You might be more civil, answered Albinia. Remember that the ringdove never made half such a fuss about her nest as the magpie.
Well, I am glad you have found some likeness in yourself to a dove, rejoined Winifred.
Mrs. Ferrars set vigorously to work with Lucy, and rendered the room so pretty and pleasant, that Lucy pronounced that it must be called nothing but the boudoir, for it was a perfect little bijou.
Albinia was laid on the sofa by the sparkling fire, by her side the little cot, and in her hand a most happy affectionate letter from Gilbert, detailing the Fairmead Christmas festivities. She felt the invigoration of change of room, admired and was grateful for Winifreds work, and looked so fair and bright, so tranquil and so contented, that her sister and husband could not help pausing to contemplate her as an absolutely new creature in a state of quiescence.
It did not last long, and Mrs. Ferrars felt herself the unwilling culprit. Attracted by sounds in the hall, she found the two girls receiving from the hands of Genevieve Durant a pretty basket choicely adorned with sprays of myrtle, saying mamma would be much obliged, and they would take it up at once; Genevieve should take home her basket, and down plunged their hands regardless of the garniture.
Genevieves disappointed look caught Winifreds attention, and springing forward she exclaimed, You shall come to Mrs. Kendal yourself, my dear. She must see your pretty basket, and yourself, she could have added, as she met the grateful glitter of the dark eyes.
Lucy remonstrated that mamma had seen no one yet, not even Aunt Maria, but Mrs. Ferrars would not listen, and treading airily, yet with reverence that would have befitted a royal palace, Genevieve was ushered upstairs, and with heartfelt sweetness, and timid grace, presented her etrennes.
Under the fragrant sprays lay a small white-paper parcel, tied with narrow blue satin bows, such as no English fingers could accomplish, and within was a little frock-body, exquisitely embroidered, with a breastplate of actual point lace in a pattern like frostwork on the windows. It was such work as Madame Belmarche had learnt in a convent in times of history, and poor little Genevieve had almost worn out her black eyes on this piece of homage to her dear Mrs. Kendal, grieving only that she had not been able to add the length of robe needed to complete her gift.
Albinias kiss was recompense beyond her dreams, and she fairly cried for joy when she was told that she should come and help to dress the babe in it for his christening. Mrs. Ferrars would walk out with her at once to buy a sufficiency of cambric for the mighty skirts.
That visit was indeed nothing but pleasure, but Mrs. Ferrars had not calculated on contingencies and family punctilios. She forgot that it would be a mortal offence to let in any one rather than Miss Meadows; but the rest of the family were so well aware of it, that when she returned she heard a perfect sparrows-nest of voicesLucys pert and eager, Miss Meadowss injured and shrill, and Albinias, alas! thin and loud, half sarcasm, half fret.
There sat Aunt Maria fidgeting in the arm-chair; Lucy stood by the fire; Albinias countenance sadly different from what it had been in the morningweary, impatient, and excited, all that it ought not to be!
Winifred would have cleared the room at once, but this was not easy, and poor Albinia was so far gone as to be determined on finishing that endless thing, an altercation, so all three began explaining and appealing at once.
It seemed that Mrs. Osborn was requiting Mrs. Kendals neglect in not having inquired after her when the Admirals sisters husband died, by the omission of inquiries at present; whereat Albinia laughed a feeble, overdone giggle, and observed that she believed Mrs. Osborn knew all that passed in Willow Lawn better than the inmates; and Lucy deposed that Sophy and Loo were together every day, though Sophy knew mamma did not like it. Miss Meadows said if reparation were not made, the Osborns had expressed their intention of omitting Lucy and Sophy from their Twelfth-day party.
To this Albinia pettishly replied that the girls were to go to no Christmas parties without her; Miss Meadows had taken it very much to heart, and Lucy was declaiming against mamma making any condescension to Mrs. Osborn, or herself being supposed to care for the Osborns parties, where the boys were so rude and vulgar, the girls so boisterous, and the dancing a mere romp. Sophy might like it, but she never did!
Miss Meadows was hurt by her nieces defection, and had come to Oh, very well, and things were altered, and people used to be grateful to old friends, but there were changes. And thereby Lucy grew personal as to the manners of the Osborns, while Albinia defended herself against the being grand or exclusive, but it was her duty to do what she thought right for the children! Yes, Miss Meadows was quite awareonly grandmamma was so nervous about poor dear Gibbie missing his Christmas dinner for the first timebeing absentMrs. Ferrars would take great care, but damp stockings and all
Winifred endeavoured to stem the tide of words, but in vain, between the meandering incoherency of the one, and the nervous rapidity of the other, and they had both set off again on this fresh score, when in despair she ran downstairs, rapped at the study door, and cried, Mr. Kendal, Mr. Kendal, will you not come! I cant get Miss Meadows out of Albinias room.
Forth came Mr. Kendal, walked straight upstairs, and stood in full majesty on the threshold. Holding out his hand to Maria with grave courtesy, he thanked her for coming to see his wife, but at the same time handed her down, saw her out safely at the hall door, and Lucy into the drawing-room.
It was a pity that he had not returned to Albinias room, for she was too much excited to be composed without authority. First, she scolded Winifred; it was the thing she most wished to avoid, that he should fancy her teased by anything the Meadowses could say, and she laughed, and protested she never was vexed, such absurdity did not hurt her in the least.
It has tired you, though, said Winifred. Lie quite down and sleep.
Of course, however, Albinia would not believe that she was tired, and began to talk of the Osborns and their partyshe was annoyed at the being thought too fine. If it were not such a penance, and if you would not be gone home, I really would ask you to take the girls, Winifred.
I shall not be gone home.
Yes, you will. I am well, and every one wants you.
Did you not hear Willies complimentary message, that he is never naughty now, because Gilbert makes him so happy?
But, Winifred, the penny club! The people must have their things.
They can wait, or
It is very well for us to talk of waiting, cried Albinia, but how should we like a frosty night without cloaks, or blankets, or fire? I did not think it of you, Winifred. It is the first winter I have been away from my poor old dames, and I did think you would have cared for them.
And thereupon her overwrought spirits gave way in a flood of tears, as she angrily averted her face from her sister, who could have cried too, not at the injustice, but with compassion and perplexity lest there should be an equally violent reaction either of remorse or of mirth.
It must be confessed that Albinia was very much the creature of health. Never having been ill before, the depression had been so new that it broke her completely down; convalescence made her fractious.
Recovery, however, filled her with such an ecstasy of animal spirits that her time seemed to be entirely passed in happiness or in sleep, and cares appeared to have lost all power. It was so sudden a change that Winifred was startled, though it was a very pleasant one, and she did not reflect that this was as far from the calm, self-restrained, meditative tranquillity enjoined by Maurice, as had been the previous restless, querulous state. Both were body more than mind, but Mrs. Ferrars was much more ready to be merry with Albinia than to moralize about her. And it was droll that the penny club was one of the first stages in her revival.