Part 3 (2/2)

”You're _very_ unkind, Emilia,” I exclaimed angrily; ”you've no business to pry into what I do.”

”Hush--hus.h.!.+ my dear,” said Aunt Lois in her fussy way, yet not unkindly, and looking at me with some curiosity. ”Give me my spectacles, and let me see this remarkable sh.e.l.l better. Yes--you are right, your young eyes are sharper than mine, it _is_ a rare sh.e.l.l. I think there were only two of them in the cabinet, and one must have been broken, though I did not know it.”

Oh, how I trembled! Supposing Aunt Lois were to say she could not spare this one precious specimen! Emilia put my thoughts into words for me, for which I did not thank her.

”If it is the only one,” she said, ”of course Lois won't expect you to give it to her.” She glanced at me reproachfully. My eyes fell, but I did not speak.

”I would not on any account go back from my promise,” said my aunt. ”If the child has a special fancy for the sh.e.l.l, let her have it by all means, even were it far more valuable than it is.”

I could hardly speak, so great had been my suspense, but I whispered ”Thank you, Aunt Lois,” in a husky voice, and I fancy by the way my aunt again looked at me that she saw there were tears in my eyes. And the next day we went home.

Chapter III

[Ill.u.s.tration: MY PINK PET

”One day I was playing as usual in my own little room, when the door suddenly opened--” P. 43]

AFTER this I grew fonder than ever of my pink pet. But at the same time I was more careful than before to let no one know of my queer fancy.

Emilia's remarks had alarmed me, for I had had no idea that she had noticed my treasure. I could not bear being laughed at, and I intensely dreaded my brothers getting hold of the story and playing me some trick which might deprive me of my favourite. I never played with my sh.e.l.ls except when I was quite alone, and deeply regretted there being no key to the lock of my room, by which I might have secured myself against intruders. But as I had always been in the habit of playing a great deal by myself, and had always, too, been quiet and reserved, no one took any special notice of me or my occupations, particularly as every one in the house was just then much occupied with preparations for the approaching marriage of my second sister, Margaret. So I spent hours and hours by myself--or rather not by myself, for I had for my companions far more wonderful beings than were ever dreamt of anywhere save in a child's brain, and with my pink pet went through more marvellous adventures by far than Munchausen himself.

One day I was playing as usual in my own little room, when the door suddenly opened and Emilia and Margaret came in. They were both laughing. I started up in terror and threw my handkerchief over the little group of sh.e.l.ls, who had just been performing a tournament on a cane-bottomed chair, on the seat of which, with an old piece of French chalk, I had marked out the lists, the places for spectators, and the das of honour for the queen, represented of course by my rose-coloured sh.e.l.l.

”What are you doing, Lois?” said Emilia.

”Nothing, at least only playing,” I said confusedly.

”We didn't suppose you were doing anything naughty,” said Margaret.

”Don't look so frightened. Let us see what you are playing at.”

I hesitated.

”Come now,” said Emilia laughingly, ”do let us have it. You had got as far as--let me see what was it, 'Oh ladye fair, I kneel before thee,'

wasn't that it, Margaret?”

I turned upon her in sudden fury. But before I could speak, Emilia, not noticing my excitement, had s.n.a.t.c.hed away the handkerchief from the chair, and with mischievous glee picked out my pink pet.

”See, Margaret,” she cried, ”this is the 'ladye fair,' Lois's familiar.”

I had found my voice by now--found it indeed; it would have been better had I remained silent.

”Oh, you mean girl!” I exclaimed. ”Oh, you bad, wicked sister! You've been listening at the door; am I not even to be allowed the privacy of my own chamber?” I was growing dramatic in my excitement, and unconsciously using the language of some of my persecuted heroines.

”Lois,” cried Margaret, ”do not excite yourself so. We did not listen at the door, but you were speaking so loud, I a.s.sure you it was impossible not to hear you.”

Somewhat softened and yet inexpressibly annoyed, I turned to Margaret, unfortunately in time to see that it was only by the greatest efforts she was controlling her laughter. My words and manner had been too much for her, anxious as she was to quell the storm.

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