TRYING TO PLEASE SIR JASPER.
"WELL, children, and how do you get on with your governess?"
The speaker was Sir Jasper Amery, who encountered Celia and Joy
in the garden a few evenings after Miss Pring had commenced
her duties at the Moat House. He leaned heavily upon his stick, and
surveyed the countenances of his little great-nieces with his usual
keen, though not unkindly glance.
"We like her so much, Uncle Jasper," Celia answered, promptly;
"she's very strict in lesson hours, and makes us work hard; but she's
always ready to help us, and explain everything we don't understand."
"I shall ask her to give me her opinion of your abilities,"
Sir Jasper said. "I heard someone practising on the piano this
afternoon. Which of you was that?"
"Oh, it was I!" Joy cried, a flush rising to her sallow cheeks.
"I'm afraid I don't play very well; but I love music dearly."
"You play remarkably well for your age," Sir Jasper told her.
"I wonder if you know any of my favourite tunes—'The Last Rose
of Summer,' for instance?"
"No; but I am sure I could learn it if I had the music," Joy replied.
"Come with me to the library," the old man said, abruptly.
He hobbled on in front, whilst the child: followed in silence.
Neither Celia nor Joy had ventured to enter the library as yet,
though they had been curious to see the room where Sir Jasper spent
most of his days. It proved to be a long, low apartment, dim in the
evening light, the walls lined with books, and the writing-table
strewn with papers. In one corner stood an old-fashioned, high-backed
piano which Jasper opened.
"Come, which of you is going to give me some music?" he asked.
"Are you musical, Celia?"
"Not very, I'm afraid," Celia acknowledged, regretfully, for she was
most desirous of making a favourable impression upon Sir Jasper.
"Of course I do play, but not so well as Joy."
Sir Jasper turned to Joy, who, after moment's hesitation, took her
seat at the piano and struck the opening notes of a piece of music
she knew by heart. She was very nervous at first, but she gained
confidence as she played, and delighted Sir Jasper, who thanked her
very cordially when at length she stopped and turned around on the
piano stool to see if he was satisfied.
"Thank you, my dear," he said, earnestly, "you have given me a great
treat. Until now no one has touched that piano since my son died.
His were the last fingers to play upon it. You have a talent
for music which should be cultivated."
"I wish I could play the piece you spoke of just now," Joy said;
"is it very difficult?"
"Not at all! It is a fine old English ballad, but I have it somewhere
arranged as a piece for the piano." He rummaged over a pile of music
on a stand close by, and at last selected the piece he was looking
for. "Here it is," he cried. "'The Last Rose of Summer' is not
in fashion now, I believe, but I love the old tune. Take the music,
my dear, and see if you can learn to play it."
"I will," Joy replied, earnestly.
Sir Jasper was in a sociable mood, and he detained the girls
in conversation. Joy was getting over her first shyness of him, and
talked in her usual frank fashion.
"I should like to be a great musician some day," she informed him,
"and then I should earn a lot of money, shouldn't I?"
"Do you want to earn a lot of money?" he inquired, regarding her
attentively.
"Oh, yes," she answered, "indeed I do. I should so like to be rich!"
He appeared a little disappointed at her answer, Joy thought, and a
somewhat grim smile crossed his face. Celia looked put out and
frowned at her sister, who came to the conclusion she had said
something she had better left unsaid.
[Illustration: "SHE TURNED ROUND ON THE PIANO STOOL TO SEE IF HE
WAS SATISFIED."]
"How could you have been so foolish as to tell Uncle Jasper
you wanted to be rich!" Celia exclaimed, in tones of intense
vexation, the very first moment she and Joy were alone together.
"It was such a stupid thing to say!"
"Why?" Joy demanded, wonderingly. "I meant it."
"I know, and of course Uncle Jasper saw you meant it. You needn't
always say exactly what you mean, though. I want to be rich, too,
a great deal more than you do, I daresay, but I shouldn't think
of telling people so—especially Uncle Jasper!"
"I only meant that I would like to have a lot of money so that mother
shouldn't be worried any more, and—"
"Mother isn't worried now she's living here," was the impatient
interruption.
"No, but when we go home again—"
Celia turned sharply away from her sister, and would not hear
the conclusion of the sentence. She was delighted with the Moat House
and her surroundings. It was a pleasant change to have the best
of everything provided for her; to live in a large house, handsomely
and comfortably furnished; to have servants to wait on her, and
dainty food in the place of the plain fare she had been
accustomed to all her previous life. Mrs. Wallis and Joy found it
a pleasant change, too, but they sometimes talked of their home
at A—, whilst Celia never mentioned it, and hoped fervently that
Uncle Jasper would want them to remain with him altogether.
Sir Jasper appeared perfectly contented with the present arrangement.
He spent a good deal of time in his niece's company, and made it
a habit to walk up and down the terrace in front of his house every
evening leaning upon her arm. One evening, Mrs. Wallis being engaged
in letter-writing Celia took her place. Joy, seated on a garden seat,
watched her sister as she chatted to Sir Jasper, her bright face
aglow with smiles, her blue eyes shining brilliantly, and thought how
well Celia was getting on with her companion. She appeared to know
exactly what to say to amuse and please him; she never made a remark
it would have been better to have left unsaid.
By-and-by Joy opened the English history book she had brought
out-of-doors with her, and commenced to learn the lesson Miss Mary
Pring had given her to prepare for the next day. She had nearly
finished her task when suddenly Sir Jasper's voice broke upon
her ears.
"So you don't care for money, then?" he was saying.
