Part 8 (1/2)

'I suppose I must,' she said in a martyrised tone. 'You do scurry one so, Jacinth.' And then when, having borne this certainly unmerited reproach in silence, Jacinth with relief heard the door close on her sister and began to hope she was going to have a little peace, it was opened again sufficiently to admit Frances's fluffy head, while she asked, in a half-grumbling, half-conciliatory tone, if she might take Eugene.

'Of course,' said Jacinth; 'a little fresh air in the morning is always good for him.'

She heard no more except, ten minutes or so later, the closing of the front-door, and the next three-quarters of an hour pa.s.sed, rapidly, so absorbed was she in her own work, till the old church clock striking twelve--for St Blaise's in the Market Square was but a stone's-throw from Miss Mildmay's house--made her look up suddenly, and at that moment came a rus.h.i.+ng of eager feet across the stone-tiled hall, quickly followed by Frances's voice in great excitement.

'Jacinth, Ja.s.s!' she exclaimed, and almost before the elder girl had time to say to herself, 'I do hope nothing has gone wrong,' her sister's bright face rea.s.sured her.

Frances was like a veritable April day--gloom and sparkle, tears and laughter, succeeded each other with her as swiftly as the clouds rus.h.i.+ng before the wind alternately veil and reveal the sun's bright face, though underneath all this fitfulness and caprice lay a st.u.r.dy foundation of principle and loyalty which circ.u.mstances, so far, had scarcely brought out, and which Jacinth certainly did not as yet realise or appreciate.

'Oh Ja.s.s,' exclaimed the little girl, 'I am so glad I went. _Such_ a nice thing has happened! I saw Miss Marcia--I asked for her at the door, and she was crossing the hall; wasn't it lucky? She _was_ so kind about the book, and she took me herself to the big schoolroom to fetch it.

None of the girls were there--it looked so funny all empty, you can't think--they were out in the garden. And Ja.s.s, to-day they 're going to have their last out-of-doors tea for this year, you know, as it's getting cold. They have tea in the garden every fortnight all through the fine weather. And she invited _me_, Ja.s.s--just fancy! She said she was sure you wouldn't mind, as it's quite an extra thing to invite a day-scholar, you see, and'----

Here Frances was forced to take breath, and Jacinth got a chance of putting in a word.

'Of course I don't mind,' she said. 'I'm very glad indeed, _very_ glad for you to have a little fun. And we couldn't have gone much of a walk this afternoon, as Eugene is still tired with yesterday.'

'And you think Aunt Alison will let me go?' said Frances.

'Oh yes, I'm sure she will. If you will get on with your lessons now, Frances, so as to be able to say at dinner that you have quite finished, I will go down-stairs and watch for Aunt Alison. She will be in by one, to-day, and I'll ask her for you.'

'Oh thank you, Ja.s.s,' said Frances gratefully. 'Yes, I'll hurry up.

But--Ja.s.s'----

'Well?'

Francie's face grew very grave.

'It's about my things, Ja.s.s. What do you think I should wear? I'm so afraid Aunt Alison will be vexed if I put on my best things--and of course black frocks do get spoilt if one runs about much--and yet my every-day frock is so shabby now, and--I don't want the girls to think we're never properly dressed.'

Jacinth considered. They were still in deep mourning, for Miss Mildmay's ideas on such subjects were 'old-fas.h.i.+oned,' and she quite recognised that the late Mrs Denison's memory should be treated with the fullest respect. But Jacinth sympathised with Frances's feelings.

'I was looking at our dark-gray frocks with Phebe the other day,' she said. 'The ones we had new just before--before our mourning. You know they were got for half-mourning because of old Sir George Mildmay's--papa's uncle's--death, and they look quite fresh and nice. I don't think you've grown much, Francie--and oh, by-the-bye, I believe there's a tuck that could be let down.'

'Yes,' said Frances, 'there are little tucks--a lot--above the hem.'

'Then I'll run up and tell Phebe to get them out, yours at least. I'll explain to Aunt Alison; and if I lend you my wide black sash, I'm sure it will look quite mourning enough.'

'Oh Ja.s.s,' exclaimed Frances, '_how_ good of you!'

The honour and glory of Jacinth's best black sash was almost too much for her.

'Really, I should never be cross to Ja.s.s. She is so very, very kind and unselfish,' thought the grateful little girl.

The gray frock was looked out and soon got ready. It was lying on a chair in the girls' room when Jacinth, a little before half-past one, at last heard her aunt's step in the hall, and ran forward to meet her, primed with her request.

Miss Mildmay was still in a somewhat conciliatory mood, and she listened to Jacinth's story with as much kindliness as was in her nature to show.

'Yes,' she said, 'I suppose she may as well go, though you know, my dear, I cannot encourage any schoolgirl friends.h.i.+ps. It would be impossible for me to invite other children here, and yet I could not accept attentions for you which I could not return.'

'But this is different, being at Miss Scarlett's, where we go to school.