It was on a summer’s evening
early in the month of August that the little Mummy
was once again seen on the platform at Dawlish.
She looked now very much like she
did when we saw her of yore slightly broadened,
it is true, by the added years, but she still wore
somewhat rusty widow’s black, and her face still
had that half-anxious, half-comical expression, which
made people turn to look at her with something between
a smile and a sigh. She was commonplace and plain,
and yet in one sense she was neither commonplace nor
plain. She had a character, and that character
had developed during the last few years, and rather
for the better.
There were very few passengers on
the platform, and the little woman paced up and down,
thinking to herself.
“She is coming home at last.
I don’t know whether I am glad or sorry.
I wonder what sort of girl Miss Sharston is.
She has been very kind to Florence; but it was rash
of Florence to invite her. Still, I suppose we
shall be able to manage all right.”
Just then the signal announcing the
approaching train was lowered, and a moment or two
later the said train drew up at the platform and one
or two passengers alighted. Amongst these was
a tall, well-set-up, dark-eyed girl, and accompanying
her was another girl, who was not so tall and was
very slender, with an ethereal sort of face, and large,
speaking grey eyes.
The tall girl rushed up to where the
little Mummy was standing.
“Here I am, Mummy,” she
said, “and this is Kitty, and we are both tired
and hungry, and glad to see you again. Is there
any sort of trap for our luggage, or can the porter
take it and shall we walk to the cottage?”
“The cottage is just as small
as ever it was, Florence,” replied the little
Mummy. “Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss
Sharston.” Here she shook hands with Kitty
Sharston.
“We like things small,”
said Kitty; “we want to have a real charming
time in the country. It is very good of you to
consent to take me in, Mrs. Aylmer.”
A porter now appeared. Florence
bustled off to see to the luggage, and Mrs. Aylmer
and Kitty slowly left the station. Florence ran
after them in a moment or two.
“Well,” she said, “here
we are! Both of us have done with school for
ever and a day. We are grown-up girls ready to
take our place in the world, and to give you a right
good time, Mummy; isn’t that so, Kitty?”
“Yes,” said Kitty, in
that gentle voice which always had a pathetic ring
in it. Then she added after a moment’s pause:
“But I don’t know that I am glad to have
left school; I must confess that I enjoyed the last
few years at Cherry Court School immensely.”
“Don’t talk to me of Cherry
Court School,” said the widow, with a little
shudder.
She glanced round in an inquiring
way at Florence, who coloured faintly and then said,
in a stout voice: “I have repented of that
old sin long ago, and I do not in the least mind having
Cherry Court School alluded to. I have had a
right good time, and it was a very lucky thing for
me I did not win that Scholarship, for if I had I
should have been eating the bread of dependence now,
whereas ” Here she drew herself up,
uttered a quick sigh, and looked ahead of her.
Her face was not handsome, but it
was bright and taking. She was a head and shoulders
taller than the little Mummy, who gazed at her with
something of her old expression of mingled affection
and fear. Florence had quite double the strength
of the little Mummy, and this astute personage was
aware of the fact.
They reached the tiny house, where
Sukey was standing on the steps, looking not a day
older than she had done six years ago. She dropped
a curtsey when she saw Florence, but Florence ran
up and wrung her hand.
“How do you do, Sukey?”
she said. “I am very glad to come home,
and this is my great friend Miss Sharston.”
Sukey stared up at Kitty; then she
glanced at Mrs. Aylmer and slowly shook her head.
“It’s a very, very
small house,” she said, “and how we are
to fit you two young ladies in is more than I can
tell.”
“Never mind, Sukey,” said
Mrs. Aylmer; “I have it all arranged; don’t
you go and put your finger into the pie and spoil things,
you silly, stupid old thing.”
Here Mrs. Aylmer shook her hand with
a playful gesture at Sukey, and then the entire party
found themselves in the house. Florence had not
been home for two or three years. Kitty had never
seen the cottage at Dawlish before. Certainly
the one sitting-room was very tiny.
“How it has dwindled!”
said Florence, looking round her. “Good
gracious! Why, the ceiling nearly reaches my
head, and as for the walls” she stretched
out her long arms playfully “I can
almost touch from wall to wall; but never mind, it’s
home; it’s your house, Mummy, and you are good
to take us girls in and look after us for a whole delightful
fortnight.”
“There is a very nice supper
waiting for you,” said Mrs. Aylmer, “and
quite in the old style crabs and a water-cress
salad. I thought you would appreciate that; we
so often had crabs for supper when when
you were here last, Flo. You remember them, don’t
you?”
“Nothing could be more appetising,”
replied Florence. “Would you like to come
upstairs now, Kitty?”
