of us at home, besides father and Miss Briggs, and three servants to do
all the work, as it is at Miss Carr's, with no one but herself, and six
or seven people to wait upon her?" Lettice spoke quietly, but with a
flush on her cheeks which proved that she felt more than she showed.
"It's very foolish if you do, for you will only succeed in upsetting
everyone, and making the whole house miserable and uncomfortable."
"As you have done to-day!" added Norah bluntly. "I would rather have an
old-fashioned house than the finest palace in the world with a cross,
bad-tempered mistress going about grumbling from morning till night."
"Norah, you are very rude to speak to me like that! You have no right.
I am the eldest."
"You had no right to say to me that I haven't touched the drawing-room
for a fortnight."
"I have a right to complain if the work of the house is not properly
done. Father has given me the charge. If I see things that can be
improved, I am certainly not going to be quiet. Suppose Mr Rayner or
the Newcomes came here to see us, what would they think if they came
into a half-lit hall as we did last night?"
"Yes, I knew that was it. It's your grand London friends you are
thinking of. If they are too grand to come here, let them stay away.
Father is a greater man than any of them, if he is not rich."
"Girls, girls, girls! what is all this?" Miss Briggs pulled aside the
curtain over the doorway, and came hurriedly into the room. "I heard
your voices across the hall. Are you quarrelling the first day Hilary
is at home? Don't let your father hear, I beg you; he would be terribly
grieved. What is the matter?"
"It's Hilary's fault. She has done nothing but grumble all day long,
and I can't stand it. She has made Lettice miserable; the servants are
as cross as they can be, and there's no peace in the house."
"Norah has been very rude to me, Miss Briggs. I am obliged to find
fault when things are wrong, and I can't help it if the servants are
cross."
Miss Briggs looked at the younger girls. "Go upstairs, dears, and
change your dresses for dinner. I want to speak to Hilary by herself,"
she said quietly, and Lettice and Norah left the room with awed faces.
The kind old governess did not often interfere with the girls now that
they were growing up, but when she did, there was a directness about her
speech which was very telling, and this afternoon was no exception to
the rule.
"Hilary," she said slowly, when the door had closed behind the two
younger girls, "I have been with you now for ten years, and have watched
you grow up from a little girl. You were my first pupil, and I can't
help taking a special interest in you. You were a dear little child. I
thought you would grow up into a sweet, lovable woman; but you will have
to change a great deal, Hilary, if you are to do that! You will think
me cruel; but your mother is dead, and I must be truthful with you for
your own good. I think you have behaved very unkindly to your sisters
to-day. You have been away enjoying yourself while they were left at
home; they did their best to fill your place, and counted the days until
your return, and you have made them miserable from the moment of your
arrival. The house is as you left it; but even supposing you had
noticed a few things which were not to your taste, you could have put
them right quietly, or spoken of them in a pleasant, kindly manner.
Things have gone on smoothly and quietly while you were away--more
smoothly than when you are at home, my dear, for though Lettice is not
such a good manager, she has a sweet, amiable manner which makes the
servants anxious to please her by doing their best. You are very young,
Hilary, and you make the mistake of over-estimating your own importance,
and of thinking you are necessary to the welfare of the household. You
can easily make yourself so, if you wish, for you are a very clever
housekeeper; but if you continue to be as self-satisfied and as
regardless of the feelings of others as you are at present, I tell you
plainly that you will end in being a hindrance rather than a help. I am
not saying that the other girls are faultless, but instead of setting
them a good example, in nine cases out of ten you are the one to begin a
quarrel. You think me very cruel to speak like this--it's not easy to
do, Hilary--but you may thank me for it some day. Open your eyes, my
dear, and try to see yourself as you really are, before it is too late!"
Miss Briggs swept from the room in a flutter of agitation, and Hilary
sank into the nearest chair, and gazed blankly at the fire. Her heart
was beating in heavy thuds, and she put her hand to her head in
stupefied fashion. For several minutes she sat motionless, unable to
form any definite thought. She only felt a curious shattered sensation,
as though she had come through some devastating experience, which had
laid waste all her fondest delusions. _What_ had Miss Briggs said?
