ON THE SEASHORE
'The sands of the sea stretch far and fine,
The rocks start out of them sharp and slim.'
_A Legend of the Sea._
'Oh dear,' exclaimed Mrs. Vane one morning at breakfast two or three
days after the children's walk in to Seacove. Everybody looked up--the
two girls and Rough were at table with their father and mother. Mrs.
Vane had just opened and begun to read a letter. What could be the
matter?
'It is from Miss Millet,' she said; 'her sister's children have got
scarlet fever, and she has got a bad sore throat herself from nursing
them. They had no idea what it was at first,' she went on reading from
the letter; 'but of course she cannot come back to us for ever so long
on account of the infection.'
'Poor Miss Millet,' said Rosalys.
'_I_ don't mind,' said Biddy; 'I like having holidays.'
Alie, who was sitting next her, gave her a little touch.
'Hush, Biddy,' she said, 'that's just one of the things you say that
sound _so_ unkind.'
She spoke in a whisper, and fortunately for Bridget her father and
mother were too much taken up with the letter to notice what she had
said.
'I didn't mean,' Biddy was beginning as usual, but Mrs. Vane was
speaking to Alie by this time, and no one listened to Biddy.
'I must write to Miss Millet at once,' their mother said, 'though I
shall ask her not to write often till the infection is gone--she says
this letter is disinfected. And, Alie, you had better put in a little
word, and Biddy too, if she likes. It would be kind.'
'Yes, mamma,' said Alie at once, but Bridget did not answer.
It was not usual for Mrs. Vane to discuss plans and arrangements for the
children before them, but this morning her mind was so full of the
unexpected turn of affairs that she could not help talking about them.
'It will be a question of several weeks--even months, I fear,' she said
to Mr. Vane; 'there are such a lot of those children, and Miss Millet
is sure to wish to nurse them all. We must think over what to do.'
'Perhaps you and I can manage the girls between us,' said Mr. Vane.
'Alie perhaps,' began Mrs. Vane doubtfully.
'Yes,' said Bridget suddenly, to every one's astonishment, 'if it was
only Alie. But it would never do for me. I'd be too much for you and
papa, mamma.'
She spoke quite gravely, but the others had hard work not to laugh.
'How do you mean, Biddy?' asked her father.
'I'm very tiresome to teach; often I'm very cross indeed,' replied the
child complacently.
'But you _need_ not be; you can help being so if you try,' said Mr.
Vane.
'Well, I don't like trying, I suppose it's that,' she answered.
For the moment her father thought it wiser to say no more.
Mr. Redding happened to call that morning, and at luncheon Mrs. Vane
told Alie and Bride that she was going to Seacove, and they might go
with her.
Alie's eyes sparkled.
'Are you going to----' she began, and her mother seemed to understand
her without any more words.
'Yes,' she said, 'I have got all the measures.'
'And oh, mamma,' asked Biddy, too full of her own ideas to notice
these mysterious sayings, '_will_ you go to Pier Street and let us
show you where Celestina lives. And if you _could_ think of something
you wanted to buy, just any little thing, a pencil or some envelopes
or anything--they've got _everything_--we might go into the shop, and
I _daresay_ if the nice mamma saw you, she'd ask you to step into the
parlour too.'
'We shall see,' mamma replied.
But 'We shall see' was this time accompanied by a little smile, which
made Bridget think that the 'We shall see' was perhaps a way of saying
'Yes.'
Mamma had several messages to do at Seacove, and though Biddy was in a
great hurry to get to Pier Street, she was rather interested in the
other shops also. At the draper's, Mrs. Vane made some small purchases,
as to which Alie showed great concern. One was of pretty pink glazed
calico and of some other shiny stuff called 'chintz'--white, with tiny
lines of different colours; she also bought some red cotton velvet and
neat-looking white spotted muslin, and several yards of very narrow
lace of a very small and dainty pattern, and other things, all of which
interested Alie very much indeed, though after a while Biddy got tired
of looking on, and went and stood at the doorway of the shop.
'I am sorry to give you the trouble of taking down so many things when
I only want such a short length of each,' said Mrs. Vane civilly to the
shopman--or shopwoman, I think it was. 'But the fact is I am buying all
these odds and ends for my little girl's'--and here she glanced round to
make sure that Bridget was out of hearing--'for my little girl's
doll-house, which needs doing up;' by which information Mrs. Cutter, the
draper's wife, was much edified, repeating it to her special cronies at
Seacove, together with her opinion that the new rector's wife was a most
pleasant-spoken lady.
