effect upon her daily life prevented Monica from doing, or saying
something, in a moment's thoughtlessness, that would have brought
discredit on her Master's cause. But far more often it was the
realisation of His presence, unseen, but very real, which kept her from
doing that which would grieve Him, for she had taken as her motto Leslie
Herschel's text, "Walk worthy of the Lord, unto all pleasing."
Elsa Franklyn, who had been learning very hard lessons lately in the
school of sorrow, was a great help to Monica. Indeed, when things went
wrong Monica got into the way of telling Elsa all about it, and the
quiet, gentle girl, who was so diffident of any attempt at advising the
elder one, yet seemed, somehow, to straighten out the tangles in a
wonderful way.
Olive, whose unrest made her captious and pettish at times, was
sometimes inclined to be jealous of her twin-sister, and angry with
Monica for "taking up" with Elsa, instead of being content with her
alone, as used to be the case. But when she expostulated with Monica,
as she did occasionally, the answer she invariably received, was, "I am
just as fond of you as ever, Ollie, you know that quite well; but you
see Elsa _understands_, and you don't _yet_; that's why I must have a
talk with her sometimes."
And Olive, angry with herself for falling short of her friend's
expectations, but not willing to take the same step as Monica and Elsa
had done, felt that the explanation was even worse than the offence!
*CHAPTER XXIII.*
*"IT'S ALL SURPRISES, NOWADAYS!"*
"Now, let's get to business."
And the quartette, _alias_ the "China Committee," as Amethyst had
playfully nicknamed them, gathered round the large table in the vicarage
playroom and began to consider ways and means.
"I've got a box full of patterns, and a long letter from Miss Daverel,"
began Monica, who had been elected president by virtue of her munificent
gift towards the Expenses Fund, and who in consequence, occupied the
"chair" at the head of the table. "Let us look at each thing, and I'll
read to you how it's made, and then we'll decide whether we can
undertake to make some like it, or not."
Half an hour was spent in admiring and examining the eighteen or twenty
pretty and useful little "gifts," any, or all, of which, Miss Daverel
said would be so acceptable to Chinese girls. Simply made children's
clothing, a gaily dressed doll, bright knitted cuffs, a bookmarker, a
woollen ball, a gay cretonne bag (containing a thimble, cotton, tiny
pair of scissors and a pincushion), a knitted comforter, small Scripture
pictures mounted on card--these were some of the articles the box
contained.
"Most of them are quite easy to make," said Amethyst, who was keenly
interested; "I should like to make a work-bag best, I think."
"I like dressing dolls," said Elsa, who was carefully examining the
clothes of the sample she held in her hand.
"Oh, doll's clothes are awfully finicking to make!" was Olive's opinion;
"but I think I could paste pictures on cards, like that. What shall you
make, Monica?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. I am not much good at needlework. Perhaps I
could knit a scarf, or some cuffs. But we must think about going to
market first. Who will make a list of what we want?"
"I will." And Olive produced a pencil and paper with alacrity, and by
dint of many references to Miss Daverel's directions, for quantities, a
list of requisites sufficient to start with was eventually drawn up.
"Now about a working-party, Monica. When shall we begin, and whom shall
we ask to join?"
It was unanimously decided that they would meet on Saturday afternoons,
for a couple of hours, once a month to begin with, and every fortnight
afterwards, if they got on well, and Mrs. Drury and Lois Franklyn were
to be asked to take it in turns to superintend things. Several girls'
names were proposed, and seconded, as suitable for invitation, and then
Monica said she would like to ask Lily Howell.
"Oh, no!" cried Amethyst, in dismay; "we don't want her."
And Olive said: "I should think not, indeed!"
But Monica, who read approval in Elsa's glance, insisted that there was
no reason why she should not join them, and realising that Monica was
really the prime mover in the whole concern, the other two were
reluctantly compelled to acquiesce; Amethyst comforting Olive and
herself by remarking: "It's not the least bit likely that she will come,
that's one good thing."
But contrary to Amethyst's expectations and wishes, she did. And thus
it came to pass, on the following Saturday when the quartette, with very
varying feelings, were waiting the arrival of the half-dozen or so of
their companions who had promised to come and help them, that Lily
Howell was shown into the playroom, the first of any to put in an
appearance.
