It was between three and four o'clock on that same day when Angela St
Just stepped out of her pretty carriage and went up the neatly kept path
which led to Mrs Johnston's house. Mrs Johnston was not a favourite
of hers, nor, for that matter, of anybody else. How Mercy, her nice
little maidservant, managed her so wonderfully; how Miss Palliser, the
girl who had lately been married and gone to America, had put up with
her, was a marvel to most people. But then, Angela rather liked people
whom others disliked, and she generally managed to give them a ray of
brightness. She entered the little parlour now, and was received by the
old lady with outstretched hand.
"My dear, my dear! this is good," she said. "I am so delighted, Angela;
sit dawn, and tell me all about yourself."
Angela pushed back her hat and looked at old Mrs Johnston, then she
said quietly:
"I was determined to give you a whole hour, and here I am, and you must
make the most of me, for I am leaving Castle Walworth to-day. I am
going back to Hurst Castle."
"Oh, dear, what a pity. Just when I thought you'd stay here for a good
while."
"I am sorry, but it can't be helped. My friend, Marcia--you have heard
me speak of Marcia."
"Of course, I have, my dear, and a wonderful young lady she is."
"Well, she is in trouble. All the Aldworths are in trouble."
"Are they indeed?" said Mrs Johnston. She could be sympathetic enough
where anybody in the most remote degree connected with the St Justs was
concerned, in especial with Angela, whom she worshipped.
"I am sorry for that," she said, "if it worries you. You ought to have
no worries."
"But why not? But I'm not exactly worried, only, of course, I want to
help them, and I am quite sure it will all come right in the end. I
feel like that about everything."
"You are a very blessed girl," said the old lady.
Angela smiled.
"God is so good to me," she said.
"Well, tell me all about it--what has put you out?"
"I have told you, have I not, about Mrs Aldworth? Well, you know, she
is getting better. We managed to get her to Hurst Castle last week, and
she is enjoying herself very much. Marcia is looking after her, and she
is gradually getting more and more the use of her limbs, and a great
specialist is coming from London to see her, and to give advice as to
her future treatment. Everything except one now points to the
possibility of a complete recovery."
"And what is the one thing, my dear?"
"The one thing that is making us all so anxious is this. You know I
told you that there are three young Aldworth girls. Molly is one, Ethel
another, and Nesta, the third. Nesta has been very difficult and very
troublesome, and the fact is she has run away." Mrs Johnston did not
know why she suddenly gave a little jump, but the next minute she said
quickly:
"How old is she?"
"About fifteen, I think."
"Rather big for her age?"
"I should say she was; she is unformed; she is rather untidy."
"Awkward, I should say. Shouldn't you now pronounce her awkward?"
"I think I should. I don't know her very well, you see. I have only
seen her once, and Marcia has told me about her. She is a very
difficult girl."
"And how long is it since she left home?"
"She left home last Saturday week. She ran away first to Scarborough to
stay with some friends. We were all distressed about that, and we had
to tell a story to Mrs Aldworth which partly satisfied her. We didn't
tell her anything that wasn't true. We said Nesta had gone to stay with
the Griffiths, and we thought it best that she should stay there for a
few days. Then we got Mrs Aldworth to Hurst Castle, and she has been
doing splendidly ever since. But the difficulty is that we shall have
to tell her soon that we really don't know where Nesta is. We don't
know, and we are in great trouble."
"Oh, my dear, I am sure trouble is very bad for you, you look so frail.
There now, I wonder when Mercy will bring the tea."
Mrs Johnston had scarcely uttered these words before the room door was
opened, and Mercy, her cheeks crimson with excitement at the greatness
of the honour conferred upon her, laid a delicately prepared tea on the
centre table. There was silver of the oldest and quaintest pattern;
there was china thin as an eggshell; there was a little silver teapot,
in short everything was perfection. There were cakes of the very
lightest that Mercy's skilful hands could make. Angela was the last
person to despise such a meal; on the contrary, she received it with
marked appreciation.
"How delicious! How much, much nicer than the meal I should have had at
Castle Walworth. Oh, how good of you, how good of you to get it for me.
But you must let me pour out the tea, and give you a cup."
The radiant face, the shining eyes, the sympathetic manner, all did
their work on cross old Mrs Johnston. Why couldn't other people come
in like Angela and make sunshine all round them? What was the matter
with Mrs Johnston that she forgot her ailments and her crotchets, and
her disagreeablenesses? She was only anxious now to please her young
guest.
"There now," she said, "it is good for sair een to look at you. You
have cheered me and heartened me up wonderfully. But as I was saying,
troubles aren't good for you, dear, you are fretting yourself, I'm
sure."
"I am really anxious, though I know I oughtn't to be. I am sure things
will come right, I have always thought so. They do come right in the
long run, but still Mrs Aldworth is so delicate, and Nesta has run away
again from the people she was staying with at Scarborough."
"Well," said Mrs Johnston, "you say you believe things will come right.
I've not been at all of that way of thinking. I don't pretend that I
have. It has been, my idea that things were much more likely to go
wrong than right. I have found it so in life. But there, what ever
possessed you, in the midst of all your anxieties, to write me a little
note last night and say that you would come to see me this afternoon,
and that perhaps you'd come about tea time, and that perhaps Mercy would
make some of her scones, for you could never forget how delicious they
tasted last time? I can tell you, Miss Angela, I awoke this morning
feeling as cross and as bad and as sour as an old woman could feel, for
I was aching from head to foot with the rheumatism, and I was thinking
how lonely it was not to have chick nor child belonging to me, and Miss
Palliser, who had her faults, poor thing, but who knew my ways, gone to
America, and had it not been for your note, I don't know what I should
have done, but that cheered me, and I got downstairs. But what do you
think?--even with the hope of seeing you, I couldn't help having the
grumps. But to go on with my story, I was grumbling and grumbling
inside me--not that I said a word, for there wasn't any one to say it
to; Mercy was in the kitchen, with her heart in her month at the thought
of seeing you, and I was by the window wondering how I could pass the
hours and bear the pain in my back and down my legs, when there came a
loud, impertinent sort of ring at the bell of the front door, and I
wondered who that could be. I heard Mercy parleying with some one in
the hall, and after a bit, in she walked and said that a girl wanted to
see me, and that she knew you. Oh, dear, I thought for sure she'd come
to tell me that you couldn't come, and the same thought must have been
in Mercy's mind, for her eyes looked quite dazed. So I said: `Mercy,
show her in,' and in she came, as awkward a creature as you could clap
your eyes on. Will you believe me, my dear, she wasn't more than half
inside the room before she bumped against my little table with my
precious silver ornaments, and knocked some of them over, and it was a
providence that they weren't injured. Then, she came right in front of
me, and asked me if I didn't want some one to read to me. Never was
there a queerer creature. When I questioned her whether she had brought
a message from you, she said she hadn't, and that she came herself, to
see me, and that she was living in Mrs Hogg's cottage--Mary Hogg's
cottage; that widow that I have so often told you about, the one who
does my washing, by the way. You may be quite sure I was pretty well
excited and angry when she said that, and I sent her away double quick;
but it's my certain sure opinion that she is the very girl you are
looking for. I am as sure of it as that my name is Margaret Johnston."