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What is wrong, Lew? said the mother.
Nothing, he answered. I have only been thinking.
But what about, my boy?
Mrs. Gilroy seldom petted her children, she seldom used loving words to them; but then her touch was a caress. She laid her hand now upon the lads shoulder; he looked up into her kindly firm face; and the shadow fell from his own.
Its just nothing, he cried. I ought to be ashamed of myself. Dont ask me at the present moment, mother. I have a fit of the blues, thats all.
Well, and I have a fit of the cheerfuls, said Mrs. Gilroy.
What do you mean, mother? Llewellyn was all life and spirits in a moment. Has anything good happened; have you got another post? Are you to be made sub-editor on one of the great dailies; that, you know, is your ambition, your great passionate ambition, little mother.
Nothing of the kind at present, Lew, dear. I am just where I always was. I have plenty of work, and I am paid fairly well; but I have good news all the same. I will tell you afterwards. It has to do with Leslie. It will be the finest thing in all the world for her, simply the making of her.
Llewellyns face once more looked downcast. He did not want his mother to observe it, however, and he went slowly to the door.
I had better let Kitty and Mabel know that you are in, he said.
He went into the little hall and shouted his sisters names. The next moment two trim, neatly-dressed little girls, with long hair hanging down their shoulders, in dark-blue frocks and white pinafores, came tripping in.
Mothers come, said Llewellyn; she wants tea. Sound the gong when it is ready.
He bounded up the narrow stairs three at a time to his own special den at the top of the house. There, big, handsome, overgrown boy that he was, he shed some tears. He was ashamed of his tears; they scalded right down into his heart.
I wish I didnt feel it so much, he said to himself. I just had a wild hope for a moment, when mother spoke about good news, that it had something to do with me. But its only Leslie. Well, dear old girl, why shouldnt it be about her? What a brute I am to grudge it to her. She is mothers right hand, and about the very best girl in the world. There, I shall hate myself if I give way another moment. Ill just tell mother right out, and put an end to the thing. Shell be a bit surprised, but I guess shell be only too glad to consent. Its good-by to daydreams, thats all; but a fellow cant think of them when his mother is in the question.
Meanwhile the girls downstairs were quickly preparing the tea. Kitty went to the kitchen to fetch the tray with the cups and saucers; Mabel laid the white cloth, which was made of the finest damask, on the center table. Kitty then knelt down before the fire to make an apparently unlimited supply of buttered toast; Mabel put the right amount of tea into the old teapot. There were many relics of bygone respectability, nay, of bygone wealth, in the Gilroys humble house. The silver teapot was one it was real silver, not electroplate. It was very thin and of an antique shape, and the children were often heard to declare that nothing would induce them to have their tea made in anything else. The cups and saucers, too, were of rare old china and of a quaint pattern. They were neither cracked nor broken, because the girls themselves washed them and looked after
them, and put them away in the little pantry.
The small maid of all work, Elfreda, was never allowed to go near the pantry. She only did the rough work under severe superintendence from Kitty; but the house was perfectly organized, and no one felt unduly fatigued.
The tea, when it was ready, consisted of fresh eggs, honey in the comb, hot cakes which Mabel had been secretly watching for the last half-hour, a pile of buttered toast, bread both brown and white, delicious country butter, tea, and even cream.
When everything was in order, Mabel sounded the gong, and Llewellyn came down.
He had scarcely taken his place at the table before there was the click of a latchkey in the hall door, and light steps, the steps of a young girl, were heard in the passage outside.
Theres Leslie, said Mrs. Gilroy. She was seated at the head of her table pouring out tea. She paused now, and a look of considerable expectancy filled her eyes. Llewellyn watched her; the others, engaged in their own chatter, took no special notice.
Leslie, late as usual, said Mabel. Just at that moment Leslie poked in her head.
Oh, do just keep a nice hot cup of tea for me, she called out. I am starving. There has been such a cold wind blowing, and I had to walk half the way, as every omnibus was full. Ill just run upstairs to tidy up. Please keep a right good tea for me; Ill trust you, Mabel.
Yes, you may, shouted out Mabel. I am keeping back the crispest of the hot cakes, and there is buttered toast in a covered dish by the fire.
Leslies steps were heard running quickly upstairs, and a minute or two later she entered the room. She was a tall girl, with quantities of golden-brown hair, large brown eyes, a complexion of cream and roses, and straight regular features. It needed but a glance to show that she was a beautiful girl, with beauty above the average; but it was not only the regularity of her features and the clearness of her complexion which made Leslies face so specially attractive. It was the marked and wonderful intelligence on her open brow, the speaking, thoughtful expression in her eyes, the firm, proud outline of her beautiful lips.