The Pillars of the House; Or, Under Wode, Under Rode, Vol. 1 (of 2)

  CHAPTER XI.

  THE CHORAL FESTIVAL.

  'And with ornaments and banners, As becomes gintale good manners, We made the loveliest Tay room upon Shannon shore.' _Thackeray._

  'Of course, after _this_,' said Lady Price, 'Miss Underwood did notexpect to be visited.'

  Otherwise the gain was great. The amusement of looking out of windowinto the High Street was alone a perpetual feast to the little ones,and saved Geraldine worlds of anxiety; and the garden where theycould be turned out to play was prized as it only could be by thosewho had never had any outlet before. It was a pleasant little longnarrow nook, between the printing-house on the west, and such anothergarden on the east, a like slip, with a wall masked by ivy and lilacs,and overshadowed by a horse-chestnut meeting it on the south. It wasnot smoky, and was quite quiet, save for the drone and stamp of thesteam-press; there was grass, a gum-cistus and some flower-beds in thecentre, and a gravel-walk all round, bordered by narrow edgings offlowers, and with fruit trees against the printing-house wall, and aBanksia and Wisteria against that of the house. Mr. Froggatt was quitetouched at the reverence with which Angela and Stella regarded eventhe daisies that had eluded his perpetual spud; and when he found outthe delight it was to Cherry to live with flowers for the first timein her life, he seldom failed to send her a bunch of violets or someother spring beauty as soon as he arrived in the morning, and kept thewindows constantly supplied with plants.

  The old bookseller was at first very much afraid of his new inmates.To Felix he was used, but he looked on the sisters as ladies, and toladies except on business-terms he was much less accustomed than togentlemen. Besides, being a thorough gentleman himself at heart, he hadso much delicacy as to be afraid of hurting their feelings by seemingat home in his own house; and he avoided being there at luncheon for awhole week, until one afternoon Felix ran up to say that he was sureMr. Froggatt had a cold, and would be glad if a cup of tea appearedin his parlour. Gratitude brought him in to face the enemy; and afterhe had been kept at home for a day or two by the cold, his wife'sinjunctions and Felix's entreaties brought him to the dinner.

  It happened to be one of Wilmet's favourite economical stews; butthese were always popular in the family, though chiefly composed ofscraps, pot-liquor, rice, and vegetables; and both for its excellenceand prudence it commanded Mr. Froggatt's unqualified approbation. Allthat distressed his kind heart was to see no liquor but water, exceptCherry's thimbleful of port; he could _not_ enjoy his glass of porter,and shook his head--perhaps not without reason--when he found thathis young assistant's diet was on no more generous scale, and was notsatisfied by Felix's laughing argument that it was impossible to be_more_ than perfectly healthy and strong. 'False economy,' said the oldman in private; but Felix was not to be persuaded into what he believedto be an unnecessary drain on the family-finances, and was still morestout against the hint that if Redstone discovered this prudentialabstinence, it might make him 'disagreeable.' Felix had gone his wayregardless of far too many sneers for poverty and so-called meanness tomake any concession on their account, though the veiled jealousy andguarded insolence of that smart 'gent' the foreman had been for thelast three years the greatest thorn in his side. And at least he madethis advance, that the errand-boy cleaned the shoes!

  Geraldine, though shy at first from the utter seclusion in which shehad lived, put forth a pretty bashful graciousness that perfectlyenchanted Mr. Froggatt, who was besides much touched by her patienthelplessness. He became something between her grandfather and herknight, loading her with flowers, giving her the run of the circulatinglibrary, and whenever it was fine enough, taking her for a mile or twoin his low basket-carriage either before or after his day's businessin the shop. It was not exactly like being with her only other friend,Mr. Audley; but he was a thoroughly kind, polite, and by no meansunlettered old man; and Geraldine enjoyed and was grateful, while thechildren were his darlings, and were encouraged to take all manner ofliberties with him.

  Among the advantages of the change was the having Felix always at hand;and though she really did not see him oftener in the course of the daythan at St. Oswald's Buildings, still the knowing him to be withinreach gave great contentment to Cherry. The only disadvantage was thathe lost his four daily walks to and fro, and hardly ever had sufficientfresh air and exercise. He was indeed on his feet for the most of theday, but not exerting his muscles; and all taste for the active sportsin which his kind old master begged him to join seemed to have passedaway from him when care fell upon him. He tried not to hold his headabove the young men of his adopted rank, many of whom had been hisschool-fellows; but, except with the members of the choir and choralsociety, he had no common ground, and there were none with whom hecould form a friendship. Thus he never had any real relaxation, exceptmusic, and his Sunday walks, besides his evenings with his sistersand of play with the children. It was not a natural life for a youth,but it seemed to suit with his disposition; for though not given tooutbursts of animal spirits, he was always full of a certain strong andsupporting cheerfulness.

  Indeed, though they did not like to own it to themselves, the youngpeople had left behind them much of the mournfulness of the widowedhousehold, which had borne down their youthful spirits; and though thethree elders could never be as those who had grown up without careor grief, yet their sunshine could beam forth once more, and helpedthem through the parting with their best friend. For Mr. Audley'ssister-in-law died in the beginning of June, and his father entreatedhim to go abroad with his brother, so that he was hurried away directlyafter midsummer, after having left his books in Felix's charge, andprovided for the reception of the dividends in his absence.

  His successor was a quiet amiable young Mr. Bisset, not at alldisinclined to cultivate Felix as a link with the tradesfolk; only hehad brought with him a mother, a very nice, prim, gentle-mannered,black-eyed lady, who viewed all damsels of small means as perilous toher son. Had she been aware that Bexley contained anything so whiteand carnation, so blue-eyed and straight-featured, so stately, and sopenniless as Wilmet Underwood, he would never have taken the Curacy.She was a kind woman, who would have taken infinite pains to serve theorphan girls; and she often called on them; but when the Rector's wifehad told her that such a set had been made at Mr. Audley that he couldbear it no longer, it was but a natural instinct to cherish her son'sbashfulness.

  That autumn Wilmet came home elevated by the news that the head teacherwas going to retire at Christmas, and that she was to be promoted toher place of forty pounds a year. Her successor was coming immediatelyto be trained, being in fact the daughter of Miss Pearson's sister,who had married an officer in the army. She had been dead about threeyears, and the girl had been living in London with her father, now onhalf pay, and had attended a day-school until he married again, andfinding his means inadequate to his expenses, and his wife and daughterby no means comfortable together, he suddenly flitted to Jersey toretrench, and made over his daughter of seventeen to her aunts to beprepared for governess-ship.

  This was the account Miss Pearson and Miss Maria gave to Wilmet, andWilmet repeated to Geraldine, who watched with some interest for thefirst report of the new-comer.

  'She is rather a nice-looking little thing,' was the first report, 'butI don't know whether we shall get on together.'

  The next was, 'Miss Maria has been begging me to try to draw her out.They are quite distressed about her, she is so stiff and cold in herways with them, and they think she cries in her own room.'

  'Poor thing, how forlorn she must be! Cannot _you_ comfort her, Mettie?'

  'She will have nothing to say to me! She is civil and dry, just as sheis to them.'

  'I think she can talk,' said Angela.

  'How do you know anything about it, little one?' said Wilmet.

  'I heard her talking away to Lizzie Bruce in the arbour at dinner-time.Her face looked quite different then from what it does in school.'

