The Old Pincushion; or Aunt Clotilda's Guests Read online

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  THE OLD PINCUSHION

  OR

  AUNT CLOTILDA'S GUESTS

  'I DON'T BELIEVE YOU CARE ONE BIT.'--(_PAGE_ 9.)]

  THEOLD PINCUSHION

  OR

  _AUNT CLOTILDA'S GUESTS_

  BYMRS. MOLESWORTHAUTHOR OF 'CARROTS,' 'THE PALACE IN THE GARDEN,' ETC.

  _Illustrated By Mrs. Adrian Hope_

  LONDONGRIFFITH FARRAN OKEDEN & WELSHSUCCESSORS TO NEWBERY AND HARRISAND SYDNEY

  TOTHREE DEARTHOUGH UNKNOWNLITTLE FRIENDS

  BERTHAHILDALESLEY

  CONTENTS.

  CHAP. PAGE I. THE LETTER WITH BAD NEWS, 9 II. PHILIPPA'S IDEA, 22 III. AUNT CLOTILDA'S REPLY, 39 IV. AT TY-GWYN, 54 V. A GRAVE PREDICAMENT, 69 VI. THE WHITE HOUSE AT LAST, 84 VII. BREAKFAST IN BED, 102 VIII. NEWS FROM PHILIPPA, 117 IX. THE COTTAGE NEAR THE CREEK, 130 X. A PLAGUE OF FEATHERS, 146 XI. THE PINCUSHION MANUFACTORY, 160 XII. FOUND, 176

  LIST OF FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.

  'I DON'T BELIEVE YOU CARE ONE BIT,' _Frontispiece_ 'LET'S SIT QUIETLY IN THE OLD ARBOUR,' 29 THE AFTER-DINNER PLAY-TIME IN THE GARDEN, 47 'THERE'S YOUR WORK FOR YOU, SO TO SPEAK, MISS,' 61 HE SAT DOWN ON THE FLOOR OF THE CART, AND TOOK KATHIE HALF INTO HIS ARMS, 89 A FIGURE WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY, 97 'IT IS DELICIOUS,' SAID KATHLEEN, 105 'LOOK, IT'S NEVER BEEN POSTED AT ALL!' 123 'WHERE ARE THE CAVES, NEVILLE?' 135 WHAT _WAS_ THE MATTER? 147 THEY FOUND A NOOK ... TO EAT THEIR DINNER IN, 161 'THAT IS ALL,' SAID NEVILLE, 185

  CHAPTER I.

  THE LETTER WITH BAD NEWS.

  Decorative N]

  o, Kathie, I don't believe you care one bit; I really don't,' saidNeville reproachfully.

  Kathie was seated as she loved to be--on the edge of a rather hightable. Her skirts were short and her legs were long; from her presentelevation she could swing the latter about delightfully. She gave theman extra energetic fling before she replied to her brother, and then,trying her best to look concerned and distressed, and only succeeding ingiving to her funny little face an expression of comical demureness, sheturned to Neville,--

  'I do care. You haven't any right to say I don't. If I didn't care formyself, I'd care because you do, and because _they_ do. I'm nota--a--unnatural monster. I'd cry if it was my way, but you know itisn't; and a good thing too. A nice life I'd have had _here_,' withgreat contempt, 'if I'd been a crying child like little Philippa Harley.She's tired everybody out. But what's more, I do care for myself too.I've been looking forward to them coming home, and nice proper holidays,like other children. Yes, indeed, I should just think I had.'

  'Holidays only!' Neville repeated. 'It would have been much better thanholidays--for you, any way. They wouldn't have left you here. I'd havestayed at school, I suppose--boys must; but I don't mind school. I'dlike it very well if I had a home besides.'

  Kathie did not seem to have noticed his last words. A new expression hadcome into her face, as she repeated softly to herself, 'They wouldn'thave left me here. I never thought of that.'

  'You'll begin to care really now, I suppose,' said her brother, ratherbitterly. 'I didn't think you were so selfish.'

  The little girl faced about at that.

