"TRIS" COMES TO SEE US.
When Miss Cole came up the next day, she told us that the name of the
lady at Neesby Court was Townley,--Miss Townley,--and that the little
girl was her niece, not her daughter, as we had supposed.
When we told mother, she said she had known it all along; but she
didn't seem to care much about talking about them, nor to hear much
of them, so we made up stories about them between ourselves, giving
the little girl the fanciful name of Tris.
We had picked up a leaf from a book, one day just before, and had
seen Tris there, and we thought at that time it was the dearest name
in the world. We used to see her going for walks with her governess,
who lived at the Court, and for drives with her aunt, and we wondered
if her father and mother were dead, or where they were.
Miss Townley had been in Neesby four or five weeks when Percy asked
mother one day if we couldn't have a picnic out on Moultby Common, on
the following Saturday. Moultby was a good-sized market town about
ten miles from Neesby, and the Common was about half-way between the
two places, and a very jolly picnic ground. Whenever we went there,
we used to borrow a donkey-cart of an old woman, who sold vegetables
and fruit. Her donkey was a very quiet creature, called Ned. He
would sometimes stand quite still for laziness; and as he had never
been known to fall, father used to let Milly and me drive him; so you
may think how excited we were when mother said we might go for a
picnic, if we would promise to be good.
On Saturday morning, about ten o'clock, Grannie Smith's donkey-cart
arrived; Milly, Maud, Percy, myself, and several baskets of eatables,
started at once, after mother had settled that Percy was to drive as
far as a certain turning in the road; then I might take the reins and
drive to a pond of water, where Ned must stop to drink; and Milly
might drive the rest of the way. Mother and father would drive out
and join us in the evening.
Miss Cole was going with us: she was walking on in front; for though
she didn't mind riding in the donkey-cart when nobody could see her,
she didn't care to ride through the town. As we passed the gates of
Neesby Court a carriage was just coming out. In it were seated Miss
Townley and her niece. "Tris" turned to look at us as we, a happy,
laughing party, passed. Her aunt spoke quite crossly to her, and
told her to sit still and not turn round; which poor "Tris" did, with
a very red face.
"How mean of Miss Townley," broke out Milly, almost before the
carriage had got beyond hearing distance. "I daresay the poor little
thing was wishing she had some brothers and sisters to play with her.
I don't like that Miss Townley, but I should like to make friends
with 'Tris.'"
"Tris!" scornfully said Percy; "you won't be able to make friends
with 'Tris,' as you call her, because she's never out without her
governess, and that dear creature looks as cross as two sticks."
Here we overtook Miss Cole, and we soon forgot both "Tris" and her
troubles in deciding what games we should play. We had a splendid
time. We played every game we knew; we ate every particle of food we
brought with us; and were very glad when father and mother came. We
sat down on the grass by father, and he told us one of his nice
tales. This one was about a man who sold his poor old horse to a
company of gipsies for ten pounds, and went to a fair next day to buy
a new one.
There he saw a nice one that quite took his fancy, with two white
legs, and a white streak down the middle of his face; so he bought
him for twenty pounds. When he got home he called to his wife to
come and see this fine new horse. Directly she saw him the old woman
cried out, "Why, Sam! 'tis our own old horse come back;" and so it
was. The gipsies had painted his face and two of his legs, so that
the old man did not know his horse; and he paid twenty pounds for the
same one that he had sold the day before for ten pounds.
Miss Cole drove home in the victoria with father and mother; we went
along in the donkey-cart. Percy drove all the way. Maud fell asleep
in the bottom of the cart; Milly and I were too tired even to talk.
We met "Tris" again, and she looked at us in her sad little way. She
was with her governess this time; so Milly and I nodded to her; she
smiled back and looked so pleased.
Two or three days later, Milly and Maud and I were playing in the
garden. Wo were putting Tuts into a doll's dress, and he was kicking
and trying to bite it off. At last, after a good deal of struggling
and laughter, we got the dress on, tied a bonnet on his head, and
Maud took one paw and I took the other, and we went to call on Milly,
who was keeping house under a tree near the gate.
As we walked on I heard a soft laugh, and looking up I saw "Tris"
looking in at us. She coloured up when she saw me, and said, "I beg
your pardon, but your dog looked so funny I couldn't help watching
you."
Milly jumped up from her seat under the tree, came over, and opened
the gate. "Good-afternoon," she said in her quaint, old-fashioned
way; "will you come in?" "Tris" looked as though she would like to,
but did not know if she might. She was with one of the
maid-servants, not her governess. The girl said--
"If you would like to stop here while I do my errands, I will call
for you as I come back." So then "Tris" came into the garden and
tried to pat Tuts' head, under the bonnet.
"What a dear little dog! What is he called?" she asked shyly.
"His name's Tuts," said Maud, untying the bonnet-strings.
"Tris" looked up at me. "Will you tell me your names? I don't know
them."
"My name is Adelaide Jane, but I'm always called Addie. Don't you
think Jane is very ugly?"
"But then," she answered smiling, "Adelaide is very pretty."
"Do you think so?" I said. "This is our baby, Helen Maud. Helen is
after mother; we always call her Maud."
Milly introduced herself. "I'm Milly, or rather, Millicent Mary.
Mary is after my grandmother. What is your name?"
"I'm called after my grandmother too. Her name was Mary. I'm
Eleanor Mary."
"Eleanor!" said Milly, with a long breath; "oh--that is a pretty
name!"
After this we chatted away nicely; we took Eleanor round to see the
chickens, and let her peep at Percy's bicycle through the greenhouse
door. "Uncle Dick--that's father's brother; he's a clergyman--gave
that one to Percy," explained Milly. "Percy's very proud of it; he
can ride nicely. He takes care of it himself." Milly showed our
visitor her garden, where mustard and cress had taken the place of
radishes.
Eleanor was delighted with all she saw; and we, in turn, were
delighted with her. She was so charming and sweet, and did not give
herself any airs, to make us know she was richer than we were. As we
were passing the hall door, mother was just coming out; she started
when she saw Eleanor, and turned first red, then white.
"This is mother, Eleanor," I said; "mother, this is Eleanor Townley,
and she is more than twelve."
Mother smiled and said, "How do you do, dear," and bent down and
kissed Eleanor. I saw the tears in Eleanor's eyes; she told us, when
mother had gone, that her mother had died when she was a baby, just
able to walk, and her father, who was a soldier, died when she was
seven,--"now," she said sadly, "I've only Aunt Esther left."
"Haven't you any other aunts, or an uncle, or some cousins, or
somebody?" I asked.
"I don't think I have any cousins or uncles, but I can just remember
that father used to tell me about Aunt Nelly; but I think she is dead
now, too. Once I asked Aunt Esther about her, but she was very angry
and told me never to mention her again. Father said he was very fond
of her, and if he had known where she lived he would have sent me to
her, and not to Aunt Esther. I wish I knew if she were really dead;
I do so want somebody to love me. Aunt Esther doesn't seem to have
much love for anyone."
We kissed her and comforted her, telling her we would always love
her, and that she must come down and see us whenever she could; we
would always be pleased to see her. She thanked us very much, and
said she would, if her aunt would let her. By that time the maid had
finished her errands and was waiting; so Eleanor kissed us good-bye
and went away, waving her hand to us as she turned the corner.
Mother was very interested in all we told her of Eleanor's father and
mother; she seemed very much touched at that part about her Aunt
Nelly, and almost cried: but father's voice was heard at just the
right minute, telling us to make haste and get ready, and he would
take us for a long drive.
[Illustration: Chapter II tailpiece]
[Illustration: Chapter III headpiece]