That the household arrangements had been managed _better_ in her absence
than when she was at home. That if she did not alter, she would end in
being a hindrance rather than a help. That she set a bad example to the
younger girls and was the instigator of quarrels!--Hilary's cheeks burnt
with a flush that was almost painful. Her pride was wounded in its most
sensitive point. She would have been ready enough to acknowledge that
she was not so sweet-tempered as Lettice, or so clever as Norah, but she
had been secure in her conviction that no one could touch her in her own
department--that she was a person of supreme importance, without whom
the whole fabric of the household would fall to pieces. And things had
gone on _better_ while she was away! _Better_! Hilary writhed in
humiliation, and the flush burnt more fiercely than before. If she
could only manage to disbelieve it all, and wave it aside as a piece of
foolish prejudice; but she could not do this, for her eyes were opened,
and she saw the meaning of many things which she had misread before.
Miss Carr's quizzical, disapproving glance; her father's anxious gaze;
the little scornful sniff on the face of the old cook as she took her
morning's orders. Could it be that they all felt the same, and were
condemning her in their hearts as a stupid, consequential little girl,
who had no importance whatever except in her own estimation? And--"_a
hindrance_!" The word brought with it a throb of something deeper than
wounded pride, for, with all her faults, Hilary was devoted to her
father and her brothers and sisters, and the thought stung like a whip
that they might not care for her--that the time could come when they
might even wish for her absence!
The light was growing dim in the deserted room, and, as Hilary laid her
head back in the old-fashioned chair, the tears which rose to her eyes
and trickled down her cheeks were the bitterest she had known in the
course of her short life.
CHAPTER NINE.
THE VIOLIN LESSON.
Three days after Mr Bertrand's return, Rex Freer arrived at the house
in a state of triumphant excitement. This was by no means his first
appearance since he had left Cloudsdale, for he never passed the house
on any of his numerous expeditions without running in for ten minutes'
chat, so that the girls were getting accustomed to see his head appear
at the window as they sat at work, or to hear the loud rat-tat on the
door which heralded his coming. They soon had practical demonstration
of his "managing powers," for more than once, after definitely making up
their minds that nothing would induce them to stir from the house, they
found themselves meekly putting on hats and jackets to join a
tobogganing party, and to accompany the young gentleman part of his way
home. Lettice was always easily influenced, but high-spirited Norah
made many protests against what she was pleased to call his "Indian
ways," and on one occasion even went so far as to dare a direct refusal.
Lettice had left the room to get ready for a walk along the snowy
lanes, but Miss Norah sat obstinately in her chair, the heel of one
slipper perched on the toe of the other, in an attitude which was a
triumph of defiance.
"Well!" said Mr Rex, putting his hands in his pockets, and standing
with his back to the fire in elderly gentleman fashion. "Why don't you
get on your coat? I can't wait many minutes, you know, or it will get
dark. Hurry up!"
"I'm not going. It's too cold. I don't like trudging over the snow. I
am going to stay at home."
Norah raised her thin, little face to his with an audacious glance,
whereat "the strange boy's" eyes dilated with the steely flash which she
knew so well.
"Then please go upstairs and tell Lettice not to trouble to get ready.
I can't allow her to come home alone, along the lonely roads," he said
quietly; and Norah slunk out of the room and put on her snow-shoes in
crestfallen silence, for it did Lettice good to have a daily walk, and
she could not be so selfish as to keep her at home.
This afternoon, however, the call was longer than usual, for Rex came as
the bearer of good news. "You have only to make up your mind to do
anything, and the rest is quite easy," he announced coolly. "The mater
has made a point of speaking to everyone she has seen about the music
lessons, and she has heard of a capital man in Lancaster who is willing
to come down for an afternoon once a fortnight. I met your father in
the village, and he agrees to the terms, so now there is nothing left
but to write and fill in the day to begin. Thursday suits him best. Do
you say Thursday first or Thursday fortnight?"
"Oh, the first Thursday. I don't want to wait a day longer than I can
help. Oh, how lovely! So it is really settled. I wanted it so badly
that I was afraid it would never come true. How am I to get over to
your house, I wonder?"
"I'll drive over and bring you back next morning. We might use our
bicycles, but the violin case would be rather a nuisance, and I suppose
you'll need a bag of some description. I'll be here at eleven, and then
we shall get home to lunch. Edna is in a great state of excitement at
the thought of seeing you."