  'I'm not selfish--at least, if selfish means only caring about oneselfand not about other people. I don't pretend not to care about myself_too_. I'm one of the people in the world as well as being myself. Ishould care for myself. But I care for others too. I'm sorry for you,and for _them_, though not as sorry as for you, because I know you and Idon't know them. That's natural. I can't pretend to care for them thesame as if I knew them. People who want their children to care a lot forthem shouldn't leave them when they're too little to remember, and neversee them again for years and years.'

  'It isn't much "shouldn't" about it,' the boy replied. 'It's nothing but"can't." Papa and mamma would be only too glad to come home if theycould. I'm sure you might know that, Kathie.'

  'Well, I've been looking forward to their coming as well as you,' saidKathie, rather grumpily. 'I'm sure I've thought about it ever since lastyear, when mamma wrote they'd be _sure_ to come before this next summer.I don't see but what if that hor--' she stopped; 'if that old auntwouldn't leave papa anything else, she might at least have left himmoney enough to come home on a visit, as she had promised to pay it.'

  'Kathie,' said Neville, in a rather awe-struck tone, 'you shouldn'tspeak that way when she is dead.'

  'I don't see any harm in it,' the little girl replied, undauntedly. 'Sheshould have settled things properly, and then we could have felt nicelysorry about her. I don't understand you, Neville--I don't think you'refair to me. First you scold me for not being sorry and not caring, andthen when you've regularly worked me up, you turn upon me for sayingwhat I feel.'

  Neville looked rather at a loss.

  'I don't mean to do that,' he said. 'I suppose the truth is, I'm sodreadfully disappointed that I don't know what to say. But I must begoing, Kathie. I suppose you don't want me to leave you the letter?' andas he spoke he half held out to her an envelope he held in his hand.

  Kathie shook her head.

  'No, you'd better keep it. You'll answer it at once, I suppose. Ishouldn't know what to say. You tell them from me that I'm awfullysorry, and I'll write next week.'

  'And,' Neville went on, 'about writing to Aunt Clotilda? Can't you writeto her, Kathie? Mamma says one of us should.'

  'Well, you'd do it far better than I. I shouldn't like to send itwithout you seeing it first, any way. I don't feel inclined to write toher--I think she's been very stupid--she might have managed better ifshe really cares for them as she makes out.'

  'Kathie!' said Neville--this time with real displeasure in his tone, 'Ido think that's too bad of you. Poor Aunt Clotilda! You see, papa saysshe is almost the most to be pitied of anybody. And there's anotherthing, Kathie: I don't think it's right of you always to speak of papaand mamma as "they" or "them." It's not--not respectful; not as if youcared for them.'

  'Oh, bother!' said Kathie; 'if you're going to begin again about my notcaring, Neville, I just wish you'd go. I'm tired of explaining to you,and--there; _I_ must go. Miss Eccles is sending for me;' and as thefootsteps her quick ears had heard coming along the passage stopped atthe door, Kathleen slid down from the table, and stood erect and demure,as a girl of seventeen or so, with a sharp, dark face looked in.

  'Miss Powys,' she said, 'it is time to get ready for dinner. You must beup-stairs in five minutes;' and so saying, disappeared.

  'Good-bye, Kathie,' said Neville, as he kissed her. 'It was kind of Mr.Fanshaw to let me come, wasn't it? And--oh! I forgot--Mrs. Fanshaw'sgoing to write to Miss Eccles to ask if you may spend next Wednesdaywith us--all day:
that's to say, to come to dinner and stay till theevening. I'm to fetch you walking, and bring you back in a hansom.'

  'That will be _splucious_!' said Kathie, her eyes sparkling. 'Oh! I say,I do hope old Eccles will let me go.'

  A slight look of annoyance crossed the boy's face. He disliked to hearhis little sister talking slang, or any approach to it.

  'Old Eccles!' he repeated. 'I wish you wouldn't say that, Kathie."Splucious" I don't mind--it was our own nursery word.'

  'Neville, you _are_ a prig!' said Kathie. 'However, I'll forgive you inreturn for the good news. Good-bye till Wednesday, and do thank themawfully. I do wish old Eccles was like them.'

  And already, in the prospect of the immediate pleasure, more than halfforgetting the important bad news which her brother had come to tellher, Kathleen flew along the passage, and up-stairs two steps at a time,by way of working off some of her excitement.

