THE CARROLL GIRLS. 

By

MABEL QUILLER-COUCH. 

CHAPTER I. 

Up and down, to and fro, backwards and for wards over the sunny gardenthe butterflies, white, sulphur, and brown, flitted and fluttered, lightly poising on currant-bush or flower, loving life as they baskedin the sunshine; and Penelope lay and watched them. What did it matterto them that the garden was neglected, the grass rank and uncut, the currant-bushes barren from neglect, the lilacs old and blossomless?It mattered no more to them than it did to Penelope, lying so lazy andhappy in the coarse grass. 

Penelope had never known the garden other than it was now, except, perhaps, at very far-distant intervals when a visitor was expected--usually Aunt Julia, when a shilling or so had to be found to pay agardener to come and 'tidy up. ' She herself was always better pleasedwhen he did not come, for almost invariably he charged too much, or Lydia said he did, and would tell him of it, not too politely, and tellher mistress that she was encouraging robbery; and Mrs. Carroll--who wouldfar rather pay too much and hear no more about it than be bothered--wouldbe worried, and Lydia would be cross; and to Penelope it seemed a pity tobe made so uncomfortable for the sake of sixpence or a shilling. She could not bear jars and discords. These, though, were troubles thatoccurred but seldom to ruffle the surface of her usually happy life. As a rule, like the butterflies, she saw only the sunshine, and the greenthings growing, and nothing of the sordidness and neglect of everythingabout her. If she did, if things jarred or fretted her, she just walkedaway, far out into the country and the woods where everything waspeaceful, and nothing seemed to matter; and out there she would very soonrecover again and become her old happy self. 

There were three other Carroll children--Esther, the eldest, Angela, andPoppy, the baby of them all. Penelope was the second, aged nearly twelve. 

"Four girls! isn't it dreadful?" Esther sometimes sighed. "But there, Isuppose it is better than some of us being boys, for now we _can_ hand ourclothes down from one to the other, and if we couldn't I am afraid theyounger ones would often have to go without. "

In the thirteen short years of her life poor Esther had grown to know allthe shifts and economies and discomforts of poverty only too well. She had seen, so to speak, the rise and fall of her family, and at lasthad become almost the only prop which kept it from falling altogether. She could remember when the house was always full of company and life andlaughter, when her mother always wore pretty frocks and beautiful jewels, and drove everywhere in their own carriage. She could remember gaydinner-parties, when she used to creep out of bed and sit on the stairs tolisten to the singing in the drawing-room. 

The scent of certain flowers still brought back the memory of those days, when she and Penelope used to go down in their prettiest frocks todessert, and were given dainty sweets and fruits, and were made much of. 

Then there came a dark time when, although she was so young, she feltvaguely that there was trouble overshadowing them, and saw it, too, reflected in her father's face; and the darkest day of all was whenGrandpa Carroll came, and with scarcely a word or a glance for thechildren, went at once to the library with her father, and departed againthat same night, leaving gloom and misery behind him. All the rest of theday, she remembered, her father remained shut up in the library, and hermother locked herself, weeping, in her bedroom; and Esther and Penelopewent to bed that night without any good-night kiss from either; and worsethan that, Esther heard nurse and Jane, the housemaid, talking in low, mysterious tones, and knew that they were talking of her parents' andtheir affairs; and, as any child would, bitterly resented it. 

"Why don't you go downstairs, Jane?" she said at last, when she couldendure it no longer; "you know mother doesn't allow gossiping in thenursery. "

But she had only a shaking from nurse, and a rude answer from Jane, whichmade her anger burn hotter than ever. She lay awake a long time thatnight, trying to make sense of what they had been saying, but it was notuntil years later that she really understood. 

The next day Jane had had a month's notice given her, not because shegossiped in the nursery, or was rude to Esther--Esther never told talesabout the servants--but because Mr. Carroll said briefly that they mustmanage with fewer servants and cut down all expenses. For that samereason the children's pony was taken away and sold a few days later, and from that time it seemed to Esther it had been nothing but cuttingdown and giving up and doing with less and less. It was only a fewmonths after the pony was sold that Poppy was born, and soon after thatthey left their old home and went to live in a little house where they hadno library and no nursery, and no stables or horses, and the children hadto play in the dining-room; and Esther's chief recollection of this timewas her constant struggle to prevent Penelope and Angela and the new babyfrom crying or making too much noise, for she knew by the frown on herfather's face that he was worried and bothered by it, and she could notbear to see him looking gloomy, or to hear the children scolded. 

Having no nursery they had no nurse--no real nurse; they had a'cook-general' and a 'nurse-housemaid' as the advertisements put it, and, in common with most persons who profess to be able to 'turn their hands toanything, ' they could do few things, and nothing well. So it fell toEsther and her mother to take care of the babies, and as Mrs. Carroll hadnot yet learnt to take care of herself even, a very heavy burden rested onlittle serious-faced Esther. 

It was better when the summer came, though, for then the family madeanother move. True it was to a yet smaller house, and more things had tobe given up; but the smaller house was in a little village called Framley, and the little village had woods lying behind it, and here was nurserylarge enough for any number of children to laugh in or cry to theirhearts' content, without disturbing any one; and Esther's heart wasrelieved of one big worry, and the children soon learnt to laugh a again, and play, and make as much noise as their hearts desired. 

Summer, though, cannot last for ever, and woods do not make an idealnursery in winter. The perplexed frown was beginning to pucker Esther'sbrow again when once more they were called on to relinquish something. The nurse-housemaid had to be sent away, and they had to learn how tomanage with one servant; and it was just about that time that she heardher father say one day, "It will really be easier for you, dear, when I amgone, " at which her mother burst into tears and wailed something Esthercould not quite understand, about being left to bear all the worriesalone. "It is much worse for those who are left than for those who go, "she cried. 

"But you will have the children, " Mr. Carroll said sadly. 

"Yes, four of them to feed and bring up on two hundred a year, and onlyone servant to help me. I don't know how any one can expect me to do it. I've not had a new gown myself for nearly a year. "

"It shall not be for long, dear, if I can help it, " her husband had said, very patiently. "As soon as possible I will send for you and thechildren. But it is no use to take you all out until I have a home ofsome sort ready for you; it would be greater misery than this. "

But Mrs. Carroll had only wept more and more, until the children began toweep too, though they did not know for what. 

Soon after that there had been a great deal of upset and excitement in thehouse: big boxes stood about on the landing, and the children were toldthat daddy was packing--he was going away to Canada, where they were allto join him soon. For a few days this news filled them with a pleasantexcitement, and for months after their father had gone Esther and Penelopetalked and talked of what they would do when they got to Canada, andPenelope dragged out an old trunk and began to pack a curious assortmentof things that she thought peculiarly suitable for that country. But as time went on she found she needed the things, and by degrees thethought of Canada became dim, and of no immediate interest to them. They were excited at first when their father's letters came because theythought each one would bring the longed-for summons; then they grew almostto dread them, for their mother always broke out into tears and wailingson reading them, finally locking herself in her room for the rest of theday, and the children were left to themselves to try to throw off the loadof oppression and wretchedness which weighed on them even while theyplayed. The memory of the wretchedness of those days remained with themto the end of their lives. 

Two, three, four years passed by, and gradually they forgot Canada, andMrs. Carroll ceased to weep on receipt of a letter from her husband; butwhether it was that she grew more used to her trouble, or that the newswas better, the children did not know, though Esther often longed to. 

So things were on that sunny May day when Penelope lay dreaming andwatching the butterflies in the neglected garden, and Esther made a milkpudding in the kitchen, and the two younger children played about thehouse, while nearer and nearer came the postman bearing the letter thatwas to alter all their lives for them. 

Esther had just finished making her pudding, and Poppy had that momentsucceeded in inveigling Angela into the cupboard under the stairs andturning the key on her, when footsteps came up the path, a letter droppedin through the letter-box, and a postman's rat-tat sounded to thefurthermost corner of the little house. 

The post was the principal excitement of the day to the little Carrolls, and there was usually a race to the door to try to be first to seize theletters. This time Poppy had a clear start, for Esther was in thekitchen, and Angela was safely under lock and key. 

"A letter from daddy, " she shouted, recognising the stamp; and in she flewwith it to her mother. 

Mrs. Carroll, roused from her reading, laid aside her novel and bottle ofsmelling-salts to take the letter. Having secured and handed over theprize, Poppy danced off again. She was far more interested, at thatmoment, in her prisoner, whose kicks on the door and screams of rage hadbrought Esther to her rescue. 

Esther, having released one sister, strolled wearily out into the gardento seek another and a little rest. She was very tired and very depressed;but the garden did not look inviting when she got there. 

"How can you like this untidy old place?" she cried, as she made her waythrough the long rank grass. 

"Oh, Esther, come gently, do! Look, oh do look at that lovely dragon-fly!Did you ever see such a beauty? Don't disturb him. Oh, do be careful!"

But Esther looked with only half-interest at the gorgeous insect; then, turning away a little impatiently, "I don't know how you can be out hereso much and not try to make it a little tidier, " she said vexedly. "I only wish I had a machine, or shears or something, and more time, and Iwould do something to it. "

Esther was by nature a very neat and dainty little person, with none ofPenelope's dreamy indifference to her surroundings. The untidy gardenwith its air of neglect would have been irritating to her if it hadbelonged to some one else, but being their own, and feeling responsiblefor it, it vexed her so she could hardly endure to stay in it. If the others could have had their way, they would have had all theirmeals out there, but not so Esther; the sight of the poor neglected spotwould have quite destroyed her appetite, though no one loved having mealsout-of-doors better than she did. She often took the children to tea inthe woods, but _that_ was different; the woods were always lovely, andjust what they should be. 

Esther's earlier years had given her a brief experience of how thingsshould be done, and how they should look, and she had never forgotten;Penelope, on the other hand, had forgotten, or never noticed Angela andPoppy, fired by Esther's example, had spasmodic passions for improving thehouse or garden, during which every one suffered more or less, and theythemselves were exhausted long before the huge tasks they had undertakenwere half completed. 

So here and there the garden showed cleared and scarred patches where thechildren had 'worked, ' which meant that they had begun to 'tidy' bypulling up everything that grew, after which they would scrape the bedover with a rake and replace in a prim row as many of the plants as theycould get in, and a day or two later the eye would be caught by a squareof brown earth, broken by a row of sorry-looking dead or dying plantsstanding conspicuous and solitary against the wild, untrained vegetationround about, while a later search would perhaps reveal, under the tangledlitter in the path, one of the best dinner-knives, covered with rust, andother lost treasures, such as a trowel, scissors, and occasionally asilver fork. 

To Esther these attempts were merely depressing and irritating; theyseemed only to emphasise their helplessness, and the uselessness of tryingto make things better. 

"Nothing is right here, somehow, " she complained to Penelope now, "neither the house, nor the garden, nor ourselves. Look at us!" throwingout her hands dramatically. "We aren't educated, or dressed properly, or--or anything. Look at that, " stretching out her foot, and eyeingdisdainfully the clumsy shoe which disfigured it. "We aren't fit to goanywhere, and we can't ask any one here because the house is never fit tobe seen, or the meals, or--"

"Never mind, " said Penelope placidly. She was used to Esther's outbursts, but, though quite unable to sympathise, she was ready with attempts atcomfort. "You don't want to know any one but ourselves, do you?I don't. "

"No-o, " admitted Esther. "But we ought to. It--well, it is alwayssupposed to be right. We shall grow up like savages, Aunt Julia says, andnot be fit to talk to any one or go anywhere, and we shan't have anyfriends; and every one _ought_ to make nice friends; it looks so bad ifone has none--"

"Miss Esther! Miss Esther!" called a sharp voice from the kitchen door. "You must all come in at once. Your ma wants you immejutly--all of you. "

Esther rose, a little anxious pucker gathering on her brow as sheremembered the Canadian letter. 

"Come along, Pen, " she said impatiently. "I wonder what it is. Bad newsfrom father, I expect. "

"P'r'aps it's good news, " said Penelope hopefully, rising with a sigh ofregret at having to leave her nest and the sunshine and the butterflies. Somehow, though, she did not really expect any such thing. "P'r'aps weare to go, at last. Oh, " with sudden excitement, "wouldn't it beperfectly lovely! Oh, Essie, wouldn't it be splendid! Do let's run inand see if that is what it is mother wants us for. "

CHAPTER II. 

"Children, _do_ make haste! How long you do take coming when I send foryou! And I've had such news I am really quite bewildered, and haven't amoment to spare. All my plans are changed in a minute, and I can hardlyrealise all I have to do. I have heard from your father. He wants me tocome out to him, and I am going, at once; of course, I _must_ go. I couldn't refuse to, and--you must all go to live with your Aunt Julia. I know you don't like her--and it is very naughty and ungrateful of you--but I can't do anything else, and you must make up your minds to behave. "

Mrs. Carroll paused at last from want of breath, and the children gaspedin sympathy. 

They had barely entered the dining-room when this cataract of speech wasturned on them by their mother, with every appearance of excitement andgratification. All her usual melancholy apathy was thrown aside; her facewas alight with pleasure, her eyes bright with excitement. Mrs. Carrollloved to be the bearer of startling news, to spring a surprise on people--just as she loved to have a pleasant one sprung on herself. She adoredexcitement, and under its influence saw nothing but the one thing thatappealed to her at the moment. 

Now, after hastily scanning her husband's letter, she grasped the one factthat he thought she might come out to him very soon. What the changemight mean to others, never occurred to her; that it might be for theworse, never entered her head. She saw simply a chance of a change, anescape from the monotony and sordidness of her present life. She wouldhave a new outfit, and travel, and meet new people, and escape from thatdreadful little cheap house and dull village, not to speak of othertiresome things which had been thrusting themselves on her attention for along time, but had been put aside and aside for consideration 'some day. '

The children stood just within the door, startled and bewildered--toobewildered for the moment to move or speak. "Going away!" they gasped atlast, "and--and _we_ are to be left _behind!_ Oh, mother, you can't meanit!"

They loved their careless, easy-going mother very dearly, and, in spite ofher neglect of them were, as a rule, very happy. She was the one personin the world, too, that they knew well and were accustomed to; and to bethus suddenly bereft of her and left entirely to strangers, or worse, wasa prospect too appalling almost to be credited. In spite of her neglectthey loved her; in fact it was only as they grew older that they realisedthat she did neglect them, or was not to them all she might have been. Esther was beginning to realise it; but Esther, in spite of her odd, sharptemper and reserved manner, had a great love for her mother; she loved herso much that she wanted her to be different, to be more what the idealmother was--such a one as she had read of in books. 

"Oh, mother, you aren't really going away, and going to leave us!" criedAngela again. "Mother, you can't! We can't be left!" At the thought ofit Poppy began to cry. 

"Yes, your father wants me to come, and I must go as soon as I can makearrangements. Of course I can't take you all with me, so I am going toask your Aunt Julia to let you go and live with her. "

What Esther had been on the point of saying, was never said--her mother'sapparent indifference to their separation hurt her too deeply. "Oh, then, Aunt Julia does not know it yet?" she remarked shrewdly. 

"No, your father has left all the arrangements to me to make, and I am tocome as soon as I like; so, as I see no use in delaying, I shall try toget away as soon as I possibly can. "

Mrs. Carroll's brain could work very quickly under certain circumstances. Now, though only a few moments had elapsed since the momentous letter hadarrived, she had formed plans innumerable, to be carried out at once inspite of all obstacles. She would give Lydia a month's notice this veryday, and the landlord notice that she was going to leave the house, andher sister Julia that she was about to send the four children to take uptheir abode with her at once--she would feel so much freer when they weresettled, and she was alone. 

"But perhaps Aunt Julia will not have us, " said Penelope, joyfullyclutching at the hope. They none of them loved their Aunt Julia. Not to be going to Canada was bad enough, but to have to go and live withAunt Julia, for no one knew how long, was too dreadful to contemplate. 

"Oh, mother, _don't_ send us to her, _do_ take us with you, mother dear, "pleaded Angela tearfully. "Doesn't father say we are to come? I am surehe wants us too. "

"Don't bother me now, child, " said Mrs. Carroll, not crossly, but with adistracted air, pushing aside Angela's clinging, eager arms. "I've got more than enough to think of as it is. Of course you can't gonow. "

"Why, mother? Can't we afford it?" asked straightforward Penelope. 

"Oh, do be quiet. Don't bother any more, " cried Esther bitterly. "Don't you see that mother doesn't want us, and Aunt Julia won't want us--nobody wants us. " And in a tumult of pain and anger she flung herself outof the room to hide the tears that made her eyes smart and tingle. 

"I really think your Aunt Julia would refuse to have Esther if she knewhow bad her temper has become, " said Mrs. Carroll with a sigh. "She seems quite to have forgotten the respect due to her mother, and tothink I may be spoken to in any way she chooses. I am sure no othermother would endure such behaviour from their children as I have to. "

"Esther didn't mean to be rude, mother, " pleaded Penelope. "I expect sheis upset 'cause daddy didn't send for us too. He _said_ he would, youknow, and we always thought we should go too when you went. It is an_awful_ disappointment, " sadly. 

"Mother, " pleaded Angela wistfully, "it isn't true what Esther said, isit? You _do_ want us, don't you?"

"I certainly do not want children with me who don't know how to behave, "said Mrs. Carroll in a quick, reproving tone, never dreaming of the loveand longing in the child's heart. A few words of explanation, of love, and sorrow for the parting, of hope of a speedy reuniting would haverelieved all their young hearts of a load, would have banished thatchilling feeling of being unloved, unwanted, would have filled them withhope and patience, and have bound their young hearts to their absentparents for ever. Instead of which they felt rebuffed and unloved, theywere turned in on themselves, until such time as some other love shouldwarm their chilled hearts and expand their natures, and a stranger, maybe, should mean more to them than a parent. 

Of all the little brood Angela was the most affectionate, the mostclinging little home-bird. She loved her mother passionately, and herhome too, in spite of its unattractiveness, for the flaws she saw inpersons or things only made her love with a deeper, more sympatheticdesire to help. It was always to the most unlovable and unattractive thatAngela's heart went out. If people or animals had no one else to care forthem, she felt they might be glad of her. 

She turned away from her mother with a little sigh. She did not blame herfor her want of feeling, she only winced as at a new revelation of her ownunlovableness. 

Poppy, who all this while had been standing mute and considering, was atthat moment struck by an inspiriting idea. 

"But, mother, " she said gravely, "if we don't know how to behave properlyAunt Julia won't want us either, and then what shall we do! You will_have_ to take us with you, " with rising hope in her voice, "and I am_sure_ daddy would be glad, and I _do_ want to go in the big ship and seedaddy, " with a deep sigh. "Oh, I _do, _" pathetically, "want to see daddy, so badly. "

"Don't talk nonsense, child. You can't remember your father. Why shouldyou want to see him?"

"I do. I want to see what he is like. Esther remembers him, and shewants to see him too. _Do_ take us with you, mother. We'll be--oh, everso good. I _don't_ like Aunt Julia; she is _always_ cross, and I don'tlike cross people. "

Poppy had no fear or awe of any one. Every one but Aunt Julia had lovedher always, and done their best to make her happy, even cross Lydia, andshe in return rewarded them by a placid, sweet acceptance of theirefforts, and allowing them to love her. 

"Mother, " burst out Penelope eagerly, "couldn't we all go toboarding-school while you are away? It would be jolly, and ever so muchnicer than living with Aunt Julia. I know we shall always be getting intoscrapes if we go to her, and no one _could_ please her, Lydia said so. "

"Nonsense, " said Mrs. Carroll warmly, "Lydia is a very rude girl to speakso of a lady, and my sister, and if I were remaining here I should notallow you all to go into the kitchen so much. It will be very good foryou to try to please your aunt. Children don't know what is best forthem, and--and they should learn to consider others before themselves. "

A grown-up observer might have smiled satirically at Mrs. Carroll'stheories, so easily preached, so neglected in practice. 

"Now run away. I have so much to think of, my poor head is quitebewildered. I think I must have a cup of tea at once--will you tellEsther or Lydia to make it for me--or I shall have a dreadful headache, and I _must_ think out what outfit I shall require, or it will never beready in time, and I must try to let the house, or we shall have to payanother quarter's rent, and there is the furniture to get rid of and--ohdear, oh dear, my poor head feels quite bewildered already; however_shall_ I manage it all, and by myself too! It is really too much to facealone--now, children, don't make a noise or you will drive me distracted. "

Without another word the three walked away in search of Esther, and totalk over the dreadful and bewildering change the last hour had wrought intheir outlook; but Esther, sitting white-faced and angry-eyed on her bed, could not be brought to discuss anything. She was bitterly disappointednot to be going to Canada, furiously angry at having to go to Aunt Julia, who treated them all invariably as though they were naughty or going to benaughty, cruelly hurt that her mother showed so little feeling at beingparted from them all, and, curiously, full of pain at the thought ofparting from that mother. 

Poor Esther could not see, of course, that this same parting was reallyfor her good; that there, under the strain and discord of her home she wasallowing herself to become irritable and captious, despondent andsharp-tongued. She knew she always felt cross and injured and sore, but she never set herself to face the reason and combat it. 

Two days later a reply came from Miss Julia Foster, and a frown satheavily on Mrs. Carroll's brow. Aunt Julia firmly refused to take over ata moment's notice the burden her sister was so calmly laying on hershoulders. 

"People who have children must expect to give up something for them, " shewrote. "You really must not expect to throw off your responsibilities inthis way. It is your duty to stay with them if you cannot take them withyou. I observe you say nothing as to the provision you are prepared tomake for their board and clothing and education. I presume you don'texpect me to take over the responsibility of providing all that too. "

Miss Foster wrote as she talked, very candidly. 

Mrs. Carroll's face flushed with anger and annoyance. 

"Julia never would do anything to oblige any one, " she said sharply. "She has always been the same. I only wonder I thought of asking her. "

It never occurred to her to think what it would mean to a personunaccustomed to children to have four suddenly introduced into a quiethome hitherto occupied only by one very prim and particular lady and twoequally prim servants, who did not know what real work was. 

Miss Foster's first thought had been: "Neither of the maids would stay, "and she could not contemplate the terrors of changing. Her secondthought, "Who is to provide for the children?" She felt quite certainthat that important point had never entered into their mother'scalculations, and she felt distinctly annoyed with her sister for theabrupt and casual way in which she threw such a great responsibility onothers' shoulders, and in her letter she made her feelings plain. 

For a few moments Mrs. Carroll sat considering. One by one all herrelations and friends were passed in review before her mind's eye. "There seems, " she said at last in a musing tone, "no one but CousinCharlotte. I wonder--"

There was not much doubt as to what Mrs. Carroll was wondering. Her facelightened, determination shone in her eye. 

"Cousin Charlotte, " or Miss Charlotte Ashe, was a cousin of Mrs. Carroll'smother. In her earlier years she had kept a girls' school in London, butwhen she found herself growing old she sold it, and retired to a littlehouse in her native village in Devonshire. Schoolmistresses do not, as arule, grow rich, and Miss Ashe was the last person to save money forherself while there was any one else wanting it; she managed, however, tosave enough to keep herself, and Anna, her former cook, in their littlehouse in comfort, and put a trifle by for an emergency. 

It was to this quiet, modest little home that Mrs. Carroll's thoughts nowflew, without the slightest feeling of compunction at invading it, as shemeant it to be invaded. Her letter to Miss Ashe was a masterpiece ofpathetic pleading. Miss Charlotte read it with tears of pity for the poormother, reduced from affluence and luxury to poverty and the position ofan emigrant's wife torn from her children by stress of circumstance. Then she read it again to Anna, and Anna's eyes filled too; but it was forthe children that Anna wept. Both kind hearts agreed, though, that theycould not refuse to give the homeless ones a home; and a letter wasdespatched at once, full of warm hospitality and affection, and almostbefore it was posted a perfect fury of cleaning, planning, rearrangingburst over Moor Cottage, in preparation for the four new inhabitants. 

"Children, " cried Mrs. Carroll delightedly, when the letter arrived, "your dear Cousin Charlotte is quite anxious to have you in her charminglittle home in Devonshire. I know you will be happy there, she is sosweet and kind. I was always very fond of her, and so will you be, Iknow; and you must do all you can to help her, and not be too troublesome. She says she can have you at any time, so I think you really had better goas soon as I can get you ready. I shall be able to see to things better, and pay a few farewell visits, when I am quite free. It will be a greatrelief to know you are comfortably settled. "

Esther listened in silence. She was terribly sensitive. She wasinterested, but troubled. Did Cousin Charlotte really want them, shewondered, "or had mother forced them on her?"

Penelope knew no qualms; she simply danced with delight at the thought ofgoing to Devonshire, and to live on a moor. "I always wanted to gothere, " she cried. "I know I shall love it. "

Angela wept quietly at the thought of leaving Framley, and her mother, andthe house and the woods. Poppy stood gazing eagerly from one to theother, prepared to do whatever her sisters did, but puzzled to know whichto copy. 

"Cousin Charlotte will want a big house, " she remarked gravely, "if shehas all of us to live with her. I wonder if she is glad we are coming--orsorry, " she added as an afterthought. 

"What about our clothes and food, and everything, " asked Esther presently, nervously summoning up courage to put the great question that had troubledher most ever since the move was first mooted. She knew from bitterexperience that the very last person to trouble about such details was hermother. 

"Really, Esther, you are very inquisitive and interfering, " said Mrs. Carroll, deeply annoyed because the question was one of the mostembarrassing that could have been put to her. "Who do you consider is theright person to attend to such matters, myself or yourself?"

Esther sighed, but made no answer. She had no doubt as to who was theright person, her doubt was as to the right person's doing it. The matter, though, was too important for her to be easily daunted. She felt she _must_ know, or she could not go. 

"And--and what about our education?" she asked. She meant so well, butshe spoke in that sullen, aggressive tone that always put her in the wrongand made her mother angry. It was purely the result of nervousness. She did so hate to have to be disagreeable and say these things, makingherself seem so forward and important, when she really felt just thereverse. There was no one else though to do it, so she had to. "Is there a school there? We all ought to go to school now, even Poppy. I am thirteen, and--and I don't know as much as the village children, and I--I'm ashamed to go anywhere or meet any one. Every one sees howstupid and ignorant we are. " A great sob clutched her throat and chokedthe rest of her words, tears of mortification and bitterness filled hereyes. She was painfully conscious of her own ignorance, and had anexaggerated idea of the contempt others must feel for her. "And some daythe others would come to feel the same, " she told herself resentfully, "if nothing was done for them. It was cruel. No one seemed to care forthem, or how they grew up. "

And then again, she would hate herself for her bad temper, and the nastythings she said. She knew she was making herself unlovable, and she didso long for love. 

Mrs. Carroll looked somewhat taken aback at this new question. "Oh, " she stammered, "I suppose I must arrange something. I must talk toyour father about it when I get out to him. In the meantime I daresayCousin Charlotte will be able to help you a little with a few lessons. She has been a schoolmistress all her life; she had a splendid school--such nice girls, too. She must miss them so. She will probably be quiteglad to do a little teaching. "

"I wonder what she will think of us, " said Esther, "if she has beenaccustomed to well-brought-up girls. "

"Well, " cried Mrs. Carroll, turning on her sharply, "surely if you are soanxious to learn, you might have been studying by yourself all this time. I am sure there are books enough in the house, and you knew there was nomoney to spare for education. "

"Yes, there are books, " said Esther quietly. "Father's books that hebrought from Oxford, but I can't understand them. It is books for quitelittle children that I want, " her face flushing hotly. 

"Well, I daresay Cousin Charlotte will have loads of old school-books, and--and well, at any rate, Esther, " reproachfully, "you know how to readand write, and you might have been teaching Angela and Poppy to do so, youreally might have done that. "

"I have, " said Esther. 

"Oh, well, that is something. When one can read there is no excuse forignorance in a place where there are books. There are lots of people whohave set to work and taught themselves when they have been too poor to goto school, and have done--oh, marvels!" responded Mrs. Carroll, relievingherself of any feeling of self-reproach. Because a few rare geniuses haddone so, by facing difficulties and self-sacrifices such as she could noteven imagine, she felt there was nothing to prevent every ordinary childfrom pursuing the same course. 

Esther said no more; a sense of hopelessness and helplessness seized her--a feeling common to most who had to do with Mrs. Carroll, but Esther, asyet, did not know that. She walked away out of the room and the house--she felt she must get away somewhere by herself. 

She hurried on quickly till she came to the woods. There, at any rate, there was peace and rest, and no bickerings. "But oh, " she thought, asshe flung herself down on the soft, springy pine-needles which lay sothickly everywhere, "what shall I do when I haven't the woods to come to?"and she put out her hand and patted tenderly the rough trunk of thenearest pine-tree. 

Half an hour later she rose as bewildered and vexed as ever. Her thoughtshad led her nowhere; instead of finding some way to surmount her troubles, she had just brooded and brooded, and nursed her grievances until theywere larger than ever. She could not go home yet, she felt too depressedand miserable, so she wandered on and on. 

In one little hollow in the woods was a spot they called their 'house, 'where they spent long days playing all sorts of lovely games, and veryoften, when their mother or Lydia wanted to have a free day, they hadtheir dinner and tea there too. Making for this place now, Esther cameupon Penelope perched in the forked trunk of an old tree, a book in herhand. She was so absorbed she gave quite a start when Esther called toher, "What are you doing, Pen?"

Penelope had a deep pucker in her forehead and a very grave face. "I am trying to educate myself, " she said soberly. "I thought if I couldlearn even only a little before I went to Cousin Charlotte's it would notseem _so_ bad. But I don't seem able to get on _very_ well. I can'tquite make out what it is all about, and the words are very long. I thought I'd try though. I only wish I'd thought of it sooner. "

Esther felt a twinge of shame. She had thought of it, but she had donenothing, and her inmost conscience told her she might have spent her timemore profitably than she had. "If we were not going away, Pen, " she saidenthusiastically, "we would have lessons here every day. P'r'aps if wekept on at it we might get to understand better, and we might get somenice books in time. But, " hopelessly, "it is too late now. "

"Oh, I don't think so, " said Penelope encouragingly. "It can never be_too_ late to learn things, and p'r'aps we can make up for lost time. At any rate, let's try. "

"Very well, we'll begin now. Shall we start together? What book are youreading?"

"It is called _The Invasion of the Crimea_" said Penelope slowly. "I think it will be very interesting--further on. "

"I wonder what the Crimea was, " mused Esther. 

"If we read very carefully perhaps we shall find out. There seems to be alot about soldiers and battles. "

"I wonder, " said Esther, after a moment's thought, "if it will be any goodour reading all this. Don't you think we ought to learn something thatpeople talk about every day?"

Penelope looked a little disappointed. "I don't know, " she said slowly. "I don't know how to--or what books to get, and--and p'r'aps some peopledo talk about the Crimea. Cousin Charlotte may, and then won't she besurprised if we know all about it!"

"Is it long?" asked Esther, still dubiously. Esther wanted to find theroyal road to knowledge, which is easy and short and smooth--so they say, but no one knows, for no one has found it yet. 

"Eight more volumes, " said Penelope, almost apologetically. She wasbeginning to feel her zest for self-education considerably damped. "But, " brightening up a little, "we can go on with this, at any rate, until we find out what we _ought_ to learn. It can't do any harm. It looks like history, and I am sure we ought to know history. "

"Yes, " agreed Esther. So they began taking it in turns to read; but thewords were long, and the names difficult to pronounce, and Esther's mindwas in such a state of turmoil she could not fix it on anything, and lineafter line, as Penelope read, fell on deaf ears. "I think I shall go homenow, " she said at last. "Penelope, do you think we shall have some newclothes before we go away? We ought, we are dreadfully shabby. "

Penelope looked up with doubt in her face. "I don't know. I don't expectso; you see it would cost such a lot to get things for the four of us, andthere will be the tickets too, and it must be a very long journey. "

Esther sighed. "Well, we are disgracefully shabby. I don't know what weare going to do. Cousin Charlotte will think we are a tramp's children. "

The next day, when the study hour came, Esther took a large basket ofstockings out into the woods with her to darn. "I must try and mend theseagain, " she said. "We don't seem to be going to have any new ones, " andwhile Penelope with some trouble made her way through a chapter of the_Invasion of the Crimea_, and the younger ones collected fir-cones to takehome for the kitchen fire, Esther sorted out and darned a motleycollection of stockings of various sizes and every variety of shade ofwashed-out black and brown. She darned them quickly and thoroughly; butthe great excrescences of blue, brown, grey, or black darning-wool wouldhave brought terror to the heart of any one who suffered from tender feet. "There, " she said, laying aside the last pair with a sigh, "at any rate weshall be sound if we are shabby. I wish, though, the darns didn't showquite so much, " gazing regretfully at a large light-blue patch in themiddle of one of Poppy's black stockings. 

After that the _Crimea_ was abandoned, and they all fell to talking of thestrange new life which was drawing so close to them now, and by degrees, and in spite of their first dread, was so exciting, so full of interest, and all manner of possibilities. 

CHAPTER III. 

And now at last the parting was over, and the new life fairly begun. Esther, Penelope, Angela, and Poppy sat alone in a third-class carriage, looking out with blurred and smarting eyes at the fields and hedgesrushing past them, at telegraph wires bowing and rising, at people andcattle and houses, and wondered if it could all be real or if they wereonly dreaming. 

They had been very sad for the last few days, for the parting had been apainful wrench. In spite of all its drawbacks, the little house atFramley was their home, and they shed many bitter tears when they badegood-bye to it, and the woods and the walks, and all their well-knownplay-places. They wept, too, at leaving their mother, and even Lydia, cross, careless Lydia, for, after all, their mother and Lydia were theonly two beings they knew well, and to be obliged to leave them and goentirely to utter strangers, in a quite unknown place, was very alarming. 

"No one knows what it may be like at Dorsham, " said Esther tragically, "and we--and we are not like children accustomed to going about. We don't know what are the right things to do--you know what I mean, wedon't know how to behave, at least I don't. I hate having to meet any onein the street, for I never know what to say or do; and if I don't speak Iknow I am rude, and they think all sorts of things about me, and then I ammiserable, and--and it'll be like that all the time at CousinCharlotte's. "

The other children looked awed until Penelope brightened up a little. "Never mind, " she said hopefully, "we will go on just as we do now. After all, we can't be so very very dreadful, for mother _is_ a lady, andknows, and we aren't wild savages; and Cousin Charlotte must tell us if wedon't do things right, and we must remember for another time. Don't you think that will be all right, Esther?"

"I wish I could remember all the things Aunt Julia used to tell us, "sighed Angela regretfully. "If we could we should know exactly what todo; but she was always telling me things and I've got them all mixed up. "

"Will Tousin Charlotte whip us if we don't do right?" asked Poppy, in anawe-stricken voice. 

"No one knows, " said Esther, still in the same tragic, woebegone manner. "She may. I believe schoolmistresses are _very_ strict. We shall knowwhen we get there. " Poppy's face grew longer and longer. "Mother saysshe is a _dear_ old lady, but--but mother forgets, and she never had tolive with her, as we've got to. "

So their hearts were heavy with mingled dread and shyness, as well assadness and a sense of desertion, as they took their seats in the trainwhich was to convey them to Dorsham. In the luggage van were two smalltrunks containing their four scanty wardrobes, and all their toys andother treasures. In her hand Esther carried a large old purse of hermother's, containing their four tickets, and a sovereign which her motherhad at the last moment given her to provide them all with stamps andnotepaper and pocket-money for the next twelve months. 

To children who had been in the habit of doing without pocket-money at allit seemed as though unbounded wealth were theirs, and they could neverknow want again. 

Penelope carried a basket of provisions, which Lydia, with unusual care, had insisted on their taking. Penelope consented because she did not liketo refuse Lydia's last request, but neither it nor its contents held theslightest interest for them until quite a long stretch of their journeyhad been covered. They were too unhappy to feel hungry. They would nevercare for food again, or for any one or anything but Framley and theirmother and Lydia; and while they were in this frame of mind two or threehours and many miles passed by. 

But the lapse of time brought some relief and a lightening of theirdepression. They became able to take a growing interest in theirsurroundings, and a sensation of hunger began to assert itself; so did asavoury odour from Lydia's basket, an odour so delicious that, in spite ofthemselves, they became interested. 

"I wonder what Lydia put in here, " said Penelope, looking down at thedespised basket for the first time. "Something smells rather nice. "They had left home before nine, and the meal they ate before starting washardly worthy the name, and as it was now past twelve they began to feelvery empty and rather faint, and the savoury whiffs which floated out fromthe basket grew more and more appealing. 

Poppy slipped from her seat at last and pressed her small nose close tothe cover. "I believe it's patties, and gooseberries, and--and--"

Lydia had her faults as to temper, but there was no denying she could cookwhen she chose to, and her meat patties were the joy of the children'shearts on the rare occasions when she could find time to make them. 

Without more delay the basket was unpacked, and Poppy's sense of smell wasamply justified. Four meat patties, some hard-boiled eggs and slices ofbread and butter, cakes, biscuits, milk, gooseberries, and apples, made alunch fit for four queens. And the children fairly squealed with delightas they unrolled packet after packet. 

"We will have a table, " cried Esther, springing up and spreading anewspaper on the seat for a tablecloth, "and lay everything out on it. I only hope no one else will want to come into this carriage. "

It was not very easy to keep on their feet with the train swaying andjerking them as it did, but it made it all the more amusing, and when allwas spread it looked so nice it made them feel very grand and grown-up. It was a wonderful new experience, and their spirits rose quite high underit. 

"I wish we could go on and on like this always, " said Esther. "Wouldn't itbe jolly! There would be no one to worry us, and no strangers to face. "

Penelope looked up quickly, her eyes alight with a sudden idea. "Oh, Esther, let's do it! Let's go on and not get out at Dorsham, "she cried wickedly. 

"But could we go on much further?" asked practical Angela. "Isn't thereany end to the railway?"

"I don't know. Perhaps it just goes on and on all round England, and inand out until it comes to where it started from, and then goes on again, "said Penelope, her mind busy over the problem. 

"But the poor engine-drivers must get down sometimes and go to bed, mustn't they?" asked Poppy. "They don't sleep on the engine, do they?"

