UNCLE PETER.
On her way to school Nan made up her mind to a certain course of
action. When she had done so she was full of a sense of relief. She
resolved to tell Augusta what she had determined to do as soon as
possible. And as the two girls generally had the schoolroom to
themselves after early dinner, her opportunity was not far to seek.
On this special day the whole house was more or less in a state of
excitement; the spare room—the best spare room of all, the room which
was called the Blue Room—was being got ready. The housemaids were
busy turning out all the furniture, sweeping and dusting, polishing
and cleaning.
“We never give that room except to some one who is very, very sweet,”
said Nora; “but nothing is good enough for Uncle Peter.”
Mrs. Richmond’s face fairly shone with pleasure, and her little
daughters laughed often for no special reason, the invariable remark
being, “It is only because of Uncle Peter.” But they had gone back to
school, and the midday meal was over, and Nan and Augusta were alone
in the schoolroom. Augusta was seated in a rocking-chair in the
window, Jack curled up in her lap. Jack had long ceased to take any
notice of Nan, and Nan had sorrowfully resigned him to his real
mistress.
“He is my dog no more,” the little girl thought; but the weight on her
heart prevented her feeling the loss of Jack as she otherwise would
have done.
Nan sat at the table, her lesson-books piled up in front of her;
Augusta was buried in a new story-book, and forgot every one but
herself. Presently Nan spoke.
“Augusta,” she said, “I have been thinking.”
“Well?” said Augusta. She put down her book and glanced at Nan.
Nan had a frown between her brows, but notwithstanding this fact her
handsome little face looked very striking.
“She will be far more beautiful than any of us when she is grown-up,”
thought Augusta. “Why should she have such a remarkable face? I hate
her for it.”
“Unless you have something very important to say, please reserve your
conversation until I get to a less fascinating part of my book,” said
Augusta. “The hero is on the eve of proposing to the heroine, and I
cannot make out whether she will accept him or not.”
“That is only a book, and I am real,” was Nan’s answer. “I want to say
something to you.”
“Yes?”
“I have been making up my mind. You know what happened on the day you
came.”
“Oh, that old story over again!” said Augusta. “Well, of course I
know.”
“I cannot forget it.”
“So I see. You certainly have a terribly tender conscience, seeing the
way you abuse it.”
“Oh, you do not know how unhappy I feel! You were surprised when, a
night or two ago, I wanted to see Mr. Pryor. I will tell you what I
did; I do not mind confessing to you. No one would take me, and I ran
there all the way by myself.”
“You did, Nan! You are a daring little piece. Upon my word, there is
something I rather admire about you. I could not be so out and out
wicked—not for anybody.”
“All the same, I think you are wickeder than me, Augusta,” said Nan.
“You do, do you? Well, now, do you think that is a very polite thing
to say, particularly when you have put yourself in my power as you are
doing?”
“I am so much in your power,” replied poor Nan, “that a little more or
a little less does not matter. I did go and see Mr. Pryor.”
“And whoever is this wonderful Mr. Pryor?”
“He is an old gentleman—awfully good.”
“Awfully dull, you mean.”
“No; that he is not. He is not a bit dull; he has always been great
fun. He lived in the house with me and mother, and when mother died he
was so kind! And when mother was ill he often talked to her, and he
told me—— Oh Augusta! please—please listen. He told me that mother
wanted me to be the best girl.”
“Poor thing! it is well that she is out of the world,” said Augusta.
“I know it is, Augusta—I know it is—for I am not a bit good; but Mr.
Pryor wants me to be good, and I went to see him, but—— Oh, well!
never mind; he is gone.”
“What! has he died too?”
“No, he is not dead, but it is as bad as if he were to me. He has gone
to Spain to see his son, who is very ill. I went to visit him all for
nothing.”
“You disobeyed Aunt Jessie for nothing. Certainly you are a nice girl!
Don’t you think you owe something to her?”
“I owe a lot to her. Now, Augusta, I am coming to what I want to say
to you. I want to forget what happened that time, and I want to live
quite straight from this out. I am going to put all the past away from
me, and I want to live straight.”
“What do you mean by straight?”
“Oh! how am I to explain? I want to get in the middle of the road, you
know—always in the middle, never going the least bit to the left or
the right.”
“That sounds very pretty, but the meaning of it is beyond me,” said
Augusta.
“You would understand if you tried to; you are not at all stupid, you
know.”
“Thanks, dear, for the compliment.”
“And I wanted to tell you I am going to keep straight; and as you are
to be here for a year”——
“Ah! I thought the shoe pinched in that direction,” said Augusta, with
a laugh.
“It does, Gussie—it does. I am ever so sorry! I could have loved you,
of course; but I have always been just afraid of you.”
“And you will go on being afraid of me, honey, won’t you?”
“That is what I do not want to be. I want you never, never again to
tempt me to be naughty. Do not tempt me any more, Augusta; that is
what I want to ask.”
“You are a nice girl! I tempt you! What next?”
“Oh! you know you did. You know but for you I would have told all
about Pip. You know but for you—— Oh Augusta! how can you pretend?
You know; you must know.”
“I know you are a very stupid, silly little girl, and that you grow
more troublesome and more silly every day. Why, what is the matter
now?”
“I cannot bear it,” said Nan.
She gave a cry and burst into floods of tears.
Now, this was by no means what Augusta wished. Nan in tears—in
violent tears—was intolerable. She put down her book. She advanced
towards Nan; then she stood still.
She stood absolutely still, staring straight before her; for the door
was open, and a tall young man, with slim and graceful figure, bright
blue eyes, curly hair, and the pleasantest face in the world, was
standing on the threshold.
“I am Uncle Peter,” he said in the gayest of voices. “Is anybody at
home?”
