GOOD NEWS FROM HOME, MARIGOLD AND
MISS PAMELA VISIT MRS. BARKER
"ONLY one day more, and then it will be, 'Hurrah for the holidays!'"
cried Muriel Wake, as she danced up to Marigold and Grace Long, who
were holding an animated conversation in a corner of the playground.
"My dear Muriel," expostulated the elder girl, "how hot you will make
yourself, if you persist in hopping about in that absurd fashion!"
"I positively can't keep still, Grace; I feel so excited at the thought
of saying good-bye to school for six whole weeks. I'm one mass of
nerves, as Mrs. Jones says when I tease her—poor old soul! Now, what
were you two talking about?"
"About where we are going for the holidays," Grace explained. "You know
I am to accompany Miss Hardcastle to Ilfracombe?"
"Yes. I don't envy you, Grace! I wouldn't for the world be under Miss
Hardcastle's eye all the holidays!"
The others laughed, and Grace hastened to reply—
"Well, I would rather be with her than anyone else. You cannot imagine
what a pleasant companion she is. Are you going by the seaside, too,
Muriel?"
"Yes, I believe so; but it is not decided where I am to be sent yet."
"Mrs. Jones is to go with you, I suppose?"
Muriel nodded, and shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of distaste.
"Think how dull I shall be, with only that stupid old woman for a
companion, and she never will allow me to make friends with other
children on the sands. Oh, Marigold, how I wish I could persuade father
to let me go to the same place as you and your aunts!"
"It is quite a small village on the north coast of Cornwall," Marigold
said; adding eagerly, "Oh, Muriel, do try to come! Think what a
splendid time we should have together!"
"Yes," agreed Muriel, her face brightening. "What is the village
called?"
"Boscombe."
"Boscombe?" Muriel repeated. "I shall remember that!"
"It is not very far from Bude," Muriel explained. "You have to go
by coach part of the way, so Aunt Mary told me. Boscombe is not a
fashionable place at all; but there are several good lodging-houses
that have been lately built. When my aunts were little girls they used
to go there every summer and live in a furnished cottage that belonged
to their father; but it was pulled down many years ago, and an hotel
built on the same ground."
Whilst Marigold and Muriel were walking home from school together, the
latter reverted to the subject of the coming holidays, and said she
should try her hardest to induce her father to send her to Boscombe.
"Father is coming home for a few days at the end of the week," she told
her companion; "and then he will most probably decide where Mrs. Jones
and I are to go."
The following day the school broke up for the long vacation, and all
was hurry and bustle at Miss Hardcastle's establishment. The boarders
were anxious to leave by the first available trains that would take
them to their different destinations, and were engaged in putting the
finishing touches to the packing of their boxes.
Marigold took an affectionate farewell of Grace Long, and returned to
Powderham Crescent early, for the day scholars had been dismissed an
hour before the usual time, as was generally the way on breaking-up
day. On reaching home the first person she encountered was Barker, who
handed her a letter from London that had arrived by the second post.
Marigold opened it eagerly, and sat down in a chair in the hall to read
it, whilst Barker hovered near. A smile rose to the little girl's face,
for it was a bright, loving letter her mother had written in answer to
the one in which she had given a brief account of her visit to Rocombe
Farm.
"I am delighted to hear you have such kind friends, my dear Marigold,"
ran the familiar handwriting, "and the knowledge that you have a happy
home with your aunts gives me great pleasure. The boys broke up for
their holidays yesterday. I think I told you that Rupert had not been
very well, but he is much better now, I am glad to say. The fact is,
the dear little lad has been working very hard at school, because he
has hopes of being raised to a higher form again next term, and rather
overdid it. Now, I have a piece of news for you. The boys have had an
invitation to spend a month with a school friend at Hastings, and I
have consented to their going. You remember that nice little fellow
Neil Munro, who used to come to tea here sometimes? Well, it transpires
that he is the only son of rich parents, and when his mother called to
see me, and explained how they had taken a furnished house at Hastings,
and begged me to allow my boys to visit them, I was only too delighted,
and readily agreed. So they go next week, if all is well. I feel so
grateful to Mrs. Munro for her thoughtful kindness, though she said
the idea was Neil's. I expect I shall be a trifle dull at home with
all my children away, but I shall be busy as usual, and the thought
that you are all having good holidays will recompense me for a little
loneliness. I thank God for His goodness to my dear children!"
