The Old Pincushion; or, Aunt Clotilda's Guests

  CHAPTER VI.

  THE WHITE HOUSE AT LAST.

  Decorative N]

  eville and the old farmer and the carrier all helped Kathleen up intothe van, where John Williams had made her as comfortable a place as hecould on the bench that was fixed at one end, with some of the sacks tolean against, and some to put her feet upon. Neville undid his railwayrug and wrapped it round her, for the rain had made the air very chilly.The trunks were given into the charge of the porter to be fetched thenext day, as Miss Clotilda might direct, and with repeated thanks fromNeville to the old farmer, and a cordial shake of the hand at parting,off they set.

  At another time, on a fine day perhaps, and not at the end of a tiringrailway journey, Kathleen might have found it amusing. And as a rule,she was far merrier and high-spirited than Neville, though, to see themnow, one would scarcely have believed it. But Neville had learnt tothink of others more than of himself. _There_ was the difference.Kathleen could be bright and laughing when all went well with her, butit never occurred to her that it may be a duty to be cheerful and evenmerry when one is _not_ inclined to be so, so she just yielded to herfeelings of fatigue and depression, and sat silently in her place,thinking herself, to tell the truth, very good indeed not to grumblealoud. Neville did his best. _He_ was tired too--tired and cold, for hehad given his rug to Kathie, and hungry, perhaps hungrier than Kathie,for she had had the lion's share of their dinner. He was anxious anduneasy as well,--blaming himself for not having decided to wait tillFriday, by which day there would have been time for an answer from theiraunt,--blaming himself vaguely for the whole affair, which he felt fromfirst to last had been his doing. And he was afraid as to what might yetbe before them. It seemed impossible that Miss Clotilda should not havegot the letter fixing for Wednesday. So what could be the matter? Hadshe fallen ill? Had Mr. Wynne-Carr suddenly changed his mind, and turnedher out of the house? What might they not find when they got to Ty-gwyn?If, indeed, they ever got there! It did not seem very like it just then,certainly. They were going up a hill at a foot's pace, and they seemedto have been doing so, with very rare intervals, ever since they leftthe station. How the van lurched and jolted! and, oh, how it did rain!

  'Kathleen,' said Neville timidly.

  'Well,' she replied, in a very unpromising tone. It was so dark in thedepths of the van--and, indeed, it was getting dusk outsidealready--that they could scarcely see each other's faces.

  'I'm so very sorry for you, Kathie,' Neville went on. 'I'm afraid it'ssomehow my fault.'

  'It's no good saying that now,' Kathleen replied, and her voice soundeda little mollified. 'Of course it isn't your fault. It's all AuntClotilda. Neville, I'm sure she can't be nice. If she had had anythingto gain by hiding it, I declare I should have believed she herself hadhidden the will--or burnt it, or something. Just _fancy_ her lettingus--her brother's own children--arrive like this! I daresay it was justselfishness, because it was such a bad day, that kept her from coming.'

  'Oh, Kathie!' said Neville. He felt sure in his heart that Miss Clotildawas not the least like what Kathleen said, but in her present humour heknew that it was worse than useless to contradict or even disagree withhis sister. 'I wish there was something to eat,' he said. 'If we couldbut have had some tea at the station, but there was no sort ofrefreshment-room.'

  'Wales is horrid,' said Kathleen, with great emphasis. 'If papa had gotthat place I should have made him sell it.'

  'I do wish the man would drive a little faster,' said Neville, ratherwith a view to changing the subject, as he could not agree with Kathie.

  The wish in this case proved father to the deed. Scarcely had the wordspassed his lips when, with a crack of his whip and some mysteriouscommunication to his horse in Welsh, Mr. John Williams's van began tomove forward at what, in comparison with their former rate ofprogression, seemed to the children break-neck speed. For a minute or sotheir spirits rose.

  'We've got up the hill now, I suppose,' said Neville cheerily. 'If we goon like this we'll soon be there.'

  But an exclamation from Kathie--'Oh, Neville! I shall die if we go onlike this. It does shake me, and knock me about so. I'm all black andblue already!'--made him change.