  She was only twelve years old, though, to judge by her height, she mighthave been older. But she had the thin, lanky look of a fast-growingchild; there was nothing the least precocious about her.

  'She is such a baby still,' thought Neville, as he made his way soberlyalong the street. 'I suppose she can't help it,' he went on, with avague idea of excusing her to himself for he scarcely knew what. 'But Ido wish, oh! how I do wish they were coming home! Five years more, papasays; five years more it will be. It won't matter for me so much. I'vebeen so fortunate in being with the Fanshaws; and any way, I'd have hadto be going to a big school by now. But for Kathie, she'll be seventeen,and she won't have been with mamma for eleven years. It doesn't seem_right_, somehow. And just now, when everything might have been easy. Ohdear! I wonder why things go wrong when they might just as well goright!'

  Neville Powys was only thirteen and a half, barely eighteen months olderthan Kathleen. But in mind and temperament he was twice her age. And heseemed to himself to have grown years older since that very same morningwhen the Indian mail had brought the letter which had been the reason ofhis visit to his sister.

  It had been a terrible disappointment to him, and he had hoped forthorough sympathy from Kathie. Yet again, perhaps it was well that shehad not taken it to heart so acutely as he. She was less happily placedunder Miss Eccles' trustworthy, but cold and unloving care, than he inthe Fanshaw family. And had she been of a more sensitive or less buoyantnature, she might have been in some ways dwarfed and crushed painfully.But she was strong and elastic; so far, her six years of stiff and primschool life had done her no harm beyond leaving her, in several ways,as much of a 'baby' as when they had first begun. Still, Neville'sinstinct that it was more than time that Kathie should be in otherhands, that the 'womanliness' in her would suffer unless there were somechange, was a correct one.

  'If only Mrs. Fanshaw could have had her too,' he said to himself, as hehad often said before.

  But that he knew was impossible. The Fanshaws had four boys of theirown, and no daughter, which had naturally led to their taking only boyboarders.

  'I don't like to make things worse by writing to mamma that I don'tthink Kathie is improving,' he went on, thinking. 'I know it must bevery difficult for them to pay what they do for us. And Mrs. Fanshawalways says that Miss Eccles' school is far better, though it isold-fashioned and prim, than many of those great, big, fashionable,girls' schools, which cost twice as much.'

  Suddenly a thought struck him.

  'I don't see why I shouldn't write about Kathie to Aunt Clotilda,' hesaid to himself. 'She is free now, even though she's poor. She mightsurely have Kathie with her if papa gave what he does to Miss Eccles.And she's often said she would have had us every holiday if Mrs. Wynnehadn't been so old and queer. I think Aunt Clotilda must be nice--she isso fond of papa. She might at least have Kathie there on a visit.'

  And with a rather more hopeful feeling about things in general sincethis idea had struck him, poor Neville rang at Mr. Fanshaw's door, whichhe had now reached.

  He had met with plenty of sympathy from his kind friends in hisdisappointment. It was Mrs. Fanshaw who had suggested to her husband togive the boy an hour or two's holiday to go off to see his sister,though not an orthodox day for the two meeting, and who had furthermorepromised the invitation which had so delighted Kathleen. But a feelingof loyalty prevented Neville's telling how slightly the bad news seemedto have affected the little girl, and besides this, a sort of instinctthat the less family matters are talked of out of the family the better,made him resolve not to say very much more about the matter in theFanshaw household.

  What the bad news was it is quite time to explain.

  Neville and Kathleen Powys were the children of an officer in the army.Captain Powys was poor, but not without reasonable hopes of becomingmuch richer before his boy and girl should have reached the age at whicheducation and the other many advantages which good parents desire fortheir children, grow expensive and difficult to obtain for those whohave very small means. One disadvantage--a disadvantage at allages--that of separation from their parents, had to be submitted to,however, when Neville and Kathleen were only five and six years old. Forat that time Captain Powys's regiment was ordered to India, and he had,of course, to accompany it.

  'Never mind--or, at least, mind it as little as you can,' he said to hiswife. 'Let us be thankful they are still so young. By the time they areat an age when it really would matter greatly, we may quite hope to besettled at home again.'

  And in this hope the last few years had been passed. It was not anunreasonable hope by any means, as you shall hear. Captain Powys had anold cousin, who was also his godmother, by name Mrs. Wynne. And for manyyears this lady had openly announced her intention of making him herheir. Only last year she had written to beg him to try to get leave tocome home for some months, as she felt she had not long to live, andthere were many things she wished to say to him. She undertook to payall the expenses of this visit for himself and his wife, and the littlegirl Vida, who had been born since their return to India. And as areason the more for it, she reminded him that it was high time Nevilleand Kathleen should see their parents again. Captain Powys, as may beimagined, was only too glad to agree to her proposal, and for the lastfew months the parents in India and the children at home had beencounting the weeks--in Neville's case, indeed, almost the days--tillthey should meet, when, alas! all these plans were dashed to theground!

  Mrs. Wynne died suddenly, and after her death no will was to be found.In consequence of this, all her property would go to a nephew of herhusband's, already a rich man, who did not need it, and, to do himjustice, scarcely cared for it. This was the news which Miss ClotildaPowys, the children's aunt, who had lived with the old lady and helpedto manage her affairs, had to write to her brother in India. And thistoo was the news contained in the letter from his father which had sodistressed poor Neville.

  It was a curious story altogether. Clotilda was completely puzzled. Mrs.Wynne was a careful and methodical person, not likely to have delayedseeing to business matters, and just the sort of woman to have pridedherself on leaving everything in perfect order. And a day or two beforeher death she had given her cousin a sealed envelope, on which waswritten, 'Directions where to find my will;' saying to her at the sametime, 'You will see--all will be right for David.' So Miss Clotilda'smind had been quite at rest, till on opening the envelope, a few hoursafter the old lady's death, she drew forth a blank sheet of note-paper!Even then, however, she was not completely discouraged. That the willwas somewhere in the house she felt certain, for she had often heardMrs. Wynne say that she would trust no important papers to any one'skeeping but her own. And in the presence of the lawyer, Mr. Jones, andof Mr. Wynne-Carr, the nephew, a thorough search was made. Everycupboard, every bookcase, every wardrobe, every chest of drawers wasturned out--nay, more, the walls were tapped, the planks of the floorsexamined, for it was a very old and quaintly contrived house, to see ifthere was any secret place where the will could have been concealed. Butall in vain. Every other paper or document of importance was found in
its place, neatly labelled in the old lady's own handwriting, in herprivate _secretaire_ in the library. But no will! And even though poorMiss Clotilda went on for days and weeks searching, searching, thinkingof nothing else by day, dreaming of nothing else by night, all wasuseless, and it became evident that there would not much longer be anypretext for preventing Mr. Wynne-Carr's taking possession.

  Mr. Wynne-Carr behaved well. He had never expected to succeed, and wasnot eager about it. He could not, however, help himself--he had a sonand grandson--he could not give up the property even if Captain Powyscould have been brought to accept it from him. But he told Miss Clotildato take her time. He gave her leave to stay on in the house as long asshe liked, and to continue searching. But as weeks went on, her lasthopes faded, and she wrote again to her brother, advising him to make uphis mind that the will would never be found. Then Captain Powys wrote toNeville--he had put off doing so as long as he could--telling him all,and saying that even the visit to England must be given up, as he had nomoney to spare for it, and no hopes of gaining anything by it. If MissClotilda had not succeeded in finding the will, there was no chance thatany one else would.

  Neville was old enough, and thoughtful enough, thoroughly to understandthe whole. No wonder he was troubled and distressed, and disappointed byKathie's childishness. He wished his Aunt Clotilda had written to him.It would have made it much easier for him to have confided to her hisfeelings about his sister. It was many years since Miss Clotilda hadseen the children, for she had not left Wales for long, and Mrs. Wynnehad never invited the children to visit her. She was too old for it, shesaid, and she had never had children of her own, and did not understandtheir ways. So Neville and Kathleen had been entirely left to the careof strangers, though Neville had once or twice been asked to spend someholidays at a companion's house, and Kathie was taken every year to theseaside with two other 'little Indians,' for three weeks by Miss Eccles.

  But of real happy home-life neither knew anything, except by hearsay.And Kathleen was not the sort of child to trouble herself much aboutanything which did not actually come in her way.