call in and look at several wall papers. And soonafter, we left the Yew Trees and drove off again.
Mr Bickersteth's house was between the Yew Trees and the town. As wewere passing the gate it opened, and Lady Honor came out. She waswalking slowly, for she was not strong now, and she was an old lady. Inmy eyes _very_ old, for I could not remember her anything else. Papadrew up when he saw her, and jumped down.
"We have just been at the Yew Trees," he said. "My wife and Connie areso interested in getting it made nice for your friends."
"Ah, yes!" said Lady Honor, looking pleased, "we heard from Frank Whytethis morning that it is settled. Very good of you to go yourself tolook over the house, my dear Mrs Percy. And Connie, too! That is anhonour--however in this case you will be rewarded. You will find theWhyte girls delightful and most desirable companions for her, MrsPercy, Evey especially."
Mamma grew rather white, and gave a little gasp.
"_Evie_," she whispered (I spell it "Evie," because I know that was howmamma _thought_ it), "do you hear, Connie?"
"Yes, of course," I said rather sharply. No one else noticed mamma, forLady Honor had turned to papa. I felt half provoked. I wished thelittle Whyte girl had not been called "Evie."
"Mamma will always be mixing her up with our Evie, and thinking her asort of an angel," I thought to myself, and something very like a touchof ugly jealousy crept into my heart. Just at that moment, unluckily,Lady Honor glanced my way again.
"Are you quite well again, Connie?" she said. "You don't look verybright, my dear. She needs companionship, doctor--companionship of herown age, as I have always told you. It will do her good in every way,yes, in _every_ way," and she tapped the umbrella which she was carryingemphatically on the ground, while she nodded her head and looked at mewith the greatest satisfaction in her bright old eyes. I am not surethat there was not a little touch of mischief mingled with thesatisfaction--a sort of good-natured spitefulness, if there could besuch a thing! And perhaps it was not to be wondered at: "bright" Icertainly was not looking, and indeed I fear there must have beensomething very like sulkiness in my face just then. "Sweet Content,"Lady Honor went on, half under her breath, as if speaking to herself, "avery pretty name and a very lovely character. I was telling the Whytechildren about it when I was with them the other day."
Mamma flushed with pleasure, but I felt inwardly furious. I was surethe old lady was mocking at me; afterwards I felt glad that papa had notseen my face just then.
For the rest of the way, after we had said good-bye to Lady Honor, I wasquite silent. If it had not been for very shame, I would have asked tobe put down at our own house when we passed it instead of going on toFuller's shop. And mamma's gentle coaxing only made me crosser.
"I am sure you are too tired, darling," she kept saying. "You don'tthink you have caught cold? Do say, if you feel at all chilly?"
And when I grunted some short, surly reply, she only grew more and moreanxious, till at last papa turned round and looked at me.
"She is all right, Rose," he said. "It is as mild as possible--leavethe child alone. At the same time, Connie," he added to me, "you mustanswer your mother more respectfully. You have nothing to be so crossabout, my dear."
I felt startled and almost frightened. It was very seldom papa foundfault with me. Yet there was something in his tone which prevented myfeeling angry; something in his tone and in his eyes too. It was as ifhe was a little sorry for me. I felt myself redden, and I think one ortwo tears crept up.
"I am sorry," I said, gently.
Papa's face brightened at once, and this made it easier for me to mastermyself. We were just at Fuller's by this time. I went in with papa andmamma, and after a minute or two I found it was not difficult to talk asusual, and to feel really interested in the papers. Papa and mammachose very nice ones for the dining- and drawing-rooms, and I was askedmy opinion about them all, especially about the schoolroom one. Thencame the bedroom ones, most of which were quickly decided upon. I grewvery anxious indeed when mamma asked to see the pale-grey-with-rosesone, which had been in the window a week or two ago. Fuller's man knewit at once and brought it out.
"It is beautiful," he said, "a French paper, but expensive."
And so it was, dearer than the one chosen for the dining-room! But papaglanced at it and then at me with a smile.