Norah pulled a funny little face of embarrassment. "I'm rather shy, you
know," she said, laughing. "I've only seen your mother once, and the
other two are absolute strangers; it seems funny to be coming over to
stay. Is your father a formidable sort of old gentleman?"
"Humph--well--I think he is rather! He is awfully fond of getting his
own way," said Rex, in a tone which implied that he failed to understand
how anyone could be guilty of such a weakness. "But he is an awfully
decent sort if you take him the right way; and poor little Edna would
not frighten a mouse. You will feel at home with her in five minutes.
I only wish she knew Lettice. We must arrange for her to come over some
time."
Norah looked at him with a feeling of curiosity which was not altogether
agreeable. "Why do you wish that she knew Lettice! Do you think she
would like her better than me?"
"Oh, yes," said Rex easily. (He was just like other boys, Norah told
herself, and had not the slightest regard for a poor girl's feelings!)
"She is such a jolly, affectionate little thing, you know, that Edna
would take to her at once. And she has heard so much of `Lovely
Lettice'! I say, _isn't_ she pretty?"
"Yes, she is--lovely! It's a very good name for her." Norah spoke with
all the greater emphasis because, for the moment, she had been guilty of
an actual pang of envy of her beloved Lettice, for she regarded the
"strange boy" as her special friend, by virtue of having been the first
to make his acquaintance, and it was not agreeable to find her own
claims to popularity brushed aside in this unceremonious fashion.
"Lettice is a darling, and everyone likes her, because she is sweet-
tempered, and never says unkind things to make other people miserable,"
she added, not without the hope that Mr Rex would take the hint to
himself. He did nothing of the sort, however, but only yawned, thought
he must be going, and marched away with stoical unconsciousness of the
aching little heart which he had left behind.
On Thursday morning Rex duly drove up to the door in his father's dog-
cart. He was a little before his time, but Norah was waiting for him,
wrapped up in her warm scarlet coat; her violin case and bag ready on
the hall table. Before he came she had been lamenting loudly, because
she felt a conviction that something would happen to prevent his
arrival; but when it came to setting off, she was seized with an attack
of shyness, and hung back in hesitating fashion. "Oh, oh! I don't like
it a bit. I feel horrid. Don't you think father would drive over, and
bring me home to-night?"
"H-ush! No! Don't be foolish, Norie! You will enjoy it ever so much
when you get there. Remember everything to tell me to-morrow,"
whispered Lettice encouragingly, and Norah climbed up into the high seat
and waved her hand to her two sisters until a turn of the drive hid them
from sight.
"If you want to cry, don't mind me!" said Rex coolly, which remark
served better than anything else could possibly have done to rouse Miss
Norah to her usual composure. The saucy little nose was tilted into the
air at once, and the red lips curled in scornful fashion.
"I wonder how it is that schoolboys are always so rude and unpleasant?"
Mr Rex laughed, and gave the horse a flick with the whip, which sent
him spinning round the corner at break-neck speed. Norah understood
that he was proud of his driving, and wished to impress her with the
fact that it was very unlike a schoolboy performance. She pressed her
lips together to stifle an exclamation of dismay at his recklessness,
and her silence pleased Rex, who liked to see "a girl with some
courage," so that presently he began to talk in quite a confidential
strain. "The professor will be at the house about half-past two, so you
won't have too much time to spare. He is a tall, lanky fellow, six feet
two, with a straggling black beard, goggle eyes, and spectacles. He
looks awfully bad-tempered, but I suppose he can't do more than rap your
knuckles with a pencil, and they all go as far as that."
"No one ever rapped my knuckles," said Norah loftily. "You told Hilary
a few minutes ago that none of you had seen him, and that your mother
had engaged him entirely on her friends' recommendation. So you can't
know what he is like, or anything about him!"
"How do you know that the friends did not describe him?" cried Rex
quickly. "You can't know what they said. I tell you he is a tall,
cadaverous fellow, with a stoop in his back and a white beard."