"I wish I knew, " said Penelope. "It would be so lovely just to go on andon and not know where we were, or anything, and--"

"But what should we do for food?" asked Esther quietly. "The meat pattiesare gone already, " throwing the last crumbs out of window, "and wecouldn't get any more, and--and--" At that moment the train drew up at astation, and a ticket-collector, flinging open the door, came in anddemanded to see their tickets. Trembling with nervousness, certain thathe must have heard what they had been saying, Esther fumblingly undid herpurse and produced them. The man looked at the tickets closely, clippedbits out of them, and handed them back again, giving at the same time akeen, curious look at the four young travellers. 

It was not until the train had steamed on again, and he was left behind onthe platform, that either one of them recovered from the shocksufficiently to speak. 

"He must have heard us, " breathed Angela, with wide frightened eyes. "He _must_ have, and--oh! he must have seen all that, " pointing to theremains of the feast spread out on the seat. 

"I expect he is used to it, " said Penelope consolingly. "Most people doeat when they are travelling, I expect. But it is no use for us to try totravel on beyond Dorsham, that is certain. They would find us out bylooking at our tickets, and--and p'r'aps we should be sent to jail!"

Agreeing, reluctantly, that their plan for a life of perpetual travel mustbe abandoned, they settled down again to face the more monotonous futurethat had been arranged for them. Tired at last of talking, they tried toread, but no book could enthral them for long, while there was so much tosee and take note of, as they rushed through the beautiful country allbathed in June sunshine, or stopped at the big bustling stations, and the funny little country ones. Oddly enough, though they stopped sooften no one got into their carriage, which was very nice, they thought. By and by, though, they began to grow very weary, the carriage was veryhot, and they grew tired of their own company. It might have been betterfor them, perhaps, had they had some fellow-passengers. 

"Only three o'clock!" sighed Penelope, catching sight of a clock at thestation they were drawn up in. "We have two and a half more hours yet. Oh dear, what a long day it is! I believe I shall be almost glad to getthere, though I do dread it so. "

"I wonder if Cousin Charlotte is nervous, too, " remarked Angela, who hadbeen very quiet for some time. 

Poppy woke up from an uncomfortable nap, looking and feeling very cross. "Oh, I am so thirsty, " she cried. "Esther, mayn't I have an apple?"

Esther roused herself from her study of the landscape. "Of course youmay, dear--let us all have another meal now, and call it tea. You see, ifwe get there at half-past five we are sure to have something to eat soonafter, so it will be better to eat up what we have here soon, unless wemean to waste it. "

There was complete agreement of opinion on this point, so Esther tidiedtheir tablecloth and rearranged the remaining food as well as she could, and they set to work to demolish everything with keen appetites--a taskthey accomplished without any great effort; and it is only to be hopedthat Lydia heard of the appreciation the contents of her basket met with. 

Try, though, as they would to spin out the meal, it was not yet four whenthe last crumb and drop had vanished; and, finding nothing else to do, they nestled down in their four corners again with the quiet melancholy ofa dying day settling down on them once more. Though it was June, the landoutside seemed already to take on a look of evening, the wind had changed, and little dark clouds had come up and hidden the sun. The children werereminded of the woods at home, and the curious air of gloom they wore, asthough there were a storm outside, even when the sun was shining brightly. 

Poppy crept from her corner and nestled up close to Esther. 

"Essie, let's tell stories that will make us feel happy, " she said, wistfully, with just the faintest quiver of her baby lip. "Something thatwill make me not think about mummy and Lydia and home. "

"Pen, you tell us one, will you?" said Esther, lifting her little sisteron to her lap, and holding her very close. "You can tell stories betterthan I can. "

Angela in her corner kept her back turned to them, looking out of windowvery persistently, and winking very hard. But when the story was fairlybegun she too crept up and nestled close to Esther, with her face wellhidden behind Poppy's back and Esther's encircling arm. 

The request roused Penelope from her own depression. She loved to tellstories. Usually she made up her own, for she had read but few to repeat;and the children always preferred hers, for, somehow, she seemed to knowexactly what they liked. Now it seemed as though she understood perfectlyjust what would cheer them, and what to avoid, and they listened inperfect silence, drinking in comfort. 

"Don't stop, don't stop!" pleaded Poppy, when the obvious end had beenreached. But at that moment the train drew up, and Esther's eyes, wandering idly over the little station to see what place they had reached, read 'Dorsham' on the signboard, and sprang to her feet with such energyas to send Angela and Poppy tottering across the carriage. 

"We are come, " she gasped. "Oh girls, we are come! What shall we do?"

"Dorsham, Do-orsham, " shouted a porter outside, in confirmation of herwords, and the carriage immediately became a scene of wild confusion andexcitement. 

"I wonder if there is any one here to meet us, " said Esther, as she tidiedPoppy's dark hair and put on her hat. "Perhaps some of us had better getout and see, or they'll think we have not come. "

They were all almost breathless with nervous excitement, and Esther wasjust popping her head out of the window to try to open the carriage doorwhen a little lady came hurrying along the platform, her cheeks very pink, her eyes bright with anxiety. When she saw Esther she stopped, her facebrightening with an expectant smile. When her eye fell on the three otherlittle faces gazing out through the side windows with eager curiosity, herface brightened still more. 

"Oh, " she gasped, "are you--I think you must be the little Carrolls fromFramley, my young cousins. I am Miss Charlotte Ashe, Cousin Charlotte--and I've come to meet you--are you Esther? I think you must be. "

Esther's face had brightened too, with relief. This gentle little ladywas so unlike the formidable stranger she had been dreading so, she feltquite at ease at once. 

In another moment they were all on the platform being introduced. 

"This is Penelope, and this is Poppy, the youngest of us, and this isAngela, the third, " she said with the air of a proprietor, "and I am theeldest. "

"I am delighted to see you all, my dears, " said Miss Ashe warmly, kissingeach in turn. She felt a little nervous under the fire of four pairs ofenquiring eyes; there was nothing rude, though, in their stare; it wassimply full of a wistful, half-incredulous pleasure. They could scarcelybelieve their eyes and ears that things were turning out so much lessdreadful than they expected. 

Then followed a moment of bustle, while the station-master and the oneporter went in search of the luggage, and the children were led up toidentify the various things as they should be lifted out. When they weretold that the two shabby trunks were all there were to identify, disappointment was only too plainly written on the men's faces. 

Seeing how little it was, the porter readily promised "to wheel it alongby and by, " and Miss Ashe turned away with a sigh of relief. 

"Now then, chicks, " she said cheerily, "we will start for home. You won't mind a walk, I hope, dears. My house is only fifteen minutesfrom the station. Are you _very_ tired?" looking anxiously from one tothe other, but most anxiously at Poppy. 

"Oh no, " they assured her politely. "We would like to walk, CousinCharlotte, " added Esther; "after sitting still so long it will be verynice, " and her sisters supported her eagerly. 

The engine, with a good deal of puffing and snorting, glided on its wayagain. The children stood to watch it, but they saw it depart without anyof the regret they had expected to feel, and then the little party turnedout of the station, on the last stage of their pilgrimage to their newhome. 

They were accustomed to the country, of course, so that their first viewof Dorsham did not affect them as it would have affected a town child, buteven they exclaimed with delight at the weird, wild beauty which openedout before them. The station appeared to have sprung up in the heart of alittle forest of firs, as being the most sheltered spot it could alightupon in that open country, and it was not until they had walked a littleway along the white road which skirted the woods, and came to the otherroad which led at right angles to Dorsham, that the real beauty of theplace they had come to burst upon them. 

Then, "Oh!" they gasped. "Oh! oh! Cousin Charlotte, how perfectly lovely!We did not think it would be a bit like this. "

Angela alone did not speak; she gazed, and shivered as she gazed. She was too awed by the rugged wildness to be able to find any words--awedand rather frightened. In the beautiful evening light of the summer's daythere lay before them an immense stretch of wild and rugged moorland, sloping down on either side till it met a winding silver streak at thebottom of the valley, and rolling upwards, away and away, rising anddipping, with every here and there rough boulders and tors, single or ingroups, standing upon its brown bosom like rocks out of a brown sea, until in the distance high rock-crowned hills bounded and closed it in. 

Then would the eye travel from the wilder beauty back to rest on thegleaming, gliding river in its rocky bed, and the group of little houseswhich stood about so irregularly as to give the impression that they hadbeen dropped down promiscuously and allowed to remain as they fell; whileclose about each house were large gardens snatched from the wealth ofwildness outside and enclosed within sturdy walls, as though to protectthem from the encroaching brown sea outside. 

"Oh, Cousin Charlotte, " gasped Angela, "aren't you afraid to live here?It looks so--so wild and--and sad?"

Cousin Charlotte smiled. "Oh no, " she cried, "it is not as lonely as itlooks. There is quite a village just on beyond, but you cannot see itfrom here. " Then noticing the look on Angela's face, "You will not beafraid, will you, children?" she asked anxiously. 

"Oh no, " said Esther, replying for them all. "I am sure we shall like it, Cousin Charlotte. I don't think it is as lonely as a wood really, becausehere you can look all about you, and can see if any one is coming. Angela is tired, I expect, and I think every place looks rather sad whennight is coming on. I think she will like it soon, when she is more usedto it. "

"The village looks more lonely than it is really, " said Cousin Charlotte. "From here it seems as though we are quite unprotected, but when we are athome that feeling will be gone. It seems then as though the moor isprotecting us. There are other villages just beyond us in eachdirection, too, so we are not quite deserted. "

"Oh, I love it, I love it!" gasped Penelope, who had been silent from theintensity of her emotion all this time. It was almost as though the sightwas too much for her. She felt bewildered, overcome, full of awe andlove, and a feeling she could not describe. She stood still in the widewhite road, and gazed and gazed with her heart in her eyes. The otherswalked briskly on, Angela keeping close to Esther, her hand thrust throughEsther's arm, Poppy holding Miss Ashe by one hand and Esther by the other. The road wound down in almost a straight line, until they could hear themurmuring of the river, like a welcoming voice, as it hurried along overthe stones. The nearer they drew to the house and the river, the less didthe moor and the hills seem to dominate them, and the feeling of home grewon them. 

Just before they reached the house Penelope overtook them. 

"Oh, " she cried enthusiastically, "it is so lovely. I--I am sorry I havelived all my life away from it. I might have had nearly twelve more yearshere. "

Miss Ashe laughed, well pleased. "I am so glad, children, that you thinkyou will like it. Anna and I thought it might be dull for you. Well, here we are at last, and very glad you must be, I am sure, afteryour long, tiring day. This is Moor Cottage, dears, and I hope you willall be very, very happy here as long as I am allowed to keep you. It shall not, " she added gravely, pausing as she stood in the porch withher hand on the latch, "be my fault if you are not. "

"I am _sure_ we shall be happy, Cousin Charlotte, " said Esther earnestly, longing to throw her arms about the dear little lady, and kiss her, butfeeling too shy. "I know we shall. "

Angela did not only long, but she acted. "And I hope we shall make youhappy, too, " she cried, and throwing her arms about Miss Ashe's neckkissed her lovingly. 

Cousin Charlotte's eyes were dim as she opened the door wide. "Welcome home, " she cried. Then in a louder, brisker voice, "Anna, Anna, "she called, "where are you? Here are our young ladies come, and neitherof you out to meet and welcome them! I am ashamed. "

A wild scratching was heard at the back of the little stone-paved hall, then a door was flung wide, revealing for a moment a pretty, cosy kitchenwith firelight gleaming on a dresser laden with dainty china; but only fora moment, for the doorway was almost immediately blocked by a figure whichblotted out every other view--the big, broad figure of Anna, white-capped, white-aproned, red-faced and smiling. 

"Well I never!" she kept exclaiming, "and to think of me never hearing youcoming. Well I never!" but all further talk was put a stop to by a yelpof joy, and the wild rush from somewhere of a creature that, for themoment, Poppy was quite sure was a bear. The creature flung himself onMiss Ashe so impetuously as to very nearly topple her over. 

"Guard, Guard, " she protested, recovering her footing with a laugh, "behave yourself, sir. " But the great dog would not be quiet until shehad given him her hand to kiss and her purse to hold; with that in hismouth he contented himself with wriggling joyfully at her feet, makinglittle muffled sounds of welcome. 

"Now come and speak to your visitors, " she said, "and shake hands like agentleman. " But he had to return her purse to her own safe keeping beforehe could be induced to do anything more, after which he went round andsolemnly shook hands with each of the girls, smiling very wide withpleasure at the pats and caresses he got, until, on coming to Poppy, sheflung her baby arms about his great rough neck, crying, "Oh, you darling, you darling, " and kissed his soft brown cheek, upon which he looked up ather adoringly, and seated himself beside her. Then Anna came forward andseemed quite pleased when they all shook hands with her; and Guard, seeingevery one else so hearty, began to dash round and round again as he lookedecstatically from one to the other, making little low cries of pleasure. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"Now then, Anna, " said Miss Ashe at last, "we really must show these poorchildren their rooms, and let them wash and refresh themselves before tea;they must be longing to, and I am sure they are famished--aren't you, children?"

They remembered their 'tea' at three o'clock, and blushed; but that reallydid seem hours ago now, and they honestly were very hungry again. Perhaps the moor air had something to answer for already. 

"Well, come along, " said Miss Ashe, while, murmuring something about hotwater, she bustled off to the kitchen. "No, Guard, you must wait downhere, " said his mistress, as he rose to follow them; and with his feet onthe bottom stair he stood still, gazing after them longingly, but withoutattempting to follow. 

At the right of the hall was an archway, and going up a step and throughthis, the children found themselves in another little hall, with doors ontwo sides of it, and a staircase at the back, all completely cut off fromthe view from the front door. The stairs were so wide and shallow theytripped as they followed Miss Ashe up them. At the top they foundthemselves in a little gallery which ran all round with several doorsopening into it. 

"Now, my chicks, " said Miss Charlotte, throwing open the first door theycame to, "you must settle amongst yourselves which two shall share a room, and which room you will have. "

The children, greatly excited, poured after her into what they all thoughtthe sweetest, loveliest bedroom they had ever seen in their lives--whichit certainly was. The walls were covered with a pretty creamy paperfestooned all over with bunches of pink-tipped daisies tied together withblue ribbons; two little white beds, with snowy curtains and quilts, stoodwith a table between them. But most fascinating of all was the long, low, lattice-window with its white dimity curtains, and frill across the top. They flew to it to look out, and there before them lay the river windingin and out on its crooked course, and beyond it the moor stretching away, as far as the eye could see, to where, in the distance, it melted into thesky. The beauty of it so fascinated them that it was not until later theynoticed all the remaining charms of the room--the little white bookcasefull of books, the chairs on either side of the windows, the two whitechests of drawers, one for each of them, and provided with a key, too, and the charming blue carpet on the floor. 

"I hope we don't do any harm, " said Esther nervously. To her, accustomedto the shabby bare rooms at home, ill-kept and untidy, it looked almosttoo dainty and pretty to use. 

"I am quite sure you will not, " said Miss Ashe, who appeared to have nofears. "Now this is the sunniest side of the house, and I think, perhaps, the Poppy ought to have the sun. "

Poppy laughed. The idea pleased her, and, as though to claim possession, threw her hat on to one of the chairs. 

"Now, come along, or tea will be ready before we are. " Out they troopedexcitedly, each delighted in her own particular way. "That is my room, "said Miss Ashe, touching the next door, which was closed. "My windowlooks towards the station, along the road we came just now. " She did notsay she had given up the pretty room they had just quitted, in order thatthey might have the sunshine. 

At the back of the square gallery she threw open another door. "This isyour other room, " she said; and Penelope, who was standing by her, gaveone long, low cry of pleasure, and was across the room in a moment. 

"Oh!" she gasped, "oh my!" She could not find words to express thefeelings which rushed over her as her eyes fell on the view without--thepretty garden full of flowers, enclosed within a stone wall, and beyondthat the old brown moor stretching far and wide in every direction, untilit broke like a brown sea about the foot of the distant hills. Here andthere were lesser tors and piles of rock, and little footpaths through theheather, and pools which gleamed with a cold light in the light of theevening sky. It was wild, weird, fascinating. 

"I think you, at any rate, should have this room, " said Miss Ashe, smiling, well pleased at Penelope's delight. The rest of the childrenwere looking interestedly about them. "As this has a colder aspect Ithought it should be made to look warmer, " Miss Ashe explained; and indeedthe warm red carpet, and the dark-red roses nestling against deep-greenleaves on the walls, gave it a very cosy, comfortable look. 

Esther felt soothed and calmed already. The air of comfort and neatness, the good taste that met them on all sides, gave her such a sense ofpleasure and ease as she had never known before. This was just how thingsshould look, how she had always wanted them to look, and had never beenable to get them to, or make the others understand. 

"How do you think you will manage?" said Miss Ashe, turning to Esther. "Don't you think you and the baby here had better be together in the otherroom, so that you may be able to help her a little? I have only the oneservant yet, so we must manage to do as best we can for the time. I think these two, " laying a hand on Angela and Penelope, "had better stayhere;" a plan they all heartily agreed with. Then, after providing themwith brushes and combs until they could unpack their own, Miss Ashe wentaway, and left them to prepare themselves for tea. 

And here, perhaps, it would be as well to give you some idea of what thefour little Carrolls were like at this time, for one's first questiongenerally, on hearing any one spoken of, is, "Is she pretty?" or, "What isshe like?" and quite naturally, too, for people only seem real to us whenwe are able to picture them in our own minds as they really are. 

Well, Esther Carroll at this time was a tall, thin girl, with a grave faceand fine expressive grey eyes. She was not pretty, but she would havebeen what is generally described as 'nice-looking' if her face had notbeen almost always spoilt by her worried, cross expression. She was atall, graceful girl, with a good carriage, well-shaped hands and feet, agood complexion, and an abundance of long light-brown hair. She tookgreat pains that her hair should look well-kept and glossy, and it hunglong, straight, and gleaming, to below her waist. 

Penelope was shorter and broader, altogether a more portly little person, with a clever face, dreamy, questioning grey eyes, and a nose which wasdecidedly a snub--a fact there was no getting over, though Penelope oftentried. Her hair, which was short and curly, was not so golden asEsther's; it had deeper, redder tints in it. 

Angela was more like Esther in appearance than either of the others. She was a lanky, overgrown little person at nine years of age, but herlong, shapely feet and hands gave promise of a graceful woman by and by. She had long, fair hair like Esther's too, but Angela's had a beautifulwave in it. Her eyes, blue and soft, and appealing as her warmaffectionate nature, looked out of a beautiful child-like face, full ofgentleness and love. 

Then came the Poppy, the pet and plaything and ruler of them all, a little round, dark-haired, brown-eyed contrast to the others, who demanded love and got it, giving it in return when she chose, and that was not always to those who asked most loudly for it. Fearless, outspoken, and quick, Poppy had none of Penelope's dreaminess, or Esther's anxiousness, or Angela's timidity. She was eminently apractical little person, with deep thoughts and plans of her own, and awill to carry them through. 

They had had a rough, uncared-for upbringing, which had made Estherperhaps a little masterful and grown-up in her ways and ideas, and Penelope, somewhat careless, had not checked Angela's nervousness orPoppy's independence, but they were all honest and truthful, and full ofgood instincts; and as they stood looking out of the windows of their newhome at the new strange world beyond, each in her own way was determiningto make the best of her new life, and be good. 

But they dared not linger at the windows. 

"Tea may be ready even now, and Cousin Charlotte is perhaps a veryparticular and punctual person, " said Esther, and taking Poppy by the handthey started to go down. But at the top of the stairs they found Penelopeand Angela debating and looking about them nervously. 

"Ought we to go down, or ought we to wait till we are called?" askedAngela, turning to Esther, with relief at leaving it to some one else todecide. "Would it be rude to seem in a hurry, or to keep Miss Charlottewaiting?"

Esther could throw no light on the dreadful problem, there were so manythings to think of. If they went down they would not know where to go, and if they stayed in their rooms Cousin Charlotte might wait and wait forthem, thinking they were not ready. 

"Anyhow, we can't stand here, " whispered Penelope. "It will look asthough we are listening and prying. Let's go back to our rooms--and yet--oh dear, Cousin Charlotte may be down there now, at this very moment, getting angry with us and thinking how long we take getting ready, and wedon't really. "

Esther's temper suddenly gave way. "I do wish one knew what to do, always, " she said crossly. "But mother never taught us things like this--yet we are expected to know--"

"P'r'aps it doesn't really matter, " whispered Angela, who could not bearto hear her mother spoken harshly of. 

"Oh yes, it does, " snapped Esther. "It makes all the difference. "

"P'r'aps they'll ring a bell when tea is ready, " chimed in Poppy, withsudden inspiration, "then we will know. " And sure enough at that moment abell did ring down below, and settled the difficulty. In their reliefPenelope and Angela started off with a rush. 

"Oh, girls, don't hurry so, " cried Esther nervously. "It looks so bad, asthough we had been waiting. "

So the impetuous ones slackened their pace, and four very demure littlemaidens entered the dining-room a moment later in a manner as decorous andrestrained as the most polite could wish. 

And what a charming scene it was that met their eyes--one that all thefour appreciated to the full: a long, low room with a French windowstanding wide open to the garden just a step or two below. On the eveningbreeze wafted in the scent of mignonette and flowers, and the low sleepyclucking of the hens, about to go to roost. Near the window stood thetable, with a silver kettle boiling merrily on its stand, and fruit andflowers and pretty china in abundance, all looking as dainty and temptingas heart could desire. There was an abundance too of more substantialfare, eggs and fish, and jam and cream, a tart, and a big home-made loaf;and the scent of the flowers and the tea all mingled together in a mostappetising whole. 

To the children it all seemed wonderful, exquisite; and for the first timethey realised how hungry they were. Penelope's eyes wandered through thewindow to the flower-beds outside. 

"Oh, what a lovely garden!" she cried, struck at once by the beauty of itswell-kept air, and the cared-for look of everything. Then she grew silentas her thoughts flew back with tender pity to the old beloved untidyFramley garden, and she felt a twinge of remorse that she had not tried todo something with it--it might perhaps have been made to look like this. Then, at a word from Miss Ashe, they turned away from the window to thetea-table. 

While the children were taking their places she made the tea. 

"Now, " she said, as she drew the cosy over the teapot, "which of you willsay grace?"

The four looked from one to the other dismayed. Esther and Penelope'scheeks flamed hotly, Angela looked puzzled. Poppy alone spoke. 

"What is 'grace'?" she asked innocently. 

Miss Ashe grasped the situation in a moment, and, though her heart sank alittle in dismay at their ignorance, she showed no sign. "It is a littleprayer we say before a meal, to ask God's blessing on what He has givenus, and we say one again at the end to thank Him for it. "

"We never say anything at home, " said Poppy, with childlike candour. "What do you say, Cousin Charlotte?"

"Put your hands together, dear, and bow your head, and you shall hear. It is very simple; you will be able to say it too in a day or so. Now, " bowing her head reverently, "For what we are about to receive, OLord make us truly thankful. Amen. " Then Miss Ashe raised her head, andthe children followed suit. 

"I've read in some of my books of people who said grace, " said Angela, "but I didn't know that people really did it. "

Cousin Charlotte's face was very grave. "A great many do, and a greatmany more do not, but every one should. Don't you yourselves feel thatyou want to, dears? You say 'Thank you!' to any one who gives you eventhe least little trifle. You have just said 'Thank you!' to me for thecup of tea I handed you; then surely much more should you say it to thegood God who gives you everything. Don't you see, darling?"

"Yes, I see, " said Penelope soberly. "I wish I had thought of it before. How ungrateful we must seem to God! I wonder He goes on being good topeople if they never seem grateful. "

"God is so tender, and loving, and forgiving. He does not punish usbecause we are ungrateful, and forget Him; but, though what is done inignorance is excusable, when we know and yet forget Him we are committinga sinful and ungrateful act. "

Poppy sat drinking in eagerly all that was said. "I'll try to remember, Cousin Charlotte, " she said seriously. And Cousin Charlotte smiled, andblinked her eyes rather hard for a moment and laid one hand on Poppy'stiny hand resting on the table by her. Then the meal began in earnest. And oh what a meal it was! The children were wildly hungry, and the newfare was so tempting compared with what they had been accustomed to athome. Then, when it was over, and that was not very quickly, and gracehad been said, they all strolled out through the open window and down thesteps to the sweet-scented garden, where they wandered about until it wastime to go in and unpack their boxes, and put Poppy to bed. 

It was great fun unpacking and laying away their things in the placesmeant for them, though there was so little to lay away it looked quitelost in the deep drawers and cupboards. Esther felt horribly ashamed asshe wondered what Miss Ashe and Anna would think when they came and sawthem. At the same time it was great fun running from room to room to lookfor missing articles. One of Poppy's shoes was in one box, and the otherin the one Penelope was unpacking in her room. Then no nightgowns couldbe found until, after a long search, they were discovered at the verybottom of one of the boxes underneath the toys they had insisted onbringing. 

"I don't think the boots ought to have been put in last, " said Esthergravely. "Your old boots were right on top of my best hat, and the crownhas been doubled right in. Look, Pen. "

Penelope looked at it with serious consideration. 

"What a pity! I believe, " she added, after vainly trying again and againto make the crown stay up, "I believe you will have to pretend this is howit ought to be. "

The Carroll children had had so little in the way of hats and clothes, andso seldom a pretty thing, they thought very little about dress, so thecatastrophe did not affect them as it would have vainer children; and, inany case, their minds were too full now of other things to have much timeto spare for trouble. 

That night as soon as they were in bed they fell asleep, and slept liketops; their long day had tired them out, and the moor air made themsleepy, so sleepy that when morning came they slept on and on, in spite ofthe sun shining outside, and the birds calling, and the voices of the menand boys shouting 'Good mornin'!' 'Bootiful day, ' to each other as theywent on their way to their work. 

When Esther did awaken at last it was to find Anna knocking at her door, and calling, "Time to get up, young ladies; it is half-past seven, andbreakfast will be ready at half-past eight. Are you awake, missie?"

"Come in, " called Esther in a very sleepy tone, stretching herselfluxuriously in her comfortable bed. They had rarely known the luxury ofbeing called--never, certainly, of having hot water brought them. 

Anna opened the door, and her big person filled the aperture. When shecaught sight of Poppy's dark head so still and quiet on the pillow, shecame further in. "Well, I never!" she breathed softly, as she gentlyplaced down the can of hot water, "how sound she do sleep, the prettydear; it do seem a shame to wake her. P'r'aps she'd better 'bide on for abit, and rest herself. "

"Oh no, " said Esther, rousing herself. "Poppy is all right, she is adreadful sleepy-head. Poppy!" she called, raising herself on one elbow, "Poppy! Wake up! It will soon be breakfast time, and Cousin Charlottewill be awfully angry if you are late. "

"Ah, now, it do seem crool to frighten her like that, " said Anna, halfsmiling, half troubled. 

Poppy stirred herself, opened her dark eyes, and then, recognising her newsurroundings, sat bolt upright in bed, looking about her with deepinterest, but no sign of alarm or fear. 

"I couldn't think where I was, just at first, " she exclaimed in a sleepyvoice. "It's Tousin Charlotte's. Is it time to get up? Oh how lovely!Now we've got all day to go and look at where we are. "

She was out of bed at once, dancing about on her little white toes, hershort curls all tumbled about her pretty flushed face. 

"Now I'm going on to call your sisters, " said Anna. "The bath water isall ready, missie; you've only got to turn the tap to get it just to yourliking. You know where the bathroom is, don't you?"

"Bags I bath first!" shouted Poppy, who, all the while Anna had beenspeaking had been edging nearer and nearer the door; and with a triumphantlaugh she had flown along the corridor and shut herself in before any onecould stop her. 

Esther felt distinctly aggravated. She had considered herself obliged bypoliteness to remain in bed and give Anna her undivided attention whileshe was talking, and now Poppy, troubled by no such scruples, had takenthis mean advantage. She would really have to be kept in better order, and taught to behave. Anna went away to call the others. 

"Well, she hasn't got any towels, or sponge, or anything, " said Esther, looking about the room. "Serve her right, she deserves--oh dear! I forgotthe water would be hot; she's sure to scald herself, Or do something madwith the taps or the water. I _must_ go and see to her. "

At home the bathroom had had no bolt or lock on the door, and she wouldhave gained admission at once by simply storming it. But here, as yet, she felt constrained to do things in a more gentle manner. So she creptsoftly along the corridor and tapped at the door lightly. "Poppy, " shepleaded in an anxious whisper, "Poppy, do open the door, and let me getthe bath ready for you. I am sure you will scald yourself, or swamp thehouse. _Do_ let me in, dear; just think how angry Cousin Charlotte wouldbe if any accident were to happen. "

But no answer came to her pleading. "Poppy, " more seriously, "do you hearme! Let me in at once, as I tell you. " But the only response was amighty rush of water and a great splashing, and Esther retreated, defeated, to nurse her wrath and await Miss Poppy's return. 

"I do hope the children won't behave like savages, " she muttered angrily, "and so disgrace us all. " And a few moments later she had cause to echothis wish, for with a good deal of rattle and noise the bathroom door wasflung open, and Poppy, having discovered nothing to dry herself with, flewdripping back to her bedroom, leaving a trail of wet footmarks all alongthe speckless carpets. 

It really was enough to make Esther very cross, and it did, and Miss Poppywas rubbed dry with more vigour than she at all appreciated, a vigourwhich was not lessened by a rush from the other bedroom and the capture ofthe bathroom by Penelope. Esther felt very injured. As eldest sheconsidered she had the first right. On her way back again, Penelope, unconscious of the state of feeling in the blue bedroom, unceremoniouslyopened their door and popped her head in. "How are you?" she asked, herface all beaming with smiles. 

"I don't know how I am, but I know how I shall be, " said Esther tartly. "I shall be late, and it won't be my fault. "

To Penelope this seemed a matter too trifling to think of. "Isn't everything jolly?" she breathed loudly, remembering suddenly thatMiss Charlotte was in the next room. "I couldn't think where I was when Iwoke up, it was so funny--"

"Go and dress, " said Esther, "or you--oh, it really is too bad!" sheexclaimed abruptly as a soft swish along the corridor and the click of alatch told her that she had been again forestalled, and Angela was now inpossession of the bathroom. "I ought to go first, because I am theeldest, and Poppy last because she is the youngest. "

Poppy chuckled, "_I_ was first and _you'll_ be last, to-day, " she saidaggravatingly. 

"I didn't know it mattered, as long as we all got washed, " said Penelope, and finding the atmosphere uncongenial, began edging away. 

"It matters very much, " said Esther with dignity. "I have to dress Poppy, and tidy the room. If I am dressed first I can--" but Penelope had meltedaway, and Poppy was kneeling by her bed, saying her prayers. Esther couldhave cried with annoyance. 

She was ready in time after all, but barely. She was just fastening herfrock when the bell rang, and her waistband she put on as she went downthe stairs. A frown still rested on her face and she felt very cross. She had not said her prayers, and she had not been able to put her roomtidy as she meant to, and she felt that her first morning, that she hadthought would have been so lovely, was quite spoilt. 

CHAPTER V. 

Poppy's boldness vanished when it came to going downstairs, and, thoughshe had been ready so long, she waited for Esther after all. So did theothers; they all felt rather shy at meeting Miss Charlotte again. 

In the breakfast-room they found their cousin sitting at the table withsome books before her. She looked up and smiled brightly when theyentered, and beckoning to them, drew each in turn to her for a morningkiss. A quite unusual beginning to their day. 

"Now, darlings, " she said, "will you find seats for yourselves forprayers?"

The request startled them. They had never before heard of such aproceeding; but Esther, quickly recovering herself, tried to appear asthough she were used to everything, though, with Poppy looking at her withsuch interested, astonished eyes, it was difficult. 

"I've said mine, " whispered Poppy, in rather an injured tone. Esther looked at her warningly. "Yes, I know, but Cousin Charlottehasn't, and--and this is different. Lots of people do this. Sit there, and don't talk. "

Poppy obeyed. Anything that her sisters approved was right, in herjudgment. Penelope seated herself by the window, Angela on a little chairby the empty hearth, a grave, devout look on her pretty face. Then Anna came in, and Miss Ashe opened the Bible and read. She read only a few verses, but they were such as would appeal to thehearts of children. Then she closed the book and knelt down; at a signfrom Esther they all knelt too, and Miss Ashe asked God's blessing on thisnew day and their new life, and thanked Him for His care and love, afterwhich she began to repeat the Lord's Prayer. 

"Oh, I know that, " exclaimed Poppy delightedly. She repeated the prayersentence by sentence; Anna did the same, and Esther and the others joinedin; and to Esther, at least, as the sacred words were spoken, the wholeworld seemed to alter. The worry and irritability, the dread of she knewnot what, all slipped away from her; and life seemed brighter and happier, and full of good things. 

"What a lovely way to begin a day, " she thought. "I hope we always haveprayers. She got up and helped Poppy to her feet, and, after a moment ortwo, they all drew up to the table. Poppy looked about her with frankinterested eyes. 

"Oh, _what_ a lovely breakfast!" she sighed, apparently overwhelmed by theloveliness, and every one was obliged to laugh. It was what they were allthinking, but the elder ones did not like to put their thoughts intowords. Yet it was a simple enough meal; but the clean white cloth andshining silver, the flowers and fruit, and the dainty neatness ofeverything made it seem perfectly beautiful to little people accustomed toLydia's untidy, careless ways, to soiled and ragged cloths, badly washedsilver and dirty knives, and food put down anyhow, and often not enough ofit. This was what Esther had always instinctively yearned for; to theothers it came as a surprise. 

"I've been thinking, children, " said Cousin Charlotte--who had indeed beenlying awake half the night, realising for the first time all she hadundertaken, and trying to grasp all her duties. "I have been thinking youhad better perhaps have a few days' holiday to begin with, so as to getaccustomed to your new surroundings, and then by and by we must begin tothink about lessons. I am expecting to hear from your mother or father asto their views on the subject of your education. I expect they areanxious that you two elder ones should go to a good school at once. And that is one of my greatest difficulties, and the greatest drawback toyour coming here, for there is no good school within reach, and I ampuzzled to know what to do. It is so important that you should have everyadvantage now. "

Esther's heart sank, for Cousin Charlotte's sake as much as anything. She knew as well as possible that Cousin Charlotte would have to settlethis matter for herself, and bear the responsibility entirely. She knew, too, that the importance of it appealed as little to her motheras it did greatly to her cousin. Mrs. Carroll was one of thosehappy-go-lucky persons, so difficult to deal with, who think that'sufficient for the day is the evil thereof, ' and 'the future will takecare of itself, ' so what is the use of worrying--something is sure to turnup, and everything will turn out right, somehow. 

It never occurred to her that her four children's future depended almostentirely on the education given them now; or to ponder what, poor andill-educated, their future would be. 

"Oh, something will be sure to happen, " she would have answered. "What is the use of planning, no one knows what the future may bring. "Miss Ashe's idea, on the other hand, was that with a good education anychild had, at any rate, one strong weapon with which to fight her way. 

At Dorsham the post did not come in until ten o'clock, so that there wasno correspondence to discuss over the breakfast-table. Not that thechildren expected any letters; they had never received one in their lives. 

Breakfast over, Miss Ashe was a little at a loss to know what to do withher charges; her life had suddenly become so changed and complicated, that the little lady had difficulty in grappling with it all at once. "I think you may like to go out and look about you, " she said at last. "You can come to no harm, I am sure, if you keep away from the river. You may play in the garden, or wander on the moor a little way. But ifyou go beyond the garden, take Guard with you; he will be a companion andprotector. Don't go very far, dears; I want you all to come back ateleven for some milk and biscuits. "

The children were enchanted. This was a happy life indeed! As quickly asever they could they got on hats and boots and started. They had never adoubt as to where they would go. The garden was very nice, but the moor!--a heaven-sent playground, miles of freedom, and all to themselves. The thought of having to return at eleven was the only thing that marredtheir perfect joy; they felt they wanted to have the whole long day beforethem to cover all the ground and make all the discoveries they wanted to. Guard, a proud and delighted protector, rushed about as excitedly as anyof them. The new interest that had come into his life promised to be allthat he could desire. 

"I do want to get to the very top of that mountain, " said Penelope, gazingearnestly at what was really a very modest hill, and apparently at nogreat distance from them. 

"Well, let's, " said Esther encouragingly, "it can't be very far away, " andoff they started. But the grey tor seemed to possess the power of glidingbackwards, and the more the children walked, the further it seemed torecede; until at last, when, on scaling what they thought was the lastheight, they saw still a long stretch of moorland before them, with moredeceptive dips and rises, they gave in and postponed their climb foranother day. Moor air has a way of increasing the appetite at an alarmingrate. 

"I am afraid it must be past eleven, " said Esther as they gave up thequest, and sat down to rest before turning homewards. "I wish I had puton my watch; but I was afraid of losing it. "

Esther had a silver watch of her very own, one she had earned for herself. She had won it as a prize in a competition offered by a magazine thechildren took in. Her success had come as a surprise to them all, butmost of all to herself, and the proudest moment of her life had been thatwhen a carefully sealed-up jeweller's box had come directed to'Miss E. J. Carroll, ' and she had lifted out her prize under the admiringeyes of Lydia and the children, and the astonished gaze of her mother. 

Mrs. Carroll was doubly astonished, firstly because she had not consideredEsther capable, secondly because she had not grasped the fact that Estherwas really seriously competing; but when she saw this proof of herlabours, she made her a present of a pretty silver chain, with two littlesilver tassels at the end, and Esther's cup of joy overflowed. 

From that moment she would have bodices to her frocks that buttoned up infront, that she might pass the little silver bar through the buttonhole;and she set herself to make watch-pockets in all her skirts, which shemanaged by cutting slits in them just below the waistband, and sewing tothe slits on the inside little pockets like small bag purses. Lydiashowed her how to do it; and if the work was somewhat rough, and not quitefinished, the pocket answered very well, and we cannot all reachperfection at once. 

