E. Nesbit

“ The creaking of a board that is trodden on.
"It's the stairs," whispered Jane. "Fly—under that window. It's always darkest under the lamp."
"I can't fly," said Lucilla. "I put my bag down on the shelf of that cupboard. You fly. I'll get it."
Jane fled—and Lucilla, returning as in a flash with the bag, was just in time to hear a scrambling clatter-crash, and to see Jane's head, a moment ago clear between her and the window, disappear suddenly. She was also just in time to save herself from the black treachery of the stairs down which Jane had fallen. ”

“ It was next morning at breakfast that Jane said: "I have thought it all over, and I have done with dissipation and the life of pleasure."
"Dear me!" said Lucilla across the tea-pot.
"Yes, it's—what was it old Gravy used to call it?—'morally disintegrating.' Look at us. We spend week after week in humble toil—not a breath of dissension; my will's your pleasure, and your pleasure's my law. We might have been doves or seraphs or dormice. That's the influence of honest labour, my child. ”

“ Dix crowned the evening by saying, "You'll have to tell Miss Antrobus. She thinks your aunt has been unkindly used—and she's so generous and fine: she hates unkindness. You'll have to undeceive her. She won't be hard on you. She's the soul of goodness and gentleness. And so strong and faithful with it. She loathes deception of any kind, that's all. Have it out and get it over. Clear the sky. She'll forgive you."
"Oh, will she?" said Lucilla. And that night she entered Jane's room expressly to say:
"Serpent, this is your work," and to tell Jane all the events of the evening. ”

“ I'm very wet and very cold. We'll have a fire. Thank goodness we collected those sticks and fir-cones! If he is a burglar the fire will camouflage the tea-pot and things."
When the candles were lighted in the garden room the three looked at each other—wet, draggled, streaked with green and brown from the caresses of the old shrubs, blinking with dazzled eyes in the candlelight; they looked at each other—doubtfully—anxiously. Then suddenly Jane laughed, Lucilla laughed; Mr. Dix laughed too, but only a very little—as became an outcast.
"Who says life isn't a lark?" said Jane. ”

“ We'd been frightening ourselves with the Chamber of Horrors—and then . . . Well, you see, it was like this . . ."
"You can't stand here explaining things on the pavement —everybody's staring at us. Let's go and have some tea—yes, now," said Lucilla strongly, though her voice trembled, "and you can explain sitting down."
"Yes, let's." Jane welcomed the suggestion, for the arm she held was actually trembling and her own heart was still beating wildly. "I'm sure we all need something to revive us after the shock of being screamed at by each other." ”

“ But when they came out of the Chamber of Horrors even Jane was pale, and Lucilla said:
"It's very much more horrible than you'd think it possibly could be. They're only wood and wax and cloth, and their eyes that seem to look at you are only glass eyes. At least . . . well, if I were to stay in there long I shouldn't be sure of that or anything else. They're uncanny; there's a sort of horrible magic about them."
"That's your highly-strung nature, my child. They're really only wax and glass and wood and clothes and stuffing—just dolls with murderous faces. Well, I don't like the heads myself. ”

“ What a glorious game dancing is!"
"Score each point as you come to it, even if it's the last," he said, as he led flushed and panting Lucilla to cool on the front-door steps. "That's my philosophy of life. Even if the world ends to-morrow—well, we've had to-night! If it ends to-night—well—I've had this dance with you. And I may have the next and the next and the next and the one after that?"
"Mr. Tombs," murmured Lucilla, much agitated by this sudden advance. "I'm dancing the next one with Mr. Tombs." ”

“ Live for the moment—and do all you can to make the next moment jolly too, as Carlyle says, or is it Emerson?"
"It may be Plato or Aristotle," said Lucilla, cutting more bread, "but I think not."
"It's common sense," insisted Jane. "We've got to try to make our livings somehow. We'll try all sorts of things, and we'll get fun out of them if we don't worry and grouse, But we shall never do anything if we think of ourselves as two genteel spinsters who have seen better days. We must think of ourselves as adventurers with the whole world before us. ”