  'Then
I hope she is settling down to be happier,' said Wilmetthoughtfully; but, having watched Angela out of hearing, she added,'Not that I think Lizzie Bruce a good friend; she is rather a weakgirl, and is flattered by Carry Price making a distinction between herand some of the others.'

  'When is Carry Price ever going to leave school?'

  'When she can play Mendelssohn well enough to satisfy Mr. Bevan. Iwonder Lady Price does keep her on here; but in the meantime we canonly make the best of her.'

  A day or two later, Wilmet and Angela came in from school eager,indignant, and victorious.

  'You _did_ manage it well!' the younger was saying. 'I was so gladyou saw for yourself.--Just fancy, Cherry, there were Carry Price andLizzie Bruce turning out all the most secret corners of Miss Knevett'swork-box, laughing at them, and asking horrid impertinent questions,and she was almost crying.'

  'And you fetched Wilmet?'

  'She was sitting out in the garden, showing some of the little ones howto do their crochet--it was the play-time after dinner--and I just wentto her and whispered in her ear, so she strolled quietly by the window.'

  'Yes,' added Wilmet, 'and before I came to it, Edith was saying to JaneMartin, on purpose for me to hear, that she thought it would be a goodthing if Miss Underwood would look into the school-room. So Angel wasnot getting into a scrape.'

  'I should not have minded if I had,' said Angel; 'it was such a shame,and she looks such a dear--'

  'There she was,' said Wilmet, 'her fingers shaking, and her eyes fullof tears, trying to do some work, while Carry Price went on in herscoffing voice, laughing over all the little treasures and jewels, andasking who gave them to her, and what they cost. All I could do was toput my hand on her shoulder and say I saw she did not like it; and thenLizzie Bruce looked ashamed, but Miss Price bristled up, and declaredthat Miss Knevett had unlocked the box herself. Then the poor childburst out that she had only said she would show her Maltese cross; shehad never asked them to turn everything out, and meddle with it; andCarry tossed her head, just like my Lady, and said, "Oh, very well,they did not want to see her trumpery, since she was so cross aboutit. I suppose you mean to show the things one by one to the littlegirls! A fine exhibition!" She cried out, "Exhibit! I don't mean toexhibit at all; I only showed it to you as my friend!" Whereupon CarryPrice flounced off with, "As if I were going to make a friend of anunderteacher!" and she went into a tremendous fit of crying, like whatyou used to have, Cherry, except that it was more passionate!'

  'I'm sure I never had anything like that to cry for. What did you dowith her? How lucky she had you!'

  'Why, when she went on sobbing, "I'll not stay here," "I won't beinsulted." "I'll tell my aunts," my great object was to get herupstairs, and to silence her, for I was sure Miss Pearson woulddislike nothing so much as having a regular complaint from her aboutCarry; and, besides that, all the girls, who pity her now, would beturned against her, and think her a mischief-maker. I did get her upat last, and, oh dear! what a scene we had! Poor thing, I suppose shehas been a spoilt child, going to a lady's fashionable institute, asshe calls it, where she was a great girl, and rather looked up to, forthe indulgences she got from her father--very proud, too, of beinga major's daughter. Then came the step-mother; what things she saidabout her, to be sure! No end of misery, and disputes--whose fault,I am sure I don't know; then a crisis of debts. She says it was allMrs. Knevett's extravagance; but Miss Pearson told me before that shethought it had been going on a long time; and at last, when the fatherand his wife and her child go off to Jersey, this poor girl is turnedover to the aunts she never saw since her mother died, twelve yearsago.'

  'I dare say it is the best thing for her.'

  'If she can only think so; but she fancies the being a teacher the mosthorrid thing in the world.'

  'Oh, Wilmet!' interrupted Angela; 'why, you like teaching: and Robinmeans to be a real governess, and so do I, if I am not a Sister!'

  'Me too,' called out Stella.

  'But you see this unlucky girl can't understand that teaching may bea real way of doing good; she fancies it a degradation. She says sheand her friends at her institute hated and despised the teachers, andplayed all manner of tricks upon them.'

  'How foolish the teachers must have been!'

  'She did say something about their being low and mean. She did me thefavour to say not like me, and that she was quite shocked to find I wasone of this dreadful race. It was quite amazing to her when I told herhow Robina's dear Miss Lyveson keeps school without necessity, onlyto be useful. You may imagine what it is to her to be plunged all ona sudden into this unhappy class. She began by trying to take her oldplace as an officer's daughter, and to consort with the girls; but Ithink if she and Carry Price were left to one another, she would verysoon sink as low as any of the poor hounded teachers she describes.'

  'She must be very silly and conceited.'

  'No, I think she is sensible, and loving too, at the bottom,' saidWilmet, 'only every one is strange here: I think she will understandbetter soon; and in the meantime, she has quite forgiven me for beinga teacher. She clung about me, and called me all sorts of prettynames--her only friend, and so forth.'

  'Perhaps she can forgive you for being a teacher, in consideration ofyour being a twin,' said Cherry.

  'There, Cherry, you understand her better already than I do! I'll bringher to you, I have not time for such a friendship.'

  'Poor thing! I should like to try to comfort her, if she is strange anddreary; but I think she must be rather a goose. What's her name?'

  'Alice; but in school Miss Pearson is very particular about having hercalled Miss Knevett. We have exchanged Christian names in private, ofcourse.'

  'You horrid old prosy thing of four U's,' said Geraldine. 'You aresitting up there, you great fair creature, you, for the poor child toworship and adore, and not reciprocating a bit!'

  'Of course,' said Wilmet, 'if she can't be happy without being petted,I must pet her, and let her be nonsensical about me; but I think it isall great stuff, and that you will suit her much better than I evershall.'

  'Do you never mean to have a friend, Mettie?'

  'Oh no, I haven't time; besides, I've got Alda.'

  Geraldine had, however, many dreams about the charms of friendship. Sheread of it in the books that Felix selected for her; and Robina hada vehement affection for a schoolfellow whose hair and whose _carte_she treasured, and to whom she would have written daily during theholidays but for the cost of stamps. The equality and freedom of theletters she received always made Cherry long for the like. Since Edgarhad left her, she had never been on those equal terms with any one;Wilmet was more like mother or aunt than sister; and though Felix hada certain air of confidence and ease when with her, and made her hischief playfellow, he could not meet all her tastes or all her needs;and there was a sort of craving within her for intimacy with a creatureof her own species.

  And though Wilmet's description of Alice Knevett did not soundparticularly wise, Cherry, in her humility, deemed her the more secureof being on her own level, not so sensible and intolerant of littledreams, fancies, and delusions as those two sensible people, the twinsisters. So she watched impatiently for the introduction; and at lastWilmet said, 'Well, she is coming to tea to-morrow evening. Littleridiculous chit, she bridled and doubted, but as you were an invalid,she supposed she might, only it was not what she had been used to, andPapa "might object."'

  'What? To the shop? Well, I really think she had better not come! I'llhave nobody here that thinks it a favour, and looks down on Felix.'

  'My dear, if she contrives to look down on Felix after she has seenhim, she will deserve anything you please. Just now, I believe thefoolishness is in her school, and not in herself.'

  Nevertheless, Geraldine's eagerness underwent a great revulsion.Instead of looking forward to the visit, she expected it with dread,and dislike to the pert, conceited, flippant Londoner, who despised hernoble brother, and aspired to the notice of Carry Price. Her nervousshrinkin
g from strangers--the effect of her secluded life--increased onher every moment of that dull wet afternoon; her feet grew cold, hercheeks hot, and she could hardly find temper or patience for the manyappeals of Bernard and Stella for her attention.

