Poppy's boldness vanished when it came to going downstairs, and, though
she had been ready so long, she waited for Esther after all. So did the
others; they all felt rather shy at meeting Miss Charlotte again.
In the breakfast-room they found their cousin sitting at the table with
some books before her. She looked up and smiled brightly when they
entered, and beckoning to them, drew each in turn to her for a morning
kiss. A quite unusual beginning to their day.
"Now, darlings," she said, "will you find seats for yourselves for
prayers?"
The request startled them. They had never before heard of such a
proceeding; but Esther, quickly recovering herself, tried to appear as
though she were used to everything, though, with Poppy looking at her with
such interested, astonished eyes, it was difficult.
"I've said mine," whispered Poppy, in rather an injured tone.
Esther looked at her warningly. "Yes, I know, but Cousin Charlotte
hasn't, and--and this is different. Lots of people do this.
Sit there, and don't talk."
Poppy obeyed. Anything that her sisters approved was right, in her
judgment. Penelope seated herself by the window, Angela on a little chair
by the empty hearth, a grave, devout look on her pretty face.
Then Anna came in, and Miss Ashe opened the Bible and read.
She read only a few verses, but they were such as would appeal to the
hearts of children. Then she closed the book and knelt down; at a sign
from Esther they all knelt too, and Miss Ashe asked God's blessing on this
new day and their new life, and thanked Him for His care and love, after
which she began to repeat the Lord's Prayer.
"Oh, I know that," exclaimed Poppy delightedly. She repeated the prayer
sentence by sentence; Anna did the same, and Esther and the others joined
in; and to Esther, at least, as the sacred words were spoken, the whole
world seemed to alter. The worry and irritability, the dread of she knew
not what, all slipped away from her; and life seemed brighter and happier,
and full of good things.
"What a lovely way to begin a day," she thought. "I hope we always have
prayers. She got up and helped Poppy to her feet, and, after a moment or
two, they all drew up to the table. Poppy looked about her with frank
interested eyes.
"Oh, _what_ a lovely breakfast!" she sighed, apparently overwhelmed by the
loveliness, and every one was obliged to laugh. It was what they were all
thinking, but the elder ones did not like to put their thoughts into
words. Yet it was a simple enough meal; but the clean white cloth and
shining silver, the flowers and fruit, and the dainty neatness of
everything made it seem perfectly beautiful to little people accustomed to
Lydia's untidy, careless ways, to soiled and ragged cloths, badly washed
silver and dirty knives, and food put down anyhow, and often not enough of
it. This was what Esther had always instinctively yearned for; to the
others it came as a surprise.
"I've been thinking, children," said Cousin Charlotte--who had indeed been
lying awake half the night, realising for the first time all she had
undertaken, and trying to grasp all her duties. "I have been thinking you
had better perhaps have a few days' holiday to begin with, so as to get
accustomed to your new surroundings, and then by and by we must begin to
think about lessons. I am expecting to hear from your mother or father as
to their views on the subject of your education. I expect they are
anxious that you two elder ones should go to a good school at once.
And that is one of my greatest difficulties, and the greatest drawback to
your coming here, for there is no good school within reach, and I am
puzzled to know what to do. It is so important that you should have every
advantage now."
Esther's heart sank, for Cousin Charlotte's sake as much as anything.
She knew as well as possible that Cousin Charlotte would have to settle
this matter for herself, and bear the responsibility entirely.
She knew, too, that the importance of it appealed as little to her mother
as it did greatly to her cousin. Mrs. Carroll was one of those
happy-go-lucky persons, so difficult to deal with, who think that
'sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,' and 'the future will take
care of itself,' so what is the use of worrying--something is sure to turn
up, and everything will turn out right, somehow.
It never occurred to her that her four children's future depended almost
entirely on the education given them now; or to ponder what, poor and
ill-educated, their future would be.
"Oh, something will be sure to happen," she would have answered.
"What is the use of planning, no one knows what the future may bring."
