Part 11 (1/2)

”Make a nice high mound,” said Diana; ”let it look as like a weal gwave as possible.” Then she turned eagerly to her sister. ”When are we to see about making the tombstone for the head and the feet?” she asked.

”We'll talk it over this evening,” answered Iris.

It may here be noted that none of the four mourners took the slightest notice of Mr. Delaney or of Mrs. Dolman. To them it was as if these two grown-up spectators did not exist--they were all lost in their own intensely important world.

”Well,” said Mrs. Dolman, as she turned away with her brother, ”of all the heathenish and wicked nonsense that I was ever permitted to witness, this beats everything. It is a right good thing--yes, I will say it frankly, David--that you are going abroad, and that your benighted children are handed over to me. When you come back in a year or two--I a.s.sure you, my dear brother, I do not wish to hurry you--but when you come back in a few years you will see, please Providence, very different children waiting to welcome you.”

”Well, Jane,” said David Delaney, ”I have arranged to give the children to you, and I hope to Heaven I am doing right; but do not spoil them whatever you do, for to me and to their sainted mother they were ever the sweetest little quartette that breathed the breath of life.” Mr. Delaney's eyes filled with sudden tears as he said these words. ”Good-by, Rub-a-Dub,” he whispered as he left the garden. ”Yes, there are many good-bys in the air just now.”

CHAPTER VII.

BUT ANN COULD NOT HELP LETTING OUT NOW AND THEN.

The Rectory at Super-Ashton was a large, sunny, cheerful house. It was filled with every modern convenience, and possessed plenty of rooms papered with light, bright-looking papers, and painted also in cheerful colors. The windows were large and let in every sc.r.a.p of suns.h.i.+ne; the pa.s.sages and hall and stairs were broad and roomy; the nurseries and the children's rooms were models of comfort; the servants were all well behaved and thoroughly accustomed to their duties; the meals were punctual to a moment; in fact, nothing was left to chance at Super-Ashton Rectory.

Mrs. Dolman was the life and soul of this extremely orderly English home. She was one of the most active little women in the world. She invariably got up, summer and winter, soon after six o'clock, and might be seen bustling about the house, and bustling about the garden, and bustling about the parish from that moment until she retired to rest again, somewhere between ten and eleven at night. She was never exactly cross, but she was very determined. She had strict ideas, and made everyone in the parish not only respect her and look up to her, but live up to her rule of life. She was, as a matter of fact, thought a great deal more of by the paris.h.i.+oners than her husband, the Reverend William Dolman, and the real Rector of Super-Ashton.

Mr. Dolman was a very large man, tall in stature and broad. He was also fat and loosely built. He had a kindly face and a good-humored way of talking. He preached very fair sermons on Sundays, and attended to his duties, but without any of the enthusiasm which his wife displayed.

When Mrs. Dolman wrote to her husband to say that she was returning home with the four little Delaneys, it caused considerable excitement at the breakfast table. Five little hearts beat considerably faster than usual; but so great were the order and regularity of the household that the five little faces to which the hearts belonged remained apparently impa.s.sive.

Miss Ramsay, the governess, was presiding at the head of the table.

The Dolman girls were neatly dressed in print frocks with white pinafores; the boys wore holland blouses and knickerbockers. The boys happened to be the two youngest of the family, and none of the children had yet gone to school. The name and ages of the five were as follows: First came Lucy, aged twelve; then Mary, aged ten; then Ann, aged nine; then Philip and Conrad, aged respectively seven and a half and six. The faces of the whole five bore a curious resemblance to both father and mother, the eldest girl having the round, black eyes of her mother, and the large, somewhat irregular features of the father. Mary resembled Lucy in being fat and largely built, but her eyes were blue instead of black; while little Ann had a small face, with gray eyes and rather sensitive lips. The complexions of the three were fair, and their good looks were rather above the average. They were proper, neat-looking little girls, and, notwithstanding their inward excitement, they ate their breakfast tidily, and took good care not to express any emotion before Miss Ramsay or their good-natured father.

”Yes,” said Mr. Dolman, looking at them, and pus.h.i.+ng his spectacles up on his forehead, ”yes, that is the news. Your mother returns to-night, and the four Delaneys with her. Let me see what else she says.” He replaced his spectacles on his nose and looked over his wife's letter again. ”These are the very words,” he said; ”Observe, Miss Ramsay, that I read from the letter. 'I return by the train which reaches Super-Ashton at six o'clock, and will bring the four Delaneys with me.' Four, you see, Lucy; that is the number. But mamma does not mention the s.e.x of the children. How many boys or how many girls? I really am quite out of date with regard to your cousins, my love.”

”But I know all about them, papa,” burst from Ann's eager lips.

”You forget your French, Ann,” said Miss Ramsay, laying her hand on the little girl's arm. ”You will be punished if you speak English again at meals.”

Ann colored and dropped her eyes. She began to eat her bread and b.u.t.ter hastily; she longed beyond words to tell the others the knowledge she had secretly acquired about her cousins the Delaneys.

”'Please send the wagonette to the station,'” continued Mr. Dolman, reading his wife's letter, and holding it close to his eyes, ”'and--yes, the cart for the luggage, as the children'--um, um, um, that part is private, my dears.”

Mr. Dolman dropped his spectacles and nodded at the eager little group round the table.

”Well,” he continued, ”I am glad mamma is coming home. I have really been quite bothered by the paris.h.i.+oners since she went away. There is always a vast deal of work left undone when mamma is absent, eh, children? eh, Miss Ramsay?”

”I agree with you, Mr. Dolman,” said Miss Ramsay. ”Mrs. Dolman does not spare herself; she will have her reward some day.”

”G.o.d grant it!” said Mr. Dolman, with a heavy sigh. ”She certainly will need rest whenever she does leave this world, for I never did come across such an active woman.”

He left the room, hitching up his huge shoulders as he did so, and slammed the door noisily behind him.

”Papa would not do that if mamma were here,” whispered Philip to Ann.

Ann said ”Hus.h.!.+” in a frightened tone, and then Miss Ramsay folded her hands as an intimation to the children that the meal was at an end, and that one of them was to say grace.

Immediately after breakfast they went upstairs to the schoolroom, and lessons began, just as if no four little Delaneys were to arrive to turn everything topsy-turvy that evening.