Aunt Judith: The Story of a Loving Life

  CHAPTER VI.

  WINNIE'S HOME.

  That same evening Winnie and Dick were alone together in the oakparlour; a room sacred to themselves, where they ate, studied, played,and lived, as it were, a life quite apart from that of the otherinmates of the family, who, occupied with business or domestic dutiesthrough the day, spent evening after evening in a round of gaiety andamusement. Brother and sister enjoyed little of the society of theirelders during the week, but on Saturdays and Sabbaths they were usuallyexpected to lunch with their parents--an honour which, I am sorry tosay, neither appreciated; for somehow Dick seldom failed to commit agross blunder or make some absurd speech at a critical moment, andWinnie, though a general favourite, refused to be happy when he wassternly upbraided for his fault.

  The father, a man of wide culture and refinement, had no patience withhis son's clumsy movements and slow brain, refusing to look under thesurface and see the great loving heart which beat there with its wealthof warm true affection; while Mrs. Blake and the elder brothers andsisters regarded him in the light of a good-for-nothing or generalscapegrace. The result was that Dick hid the many sterling qualitiesof his nature under a gruff, forbidding exterior, and onlytender-hearted Winnie guessed how he winced and writhed under themocking word or light laugh indulged in at his expense. Resenting thembitterly, she gathered up all the love of her passionate little heartand showered it on him, idolizing this big brother of hers to such anextent that even his faults seemed gilded with a halo; and heraffection being equally returned, both found their greatest happinessin each other's society.

  Oh, what fun they had together in the oak parlour! Oh, the shouts ofringing laughter and the merry jest of words! Now and then Dick wouldbring home with him his special friend, Archie Trollope, and what anight would follow,--Winnie entering into their games with all the zestof her tomboy nature.

  She never felt solitary or out of place in the company of these twoboys; and they--why, they looked upon her as one of themselves: Dickdescribing her to his numerous companions as being a "tip-top" girl,and Archie singing her praises loudly to his own sisters who never knewwhat it was to join in a madcap frolic, and whose voices were strictlymodulated to society pitch.

  Sometimes, in the long winter evenings, the trio, tired with play,would lower the gas, and gathering round the large, blazing fire, tellghost stories with such thrilling earnestness that often the ghastlyphantoms seemed to merge almost into reality, and they found themselvesstarting at a falling cinder or the sound of a footstep in the passageoutside. On those occasions the window-blind was usually drawn up tothe top, that the pale, glimmering moonlight might stream in; and asthe soft silvery beams stole silently into the room and laid theirtremulous light on the young forms and awestruck faces, the flamesleaping and crackling joined in enhancing the effect of the story bythrowing on the walls weird shadows of a moving spectral band.

  But the winter days were yet to come, though the cold autumn winds andfalling leaves heralded their sure approach; and this evening Winnieand Dick were engaged--not in wandering hand in hand into wonderland,but in the prosaic occupation of making toffy.

  Winnie, enveloped in one of nurse's huge bib-aprons, stood at a littledistance from the fire, busily studying a book of recipes; while Dick,his honest face burnt to the colour of a lobster, was bending over asaucepan and stirring manfully the tempting contents.

  "Yes," said the young lady, laying aside the well-thumbed volume andtaking a step forward, "the quantities are correct. I am sure thiswill be excellent toffy, but--Dick, you shocking boy! whatever are youdoing? Licking the spoon, I declare. How very vulgar!" and Winnieopened her eyes in horrified amazement at her brother's lack ofgood-breeding.

  "Well, you see, Win," replied the culprit meekly, "you so often makemistakes and put in some awful compound that I am obliged to guardagainst being poisoned. Having a sincere affection for life, and notbeing like Portia 'aweary of this great world,' I consider it my dutyto take all due precautions, and therefore _pardonnez-moi_ for tastingthe toffy."

  The young cook drew her slight figure up and said with an air ofoffended dignity, "I flatter myself that I am quite capable of makingexcellent toffy, Richard Blake, and am well aware as to the properingredients."

  "Doubtless," with a sweeping bow, "but 'accidents will happen in thebest-regulated families;' and I remember how you substituted salt forsugar the last time, and apparently never discovered your mistake tillyou had dosed me with some of the vile concoction. It was crackingstuff, I can assure you." Here Dick became thoroughly convulsed at theremembrance of that disastrous night, and laughed so heartily thatWinnie fled to the rescue of her beloved toffy, and seized the spoonfrom her brother's swaying hand.

