The next day brought reassuring news of Robbie, who had had a good
night, and was distinctly better. Mildred was devoutly thankful; but
now that the strain of anxiety was relieved, the loneliness of her
position began to weigh upon her with all the old intensity. She grew
tired of reading and writing letters, and the silence of the big, empty
house weighed upon her spirits.
"Three days--and already it seemed like a month! Then what will a month
feel like? and two months?" she asked herself in a tremor of alarm. "It
is all very well for Mardie to say, `Take one day at a time, and don't
worry about the future.' She wouldn't find it so easy in my place!
Bertha might send me a letter! I didn't expect her to write the first
day she was at home, but she might have managed it the second, under the
circumstances!"
Miss Margaret was engaged with callers; the servants busy at their work.
Mildred was at her wits' end to know what to do with herself. She
flattened her face against the window, and stared gloomily down the
drive.
"Two more visitors coming to see Mardie. That means another half-hour
at the least before I can go downstairs to have tea. An old lady, and a
young one in a light dress, and a hat with pink roses. She doesn't look
a bit nice!" pronounced Mildred in critical spirit; "I shall dress much
better than that when I am grown up. Her boots are awful!--old, shabby
things beneath a grand dress. I would rather spend less on finery and
have respectable feet. The old lady is as broad as she is long; her
bonnet is crooked! Why doesn't the girl put it straight before they go
into the house? I wouldn't allow my mother to be so untidy! She looks
fearfully hot!"
Mildred stared at the old lady and her daughter until a sweep of the
drive hid them from sight, and felt more lonely than ever when they had
disappeared. For ten minutes or more not another soul could be seen,
then the postman came briskly trotting towards the house. Mildred heard
the peal of the bell, and became fired with curiosity to know whether
any of the letters were for herself. Probably, almost certainly; for
this was the post from the south, in which direction almost all the
girls had their homes. There might be one from Bertha among the number.
How aggravating to know that they were lying in the letter-box at the
present moment, and to be obliged to wait until the visitors took their
departure before Mardie could come out and unlock it.
"He had five or six in his hand; some of them must be for me. Suppose
now, just suppose I could have whatever I liked--what should I choose?
A letter from a lawyer to say I had come in for a fortune of a million
pounds? That would be rather nice. What should I do with it, I wonder?
Mother couldn't come away with me just now, which would be a nuisance.
I think I would travel about with Mardie, and look at all the big
estates that were for sale, and buy one with a tower and a beautiful big
park, with deer, and peacocks, and sun-dials on the grass. I'd go up to
London to buy the furniture,--the most artistic furniture that was ever
seen. The drawing-room and library should be left for Mother to
arrange, but I'd finish all the rest, so that she could come the first
moment it was safe. I'd have a suite of rooms for myself next to hers.
A big sitting-room,--blue,--with white wood arches over the windows;
dear little bookcases fitting into the corners, and electric lights
hanging like lilies from the wall. Opening out of that there would be
another little room where I could amuse myself as I liked, without being
so awfully tidy. I'd do wood-carving there, and painting, and sewing.
I might have a little cooking-stove in one corner to make toffee and
caramels whenever I felt inclined, but I'm not quite decided about that.
It would be rather sticky, and I could always go down to the kitchen.
Then there would be my bedroom--pink,--with the sweetest little bed,
with curtains draped across from one side of the top to the other side
of the bottom. I saw one like that once, and it was lovely. I'd have
all sorts of nice things out-of-doors, too--horses for Mother and myself
to ride, and long-tailed ponies for the children. I'd like to send the
little ones to boarding-schools, but I am afraid Mother wouldn't consent
to that; but they could have governesses and tutors, and a school-room
right at the other end of the house. I should have nothing to do with
teaching them, of course. I should be called `The Heiress of the
Grange', and all the village children would bob as I passed by. It
would be rather nice. I would give them a treat in the grounds every
year on my birthday, and they would drink my health. It seems a great
deal of happiness for a million pounds. I wish I had someone to leave
it to me--an old uncle in Australia or Africa; someone I had never seen,
then I could enjoy it without feeling sorry."
The prospect of inheriting a million pounds was so engrossing that it
was with quite a shock of surprise that Mildred perceived the old lady
and her daughter retracing their steps down the drive. Downstairs she
flew, two steps at a time, and discovered Miss Margaret emptying the
letter-box of its contents.
"Oh, Mardie, I saw the postman coming, ages ago! I've been dying to get
that key for the last half-hour!"
"Have you, really? I am sorry; but you are well repaid. Three letters
for you, and only one for me. You are fortunate to-day."