Joy glanced up quickly, and saw her sister and the old man had paused
at a little distance from her. She listened curiously for Celia's
answer. It filled her with a sense of intense astonishment.
"Not in the very least," was the apparently careless reply.
"Nonsense, my dear!" In spite of his words, Joy noted that Sir
Jasper's voice sounded very pleased. "Money is a very good thing
sometimes."
"Is it?" Celia questioned, innocently.
"A very good thing sometimes," he repeated; "but there are occasions
when it is useless, quite useless. What good is it to me—a poor old
man who has lost his all?"
"But you do good with it," Celia reminded him, gently. "Miss Mary was
telling us only yesterday how kind you have been to the poor widow
of that farm labourer who died suddenly last week. And see what you
have done for us!"
"You are a grateful little soul, Celia," he told her, with a tender
inflection in his voice. "You are like your dear mother."
Joy heard no more, for she hastily rose and retreated into the house.
She was full of indignation against her sister. What could have
induced Celia to utter such a falsehood as to say she did not in the
least care for money, when all her life she had bemoaned her poverty,
and longed for wealth?
Later in the evening, when the sisters were preparing for bed,
Joy taxed Celia with having told Sir Jasper an untruth. For a moment
the elder girl was confused, then broke into a laugh as she
exclaimed: "Oh, Joy, you surely don't imagine I would be as silly
as you, and tell Uncle Jasper I cared for money, do you?"
"But you do care for money, Celia!"
"Of course I do, but it wouldn't be wise to let Uncle Jasper know
it."
"Why not? He said himself that money is a very good thing sometimes."
"Yes, I know, but—well—I can hardly explain what I mean, but I want
him to think we like him for himself, and not his money. We ought
to try to please him."
"Why, so we do; but it's never right to tell a lie. It's a sin,
you know it is as well as I do," Joy declared, bluntly. "Mother
wouldn't have liked you to be deceitful, and say what wasn't true,
even to please Uncle Jasper."
"Well, you needn't make such a fuss about a trifle. There's no reason
why you should work yourself into a passion. And why should you
dictate to me when I am so much older than you? I don't like it.
Do you mean to get me into trouble with mother?"
"Of course not!" Joy flashed out, angrily, resentful at the
suggestion.
Celia looked relieved. She proceeded undress in silence, casting side
glances at Joy meanwhile.
By-and-by Joy's indignation commenced to cool; she began to wonder
whether she might not have misjudged her sister, and to doubt if she
had intended to tell a deliberate falsehood. Celia was so
kind-hearted, so desirous of pleasing! Joy looked at her as she stood
brushing her hair in front of dressing-table, and hoped she had
misjudged her, for it pained her deeply to think her dearly loved
sister, whom she admired more than any one else in the world, was not
truthful.
"Don't let us quarrel!" she said at length.
"Oh, I don't want to quarrel," Celia replied, smiling; "but I thought
you wanted to fall out with me. Don't be cross any longer, Joy.
Here have I been giving up my spare time this evening to amusing
Uncle Jasper, because mother has been busy letter-writing, and for my
pains you accuse me of story-telling! I declare it's too bad of when
I've only been doing my best to please him. You know mother wants us
to make him happier, if we can."
There was a ring of reproach in Celia's voice. Joy went up to her,
and putting her arms around her neck gave her an affectionate hug,
and a kiss which was warmly returned. Thus did the sisters make their
peace.
Mrs. Wallis and her daughters had now been at the Moat House several
weeks, and already the absence of small worries was having a
beneficial effect on the former's health, whilst the Devonshire air
was bringing faint roses to Joy's pale cheeks, and Celia's fair face
was more blooming than ever.
Mrs. Wallis was perfectly satisfied with her children's governess;
and Miss Mary Pring considered herself a most fortune young woman
to have obtained such a comfortable situation. She had been told that
her engagement at the Moat House might be only for a year's duration;
but she was of a naturally hopeful disposition, and trusted it would
prove otherwise.
"Sir Jasper is growing so attached to the children," she remarked
to her aunt one evening when, the work of the day over, they sat
dawdling over the tea-table at Home Vale. "Of Celia he is especially
fond; nor is it any wonder, for she is always ready to drop whatever
she is doing to wait upon him, and her manner to him is particularly
nice. She is a wonderfully thoughtful child for her age, and so
kind-hearted!"
"Is she?" Miss Pring asked, a trifle dubiously, or so her niece
thought.
"Indeed she is! I don't believe she would willingly hurt anyone's
feelings for the world. She always tries to please."
"That is not a sure proof of a kind heart, my dear Mary. It may mean
only a desire to stand well in other people's sight. However, you
have good opportunities for forming a correct estimate of her
character, no doubt you have judged her rightly."
"She works most conscientiously and attends to all my instructions.
She is evidently desirous of learning all she can. I never had a
better pupil."
"And what about the other sister?" Pring inquired.
"She is not so attentive as Celia in the general way, but she has
a real talent for music. Sir Jasper gets her to play to him
occasionally, and she has learnt a favorite piece of his—'The Last
Rose of Summer.' I often wonder, Aunt Esther, what he means to do
for those children in the future."
"So do I," Miss Pring answered, soberly. "I think he ought to make
his intentions known. I've a great mind to tell him so the next time
we meet."
"Oh, you won't do that, surely, Aunt Esther!" Mary cried, looking
quite shocked, for she stood rather in awe of Sir Jasper.
"I shall be guided by circumstances," Miss Pring replied,
meditatively; "but don't be alarmed, Mary, you may trust me not
to give offence."