  'I'm _so_ sorry, Kathie,' he repeated. 'Stay; is there nothing I can puton the seat to make it softer? Or supposing you sit right down among thesacks? I do think that would be better.'

  It did seem so for a little while. But, after all, there was not muchneed for the precautions. Scarcely was Kathie settled among the sackswhen the jogging and rattling came to an untimely end, and the slowgrind and creak began again. Another hill, doubtless. Alas! it wasso--another and yet another; the bits of level road seemed so few andfar between, that long before the end of the journey Kathie would haveborne the jolts and the bruises with philosophy, just for the sake offeeling they were getting over the ground.

  It grew into a sort of nightmare--the still pouring rain, the darkness,just rendered more visible by the faint flicker from the lantern whichJohn Williams had now lighted, and which hung from the top of the van infront, the creaking and groaning of the wheels, the queer soundsWilliams addressed from time to time to his horse--it came to seem atlast to the children, as they every now and then fell asleep in amiserable half-awake kind of way, only to start up again giddy andconfused--it came to seem as if they had _always_ been grinding alonglike that, and as if it would never come to an end.

  'Neville,' whispered Kathie more than once,--a very subdued Kathie now,far too worn out to be cross even,--'Neville, I feel as if I should_die_ before we get there.'

  HE SAT DOWN ON THE FLOOR OF THE CART, AND TOOK KATHIEHALF INTO HIS ARMS.]

  Neville did all he could. He sat down on the floor of the cart, and tookKathie half into his arms, so that she could lean her head on hisshoulder and not be so bumped, for every now and then they would goquickly for a few minutes, and Kathie was too weak and stiff now to beable to hold on to anything. In this way she managed to get a littlesleep, and at last, _at last_, John Williams grunted out from the frontof the van,

  'Close to, now, master. I've come round by Ty-gwyn a-purpose, aforegoing through the village.'

  And in a few minutes he drew up, and got down to open a gate. Then onthey went again, slowly and softly. Neville could feel they were on agravel drive, though it was far too dark to see anything. How Williamshad found his way in the pouring rain, with only the flickering lightof the lantern, was really wonderful.

  The drive seemed to be a long one, and the wheels made very little soundon the soft slushy gravel. When they stopped altogether, Neville wouldnot have known they were near a house at all, but for what the man hadsaid. There was no light visible, no sound, not even the barking of adog to be heard, nothing but the drip, drip of the rain.

  Kathleen sat up--the stopping had awakened her.

  'Where are we?' she said. 'Are we, oh, are we there?'

  But before Neville had time to reply she began to tremble and shake.'Oh, Neville,' she said, 'we can't be there. It's all dark. Oh, Ibelieve we're in some dreadful forest, and that the man's going tomurder us.'

  Fortunately, John Williams was out of the van by this time. He had gotdown and was fumbling about to find a bell or a knocker; but when hereached up to unhook the lantern, finding it impossible to see anythingwithout it, Kathie almost screamed. It was all Neville could do to quiether, and at last he had to speak quite sharply.

  'Be quiet, Kathie,' he said. 'They will be opening the door and willhear you. It's all right. Don't be silly.'

  And gradually she grew calm, and sat anxiously listening. It was someminutes before John Williams's loud knocking brought any response. Andno wonder--Miss Clotilda and Martha had been comfortably asleep for thelast three if not four hours, for it was now one o'clock, the heavyroads having made the journey from Frewern Bay quite a third longer thanusual for the carrier's cart, and their dreams were undisturbed byvisions of any such arrival as had come to pass.

  'I do trust it will be fine to-morrow,' were Miss
Clotilda's last wordsere she went off to bed. 'It would be such a cheerless welcome for thedear children if it were such a day as this has been, even though Mr.Mortimer is kindly sending the covered waggonette. Wake me early,Martha. There are still several little things to see to, and I muststart by twelve. It will take more than three hours to Frewern Stationwith the roads so wet--and the horses should have three or four hours'rest, he said. The train is due at seven.'

  'But it's often late, miss. You mustn't worry even if it's half an houror more late. I'll wake you in good time, never fear.'

  They were both tired and slept soundly, for they had been working hardat all the preparations for the expected guests. It was Miss Clotildawho first heard through her sleep the loud knocking at the door. She satup in bed and listened; then, as John Williams had for a minute or twodesisted, to wait the effect of his last volley, she lay down again,thinking her fancy had deceived her.

