Beechcroft at Rockstone Page 3

  If Fergus had not yet discovered the secret of perpetual motion,Gillian felt as if Aunt Jane had done so, and moreover that the greaterproportion of parish matters were one vast machine, of which she was themoving power.

  As she was a small spare woman, able to do with a very moderateamount of sleep, her day lasted from 6 A.M. to some unnamed time aftermidnight; and as she was also very methodical, she got through anappalling amount of business, and with such regularity that those whoknew her habits could tell with tolerable certainty, within reasonablelimits, where she would be found and what she would be doing at any hourof the seven days of the week. Everything she influenced seemed to recuras regularly as the motions of the great ruthless-looking engines thatGillian had seen at work at Belfast; the only loose cog being apparentlyher sister Adeline, who quietly took her own way, seldom came downstairsbefore eleven o'clock, went out and came in, made visits or receivedthem, wrote letters, read and worked at her own sweet will. Only twoundertakings seemed to belong to her--a mission working party, and anItalian class of young ladies; and even the presidency of these oftenlapsed upon her sister, when she had had one of those 'bad nights'of asthma, which were equally sleepless to both sisters. She wasprincipally useful by her exquisite needlework, both in churchembroidery and for sales; and likewise as the recipient of all themessages left for Miss Mohun, which she never forgot, besides that,having a clear sensible head, she was useful in consultation.

  She was thoroughly interested in all her sister's doings, and alwaysspoke of herself as the invalid, precluded from all service except thatof being a pivot for Jane, the stationary leg of the compasses, as shesometimes called herself. This repose, together with her prettiness andsweetness of manner, was very attractive; especially to Gillian, whohad begun to feel herself in the grip of the great engine which bore heralong without power of independent volition, and with very little timefor 'Hilda's Experiences'.

  At home she had gone on harmoniously in full acquiescence with householdarrangements; but before the end of the week the very same sensationscame over her which had impelled her and Jasper into rebellion anddisgrace, during the brief reign of a very strict daily governess, longago at Dublin. Her reason and sense approved of all that was set beforeher, and much of it was pleasant and amusing; but this was the moreprovoking by depriving her of the chance of resistance or the solace ofcomplaint. Moreover, with all her time at Aunt Jane's disposal, howwas she to do her great thing? Valetta's crewel battle cushion had beenreduced to a delicious design of the battle of the frogs and mice, drawnby Aunt Ada, and which she delighted in calling at full length 'theBatrachyomachia,' sparing none of the syllables which she was to workbelow. And it was to be worked at regularly for half an hour beforebed-time. Trust Aunt Jane for seeing that any one under her dominiondid what had been undertaken! Only thus the spontaneity seemed to havedeparted, and the work became a task. Fergus meanwhile had set hisaffections on a big Japanese top he had seen in a window, and waseagerly awaiting his weekly threepence, to be able to complete thepurchase, though no one but Valetta was supposed to understand what ithad to do with his 'great thing.'

  It was quite pleasant to Gillian to have a legitimate cause ofopposition when Miss Mohun made known that she intended Gillian to takea class at the afternoon Sunday-school, while the two children went toMrs. Hablot's drawing-room class at St. Andrew's Vicarage, all meetingafterwards at church.

  'Did mamma wish it?' asked Gillian.

  'There was no time to mention it, but I knew she would.'

  'I don't think so,' said Gillian. 'We don't teach on Sundays, unlesssome regular person fails. Mamma likes to have us all at home to do ourSunday work with her.'

  'Alas, I am not mamma! Nor could I give you the time.'

  'I have brought the books to go on with Val and Ferg. I always do someof their work with them, and I am sure mamma would not wish them to beturned over to a stranger.'

  'The fact is, that young ladies have got beyond Sunday-schools!'

  'No, no, Jane,' said her sister; 'Gillian is quite willing to help you;but it is very nice in her to wish to take charge of the children.'