Miss Ashe's idea, on the other hand, was that with a good education any
child had, at any rate, one strong weapon with which to fight her way.
At Dorsham the post did not come in until ten o'clock, so that there was
no correspondence to discuss over the breakfast-table. Not that the
children expected any letters; they had never received one in their lives.
Breakfast over, Miss Ashe was a little at a loss to know what to do with
her charges; her life had suddenly become so changed and complicated,
that the little lady had difficulty in grappling with it all at once.
"I think you may like to go out and look about you," she said at last.
"You can come to no harm, I am sure, if you keep away from the river.
You may play in the garden, or wander on the moor a little way. But if
you go beyond the garden, take Guard with you; he will be a companion and
protector. Don't go very far, dears; I want you all to come back at
eleven for some milk and biscuits."
The children were enchanted. This was a happy life indeed! As quickly as
ever they could they got on hats and boots and started. They had never a
doubt as to where they would go. The garden was very nice, but the moor!
--a heaven-sent playground, miles of freedom, and all to themselves.
The thought of having to return at eleven was the only thing that marred
their perfect joy; they felt they wanted to have the whole long day before
them to cover all the ground and make all the discoveries they wanted to.
Guard, a proud and delighted protector, rushed about as excitedly as any
of them. The new interest that had come into his life promised to be all
that he could desire.
"I do want to get to the very top of that mountain," said Penelope, gazing
earnestly at what was really a very modest hill, and apparently at no
great distance from them.
"Well, let's," said Esther encouragingly, "it can't be very far away," and
off they started. But the grey tor seemed to possess the power of gliding
backwards, and the more the children walked, the further it seemed to
recede; until at last, when, on scaling what they thought was the last
height, they saw still a long stretch of moorland before them, with more
deceptive dips and rises, they gave in and postponed their climb for
another day. Moor air has a way of increasing the appetite at an alarming
rate.
"I am afraid it must be past eleven," said Esther as they gave up the
quest, and sat down to rest before turning homewards. "I wish I had put
on my watch; but I was afraid of losing it."
Esther had a silver watch of her very own, one she had earned for herself.
She had won it as a prize in a competition offered by a magazine the
children took in. Her success had come as a surprise to them all, but
most of all to herself, and the proudest moment of her life had been that
when a carefully sealed-up jeweller's box had come directed to
'Miss E. J. Carroll,' and she had lifted out her prize under the admiring
eyes of Lydia and the children, and the astonished gaze of her mother.
Mrs. Carroll was doubly astonished, firstly because she had not considered
Esther capable, secondly because she had not grasped the fact that Esther
was really seriously competing; but when she saw this proof of her
labours, she made her a present of a pretty silver chain, with two little
silver tassels at the end, and Esther's cup of joy overflowed.
From that moment she would have bodices to her frocks that buttoned up in
front, that she might pass the little silver bar through the buttonhole;
and she set herself to make watch-pockets in all her skirts, which she
managed by cutting slits in them just below the waistband, and sewing to
the slits on the inside little pockets like small bag purses. Lydia
showed her how to do it; and if the work was somewhat rough, and not quite
finished, the pocket answered very well, and we cannot all reach
perfection at once.
But at this moment the precious watch stood on the mantelpiece in the blue
bedroom, on the watch-stand which was another of Esther's treasures.
Lydia had given it to her on one of her birthdays; it was made of white
wood, and had a little view on it of Blackpool, where Lydia had been
spending her holidays. In her shabby, ugly bedroom at home Esther had not
used her precious stand, it was all too dusty and ill-cared for; but here,
where everything was so nice, it was to be given a prominent position.
When the children got home at last, tired and very hungry, they found four
mugs of milk awaiting them, and a tin of biscuits; they found also that
the postman had been with letters. There were none for them; but they
never expected any, and postmen and posts held little interest for them as
a rule. To-day, though, it had brought them something.
"I have heard from your mother, dears," said Cousin Charlotte, "and she
sends you her love, and hopes you have arrived safely."
