Black, White and Gray, Amy Walton [universal ebook reader txt] 📗

the village street, where Jack and Jill always thought it right to plunge and shy a little. From their seat at the back Dennis and Maisie nodded at their various acquaintances as they passed, for they knew nearly every one. There was Mrs Gill at the post-office, standing at her open door; there was Mr Couples, who kept the shop; and there was Dr Price just mounting his horse, with his two terriers, Snip and Snap, eager to follow. Above this little cluster of houses stood the church and the vicarage close together, on a gently rising hill; and the rest of the village, including two or three large farms, was scattered about here and there, with wide spaces between.

"Why are you going to Mrs Broadbent's, Aunt Katharine?" asked Dennis, as they turned sharply to the right.

"Because I want to ask her to let me have a setting of Minorcas," replied his aunt, "and no one else keeps them."

"And we might ask her, you know," said Maisie, "whether she'd like one of the kittens. I should _think_ that would be a good home, shouldn't you?"

"P'raps she doesn't like cats," said Dennis carelessly. "We've got three weeks, so it really doesn't matter much yet."

The Broadbents' square white house now came in sight. It had a trim garden, a tennis ground, and a summer-house, and was completely screened from the farm-buildings by a gloomy row of fir-trees. The children did not as a rule care to pay visits to Mrs Broadbent, for there were no animals or interesting things about; but to-day Maisie asked leave to go in, for she had the kittens on her mind, and felt she must not lose a chance.

Mrs Broadbent was a thin little widow, who wore smart caps, and had a general air of fashion about her person. She was sharp and clever, well up to the business of managing her large farm, and familiar with every detail of it. Unfortunately she considered this a thing to be ashamed of, and, much to Miss Chester's annoyance, always pretended ignorance which did not exist. What she was proud of, and thrust foremost in her conversation, were the accomplishments of two highly-educated daughters, who painted on china, and played the violin, and on this subject she received no encouragement from Aunt Katharine.

"I shouldn't have thought of disturbing you so early, Mrs Broadbent," she said briskly, when they were seated in the smart little drawing-room, "but I've come on business. I want to know if you've a setting of Minorca fowls to dispose of. I've a fancy to rear some."

Mrs Broadbent simpered a little and put her head on one side.

"I've no doubt we can oblige you, Miss Chester," she said. "I'll speak to my poultry-man about it, and let you know."

"How many Minorcas have you?" asked Miss Chester.

"Oh, I really couldn't tell you, Miss Chester," replied Mrs Broadbent with a little laugh. "I never thought of inquiring."

"Not know how many of each sort of fowls you have!" exclaimed Aunt Katharine. "Why, if I had a farm, I'd know every one of them by sight, and how many eggs they each laid. I suppose, though," she added, "you leave that to your daughters. They must be a great help to you."

Mrs Broadbent bridled:

"Emmeline and Lilian are far too much engaged," she said, "with their studies and their artistic work. Emmeline's quite devoted herself to art. I've given her a large room at the top of the house for a studio."

"Indeed," said Miss Chester coldly. "And what does she do in it?"

"Just now she's painting some lovely plaques," said Mrs Broadbent, "and Lilian's quite taken to the new poker-work."

"What is that?" asked her visitor.

"You haven't seen it, Miss Chester? Well, it _is_ quite new, and as I was saying the other day, in these remote parts we don't see anything, do we? But Lilian's been staying in London, and she learned it there. She did that frame."

It seemed that poker-work was intended to have the effect of carving, which was produced by burning patterns on wood with a red-hot instrument.

"Well, if you ask my candid opinion," said Aunt Katharine, rising to look at the frame, "I should like it much better plain; but it's a harmless amusement, if wasting time is ever harmless.--Come Maisie, Dennis will be quite tired of waiting.--You'll let me know about the eggs, Mrs Broadbent, and their price. I shall be much obliged if you can spare me a setting."

In another moment Aunt Katharine would have swept out of the room, with her usual activity, but after waiting so long for a pause in the conversation, Maisie could not give up her purpose.

"Do you want a cat, please?" she said, standing in front of Mrs Broadbent--"that is, a nice little kitten. One of our cat Madam's."

But Mrs Broadbent was quite certain that she did not want a cat, and said so with some sharpness, for she was never pleased at Miss Chester's outspoken opinions, though she was used to them. She had too many cats about the place now. She supposed as long as there were mice there must be cats, but to her mind there was not much to choose between them.

"I don't really suppose it would have been a good home," said Maisie, when she was tucked in again beside Dennis; "Mrs Broadbent doesn't like cats, and she looked quite cross when I asked her, but I think that was because Aunt Katharine didn't like Lilian's poker-work frame."

