Red Rose and Tiger Lily; Or, In a Wider World, L. T. Meade [digital book reader txt] 📗

wild, and kicked Boris [Pg 45]severely, and father said we were to leave them alone; but Nell somehow managed to evade the order; she never could be got to fear any four-footed creature. She spent almost all her leisure time with the colts, and I believe she used to ride them bare-backed. Well, they were sold this morning, and Nell will fret awfully. Fretting is very bad for her, for she is not at all strong, you know. That is one thing that troubles me," continued Molly, after a brief pause. "I am sorry the colts are sold, on account of Nell, for I know, although she won't pretend to fret a bit, how she will secretly grieve and grieve; and the other reason is, that I know father would not have sold them if he had not been hard up for money again. Oh, I wish, I wish," continued Molly, her face turning crimson, "that there was no such thing as money in the world."

Hester looked at her with a mingling of sympathy and surprise.

"I think you must be wrong," she said slowly. "I mean, of course, that I know you're not rich as my father is rich, for you are such a large family, and father has only Nan and me; but still, it cannot be true that your father wants money to the extent of having to sell the colts to get it, Molly."

"I'm afraid it is true," said Molly, in a sad voice. "I wish it were only my imagination. You would never take me for a fanciful girl, would you, Hester? I am always called matter-of-fact, and I think I am. I really don't care a bit for poetry, and not much for music, and even story-books don't amuse me unless they're the downright sort, like 'Little Women,' or unless they tell all about housekeeping and that sort of thing. I love cooking, and [Pg 46]I rather like accounts, and I delight in overhauling the linen cupboard, and I am not a bad hand at darning the linen. I'm just a commonplace, matter-of-fact sort of girl; it isn't in me to imagine things."

"Well?" said Hester, for she saw that Molly was intensely in earnest.

"I know I'm right about the money," said Molly. "You cannot think how troubled father looks sometimes; and mother told me only yesterday that we were not to go to the seaside this year, and she thinks our shabby old hats will do quite well for church. You don't suppose I care about shabby hats, or even about the seaside, but I do care when I see father looking troubled. Once a stranger came to see him, and they were shut up together in the library for a long time, and when he went away I noticed that father looked quite old. Oh, I know there are money troubles, and I am sure things will get worse. I know what father dreads, and dreads and dreads. Oh, Hester, if it happens it will kill him!"

"Molly, dear, how white you are. If what happens?"

"Don't whisper it, Hester; but I dread it. If he has to sell the Towers it will kill him."

"To sell the Towers!" echoed Hester. "I should think so, indeed; but——"

"What are you two doing up there?" shouted the voice of Nora from below. "Come down at once and make yourselves useful. The donkey-cart has come, and so have Guy and Harry, and we are washing the potatoes and want you to rub them, Molly. Come along down and help, you lazy good-for-nothings."

The girls hastened to obey. As if by magic all [Pg 47]trace of a cloud left Molly's face. It became radiant, smiling, and dimpled. She was once more matter-of-fact, charming, capable Molly, who could work with a will and never once think of herself. Molly was so generally self-forgetful, that her happiness was not put on. Good-nature shone from her eyes. She was not a particularly brilliant or witty girl, but she was a strong rock to rely upon, as all the other Lorrimers knew well.

Nora, who was very pretty and very gay, gave herself up to heedless enjoyment as soon as Molly appeared upon the scene. The potatoes would certainly be done to a turn now. The table-cloth would be laid in that part of the wood where the midges were least troublesome. Jane Macalister would not have to complain of no one helping her. Guy, who was very like Molly, and nearly as good-natured, would also do his best to make the picnic lively, and Nora, one year Molly's junior, could give herself up to the fascinations of Annie Forest's society.

Nora had never before found herself in the company of such a completely grown-up and such a very pretty girl. Nora could give herself little airs when occasion required. She could put on rather a killing grown-up sort of would-be society manner. She never dared adopt it when Guy and Harry were near, but she contrived to get Annie away by herself, and then indulged in what the other children called her "high-falutin" talk.

It was nipped in the bud, however, by Annie herself. Annie Forest was nothing if she was not frank and fearlessly matter-of-fact. She quickly discovered how hollow and insufficient poor Nora's attempts to maintain a worldly conversation really [Pg 48]were. She crushed her by telling her that she had never been in society herself in the whole course of her life, that she knew nothing whatever of it or its ways, that she had just left school, and that in all probability she would have to earn her bread in the future.

"But, look here, Nora!" she exclaimed, suddenly, "why should we two stand here chattering? I'm sure we ought to help the others."

"Oh, no; there's nothing really to be done," replied Nora, in a languid voice. "I like picnics, but I hate the fuss of preparing the meals, and as all the others adore it, I generally leave it for them to do. Won't you sit here? There is a charming little peep between those two oak trees. You can just see the Towers from there, and I think the Grange also. Don't you think the Grange a very beautiful place?"

"Yes; but not half as beautiful as the Towers."

