Nonsense, nurse, said Gillian. Im much better pleased to go and be of some use! Val, you naughty child, how dare you make such a fuss? for Valetta was crying again.
I hate school, and I hate Rockstone, and I dont see why Mysie should always go everywhere, and wear new frocks, and I go to the butchers and bakers and wear horrid old ones.
I wish you could come too, said Mysie; but indeed old frocks are the nicest, because one is not bothered to take so much care of them; and lords and ladies arent a bit better to play with than, other people. In fact, Ivy is what Japs calls a muff and a stick.
Valetta, however, cried on, and Mysie went the length of repairing to her mother, in the midst of her last notes and packings, to entreat to change with Val, who followed on tip-toe.
Certainly not, was the answer from Lady Merrifield, who was being worried on all sides, Valetta is not asked, and she is not behaving so that I could accept for her if she were.
And Val had to turn away in floods of tears, which redoubled on being told by the united voices of her brothers and sisters that they were ashamed of her for being so selfish as to cry for herself when all were in so much trouble about papa.
Lady Merrifield caught some of the last words. No, my dear, she said. That is not quite just or kind. It is being unhappy that makes poor Val so ready to cry about her own grievances. Only, Val, come here, and remember that fretting is not the way to meet such things. There is a better way, my child, and I think you know what I mean. Now, to help you through the time in an outer way, suppose you each set yourself some one thing to improve in while I am away. Dont tell me what it is, but let me find out when I come home. With that she obeyed an urgent summons to speak to the gardener.
I shall! I shall, cried little Primrose, write a whole copy-book in single lines! And wont mamma be pleased? What shall you do, Fergus? and Val? and Mysie?
I shall get to spin my peg-top so as it will never tumble down, and will turn an engine for drawing water, was the prompt answer of Fergus.
What nonsense! said Val; youd better settle to get your long division sums right.
That s girls stuff, replied Fergus; youd better settle to leave off crying for nothing.
That you had! said several voices, and Val very nearly cried again as she exclaimed: Dont be all so tiresome. I shall make mamma a beautiful crewel cushion, with all the battles in history on it. And wont she be surprised!
I think mamma meant more than that, said Mysie.
Oh, Mysie, what shall you do? asked Primrose.
I did think of getting to translate one of mammas favourite German stories quite through to her without wanting the dictionary or stumbling one bit, said Mysie; but I am sure she meant something better and better, and Im thinking what it isPerhaps it is making all little Flossie Maddins clothes, a whole suit all oneselfOr perhaps it is manners. What do you think, Gill?
I should say most likely it was manners for you, volunteered Harry, and the extra you are most likely to acquire at Rotherwood.
Im so glad, said Mysie.
And you, Gill, inquired Primrose, what will you do? Mine is a copy-book, and Ferguss is the spinning-top-engines, and rule of three; and Vals is a crewel battle cushion and not crying; and Mysies is German stories and manners; and whats yours, Gill?
Gill is so grown up, she is too good to want an inside thing announced Primrose.
Oh, Prim, you dear little thing, cried both elder brother and sister, as they thought with a sort of pang of the childs opinion of grown-up impeccability.
Harry is grown up more, put in Fergus; why dont you ask him?
Because I know, said Primrose, with a pretty shyness, and as they pressed her, she whispered, He is going to be a clergyman.
There was a call for Mysie and Val from upstairs, and as the younger population scampered off, Gillian said to her brother
Is not it like occupy till I come?
So I was thinking, said Harry gravely. But one must be as young as Mysie to throw ones inside things into the general stock of resolutions.
Yes, said Gillian, with uplifted eyes. I doI do hope to do something.
Some great thing was her unspoken thoughtsome great and excellent achievement to be laid before her mother on her return. There was a tale begun in imitation of Bessie Merrifield, called Hildas Experiences. Suppose that was finished, printed, published, splendidly reviewed. Would not that be a great thing? But alas, she was under a tacit engagement never to touch it in the hours of study.
CHAPTER II. ROCKQUAY
The actual moment of a parting is often softened by the confusion of departure. That of the Merrifield family took place at the junction, where Lady Merrifield with her brother remained in the train, to be carried on to London.
Gillian, Valetta, and Fergus, with their aunt, changed into a train for Rockstone, and Harry was to return to his theological college, after seeing Mysie and Primrose off with nurse on their way to the ancestral Beechcroft, whence Mysie was to be fetched to Rotherwood. The last thing that met Lady Merrifields eyes was Mrs. Halfpenny gesticulating wildly, under the impression that Mysies box was going off to London.
And Gillians tears were choked in the scurry to avoid a smoking-carriage, while Harry could not help thinkinghalf blaming himself for so doingthat Mysie expended more feeling in parting with Sofy, the kitten, than with her sisters, not perceiving that pussy was the safety-valve for the poor childs demonstrations of all the sorrow that was oppressing her.
Gillian, in the corner of a Rockstone carriage, had time for the full heart-sickness and tumult of fear that causes such acute suffering to young hearts. It is quite a mistake to say that youth suffers less from apprehension than does age; indeed, the very inexperience and novelty add to the alarms, where there is no background of anxieties that have ended happily, only a crowd of examples of other peoples misfortunes. The difference is in the greater elasticity and power of being distracted by outward circumstances; and thus lookers-on never guess at the terrific possibilities that have scared the imagination, and the secret ejaculations that have met them. How many times on that brief journey had not Gillian seen her father dying, her sisters in despair, her mother crushed in the train, wrecked in the steamer, perishing of the climate, or arriving to find all over and dying of the shock; yet all was varied by speculations on the great thing that was to offer itself to be done, and the delight it would give, and when the train slackened, anxieties were merged in the care for bags, baskets, and umbrellas.
Rockstone and Rockquay had once been separate placesa little village perched on a cliff of a promontory, and a small fishing hamlet within the bay, but these had become merged in one, since fashion had chosen them as a winter resort. Speculators blasted away such of the rocks as they had not covered with lodging-houses and desirable residences. The inhabitants of the two places had their separate churches, and knew their own bounds perfectly well; but to the casual observer, the chief distinction between them was that Rockstone was the more fashionable, Rockquay the more commercial, although the one had its shops, the other its handsome crescents and villas. The station was at Rockquay, and there was an uphill drive to reach Rockstone, where the two Miss Mohuns had been early inhabitantshad named their cottage Beechcroft after their native home, and, to justify the title, had flanked the gate with two copper beeches, which had attained a fair growth, in spite of sea winds, perhaps because sheltered by the house on the other side.