Two Little Waifs

  CHAPTER II.

  POOR MRS. LACY.

  "For the last time--words of too sad a tone."

  AN OLD STORY AND OTHER POEMS.

  Saturday brought the expected letter, which both Mrs. Lacy and Susananxiously expected, though with different feelings. Susan hoped thatnothing would interfere with the plan she had made for the children'sleaving; Mrs. Lacy, even though she owned that it seemed a good plan,could not help wishing that something would happen to defer the partingwith the two little creatures whom she had learnt to love as much as ifthey had been her own grandchildren.

  But the letter was all in favour of Susan's ideas. Captain Bertram wrotemuch more decidedly than he had done before. He named the date at whichhe was leaving, a very few days after his letter, the date at which heexpected to be at Marseilles, and went on to say that if Mrs. Lacycould possibly arrange to have the children taken over to Paris within acertain time, he would undertake to meet them there at any hour of anyday of the week she named. The sooner the better for him, he said, as hewould be anxious to get back to the south and settle himself there forthe winter, the doctor having warned him to run no risks in exposinghimself to cold, though with care he quite hoped to be all right againby the spring. As to a maid for the children--Mrs. Lacy having told himthat they had had no regular nurse for some time--he thought it would bea good plan to have a French one, and as he had friends in Paris whounderstood very well about such things he would look out for oneimmediately he got there, if Mrs. Lacy could find one to take them overand stay a few days, or if she, perhaps, could spare one of her servantsfor the time. And he begged her, when she had made her plans, totelegraph, or write if there were time, to him at a certain hotel atMarseilles, "to wait his arrival."

  Susan's face had brightened considerably while reading the letter; forMrs. Lacy, after trying to do so, had given it up, and begged her nieceto read it aloud.

  "My sight is very bad this morning," she said, and her voice trembledas she spoke, "and Wilfred's writing was never very clear."

  Susan looked at her rather anxiously--for some time past it had seemedto her that her aunt was much less well than usual--but she took theletter and read it aloud in her firm distinct voice, only stopping nowand then to exclaim: "_Could_ anything have happened better? It isreally most fortunate." Only at the part where Captain Bertram spoke ofengaging a maid for the journey, or lending one of theirs, her facedarkened a little. "Quite unnecessary--foolish expense. Hope aunt won'tspeak of it to Ellen," she said to herself in too low a voice for Mrs.Lacy to hear.

  "Well, aunt?" she said aloud, when she had finished the letter, butrather to her surprise Mrs. Lacy did not at once reply. She was lying onher couch, and her soft old face looked very white against the cushions.She had closed her eyes, but her lips seemed to be gently moving. Whatwere the unheard words they were saying? A prayer perhaps for the twolittle fledglings about to be taken from her wing for ever. She knew itwas for ever.

  "I shall never see them again," she said, loud enough for Susan tohear, but Susan thought it better not to hear.

  "Well, aunt," she repeated, rather impatiently, but the impatience waspartly caused by real anxiety; "won't you say what you think of it?_could_ anything have happened better than the Murrays' escort? Just theright time and all."

  "Yes, my dear. It seems to have happened wonderfully well. I am sure youwill arrange it all perfectly. Can you write to Wilfred at once? Andperhaps you had better see Mrs. Murray again. I don't feel able to doanything, but I trust it all to you, Susan. You are so practical andsensible."

  "Certainly," replied Susan, agreeably surprised to find her aunt of thesame opinion as herself; "I will arrange it all. Don't trouble about itin the least. I will see the Murrays again this afternoon or to-morrow.But in the meantime I think it is better to say nothing more to thechildren."

  "Perhaps so," said Mrs. Lacy. Something in her voice made Susan lookround. She was leaving the room at the moment. "Aunt, what is thematter?" she said.

  Mrs. Lacy tried to smile, but there were tears in her eyes.

  "It is nothing, my dear," she said. "I am a foolish old woman, I know. Iwas only thinking"--and here her voice broke again--"it would have beena great pleasure to me," she went on, "if he could have managed it. IfWilfred could have come all the way himself, and I could have given thechildren up into his own hands. It would not have seemed quite so--sosad a parting, and I should have liked to see him again."