"Oh, we ought to let her know," cried Penelope, with sudden remorse that
they had none of them thought of doing so before.
"It is all right," said Miss Charlotte consolingly. "I sent her a
telegram last evening, after you came. She knew before Poppy went to bed.
Ephraim took it to Gorley for me. Oh, you don't know Ephraim yet, do you?
He is our handyman. He attends to the garden, and the poultry, and does
all kinds of useful things. But, of course, you want to hear about your
mother, more than about Ephraim. Well, dears, I cannot tell you much, for
I have broken my glasses and cannot read very well. I was waiting for
Esther to come home and be my eyes for me for once. I did make out,
though, that she is very busy, and leaves Framley to-morrow. No, dear,"
to Esther, "I won't ask you to read it now. We will wait till you have
had your lunch. I expect you are all hungry, and there is no great
hurry."
Their milk and biscuits disposed of, Penelope and the two younger ones
sauntered away to the garden. Esther waited. Miss Charlotte took Mrs.
Carroll's letter from a little pile, and handed it to her. Esther, who
was burning with impatience to know if her mother wrote of those things
that were troubling her, began to read at once:
"DEAREST COUSIN CHARLOTTE,
"It is _more_ than good of you to have my four poor children and give
them a _home_. They will be as _happy_ as possible with you, I
_know_. I expect by this time they have reached you. To come to the
_business_ part of our plan, which I know _you dislike_ as much as _I_
do, I am _very_ thankful you can keep them, clothe and educate them,
for the hundred and fifty pounds a year. Their clothes need cost but
_very little_; after all, it does not much matter what _children_ wear
in a country place."
"I have my friends here," Miss Charlotte was thinking, "and I cannot let
my little cousins run about dressed like little tramps."
"While as for their _education_, we need only think of Esther and
Penelope _yet_, and theirs must be of the _simplest_; it matters so
much _less_ for_ girls_ than for _boys_."
"Oh dear, oh dear," thought Miss Charlotte, "what a mistaken notion!"
"Ronald _hopes_ to send more when the children are a little older.
Oh, this _dreadful_ want of money! I have been nearly _distracted_ to
know what to do. _Do_ you mind, dear Cousin Charlotte, if I do not
send you the cheque for this quarter till later on, but keep it for
my own needs, which are _so_ urgent? I _have_ to get _so_ much for
my outfit, and so _many_ things besides, I find I have not nearly
enough money for it all. I _hope_ you do not mind. I am up to _my
eyes_ in work, turning out the house and packing; and to-morrow I go
to stay with friends in the North. I think the change will _brace_
me up for the journey; _I sadly need_ it.
"My love to the chicks and to yourself.
"Your affectionate cousin,"
"MAUDE CARROLL."
For a moment Esther could not lift her eyes from the sheet, they were too
full of bitter tears of mortification. "Oh, why does mother always act
like this," she was crying to herself, "and make people think unkind
things of her? It is cruel of her, too, to leave us like this with a
stranger, and not a penny to pay for it all."
Esther's heart burnt hot with shame as well as anger, for she knew
instinctively that Miss Charlotte Ashe would never see one penny of that
money. She knew, oh, she knew only too well! She had had six years'
experience of debt and trouble and shame, of money being diverted from its
destined use and frittered away and wasted, of tradesmen and servants
continually asking for their money, their threatenings, and all the shifts
and contrivances that had to be resorted to to get a little to satisfy
them for the moment.
The cheque her father had intended for their needs would, she knew, be
frittered away on useless, foolish things; and never, never would her
mother be able to get together so large a sum again, for she would never
tell her husband of the debt; she would not have the courage; it would
mean 'a scene,' and she hated to be scolded. If Miss Charlotte worried
and made continual demands, a sovereign or a few shillings might be sent
to her now and again; but if she were too proud or too kind to ask, she
would never have a penny of it. Esther knew, oh, how well she knew and
understood it all; and how it hurt and humiliated and maddened her,
as she realised their position! Helpless, penniless, homeless, four of
them, and dependent on this gentle little lady, who was neither rich nor
young, and could have no great love for them. They had no claim on her
whatever. Esther could scarcely summon courage sufficient to look up; her
shame and trouble burnt in her eyes and wrung her young heart.