  'They would be much better with Mrs. Hablot than dawdling about here andamusing themselves in the new Sunday fashion. Mind, I am not going tohave them racketing about the house and garden, disturbing you, andworrying the maids.'

  'Aunt Jane!' cried Gillian indignantly, 'you don't think that is the waymamma brought us up to spend Sunday?'

  'We shall see,' said Aunt Jane; then more kindly, 'My dear, you areright to use your best judgment, and you are welcome to do so, as longas the children are orderly and learn what they ought.'

  It was more of a concession than Gillian expected, though she littleknew the effort it cost, since Miss Mohun had been at much pains to setMrs. Hablot's class on foot, and felt it a slight and a bad example thather niece and nephew should be defaulters. The motive might have workedon Gillian, but it was a lower one, therefore mentioned.

  She had seen Mrs. Hablot at the Italian class, and thought her a meregirl, and an absolute subject of Aunt Jane's stumbling pitifully,moreover, in a speech of Adelchi's; therefore evidently not at alllikely to teach Sunday subjects half so well as herself!

  Nor was there anything amiss on that first Sunday. The lessons were aswell and quietly gone through as if with mamma, and there was a pleasantlittle walk on the esplanade before the children's service at St.Andrew's; after which there was a delightful introduction to some of theold books mamma had told them of.

  They were all rather subdued by the strangeness and newness of theirsurroundings, as well as by anxiety. If the younger ones were lessanxious about their parents than was their sister, each had a plunge tomake on the morrow into a very new world, and the Varleys' informationhad not been altogether reassuring. Valetta had learnt how many marksmight be lost by whispering or bad spelling, and how ferociously crossFraulein Adler looked at a mistake in a German verb; while Fergus hadheard a dreadful account of the ordeals to which Burfield and Stebbingmade new boys submit, and which would be all the worse for him, becausehe had a 'rum' Christian name, and his father was a swell.

  Gillian had some experience through her elder brothers, and suspectedMaster Varley of being guilty of heightening the horrors; so she assuredFergus that most boys had the same sort of Christian names, but wereafraid to confess them to one another, and so called each other Bill andJack. She advised him to call himself by his surname, not to mention hisfather's title if he could help it, and, above all, not to seem to mindanything.

  Her own spirits were much exhilarated the next morning by a note fromHarry, the recipient of all telegrams, with tidings that the doctorswere quite satisfied with Sir Jasper, and that Lady Merrifield hadreached Brindisi.

  There was great excitement at sight of a wet morning, for it appearedthat an omnibus came round on such occasions to pick up the scholars;and Valetta thought this so delightful that she danced about exclaiming,'What fun!' and only wishing for Mysie to share it. She would haverushed down to the gate umbrellaless if Aunt Jane had not caught andconducted her, while Gillian followed with Fergus. Aunt Jane looked downthe vista of young faces--five girls and three boys--nodding to them,and saying to the senior, a tall damsel of fifteen,

  'Here are my children, Emma. You will take care of them, please. You arekeeping order here, I suppose?'

  There was a smile and bow in answer as the door closed, and the omnibusjerked away its ponderous length.

  'I'm sorry to see that Stebbing there,' observed the aunt, as she wentback; 'but Emma Norton ought to be able to keep him in order. It is wellyou have no lessons out of the house to-day, Gillian.'

  'Are you going out then?'

  'Oh yes!' said Miss Mohun, running upstairs, and presently coming backwith a school-bag and a crackling waterproof cloak, but pausing as shesaw Gillian at the window, nursing the Sofy, and gazing at the graycloud over the gray sea. 'You are not at a loss for something to do,'she said, 'you said you meant to write to your mothe
r.'

  'Oh yes!' said Gillian, suddenly fretted, and with a sense of beinghunted, 'I have plenty to do.'

  'I see,' said Miss Mohun, turning over the books that lay on thelittle table that had been appropriated to her niece, in a way that,unreasonably or not, unspeakably worried the girl, 'Brachet's FrenchGrammar--that's right. Colenso's Algebra--I don't think they use that atthe High School. Julius Caesar--you should read that up in Merivale.'

