The Long Vacation - Charlotte Yonge 5 стр.

The carapace of a pagurus, as Fergus translated it. Adding, I dont know the species.

I can find out when father has time to let us look at the big natural history book in the shop, said Felix. We must not look at it unless he turns it over, so Pearl and I are saving up to buy it.

For instance! said his father, laughing.

Oh, I could not help getting something for them all, pleaded the boy, and pagurus was not dear. At least he is, in the other way.

Take care, Felyhe wont stand caresses. I should think he was the first crab ever so embraced.

I wonder you got entrance so early in the day, said Miss Mohun.

The girl was sweeping out the shop, and singing the morning hymn, so sweetly and truly, that it would have attracted me anyway, said Lancelot. No doubt the seafaring men want baccy at all hours. She was much amazed at our request, and called her mother, who came out in remarkable dishabille, and is plainly foreign. I cant think where I have seen such a pair of eyesmost likely in the head of some chorus-singer, indeed the voice had something of the quality. Anyway, she stared at me to the full extent of them.

So Lancelot departed, having put in hand negotiations for a tolerable house not far from St. Andrews Church, and studied the accommodation available for horses, and the powers of the pianos on hire.

CHAPTER VI. ST. ANDREWS ROCK

How does he seem now? said Geraldine, as Lancelot came into the drawing-room of St. Andrews Rock at Rockquay, in the full glare of a cold east windy May evening.

Pretty well fagged out, but that does not greatly matter. I say, Cherry, how will you stand this? Till I saw you in this den, I had no notion how shabby, and dull, and ugly it is.

My dear Lance, if you did but know how refreshing it is to see anything shabby, and dull, and ugly, Mrs. Grinstead answered with imitative inflections, which set Anna Vanderkist off into a fit of laughter, infecting both her uncle and aunt. The former gravely said

If you had only mentioned it in time, I could have gratified you more effectually.

I suppose it is Aunt Cherrys charity, said Anna, recovering. The reflection that but for her the poor natives would never have been able to go to their German baths.

Oh, no such philanthropy, my dear. It is homeliness, or rather homeyness, that is dear to my bourgeoise mind. I was afraid of spick-and-span, sap-green aestheticism, but those curtains have done their own fading in pleasing shades, that good old sofa can be lain upon, and theres a real comfortable crack on that frame; while as to the chiffonier, is not it the marrow of the one Mrs. Froggatt left us, where Wilmet kept all the things in want of mending?

Ah! didnt you shudder when she turned the key? said Lance.

Not knowing what was good for me.

But you will send for some of our things and make it nice, entreated Anna, or Gerald will never stay here.

Never fear; well have it presentable by the vacation. As for Uncle Clement, he would never see whether he was in a hermits cell, if he only had one arm-chair and one print from Raffaelle.

There was a certain arch ring in her voice that had long been absent, and Anna looked joyous as she waited on them both.

I am glad you brought her, said Lance, as she set off with Uncle Clements tea.

Yes, she would not hear of the charms of the season.

So much the better for her. She is a good girl, and will be all the happier down here, as well as better. Theres a whole hive of Merrifields to make merry with her; and, by the bye, Cherry, what should you think of housing a little chap for the school here where Fergus Merrifield is?

Your dear little Felix? Delightful!

Ouf! No, he is booked for our grammar school.

The grammar school was not good for any of you, except the one whom nothing hurt.

It is very different now. I have full confidence in the head, and the tone is improved throughout. Till my boys are ready for a public school I had rather they were among our own people. No, Cherry, I cant do it, I cant give up the delight of him yet; no, I cant, nor lose his little voice out of the choir, and have his music spoilt.

I dont wonder.

I dont think I spoil him. I really have flogged him once, said Lance, half wistfully, half playfully.

How proud you are of it.

It was for maltreating little Joan Vanderkist, though if it had only been her brother, I should have said, Go it, boys. It was not till afterwards that it turned out that Joan was too loyal not to bear the penalty of having tied our little Audrey into a chair to be pelted with horse-chestnuts.

At Adrians bidding?