“ They were all nice to Jane and very nice to Miss Lucas.
"I do think they'll do," Lucilla said, when they had been shown to their rooms. "They're new brooms, of course, but they seem jolly, and they talk as if they'd read books and seen people and done things."
"Whereas our last P.G.'s had perhaps seen things and certainly had done people—us for one."
"Never mind grammar," said Lucilla. "Are my eyebrows straight? They feel as crooked as a ram's horn."
"They're as straight as—as I wish we were," said Jane. "The life of an adventuress is a terrible one. ”

“ Just so, and not otherwise, had Lucilla screamed one night at school when Daisy Simmons, the school's incomparable ninny, had put a sheet over her head and pretended to be a ghost, gliding up to a sponge-and-towel-laden Lucilla coming all glowing and fearless from the bathroom. After that Lucilla had fainted. Suppose she fainted now—alone in that dark house? The thought was enough to nerve our Jane to effort. But at the top of the stairs the most extraordinary sensation caught her. ”

“ Dix, looking from Jane to Lucilla. "Of course I should be enchanted to be allowed to come to tea, but are you sure . . . I don't want to be a bore."
"Reassure Mr. Dix, Lucy darling," said Jane. "Tell him how pleased we shall be."
Lucilla found it impossible to avoid saying how pleased she would be—but she eyed Jane like a basilisk.
"And now," said Jane, carrying off the situation with graceful aplomb, "we must go and catch trains. And we expect you on Sunday. I think Destiny's certainly meant you to be friends with us. One doesn't exchange yells with perfect strangers every day, does one?" ”

“ We will get our living by selling flowers out of the garden. Ourselves. To people who go by and admire. No sending our flowers to market to be sold all crushed and bruised and disheartened. 'Fresh flowers sold here'—that's what's going on the board. No, 'Fresh cut flowers sold here.' I shall paint the board to-morrow. Why, the board for the gate, of course, to show the world what we sell. Let's count the money. I make it fifteen and eight pence."
"It is fifteen and ninepence halfpenny," said Lucilla, and added slowly, "it's quite a good idea, Jane." ”

“ Life's just beginning for you, and I'm certain it will be a beautiful life, full of love and happiness."
"You are good to me," said the girl, and her tears brimmed over. She pulled out her handkerchief.
"Dab your eyes, dearest," said Mrs. Rochester hastily, "don't rub. It makes them red. If you gently dab, those tears will only make them brighter."
"You are good to me," said Miss Antrobus, dabbing obediently at her red-rimmed wet pale blue eyes. And for the rest of the day his mother's words rang in her ears: "Your pretty eyes. Your pretty eyes." ”

“ Doveton still filling with admirable contrast the gap left by Mrs. Adela Dadd, with the mature maids doing their work as by well-oiled machinery, with Gladys to see to the shop and Mr. Dix to see to the garden, a spell of peace settled on Cedar Court, and Jane and Lucilla tasted for a few days the habitual calm and leisure of the really well-to-do.
They advertised anew for paying guests and for a cook.
"And until we get answers," said Jane, "we may as well enjoy ourselves. Let's pretend we're the idle rich." ”

“ Jane admitted; "but then, dissipation so often turns out to be the young man—at least, in books he is never quite out of it. The scenes of dazzling worldliness would be incomplete without him. Come on, let's get down to the shop."
"We shall probably find a young man there too," said Lucilla dryly.
"Oh, well—he doesn't count," Jane said. "He's all on the side of honest toil. Besides, he's got an uncle: a rich uncle, If the miserable Dix had had an uncle he might be in a very different position to-day. Come on, I say. Down with dissipation! Long live the shop!" ”

“ A very curious experience this, of Lucilla's: to sit in an armchair, with the weight of old age on her bowed shoulders and on her brow the wrinkled indiarubber brand of seventy years; to be with these young people and not of them; to feel their glances meet hers—not with the hopeful give-and-take of youth and youth, but with the impersonal, distant, half-pitying tribute of youth to age. ”