  'I did,' said Gillian, in a voice that very nearly said, 'Do let themalone.'

  'Well, you have materials for a very useful, sensible morning's work,and when Ada comes down, very likely she will like to be read to.'

  Off went the aunt, leaving the niece stirred into an absolute desire,instead of spending the sensible morning, to take up 'Near Neighbours',and throw herself into an easy-chair; and when she had conscientiouslyresisted that temptation, her pen would hover over 'Hilda'sExperiences', even when she had actually written 'Dearest Mamma.' Shefound she was in no frame to write such a letter as would be a comfortto her mother, so she gave that up, and made her sole assertion ofliberty the working out of a tough double equation in Colenso, whichactually came right, and put her in such good humour that she was nolonger afraid of drumming the poor piano to death and Aunt Ada upstairsto distraction, but ventured on learning one of the Lieder ohne Worte;and when her Aunt Ada came down and complimented her on the sounds thathad ascended, she was complacent enough to write a very cheerful letter,whilst her aunt was busied with her own. She described the Sunday-schoolquestion that had arisen, and felt sure that her father would pronouncehis Gill to be a sensible young woman. Afterwards Miss Adeline betookherself to a beautiful lily of church embroidery, observing, as Gilliansat down to read to her Alphonse Karr's Voyage autour de mon Jardin,that it was a real pleasure to listen to such prettily-pronouncedFrench. Kunz lay at her feet, the Sofy nestled in Gillian's lap, andthere was a general sense of being rubbed down the right way.

  By and by there loomed through the rain two dripping shiny forms underumbrellas strongly inclined to fly away from them--Miss Mohun and Mr.Grant, the junior curate, whom she had brought home to luncheon. Bothwere full of the irregularities of the two churches of Bellevue and St.Kenelm's on the recent harvest-thanksgiving Sunday. It was hard to tellwhich was most reprobated, what St. Kenelm's did or what Bellevue didnot do. If the one blew trumpets in procession, the other collected theoffertory in a warming-pan. Gillian had already begun to find that thesemisdoings supplied much conversation at Beechcroft Cottage, and beganto get half weary, half curious to judge for herself of all theseenormities; nor did she feel more interested in the discussion of whohad missed church or school, and who needed tickets for meat, or to bestirred up to pay for their coal club.

  At last she heard, 'Well, I think you might read to her, Gillian! Oh!were not you listening? A very nice girl near here, a pupil teacher, whohas developed a hip complaint, poor child. She will enjoy having visitsfrom you, a young thing like herself.'

  Gillian did not like it at all, but she knew that it would be wrong torefuse, and answered, 'Very well,' with no alacrity--hoping that it wasnot an immediate matter, and that something might happen to prevent it.But at that moment the sun came out, the rain had ceased, and there wereglistening drops all over the garden; the weather quarter was clear,and after half an hours rest after dinner Aunt Jane jumped up, decreeingthat it was time to go out, and that she would introduce Gillian toLilian Giles before going on to the rest of her district.

  She gathered a few delicate flowers in the little conservatory, and putthem in a basket with a peach from the dessert, then took down a coupleof books from the shelf. Gillian could not but acquiesce, though she wassurprised to find that the one given to her was a translation of Undine.

  'The child is not badly off,' explained Miss Mohun. 'Her father is asuperior workman. She does not exactly want comforts, but she is sadlydepressed and disappointed at not being able to go on with her work,and the great need is to keep her from fretting over her troubles, andinterested in something.'

  Gillian began to think of one of the graceful hectic invalids of whomshe had read, and to grow more interested as she followed Aunt Jane pastthe old church with the stout square steeple, constructed to hold, on asmall side turret window, a light for the benefit of ships at sea. Thenthe street descended towards the marble works. There was a great quarry,all red and raw with recent blasting, and above, below, and around, rowsof new little stuccoed, slated houses, for the work-people, and a largerange of workshops and offices fronting the sea. This was Miss Mohun'sdistrict, and at a better-looking house she stopped and used theknocker.