Of course. I fancy the Harewood boys set him on. And what I thought of was sending Adrian here to be schooled at Mrs. Edgars, boarded by you, mothered by Anna, and altogether saved from being made utterly detestable, as he will inevitably be if he remains to tyrannize over Vale Leston.

Would his mother consent?

You know he is entirely in Clements power.

It would only be another worry for Clement.

He need not have much of him, and I believe he would prefer to have him under his own eye; and Anna will think it bliss to have him, though what it may prove is another question. She will keep you from being too much bothered.

My dear Lance, will you never understand, that as furze and thistles are to a donkey, so are shabbiness and bother to mea native element?

In the morning Clement, raised on his pillows in bed, showed himself highly grateful for the proposal about his youngest ward.

It is very good of you, Cherry, he said. That poor boy has been very much on my mind. This is the way to profit by my enforced leisure.

Thats the way to make me dread him. You were to lie fallow.

Not exactly. I have thirteen or fourteen years reading and thinking to make up. I have done no more than get up a thing cursorily since I left Vale Leston.

You are welcome to read and think, provided it is nothing more recent than St. Chrysostom.

So here is the letter to Alda, giving it to her open.

Short and to the purpose, she said.

Alda submits to the inevitable, he said. Dont appear as if she had a choice.

Only mention the alleviations. No, you are not to get up yet. Theres no place for you to sit in, and the east wind is not greatly mitigated by the sea air. Shall I send Anna to read to you?

In half-an-hour, if she is ready then; meantime, those two books, if you please.

She handed him his Greek Testament and Bishop Andrews, and repaired to the drawing-room, where she found Anna exulting in the decorations brought from home, and the flowers brought in from an itinerant barrow.

I have been setting down what they must send us from homeyour own chair and table, and the Liberty rugs, and the casts of St. Cecilia and little St. Cyrillus for those bare corners, and I am going out for a terra-cotta vase.

Oh, my dear, the room is charming; but dont let us get too dependent on pretty things. They demoralize as much or more than ugly ones.

Do you mean that they are a luxury? Is it not right to try to have everything beautiful?

I dont know, my dear.

Dont know! exclaimed Anna.

Yes, my dear, I really get confused sometimes as to what is mere lust of the eye, and what is regard to whatever things are lovely. I believe the principle is really in each case to try whether the high object or the gratification of the senses should stand first.

Well, said Anna, laughing, I suppose it is a high object not to alienate Gerald, as would certainly be done by the culture of the ugly

Or rather of that which pretends to be the reverse, and is only fashion, said her aunt, who meantime was moving about, adding nameless grace by her touch to all Annas arrangements.

May I send for the things then? said Anna demurely.

Oh yes, certainly; and you had better get the study arm-chair for your uncle. There is nothing so comfortable here. But I have news for you. What do you say to having little Adrian here, to go to school with the Merrifield boy?

What fun! what fun! How delicious! cried the sister, springing about like a child.

I suspected that the person to whom he would give most trouble would feel it most pleasure.

You dont know what a funny, delightful child he is! You didnt see him driving all the little girls in a team four-in-hand.

It would be much to say that Mrs. Grinstead was enchanted by this proof of his charms; but they were interrupted by Marshall, the polite, patronizing butler, bringing in a card. Miss Mohun would be glad to know how Mr. Underwood was, and whether there was anything that she could do for Mrs. Grinstead.

Of course she was asked to come in, and thus they met, the quick, slim, active little spinster, whose whole life had been work, and the far younger widow, whose vocation had been chiefly home-making. Their first silent impressions were

I hope she is not going to be pathetic, and

She is enough to take ones breath away. But I think she has tact.

After a few exchanges of inquiry and answer, Miss Mohun said

My niece Gillian is burning to see you, after all your kindness to her.

I shall be very glad. This is not quite a land of strangers.

I told her I was sure you would not want her to-day.

Thank you. My brother is hardly up to afternoon visitors yet, and we have not been able to arrange his refuge.

You have transformed this room.

Or Anna has.