"Bertha--Carrie--Norah!" Mildred turned over the envelopes one by one,
and skipped into the drawing-room with dancing tread. "Now for a treat.
I love letters. I shall keep Bertha's to the last, and see what these
other young ladies have to say for themselves."
She settled herself comfortably in an armchair, and Miss Margaret,
having read her own note, watched her with an expression of expectant
curiosity. The two first letters were short and obviously unexciting;
the third contained several inclosures at which Mildred stared with
puzzled eyes. One looked like a telegram, but the flash of fear on her
face was quickly superseded by amazement, as she read the words of the
message. Last of all came Bertha's own communication, and when that had
been mastered the reader's cheeks were aglow, her eyes bright with
excitement. She raised her head, and there was Mardie staring at her
from the other end of the room, and smiling as though she knew all about
it.
"Oh, Mardie, the most wonderful thing! It's from Mrs Faucit; an
invitation to go and stay with them for a whole month! She has written
to Mother, and here is a telegram which came in reply, saying that she
is delighted to allow me to accept. I am to go at once. There is a
note from Mrs Faucit as well as one from Bertha. So kind! She says
they are to be at home for a month before taking the girls to
Switzerland for a few weeks, and that it will be a great pleasure to
have me. I wish--I wish--"
She stopped short, staring at Miss Margaret with an expression of
comical penitence. Even when that lady inquired, "Well, what do you
wish now, you dissatisfied child?" it was several minutes before she
replied.
"Nothing; only when you have made a great fuss about a thing, and it
turns out in the end that you haven't to do it after all, you feel
rather--_small_. I wish now that I had been good and resigned; I should
feel so much more comfortable. I suppose my going won't make any
difference to you, Mardie?"
"Only this, that I shall hurry through my work as quickly as possible,
and go away now instead of waiting until my sister returns. I am
delighted, Mildred! it's just as nice as it can be. I have had a letter
from Mrs Faucit, too. She asks you to go at once, but I am not sure if
we can manage that." She hesitated, looking at her pupil with uncertain
eyes. "She is so pretty, bless her!" she was saying to herself, "that
she always manages to look well; but she is shabby! I should think her
mother would wish her to have one or two new dresses before she goes. I
must speak about it. You see, Mildred," she said aloud, "I am thinking
about your clothes. You will probably be asked to a great many tennis
and garden parties while you are at The Deanery, and you will have to be
more particular than at school. Do you think you can go with what you
have, or shall we get something new? We might call at the dressmaker's
to-morrow."
Mildred shook her head.
"Oh, no! I must go as I am, Mardie, or stay at school. I wouldn't ask
Mother for money just now, not for the world. There will be doctors'
bills, and a dozen extra expenses to meet, and she has a hard enough
time as it is. I can buy some little things--shoes, and gloves, and a
sailor hat--with the money I have: nearly twenty-five shillings
altogether; but it is no use thinking about a dress. I shall do very
well. I have the blue crepe, and the brown, and the dyed green, and
this good old serge to wear with blouses. If I see people examining my
clothes, I shall shake my hair all over my back, and stare as hard as I
can, so that they will be obliged to turn away... If we go into town
to-morrow, I could go on Wednesday, couldn't I?"
"Say Friday, dear; it will give us a little more time." For, to
herself, Miss Margaret was saying: "I will engage that clever little
sewing-woman to come in for a couple of days and look over her dresses.
She is quite right to consider her mother's purse, but she will feel her
own shortcomings when she is among the Faucit's friends. I must do all
I can to make it easier for the child. There is one comfort, she is
easy to dress."
Mildred danced away to answer her friend's letter in overflowing
spirits. She had never before paid a visit on her own account, and it
seemed delightfully grown-up to be going to a strange house by herself.
A Deanery, too! There was something so imposing about the sound. One
Deanery was worth a dozen ordinary, commonplace houses, just as Bertha
was worth a hundred other friends. Dear, darling Bertha--this was her
idea, of course! It took three sheets of note-paper to contain all
Mildred's expressions of delight.
The next day was set apart for the shopping expedition, an occasion
calling for anxious consideration. At Miss Margaret's suggestion
Mildred drew out a list of the articles which she wished to purchase out
of her twenty-five shillings of capital. It was neatly written on a
sheet of note-paper, with descriptive notes attached to the various
items, and red lines ruled between, so that it presented quite a
superior appearance. The list ran as follows:--
New shoes (pretty ones this time,--not thick).
Slippers (with buckles).
Gloves (light and dark).
Ribbons.
Something to do up the hat.
Sashes.
Lace things for evening.
Scent.