  That was no distinction; all had doors with knockers and sash windows,but this was a little larger, and the tiny strip of garden was wellkept, while a beautiful myrtle and pelargonium peeped over the muslinblind; and it was a very nice-looking woman who opened the door, thoughshe might have been the better for a cap. Aunt Jane shook hands withher, rather to Gillian's surprise, and heard that Lily was much thesame.

  'It is her spirits are so bad, you see, Miss Mohun,' she added, asshe ushered them into a somewhat stuffy little parlour, carpeted andbedecked with all manner of knick-knacks, photographs, and framedcertificates of various societies of temperance and providence on thegaily-papered walls. The girl lay on a couch near the fire, a sallowcreature, with a big overhanging brow, made heavier by a dark fringe,and an expression that Gillian not unjustly decided was fretful, thoughshe smiled, and lighted up a little when she saw Miss Mohun.

  There was a good deal said about her bad nights, and her appetite,and how the doctor wanted her to take as much as she could, and howeverything went against her--even lardy cake and roly-poly pudding withbacon in it!

  Miss Mohun put the flowers on the little table near the girl, who smileda little, and thanked her in a languid dreary manner. Finding that shehad freshly been visited by the rector, Miss Mohun would not stop forany serious reading, but would leave Miss Merrifield to read a story toher.

  'And you ought to get on together,' she said, smiling. 'You are justabout the same age, and your names rhyme--Gillian and Lilian. AndGillians mother is a Lily too.'

  This the young lady lid not like, for she was already feeling it asort of presumption in the girl to bear a name so nearly resembling hermother's. She had seen a little cottage poverty, and had had a class oflittle maidservants; but this level of life which is in no want, keeps abest parlour, and does not say ma'am, was quite new to her, and shedid not fancy it. When the girls were left together, while Mrs. Gilesreturned to her ironing, Gillian was the shyer of the two, and beganrather awkwardly and reluctantly--

  'Miss Mohun thought you would like to hear this. It is a sort of Germanfairy tale.'

  Lilian said, 'Yes, Miss Merrifield' in a short dry tone, completingGillian's distaste, and she began to read, not quite at her best, andwas heartily glad when at the end of half an hour Mrs. Giles was heardin parley with another visitor, so that she had an excuse for going awaywithout attempting conversation. She was overtaken by the children ontheir way home from their schools, where they had dined. They rushedupon her, together with the two Varleys, who wanted to take them home totea; and Gillian giving her ready consent, Fergus dashed home to fetchhis beloved humming-top, which was to be introduced to Clement Varley'spump, and in a few minutes they were off, hardly vouchsafing an answerto such comparatively trifling inquiries as how they were placed attheir schools.

  Gillian found, however, that neither of her aunts was pleased at herhaving consented to the children's going out without reference to theirauthority. How did she suppose they were to come home?

  'I did not think, can't they be fetched?' said Gillian, startled.

  'It is not far,' said Adeline, pitying her. 'One of the maids--'

  'My dear Ada!' exclaimed Aunt Jane. 'You know that Fanny cannot go outat night with her throat, and I never will send out those young girls onany account.'

  'Can't I go?' said Gillian desperately.

&nb
sp; 'Are not you a young girl? I must go myself.'

  And go she did at a quarter to eight, and brought home the children,looking much injured. Gillian went upstairs with them, and there was anoutburst.

  'It was horrid to be fetched home so soon, just as there was a chance ofsomething nice; when all the tiresome big ones had gone to dress, and wecould have had some real fun,' said Valetta.

  'Real fun! Real sense!' said Fergus.

  'But what had you been about all this time?'

  'Why, their sisters and a man that was there _would_ come and drink teain the nursery, where nobody wanted them, and make us play their play.

  'Wasn't that nice? You are always crying out for Harry and me to comeand play with you.'

  'Oh, it wasn't like that,' said Val, 'you play with us, and they onlypretended, and played with each other. It wasn't nice.'

