have had a letter from Angela St. Just. She is most anxious to see me.”
Ethel very nearly dropped the cup of tea which she was raising to her lips.
“Angela St. Just?” she murmured under her breath. Even Mr Aldworth looked interested.
“Do you know her?” he asked.
“Of course I do; she was one of Mrs Silchester’s pupils. She wants me to go and see her, and, if I can be spared, to spend a little time there in the summer. I have had a long letter from her.”
“She was a remarkably handsome girl; I remember that,” said Mr Aldworth. “Well, to be sure, and so she was at that school.”
“You forget, father,” said Marcia, “that Mrs Silchester is Sir Edward St. Just’s sister-in-law.”
“Indeed? That is news.”
Horace made one or two remarks.
“I am glad you know her so well, Marcia, and I hope you will have a pleasant time when you go to Hurst Castle. You say Sir Edward is staying there at present?”
“Yes, with some relatives.”
“And Angela?”
“Yes, they’re going to spend some months there this summer.”
Marcia then calmly read her remaining letters and then, just nodding towards Ethel, she said:
“I think it is your turn to look after mother, dear,” and she left the room.
But just as she reached the door she came back.
“Be very careful, dear Ethel, not to allow her to sit in the sun. It is such a beautiful day that I think you might wheel her on to the balcony, where she can get some fresh air. Just do your best to make her happy. I shall be so pleased if I see her looking bright and comfortable this afternoon.”
To these remarks Ethel proudly withheld any comment Marcia, not in the least disturbed, hurried away.
“Well,” said Nesta, when her father and brother and elder sister had made themselves scarce, “she doesn’t seem to be much put out by the beginning of Coventry; does she, Molly?”
“She’s so eaten up with pride,” said Molly, “talking about her Angela St. Just and her Hurst Castle – snobbish, I call it, don’t you, Ethel?”
“I don’t know that I shouldn’t like a little bit of it myself,” replied Ethel. “You should hear how the people talk of her in the town. They don’t think anything at all of the Carters, I can tell you.”
“You have never explained what happened during your visit yesterday,” said Molly.
Marcia was passing the window. She looked in.
“It’s time you went to mother, Ethel,” she said.
Ethel rose with a crimson face.
“Hateful old prig!” she said.
“There, girls, I can’t tell you now. I’m in for a jolly time, and you’ll be amusing yourselves in the garden, and she’ll amuse herself.”
“Well, you can think of me to-morrow,” said Nesta, “giving up my walk with Florrie Griffiths. That’s what I call hard, and you and Ethel will have a jolly afternoon all to yourselves, and a jolly morning to-morrow. It’s I who am to be pitied. I don’t think I can stand it. I think I’ll run away.”
“Don’t be a goose, Netty. You know you’ll have to bear the burden as well as Miss Mule Selfish.”
“Oh, what a funny name,” said Nesta, laughing.
“Do let us call her Mule Selfish. It does sound so funny.”
Ethel, having propounded this remarkable specimen of wit, went upstairs, considerably satisfied with herself. Her post that morning was no sinecure. Mrs Aldworth was in a terrible temper, and she was really weak and ill, too. It was one of her worst days. Ethel, always clumsy, was more so than usual. The sun poured in through the open window, and when the doctor arrived he was not pleased with the appearance of the room, and told Ethel so sharply.
“You are a very bad nurse,” he said, “for all the training you’ve had. Now don’t allow that blind to be in such a condition a moment longer. Get one of the servants to come and mend it. I am exceedingly annoyed to see your mother in such an uncomfortable condition.”
Ethel was forced to go off in search of a servant. The blind was mended after a fashion; the invalid was pitied by the doctor, who ordered a fresh tonic for her. So the weary hours flew by, and at last Ethel’s task was over. She rushed downstairs. The load was lifted from her mind; she was free for a bit. She immediately asked Molly how they might spend the afternoon.
Lunch was on the table and Marcia appeared. Marcia spoke to the young lady.
“How is mother?”
“I don’t know,” said Ethel.
“You don’t know? But you have been with her all the morning.”
“The doctor called; you had better ask him.”
“She will turn at that. I would like to catch her in a rage,” thought Ethel.
Marcia did not turn. She guessed what was passing through her young sister’s mind. It would pass presently. They would take the discipline she was bringing them through presently. She was sorry for them; she loved them very dearly; but give them an indulgent life to the detriment of their characters, and to her own misery, she would not.
By-and-by lunch came to an end, and then Marcia rose.
“Now, you go to your imprisonment,” thought Molly.
Marcia went into the garden. She gathered some flowers, then went into the fruit garden and picked some very fine gooseberries. She laid them in a little basket with some leaves over them, and with the fruit and flowers in her hand, and a pretty basket containing all kinds of fancy work, she went up to the sick-room.
Mrs Aldworth could not but smile when she saw the calm face, the pretty white dress, the elegant young figure. Of course, she must scold this recalcitrant step-daughter, but it was nice to see her, and the flowers smelt so sweet, and she had just been pining for some gooseberries. Why hadn’t one of her own girls thought of it?
Marcia spent nearly an hour putting the room in order. The Venetian blind did not work; the servant had mended it badly. She soon put that straight. She then sat down opposite to Mrs Aldworth.
“Our afternoons will be our pleasantest times,” she said. “There is so much to be done in the mornings, but in the afternoons we can have long talks, and I can amuse you with some of the school-life stories. I have something quite interesting to tell you to-day, and I have brought up a book which I should like to read to you, that is, if you are inclined to listen. And, oh, mother, I think you would like this new sort of fancy work. I have got all the materials for it. It would make some charming ornamental work for the drawing room. We ought to make the drawing room pretty by the time you come back to it.”
“Oh, but I shall never come back to it,” said Mrs Aldworth.