  "But you will see him again, dear aunt," said Susan; "in the spring heis sure to come to England, to settle probably, perhaps not far from us.He has spoken of it in his letters."

  "Yes, I know," said Mrs. Lacy, "but----"

  "But what?"

  "I don't want to be foolish; but you know, my dear, by the spring I maynot be here."

  "Oh, aunt!" said Susan reproachfully.

  "It is true, my dear; but do not think any more of what I said."

  But Susan, who was well-principled, though not of a very tender orsympathising nature, turned again, still with her hand on thedoor-handle.

  "Aunt," she said, "you have a right to be consulted--even to be fancifulif you choose. You have been very good to me, very good to Gladys andRoger, and I have no doubt you were very good to their father long ago.If it would be a comfort to you, let me do it--let me write to WilfredBertram and ask him to come here, as you say, to fetch the childrenhimself."

  Mrs. Lacy reflected a moment. Then, as had been her habit all her life,she decided on self-denial.

  "No, my dear Susan," she said firmly. "Thank you for proposing it, butit is better not. Wilfred has not thought of it, or perhaps he hasthought of it and decided against it. It would be additional expense forhim, and he has to think of that--then it would give _you_ much more todo, and you have enough."

  "I don't mind about that," said Susan.

  "And then, too," went on Mrs. Lacy, "there is his health. Evidently itwill be better for him not to come so far north so late in the year."

  "Yes," said Susan, "that is true."

  "So think no more about it, my dear, and thank you for your patiencewith a silly old woman."

  Susan stooped and kissed her aunt, which from her meant a good deal.Then, her conscience quite at rest, she got ready to go to see Mrs.Murray at once.

  "There is no use losing the chance through any foolish delay," she saidto herself.

  Two days later she was able to tell her aunt that all was settled. Mrs.Murray had written to her niece, Mrs. Marton, and had already got heranswer. She and her husband would gladly take charge of the children asfar as Paris, and her maid, a very nice French girl, who adored littlepeople, would look after them in every way--not the slightest need toengage a nurse for them for the journey, as they would be met by theirfather on their arrival. The Martons were to spend two days, the lasttwo days of their stay in England, with Mrs. Murray, and meant to leaveon the Thursday of the week during which Captain Bertram had said hecould meet the children at any day and any hour. Everything seemed tosuit capitally.

  "They will cross on Friday," said Susan; "that is the Indian mail day,of course. And it is better than earlier in the week, as it givesCaptain Bertram two or three days' grace _in case_ of any possibledelay."

  "And will you write, or telegraph--which is it?" asked Mrs. Lacytimidly, for these sudden arrangements had confused her--"at once,then?"

  "Telegraph, aunt? No, of course not," said Susan a little sharply, "hewill have left ----pore several days ago, you know, and there is no use_telegraphing_ to Marseilles. I will write to-morrow--there is _plenty_of time--a letter to wait his arrival, as he himself proposed. Then_when_ he arrives he will telegraph to us to say he has got the letter,and that it is all right. You quite understand, aunt?"

  "Oh yes, quite. I am very stupid, I know, my dear," said the old ladymeekly.

  A few days passed. Gladys had got accustomed by this time to the idea ofleaving, and no longer felt bewildered and almost oppressed by the rushof questions and wonderings
in her mind. But her busy little brainnevertheless was constantly at work. She had talked it all over withRoger so often that he, poor little boy, no longer knew what he thoughtor did not think about it. He had vague visions of a ship about the sizeof Mrs. Lacy's drawing-room, with a person whom he fancied his father--atall man with very black whiskers, something like Mrs. Murray's butler,whom Miss Susan had one day spoken of as quite "soldier-like"--andRoger's Papa was of course a soldier--standing in the middle to hold themast steady, and Gladys and he with new ulsters on--Gladys had talked agreat deal about new ulsters for the journey--waving flags at each side.Flags were hopelessly confused with ships in Roger's mind; he thoughtthey had something to do with making boats go quicker. But he did notquite like to say so to Gladys, as she sometimes told him he was reallytoo silly for a big boy of nearly five.