But at this moment the precious watch stood on the mantelpiece in the bluebedroom, on the watch-stand which was another of Esther's treasures. Lydia had given it to her on one of her birthdays; it was made of whitewood, and had a little view on it of Blackpool, where Lydia had beenspending her holidays. In her shabby, ugly bedroom at home Esther had notused her precious stand, it was all too dusty and ill-cared for; but here, where everything was so nice, it was to be given a prominent position. 

When the children got home at last, tired and very hungry, they found fourmugs of milk awaiting them, and a tin of biscuits; they found also thatthe postman had been with letters. There were none for them; but theynever expected any, and postmen and posts held little interest for them asa rule. To-day, though, it had brought them something. 

"I have heard from your mother, dears, " said Cousin Charlotte, "and shesends you her love, and hopes you have arrived safely. "

"Oh, we ought to let her know, " cried Penelope, with sudden remorse thatthey had none of them thought of doing so before. 

"It is all right, " said Miss Charlotte consolingly. "I sent her atelegram last evening, after you came. She knew before Poppy went to bed. Ephraim took it to Gorley for me. Oh, you don't know Ephraim yet, do you?He is our handyman. He attends to the garden, and the poultry, and doesall kinds of useful things. But, of course, you want to hear about yourmother, more than about Ephraim. Well, dears, I cannot tell you much, forI have broken my glasses and cannot read very well. I was waiting forEsther to come home and be my eyes for me for once. I did make out, though, that she is very busy, and leaves Framley to-morrow. No, dear, "to Esther, "I won't ask you to read it now. We will wait till you havehad your lunch. I expect you are all hungry, and there is no greathurry. "

Their milk and biscuits disposed of, Penelope and the two younger onessauntered away to the garden. Esther waited. Miss Charlotte took Mrs. Carroll's letter from a little pile, and handed it to her. Esther, whowas burning with impatience to know if her mother wrote of those thingsthat were troubling her, began to read at once:

 "DEAREST COUSIN CHARLOTTE, "It is _more_ than good of you to have my four poor children and give them a _home_. They will be as _happy_ as possible with you, I _know_. I expect by this time they have reached you. To come to the _business_ part of our plan, which I know _you dislike_ as much as _I_ do, I am _very_ thankful you can keep them, clothe and educate them, for the hundred and fifty pounds a year. Their clothes need cost but _very little_; after all, it does not much matter what _children_ wear in a country place. "

"I have my friends here, " Miss Charlotte was thinking, "and I cannot letmy little cousins run about dressed like little tramps. "

 "While as for their _education_, we need only think of Esther and Penelope _yet_, and theirs must be of the _simplest_; it matters so much _less_ for_ girls_ than for _boys_. "

 "Oh dear, oh dear, " thought Miss Charlotte, "what a mistaken notion!"

 "Ronald _hopes_ to send more when the children are a little older. Oh, this _dreadful_ want of money! I have been nearly _distracted_ to know what to do. _Do_ you mind, dear Cousin Charlotte, if I do not send you the cheque for this quarter till later on, but keep it for my own needs, which are _so_ urgent? I _have_ to get _so_ much for my outfit, and so _many_ things besides, I find I have not nearly enough money for it all. I _hope_ you do not mind. I am up to _my eyes_ in work, turning out the house and packing; and to-morrow I go to stay with friends in the North. I think the change will _brace_ me up for the journey; _I sadly need_ it. 

 "My love to the chicks and to yourself. 

 "Your affectionate cousin, " "MAUDE CARROLL. "

For a moment Esther could not lift her eyes from the sheet, they were toofull of bitter tears of mortification. "Oh, why does mother always actlike this, " she was crying to herself, "and make people think unkindthings of her? It is cruel of her, too, to leave us like this with astranger, and not a penny to pay for it all. "

Esther's heart burnt hot with shame as well as anger, for she knewinstinctively that Miss Charlotte Ashe would never see one penny of thatmoney. She knew, oh, she knew only too well! She had had six years'experience of debt and trouble and shame, of money being diverted from itsdestined use and frittered away and wasted, of tradesmen and servantscontinually asking for their money, their threatenings, and all the shiftsand contrivances that had to be resorted to to get a little to satisfythem for the moment. 

The cheque her father had intended for their needs would, she knew, befrittered away on useless, foolish things; and never, never would hermother be able to get together so large a sum again, for she would nevertell her husband of the debt; she would not have the courage; it wouldmean 'a scene, ' and she hated to be scolded. If Miss Charlotte worriedand made continual demands, a sovereign or a few shillings might be sentto her now and again; but if she were too proud or too kind to ask, shewould never have a penny of it. Esther knew, oh, how well she knew andunderstood it all; and how it hurt and humiliated and maddened her, as she realised their position! Helpless, penniless, homeless, four ofthem, and dependent on this gentle little lady, who was neither rich noryoung, and could have no great love for them. They had no claim on herwhatever. Esther could scarcely summon courage sufficient to look up; hershame and trouble burnt in her eyes and wrung her young heart. It was a bitter, bitter moment, how bitter Miss Charlotte had noconception, for she did not know all. But never, throughout the whole ofher life, did Esther lose the memory of that scene, and the shame andmisery which swamped her. 

But, though she did not realise Esther's trouble, Miss Charlotte wasgreatly troubled too, for she had but a limited income, and to make itprovide for six where it had only been expected to suffice for two was amatter that required some consideration, and when the extra four were butscantily supplied with clothes, and had to be provided with education too, the matter became very serious indeed. 

But Miss Charlotte was not one to worry unduly. In the first place shehad been accustomed all her life to facing difficulties, and in thesecond, she had too much faith to worry about things. 

"The dear Lord has His own plans for us, " she would say, "and He willguide us through if we only have faith and hope. " She said it to herselfnow, as she tried to put troublesome thoughts into the background. 

But poor Esther had as yet none of Miss Charlotte's faith. Troubles tothe young appear so much more appalling than they do in later life, for they have no experience to look back upon and learn from. 

Cousin Charlotte began to perceive, though, that Esther was very troubledtoo, seriously troubled. With quick intuition she divined something ofwhat she was feeling, and her whole heart flew out in sympathy to thechild. 

"It will be all right, dear, " she said, smiling cheerfully. "We shall do. Don't let the matter trouble you. We grown-ups will see to it all. Don't upset yourself, Esther dearest. "

The kindness of her words and tone broke down Esther's last powers ofrestraint. "But--I can't help it--you didn't want us, you couldn't have, and--and here we are--so many, filling up your house, and--and costing somuch, and--and--oh, Cousin Charlotte, I am so sorry. We must go away, go back, we can't stay here--" Esther's voice and manner grew almosthysterical. 

"Oh, but, dear, you must stay, _please_, " pleaded Cousin Charlotte gently. "You would not go away and leave me lonely again, would you, and upset allmy plans and my pleasure, would you? Don't you know that it is a verygreat pleasure to me to have you? It is, " seeing Esther's look ofincredulity, "I assure you. I love girls of all ages, and I have missedthem terribly here. Never let such a thought trouble you again. After all, dear, I could not expect to have the money in advance. I might, you know, " smiling, "take it and spend it on myself, and pack youall up and set you adrift if I had it beforehand. Every one has to earntheir money before they get it. It is about your education and Penelope'sthat I am troubled most. Your mother does not mention it. I wanted tosend you to a good school, but if I did it would cost the whole of themoney your father is able to spare for you all, and I think I am hardlyjustified in running him into so much expense. I would gladly put out themoney--"

"Oh no, please, you mustn't, " cried Esther eagerly. "Please don't, Cousin Charlotte, you mustn't think of it. " Again Cousin Charlotte wasperplexed by her very real distress. "I will teach myself and the othersif I can only have some books, but it mustn't cost you anything. "

Miss Ashe would not allow a glimmer of a smile to show in her face oreyes. "Well, dear, " she said gravely, "we will think about it and haveanother talk. We cannot settle such a big question in a moment, can we?At any rate, if you cannot manage the teaching you can help me in otherways. "

"How?" asked Esther eagerly, her whole face brightening. "Oh, I do sowant to help. "

But at that moment Anna came in to say Miss Ashe was wanted, and theconversation had to end. 

"Run out and amuse yourself now, dear, and keep an eye on the others, "said Miss Charlotte, laying a gentle hand on Esther's shoulder with alittle caressing touch. "I am afraid I am leaving the care of them verymuch to you, but we shall settle down in time. I hoped to have gotanother maid; but well, Anna has lived so long alone now it is a littledifficult to find any one she would live with happily. I want a girl, too, who would not require high wages. Now run along, dear. I hear Poppycalling to you, " and with the same Miss Charlotte bustled away, and Estherwas left alone. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"Girls, " said Esther solemnly, as she hurried down the garden to wherethey were sitting, "I've got a lot to talk about. Let's go somewherewhere we can be quiet. "

There was a door in one wall of the garden, which led out directly on tothe moor. Penelope had already discovered this, and at once led hersisters through it. At no great distance up the slope was a large groupof rocks, which afforded them seats and shelter; it had other advantages, too, for from it they could look along the winding road, or down on theriver and the cottages. Here the four of them ensconced themselves, withGuard beside them, and the three looked eagerly at their eldest sister. 

"What is it?" asked Penelope. 

"It isn't bad news from mother, is it?" gasped Angela, with a frightenedface. 

Esther sat looking very grave and absorbed, yet eager. "There is so muchto say I hardly know where to begin, " she said at last, and the excitementof the others increased. 

"Begin anywhere, " urged Poppy, who was not noted for her patience, and theothers echoed her suggestion. 

Methodical Esther, though, began at the beginning, and at great lengthtold her story. The others listened with interest, but only Angelasympathised with Esther entirely. Penelope and Poppy were impressed, but they did not feel her peculiar horror of the situation as Angela did, nor her sensitive pride and shame. They grew more alert, though, whenshe, having finished her story of the letter, said gravely, "Girls, we'veall got to do something, and I'll tell you what we've got to do. "

"What?" they demanded in one breath. 

"Well, we've got to save Cousin Charlotte all we can, and not cost a pennymore than we can help. "

"Must I only eat a very little teeny tiny bit?" asked Poppy gravely. 

Esther laughed. 

"Oh no, dear, you must eat as much as you want, or Cousin Charlotte willbe angry. But we must manage so that she won't have to have anotherservant, and if we all help Anna and do a lot of the work, I don't thinkshe need. We managed with only Lydia at home. But what I want most ofall is to try and earn some money so as to be able to give it to CousinCharlotte for what we cost her. But I can't think of _any_ way, can you?Do let's try and think of something, " she ended anxiously. "I am sure Iwould if I only knew how. I wish we weren't all so small. "

"I saw a littler girl than me selling bootlaces once, " said Poppy eagerly. "I could do that. "

They all laughed, and the laugh inspirited them; the four faces grewbright and eager, the four brains went to work busily, and the maddest, wildest schemes chased each other through those little heads. 

At dinner Miss Ashe was struck by the air of gravity which hung over them. She feared they must be tired or homesick, or suffering from the change ofair, and grew quite troubled. They disclaimed all three when questioned, and spoke quite cheerfully when spoken to, and apparently were quite well;it seemed to be more an abstraction that enveloped them than depression. 

Poppy at last gave a clue to their feelings. "We are finding, " she said, looking at Miss Charlotte, as though she felt some explanation werenecessary; but catching Esther's warning glance she said no more. 

"We must not let Cousin Charlotte know, " Esther had said. "She is so kindshe would not like us to worry, so we won't say anything about it to herif we can help. "

"We'll s'prise her, " Poppy had cried gleefully; so, catching Esther's eye, she remembered, and grew silent again, leaving Cousin Charlotte morepuzzled than ever. 

"I wonder, " said Miss Charlotte, as they rose from the table, "I wonder ifyou children would mind going to Mrs. Bennett's for me for some rice. Anna tells me she has run out of it. You haven't seen our shops yet, haveyou?"

"Shops! Oh no, we didn't know there were any. " And off they randelightedly and put on their hats at once. Esther took her purse with hertoo. She wanted to change the sovereign; she was so dreadfully afraid oflosing it, and several silver and copper coins seemed safer than one smallgold one. 

Mrs. Bennett's shop was not difficult to find. Just beyond Miss Ashe'shouse, round a bend in the road, they found themselves in what was called'the street. ' There were at least a dozen cottages close together;a little further on were two or three more, and up the hill were scatteredothers, at greater distances apart. The children were perfectlydelighted. Here was life and interest in plenty, and Moor Cottage was notso lonely as they had imagined. 

The shops were in two of the first group of cottages they came to, andhere was more delight--a perfect feast. Such fascinating windows theyhad, so full of all sorts of interesting things, and all at suchreasonable prices too, or so it seemed to the children. 

Mrs. Bennett's held groceries and drapery, and boots and writing-paper, kettles and saucepans, little china images and 'surprise' packets. Mrs. Vercoe's held ironmongery and drapery, and dolls and groceries, sweets and toys of various sorts, bread, cakes and books. Mrs. Bennettsold china too, and glass, some homely medicines, and hoops and thimblesand skipping-ropes. Mrs. Vercoe included cheese and bacon, rope andtwine, and baskets. 

Of the two they were most drawn to Mrs. Vercoe's. Her stock appealed tothem more. But as they had been told to go to Mrs. Bennett, thither theywent; and Mrs. Bennett, who kept the post office too, sold Esther somestamps and changed her sovereign for her, and while they gazed fascinatedabout her shop, she gazed at them with frank curiosity. But nothing shecould say could draw them into conversation. For some reason, they couldnot have said what, they did not like her. It may have been that she'talked fine, ' as her neighbours said, and minced her words in a somewhataffected way, or that she seemed very inquisitive, or that her rather coldmanner unconsciously offended them. The children could not have explainedwhy it was, but fascinating though the shop was, they hurried away from itand crossed the road to Mrs. Vercoe's. 

Mrs. Vercoe's window was certainly more enticing to them than Mrs. Bennett's. A prolonged and critical gaze showed them not only all thethings already mentioned, but dear little rough red pitchers which wouldhold just half a pint, and a larger size which would hold a pint; packetsof flower-seeds with gay pictures on the outside, and only a penny each;the pitchers were only a penny and twopence; there were the dearest littlewatering-cans too, and fancy handkerchiefs with a nursery rhyme round theborder, and funny little books, with roughly done pictures in thebrightest of colours, and money-boxes, some like little houses, othersrepresenting miniature letter-boxes. 

Angela longed and longed for a pitcher. Poppy wanted a pennywatering-can, painted bright red inside, and green out. Penelope wanted abook and some sweets, and Esther a money-box, that she might begin to saveat once. 

"_Do_ let's go inside, " whispered Penelope. "There may be lots of otherthings inside. "

"But wouldn't it look rude to come out of one shop and go right intoanother?" asked Esther, who was really as interested as Penelope. 

"Can't we walk on a little way, and then on our way back go in as thoughwe had just seen something we wanted?" suggested Angela, who was an adeptat trying to spare people's feelings. "P'r'aps Mrs. Bennett won't be inher shop by that time. "

They all agreed to this, and sauntered on with a simulated air ofunconcern. They walked on past all the cottages, keeping to the widegranite road which led with many windings up and up a hill beyond thevillage. How far they went they had no idea, but by and by they heard aclock strike in the distance. 

"I do believe we have come to a town, or something, " said Penelopeexcitedly. "There isn't a church or a big clock in Dorsham, only achapel. Let's go on and see. "

But Esther checked her enthusiasm. "We had better not stay away too long, or Cousin Charlotte may be frightened, and we want to stop at Mrs. Vercoe's before we go home. Let's go there now, shall we?"

The suggestion was seconded with alacrity. But if they thought that theirlittle manoeuvrings were going to blind Mrs. Bennett, or spare herfeelings, they made a mistake. They had yet to learn that no single thinghappened in Dorsham 'street, ' no single person went up it or down, withoutthe fact being known sooner or later--generally on the instant--to everydweller therein; and for four strangers, newly come to live in the place, to expect to escape notice was absurd. 

The only result of their plan was to attract more attention to themselves;but of this they were happily unconscious, and once inside the little, low, dim, crowded place, their joy seemed unbounded. If Mrs. Bennett hadrepelled them, plump, jolly-looking Mrs. Vercoe, with her round rosy faceand kindly, smiling eyes, attracted them at once. 

"Well, my dears, " she said warmly, "and what can I do for you to-day?"

There was a delicious smell of hot cake pervading the place, and Mrs. Vercoe herself had come out streaked with flour, and carrying a big black'sheath' full of new currant cakes and buns. 

"I--I hardly know, " said Esther. "There are such lots of nice thingshere, " she added politely. "Do you mind if we look about for a fewminutes first?"

"Look about to your heart's content, my dear, " she said genially. "Well, little missie, " to Poppy, "'tis nice to see so many young ladiesabout Dorsham; 'tis what we ain't over-blessed with. I'm afraid you'llfind it dull without any little companions; 'tis very quiet here, not thatI'm complaining, " she added hastily, afraid of seeming disloyal to hernative place. "And what do 'ee think of our village?" she asked, seeingPenelope's eyes fixed interestedly on her. "Fine and lonely I reckon itlooks to strangers, but 'tis airy, " with a little laugh, "and bootiful airtoo. Makes 'ee hungry, I expect, missie, don't it? Could 'ee eat a newbun now?"

Penelope was about to decline, thinking it would be correct to do so, but her finer natural instinct told her that it might be politer toaccept, and in response to Mrs. Vercoe's bidding she helped herself. The old dame delightedly invited them all to do the same. Angela andPoppy accepted; Esther held back with shy reluctance. 

"Oh no, thank you, " she said. "We are so many. "

"Well, they'm only farden buns, " said Mrs. Vercoe, with a little chuckle;"but p'r'aps you'd rather have one of these, " and she held out to Estheran apple. Esther felt more embarrassed than ever. Mrs. Vercoe seemed tothink she had declined the bun because she wanted something better. 

"Oh no, thank you, " she said, with a great effort. "I like the buns verymuch, but I am not hungry. We had dinner just before we came out. "

Mrs. Vercoe laid the apple down without saying any more; but Estherthought she looked rather hurt, and felt that it would have been moretactful to have taken it. To break the awkward pause which followed, sheplunged into business. 

"Please how much each are those little pitchers?" she asked hastily. 

"Tuppence, missie, " said Mrs. Vercoe, as pleasantly as ever, to Esther'sgreat relief. "And the littler ones are a penny. "

"May I have one of the tiny ones?" whispered Angela eagerly. 

"It was for you I wanted it, " said Esther, who would have liked one forherself, too. "Aren't they dears!"

"I must look 'ee out a perfect one, " said Mrs. Vercoe, tapping up oneafter another and rapping them with her knuckles. "They'm terrible thingsfor getting chipped. There, I think those are all right. "

Angela, in a high state of delight, chose the one she thought theprettiest. Poppy, meanwhile, was tugging at Esther's skirt. She had beenvery quiet for some time, absorbed in a boxful of the packets offlower-seeds, with gay pictures outside. 

"Esther, may I have a packet of seeds? and one of those dear dinkey littlewatering-cans? May I, Essie? Do say 'yes, ' please do. "

Poppy was not only fascinated, but she was possessed by a sudden, brilliant idea which the packets of seeds had suggested. She could notrest until Esther had consented, and she could not keep from dancing withexcitement as she bent over the box, trying to make a selection. 

"Bless her pretty face, " cried Mrs. Vercoe, much amused. The old lady wasas delighted with her customers as though they were spending poundsinstead of pennies. Penelope, meanwhile, was perched on a corner of asugar-box, absorbed in one of the funny little books which were lying in apile on the counter, and was quite oblivious of all that was going onaround her. 

Esther paid for Poppy's purchases. "And will you take for the book, too, please, " she said, as she held out a shilling. "The book my sister isreading. " She blushed as she spoke, for she was shocked at Penelope'sbehaviour. 

But Mrs. Vercoe would not hear of it. "Why no, my dear; 'tisn't likelyshe'd be wanting to buy it now she mostly knows what's in it. You'd rather have another, wouldn't you, missie? and it don't make nomanner of diff'rence to me. "

Penelope looked up with a start, and blushed too, but an end to thediscussion was put by Poppy, who came up very excitedly with a packet ofparsley seed in her hand. It was not one of those with a picture on theoutside, but a larger, plainer packet. 

"Please, how much is this?" she asked eagerly. 

"Ah, you wouldn't like that, dearie, that isn't pretty. It's parsley. Very good parsley it is, but it don't have no pretty flowers. "

"I know, " said Poppy, nodding her head vigorously. "How much does itcost?"

"A penny. "

"Well, I'll take it, please, instead of the other, " and she held out herhand for the packet as though she was afraid of having it wrested fromher. 

Mrs. Vercoe held it while her eyes searched Esther's face. It seemed toher such an extraordinary choice for a tiny child to make. She wasreluctant to let her have it. "Hadn't she better have the one she chosefirst?" she asked anxiously. But Esther was accustomed to her sister'svagaries. 

"No, thank you. I expect she would rather have this. Perhaps she thinksshe gets more. "

Poppy smiled, and pursed her lips, and hugged her secret to herselfdelightedly. 

Then, having paid for Penelope's book, and bought some sweets for themall, Esther led her little troop out of the shop and home. 

Miss Ashe was out when the children returned, so they strolled into thegarden to amuse themselves as best they could. But the garden was tooneat and well-tended to allow of much in the way of games, so very soonthey wandered further, and escaped on to the moor, Penelope with her newbook, Esther with another book and the sweets, Angela carrying her belovedpitcher. Guard followed them devotedly. 

Poppy, though, decided to remain behind. She did not say so; nor didthey, so busy were they with their plans, at first notice her absence. 

Miss Ashe's garden was a large one. In Dorsham land was of little value, and one could have almost as much as one chose, if one took the trouble toenclose it. The Moor Cottage garden was large enough to allow of itsbeing divided up into several small ones, the dividing being done chieflyto provide shelter from the storms which so often swept over the moor, though the strong stout walls provided excellent space for fruit-trees. 

Poppy, when she saw she was alone, walked quickly from one part of thegarden to another, looking about her eagerly, her watering-can in herhand, her packet of seeds in her pocket. No one else was about. Anna wasin the kitchen, she heard her voice there, singing hymns; Ephraim, whomshe was most afraid of meeting, was away, apparently. Probably he hadgone to Gorley with Miss Charlotte's broken glasses. Having made quitesure that she had the place to herself, Poppy carefully deposited her canon the ground, and ran to a corner where she had seen some tools stacked. There were a spade, a large fork, a rake, and a little fork. Poppy seizedthe spade, but after she had struggled with it a few yards and tumbleddown twice, she exchanged it for the little fork. 

Close by where she had dropped her can was a neat square bed of niceearth, all beautifully sifted and raked over. This pleased her criticaleye immensely. With the fork she made several little holes not far fromthe edge, then she got out her packet of seeds and opened it. 

"What _lots_!" she cried delightedly, and proceeded to place carefully oneseed in each hole. But the seeds she planted seemed not to lessen thenumber in the packet in the least. "I must make another row, " shemurmured, and carefully covering in the first holes, she stepped on thebed and made some more. 

When she had made a third row and filled them in she sighed a little. Before she had finished she had had to commandeer the whole of the bed, and was weary and confused. There seemed to be nothing but footprints allover it, and where the seed was, or how to make the earth look nice andsmooth again so that no one should guess her secret, she was puzzled toknow. She could have cried with weariness, but she bravely kept back hertears with the thought of the splendid thing she had done, and the delightand surprise there would be when her secret came to light. While she wasstanding looking in some dismay at the trampled bed, she remembered therake standing in the corner. 

It was heavy, so heavy she could hardly carry it, and far too clumsy forher to wield properly, but she worked bravely, and tried to forget heraches; she had not a very critical eye either, and soon the bed, to hereyes, looked quite neat and tidy. Then came the crowning moment. At thewater-tap, which stood over a butt sunk in the ground by one of the paths, she filled her new water-can, and proceeded to give her seeds a goodwatering. 

This was joy indeed, pure joy. The can poured splendidly, Poppy wasdelighted. She had to run many times to the tap to get water enough forthe whole bed, and by the time it was done to her satisfaction herpinafore was well soaked, and she herself was almost too weary to stand. Her task was perfected, but when she looked down over herself, at hermud-clogged shoes, her dripping clothes, her begrimed hands, and realisedwhat she would have to go through in the way of questioning and scolding, her spirits sank altogether. Cousin Charlotte or Anna she dared not face. Her only resource was to try to find Esther, or the others. They wouldscold too, but she knew them and their scoldings; they were not very bad, and were soon over. With the aid of the fork she managed to lift thelatch of the garden door, and stepped out on the great wide waste; but inall the length and breadth of it, as far as her eyes could see, she caughtno glimpse of the others. They were nowhere in sight, and the moor lookedbig, and lonely, and frightening. 

Poppy felt very forlorn, and miserable, and homesick, standing there inthat great waste; and under the weight of her troubles her lip began toquiver, though she did her best to steady it. She dared not go indoors, and she was too weary to go in search of the others, so she crept up theslope to the nearest rocks large enough to hide her, determined to sitthere and wait until she saw the others coming home, when she would callto them. She slipped off her pinafore, spread it on the ground to dry, and with much care and trouble cleaned first her hands and then her bootson the short coarse grass, after which, utterly weary, she lay downherself and knew no more. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Esther, Penelope, and Angela reached home at just about what they thoughtmust be tea-time. They came in the way they had gone out, through thegarden door. In the garden path they saw Poppy's new watering-can lying. They expected to see Poppy too, but she did not appear, and the gardenseemed quite empty. She must have gone indoors, they concluded, andEsther began to feel very compunctious for having left her alone so long. With this feeling on her she hurried in to find her little sister, but the house seemed quiet and empty too. They ran up to their own rooms. No one was there. They came down and looked in the sitting-rooms, Esther with a sudden fear that Poppy might be at some mischief; but bothrooms were quite empty. They next ran out and tapped at the kitchen door. 

"Come in, " said Anna cheerfully. She liked to have the children abouther. 

"Is Poppy here?" asked Esther. 

"Miss Poppy! No, miss. I haven't seen her since she went out with you. "

"She hasn't been with us. We have been on the moor ever since, and shemust have stayed in the garden, but I can't see her there now. We saw herlittle can in the path, that was all, and I can't find her in the houseanywhere. I thought perhaps she was here with you. "

Anna looked anxious. "Have you been all over the house, miss?"

"I have been in our rooms and the dining-room and drawing-room, and wehave all called her, but we can't find her. "

"I'd look again, miss, if I was you; look in the missus's room, and minetoo, if you like. I'd come with you, but I can't leave my bread for a fewminutes. "

"Oh, we will find her, " said Esther cheerfully, and they ran off again. 

She was back in a short while, though, and not quite so cheerful. Just asshe reached the kitchen Ephraim came in at the other door. 

"Who hev been meddlin' with my new turnip-bed?" he demanded. He did notsee Esther. 

"What's the matter with your turnip-bed?" asked Anna shortly. She wasjust lifting her loaves out of the oven, and it was a critical moment;besides, Anna was always 'short' with Ephraim; she had a theory that it wasgood for him. 

"Why, it's in such a mess as you never saw in your life; anybody'd thinkthere'd been a month's rain emptied over it, and all the hens in Dorshamscratching it over, and me only sowed the seeds this morning and left itas tidy as ever you see a bed, only so long ago as dinner-time. "

Anna, looking up, caught sight of Esther. "Have 'ee found her, missie?"she asked, taking no further notice of Ephraim. 

"No, " said Esther anxiously, "she isn't in the house, I'm sure. "

Anna always grew cross when she was frightened. "Here, " she cried, turning sharply on Ephraim, "never mind your old turnip-bed. You justtake and look for Miss Poppy; she's the youngest of our young ladies, alittle bit of a thing, and she's lost, so you'd best go and look for herthis very minute. Look in the garden first of all. Time enough to worryabout an old garden bed when the children's all safe. "

Esther, in spite of her growing trouble, could not help laughing, theirspeech sounded so odd and funny, and Ephraim's face was such a picture ofoffended dignity. 

Penelope meanwhile, without saying a word to any one, had gone down to thegarden again, and out on to the moor. She had a feeling that Poppy mightbe out there somewhere. Very likely she had gone in search of them andmissed them. 

Esther, not knowing this, followed Ephraim. "She couldn't come to anyharm, even if she opened the door and got out, could she?" she askedeagerly. 

Ephraim shook his head with ponderous gravity. "I wouldn't go for to sayso much as that, " he said soberly, "there's wild beastes about in plentyon these here moors. "

"Wild beasts!" Esther almost screamed with horror at the thought. She pictured her poor little Poppy flying shrieking before a cruel wolf, frightened nearly to death, calling for help, for her sisters--and no onenear to save her. Beyond that she dared not let her imagination go. She felt sick and almost fainting. "Do you mean wolves and bears, and--and--"

"Well, no, " said Ephraim slowly, as he searched a bed of young carrots asthough he thought Poppy might by chance have got under the featheryleaves. "I won't say there are any of them there kinds exactly, but wildcattle, and 'osses, and sheep; there's plenty 'nough of they about, andthey'm 'most so bad. "

Esther's heart was relieved. ''Osses and cattle' seemed so very mildafter what she had pictured. 

"I think we'd better go and look on the moor, " she said impatiently, asEphraim showed every sign of making a prolonged search amongst thesea-kale pots, taking the cover off each one in turn. Almost reluctantlyhe followed her. In the path there still stood Poppy's littlewatering-can. Esther's eyes filled with tears as she caught sight of it. Ephraim saw it too, and picked it up. 

"Perhaps we'd better take this here along as a clue, " he said, lookingvery wise. 

Esther could not see what possible use it could be, or how it could helpthem, but she consented in order to hurry him along; so off they went, Ephraim carrying the tiny can. But hardly had they stepped through thedoorway than they saw that their search was ended. Poppy, led byPenelope, was coming down the hill towards them. 

"There she is! oh, there she is!" cried Esther, and flew up to meet them, Ephraim following. 

On getting outside, Penelope had, by good fortune, at first followedalmost exactly in Poppy's footsteps. By stopping to search every bush andboulder she had got somewhat out of her way, but, as she was stooping tolook under a large clump of broom and gorse not so very far from where herlittle sister lay asleep, something white fluttering about had caught hereye. It was Poppy's pinafore, dried now by the breeze. A moment latershe caught sight of Poppy's shoes standing alone, without any wearer inthem. The sight of her little sister's clothes lying about the moor inthis fashion turned Penelope perfectly sick and cold with a horrible, indescribable fear. With feet weighted with terror, and quivering limbs, she hurried to the spot, and dropped on her knees half senseless by hersister's body. A moment later all her terrors fled, replaced by awonderful ecstasy of thankfulness and joy. Poppy stirred, turned in hersleep, and showed a dirty but rosy face to her frightened sister. In herrelief Penelope, with a shout of happiness, flung her arms about her andhugged her. 

Suddenly awakened, Poppy sat up and looked about her in a dazed way; thenher eyes fell on her muddy pinafore and boots, and a hot blush spread overher baby face. 

"I didn't mean to make my pinny dirty, " she said anxiously, "but I_touldn't_ help it; there was such a _lot_ of seed, and I _had_ to waterit, and the silly water would run out over the can, though I was _ever_and _ever_ so careful. "

"But how did you come to be lying here, darling?" said Pen, drawing herlittle sister closer into her arms. In her relief she was quite unable toscold her for the fright she had given them. "We left you in the garden. You shouldn't have come out here alone. We thought you were lost, and wewere awfully frightened!"

Poppy sat up very erect. She suddenly felt herself very important andinteresting. "I wanted to find you and Essie. I was 'fraid to see CousinCharlotte with my dirty pinny on; and I came out here and you weren'tanywhere, and then I was _so_ tired I lay down. Oh, it took me such along time, but Mrs. Vercoe said it was _beautiful_ parsley. Do you thinkit is beginning to grow yet, Pen?"

"I don't know, " said Pen absently; "we must make haste back, now, to letthem know you are safe. You see, if you go getting lost, Cousin Charlottewon't let us come out on the moor alone. Come along, " raising her sister, after putting on her shoes for her. 

For a moment Poppy looked troubled, but quickly cheered up. "I don't finkCousin Charlotte will be cross when she knows, " she said confidently. 

"Knows what?" asked Penelope curiously. 

"My secret, " said Poppy solemnly. "I'll tell you if you'll promise not totell any one else. " But at that moment all confidences were stopped bythe appearance of Esther and Ephraim. 

Poppy accepted Esther's rapturous greeting calmly. She, of course, didnot realise yet the state of alarm they had all been in on her account;her whole attention was absorbed by the sight of a strange man inpossession of her precious watering-can. It was too much for her to passunnoticed. 

"That's my tan, please, I fink, " she said politely but firmly, and Ephraimfelt his wisdom in bringing this means of identification had been fullyjustified. 

Happy and triumphant the whole party returned to the house, to be receivedby Anna with open arms and a face beaming with joy. What did it matter ifPoppy's apron was covered with mud, and her frock and boots and hands thesame? Instead of being treated as a culprit, she was made a heroine of, and appreciated the difference. 

When Anna had finished crooning over her, and the story of the discoveryhad been repeated more than once, she was taken upstairs by Esther, andwashed and changed, so that by the time Miss Ashe returned, instead of thebedraggled, dirty little maiden of an hour before, she saw only aperfectly neat and spotless one, and had no suspicion of all that hadtaken place during her absence. 

Ephraim came into the hall to speak to his mistress just as Poppy camedown the stairs. 

"Well, Ephraim, how far did you get with your morning's work? Did you getthe turnip-seed planted?"

"Well, yes, ma'am, I did, " said Ephraim slowly. "I made a nice bed for itright there under the lew wall there in the far corner. But--well, whatever has come to it since, it passes me to know; when I went away thatthere bed was so smooth and tidy as my hand; when I comes back to it--well, ma'am, you honestly might have knocked me flat with a feather, thatthere newly made bed was--well, 'twas more like a mud-heap than anythingyou ever saw in your life, ma'am, and trampled--well, out of all shape andsemblance. I neer see'd the likes of it in my life. So soon as it'sdried I'll have to go and do it all again, and have a second sowing, butit'll be a day or so before it's fit to touch; 'tisn't no use to trust tothat first crop--it's my belief it's all ruined. "

Poppy drew up suddenly on her way to the dining-room. Her face had grownvery red, her hands were working nervously. "You--oh, you mustn't disturbit, please, " she gasped. "I--I've planted some thing, and it mustn't bedisturbed, it's _very good_ seed, and I watered it to make it growquickly--it--it did look rather muddy, but--but it'll soon dry. "

Ephraim stared in dumb bewilderment. Miss Ashe looked from him to thechild and back again, scarcely taking in the situation. She looked againat Ephraim, but getting no help from him, she turned to Poppy. 

"What do you mean, darling? Have you been sowing seeds?"

"Yes, " said Poppy, but with marked hesitation. "You shall know soon, butit's a secret now, and I mustn't tell, only I was afraid he, "--nodding atEphraim--"would dig them all up again. "

"But, Poppy dear, you shouldn't have done it without asking permission;you see you might do considerable damage by taking a piece of ground likethat, not knowing whether there is anything in it or not. As it is, yousee, you have spoilt all my turnips. If we hadn't found it out in goodtime, we should have been left without any for the whole season. Don't you see, dear, how important it is?"

The importance of it was so apparent, and what she had done appeared sooverwhelmingly naughty, it seemed to Poppy as though all joy and happinesshad gone out of her life for ever. It was dreadful, intolerable. In trying to help Cousin Charlotte as Esther had wished, she had done harminstead of good. Her beautiful secret was over, and instead of being ahelp she had been a naughty, foolish little girl, whom these strange newpeople would wish they had never seen, while every one else would laughwhen they heard the story. She felt herself covered with shame anddisgrace; she was humiliated and miserable; her little lip quiveredpiteously, her eyes filled, and she was too tired and hurt to fightagainst her woe. 

Miss Charlotte's kind eyes saw the humiliation in the pretty, tired littleface, and held out her hand. "Never mind, dear; as it happens there is noharm done; Ephraim shall choose another spot for the turnips, and youshall have that piece of ground for your own garden. It would never do todestroy a second lot of seeds by digging the bed all over again. Good evening, Ephraim, I'll see you to-morrow. "

So, thanks to Cousin Charlotte, Poppy was saved the disgrace of havingcried before Ephraim; her tears did not fall; she winked them away, andher lip grew steadier. The thought restored her spirits, but her greatpleasure in her scheme was dashed. 

"And I sowed the parsley on purpose for Tousin Charlotte, only 'twas to bea secret, " she confided to Esther as she was being put to bed that night, "to help her, like you said. She could have some to use, and I was goingto sell most of it and give the money to her. "

Esther did not smile; indeed her eyes were misty as she took her littlesister on her lap and kissed her on the top of her head. "It will be allright, dear, " she said, "and--and you are the first of us to begin to dosomething useful; it was splendid of you to think of it. I wish I knewwhat I could do, " she added wistfully, her cheek resting on Poppy's curls. 

"I'll try and fink of something for you, " said Poppy gravely. "P'r'aps bythe morning I'll have finked of something _very_ nice--then won't you beglad?"

But she fell asleep before she had come to any satisfactory conclusion, and Esther, downstairs, in spite of her busy brain and sober face, wasequally unsuccessful. She was still thinking when she got up to say'good-night' and kiss Miss Charlotte. But Miss Charlotte did not bid hergood-night at once; instead, she asked her to wait a few moments. 

"I wanted to have a little talk, dear, now we are alone, " she said, withher pretty smile. 

Penelope and Angela had already gone to bed. 

Esther sat down again, wondering what was coming. 

"I have been thinking, " said Miss Charlotte, laying down her pen andcoming to sit by Esther, "I have been thinking over our plans, dear, and Ihave come to the conclusion that I might superintend your studies myself, for a time at any rate. "

Esther looked up quickly, her pleasure showing in her eyes. "Oh, that_would_ be nice, Cousin Charlotte, " she cried. "I do want to learn somuch, but--but you have such a lot to do already, and we are _very_backward, and I am so--so stupid. "

"I don't think you are that, dear, " said Miss Charlotte gently, and herwords, quiet though they were, brought deep pleasure to Esther. 