Monica, suddenly overwhelmed with a terrible fit of shyness, shook hands
stiffly, and could not think of a single thing to say. But Elsa came to
the rescue, and soon interested Lily in the work they were going to do,
showing and explaining one thing after another, until the newcomer
caught the infection, and was very ready to do her share.
Indeed, that was the general opinion expressed Mrs. Drury, who, at the
girls' earnest request, acted as spokeswoman, explained more fully the
object of the little working-party, and with happy tact soon set
everybody at their ease, having provided each one with exactly the piece
of work which she had a fancy for doing.
For at least half an hour the tongues wagged busily, and many were the
questions asked, for the work in most cases was quite novel; but
eventually all were settled, and then Mrs. Drury read part of a book
which Miss Daverel had suggested they should start with--"Children in
Blue, and What They Do," one of the most delightful and fascinating
books ever written with a view to interesting English girls in their
Chinese sisters.
By the end of the afternoon every one of the girls had become quite as
enthusiastic as even Monica could wish, and when the new missionary box
had been handed round, it began to feel quite heavy.
"What are you going to do with all the things when we have made them?"
asked one of the visitors, and Monica replied that they wanted to
collect a nice number, and let Miss Daverel have them to take back with
her when she returned to China, in about a year; and if they had more
than were wanted for her, the missionary had sent the address of a depot
in London, where some ladies would gladly forward any gifts sent to
them.
"Are you going to have a working party every Saturday?" Gipsy Monroe
enquired, as they folded up their work. She was making a queer little
cotton jacket, and was eager to go on with it.
"Only once a month, we thought," replied Monica; "we didn't suppose you
would want to come oftener."
But every one insisted that they should meet every fortnight, at least;
and so it was arranged.
"It _has_ been nice, hasn't it?"
It was Amethyst who actually said the words, as they put away the work
and cleared up the room after their visitors had gone, preparatory to
going down to the dining-room for tea; but all the others were thinking
the same thing. There were three very happy girls that evening, at any
rate, out of the four.
Amethyst whispered to her mother, in that hour of confidences, when the
light is waning outdoors, and the gas has not been lighted within, that
she still meant to be a speaker when she grew up, but she was quite,
quite sure now that it would have to be about missionary work, instead
of temperance; would mumsie mind very much? And Mrs. Drury imprinted a
kiss upon the upturned brow, and repressed an inclination to smile at
the rapidity with which the alteration in subjects had been made, and
said that she thought perhaps there would be plenty of opportunities for
her to plead on behalf of both causes, if her little daughter ever
became a "platform woman."
Olive slipped her arm through her twin-sister's, as they walked home in
the dusk, and talked more frankly than she had done for a long time, and
Elsa's heart grew light about her. She felt there was no end to what
Olive could do, if once she started in the right direction, for she knew
there were immense capabilities in her sister, such as she herself would
never possess. And Elsa, who, ever since the meeting at Sandyshore, had
had a great desire to become a missionary like Miss Daverel, when she
grew up, but felt convinced that she would never be thought suitable,
began to hope and pray that God would choose Olive instead. How
splendid it would be if Olive, as well as Roger, should some day take
the Gospel to the heathen!
Monica being rapidly driven home in the brougham which had been sent for
her, reviewed the afternoon with girlish satisfaction. It was nice of
the girls to come, nicer of them to be interested, and nicer still that
they should be willing to meet more often than they had expected. But
it was nicest of all to know (and the knowledge made her very humble)
that she, Monica Beauchamp, was being enabled in a strength not her own,
to walk along the pathway of life, in a way that was pleasing to her
Master and helpful to others.
Mrs. Beauchamp was very interested in hearing all the details of the
afternoon's work, and delighted Monica by offering to knit some
comforters and cuffs during the long winter evenings that were coming.
She would undertake to buy all the wool herself, she said, so that the
"Expenses Fund" might last as long as possible.
"That's very kind, grannie," said Monica, with a smile, "for I can see
our money will soon melt. We have spent nearly thirty shillings,
already!"
"Out of your five pounds? Did none of the others contribute anything?"
asked the old lady.
"Oh, yes, seven or eight shillings between them, grannie. But they
could not do more: Amethyst has very little pocket-money, I know, and I
think the Franklyns are quite poor." Monica dropped her voice to a
whisper. Not even to her grandmother could she explain her reasons for
thinking so; but first, the barely furnished rooms at the doctor's, and
then the very, very simple and inexpensive mourning which was all that
could be afforded for the grown-up daughters, as well as for the younger
children, told their own tale, which Monica, brought up as she had been
in the lap of luxury, thought the essence of poverty.
