Part 10 (1/2)
”Well, the fact is this. I am going, as you know, to India for the next few years, and it is quite possible that as the cottage at Craigie Muir will belong to the Vivian girls--for poor Frances bought it and allowed those Scotch folk the Macfarlanes to live there--it is, I say, quite possible that you may go to Craigie Muir for a summer holiday with your cousins. The air is superb, and would do you much good, and of course the girls would be wild with delight. Well, my dear, if you go, I want you to look round everywhere--you have good, sharp eyes in your head, Fan, my girl--and try if you can find a little sealed packet which poor Frances left to be taken care of by me for your three cousins.”
”A sealed packet?” said f.a.n.n.y. She felt herself turning very pale.
”Yes. Do you know anything about it?”
”Oh, father!” said poor f.a.n.n.y; and her eyes filled with tears.
”What is the matter, my child?”
”I--I'd so much rather not talk about it, please.”
”Then you do know something?”
”Please, please, father, don't question me!”
”I won't if you don't wish it; but your manner puzzles me a good deal.
Well, dear, if you can get it by any chance, you had better put it into Mrs. Haddo's charge until I return. I asked those poor children if they had seen it, and they denied having done so.”
f.a.n.n.y felt herself s.h.i.+ver, and had to clasp her hands very tightly together.
”I also asked that good shepherd Donald Macfarlane and his wife, and they certainly knew nothing about it. I can't stay with you any longer now, my little girl; but if you do happen to go to Craigie Muir you might remember that I am a little anxious on the subject, for it is my wish to carry out the directions of my dear cousin Frances in all particulars. Now, try to be very, very good to your cousins, Fan; and remember how lonely they are, and how differently they have been brought up from you.”
f.a.n.n.y could not speak, for she was crying too hard. Sir John presently went away, and forgot all about the little packet. But f.a.n.n.y remembered it; in fact, she could not get it out of her head during the entire day; and in the course of the afternoon, when she found that the Vivian girls joined the group of the Specialities, she forced a chair between Betty and Olive Repton, and seated herself on it, and purposely, hating herself all the time for doing so, felt Betty's pocket. Beyond doubt there was something hard in it. It was not a pocket-handkerchief, nor did it feel like a pencil or a knife or anything of that sort.
”I shall know no peace,” thought f.a.n.n.y to herself, ”until I get that unhappy girl to tell the truth and return the packet to me. I shall be very firm and very kind, and I will never let out a single thing about it in the school. But the packet must be given up; and then I will manage to convey it to Mrs. Haddo, who will keep it until dear father returns.”
But although Fan intended to act the part of the very virtuous and proper girl, she did not like her cousins the more because of this unpleasant incident. f.a.n.n.y Crawford had a certain strength of character; but it is sad to relate that she was somewhat overladen with self-righteousness, and was very proud of the fact that nothing would induce _her_ to do a dishonorable thing. She sadly lacked Mrs. Haddo's rare and large sympathy and deep knowledge of life, and f.a.n.n.y certainly had not the slightest power of reading character.
That very evening, therefore, when the Vivian girls had gone to their room, feeling very tired and sleepy, and by no means so unhappy as they expected, f.a.n.n.y first knocked at their door and then boldly entered.
Each girl had removed her frock and was wearing a little, rough, gray dressing-gown, and each girl was in the act of brus.h.i.+ng out her own very thick hair.
”Brus.h.i.+ng-hair time!” exclaimed f.a.n.n.y in a cheerful tone. ”I trust I am not in the way.”
”We were going to bed,” remarked Betty.
”Oh, Betty, what a reproachful tone!” f.a.n.n.y tried to carry matters off with a light hand. ”Surely I, your own cousin, am welcome? Do say I am welcome, dear Betty! and let me bring my brush and comb, and brush my hair in your room.”
”No,” said Betty; ”you are not welcome, and we'd all much rather that you brushed your hair in your own room.”
”You certainly are sweetly polite,” said f.a.n.n.y, with a smile on her face which was not remarkable for sweetness. She looked quite calmly at the girls for a moment. Then she said, ”This day, on account of your arrival, rules are off, so to speak, but they begin again to-morrow morning. To-morrow evening, therefore, I cannot come to your bedroom, for it would be breaking rules.”
”Oh, how just awfully jolly!” exclaimed Sylvia.
”Thanks,” said f.a.n.n.y. She paused again for a minute. Then she added, ”But as rules are off, I may as well say that I have come here to-night on purpose. Just before father left, he told me that there was a little sealed packet”--Betty sat plump down on the side of her bed; Sylvia and Hetty caught each others hands--”a little sealed packet,” continued f.a.n.n.y, ”which belonged to poor Miss Vivian--your aunt Frances--and which father was to take charge of for you.”
”No, he wasn't,” said Betty; ”you make a mistake.”
”Nonsense, Betty! Father never makes a mistake. Anyhow, he has Miss Vivian's letter, which proves the whole thing. Now, the packet cannot be found. Father is quite troubled about it. He says he has not an idea what it contains, but it was left to be placed under his care. He asked you three about it, and you said you knew nothing. He also asked the servants in that ugly little house----”