"I think we might manage it, " she went on cheerfully. "Of course I havemany calls on my time, and I shall not be able to give you all theattention I should like to; but we can but do our best, and this seems thebest plan I can think of. I cannot very well manage to have a governessto you, and there is no school nearer than Gorley, and that is not onlyfour miles away, but a school I do not approve of. So, at any rate, wewill try this plan for the present. "

Esther got up and stood by Miss Charlotte, her colour coming and going, her fingers playing nervously with her pinafore. "I--I think you are toogood to us, Cousin Charlotte, " she said huskily, speechless almost withnervousness, but determined to say something of what was in her heart. "I--I don't know how to thank you, but I _do_ want to, and--and--"

Cousin Charlotte's arm was round her, drawing her to her. "We can neverbe _too_ good to one another, dear; and what are we here for but to helpeach other over hard places, to try to make each other's lives easier?I am only thankful to have this opportunity of doing good. I was growingnarrow and selfish all by myself. I think you were sent to rouse me. "

"Oh, Cousin Charlotte, I want to help too, " cried Esther wistfully. "I do want to be useful, but I don't know how. Will you tell me?Nothing ever seems to happen to me; I never get a chance of helpingpeople. "

"Opportunities, small or great, occur every day, dear, " said MissCharlotte; "it is the little opportunity we must look out for, the smallthings that we must do. Big ones come sometimes, but little ones everyday; if you look for them you will find them. We will help each other, dear. Now we will say good-night. You are tired with your long day inthe open air. We will not begin lessons until Monday, there will be somuch else to do and arrange. Good-night, my love, " and with a warm kissthey parted. 

Esther went up to her room with a great glow of happiness at her heart. For the first time in her life she had met some one who understood her;at least, some one who could draw out the good side of her, and not thebad. Esther did not understand what it was, but she felt a difference, and she undressed and said her prayers with Cousin Charlotte's words stillringing in her ears: "We can never be _too_ good to one another, dear; andwhat are we here for but to help each other over hard places?"

She prayed very especially that she might be shown how to do her share inhelping others. Like Poppy, she lay down, determined to think and think, hoping that perhaps by morning she would have thought of some way ofhelping Cousin Charlotte; and, more successful than Poppy, before even shefell asleep an idea had come. Quite suddenly there came back to her MissAshe's remark, that 'it was not convenient then to have a governess. '"It must be on account of the expense, " thought Esther, with suddeninspiration. "She talked of getting another servant; but I am sure, ifshe can't afford a governess she can't afford a servant; and I do believewe could do without one, if I helped quite a lot, as I did at home. And I can. I did all right there. I will ask her to let me try. Oh!"--enthusiastically, as the idea took a firmer hold on her--"I _hope_she will. She _must_--and I am sure Anna would be glad. "

Too excited and pleased to sleep, Esther slipped from her bed, crept tothe window, and looked out. A bright moon lighted up the moor oppositeand the river below, until she could see the old brown boulders quiteplainly; birds called to each other across the distance, and far away acow lowed monotonously for its calf. Esther stood and gazed and listenedwith uplifted heart, yearning for something, she knew not what, somethinghigher and better to be and do. 

"Oh, I am so glad we came here!" she murmured, "so glad! I am sure itwill be easy to be good here, and I do so want to be good! I wish Ihadn't been so horrid to mother sometimes, and--and now I can't ever beanything else, to her. " And there came back to her mind her mother'swords, "I am sure your Aunt Julia would not have Esther if she knew howbad her temper had become, " and her eyes filled with tears at therecollection. 

"I will try, " she whispered. "I will try that no one else shall ever saythat of me--and I will write to mother, and tell her I am sorry. "And it was a very grave and serious Esther who fell asleep at last. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

When Esther awoke the next morning, she wondered for a moment why she feltso happy and light-hearted. Then memory returned. She recollected thetalk of last night, Cousin Charlotte's kiss, and the plan for Monday. Shewould begin to learn at last! But even greater was her joy at the otherthought--her own plan to help Miss Charlotte. She could hardly lie stillwhen she thought of all she meant to do. She would dust, and tidy andsweep, and sew, and polish the furniture, and she even pictured herselfmaking bread and cleaning windows. 

She longed to be dressed, and beginning already. She sat up in bed andlooked across at Poppy. She wanted to tell her and the others all thenews, but Poppy was sleeping in the most aggravatingly persistent way. 

Too impatient to wait for her to wake, she slipped out of bed and creptalong the corridor, past Miss Charlotte's room, to Penelope's. 

Angela was asleep, but Penelope lay awake reading. 

"What is that you are reading?" asked Esther, eyeing the red-covered bookwith a sort of feeling that it was familiar to her. 

"Oh, it's only _The Invasion of the Crimea_, " said Penelope, withdrawingher eyes almost reluctantly from the page. 

"I didn't know you were going on with it, " said Esther, a touch ofresentment in her voice. She did not like to feel that Penelope was morepersevering than she herself, and had outstripped her. She was consciousin her inmost heart that she had not been sorry when the readings werebroken off; the history did not interest her. At the same time itmortified her a little that it did interest Penelope. 

"It's awfully exciting, " said Penelope. "Of course I have to skip some, I can't understand it, but here and there it's lovely. "

Esther's first fresh joyful feeling was a little dashed, but as it cameback to her mind what it was that she wanted to say, she recoveredherself. "In a few days I shall be learning properly, " she thought, andthen Penelope would not outstrip her. 

"Listen to me, " she said eagerly, as she perched herself on the foot ofPenelope's bed. Angela stirred, and catching sight of Esther, was wideawake in a moment. 

"What is it?" she demanded. "Has anything happened?"

"Listen, " said Esther again, "both of you. I want to tell you about ourschooling. Cousin Charlotte stopped me last night as I was going to bed, to have a talk; it was about our lessons. We are to begin on Monday. "

"Where are we going?" asked Penelope. "There isn't any school here, isthere?"

"No, Cousin Charlotte is going to teach us herself. Isn't it good ofher?"

"I am sure I shall never learn. She will be shocked at me, " said Angelanervously. "She doesn't know how backward I am. Fancy me, nine yearsold, and not able to read yet. I shall be ashamed to look, and there shewill be all day long. I would rather go somewhere where I could get awaywhen lessons are over. "

"Don't be silly, " said Esther. But Angela had only expressed something ofher own feeling. 

Penelope was sitting up in bed now, her eyes alight. "How jolly, " shesaid, half absently. Then in low, eager tones, "I wonder if she will letus learn just what we want to? I don't want to learn grammar and sums. I want to know about people, and wars, and battles, and revolutions, and Iwant to learn French and music and to sing. When I grow up I should liketo be able to sing and play _very_ well. I would rather do that thananything. I wonder if Cousin Charlotte would let me learn?"

Esther looked up in mild disapproval of Pen's enthusiasm. It worried herwhen her sisters showed any unusual traits, or expressed desires thatdiffered from her own. Penelope very often worried her in that way. Poppy too, at times. She felt a twinge of jealousy always that the ideahad not first come to her, and of resentment that they should have tastesapart from her. 

"I don't suppose Cousin Charlotte would if she could, " she said coldly. "Of course you must learn grammar, and history, and geography, and allthose things first. Every one has to learn them. "

Penelope looked disappointed, but she was not one to worry. "Perhaps before long I shall be able to do both, " she said cheerfully. "I wish Cousin Charlotte had an organ. I do want to be able to play theorgan. "

Esther grew impatient; these things seemed so trifling and uselesscompared with what she had in her mind. "I think you ought to try andthink how you can help Cousin Charlotte instead of giving her more to do. "

"That's just it, " persisted Penelope. "If I only knew how to play well, I could be an organist, and teach people, too, and earn quite a lot ofmoney. "

"Not for years and years, " said Esther, in a very crushing manner. "And we ought to begin to help at once. I'll tell you what I am going todo--I thought of it last night when I was in bed; it is not nonsense, but something very sensible. I am going to ask Cousin Charlotte to let mehelp Anna; I can do a lot if I have some big aprons like Anna's, and bigwhite sleeves to go over my frocks. I know Cousin Charlotte and Annadon't want to have a strange servant in; she would cost a lot, and Annawouldn't like her in the kitchen--and I could save all that. "

"And I could help too, " cried Angela excitedly. She was a born housewife, and all her tastes lay in that direction. "I can dust, and clean silver, and all sorts of things--"

"I am going to do all that, " said Esther loftily, resenting at once anyencroachment on her domain. "You can keep Poppy out of mischief, and playwith her. I can do the hard work, if you will only be good and keep outof harm. "

Angela's face and spirits fell. She did so love to do real work, it wasso much more interesting than play; and keeping out of harm was not a bitinteresting--it was very dull and stupid, in fact. But Angela was used todisappointments; besides which experience had already taught her that ifshe waited patiently she could often find little things to do, little waysof helping, that others forgot, or did not care about, so she said nomore, but waited. "When I am older, perhaps I'll be able to do the thingsI like, " she very often said to herself, by way of encouragement. 

Esther crept back to her room and to her bed, and lay there impatiently, waiting to be called. The minutes seemed endless, and Anna so slow incoming!

And when at last she was dressed and downstairs she had scarcely patienceto endure prayers and breakfast, she was so longing to broach her greatidea to Cousin Charlotte. But Cousin Charlotte seemed to be wanted byeverybody. First Ephraim kept her ever so long talking over the day'swork; then Anna came in with a question to be answered; then CousinCharlotte began to talk to the others about the lessons which were tobegin on Monday, and Penelope was telling her all about her longing tolearn to play and sing, and Cousin Charlotte seemed so interested, shetalked on and on for quite a long time about it; and all the while Estherwas growing more and more vexed, until, when Cousin Charlotte at lastsprang up, exclaiming, "My dear children, do you know how long we havebeen talking? I must hurry away this minute, or I shall be behindhand allday!" the limit of poor Esther's patience was passed. 

Angela looked up eagerly. "Can't I do something to help you, Cousin Charlotte?" she asked eagerly; "I should love to. "

Cousin Charlotte paused and looked down at the pretty, eager facethoughtfully. "I wonder if you could pick some strawberries for us. Would you like to?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Angela delightedly. "I should like to do anything tohelp. " She did not mean to trespass on Esther's plan. This, she thought, was quite different work from what Esther was going to do. But herpromptness added to Esther's vexation. 

"Well, there are a great many ripe ones, and I want some for ourselves andsome to give away; and Anna has no time this morning to pick them, and--well, my back is not young enough to enjoy such work. "

"I will do it, " said Angela, very pleased and proud. 

"May I help, Cousin Charlotte?" pleaded Poppy. "I'd love to. "

"Yes, " said Cousin Charlotte, smiling. "Can you whistle?Strawberry-pickers must whistle all the time they are at work; you knowthat, don't you?"

Poppy looked up very gravely. "I can't whistle, " she said regretfully, "but I can sing. Will that do, Cousin Charlotte?"

Miss Charlotte laughed and kissed her. "Yes, my pet, anything that willprevent too many strawberries finding their way down Red Lane. "

The others laughed merrily. Poppy began to understand. 

"Put on your shady hats, and I will get you some baskets. " And off theyran in a high state of delight. 

Esther waited. Though she had been full of excitement and pleasure aboutapproaching Miss Charlotte, she had felt very nervous, too, and this longdelay only increased her nervousness. 

Anna came in to clear the table; Penelope strolled away, no one knewwhere. Esther stood by the window looking out and drumming impatiently onit with her fingers. Anna looked at her once or twice as though she wouldlike to say something. No one cares to see a window covered withfinger-marks. But she did not say anything; she was in a hurry, andpresently retired to her kitchen, and Esther was left alone. 

"I thought last night it would be quite easy to be good here, " she said toherself, "but it doesn't seem so now. " She stood and gazed out at theriver disconsolately. It seemed to her that the others, who were notnearly as anxious to help as she was, were taking all her opportunities, and she was left, to seem idle and unkind--and really she meant sodifferently. 

Poor Esther! Once more, while full of big aims, she was overlooking thelittle chances. 

"Well, " she said at last in a very proud tone, "if no one wants me I willgo for a walk by myself. I shan't be in any one's way then!" She knewquite well she was in no one's way, but she was very aggrieved and full ofself-pity. 

She was just crossing the hall to put on her hat, when Miss Charlotteentered it. Then was her chance, and she knew it; but the old sullentemper had the upper hand, and forbade her to speak. By this time she hadlet herself feel as hurt as though Miss Charlotte had known what was inher mind and purposely ignored her. 

She passed on, put on her hat, and went out. She would not go to thegarden because she did not want to see the others happily at their work;so, when Miss Charlotte turned in to the kitchen, she slipped out at thefront door and walked away quickly up the road towards the station. She would not go past the cottages, she wanted to avoid every one;for that reason she avoided that part of the moor behind the house, where Penelope would probably be, if she were not in the house or garden. A little way up the road, on the right-hand side, a bridge crossed theriver. Esther went over it and found herself on the moor beyond, but sheturned away from it lest she should be seen, and clambered down to theriver's edge, where boughs and bushes shut her off from view. It waslonely there, and she wandered on and on, through sun and shadow, underlow-hanging branches, by tiny beaches of clean river-sand, and all the wayshe went the river ran beside her singing a low, cheery song as it rippledover its uneven bed. 

It could not be long before such loveliness must have a soothing effect onany troubled spirit. By degrees Esther's mood changed, her sense of wronggrew less, and presently she began to wish she had acted differently. If she only had, she might now have been busy and happy too. She began tofeel ashamed of herself. How foolish she had been. She would go backagain and see if she could not be more sensible, and she rose from herseat and turned her face homewards. 

The house seemed deserted when at last she reached it. She went into thehall, looked in the dining-room and drawing-room, saw no one, and strolledout to the garden. 

"Where can they all be?" she wondered, "and what can they be doing?"

From the kitchen came a great clatter of crockery. Anna was washingdishes, and by the noise one could gather that Anna's temper was not ofthe smoothest. 

As Esther stepped out she saw Miss Charlotte coming towards her from thegroup of outbuildings, carrying a basket of eggs. She was looking graveand worried, and for a moment Esther felt she could not speak to her then;she must wait until she found her again in such a mood as last night's. But a second glance told her that Miss Charlotte looked tired, and withoutgiving herself time to think, Esther stepped up to her. 

"Cousin Charlotte, " she said, "I have nothing to do; let me help you--mayI?"

Cousin Charlotte's face brightened. "Oh, could you, dear? I am so busy Idon't know what to do first. I wonder if you could wash those eggs forme, and write the date on them?"

Esther assented joyfully, and Miss Ashe led her to the pantry and showedher where to find a cloth and a pencil and a place to store the eggs. 

"While you are doing that, I can make out my list to send to Gorley; thatwill be capital!"

"Cousin Charlotte, " said Esther, in a voice that trembled a little withnervousness, "I--I wanted to speak to you. I--I--you said you were tryingto get another servant. " Miss Charlotte sighed. "I know you don't wantto, and--and don't you think we could manage without one, if I--if Ihelped Anna?" Her voice was trembling, uncertain, but there was nomistaking the earnestness of her purpose. "I used to help a lot at home, and I should like to here. I can sweep, and dust, and make beds, andclean silver, and cook some things, and--oh, I can do lots of littleuseful things. I could keep our bedrooms dusted, and the drawing-room--and it would all help, wouldn't it?"

Miss Ashe, who had paused in what she was doing, listened attentively. "My dear, " she said, as gravely as Esther herself, "it is very good andthoughtful of you to think of such a thing, and you can certainly be mostuseful in many ways, but I hardly know what to think about trying to dowithout an extra servant. I cannot let you work too hard; you will haveyour studies, you know, and we are rather a large family now. I cannotlet you become a little slave with no time for enjoyment; at the sametime, I must admit I really do not know how Anna and another maid wouldget on. Anna does not like the idea, and to prove that one is notnecessary, she slaves and slaves to do everything herself, gets over-tiredand worried, and--and--well, she is very difficult; her only fault is hertemper, but that _is_ rather trying. I know she means well, and I keep ontelling myself so. She gets so hurt and offended if I try to help her;she seems quite to resent it; and it requires a great deal of tact, more than I possess, I am afraid, " concluded Miss Ashe with another deepsigh. 

"Perhaps she wouldn't mind so much if I helped her, " said Esther shrewdly;"you see, it is we who have made so much extra work. Do let me try, Cousin Charlotte, if it is only for a time. "

Esther's face was very eager, her voice very pleading; Cousin Charlottecould not resist the appeal, and gave in with another sigh, but of reliefthis time. Esther, in her joy and excitement, marked every egg twice withthe wrong date, but what did it matter when she had gained her point?

For a few minutes Miss Ashe went on making her list, but in anabsent-minded fashion. "I wonder, " she said at last, rather nervously, "how it would be best to broach the subject to Anna?"

Esther looked up somewhat puzzled; she would have gone straight out toAnna and told her she was going to undertake this, that, and the otherthing, and give all the help she could, but Miss Ashe had other views, born of experience. 

"My dear, " she said, smiling rather shamefacedly, as though aware of herweakness, "it all depends on how we manage it, whether all goes smoothly, or there is constant friction. I think the best way will be not to speakto Anna about it as though we had planned it, but just begin gradually, doing what you can. I think it is always wiser not to begin violentlywith changes and reforms. No one likes to have new plans made and thruston them, or their work taken from them, even though they grumble at havingto do it. We should not like it ourselves, should we, dear?"

Esther's memory flashed back to the morning, and her objection to Angela'sdesire to share in the new scheme; she understood something of what MissCharlotte meant. 

"I think, dear, if you just go about quietly, with your eyes open, readyto give a little help when you see an opportunity, that would be the bestway; then by degrees you will build a little niche for yourself, and getyour own duties; and Anna, instead of resenting your help, will grow totrust you, and count on you, and be grateful. "

"Yes, Cousin Charlotte, " agreed Esther, but in a not very enthusiasticvoice. She saw the wisdom of the plan, but it was rather a descent fromthe beautiful scheme by which she was to have been the help and comfort ofthem all, and she felt she might as well say 'good-bye' at once to the bigaprons and white sleeves which had formed such a delightful feature of herplans. 

"Things never turn out just as we want them to, " she sighed, "and theymight so easily if people's tempers were not so tiresome. " But at thatpoint she paused suddenly, and had the grace to blush warmly, though noone was there to see her. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"Oh dear!" sighed Esther, dropping wearily into the chair by her bedroomwindow. "I _am_ so tired!"

Anna looked up in surprise from her task of bed-making. 

"Tired, Miss Esther!" she exclaimed. "Whatever with? You oughtn't to betired at this time of day. "

"I am though, " said Esther, sighing again; "tired of doing nothing, I suppose. You see, I used to have lots to do at home, and I miss it. "

"Did you, missie? Well, I'm thinking if I had a chance to sit still I'dbe only too glad, and not grumble, I know. " And Anna thumped a pillowvigorously. 

"I don't think you would, " said Esther. "You would soon get tired. But perhaps you don't like doing housework. I do; I love it. "

"Do you really, miss?" said Anna, as though such a taste were past hercomprehension. "Well, you'll have enough to do next week, when yourlessons begin. "

"Yes, " assented Esther, "but they won't take long; and it's dusting andtidying, and all that sort of thing that I like. I wish I had a littlehouse of my very own. I would do all the work in it myself. I'd love toblacklead a grate, and clean windows, and scrub tables and things--oh, Anna, do let me help you, or I shall grow homesick and miserable. Do let me do some dusting for you; I'd love to--will you?"

Anna was quite touched by Esther's piteous appeal; also she herselfdetested dusting and 'finicking work, ' as she called it. 

"Would you really like to, dearie? Then you shall. I know it's miserablenot to know what to do with yourself; I used to feel like it when I was achild. I was never so happy as when I'd got real work to do; 'twas betterto me than play. You shall dust your own room presently, if you like. "

"Shall I? Oh, that will be nice. " Esther was on her feet in a moment, all her melancholy gone. "Where shall I find a duster, Anna?"

"Don't be in too much of a 'urry, Miss Esther. I reckon you wouldn't feelso pleased if you'd got to do it, " added Anna, laughing. "I'll give youthe duster and brush in a minute. You lend me a hand with this, if youwill, " turning the mattress on Poppy's bed, "and I'll be ready in half thetime; it's ever so much quicker done if there's two at it; you see, whenone's alone, one wastes so much time running round and round the bed. "

"Of course, " said Esther. "I wish I'd helped you sooner. I wonder howlong I should be learning to make a bed. Is it very difficult?"

"Not a bit, " said Anna, "once you've got into the way of it. First youspreads the blanket like so, and tucks it in--you must always begin at thebottom. "

 "First the foot and then the head, That's the way to make a bed. "

"My old grandmother taught me them lines when I wasn't more'n eleven, andI've never forgot 'em. Next you spreads the sheet just so, and you mustbe careful not to leave any creases in it. Then you beat up the bolsterand pillow, and lay them like that, " suiting the action to the words. "Then comes the top sheet, and the blankets. You must tuck each one in atthe bottom first, and then at the sides, and leave the top end loose, sothat when you've got the blankets spread, you turn the sheet neatly downover the blankets; and then you see it's all tidy under the quilt, readyfor when you come to turn down the bed at night. "

Esther followed her instructions closely to the end. "Shall I come andhelp you with the others?" she asked, as Anna moved off to Penelope'sroom; and Anna quite graciously consented. 

"I shall be glad enough to have the dusting done, " she said, as theyfinished off the other two little beds. "I've got to make jam to-day, andthat means that I can't leave the kitchen a minute when once I've put iton, " and Esther could have danced with joy. She was managing wonderfully, she told herself, and felt very proud. 

From the French window below they heard Miss Charlotte's voice. "Penelope!" she called. "Penelope, dear!"

Penelope came running up the garden at once. 

"Do you think you could walk as much as two miles without gettingover-tired?"

"Oh yes, " said Penelope, without a moment's hesitation. "I often walkedfive or six miles at home. Do you want me to go somewhere, CousinCharlotte?"

"Well, dear, I very much want some one to go to Four Winds for me. I promised some strawberries to a friend of mine, Miss Row, who lives justoutside Four Winds. She is giving a garden-party to-day, and I know sheis relying on my sending her some fruit. I thought Ephraim would havebeen able to go, but he started for Gorley before I could speak to him. "

"I should love to go, " said Penelope. "I will start at once. Which wayis it, Cousin Charlotte?"

"You go past the houses here, and keep on the main road, right up thehill, until you come to the top; just before you reach the top you willcome to a church. "

"Oh, I know, " cried Penelope. "I went there yesterday, and when I came tothe church it was open, and some one was playing the organ, and I went inand sat in one of the pews for ever so long to listen. "

"Oh, is that where you were?" said Miss Charlotte. "I wondered what hadbecome of you. Well, when you go so far another time, dear, take Guardwith you. We rarely, if ever, get a tramp, or any other undesirableperson about these parts, we are too remote, and too poor to be worthcoming so far to find, but all the same I do not like you to go aboutquite alone. Take him with you now, dear. When you reach the church youmust go on a little further, until you come to the village; then you crossthe square straight, keep down the next hill a little way, and you willsoon come to a large white gate with 'Cold Harbour' painted on it. That is my friend's house. Go in, and ask for Miss Row, and if you cansee her, give her the basket and this note. If you can't see her you mustleave them; but I hope you will, for I should like you to rest a littlebefore you take the walk back. "

Penelope took the basket, and was starting straight away with it. 

"I think, dear, you had better wash your hands and brush your hair beforeyou go, " said Cousin Charlotte. "Miss Row is very good and kind, but sheis a very particular lady, and I want you to make a good impression onher; besides, one lady never calls on another with soiled hands. "

"Oh, of course!" Penelope blushed and ran upstairs, and some few minuteselapsed before she walked out and through the village, her basket ofstrawberries on her arm, and Guard at her heels. 

It was a glorious day, with rather a stiff breeze blowing, and clouds andsunshine chasing each other along the road. If it had not been for theclouds, and the intervals when the shadows had overtaken the sun, the walkwould have been a hot one; but Penelope did not notice that, her mind wasabsorbed by other things, for suddenly it seemed to her that it was ratheran alarming thing to be going alone to face a strange, and veryparticular, lady, and she felt a great shyness coming over her. She tried to forget it by racing the cloud, as it chased the sunshine, and the sunshine as it overtook the cloud, and so, at last, she came tothe church. She paused a moment to listen, but the organ was silentto-day, so on she went again, but more soberly, and soon found herself inthe village square, with little low-roofed houses on either side and apump in the middle of the square, and two or three happy ducks paddlingabout in the damp earth by the trough. Guard, as though he knew it ofold, went up to the pump for a drink. The ducks fled, tumbling over eachother in their hurry, scrambling and quacking indignantly at the greatcreature who had so disturbed their pleasure; but Guard, quiteunconcerned, drank, and went calmly on his way again until he led Penelopestraight to the white gate with 'Cold Harbour' painted on it. 

A short drive led from the gate to the house, and Penelope felt horriblyshy and conscious as she made her way up it. It seemed to her thatsomebody might be watching her from every window, and there were so manywindows it was quite embarrassing. 

But, apparently, no one had witnessed her approach, for she stood quite along time at the door, not able to reach the knocker or find the bell. She rapped with her knuckles; but they grew sore and produced no result, for the sound did not reach beyond the door-mat, or so it seemed to her, and the vast, still hall within appeared to swallow up everything. Guard lay down at last on the gravel and went to sleep, and Penelopelonged to sit beside him. She was tired, and her arm aching a good dealfrom carrying the basket. 

But at last, just as she was beginning to get anxious and a little vexed, a servant crossed the hall on her way to one of the rooms, and saw her. 

"Good morning, " said Penelope. "I have been trying to ring the bell, butI don't know where you keep it. "

The servant, an elderly woman, who looked like the cook, smiled. "There's a brave many can't do that, " she said. "There, " showing Penelopea little knob like a button, "there 'tis; 'tis one of them new-fangledelectric things. I can't abide 'em myself; they may be very fine and nicefor towns, but in the country, where we don't have to count every inch ofroom, give me the good old sort. 'Tis such a silly noise these makes, too, like a child's toy, yet it never sounds but what I jumps nearly outof my skin. "

Penelope wished one would sound then, that she might see so wonderful asight. But she only smiled. 

"I wanted to see Miss Row, please. I've come from Miss Ashe. "

"Please to walk inside, miss, " said cook, very amiably; and Penelopefollowed her through the dim hall to a large room where a lady was sittingat a table littered with vases, cans of water, and quantities of cutflowers. She was rather a severe-looking lady, and glanced up so sharplywhen cook opened the door and showed the visitor in, that Penelope was, for the moment, quite frightened. But it was not Penelope's way to remainfrightened for long, and she soon recovered herself, as did Miss Row whenshe saw that the intruder was not a very formidable person. 

"I have brought you these from Cousin Charlotte, " said Penelope, advancingto the table with her wide, frank smile; "and I was to give them to youmyself if you were at home. "

Miss Row took the basket and the letter, but she was paying more attentionto their bearer than to either. 

"I suppose you are one of Miss Ashe's young cousins?" said Miss Rowabruptly. 

"Yes, I am Penelope, the second eldest. "

"Well, sit down for a little while, and rest before you walk back again. "

Penelope, not being directed to any particular seat, and seeing by thewindow a little low, upright chair, evidently made for small people likeherself, went over and seated herself on it with much satisfaction. 

But Miss Row, glancing up presently from her letter, felt no satisfactionat all; in fact she gave quite a scream when she saw her. "Oh, child, "she cried. "Get off that chair this moment, quick! quick! It isn't meantto be sat on; it is far too old and valuable. Oh dear! you might havebroken it right down, or--oh dear, oh dear, to think that out of all inthe room you should have chosen that one!"

Penelope sprang to her feet at once. At first she felt terribly alarmed, then very angry; it made one feel so small to be screamed at in that way. 

"I--I didn't know--how could I?" she said crossly. "Is it a brokenchair?" What she longed to say was, "Why do you keep it there if it is sounsafe?" but she felt that would be rude. "I am very sorry, " she added, forcing herself to be polite. "Is it a very old chair?"

"Yes, very old. It was made for my great-great-grandmother, when she wasa little girl, and I value it exceedingly. Unfortunately the last two orthree years worms have got into the wood, and have eaten it so it is quitecrumbling away. "

"But can't you do anything for it?" asked Penelope, her vexation swallowedup in pity for the chair. She was thinking that if she had valued it somuch she would have taken better care of it. 

But Miss Row had returned to her letter again. When she had done she roseand rang the bell. "You can take some milk and cake before you go, can'tyou?" she asked. 

"Yes, I think so, thank you, " said Penelope modestly. "But I left Guardoutside. Will he stay, do you think?"

"Oh yes, he is used to waiting here. "

Cook came in presently with a tray, on which was a large jug of milk, someglasses, and a plate of cakes of various kinds. Penelope thought theylooked beautiful, so beautiful that she longed to take some back to theothers. She knew exactly how thoroughly they would enjoy them; but, ofcourse, no sign of what she was thinking escaped her. 

She was wondering which of all them she might take for herself, when MissRow took up the plate. "I think you will find that very nice, " pointingto a piece of uninteresting-looking shortbread, "or that, " pointing to aslice of ginger-cake. "They would be less likely than the others todisagree with you. "

Penelope longed to say that nothing disagreed with her, but she did notlike to, and helped herself with the best grace she could to theshortbread. 

Miss Row continued arranging her flowers, sipping a glass of milkmeanwhile, and eating one after another of the fascinating little sugaredcakes Penelope was eyeing so wistfully, while she nibbled at her thickpiece of shortbread, unable to get a real bite. There really was nosatisfaction about that shortbread. It was so hard as to be unbiteable, and so crumbly it scattered all over the floor; while with one handoccupied holding the glass of milk, and the other the cake, she could notpick up the crumbs, or break the piece. When she saw the crumbs fillingher lap and pouring off on to the carpet, poor Penelope wished she haddeclined to have anything, and sat in misery wondering what she could do. 

Presently Miss Row looked around at her, and her sharp eyes fellimmediately on the litter on her usually speckless carpet. "Oh dear, " shesaid with the little click of her tongue which expressed annoyance moreeffectually than any words could. Then, perhaps catching sight of thechild's mortified face, she tried to pass it off. 

"I expect your Cousin Charlotte has a trial with the four of you, "she said, in what she meant to be a joking manner; but her words, and thelittle laugh that accompanied them, were worse to Penelope than anything. 

"I--we--try not to be more troublesome than we can help, " she saidshortly, without a trace of a smile on her face. "Cousin Charlottedoesn't seem to mind--and we try to help as much as we can. " Then, aftera moment's silence, "I--I wish I hadn't taken it. It was so crumbly I_couldn't_ eat it without its falling all about; and the chair is so highmy feet don't touch, so they all ran off my lap. " She meant the crumbs, though it sounded as if she was speaking of her feet. 

Perhaps something told Miss Row that she had not been very kind, for hertone changed. "I ought to have thought of it, dear, " she said. It was the first time she had ever been known to call any one 'dear'. 

"I think I had better go now, please Miss Row, " said Penelope verygravely. She still felt mortified and unhappy. 

"I wonder if you would mind waiting just a little longer, then I couldhave your company as far as the church. I must go and have my practice, or I shall not be ready for Sunday. "

Penelope looked up with sudden interest, all her mortification andresentment forgotten. "Oh, was it you who was playing there on Tuesday?"

Miss Row nodded. "Probably, I don't know of any one else who plays thatorgan. Why? What do you know about it?"

"I walked up there the day after we came, and I heard the organ, and Iwent in and listened for ever so long. I hope you don't mind. The door was open, and I thought any one might go in. "

"Mind? Oh dear no! I am only thankful some one besides myself takes anyinterest in it. Are you fond of music?"

"I love it! I love to hear it! I can't play yet, but I want to learn, and I _think_, " gravely, "I'd rather play the organ than anything. I do want to learn to play so well that I can earn money by it. "

"Oh, you mercenary little person, " laughed Miss Row. "What can you wantwith money?"

Penelope did not know what 'mercenary' meant. She understood the secondquestion, but she did not know whether she was at liberty to answer it ornot. Miss Row seemed, though, to be waiting for a reply, so she feltobliged to. 

"We all want to help Cousin Charlotte and father, " she added, with greatearnestness. "You see we are so many, and it costs such a lot to keep usall, so Esther says, and I don't know _how_ to help, but I am trying tothink of a way. "

Miss Row looked at her little companion very thoughtfully, with a somewhatpuzzled expression. She herself had never known what it was to wantmoney. She was a wealthy woman, and she did a certain amount of good withher wealth, subscribing to many charities, but it never occurred to herthat there might be anxiety and need amongst people of her own class, still less among those she knew. Penelope's words opened a new vistabefore her, and set her wondering if there were not many things she hadmissed for want of eyes and understanding. 

"If you could play the organ, " she said at last slowly, "it would be yearsbefore you could earn your living by it. You could not do much until youwere seventeen or eighteen. "

"No, " said Penelope sadly. "That is the worst of it, and by that timeperhaps daddy will be able to have us out to Canada; but it would alwaysbe useful, for I daresay there are organs in Canada, and I don't supposedaddy will ever be very rich again, and--and if I only knew how to play Icould help if I was wanted to. "

"It is always a great pleasure and solace too, even if one only plays forone's own pleasure, " said Miss Row softly. 

She led the way into the hall, unhung a hat and put it on, and precededPenelope to the door. Guard, hearing their footsteps, rose from his sleepin the sun, and expressed his delight. 

On their way through the garden Miss Row gathered quite a large nosegay oflovely roses and carnations and mignonette, and as she wandered from bushto bush, Penelope followed her in a state of perfect delight. She was passionately fond of flowers. 

At last they made their way into the road and up the hill. Miss Row wasrather silent. Penelope talked and Miss Row listened, but she did not saymuch until they came to the gate of the church and stopped. 

"Tell Miss Ashe I will come and see her tomorrow. Give her my love andthanks for the fruit, and for introducing one of her cousins to me--you, Imean, " touching Penelope's cheek lightly with her finger. "And these arefor you, " placing in Penelope's hands the lovely flowers she had beencarrying all this time. 

Penelope gasped with delight. "For Cousin Charlotte! oh, how lovely, Ithought they were for the church. "

"They are for neither. They are for you yourself, " said Miss Row, withjust the faintest tinge of colour in her cheeks. For one second Penelopelooked incredulous; then in a kind of rapture she held her bouquet closer. "Oh, thank you very, very, _very_ much, " she said earnestly. "I never hadanything so lovely in my life before, " and she put up her face with theprettiest grace imaginable to kiss her new friend. 

"I am glad you are pleased, " said Miss Row smilingly. "Now, good-bye. Perhaps I may see you on Sunday. "

"On Sunday?" said Penelope puzzled. 

"If you come to church. "

"Oh, do we come up here to this dear little church? I am so glad, I didn't know. I hope we shall all come. Good-bye, and thank you, and, "--hesitating a little and colouring warmly--"I am _so_ sorry aboutthe crumbs;" and waving her hand to her new friend as she disappearedwithin the church, she ran off in a state of high glee. 

Mrs. Vercoe was standing at her door as Penelope passed. "Good-morning, missie, " she said. "I reckon you'm fond of walking. I was the same whenI was young. Oh my! what bootiful flowers!"

Penelope stayed to display her treasures. "You must have one of them, Mrs. Vercoe, " she said, selecting one of the handsomest roses from herbouquet. 

Mrs. Vercoe was vastly pleased. "'Tisn't often one has a flower like thatnow, " she exclaimed delightedly. "It'll brighten up my bit of a placewonderful. Thank you kindly, missie "; and she disappeared into her houseto place her treasure in water. 

Penelope was hurrying on, when, glancing round to look for Guard, her eyefell on Mrs. Bennett standing at her shop door. Mrs. Bennett said"good-morning, " and Penelope returned the greeting; but she had gone astep or two before it occurred to her that she had not been very graciousor kind to the post-mistress. Mrs. Bennett must have seen her stop andgive a flower to Mrs. Vercoe. She paused, then slipped back to Mrs. Bennett's door. "Would you like one of my pretty flowers?" she asked. 

"Oh no, thank you, miss. Don't you pull your bookay to pieces for me, "she answered civilly, but with just the slightest toss of her head. She was really a little hurt and jealous, for she had seen that Penelope'soffer to Mrs. Vercoe was quite spontaneous. Penelope, conscious of thefeeling that had been in her own heart, was ashamed and sorry. "Do please let me give you one, " she said earnestly. "I want to. I have such a lot it would be greedy to keep them all. "

Mrs. Bennett backed into her shop. "Won't you come inside, missie?" shesaid, much more graciously. "Your little hands are almost too small;you'm in danger of dropping some of them. "

Penelope followed her in gladly enough. She could not bear to think shehad hurt any one's feelings, even any one she did not particularly like. Mrs. Bennett led the way into her parlour, where Penelope had never beenbefore. It held all the treasures she was most proud of, and the windowwas full of geraniums, fuchsias, and hanging baskets of 'Mothers ofThousands, ' blocking out most of the light. While Penelope was selectinga flower Mrs. Bennett stepped to the window. 

"Are you fond of flowers, miss?"

"Oh, _very_, " said Penelope, "I _love_ them. I wish I could grow some. I think I shall ask Cousin Charlotte to let me have a little bit of gardenof my own. Do you think I should ever get anything to grow?"

She talked on rapidly, partly because she was really interested and partlyin the hope of ministering balm to Mrs. Bennett's wounded feelings. 

"Oh yes, missie, of course you could, and if you'd like a split or two ofgeranium I'd be glad to give 'ee some off of any of mine, or you couldhave 'em in pots in your own windy. Have 'ee got a windy-ledge to yourroom?"

"Yes, " said Penelope eagerly. 

"Then you could grow mignonette and lots of things there. Look at mine. I've got flowers 'most all the year round. "

Penelope stepped over to look closer at the beautiful pelargoniums, thegreat white geraniums, and graceful fuchsias, all blooming as happily intheir narrow space as though it had been a handsome conservatory. 

"Oh, and what is that?"

Two halves of a cocoanut shell hung from the top of the window with acurious little creeping plant growing in them, and sending long, hangingtendrils down over the sides. 