"Don't you, really? Well, I am surprised! Of course, the Towers is very old. We are quite one of the very oldest of the county families round here, but my father likes us to live quietly just at present. Molly and I will have to be presented by-and-by. It is a pity father and mother don't think more about society, but they'll have to when we are grown up, and Molly is sixteen now. Hester will be very rich, and so will Nan. I'm surprised that you prefer the Towers to the Grange."

"I beg your pardon," said Annie, "but did not the donkey-cart arrive about half an hour ago?"

"Yes, of course."

"And two of your brothers with it?"

"Yes," replied Nora, suppressing a yawn, "Guy [Pg 49]and Harry. How hot it is to-day—the heat makes one dreadfully languid, does it not?"

"I must go and tell Hester that Boris has not come," exclaimed Annie.

She put wings to her feet as she spoke, and left the astonished and indignant Nora to her own reflections.

Annie ran quickly through the wood. The sound of many voices floated on the summer breeze to greet her. She had almost reached the party when she suddenly came upon Kitty, who was standing alone. Kitty had just had a furious quarrel with Nan, and was in consequence feeling considerably out in the cold. Kitty knew that Boris was not of the party. She had known this from the beginning, but in the excitement and fun of having Nan Thornton to herself had been too selfish to mention the fact. Kitty guessed why Boris had remained behind. She remembered the severe punishment which Jane Macalister had inflicted upon him—a punishment which Jane had doubtless forgotten, but which Boris himself remembered.

Kitty thought of Boris now as she stood by a blackberry-bush, and pricked her finger on purpose against one of the thorns. Nan had been very snubbing and very disagreeable, and Kitty cordially hated her for the time being, and wished with all her heart that Boris was there. She could snub Boris, who would never retort, but now there was no one for her to play with.

"What is your name?" asked Annie, stopping and looking at her kindly; "you are one of the Lorrimers, of course, but I have not caught your name yet. Do you mind telling it to me?"

[Pg 50]

"I'm Kitty," answered the little girl; she raised her brown eyes and looked full at Annie. She had never seen anyone so lovely as Annie before. She had never even imagined that the world could contain anyone so sparkling and so gay.

"You're Kitty; that is capital," replied Annie. "Then, Kitty, I am sure you will do just as well as Hester. Can you tell me why your dear little brother Boris has not come to the picnic?"

"I was thinking of him," said Kitty. Tears slowly welled up into her eyes; her heart began to ache; she tried to prick her finger again to relieve the pain inside.

"Boris has not come," she replied. "I'll tell you why. He spilt some ink, and Jane Macalister said he must be punished by staying indoors for a whole hour after lessons were over. I expect she forgot all about Boris when we got a holiday so suddenly, but Boris didn't forget, and he stayed behind."

"Dear little Boris!" exclaimed Annie; "dear, good, plucky little Boris! The moment I looked at him I knew I should adore him. But see here, Kitty, the hour is up now, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes, of course; some time ago."

"Then he'll follow us, won't he?"

"How can he? He can't come alone; it's nearly an hour's drive to Friar's Wood."

"Of course he cannot walk," said Annie, impatiently; "but haven't you got a trap or carriage, or horse, or something?"

"No, I'm afraid we haven't," said Kitty, looking very sorrowful. "There's only old Rover, who draws the waggonette, and Dobbin the pony, and Jacko the donkey. Of course, there's father's mare, she's quite [Pg 51]a beauty; but we are none of us allowed to have anything to do with her."

"Then we are not to have dear little Boris at the picnic?" said Annie; "I declare I shan't enjoy it a bit. I want him to be my own special knight."

"What do you want a knight for?" asked Kitty, looking up with interest.

"What do I want a knight for? You silly child, all fair ladies want their own true knights."

"You are a very fair lady," said Kitty. "At least, I mean you're a very lovely lady—very, very lovely; but can't you do with Guy or Harry for a knight?"

"No; I have fallen in love with Boris, and I won't have anyone else. Kitty, can't we manage to get him to the picnic?"

"I don't know, I'm sure. He could ride Harry's bicycle, but I don't think it would once enter into his head."

"It would if I went back and told him to."

"How can you go back? You can't walk."

"Yes, I am a splendid walker. Besides, I am sure the road is longer than by the fields, and you could take me part of the way and show me the short cuts."

"It would take a long, long time," said Kitty, "and when you came back dinner would be over, and you'd have lost quite half the fun."

"No, you dear little thing, I wouldn't. I mean to go and fetch Boris; virtue shall be rewarded, and the knight shall be rescued by the lady. Now, come with me part of the way and show me the short cuts. Why, I'm as strong as a lion. You don't suppose a walk of a few miles tires me? Come along, Kit, we are wasting time."

[Pg 52]

In reality, Kitty was charmed beyond words with any move which was to bring Boris on the scene. The moment Boris seemed at all unattainable, he became wonderfully precious in Kitty's eyes. She would, of course, snub him in five minutes after he did arrive, but that really did not matter. The fascination of Annie's secret mission also delighted her much, and she skipped along now by the side of this beautiful lady in a state of high good-humour.

"I'll show you a lovely short cut," she said. "It will take two miles off the distance. There's a bog, and a sunken ditch, and a wire fence; but you won't mind them, will you?"

"Not a bit," said Annie, laughter in her eyes.

"And there's farmer