The Old Pincushion; or, Aunt Clotilda's Guests

  CHAPTER III.

  AUNT CLOTILDA'S REPLY.

  Decorative W]

  ednesday came in due course, and as Mrs. Fanshaw's invitation had beenreceived, and graciously accepted by Miss Eccles for Kathleen, the younglady was ready and waiting when her brother called for her.

  'Good-bye, Kathie darling,' whispered a little voice over the balusters,'and don't forget.'

  'No, dear, and good-bye,' Kathleen replied.

  'Who was that on the stairs?' Neville asked, when the two were makingtheir way down the street.

  'Philippa--Philippa Harley,' Kathie answered.

  'The little girl who cries so?' inquired Neville.

  'Oh, she's rather left off crying. She's very sensible in some ways,'said Kathleen.

  '_That's_ sensible,' said Neville. 'Still I don't know that I don't likeher for having cried a good deal. I like people to _mind_ things.'

  He spoke quite naturally, but Kathleen was rather porcupinish on thissubject. She stood quite still, and faced round upon her brother.Fortunately the street was not at all a crowded one.

  'Now, Neville,' she said, 'I'm not going to have you go on again likethat about my not caring. I know it's that you mean, and I just won'thave it. I care a great deal more than if I sat down and cried aboutit.'

  Neville stared at her.

  'Kathie,' he said, 'I wasn't thinking about you when I said that. Iwasn't indeed. I know you do care when you really think about things.And if you didn't, it wouldn't in a way be your fault. You've been soalone as it were; nobody except me, and we've not been much togetherafter all, to talk about home things to. But don't be vexed with me,Kathie.'

  Kathleen's face had softened while Neville spoke. She turned and walkedon quietly beside him.

  'Yes,' she said, 'it's true what you say. I've felt it still more sincePhilippa's been there. She's been so much with her mother, and she is sofond of her. It must be dreadfully nice to have a mother you know sowell that you can love her like that. Neville,' she went on, 'it doesseem hard that I should just be getting to feel more like you about it,when there's no chance of them coming home, and our being with them.'

  Neville sighed.

  'Yes,' he said, 'it does seem hard. All the same, Kathie, I'm very gladyou're getting to feel more that way. Philippa must be a nice littlegirl.'

  'She's a _very_ nice little girl,' said Kathie heartily. 'Butshe's funny--she's such a queer mixture of babyishness andold-for-her-age-ness.'

  And then, as her own words recalled some of her conversation withPhilippa, she suddenly exclaimed--

  'Neville, are you sure, quite sure, that there's no chance of thingscoming right for papa?'

  'What do you mean?' asked Neville in surprise.

  'Do you think there's no chance of the will ever being found--or thepaper telling where it is? The paper that should have been in theenvelope?'

  'I should think _that's_ the least likely thing of all--a little sheetof paper! A will's rather a big thing--at least, generally. Mr. Fanshawsays it's written on parchment, and that even a short will is rather abulky thing. That's why it seems so queer it should be lost. But the bitof paper could easily have been lost. Aunt Clotilda thinks that theblank bit was put in by mistake, you know, so most likely the right bitwas torn up long ago. Mrs. Wynne was getting a little blind.'

  'Still,' persisted Kathleen, 'as the _will_ can't be found, _I_ thinkthey should have a hunt for the paper. You see, if the will's rather abig thing, it's pretty sure they'd have found it unless it had beenreally hidden. And, besides, Mrs. Wynne's meaning to leave directionswhere to find it, shows it wasn't anywhere to be found easily.'

  'Yes, of course,' said Neville, surprised at Kathleen's reasoningpowers.

  'Well then,' she went on, 'I'd look for the paper. It might be in everso many places where the _will_ couldn't be. I wonder if they've huntedthrough Mrs. Wynne's desk and blotting books, and places like that?'

  'I wonder too,' said Neville. 'But they'd only laugh at us if we saidanything, you see, Kathie, because we're children.'

  'Yes,' Kathleen agreed. 'People are very stupid about children, often.'

  Neville did not answer for a moment. Then, 'Kathie,' he said halfhesitatingly.

  'Well.'

  'I think I'll tell you something'--but he was interrupted. They had gotinto a crowded part by this time, and Neville had to catch hold ofKathleen and make a sudden rush for it, to avoid being knocked down byan unexpected hansom appearing round a corner which they had not beenobserving. 'There now,' Neville went on, 'it would have been very niceif I had got you run over, Kathie. We mustn't talk where it's socrowded. Wait till we get into Mayhew Street.'

  But when they reached Mayhew Street, at the farther end of which wasNeville's present home, they were overtaken by Mr. Fanshaw himself. Sothere was no more opportunity for talking privately. And kind Mrs.Fanshaw had arranged a sight-seeing expedition in the afternoon for thetwo Powys children and two of the other boys. From this they did not gethome till tea-time, and after tea there were games in the schoolroom,and then music in the drawing-room when Mr. and Mrs. Fanshaw and theelder boys came up from dinner. It was all very delightful, andKathleen enjoyed it thoroughly. But it drove other thoughts out of herhead, and gave her endless subject for chatter in the hansom on her wayhome. It was not till they drew up at Miss Eccles' gate that shesuddenly remembered Neville's unfinished sentence.