  'A small sound seems so loud through one's sleep,' she said. 'I daresayit was only the tapping of the branches against the window. Besides,what else _could_ it be? Dear, dear, how it does rain!'

  But scarcely had her head touched the pillow, when she again started up.There was no mistake this time--somebody was knocking, _banging_ at thefront door. Miss Clotilda's heart was in her mouth, she could scarcelyspeak for trembling when she found her way to Martha's door! Good oldMartha--she had heard it too now, and in an incredibly short space oftime made her appearance in a much less eccentric costume, by the way,than Miss Clotilda.

  'I'll see who it is. Don't ye be frightened, miss. Just stay you at thestairs-top till I call out.'

  But Miss Clotilda, in her old-fashioned flowered muslin-de-lainedressing-gown, and lace-frilled nightcap, followed tremulously behind;she was only half-way downstairs, however when Martha was at the door.

  'Who's there? Speak out, and say who you are and what you want--wakingup decent folk at this hour of the night,' shouted the old woman, as ifthe unseen person behind the door, _could_ have told their businessbefore.

  'It's me, John Williams, carrier,' a gruff voice replied. 'And youshould know what I've brought you--a young gentleman and lady forTy-Gwyn.'

  He spoke English, as Martha had done so. The question and reply weretherefore quite intelligible to poor Miss Clotilda.

  'Oh, Martha!' she exclaimed, with something between a scream and asob, 'the children! _What_ an arrival!--oh dear, dear--what adisappointment!'

  She stood there half wringing her hands, till Martha gently pushed hertowards the stairs.

  'Up with you, miss--get yourself dressed as well as you can, not to letthem see you like you are--you make yourself look sixty with them caps.I'll take them into the kitchen and make up a fire, and then I'll callyou. It'll be all right; but bless me,'--'_pless_ me,' she really saidwith her funny Welsh accent,--'how ever has there been such a mistake?'

  She was busy unbolting and unbarring by now, and Miss Clotilda haddisappeared. There was but one candle in the hall, but to the children'sdazzled eyes it looked at first like a blaze of light. Neville wasalready on the doorstep, and somehow or other Kathleen was got out ofthe van without falling. Both started when they caught sight of Martha.

  'Can _she_ be Aunt Clotilda,' whispered Kathie, feeling that if it wereso it would but be of a piece with everything else. And for a moment ortwo even Neville felt some misgiving.

  'Are you--? We are'--and again he hesitated.

  'To be sure, to be sure. Your aunty'll be down in a moment, sir; but tobe sure there has indeed been some great mistake. Now, John Williams,good-night to you, and off with you. 'Tis no time for talking.' Sheadded something to the effect that he might call the next day to bepaid, but as she spoke Welsh, the children did not understand.

  'I can't have him bothering about,' she said, as she closed the door.

  'But our trunks,' said Neville. 'They're left at the station;' on whichMartha opened the door again, and began scolding the poor man for nothaving told her so.

  'It wasn't his fault,' said Neville, who could tell by her tone thatpoor John Williams was getting small thanks for his good-nature inbringing themselves, though without their luggage; 'he only brought usbecause we didn't know what else to do.'

  And in the end it was settled that the carrier should call the nextmorning for orders about the trunks.

  Then Martha led the children into the kitchen.

  'You'll excuse it,' she said. 'The fire will soon light up again, andyou must be near dead with cold--dear--dear!'

  A FIGURE WAS STANDING IN THE DOORWAY.]

  She bustled about and soon got a little blaze to show. Kathie had sunkdown on one of the old-fashioned wooden chairs, too tired to speak,almost to think, when a little sound made both her and Neville lookround. A figure was standing in the doorway, peering in with anxiousface and short-sighted eyes,--a tall, thin figure in a dark dress andwith smooth dark hair, and a gentle voice was saying--

  'Are they here, Martha? My poor dear children! Are they really here?'

  Neville darted forward.

  'Aunt Clotilda!' he exclaimed.

  In a moment her arms were round him, and she was kissing him fondly.