Haughton Park, towards which Jack and Jill were now quickly making their way, was about four miles from Fieldside, and just outside the little town of Upwell. It was a large house, standing in a park of some extent, and was built in what was called the Italian style, with terraces in front of it, and stone balustrades, and urns and vases wherever they could be put. Inside, the rooms were very large and lofty, and there was a great hall with marble pillars, and a huge staircase with statues in niches all the way up. Perhaps from some association with the sound of the name, Maisie always thought it was a proud cold house, which could not stoop to notice any one who came in and out of its doors, and did not mind whether they went or stayed. Yet, from its very unlikeness to Fieldside, it had a certain fascination for her, and she could not help admiring it.

Here, in lonely grandeur, lived Aunt Katharine's widowed sister, Mrs Trevor, with her daughter Philippa, who was just ten years old. Mrs Trevor had always wondered why her brother, Captain Chester, had not sent Dennis and Maisie to Haughton to be educated with Philippa. Surely nothing could have been more suitable or better for the children!

But by some extraordinary blindness, he had passed over his elder sister and all her possessions, and chosen Katharine as their guardian until his return from India. When he did return, thought Mrs Trevor, he would see what a mistake he had made; even now, if he knew what odd ideas Katharine had, and how she allowed the children to run wild, and associate with the villagers, he would regret his choice--but it was no affair of hers. Nevertheless, it always gave her a sense of injury to see Dennis and Maisie with their Aunt Katharine. It was not that she envied her the charge of them, for she was, or fancied she was, somewhat of an invalid, and would have disliked the trouble. But she felt she had been slighted when the children were sent to Fieldside, and a slight was a thing she could not forget.

Mrs Trevor received her visitors this morning in her boudoir, and rose to greet them languidly from her low chair--a tall elegant figure, in soft clinging robes. The room was full of the heavy scent of hyacinths, and warm with the spring sunshine and a bright fire. As Aunt Katharine entered with her usual alert step, she seemed to bring a great deal of cold air and life into it from the outside world. The children followed her rather shyly.

"Here we are, you see," she said, in her loud, cheerful voice. "How are you, Helen? You look rather white."

"I am suffering from my old enemy to-day," replied Mrs Trevor, with a forced smile; "my head is very painful."

"Ah," said Aunt Katharine, pulling off her gloves briskly, "a little fresh air is the best cure for that. To be shut up in this warm room with all those flowers is enough to poison you. Wouldn't you like a window open?"

"Pray, Katharine!" exclaimed Mrs Trevor, putting up her hand with a shudder; "the very idea destroys me. It is an east wind. Warmth and rest are the only cure." She put up her double eye-glasses, and looked at Dennis and Maisie. "Did you drive over? How are the children?"

"As jolly as possible," said Aunt Katharine. She stood on the hearthrug, flapping her gloves against one hand. Maisie always thought that her aunt wore shorter skirts, rougher tweed dresses, and stouter boots when she came to Haughton, than at any other time. Also, she seemed to speak louder, and to look rosier and broader altogether. Perhaps this only seemed to be so, because Aunt Trevor's skin was so fair, and her voice so gentle, and because she wore such graceful soft gowns, and such tiny satin slippers. Maisie was very fond of Aunt Katharine, but she admired Aunt Trevor's appearance immensely, and always gazed at her as though she were a picture hanging on the wall. Dennis did not share in this. He fidgeted about in his chair, fingered the things in his pockets, hoped it would soon be time for luncheon, and wondered whether he and Maisie would be allowed to go out first.

"Ah, here is Philippa!" said Aunt Katharine.

A little girl of about Maisie's age--but so much taller and slighter that she looked a great deal older--came into the room. She had rather long features, a pointed chin, and a very pure white complexion, with hardly a tinge of colour; and, as she ran forward to kiss her little brown-faced cousins, she was a great contrast to them in every way. Her dress, which was prettily made and fanciful, and her gleaming bronze shoes added to this; for Dennis and his sister seldom wore anything but serge or holland, and their boots were of strong country make, which made their feet look rather clumsy.

"If the children _must_ wear such thick boots, Katharine," Mrs Trevor often said, "you might at least have them made to fit. It gives them the air of little clodhoppers."

But Miss Chester went her own way, and Aunt Trevor's objections had no effect on her arrangements.

"Ask if we may go out!" said Dennis, in an urgent whisper to his cousin, who at once ran up to her mother, and repeated the request in the midst of her conversation with Aunt Katharine. Mrs Trevor cast an anxious glance out the window.

"Well, my darling, as you have a cold and the wind is in the east, I think you had better play indoors. You can take your cousins into the