  'Clem said it was--forking,' said Fergus.

  'No, spooning,' said Val. 'The dish ran after the spoon, you know.'

  'Well, but you haven't told me about the schools,' said Gillian, inelder sisterly propriety, thinking the subject had better be abandoned.

  'Jolly, jolly, scrumptious!' cried Fergus.

  'Oh! Fergus, mamma doesn't like slang words. Jasper doesn't say them.'

  'Not at home, but men say what they like at school, and the 'bus wasscrumptious and splendiferous!'

  'I'm sure it wasn't,' said Valetta; 'I can't bear being boxed up withhorrid rude boys.'

  'Because you are only a girl!'

  'Now, Gill, they shot with--'

  'Val, if you tell--'

  'Telling Gill isn't telling. Is it, Gill?'

  She assented.

  'They did, Gill. They shot at us with pea-shooters,' sighed the girl.

  'Oh! it was jolly, jolly, jolly!' cried the boy. 'Stebbing hit the girlwho made the sour face on her cheeks, and they all squealed, and the cadlooked in and tried to jaw us.'

  'But that dreadful boy shot right into his mouth,' said Val, whileFergus went into an ecstasy of laughter. 'Wasn't it a shame, Gill?'

  'Indeed it was' said Gillian. 'Such ungentlemanly boys ought not to beallowed in the omnibus.'

  'Girls shouldn't be allowed in the 'bus, they are so stupid,' saidFergus. 'That one--as cross as old Halfpenny--who was she, Val?'

  'Emma Norton! Up in the highest form!'

  'Well, she is a prig, and a tell-tale-tit besides; only Stebbing said ifshe did, her junior would catch it.'

  'What a dreadful bully he must be!' exclaimed Gillian.

  I'll tell you what,' said Fergus, in a tone of profound admiration, 'noone can hold a candle to him at batting! He snowballed all the Kennelchoir into fits, and he can brosier old Tilly's stall, and go on justthe same.'

  'What a greedy boy!' exclaimed Val.

  'Disgusting,' added Gillian.

  'You're girls,' responded Fergus, lengthening the syllable with infinitecontempt; but Valetta had spirit enough to reply, 'Much better be a girlthan rude and greedy.'

  'Exactly,' said Gillian; 'it is only little silly boys who think suchthings fine. Claude doesn't, nor Harry, nor Japs.'

  'You know nothing about it,' said Fergus.

  'Well, but you've never told me about school--how you are placed, andwhom you are under.'

  'Oh! I'm in middle form, under Miss Edgar. Disgusting! It's only thethird form that go up to Smiler. She knows it is no use to try to takeStebbing and Burfield.'

  'And, Gill,' added Val, 'I'm in second class too, and I took threeplaces for knowing where Teheran was, and got above Kitty Varley and agirl there two years older than I am, and her name is Maura.'

  'Maura, how very odd! I never heard of any one called Maura but one ofthe Whites,' said Gillian. 'What was her surname?'

  This Valetta could not tell, and at the moment Mrs. Mount came up withintent to brush Miss Valetta's hair, and to expedite the going to bed.

  Gillian, not very happy about the revelations she had heard, wentdownstairs, and found her younger aunt alone, Miss Mohun having beensummoned to a conference with one of her clients in the parish room. Inher absence Gillian always felt more free and communicative, and she hadsoon told whatever she did not feel as a sort of confidence, includingValetta's derivation of spooning, and when Miss Mohun returned it wasrepeated to her.

  'Yes,' was her comment, 'children's play is a convenient cover to thepresent form of flirtation. No doubt Bee Varley and Mr. Marlowe believethemselves to have been most good-natured.'

  'Who is he, and will it come to anything?' asked Aunt Ada, taking hersister's information for granted.

  'Oh no, it is nothing. A civil service man, second cousin'sbrother-in-law's stepson. That's quite enough in these days to justifyfraternal romping.'

  'I thought Beatrice Varley a nice girl.'

