AN AFTERNOON AT DINGLE COTTAGE.
One Saturday afternoon, about a week after the events recorded in the
last chapter, Miss Latimer stood at the window of her cosy parlour
looking out into the quiet street with its small semi-detached villas
and cottages, the tiny gardens of which were now strown with the
falling autumn leaves. There was a slight look of expectancy in her
eyes and pleased expression on her face calculated to give any beholder
the idea that Aunt Judith was watching for something or somebody. And
so she was; for Winnifred Blake had gladly accepted the invitation to
spend that afternoon and evening at Dingle Cottage, much to Nellie's
delight; and that young lady, too impatient to await her guest's
arrival, had gone part of the way to meet the expected visitor.
Aunt Judith, after giving a quick glance round the room to see that
everything had a comfortable, inviting look, resumed her quiet watch,
and for some time the silence of the house was unbroken, save by a
slight sound now and then proceeding from the kitchen, where Aunt
Debby, Martha-like as usual, was busy with domestic work. At last two
figures appeared coming swiftly along the street, and Miss Latimer,
hastening to the door, opened it with words of kindly welcome as Winnie
and Nellie danced (I can use no better word) up the tiny garden path.
"Come in, dear; I am pleased to see you," she said in her gentle voice,
leading the young guest to Nellie's bedroom, and assisting her to take
off her hat and jacket. "Nellie has spoken so often about you that you
seem no stranger to me, and I am glad to think my niece has gained such
a true, warm-hearted little friend."
Winnie, surveying the kind face bending over her, smiled at the words,
but seemed to be too much overwhelmed by an unaccountable fit of
shyness to vouchsafe any reply. She kept her usually busy tongue
silent till the three were seated in the snug parlour, when, under the
influence of Miss Latimer's simple, homely manner, she began, as Nellie
expressed it, to thaw, and the fountain once set free produced a play
of bright, sparkling conversation.
Aunt Judith's nimble fingers plied the needle industriously, and though
she herself said little at first, her thorough enjoyment of the young
people's society was evident from the quiet, amused smile which lurked
round the corners of her lips, and the close attention she gave to the
merry flow of talk. School and school-mates were the two chief themes
of conversation, and if now and again a remark savouring rather
strongly of girlish malice or jealousy fell from either lips, Miss
Latimer wisely made no comment; for she knew what, alas! many pay so
little heed to--that for everything there is a season, and that a word
of admonition thrown in at a wrong time serves rather to harden than
soften the heart.
"Nellie is getting on splendidly at school, Miss Latimer," announced
Winnie after a long pause. "Ada Irvine cannot call herself the dux any
longer; and I am so glad. It is quite delightful to see her angry,
crestfallen look each time Nellie makes a correct answer;" and Winnie's
face glowed in thorough appreciation of the present state of affairs.
"As for revenge," she continued, "there will be a terrible climax some
day, I am sure. Even now, and this is only the beginning, she cannot
find anything too horrible for herself or the other girls to say about
Nellie."
"I am sorry to hear that," replied Aunt Judith quietly; "but Nellie
must try to win Ada's love, and not provoke her by any appearance of
triumph or self-esteem. Draw your chairs nearer me, dears, and I will
tell you what happened to me long, long ago when I was a girl;" and
here Miss Latimer smiled on the upturned young faces and commenced her
story.
There was nothing very exciting in the tale--nothing certainly
bordering on the wonderful--and yet one might have heard a pin fall, so
great was the silence while she spoke.
Winnie sat quite still, her eyes shining like twin stars, and the whole
expression of her face denoting the most intense interest; while
Nellie, her lips slightly parted as if in expectation, also seemed to
have her attention completely absorbed: for Aunt Judith was a splendid
story-teller, and entered heart and soul into the spirit of her tale.
Miss Deborah's little bright orbs twinkled when she entered the parlour
with the tea-tray and found how the three were occupied. There was
little heed given to her entrance, and not even a glimpse of pretty
china or a daintily-spread table could tempt the listeners' eyes or
attention from Miss Latimer and her story till the last word was
spoken, when both roused themselves with a sigh of the utmost
satisfaction.
"Oh, that was splendid!" cried Winnie eagerly. "What a nice
story-teller you make, Miss Latimer; you talk just like a book." Here
Aunt Debby, accidentally, of course, choked slightly. "I could sit and
listen to you for ever,--couldn't you, Nellie?" and Winnie appealed to
her companion for an enforcement of her statement.
"Scarcely, dear, scarcely," interrupted Aunt Judith, rising from her
chair and advancing to the tea-table; "if you were to hear my stories
often, the novelty would by-and-by wear away. But here is Aunt Debby
with the urn. Let us see what a successful tea-maker she is, and we
can talk more about stories and story-telling afterwards."
Both girls jumped up obediently, and gathering round the tempting table
the happy party proceeded to enjoy the many goodly things displayed
thereon, and kept up such a merry strain of conversation that the room
rang with laughter; and Aunt Meg, lying in her darkened chamber,
bitterly bewailed her infirmities and the seeming lack of sympathy
vouchsafed to her in her affliction.
Tea was followed by games and other interesting amusements, all of
which Winnie enjoyed immensely; and then Aunt Judith inquired if she
would like to see an old maid's den. "Nellie has never as yet been
privileged to cross its threshold," she finished laughingly, "so it
will be something new for both of you to inspect."
With that she led the way and ushered the two girls into her study.
Both stood for a few minutes silent, glancing round the pretty room so
simply and tastefully furnished; then with a little cry of delight they
sprang towards the bookcase and began to scan the contents eagerly.
"Why, I declare," cried Winnie excitedly, "here are ever so many books
like the one I have at home just now. They are all by the same author
too.--Miss Latimer," she continued, turning and speaking rapidly, "she
must be a good lady who writes those books. I have only read one of
them, entitled 'A Summer's Pleasure;' but it was beautiful, and I felt
as if I should like, oh _so much_, to talk with the author, and tell
her how earnestly I long to be good, and how I can't."
Nellie, who had taken one of the pretty volumes into her hand and was
scanning the title-page, looked up at Miss Latimer's face with a
half-incredulous light in her eyes; but Aunt Judith, gazing down on the
little figure before her, failed to catch the puzzled gleam.
"My child," she said, oh so gently, taking the small white hands and
drawing the young girl to the warm fireside, "your words do my heart
good, and help to repay me for hours of weary labour. You wish to know
the author of those books, dear. You feel you could tell her some of
your deepest longings. What will you say when I confess that she
stands before you--that it is in very truth Aunt Judith who loves
children and sends them through print her best heart-thoughts?"
Nellie's face at this point was a study; but Winnie cried joyfully,--
"I knew it, I knew it! something whispered to me it was you. Oh, Miss
Latimer, I am so glad! Will you lend me one of your dear little books,
and may I love you because you are so good? I wish you were my aunt; I
do indeed," and there was a lonely ache in the girlish voice as she
spoke.
Miss Latimer laid her hand on the rough curly head.
"Little Winnie," she said tenderly, "don't you know that love is a
treasure to me? I shall prize your warm, true affection very dearly.
Call me Aunt Judith, my child; and when you read my little books, to
which you are heartily welcome, remember I am speaking simply from my
heart, with the earnest wish to raise your thoughts to the good Father
who made this beautiful world and gave us all things richly to enjoy."
Words like these had a strange sound to Winnie, and filled her with an
awe-stricken feeling; but she made no reply, only raising herself on
tip-toe she kissed Miss Latimer warmly, and turned her attention to the
bookcase again. At that moment the door-bell rang, and Miss Deborah
announced the arrival of Dick with the carriage to take his sister
home. So once more they re-entered the little parlour where Aunt
Debby, with kind thoughtfulness, had prepared a repast of fruit and
cake, and where Master Blake sat looking decidedly awkward and out of
place in the dainty little room.
