said Chrissie, "never mind. It's a good thing you were
only carrying books, not china or glass. Leila's done enough in that
way for to-day. But I say, how pretty some of these books are," and she
held up a small, beautifully bound prayer-book, and another "birthday
book," exquisitely illuminated.
"Yes," said Jasper, "I fink they're Auntie's bestest books. She's goin'
to keep them in the droind-room, on her table."
"I'll help you to carry them in," said Chrissie, and so she did--the
carpet by this time was beginning to dry, though only beginning!--"I
wish somebody would give me a prayer-book like this," she went on. "I'd
love to take it to church."
And then, their pile being safely deposited, Jasper turned to go
upstairs again, though limping a little.
"I hope I won't tumble any more," he said, "for there's lots of fings
still to bring down."
"Suppose I offer to help too?" said Chrissie. "My face is quite clean
now and my hair's tidy. I think it was too bad of Mummy to say anything
about them before Aunt Margaret, when it was all, or nearly all, Lell's
fault this morning."
"Auntie's werry kind," said Jasper. "I daresay she'd like you to help,"
and if he felt a tiny scrap of disappointment at not having all the
honour to himself, his good little heart would not allow him to show it.
"What's Lelly doing?" he went on.
"Crouched up by the dining-room fire over a story-book, of course," said
Chrissie. "_She_ won't mind," and her face was so bright and her tone
so pleasant when she went into her aunt's room with Jasper, that Miss
Fortescue began to think that she had really been taking the little
girls' misdemeanours too seriously!
"They are only children after all," she said to herself, and "Yes,
dear," she replied to Christabel, "I shall be very glad of your help.
Can you hang up some of these cloaks and things in the cupboard? I am
so glad there is a cupboard! And Jasper, my boy, will you put my boots
and shoes and slippers neatly in a row on that lowest shelf? I won't
send anything more downstairs till I see what had better stay up here,
and I have not come across my wool for knitting yet."
Her cheerfulness touched a gentle chord in Chrissie.
"Aunt Margaret," she said, "it must be _awfully_ strange for you here in
this poky house, compared to Fareham. I wonder you don't mind more."
"Dear child, you must not think me better than I am," Miss Fortescue
replied. "I have `minded'," and her voice shook a little, "terribly--
wrongly, I fear. But it might have been so much worse. Think what some
have to bear--of loneliness and lovelessness when they are old like me!
If I can feel that I am of use to you all, and able to brighten things a
little for your father and mother, it will be almost as great a joy as
it used to be to me to have you all at Fareham."
Christabel did not reply. But her aunt's words impressed her. Ideas--
feelings rather, perhaps--were awaking in her, which were new to her;
though she had often heard and read of "unselfishness," and the
happiness of living for others, of bearing, or at least sharing their
burdens, she had never really "taken in," realised these truths. To see
them acted upon, made the very sunshine of life, struck her as very
wonderful. For perhaps the first time, she said to herself, "I wish I
could really care for other people and try to make them happy and not
mind about myself," and though the thought passed off again, and she was
as ready as ever to grumble and to squabble with Leila and to fight for
her own rights and fancies, still, it was something that it _had_ been
there, a beginning, a tiny seedling, which might yet take root and
blossom into beauty.
So the day which had seemed likely, like poor long-ago Rosamund's, to be
"one of misfortunes," cleared and improved as it went on. Chrissie had
one happy quality--she really, if once interested in a thing, did throw
her whole heart and cleverness into it; and careless and unmethodical
though she was, the sight of her aunt's fairy-like neatness and order
struck her pleasantly.
"If it wasn't such a trouble," she said, "I would like to be beautifully
neat like you, Aunt Margaret. Leila _thinks_ she is, but I don't call
it neat just to be slow and dreamy and never sure where you are or where
your things are. I think its just as bad as my dashing about and
turning things topsy-turvy. I don't say she tears and spoils her frocks
as much as I do, but she _forgets_ quite as badly, and--"
A sigh from Jasper's corner interrupted her.
"What's the matter?" she said.
"Oh, I was only thinkin' I do hope I won't forget to water the growin'
plants when they come," replied the little boy.
Chrissie laughed.
"He's got those plants on the brain, Aunt Margaret," she said. "You'd
better forget about them for just now, Japs," she went on, turning to
him, "for very likely they won't come for ever so long. Things take
such a time by luggage trains."
Jasper's face fell--somehow his dream and the talk with his aunt had got
mixed up with the thought of the real plants and made him long for them
with the curious intensity of longing that one scarcely sympathises with
enough in children. But his aunt understood.
"Cheer up, Jasper," she said. "I shouldn't wonder if they come to-day--
this very afternoon perhaps."