"Yes," he said, "I will have that one for the bedroom to the right--theroom off the passage up the first stair."
"Oh, papa, _thank_ you," I said earnestly. And I meant it.
I have told all these little things to make you understand as well as Ican, the mixture of feelings I had about the Whyte children even beforeI ever saw them. Now I will skip a bit of time, and go on to tell abouthow things actually turned out.
Things _almost never_ turn out as one expects, the older one gets themore one sees this, especially about things one has thought of andplanned a good deal. I had planned the first seeing the Whytes ever somany times in my own mind, always in the same way, you know, but withlittle additions and improvements the more I thought it over. Thegeneral idea of my plan was this. It was to be a lovely day: I was toride over with papa one morning, Hoppie was to be looking his sweetest,and as we rode up to the house I was to see (and pretend not to see, ofcourse) a lot of heads peeping out of a window to admire the little girland her pony. Then we should be shown into the drawing-room, which Ihad furnished in my own mind rather shabbily and stiffly, and Captainand Mrs Whyte would come in and begin thanking papa for all hiskindness, and would speak to me _very_ nicely and rather admiringly, andMrs Whyte would sigh a very little as if she wished her daughters weremore like me. She would say how _very_ much they wanted to know me, andshe would beg papa to stay a few minutes longer while she called them.She would be very kind, but rather fussy and anxious. Then the girlswould come in, looking very eager but shy. They were to be smaller thanI, and younger-looking, very shabbily dressed, but nice, and veryadmiring. I would talk to them encouragingly, and they would tell mehow beautiful they thought the rose paper, and that Lady Honor had toldthem I had chosen it--at least, _perhaps_ it should be Lady Honor, I wasnot quite sure--sometimes I planned that papa should smile and it shouldcome out by accident, as it were. Then this should lead us to talk offlowers, and I would tell them how they might make winter nosegays tobrighten up the drawing-room a little, and I would promise them someflowers out of our conservatory, and papa would ask Mrs Whyte to letthem come to have tea with me the next day, and they would lookdelighted though half afraid, and they would all come to the door to seeme mount, and, and--on and on I would go for hours, in my fancies, ofwhich "I" and "we" were always the centre, the pivot on which everythingelse revolved!
Now I will tell what really happened.
It was about six weeks after the day that I had gone with papa and mammato the Yew Trees. So it was within a fortnight of Christmas. Mamma andI had been to the Yew Trees again once or twice to see how things weregetting on, but for the last ten days or so we had not gone, as theWhytes' two servants and their furniture had come, and the house wasnow, therefore, to all intents and purposes theirs, and one morning aletter from Captain Whyte to papa announced that he and Mrs Whyte and"some of our numerous youngsters" were to arrive the same day.
"Poor things," said mamma, with a little shiver, "how I do pity themremoving at this season."
"But it isn't cold," said papa. "So far it has been an unusually mildwinter, though certainly we have had a disagreeable amount of rain."
He glanced out as he spoke. It was not raining, but it looked dull andgloomy.
"I suppose there is nothing we can do to help the Whytes?" said mamma."You will tell me, Tom, if you think there is."
"I almost think the kindest thing in such circumstances is to leavepeople alone till they shake down a little," he replied. "However, Ishall be passing that way this evening, and I'll look in for a moment.Captain Whyte won't mind me."
I didn't think any one could ever "min
d" papa! I suppose it comespartly from his being a doctor and knowing so much about home things,children and illnesses, and so on, that he is so wonderfully sensibleand handy and tender in his ways--"like a woman," Prudence says; butindeed I don't think there are many women like _him_--and I don't thinkit can be all from his being a doctor, it must be a good deal from hisown kind, tender, sympathising heart.
"Please find out how soon we can go to see them at the Yew Trees," Isaid. "Perhaps I might ride there with you some morning onHop-o'-my-thumb before mamma goes regularly to call."
"We'll see," said papa, as he went off. Of course, I