"Black! black! You said black last time," cried Norah in triumph. "You
are making it up, and I could imagine what he is like as well as you, if
I liked, but I won't, because it is so horribly uncomfortable when you
really meet. I tried that trick with Lettice once, when a friend of
Miss Briggs came to visit us. She was a very nice old lady, and awfully
kind (she made me a sweet little pin-cushion for my room), but she _was_
ugly! She looked just like a fat, good-natured frog, with light eyes
very far apart, big, big freckles spotted over her face, and such a
great, wide mouth. Well, I saw her first, and then I went upstairs, and
Lettice met me and asked me what she was like. I felt mischievous, so I
said that she was dark, and tall, and stately, with a long, thin face,
and beautiful, melancholy eyes. Lettice went rushing downstairs, and
when she saw her she stopped quite short, and began to choke and gurgle
as if she were going to have a fit. She pretended that she was laughing
at something Raymond was doing in the garden; but it was horribly
awkward, and I vowed I'd never do it again. I should hate people to
laugh at me, and it's unkind to do things that you wouldn't like other
people to do to you--I mean--you know what I mean!"
"I know," said Rex gravely. He looked quite serious and impressed, and
Norah cast inquiring glances at his face, wondering what he could be
thinking of, to make him so solemn all of a sudden.
At last, "Look here," he said, "talking of meeting strangers, don't
stare at poor little Edna when you meet! There is--er--something--about
her eyes, and she is very sensitive about it. Try and look as if you
don't notice it, you know."
"Oh, I will!" cried Norah gushingly. She knitted her brows together,
trying to think what the "something" could be. Something wrong with her
lungs, and something wrong with her eyes--poor Edna! she was indeed to
be pitied! "I am glad he told me, for I wouldn't hurt her feelings for
the world," she said to herself; and many times over, during the course
of the next hour, did her thoughts wander sympathetically towards her
new companion.
It was a long, cold drive, but Norah could have found it in her heart to
wish it were longer, as the dog-cart turned in at the gate of the Manor
House and drew up before the grey stone porch. Mrs Freer came into the
hall to welcome her guest, with a grey woollen shawl wrapped round her
shoulders, and her little face pinched with cold.
"How do you do, dear? I'm afraid you are quite starved. Come away to
the fire and get thawed before you go upstairs," she said cordially; and
Norah followed, conscious that a girl's head had peeped out of the door
to examine her, and then been cautiously withdrawn. When they entered
the room, however, Miss Edna was seated demurely behind a screen, and
came forward in the most proper way to shake hands with the new-comer.
Norah was only conscious that she was tall, with narrow shoulders, and
brown hair hanging in a long plait down her back, for the fear of
seeming to stare at the "something" in her eyes about which she was so
sensitive, kept her from giving more than the most casual of glances.
Conversation languished under these circumstances, and presently Mrs
Freer took Norah upstairs to her room to get ready for lunch. Before
that meal was served, however, there was another painful ten minutes to
go through downstairs, when the mistress of the house was out of the
room and Rex came in to take her place. Edna was reported to be shy,
but in this instance it was Norah who was tongue-tied, and the other who
made the advances. It is so extremely difficult to speak to a person at
whom one is forbidden to look. Norah fixed her eyes on Edna's brooch,
and said, "Yes, oh yes, she was fond of skating." Questioned a little
further, she gave a rapid glance so far upward as to include a mouth and
chin, and was so much abashed by her own temerity that she contradicted
herself hopelessly, and stammered out a ridiculous statement to the
effect that she never used a bicycle, that is to say always--when it was
fine. Edna sat silent, dismayed at the reality of the sprightly girl of
whom she had heard so much, and it did not add to Norah's comfort to
hear unmistakable sounds of chuckling from the background. She darted
an angry glance at Rex, scented mischief in his twitching smile, and
turned at bay to stare fixedly into Edna's face. A broad forehead, thin
cheeks, a delicate pink and white complexion, dark grey eyes, wide open
with curiosity, but as free from any disfigurement about which their
owner could be "sensitive" as those of the visitor herself.
"Oh--oh!" gasped Norah. Rex burst into a roar of laughter, and Edna
pleaded eagerly to be told of the reason of their excitement.
"He told me I was not to look at you. He told me--there was something--
wrong--with your eyes; that you didn't like people to stare at you. I--
I was afraid to move," panted Norah in indignation.
"Something wrong with my eyes! But there isn't, is there? They are all
right?" cried Edna in alarm, opening the maligned eyes to about twice
their usual size, and staring at Norah in beseeching fashion. "How
_could_ he say anything so untrue!"
