Part 11 (1/2)

Kitty knew it was her duty to check Emily's rude way of speaking of her aunt, but a common trouble was uniting them, and she felt she could not be severe then.

”Doesn't father know yet?” she asked.

”No, miss.”

”Poor father! Has Aunt Pike really come to _stay_, Emily?”

”I can't make out for certain, miss; but if she isn't going to stay now, she is coming later on. I gathered that much from the way she talked.

She said it didn't need a very clever person to see that 'twas high time somebody was here to look after things, instead of me being with my 'ead out of win--I mean, you all out racing the country to all hours of the night, and nothing in the house fit to eat--”

Kitty groaned.

”I've got to go and get the spare-room ready as soon as she comes out of it,” went on Emily. ”A pretty time for anybody to have to set to to sweep and dust.”

Kitty, though, could not show any great sympathy there; having to sweep and dust seemed to her at that moment such trifling troubles. ”Where is she now, Emily?”

”In the spare-room.”

”Oh, the dust under the bed!” groaned Kitty. ”She is sure to see it; it blows out to meet you every time you move!”

”Never mind that now,” said Dan; ”it is pretty dark everywhere. But we had better do a bunk and clean ourselves up a bit before she sees us,”

and he set the example by kicking off his shoes and disappearing like a streak up the stairs.

In another moment the hall was empty, save for eight very dirty shoes and the pile of severe-looking luggage.

To convince Aunt Pike that her presence and care were absolutely unnecessary was the one great aim and object which now filled them all, and as a means to this end their first idea was to dress, act, and talk as correctly and unblamably as boys and girls could. So, by the time the worthy lady was heard descending, they were all in the drawing-room, seated primly on the stiffest chairs they could find, and apparently absorbed in the books they gazed at with serious faces and furrowed brows. To the trained eye the ”high-water marks” around faces and wrists were rather more apparent and speaking than their interest in their books. Their heads, too, were strikingly wet and smooth around their brows, but conspicuously tangled and unkempt-looking at the back.

However, on the whole they appeared well-behaved and orderly, and the expression of welcome their faces a.s.sumed as soon as their aunt was heard approaching was striking, if a little overdone. It was unfortunate, though, that they and Emily had forgotten to remove their dirty shoes from the hall, or to light the gas, for Aunt Pike, groping her way downstairs in the dark, stumbled over the lot of them--stumbled, staggered, and fell! And of all unyielding things in the world to fall against, the corner of a tin box is perhaps the worst.

The expression of welcome died out of the four faces, their cheeks grew white; Kitty flew to the rescue.

”I'm jolly glad it isn't my luggage,” murmured Dan, preparing to follow.

”She shouldn't have left it there,” said Betty primly.

”I expect it's our shoes she's felled over,” whispered Tony in a scared voice. ”I jumped over them when I came down, but I don't 'spect Aunt Pike could.”

Dan and Betty looked at each other with guilty, desperate eyes.

”Well, you left yours first,” said Betty, anxious to s.h.i.+ft all blame, ”and you ran upstairs first, and--and we did as you did, of course.”

”Oh, of course,” snapped Dan crossly, ”you always do as I do, don't you?

Now go out and tell Aunt Pike that, and suck up to her. If she's going to live here, it's best to be first favourite.” At which unusual outburst on the part of her big brother Betty was so overcome that she collapsed on to her chair again, and had to clench her hands tightly and wink hard to disperse the mist which clouded her eyes and threatened to turn to rain.

But a moment later the entrance of Aunt Pike helped her to recover herself--Aunt Pike, with a white face and an expression on it which said plainly that her mind was made up and nothing would unmake it.

Betty and Tony stepped forward to meet her.

”How do you do, Elizabeth?--How do you do, Anthony? I should have gone to your bedrooms to see you, thinking naturally that you two, at least, would be in bed, but I was told you were still racing the country.

Anna goes to bed at seven-thirty, and she is a year older than you,”