GOOD-BYE TO THE OLD HOME.
MRS. Wallis had told Mr. Tillotson she must have a week in which
to consider her uncle's invitation, and during that time she wrote
to several of her husband's relations asking their advice, and
expressing her doubts as to the wisdom of leaving her own home
for the Moat House. Knowing Sir Jasper Amery to be a wealthy man,
they urged her to grant his request, and pointed out to her that by
not doing so, she would probably be standing in her children's light.
"You have an income barely sufficient to meet your needs," wrote her
brother-in-law, a solicitor in London, "and your children must be
getting expensive. Eric, you tell me, is costing you more than you
are really justified in spending on him, and you have to scrape and
save at home to meet his school bills. Accept Sir Jasper's offer,
by all means. He is rich and childless, and unworldly though I know
you are, you must see that it is not right to neglect such an
opportunity of providing for your children's future as this may prove
to be. Your uncle would not invite you to pay him such a long visit
without he had some ulterior motive; and if, at the end of the year,
you are not asked to prolong your visit, why, it will be no worse off
than you were before. Anyway, the change will do you and your little
girls good, and you can get a capable governess, as Sir Jasper
suggests."
Mrs. Wallis sighed as she put down her brother-in-law's letter,
but it had decided for her the course to take. She wrote immediately
to her uncle, thanking him for his invitation, and informing him that
she and her little daughters would be at the Moat House as soon as
Eric had returned to school after the Easter holidays. Easter fell
about the middle of April that year; and Eric was at home for three
weeks, during which time he and his sisters discussed little else but
the projected visit to the Moat House.
"I wish I was going there with you now;" he said on one occasion,
"but the summer term will soon pass, and won't we have a jolly time
next holiday! I say, girls, I wonder if mother will be able to allow
me a little extra pocket-money soon?"
"I'm sure I don't know," Celia replied. "You have more than your fair
share as it is," she added, a trifle begrudgingly.
"I don't have so much as most of the boys," he told her with truth,
"and, how, money slips away one hardly knows how. I hope if Uncle
Jasper proves himself a generous old chap, you'll remind him that
you've a brother at school who is generally hard up."
The two girls laughed, and Celia said, ingenuously:
"I do hope Uncle Jasper will like us. He used to be very good
to mother when she was young, but he was always rather eccentric."
"What do you mean by eccentric?" Eric inquired.
"Not like other people," Celia replied, promptly. "Mother says
he used to spend most of his time shut up in his library, reading and
studying, and often he would fall into such deep trains of thought
that he wouldn't notice what was going on around him."
"What a queer old fellow!" Eric exclaimed. "I shouldn't fancy he is
inclined to be at all sociable."
"Poor old man!" sighed Joy, sympathetically. "Mother told me that he
has had great troubles to bear. He lost his wife when she was quite
young, and that was a dreadful trial for him because he loved her
very dearly; and lately, you know, his son has died."
"How old was the son?" Eric asked.
"Oh, quite grown up," Celia responded; "as old as mother. He was a
barrister, a very clever man, and Uncle Jasper was exceedingly proud
of him. If his son had lived I don't suppose Uncle Jasper would have
asked us to stay at the Moat House," she added, musingly.
"How sad and lonely he must be!" Joy cried, in pitying tones. "It's
not much use having a lot of money if all your relations are dead,
is it?"
"Rather not!" Eric agreed, heartily. "You girls must try to cheer him
up a bit. I can't imagine anything more depressing than living in a
big house with only servants. By the way, what's going to become
of Jane?"
"She has found another situation where she will get higher wages
than mother gives her," Celia replied.
"But in spite of that she's very sorry to leave us," Joy put in, "and
I've promised to write to her sometimes. If we ever come back here
again perhaps she will return to us."
"I hope that will never be!" Celia exclaimed, involuntarily. "I mean,
I hope we shall never come back. I am sure we shall all be happier
at the Moat House."
"I don't know about that, I'm sure," Joy responded, reflectively,
"I've been very happy here."
"I am glad to hear you say that, my dear," Mrs. Wallis said, as she
entered the room; "it's a great blessing to possess a contented
spirit," she continued, with a loving glance at her younger daughter,
"and you are happy in days of poverty, you will probably be able
to stand the test of wealth if it ever comes your way. You know
we pray every Sunday in church: 'In all time of our wealth—Good Lord,
deliver us.' Greater temptations beset the paths of rich people in
many respects than poor ones."
"Oh, mother!" Celia cried, in accents of profound astonishment;
"do you really mean that? I think it's so difficult to be good
if one's poor. I am sure if I was rich I should have nothing
to grumble about, and you know you are always telling me
how discontented I am."
"My dear Celia, you imagine riches must needs bring happiness, but
you are greatly mistaken. Happiness comes to those only who trust
in God, and do their plain duty in life."
Celia hung her head, and flushed hotly, for there was reproof in her
mother's voice, and the kind eyes which searched her face
were gravely reproachful.