  'What was it you were going to say to me just when that cab came up,this morning?' she asked.

  Neville hesitated.

  'I'll tell you the next time. It would take too long now. Perhaps itwill never come to anything; perhaps you wouldn't like it if it did, andperhaps you'd be disappointed if it didn't. And it's best to say no moreabout it yet.'

  And this oracular reply was all Kathie could extract from Neville beforethey had to bid each other good-night.

  Philippa was a good deal disappointed the next day that Kathleen had nomore to tell her.

  'You promised to speak to your brother about looking for the paper,' shesaid.

  'Well, so I did,' said Kathie.

  'Yes; but what you said was no good. You should have planned with himabout going there. It'll be too late soon; once your aunt has left thehouse you'd never have a chance of going there.'

  'Oh, bother!' said Kathleen; 'I've no chance as it is. I don't believeit'll ever be found--the paper or the will either. It's no good thinkingany more about it.'

  Philippa's face flushed.

  'I think you're a very silly girl, and a very selfish one too,' shesaid. 'I'm sure if there was the least little tiniest bit of a chance ofmy finding any paper that would do _my_ papa and mamma any good,I'd--I'd--'

  'What would you do, Miss Unselfish?' said Kathie teasingly.

  'I'd run away and dress myself like a little servant so as to get intothe house, or--or--anything,' said Philippa.

  'And get put into prison for poking about among other people's things.That would be _very_ nice for papa and mamma! Your head's far too fullof fanciful stories and rubbish!' said Kathleen.

  And for some days there was a decided coolness between the friends.

  But on the fourth day something happened which quickly set this unusualstate of things to rights. A rather thick letter arrived for 'MissPowys' by the morning post. It was addressed in Neville's clear, boyishhandwriting; and as this was at once recognised by Miss Eccles, she gaveit to Kathleen without any remark or inquiry. And though there was onlya quarter of an hour between breakfast and morning lessons beginning,Kathie managed to gain a pretty fair idea of its contents before takingher place in the schoolroom. But it was not till the after-dinnerplay-time in the garden that she was able to tell what the lettercontained to her little confidante. All she had time to whisper toher--for it was a very busy morning--was, 'I _have_ got something totell you, Phil, so you're not to look cross at me any more. You willopen your eyes when you hear it.'

  Philippa opened her eyes wide enough only to know she was _going_ tohear it! Wha
t could it be? Kathie looked so pleased and excited thatPhilippa almost fancied news must have come of the will having beenfound. Of course it would be very nice, she said to herself, _very_nice, if it were so; but still she was conscious of a little feeling ofdisappointment at the idea. She was rather what is called a romanticlittle girl; she liked to make up wonderful stories in her head; butthis was the first time that she had ever come across in actual lifeanything to make a really good one about, so, naturally, she felt thatit would be quite a pity for it to come to an end too soon. It would belike a book finishing up all in a hurry in the middle. She thought somuch about it that she was very sharply reproved by Miss Fraser forinattention and carelessness, which forced her out of her dreams, thoughthe pleasant feeling of having something out of the common to lookforward to prevented her taking the scolding much to heart.

  THE AFTER-DINNER PLAY-TIME IN THE GARDEN.]

  And at last--at last, though really it did seem as if the morning wouldnever come to an end--the two friends found themselves together in thearbour again, and Kathleen drew the fat-looking letter out of herpocket.

  'Oh, Kathie,' Philippa exclaimed, 'I'm all trembling to know what it is!Only just tell me quick! Is it that the will's found?'

  She could hardly for the moment have said whether she wished the answerto be 'yes' or 'no,' but she was not long left in suspense.

  'You goose!' said Kathleen, which was answer of itself; 'of course not.I do believe you thought it was in this letter. I don't believe, for mypart, it ever will be found. But that's not the question. What I've gotto tell you is just what you've been wishing for. I--we--Neville andI--are to go to Aunt Clotilda's for the holidays.'

  'Oh!' exclaimed Philippa, in a tone of deep satisfaction. 'Then _did_you speak of it to your brother, Kathie? Were you only teasing me whenyou said you hadn't?'

  'No, no. It was done before. I mean Neville had thought of it before. Hebegan to tell me something, and then he stopped; I think he wasn't sureif I'd like it. He's not sure now; you'll see when you read what hesays. And to tell you the truth, Phil, if you hadn't put it into my headabout hunting for that paper'--

  'No,' interrupted Philippa; 'it was your own thought about looking forthe _paper_. I said the will.'