“ It was as elusive as a bird's song or a flower-scent. All you could say about it was that it was here, and that it was antagonistic. It was not that Miss Antrobus withdrew herself from the gaieties of Cedar Court: on the contrary, she participated in every single one. She did not sing, but she could play accompaniments; she was a poor actress, but a good prompter and an excellent audience; her time was always at anyone's disposal, and she had all the time there was. She had too much time—she was always there. She never went to London. She never walked out, except in the garden. ”

“ Is that forbidden in the Temple of the Muses?"
"We aren't Muses," said Jane.
"I know you aren't. But if I said the Graces you'd have been cross."
"I'm cross now," said Jane. "For goodness' sake go home and do your inventing and let Mr. Simmons do the paint-scraping."
"You're not really cross," he said; "you only think you are. It's much too fine a day to be really cross on. You're not cross. You're disappointed." ”

“ We lost our heads a little last night, and lost sight of our guiding principle. The great fact of life. Life is a lark-all the parts of it, I mean, that are generally treated seriously: money, and worries about money, and not being sure what's going to happen. Looked at rightly, all that's an adventure, a lark. As long as you have enough to eat and to wear and a roof to sleep under, the whole thing's a lark. Life is a lark for us, and we must treat it as such."
"It isn't a lark to the people who haven't got enough to eat and wear and sleep under," said Lucilla. ”

“ Jane said innocently. "Hasn't Fate arranged it all? Aren't all the grown-ups going to the Duchess's grand fête and gala—fireworks and refreshments free?"
"They're going to Lady Hendon's garden-party and dance, if that's what you mean," said Emmeline, rather coldly.
"That's right—stand by your class. Ah, these old aristocrats!" said Jane.
"Lord Hendon was beer, wasn't he?" Lucilla asked from the steps. "Or was it bacon? He looks rather like a ham himself."
"Well, anyhow, beer or bacon or ham, all the grown-ups will be out of the way. We're too young for these frantic dissipations. ”

“ But he found that he could think of nothing else; and when on the lawn at Hendon Towers among the moving kaleidoscope of strangers he suddenly met Miss Antrobus, and saw the quite pretty blush and smile that lighted the quite plain face of Miss Antrobus as she greeted him, he felt that he had never really seen the girl before. Suppose he actually were like his father, in that respect as in others? Suppose he were the sort of man who cannot ever fall in love, and who yet wanted a home companionship—leisure too (that thought would slip in) ? ”

“ There'll be no dinner. And those potato-faced pigs will be grunting for their swill. I don't care if I am coarse. Even now they're expecting hot water. Who's to take it up?"
"I will," said Lucilla soothingly; "and Mr. Dix will take up the luggage, and then we'll see about the dinner."
"Ill fetch him,"said Jane. "No, it's all right. I've finished snivelling. I feel much better. Catch the cat if you can and shut her up. I must bathe my eyes. I'll fetch Mr. Dix in a jiff. But I don't suppose there is any hot water. Mrs. Dadd was sprawling about on the furniture with her legs up. She always is." ”

“ And she did.
"Heigho!" said Lucilla, stretching her arms. "How disappointing people are! I did think she'd love it. But no! And not even half Hope Cottage, rent free, for that's what it comes to. She isn't pleased. She'll only talk it over with Herb. It's rather disheartening, isn't it?"
"It's exactly like us for not being pleased when we got Cedar Court," said Jane. "Hear the words of wisdom—wonderful in one so young, isn't it? ”

“ For in the cupboard was a jug and wash-basin, painted with large roses and peonies and gaily-feathered birds, and to the inside of the door was fixed a long looking-glass.
"Replete," said Jane thoughtfully, "with every modern convenience."
"It's very wonderful," said Lucilla. "I mean he must be very wonderful. I can imagine a young person taking all this trouble—but an old man . . ."
"All old people don't forget what it felt like to be young," said Jane, voicing a great and rarely recognised truth. "Get all the flowers you can. ”