"I never said there was anything `wrong.' I was very particular how I
put it. I said there was `something' about your eyes, and that you were
sensitive about meeting strangers, and did not like to be stared at.
All quite true, isn't it? It's not my fault if Norah chose to think you
squinted," declared Rex, jetting the best of the argument as usual, and
nodding his head at Norah with the air of triumph which she found so
exasperating.
Edna looked from one to the other in startled fashion, as though she
were afraid that such flashing looks must be the commencement of a
quarrel, and drew a sigh of relief when Norah's dignity gave way to
giggles of uncontrollable amusement.
The Squire made his appearance at the luncheon table, an irascible-
looking old gentleman, with red, weather-beaten face, grey hair, and
fierce white whiskers sticking out on either side. The ribbons on his
wife's cap trembled every time he spoke to her, and she said, "Yes,
love, yes!" and "No, love, no!" to everything he said, as if afraid to
differ from him on any subject. Norah jumped on her seat the first time
he spoke to her, for his voice sounded so loud and angry. He said, "I
am afraid you have had a cold drive," in much the same tone as that in
which the villain on the stage would cry--"Base villain, die a thousand
deaths!" and when he called for mustard, the very rafters seemed to
ring. "What on earth must he be like when he is really angry, if he is
like this when he is pleased?" asked Norah of herself; but there was
something in the Squire's keen, blue eyes which took her fancy, despite
his fierceness, and she noticed that when he spoke to his little
daughter his face softened, while each time that she coughed, he knitted
his brows and stared at her with undisguised anxiety. Edna was
evidently his darling, and her delicate health the cause of much
anxiety.
At two o'clock the two girls ensconced themselves behind the window
curtains and exchanged confidences while watching for the first
appearance of the Professor from Lancaster. Edna told Norah about the
school which she left; how grieved she had been to say good-bye to her
friends, and how sadly she missed their bright society, and Norah
comforted her in warm-hearted fashion. "Never mind, I am coming every
fortnight, and when the bright days are here you will be able to drive
over and see us. I hope you will like me, for I think I shall like you
very much indeed, in spite of your eyes." Then they pinched each other,
and crouched together with "Oh's!" and "Ah's!" of excitement, as a
small, wiry figure came hurrying towards the house. It was Mr Morris,
of course, but the collar of his coat was turned up and his hat pulled
over his face, so that it was impossible to tell what he was really
like. Only one thing was certain--he had neither a white nor a black
beard, as Mr Rex had predicted.
"Let me have the first lesson! He won't think I am so bad if he hears
me first," pleaded Edna; and at the end of an hour she came out of the
drawing-room, to announce that Mr Morris was rather terrible, but that
she was sure he was a good teacher, and that she had not been so
frightened as she expected. Then it was Norah's turn. She played her
favourite pieces, one after the other, while Mr Morris sat at the edge
of the table, watching and listening. Never a word of praise or blame
did he say until she had finished the third selection. Then he looked
at her fixedly with his light, grey eyes (they _were_ rather goggled,
after all!), and said quietly, "Well, and what do you mean to do?"
"Mean to do? I--I don't think I understand."
"Are you content to be a young lady amateur who plays well enough to
entertain her friends in her own drawing-room, or do you mean to work
seriously, and make a first-rate performer? You can do as you like.
You have the talent. It is for yourself to decide."
Norah's face was a study in its raptured excitement. "Oh-oh!" she cried
breathlessly, "I'll work--I don't care _how_ hard I work! I love it so
much. I want to do my very, very best."
"Then I'll work too, and do all I can to help you!" said Mr Morris in
return. He jumped off the table as he spoke, and advanced towards her,
rubbing his hands as one who prepares for a pleasant task. "Now then!"
he cried; and for the next hour Norah was kept hard at work, with never
another word of praise, but with many sharp corrections and reminders to
call attention to hitherto unsuspected faults. She was radiantly happy,
nevertheless, for the first step towards correcting a fault was to
discover its existence, and what was the good of a teacher who did not
point out what was wrong? At four o'clock Mr Morris took his
departure, and Norah found that Edna had retired to her room to rest, as
was her custom every afternoon. Mrs Freer was also invisible, but Rex
came to join her in the drawing-room, looking particularly cheerful and
self-satisfied.