  So the two had become rather silent on the subject. Roger had almostleft off thinking about it. His little everyday life of getting up andgoing to bed, saying his prayers and learning his small lessons for thedaily governess who came for an hour every morning, eating his breakfastand dinner and tea, and playing with his toy-horses, was enough for him.He could not for long together have kept his thoughts on the strain offar-away and unfamiliar things, and so long as he knew that he hadGladys at hand, and that nobody (which meant Miss Susan in particular)was vexed with him, he asked no more of fate! And when Gladys saw thathe was much more interested in trying to catch sight of an imaginarylittle mouse which was supposed to have been nibbling at the tail of hisfavourite horse in the toy-cupboard, than in listening to her wonderingswhether Papa had written again, and _when_ Miss Susan was going to seeabout their new ulsters, she gave up talking to him in despair.

  If she could have given up _thinking_ so much about what was to come, itwould have been better, I daresay. But still it was not to be wonderedat that she found it difficult to give her mind to anything else. Thegoverness could not make out why Gladys had become so absent andinattentive all of a sudden, for though the little girl's head was sofull of the absorbing thought, she never dreamt of speaking of it to anyone but Roger. Mrs. Lacy had not told her she must _not_ do so, butsomehow Gladys, with a child's quick delicate instinct of honour, oftenso little understood, had taken for granted that she was not to do so.

  "Everything comes to him that has patience to wait," says the Easternproverb, and in her own way Gladys had been patient, when one morning,about a week after the day on which Susan had told her aunt thateverything was settled, Miss Fern, the daily governess, at the close oflessons, told her to go down to the drawing-room, as Mrs. Lacy wantedher.

  "And Roger too?" asked Gladys, her heart beating fast, though she spokequietly.

  "Yes, I suppose so," said Miss Fern, as she tied her bonnet-strings.

  The children had noticed that she had come into the schoolroom a littlelater than usual that morning, and that her eyes were red. But inanswer to Roger's tender though very frank inquiries, she had murmuredsomething about a cold.

  "That was a story, then, what she said about her eyes," thoughtsharp-witted Gladys. "She's been crying; I'm sure she has." But then afeeling of pity came into her mind. "Poor Miss Fern; I suppose she'ssorry to go away, and I daresay Mrs. Lacy said she wasn't to sayanything about it to us." So she kissed Miss Fern very nicely, andstopped the rest of the remarks which she saw Roger was preparing.

  "Go and wash your hands quick, Roger," she said, "for we must godownstairs. _Mine_ are quite clean, but your middle fingers are all overink."

  "Washing doesn't take it away," said Roger reluctantly. There were notmany excuses he would have hesitated to use to avoid washing his hands!

  "Never mind. It makes them _clean_ anyway," said Gladys decidedly, andfive minutes later two very spruce little pinafored figures stoodtapping at the drawing-room door.

  "Come in, dears," said Mrs. Lacy's faint gentle voice. She was lying onher sofa, and the children went up and kissed her.

  "_You_ has got a cold too--like Miss Fern," said Roger, whose grammarwas sometimes at fault, though he pronounced his words so clearly.

  "_Roger_," whispered Gladys, tugging at her little brother under hisholland blouse. But Mrs. Lacy caught the word.

  "Never mind, dear," she said, with a little smile, which showed that shesaw that Gladys understood. "Let him say whatever comes into his head,dear little man."

  Something in the words, simple as they were, or more perhaps in thetone, made little Gladys suddenly turn away. A lump came into herthroat, and she felt as if she were going to cry.

  "I wonder why I feel so strange," she thought, "just when we're going tohear about going to Papa? I think it is that Mrs. Lacy's eyes look sosad, 'cos she's been crying. It's much worse than Miss Fern's. I don'tcare so much for her as for Mrs. Lacy," and all these feelings surgingup in her heart made her not hear when their old friend began to speak.She had already said some words when Gladys's thoughts wandered backagain.

