Part 50 (1/2)

”My child,” exclaimed Miss Parrott; her tone was very grave, but she put her long arm around Rachel and drew her closely to her, ”remember what I said: you must not leave your chair during a meal.”

”I forgot,” Rachel flew back again, not waiting for her request to be granted, and sat down meekly in her place.

”And you must eat something,” continued Miss Parrott, glancing at the little girl's plate, and with dreadful qualms at her old heart for having been severe. ”If you don't, Rachel, Mrs. Henderson won't let you come here again.”

The solemn butler folded and unfolded his hands, while his face expressed the belief that such a calamity could possibly be borne.

”And if you didn't come, Rachel”--Miss Parrott took up her cup of tea, and set it down again untouched--”I should feel very sorry; I should indeed,”

she added, with a little catch in her throat.

”So should I,” said Rachel abruptly; then she picked up her knife and fork and began to eat as fast as she could.

”Oh, my dear!” cried Miss Parrott, quite horrified, ”not so fast! Pray don't, Rachel”--looking down the table-length in distress.

Rachel by this time was alive to the disgrace she was undergoing, and she turned quite pale, and deserting her food altogether, sat stiff and straight on her chair, too miserable to care for anything. Miss Parrott bore this for a breathing-s.p.a.ce, and then without a warning she slipped off from her chair and went quickly down to the end of the table.

”I'm not blaming you, you poor little thing,” she declared, bending over the dark hair; ”don't think so, Rachel.”

Rachel turned with a swift movement and hid her face in the laces falling from Miss Parrott's breast.

”I want to go home to Mrs. Henderson's,” she sobbed.

”We don't care for any more luncheon, Hooper,” said Miss Parrott hoa.r.s.ely, taking Rachel's hand, ”We will go into the other room,” and she led her off sobbing.

When Rachel reached Hooper, however, standing petrified with surprise, she looked up at him defiantly and brushed the tears from her cheek.

And after they had pa.s.sed out, Hooper still stood in a daze. At last he came out of it, and, ejaculating, ”Well, I never did!” he began to clear the table.

Once outside, Miss Parrott turned suddenly.

”We'll go back to the garden,” she said.

This pleased Rachel very much, and she forgot her distress and mortification, and actually smiled up into the old face.

”Your hand's shaking,” she announced, turning her gaze to the long, slender fingers covering her own little brown palm.

”Is it?” said Miss Parrott absently.

”Yes, it shakes dreadfully,” said Rachel, with a critical air.

”Look!”--pointing down at it.

”Oh, that is nothing,” began Miss Parrott; then she stopped suddenly and put both hands on the thin little shoulders. ”Oh, child,” she said brokenly, ”I did so hope you'd like me, for I've nothing in this world to live for, Rachel, and now you want to go back to the parsonage.”

”Oh, I don't want to go back--I do love you!” cried Rachel, in great alarm, and she raised her little brown hands and actually smoothed the long, wrinkled face between them. ”Don't look so, you look dreadful,” she pleaded.

For at the touch of those childish hands over her face, Miss Parrott broke utterly down, all her aristocratic traditions falling away in a second of time, to reveal her lonely, hopeless life. And she sobbed in a way very hard for any onlooker to hear. To Rachel, powerless to stop her, it seemed the most terrible thing in all this world, and she burst out in her misery: