The Old Pincushion; or, Aunt Clotilda's Guests

  CHAPTER VII.

  BREAKFAST IN BED.

  Decorative N]

  otwithstanding her great fatigue, it was very early the next morningwhen Kathleen woke. At first she could not remember where she was, thena slight aching in her head and stiff pains in her legs reminded her ofthe long and trying journey of the day before. Now that it was over,however, it really seemed like a dream.

  And one glance towards the window, of which the blind had only been halfdrawn down, made it almost impossible to believe in the darkness anddreariness of their arrival the night before. The rain was gone; thesun, though it could not be more than six o'clock, was shiningbrilliantly in an unclouded sky. From where Kathie lay she could see thefresh green leaves of the trees as they moved gently in the soft summerair; she could faintly hear the birds' busy, cheerful twitter, as theyflew from branch to branch.

  'Oh, I do love the country!' thought the little girl, with a suddenfeeling of warmth and joyfulness in her heart. 'I do wish--oh, how I dowish it were going to be our home!'

  Then there returned to her the remembrance of Miss Clotilda's last wordsthe night before. The cupboard door had not been quite shut, and it hadgradually swung open, revealing piles of linen neatly arranged on oneshelf, on another various dresses folded away, and on a lower shelf,which Kathie could see into more clearly, some rolls of canvas, bundlesof Berlin wool, and in one corner two or three square-looking objects ofvarious colours, which puzzled her as to what they could be.

  'I will ask Aunt Clotilda,' she thought. 'I daresay she will show meMrs. Wynne's things. Some of them must be very old and curious. What afunny room this is!--all corners, and the window such a queer shape! Ifeel quite in a hurry to see all the house. I daresay it is verynice--the hall and the staircase seemed beautifully wide last night, andthe steps were so broad and shallow. But, oh dear! I wish my legs didn'tache so! Poor Aunt Clotilda! I am very sorry I called her stupid, andall that. She is so kind.'

  But in the midst of all these thinkings she fell asleep again, and sleptfor more than two hours. When she woke she heard a cuckoo clock outsideher room striking eight.

  'Dear me!' she said to herself; 'how late it is! and I meant to be up soearly;' and she was just beginning to get out of bed when a soft tapcame to the door.

  'Come in,' said Kathleen; and in came Aunt Clotilda, her kind face andgentle eyes looking brighter and younger by daylight, and behind her,Martha, carrying a tray covered with a snow-white cloth, on which wasarranged a most dainty little breakfast for the young lady, whom MissClotilda evidently intended to pet a great deal to make up foryesterday's misfortunes.

  'Oh, aunty,' said Kathie, 'I was just going to get up. I am so sorry togive you so much trouble,' and she lifted up her face to kiss MissClotilda.

  'No, no, my dear,' her aunt replied. 'You are to rest to-day as much asyou like. Neville is up, and he and I have had our breakfast. He peepedin an hour ago, and saw you were fast asleep, as I was glad to hear. Itis just nine o'clock, so I thought you must be getting hungry.'

  'Nine o'clock!' Kathleen repeated. 'Why, I thought the cuckoo struckeight.'

  'He is a lazy bird,' said Miss Clotilda smiling. 'He is always an hourbehind. I must get him put right--at least,' she went on, correctingherself, 'I meant to have done so. It is not worth while now. Now, dear,see if we have brought you what you like for your breakfast.

  'IT IS DELICIOUS' SAID KATHLEEN.]

  'It is delicious!' said Kathleen. 'I could live on the bread and butteralone, without anything else. And honey! Oh, how lovely! Aunt Clotilda,I have never been so petted before,' she burst out, 'never in all mylife. How very good you are! Do you know I've been more than six yearsat school without ever having what _I_ call a holiday till now? Do kissme, aunty.'

  Kathie's heart was fairly won. There were tears in Miss Clotilda's eyesas she stooped to kiss her.

  'But they are not unkind to you at school, dear?' she said. 'If you areever ill, for instance.'

  'Oh, no, they are kind enough; but it's different--not the least like_home_. I can understand better already what other girls who canremember their homes meant when they said so. Philippa Harley, you know,aunty--oh no, of course you don't know; but I'll tell you about her. Shehas always been with her mother till lately, and she was always sayinghow different _home_ was.'

  Martha had by this time disappeared. Miss Clotilda sat down by thebed-side, while Kathie proceeded to eat her breakfast, chattering in theintervals.

  'You make me very happy, dear Kathie, when you say you have already ahome feeling with me,' said Miss Clotilda--'very happy, and,' with thesigh that Kathleen was at no loss to translate, 'very unhappy.'

  For a few moments neither spoke. Then Kathleen began again.

  'Aunty, even though the house isn't going to be yours any more, or ours,you'll show us all the things in it, won't you?'

  'Certainly, my dear. I want you to know it well, and to remember italways,' Miss Clotilda replied.

  Kathie's glance just then fell on the lace frills of her night-gown, andthence strayed to the half-open cupboard.

  'What are those queer-looking square things of different colours inthere, aunty?' she asked.