  Her foolish little heart was palpitating as if a house-breaker wereentering instead of Wilmet, conducting a dainty cloud of fresh lilacmuslin, out of which appeared a shining black head, and a smilingsparkling face, with so much life and play about the mouth and eyesthat there was no studying their form or colour, and it was only aftera certain effort that it could be realised that Alice Knevett was aglowing brunette, with a saucy little nose, _retrousse_, though verypretty, a tiny mouth full of small pearls, and eyes of black diamond.

  In spite of her gracious manner, and evident consciousness of her owncondescension, the winsomeness of the dancing eyes fascinated Cherry atonce. Indeed, the simplicity and transparency of her little dignitiesdisarmed all displeasure, they were so childish; and they vanished in amoment in a game at play with Bernard and Stella. When Wilmet broughtout Geraldine's portfolio, her admiration was enthusiastic if notcritical.

  A sketch of Wilmet and Alda enchanted her; she had never seen anythingso lovely or so well done.

  'No, no,' said Cherry, rather shocked, 'you must have seen the RoyalAcademy.'

  'Oh, but I am sure this ought to be in the Royal Academy; I never sawanything there that I liked half so much. How clever you must be!'

  Cherry could not but laugh at the extravagant compliment. 'My brotherEdgar draws much better than that,' she said, producing a capitalwater-colour of a group of Flemish market-women.

  'I shall always like yours best. Oh! and what is this?'

  'I did not know it was there,' said Cherry, colouring, and trying totake it away.

  'Oh, let me look. What! Is it a storm, or a regatta, or fishing boats?What is that odd light? What is written under? "The waves of thistroublesome world." Why, that is in the Bible, is not it?'

  'Thirteen boats, Cherry,' said Wilmet; 'is that a device of your own?'

  'What, not copied? Oh dear! I wish I was so clever!'

  'It is the sea of this life, isn't it?' said Angela, coming up. 'Is itourselves, Cherry, all making for the golden light of Heaven, and thestar of faith guiding them?'

  'She reads it like a book,' exclaimed Alice. 'And those two closetogether--that means love, I suppose!'

  'Love and help, the weak and the strong,' said Geraldine, in herearnest dreamy voice.

  'Do pray make a picture of my boat on a nice smooth sea of light; Idon't like rocks and breakers, such as you have done there.'

  'There always must be a last long wave,' said Cherry.

  'Oh, but don't let us think about horrid things. I like the summer sea.Aren't there some verses--

  '"Youth at the prow, and pleasure at the helm?"'

  'That would not be a pleasant augury,' said Cherry. 'Do you know whatthis is meant for, bad as it is? Longfellow's verses--'

  'The phantom host that beleaguered the walls of Prague? How can youdraw such things?'

  'So I say,' observed Wilmet.

  'They come and haunt me, and I feel as if I must.'

  'Who is this kneeling on the wall? He looks like a knight watching hisarmour.'

  'So he is,' said Cherry.

  'But there is nothing about him in the poem. Did you make him foryourself?'

  'Why, he is Ferdinand Travis!' exclaimed Wilmet.

  'What, is it a real man? I thought it was somebody in a story.'

  'I see!' said Angela quietly. 'He is watching his armour the nightbefore he was baptized.'

  For the child had never forgotten the adult baptism, though she hadbeen little more than four years old at the time; but she was one ofthose little ones to whom allegory seems a natural element, with whichthey have more affinity than with the material world.

  However, the mention of Ferdinand Travis led to the history of the fireat the hotel, and of his recovery; Alice declared that 'everythingnice' seemed to happen at Bexley, and was laughed at for her peculiarideas of niceness; but there was something in the feminine prattlethat was wonderfully new and charming to Geraldine, while, on theother hand, the visitor was conscious of a stimulus and charm that shehad never previously experienced; and the eager tongues never flaggedtill Felix came in. He had evidently taken pains with his toilette,in honour of the unusual event; and the measured grave politeness ofhis manners renewed Alice's scared punctilious dignity of demeanour,and entire consciousness that she was a major's daughter and he abookseller.

  But Felix had brought in some exciting Eastern news; and Alice put onan _air capable_, as one connected with India and the army, but shesoon found out the deficiency of her geography, and was grateful forthe full clear explanations, while her _amour propre_ was gratifiedby finding that her familiarity with a few Indian terms was valuable.Before the end of the evening all were at ease, and she was singingwith Felix and Wilmet at the old piano.

  No sooner had the door shut on her when the maid came to fetch her,than a storm fell on Wilmet.

  'So that's what you call rather nice-looking?'

  'Well, she is under-sized and very brown, but I did think you wouldhave allowed that she was rather pretty.'

  'Rather!' exclaimed Cherry indignantly.

  'That's what it is to be a handsome woman!' said Felix.

  'Do you mean to say that you think her anything remarkable?' saidWilmet.

  'Say no more, my dear W. W.,' laughed Felix. 'I never understoodbefore why negroes don't admire white people.'

  'I am sure I don't know what you are talking about,' said Wilmet,betaking herself to her darning with great good-humour. 'Alice Knevettis prettier than I thought she was when she was all tears and airs; butI can't see any remarkable beauty to rave about.'

  'No, _you_ can't,' said Geraldine merrily. 'You look much too high overher head, but you see I don't; and such a little sparkling diamondbeetle is a real treat to me.'

  And Geraldine often enjoyed the treat.

  In a very short time the green door and steep stairs were as familiarto Alice as to the Underwoods themselves; for her aunts were thankfulto have her happy and safe, and she was rapturously fond of Geraldine,reflecting and responding to most of her sentiments. Most of theUnderwoods had the faculty of imprinting themselves upon the charactersof their friends, by taking it for granted that they felt alike; andAlice Knevett had not spent six weeks at Bexley before she had cometo think it incredible that she had thought either teaching or theUnderwoods beneath her. She was taking pains to do her work well,and enjoying it, and was being moulded into a capital subordinateto Wilmet; while with Geraldine she read and talked over her books,obtained illustrations for the poetry she wrote out in her album,and brought in a wholesome air of chatter, which made Cherry muchmore girl-like than she had ever been before. It was an importationof something external, something lively and interesting, which wasvery refreshing to all; and even Felix, in his grave politeness andattention to his sister's friend, manifested that so far from being inhis way, as they had feared, he found her a very agreeable element whenshe joined the home party or the Sunday walk.

  Indeed, there was a certain tendency to expansion about the life of theyoung people; the pinch of poverty was less griping than previously,and their natural spirits rose. In January Lance was allowed to bringhis friend Harewood to a concert of the choral society; and on thefollowing evening Alice Knevett came to tea, and there was a series ofwonderful charades, chiefly got up by Clement and Robina, and of comicsongs by Lance and Bill Harewood--all with such success, that Alicedeclared that she had never seen anything so delightful in all herexperience of London Christmases!

  The young people really seemed to have recovered elasticity enough thatyear to think of modest treats and holidays as they had never venturedto do since that memorable sixteenth birth-day of Felix's. Here washis twenty-first not very far off; and when it was announced that thisidentical 3rd of July had been fixed on for a grand choral
meetingat the Cathedral, at which the choir of Bexley was to assist, therewas such a spirit of enterprise abroad in the family, that Geraldinesuggested that Wilmet might take Robina to see the Cathedral and hearLance.

