Nurse Heatherdale's Story Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  A RAINY DAY

  That lovely weather lasted on for about a fortnight without a break, andmany a pleasant ramble we had, for though lessons began again, MissKirstin always left immediately after luncheon, which was the children'sdinner, for the three elder ones always joined Sir Hulbert and my ladyin the dining-room.

  Two afternoons in the week, as I think I have said, Master Francis andMiss Bess had Latin lessons from Sir Hulbert. Miss Bess, by allaccounts, did not take very kindly to the Latin grammar, and but forMaster Francis helping her--many a time indeed sitting up after his ownlessons were done to set hers right--she would often have got intotrouble with her papa. For indulgent as he was, Sir Hulbert could bestrict when strictness was called for.

  Miss Bess was a curious mixture; to see her and hear her talk you'd havethought her twice as clever as Miss Lally, and so in some ways she was.But when it came to book learning, it was a different story. TeachingMiss Lally--and I had something to do with her in this way, for I usedto hear over the lessons she was getting ready for Miss Kirstin--wasreally like running along a smooth road, the child was so eager andattentive, never losing a word of what was said to her. Miss Bess usedto say that her sister had a splendid memory by nature. But in my longlife I've watched and thought about some things a great deal, and itseems to me that a good memory has to do with our own trying, more thansome people would say,--above all, with the habit of really givingattention to whatever you're doing. And this habit Miss Bess had notbeen taught to train herself to; and being a lively impulsive child, nodoubt it came a little harder to her.

  A dear child she was, all the same. Looking back upon those days, Iwould find it hard to say which of them all seemed nearest my heart.

  The days of the Latin lessons we generally had a short walk in themorning, as well as one after tea, so as to suit Sir Hulbert's time inthe afternoon; and those afternoons were Miss Lally's great time forher knitting, which she was determined to keep a secret till she hadmade some progress in it and finished her first pair of socks. How shedid work at it, poor dear! Her little face all puckered up withearnestness, her little hot hands grasping the needles, as if she wouldnever let them go. And she mastered it really wonderfully, consideringshe was not yet six years old!

  She had more time for it after a bit, for the beautiful hot summerweather changed, as it often does, about the middle of July, and we hadtwo or three weeks of almost constant rain. Thanks to her knitting, MissLally took this quite cheerfully, and if poor Master Francis had beenleft in peace, we should have had no grumbling from him either. A bookand a quiet corner was all he asked, and though he said nothing aboutit, I think he was glad now and then of a rest from the long walks whichmy lady thought the right thing, whenever the weather was at all fit forgoing out. But dear, dear! how Miss Bess did tease and worry sometimes!She was a strong child, and needed plenty of exercise to keep hercontent.

  I remember one day, when things really came to a point with her, and,strangely enough,--it is curious on looking back to see the thread, likea road winding along a hill, sometimes lost to view and sometimes clearagain, unbroken through all, leading from little things to big, in a wayone could never have pictured,--strangely enough, as I was saying, thetrifling events of that very afternoon were the beginning of much thatchanged the whole life at Treluan.

  It was raining that afternoon, not so very heavily, but in a steadyhopeless way, rather depressing to the spirits, I must allow. It was nota Latin day--I think some of us wished it had been!

  'Now, Bess!' said Master Francis, when the three children came up fromtheir dinner, 'before we do anything else'--there had been a talk of agame of 'hide-and-seek,' or 'I spy,' to cheer them up a bit--'before wedo anything else, let's get our Latin done, or part of it, any way, aslong as we remember what uncle corrected yesterday, and then we'll feelcomfortable for the afternoon.'

  'Very well,' said Miss Bess, though her voice was not very encouraging.

  She was standing by the window, staring out at the close-falling rain,and as she spoke she moved slowly towards the table, where MasterFrancis was already spreading out the books.

  'I don't think it's a good plan to begin lessons the very moment we'vefinished our dinner,' she added.

  'It isn't the very minute after,' put in Miss Lally, not very wisely.'You forget, Queen, we went into the 'servatory with mamma, while shecut some flowers, for ever so long.'

  Being put in the wrong didn't sweeten Miss Bess's temper.

  ''Servatory--you baby!' said she. 'Nurse, can't you teach Lally to spell"Constantinople"?'

  Miss Lally's face puckered up, and she came close to me.

  'Nursie,' she whispered, 'may I go into the other room with my knitting;I'm sure Queen is going to tease me.'