One or two other shops Mrs. Vane and Rosalys went into; a paper-hanger's
for one, or rather a painter's, where wall-papers were sold; and an
iron-monger's, where she bought two or three different kinds of small
nails, tin tacks, and neat little brass-headed nails. Bridget stayed at
the door of both these shops: she thought them not at all interesting,
and mamma and Alie did not press her to come in. The little girl was in
a great fidget to get to Pier Street, and stood murmuring to herself
that she didn't believe they'd _ever_ come; Alie might make mamma be
quick, she knew how she, Biddy, wanted to see Celestina and her dolls'
room.
'But nobody cares about what _I_ want,' she added to herself, with the
discontented look on her face which so spoilt its round rosy
pleasantness.
Just then out came Mrs. Vane and Alie. They both looked pleased and
bright, and this made Biddy still crosser.
'Well, now,' said her mother consideringly, 'is that all, Alie? Yes--I
think it is. I must call at the grocer's on the way home, but I think we
pass that way. No--I don't remember anything else.'
At this Bridget could no longer keep silent.
'Oh, mamma,' she exclaimed, 'and you said you'd come to Celestina's
house. It's too bad.'
Mrs. Vane looked at her in surprise.
'I did not say so, Biddy; I said we should see. And we are going there
now. You have no reason to be so impatient and to look so cross,' and
she turned and walked on quickly.
'Biddy,' said Alie, 'you're too bad really. You spoil everything.'
Then she ran after her mother, and Bridget followed them at some little
distance.
They went directly down the street which a little farther on ran into
Pier Street, Biddy feeling more and more ashamed of herself. How she
wished she had been less hasty, and not spoken so rudely and crossly to
her mother. It did seem true, as Alie said, that she spoilt everything.
But she did not appear as sorry as she felt; indeed, her face had a
rather sulky look when at last she came up to the others, who were
waiting for her at the door of the shop.
'I am going in to see Mrs. Fairchild,' said her mother. 'I have
something to ask her. You may come in too, Biddy, and I will ask to see
the little girl too.'
A naughty spirit came over Biddy, even though in her heart she was
sorry.
'No,' she said. 'I don't want to see the little girl, and I don't want
to come in,' and her face grew still more sullen.
'Very well,' said her mother, 'stay there then.'
But as she entered the shop with Alie she whispered to her, 'I really
don't know what to do with Biddy. She has such a _very_ bad temper,
Alie. Just when I am doing everything I can for her too.'
'Only she doesn't know about it, you see, mamma,' Alie replied. 'Still
she is very cross, I know.'
Mrs. Fairchild was herself in the shop as well as her husband. As soon
as she caught sight of Rosalys she seemed to know who Mrs. Vane was, and
came forward with her gentle smile.
'I hope you will excuse my troubling you, Mrs. Fairchild,' said the
rector's wife, 'but Mr. Redding, whom I saw this morning, thought you
would be the best person to apply to about a little difficulty I am in.'
She half glanced round as if to see that no one was in the way, and with
quick understanding Celestina's mother turned towards the inner door.
'Will you please step into the parlour a moment?' she said. 'We should
be less interrupted.'
Bridget, standing by the half-open shop door, heard the words. She felt
almost inclined to run forward and beg leave to go in too. But she knew
she must first ask pardon of her mother for her naughtiness, and the
idea of doing so before Mrs. Fairchild was not pleasant.
'If Celestina would come out herself I could ask her to ask mamma to
speak to me,' thought Bridget. But no Celestina appeared.
'They will be so comfortable in that nice warm parlour,' thought Biddy;
'and I daresay Celestina will be showing Alie all her dolls and things,'
for she had not noticed that just as Mrs. Vane went into the parlour she
had said a word to Rosalys, who had stayed behind.
So Biddy stood outside, very much put out indeed. The ten minutes during
which she had to wait seemed to her like an hour; and when Celestina's
mother came to the door to show her visitors out, it was not difficult
for her to see that the little girl was not in at all a happy frame of
mind.
'Good-morning, Miss Bridget,' said Mrs. Fairchild.
'Good-morning,' Biddy could not but reply.
She did not even wonder how Mrs. Fairchild knew her name; she was so
taken up with her own thoughts. She would have been rather surprised had
she known that it was about her, poor little neglected, uncared for girl
as she chose to fancy herself, that the two mothers had been speaking
those long ten minutes in the parlour--'Mayn't I see Celestina at all?'
