Part 46 (1/2)

Mrs. Miles sprang up with a cry of rapture and surprise at the sight of them. ”Why, my dears! my dears!” she said. ”And wherever is the elder of you? Where do she be? Oh, then it's me is right glad to see you both!”

”We want to talk to you, Mrs. Miles,” said Sylvia.

”And we want to kiss you, Mrs. Miles,” said Hester.

Then they flung themselves upon her and burst into floods of most bitter weeping.

Mrs. Miles had not brought up a large family of children for nothing.

She was accustomed to childish griefs. She knew how violent, how tempestuous, such griefs might be, and yet how quickly the storms would pa.s.s, the suns.h.i.+ne come, and how smiles would replace tears. She treated the twins, therefore, now, just as though they were her own children.

She allowed them to cry on her breast, and murmured, ”Dear, dear! Poor lambs! poor lambs! Now, this is dreadful bad, to be sure! But don't you mind how many tears you shed when you've got Mrs. Miles close to you.

Cry on, pretties, cry on, and G.o.d comfort you!”

So the children, who felt so lonely and desolate, did cry until they could cry no longer. Then Mrs. Miles immediately did the sort of thing she invariably found effectual in the case of her own children. She put the exhausted girls into a comfortable chair each by the fire, and brought them some hot milk and a slice of seed-cake, and told them they must sip the milk and eat the cake before they said any more.

Now, as a matter of fact, Sylvia and Hetty were, without knowing it in the least, in a starving condition. From the instant that Betty's serious illness was announced they had absolutely refused all food, turning from it with loathing. Supper the night before was not for them, and breakfast had remained untasted that morning. Mrs. Miles had therefore done the right thing when she provided them with a comforting and nouris.h.i.+ng meal. They would have refused to touch the cake had one of their schoolfellows offered it, but they obeyed Mrs. Miles just as though she were their real mother.

And while they ate, and drank their hot milk, the good woman went on with her cooking operations. ”I am having a fine joint to-day,” she said: ”corned beef that couldn't be beat in any county in England, and that's saying a good deal. It'll be on the table, with dumplings to match and a big apple-tart, sharp at one o'clock. I might ha' guessed that some o' them dear little missies were coming to dinner, for I don't always have a hot joint like this in the middle o' the week.”

The girls suddenly felt that of all things in the world they would like corned beef best; that dumplings would be a delicious accompaniment; and that apple-tart, eaten with Mrs. Miles's rich cream, would go well with such a dinner. They became almost cheerful. Matters were not quite so black, and they had a sort of feeling that Mrs. Miles would certainly help them to find the lost treasure.

Having got her dinner into perfect order, and laid the table, and put everything right for the arrival of her good man, Mrs. Miles shut the kitchen door and drew her chair close to the children.

”Now you are warm,” she said, ”and fed, you don't look half so miserable as you did when you came in. I expect the good food nourished you up a bit. And now, whatever's the matter? And where is that darling, Miss Betty? Bless her heart! but she twined herself round us all entirely, that she did.”

It would be wrong to say that Sylvia did not burst into fresh weeping at the sound of Betty's name.

But Hester was of stronger mettle. ”We have come to you,” she said--”Oh, Sylvia, do stop crying! it does no manner of good to cry all the time--we have come to you, Mrs. Miles, to help us to save Betty.”

”Lawk-a-mercy! and whatever's wrong with the dear lamb?”

”We are going to tell you everything,” said Hester. ”We have quite made up our minds. Betty is very, very ill.”

”Yes,” said Sylvia, ”she is so ill that Dr. Ashley came to see her twice yesterday, and then again a third time with a great, wonderful special doctor from London; and we were not allowed to sleep in her room last night, and she's--oh, she's dreadfully bad!

”They whispered in the school,” continued Sylvia in a low tone--”I heard them; they _did_ whisper it in the school--that perhaps Betty would--would _die_. Mrs. Miles, that can't be true! G.o.d doesn't take away young, young girls like our Betty. G.o.d couldn't be so cruel.”

”We won't call it cruelty,” said Mrs. Miles; ”but G.o.d does do it, all the same, for His own wise purposes, no doubt. We'll not talk o' that, my lambs; we'll let that pa.s.s by. The thing is for you to tell me what has gone wrong with that bonny, strong-looking girl. Why, when she was here last, although she was a bit pale, she looked downright healthy and strong enough for anything. Eh, my dear dears! you can't mention her name even now to Dan and Beersheba that they ain't took with fits o'

delight about her, dancing and scampering like half-mad dogs, and whining for her to come to them. There, to be sure! they know you belong to her, and they're lying down as contented as anything at your feet. I don't expect, somehow, your sister will die, my loves, although gels as young as she have pa.s.sed into the Better Land. Oh, dear, I'm making you cry again! It's good corned beef and dumplings you want. You mustn't give way, my dears; people who give way in times o' trouble ain't worth their salt.”

”We thought perhaps you'd help us,” said Sylvia.

”Help you, darlings! That I will! I'd help you to this extent--I'd help you even to the giving up o' the custom o' Haddo Court. Now, what can I do more than that?”

”Oh, but your help--the help you can give us--won't do you any harm,”

said Hester. ”We'll tell you about Betty, for we know that you'll never let it out--except, indeed, to your husband. We don't mind a bit his knowing. Now, this is what has happened. You know we had great trouble--or perhaps you don't know. Anyhow, we had great trouble--away, away in beautiful Scotland. One we loved died. Before she died she left something for Betty to take care of, and Betty took what she had left her. It was only a little packet, quite small, tied up in brown paper, and sealed with a good many seals. We don't know what the packet contained; but we thought perhaps it might be money, and Betty said to us that it would be a very good thing for us to have some money to fall back upon in case we didn't like the school.”

”Now, whatever for?” asked Mrs. Miles. ”And who could dislike a school like Haddo Court?”

”Of course we couldn't tell,” said Sylvia, ”not having been there; but Betty, who is always very wise, said it was best be on the safe side, and that perhaps the packet contained money, and if it did we'd have enough to live on in case we chose to run away.”