  'Never mind,' said Kathie impatiently; 'it's the same thing. You put thehunting into my head. And, as I was saying, if you hadn't, I don'tbelieve I would have wanted to go there. You see, it's left to my ownwishes principally,' she went on importantly. '_That's_ sensible of AuntClotilda, anyway. There,' and she held out the letter to Philippa, 'youmay read it all. Can you make out the writing? If not, I'll read it toyou. Neville's writing is plain enough; read it first.'

  Philippa eagerly obeyed. Neville's letter was just a short one, sendingon to his sister a larger one which he had received from their aunt, andsaying how much he hoped Kathleen would like the idea of the visit MissClotilda proposed, and which he frankly said he had written to suggest.

  'I've read Neville's,' said Philippa; 'but the writing of the other israther difficult. Please read it to me, Kathie.'

  Kathleen unfolded it, and made Philippa come quite close to her.

  'I don't want to speak loud,' she said. 'I don't care for the othergirls to hear.'

  'MY DEAR NEVILLE,'

  the letter began,

  'I am very glad you wrote to me. I have thought a great deal about you and dear Kathleen since the terrible disappointment which you heard all about from your father. It is very sad for both of you, and perhaps especially so for Kathleen, to be so long separated from your dear parents, and to have now--alas!--such a very uncertain prospect of seeing them again for long. I had already been considering if it would not be possible for you both to spend your next holidays with me here. Mr. Wynne-Carr has--I suppose I must say _kindly_, but I think you are old enough to understand that it is difficult for me to feel grateful under the circumstances--given me leave to stay here till October, when I must go I know not where. But I am very poor. I have for the time a house in which to receive you, but that is about all. All the servants are dismissed already, except old Martha. And I am obliged to live in the simplest way. Then, again, I had a feeling that it would be painful and tantalising for you to come here, and to get to know and love the dear old place which should have been by now your own home. I should like you and little Kathleen'--

  '_Little_ Kathleen, indeed!' said Kathie, with a snort.

  'to think it over'--

  'Yes; that's sensible of her, isn't it?'

  'and to let me know what you feel about it before I do anything in the matter. I am quite sure your dear papa and mamma'--

  'Did you ever see such a lot of "dears" as she sticks in? I'm afraid shemust be rather a kissey-cry-ey sort of person, Phil.'

  'would have no objection to your coming, and if you both think you would like it, and will let me know as soon as possible, I will write to Miss Eccles and to Mr. Fanshaw, and try to get all arranged. I think you could safely make the journey alone, as there is no change from Paddington to Frewern Bay, where you leave the railway, and where I should meet you by the coach. Of course, had things been as we hoped, I should have sent some one to town to escort you, but that, alas! is now out of the question. With love to Kathleen, and hoping to hear from you very soon--Believe me, my dear Neville, your affectionate aunt,

  'CLOTILDA WYNNE POWYS.'

  'She writes as if she would have sent a couple of powdered footmen forus, doesn't she?' said Kathie. 'I say, Phil, it won't be very cheerfulif she's going to go on groaning all the time over departed grandeur,will it? And I'm rather afraid about the'--Kathleen hesitated. She wasin an excited, mischievous mood, and she wanted to shock Philippa byusing slang. But she wasn't sure whether the proper expression for whatshe wanted to say was 'tuck,' or 'grub,' or 'prog,' or no one of thethree, so she discreetly changed the form of the sentence. 'I've just alittle misgiving that we shall not have enough to eat,' she went on. 'Doyou suppose she'll give us porridge three times a day? I always think ofporridge when people speak of living very simply.'

  'Porridge is very good,' said Philippa; 'with _cream_ I think it's'--

  'Heavenly!' put in Kathie. 'Yes, so do I. For breakfast, that's to say.But for dinner and tea too! I warn you, Phil, if we go, and if we'restarved, it'll all lie on your shoulders.'

  Her voice was so solemn, and she put such an alarming expression intoher face, that Philippa looked really frightened, and half ready to cry.

  'I don't understand you, Kathie,' she said. 'I wish you wouldn't openyour eyes at me like that. _I_ think it's a very nice, kind letter, andI don't see why you turn everything into mocking. I can't think whatmakes you do it.'

  Kathleen's face grew grave.

  'I'm very sorry for vexing you, poor little Phil,' she said. 'I won't doit any more. But you needn't be vexed at my saying seriously, that Idon't think I'd have wanted to go to Aunt Clotilda's but for your ideaof hunting for the will. I'm sure she's very unhappy, and I daresayshe'd rather not be bothered with us.'

  'You should try to make her happier, then. It's for all of you she's sounhappy, poor thing.'

  'Yes, that's true. And anyway, it's better than Bognor. I'll promise tobe very good, Phil; I really will. But you _mustn't_ be disappointed ifI don't find the will, for I'm very much afraid I shan't.'

  'You haven't patience enough,' said the little girl. 'I wish _I_ wasgoing there.'

  'I'm sure I wish you were. But it will be nice to see the place, and tofind out if our plans about it are something like. I'll write you longletters to your grandmamma's, and tell you all about it.'