Biddy went on. 'I think Alie's very----'
'Very what?' said her mother. 'Alie has been quietly waiting in the shop
for me as I told her.'
Alie came forward as she spoke.
'And Celestina is not in this morning,' said Mrs. Fairchild. 'She had a
headache, so I have sent her out a walk.'
Thus all Biddy's temper and jealousy had been thrown away. She felt
rather foolish as she followed her mother and Rosalys down the street.
After stopping for a moment at the grocer's, Mrs. Vane turned to go home
by the Parade, the same way by which the children had come to Seacove
that Saturday. It was a fine bright afternoon, still early--a little
breeze blew in from the sea--the tide was far out.
'Mayn't we go home by the shore, mamma?' Alie asked. 'It is nice firm
walking nearly all the way.'
Mrs. Vane consented: they all turned down a sort of short cart-track,
leading through the stony shingle to the smooth sands beyond. The sun
was still some height above the horizon, but the cold frosty air gave it
already the red evening look. Glancing upwards at it Biddy remembered
the day she had watched it setting and the good resolutions she had then
made. She almost felt as if the sun was looking at her and reminding
her of them, and a feeling of shame, not proud but humble, crept over
her. She went close up to her mother and slipped her hand through her
arm.
'Mamma,' she said very gently, 'I'm sorry for being so cross.'
'I am glad to hear you say so, Bride,' said her mother. She spoke very
gravely, and at first Bridget felt a little disappointed. But after a
moment's--less than a moment's--hesitation, the fat little hand felt
itself clasped and pressed with a kindly affection that, truth to tell,
Biddy was scarcely accustomed to. For there is no denying that she was a
very trying and tiresome little girl. And Mrs. Vane was quick and
sensitive, and of late she had had much anxiety and strain, and she was
not of a nature to take things calmly. Rosalys was of a much more even
and cheery temperament: she 'took after' her father, as the country-people
say. It was not without putting some slight force on herself that Biddy's
mother pressed the little hand; and that she did so was in great part
owing to a sudden remembrance of some words which Mrs. Fairchild had said
during their few minutes' conversation, which, as I told you, had been
principally about Bridget.
'Yes,' Celestina's mother had replied in answer to a remark of the
rector's wife, 'I can see that she must be a child who needs careful
management. Firmness of course--but also the greatest, the very greatest
gentleness, so as never to crush or repress any deeper feeling whenever
it comes.'
And the words had stayed in Biddy's mother's mind. Ah, children, _how_
much we may do for good, and, alas, for bad, by our simplest words
sometimes!
So in spite of still feeling irritated and sore against cross-grained
Biddy, her mother crushed down her own vexation and met the child's
better mind more than half-way.
A queer feeling came over the little girl; a sort of choke in her
throat, which she had never felt before.
'If mamma was always like that _how_ good I would be,' thought Biddy, as
she walked on quietly, her hand still on her mother's arm.
Suddenly she withdrew it with a little cry, and ran on a few steps. Some
way before them a small figure stood out dark against the sky, from time
to time stooping as if picking up something. Bridget had excellent eyes
when she chose to use them.
'It's Celestina, mamma,' she exclaimed, running back to her mother and
Alie. 'Mayn't I go and speak to her? She's all alone. Come,
Smuttie--it'll be a nice run for you. I may, mayn't I, mamma?'
'Very well,' said her mother, and almost before she said the words Biddy
was off.
'She must be a nice little girl,' said Mrs. Vane; 'her mother seems such
a sweet woman. But, Alie, did you ever see anything like Bride's
changeableness?' and she gave a little sigh.
'But, mamma dear, she did say she was sorry very nicely this time--very
_real_-ly,' said Rosalys.
'Yes, darling,' her mother agreed.
A minute or two brought them up to where the two children were standing
talking together, greatly to Bridget's satisfaction, though Celestina
looked very quiet and almost grave.
'How do you do, my dear?' said Mrs. Vane, shaking hands with her. 'I
have just seen your mother; she said you were out a walk, but we did not
know we should find you on the shore. Is it not rather lonely for you
here by yourself?'
'I was looking for shells, ma'am,' Celestina replied. 'There's very
pretty tiny ones just about here sometimes, though you have to look for
them a good deal; they're so buried in the sand.'
'But she has found such beauties, and she takes them home for her dolls
to use for dishes, and some of them for ornaments,' said Biddy. 'Do show
mamma how _sweet_ they are, Celestina. And oh, mamma, mayn't I stay a
little with Celestina and look for them too?'
Mrs. Vane hesitated.