  'Neville,' she said, 'my own dear boy! David's boy! And where is littleKathleen? Oh, my poor children! What an arrival!--what a journey! Howcan I have made such a mistake?'

  'Kathie,' said Neville, and Kathleen slowly got up from her seat andcame forward. 'She is half dead, Aunt Clotilda,' said Nevilleapologetically. But Miss Clotilda wanted no apologies. Her heart was fartoo unselfish and tender to think of anything but the childrenthemselves.

  'Kathleen!' she exclaimed. 'Can this be little Kathie? Why, my darling,you will soon be as tall as your old aunt. But all the more you must bedreadfully tired--you cannot be very strong, my dear, growing so fast.Oh, I shall never, never forgive myself. What can we give them to eat,Martha?'

  Martha was already concocting something in a little pan on the fire.

  'I'm heating up some milk, miss, and I'll have an egg beat in a moment,and we'd better add a spoonful of sherry wine. And there's theplum-cake, or some nice bread and butter.'

  'Which would you rather have, dear children?' said Miss Clotilda.

  Neville decided in favour of bread and butter, and though Kathleen saidshe was too tired to eat, she succeeded in the end in getting throughtwo good slices of the delicious home-made bread and fresh butter.Thanks to this and the cup of hot milk, her spirits began to revive, andshe even got the length of smiling graciously when poor Miss Clotilda'sself-reproaches grew too vehement, and assuring her aunt that she wouldbe all right again to-morrow. Indeed, it would have required a muchharder heart than childish, impulsive Kathie's to have resisted any oneso affectionate and devoted as their father's sister, and alreadyNeville's eyes sparkled with pleasure as he said to himself it feltalmost like having a mother again.

  Then old Martha, who had been busy up-stairs, came back to say the roomswere ready,--so far ready, that is to say, as they could be on suchshort notice.

  'Not but that they were _nearly_ ready,' said Miss Clotilda, as she ledthe way; 'we were looking for you to-morrow without fail. But it was allmy fault for saying I would expect you on Thursday if I did _not_ hearto the contrary. I should have asked you to write again.'

  'But I did write,' cried Neville. 'I wrote at once, and sent on theletter to Kathie to post. You should have had it yesterday morning.'

  'Yes,' said Kathie, 'I--I gave it to Miss Fraser with my note toNeville, saying, that I could be ready on Wednesday. You got my note,of course, Neville. And I--yes, I am sure I gave the one for AuntClotilda to be posted at the same time.'

  But Aunt Clotilda had never got it. So, _she_, at any rate, wasundeserving of all the blame Kathleen had been heaping upon her in thelast few hours.

  'It must be that careless old John Parry,' said Miss Clotilda. 'I mustspeak to him in the morning. No doubt he will be bringing the letter,and say it had been overlooked or something. And, my dear children, youmust forgive all
deficiencies. I had arranged all so nicely. Ourneighbour, Mr. Mortimer, was to lend me his covered waggonette to go tomeet you in. It is too provoking!'

  There were no deficiencies, however, so far, that the children wereconscious of, excepting the want of their luggage. Their rooms werecharming--so quaint and country-like, with a pleasant odour of lavenderand dried rose leaves pervading everything. And Miss Clotilda got outher keys and opened an old wardrobe in Kathie's room, whence she chose alittle nightdress of the finest material trimmed with 'real' lace, whichMartha aired at the kitchen fire by way of precaution against damp,though the whole house was so dry, she assured them, that such care wasreally not necessary.

  'It is one of Mrs. Wynne's--one of a set that she never wore,' explainedMiss Clotilda, 'and it will be just about right for you, Kathie dear,for, tall as you are, you will have to grow some inches yet to be up to_me_. Mrs. Wynne was quite one of the old school; she had linen enoughlaid by to have lasted her another twenty years. And Mr. Wynne-Carrwishes all such things to be considered mine,' she added, with a littlesigh, 'so I am free to give you the use of it, you see.'

  This was the first allusion to the great disappointment. Tired as shewas, Kathie could not help thinking of it as she was falling asleep. Andher dreams were haunted by fancies about the lost will--it turned up inall sorts of places. The queerest dream of all was that she found itboiling in the pan in which Martha had heated the milk!