"I have just received a letter from Uncle Jasper," Mrs. Wallis
proceeded, after a slight pause; "he says he is looking forward
with much pleasure to make the acquaintance of my little daughters,
and he hopes they will feel quite at home at the Moat House.
He remarks that if I have not already engaged a governess, he would
recommend the niece of a neighbour of his for that post—a Miss Pring,
who has had several years experience as a teacher in a school, but is
now out of a situation. I must write and tell him that I should like
to see Miss Pring before anything is decided. I shall be really glad
now when we have left here, and are settled at the Moat House."
"You must let me know all about the place, and how you get on with
Uncle Jasper," Eric said to Joy, who nodded assentingly.
The boy was very fond of both his sisters, but Joy was his favourite,
for she took teasing better than did Celia, who was inclined to stand
on her dignity, and resented his good-humoured banter, especially
when he ridiculed her for her vanity and love of finery. Then, too,
Celia was so entirely wrapped up in herself that she took very little
interest in what concerned her brother, and was much too dignified a
young person to join in his pursuits. She always declined
to accompany him in the long walks he loved to take during his
holidays, and it was Joy who tramped patiently for miles by his side,
simply to spend a few hours fishing in a stagnant pool, and returned
home quite satisfied if he was, even though their catch of fish
was only a few small roach or perch; and it was Joy who diffidently
asked her mother if she could spare Eric a trifle more pocket-money
next term, and was delighted to receive an answer in the affirmative.
"I shall have no household expenses now, so I can well make Eric
a larger allowance," Mrs. Wallis said, cordially, for she was glad
to be in the position to grant her little daughter's request. "I know
the poor boy has not had so much money to spend as his companions.
I have often regretted the fact, but I have been unable to give him
more. He never complained, however."
"Oh, no, mother, he would not do that, for he knows you have always
done all you could for him. He says a great many of his school
fellows have rich fathers, but some are no better off than himself.
His great chum—Lawrence Puttenham—is the son of a poor curate
in London, and he has a very small allowance of pocket-money, indeed.
Celia wonders Eric does not make one of the richer boys his chum,
but Eric says he likes Putty—that's short for Puttenham, you know—
best."
Mrs. Wallis smiled, then sighed. She sometimes wondered where Celia
got her worldly-wise notions, for she had certainly never learnt them
at home. Joy had made several friends at school, but Celia had not,
and her mother suspected, what was actually the truth, that the
reason was she did not consider the friendship of her fellow pupils
worth cultivating, as they were all children from comparatively poor
homes.
Dearly though Mrs. Wallis loved her children, she was not blind
to their faults. She knew that Eric was easy-going, and inclined
to be idle, and that he did not make the most of his opportunities
at school; but, she knew also that he was truthful and honourable,
and hoped that as he grew older he would overcome his indolence and
recognise that it was his duty to work hard and not waste his time.
Joy had her failings, too, but they were not of a kind to cause
her mother much anxiety, the chief being a temper quick to anger and
to resent a wrong. Celia's character was a complex one, difficult
to understand. Often Mrs. Wallis would be painfully astonished
to hear her elder daughter pass a remark which would sound cynical
from a woman grown; but which was certainly strangely incongruous
from the lips of a girl of fourteen who looked childish for her
years. Celia would appear so penitent when reproved, the tears would
rise to her blue eyes, and the burning blushes to her fair cheeks,
that Mrs. Wallis would tell herself she had not meant what she had
said, and that she had spoken without thought.
Between the sisters was a very real and deep affection, though they
were totally unlike in every way. Joy admired Celia openly, and never
experienced the least sensation of jealousy when, as was often
the case, new acquaintances were attracted by Celia's pretty face and
winning manners, and she herself was overlooked altogether; whilst
Celia found Joy generally ready to follow her lead, and to defer
to her opinions.
The last few days of the Easter holidays were spent in leave takings.
Mrs. Wallis, having lived in A— ever since her marriage, had many
friends; but she told them all that at the end of a year's time
it was very probable she would be in their midst again, so there were
no sorrowful partings.
And yet, when Eric had returned to school, and the day came for the
departure of Mrs. Wallis and her little daughters from their home,
they were all very grave. Jane had packed her box and gone to her new
situation; the family's luggage had been sent to the railway station;
and in a very short while the cab would be at the door to fetch the
waiting trio. Joy wandered restlessly about the house, and at last
joined her mother and sister, who were waiting more patiently in the
sitting-room.
"How disconsolate you look, my dear!" Mrs. Wallis exclaimed. "But I
don't know that that is to be wondered at. It is always a grave
matter to take a new step in life, because we don't know where it's
to lead us. God knows," she added, reverently, "and we must trust
our future to Him. He will guide us aright."
"Yes, mother," Joy replied, seriously. "I can't think why I feel sad,
but I do, and yet I am longing to see the Moat House and
Uncle Jasper. I believe Celia is right—she said just now I was like
a cat, attached to the house and furniture. Now I come to leave here
I find I am really very fond of our shabby little home."
Celia raised her eyebrows incredulously; but, at that instant,
the expected cab arrived at the door, and a few minutes later
they were being driven in the direction of the railway station.