"I was going to ask you if you would accept one of these, missie, by wayof a beginning. We calls 'em 'Mothers of Thousands' here, and a very goodname for 'em. I tilled both those last year from my old plant there, andlook how they've growed a'ready. "

Penelope was overjoyed. To have a plant of her very own, and growing in acocoanut shell, too, gave her the greatest delight. She thanked Mrs. Bennett profusely, took her new present almost reverently, and hardly knewhow she got home, her hands were so full of treasures and her mind ofexcitement. 

CHAPTER X. 

The next day, according to promise, Miss Row came to call on Miss Ashe. The children were all out and very busy when she came, and did not knowanything about the call until Cousin Charlotte came to the garden to themafter. 

Esther was shelling peas, Penelope was filling flower-pots in which toplant some mignonette seeds she had bought at Mrs. Vercoe's that morning. Angela and Poppy were playing shops. They had the long stool Anna usedfor her washing-trays on washing-days. This was their counter, and on itthey had arranged their stock of goods--a little pile of unripestrawberries, another of currants, a heap of pebbles to represent nuts, gravel for sugar, and earth for tea. One of their greatest treasures wasa little tin scoop which Anna had presented to them, and which they tookit in turns to use. They both stood behind the stool, with a pile ofnewspaper cut into all kinds of shapes and sizes in front of them, andwere apparently kept as busy as could be by the constant stream ofinvisible customers which flowed into their shop. 

When Miss Charlotte came out she found them as busy as possible. "Penelope, " she called, "I want to speak to you, dear. I have somethingto tell you--something that I think will please you very much, dear. "

Penelope looked up from her seed-sowing with a face full of pleasedsurprise. 

"I have had a visitor, Miss Row, and she has offered to give you lessonson the organ if you would like to learn. She tells me she thinks youwould. It is very kind of Miss Row, and a great opportunity for you. "

"I'd _love_ to, I told her so. " Penelope stopped abruptly, her facecrimsoning. "Oh, I hope she did not think I was asking!"

"No, dear, she certainly did not think that, " said Miss Charlottereassuringly. "I know my friend well enough to know that she would neverhave made the offer if she had. "

"But where can I learn?" asked Penelope. "I shouldn't be allowed to usethe organ in the church, should I?"

"I think so; but Miss Row will settle all that. You see, her father usedto be the vicar at Four Winds, and she has been the organist ever sinceshe was sixteen--"

"Sixteen!" cried Penelope. "Can I be an organist when I am sixteen?"

"As I was saying, " said Cousin Charlotte, in a slight tone of reproof, "she has been the organist there since she was sixteen, and all for love, so no one would be so ungrateful as to object to her using it. "

"Oh, how beautiful, how beautiful, and just the very thing I wanted. "Penelope fairly danced with delight. "Isn't it strange, " she said, "how one gets just the very things one has been longing for?"

Esther did not make any remark. The old demon jealousy surged up in herheart and forbade her saying anything that was nice or kind. 

"Why was it that Penelope always attracted all the notice, and madefriends, and got the very things she longed for?" she asked herselfangrily. She wished she had said she would like to learn to play theorgan, and had made friends with Miss Row; then perhaps she would have hadlovely flowers given her, and be thought a lot of. Having finished hertask she picked up her things and walked away into the house. Penelope looked after her, a little hurt at her seeming want of interest. Angela and Poppy had dropped their play and were bubbling over with joyfulsympathy. 

"Angela dear, " said Miss Charlotte, "will you go to the henhouse for me, and see if there are any eggs there?"

Angela was delighted. She was always longing to be employed, and sheloved anything to do with the fowls or the garden. 

Miss Ashe's fowl-houses were models of what fowl-houses should be, airy, snug, and beautifully clean; and her fowls were something to be proud of. Angela ran off at once, found three eggs, and took them into the house. Miss Ashe was busy in the pantry tying down jam. 

"I wonder if you could mark them for me, " she said. "My fingers are verysticky. "

Angela took the pencil and did her best. The figures were clumsy, butthey were her neatest. They were something like this--22/6. 

She looked up at her cousin with shamed eyes and rosy cheeks as she heldout the eggs. 

"That will do, " said Miss Charlotte kindly. "You will soon be able tomake tiny figures. " Then, as Esther had done once before, Angela put theeggs in their box; but Esther had forgotten all about her first task inher anxiety to get others. 

"Cousin Charlotte, if I learn to write better, may I always collect theeggs and mark them? I'd love to. I love the chicken and fowls, and I'dtry to do it properly. " She was very eager and very shy about making herrequest. 

"I shall be very glad indeed of your help, " said Cousin Charlotte. "Anna seems too busy and Ephraim forgets; he thinks eggs and hens toounimportant for his notice. I, though, think them very important indeed;they make quite a nice little addition to one's income, I find. "

"Do they?" said Angela, full of interest. "When I grow up I shall keepfowls too, I think. "

"You will have to learn all about them first, " said Cousin Charlotte, "but that you can begin to do at once. You have them here always underyour eyes, and you must keep your eyes open and take in all you can. "

Angela felt, as Penelope had done, that all her dearest wishes were beinggranted at once. "Is there something else I can do for you, CousinCharlotte?" she asked. 

"Yes, dear, if you will. I want to send those fresh eggs up to MissBazeley. She has a lady lodging there who is ill, and Miss Bazeley's hensseem to have all stopped laying just as she most wants fresh eggs. "

"I'd like to go. I'll go now, " said Angela, running off to get her hat. 

"You can take Poppy with you, dear. It is not far, and you can't make amistake. Miss Bazeley's house is the very last in the village; it standsat the side of the hill on the way to Four Winds. "

"I think I know; it has a honeysuckle arch over the gate, hasn't it?"

"Yes, sharp eyes. Now run along. "

Esther was up in her room, trying to work herself into a better state ofmind. She knew she was jealous of Penelope's good fortune, and she wasvexed with herself for being so. When people recognise their weaknesses, and see the wrong of them, they are on a fair way to recovery--if theychoose. 

Esther did really want to get the better of the nasty moods and tempersthat she, better than any one, knew she suffered from, and presently shecame down in quite an altered frame of mind, though a little embarrassedto know how to express herself. 

Penelope was in the garden alone, busy over her flower-pots once more. Esther went up to her wondering what she could say, but Penelope looked upwith so grave a face Esther found her speech at once. 

"Aren't you glad?" she asked in surprise. 

"Oh yes, " cried Penelope enthusiastically. 

"So am I, " said Esther, and with the same felt her burden of jealousy fallfrom her. "It will be fine; it was the very thing you wanted. But youdon't look glad. "

"I am, " said Penelope emphatically; "but I was thinking how kind every oneis, and I do want to do something for them--and I don't know how. There don't seem to be any ways for children to help grown-ups. "

Esther stood very still and quiet for a moment. Then, after a little shyhesitation, she said, "Cousin Charlotte says we can always help eachother, only we must not be always looking out for big things to do. If we do the little things, we shall do big things, too, in time. "

"Oh, " said Penelope. "I suppose I shall get to know what little things todo. What I would like would be to give Miss Row a beautiful organ, andMrs. Bennett a greenhouse, and Cousin Charlotte--oh, a lot of money andthings, and--and--"

"I don't suppose Mrs. Bennett would know what to do with a greenhouse ifshe had it, " said Esther wisely. 

"Don't you?" said Penelope disappointedly, and was silent for some time, pondering the matter. "Well, " with a sigh of resignation, "I'll give herone of my pots of mignonette when it grows--that will be something--justto show I care, and perhaps--"

But what Penelope intended to say further was lost for ever, for at thatmoment there was a rush through the house and garden, a chorus of criesand exclamations, and Angela and Poppy and Guard burst on them like asmall hurricane. 

"Oh, do look!" cried Angela, her face flushed, her eyes dancing with joy--"do look what Miss Bazeley has given me! Oh, it is such a darling!And the poor mite has no mother, or brothers or sisters. And _do_ youthink Cousin Charlotte will let me keep it? It is a very good one, MissBazeley says. What sort did she call it, Poppy? I said it over and overso as to remember, and have forgotten it after all. "

"It was somefin like the name of a sweety, " said Poppy, racking her brainso hard she brought a frown to her brow. "Was it somefin drop, or rock, or--"

"I know it was something like Edinburgh Rock. "

"Plymouth Rock, perhaps, " said Miss Ashe's voice, close behind them. In their excitement they had not heard her coming, and they all sprangaround with a start. "What is it, dear?" looking at the little basketAngela was holding so carefully. 

As if in reply, a tiny, very forlorn 'che-ep' came from the inside. 

"It is a dear little motherless chick, Cousin Charlotte, " cried Angelaeagerly. "A tiny baby one, and it's an orphan. A fox killed its poormother, and the other hens won't be kind to it; they are very cruel to it, Miss Bazeley says, and she asked me if I would like to have it. May I, Cousin Charlotte? Do you mind? I will take care of it, and then someday, when it lays eggs, you shall have all the eggs. "

"Well, we will see about that when the time comes, " said Cousin Charlotte. "Yes, dear, you may certainly keep it. I foresee I shall have a rivalpoultry-yard in my own garden. "

Angela and Poppy ran off in a state of the highest glee; but when they gotto the yard, and all the hens ran towards them in expectation, they wereafraid to trust their treasure alone among the crowd. 

"You will have to try to get one of the hens to mother it, " said MissCharlotte, who had followed them, "or it will die of cold and loneliness. "

This presented some difficulty. As soon as the little chick was put downit would run to the nearest hen as if it thought it had found its mother, but the hens would have nothing to say to it; first one and then anotherpecked it savagely, until the poor little thing was nearly scared todeath. 

At last Miss Charlotte threw down some oatmeal before a coop where asolemn old hen sat with half a dozen chicks playing about her. As soon asthey saw the food, the greedy little creatures poured out, while themother rose and clucked noisily with annoyance at not being able tofollow. Angela put the orphan chick down amongst the others; for a secondit cheeped pitifully; then it, too, began to eat. As soon as the lastgrain had gone some more was thrown into the coop for the old hen. Allthe chicks poured back helter-skelter into the coop, the orphan amongstthem, and the hen took it into her family circle without demur, and thebaby Plymouth Rock's life was saved. 

After that, to say that Angela was as fussy as a hen with one chick was tospeak but very mildly of her condition. She looked on it as thefoundation of her fortunes, and, surely, she thought, no one had everowned such a beautiful chick before. 

The next day Penelope went to the church at twelve o'clock to have herfirst lesson. She went off jubilantly; she returned a little less so. Miss Row was unaccustomed to children, or to teaching, and she had neverbeen considered a patient woman. 

"I believe it is going to be dreadfully hard, " Penelope confided to theothers, as they gathered round her. They had all gone to meet her, andhear her experiences. They had always been so much together that whathappened to one was of the keenest interest to all. 

"I don't believe I shall ever learn, there are such lots of things toremember, and Miss Row doesn't like to explain a thing more than once, andyou've _got_ to remember. "

Esther began to feel thankful that she had not expressed a desire to knowhow to play the organ. She much preferred to do housework and not bescolded. Penelope's next words then came as a shock. 

"Oh, and what _do_ you think! Miss Row wants us to sing in the choir!She says we _must_. She can get scarcely any one to sing, and she says itwill be good for us, and we shall be very glad by and by--"

"Oh, I couldn't!" cried Angela, overcome with nervousness. "I haven't gotany voice, and I don't know how to; and I couldn't sing with all thepeople looking at me. "

"It will be dreadful, " said Penelope drearily. "But Miss Row says weshall be glad later on--"

"People always say that when they want one to do anything one simply hatesdoing. But she can't make us, can she? I shall ask Miss Charlotte to saywe can't. I am sure she will when she knows how much we don't want to. I wish you had never said anything, Penelope, about the organ, andlearning to play, and all that. Miss Row would never have thought of itif you hadn't, " grumbled Esther; and Penelope, feeling the truth of it, looked more dejected than ever. After her first encounter with Miss Rowas a teacher, the prospect before her looked anything but enticing, and she was haunted by a feeling that she had not declined the honour asfirmly as she might have done, for the sake of the others. 

They all turned and walked homewards very gloomily. The only cheerfulmember of the party was Poppy. "I wouldn't mind singing in church, " shesaid, "if nobody wouldn't look at me. I can sing 'Once in Royal David'sCity' all through. "

"It doesn't seem so bad if you haven't _got_ to, " said Angela miserably. "But when you have, it is awful. I--I almost wish I'd never come toDorsham, and yet--I loved it so till this happened. "

During dinner Miss Charlotte looked at the four from time to time, firstwith faint surprise, then with anxiety. They were so quiet, so gloomy, sochanged. When she had spoken two or three times and received polite, butthe briefest of answers, she began to feel she must get to the bottom ofthe mystery. 

"Well, Penelope, did you enjoy your organ lesson, dear?" she askedbriskly. 

Penelope looked up with the ghost of her old comical smile gleaming in hereyes. "Well, I--I didn't exactly _enjoy_ it, " she said, trying to bepolite and truthful at the same time. "It is rather hard at first, but--but I wouldn't mind that if--if--"

"If what, dear?" asked Miss Charlotte gently. "Is it anything I can helpin?"

"No-o, I am afraid not, thank you. It's the singing--Miss Row wants usall to sing in the choir!"

The great and terrible news was out, the shadow that hung over them wasexplained, and eight eyes gazed at Miss Charlotte, expecting to read inher face something of the shock and dismay they had felt, instead of whichshe sat looking quite unmoved and rather amused. "Well, dears, I don'tsee anything very dreadful in that. Do you?"

"But we can't, " cried Esther. "We can't sing, except just a little bit toourselves. "

"But you can learn. I don't suppose Miss Row, or any one else, wouldexpect you to sing perfectly at first. She would teach you. You said youwanted to learn all you could, didn't you, dear?"

"Ye-es, " said Esther slowly, feeling she was having the worst of theargument, but unmoved in her dread and dislike of joining the choir. "But I never thought of this; this is different. "

"Yes; but, dear, you will find very few things happen just as you wouldhave them to. We may miss the best chances of our lives if we insist onthat. You told me you wanted to save money and expense--now here is youropportunity. You will gain a knowledge of music and singing such as youcould not gain in any other way, for even if we had the means, there is noone here to teach you. I dare say you feel a little shy and nervous, butdon't be foolishly so, dears. All your lives you will be thankful you hadthis chance. "

Esther had no word to say. She felt she was in the wrong again, and thatis never a pleasant feeling. 

"But I could never sing before so many people, Cousin Charlotte, " saidAngela. "I wouldn't mind so much if it was only just ourselves, but I amsure I couldn't sing before strangers. "

"Then, dear, it will be good for you in another way. You must learn toget over your self-consciousness. You must not imagine the eyes of everyone are on you. You must try to forget all about yourself. Remember thatevery one there has a lot else to think about, and that you are only onelittle person amongst a number. " Cousin Charlotte laid her hand onAngela's to take away any seeming severity from her words. 

"I know Miss Row is always trying to make up a choir, and she has suchdifficulty. You would be doing her a real kindness if you help her; and Iknow you would like to do that, " with a smile at Esther. 

Esther sighed. "Yes, " she said hesitatingly. "But--but can't one ever dothings just in the way one likes, Cousin Charlotte? There are lots ofkind things I should love to do. "

"We may choose, generally, whether we will do a thing or not, or whetherwe will do it in our way, or the way that is mapped out for us. But usually if we choose our own, it is ourselves we please, and not theperson we are doing it for. But this we can always do, dearie--if we haveto do a thing we do not like, we can teach ourselves to like to do it. "

"It sounds like a riddle, " said Penelope. 

"It very often is, " said Miss Charlotte. "But am sure you will all growto love your singing and your choir when the first shyness is over, andthen you will be glad you gave in, and did not choose your own way. And of one thing you may be quite sure: if, as you think, you have novoices, Miss Row will soon tell you so, and you will not be bothered anymore about having to sing. "

But, after all, somehow it did not seem to them that that was what theywanted. 

CHAPTER XI. 

To the girls' relief they were not expected to appear at the very nextchoir practice. Miss Charlotte had a talk with her friend, which temperedher enthusiasm with common sense, with the result that the children hadtheir voices tried and two or three lessons given them before they wereexpected to appear in public, with the result that poor Poppy, the onlyone who really longed to be in the choir, was the only one denied thathonour. All their voices were pronounced quite good. But Poppy was tooyoung; it would strain her voice, she was told, and to her chagrin she hadto sit in an ordinary pew with Miss Ashe while the others sat in whatPoppy called the 'dear little' choir stalls in the chancel. 

But, to show her defiance of this objectionable, and, as she thought, unnecessary care for her voice, she sang always at the top of it. It happened often that she did not know the right words, but she alwaysmanaged to pick up the tune quickly, and with just one sentence to repeatover and over again, she got along to her own satisfaction, at any rateconvinced in her own mind that it would not be very long before they wouldbe glad to _ask_ her to come into the choir. 

So the days flew by and the summer slipped away; autumn had gone andwinter, almost, before they realised it, so full were their days withtheir lessons and their singing, their housework and gardening, walks onthe moor, and games and play. By degrees, as Miss Charlotte had foretold, each had made a little niche for herself. Esther had obtained almostcomplete charge of the drawing-room--no one else dusted it or arranged aflower in it. Penelope sometimes tried to find room in it for one of herpet plants, but unless permission was asked, and Esther chose the placewhere it might stand, the treasure was certain to be found 'in the way. '

She dusted their own bedrooms, too, and helped to make the beds, and didlots of other little duties; and at Christmas, to her great delight, Miss Charlotte had given her the much-longed-for sleeves and aprons. 

Angela had become, meantime, almost sole mistress of the hens and theeggs. She had begun by just collecting the eggs, and washing and markingthem, and she did her work so well that no one else ever thought oftroubling about them; and before very long, to her enormous pride, she wasgiven the task of packing them for market. And oh! the joy of it! thepleasure she took in laying the rich brown and creamy-white eggs in cosynests in the sweet-smelling hay; her pride in their appearance! The onlyflaw in her happiness was the fact that she could not carry the basket anddispose of the contents herself to the customers. She pictured herselfturning back the snow-white cloth from the top of the basket, and countingout her beloved treasures one by one. 

After that she began to feed the fowls, and keep account of the corn thatwas used, and the number of eggs that were laid. Anna consulted her quitegravely about the house scraps. 

Perhaps, though, the very happiest day of all her life, at any rate theproudest, was that on which Fluffikins laid her first egg. Angela, whenshe saw it and the little hen strutting up and down before the nest inwhich it lay, stood in a kind of speechless ecstasy, much as a youngauthor when his first work has been accepted, or an artist before hisfirst completed picture. Then she held out her arms to the proudFluffikins, who mounted to her shoulder, clucking happily; and, rubbingtheir cheeks against one another, they gazed ecstatically at the preciousegg. 

"Oh, Fluff, I _am_ so sorry to take it from you, " she cried, "but I _must_show it to Cousin Charlotte. Fluff, you darling, do go on and lay lotsmore. I want one every day, then you shall sit on some, and hatch outsome dear little baby chicks of your very own; and you shall live with metill you are an old, old bird, Fluffikins darling, and no one shall dareto--to--" she hesitated to name the dreadful word 'kill, '--"shallinterfere with you. You are what they call the 'founder' of my fortune, you precious bird. "

She did not take the egg in to show to Miss Charlotte after all. She thought of another plan. She took it in and showed it to Anna, and tothe girls, who gazed at it and marvelled at its beauty, but Miss Charlottewas not to see it until it appeared on her plate at tea, with aninscription on it to say whose it was. 

It hurt Angela very much to deprive poor Fluffikins of her treasure, but, while she was not looking, she slipped another new, warm egg in the nestin its place, and hoped the dear bird would not see through the fraud; andMiss Charlotte did deserve the honour, after all her goodness to Fluff andher mistress; in fact they were pledged to it. 

Cousin Charlotte could not suppress a slight start of surprise when shesaw the black-speckled thing in the egg-cup on her plate; but she was aspleased as the girls could wish when she read, 'My and Fluff's first eggfor you, ' and assured them, as she ate it under their united gaze, thatshe had never in her life tasted a better one. 

Poppy had constituted herself every one's hand-maiden and handy-maiden. If she were allowed to have a duster and dust-brush and help Esther, hercup of joy was full, but she was just as pleased to run to the post, or tothe shops, or to help Ephraim gather windfalls in the orchard, digpotatoes, or assist Anna in any way she was allowed to. And now that herparsley bed was really in full growth, in spite of its troubled beginning, she was very full of happy importance. To be asked if she could spare apennyworth of parsley filled her with pleasure for days. 

"I never saw anything like it, " she would say seriously, shaking herlittle purse the while. "It only cost me a penny, and I've made fourpenceby it already. I wonder every one doesn't grow parsley. "

"If they did, dear, there would be no one to sell to, " Cousin Charlotteexplained. 

Of them all Penelope did least to help. She had her flowers--quite acollection of them now. "But she doesn't do anything with them, "complained Esther one day. 

"They make the house pretty, " urged Angela, always ready to defend herroom-mate, "and they make our room so sweet and pretty. "

"But she should try to sell them, " argued Esther, "or--or do something. She seems to have forgotten all about helping Cousin Charlotte. "

"She doesn't get much time, " pleaded Angela, "by the time her lessons aredone, and her organ lesson, and the practice, and her reading--she alwaysreads for an hour a day, sometimes more. And--and there isn't any onehere to sell flowers to--"

At that moment Penelope herself dashed in on them, her eyes dancing, herface glowing. "Oh, girls, what _do_ you think?" she cried, as she flungher music-case on to one chair, her hat on another, and herself on athird. 

"What?" asked Esther, as she picked up the music-case and straightened thecushion it had knocked over. 

"Oh, _do_ tell, do tell quick, " urged Angela. 

"Well!" sitting up and clasping her hands tight in an ecstasy of pleasure, "you know Miss Row has friends staying with her. "

"Yes; but I don't see much in that to be excited about, " said Esther. 

"Well, one of them is called Mr. Somerset, and he is a musician, and he--he heard me sing. Miss Row made me sing on purpose. I was awfullyfrightened, but I got through all right, and--and what _do_ you think hesaid?"

Esther felt the old demon jealousy clutching at her heart at once. "I don't know, I'm sure, " she said coldly. "Do tell if you are going to, Penelope. I am too busy to wait. "

"Oh, what?" gasped Angela, with eager, questioning eyes. 

"He said, "--in an impressive, almost awed voice--"he said I had thepromise of a very fine voice, and--and no expense ought to be spared intraining it!" Penelope repeated the words slowly, like one in a dream. 

"Oh, Pen!" Angela gasped, almost speechless with delight, "did he really?"

Pen nodded. 

"What nonsense!" said Esther, in a strained voice, quite unlike her usualtones. 

Angela turned on her reproachfully. "Essie, aren't you glad?"

"Of course I am, " snapped Esther shortly; "but it is so silly to put suchthings into people's heads when there _is_ no money. I suppose he thinks weall ought to give up everything for this, and--and never thinks that therest of us might like to--to have lessons--"

Esther really did not mean a tenth of the hard things she was saying, andshe hated herself for saying them, but that wretched temper of hers gotthe upper hand of her again. She knew she was being mean and unkind, andit added to her vexation; but she had not the strength of will to get thebetter of it. In her calmer moments she longed to be one of those whocould rise above such mean jealousies, and be unselfish and brave andstrong, but when the trial came she succumbed. 

Penelope was too lost in happy dreams, though, to heed or be hurt byEsther's remarks. 

"Of course I can't have it trained, but all the same I _am_ glad I have anice voice, " she said in a happy, dreamy voice. "Fancy me, _me_, with abeautiful voice! Isn't it strange? Doesn't it seem as though it can't betrue? Oh, I _am_ so happy!"

"I always loved to hear you sing, dear, " said Angela, seating herself onthe ground at Penelope's feet and hugging her sister's knees. "And, Pen, just imagine if you could have lessons, and could sing atconcerts, and everybody wanted to hear you, and you made lots and lots ofmoney--wouldn't it be _lovely_! Esther, come and sit down and talk aboutwhat we would do if Pen were famous and made a heap of money. "Angela never doubted that what good fortune came to one would be shared byall. "Come and sit here, Esther. "

"It will be Penelope's money, " said Esther coldly. "It would be for herto say what she would do with it, not for us. I am busy; I can't staytalking nonsense, " and away she walked out of the room, leaving Penelopeand Angela with their spirits considerably lowered. 

"I don't know why it is, " sighed Penelope, roused at last from her happyoblivion, "but whenever I bring home what I think is good news it alwaysseems to upset Esther. I thought she was just dying for us all to be ableto do something to help father and Cousin Charlotte, and this seemed sucha lovely thing! Of course there is all the expense first, but _if_ I havea really good voice, later on I should be able to keep you all, and giveyou all you want. I think she might have seemed a little bit glad. "

"Perhaps she is worried, " said Angela, "because she wants you to havelessons, and there isn't any money for them, and--and I think she istired. "

"I wish she would not do so much and get so tired, " said Penelopewistfully. "We scarcely ever see her now; she hardly ever has any time toplay, and--and it is disappointing when she acts like that. " Penelope'svoice quavered a little, in spite of herself, and she rose and looked outof window that Angela might not see her misty eyes. 

"Never mind, dear, " coaxed comforting Angela, "don't you fret. Essie is asglad as either of us, _really_, and by and by she will be all right. Let us go out on the moor, and talk over what we will do when you arerich, shall we?"

"Yes, " said Penelope, with a little sigh, and a shake to shake off hergloom. "Dear old moor, I feel I want to lie down on it and hug it whenbig, nice things happen, and tell it all about them. Come along, Angel. "

Esther, from upstairs, saw them go out together, Angela's arm about Pen'swaist, Penelope's arm about Angela's shoulders. With angry eyes andaching heart she watched them go through the garden, and guessed whitherthey were bound; and a sense of loneliness, of being shut out, stole overher. 

Cousin Charlotte had gone to Gorley and taken Poppy with her, so she wasquite alone. With a hasty movement she flung on her hat, and dasheddownstairs and out of the front door. "If they went out, she could go outtoo, " she told herself angrily, and could find her own company sufficient. If they went one way she would go another, the moor was large enough, and--and at any rate the tors and the gorse and the birds liked her asmuch as they liked Penelope. She would not there be put aside for heryounger sister. 

By that time she had worked herself up into such a state of resentfulnessof imagined injuries and fancied wrongs, she felt she could hardly endureher unhappy lot. She walked along the road in a perfect turmoil of mind, and, fearing she might meet some one, turned down towards the bridge andthe river; but the weather had been rainy lately, and the river wasswollen, and the bank all wet and slippery. 

She had never been further than the bridge and the river-bank before, and as she clambered up from the muddy, slippery river-path, and pushedthrough the sheltering brushwood which lined it, she found herself, a tinyspeck, apparently the only living creature, in a huge great stretch ofmoorland which was all new ground to her. There were a few big rocks hereand there, but no big hills, as on the other side, with their friendlysheltering look; and the great stretch of bare land, stretching away andaway, looked the picture of desolation. 

The spirit of it seemed in tune with Esther's own sense of loneliness; butit touched her heart with the softening touch of sadness. She sank downon a big boulder beside her, and, stretching out her arms on its rough, lichen-covered breast, buried her face in them and burst into sobs. 

"Why is it? why is it? Why should every one like the others and no onelike me? Why should Penelope have everything and me nothing, and whycan't I feel nice about it? Why do I care, or why can't I pretend I don'tmind?" At that moment Esther really did believe that no one in all theworld cared in the least for her. "Penelope is pretty and clever, and--and taking, and--and now she has a beautiful voice, and I have nothing. I am not pretty or clever or nice, and I shall never be anything, or doanything, and--and no one wants me. She will be able to go about andtravel, and be rich and have everything she wants, and be able to help theothers, and--and I am no better than a drudge!"

A little field-mouse, creeping out of its hole, heard the sobs and flewaway again, nearly scared out of its wits. A goldfinch came and perchedon a furze-bush near, looked wonderingly at the odd-shaped thing that madesuch funny noises, and then flew away to a thistle and began to search forany stray seeds that might have been overlooked. Little spiders ran overthe boulder and put out delicate feelers to try to discover what curiouspinky-white things those were that lay on the old stone; then, after afirst venture, finding them harmless, ran over and over Esther's hand in aperfect fuss and fury of excitement. 

Esther, feeling the slight tickling of the little creatures' feet, raisedher head to look, and kept it raised to watch their busy movements. Herstorm of tears had relieved her heart, and done her good. She felt lessinjured, and in a better frame of mind. She did not dare to move until thelast spider had finished his investigations, for fear of alarming him; butwhen he had scurried away home, evidently eager to tell of his adventures, she raised herself and looked about her. 

Her face and eyes were hot and swelled and aching. She could not meet anyone while looking such a sight as she was. She would walk on until thefresh breeze should have cooled down her burning features. She turnedaway from Dorsham in the same direction as the river ran. It was all astrange country to her, and she would explore it. No one would miss herat home. The anger and jealousy were gone, but she still felt sad andlonely, and full of pity for herself. 

She walked on and on and on, still too absorbed in herself to pay any heedto the voice of the birds or the river or the myriad little creaturesmoving about her. She was thinking how much she would like to frightenthem all at home, and make them anxious about her; she felt she would liketo walk on and on until twilight and darkness fell, and she and the moorwere left to their loneliness together. It was all very foolish; but aslong as there are boys and girls, or men and women, these moods will cometo them, to be fought down and overcome; and we must remember that to thesufferer they do not seem foolish at the time. 

How far she did walk she had no idea at the time; it seemed to her it wasmiles and miles;--in reality it was only about a mile and a half, --and thesun was going down, and she was beginning to admit doubts to her mind asto whether she should turn back or not, when suddenly, in a hollow in themoor before her, she saw, though at first she could hardly believe hereyes, a real little house with real smoke coming out of the chimney on thethatched roof. 

If it had not been for the smoke, whirled and beaten about by the breeze, she would have thought the house was not really a human habitation, but abit of the moor itself risen up, so brown and rough and weather-beaten itlooked under its old lichen-grown thatch. But the smoke was real smoke, and Esther, stepping nearer, saw one window lit by the leaping, cheeryglow of a fire. 

Fascinated and surprised, she drew nearer and nearer. Before the cottagewas a little garden surrounded by a sturdy railing and a thick-set, close-clipped holly-hedge, within the shelter of which whole beds ofcrocuses and daisies and polyanthuses bloomed gaily. The crocuses were allasleep now, their little petals fast closed, and the daisies too, but thepolyanthuses looked bravely with their beautiful eyes at the fastdarkening sky. Over the cottage walls, as well as on the thatch, lichenand house-leeks grew, as though to prove it was but a boulder, one of themany scattered thereabouts in all directions, and not a house at all. 

CHAPTER XII. 

Ester stood staring fascinated, quite unconscious of the fact that a pairof bright but dim eyes were peering out at her wonderingly; and shestarted, quite guiltily, when presently the cottage door opened, and alady came along the garden path towards her. 

Esther began to move away, feeling ashamed that she should have stared sorudely; but the lady hearing her, spoke. 

"Don't go away, please, " she said in a pretty soft voice with a foreignaccent. "I saw you, and I wondered if you had lost your way. It is notoften we see strangers here, we are so far away from other houses. "

"No-o, thank you, " stammered Esther shyly. "I--I don't think I have lostmy way. I was out for a walk, and had never been this way before. I have come from Dorsham. "

"Dorrsham, oh!" the lady rolled her r's, and poke in the prettiest wayimaginable. "It is rather a long walk home for a young lady when thelight is beginning to fail. Have you no one with you?"

"No, " said Esther, suddenly realising her disobedience in not havingbrought Guard. "I am not afraid; at least--I--I shall be home before itis dark. "

"I do not feel so sure of that. "

Neither did Esther as she looked about her, and saw how quickly twilighthad fallen since the sun had gone. 

"I hardly like to let you go, my child, by yourself only, over the moor. You could so easily miss your way, and get into the river, or fall over aboulder and injure yourself. Will you come into my house and rest; andafter you have had some tea--"

"Oh, thank you, no, " cried Esther, overcome with shyness at the thought ofgiving so much trouble. "I am sure I shall get back all right. "

"Will you not do it to oblige me?" And the lady, who was very pretty andgraceful and charming, spoke so coaxingly, so prettily, Esther could notrefuse her. 

"I--I--but it would make me later, " she began. 

"Ah, but I was going to say, Anne is going to Dorsham presently, and heshall conduct you safely home. "

"Who?" breathed Esther, puzzled beyond politeness. 

"Anne. He--well, he is not exactly my servant--he is my friend andfactotum; he and his wife live in the cottage at the back, " explained thelittle lady. "His wife is ill, unfortunately, and he is going to get somemustard for poultices for us to apply, and he will see you home. "

"Oh, thank you, " stammered Esther, interested but uneasy. She wasbeginning to feel uncomfortable about Cousin Charlotte, and the anxietyshe might be causing her; but she really did shrink from the long walkhome in the gathering darkness, and, too, she did not know how to refusethe kind stranger's request. So she stepped in at the open gate, and puther hand in the one outstretched to welcome her. 

"My name is Esther Carroll, " she said, feeling some introduction wasnecessary, "and I and my sisters live with Miss Ashe at Moor Cottage. "

"Oh, " said the lady vaguely. Evidently she did not know Miss Ashe or thecottage. "I have not the pleasure of knowing Miss Ashe. I never go toDorsham. I seldom go beyond my garden; in fact--I cannot walk much, " andEsther noticed for the first time that she was lame. "My name isMademoiselle Leperier. I am not one of your countrywomen, though I mightclaim to be, having lived in England most of my life. Now I think, " witha bright smile, "we know each other. Come inside, do. Anne had justbrought in the tea-tray when he caught sight of you, and drew myattention. We thought perhaps you had lost your way. Come in, we willhave tea at once, and you shall start very soon for home, or your cousinwill be anxious. "

Esther, following her kind hostess, thought she had never in all her lifeseen anything so pretty as the little firelit room into which she nowstepped, with its pure white walls, its green dresser hung with pricelessold blue china, the high white mantelpiece, loaded, too, with china, thehigh-waisted lattice window, with its prim little creamy silk curtains. 

By the fire stood two comfortable easy-chairs, and a little square table, on which was spread a white cloth and dainty tea-things, bread-and-butter, and tempting little cakes. To Esther it all seemed perfect, as perfect apicture as Mademoiselle Leperier herself in her soft grey gown, with herwhite hair, bright eyes, and pale face. 

In a very short time they were seated on either side of the table, drinking fragrant creamy tea and chatting as friendly as though they hadoften met before. Anne, who had brought another cup and saucer, had beentold his errand, and with quiet politeness expressed his eagerness tooblige. Esther looked at him with interest. Somehow she had expected tosee quite a young man, but Anne was old--older than his mistress. That he was a foreigner, too, there could be no doubt; his speech, his appearance, his every action bespoke the fact. 

"Is--is Mr. Anne French too?" asked Esther, and then blushed, fearing shehad been rude. 

But Mademoiselle nodded brightly. "Yes. Call him 'Anne, ' please, dear. His name is Anne Roth. His parents came to England with mine, when theyhad to fly from France, and he and his have been with me and mine eversince. Ah! but he is a dear, faithful soul is Anne, and so is Laura, hisEnglish wife. They would not leave me, even when I came to this far-awayspot. At first it made them sad, I think, but now they have come to likeit. "

"Were you exiles?" asked Esther, with eager interest. "Oh, howinteresting!"

Mademoiselle Leperier's heart warmed towards her sympathetic visitor withthe eager face, and soon they were deep in talk, so deep that they weresurprised when Anne knocked at the door to say he had come to know if theyoung m'amzelle was ready to be conducted home. 

Under the spell of her hostess's kind face and voice Esther had told someof her story too--told more, really, than she could have believed possibleconsidering that she had not spoken of the events of that afternoon, norto what led to her appearance at Edless, as the spot was called whereMademoiselle lived. 

"May I come to see you again?" she asked impulsively, as she put up herface to kiss the gentle, fragile-looking French lady. 

"Will you, dear? I shall be so pleased if your cousin will permit you. It is a little desolate here, and _triste_ at times, for I cannot read orwrite much, or use my needle; my eyes are not strong. "

"Those bright, shining eyes not strong!" thought Esther with surprise. "Could I read to you sometimes, or write for you, or sew?" she askedeagerly. "I am sure Cousin Charlotte would be pleased for me to, and--andI should _love_ to. May I?"

"If _la cousine_ does not object, dear child, I should be grateful indeed;but, remember, she does not know me, or anything of me, and you must notbe angry if she does not permit you. It would be but natural. "

"Oh, I am sure she will, " said Esther confidently, and out she steppedinto the darkness with Anne. 

To the end of her life Esther will never forget that walk across the moorunder the cold blue of the darkening sky--the long, mysterious-lookingStretches of darkness with here and there a big rock standing up grim andgaunt in the silence, the vastness in which they seemed but specks, theshrill, sweet voices of the birds calling to each other, and the busy, persistent voice of the river, added to the weirdness and loneliness ofthe experience. The only lifelike sounds were their own footsteps, and itwas only here and there, when they got on to rough ground and off theturf, that these could be heard. 

Esther grew oppressed by the awe and silence. She longed for hercompanion to speak. She would have said something herself, only she didnot know what to begin about, and it needed courage to break, with hersmall voice, that vast silence. 

At last though, a rabbit, or some other wild animal that loves thenight-time and the silence, darted right across their path, making herstart and scream. The shock past, she laughed a little with shame of herown weakness. The scream and the laugh broke the spell. 

"It was very silly of me, but it came so suddenly, " she explainedapologetically. 

"It did, m'amzelle. I expect you are not used to such places at night?"

"No, not at night. We love the moor, though, by day, and know it well, and I am not really afraid of the wild things. "

"No, m'amzelle, " politely. Silence followed again. Esther grewdesperate. 

"I--I hope your wife will soon be better, " she said sympathetically. 

"Thank you, m'amzelle. I hope so, too. "

"Is she very ill?"

"Well, not--not dangerous, but she troubles. Our M'amzelle Lucille is notstrong, she suffers so, and when Laura--my wife--is ill, M'amzelle doestoo much, she is so good. "

"Can't you have some one in to help you?" asked practical Esther. 