"The doctor's practice is not so large as his family," remarked Mrs.
Beauchamp, with grim humour. "When is Elsa's birthday, Monica?" she
added, after a short pause.
The girl, who had been thinking deeply, started at the sudden and
apparently irrelevant question.
"Why, next Saturday, grannie, the same day as Olive's, of course." What
could have made her grandmother ask?
Probably she looked her surprise, for the old lady said: "You need not
be afraid I am going to give them five-pound notes to squander on
heathen Chinese," but her smile belied her words. "I was wondering how
much younger they are than you."
"Just over a year: they will be fifteen on their birthday. It will be a
very sad day for them; Olive says Elsa can't bear to think of a birthday
without their mother."
"Poor children," said Mrs. Beauchamp, in tones of pity; then, as if to
change the subject, she said: "I suppose Amethyst Drury is younger
again?"
"Oh, yes, she won't be fifteen until next summer, only she is so quick
and clever that she is quite as forward at school as those who are
older. I am much the oldest in our form," added Monica, with a sigh.
Her backwardness in many subjects had been a source of trouble to her
lately.
"I expect you will know enough by the time you leave school, my dear, if
you make the most of the next two years," said her grandmother kindly.
"I have no fancy for you to become a blue-stocking."
"I am afraid there is no fear of that, grannie!" and Monica laughed
merrily. "I am far too big a dunce. Little Thistle will do the best of
us all, I expect, but Elsa and Olive have to work hard, because they
must earn their living when they leave school. Olive wants to go in for
art, she says; and she is so clever at drawing I expect she will get
on."
"H'm! it's a pity she hasn't a fancy for cooking or washing," said the
old lady bluntly; "either of those occupations would be more likely to
provide her with food and clothing than dabbling about with messy
paints. I expect my little Elsa is far more sensible, and means to be a
home-bird."
"No, grannie, she will have to do something; for Miss Franklyn can
manage all the housekeeping. I _think_ Elsa hopes some day that she
might be a nurse in a children's hospital, but she has not said anything
about it lately."
"Sensible girl. Now get the book, Monica, and we will have some
reading."
It was not until the twins' birthday that Monica realised what all her
grandmother's questions were aiming at, and then she understood!
"What time do the girls come, Monica," asked Mrs. Beauchamp, as they sat
longer than usual over their breakfast, there being no need to hurry,
for Saturday was a whole holiday.
Monica looked up in surprise, for it had been all arranged before that
the Franklyns should come at eleven, and remain the whole day at Carson
Rise, in order that their birthday might not be spent among surroundings
which would remind them continually of their loss. Amethyst Drury had
been invited, too.
"At eleven, granny."
"Oh, yes, of course. How are you going to amuse yourselves, Monica?"
"I don't know, I'm sure, grannie; we might get a game of croquet-golf,
or tennis, if the grass is dry enough." And Monica looked critically
out upon the beautiful lawn, which was the pride of the gardener's
heart.
"I have secured a new 'amusement' for you," said Mrs. Beauchamp, her
eyes twinkling with fun. "I was going to say 'game,' but it is hardly
that."
"What can it be? Not badminton?" queried Monica, all excitement.
"No, not badminton," repeated her grandmother, with a smile. "I hardly
think you will guess, so as soon as you have finished breakfast we will
go and see it."
"I finished ages ago," said Monica, as she pushed back her chair with
alacrity; "I am curious, grannie." And she slipped her arm through the
old lady's (a favourite habit nowadays), and they went together to a
large summer-house where the croquet and tennis sets were kept.
"Is it a small game, or whatever you call it, grannie?"
"Not very small," was the amused reply, "but here we are, and you can
judge for yourself."
She fitted a key in the lock, and opened the door, and Monica gazed in
utter astonishment at what she saw; for, resting on its own stand in the
middle of the quaint, octagonal summer-house, was a beautiful, perfectly
new bicycle!
[Illustration: "MONICA GAZED IN UTTER ASTONISHMENT."]
"Oh, grannie!" Only an exclamation, but who can describe all that was
contained in those two words? and Monica almost squeezed the breath out
of the old lady's body with the energy with which she hugged her.