  "It came this morning," the old lady was saying. "See, dears, can youread what your Papa says?" And she held out a pinky-coloured littlesheet of paper, not at all like a letter. Gladys knew what it was, butRoger did not; he had never seen a telegram before.

  "Is that Papa's writing?" he said. "It's very messy-looking. _I_couldn't read it, I don't think."

  "But I can," said Gladys, spelling out the words. "'Ar--arrived safe.Will meet children as you prop--' What is the last word, please, Mrs.Lacy?"

  "Propose," said the old lady, "as you propose." And then she went on toexplain that this telegram was in answer to a letter from Miss Susan totheir father, telling him all she had settled about the journey. "Thistelegram is from Marseilles," she said; "that is the town by the sea inFrance, where your dear Papa has arrived. It is quite in the south, buthe will come up by the railway to meet you at Paris, where Mr. and Mrs.Marton--Mrs. Marton is Mrs. Murray's niece, Gladys--will take you to."

  It was a little confusing to understand, but Mrs. Lacy went over it allagain most patiently, for she felt it right that the children, Gladysespecially, should understand all the plans before starting away withMr. and Mrs. Marton, who, however kind, were still quite strangers tothem.

  Gladys listened attentively.

  "Yes," she said; "I understand now. But how will Papa know us, Mrs.Lacy? We have grown so, and----" she went on, rather reluctantly, "I amnot _quite_ sure that I should know him, not just at the very firstminute."

  Mrs. Lacy smiled.

  "No, dear, of course you could not, after more than four years! But Mr.Marton knows your Papa."

  Gladys's face cleared.

  "Oh, that is all right," she said. "That is a very good thing. But"--andGladys looked round hesitatingly--"isn't anybody else going with us? Iwish--I wish nurse wasn't married; don't you, Mrs. Lacy?"

  The sort of appeal in the child's voice went to the old lady's heart.

  "Yes, dear," she said. "But Susan thinks it will be quite nice for youwith Leonie, young Mrs. Marton's maid, for your Papa will have a newnurse all ready. She wrote to tell him that we would not send any nursewith you."

  Gladys gave a little sigh. It took some of the bloom off the delight of"going to Papa" to have to begin the journey alone among strangers, andshe saw that Mrs. Lacy sympathised with her.

  "It will save a good deal of expense too," the old lady added, more asif thinking aloud, and half forgetting to whom she was speaking.

  "Will it?" said Gladys quickly. "Oh, then, I won't mind. We won't mind,will we, Roger?" she repeated, turning to her little brother.

  "No, we won't," answered Roger solemnly, though without a very clearidea of what he was talking about, for he was quite bewildered by all hehad heard, and knew and understood nothing but that he and Gladys weregoing somewhere with somebody to see Papa.

  "That's right," said Mrs. Lacy cheerfully. "You are a sensible littlebody, my Gladys."

  "I know Papa isn't very rich," said Gladys, encouraged by this approval,"and he'll have a great lot more to pay now that Roger and I are goingto be
with him, won't he?"

  "You have such very big appetites, do you think?"

  "I don't know," said Gladys. "But there are such lots of things to buy,aren't there? All our frocks and hats and boots. But oh!" she suddenlybroke off, "won't we have to be getting our things ready? and _do_ youthink we should have new ulsters?"

  "They are ordered," said Mrs. Lacy. "Indeed, everything you will needis ordered. Susan has been very busy, but everything will be ready."

  "When are we to go?" asked Gladys, suddenly remembering this importantquestion.

  The sad look came into Mrs. Lacy's eyes again, and her voice trembled asshe replied: "Next Thursday, my darling."

  "Next Thursday," repeated Gladys; and then catching sight of the tearswhich were slowly welling up into Mrs. Lacy's kind eyes--it is so sad tosee an aged person cry!--she suddenly threw her arms around her oldfriend's neck, and, bursting out sobbing, exclaimed again: "NextThursday. Oh, dear Mrs. Lacy, next Thursday!"

  And Roger stood by, fumbling to get out his pocket-handkerchief, notquite sure if he should also cry or not. It seemed to him strange thatGladys should cry just when what she had wanted so much had come--justwhen it was all settled about going to Papa!