  'So she is, my dear. It is only the spirit of the age, and, after all,this deponent saith not which was the dish and which was the spoon. Havethe children made any other acquaintances, I wonder? And how did GeorgeStebbing comport himself in the omnibus? I was sorry to see him there; Idon't trust that boy.'

  'I wonder they didn't send him in solitary grandeur in the brougham,'said Miss Ada.

  Gillian held the history of the pea-shooting as a confidence, eventhough Aunt Jane seemed to have been able to see through the omnibus, soshe contented herself with asking who George Stebbing was.

  'The son of the manager of the marble works; partner, I believe.'

  'Yes,' said Aunt Ada. 'the Co. means Stebbing primarily.'

  'Is he a gentleman?'

  'Well, as much as old Mr. White himself, I suppose. He is come uphere--more's the pity--to the aristocratic quarter, if you please,' saidAunt Jane, smiling, 'and if garden parties are not over, Mr. Stebbingmay show you what they can be.'

  'That boy ought to be at a public school,' said her sister. 'I hope hedoesn't bully poor little Fergus.'

  'I don't think he does,' said Gillian. 'Fergus seemed rather to admirehim.'

  'I had rather hear of bullying than patronage in that quarter,' saidMiss Mohun. 'But, Gillian, we must impress on the children that they areto go to no one's house without express leave. That will avoid offence,and I should prefer their enjoying the society of even the Varleys inthis house.'

  Did Aunt Jane repent of her decision on the Thursday half-holidaygranted to Mrs. Edgar's pupils, when, in the midst of the working partyround the dining-room table, in a pause of the reading, some one said,'What's that!'--and a humming, accompanied by a drip, drop, drip, drop,became audible?

  Up jumped Miss Mohun, and so did Gillian, half in consternation, half toshield the boy from her wrath. In a few moments they beheld a puddle onthe mat at the bottom of the oak stairs, while a stream was descendingsomewhat as the water comes down at Lodore, while Fergus's voice couldbe heard above--

  'Don't, Varley! You see how it will act. The string of the humming-topmoves the pump handle, and that spins. Oh!'

  'Master Fergus! Oh--h, you bad boy!'

  The shriek was caused by the avenging furies who had rushed up the backstairs just as Miss Mohun had darted up the front, so as to behold, onthe landing between the two, the boys, one spinning the top, the otherworking the pump which stood in its own trough of water, receiving areckless supply from the tap in the passage. The maid's scream of 'Whatwill your aunt say?' was answered by her appearance, and rush to turnthe cock.

  'Don't, don't, Aunt Jane,' shouted Fergus; 'I've almost done it!Perpetual motion.' He seemed quite unconscious that the motion waskept up by his own hands, and even dismay could not turn him from beingtriumphant.

  'Oh! Miss Jane,' cried Mrs. Mount, 'if I had thought what they boys wasafter.'

  'Mop it up, Alice,' said Aunt Jane to the younger girl. 'No don't comeup, Ada; it is too wet for you. It is only a misdirected experiment inhydraulics.'

  'I told him not,' said Clement Varley, thinking affairs serious.

  'Fergus, I am shocked at you,' said Gillian sternly. 'You arefrightfully wet. You must be sent to bed.'


  'You must go and change,' said Aunt Jane, preventing the howl about tobreak forth. 'My dear boy, that tap must be let alone. We can't havecataracts on the stairs.'

  'I didn't mean it, Aunt Jane; I thought it was an invention,' saidFergus.

  'I know; but another time come and ask me where to try your experiments.Go and take off those clothes; and you, Clement, you are soaking too.Run home at once.'

  Gillian, much scandalised, broke out--

  'It is very naughty. At home, he would be sent to bed at once.'

  'I am not Mrs. Halfpenny, Gillian,' said Aunt Jane coldly.

  'Jane has a soft spot for inventions, for Maurice's sake,' said hersister.

  'I can't confound ingenuity and enterprise with wanton mischief, orcrush it out for want of sympathy,' said Miss Mohun. 'Come, we mustreturn to our needles.'