  I nodded my head. I used to give her leave sometimes to go into thenight nursery by herself, when she was likely to be disturbed at herwork, and that generally by Miss Bess. For though Master Franciscouldn't have but seen she had some secret from him, he was far too kindand sensible to seem to notice it. Whereas Miss Bess, who had beentaken into her confidence, never got into a contrary humour withoutteasing the poor child by hints about stockings, or wool, or something.And the contrary humour was on her this afternoon, I saw well.

  'Now, Bess, begin, do!' said Master Francis. 'These are the words wehave to copy out and learn. I'll read them over, and then we can writethem out and hear each other.'

  He did as he said, but it was precious little attention he got from hiscousin, though it was some time before he found it out. Looking up, hesaw that she had dressed up one hand in her handkerchief, like an oldman in a nightcap, and at every word poor Master Francis said, made himgravely bow. It was all I could do to keep from laughing, though Ipretended not to see.

  'O Bess!' said the boy reproachfully, 'I don't believe you've beenlistening a bit.'

  'Well, never mind if I haven't. I'd forget it all by to-morrow morninganyway. Show me the words, and I'll write them out.'

  She leant across him to get the book, and in so doing upset the ink. Thebottle was not very full, so not much damage would have been done ifMaster Francis's exercise-book had not been lying open just in the way.

  'Oh! Bess,' he cried in great distress. 'Just look. It was such a longexercise and I had copied it out so neatly, and you know uncle hatesblots and untidiness.'

  Miss Bess looked very sorry.

  'I'll tell papa it was my fault,' she said. But Master Francis shook hishead.

  'I must copy it out again,' I heard him say in a low voice, with a sigh,as he pushed it away and gave his attention to his cousin and the wordsshe had to learn.

  She was quieter after that, for a while, and in half an hour or soMaster Francis let her go. He set to work at his unlucky exercise again,and seeing this, should really have sobered Miss Bess. But she was in aqueer humour that afternoon, it only seemed to make her more fidgety.

  'You really needn't do it,' she said to Master Francis crossly. 'I toldyou I'd explain it to papa.' But the boy shook his head. He'd have takenany amount of trouble rather than risk vexing his uncle.

  'It was partly my own fault for leaving it about,' he said gently,which only seemed to provoke Miss Bess more.

  'You do so like to make yourself a martyr. It's quite true what mammasays,' she added in a lower voice, which I did think unkind.

  But in some humours children are best left alone for the time, so I tookno notice.

  Miss Bess returned to her former place in the window. Miss Baby wascontentedly setting out her doll's tea-things on the rug in front of thefire,--at Treluan even in the summer one needs a little fire when therecomes a spell of rainy weather. Miss Bess glanced at her, but didn'tseem to think she'd find any amusement there. Miss Baby was too young tobe fair game for teasing.

  'What's Lally doing?' she said suddenly, turning to me. 'Has she hiddenherself as usual? I hate secrets. They make people so tiresome. I'lljust go and tell her she'd better come in here.'

&nbs
p; She turned, as she spoke, to the night nursery.

  'Now, Miss Bess, my dear,' I couldn't help saying, 'do not tease thepoor child. I'll tell you what you might do. Get one of your prettybooks and read aloud a nice story to Miss Lally in the other room, tillMaster Francis is ready for a game.'

  'I've read all our books hundreds of times. I'll tell her a storyinstead!' she replied.

  'That would be very nice,' I could not but say, though something in herway of speaking made me feel a little doubtful, as Miss Bess opened thenight nursery door and closed it behind her carefully.

  For a few minutes we were at peace. No sound to be heard, except thescratching of Master Francis's busy pen and Miss Augusta's pressinginvitations to the dollies to have--'thome more tea'--or--'a bit of thisbootiful cake,' and I began to hope that in her quiet way Miss Lally hadsmoothed down her elder sister, when suddenly--dear, dear! my heart didleap into my mouth--there came from the next room the most terriblescreams and roars that ever I have heard all the long years I have beenin the nursery!

  'Goodness gracious!' I cried, 'what can be the matter. There's no firein there!' and I rushed towards the door.

  To my surprise Master Francis and Miss Baby remained quite composed.

  'It's only Lally,' said the boy. 'She does scream like that sometimes,though she hasn't done it for a good while now. I daresay it's only Besspulling her hair a little.'

  It was not even that. When I opened the door, Miss Bess, who wasstanding by her sister--Miss Lally still roaring, though not quite soloudly--looked up quietly.

  'I've been telling her stories, nurse,' she said. 'But she doesn't likethem at all.'

  Miss Lally ran to me sobbing. I couldn't but feel sorry for her, as sheclung to me, and yet I was provoked, thinking it really too bad to havehad such a fright for nothing at all.