  "What an object you look!" she said scornfully, stirring the clearbrown liquid and inhaling its savoury odour with intense satisfaction."I don't see anything to laugh at;" and she began to hum the tune of anold nursery rhyme, as if utterly indifferent to both Dick and hislaughter.

  "Don't ape Madame Dignity, Win," gasped the awful boy in an almoststrangled condition; "lofty airs are not becoming to such a littlecreature. You know perfectly well what a 'go' it was, and thought Iwas about to 'shuffle off this mortal coil.'" Dick had a weakness forShakespeare. "Oh dear! when I reflect upon it all and remember thetaste--" but here Winnie was obliged to give in and join in hismerriment, for the boy's face of pretended disgust was too comical toresist.

  "Dick, you are dreadful!" she said at length, the tears streaming downher cheeks and her voice still trembling with a lurking suspicion oflaughter. "Will you never forget that eventful night!"

  "Never," replied her brother with mock gravity; "the remembrance isprinted indelibly on the records of my memory, and the taste remainsfor ever fresh to my palate. Let us change the conversation, Win; thesubject is too much for my delicate constitution."

  "I am quite agreeable," quoth the young lady composedly, "and in thatcase allow your hands to be active and your tongue silent. I want thetin buttered, and the bottle of vanilla essence brought from thepantry. Now, do hurry, for the toffy is almost ready."

  Dick obeyed orders, and in a short time the candy was cooling outsideon the window ledge, while brother and sister, comfortably settled intheir respective chairs, were preparing to enjoy a "quiet read."

  "This is a splendid book, Dick," said the little chatterbox, toyingwith the leaves of her dainty volume, and glancing at the tastefulengravings. "All the school-girls are raving about it, and saying howdelightfully interesting the story is."

  "What's the name and who's the author?" inquired Dick, too muchengrossed in his own book of wonderful adventures to give much heed tohis sister's words. "Quick, Win; I'm just killing a whale. Ah! nowthey've got him. Bravo!" and the boy shouted his appreciation of thestirring tale.

  "Oh, the title of the book is 'A Summer's Pleasure;' and theauthor--let me see--why--" and Winnie stopped short, her eyes opened totheir widest extent and her rosy lips slightly parted.

  "What's up with the girl?" queried Dick, roused by the little sister'ssurprised tone and bewildered expression. "Lot's wife could not havelooked more petrified, I'll be bound. Do satisfy a fellow's curiosity,Win, and don't sit there mute as a fish."

  Thus admonished, Winnie gave herself a little shake and laughed lightly.

  "No wonder," she said excusingly. "Only think, Dick,--the author ofthis book calls herself 'Aunt Judith,' and that is the name of one ofNellie Latimer's aunts."

  The boy gave a prolonged whistle.

  "Well, you are a little fool," he said politely, "to make such a fussabout nothing. Dear me, Win, you don't imagine surely that NellieLatimer's aunt is the author of that book, simply because her namehappens to be Judith. Why, there are hundreds of Aunt Judiths in theworld;" and philosopher Dick went back to his whales and icebergs inlofty contempt of his sister's excitement.

  "I daresay I am a goose," laughed Winnie apologetically; "but somehowit seemed so strange to see 'Aunt Judith' sta
ring at me from thetitle-page. Aunt Judith--" and the little girl repeated the namesoftly, as if those two words held for her some subtle charm.

  The minutes passed slowly one by one. Dick was away in the far northfighting the whales, and having wonderful adventures with polar bears;while Winnie, curled up cosy fashion in the depths of a huge easychair,was also absorbed in the contents of her book; when the softswish-swish of garments was heard coming along the passage, and thedoor opened to admit a fair, stately lady, whose silken robe fell ingraceful folds to her feet, and whose arms, neck, and hair glitteredwith sparkling jewels. She was followed by two younger ladies, asrichly but more youthfully dressed; and as they entered the room adelicious perfume distilled itself and wafted all around the sweetestfragrance.

  "Mamma!" cried Winnie, springing up and gazing admiringly on thebeautiful figure before her; "how pretty you look! Are you going outto-night again, and Clare and Edith also?"

