Part 33 (2/2)

Ruth's eyes grew a little more wide open as she heard this, for she thought that poor little Richard Millet seemed to be left to talk to her more than he liked.

”Oh, nonsense, love,” replied Marie. ”But you don't mean it, you know;”

and then the sisters smiled most affectionately one at the other, and gazed curiously in each other's eyes.

But as they smiled and looked affectionately at each other, they seemed to need an outlet for the wrath that was gathering fast, and poor Ruth's was the head upon which this poured. The tears stood in her eyes again and again, as first one and then the other displayed her irritation in words, pushes, and more than once in what seemed greatly like blows, all of which was borne in a patient, long-suffering manner. For Ruth was far worse off than a servant, the least independent of which cla.s.s of young lady would not have submitted to a t.i.the of the insult and annoyance that fell to the poor girl's share.

Upon the present occasion the loud jangling of the bell, that was swung about and shaken by Joseph as if he detested the brazen creation, announced that lunch was ready, the mid-day repast by a pleasant fiction retaining that name, though no late dinner followed, the evening meal taking the form of tea and thick bread, and b.u.t.ter of the kind known as ”best Dorset, and regarding whose birth there is always a mystery.”

The looks of the sisters were anything but bright and loving as they went down, followed by Ruth, who secretly drew up her sleeve, displaying her white, well-moulded arm as she ruefully inspected a black mark--to wit, the bruise made by a forcible pinch from Clotilde's nervous finger and thumb.

The poor girl heaved a little sigh as she drew back her gingham sleeve-- gingham and alpaca being fabrics highly in favour with the Honourable Misses Dymc.o.x--though they always insisted upon calling the latter by the name of ”stuff”--on economical grounds. Then she meekly took her place, grace was said, and the Honourable Isabella proceeded to dispense the mutton broth, richly studded with pearls of barley to the exclusion of a good deal of meat, Joseph giving quite a dignity to the proceedings as he waited at table, removing the soup-tureen cover with an artistic flourish, and turning it bottom upwards so as not to let a drop of the condensed steam fall upon the cloth, though a drop reached Ruth, whose fate it seemed to be to get the worst of everything, even to the boniest portions of the substance of the mutton broth, and the crustiest, driest pieces of the day before yesterday's bread.

But there was a becoming dignity in Miss Philippa's manners upon the present occasion, and she sipped her broth and played with the barley as if she antic.i.p.ated finding pearls in place of unpleasant little sharp splinters of scrag of mutton bone.

”Thank you, yes, Joseph,” she said quietly, as the man brought round a very small jug of the smallest beer, and poured out a winegla.s.sful each for the elderly sisters, without froth, so that it might look like sherry, or that delicious elderly maiden lady's beverage known as marsala.

”Oh, by the way, sister,” said Miss Isabella, ”did you think to mention about town?”

”Oh no, I did not,” said Miss Philippa. ”By the way, Joseph, you will order the carriage for nine o'clock to-morrow morning.”

”Yes, ma'am,” said Joseph, who was handing potatoes to the mutton broth.

”We must go in good time, for we shall have to visit the tailor's about your new livery, Joseph.”

Joseph's jaw dropped like the lower lids of his eyes, and a very waxy potato from the dish as he sloped it down, the said potato gambolling gaily across the cloth as if under the idea that it was a vegetable cricket-ball, and that its duty was to hit Ruth's high-backed chair wicket fas.h.i.+on on the other side. It was, however, carefully blocked by that young lady with a spoon, and after a moment's hesitation deposited in her soup-plate, her cousins, however, eyeing it jealously from old habit, as if they thought she was getting more than her share.

”Be careful, Joseph,” said Miss Philippa with severity; and Joseph was careful as he went on waiting; but the perspiration broke out profusely over his forehead, and he seemed, as he gazed from one to the other of his mistresses, as though the news, so unaccustomed in its way, was almost greater than he could bear.

”Bring those bouquets from the drawing-room, Joseph,” said Miss Philippa, just before the removal of the soup-tureen.

Joseph went out, and, to the astonishment of the young ladies, returned with the presents.

”Take that one to Miss Clotilde,” said Miss Philippa, beaming on the eldest of the young ladies, as she indicated the gayest of the carefully built up bunches of flowers. ”Yes; and now that one to Miss Marie.”

The bouquets were handed to the young ladies in turn.

”Now remove the soup-tureen,” said Miss Philippa.

”Oh, aunt!” exclaimed Clotilde, as Joseph left the room.

”What lovely flowers!” cried Marie, holding them to her face.

”Yes, yes; yes, yes!” cried Miss Philippa in a highly pitched and very much cracked but playful voice. ”I don't know what to say to it, I'm sure; do you, sister?”

”No, indeed--indeed,” cried Miss Isabella, in an imitation playful tone.

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