  'Queen has been telling me such _howid_ things,' she said among hertears, as she calmed down a little. 'She said it was going to be such apretty story and it was all about a little girl, who wasn't a littlegirl, weally. They tied her sleeves with green ribbons, afore she waschristened, and so the naughty fairies stealed her away and left a howidsquealing pertence little girl instead. And it was just, _just_ like me,and, Queen says, they _did_ tie me in green ribbons. She knows they did,she can 'amember;' and here her cries began again. 'And Queen says'praps I'll never come right again, and I can't bear to be a pertencelittle girl. Queen told it me once before, but I'd forgot, and now it'sall come back.'

  She buried her face on my shoulder. I had sat down and taken her on myknees, and I could feel her all shaking and quivering, though through itall she still clutched her knitting and the four needles.

  'Miss Bess,' I said, in a voice I don't think I had yet used since I hadbeen with them, 'I _am_ surprised at you! Come away with me, my dear,' Isaid to Miss Lally. 'Come into the other room. Miss Bess will stay heretill such time as she can promise to behave better, both to you andMaster Francis.'

  Miss Bess had turned away when I began to speak, and I think she hadfelt ashamed. But my word about Master Francis had been a mistake.

  'You needn't scold me about spilling the ink on Francis's book!' shesaid angrily. 'You know that was an accident.'

  'There's accidents and accidents,' I replied, which I know wasn't wise;but the child had tried my temper too, I won't deny.

  I took Miss Lally into a corner of the day nursery and talked to her ina low voice, not to disturb Master Francis, who was still busy writing.

  'My dear,' I said, 'so far as I can put a stop to it, I won't have MissBess teasing you, but all the same I can't have you screaming in thatterrible way for really nothing at all. Your own sense might tell youthat there's no such things as fairies changing babies in that way. MissBess only said it to tease.'

  She was still sobbing, but all the same she had not forgotten to wrap upher precious knitting in her little apron, so that her cousin shouldn'tcatch sight of it, and her heart was already softening to her sister.

  'Queen didn't mean to make me cry,' she said. 'But I can't bear thatstory; nobody would love me if I was only a pertence little girl.'

  'But you're not that, my dear; you're a very real little girl,' I said.'You're your papa's and mamma's dear little daughter and God's ownchild. That's what your christening meant.'

  Miss Lally's sobs stopped.

  'I forgot about that,' she said very gravely, seeming to find greatcomfort in the thought. 'If I had been a pertence little girl, Icouldn't have been took to church like Baby was. Could I? And I know Iwas, for I have got godfather and godmother and a silver mug wif my nameon.'

  'And better things than that, thank God, as you'll soon begin tounderstand, my dear Miss Lally,' I answered, as she held up her littleface to be kissed.

  'May I go back to Queen now?' she asked, but I don't think she wasaltogether sorry when I shook my head.

  'Not just yet, my dear, I think,' I replied.

  'Only where am I to do my knitting?' she whispered. 'I can't do it here;Francie would be sure to see,' and the corners of her mouth began to godown again. 'Oh! I know,' she went on in another moment, brightening up.'I could work so nicely in the attic, there's a little seat in thecorner, by the window, where Francie and I used to go sometimes whenSharp told us to get out of the way.'

  'Wouldn't you be cold, my dear,' I said doubtfully. But I was anxious toplease her, so I fetched a little shawl for her and we went up togetherto the attic.

  It did not feel chilly, and the corner by the window--the kind they calla 'storm window,' with a sort of little separate roof of its own--wasvery cosy. You have a peep of the sea from that window too.

  'Isn't it a good plan?' said Miss Lally joyfully. 'I can knit here _so_nicely, and I have been getting on so well this afternoon. There's nostitches dropped, not one, nursie. Mightn't I come here every day?'

  'We'll see, my dear,' I said, thinking to myself that it might really begood for her--being a nervous child, and excitable too, for all sheseemed so quiet--to be at peace and undisturbed now and then by herself.'We'll see, only you must come downstairs at once if you feel cold orchilly.'

  I looked round me as I was leaving the attic. There was a big cupboard,or closet rather, at the end near the door. Miss Lally's window was atthis end too. The closet door stood half open, but it seemed empty.

  'That's where we wait when we're playing "I spy" up here,' said MissLally. 'Mouses live in that cupboard. We've seen them running out oftheir holes; but I like mouses, they've such dear bright eyes and longtails.'

  I can't say that I agreed with Miss Lally's tastes. Mice are creaturesI've never been able to take to, still they'd do her no harm, that wascertain, so seeing her quite happy at her work I went down to thenursery again.