A COUNCIL OF WAR.
The two days have quickly flown, and the family have all settled down
into their places in the new house, which Honor's and Molly's busy
fingers have rendered not only habitable, but almost comfortable.
Mrs. Merivale plaintively approves of all that has been done, but
soon announces her intention of retiring to her room for the rest of
the day, her nerves, she declares, being quite unequal to the ordeal
of going over the house with the girls. They, poor things! have been
looking forward to this pleasure.
"Never mind," whispers Doris to Honor, "we'll settle mother
comfortably in her room, and then we will all go round together.
What time is tea?"
"O, any time we like to have it! What time is it now, Doris?"
"Four o'clock. Well, let us have it at five; that will give us an
hour to look at everything, and to get tea ready. What fun, getting
tea for ourselves!"
"Yes, all very well at first," says practical Molly, as with hands
clasped behind her she follows her mother and sisters upstairs.
"You'll soon get tired of it, though, and other things too, when it
comes to having to do them whether you like it or not."
Mrs. Merivale is almost enthusiastic--for her--over the arrangements
of her bed-room, which the girls have fitted up with much loving
forethought and care. There is a tiny dressing-room leading out of
the large airy bed-room, into which all ablutionary arrangements have
been banished; while the room itself is fitted up as half sitting-,
half bed-room.
The tears came into the poor woman's eyes as, looking round the room,
she recognizes certain little nick-nacks, which, though valueless in
themselves, are from old associations worth much to their owner.
Even Honor thought there could be no possible harm in collecting
these little possessions when packing for her mother; and so there
are a few favourite books, some pretty photograph-frames, a
work-basket, and other little trifles, which give the room a cheery
and home-like appearance. Although the furniture is of the plainest
description, the room is brightened up and made pretty with dainty
muslin draperies; and the really warm carpet and the thick curtains
at the windows give an air of comfort at once. Indeed the room
presents a marked contrast to those of the girls, with their little
strips of carpet and curtainless windows, and only what is absolutely
necessary in the way of furniture.
Having left their mother comfortably settled in her easy-chair, the
girls and boys all go off on a tour of inspection round the house,
both inside and out, Honor and Molly proudly doing the honours.
"These are no vagrant fowls, bought anywhere, allow me to inform
you," says Molly as the party approach the hen-house; "they came,
every one of them, from the Mortons' own farm at Oakleigh. Don't you
recognize Mr. Pincher? A rare lot of trouble he gave the boys the
other day; but he has settled down pretty well now, I think."
Daisy especially is delighted with this addition to the
establishment, and asks anxiously if she may take the fowls into her
own care. She and Doris, indeed, are both enraptured with all the
arrangements. So far from feeling any dismay at the prospect of
living a totally different life from that to which they have been
accustomed from infancy, their spirits rise, and with the hopefulness
and love of change which are invariably found in youth, they all seem
to look forward to their new life with real pleasure, which is only
damped when they think of the kind and dear father, still so sorely
missed by all at times.
"After all, I think it will be really jolly living in a small house,"
remarks Dick, following the girls into the house again. "One won't
be able to roam about wondering which room to go into; which will be
rather a relief, to _my_ mind. There is the dining-room, and the
drawing-room, and if they won't do, why, one can just sit on the
stairs!"
Unanimous approval of these sentiments is expressed; but as they come
to the end of their peregrinations round the house Doris suddenly
becomes grave, and putting her arm within Honor's as they turn into
the sitting-room for tea, she says:
"Honor, my girl, we must have a good long talk together very soon.
I've no end of messages from aunt, and if I don't deliver them at
once I shall forget half. Shall we hold a council of war when the
children have gone to bed to-night?"
Here Dick begs to be informed if he is expected to consider himself
one of "the children" referred to; but being reassured on this point,
renews his attack on the bread-and-butter with unruffled composure,
while his sisters continue their conversation.