  Miss Clotilda's glance followed hers. Just at that moment Neville puthis head in at the door, and asked if he might come in. His face beamedwith pleasure when he saw Kathleen and his aunt chatting together so'friendlily.'

  'Those things in the cupboard?' said Miss Clotilda. 'Oh! they are someof Mrs. Wynne's pincushions. I wrapped up the new ones--one or two shehad just finished, poor dear, when she was taken ill--and those are someold ones that were to have been fresh covered. I have lots of beautifulpieces of old-fashioned silk.'

  'Oh, how nice!' said Kathleen. 'I hope you will let me see them, aunty.But please tell me'--

  At that moment, however, Martha came to the door to say that JohnWilliams had called for orders about fetching the trunks from thestation.

  'He must have some writing to show, he says,' said the old woman. 'Buthe's so stupid--maybe he doesn't understand.'

  'It's better, perhaps, to give him a note to the station-master,' saidMiss Clotilda. 'I'll come and speak to him.'

  'I'll write the note,' said Neville running off.

  'Aunty,' said Kathie, as Miss Clotilda was preparing to follow him,'mayn't I get up now? I'm only a little stiff, but I'm not at all tired;and I'm in such a hurry to see the house, and the garden, andeverything.'

  'Very well, dear,' her aunt replied. 'Martha will get your bath ready.Can you manage with the things you have till your trunk comes thisevening?'

  'Oh, yes,' said Kathleen. 'My frock did not get wet at all. It's onlyrather crushed. And I brought my house shoes in my hand-bag. Philippamade me; she said it was such a good plan.'

  'She must be a very sensible little girl,' said Miss Clotilda.

  'She's a dear little girl every way,' said Kathie. 'I'm sure you'd likeher _dreadfully_, aunty.'

  She was feeling very cordial to Philippa this morning, thinking how muchthe little girl had tried to influence her to come to Ty-gwyn.

  'But for her,' thought Kathleen, 'I'm not at all sure that I would havecome. I was so sure I shouldn't like Aunt Clotilda.'

  As soon as she was dressed she ran off in search of Neville, who was'somewhere about,' old Martha told her. She found him in the garden, andtogether they began their explorings. By daylight the White House wasfar from the desolate-looking place they had fancied it the nightbefore. It was a long house, built half-way up a gentle slope, and theentrance was, so to speak, at the back. You did not see anything of thepretty view on which looked out the principal rooms till you had crossedthe large, dark-wainscoted hall, and made your way down the longcorridor from whence opened the drawing-room, and library anddining-room, all large and pleasant rooms, with old-fashioned furniture,and everywhere the same faint scent, which Kathleen had noticed morestrongly up-stairs, of lavender and dried rose-leaves. This part of thehouse was more modern than the hall and kitchens, and two
other rooms,in the very old days the 'parlours,' no doubt--now called the study andthe office. For the house had been added to by a Mr. Wynne, the lateowner's father, a grand-uncle to David and Clotilda Powys.

  'Then the old part is very old indeed, I suppose?' said Neville to hisaunt, who by this time had joined them.

  'Very old indeed,' she said. 'And up-stairs it seems very rambling, forthere are good rooms built over the pantry and dairy and the otheroffices, all of which are very large. I had it all planned in my head,'she went on, 'and even Mrs. Wynne herself used often to talk of whatrooms would suit you all best when it came to be your father's. Up thislittle stair'--for by this time they were on the first flooragain--'there are two rooms which would have made such nice nurseriesfor little Vida, and the "office," as we call it, could easily have beenturned into a very pleasant schoolroom.'

  The children were delighted with it all. Up-stairs, indeed, it wasprecisely the sort of house to captivate young people. It was so full ofmysterious passages and unexpected staircases, and corner windows andqueer doors, and steps up and steps down, that it seemed larger than itreally was, and of course the usual praise was pronounced upon it, thatit would be 'just the place for a game at hide-and-seek.'

  Then when the house had been seen, Miss Clotilda sent them out, withdirections not to wander too far, as they must be home for dinner at twoo'clock.

  'You cannot lose your way,' she said, 'if you take a good view allround. The sea is only a mile off on two sides--west and south--and thishouse therefore faces the sea, though the little hill in front hidesit.'

  'The sea!' exclaimed Kathie. 'Why, aunty, if I had known we were so nearthe sea, I should have been in such a hurry to see it, I wouldn't haveslept all night. Did you know, Neville?'

  'I didn't know it was _so_ near,' said Neville.

  'Go up the little hill, and then you will understand where you are,'said Miss Clotilda. 'There is the old church, too, and the ruins of theabbey beside it. You will find there is plenty to see at Hafod.'

  'I don't care much for churches,' said Kathie, 'but I'd like to see theruins.'

  'Then set off at once; it is fine and sunny just now, but I don't thinkthe weather is very settled. Near the sea we have to expect suddenchanges,' said Miss Clotilda.