"No, m'amzelle, we are so far away. But we do not want any one really. I can do all. I know how to nurse, " with evident pride, "but M'amzellelikes to help us, and--and she is not strong, she suffers so. "

"Does she?" asked Esther sympathetically. "I am so sorry. I noticed shewas lame. Does she suffer pain from her lameness?"

"Yes, m'amzelle. She had a fall some years ago. You know, I daresay, that M'amzelle Lucille was at one time a famous singer. No? She has nottold you? Then perhaps I should not have, but I thought that when shetold you her name you would know. "

"I can keep a secret, " said Esther. "I will never mention it if I maynot. Why did M'amzelle stop singing and come here?"

"Ah, she stopped singing long, long before she came here. She never sangafter the great trouble came to her life, when the great English gentlemanshe was so soon to marry was killed. "

Esther gave a little cry of horror. "Oh, how dreadful, but--but how--wasit an accident?"

Anne's tongue was loosened now, he needed no questioning; he had so fewopportunities to talk, he could not resist this one, and he wanted everyone's sympathy for his beloved mistress. "Yes, it was an accident, a fearful, a cruel accident, and it happened less than a week before thewedding day. They were together at a station waiting for a train, whensome one ran against him with so great force he reeled, he lost hisbalance, he fell forward, right off the platform--the train was justcoming in!" Anne's voice died away in an awful impressive silence. "M'amzelle Lucille sprang to catch him--"

"Oh!" gasped Esther, in horror. 

"They saved _her_, " he added significantly; "but she was injured, she waslame always from that day, and her eyes were injured. She may be blind, some day--if she lives. He was killed before her eyes. "

"Oh, poor M'amzelle Leperier, " groaned Esther, her heart aching with thetragedy of the terrible story. "I wonder it did not kill her. "

"It nearly did, " said Anne significantly. 

"And her singing?"

"She never sang again, m'amzelle. She says her voice broke with theshock--but it was her heart that broke. She loved him so; it was toocruel, too terrible. "

"Did you come here to live then?"

"No, m'amzelle, not for a long time. We travelled from place to place. M'amzelle Lucille said she would go alone, but my wife and I would notleave her, she was so lonely, so _triste_, she had no one but us. Wherever we went people stared at her and annoyed her so. Very often theyrecognised her, she was so well known; or they saw she was beautiful, andthey knew her story, or found it out, and they had no delicacy, nofeeling. We always had to leave. Last year we came here. M'amzelle doesnot suffer here, except from loneliness, and I think she never will, butit is too lonely for her. I hope you will come to see her, m'amzelle. She likes you, I can see. "

Esther was delighted. Here, at last, was some one who really needed her. In her heart she determined to devote all her spare time to M'amzelleLucille. The walk home was over much sooner than she wished. She couldhave gone on listening to Anne for miles further, but the bridge wascrossed, the lights began to show in the cottage windows, and soon theywere at the gate of Moor Cottage. 

Here Esther's new joy began to moderate. It was quite dark now. Anne told her it was nearly six o'clock. What would Cousin Charlotte bethinking? Now she had time to spare a thought for her, Esther felt sorryand ashamed. 

The sounds of their footsteps or voices must have reached the anxious earswithin, for even while she was saying 'good-night' to her companion thecottage door was opened wide, letting a flood of light pour along thepathway. "Esther, dear, is that you?" asked Cousin Charlotte's gentlevoice reproachfully, and Esther flew to her and flung her arms about her. 

"Oh, Cousin Charlotte, I _am_ so sorry, " she cried repentantly. "I can'ttell you _how_ sorry. I didn't mean to be so late, really--at least, atfirst I did--but--but--I shouldn't have--"

"Never mind now, dear. Come in and warm yourself, and you can tell me allabout it later. You have frightened me dreadfully, Esther; but just now Iam too relieved to scold, only--only don't do it again, it is more than Ican endure bravely, " and Cousin Charlotte leaned down and kissed her. 

Esther saw then that she was white and trembling, that tears glistened inher eyes, and understood for the first time how much Cousin Charlottecared. 

"Oh, Cousin Charlotte, Cousin Charlotte, " she cried remorsefully, "if onlyI were like you. I wish I could be good. I do want to be, I do really. "

"Try to be good, but not like me, dear, " said Cousin Charlotte huskily, "or you will be a very weak and foolish old woman. Now, " with anotherkiss, "run upstairs and take off your hat and shoes, and come and tell usall your adventures. We have all been dreadfully anxious. "

Esther went upstairs feeling far more remorseful than if Miss Charlottehad scolded her well. When she had taken off her hat and shoes, and madeherself tidy, she felt really shy of going down to face them all. But while she was hesitating, the door opened and Poppy flew into the roomand straight to Esther's arms. 

"Oh, Essie, I couldn't wait, and Cousin Charlotte said I might come up foryou. Are you all right? You are not hurt or--"

"You have been crying, " broke in Esther. "Oh, Poppy, I made you!"

"I couldn't help just a teeny tiny little cry, but it was only a tear ortwo when I thought the wild beasts had got you and were eating you rightup. Come down now. "

In the dining-room it was all so cosy and pleasant that Esther soon forgother embarrassment, and, seated in the midst of the circle round the fire, was soon telling her story to a rapt audience. 

"I should love to see the little cottage, and have tea in that dear littleroom, " said Angela, after Esther had described her sudden discovery of thelittle brown house and the flower-filled garden. 

"Mademoiselle Leperier!" cried Miss Ashe quite excitedly. "Why, child, Iremember her quite well; at least her name and fame, and the tragedy ofher lover's death. I have often wondered what had become of the poorlady. "

"Have you?" cried Esther, delighted. "Cousin Charlotte, I wish you wouldget to know her. I am sure she is very lonely. "

"Perhaps she prefers loneliness, dear. I should be only too pleased toshow friendly neighbourliness to the poor lady if she would like it, butsometimes it is greater kindness not to intrude. You can go there, dear, if you and she wish it, and perhaps the friendliness will increase bydegrees. "

"Is she very ill? Does she have a great lot of pain?" asked Poppyanxiously. "I wonder if she knows she may be blind some day. Why doesn'tshe have a doctor?" Poppy had no doubt in her mind that a doctor couldcure every ill human beings can suffer. 

"She has seen nearly every famous doctor there is, " said Esther, "so Annesaid. But, Poppy, if you ever see Mademoiselle, you must never let herknow that we know about it, and _never_ speak about her to _any one_. Do you hear? You won't, will you, dear? She might not like it. "

Poppy promised. "_Oh, no_, " she cried emphatically, "tourse not "; andPoppy's promises were always kept. "Esther, hasn't she got any eyes, and is she very sad, and--and--"

"Not at all. She was anxious about Laura, and she looked thin anddelicate, but you would never know she was suffering; and her eyes are asbright and pretty as any I have ever seen. "

Then Penelope, who had been all this time thinking things over, began toput her questions. All her curiosity was about Mademoiselle's singing, but Esther could tell her little on that point. "Perhaps she will tell memore when I know her better, " she said hopefully, and went to bed in highspirits at the thought of the new friend she had made, and of anothervisit to the dear little cottage soon. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

"Angela, has Fluffy laid an egg to-day?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Will you sell it to me? I've got the money for it. " Poppy opened herhand to display the penny she had been tightly grasping. 

"What do you want to buy an egg for?" asked Angela, with sudden caution. "I don't think you had better eat any more without asking Cousin Charlottefirst. You had a big breakfast. "

"I don't want to eat it, " cried Poppy, in a tone of wounded dignity. "I want it to--to give to some one. "

"Some poor person?"

"Well, yes, I think she is poor. I know she is not well, and eggs aregood for people who are not well. "

"Yes, very. Well, there's the egg. Isn't it a beauty? _I_ call itperfectly lovely. " Angela looked at it lovingly. To her there never wereor would be such eggs as her Fluffikins laid. "Now do be careful. How are you going to carry it?"

Poppy ran off, and in a moment was back again with a little covered basketlined with hay. Evidently it had been prepared beforehand for thispurpose. The egg was laid in and carefully covered over, and the lid shutdown and secured. 

"Are you going with it now?" asked Angela. 

"In a minute. I have to get something else too. "

The girls were always very considerate to each other over their littlemysteries and secrets, so Angela, without further inquiry, went away toher hens, and Poppy hurried off to the end of the garden, where shegathered a bunch of beautiful green parsley, and wrapped it round with apiece of paper which she tied with a little piece of pink ribbon she hadsaved on some previous occasion. 

Miss Charlotte and Anna were in the kitchen arranging the meals for theday. Esther was busy in the bedroom, Angela was in the hen-house, andPenelope already at the church, practising, for although it was Easter, and holiday time, she continued her organ-practice daily. So no one sawPoppy as she and Guard started off together. She was bound on a secretexpedition to Mademoiselle Leperier, carrying with her all she couldcompass as suitable offerings to an invalid--a new-laid egg and a bunch ofher own fresh parsley. She had not mentioned her plan to Miss Charlotte--not because she was afraid of being stopped, but because she wanted togive of her very own, and not make demands on Cousin Charlotte. She knew if she did speak of it that Miss Ashe would be thinking of allsorts of things to send, and Poppy did not want that. She wanted it to beentirely her own little scheme, in gratitude to the poor lady for herkindness to Esther. 

She did not know in the least how long the walk would be, but she wasprepared for it to take her a very great while. Essie had said it was along way there but a short way back, and it had not occurred to either ofthem to wonder how this could be possible. Thinking, though, of theexpedition before her as something very great, she hurried along withoutonce pausing to look at the river or play on the bridge or pay heed to anyof the hundreds of attractions which lie on a walk on a beautiful springday. Guard made little dashes and excursions in all directions, but wasnever absent for more than a moment or two from his little mistress'sside. 

Now and again Poppy sat down on a big boulder to rest, standing her basketon the ground beside her, and she and Guard would gaze eagerly about themat the wide-spreading sunny moorland; and probably both of them thought ofthe games they might be having there if matters so serious were notengaging their attention, but no thought of doing so crossed their mindsnow. 

The result of all this haste was that, long before she expected it, Poppyfound herself face to face with the little brown cottage, and felt theremust be some mistake. This could not be the place, she thought; it mustbe another. Perhaps, oh dreadful doubt! she had come the wrong way. Shewas a very wise little person, though, and to make sure, before she wentfurther, she determined to go in and inquire. 

Rather timidly, but full of interest, she walked along the paved gardenpath, and tapped at the door with her knuckles, not being able to reachthe knocker. It was a feeble knock, but soon called forth an answer. Aman opened it, an elderly man--Anne himself, in fact. 

"Please does Mademoiselle Le-le-, the French lady, live here?" she asked, finding some difficulty in pronouncing the long French name. 

"Yes, m'amzelle. M'amzelle Leperier lives here. "

Poppy was a little non-plussed. She had not thought out any plan orreason to give for her visit, nor how she was to reach the presence ofEsther's new friend, but her usual ready frankness stood her in goodstead. "I have come to ask how she is, and how--how Anne's wife is. My sister Esther was here last night. Made--Miss, the French lady, askedher to tea, and--and sent her home with a Mr. Anne. " The man smiled. 

"Ah! I know. The young lady I conducted to her home last night--Miss Esthaire. Come inside, m'amzelle. I know M'amzelle Leperier willwish to see you. "

A sudden shyness rushed over Poppy. "Oh, I--I don't think I had bettercome in, thank you. I didn't mean to do that. I have to go all the wayhome, and it will take me rather a long time. I--I only brought a freshegg that Angela's hen laid this morning, and some parsley out of my owngarden for--for Miss Leperier, and perhaps if she didn't like it she mightgive it to your wife. I am sorry I had nothing nicer. "

"There couldn't be anything nicer, m'amzelle, " said Anne Roth with readytact. "It will come in for an omelette for the mistress's lunch, and theparsley too, it will be most useful. How fine it is. We have none here. It is always a difficulty to get any. "

"Oh, I am so glad I brought it!" cried Poppy, flushing with delight. "If ever you want any, _do_ come and have some of mine. I have a wholebedful, and all from a penny packet of seed that I sowed myself. I should be delighted to give you some at any time. "

She refrained from mentioning the fact that it was her only source ofincome. She had thrust the basket and the parsley into the man's hand, and was edging away. 

"But M'amzelle will be annoyed with me if I let you go all the way backwithout any rest, " he pleaded. "Please to enter, m'amzelle. "

At that moment Mademoiselle Leperier herself appeared. Anne turned to herwith relief. 

"Here, M'amzelle, is the sister of the young lady who was here last night. She has come with kind inquiries for M'amzelle and my wife. "

Mademoiselle Leperier stepped to the door, and taking the blushing Poppy'shands in both her own, stooped and kissed her. "Oh, you dear child, how sweet of you, " she cried with warm delight. "Come in, you must comein. Is that beautiful dog at the gate yours? I saw him there and felt Imust go out and speak to him, and then I heard your voice and Anne's. Do call him in, I want to know him too. You must both come. "

There was no shyness or hesitation about Guard; he hurried in almostbefore he was invited to, and he and his little mistress found themselvesin the room Esther had described so vividly the night before, only now itwas lit by sunshine instead of fire and lamp. Poppy did not like to lookabout her, she knew it was not polite to do so, but her eye fell on thedresser with its lovely china, and the blue bowl of primroses and moss andivy leaves on the little black table, and thought it all more perfect eventhan she had imagined. 

Guard, as though feeling he was too large for the small room, went overand sat close against the wall by the window, shedding around him genialsmiles in return for all the attentions lavished on him. Anne wasdespatched for milk and biscuits; and while he was gone Mademoiselleinquired for Esther, and how she got home, politely hoping they had notbeen very anxious. 

"Yes, we were; we were very anxious, thank you, " said Poppy, halfabsently. She was looking at her hostess, and thinking of the story shehad heard of her. It seemed so wonderful that after going through suchterrible tragedies she could laugh and talk and be interested in littleevery-day matters. But she was, especially when Poppy, at last recoveringher tongue, told her all about themselves, and their father and mother inCanada, and how they four came to Cousin Charlotte's because no one elsecould have them, and how frightened they ware until they saw her, but werenever frightened after, she was so kind; and how they all wanted to helpher, and how they tried all sorts of ways. 

Mademoiselle was very interested in the parsley-bed, and Angela's hen, and Esther helping in the house, and Penelope's desire to be able to playthe organ and sing; and Poppy chattered on, delighted to find sointerested a listener. 

"I think it quite cheered her and did her good, " she confided to Angelalater. "She said it did, and she asked me to come again; and I am to keepthreepennyworth of parsley for her every week. Isn't it lovely!A whole shilling a month! Oh, I wish I had a whole garden to sow parsleyin. Do you think it will go on growing for ever, Angela?"

Angela did not know, but she was hopeful. Ephraim, however, thought thatat the rate she was picking it her crop would not last another month, andstrongly advised the clearing of a part of the bed and tilling more seeds. 

But when Poppy went to Esther to tell her about her expedition, she metwith a disappointment. Esther did not seem at all pleased at theattentions she had shown the invalids. She seemed, in fact, quiteannoyed. 

"I was going myself, " she said coldly, "by and by; but I sha'n't now, ofcourse. I don't suppose Mademoiselle Leperier wants the whole Carrollfamily continually going to her house. It was not right for you, either, to go all that way alone; it was not safe. "

"I had Guard with me, " said the crestfallen Poppy. "I didn't know youwouldn't like it, Essie. I thought you--you would be glad. " Her lipwould quiver a little as she spoke. "I--I only wanted to be kind to thepoor lady because she was kind to you, and I--didn't mean to go inside, but she made me. Aren't you really going again, Esther? She expects you, she said so. "

"I can't go if all the rest of you keep going. Besides, Mademoisellewon't want me. "

"Oh yes, she will, " cried Poppy, almost in tears. "She _does_ want you;and--and I won't go any more if you don't like me to. You can take theparsley for me. I wish now I hadn't promised to bring it; but they can'tget any one to come, and--and--" and then a tear really forced its way outand fell; but at the sight of it Esther's better nature conquered hertemper, and she took her little sister in her arms with real remorse. 

"No, darling, you shall go, and we will go together; but not always, "she added presently. "I should like to go alone sometimes, Poppy, to havea quiet talk with Mademoiselle. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

To-morrow was Poppy's birthday, and all day long there had been mysteriouswhisperings and signs and nods, hasty dashes in and out of the house, invasions of Mrs. Vercoe's and Mrs. Bennett's shops, and greatmysteriousness on the part of Ephraim, who had to make a special journeyto Gorley. 

And all the time Poppy, with a little thrill of excitement at her heart, went about pretending to see and hear nothing, and half wishing her senseswere not so acute. 

Miss Charlotte was very vexed with herself. She had made an engagementfor the very afternoon of the great day, and could not get out of it. 

"I am _so_ vexed I did not remember, dears, " she said; "but it was so longago I was asked, and I had to accept or refuse then and there, and Ireally did not realise what the date actually was. I should have liked, above all things, to have been home with you on that day. "

The children were very sorry too; but seeing Cousin Charlotte so vexedthey made light of their own disappointment. 

Anna was vexed too. To her the birthday tea was the great feature of thebirthday, and she had, days before, with a great deal of trouble to keepit a secret from the children, made and baked a beautiful birthday cake, which now lay hidden away in a white cloth in a tin box in the copper inthe wash-kitchen. 

On this day, the day before the great day itself, when she had for thefirst time realised that the children would be alone on the importantoccasion, her mind had grown very seriously troubled, so troubled that shecould think of nothing else, until suddenly a beautiful idea came into herhead, so beautiful an idea that Anna fairly gasped. Later on, when shehad really sorted out her plans, she went upstairs to a big box in herbedroom which held untold stores of treasures, and searched until she drewfrom the depths a box of little sheets of fancy note-paper and envelopes. This was hid in the copper too, along with the cake; but only until thechildren had all gone to bed and the house was quiet. 

As soon as ever she was sure there would be no more rushes into thekitchen that night, Anna got out the wooden box with 'Hudson's SoapPowder' stuck all over it, in which she kept her writing materials; andthen, withdrawing the box of fancy note-paper from its hiding-place, she sat down, and taking out sheet by sheet, spread them all on the tablebefore her. 

"It do seem a pity to use it after keeping it all these years, " she saidregretfully, as she examined each one. They were all different. "But there, there couldn't be a better time. They'm just what I want. "So hardening her heart against any further regrets, she proceeded to makeher choice. 

"I think Miss Poppy ought to have the roses. They'm considered the bestof all the flowers, and 'tis her day. Then Miss Esther shall have--let mesee. They'm all so pretty I don't hardly know which to choose for which--oh, Miss Angela shall have the daisies, somehow they remind me of her, and vi'lets seems like Miss Esther's flower, and I'll give the sunflowersto Miss Penelope. "

That settled, and four envelopes picked out and inscribed each with one ofthe children's names, Anna squared her elbows and began the real work ofthe evening. First she took some old scraps of paper, and wrote noteafter note on them before she succeeded in pleasing herself. At last sheaccomplished what she wanted, and feeling satisfied, copied it out, wordfor word, on the four sheets of note-paper. She hesitated as to whethershe should not put her writing on the plain side, and so avoid marring thefair beauty of the flowered side, but she thought better of it, and hardened her heart; and after one had been done she did not mind sovery much. 

It was almost late when at last she went to bed, her task had taken her solong, and the clock actually struck ten as she crept into Esther's roomand left two of her little notes on the dressing-table, after depositingthe other two in Penelope's and Angela's room. 

Poppy, being the heroine of the day, was naturally the first to wake thenext morning. At the remembrance of what the occasion was, she satstraight up in bed with excitement, and nearly shouted; then she saw thatEsther was asleep still. It seemed very hard that every one else shouldbe asleep, and quite lost to the greatness of the occasion, while she wasawake and alert, all ready to receive congratulations. 

As her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness she could make out a square, fascinating-looking parcel on the table by Esther's bed, after which itbecame almost intolerably hard to lie still and wait for the others towake. The little heroine's excitement began to give way to quite a hurtfeeling. It seemed as though no one could care, or they would neversleep on like this. She actually began to feel aggrieved; but she sprangout of bed to try to drive away the feeling by looking out to see whatthe morning and the weather were like. She might, if she had liked, have pulled back the curtains in a way that would have waked Esther atonce; but she drew them as gently as though her one anxiety was not todisturb her sister, and opening the window, looked out. 

Oh, how lovely it was! Poppy, child as she was, gasped at the sightbefore her. Road and river, houses and moor, lay bathed in the clear glowof the beautiful pure morning sunshine. Every leaf and twig sparkled withdew; even the little window-panes in the cottages glittered and lookedbeautiful. On the moor opposite great cloud-like masses of mist rolledaway quickly before the advancing sun, leaving the old brown moor behindit, flashing from thousands of tiny leaves and blades. The river gleamedand scintillated as it danced along, singing as it went. 

"Everything seems to know what day it is, " said Poppy gleefully. "Oh, you dear river, you dear sun, you dear, dear moor and houses, _how_ Ilove you all!"

She softly closed the window and turned away to get back to bed. As sheturned her eye fell on two little envelopes, one pink, the otherlilac-coloured. 

"What _can_ they be?" she cried, as she read the inscriptions on them. 

'Miss Esther. '

'Miss Popy. '

Taking up the one addressed to her, and carefully opening it, she took outthe pretty sheet with the spray of rosebuds scattered over the page. Across the rosebuds, sprawled in big letters, --

 "Anna rekuests the pleasure of Miss Popy's compny to tea in the kitchun at five o'clock. 

 "Yours respectfly

 "Anna. "

The rustling of the paper had aroused Esther at last. First she openedone eye, then the other, and would have shut both again, only theyhappened to fall on the white parcel beside her. 

"Why, it has come! The day has come! It is Poppy's birthday!" shethought. She sprang up in a moment, wide awake. "Many happy returns ofthe day, " she cried. "Oh, Poppy, have you been out of bed long?Come into my bed and get warm. Here is something for you. Why, what haveyou got there?" Poppy was dancing about the room in a high state of glee, waving a letter in her hand. 

"Oh, thank you, darling, " she cried, seizing the parcel and hugging Estherat the same time. "And here's something for you. Won't it be fun!Isn't Anna a dear! I _do_ love her. I fink I love _every_ body. "

"Get into bed, " commanded careful Esther, and Poppy hopped into hersister's bed before she even stayed to open her first birthday present. 

Esther's gift was a book, which she had bought for her little sister thelast time she was at Gorley. Poppy was delighted. New books, or even oldones, came to her so seldom. She loved them with such a love as only theunspoiled child can know. While she was still crooning over it, lookingat the pictures, examining the covers, patting it and loving it asthough it were a living, feeling thing, the other two came flying in, all excitement. Each held in one hand a letter, in the other a smallparcel. 

"Many happy returns of the day. Oh, you darling!" as they caught sight ofPoppy's dark head and beaming face in Esther's bed. "Just look at ourletters, --oh, you have got some too? Isn't it lovely of Anna? I thinkshe is a perfect dear. " Both talked at once, and as fast as their tonguescould wag. "Here's a present for you, " said Penelope, laying her parcelvery carefully in Poppy's lap, and kissing her on the top of her curlypoll. 

"Jump in too, at the bottom, " said Esther; and soon all four were tightlypacked into the little bed. 

Poppy's fingers shook as she fumbled with the string. It was acurious-shaped parcel, and Penelope kept enjoining her to be very careful, and not to turn it over. When at last she did undo the wrappings, and thebox inside, and found a tiny red flower-pot with a baby cactus in it, her joy knew no bounds. 

"I am afraid you won't care for mine very much, " said Angela meekly. "It is something for your room. " But Poppy was equally delighted with thelittle blue pincushion, with her name, 'Poppy, ' outlined in bright newpins. "It is stuffed with tiny, soft, beautiful feathers from our ownhens, " explained Angela. "I've been saving them, and Anna baked them forme. "

They all agreed that it was a perfectly lovely birthday morning, one ofthe nicest they had ever known, and when the presents had been examinedand discussed, Anna's pretty writing-paper came in for a long examination. 

"I like mine best, " said Esther, and all agreed they each preferred theirown. 

"Mine ought to have had poppies on it, " said their little namesake; "but Ido like roses best. "

"Anna gave you the roses because the rose is the queen of flowers, and youare the queen of the day, I expect. "

Then Anna came in to call them, and at the sight of the four figures inthe bed immediately collapsed on to a seat by the door, and laughed andlaughed until they laughed too from the infection of it. 

"We'd best stop ourselves, " she said presently, rising, and trying to makeher face very grave. "Laugh before breakfast, cry before night, they dosay; and we don't want no tears this day, do we?"

"Oh no, " they all agreed, and tried very hard to draw long serious facesat once; but it was difficult on a birthday, and holiday, with the sunshining, and the birds singing, and tea in the kitchen in prospect. 

When Poppy presently danced singing down to breakfast, she found by herplate another present--a pretty scarlet housewife from Cousin Charlotte, containing a little pair of scissors, a silver thimble, a case of needles, a stiletto, a bodkin, and two of the tiniest reels of silk she had everseen. When the case was closed it looked like a dear little red hand-bag. 

There was a letter, too, from Canada from father, for the mail happened tocome in that very day. Such a nice letter it was--so full of love for hislittle daughter, and longing to see her, and all of them. "Sometimes Ifeel I cannot bear this exile from my little ones any longer, " he wrote. "If I do run away from here and return, will you help to make a home foryour old father and mother? or will you want to remain with CousinCharlotte always? Give her my love and grateful thanks for all herkindness to my chicks. "

Angela cried a little over this letter. "I don't believe father is a bithappy out there, " she said. "I do wish he would come home and live here, and mother too. It would be so jolly, and I'm sure they would love it. "

A little cloud of sadness rested on them for a while, but for Poppy's sakethey put away all sad thoughts, and began to make all kinds of nice plansfor the day, and before very long they were all as merry as grigs. Cousin Charlotte was really very pleased when she heard of Anna'sinvitation. 

"I wish you were coming too, " cried Esther, "then it would be all quiteperfect, --oh, and there's Ephraim. I do think Anna ought to invite himtoo--don't you, Cousin Charlotte?"

"You had better ask her, " said Miss Ashe with a smile. But Anna did notsmile when they put the question to her. "Me ask Ephraim!" she criedindignantly. "Me ask him! No, my dears, 'tain't likely as I shall askhim to tea in my kitchen, so he needn't expect it, " and she bustled away, sniffing and snorting in a perfect fury of disgust apparently. Why sheshould show such scorn and contempt of poor Ephraim no one could everunderstand; but some very wise, sharp-eyed people had been known to saythat she over-acted her contempt for all men, and Ephraim in particular, and that really--well, they even went so far as to say she had so warm aspot in her heart for him, she was always afraid some one would find itout. 

But, if it was so, she acted so well that neither Ephraim nor the childrenever suspected it was acting. 

Having made their suggestion, and not met with the success they hadexpected, they turned their thoughts next to the spending of theirmorning. With one consent they agreed it was to be spent on the moor. 

"I will wear my watch, " said Esther, "and we will see how far we can get;but we will come back to 'the castle' for lunch, won't we?"

All agreed joyfully; and Miss Charlotte's permission having been obtained, Anna packed them two noble baskets of provisions, and gave them a can ofmilk. Poppy was loth to go away and leave her new treasures, and debatedlong whether she would not carry her book or her cactus with her--onewould be so nice to read on the way, and the sunshine would be so good forthe plant; but on the others pointing out to her that she would not beaway so very long, she finally agreed to leave both in Anna's care. 

"Don't you think, " said Penelope, when at last, after many wanderings thisway and that, they reached the castle, and she had dropped her basket andthrown herself on the ground beside it--"don't you think we might leavethe baskets and can here? It will be ever so much nicer not to have tocarry them all the way, and I should think they would be quite safe if wehide them very carefully. "

All agreed at once that it was a splendid idea, and quite safe, for theyscarcely ever saw any one on the moor but themselves; and the baskets wereheavy, and the milk was apt to slop, and it would be much nicer to go onwith free hands. 

"We will try a new way to-day, shall we?" cried Penelope; and they boreaway to the right instead of keeping straight on up the slope, wanderinghither and thither, it is true, but still bearing in the same direction, until presently they came out by the station. 

A train was just coming in, and they stopped to watch it--a great delightto them always, for the coming and going of the trains was one of thegreatest excitements of their lives. They never expected to see any onethey knew; but the sight of the people in it, even if they did not getout, afforded them interest and food for talk, wondering where they weregoing, and whether they wanted to go or not, and making up all sorts oftales about them and the people they were going to. An engine is alwaysfascinating, too. 

To-day, though, was quite an unusual day. First Anne Roth got out, andthen Miss Row and her guest Mr. Somerset. Anne left the platform first, and was walking briskly away when he caught sight of the children, andcame up to them smiling and bowing. 

"How is Mademoiselle?" asked Esther, who never forgot her inquiries. 

"Not very well, m'amzelle, " Anne answered sadly. "I think she issuffering, and her spirits are low. If m'amzelle could find time to comeand cheer her, she would be glad, I know, and it would do her much good. "He glanced at the others; but they had learned that Esther disliked anyencroachment on what she considered her rights. 

"Oh, yes, I will come, " she answered gladly. "I will come to-morrow. I cannot to-day, for it is my little sister's birthday, and we have had aninvitation to tea; but I will come to-morrow, and I will bring a book. Perhaps Mademoiselle would like to be read to. "

"I am sure she would, " agreed Anne. "Thank you, m'amzelle. _Bon jour_ ";and with a bow which included them all, Anne hurried on. 

As he went Miss Row was rapidly approaching the spot where the childrenstood. She looked with curious, suspicious eyes after Anne, and then atthe children. 

"Who is your friend?" she asked with frank curiosity. . 

"That is Anne Roth, Mademoiselle Leperier's man, " said Esther, not withouta touch of importance in tone and manner. "Mademoiselle Leperier is afriend of mine, " she added. She still felt a little sore that Miss Rowhad passed her over for Penelope, and she was not sorry to let her knowshe had friends who could appreciate her. 

Mr. Somerset had been teasing Poppy in the meantime, and laughing with theothers. 

"What a pretty name, " said Miss Row, who was very curious and wanted tofind out more; but she already knew enough of Esther to understand thatshe must not let her curiosity be apparent. 

"Yes, it is, " agreed Esther, by her little vanity falling easily into thetrap laid for her; "and she is so pretty, too, and she had such a lovelyvoice once. She was a very famous singer years ago, but she never singsnow--"

Then remembering, she stopped suddenly in her chatter, colouring hotlywith anger with herself, and embarrassment, as she glanced round and sawall eyes fixed on her. It seemed to her that every one was listening toher indiscreet, foolish talk. Mr. Somerset had ceased playing with Poppy, and was listening with particular interest. 

"Mademoiselle Leperier, " he cried, drawing nearer. "You don't mean to sayshe is in the neighbourhood! You never told me, " turning to Miss Row, "what a celebrity you had in your midst. I should so much like to meether--quite an interesting personality. I have always wanted to know her. Don't you know her story?" And in a few brief, cold words he gave theoutline of the bitter tragedy of the singer's life. 

Esther chafed and boiled with anger against them, and resentment and ragewith herself. She realised to the fall now what she had done. She haddestroyed Mademoiselle Leperier's peace and seclusion. She had laid heropen to curiosity and unwelcome visitors, and--and she might even havedriven her from that neighbourhood, and Mademoiselle would know it was herfault, and blame her, and never like her again. 

Oh! it was bitter to think that she had done it, she who lovedMademoiselle so, and knew and understood her, who meant to have been sucha comfort to her. Poor Esther was heartbroken as she realised it all. Something must be done, she determined. She must do something to undosome of the mischief. She could not let things go on like this; it wastoo dreadful. 

They turned to her full of inquiries. Where did Mademoiselle Leperierlive? What did she look like? Who lived with her? etc. Etc. Esther set her lips tight. They should get no more out of her. In the first place she could decline to tell them where Mademoisellelived. If they determined to find out, she must find some means ofpreventing their going. 

When Miss Row had asked three or four questions and got no answer, she began to grow annoyed. "What is the matter with you, child?Why don't you speak when you are spoken to? Don't you know how rude itis?"

"Yes, I do know, " said Esther, in a very trembling voice, "and I am verysorry, but I am not going to tell any one anything more aboutMademoiselle. I--I ought not to have said anything. I promised her Iwouldn't. I am _very_ sorry I did--"

"Dear me! dear me! how important we are!" cried Miss Row, whose temper wasfar from being one of the best. "Let me inform you that we all knew ofMademoiselle Leperier before you were born, and Mr. Somerset knew herpersonally--"

Mr. Somerset stepped forward, colouring a little. "I--I am afraid I canhardly claim that much, " he said hastily. "She was so great and so soughtafter, and--and so exclusive, it was difficult to get to know her--unless, "--with a smirk--"one were a celebrity too. "

Miss Row looked at him as crossly as she had at Esther. She hated to findherself mistaken at all. 

"But I thought, " he went on hastily, "I would very much like to see thiscelebrity of a past generation, the heroine of such a romance, in her--ah--in her retirement. Perhaps she would not be so exclusive now. A chat with her would be most interesting--such valuable 'copy. ' I reallymust try to accomplish it. Shall we call, dear Miss Row? I am sure youand she would be mutually pleased. "

Esther's feelings became too much for her. She did not know what 'copy'meant; but she felt certain that this kind of person was the very lastMademoiselle would wish to see. 

"Oh, please don't, " she cried anxiously. "Please, you mustn't go there. Mademoiselle herself told me she did not want any visitors, and Anne toldme she came here on purpose that she might be quite quiet, because shecan't see them. Please don't go. If people call she will go away--I'm sure she will. Anne says she had to move from ever so many placesbecause people would not let her be quiet. _Please_ don't let her knowthat I said she lived here. I did not mean to--"

"Dear me! I suppose you have the exclusive right to the lady's society--that, knowing Miss Esther Carroll, she does not require any otherfriends!" Miss Row's sneering, sarcastic words brought the colour toEsther's cheeks and the tears to her eyes. 

"I didn't--mean--that, " she stammered confusedly, bitterly hurt. "You know I didn't, " then turned away hastily that they might not see howweak she was. 

All this time the others had stood by listening, growing more and moreindignant with Miss Row, and more and more sorry for Esther. At firstthey were afraid to say anything for fear they might make matters worse, but Miss Row's last speech was more then they could bear. Angela ran toEsther with blazing cheeks and flashing eyes. "Never mind, dear, " shecried, putting her arms about her. "You were very brave to speak up so. "

Penelope stepped nearer to Miss Row. Her cheeks were white, her eyes verybright and indignant. 

"It is not fair to speak to Esther like that, Miss Row, " she saidreproachfully. "It was by accident she came to know MademoiselleLeperier, and Mademoiselle _asked_ her to go again, or she wouldn't havegone, for Esther knew she did not want to have strange visitors--she toldher so. She said she didn't want any one to know she was living here, for she was not strong enough to have visitors, or to go anywhere. Esther ought not to have said anything about her, and she was frightenedwhen she had; but when she had, she had to tell you--about--about notgoing there. "

Miss Row was not in the frame of mind to be reasonable. She felt she wasin the wrong, and that made her the more cross. "Well, Penelope, " shesaid icily, "I did not expect to be spoken to like this by you, after allI have done for you, too. I did expect civility and some gratitude inreturn, I must confess; but I find I have been grossly mistaken in you. "

Penelope started, and her face flushed crimson. 

"I suppose, " went on Miss Row, turning to Mr. Somerset, "I was foolish toexpect it from children brought up as they were. " Then turning toPenelope again--"Esther's unfortunate temper one has grown accustomed to;but you--"

Penelope hung her head for a moment, overcome with mortification;then suddenly raising it she looked fearlessly, but wistfully, into MissRow's angry eyes. "I wish you would understand, " she said earnestly. "We neither of us mean to be rude or--or ungrateful. " She stammered alittle over the last word. "It was only Mademoiselle we were thinkingof--and--and then you were unfair to Esther, and--and I couldn't bearthat. "

"And I can't bear rudeness, " said Miss Row, beginning to move away. Her face was very red, and her eyes ugly. "Don't come to me again thisweek for a lesson, " she said, turning round to face Penelope once more. "I--I don't want to see you for a while. When I do I will send for you. ";and Miss Row walked away very quickly, chattering volubly all the way toher companion, while Penelope stood, stunned and wounded, scarcely able tobelieve her own ears. 

For a few seconds she remained looking after the retreating pair, thenturned, walked silently for a little distance, and suddenly dropped on theold brown turf in a passion of sobs. 

For a moment Poppy gazed, too entirely astonished to know what to do. She could not remember when she had last seen Penelope weep; it happenedso rarely. Flinging herself on the turf beside her, she threw her armslovingly about her. "Don't cry, darling. Oh, Pen, don't cry, " shepleaded. "It doesn't matter what that horrid old Miss Row says, and weall love you. Don't cry, dear. " She was too young to comprehend what washurting Penelope most--the words that rankled, and stung; the charge ofingratitude; the taunt; the throwing up to her of favours she hadreceived--things no lady should ever permit herself to do. 

Under the lash of it all Penelope sobbed on uncontrollably. When she didweep, she did weep--a perfect storm of tears that shook and exhausted her. Poppy grew frightened at the violence of her grief. There seemed to besomething more here than she could understand. "Oh, where is Essie?Essie must come, " she cried, raising herself on her knees and lookingabout for her sisters; but Esther and Angela were at some distance, walking slowly but steadily away, apparently absorbed in talk. 

Poppy sighed a big sigh which sounded almost like a sob. "My poor littlebirthday, " she murmured wistfully, "that I fought was going to be solovely!"

The words and the tone touched Penelope. Her sobs grew less, broke forthagain, then stopped, and she struggled up into a sitting position. "Oh, you poor little Poppet, " she cried. "It _is_ hard on you. I _am_ sosorry, dear. It is too bad that your birthday should be spoilt like this. I wish--I wish we had kept to the moor, and not come anywhere near humanbeings. " Tears welled up into her eyes again, but she only threw up herhead and tilted her nose a little higher, as though to make them run back. 