He acknowledged Miss Latimer's greeting with a few unintelligible
words, and seemed altogether to be labouring under some restraint, till
Winnie said with a light laugh,--
"For the first time in my life, Dick, I am sorry to see you. Whatever
made you come so soon?" and at the plain-spoken words there was such a
general laugh that the boy's reserve vanished, and--"Richard was
himself again."
Nellie and he became fast friends, and chatted away pleasantly; while
Winnie, after having partaken plentifully of fruit and cake, went to
put on her hat and jacket under Miss Latimer's escort.
"May I come again soon?" she inquired naively, looking round the tiny
room with loving eyes; "this is such a dear little house, and you are
all so kind, I should like to spend an afternoon often here." Winnie
seemed very earnest as she spoke.
"We shall be only too pleased to see you," replied Aunt Judith, smiling
down on the upturned face, and neatly adjusting the tie round the
girl's soft neck. "I love to have young people about me, and it is
good to hear the sound of a blithe young voice."
Those words amply satisfied Winnie, and after many good-nights had been
exchanged, she and Dick drove homewards, bearing with them two of Aunt
Judith's precious volumes.
"I say, Win, that's a jolly little house," said the boy as they rolled
along in the darkness. "What a funny, brisk old lady Aunt Debby is!
Did you notice the way she dodged about, and how her front curls shook
and bobbed a regular jig every time she spoke? She puts me in mind of
a little bird peeping out at you from those small twinkling eyes.
She's a rum old customer, sure enough;" and Dick chuckled at the
remembrance of Miss Deborah's round chubby face and crisp chirping
voice.
"Yes, she is rather queer," assented Winnie musingly; "but I like Miss
Latimer dearly. She is awfully good, Dick; and fancy her being the
author of those books after all. Is it not strange?"
"Slightly, perhaps; but 'truth is stranger than fiction,' my dear
sister.--By-the-by, I did not notice any Quaker fashion in their dress
to-night. Miss Latimer wore some lace fal-lal about her neck, and Aunt
Debby's cap was a regular flower-garden." Dick was a severe critic on
female attire.
"That's quite true," replied Winnie; "but if you saw them in the
street, with their long loose cloaks and huge bonnets, you would speak
differently. O Dick, how happy they all seem! don't they? and how cosy
everything looks! Such a contrast to our great big rooms, where you
feel like a--a--" Winnie stopped short for lack of a simile, and her
brother supplied the missing word,--
"Pelican in the wilderness. That's it, Win; and you're about right.
Love won't make the pot boil; but money can't buy everything, and I
reckon there's a screw loose somewhere in our home."
With that there followed a long silence, and Winnie was almost in the
land of dreams when the carriage stopped at No. 3 Victoria Square, and
Dick shouted roguishly in her ear the one word--"Awake!"
The windows were ablaze with light, and there were sounds of music and
singing as brother and sister, entering the house, wended their way to
the oak parlour and warmed their hands at the cheerful blaze. The gas
was lit, the curtains drawn, the room tidy and inviting-looking; but no
kind motherly face was there to welcome them and ask if the evening had
been a pleasant one. At other times Winnie would not, most probably,
have felt the blank, having been accustomed to such neglect; but coming
straight from Aunt Judith's gentle presence, and with the remembrance
of her loving words and kind voice stirring the lonely little heart, it
struck home to her with a chill. Leaving Dick to his own meditations
she slipped away to the large nursery, where old nurse sat quietly
watching the slumbers of her young charge, Winnie's little step-brother.
Here at least there was no lack of sympathy or welcome, for dearly did
the faithful servant love her first mistress's children, and bitterly
did she bewail the neglect with which the two youngest were treated.
Kneeling down by her side, Winnie rehearsed the whole history of the
afternoon and evening at Dingle Cottage; and old nurse, listening
intently, did not fail to raise her hands and express due astonishment
at the knowledge of Aunt Judith's authorship. So the young girl was
comforted, and after kissing her little brother lovingly, she rejoined
Dick in the oak parlour, and passed the rest of the evening contentedly
in his society.