Marigold uttered a cry of joy and thankfulness as she came to the end
of her mother's letter, that made Barker look at her with curious
eyes. The little girl's face was glowing with pleasure, and her voice
trembled with excitement as she inquired—
"Where are my aunts, Barker?"
"They are both out, miss. Have you good news, Miss Marigold?"
"Very good news. Would you like to hear what it is? Well, then, my
brothers have had an invitation to spend a month at Hastings, and they
are going next week!"
"I'm sure I'm very glad if you are, miss," Barker replied, secretly
wondering why Marigold should be so wildly excited at what seemed to
her a very ordinary matter.
Marigold waited impatiently enough for her aunts' return. Meanwhile,
she went upstairs to her own room, and after taking off her hat and
smoothing her hair, perused her mother's letter again. Presently she
heard her aunts come in, and ask if she had returned from school yet.
"Here I am, Aunt Mary! Here I am, Aunt Pamela!" she cried.
There was a note of joy in the bright young voice; and Marigold's face,
as she bent over the banisters and watched her aunts ascend the stairs,
wore its sunniest smile.
"Please come into my room," she said. "I have had a letter from mother,
and I want you both to hear what she says."
They followed her into her bedroom, and took the chairs she placed
for them, wondering what good news she had received. Marigold perched
herself on a corner of her bed, and proceeded to read her mother's
letter aloud. After she had finished, there was a brief silence, then—
"I am glad your brothers are going to have a nice change," Miss
Holcroft said, with a slightly nervous glance at her sister.
Miss Pamela turned her piercing dark eyes on Marigold, as she inquired—
"Is it pleasure on their account that has put you into such a state of
excitement, child?"
"Yes, Aunt Pamela! I felt so unhappy to think that I was going to have
a holiday, and they were not! It seemed so hard for them! But now it
has all come right, hasn't it? How good people are! Fancy that Mrs.
Munro thinking of our boys!"
"She must be a kind-hearted woman," Miss Holcroft remarked cordially.
"Yes," Miss Pamela agreed thoughtfully. "These Munros are rich people,
it seems?" she added.
"I suppose so, Aunt Pamela. I remember Neil Munro because he was very
friendly with Rupert and Lionel, and used to come home with them
sometimes, but I did not know anything about his mother or father."
Miss Pamela looked contemplative. She sat tapping the ground with
one foot and following the design of the carpet with the top of her
sunshade.
"How the boys will love it by the sea!" Marigold continued, smiling, as
she pictured their enjoyment. "I daresay they will have bathing, and
boating, and fishing, and all the rest of it! I don't know that I ever
felt so glad about anything before!"
"Your mother will be lonely without them," Miss Holcroft said gently.
"Yes; but she will not mind that if they are happy."
"Mary," said Miss Pamela abruptly, "if these boys are going to have a
holiday, and visit rich people, they will probably want new clothes,
and a little money in their pockets, eh?"
"Of course they will, Pamela," her sister agreed; adding, with an
appealing glance and in a lower tone, "We must remember they are poor
Rupert's sons."
"Marigold shall make them a present," Miss Pamela continued. "You shall
write to your mother to-night, child, and enclose something for her to
spend on the boys."
Marigold grew red with mingled emotions—surprise and pleasure being the
chief.
"Oh, Aunt Pamela!" she cried.
"There, there!" Miss Pamela exclaimed, as she rose from her chair; "now
I'm going to take off my bonnet. Come along, Mary."