A few hours later Honor looks into the room where Doris is on her
knees before a large trunk, busily unpacking, and says softly, Daisy
being asleep:
"Let us go down, Doris, dear, and have our chat. The fire is out in
the sitting-room, but there's a splendid one in the kitchen, and Jane
won't be there, for mother, feeling a little nervous, said she would
like her to sit beside her with her work. I left Dick and Molly
roasting apples," she adds, "so if we want to have any we had better
look sharp, I expect."
In a few minutes the four young people are comfortably settled round
the fire, Honor in state in the only available chair, the second one
being occupied by Timothy. Doris, having extracted from Molly a
solemn assurance that there is no such thing as a beetle (black) in
the house, establishes herself on the corner of the large
kitchen-fender, while Molly occupies the opposite one, and Dick
perches himself on the table, within easy reach of the plate of
apples.
"Well now, to begin," says Doris, "aunt sent her love, and she was
very glad indeed that you were able to make her cheque do, because,
she says, it shows you _must_ have some ideas of management; and you
know what _that_ means with aunt, and she considers it augurs well
for the future. She says, too, that she thinks we ought to manage
now, with the sum we have yearly, and what we may be able to
earn--for of course I told her, girls, that we should all turn to and
do _something_,--though goodness knows what _I_ am fit for!" Doris
gloomily adds, "However, that's neither here nor there. What was I
saying? Oh yes, about the money! Aunt says--what is, of course,
very true--that she has given us a fair start, and that, unless any
dire calamity should fall upon us, we must not expect her to do
anything more, as she would not like to ask uncle again for a long
time. She wants you to write, Honor, and tell her everything--what
we decide on trying to do, and all that sort of thing, you know; and
she implored me not to forget to ask what wages you are paying Jane;
because, she says, we have no business to keep an expensive servant.
We ought to have some strong girl from the village to do the rough
work, and manage all the rest--cooking and all, mind--among us.
Well, now wait a minute"--for here Molly shows signs of breaking into
the conversation,--"I haven't half finished yet! Aunt has been
talking to me about mother, as well. She has had her own doctor to
see her; and he says that this shock and trouble have really brought
her into a very low and delicate state of health. You know, Honor,
aunt _used_ not to have a spark of patience with mother's nervous
attacks, and headaches, and so on; but she quite astonished me the
other day by suddenly taking hold of my arm and saying: 'Doris, your
mother now is really what she has fancied herself for years past--she
is a delicate woman, and if you and the others are not careful she
will become a confirmed invalid. You are not a child now, and I can
speak openly to both you and Honor, I think." And then aunt went on
to say plainly that it is not in mother's power--she is sure--to take
the management of affairs now; and that _we_ must take all the
trouble and worry on our own shoulders, and not bother her about
money and so on. 'Let her keep quiet, child,' aunt said, 'and give
her little bits of work to do--she likes needle-work, you know; and
you girls must learn to do for yourselves; it will be a good lesson
for you before you get husbands and homes of your own, if you ever
do'" (here Dick laughs softly and derisively), "'and,'" proceeds
Doris with dignity, "'your husbands will thank their stars that they
have got wives who can do something besides eat and sleep, and dress
and make calls!' There--I think I've said everything now; so you can
all talk away as much as you please; I am going to eat apples!"
A slight scuffle here ensues between Doris and Dick, both of whom
have made a simultaneous dash at the largest apple.
Order being restored, Honor begins to unfold the plans which she and
Molly have been making--namely, that she herself means to try and
turn her talent for painting to account; while Molly, after many
misgivings as to her competency to do so, has made up her mind to try
and get pupils for music.
"How do you mean to set about it?" inquires Doris, not without a
certain spice of incredulity in her voice.
"Oh, we've settled that--Honor and I!" answers Molly, stirring the
fire energetically. "We have the nicest landlords--the dearest old
fellows in the world--and they are most anxious to do anything for us
that we will let them do. In fact," concludes Molly, "they would
jump over the moon, willingly, I am sure, if they thought it would do
us the least little bit of good!"
"Molly!" exclaims Honor. "But she is right, to a certain extent;
they are the _kindest_ old gentlemen. And they knew father at
school, you know, only as quite a small boy; but they make so much of
this, and have been, oh, so kind to us! We must take Doris and Daisy
to see them, Molly. We promised we would; they are most anxious to
make your acquaintance."