  "Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Blake in a softly-modulated voice; "we areall going to the opera, and the carriage is already at the door. Iwished to know, however, why Dick was so late in getting home thisafternoon, and so looked in on you as I was passing."

  Dick, who had barely glanced up at his stepmother's entrance, and thencontinued reading, now knit his brow in an angry frown, and seemedunwilling to answer; while Clare, the elder of the two young ladies,laughed carelessly as she said, "Our invasion for that purpose washardly necessary, I fancy. It is simply the old story overagain--badly-prepared lessons."

  "You're about right there," replied the boy sullenly, never raising hiseyes from the volume before him. "What else could you expect of thedunce?" and a bitter sneer curled the corners of his lips as he spoke,while Winnie's warm little heart was all aglow with love and sympathy.

  Mrs. Blake's face assumed an expression of peevish distress. "I amsure, Dick," she began plaintively, "I do not know what the end of allthis will be. Your father is perfectly disgusted at your indolence andashamed of your stupidity." The boy's eyes flashed. "Yes, it is quitetrue. I am tired listening to his continual complaints;" and the ladydrew her fleecy wrap round her with an injured air.

  "O mamma," interrupted Winnie eagerly, "you are wronging Dick. He maynot be so clever as Algy and Tom, but he is such a dear, good boy, anddoes try ever so hard to learn his lessons. He does indeed; and Ishould know best, when I study beside him every night."

  "That's enough, Win," answered her brother doggedly. "I don't carewhat they believe;" and the boy, drawing his chair closer to the fire,gazed angrily into the burning embers.

  "What a respectful speech, and what charming manners!" said Edithscornfully. "You would grace any drawing-room, Dick.--Come away,mamma; we shall be late. Papa will soon bring his dutiful son to hisproper senses."

  "Well spoken, Edith," said Mrs. Blake, sweeping indignantly from theroom; "the boy is a perfect boor. I trust he may show more honour tohis father than he has accorded to me."

  The door closed softly behind the unwelcome guests, the light footstepsdied away in the distance, and Winnie and Dick were once more alone inthe little oak parlour, with the dancing firelight playing on theirfaces and roguishly deepening the tint on their youthful cheeks.

  Dick's book had dropped from his knees, and was lying with crumpledleaves on the rug, while the boy, his hands tightly clenched, sat inmoody silence; and Winnie's tender heart ached as she watched him.Slipping from her chair, she crossed over to his side, and nestlingdown, laid her pretty head on his arm, saying with a quiver in hervoice, "Dick, my dear, good boy, don't look like that; I can't bear it.Oh, why do they say such things to you?" Here the tears forcedthemselves into the bright eyes as she spoke.

  Dick gave the fender a vicious kick ere he replied: "I tell you what itis, Win: one of these days I'll run away. No, no; don't strangle meand say I won't, for I tell you I _will_. A fellow can't be expectedto stand this sort of thing all his life. I'm sick of it. Hallo!what's up?" for Winnie's arms were clasped tightly round his neck andthe great tears were running silently down her cheeks.

  "Don't go, Dick, oh, don't go!" she pleaded frantically, half chokingthe boy with her violent embraces. "Whatever should I do without you?Dick, you must not go; only wait, and all will come right in the end.Promise, promise!" and the little gipsy face looked pitiful in its wildterror.

  Dick's heart melted.

  "There, there, dry your eyes, you wee goose; I was only teasing you.Why, what a disconsolate-looking object somebody is!" and laughing hissister out of her fright, the two sat chatting merrily till bed-time,when Winnie went away to her own dainty room, and Dick also sought hisden.

  Then, when alone in the darkness, the merriment died out of his face,and as he lay thinking over his wrongs, real and imaginary, bitterfeelings swept over his heart, and the idle threat began to form itselfinto fixed determination. "I would go right off to-night were it notfor Win," he muttered, tossing restlessly on his pillows; "but I guessshe would fret sorely, and--'there's the rub.'" Another Shakespearianquotation. "Well, well, I'll sleep over it;" and then Dick wanderedinto the land of dreams, to be haunted by the vision of a quaint gipsyface and great pleading eyes--a vision which rose up before him againand again in after years, when he was out on the great waste of waters,and the soft moon and shining stars seemed to whisper of home andloving hearts.