Part 1 (2/2)

'Here is yet another Fossil to add to those in my nursery. This is the little daughter of a dancer. The father has just died, and the poor young mother has no time for babies, so I said I would have her. All her mother had to give her child was the little pair of shoes enclosed. I regret not to bring the child myself, but today I ran into a friend with a yacht who is visiting some strange islands. I am joining him, and expect to be away some years. I have arranged for the bank to see after money for you for the next five years, but before then I shall be home.

'Your affectionate uncle, MATTHEW.

'P.S. Her name is Posy. Unfortunate, but true.'

The sudden arrival of little Posy caused an upset in the nursery. Nana it was who took in the basket, and when Sylvia got in and went up to see the baby, she found her crumpled and rather pink, lying face downwards on Nana's flannel-ap.r.o.ned knee. Nana was holding an enormous powder puff, and she looked up as Sylvia came in.

'This is too much, this is,' she said severely.

She shook a spray of fuller's earth over the baby.

Sylvia looked humble.

'I quite agree, Nana. But what are we to do? Here she is.'

Nana looked angrily at Posy.

'It isn't right. Here we are with Pauline rising four, and Petrova sixteen months, and down you pop this little fly-by-night. Two's enough, I've always said. I told the Professor so perfectly plain. Who is she? That's another thing I'd like to know.'

'Well, her name's Posy, and her mother is a dancer.'

'Posy! With the other two called as nice as can be after the Holy Apostles, that's a foolish sort of name.' Nana gave a snort of disgust, and then, in case the baby should feel hurt, added 'Blessed lamb.'

'Right.' Sylvia turned to the door. 'Now I know how you feel, I'll make other arrangements for her, perhaps an orphanage...'

'Orphanage!' Nana's eyes positively blazed. She pulled a tiny vest over Posy's unprotesting little head. 'Who's thinking of orphanages? The Professor's taken her, and here she stays. But no more, and that's my last word.'

'Well, I don't suppose there can be any more for a bit,' Sylvia said hopefully. 'He's gone away for some time, perhaps for five years.'

'Better make it ten,' said Nana, giving Posy a quick kiss. That'll give us a chance.'

About four months later a box arrived at the house in the Cromwell Road, addressed to 'The Little Fossils.' Inside were three necklaces: a turquoise one with 'Pauline'on it; a tiny string of seed pearls marked 'Petrova', and a row of coral for Posy.

Well,' said Nana, fastening the necklaces round the children's necks. 'I expect that's the last we shall hear of for some time.'

She was quite right.

CHAPTER II.

The Boarders.

PAULINE, Petrova, and Posy had a very ordinary nursery life. Not a great many toys, because they had no relations to give them any. There was a good deal of pa.s.sing down of clothes, because there was not a great amount of money and no one knew when Gum would be back to provide any more.

'It does seem mean, Nana,' Sylvia said. 'Posy never gets any new clothes at all, and Petrova hardly any, while Pauline has them all the time.'

'Ah, well' - Nana looked proudly at Pauline - 'so it is in a good many nurseries, and I must say if anyone is going to have them it's a good thing it's her. Pauline does pay for dressing.'

So Pauline did. By the time she was four she was really lovely. A ma.s.s of almost white curls, huge blue eyes, and the sort of pink-and-white look seen in the best babies. Sylvia secretly admired Petrova more. She thought she looked interesting. She was too pale and too thin, but she had deep-set brown eyes, and hair the colour of a jay's wing. Posy, at two, suddenly surprised everybody by becoming red-headed. Up till then she had very little hair, and that mostly mouse-coloured; but one morning a little red showed, and then after a week or two she was quite decidedly ginger.

'I never have cared for red hair,' Nana said fondly, twisting a strand of Posy's round her finger. 'Never could fancy it since I got scratched by a ginger cat as a child. But nicely kept it can be striking.'

As soon as the children could talk there was trouble about a name for them to call Sylvia by. Nana refused to allow her Christian name to be used.

'It's not suitable, Miss. They can say ”Miss Brown” or if you are willing, ”Aunty” or ”Cousin Sylvia,” but just ”Sylvia” is rude and I'm not having it in my nursery.'

'But Nana,' Sylvia argued, 'I do hate ”Aunty” and ”Cousin,” and it isn't as if I was one.'

'What are you?' Pauline asked. 'If you're not a cousin nor nuffin'?'

'A guardian, darling.' Sylvia pulled her on to her knee. 'What would you like to call me?'

'Garnian.' Pauline spoke the word with care. 'Garnian.'

'That's very nice, Pauline.' Nana approved. 'You shall all call Miss Brown Guardian, and very suitable too.'

Of course she never was called Guardian, as it was too long and severe, but they compromised on Garnie, which satisfied everybody.

Pauline had a birthday in December, and when she was just going to be six, Nana came to Sylvia one night when the three children were in bed.

'It's time Pauline had education, and it wouldn't hurt Petrova either - she's sharp as a cartload of monkeys; do her good to have something to think about. What with my nurseries, and Posy still no more than a baby, I've no time to be setting sums and that. Now, will you teach them, Miss, or shall they go to school?'

Sylvia looked horrified.

'Me teach them? Goodness! I couldn't. I was always a perfect fool at arithmetic. We'll send them to school.'

So Pauline and Petrova were sent to the junior house of a day school quite near their home. It was called Cromwell House, and they had jade-green coats, tunics, and berets; the tunics and berets had C.H. embroidered on them. Both the children were frightfully proud of themselves.

'You wouldn't think, Garnie,' Petrova said when she came to show herself off in her school outfit, 'that here is a child who won't be five till August.'

'You only look a baby.' Pauline put her nose in the air. 'Now, anybody can see I was six last month.'

One morning at school produced the fact that the children had no real surname. Sylvia came to fetch them at twelve, and they shot out of the door and hung on an arm each.

'Garnie, what is my real, honest surname?' Pauline asked. 'They said it was Brown, but I told them it wasn't, because Nana always says that you are no relation.'

Sylvia took a hand of each of them.

'But, darlings, I entered you both as Brown. What other name can I give you?'

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