'I'm afraid not, Biddy,' she said. 'I must be going in--and Alie too.
She must write to grandmamma to-day.'
'Oh, but mayn't _I_ stay?' asked Biddy entreatingly. 'It's quite safe
for me if it's safe for Celestina, and she says her mamma often lets her
come out on the shore alone.'
Mrs. Vane looked round; the seashore was perfectly quiet except for one
or two old fishermen mending their nets at some distance. One could have
thought it miles away from the little port and the ships and the
sailors. Then, too, the Rectory was a very short distance off, and
indeed from its upper windows this sheltered stretch of sand could be
clearly seen.
'Well, yes,' she said. 'You may stay for half an hour or so--not longer.
And indeed by then it will be quite time for you too to be going home,
will it not, my little girl?' she added to Celestina.
'Yes, ma'am. I must be home by half-past four, and it takes twenty
minutes from here. I can go past the Rectory and see Miss----' she
hesitated over the name, 'Miss Biddy in at the gate, if you please,'
said Celestina, in her womanly little way.
Mrs. Vane thanked her; then she and Rosalys walked on, and the two small
damsels were left alone.
'Why must you be in by half-past four?' asked Biddy.
'It's getting dark by then,' said Celestina. 'Besides there's things to
do. I get the tea ready very often. When mother's not very busy it waits
for her till she can leave the shop, but to-day I know she's busy, 'cos
father's got a great many letters to write. So I'll get the table all
ready.'
Bridget gazed at her.
'Do you like doing it?' she asked. 'You're such a little girl, you
see--not much bigger than me, and you play with dolls.'
'I like to be useful to mother,' said Celestina simply.
This was rather a new idea to Bridget, and she was sometimes very lazy
about thinking over new ideas.
'Alie's useful to mamma, I suppose,' she said, 'but then she's the
eldest. And you're the only one--that's why, I daresay. Is it nice to be
the only one?'
'Sometimes it's very alone,' said Celestina, 'some days when mother's
very busy and I scarcely see her, and I've nobody to show the dolls to.'
'I know,' said Biddy. 'I'm rather alone too, for Alie's so big, you see.
Oh, Celestina, do look, isn't this a beauty? Look, it's all pinky
inside. Now I've got six and this beauty. I think that'll do for to-day.
I'm tired of looking.'
'Sometimes I look for ever so long--a whole hour,' said Celestina,
rather taken aback by Biddy's fitfulness. 'But perhaps we'd better run
about a little to keep warm. It isn't like as if it was summer.'
'I'm not cold and I don't like running,' said Biddy. 'Let's just walk,
Celestina, and you tell me things. Oh, look at the sun--he's getting
redder and redder--and look at the lighthouse, it's shining red too. Is
it a fire burning inside, do you think, Celestina?'
'No, it's the sun's redness shining on the glass. The top room is all
windows--I've been there once,' she said. 'It's a good way to walk
though it looks so near, and there's some water too between. Father
took us once in a boat, mother and me, when the tide was in, and we
had dinner there; we took it with us, and there was a nice old man
father knew. And when the tide went out we came over a bit of water till
we got to the stones, in the boat, and then the boatman took it back,
and we walked home right along the stones--you see where I mean?'
She pointed to the rocky ridge which I told you ran out from the shore
to the lighthouse. Bridget listened with the greatest interest.
'How nice,' she said. 'Couldn't you have walked the whole way? I'm sure
there isn't any water between now--_I_ can't see it. It must have gone
away.'
'Oh no, it hasn't,' said Celestina. 'It's always there: it couldn't go
away. You couldn't ever get to the lighthouse without a boat; once one
of the men had to come in a hurry, and father said he had to wade to
over his waist.'
But Bridget was not convinced. She stood there gazing out seawards at
the lighthouse.
'I would like to go there,' she said. 'Can't you see a long way from the
top room that's all windows, Celestina? I should think you could see to
the--what do they call that thing at the top of the world--the north
stick, is it?'
[Illustration: 'I would like to go out there,' she said. P. 115.]
Celestina was not very much given to laughing, but this was too funny.
'The North Pole, you mean,' she said. 'Oh no, you couldn't see to
_there_, I'm quite sure. Besides, there isn't anything to see like
that--not a pole sticking up in the ground--it's just the name of a
place. Father's told me all about it. And so did the old man at the
lighthouse. Oh, I would like to go there--better than anywhere--just
think how strange it must be, all the snow and the ice mountains and
everything quite, _quite_ still!'