  If Aunt Jane had gone into the state of wrath to be naturally expected,Gillian would have risen in arms on her brother's behalf, and that wouldhave been much pleasanter than the leniency which made her views ofjustice appear like unkindness.

  This did not dispose her to be the better pleased at an entreaty fromthe two children to be allowed to join Mrs. Hablot's class on Sunday. Itappeared that they had asked Aunt Jane, and she had told them that theirsister knew what their mother would like.

  'But I am sure she would not mind,' said Valetta. 'Only think, she hasgot a portfolio with pictures of everything all through the Bible!'

  'Yes,' added Fergus, 'Clem told me. There are the dogs eating Jezebel,and such a jolly picture of the lion killing the prophet. I do want tosee them! Varley told me!'

  'And Kitty told me,' added Valetta. 'She is reading such a book to them.It is called The Beautiful Face, and is all about two children in awood, and a horrid old grandmother and a dear old hermit, and a wickedbaron in a castle! Do let us go, Gillyflower.

  'Yes,' said Fergus; 'it would be ever so much better fun than pokinghere.'

  'You don't want fun on Sunday.'

  'Not fun exactly, but it is nicer.'

  'To leave me, the last bit of home, and mamma's own lessons.'

  'They ain't mamma's,' protested Fergus; but Valetta was touched by thetears in Gillian's eyes, kissed her, and declared, 'Not that.'

  Whether it were on purpose or not, the next Sunday was eminentlyunsuccessful; the Collects were imperfect, the answers in the Catechismrecurred to disused babyish blunders; Fergus twisted himself intopreternatural attitudes, and Valetta teased the Sofy to scratchingpoint, they yawned ferociously at The Birthday, and would not beinterested even in the pony's death. Then when they went out walking,they would not hear of the sober Rockstone lane, but insisted on theesplanade, where they fell in with the redoubtable Stebbing, who choseto patronise instead of bullying 'little Merry'--and took him off to thetide mark--to the agony of his sisters, when they heard the St. Andrew'sbell.

  At last, when the tempter had gone off to higher game, Fergus's Sundayboots and stockings were such a mass of black mud that Gillian had todrag him home in disgrace, sending Valetta into church alone. She wouldhave put him to bed on her own responsibility, but she could not masterhim; he tumbled about the room, declaring Aunt Jane would do no suchthing, rolled up his stockings in a ball, and threw them in his sister'sface.

  Gillian retired in tears, which she let no one see, not even Aunt Ada,and proceeded to record in her letter to India that those dreadful boyswere quite ruining Fergus, and Aunt Jane was spoiling him.

  However, Aunt Jane, having heard what had become of the youth, methim in no spoiling mood; and though she never knew of his tussle withGillian, she spoke to him very seriously, shut him into his own room, tolearn thoroughly what he had neglected in the morning, and allowed himno jam at tea. She said nothing to Gillian, but there were inferences.

  The lessons went no better on the following Sunday; Gillian couldneither enforce her authority nor interest the children. She avoidedthe esplanade, thinking she had found a nice country walk to the commonbeyond the marble works; but, behold, there was an outbreak of drumsand trumpets and wild singing. The Salvation Army was marching that way,and, what was worse, yells and cat-calls behind showed that the SkeletonArmy was on its way to meet them. Gillian, frightened almost out of herwits, managed to fly over an impracticable-looking gate into a fieldwith her children, but Fergus wanted to follow the drum. After that shegave in. The children went to Mrs. Hablot, and Gillian thought she saw'I told you so' in the corners of Aunt Jane's eyes.

  It was a further offence that her aunt strongly recommended her goingregularly to the High School instead of only attending certain classes.It would give her far more chance of success at the examination to workwith others and her presence would be good for Valetta. But to reduceher to a schoolgirl was to be resented on Miss Vincent's account as wellas her own.

  CHAPTER IV. -- THE QUEEN OF THE WHITE ANTS