“ But I'll tell you what I think is really much more horrible, in a way."
"Oh, what?" said Lucilla, almost in a whisper.
"Well, I think," said Jane, "that the most horrible thing is the ordinary people, standing and sitting about—they really are lifelike; some of the others are rather too like life to be quite lifelike and rather too dead for you to want to be alone with them in the dark. ”

“ Lucilla whispered.
"Go home, of course. He can stay in the summer-house if he likes. I daresay it'll seem luxury after his prison life."
"No," said Lucilla, "don't let's. I can't bear not to know why he came at night instead of to tea, and whether he's really a gentleman burglar and came down just to burgle us, or whether . . ."
"All right," said Jane recklessly. "Come on. There's only one thing certain. We asked him to tea and he hasn't had that tea. Let's light up in the garden room and have tea again—again and again, until we extort his full confession. ”

“ The police had quite a rich harvest in the things the Thorntons had had to leave behind. They had not been able to take away all their plunder, but they had taken themselves away. Quite successfully—to the secret joy of Lucilla and Jane.
"But it's horrible!" said Lucilla to Mr. Tombs, pacing distracted in the garden. "I shall never believe in anyone again. And what will become of them? And what will become of them? They're sure to be caught some time, even if they get away safely this time." ”

“ Rochester's first word. Jane resisted the old Adam and went on meekly.
"I mean she pretended to be a strange lady come to call, I thought it was her again, dressed up."
"Do I look like a person dressed up and pretending to be a lady?" Mrs. Rochester asked, flashing the front view of her perfectly dressed self on the cringing Jane.
"You look absolutely lovely," said poor Jane quickly, "but I saw only the back of you; and I just thought how clever of Lucilla to get up like that—so different from the last time when she dressed up. ”

“ Why, he's more like a dried haddock than a young man. I only tried to show him a bit of life and put him in the way of enjoying himself. For what's life to a young man without a girl to go out with? Why, nothing!"
"Now look here, Gladys," said Jane, very firmly and seriously. "This has got to stop, see? You mustn't show that young man any more life, as you call it. You don't want him, and it worries Mrs. Doveton."
"Mothers can't have it all their own way," said Gladys mutinously.
"Do you keep a list of your sweethearts?" Lucilla asked suddenly. ”

“ Lucilla asked, with a perhaps justifiable curiosity.
"I quite forget," said Jane briskly. "However, I'm glad it's all straightened out. I hate muddles." She stretched herself luxuriously on the narrow Empire couch. "What a day it's been! The best day of my life, Lucy!"
"It has been nice," said Lucilla, still thickly entangled in an unwonted tactlessness; "it is nice to have things straightened out with nice people."
"Oh—that!" said Jane slightingly. "I meant because we'd made so much money! ”

“ He brought her a chair from the hall. "And you?" she said.
"I can sit at your feet," said he—"my proper place," and he sat down on the doorstep. "Now give me a flower—one of those apricot-scented roses—and be kind to me. Who knows but the world may end to-night?"
"Do you always talk nonsense when you've been dancing?" said Lucilla, defending herself as best she could against this sudden swirl of an unknown sea of flattery. ”

“ When war broke out the cousins were at school in Devonshire, and to both father and trustee it seemed desirable that they should stay there for the duration of the war. The father had no wish that his daughter should undertake a long and perilous journey merely to embarrass him in his Eastern housekeeping—and, to the trustee, school seemed, for a thousand reasons, the best place for Lucilla and Jane. ”

“ The dream was gone, but the dreamer reflected, as she dressed, that the dream-jury had been right. Was it not black ingratitude to shrink from the sudden granting of one's dearest dream? To cry for the moon, and then to grumble because the moon was bigger than the silver shilling it sometimes looks like? To covet Cedar Court, to desire it above all things, to cherish a secret resentment against the Fate which denied it and—then when Cedar Court, suddenly and without reservation, was granted, to shy at it as a nervous horse will at a sieve of oats too suddenly proffered? ”