Poor Nan dashed away her tears. The stranger—this delightful uncle of
the little girls—even he was to see her in disgrace and in tears.
Augusta spoke at once.
“I am Augusta Duncan,” she said. “I am no relation of yours, but I do
hope you will take me for a niece too. Aunt Jessie will be so sorry to
miss you! But she will be back again in an hour or two.”
“And this little girl?” said Uncle Peter. He glanced with the kindest
of expressions in his eyes at Nan. “She is a little bit troubled about
something.”
“Nan darling, do cheer up now,” said Augusta; “do, darling—do.”
Augusta went up to Nan and kissed her.
“What a kind—hearted girl!” thought Captain Richmond. “And what a
cross face the little one has! But she seems to be in trouble all the
same.”
“Come!” he said in a pleasant voice; “no one cries when I am by. I
hate tears so much that they never flow when I am in the
neighbourhood. You must cheer up now that I have come to the house.
And is no one else at home? Is there no one to welcome me but a
pretence niece, and the other”——
“Oh! no niece at all—no niece at all,” said poor Nan; “but I wish I
was.”
“Then you shall be; you shall be little niece—— What is your name?”
“Nancy.”
“Little new niece Nancy. Come over here.”
So Nan went to the Captain, and he put his arm round her waist, and
she leant up against him while he chatted to Augusta.
He did not say another word to her, but once he took her little hand
and squeezed it. What was the matter with her? All her sorrows seemed
to go, and all her anxieties to melt into thin air. Augusta was doing
the grown-up young lady, chatting on all sorts of subjects, and Nan
did not speak a word—not even once did she open her lips—but when
Captain Richmond looked down at her she raised her eyes and looked
full at him.
“Cross!” he said to himself; “why, it is one of the dearest little
faces in the world. But who is the poor little one, and why was she so
very sad when I put in my appearance?”
“We must get you tea; you shall have it in the schoolroom,” said
Augusta. “Aunt Jessie will not be in till about six o’clock; you know,
no one expected you until the evening.”
“It is my way always to do the unexpected,” replied Captain Richmond.
“I took an earlier train and got here about six hours before I was
expected. And where are my nieces proper? Why do not they come to
embrace their uncle?”
“They are at school; but, oh! won’t they be delighted? I am afraid
your room is not ready. Nan, go and tell the servants that Captain
Richmond has come. Go at once, dear, and order tea up here.—Do you
greatly mind, Uncle Peter (because I must call you that), having tea
in the schoolroom with us?”
“I should love it,” replied Captain Richmond. “But see, Nan, little
one, that you order a big tea. I want a whole pot of sardines—there
is nothing on earth I love like sardines—and a couple of new-laid
eggs, and toast and cream. Do you understand?”
[Illustration: “Cross!” he said to himself; “why, it is one of the
dearest little faces in the world.”]
“Oh yes,” said Nan, colouring very high; “and may you not have
muffins, don’t you think?”
“I do quite think I might. Now be quick, little woman, and order the
biggest tea cook will send up.”
“He is good,” thought Nan as she went singing down the passage. “He is
nice. He is quite as nice as Kitty said he was; I think he is even
nicer. It is not what he says; it is the look in his eyes. I am sure
he keeps in the middle of the road, and I will—I will keep there
notwithstanding Augusta. Oh! I am glad he has come. He makes me feel
strong. I was so shaky, as if I had no backbone, but I think he will
give it to me—I am sure he will give it to me—and I will keep in the
middle of the road. Oh! he is nice—he is.”
While Nan was away Captain Richmond asked one or two questions about
her of Augusta.
“Who is that dear little mite?” he said. “What a sweet little face she
has!”
“She is a little girl to whom Aunt Jessie is very kind,” replied
Augusta.
“Any one would be kind to her; she looks such a sweet little thing!”
Augusta longed to give some of her true opinions of Nan, but she was
far too astute for this.
“Of course, she is a very nice child,” she said; “and she is greatly
to be pitied.”
“Poor little thing! What was she crying about? Her sobs were so
bitter!”
“She is very sensitive; I was just trying to put a little common-sense
into her.”
“She wants very special treatment,” said Captain Richmond. “I am glad
I have come; I always like children of that sort. She is in deep
black, too.”
“She is in mourning for her mother.”
“Oh! an orphan? Poor little one! Is her father alive?”
“No. I think perhaps, Uncle Peter, you ought to know: dear Aunt Jessie
is supporting her for nothing. Is it not splendid of her?”
“It is the sort of thing my sister-in-law would do,” replied the
Captain; and he gave Augusta a very straight and cold look out of his
eyes. She saw that he did not think the better of her for having made
this speech, and jumped up to get the table ready for tea.
The meal was in full progress; Nan, at Captain Richmond’s special
request, was pouring out cup after cup for his benefit; Augusta was
seated near, with flushed cheeks, entertaining him to the best of her
abilities, when shouts and whoops were heard, and Nora and Kitty
danced into the room.
Then indeed there were high-jinks.
“Oh, for shame! Uncle Pete—oh, for shame! to come
beforehand.—Augusta, how long have you had him?—Nan, is he not
just—just as nice as I said?” These words came from Kitty.
“You really make me blush, Kitty; you must be careful what you say,”
remarked her uncle. “Do not mind her, Nancy; I am a very ordinary
person, with lots of faults.”
“You have not a fault—not one,” said Nora.
“Oh! haven’t I? I will just declare to you now a very big fault of
mine. It is this—I hate being praised.”
The Captain looked as if he meant this, for his bright blue eyes
flashed fire just for an instant, but then they resumed their old
merry expression.
“I have all kind of plans to propose,” he said. “I shall be here for
at least a fortnight, and then I am not going very far away—only as
far as Aldershot—so you will see a good bit of me.”