"There, there, that will do, Monica; don't quite strangle me," protested
Mrs. Beauchamp; but all the same, she keenly enjoyed her grandchild's
unqualified delight. "Do you like it?" she added, as Monica examined
and admired the bicycle to her heart's content.
"I can't _think_ why you have given it to me, grannie!" was the answer,
if answer it could be called.
And Mrs. Beauchamp said she would find the reason inside the little
basket fastened to the handle-bars.
The old lady turned away, and pretended to look out of one of the little
coloured glass windows, while Monica read the few words on a tiny card
which she found:--
"For an unselfish girl,
from her loving
GRANNIE."
A lump rose in Monica's throat as she stepped across the little
summer-house and bent down and kissed the face which only a few short
months ago she had thought so stern and unlovable. _How_ different
everything was nowadays!
"I didn't do it for a reward, grannie dear," she whispered. "I never
dreamt of such a thing. I _quite_ gave up all thought of the bicycle
when I chose the five pounds."
"I know you did, my child," replied the old lady, while she furtively
wiped her eyes, which were suspiciously moist, although she was smiling
now; "but you see, _I_ didn't! And as I knew nothing about these
things, I took Mr. Bertram into my confidence, and told him to choose
just the right kind and size; and I should think he has done his work
very well. Now you will have something to amuse your friends with,
to-day."
"We shall have to take great care not to knock it about," said Monica.
"Ah! that reminds me: Mr. Bertram advised your learning to ride on an
old one first, so I have ordered Brown's to send a man over with one
from Osmington this morning, and if you like to spend a little time in
having a lesson, he can stay. I daresay the girls would find it
amusing."
"To see me tumble off, grannie?" cried Monica merrily.
"Well, don't hurt your ankle again, or anything else," cautioned her
grandmother; "I should prefer to hand you over whole to your father when
he comes."
The next hour passed quickly, and then the Franklyns and Amethyst
arrived.
Monica, all excitement, took them straight to the summer-house, not
noticing, in her eagerness, that her friends seemed quite as excited as
herself. But they no sooner saw the bicycle than Olive, who could
contain herself no longer, exclaimed: "It's _exactly_ the same!" and
then it was Monica's turn to look puzzled.
However, the mystery was soon cleared up, as she learnt that there had
been a great surprise at the doctor's that morning, too; a bicycle, the
exact counterpart of Monica's, having been delivered there addressed to,
"The Misses Elsa and Olive Franklyn"; and a little note attached to it
stated that it was a birthday gift to the twins, with love and best
wishes from Mrs. Beauchamp.
"How splendid of grannie!" cried Monica enthusiastically; "now we shall
have some lovely rides together."
"Won't it be jolly?" said Olive, who was beside herself with pleasure,
and Elsa's quietly happy face was good to see.
"Poor Thistle, you are the only one left out! Never mind, you shall use
mine sometimes," Monica said, suddenly remembering that this new
departure would make Amethyst feel rather out of it.
She was delighted when Amethyst replied with glee: "But I am going to
have one of my own very soon. Father promised me he would get me one
this autumn, and he said the other day he had seen one which was just
what he liked, only a little too big for me, so he has ordered a
smaller-sized one. I meant to have given you _such_ a surprise."
"I think it's all surprises nowadays," said Monica; "how little any of
us dreamt last half-term holiday that we should all be riding our own
bicycles before the next one arrived!"
"We wanted to bring ours up to show you," put in Elsa, "but Mrs.
Beauchamp, in her note, asked us not to. We were dreadfully afraid that
perhaps she didn't want you to know, Monica. But that isn't like her,
and it wouldn't have been any pleasure if we couldn't tell you."
"I should think not! Dear old grannie, I can guess why she said that.
A man from Osmington is coming up this morning to give us some lessons
on an old one. Why, there he is, and grannie too!"
All four girls crossed the lawn, and while the twins were trying in vain
to express to Mrs. Beauchamp the delight that her handsome present had
given them, Monica and Amethyst spoke to the man, and inspected the
bicycle he had brought, and which Jack was sniffing suspiciously.
The greater part of the day, first with the teacher, and afterwards with
only each other to hold the machine up, was spent on the wide, straight
drive, which was a charming place to practise upon. And if the
quartette were _all_ quite tired out as they bade each other "good-bye,"
they were all agreed that it was well worth it, to be able to balance
themselves and even go a few yards without assistance!