  'Lance will be just what will not be heard,' said Felix. 'They willnot show off their solos; but the Robin ought to have the pleasure, ifpossible; and as I go in two capacities, press and choir, I hope we canmanage it for her.'

  He came in full early for the evening. 'All right,' he said. 'Twotickets are come for the Pursuivant, and Mr. Froggatt says he would notgo at any price; and besides, each of the choir may take a friend--sothat's three.'

  'Am I to be reporter or friend?' asked Wilmet.

  'Reporter, I think, for you will have to do audience.'

  'Nay, Cherry ought to be the gentleman connected with the press,' saidWilmet, for in fact Geraldine did sometimes do copying and correctingwork for her brother; 'and, indeed, I do not see why she should not. Wecould go home directly after morning service, and leave you there.'

  'Oh no, impossible,' said Geraldine, 'it would never do; it would onlyspoil everybody's pleasure, and be too much for me.'

  'I think you are wise,' said Felix; and somehow it struck her with aprick that he had rather the proposal had not been made. 'There is sureto be a great crush, and I may be obliged to be with the choir.'

  'I am quite able to take care of her, I can always lift her,' saidWilmet, surprised.

  'I would not go on any account,' protested Cherry. 'I should be likethe old woman in that Servian proverb, who paid five dollars to go tothe fair, and would have paid ten to be safe at home again.'

  'There might be no getting a bench fit for you to sit upon,' addedFelix, who, as a gentleman of the press, was not devoid of experience.'I could not be easy about you, my dear; it is much safer not.'

  'Perhaps so,' owned Wilmet, disappointed; 'but Angel is too little forsuch a long day, and Cherry is so much stronger, that I thought--'

  'Oh, but could not Alice Knevett go?' put in Cherry.

  'A very good suggestion,' said Felix. 'She hardly ever has anyamusements. Well thought of, White-heart!'

  I believe he thought of it from the first, felt Geraldine, angry withherself that this conviction gave a prick like the point of a needle.She threw her energies into the scheme, and was begging Wilmet to goand make the proposal, when there was a sudden peal of the bell, aheadlong trampling rush, a dash open of the door--Theodore began to humthe anthem 'How beautiful,' the other three small ones hailed 'Lance'at the top of their voices, and his arms were round the neck of thefirst sister who came in his way.

  'What, Lance! how came you here?'

  'Our organ is tuning up its pipes--man comes to-morrow--Prayers in theLady Chapel and not choral, and it's a holiday at school, so I gotoff by the 5.20, and need not go back till the 6.10 to-morrow. We arepractising our throats out to lead you all on the 3rd. You know you arecoming, the whole kit of you.'

  'Do we?' said Wilmet. 'It is only for the last ten minutes that we haveknown that any of us were coming.'

  'All right; that's what I'm come about. Robina must be got home.'

  'She will be come. She comes on the 1st.'

  'That's right; then there's to be a great spread in Bishop's Meadsbetween services. Everybody sends provisions, and asks their friends;but Cherry is to go and rest at the Harewoods'. The governor will gether in through the library into the north transept as quiet as a lamb,no squash at all. It is only along the cloister--a hop, step, and jump;and Miles has promised me the snuggest little seat for her. Then theHarewood sofa--'

  'It is too much, Lance,' began Cherry. 'Mrs. Harewood--'

  'Don't be absurd; she wishes it with all her heart. She won't want aticket if Mr. Harewood smuggles her in, but I can get as many as youwant. How many--Wilmet, Cherry, Robin, Angel, and Miss Knevett. She'llcome, won't she?'

  'We were thinking of going to ask her.'

  'I'll do it; I've brought my own ticket for a friend for her; here itis, with L. O. U. in the corner. I'll run down with it before any oneelse cuts in.'

  'Hold hard,' said Felix; 'we shall not get her if you set about it inthat wild way!'

  'Oh, but I'll promise Wilmet shall take her in tow, and if anythingwill pacify the old girls, that will.'

  'You had better let me come with you,' said Wilmet.

  'Look sharp then. Is it a practising night? Yes, that's well; Miles isin a state of mind at the short notice, and has crammed me choke-fullof messages; he says it will save his coming down; come along, then, W.W., and soft-sawder the venerable aunts.'

  No more of this operation was necessary than the assurance thatMiss Underwood was going, and that Mrs. Harewood would be a sort ofchaperon. Alice Knevett was happy and grateful; and if anything werewanting to the universal enthusiasm of anticipation, it was suppliedby Lance. The boy, with his musical talent, thorough trustworthinessand frank joyous manners, was a favourite with the organist, and waswell versed in the programme; and his eagerness, and fulness of detail,were enough to infect every one. Geraldine thought it was great proofof his unspoilableness, that he took quite as much pleasure in bringingthem to these services, where he would be but a unit in the hundreds,as if it had been one of the anthems, of which every one said, 'Haveyou heard little Underwood?' In the charm of the general welcomeand the congratulation on Lance's arrangement, Geraldine had quiteforgotten both her alarms and her tiny pang of surprise at not havingbeen Felix's prime thought. Lance, by dint of a judicious mixture ofhectoring and coaxing, obtained leave for Angela to be of the party,though against Wilmet's judgment; and Bernard and Stella were to spendthe day with Mrs. Froggatt, which they regarded as an expedition quiteas magnificent as that to St. Mary's Minster.

  Mr. Froggatt was almost as eager about this pleasure for 'his youngpeople,' as he called them, as they could be. He came in early to driveGeraldine to the station, and looked with grandfatherly complacency atthe four sisters, who had ventured on the extravagance of white piqueand black ribbons, and in their freshness looked as well-dressed as anylady in the land.

  He entertained Cherry all the way with his admiration of Wilmet'sbeauty and industry, and when arrived at the station, waited there withher till first the three girls came up with Alice Knevett, white withpink ribbons, and then the choir arrived, marching with the bannerwith the rood of St. Oswald before them, each with a blue satin bowin his button-hole, and the bag with his surplice under his arm, theorganist, the schoolmaster, and the two curates, bringing up the rear.Mr. Bevan, my Lady, and Miss Price, whirled up in the carriage, theomnibus discharged the friends of the choir, and two waggon loads ofmusical talent from the villages came lumbering and cheering in! Thevery train roared and shrieked in with a sound of cheering from itsvertebrae, and banners were projecting from the windows, amid noddingheads and waving handkerchiefs of all colours; the porters ran aboutdistracted; and Geraldine began to be alarmed, and to think of the oldwoman of Servia, but behold, Felix had her on one side, Mr. Froggatt onthe other, a solid guard held open the door, and protected her from therush, and before she well knew what they were doing with her, she waslying on the seat of the carriage, with her sisters and Alice all in arow in front of her; the recently crowded platform was empty of all buta stray porter, the stationmaster, and Mr. Froggatt kissing his hand,and promising to come and fetch her on her return.

  The train seemed hardly to have attained its full speed before itslackened again, and another merry load was disposed of within itsjoints. Another start, another arrival; and before the motion was over,a flash of sunny looks had glanced before the sisters' eyes. There wasLance, perfectly radiant, under his square trencher cap--hair, eyes,cheeks, blue bow, boots, and all, seeming to sparkle with delight as hesnatched open the door. 'Hurrah! there they are. Give her out to me,Wilmet!' (as if she had been a parcel).

  'Stay, wait for Felix. You can't---'

  Felix rushed up from his colleagues of the choir, and Geraldine was seton her foot and crutch. 'Come along! I've got
Ball's chair for you, andBill Harewood is sitting in it for fear any one should bone it. Where'syour ticket?'