"When you have quite finished, Honor, I'll go on with what _I_ was
saying," says Molly in an aggrieved tone; adding, "We mean, Doris, to
consult these old gentlemen. They know every one about the place, of
course; and surely there must be some children wanting the very
superior musical education that _I_ can give them--a-hem! Then they
are already tremendous admirers of Honor's drawings; I saw them
nodding their old heads over that little village scene of hers the
other day, and Mr. Ned said, 'Excellent! admirable! so true to
nature--is it not, Brother Ben?' And Brother Ben answered, 'Surely!
surely!' as he always does, you know."
"It's all very well for you, girls," suddenly breaks in Dick, who,
having finished the last apple, finds leisure now for putting in a
word, "but no one seems to consider _me_ in any way. I suppose _I_
should like to do something to help also."
"Well, so you can. There will be heaps of things to do about the
house that you could easily manage; and that would be really a help,"
says Doris.
"I don't mean that sort of thing," answers the boy testily. "If you
girls are going to work and make money, I must say I should like to
do the same. And I would too--only the worst of it is I haven't half
finished my schooling yet;" and Dick breaks off with a sigh.
"Poor Dick'" says Honor, taking his hand in hers, "I have been
thinking so much about that, and what is best to be done. Bobby's
and Daisy's education we can easily carry on among us, and I shall
keep Molly up to her French, and teach her the little German I know;
but what we are to do about Dick, I don't know, girls. I do know a
good bit of Latin, but I daresay he knows as much as I do. Oh, how I
wish Uncle John had offered to keep him at Marlborough--if only for
another year! he might have done much in that time."
"Well, don't you worry about me, girls," says the boy, looking up
with a flushed face; "I daresay I shall get along somehow."
"Well now," says Doris, "I want to know all about the Horton boys.
Were they really of much use in the moving? and is Hugh reading hard
now? Oh, and that reminds me!" she cries, without waiting for
answers to her questions, "Colonel and Mrs. Danvers called while we
were at aunt's to say good-bye; they start for India in a week's
time. The colonel told me to tell you both how sorry he is not to
see you before leaving; and he begged me to say to you especially,
Molly, that if Hugh is ordered to the same part of the country when
he goes out he will keep an eye on him."
Molly, with a lingering remembrance of "the maiden-all-forlorn"
episode, tosses her head with a slightly heightened colour, but takes
no notice of the message otherwise. There is rather a long pause;
then Doris, clasping her hands behind her head and leaning back
against Honor's knees, says:
"How good every one has been to us in all this trouble! If it were
not for the loss of dear father, the rest would have been almost
worth going through if only for those proofs of real friendship which
have been shown us--by Sir Peter and others--to say nothing of aunt's
and Uncle John's kindness in starting us afresh."
"Yes," says Honor musingly, "we have indeed been fortunate. Who
would have thought that the dear old piano would ever he ours again!
and how glad dear father would be if he could know that some of his
favourite pictures were hanging on these walls! That was such a kind
thought of Colonel Danvers."
"Yes; it touched mother very much; and so did the Hortons'
kindness--I don't know what you girls would have done without them.
It's all very well for people to talk about the world being hard and
cold; but to _my_ thinking it's a very pleasant world, with lots of
kind-hearted people in it."
Molly shakes her head dubiously.
"It has certainly been the case so far," she says, "but we don't know
what is in store for us; we are none of us very old yet!"
"Well, you _are_ a Job's comforter!" cries Doris, getting up and
shaking herself. "I think after that we had all better shut up and
retire to bed--don't you, Honor? We had better get all the sleep and
strength we can before we are all hurled into this sea of trouble
which Molly apparently descries looming in the distance! Hallo!
here's Dick asleep! Wake up, my boy, wake up!--we're all off to
bed!" and Doris administers sundry little sisterly pullings and
pinchings, which eventually arouse Dick sufficiently to enable him
lazily to follow his sisters up the stairs to bed.