Part 16 (2/2)

The two younger ones looked at each other.

'Oh please,' said Frances, 'if we may go home in the open carriage, I think that would be enough driving. And--it's so long since we've had a nice big place to run about in, and--pigs and cows, you know, like at home? Wouldn't you like that best, Eugene?'

'May we see the cows milked?' said Eugene, prudently making his conditions, 'and, oh please, if we find any eggs, _might_ we take one home for breakfast to-morrow?'

Lady Myrtle looked much amused.

'I will put you under Barnes's charge,' she said. 'Barnes is the under-gardener, and whatever he lets you do will be quite right. You and I, Jacinth, will have a long drive to-morrow, as I always go to Elvedon church once a month, and to-morrow is the day. So I daresay you will manage to entertain yourself at home to-day. We can go through the houses in the afternoon.'

'Yes, thank you,' said Jacinth. 'And the house--you said you would show me all over the house, dear Lady Myrtle.'

'Of course; that will amuse Frances and Eugene too, I daresay, when they have had enough running about. Now your sister will go with you to your room to take her things off;' and as the two set off, she added playfully, 'Jacinth has a room of her very own here, you know, Frances.'

The younger girl was breathless with interest and pleasure, and the first sight of the interior of the quaint old house--above all, of the lovely conservatory, past which Jacinth took care to convoy her--impressed her as much as her sister.

'Oh Ja.s.s,' she said, when they found themselves in the pleasant, rather 'old-world-looking' bedroom, where a tiny wood-fire sparkling in the grate gave a cheery feeling of welcome as they entered--'Oh Ja.s.s, isn't it like a _dream_? That we should really be here in this dear old house, treated almost as if we were Lady Myrtle's own grandchildren, and you staying here, and this called your room, and--and'----

She stopped, at a loss for words to express her feelings.

Jacinth smiled, well pleased.

'Yes,' she said, 'it really is like a fairy-tale. And'----She hesitated a little. 'You don't know, Francie, what more may not come. Do you remember our saying that morning to Marmy, how lovely it would be if some day we had a house like this for our home, and how he and we would pay visits to each other?'

Frances's face grew rather pink.

'Do you mean if,' she said, her voice growing lower and lower--'if Lady Myrtle _left_ it to us, to you? I don't like, Ja.s.s, to'----

'Oh, how matter-of-fact you are!' said Jacinth impatiently; 'I don't mean anything but what I say. Lady Myrtle says she is going to invite us all--papa and mamma and us three--to stay with her when they come home, and it's a very big house, and she has no relations she cares for. It might get to be almost like our home. And Lady Myrtle is the sort of person that often speaks of getting old and--and dying. I daresay she makes plans for what she'd like to be done with her things--I know I should--though I hope she'll live twenty years, and I daresay she will, dear old thing.'

Frances would have accepted this simply enough, and after all, Jacinth felt as she said. The thought that 'some day' Robin Redbreast might be her home would be quite enough for her, and she already loved her kind old friend sincerely. But one sentence in her sister's speech startled Frances with a quick sharp stab: 'No relations that she cares for.'

Somehow, in the pleasure and excitement of coming to Robin Redbreast, she had forgotten about the Harpers. Now all her old feelings of chivalry for them, and wishes that she could be the means of helping them, rushed back upon her, and she felt as if she had, in some queer way, been faithless, even though she was debarred from doing anything, debarred even from telling Jacinth all she knew. And Frances was unaccustomed to hide her feelings; her face at once grew grave and almost distressed looking.

'What is the matter, Frances?' said Jacinth. 'You are such a kill-joy.

What are you looking so reproachful about?'

'I didn't mean--I'm not looking reproachful,' said Frances; 'it was only--oh, just something of my own I was thinking of.'

'Well then, I wish you would think of something cheerful, and not screw your face up as if you were going to cry. I don't want Lady Myrtle to think we've been quarrelling up here.'

Frances swallowed down a lump in her throat, which was far too apt to come there on small provocation.

'Of course Lady Myrtle would never think such a thing, or if she did, she would only think I was naughty or silly or something. She'd never dream of _you_ being anything but perfect, Ja.s.s. I do like her for that,' said Frances.

'You should like her for everything. I'm sure she's as kind as she can possibly be,' said Jacinth.

'Yes,' said Frances, 'she is.'

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