  'Lance, take care! Don't take her faster than she can go!' as hewhisked her over the platform; and Wilmet was impeded by the seekingfor Alice's parasol and Angela's cloak. They were quite out of sightwhen Lance had dragged Cherry through the crowd at the door, andbrought her to the wheeled chair just in time to find Bill Harewoodglaring out of it like the red planet Mars, and asseverating that he_was_ the lame young lady it was hired for.

  In went Geraldine, imploring to wait for Wilmet, but all in vain; offwent the chair, owner and escort alike in haste, and she was sweptalong, with Lance and Will with a hand holding either side of thechair, imparting breathless scraps of information, and exchangingremarks: 'There goes the Archdeacon.' 'The Thorpe choir is not come,and Miles is mad about it.' 'That's the Town Hall.' 'There's where Jacklicked a cad for bullying.' 'There's a cannon-ball of Oliver Cromwell'ssticking out of that wall.' 'That's the only shop fit to get gingerbeerat!' 'That old horse in that cab was in the Crimea.' 'We come last inthe procession, and if you see a fellow like a sheep in spectacles,that's Shapcote.' 'Hurrah! what a stunning lot! where is it from?''Bembury? My eyes, if that big fellow doesn't mean to bawl us all down.Down that way--that's the palace. Whose carriage is it stopping there?Now, here's the Close.'

  'Is that the Cathedral? Oh!'

  'You may well say so! No, not that way.' And on rattled poor amazedGeraldine through an archway, under some lime trees, round a corner,round another corner, to another arched doorway, with big doors studdedwith nails, with a little door for use cut out of one of the big ones.

  'You must get out here,' said Lance, 'we are close by,' and he helpedher out, and paid and thanked the man with the chair. 'Here's ourdomain,' he continued, as he introduced Cherry through the open doorwayinto a small flagged court, with two houses, grey and old-fashioned,forming one side, and on the other an equally old long low buildingwith narrow latticed arched windows. Opposite to the entrance was ahandsome buttressed Gothic-looking edifice, behind which rose the gableof the north transept of the Cathedral, beautiful with a rose window,and farther back, far, far above, the noble tower.

  Already everything was very wonderful to Geraldine. 'That's ourkennel,' said Lance, pointing to the low buildings to the right.'School's behind; but we boarders are put up in one of the old monks'dormitories, between court and cloister.'

  'Is it really?' exclaimed Geraldine.

  'So my father says,' said Will. 'Here's our door.' Another stone-archedpassage, almost dark, with doors opening on either side, seemed commonto both houses; and Will was inviting them to enter, but Lance heldback. 'No time,' he said; 'better call your father.'

  'The others,' sighed Geraldine.

  'Bother the others! That's right: here he is!'

  'Halloo, Father!' cried Will; 'we've got Cherry.'

  'By which unceremonious designation I imagine you to mean to introduceMiss Underwood,' said a figure, appearing from beneath the archway,in trencher cap, surplice, and hood, with white hair, and a sortof precision and blandness that did not at all agree with Cherry'spreconceived notions of the Harewood household. 'I am very glad tosee you. My ladies, as usual, are unready. Will you have a glass ofwine? No?--What do you say, Lancelot?--Very well, we will take you inat once. You will not object to waiting there, and this is the quiettime.--Boys, you ought to be with the choir.'

  'Oceans of time, Dad,' coolly answered Will; 'none of the fellows upthere are under weigh.'

  Mr. Harewood offered his arm, but perceived that Cherry preferred Lanceand her crutch; advancing to the door opposite that by which they hadentered, he unlocked it, and Geraldine found herself passing through abeauteous old lofty chamber, with a groined Tudor roof, all fans, andpendants, and shields; tall windows stained with armorial bearings,parchment charters and blazoned genealogies against the walls, andscreens upon screens loaded with tomes of all ages, writing-tables andchairs here and there, and glass-topped tables containing illuminationsand seals. 'Here is my paradise,' said the librarian, smiling.

  'I think it must be,' said Geraldine, with a long breath of wonder andadmiration.

  'Ah! would you not like to have a good look, Cherry?' said Lance.'That's Richard Coeur de Lion's seal in there.'

  'Don't begin about it--don't set him on,' whispered Willie, with asign of his head towards his father, who was fitting the key into theopposite door, 'or we shall all stay here for the rest of the day.'

  This low door open, Mr. Harewood and the boys bared their heads as theyentered, and Geraldine felt the strange solemn sensation of findingherself in a building of vast height and majesty, full of a wonderfulstillness, as though the confusion of sounds she had been in sorecently were far, far off.

  'Where now, Lancelot?' asked Mr. Harewood, in a hushed voice; 'do youwant me any further?'

  'No, thank you, sir; I'll just take her across the choir to Mr. Miles,and then join the rest of us at the vestry.'

  'Good-bye for the present, then,' said Mr. Harewood kindly. 'You are insafe hands. Your brother comes round every one. _I_ could not do this.'

  Through the side-screen, into the grandly beautiful choir, arching highabove, with stall-work and graceful canopies below, and rich glasscasting down beams of coloured light--all for 'glory and for beauty,'thought Geraldine.

  'You must not stop; you must look when you are settled. That's myside,' pointing to one of the choristers' desks. 'It will be only wethat sing in here; the congregation is in the nave--a perfect seaof chairs. I'll come for you when it is over. Here is Mr. Miles. Mysister, sir.'

  A pale gentleman in spectacles, with a surplice and beautiful bluehood, was here addressed. He too greeted Geraldine, very shyly butkindly, and she found herself expected to ascend some alarming-lookingstone steps. The organ was on the choir-screen, and to the organist'slittle private gallery was she to ascend. It was a difficult matter,and she had in her trepidation despairingly recognised the differencebetween Lance's good will and Felix's practised strength; but at lastshe was landed in an admirable little cushioned nook, hidden by twotall painted carved canopies--exactly over the Dean's head, her brothertold her--and where, as she sat sideways, she could see through thequatrefoils into the choir on the right hand, and the nave on the left.'Delightful! Oh, thank you; how kind! If I am only not keeping any oneout.'

  'No,' said Lance, smiling, and whispering lower than ever, 'he has noone belonging to him. He hates women. Never a petticoat was here beforein his reign. Have you a book?'

  'They are robing, Underwood,' said the misogynist in the organ-loft;and Lance hurried away, leaving Geraldine alone, palpitating a gooddeal, but almost enjoying the solitude, in the vast structure, wherethe sanctity of a thousand years of worship seemed to fill the veryair, as she gazed at the white vaultings and bosses carved with emblemsabove, at the vista of clustered columns terminating in the greatjewelled west window, or at the crown-like loveliness that encompassedthe sanctuary. All was still, except a deep low tone of the organ nowand then. Mr. Miles looked in after the first, to hope she did not_feel_ it uncomfortably, and to assure her that though she was too nearhis organ, she need not fear its putting forth its full powers; itwas to be kept in subordination, and only guide the voices. This wasgreat attention from a woman-hater, and Geraldine ventured to reiterateher thanks; at which he smiled, and said, 'When one has such a boy asyour brother, there is pleasure in doing anything he wishes. You aremusical?'

  'I never was able to learn to play.'

  'But you can read music?'

  'Oh yes,' for she had often copied it.

  So he brought her whole sheets of music, and put her in the way offollowing and understanding, perceiving, as he went, that she was fullof intelligence and perception.

