MORE VISITORS.
Eleanor did not come to see us again. I suppose her aunt wouldn't
let her even speak to us, as, when we met her in the lanes or in the
town, she always passed us with a nod and a smile.
One Saturday afternoon Martha went to see her mother, who was
suffering from rheumatism, and, being holiday, mother let Milly and
me go with her. Maud stayed at home, as it was too far for her to
walk.
We just went into the cottage whore Nurse Giles, Martha's mother,
lived, for a few minutes, and then Milly and I went outside to wait.
We started running races with Tuts; I got ever so far ahead of Milly,
and, turning a corner quickly, almost ran into somebody coming the
other way. My heart nearly jumped into my mouth when I saw it was
Miss Townley. My hat was hanging behind by the elastic; my hair was
falling over my face; and, on the whole, I looked "as ragged as a
robin," as Martha says.
"I--I--I beg your pardon," I gasped panting, and wishing I were less
untidy.
"I was wondering what wild beast was coming when I heard you
scampering down the lane," she said, with a little smile. "Who are
you, my dear?"
"I am Adelaide Dixon," I said, hoping I was looking better than I had
thought.
"Adelaide Dixon," she repeated slowly. "Do you know how much you are
like your mother?"
"Like mother? Do you know mother?" I asked in surprise.
Miss Townley looked rather confused. "I--I used to," she said at
last.
"She isn't so bad as I thought," I said to myself. "I'll ask her
about Eleanor." Aloud I said--
"Will you let Eleanor come down and see us sometimes, Miss Townley?
I think she is lonely up at the Court by herself."
"Thank you, Adelaide. I will see about it. Good-afternoon;" and she
passed down the lane like a queen. Just after, Milly came running
up; I told her about my meeting with Miss Townley, and as we were
going home she said--
"I am going to ask mother if she will let me ask Eleanor to my
birthday party." Milly's birthday was in July; we always had a party
then. That evening, after Maud had gone to bed, and Martha was
bathing Milly upstairs, I told mother what I had said to Miss
Townley. Father had gone to see a patient, Percy was learning his
lessons in the school-room, so mother and I had the parlour to
ourselves. "Did you ever know Miss Townley, mother?" I asked when I
had finished.
"Yes, dear," she answered, "but it was a long time ago; when I was
very young. I have not spoken to her for many years. The last time
was when Percy was a baby, a few weeks old;" and I felt a tear splash
down on my hand.
"Don't cry, mother dear," I whispered, "or father will be vexed with
me for saying anything about Miss Townley, for it always grieves you."
The next day Milly asked mother if she would mind her asking Eleanor
to her birthday party. Mother said she would ask father and see what
he said.
That week mother received a letter from an old school friend of hers,
who had been living in India for some years, saying that she and her
two children had just arrived in England, and would be pleased to pay
mother a visit, if she could find room for them. Mother wrote to her
at once, begging her to come directly. Her name was Mrs. Emson.
Mother fancied her two children were boys, but did not know how old
they were.
"Can't bear boys about," grumbled Martha, "girls is bad enough,
plenty, but boys, ugh!--they pull and drag everything to pieces."
In the afternoon we went with Miss Cole to pick some elder-flowers.
Martha had a recipe for preparing them to keep and make poultices of.
I was up in a tree that reached rather far out over the road, pulling
down large bunches of flowers, when Miss Townley drove by with a lady
from Moultby. As the carriage passed below, I somehow lost hold of
my armful of flowers, and they fell right into the carriage.
Miss Townley looked up quickly and saw me. She did not seem at all
put out, but her friend looked very angry. I scrambled down; Milly's
first words were--
"However did you manage to do that, Addie?"
"I couldn't help it; they just slipped," said I.
"Well, Addie," said Miss Cole, "you should not climb. I told you
some accident would happen."
"What do you think Miss Townley said?" said Milly. "The lady who was
with her said, 'What a rude child! I really believe she did it
purposely;' and Miss Townley said, 'I shouldn't wonder at all. It
could hardly have been an accident.'"
At that, like a baby, I sat down by the side of the hedge and cried.
Miss Cole told me not to make my eyes red and my face dirty with
crying, but to hurry home and write a note to Miss Townley, telling
her it was an accident, and how sorry I was. This I did, and was
much comforted when Miss Townley sent back a basket of fruit by
Masters, who had taken the note; and went to bed happy, thinking
there wasn't a nicer lady in the world, except, of course, mother.
Mrs. Emson arrived on the following Monday. One of her children was
a boy, Jim; the other was a girl, whose name was Geraldine, but who
was known by the queer-sounding one of Jerry. She was a very odd
girl; I could hardly understand her. Jim was very demure and quiet.
"He's a very nice, quiet little chap," said Martha; "he looks so meek
and gentle, sitting down so nice with his mother. There's no noise
or rattle with him, I can see." It was wet that evening, so we
couldn't go out. We took Jerry and Jim up to the school-room to have
some games. The moment we got inside the door, Jerry said, "This is
a funny house! What queer windows! I don't think they are pretty at
all." I wondered to myself if I should like her; I thought it was
very rude to pass remarks.
[Illustration: Chapter IV headpiece]