It was a bitter, bitter moment, how bitter Miss Charlotte had no
conception, for she did not know all. But never, throughout the whole of
her life, did Esther lose the memory of that scene, and the shame and
misery which swamped her.
But, though she did not realise Esther's trouble, Miss Charlotte was
greatly troubled too, for she had but a limited income, and to make it
provide for six where it had only been expected to suffice for two was a
matter that required some consideration, and when the extra four were but
scantily supplied with clothes, and had to be provided with education too,
the matter became very serious indeed.
But Miss Charlotte was not one to worry unduly. In the first place she
had been accustomed all her life to facing difficulties, and in the
second, she had too much faith to worry about things.
"The dear Lord has His own plans for us," she would say, "and He will
guide us through if we only have faith and hope." She said it to herself
now, as she tried to put troublesome thoughts into the background.
But poor Esther had as yet none of Miss Charlotte's faith. Troubles to
the young appear so much more appalling than they do in later life,
for they have no experience to look back upon and learn from.
Cousin Charlotte began to perceive, though, that Esther was very troubled
too, seriously troubled. With quick intuition she divined something of
what she was feeling, and her whole heart flew out in sympathy to the
child.
"It will be all right, dear," she said, smiling cheerfully. "We shall do.
Don't let the matter trouble you. We grown-ups will see to it all.
Don't upset yourself, Esther dearest."
The kindness of her words and tone broke down Esther's last powers of
restraint. "But--I can't help it--you didn't want us, you couldn't have,
and--and here we are--so many, filling up your house, and--and costing so
much, and--and--oh, Cousin Charlotte, I am so sorry. We must go away,
go back, we can't stay here--" Esther's voice and manner grew almost
hysterical.
"Oh, but, dear, you must stay, _please_," pleaded Cousin Charlotte gently.
"You would not go away and leave me lonely again, would you, and upset all
my plans and my pleasure, would you? Don't you know that it is a very
great pleasure to me to have you? It is," seeing Esther's look of
incredulity, "I assure you. I love girls of all ages, and I have missed
them terribly here. Never let such a thought trouble you again.
After all, dear, I could not expect to have the money in advance.
I might, you know," smiling, "take it and spend it on myself, and pack you
all up and set you adrift if I had it beforehand. Every one has to earn
their money before they get it. It is about your education and Penelope's
that I am troubled most. Your mother does not mention it. I wanted to
send you to a good school, but if I did it would cost the whole of the
money your father is able to spare for you all, and I think I am hardly
justified in running him into so much expense. I would gladly put out the
money--"
"Oh no, please, you mustn't," cried Esther eagerly. "Please don't,
Cousin Charlotte, you mustn't think of it." Again Cousin Charlotte was
perplexed by her very real distress. "I will teach myself and the others
if I can only have some books, but it mustn't cost you anything."
Miss Ashe would not allow a glimmer of a smile to show in her face or
eyes. "Well, dear," she said gravely, "we will think about it and have
another talk. We cannot settle such a big question in a moment, can we?
At any rate, if you cannot manage the teaching you can help me in other
ways."
"How?" asked Esther eagerly, her whole face brightening. "Oh, I do so
want to help."
But at that moment Anna came in to say Miss Ashe was wanted, and the
conversation had to end.
"Run out and amuse yourself now, dear, and keep an eye on the others,"
said Miss Charlotte, laying a gentle hand on Esther's shoulder with a
little caressing touch. "I am afraid I am leaving the care of them very
much to you, but we shall settle down in time. I hoped to have got
another maid; but well, Anna has lived so long alone now it is a little
difficult to find any one she would live with happily. I want a girl,
too, who would not require high wages. Now run along, dear. I hear Poppy
calling to you," and with the same Miss Charlotte bustled away, and Esther
was left alone.