  When he went back to his post, a few groups, looking very small, werecreeping in by transept doors--by favour, like herself: then a littlewhite figure flitted across to the desks, opened and marked the books,took up something, and
disappeared; and in another moment Lance, in hisbroad white folds, was at her side. 'Here's the music. Oh, you have it!I've seen Fee,' he whispered; 'they are at Mrs. Harewood's, all right!'and he was gone.

  Here she sat, her attention divided between the sacred impressions ofthe place, its exceeding beauty, and the advance of the multitude intothe nave, as the doors were open, and they surged up the space left inthe central aisle, and occupied the ranks of chairs prepared for them.Then came a long pause; she scanned each row in search of her sisters,and only was confused by the host of heads; felt lost and lonely, andturned her eyes and mind to the silent grandeur to the east, ratherthan the throng to the west.

  At last there came the sweet floating sound of the chant, growing inpower like the ocean swell as it approached, and the first brightbanner appeared beneath the lofty pointed archway; and the double whitefile came flowing on like a snowy glacier, the chant becoming clearand high as the singers of each parish marched along to their places,each ranked under a bright banner with the symbol of their church'sdedication. St. Oswald's rood helped Geraldine to make out that ofBexley better than their faces, though she did make out her eldestbrother's fair face, and trace him to his seat. The cathedral singerscame at last, and that kenspeckle red head of Will Harewood's directedher to the less conspicuous locks belonging to Lance, whose own clearthrush-like note she could catch as he passed beneath the screen. Thencame the long train of parish clergy, the canons, the Dean, and lastlythe Bishop, the sight of whom recalled so much.

  The unsurpliced contribution had meantime been ushered in by the sidedoors, and filled seats in the rear of the others, so as to add theirvoices without marring the general effect--the perfection of whichGeraldine enjoyed--of the white-robed multitude that seemed to fill thewhole chancel.

  The sight seemed to inspire her whole soul with a strange yearning joy,as though she were beholding a faint earthly reflex of the great visionof the Beloved Disciple; and far more was it so at the sound, whichrealised in a measure the words, 'As the voice of mighty waters, and asthe voice of thunder.'

  These were the very words that had been selected for the Second Lesson,and the First consisted of those verses in which we hear of David'scommencement of the continual chant of psalms at the sanctuary; andboth, unwonted as they were, gave a wonderful thrill to the audience,as though opening to them a new comprehension of their office assingers of the sanctuary.

  There is no need to dwell on the wonderful and touching exhilarationderived from the harmony of vast numbers with one voice attuned topraise. It is a sensation which is so nearly a foretaste of eternity,that participation alone can give the most distant perception thereof.To the entirely unprepared and highly sensitive Geraldine it was mostoverpowering, all the more because she was entirely out of sight, andwithout power of taking part by either gesture or posture--she waspassive and had no vent for her emotion.

  Lance, who made his way to her round through the transept the momenthe had disrobed, found her pale, panting, tearful, and trembling, withburning cheeks, so that his exaltation turned to alarm. 'Are you doneup, Cherry? It is too hot up here? I'll try to find Felix or Wilmet,which?'

  'Neither! I am quite well, only--O Lance, I did not know anything couldbe so heavenly. There seemed to be the sweeping of angels' wings allround and over me, and Papa's voice quite clear.'

  'I know,' said Lance; 'it always does come in that Te Deum.'

  The sister and brother were silent, not yet able for the criticaldiscussion of single points; only, as he put his arm round her to helpher to rise, she said, with a sigh, 'O Lance, it is a great thing tobe one of them! Thank you. I think this is the greatest day of all mylife.'

  The getting her down, what with Lance's inexperience and want ofheight and strength, was anxious work; and just as it had been safelyaccomplished, the rest of their party were seen roaming the aisle indistress and perplexity. Geraldine was very glad of Felix's substantialarm, but she had rather he had omitted that rebuke for venturesomenessin dealing with her, which would have affronted Fulbert, but neverseemed to trouble Lance, who was only triumphant in his success; andher perfect contentment charmed away the vexation which really arosefrom a slight sense of having neglected her.

  The others had been perfectly happy in their several ways, and madeeager comments on their way to the house of Harewood, whither Lancepiloted them--this time by the front way, through the garden, whichlay behind the close--entering, in spite of the mannerly demurs of theelder ones, through the open door, into a hall whence a voice of heartygreeting at once ensued. 'Here you are at last; and how's the poordarling your sister? not over-tired?'

  And Cherry, before she was aware, found herself kissed, and almostsnatched away from Felix, to be deposited on a sofa; and while the likekisses were bestowed on the two little girls, and hospitable offersshowered on all, she was amused by perceiving that good Mrs. Harewoodwas endowed with exactly the same grotesque order of ugliness as herson William; but she was even more engaging, from an indescribablydroll mixture of heedlessness, blundering, and tender motherliness.

  'There, now, you'll just leave her to me, the poor dear; and Lance willtake you down to the Mead, and find Papa and the girls for you.'

  'Oh, thank you, I could not think of your staying. Now pray--'

  'Now prays' were to no purpose; Mrs. Harewood professed only to want anexcuse for staying at home--she did not want to be done up with runningafter her girls to the four ends of the Mead, when it was a long stepfor her to begin with. Off with them.

  So when Wilmet was satisfied that Geraldine was comfortable, the fivemoved off--Felix and Alice, Angel in Wilmet's hand, and Lance's andRobina's tongues wagging so fast that the wonder was how either caughta word of what the other was saying.

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Harewood, tossing her bonnet and gloves aside, inperfect indifference to the exposure of the curious structure ofred and grey hair she thus revealed, lavished meats and drinks uponher guest, waiting on her with such kindness, that in spite of allweariness and craving for quiet after these deep and wonderfulimpressions, it was impossible not to enjoy that warmth of heart.There was exactly the tender motherliness that even Wilmet and SisterConstance could not give.

  It was charming to hear how fond Mrs. Harewood was of Lance, and howthe having such a companion had made it possible to keep her Willieat the cathedral school, where the mixture of lads was great, but themaster first-rate. He thought highly of the promise of both; 'but, totell the truth,' said Mrs. Harewood, as she sat and fanned herself withher husband's trencher cap, looking more than ever like a frog in astrawberry bed, 'though my Willie is the cleverest boy in the school,little good his cleverness would have done him, and he would have beenharum-scarum Bill more than ever, if it were not for Lance. So say hisfather and brother Jack; so that they will not be for his going to apublic school unless Lance were sure of it too.'

  'Will not they be able to stay on here?'

  Mrs. Harewood explained that the year that the barristers--choristersshe meant--were sixteen, when their voices were usually unserviceable,they, together with those of like age in the school, were subjected toan examination, and the foremost scholar obtained an exhibition, invirtue of which he could remain free of expense for another two years,and then could try for one of the Minsterham scholarships at one of thecolleges at Cambridge. Those who failed, either had to pay like theordinary schoolboys, or left the school.

  Dear Mrs. Harewood was a perfect Malaprop, and puzzled Geraldine bycontinually calling the present occasion the rural meeting, and otherlike slips, uncommonly comical in a well-educated woman with the wordsshe knew best.

  All this, and a great deal more--about the shy woman-hating organist,and the unluckiness of the dissenter--no, precentor--having a sickwife, and the legal difficulties that prevented building a better housefor the boarders than the queer long room where they lodged, betweenthe cloister and the Bailey--the proper name of the little court bywhich Geraldine had come--was poured out; and kind as it was, there wa
sa certain sense of having been talked to death.

