Part 33 (1/2)
_THE LADY AND THE LICENSE; OR, FRIENDs.h.i.+P'S GARLAND_
”MY DEAR KIDDIES,--Miss Sandal's married sister has just come home from Australia, and she feels very tired. No wonder, you will say, after such a long journey. So she is going to Lymchurch to rest. Now I want you all to be very quiet, because when you are in your usual form you aren't exactly restful, are you? If this weather lasts you will be able to be out most of the time, and when you are indoors for goodness' sake control your lungs and your boots, especially H.O.'s. Mrs. Bax has travelled about a good deal, and once was nearly eaten by cannibals. But I hope you won't bother her to tell you stories. She is coming on Friday.
I am glad to hear from Alice's letter that you enjoyed the Primrose Fete. Tell Noel that 'poetticle' is not the usual way of spelling the word he wants. I send you ten s.h.i.+llings for pocket-money, and again implore you to let Mrs.
Bax have a little rest and peace.
”Your loving ”FATHER.”
”PS.--If you want anything sent down, tell me, and I will get Mrs. Bax to bring it. I met your friend Mr. Red House the other day at lunch.”
When the letter had been read aloud, and we had each read it to ourselves, a sad silence took place.
d.i.c.ky was the first to speak.
”It _is_ rather beastly, I grant you,” he said, ”but it might be worse.”
”I don't see how,” said H.O. ”I do wish Father would jolly well learn to leave my boots alone.”
”It might be worse, I tell you,” said d.i.c.ky. ”Suppose instead of telling us to keep out of doors it had been the other way?”
”Yes,” said Alice, ”suppose it had been, 'Poor Mrs. Bax requires to be cheered up. Do not leave her side day or night. Take it in turns to make jokes for her. Let not a moment pa.s.s without some merry jest'? Oh yes, it might be much, much worse.”
”Being able to get out all day makes it all right about trying to make that two pounds increase and multiply,” remarked Oswald. ”Now who's going to meet her at the station? Because after all it's her sister's house, and we've got to be polite to visitors even if we're in a house we aren't related to.”
This was seen to be so, but no one was keen on going to the station. At last Oswald, ever ready for forlorn hopes, consented to go.
We told Mrs. Beale, and she got the best room ready, scrubbing everything till it smelt deliciously of wet wood and mottled soap. And then we decorated the room as well as we could.
”She'll want some pretty things,” said Alice, ”coming from the land of parrots and opossums and gum-trees and things.”
We did think of borrowing the stuffed wild-cat that is in the bar at the ”s.h.i.+p,” but we decided that our decorations must be very quiet--and the wild-cat, even in its stuffed state, was anything but; so we borrowed a stuffed roach in a gla.s.s box and stood it on the chest of drawers. It looked very calm. Sea-sh.e.l.ls are quiet things when they are vacant, and Mrs. Beale let us have the four big ones off her chiffonnier.
The girls got flowers--bluebells and white wood-anemones. We might have had poppies or b.u.t.tercups, but we thought the colours might be too loud.
We took some books up for Mrs. Bax to read in the night. And we took the quietest ones we could find.
”Sonnets on Sleep,” ”Confessions of an Opium Eater,” ”Twilight of the G.o.ds,” ”Diary of a Dreamer,” and ”By Still Waters,” were some of them.
The girls covered them with grey paper, because some of the bindings were rather gay.
The girls hemmed grey calico covers for the drawers and the dressing-table, and we drew the blinds half-down, and when all was done the room looked as quiet as a roosting wood-pigeon.
We put in a clock, but we did not wind it up.
”She can do that herself,” said Dora, ”if she feels she can bear to hear it ticking.”
Oswald went to the station to meet her. He rode on the box beside the driver. When the others saw him mount there I think they were sorry they had not been polite and gone to meet her themselves. Oswald had a jolly ride. We got to the station just as the train came in. Only one lady got out of it, so Oswald knew it must be Mrs. Bax. If he had not been told how quiet she wanted to be he would have thought she looked rather jolly. She had short hair and gold spectacles. Her skirts were short, and she carried a parrot-cage in her hand. It contained our parrot, and when we wrote to tell Father that it and Pincher were the only things we wanted sent we never thought she would have brought either.
”Mrs. Bax, I believe,” was the only break Oswald made in the polite silence that he took the parrot-cage and her bag from her in.