"Never mind, darling. We will try to forget all about it, and enjoyourselves. "; but a sob shook her even as she spoke. 

"And it began so beautifully, " Poppy was murmuring. "Anna said 'Laughbefore breakfast, cry before night, ' and it's come true. I'll never laughbefore breakfast again. "

Penelope listening to her, suddenly made up her mind. It _should_ be abeautiful day, after all. They would put away all unpleasant thoughts forPoppy's sake. It rested with her to be cheerful herself, and to comfortand cheer up the others. She put her arms about her baby sister and drewher closer. "Poppy dear, don't tell Esther about--Miss Row being so--nasty, and about my crying. It will only trouble her more, and I want herto forget, and we will all try to be very jolly to-day, won't we?"

Poppy nodded her head vigorously; but there was a doubtful expression onher pretty face. "She will see you've been crying, " she said gravely. 

"No. We will sit here facing the breeze, and that will soon make my faceand eyes look all right, and--we will laugh and talk as if nothing hadhappened. We are going to have a really jolly day, aren't we?"

Poppy nodded again; but a second later she shook her head gravely. "I sha'n't ever forget what Anna said about laughing before breakfast, "she said very seriously. "It comes true. "

Side by side on the springy turf the two little figures sat, leaningagainst each other lovingly, waiting for the sweet breeze to take away alltraces of sorrow; telling secrets the while of what they would do by andby, when they were grown-up, and trying bravely to forget their owntroubles for the benefit of others. 

CHAPTER XV. 

At last, finding the others did not come back to them, Poppy and Penelopegot up and prepared to follow them. "I suppose they don't mean to go anyfarther in this direction, " said Penelope. "Are my eyes all right, Poppy?"

Poppy assured her, truthfully, that no one would know she had shed a tear, and Esther and Angela, seated on a boulder waiting for them, saw no traceon either face, and suspected nothing of the storm that had come and gonesince they parted. 

"I am frantically hungry, aren't you?" called Penelope gaily, as they drewnear. 

They were all ravenous. 

"Let's go back and have lunch at once, " suggested Esther. "Did you getaway from that horrid old thing pretty soon?"

They all understood who the 'horrid old thing' was without explanation, and none of them felt inclined to quarrel with the description. 

"Oh yes, pretty soon, " said Penelope, in an off-hand way, as she stoopedto pick some sweet wild thyme. 

"I shall never like her any more, " said Angela emphatically. "She was sohorrid to Esther. "

"I wouldn't be taught by her for something, " said Esther. "I don't envyyou, Pen. "

Pen felt a big sinking at her heart at the thought of her music lessons, and Miss Row's last words to her; but she made a brave effort to becheerful. "She--she _can_ be very nice, " she said lamely. 

"It's all very well for you to talk, " said Angela, whose usually gentlespirit was greatly roused. "She didn't speak to you as she did toEsther. "

Penelope gave Poppy a warning glance. "Well, she _can_ be nice, " sherepeated, for want of something else to say. "Now come along, girls; dolet's get back to 'the Castle' and have some lunch, and we'll forget allabout Miss Row being so nasty. It is the Poppy's birthday, and we've_got_ to think only of nice things. Now let's join hands and run downthis slope. "

With Poppy tightly grasped by her two eldest sisters, they flew over theground as fast as their legs could go. Poppy, her feet scarcely touchingthe ground, shrieked with the greatest delight. Guard, who had beendistractedly hovering between the two couples while their party wasdivided, barked and danced, and raced away and back again, as pleased asany of them. 

They were quite exhausted before they reached 'the Castle, ' and Poppy andAngela had to be allowed to sit down to recover their breath. 

"I will go on and begin to get out the baskets, " said Esther, "and unpackthem by the time you come. You won't stay here very long, will you?"

Penelope was lying on her back gazing up at the blue sky and the swarms oftiny insects which hovered and darted between her and it. She was toocomfortable to move, even to help get the lunch, so Esther and Guard wentalone. 

'The Castle, ' the children's favourite play-place, was a group of hugeboulders, like closely set rough pillars, so arranged by nature as toenclose a considerable space, like a tiny room, while outside was a kindof natural staircase leading to what they sometimes called 'upstairs, ' andsometimes 'the roof, ' which was formed of a large flat boulder, forming anatural roof, and keeping the interior dry and cosy save for the breezeswhich blew through the various openings, large and small, between thepillars. 

It was in this centre, close to a pillar, and well out of sight, that thechildren had hidden their things; and here Esther came now, and pushingher arm through a narrow opening, groped about for the familiar baskets, and groped in vain. 

"I thought we put them here, " she said to herself, "but I must have cometo the wrong opening. " She went to another, and groped again in vain. 

"Well, " she said perplexed, and beginning to feel troubled, "I am certainit was in one of those. We didn't go round to the other side, I am surewe didn't. I'll go inside and look. "

She went to what they called their secret entrance, and creeping in, stoodup in the 'room' and looked about her. Not a basket was to be seen. The place was bare. 

She scrambled out again more quickly than she had moved for a very longtime. "Penelope, " she shouted, "girls, quick--come--we've been--"

Then the thought suddenly came to her that perhaps the thieves were inhiding somewhere near, and were chuckling over her dismay, and she drewherself up abruptly. If a trick had been played them the perpetratorsshould not gloat over their discomfiture. 

Guard was still sniffing eagerly about the spot when Esther walked withdignity back to the others, and, still with that fear of watching eyes onher, sat calmly down by them before she spoke; but when she did speak hertragic, mysterious voice and manner filled them all with awe and dismay. 

"Girls, keep very quiet and listen to me. What _do_ you think hashappened! There are thieves about. They have stolen our baskets and thecan--everything. There isn't a crumb left. Isn't it awful! Don't shriekor make a fuss. They may be watching us, and we won't let them see thatwe know, or--or care, will we?"

To the two younger ones it was an impossibility to suppress all signs. To them thieves meant robbers, bandits, a horde of savage creatures whomight spring from anywhere, who, having consumed their provisions, might next run away with themselves. There were other troubles, too. 

"And I am _so_ hungry, " cried Poppy. "I am starving. It isn't a bit likea birthday. I wish I hadn't had one. "

Esther sat down by her and put her arms protectingly round her. Penelope looked fierce. 

"We cannot put up with it, " she cried indignantly. "It's suchimpertinence to take our things, such wickedness, such thievery. The children will be starved. What can we do? Where can we look? Who doyou think can have done it? Come and search for them, shall we?Guard ought to be able to catch them. Perhaps some one has done it justto play us a trick. "

"But suppose they are looking on and laughing, " said Esther, who had aperfect horror of being made to look foolish. "And do you think it issafe? They must be horrid people, and might do anything if we found themout. "

"I expect they have run away by now, if they stole the things, " said wisePenelope, who could be very practical when she did come out of her dreamystate, "and they would laugh more if the baskets were only just hidden fora joke, and we went hungry because we wouldn't look for them. "

Esther saw the sense of all that; but Angela repeated anxiously, "Do you think it is safe?"

"Yes, safe enough with Guard to protect us, " said Penelope, ratherimpatiently. She was dreadfully hungry, and very disappointed and rathercross. They all got up and looked about them. Guard was at a littledistance from them, sniffing excitedly about a big clump of furze andblackberry bushes. 

"I believe they are there, " cried Penelope. 

"What, the thieves!" cried Angela, turning pale. 

"Don't be silly, Angela, " Penelope retorted crossly. "Can't you see youare frightening Poppy? I meant the baskets. If you are afraid, stayhere, and I will go alone. "

Angela looked 'squashed. ' "Oh no, " she stammered, "I--I will go too. "

"We will all go, " said Esther promptly. "Come along, children, don'tlet's be silly. "

They went along hand in hand, trying hard to look unconcerned and brave, and succeeding fairly well. Guard, seeing them coming, ran back to themexcitedly, then tore back to the bushes again, while they followed as fastas they could, peered in where he was thrusting his nose, and there, rightin the middle of the furze brake, they saw the two baskets and the can, quite empty. 

They were so hungry, so shocked, so disappointed, and so mortified by thetrick that had been played them, they had hard work to keep back theirtears. Angela and Poppy quite failed to. "I never knew such a horrid oldbirthday, " sobbed Poppy; "and the patties looked so lovely, and the cake, and now we've got to wait till we go home. "

Esther stood with the baskets in her hands, gazing at them with a troubledface. "I am glad we have these to take home with us, " she saidthoughtfully. "Girls, do you think we had better go straight back andtell what has happened, or--or shall we say nothing and let CousinCharlotte and Anna think we have eaten it all up. Anna would be soawfully disappointed to think all the meat patties and the sandwiches shehad made, and all the other things, had been eaten by thieves, and--andvery likely we shouldn't be allowed to come out like this any more, andthat would be dreadful. "

The consternation on all faces when Esther began was almost ludicrous, and, indeed, it was no light matter to contemplate hours of hunger in thathungry air; but the thought of Cousin Charlotte's and Anna'sdisappointment, wrath, and alarm made them think of another side of thequestion. 

"Will it be very long?" asked Poppy, in a piteous little voice. Esther took out her watch. "Four and a half hours to tea-time, I amafraid, " she said reluctantly. She could not bear to doom her sisters tosuch a spell of waiting, it seemed really too dreadful; and so they allthought as they groaned aloud. 

"Can I go home and pretend to Anna we want more lunch, we are so hungryto-day?" suggested Penelope. 

"I am sure she would think we were ill, and make us all come home atonce, " said Esther, laughing, "and perhaps make us go to bed. She gave ussuch a lot we couldn't possibly be hungry if we ate it all. "

"I have a penny, " said Angela. "Shall we go and buy four tea-cakes atMrs. Vercoe's? That will be one each, and better than nothing. "Better than nothing indeed! One of Mrs. Vercoe's tea-cakes seemed thenthe most desirable thing in the world--except two. 

They were all starting off when Angela exclaimed again, "Oh, and I'vethought of something else. If I could creep into the garden without beingseen, and get to the fowls' house, I believe I should find an egg inFluffikin's nest. "

"One raw egg between four wouldn't be much good, " said Penelopehopelessly. "It isn't worth going for. "

"But I didn't mean that, I didn't mean to eat it. I meant to take it toMrs. Vercoe's, and sell it. I dare say she would give me a penny for it, and that would buy four more tea-cakes. "

The suggestion was pronounced a noble one, and hailed with joy, and inanother moment they were all running in the direction of home as fast asthey could go. 

"I feel like a thief myself, " said Angela, as she crept out of the gardenagain, and rejoined them, a beautiful great egg in her hand. 

"I wish I knew who stole our food, " said Esther, "I should feel muchhappier. I don't like to tell, yet I don't think it is right to saynothing about it. "

It was a knotty problem, and lasted them all the time they were skirtingthe end of the garden and crossing the moor, until they came out close toMrs. Vercoe's shop. 

What had not occurred to any of them was that there might be any one elsein the shop, and least of all that it should be any one they knew. And this was exactly what did happen. 

The four of them walking quickly in at the door, as into a haven of refugereached at last, found themselves face to face with Cousin Charlotte. 

It was so unexpected that for a moment they wavered, and nearly turned andfled. Colouring hotly, and looking the picture of confusion, they couldthink of nothing to do or say. But Cousin Charlotte, guessing nothing, only smiled and looked amused. Their dismay escaped her. "Well, chicks, "she said, "are you managing to enjoy your holiday?"

"Yes--thank you, " they stammered, with as much enthusiasm as they couldmuster. 

"That's right. Don't overtire yourselves, but have a nice day. Now Imust hurry home to my meal. I expect you have had yours by this time. Ah, I see, " glancing at the empty baskets, "every crumb cleared. This iswonderful air for giving one an appetite, " she remarked, turning to Mrs. Vercoe, and Mrs. Vercoe agreed; but the children felt that neither of themunderstood that fact as they did. It was almost torture to hear CousinCharlotte say she was going home to her meal. Their longing to join herwas almost more than they could bear. They were thankful, though, thatshe did not ask them how they had enjoyed their lunch, and what Anna'spatties were like, or anything of that sort. 

"Well, good-bye, dears, for the time. You won't be late, will you?It would be wise to have a nice rest before tea-time. Don't eat a lot ofsweets now, will you? After your big lunch you should reserve yourselvesfor Anna's big tea. She will expect you to do justice to it. "Then turning to Mrs. Vercoe again to explain, "It is this young lady'sbirthday, and Anna has invited them to tea with her, as I, unfortunately, have to be out. "

"My!" exclaimed Mrs. Vercoe, looking at them with amused interest, "that _will_ be nice. Good-day, miss, " as Cousin Charlotte hurried away. 

On the counter stood a large tray of buns and tea-cakes--'splits' as theycall them in those parts. They were new, and the smell was perfectlydelicious. Mrs. Vercoe, saying, "I wishes you many returns of the day, missie, " was about to take one up and present it to Poppy, when she stayedher hand. "If you've just had your dinner you'd rather have a bit ofsweety, I reckon. "

"Oh no, " gasped poor Poppy, in her desperation almost clutching at thetempting food. "I--I--thank you very much, " she stammered. "I love plainbuns. There's miffing I like so much. " But when she had it she hesitatedto begin to eat it; it seemed so selfish and greedy right there underthose three pairs of hungry eyes. She longed to divide it, but did notlike to. Esther, seeing her perplexity, came to her rescue. "Eat it, dear, " she said softly, and Poppy never in her life was more glad to obey. 

Angela stepped forward, colouring a little. "Please, I want four farthingtea-cakes, " she said, as calmly as she could speak. She was painfullyconscious of Mrs. Vercoe's look of surprise. "And--and please, " she wenton, growing painfully embarrassed, for it was not easy now it had come tothe point, "do you want an egg, Mrs. Vercoe?"

Mrs. Vercoe looked even more surprised, but she only said civilly that she"could do with a dozen. "

"I've only one at present, " said Angela. "It is one my own hen laid, butyou can have some more to-morrow morning. "

"Very well, my dear, " said amiable Mrs. Vercoe, "that will do. I'll putthe one here until I get the rest. Shall I give you the money, missie, orwould Miss Ashe prefer to have it in goods?"

"Oh please, " said poor Angela, "this one is my own, and I should like--some more tea-cakes for it. "

"Tea-cakes!" said Mrs. Vercoe in a bewildered voice. "Why, yes, my dear, of course; but--you'll excuse my asking, but--there isn't nothing thematter, is there?" she inquired confidentially, peering at them over herbig glasses. 

Then Esther stepped forward. "Yes, Mrs. Vercoe, there is. It's--it'snothing wrong that we've done, but you must promise not to say a wordabout it to anybody, please. It wouldn't have mattered _quite_ so much, but now we have pretended to Cousin Charlotte that we enjoyed our lunch itwould be dreadful. You will never say a word to any one, will you, Mrs. Vercoe?"

Mrs. Vercoe promised solemnly, whereupon the four tongues were unloosed, and the whole tale of the calamity and their hunger and disappointment waspoured out. Mrs. Vercoe listened with the keenest interest, every now andthen raising her two fat hands in amazement, then resting them again onher plump sides. 

"Oh, my dears! oh, my dears!" she kept gasping. "What owdaciouswickedness there do be in this world, to be sure. To think of it! Well, Inever did! And if they ain't caught and punished it'll be no more norless than a crying shame. "

By the time they had finished she was leading them all into her littleparlour, bent on making tea for them and preparing them a good meal;but Esther would not hear of it. 

"Thank you very much, " she said warmly, "but if we may have a fewtea-cakes it will be quite enough. We only want something to prevent ourfeeling so hungry and faint and horrid till tea-time. "

Mrs. Vercoe insisted, though, on their all having some milk to drink withtheir splits, on which she spread butter liberally, and an apple or soeach to take away and munch on the moor. It was too soon to go home yet, they felt, yet their love for wandering had been somewhat dashed by theunpleasant experience of the morning. Somehow the moor did not seem thesame while they felt that it held thieves too. 

Guard, who had been given some biscuits and stale cake, looked up at theminquiringly, as much as to say, "Aren't we going home now?" Visions ofhis comfortable bed rose before him, and he felt very inclined for anoon-day nap. But the children told him he was not to go home yet, and heagreed, with his usual amiability, to follow where they led. 

"I think we will go down by the river, " said Esther. "It will be achange, and will seem different. It won't remind us so much of thieves. "

So on they went, past Moor Cottage, where they saw through the curtainsCousin Charlotte at her solitary meal, and waved gaily to her; over thebridge and down on the fascinating river-bank where all sorts of treasureslurked, and the roots of the trees, rising out of the soft earth, formedsteps and seats and balustrades and all sorts of things. 

"I think we won't go so very far, " said Esther, looking at her watch. "It is two o'clock now, and I think we might go home at half-past three. Let's sit down here, shall we?"

"Shall we just go a teeny tiny way further?" pleaded Angela. "There is abeautiful place a little way further on, a dear little cosy, cubby cornerwhere we should be shut in, and as comfy as possible. Shall we, Esther?"

Esther nodded, and on they went again. Guard, as though he knew what theyhad been saying, ran on in front, making for the very spot. 

"He _couldn't_ have understood what I said could he?" asked Angelaeagerly, "but he has gone into the very place. "

"And seems inclined to stay there, " said Penelope. She whistled once ortwice, but the usually obedient Guard did not appear. 

"I wonder what he is doing?" said Angela, growing anxious at once, as shealways did. "I will run on and see, " and, no one stopping her, she went. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The others, scarcely noticing that she had gone, went on their way veryslowly, watching the river as it swirled past, rushing by some places, at others apparently not moving. They were absorbed in sailing twigs downthe stream when a flying white-faced figure dashed into their midst, chattering confusedly and almost weeping. 

"Oh, what shall we do, what shall we do!" gasped Angela. "Guard foundthem. They are in there, dead or asleep. I don't know which. He issniffing at their pockets. There are three of them, and he won't let themgo, and it is Cousin Charlotte's cloth. I recognised it hanging out ofhis pocket, the one Anna wrapped the patties in--"

"_What are you talking about?_" demanded Esther, grasping Angela by thearm. "Don't be so frightened. What has happened?"

Angela tried to be calmer and more coherent. "There are three boys asleepin the very place where we were going. Guard found them. He was sniffingat their pockets when I got there, and he _wouldn't_ come away, and--Ibelieve they are the thieves that stole our lunch. One had a bit of whitesticking out of his pocket, and Guard sniffed at it and pulled it out, andI am certain it is Cousin Charlotte's doyley! Oh, Esther, what shall wedo? Shall we go away, or--or shall we--"

"Go away!" cried Esther, scornful and indignant. "No, indeed, except tofetch a policeman. I am going to tax them with it, and hear what theyhave to say. What boys are they, do you know?"

"I believe I have seen them at 'Four Winds, ' but I don't know theirnames--but, Esther, do you think it is safe to accuse them--"

"Safe!" cried Esther scornfully. "What is there to be afraid of?If there was anything I shouldn't care. I am not going to let them getoff scot-free, nasty, wicked thieves. They have spoilt our day, too, andall our fun. Let's be quick and catch them before they manage to escape. "

The four turned and hurried to the spot. As they drew near they heard nowand again a low growl from Guard, then voices half-whimpering, half-bullying. "Get away, get away you ugly great thing. You leave mealone. "

Esther's and Penelope's eyes lightened at the scent of battle. 

"Oh, don't let them hurt poor Guard!" pleaded Poppy piteously. 

"No, dear, they won't hurt him. They are horribly afraid of him, really, I expect. Perhaps you had better stay here. Would you rather?"

But Poppy clung close, begging not to be left. If there was to be battleshe was not going to let her sisters face it alone. 

There was not much battle left, though, in the three young scamps Guardwas keeping prisoners. The sight of the big, angry-looking dog, and theknowledge that they were trapped with proofs of their guilt on them, hadquenched all their spirit. Torpid after their big meal, they had fallenasleep in their hiding-place, feeling perfectly secure from detection. They had been awakened by something touching them, breathing into theirfaces, diving into their pockets where the remains of their feast layhidden, and had awakened with a start to find a huge, eager, angry animalstanding over them. They would have yelled but for the fear of drawingstill more attention to themselves and their whereabouts. 

When they heard footsteps approaching their terror increased ahundredfold, but when the owners of them turned the corner, and they foundthey were nothing worse than four little girls--the eldest no bigger thanthemselves--their relief was great, and their courage began to return. They assumed at once a superior 'don't-care' air, as though they thoughtit all a great joke. In their own minds they felt they could easily defysuch antagonists and get the better of them; but their attitude only madeEsther and Penelope more indignant with them. 

"Now, " said Esther severely, "you are caught. You are three thieves, andwe have caught you, and it only remains for us to decide what we shall dowith you. Guard, come here. "

Guard obediently came to her side, but he only helped so completely toblock the entrance that the boys recognised at once that they were nobetter off than they were before. 

"You go away and leave us alone, " cried the tallest of the young scamps, aboy of about fourteen. "We've got as much right here as you, and you'veno right to stop us if we wants to go. I'll tell the p'lice as 'ow youset your great savage dog on us. Yes, I will, see if I don't!"

Esther laughed scornfully. "I should like to see you, " she saidcontemptuously. "You wouldn't _dare_!"

"Wouldn't I! wouldn't I dare! You just wait and see then, " he went on ina bullying tone. 

Penelope could keep quiet no longer. "That's easily proved, " she saidloftily. "I will go and get one. Constable Magor will be in the villageabout this time, it won't take me long to get him, " and she turned away. 

The boys' faces were a picture. Fear, confusion, astonishment took theplace of their bragging. They still kept up a semblance of defiance, but it was very lukewarm. "No, you won't. You know you don't mean it. You needn't try to kid us. We know better. "

Penelope without another word walked away. When first she spoke she hadhardly intended really to get a policeman, but their taunts roused herspirit and determined her. The boys listened to her departing footsteps, and the look that came into their faces was not pretty. For a moment theylooked only foolish, then their expression changed to one of bullyinganger. 

"Let's knock 'em down and run for it, " urged one. "They don't know who weare. Tip they there things out of your pocket, Bill, so's they won't haveno clue. "

Esther's eyes darkened and deepened, her lips grew a little morecompressed, but otherwise her expression did not change from its look ofscornful disgust. Poppy clung closer. "Oh, Essie, don't let them hurtus, " she whispered nervously. 

Esther drew her closer and stood in front of her. "They won't hurt us, darling, " she said, with calm defiance. 

Angela, who all this while had been standing white to the lips and shakinguncontrollably, now suddenly pulled herself together. "If either of youdare to touch my little sister, " she called out, "I'll--I'll--"

"Dear me, " mimicked one boy rudely. "Will you really? What very finepeople we are. Ain't we brave too! Come on, Bill, " and they came towardsthe girls with a rush. But they had reckoned without a very importantantagonist. Guard, sitting quiet, obedient, apparently unconcerned, hadwatched every movement. At their first step forward he was on his feet, when they made their rush he sprang towards them, knocking the first boyoff his feet, and the others sprawling over him, and across the wriggling, bellowing, gasping heap he planted his big, rough body determinedly, growling fierce low growls every time they attempted to move, and even hadhis mistresses called to him then it is doubtful if he would have moved, so enraged was he. 

But Esther did not call him. Her anger had flamed as hot as his at thisattack of the bullies on Angela and little Poppy, and she felt no pity. "They shall stay there, " she determined, "for the time, at any rate. We will see what will happen next. "

The next thing that happened was a very meek voice coming from theprostrate trio. "Please, miss, if you'll call your dog off, we won'ttouch you, we won't really, honour bright!"

"Honour bright, " scoffed Esther. "You have none. You don't know whathonour is! I didn't know before that boys ever were such cowards. "

"Please, miss, if you'll call him off and not let him hurt us, we'llpromise--"

"I don't want your promises, " cried Esther. "You are thieves and cowards, and I wouldn't take your word. Besides, _we_ are not afraid of yourtouching us. Why did you steal our things?"

"Well--we found them, " grumbled one of the boys. "Findings is keepings, and how was we to know they was yours?"

"You knew they were not yours, and you had no right to touch them. "

"You shouldn't leave things about if you don't want them took. As like asnot your dog would have had 'em if we hadn't. "

"_He_ is _honest_, " said Esther scathingly, "and we are accustomed tohonest people. The things were put in a safe spot, out of sight. "

"Not so very safe, " taunted Bill. "We found 'em easy enough. "But his energy only called forth an alarming growl from Guard. 

"We will find a safe spot for you, at any rate, " said Esther meaningly, and the boys became thoughtful for a moment. 

"Please, miss, your dog's 'urting. He's treading on my chest, and he's'eavy, " whined Bill, but Esther paid no heed. Silence reigned, brokenonly by the voice of the river, and the singing of the happy birds. Guard stood at his post, the three girls kept the entrance, the boyswaited in increasing alarm, wondering what was going to happen. They were beginning to feel genuinely frightened. 

Esther was thinking deeply. The truth was she did not know what step totake next. She did not really want to give them in charge, she did notwant the affair to reach Cousin Charlotte's ears, and she did not know howto dispose of her prisoners with dignity. 

At last the silence was broken by a pitiful wailing voice. "Please, miss, if you'll let us go, we'll promise never to do no such thing no more. Please, miss, we ain't thieves really; we done it for fun more'n anything, and--and now I--I wish I hadn't never seen the old things, " and then thehero broke down and began to sob and call "Mawther, mawther, I want mymawther!"

Angela's anger evaporated. "I dare say he isn't really a bad boy, " shewhispered to Esther. "Let's forgive him, Essie. "

Esther was making up her mind. "Look here, you boys, " she called out atlast, "if you apologise to us and say you are sorry, and will never dosuch a thing again, we will let you off this time. But you must tell meyour names and where you live. " She did not in the least know what goodan apology would be, nor did the boys know what it was, but they promisedreadily. 

"Guard, come here, " commanded Esther. 

Guard moved away reluctantly. He had not forgotten the sudden attack onhis little mistresses. The boys sat up. 

"His name is John Thomas, and his is Bill Baker, and mine's Silas Hawken, "said the eldest of the three, "and we lives to Four Winds. "

"Um!" said Esther sternly. "We know Four Winds and a lot of people there, so we shall hear if you don't behave yourselves, and if you don't we willtell the police about this. Now go. "

With intense relief and quickening steps the boys were hurrying by them, Guard, still suspicious, following at their heels, when suddenly it washis turn to be bowled over by the enemy. With a roar of terror the threeboys recoiled one on the other, and all three on top of Guard, for at theentrance stood Penelope and Constable Magor. 

Angela and Poppy looked almost as frightened as the boys. They did notwant them to be really taken to jail, and it seemed now as though matterswere being taken out of their hands. They felt sure the culprits would beled away handcuffed. Poppy, with this in her mind, forgot everything. 

"Oh, please, " she cried, running to the constable, "please we havepromised to forgive them. Don't take them to jail, please. They saidthey were sorry, and they won't ever be naughty again, and we let them go. Didn't we, Esther? Please don't hurt them. "

Constable Magor looked at Esther, and Esther explained. The boys, lookingthe picture of miserable fear and shame, stood huddled together as far aspossible from every one. The constable, with a knowing shake of the headto Esther, said, "All right, miss. I knows how to deal with they thereyoung rogues. " Going over to them he pushed them apart, and made themstand at equal distances from one another. 

"Now you turn out your pockets, every one of them, " he commanded sternly. "Right there afore me, you turn 'em out, and turn 'em out thorough, orI'll be doing it for you. Do you hear?"

They heard plainly enough, and with shaking hands turned out a collectionof marbles, crumbs, sticky sweets, twine, broken patties and sandwiches, and sundry other odds and ends. One had the little doyley Angela hadfirst recognised, another reluctantly produced a silver foldingfruit-knife with 'C. Ashe' engraved on the handle. When the girls sawthis they looked at each other. "Cousin Charlotte and Anna would havemissed that, " they whispered, "and then we should have had to tell. "

The constable looked grave, too, when he saw the knife and the doyley. "This is serious, " he said sternly, "and if it wasn't that the youngladies perticler asked me not to, I'd clap the handcuffs on the lot of youfor it, and as like as not you'd get a week in jail, and have your jacketswarmed with that there cat-o'-nine-tails you may have heard tell on. Don't you think, miss, " turning to Esther with a very grave face, "as 'owI'd better, after all?"

"Oh no--don't let him!" pleaded Poppy frantically. 

Esther pretended to think deeply for a moment, debating the question;then, with great importance and dignity, "No, I think we will let them gothis time, thank you, " she said, "though when I gave them my promise Ididn't know they were going away with stolen things in their pockets. I gave them my promise, and I'll keep it, but, "--very severely--"it is morethan they deserve. "

"That it is, " said Constable Magor emphatically; "and if they don't lookafter their ways they'll taste that 'cat' yet. Do you hear, you youngscamps? Let this be a lesson to you, and thank your stars you've got suchkind-hearted young ladies to deal with, or I wouldn't say what would havehappened to you by now! Now go. Right about face, quick march, and don'tyou let me have no more complaints of you, or I'll know how to act. You won't have a second such chance. Do you hear? Now go!"

They did not need a second bidding, but dashed out of the place as thoughthey feared if they lingered their chance would be gone, and soon eventheir stumbling, scrambling footsteps could no longer be heard. 

Then the policeman took his leave too, and the four were left looking ateach other. The scene had tried their nerves and their courage more thanthey realised; they felt suddenly very tired and very depressed. Poppy began to sob from sheer weariness. The others felt as though theywould like to follow suit, but pride forbade them. The moor and the riverand the day seemed suddenly to have grown chilly and gloomy and sad. 

"I think we will go home, " said Esther. "Shall we?"

They all agreed, with something like relief in their voices. Poppy's sobsceased. "It doesn't seem a bit like a burfday, does it, Essie? Oh, I am_so_ tired. "

Esther bent down and kissed her and picked her up in her arms. She herself was tired, and Poppy was a heavy load for fourteen-year-oldEsther; but she loved her baby sister so dearly she could not bear to seeher sad and weary. "Put your arms round my neck and hold tight, and wewill soon get home, and you shall rest a little; and then we will havetea, and all the rest of the day shall be one of the beautifullest youever had. We will play games, 'Hot and Cold, ' 'Pepper, Salt, andMustard, ' and all the ones you like best, and we will have a lovely time, won't we?"

Poppy nodded the weary little head resting on her sister's shoulder. "Yes, " she agreed gladly, comforted greatly by Esther's tone. Esther herself did not feel at all inclined for games or jollity, oranything of the sort, but the mere pretending helped her. Penelope andAngela strolled on ahead, linked arm in arm. Guard trotted along slowlybetween the two couples, as though determined to be prepared for any moreattacks, and so they reached home again at last, and thankfully they madetheir way to their comfortable bedrooms to prepare for the next event ofthat exciting day. 

"I do hope, " said Esther, as she slowly mounted the stairs, "that we don'thave another angry word with any one all the rest of the day. It seems tohave been nothing but quarrelling, so far. "

"Laugh before breakfast, cry before night, " murmured Poppy in a very wearyvoice; but when Esther had given her a nice warm bath, and tucked her awayin her little bed for a rest, her spirits had recovered. "She didn't say'keep on crying, ' did she, Essie? So perhaps I have cried enough, andit's all over. Oh my! what lovely things Anna must be cooking, " sniffingin the savoury odours which were finding their way from the kitchen. "I wonder what they are. _I_ am going to have some of _everything_, because it's my birthday, " and then the little heroine of the day droppedoff into a dreamless sleep, while Esther turned over their scanty stock ofclothing to try to find something worthy of the occasion. 

When Poppy awoke the scent of hot jams and spicy cakes, and all sorts ofother good things, was stronger than ever, reminding her, the moment sheopened her eyes, what day it was, and what was before her. She jumped upin bed with a start. "Oh, I haven't slept too long, have I? Esther, isit very late? Do help me to dress quick!"

"It is all right, " said Esther, in a calm, reassuring tone. "I am ready, and now I can attend to you. It is only four o'clock. There is plenty oftime. I wouldn't have let you sleep too long, dear. "

"But supposing you had slept too, and we had all slept!" Poppy's eyesgrew very large and round at the mere thought of so dreadful apossibility. 

"Oh my!" said Esther calmly, as she put the last finishing touches to herhair, "wouldn't it have been dreadful! Don't let's think about it. "

Esther had put on her best frock and an old muslin fichu about hershoulders. The fichu was one her mother had thrown away long ago, andEsther had rescued. It was old, but it looked quite pretty andpicturesque over her plain red frock. Poppy was better off than theothers. She owned a little soft, white silk frock, which still lookedfestive and partyfied, in spite of frequent washings and not too carefulironings. Her pretty dark hair Esther tied with her own best rose-pinkhair-ribbon. "Now if I had only got a sash for you, dear, your frockwould look lovely. "

"Never mind, " said Poppy cheerfully. "I will wear my locket. " From herjewel-case, as she called it, she took carefully a thread-like gold chainand a tiny old-fashioned gold locket; it had an anchor on one side andheld two photographs. Poppy did not know whose photographs they were, andno one had ever been able to tell her, but she would not have had themremoved for any consideration whatever. The other contents of herjewel-case were a large green malachite brooch in the shape of a Maltesecross, a tiny silver pig, and a broken gold safety-pin; but no child everpossessed treasures more greatly prized. 

Before the toilette was complete Penelope and Angela came in, looking veryneat and nice, and then an anxious consultation was held as to whetherthey ought to go down or wait until the bell rang. They compromised bygoing half-way and sitting on the stairs. The last few minutes did seemvery long, for they were ravenous again by that time; but so prompt wasAnna that before the clock began to strike the hour she came to thekitchen door, and had just begun to make a terrific clanging with the bellwhen they ran through from the inner hall. 

"Well! 'tis a compliment, sure enough, " she said, with a beaming smile, "when folks comes and waits outside for the doors to open. Come along inthen, my dears. 'Tis all ready. "

Anna was in her best frock with her Band of Hope scarf on, and lookedflushed and pleased, and no wonder, for the kitchen looked beautiful. It was decorated with no fewer than twenty nosegays of flowers, arrangedon the dressers and mantelpiece and every available space in jugs and potsand vases of every description; while on the table were bread and butter, 'splits' spread with jam and cream, seed-cakes, currant-cakes, an appletart covered with cream, on a plate, and _the_ birthday cake. Oh! howgood it all smelt and looked. 

Anna took her seat at the head of the table before the tea-tray, with theheroine of the day on her right hand and Esther on her left. 

"I hope you've all got good appetites, " she said, as she handed them theircups. 

"Oh yes, " they said meekly, but thought, as they looked at each other, itwas as well Anna did not know how good, and why. 

"You look tired, I think, " she went on. "You've been out too long, perhaps; but your tea will refreshen you. "

Esther thought if Anna only knew all they had been through since she sawthem last she would not wonder at their looking tired. She did long topour out all their adventures to her. She would have been so interestedand sympathetic, and it would have been such a relief to have talked itall over with some one older than themselves, and thus have thrown off thefear of a chance word or hint escaping one or the other of them. Once ortwice the tale almost got beyond the tip of her tongue; but she thought ofthe curtailed freedom which might follow, so held her peace. 

The others were, for a time, completely absorbed by the meal. Never greater compliment was paid to any feast. Very soon there was not adish on the table but what showed gaps. The 'splits' vanished in no time;the apple tart looked quite shabby. Anna was kept quite busy helping themto one thing after another. At first she fairly beamed with delight;but by and by she began to look a little perplexed. 

"I suppose it _is_ a long time since you had your lunches, " she saidreflectively, "and the air do give one a appetite. P'r'aps you hadn'tbetter have any more tart, Miss Poppy, dear. Hadn't you better try a bitof plain bread and butter?" She did not like to say much, but she reallybegan to grow quite troubled at the size of their appetites. 

Before they had finished their tea Ephraim came to the door. He hadtidied for the evening, but had come back with a message for MissCharlotte. 

"Oh, _do_ ask him in, " pleaded Poppy earnestly. "Anna, do. It would seemso unkind to let him see us having such a _lovely_ tea and not offer himany. "

"I shouldn't think he'd want any, " said Anna, with seeming reluctance; butshe called out to him, "Come inside, Ephraim, and close that door. You'm keeping the young ladies in a draught. Miss Poppy wants to know ifyou can stay and have some of her birthday tea. You'm welcome to if youcan. "

Ephraim seemed able, and even glad, to stay. "I wanted to see MissPoppy, " he said. "I've got something for her, as that there furrin chapdown to Edless was bringing along. I met un at the gate and told un I'dtake it in for him as I was coming in, " and he laid a neat white parcel onthe table beside the astonished little maid. 

"For me!" she cried, looking all round the table, wide-eyed withexcitement. "Are you _sure_ it's for me, Ephraim?" she asked, as shebegan to undo the pretty ribbons which tied the parcel--rose-colourribbons like that in her hair. The excitement of all very nearly equalledhers, and when she lifted out of the soft white paper a beautifulsilk-fringed sash of the same shade, they all shrieked with joy. 

"The very, very, very thing I was wanting for you just now!" cried Esther. "Oh, how lovely! It is from Mademoiselle. How kind and beautiful ofher. "

Poppy handed the sash round for inspection, while she read the little noteenclosed. 

"It is not poppy-colour, but will my dear little market-woman accept itfrom a grateful customer with much love and every good wish for many happyreturns of the day?"

Their excitement was so great they could not eat another mouthful, somewhat to Anna's relief, for she had really grown quite anxious lestthey should make themselves ill. 

Ephraim's appetite almost rivalled theirs, but at last even he had done, the table was cleared, and space made for games to begin. It was thenthat Ephraim came out in a new and unexpected light, for if any one hadtold Anna or the children that he could be a leading spirit in games andjokes, and riddles and such-like, they would have refused to believe it;but he proved it beyond all doubt or denial, for the next hour or two flewby with shrieks of laughter and endless fun, and Ephraim was the leader ofit all. 

"Anna, " said Poppy, as she was being put to bed that night, "don't youlike Ephraim now better than you did?"

Anna refused to own to any such weakness, but she blushed a little as shedenied it. 