  A whole flood of Harewoods, Underwoods, and untold numbers besides,swept into the room as the bell began to ring for Evensong. Mostsincere were Cherry's entreaties that she might be left alone. Shecould not go back to her coign of vantage, 'it had been too beautifulfor her to bear more,' she said; and she severally declined offers ofcompanionship from three female Harewoods and two sisters, tellingWilmet at last that all she wanted was to be still and alone.

  Alone she was, but not still, for there was nothing to hinder themagnificent volume of sound that surged around the Cathedral fromcoming to her; and she could trace the service all along--in chant,pealing mighty Amens, with the hush between, in anthem, and in jubilanthymn. She was more calmly happy than in the oppressive grandeur of themorning, as she lay there, in the cool drawing-room, with the openwindow veiled by loose sprays of untrimmed roses, and sacred printslooking down from the walls.

  The solitude lasted rather too long, when she had heard the hum andbuzz of the host pouring out of the Cathedral, and still no one came.They were to go home by the 5.10 train, and every time she counted thechimes she became more alarmed lest they should be too late. Minutesdragged on. Five! It was five! Was she forgotten? Should she be onlymissed and remembered at the station, too late? Tired, nervous, unusedto oblivion, she found tears in her eyes, and was too sorrowful andangry with her own impatience even to think of the old woman of Servia.Hark! a trampling? Had they remembered her? But oh, it would be latefor the train!

  In burst Lance, in his cap and little short quaint black gown.

  'O Lance, I shall be too late!'

  'You don't go by this train.'

  'Oh dear! oh dear! Mr. Froggatt was to meet me;' and the tears startedfrom her eyes. 'How could Felix forget?'

  'Never mind, there's sure to be a fly or something.'

  'Yes, but Mr. Froggatt waiting!'

  'Never mind,' repeated Lance, ''tis a fine evening to air the old boss.'

  'Don't, Lance; you none of you have any proper regard for Mr.Froggatt;' which, as far as Lance was concerned, was unjust, and it waswell for Cherry that it was not addressed to either of the brothers whobetter deserved it.

  What Lance did was to execute one of his peculiar summersaults, andthen, making up a dismal face, to say, 'Alas! I commiserate thevenerable citizen disappointed of the pleasure of driving my LadyGeraldine home from the wash as well as hisself.'

  She was past even appreciating the bathos. 'It is no laughing matter,'she said; 'it is so uncivil, when he is so kind. I can't imagine whatFelix is thinking of?'

  'Croquet,' said Lance briefly; then seeing the flushed, quivering,mortified face, he added, 'Wilmet has not forgotten you one bit,Cherry; but Alice Knevett and Robin did so want to see the fun in themead--there's running in sacks, and all sorts of games--that there's nogetting any one away; and the W's are in charge, and can't leave themto their own devices, so she said perhaps you would be more rested bylying still than rattling home.'

  'Oh, I dare say Wilmet is as sorry as anybody,' said Cherry ratherquerulously, for the needle point was pricking her again.

  'And as to your dear old Froggy,' continued Lance, 'she says he toldher he did not in the least expect you back by this train, and if youdid not come by it, he'll stay in town for the 8.50.'

  'How very good of him!' said Cherry, beginning to be consoled. 'AndFelix at croquet!'

  'Alice is teaching him. You never did see such a joke as oldBlunderbore screwing up his eyes at the balls, and making at them withhis mallet like a sledge-hammer. He and Alice and Robin and that Bissetcurate are playing against Bill, two of the girls, and Shapcote--Bexleyagainst Minsterham; and little Bobbie's a real out-and-outer. She'llmake her side win by sheer cool generalship.'

  'And poor little Angel?' The needle point was a pang now.

  'Oh, Angel is happier than ever she was in her life. The Bishop'sdaughter has a turn for little kids, and has got all the small onestogether in the pleached alley, playing at all manner of things.'

  'Run back, Lance, to the fun. I shall do very well,' said poorGeraldine.

  'I should think so, when I get you so often!' scornfully ejaculatedLancelot, drawing a dilapidated brioche from under the sofa, andsquatting on it, with his dancing eyes close to her sad ones.

  An effusion of spirits prompted her to lay her hands on his shoulders,kiss him on each cheek, and cry, 'O Lance, you are the very sweetestboy!'

  'Sweetest treble, you mean,' said Lance quaintly; 'if you had onlyheard me! You should see how the old ladies in the stalls peep andwhisper, and how Bill Harewood opens his mouth rather wider than itwill go, and they think it is he.'

  'Not for fun, Lance?'

  'Well, I believe all their jaws are hung on looser than other people's.But I say, ain't you dying of thirst?'

  'Perhaps Mrs. Harewood will give us some tea when she comes in.'

  'If you trust to that--'

  'O Lance!' she cried, alarmed at seeing him coolly ring the bell.

  'Bless you, she's forgotten all about you and tea and everything! Theyare drinking it by the gallon in the tents; and by and by she'll rollin, ready to cry that you've had none, and mad with herself and me forgiving you none; and the fire will be out, and the kettle will boilabout ten minutes after you are off by the train. We'll have some thisminute.'

  'But, Lance--'

  'But, Cherry, ain't I a walking Sahara with roaring at the tip-top ofmy voice to lead the clod-hoppers? How they did bellow! I owe it as aduty to the Chapter to wet my whistle.'

  'One comfort is, nobody knows your coolness. Nobody comes for all yourringing.'

  'Reason good! Every living soul in the house is in the Bishop's meadow,barring the old cat; I _seen_ 'em with their cap-strings flying. Butthat's nothing. I know where Mother Harewood keeps her tea and sugar;'and he pounced on a tea-caddy of Indian aspect.

  'Lance, if you did that to Mettie--'

  'Exactly so. I don't;' and he ran out of the room, while Cherry satup on her sofa, her petulance quite banished between amusement anddesperation at such proceedings in a strange house. He came backpresently, with two cups, saucers, and plates, apparently picked up athap-hazard, as no two were alike. 'My dear Lance, where have you been?'

  'In the kitchen. Such a jolly arched old hole. Bill and I have done noend of Welsh rabbits there. Once when we were melting some lead, Billlet it drop into the pudding, and the Pater got it at dinner, and saidit was the heaviest morsel he ever had to digest.'

  'But wasn't it poison?'

  'I suppose not, for you see he isn't dead. Another time, when we weremelting glue, we upset a whole lot of fat, and the chimney caught fire;and wasn't that a go? Bill got a pistol out of Jack's room, and firedit up the chimney to bring the soot down; and down it came with avengeance! He was regularly singed, and I do think the place would havebeen burned if it had not been too old! All the Shapcotes ran out intothe court, hallooing Fire! and the engine came, but there was nothingfor it to do. Oh, the face Wilmet would make to see that kitchen.Kettle's biling--I must run.'

  He came back with an enormous metal tea-pot in one hand, and a boilingkettle in the other, a cloud of vapour about his head.

  'You appear in a cloud, like a Greek divinity,' said Cherry, beginningto enter into the humour of the thing.

  'Bringing nectar and ambrosia,' said Lance, depositing the kettle amidthe furbelows of paper in the grate, and proceeding to brew the tea.'Excuse the small trifles of milk and cream; and as to bread, I can'tfind it, but here are the cakes you had for luncheon, shunted off intothe passage window. Sugar, Cherry? Fingers were made before tongs. NowI call this jolly.'

  'I only hope this isn't a great liberty.'

