Part 21 (2/2)
Eva s.h.i.+vered; her brothers--those raggety tags!
They presented a picturesque though unkempt appearance. Jack was eating a slice of bread and jam; d.i.c.k had Babs--somewhat in a soiled condition from watering the garden--on his back; Charlie, the incorrigible, with a tear in his knickers and a brimless hat on the back of his curly head, was leaping about like an excited kangaroo.
[Sidenote: ”An Impossible Crowd!”]
The doctor held out his arms to the three-year-old little girl, who looked shyly at the pretty lady and then promptly hid her face. Eva's heart sank; she knew she ought to say or do something, but no words of tenderness came to her lips. The child might be attractive if clean, but it looked neglected, while the boys were what she described as ”hobbledehoys.” ”An impossible crowd,” she decided with a shudder, and yet her life was to be spent in their midst.
”Leave your sister in peace, you young rascals!” said the doctor; ”she is tired. d.i.c.k, put on the kettle; Eva will be glad of some tea, I know.
Welcome home, dear daughter. Mother and I have longed for you so often, and my hopes run high now that you have come. I trust you will be a second mother to the boys and Babs.”
”I will try,” Eva replied in a low voice.
Her father noticed her depression, so wisely said little more, but going out to see a patient, left her to settle into her new surroundings in her own fas.h.i.+on.
Next morning Eva wakened early and looked out of her window, which was shaded by a climbing rose that trailed right across it. The house was boarded and s.h.i.+ngled, one little piece of wood neatly overlapping the other; it was only two stories high, with deep eaves and a wide verandah all around it.
Breakfast once over, Eva made a tour of the rooms, ending up in the kitchen, accompanied, of course, by all the boys and Babs at her heels.
Uncertain what to do first, she was much astonished at a voice proceeding from the washhouse saying in familiar fas.h.i.+on, ”Where on earth are you all?” There had been no knock at the door, no bell rung--what could it mean?
Standing unconcernedly in the middle of the room unrolling an ap.r.o.n stood a little woman of about forty years.
”Good day to you, Eva; hope you slept well after your journey. Come out of the pantry, Jack, or I'll be after you.”
”May I ask whom I am talking to?” asked Eva icily, much resenting being addressed as ”Eva.”
”I am Mrs. Meadows, and thought I'd just run in and show you where things are. You'll feel kind of strange.”
”Of course it will take some time to get used to things, but I think I should prefer doing it in my own way, thank you.”
”Perhaps that would be best,” replied Mrs. Meadows. ”To-day is baking day; can you manage, do you think?”
”I suppose I can order from the baker?”
The woman smiled. ”'Help yourself' is the motto of a young country, my dear; every one is her own cook and baker, too. Let me help you to-day, and by next week things will seem easier, and you will be settled and rested. Your mother is my friend; for her sake I'd like to stand by you.
Will you tidy the rooms while I see to the kitchen?”
Fairly beaten, Eva walked upstairs, hating the work, the house, and everything in general, and Mrs. Meadows, whom she considered forward, in particular.
The next three days were trials in many ways to the doctor's household, himself included. The meals were irregular, the food badly cooked, but the man patiently made allowances, and was silent. It was a break in the monotony of ”sweep and cook and wash up” when Sunday arrived and the family went to church. The tiny building was nearly filled, and many eyes were turned on the newcomer. But she noticed no one. The old familiar hymns brought tears to her eyes, and her thoughts stole away from her keeping to the dear land beyond the seas. However, she rallied and joined heartily in the last hymn, her voice ringing out above all others.
When next she saw Mrs. Meadows the conversation turned to church and congregation. After telling her details she thought were interesting, Mrs. Meadows said, ”You have a nice voice, Eva, but you mustn't strain it.”
[Sidenote: Eva's Top Notes]
”Do you think I do?” she replied. ”I was trained at the Guildhall School, and I suppose my master knew the limits of my voice. _He_ approved of my top notes. Perhaps you don't know what the Guildhall School is, though,” she added insolently.
”On the contrary, my father was one of the professors until he died.
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