  The children eagerly followed her advice. They climbed up the hill,which they reached by a path through the garden, and then they were wellrewarded for their trouble. The view before them was a beautiful anduncommon one. At their feet, so to speak, lay the wide-stretching ocean,sparkling and gleaming in the sunshine, and further inland stood thegrand old church and ruins, with the white cottages of the scatteredvillage dotted about in various directions.

  'How queer it is to see that great church in such a little place!' saidKathleen. 'It doesn't seem to belong to it, and yet it looks granderthan if it was in the middle of a town; doesn't it, Neville?'

  'I suppose there was a great monastery, or something like that, hereonce,' said Neville; 'perhaps before there was any village at all. Ithink I have read something about it. We must ask Aunt Clotilda. Isn'tit a beautiful place, Kathleen? Oh, don't you wish dreadfully it wasgoing to be our home?'

  Kathleen sighed. She had not before understood _how_ much she shouldwish it.

  'Look there, Neville,' she said, pointing to a white thread which woundover the hills, sometimes hidden for a little, then emerging again,'that must be the road from Frewern Bay that we came along last night.Don't we seem far away from London and from everywhere? Do you like thefeeling? I think I rather do, except for poor old Phil.'

  But Neville did not at once answer her. He was standing with his eyesfixed on the sea.

  'I don't feel so far from papa and mamma here as in London,' he said; 'Ilike it for that.'

  Kathleen's gaze followed his.

  'Poor papa and mamma!' she said. 'Oh, Neville, _how_ I wish we couldfind the will!'

  They spent the rest of the morning, greatly to their own satisfaction,in visiting the ruins, and, as by a fortunate chance the door was open,the church also. It was so unlike anything they had ever seen, that evenKathie was full of admiration, and determined to learn all she could ofits history.

  'We must ask Aunt Clotilda to tell us all about it,' she said. 'Idaresay she has books where we can read about it, too. Papa and mammawould be pleased if we--oh dear! there it comes in about that will tospoil things again! I suppose it's best not to write much about thingshere to them; it would only make it seem worse to them.'

  'Perhaps it would,' said Neville; 'but we can say lots about AuntClotilda, and that will please papa and mamma. Oh, Kathie, _don't_ youlike her?'

  Kathie grew rather red.

  'Yes,' she said, 'I do. I like her awfully. I _love_ her, Neville,and--and--I'm very sorry I called her stupid, and all that.'

  'Dear Kathie,' said Neville, 'you didn't know her.'

  'Well, no more did you,' said Kathleen; 'but you're much better than me,Neville. So is Philippa.'

  'Dear Kathie,' said Neville again, 'it's only that you've not had mammawith you, or anybody like that. I was older than you, you know, whenthey left us. And Philippa's always had her mother. But now you haveaunty.'

  'Yes,' said Kathleen; but she sighed as she said it.

  They turned to go home again, for they had not yet half explored thegarden, which bid fair to be quite as delightful as the house. A littledoor in the wall was standing half open, and peeping in, they saw thatit led by a footpath to the front door. There Miss Clotilda was standingtalking to a funny-looking old man with a canvas bag slung over hisback. Miss Clotilda seemed rather annoyed, and was speaking veryearnestly.

  'You are sure, then, John Parry, quite sure, you have not dropped orleft it at the wrong house, or anything like that?'

  The old man only smiled amiably in a sort of superior way.

  'Sure, miss? To be sure I am. You'll see miss, the letter has never beenposted. Good-day to you, miss. Indeed, I am glad the young gentleman andlady's got safe here;' and he trotted off.

  'It's about your letter, Neville,' said his aunt. 'I was certain itwould turn up this morning. But it has not come, and it makes me uneasy.Just think, if one of your dear papa's letters was to be lost. I havegot fidgety about letters and papers, I suppose.'

  'It's very queer,' said Neville. 'All our other letters have come quiterightly.'

  'Yes,' said Miss Clotilda. 'However, my dears, as I've got you safe hereI must not grumble.'

  She went back into the house to fetch her garden-hat, in which, Kathiecould not help whispering to Neville, she _did_ look a funny old dear.For the hat was about the size of a small clothes-basket, and MissClotilda despised all such invisible modes of fastening as elastic andhat-pins. She secured her head-dress with a good honest pair of blackribbon strings, firmly tied, for Ty-gwyn was a blowy place, as mighthave been expected from its nearness to the sea.

  The three spent the rest of the morning most happily in the garden,visiting, too, the now disused dairy, and the poultry-yard, where MissClotilda's cocks and hens, in blissful ignorance of the fate beforethem, were clucking and pecking about.

  'I must fatten and kill them all off before the autumn,' she said; 'atleast, nearly all. I could not have the heart to kill my special pets. Iwill give some to the neighbours.'

  'Aunty,' said Kathleen, as they were returning to the house, 'there issomething I wanted to ask you, and I can't remember what it is.'

  Miss Clotilda's memory could not help her.

  'Perhaps you will think of it afterwards,' she said.

  And probably Kathie would have done so, had it not happened that heraunt had that morning, while the children were out, closed and lockedthe old cupboard in the little girl's room. So there was nothing toremind her of what she had been on the point of asking Miss Clotildaabout Mrs. Wynne's old pincushions.