Mrs. Aylmer had given up her wee bed-room
to the two girls. Where she was to sleep was
a mystery known only to herself; but, as she seemed
quite cheerful and happy over it, Florence advised
Kitty not to investigate matters too closely.
“It’s the Mummy’s
way,” she said; “she likes managing; she
quite adores the thought of having us both with her
in this little dull house. Can you put up with
it, Kitty?”
“The place is quite lovely,”
replied Kitty, “and I would put up with anything
after the news I told you this morning.”
“Oh, that your father is really
coming back: that you have not to go to India
after all: that you are going to live here and
take a beautiful house and be real mistress of a home,”
said Florence.
“I don’t know anything
about the beautiful house, nor being mistress of a
home,” replied Kitty; “but I am going to
be with father wherever he is, and that,” she
added, “will be home to me.”
“Of course,” answered
Florence, in a somewhat wistful tone.
“But what are you going to do, Flo?”
“I am going to earn my living,” replied
Florence stoutly.
“Of course; but how?”
“I shall talk things over with
you and the Mummy. I have left school at last
for good. What a blessing it is that I shall not
have anything to do with Aunt Susan! I feel so
jolly independent; but I should like to meet her and ”
“Girls, supper is ready,”
called out Mrs. Aylmer’s voice from below, and
the two ran downstairs.
The meal was very merry; the old schoolfellows
were glad to be together. Mrs. Aylmer chatted
in very much the way she had chatted six years ago.
She could not help constantly alluding to Mrs. Aylmer
the great.
“I have not seen her,”
she said; “but she sends me my money regularly
once a quarter twelve pounds ten shillings.
She never misses a day, I will say that for her, and
I think I am a very good manager not to be one farthing
in debt.”
“You are perfectly splendid, mother,”
replied Florence.
“She has never once asked for
you; she said she would not, and she has kept her
word,” continued Mrs. Aylmer.
“Well, mother, does it matter?” replied
the daughter.
“They say, too,” continued
the little Mummy and here she heaved a heavy
sigh “that she has adopted a young
man as her heir. I have never seen him, but his
name is Maurice Trevor. He is no relation of any
sort, and goodness knows why she has adopted him.
They say he is a very pushing and a very designing
young man, and that he twists poor Susan round his
little finger. I know she sent him to Cambridge
and spent an enormous sum on him there two
or three hundred a year at the very least and
now he has returned and lives with her, and is to
take the management of her estates. She has been
buying a lot of fresh property; but there I
am sick of the subject. You didn’t play
your cards well, Florence; you ought to have been
in the position which young Mr. Trevor occupies.”
“I am glad I am not,”
replied Florence; “I’m twice the girl for
being independent. Mother, Kitty and I want to
go out and have a walk by the seashore.”
“Do, my dear, do; I have a great
deal to contrive and manage, and Susan’s temper
is not what it was. Oh, don’t breathe it
too loud. I wouldn’t part with her for
the world; but really she does rule me. She’ll
be as cross as two sticks because we sat so long over
supper. Do go; it is a lovely evening.”
So the two girls put on their hats
and went out. There was a silver moon shining
to-night on a silver sea, and the place looked calm
and peaceful, as if no storms had ever ruffled those
waters: as if no trouble had ever visited those
shores.
Kitty, whose heart was full of song
and her face of delight, almost danced as she walked.
Florence’s steps were also full of spring, but
they were a little slower than her companion’s.
“What are you thinking of, Flo?” said
the younger girl.
“All sorts of things,”
replied Florence; “about that man, Maurice Trevor,
for instance. I don’t envy him.”
“Nor do I. I wonder he submits
to it,” said Kitty. “But don’t
let us think of him. He has nothing whatever
to do with us.”
“No more he has,” answered
Florence; “but to eat the bread of dependence:
to eat her bread! Oh, he must be a horror!
I only trust I shall never meet him.”
Kitty now linked her arm inside her companion’s.
“You must often come and stay
with me,” she said: “it would be
delightful. I will coax and beg of father to have
a house where you can come; then you will have two
homes, you know, Florry: the little Mummy’s
home, as you always call your mother, and my home.
You will be equally welcome at both. Oh, dear,
you are quite my very greatest friend the
greatest friend I have in all the world.”
“You are wonderfully good to
put up with me,” said Florence; “but there,
I have repented of that old sin, and it is not going
to darken my life.”
“There is only one thing I dislike
about you, Florence,” said Kitty. She frowned
slightly as she spoke.
“What is that?”
“You always will revert to the
old times. Just do promise me that you won’t
speak of them again, at least to me.”
“I will try not, darling; but you are good to
forget.”