On which Miss Mohun begged for Miss Vanderkist to meet her nieces by and by at tea. Gillian would call for her at four oclock, and show her the way that it was hoped might soon be quite natural to her.

Gillians Aunt Jane, said Anna, when the visitor had tripped out. I never quite understood her way of talking of her. I think she worried her.

Your pronouns are confused, Annie. Which worried which? Or was it mutual?

On the whole, laughed Anna back, I prefer an aunt to be waited on to one who pokes me up.

Aunt Log to Aunt Stork? To be poked will be wholesome.

In due time there was a ring at the front door; Gillian Merrifield was indulged with a kiss and smile from the heroine of her worship, and Anna found herself in the midst of a garland of bright girls. She was a contrast to them, with her fair Underwood complexion, her short plump Vanderkist figure, and the mourning she still wore for the fatherly Uncle Grinstead; while the Merrifield party were all in different shades of the brunette, and wore bright spring raiment.

They had only just come down the steps when they were greeted by a young clergyman, who said he was on his way to inquire for Mr. Underwood, and as he looked as if he expected a reply from Miss Vanderkist, she said her uncle was better, and would be glad to see Mr. Brownlow when he had rested after his journey.

I hope he will not bother him, she added; I know who he is now. He was at Whittingtonia for a little while, but broke down. Theres no remembering all the curates there. My aunt likes his mother. Does he belong to this St. Andrews Church?

No, to the old one. You begin to see the tower.

Is that where you go?

To the old one in the morning, but we have a dear little old chapel at Clipstone, where Mr. Brownlow comes for the afternoon. It is all a good deal mixed up together.

Then another voice

Do you think Mr. Underwood would preach to us? Mr. Brownlow says he never heard any one like him.

Anna stood still.

Nobody is to dare to mention preaching to Uncle Clement for the next six months, or they will deserve never to hear another sermon in their lives.

What an awful penalty!

For shame, Dolores! Now, as the short remainder of a steep street was surmounted, here, as you may see, is the great hotel, and next beyond is Aunt Janes, Beechcroft. On beyond, where you see that queer tower, is Cliff House, Mr. Whites, who married our Aunt Adeline, only they are in Italy; and then comes Carrara, Captain Hendersons

You are expected to rave about Mrs. Hendersons beauty, said the cousin, Dolores Mohun, as she opened Miss Mohuns gate, between two copper beeches, while Anna listened to the merry tongues, almost bewildered by the chatter, so unlike the seclusion and silent watching of the last month; but when Mysie Merrifield asked, Is it not quite overwhelming? she said

Oh no! it is like being among them all at Vale Leston. My sisters always tell me my tongue wants greasing when I come down.

Her tongue was to have exercise enough among the bevy of damsels who surrounded her in Miss Mohuns drawing-roomfour Merrifields, ranging from twenty-two to twelve years old, and one cousin, Dolores Mohun, with a father in New Zealand.

Wont you be in the Mouse-trap? presently asked number three, by name Valetta.

If I did not know that she would drag it in! cried Dolores.

What may it be? asked Anna.

An essay society and not an essay society, was the lucid answer. Gillian said you would be sure to belong to it.

I am afraid I cant if it takes much time, said Anna in a pleading tone. My uncle is very far from well, and I have a good deal to do in the way of reading to him, and my little brother is coming to go to school with yours.

Mr. Underwood brought his little boy, said Gillian. Fergus said he was one of the jolliest little chaps he had ever seen.

Uncle Reginald quite lost his heart to him, said Mysie, and Aunt Jane says he is a charming little fellow.

Oh, Felix Underwood! said Anna. Adrian is much more manly. You should see him ride and climb trees.

The comparative value of brothers and cousins was very apparent. However, it was fixed that Anna should attend the Mouse-trap, and hear and contribute as she could find time.

I did the Erl King, said Valetta.

Oh, spare us, Val, cried her sister Gillian. Every one has done that.

Gerald parodied mine, said Anna.

Oh, go on.

I cant recollect any more, but the Erl Kings daughter is a beggar-woman, and it ends with

Some of the party were scandalized, others laughed as much or more than the effusion deserved.