*CHAPTER XXIV.*
*"I THINK MY MONICA DESERVES THE V.C."*
The autumn term sped swiftly away. In addition to the school work,
which required a great deal of persevering effort to do as well as the
quartette aimed at doing theirs that term, Elsa had her music, and Olive
attended a school of art for extra lessons in drawing and sepia.
Amethyst, who, as yet, evinced no great talent for any accomplishments,
so-called, had a little more spare time than the others, and was
therefore able to go occasionally with her mother to visit some of her
poor old, or invalid, folk. These visits were a great interest to
Amethyst, who had a kind and pitying little heart for sorrow and
suffering, and Mrs. Drury wisely encouraged her little daughter to sing,
or repeat a few comforting texts to the sad, or lonely, or suffering, as
the case might be. Poor old Mrs. Robbins had long since gone to the
"City bright" of which Amethyst had sung to her; but in the crowded and
squalid streets of the poorer part of St. Paul's parish there were many
more who needed temporal as well as spiritual help.
Once, Mrs. Drury took her with her to see Mrs. Hodges, whose cottage was
on the Disbrowe estate, and as Amethyst entered the little garden gate,
the only occasion on which she had ever been there before recurred
vividly to her mind.
"I wonder whether that little old woman is still here, mumsie," she
said.
"Hardly likely, dear, but you will soon hear."
It transpired that Granny Wood was there, circumstances having caused
her to make her home with her daughter, and the dear old soul, now quite
a prisoner through rheumatism to her chair by the fireside, was
delighted to see one of the "little missies," of whom, as her daughter
explained, she was never tired of talking.
"They was angels without wings to me, that day, ma'am," the old granny
asserted; "little missy here, and her friend. But them other two--well,
there, I won't say all I thinks! My darter says I ain't no business to
bear malice, an' me a Christian body, but I owes this last illness o'
mine to that there bouncin' h'animal." And the wrinkled old face looked
as nearly cross as it was possible for her apple-cheeks and faded blue
eyes to manage.
Amethyst looked subdued, and Mrs. Drury hastened to explain that she was
sure the girls had not meant to be really unkind, and that both of them
had learnt since what suffering meant, and she went on to tell of the
death of Olive's mother.
"Dear, dear; poor lamb!" ejaculated Granny Wood, commiseratingly, all
her animosity gone; "to think o' that now, and me a-grumblin' at 'er an'
all."
"And Monica Beauchamp, the other one, you know," put in Amethyst, "she
is quite different now. She tries to be kind to everybody, because Jesus
was always kind."
"Praise the Lord, missy," cried the old woman, in quavering tones; "then
I'll never say aught agin' either of 'em again; but I'll just keep on
asking the Almighty to bless every one of you, and make you all
blessings every day of your lives."
Amethyst and her mother walked home rather silently, until they reached
the spot where the bicycle accident had happened that memorable
afternoon.
"It must have been just here," said the little girl, as they passed the
place. "I remember Olive saying the motor was pulled up by that tree.
It was a good thing Mr. Howell went by just then, wasn't it, mumsie?"
"Yes, dear," agreed Mrs. Drury.
"_Such_ a lot has happened since then," continued Amethyst, who was in a
retrospective mood. "Everything seemed to begin with that half-term
holiday."
"What do you mean, girlie?"
"Why, mumsie, Mrs. Beauchamp used to be so cross, and now she's the
nicest old dear possible; and Monica was nasty and uppish, you know, at
first. I didn't think I ever _could_ like her, and now I think she's
almost too good to live, sometimes! And Olive is nicer too, although I
shall always like my darling Elsa best." Here Amethyst paused, from
sheer want of breath, for her tongue always ran twice as quickly as
other people's.
"Is that all, girlie?" put in Mrs. Drury, who was much amused at the
comparisons, but felt they were truthfully if somewhat quaintly made.
"Oh, no! There's Lily Howell, just _think_ how she's altered. I don't
believe any one would know her nowadays who knew her then; she's so well
behaved, and speaks quietly, and seldom gets into trouble at school.
I'm so glad Mrs. Howell buys plain hats and things for her now,"
Amethyst ran on. "I don't believe she could help being vulgar when she
wore such hideously gaudy hats and dresses."
"What has Lily's clothing to do with the bicycle accident? You have
wandered a long way from that," remarked her mother, with a smile.
"Oh, mumsie, I haven't! It's just because Lily wants to copy everything
Monica does now, that she is so much more lady-like. I think she nearly
worships Monica."