Part 22 (1/2)

But to-day, of course, there was no question of lessons of any kind.

They had breakfast extra early, which some children I know, would not, I fear, consider a treat. Indeed, I once heard of some young people, scarcely to be called children, and by no means overworked young people either, who chose for a holiday pleasure that they should stay in bed for breakfast, and not get up till the middle of the day, which, I must say, I did not at all admire. The great reason for the extra early breakfast on Biddy's birthday was not that the Vane children were so _very_ fond of being up betimes, but that Rough wanted to be there at the great scene, and with some difficulty he had got an hour's 'grace'

from school that morning.

To begin at the beginning--for I know that when I was a child I liked to be told all about everything--the first pleasure of the day, after the reading of papa's nice letter, was the sight of the breakfast-table.

Kind Miss Millet and Alie had dressed it up with cowslips after Biddy had gone to bed the night before, for there were cowslips, and very pretty ones, to be had in some woods a mile or two inland from Seacove.

And May birthdays always make one think of cowslips.

The breakfast itself was very nice too--extra nice; for there was no bread and milk for once, but only 'grown-up' things--a tempting dish of ham and eggs, and delicious hot rolls and tea-cakes, and strawberry jam and honey to eat with them as a finish up. And besides the letter from papa--which had _really_ come the day before and been kept till this morning, as, in his fear of being too late, Mr. Vane had sent it off rather too soon--there was a neat little packet for Biddy from grandmamma, containing a story-book called _The Christmas Stocking_, and a lovely scarf worked in all kinds of marvellous Eastern colours, 'making one think of the Arabian nights,' as Alie said, from the Indian cousins. So that it was with a sigh of deep content that Biddy sat down to breakfast, knowing that something still more delightful and wonderful was in store.

Celestina arrived before breakfast was quite over, and Rough ran out and brought her into the dining-room, where she had to eat a roll and strawberry jam to refresh her after her early walk. And then when every one had finished and Rough had said grace, they all set off to the schoolroom.

'Shut your eyes, Biddy,' said Rough. 'I'll lead you in, and mind you don't open them till I tell you.'

There stood Biddy, as quiet as a mouse, though her heart was beating fast, till, after one or two whispered directions--'That isn't quite straight,' 'Put the chairs by the fire, Celestina,' and so on--came Rough's voice--

'Now, Biddy. Open your eyes.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: 'Now, Biddy. Open your eyes.' P. 195.]

And 'open her eyes' she did, though she half shut them again the next minute, and then had to rub them to make sure they were not tricking her. For there in front of her, on the schoolroom table, stood, its two big doors flung wide open, the very nicest, most complete doll-house that, in those days at least, could have been imagined. There were six good-sized rooms: drawing-room, dining-room, two bedrooms, nursery, and kitchen--the last, perhaps, the most fascinating of all, with its little kitchen-range, its rows of brightly s.h.i.+ning pots and pans, some black, some tin, and some copper; its dresser and shelves, and charming dinner service, and ever so many other things it would take me a very long time to describe. And the dining-room, with its brown and gold papered walls, and red velvet carpet and little stuffed chairs; and the drawing-room, with sofas covered in dainty chintz and blue carpet and gilt-framed mirrors; and the bedrooms, one white and one pink; and the nursery, with the _sweet_ little cradle and rocking-chair and baths and wash-hand stands and I don't know all what--truly it was a very pretty sight.

Biddy gasped; she could not speak.

'And only think, Biddy,' said Rosalys; 'it is our own old doll-house done up. The one mamma had herself when she was a little girl, you know.

Doesn't that make it all the nicer? You _can't_ think how we've all worked at it. We'd begun it before--before papa and you got ill; that was our secret that Celestina and I were always whispering about.'

And in her delight even staid Alie gave two or three jumps up into the air! But as she came down again she felt herself caught round the neck and hugged and squeezed. Oh, how she _was_ hugged and squeezed!

And '_Oh_, Alie,' whispered Biddy, 'you are too good to me; for you don't know how naughty I felt about your having a secret.'

'Never mind, never mind. I daresay it was my fault. Mamma says it's very teasing to talk about secrets, but it's all right now, and we are all going to be so happy with the doll-house, aren't we? Now you must kiss Celestina too; you don't know what a lot she's done. She hemmed the sheets of the beds and the table-cloths and ever so many things, and her mamma dressed the dolls--and--oh yes, Roughie papered nearly all the rooms, and----'

But here Rosalys, who seemed to be turning all of a sudden into a regular chatterbox, was interrupted by more huggings and squeezings, as Rough rather objected to much of this sort of thing, and Biddy had still a great deal to spare even after she had bestowed a full share upon Celestina. She quieted down, however, when Miss Millet suggested that unless they set to work to go all over the house and admire all its numberless treasures, it would be getting too late for the nice walk they wanted to have before dinner. But in the midst of the showing everything Celestina made them all laugh by calmly taking a little parcel from her pocket, from which she drew out three or four little dolls, announcing that they were Eleanor and Amy and one or two new ones, all in grand clothes for the occasion, who had come to spend the day with the Rectory doll party.

'You did invite them, Alie, you remember, don't you?' she said, looking a little bit aggrieved. 'They would never have come without being invited.'

'Oh yes, I know I did,' Rosalys replied. 'It was only the funny way you pulled them out of your pocket.'

'And some day, Biddy, mother says, perhaps you'll bring yours to drink tea with mine,' said Celestina, quite pleased again. 'We might pretend that mine were some cousins they had in the country who were not very rich, you know,' she went on simply. 'And I'd make their parlour as smart as I could. I'd try to dress it up with flowers and green, so that it would be like an arbour.'

'Yes,' said Biddy, 'that _would_ be nice. And _we_ might have tea as well as the dolls, mightn't we, Celestina? You know once you told me about some little cups you have that we might have tea out of.'

'Oh yes,' Celestina replied hospitably, '_of course_ we'd have real tea too. Mother would make some cakes and----'

'My dears,' said Miss Millet, 'I think we must be going out. You will have all the rest of the day to play with the doll-house, but it is such a lovely morning, and I think it's always so nice to have a good walk on a holiday.'

The little girls were quite of their governess's opinion, only sorry that Randolph could not make one of the party. He came home, however, in good time in the afternoon, and they all had a very merry tea together.

'What a nice birthday it's been!' said Bride, as she and Alie kissed Celestina, whose mother managed to spare an hour to come to fetch her and at the same time to wish Biddy 'many happy returns.' 'How good of you to dress the dolls for me, Mrs. Fairchild!' she went on. 'I think I shall love the doll-house more and more every day, for, you see, it's full of kind things you've all done for me. And I'm going to keep it _so_ neat. Mamma will be quite surprised when she comes home to find how neat I've learnt to be.'