  'If you fired off a cannon under Mrs. Harewood's nose, she would notcall it a liberty.'

  'So it appears. But Mr. Harewood does not look--like that.'

  'Oh, he's well broken in. He is the pink of orderliness in his ownstudy and the library, but as long as no one meddles there,
he mindsnothing. It just keeps him alive; but I believe the Shapcotes thinkthis house a mild lunatic asylum.'

  'Who are the Shapcotes?'

  'He's registrar. They live in the other half of this place--the oldinfirmary, Mr. Harewood calls it. Such a contrast! He is a tremendousold Turk in his house, and she is a little mincing woman; and they'vemade Gus--he's one of us, you know--a horrid sneak, and think it's allmy bad company and Bill's. By-the-by, Cherry, Gus Shapcote asked me ifmy senior wasn't spoony about--'

  'I hope you told him to mind his own business!' cried Geraldine, with agreat start of indignation.

  'I told him he was a sheep,' said Lance. 'But, I say, Cherry, I want toknow what you think of it.'

  'Think? I'm not so ready to think nonsense!'

  'Well, when the old giant was getting some tea for _her_, I saw twoladies look at one another and wink.'

  'Abominably ill-mannered,' she cried, growing ruddier than the cherry.

  'But had you any notion of it?'

  'Impossible!' she said breathlessly. 'He is only kind and civil to her,as he is to everybody. Think how young he is!'

  'I'm sure I never thought old Blunderbore much younger than Methuselah.Twenty-one! Isn't it about the age one does such things?'

  'Not when one has twelve brothers and sisters on one's back,' sighedGeraldine. 'Poor Felix! No, there can't be anything in it. Don't let usthink of foolish nonsense this wonderful day. What a glorious hymn thatwas!'

  Lance laid his head lovingly on the sofa-cushion, and discussedthe enjoyment of the day with his skilled appreciation of music.Geraldine's receptive power was not inferior to his own, though she hadnone of that of expression, nor of the science in which he was trained.He was like another being from the merry rattle he was at other times;and she had more glimpses than she ever had before of the high natureand deep enthusiasm that were growing in him.

  'Hark! there's somebody coming,' she cried, starting.

  'Let him come. Oh, it is the Pater.--Here is some capital tea, Mr.Harewood. Have some? I'll get a cup.'

  'You are taking care of your sister. That is right. A good colonistyou would make.--Come in, Lee,' said Mr. Harewood, who, to Cherry'sincreased consternation, was followed by another clergyman. 'We arebetter off than I dared to expect, thanks to this young gentleman. MissGeraldine Underwood--Mr. Lee.--You knew her father, I think.'

  'Not poor Underwood of Bexley? Indeed! I knew him. I always wished Icould have seen more of him,' said Mr. Lee, coming up and heartilyshaking hands with Cherry, and asking whether she was staying there, &c.

  Meantime Lance had fetched a blue china soup-plate, a white cup andpink spotted saucer; another plate labelled 'Nursery,' and a coffee-cupand saucer, one brown and the other blue; and as tidily as if he hadbeen lady of the house or parlour-maid, presented his provisions, Mr.Harewood accepting with a certain quiet amusement. His remarkabletrim neatness of appearance, and old-school precision of manner, madehis quiet humorous acquiescence in the wild ways of his household allthe more droll. After a little clerical talk, that reminded Cherryof the old times when she used to lie on her couch, supposed not tounderstand, but dreamily taking in much more than any one knew--itappeared that Mr. Lee wanted to see something in the Library, and Mr.Harewood asked her whether she would like to come and see Coeur deLion's seal.

  She was fully rested, and greatly pleased. Lance's arm was quitesufficient now, and she studied the Cathedral and its precincts in asuperexcellent manner. Mr. Harewood, who had spent almost his wholelife under its shadow, and knew the history of almost every stone orquarry of glass, was the best of lionizers, and gave her much attentionwhen he perceived how intelligent and appreciative she was. He showedher the plan of the old conventual buildings, and she began to unravelthe labyrinth through which she had been hurried. The Close and Deanerywere modernized, but he valued the quaint old corner where he livedfor its genuine age. The old house now divided between him and Mr.Shapcote had been the infirmary; and the long narrow building opposite,between the Bailey and the cloister, had been the lodgings either oflay-brothers or servants. There being few boarders at the Cathedralschool, they had always been lodged in the long narrow room, withthe second master in a little closet shut off from them. Cherry wasfavoured with a glance at Lance's little corner, with the old-fashionedblack oak bedstead, solid but unsteady table and stool, the equallyold press, and the book-case he had made himself with boards beggedfrom his friend the carpenter. A photograph and drawing or two, and abat, completed the plenishing. She thought it very uncomfortable, butLance called it his castle; and Mr. Harewood, pointing to the washingapparatus, related that in his day the cock in the Bailey was the onlyprovision for such purposes. The boys were safely locked in at eightevery night when the curfew rang, and the Bailey door was shut, therebeing no other access to their rooms, except by the Cathedral, throughthe Library, and the private door that led into the passage common tothe Harewoods and Shapcotes.

  The loveliness of the Cloister, the noble vault of the Chapter-house,the various beauties and wonders of the Cathedral, and lastly thecuriosities of the Library--where Mr. Harewood enthroned her in his ownchair, unlocked the cases, brought her the treasures, and turned overthe illuminated manuscripts for her as if she had been a princess--madeGeraldine forget time, weariness, and anxiety, until, as the summer sunwas at last taking leave, a voice called at the window, 'Here she is!I thought Papa would have her here!' and the freckled face of a MissHarewood was seen peering in.

  There the truants were, eager, hurried, afraid for the train, full ofcompunction for the long abandonment: Alice, most apologetic; Wilmet,most quiet; Felix, most attentive; Robina, still ecstatic; and Angela,tired out--there they all were. It was all one hasty scramble to thecrowded station, and then one merry discussion and comparison of notesall the way home; Geraldine maintaining that she had enjoyed herselfthe best of all; and Alice incredulous of the pleasure of sitting ina musty old library with an old gentleman of at least sixty; whileFelix was so much delighted to find that she had been so happy, that healmost believed that the delay had been solely out of consideration forher.

  Mr. Froggatt was safe at the station in his basket, full of delightat the enjoyment of his young people, and of anecdotes of Bernard andStella; and Geraldine found herself safely deposited at home, but withone last private apology from Wilmet as she was putting her to bed.'I did not know how to help it,' she said; 'Alice was so wild withdelight, that I could not get her away; and Felix was enjoying hisholiday so thoroughly, I knew that you would be sorry it should beshortened.'

  'Indeed I am very glad you stayed. It would be too bad to encumber you.'

  'I wanted to come and see after you, but I had promised Miss Pearsonnot to lose sight of Alice. And then Lance offered to take care of you.'

  'O Wilmet, I never half knew what a dear boy Lance is! What boy wouldhave come, when all that was going on, to stay with a lame crossthing like me? And how nice for him to have such kind friends as theHarewoods!'

  'They seem very fond of him,' said Wilmet; 'but I wish he had taken upwith the Shapcotes. I never saw such a house. It is enough to ruin allsense of order! But they were very kind to us; and if you were welloff, it was all right. I never saw Felix look so like his bright oldself as to-day; and it is his birth-day, after all.'

  So Wilmet was innocent of all suspicions--wise experienced Wilmet!That was enough to make Cherry forget that little thorn of jealousy,especially as things subsided into their usual course, and she had nomore food for conjecture.