But Miss Holcroft lingered to kiss Marigold, and to whisper that she
was pleased with her good news, and she and Pamela would have a talk
together to decide what gift should be sent to the boys.
Later, when the little girl was in the midst of her letter to her
mother, her aunts joined her again, and Miss Holcroft, handing her a
folded paper, told her to enclose it, and say it was intended as a gift
for her brothers. Marigold did not know it was a cheque for ten pounds,
for she slipped it into the envelope without examining it, but she
realised that it meant money, and the happiness and gratitude plainly
visible on her face spoke her thanks, even better than the faltering
words with which she endeavoured to express them.
It had been decided that they were to start for Boscombe at the end
of the following week, taking Barker with them, and leaving the other
servants in charge of the house during their absence. A few days before
their departure, Marigold accompanied Miss Pamela to call on Mrs.
Barker, and was received by the old woman with great cordiality. She
told them that Mrs. Adams had been to see her, and had brought a hamper
of good things from the farm for her acceptance.
"We've both grown old since we last met," Mrs. Barker said, "and we've
both had trials and troubles, though hers came all at once, so to
speak, and mine have been spread over the years. Ah! it did me good to
see her again, and talk over old times, and she said the sound of my
voice brought back the past. I made her a cup of tea, and by and by her
son came to fetch her, and they went away together."
"Shall I read you a chapter from the Bible?" Marigold asked presently,
when there was a pause in the conversation. "Barker said she was sure
you would wish me to. We are not in a hurry, are we Aunt Pamela?"
"Not in the least," Miss Pamela replied.
So the old woman placed her Bible before Marigold, and listened
attentively whilst the little girl read aloud the twenty-sixth
chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, wherein is the account of how
Paul told King Agrippa the history of his life, and his conversion to
Christianity.
"And they said he was mad!" the old woman exclaimed, when Marigold had
finished.
"Festus said much learning had made him mad," Miss Pamela said; "as
though a madman could have defended himself as Paul did!"
"But Agrippa felt Paul was speaking the truth, didn't he, Aunt Pamela?"
Marigold interposed eagerly.
"I believe he did, otherwise he would not have said, 'Almost thou
persuadest me to be a Christian.' I fear there are many like that poor
king, Who almost believe, but not quite."
"Ah, ma'am, that's very true!" Mrs. Barker agreed. "People find so many
excuses for not leading Christian lives! Perhaps King Agrippa had some
favourite sin he couldn't give up, or perhaps he feared folks would
laugh at him; or maybe he couldn't trust himself to God."
After that Miss Pamela and Marigold rose to go. The old woman
accompanied her visitors to the garden gate.
"It was real good of you to come," she said heartily, "and I'm very
grateful to little missy for reading me a chapter. Please give my love
to Louisa, and tell her I shall be looking out for her one evening to
say good-bye. Good afternoon, ma'am! Good afternoon, missy!"
"She's a nice old woman, isn't she?" Marigold said, as she tripped
along by her aunt's side.
"Yes, very," Miss Pamela agreed. "I am glad you told Mrs. Adams about
her, Marigold, for you see she has not let much time pass before going
to visit her."
The following week, Marigold with her aunts and Barker journeyed to
Boscombe. The little girl was full of excitement, anticipating all
sorts of pleasures during her sojourn at the seaside, for she felt she
could enjoy herself with an easy mind, now her brothers were having a
holiday too.
Mrs. Holcroft had written a grateful note to Miss Holcroft and Miss
Pamela, thanking them for their great kindness to her boys; and though
neither had made a remark, they had both been pleased with the way in
which the writer had expressed her appreciation of their thoughtfulness
and generosity.
The remembrance of her mother lonely in London was the one reflection
that shadowed Marigold's pleasure at this time; but she knew Mrs.
Holcroft would not wish her to make a trouble of that, and it was not
difficult to be cheerful and happy during those bright summer days.
"Some time mother and I will have such a lovely holiday together," the
little girl told herself consolingly, "and we must look forward till
then!"