"P'r'aps, " said Angela, in a half-absent way as she brushed out her hairin Poppy's room, "p'r'aps Anna likes him so much already she can't likehim better if she tries"; and Anna blushed as though Angela's chance shothad reached home. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

To Penelope the weeks that followed the great day were very sorrowfulones. Miss Row apparently could not forgive her. Day after day shewaited, hoping for a message bidding her come to renew her lessons; but nomessage came, and Penelope grew sick with disappointment and grief thatshe should have given such offence to her good friend. She went to CousinCharlotte about it--she had told her at once the story of how they hadgiven offence--but Cousin Charlotte only shook her head. 

"I think you cannot do anything, dear, but go and apologise if you feelyou spoke rudely; but--well, to tell you the truth, Penelope, Miss Row hasa most unfortunate temper. She was born with it, and she was never taughtto check it, and now it is too late. I tell you this as a warning, child. "

Penelope did go to Cold Harbour to apologise. She thought she would feelhappier if she did; but there she only met with another blow. Miss Rowhad gone away, and no one knew when she would come back. Returning moredejected than ever, she looked in at the church on her way home. If shecould have practised a little it would have comforted her, but the organwas locked. Miss Row had probably left the key with some one, butPenelope felt she could not ask for it, as Miss Row had not said anythingto her about it; so everything seemed at a standstill and full of gloom. 

Esther, meantime, was spending what were perhaps the happiest weeks shehad ever known. She went to Mademoiselle Leperier three times a week tosit with her and read to her and do little things she needed done, and inreturn Mademoiselle gave her lessons and talked to her in French, so thatvery soon Esther began to feel she was becoming quite proficient in thelanguage. So the visits were a double and a treble joy to her. She loved to be with Mademoiselle in the dear little brown house where allwas so quiet and peaceful, and nothing rubbed her the wrong way; or tostroll about the moor together. She loved to learn, and, perhaps best ofall, she loved to be of use and feel she was some help. Such pleasantwalks they had, and such long talks as they strolled slowly about, or satin the sunny sweet garden, looking over the great empty space where naturedwelt alone, or in the cosy little parlour, fragrant always with the scentof flowers and the pot-pourri with which the old blue bowls and teapotswere filled. One of Esther's self-appointed duties was to keep the vasesalways fresh and sweet. 

The days were very full and happy now for Esther. She had quite a numberof duties at Moor Cottage, duties that were now left entirely to her, andfor which she was held responsible. She worked hard at her studies withCousin Charlotte, and she was still to some extent 'little mother' toPoppy, so her mind and her time were very much occupied. This perhapsmade her a little blind to Penelope's distress, yet poor Penelope'sdistress was very complete and apparent, for Miss Row had been away formonths, and never once in all that time had she sent a word to her littlepupil. The truth was she was so absorbed, as was her habit, in the peopleand things she was amongst that she quite forgot all else. 

It was Angela who felt most distressed by Penelope's trouble, and mostsympathetic; and Angela it was who, on one of her rare visits to Edless, told the tale to Mademoiselle Leperier. 

"Poor child, poor child, " sighed Mademoiselle sympathetically, and askedmany questions until she drew from Angela all details, even to whatMr. Somerset had said about her voice. "Ah!" she said. "It ought not tobe neglected, it ought not to be neglected. It will soon be too late. "

She said no more then; but when Angela and Esther were leaving she sent amessage to Penelope. "Tell her to come to me to-morrow. We may be ableperhaps to do something that will fill up the waiting time. "

Angela returned home in a high state of joy, which was scarcely damped byEsther's silence during the first part of their walk, or her vexed remark, "I do think you should know better than pour out all the family troublesto Mademoiselle. I wonder you didn't ask her to teach--" but she stoppedbefore she finished what she had been going to say. "You three never gothere but what you make me wish you hadn't. "

"But I haven't done anything, Esther. Mademoiselle asked how Pen was, andwhen I told her she was very unhappy about something she asked me why, and what it was, and I had to tell her; and then she just asked me allabout it, and I--I told her. I couldn't help it--could I? I couldn'tsay I wouldn't. "

"Penelope isn't very unhappy, nothing to make such a fuss about, " grumbledEsther. "When _I_ am unhappy no one takes any notice of me. I don't seeanything wrong with her. "

"Oh, don't you? I do. She is always so quiet, not like she used to be. She frets so about having vexed Miss Row, and not going on with hermusic. "

"If Miss Row had acted so to me I should have too much pride to grieve. Why doesn't Penelope ask Mr. Jeffry to lend her the key of the organ?He would in a moment. "

"She won't because she feels Miss Row did not mean her to have it. "

"That is nonsense, " retorted Esther. "She can't want it so very much ifshe won't take the trouble to speak to Mr. Jeffry. After all, it is notMiss Row's organ. "

"Pen does want it _very_ much, " said Angela gently. 

"I never did like Miss Row, " Esther went on, still in her mostdisagreeable mood. "I could see she had a horrid temper. If Pen letsherself be taken up and made a lot of she must expect what she gets. "

"But Miss Row didn't make more of Penelope than Mademoiselle has of you, "urged Angela, always ready to defend her adored Penelope, "and you wouldfeel it if Mademoiselle acted so to you. "

"Oh, Mademoiselle is quite different from Miss Row, " said Esther loftily. She did not admit even to herself that much of the charming difference layin the fact that she had singled out her, Esther, from her sisters. 

She underwent some change of opinion, though, when, a few days later, Penelope came dancing down the road from Edless beside herself, almost, with happiness. "Oh, Cousin Charlotte!" she cried as she rushed into thehouse. "Oh, Cousin Charlotte! oh, girls! Mademoiselle has been talkingto me. She _is_ so kind! What _do_ you think? She actually says shewill give me lessons in singing if Cousin Charlotte will permit her. She says she would _like_ to. Isn't it lovely! splendiferous! beautiful!Cousin Charlotte, you will, won't you? I _do_ want to learn, and this issuch a splendid chance. Isn't it wonderful how the very things one wantsmost come to one! I never dreamed of such a lovely thing as this. "

Esther got up and walked away without speaking a word. Cousin Charlotte, who had seen her face, looked after her sadly, and sighed a little as shewatched her go. Then she turned to Penelope. "Yes, dear, certainly. It is a wonderful opportunity for you here in this out-of-the-way spot, and I could not deny it to you. I am most grateful to Mademoiselle forher thoughtful kindness. I must call on her, " Miss Charlotte added amoment later, "whether she likes it or not. I must thank her for hergoodness to all my chicks. "

"Oh, she _will_ be glad, " cried Penelope, flinging her arms about MissAshe's neck, and kissing the soft old cheek. "She will love you, CousinCharlotte, I know she will. She can't help it. Now I am going out tothink about it all. Oh, I _am_ so happy. Thank you ever so much, Cousin Charlotte, " and she kissed her impetuously again. 

"You are easily made happy, my Penelope, " said the little lady with asigh, as she put her arm around Penelope's shoulders and gave her a littlesqueeze; and she sighed again as she thought of her Esther, and theexpression on her face. "I had that same sort of temper once, " she saidto herself, "so I ought to understand her, and help her through; but oh, I pray she may be spared the sorrow I had to bear, and the bitterness ofsuch regrets. "

But whatever Esther felt she said nothing. She never once spoke toPenelope, then or later, of her singing lessons, or mentioned the subjectto any one, and when Penelope returned from her lessons, full of talk ofwhat had been seen and done and said, Esther might have been dumb and deaffor all the share she took in the conversation. But she carefully avoidedEdless on those days; in fact she rarely went to the cottage at all fromthe time Mademoiselle made her kind offer to Penelope. 

No one knew it, though, for she went off as usual three times a week inthe direction of Edless; but usually she turned aside when she got out ofsight, and wandered on the moor hour after hour, lonely and most unhappy, breaking her heart for neglecting her beloved Mademoiselle, yet such avictim to her temper that she could not conquer it. Often and often shethrew herself on the turf in a passion of tears, angry, wretched, ashamed. More than once, in a better mood, she determined not to be so weak andcontemptible, but to be nobler and braver, and truer to her aims. She hoped Mademoiselle did not notice anything and understand. But howcould Mademoiselle help noticing? She saw and grieved; and in part sheunderstood, but she said nothing. She knew that time alone could setthings right. Esther must learn by experience. But how that lesson wasto come, or how bitter was to be the experience, she little dreamed untilthe dreadful day I am going to tell you of. 

To begin with it seemed like any other day. Penelope had to go to Edless, for it was one of her singing-lesson days, and Esther, jealous, angry, wretched, had watched her start, envying her and full of wrath. She herself had not been to Edless for a fortnight, and she had latelyfelt shy about going again after such a long neglect. She wondered whatMademoiselle was thinking of her. She was hurt that no message was sentby Penelope, yet relieved that Mademoiselle was keeping her secret;she often dreaded what Cousin Charlotte would think of her if she shoulddiscover her deceit, for she had often and often gone out pretending shewas bound for Edless, and had even said, in answer to her inquiries forMademoiselle, that she was 'about the same, ' or something to that effect, though she really had no knowledge at all, and the deception made herconduct trebly bad. She was angry that all this misery should have comeand spoilt her happy life, jealous that Penelope should be able to go offwith such an honest, light heart and smiling face; and blamed every onebut herself. 

Before Penelope was more than out of sight, on this particular tragic day, Cousin Charlotte came into Esther's bedroom, looking alarmed and bothered. 

"Esther dear, " she said, "I wish you would go to Edless to-day and homeagain with Penelope, and take Guard with you. If you are quick you canovertake her. She has gone quite alone, and I am anxious. Ephraim toldAnna that a lot of the cattle have wandered to this part of the moor, andare in a very wild state. I shall be afraid for you children to go on themoor at all if they stay in this neighbourhood. I wish Anna had spokenabout it before Penelope started; I would have sent Ephraim with her ornot have let her go. Do you mind going, dear?"

"Oh no, " said Esther, but very coldly. 

"You will be quite safe with Guard, even if they do come near. He will drive the creatures off, " said Cousin Charlotte, thinking Estherwas nervous. "Penelope ought to have taken him. I should not have beenanxious about her if she had. "

But Esther had none of that sort of fear. "Oh, I am not afraid, " she saidmore heartily, and went away to put on her hat. But when she was actuallyon her way to Edless she felt she could not go there; she could not obeyMiss Charlotte and hurry after Penelope until she overtook her, and thenescort her to the very door. In those days she could rarely bring herselfto talk to Penelope at all, so far had her feelings got the mastery overher, and so deeply did her grievance rankle; and the farther she went theless able did she feel to do so now. 

"If I keep her in sight it will be all right, " she said, with suddeninspiration; and so they went all the way, the unconscious Penelopewalking on in front, Esther behind dodging and hiding and loitering sothat Penelope might not see her, until at last she knew the cottage wasalmost reached, and stopped altogether. 

She had had to lead Guard all the way, for he, catching sight of anotherof his mistresses before him, was full of eagerness to tear on and greether; but Penelope, still quite ignorant of what was behind her, reachedthe cottage safely, knocked, and was admitted. Esther, from herhiding-place behind a rock, saw the door opened by Laura, Anne's smilingwife, and closed again, and resentment against her sister grew hotter thanever. 

"She gets everything, " she muttered, "and if I have a friend or a chanceshe takes them away; but she doesn't share hers with me. " She had toldherself all this so often she really believed it by this time. Poor Esther! poor unhappy Esther! Guard sat by her watching her withwistful, wondering eyes. He felt that something was wrong, poor olddoggie. 

She seated herself behind the rock to await Penelope's return. It wouldbe no use to conceal her presence any longer, for Cousin Charlotte wouldcertainly speak of it; so she must join Penelope on the way home, andmake some sort of explanation. That, though, would be nothing comparedwith the mortification of having to go into the cottage with her. 

Esther in her nook, cut off from every view but the moor in the directionfrom which she had just come, sat and dreamed troubled dreams, and broodedover her grievances, but never once gave a thought to the danger she hadbeen sent to protect Penelope from. And all the time that danger wasdrawing nearer and nearer. 

In the distance, just over the horizon behind her, on her left, thereappeared a shaggy brown form, followed closely by another and another andanother until a whole herd was descending the slope towards her, sniffingthe air and the strange ground, cropping the turf a little here and there, or gazing about them with curiosity. Closer and closer they came, the soft turf deadening the noise of their coming. 

"It must be nearly time for her to come out, " said Esther at last, takingout her watch. Guard, at the sound of her voice, rose on his long legsand, stretching himself, wandered away a little. The foremost of theshaggy brown creatures looked up sharply, looked again, suspiciously, atthis other occupant of this strange land who had so unexpectedly appeared, and his eyes wore a new glint as he stood and watched with increasing fearor suspicion, or both. Then he took a pace nearer, and another, followedby the others, all staring now at Guard, tossing their heads ominously, and pawing the ground as they sniffed the air. 

And just at that unfortunate moment Penelope came around the bend, dancingalong light-heartedly, singing to herself the exercise she had just beenlearning. Guard, looking about him eagerly, recognised her at once, andwith a yelp of joy dashed towards her. 

Esther was not alarmed at his outcry. She guessed the cause of it, andrising with feigned indifference went out from her shelter to meet hersister. With cold, hard eyes and unsmiling face she looked towardsPenelope, framing the while her explanation of her presence there--only tosee that explanation had come too late. 

The cattle, roused to anger by Guard's sudden bark and spring, were comingdown on him in a body, their pace growing faster, their anger increasingwith every step. In charging him they must inevitably charge Penelopetoo. There was no escape for her, unless Guard ran away from her, drawingthe enemy off; but that, of course, he was not likely to do, he was toopleased at seeing her again. 

Esther saw and realised all at a glance, and the horror of it struck herdumb. Once, twice, three times she tried to call. If she could only getGuard away the cattle would follow him; but no voice came. She grewdesperate, mad with fear for her sister. Oh, if she could but get them tocome towards her and leave Pen. She tried to whistle, but her lipstrembled too much. She tried to shriek and failed, and when at last shesucceeded, the weak, strained voice could hardly be recognised as hers. But Guard heard it. "Guard, Guard, come here!" she called, running alittle to draw him after her. The obedient old dog turned, saw the enemy, and, all his fury aroused by the danger, charged them like a hurricane. 

But what was one amongst so many! They overwhelmed him, were on him, closed around him, and around Penelope too. 

Esther saw it--saw her sister fall, saw the big beasts trampling over her, and Guard in their midst barking, snarling, flying at their noses, dodgingaway from their horns, and punishing them so severely that in spite oftheir numbers the poor brutes gave up the game at last, worsted, and toreaway over the moor in the direction whence they had come, as though theyhad a pack behind them. 

When Anne Roth came panting up a moment later, having seen the cattledisappearing and been filled with alarm lest Penelope should have beenfrightened by them, he found the two sisters unconscious on the ground, with their poor protector lying bleeding and exhausted between them, andwhining piteously as he licked his bleeding wounds. 

Here was a sight for one man in a lonely spot! For a moment Anne wasbewildered; then, picking up Penelope, who he saw was the most injured, he carried her with all the speed he could back to his own house. But he was full of a double dread, for to the most casual eye it was plainthat the child was seriously injured, and the sight of her, bruised, bleeding, and unconscious could not but be a shock to his mistress. 

But Mademoiselle bore the shock well. "Let me attend to her while you andLaura go to poor Miss Esther and the dear dog, " she said promptly; andPenelope was taken up to her own room, where she undressed her and got herto bed, and bathed her cuts, while they went out and brought in the othertwo. 

Esther was in a swoon, but quite uninjured, so they laid her on the couchin the little sitting-room and administered restoratives, while Guard wastaken to the kitchen to have his wounds bathed and dressed, and Annehurried off for a doctor and Miss Ashe, for Penelope's injuries were fartoo serious for home dressing. She was bleeding so profusely from thecuts on her head that there was real cause for alarm; her arm was broken, and her collar-bone, too, they feared, while her poor body was bruised andcrushed all over. 

When Esther came back to consciousness twilight had fallen. She lookedabout her for a moment in the dimness, bewildered and incredulous. That she was in the dear familiar room she loved so well, she felt sure, yet how came she there? and what had happened? She lay still for amoment, wondering; then, her head growing confused, she raised herself aLittle and looked again. This time she recognised a figure seated by thewindow, but so quiet and drooping she scarcely seemed alive. 

For a second or so Esther gazed in sheer bewilderment, then raisingherself still more, she whispered, half-alarmed, half-questioning, "Mademoiselle, is that you?"

Mademoiselle rose at once. "Are you better, darling?" she said, bendingover and laying a soft hand on her head. Esther noticed that she spoke ina strange, hushed voice. 

"Are you ill, Mademoiselle?" she asked anxiously. 

"No, darling. I am well, but--" she paused, as though listening, and thenfor the first time Esther noticed the sounds of strange voices and manyfootsteps overhead, and with the same, memory returned. 

"Penelope!" she cried frantically. "Oh, Penelope! where is she?Is she--is she--oh, "--burying her face in her hands as memory returned toher--"I thought she was killed--I saw her--under their hoofs. I saw themtrampling on her--is she--killed?" in a hushed, gasping voice. 

Mademoiselle laid a soothing hand on her. "No, dear, she is alive andsafe. She is badly injured, but she will recover, please God. The doctoris with her now, and Miss Ashe, so I came down to see my poor Esther. My child, we have much to be thankful for that things are not worse. It might have been--"

"Oh, Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle, " cried Esther, "I can never tell you howbad I have been--" but she found herself clasped in a warm embrace thattold of pity and love and sympathy unbounded. Mademoiselle asked noquestions, but the whole story had to be told. Esther knew she would knowno rest until she had unburthened her heart and humbled herself, and waspossessed by a feeling that if she did not do it then she might neveragain be able to. And Mademoiselle, with complete understanding, let hertalk. 

"I saw her fall. I heard her scream. She tried to get up, but wasknocked down again. She called 'Esther, Esther, ' but I couldn't helpher--and I thought she was being killed. Oh, Mademoiselle, I shall neverbe able to forget it--never, never, never!" and Esther clung to her, shaken with terror and the shock of all she had gone through. 

"Darling, you must try not to dwell upon it. You must try to be strongand brave, and get well, for Penelope will need you, and Angela and Poppywill need you--and Guard--"

"Oh! Guard?" gasped Esther, afraid to ask the question which filled hermind. 

"Do you think you can bear to see him? He will be so much happier if hemay be with you. "

"Then he is--all right?" breathlessly. 

"No, darling, not all right. He has come out of the battle alive, whichis more than one could have dared to hope; but he is badly injured. You will not be shocked by the sight of bandages, will you? Guard looks apoor old battered warrior at present, but we hope he will soon recover. "

A battered warrior indeed did he look as he came creeping, limping in, his head bound up in bandages, one leg in a splint, and bandages about hisbody and chest where big gashes had been stitched and strapped up. His pain was so great he could scarcely drag himself in, but he creptforward, wagging his tail bravely; and when Esther laughed a little weak, almost tearful laugh, at the sight of his long nose coming out of his'nightcap, ' as she called it, he smiled and wagged his tail again, and tried to raise himself to kiss her. 

The other victim Esther did not see until the next day, for Penelope wastoo ill to bear anything more that night, and when Esther went into thesickroom the next day she could hardly recognise her bonnie, smilingsister in the pale, bandaged face on the pillow, so drawn with pain, sodark about the eyes, so wan and changed in even that short time. 

She was too weak and exhausted even then to speak much, but the old smileflickered for a moment in her tired eyes, and the sound arm was stretchedout to creep around Esther's neck. 

"I am all--all right, " she whispered. "I shall be well--soon. It isn't--so very--bad, now. "

"Pen, " Esther whispered back in an agony, "oh, Pen, you don't know all, but--I'll never, never--"

Penelope put up her lips to be kissed. "Never--mind, " she whisperedfaintly. "Nothing shall--ever--come between us--again, shall it, dear?"

"Never, " said Esther decisively, "if I can help it. " And she honestlytried to keep her word. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

It often happens that a big shock which pulls us up with a sharp jerk onthe road we are travelling will show us the danger of the way before us, and teach us to walk warily all our days. So it was with Esther. The shock and horror, and the awful fear she endured that afternoon, showed her, as nothing else could, the way she was going. I do not for amoment mean to say that she conquered her unfortunate temper all at once, and became perfectly good and gentle and free from all jealousy from thatmoment. That would have been impossible to any one, certainly to a childof such strong feelings, so reserved and sensitive, so full of failings asEsther. But she did try, and if she failed she did her best to conquernext time, and only those who have tried too know how hard that is. 

Others helped her a little without her knowledge. Penelope tried torestrain herself in a half unconscious habit she had got into of puttingherself before her shyer elder sister. 

Mademoiselle was careful, too, to show her how much she valued her, and totry not to wound her sensitive, loving heart; so was Cousin Charlotte. And Esther, on her part, taught herself the lesson that one person canlove two without loving either the less. 

So when Penelope was at last able to creep about again, and Guard seemedas hale and hearty as ever, a new era of peace and happiness dawned forMoor Cottage, and never could there have been a happier, busier, moreunited little household than that was. 

The summer went by like a golden flash, so it seemed to the children, so full was every day of work and play, picnics, lessons, walks, gardening, and a dozen other occupations. No matter what the weather, orhow busy she was, Esther never failed to go to Mademoiselle Leperier'sthree times a week, and twice a week Penelope went for her singing lesson. Penelope was having French lessons of Mademoiselle too, and she and Estherstudied together. 

Miss Row came back from her journeyings, and, entirely obliviousapparently of all that had passed, sent for Penelope to recommence herorgan lessons, and was quite annoyed that she had not kept up herpractising. But at this Miss Ashe's gentle spirit rose, and she talked toMiss Row so frankly and seriously that that eccentric lady became veryrepentant, and to make up for her unkindness promised Penelope the post oforganist, at a salary of twenty-five pounds a year, as soon as ever shewas capable of filling it. 

To Penelope this was success indeed, and as soon as her arm was strongenough to bear it she practised with an assiduity which promised that thetime was not so very far distant when she would be fitted to take over herappointment. 

Angela, before that summer was over, acquired three more chicks and afowls' house of her own, and already saw visions of herself presiding overa farm--which should adjoin Moor Cottage--well stocked with fowls andducks, geese and turkeys, cows and pigs, horses and dogs. 

"And I shall write out to daddy and mother to come home, " she would saytriumphantly. For Angela never grew reconciled to the thought of herparents' exile. "It must be so sad and lonely and uncomfortable outthere, " she would say. "Mother might find it dull here, but she wouldhave lots of books to read, and that would make her happy. "

"I should live wiv you, shouldn't I, Angela?" Poppy inquired eagerly. 

"Oh yes, we should all live together. "

"But what about Cousin Charlotte? I am sure she would be _very_ unhappywivout us; so would Anna. " Poppy found matters very difficult ofarrangement, owing to her incapacity to live in two places at the sametime. "I shouldn't like to leave Cousin Charlotte and Anna and Guard andEphraim. "

"I should stay with Cousin Charlotte, " said Esther one day, when thematter was under discussion. "You see, there would be so many of you, youwouldn't want me, but Cousin Charlotte would, and we should be next door, so it would be almost the same. "

But all these premature plans were thrown that autumn into confusion by aletter from Canada. Instead of waiting to be sent for by his prosperousdaughters Mr. Carroll wrote to say he had made up his mind to come. 

"Your cousin cannot reconcile herself to the life here, " he wrote, "andsays she can never be happy here; and as I am not doing well enough towarrant me in staying on in spite of her objections, I am thinking ofselling out and coming home with her very soon. For the time, to give mean opportunity to look about me, I can think of no better plan than tocome near you, my dear cousin, if a small house can be found for us. I cannot describe to you my longing to see my children again, nor withwhat pleasure I am filled at the prospect of coming home, even though Ihave to write myself down a failure here. "

Then he went on to thank her in most grateful and feeling terms for hergoodness to his children, terms which drew tears from the gentle littlelady's eyes and set her to wondering what she could do really to help thisalmost unknown cousin and his children. 

When she told the children the news their excitement was great; but when, a week later, came another letter, asking, if there was a cottage atDorsham or close by to be found, that it should be taken for them, if itwould possibly do, their excitement grew intense. 

"Oh, if only I had my farm!" cried Angela, and she went out and looked atthe ground, as though expecting the foundations might have already begunto show. 

But no cottage was to be found next door or in Dorsham. There were notvery many all told, and those there were were always full, so that if onefamily wanted to change they had to wait until another was in the samemind, and then just walk in to each other's houses. But up at Four Windsthere was a square, sturdy cottage built expressly, one would think, todefy those winds that blew over the village. It was the only one, but allthe four girls agreed that it would be just the very thing. It had asitting-room and kitchen and scullery and three bedrooms, tiny rooms allof them, but to the children it was one of the most fascinating littleplaces ever built; and when stocked with the simple furniture MissCharlotte had had instructions to purchase it really did look a dear, cosylittle house. 

And such it seemed to the weary travellers when they arrived, the fathertired, disappointed with his last attempt, and bowed under a burden ofcare, but so glad to see his children again that nothing else seemed tomatter. Such it seemed, too, to the mother, so disgusted with theroughness and want of comforts in the life she had been leading latelythat everything seemed luxurious and replete with comfort. 

Cousin Charlotte and the girls had certainly done their best to make theplace look homelike, and Anna had helped to clean it from top to bottom, to lay carpets, hang curtains, and polish everything that could bepolished, so that it really was in a perfect state of order andcleanliness. 

It was in the spring that the travellers finally reached Four Winds, justwhen the brooks were beginning to run with a cheerful note, and the scentof wet moss and primroses to fill the air. 

As they drove from the station on the memorable day of their arrivalMr. Carroll drew in the sweet fresh breeze as though it were the breath oflife to him, and almost shouted with pleasure at the sight of the catkinson the nut-bushes, and the 'goslings' on the willows, and theyellowhammers and thrushes hopping in the hedges. 

They got down for a moment at Moor Cottage to see the children's home, andbe introduced to Anna and Guard. 

"You noble old fellow, you saved my girls' lives, " said Mr. Carroll, patting the dear old dog's rough head; and Guard wagged his tail andlooked as pleased as though he quite understood. 

Then Mrs. Carroll and Miss Ashe mounted the quaint old carriage again, and drove slowly on with the luggage, while Mr. Carroll and his girls, and, of course, Guard, walked on behind. The elder girls were a littleshy and constrained just at first, perhaps, and Angela was silent withhappiness. If she talked much she should weep, she felt; but she showedher father her hens and hen-house before they started on again. "And in time I shall have a whole farm, father, " she said seriously, "and then I want you to come to live with me on it, and we will have allkinds of animals. "

"A capital idea, " said Mr. Carroll gravely, without a trace of a smile ashe looked at the very modest beginning so much was to spring from. 

But, if the others were silent Poppy, when once her tongue was loosened, made up for it, and she trotted along by her father's side, holding hishand, and chattering to him as freely as though he had never been away. 

The greatest joy of all though was when they reached the new cottage, and displayed their arrangements there--the sitting-room, with itseasy-chairs, and table spread with dainty white cloth, shining tea-things, and some of Anna's nicest cakes. A fire was burning in the grate, makingit warm and cheerful for the strangers. Upstairs the simply furnishedbedrooms looked equally attractive and spotlessly clean, and then last ofall came the cheerful, cosy little kitchen, looking a perfect picture, with its bright tin and copper and china reflecting the firelight on allsides; and where, oh crowning delight, sat the neatest of neat littlemaid-servants, her rosy cheeks growing rosier and rosier as her new masterand mistress and all the young ladies trooped in. She rose and curtseyedwhen she saw Mr. And Mrs. Carroll, for she was a well-trained countrychild, not yet contaminated by the modern 'Board-school manners. 'So she curtseyed civilly, and stood while her master and mistress werepresent; and when Mr. Carroll asked her her name, she answered, "Grace, if you please, sir, " and blushed again; and when he said, "Well, Grace, so you have come to help us. I hope we shall all be veryhappy and comfortable together, " she curtseyed and said, "Yes, thank you, sir. I'll try my best. "

The bedrooms, all but Mr. And Mrs. Carroll's, were very tiny. One was sosmall it would only hold one little bed. 

"But where is the fourth chick to roost?" asked their father anxiously. "You don't expect one to sit up while the other sleeps, I hope?" laughing. 

But Cousin Charlotte, to whom he spoke, did not laugh back. "I--Iwondered, " she said, looking up at him very wistfully, as though she knewshe was asking a great deal--"I wondered, Ronald, if you would spare meone, at--at least until I have got used to losing them all. I know it isa good deal to ask you, but--I shall be so very lonely--" poor CousinCharlotte's voice quavered--"and as your house is so small I wondered ifyou would let me still keep my Esther?"

Esther started, and a sense of disappointment made her heart sink. Remembering her mother's dislike of housekeeping, and her incapacity, Esther had all this time been picturing herself as housekeeper and realmistress of this dear little home, presiding over the kitchen and the neatlittle maid and generally distinguishing herself as cook and housewife. She had known, of course, that there was only room for three of themthere, but she had, somehow, thought of Angela as being the one to remainwith Cousin Charlotte, because, perhaps, of her fowls, and her position asmistress of the poultry yards. 

For the first few moments, therefore, when she heard Cousin Charlotte'srequest, she felt a deep pang of disappointment. "But mother will need mehere, " she was just about to say, when there rushed over her the memory ofall Cousin Charlotte had done for them, her goodness and patience, her generosity and unselfishness, and now her loneliness, --and all herfeelings changed. 

"She is my right hand, " Cousin Charlotte went on pathetically. "I do notknow what I should do without her now!"

Then how glad Esther was that she had not spoken, and oh! the joy andpride that filled her heart, the deep, deep happiness of knowing that shehad been of real use and comfort, that some one really needed her. With only a little effort she put aside all her feeling about the newhome, and determined, if her parents consented, to go blithely with CousinCharlotte, and never, never, never let her know of that moment'sunwillingness. 

Consent was given, of course. How could they refuse to spare one to herwho had taken them all and made her home theirs when they had no other, and had loved and cared for them, and guided them so well and faithfullywithout hope of reward?

Mr. Carroll was only too happy to be able to do something in return. 

"I think it will be good for Penelope, too, to have a few housekeepingduties, " said Cousin Charlotte, smiling as she laid her gentle hand onPen's shoulder. "It will help to balance the dreamy side of her--at anyrate until Angela grows older; while Angela--well, Angela is a bornhousekeeper and farmer combined, and I prophesy that within a year or soshe will be keeping the house and all of you in such order and comfort asto be a pattern to the country round. "

Angela's face grew radiant. "I'd love to, " she said joyously; "but Iwish--the only thing I wish is that we could all live together. I don't want to leave you, Cousin Charlotte, yet I want to be with--youunderstand, don't you?"

Yes, Cousin Charlotte understood. They all felt the same; but when thethree had left their old home for the new one it was only, as one mightsay, to live in two houses instead of one, for never a day passed but whatthey were down at Miss Charlotte's, and so the change was not such awrench as all had feared. Miss Charlotte insisted on continuing to teachthem all--at any rate, she said, until they were obliged to go away toschool. 

Mademoiselle Leperier, who actually went to call on Mrs. Carroll, declaredher health and spirits were so much improved by the new interest thechildren had provided her with that she begged to be allowed to give themall lessons in French, and singing, too. 

"I foresee that I shall have no housekeeper after all, " said Mrs. Carrollwith a sigh, "but I suppose I shall manage somehow, and the children arebeing educated, which is something. One must think of them first, Isuppose. "

Esther felt a pang of doubt when she heard the words. Ought she not, after all, to give up her happy home with Cousin Charlotte, where by thistime she had completely settled down, and come up to take care of hermother? She would see but little of Mademoiselle if she did, she saw thatplainly, and there would be very little time for study, but there was herfather to think of, and his comfort. 

But when she laid her doubts before her father and Cousin Charlotte, they bade her put them out of her head. She tried to, though she doubtedtheir advice; and it was only years later, when she was a well-educated, cultured woman, full of interests and good aims, that she understood thewisdom of Cousin Charlotte's plan in taking her away, at least until hereducation was complete, from where she would have become little but ahousehold drudge, worked beyond her strength, her talents, her greatestinterests undeveloped, her temper irritated and ruined as it was whenfirst she came to Dorsham; and she felt deeply grateful for theunderstanding and loving care which had surrounded her at so critical atime. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Five years have gone by since Mr. And Mrs. Carroll returned from Canada tothe little house on the moor which they have never left, or desired toleave, since. 

Mr. Carroll's health suffered severely from the long strain and therigour of his life abroad, and he was never again fit for hard work. But grandpapa Carroll, recognising the brave fight he had made, forgave him the misfortunes he had met with earlier and altered his will, so that when he died, not long after Mr. Carroll's return, the littlefamily, though still obliged to be economical, and not above being glad ofthe girls' little earnings, were placed beyond all want. 

Esther still lived with Cousin Charlotte, the prop and mainstay of thehouse, for Anna had married Ephraim and moved into the cottage next doorto Mrs. Bennett's. Angela, pulling her bow at a venture on that birthdaynight, so long ago now, had hit the truth when she said that Anna couldnot think better of Ephraim after that evening because she thought so wellof him already. A truth Ephraim found out for himself in time, though ittook him two years longer to do so. 

Finding it was no use waiting to speak until he found her in a gentle moodhe spoke out then and there, and no one could decide whether Anna was mostastonished at being asked or Ephraim at being accepted. However, whenonce the need for concealment of her true feelings was over Anna's mannerto Ephraim changed so markedly that Ephraim often stopped to wonder if thewoman he had married could possibly be the one who had led him such a lifebefore. Love can work miracles, Ephraim found, and came to the conclusionthat whether she was the same or not he was quite content. 

It was a great blow to Miss Charlotte to lose her Anna, but more than onenice little maiden was only too anxious to come to 'a place' where thelast servant had stayed twenty years; and Esther, and the fortunate maidchosen to fill Anna's shoes, combined to prevent Miss Charlotte feelingher loss too deeply. 

Esther's hands had grown very full as time had gone on, and the fullerthey grew the happier she was. Slowly and almost imperceptiblyMiss Charlotte gave up more and more of her work, and took life easily, feeling she could leave all to her Esther, and know that all was well. 

Angela's hens were moved to Four Winds, and Esther took over theresponsibility of the poultry yard as well as the house and the kitchenand the new maid. But in the midst of all her duties she contrived togive a good deal of her time to her dearly loved Mademoiselle, forMademoiselle was failing, and those who loved her best knew that not forvery much longer would they have the joy of her presence. 

Penelope was away in London, studying with all her heart and strength, for in the sweet pure air of the moor her voice had developed beyondeveryone's expectation, and Mademoiselle Leperier never rested until shehad been sent to study under a distinguished master. The question as toways and means had been a very serious one, but while it was beinganxiously discussed, and almost abandoned in despair, Miss Row cameforward, and with unwonted delicacy asked to be allowed to play the partof fairy godmother to her favourite. 

"I shall only be laying out a little to buy myself a big return some day, "she pleaded. "If you will let me have a share in Penelope's success thekindness will be all on your part. "

So Penelope went away from their midst to stirring scenes of life andwork, weeping at leaving her beloved moor, and vowing to return as soonand as often as might be, --a vow she never forgot. 

Angela's dream in time was realised too. Her dream poultry farm became areal one, and the most successful in the country. Very slowly at firstshe added penny to penny, then shilling to shilling, then pound to pound, until at last, instead of building more hens' houses, she bought a cow. It was an experiment, and one those about doubted the success of; butAngela never doubted, and presently another cow was added to her stock, and soon after that they all moved to a small farm, where Poppy had tobecome the little housewife, for Angela's time was quite taken up with herdairy. 

Poppy's market-gardening scheme never got beyond the bed of parsley. With that one success she decided to be satisfied. "It was a mostwonderful pennyworth, " she often remarked, "for it brought me quite a lotof money, and Mademoiselle as a friend, and nothing could have been betterthan that. "

"Nothing, " said Esther softly. "Life is very wonderful, Poppy dear, isn'tit?"

"Very, " answered Poppy sagely, with a serious shake of her curly head. 

One last scene before we bid them all good-bye!

It is Easter time once more. In the orchards and woods the daffodils arebowing their golden heads, as though awed by the beauty of thepear-blossom spreading between them and the glorious blue sky. The hedges are starred with primroses, daisies, and king-cups, the air issweet with the scent of flowers and the fresh earth. Everything seemsbrimming over with sunshine and happiness and joy of living. Easter is inthe heart of all things animate and inanimate. 

Up in 'the Castle' the four girls are gathered as of old, but with one biggap in their circle. Guard, dear old Guard, will never accompany themmore in their wanderings. He sleeps his last long sleep in the breast ofthe moor he loved so well. Yet he is with them in spirit and thought, for he lies buried close beside 'the Castle, ' and they feel he is nearthem whenever they go there. 

Easter is in their hearts, too, for Penelope is home for her holidays andAngela has just returned from a much-dreaded duty visit to Aunt Julia, and their joy at being together again is intense. 

Penelope lies in her old attitude, flat on the moor, one cheek pressedclose to its breast, her eyes gazing in a perfect rapture of delight overthe length and breadth of it. 

"I _almost_ think, " she says softly, "it is worth going away to have thejoy of coming home again; to step out of that dear little station, andthen to turn the corner and see--this, " waving her hand in a wide sweep. "Oh, girls, shall you ever forget the first time we came, and how wedreaded it, and how shy we were, and frightened--"

"Until we saw Cousin Charlotte, " chimed in Esther. "I never feltfrightened after that. "

"And do you remember, " burst in Angela, "our dear little rooms, and howlovely it all looked when we came that night, and dear old Guard, "--hervoice wavered and dropped--"came out to meet us, and Anna?"

"And I was so troubled about our clothes because we were so shabby, and--but it never seemed to matter much. Cousin Charlotte made everything comeright. Isn't it wonderful, all that has happened just through mother'swriting to Cousin Charlotte, and Cousin Charlotte being able to take us!"

"Wonderful, " said Penelope softly; and back to her mind as through a vaguedream came a vision of a child lying amidst the long coarse grass of anuntidy garden, with butterflies, yellow and white and brown, flittingabout over her head, while through her mind as she watched them passedvisions and dreams of the future, and vague wonderings as to what it wouldbring. 

"And this is what it has brought, " she thought to herself. "I shall notbe afraid to take the next step now. God has been so good to us. "