Mrs. Molesworth

“ She tossed back her head the way she does when she means to be aggravating.
'You silly girl,' said Maud in her superior way, 'you couldn't hide in that church not to be found. You're so boasty. And if you did, there'd be no fun in it.'
Serry gave another toss, and a particular sort of a smile. That smile meant mischief.
'Miss Serena's certainly very clever at hiding places,' said nurse. 'But there couldn't be very much cleverness wanted to hide in a church; it's not like finding out queer places you'd never think of in a house. ”

“ They thanked him and set off again, thinking they had been very lucky, though I thought if Anne had remembered the name as close as that, she might have looked it up in our own red book at home before starting.
They rang again next door, and again a footman opened; but he wasn't so good-natured as the other, and he was stupid too.
'Is Lady Nearn at home? Can I see her?' asked Anne quite coolly. Anne is as cool as anything when she's full of some idea. Nothing puts her out or frightens her. ”

“ Oh dear, what troubles have come with gran's lending me that unlucky ornament!'
'I don't think that's quite fair, mums,' I couldn't help saying. 'The troubles have come through Anne's fault. I wish she would see it that way, but I don't believe she thinks about it much now.'
'I hope she does,' said mother. 'And of course,' she went on, 'it's wrong of me to grumble so. Illnesses come through nobody's fault! And I should be so thankful that Hebe is getting better that nothing else should seem anything. But it is real practical difficulty about money just now that I mind the most. ”

“ Hebe is very handy, and she always was. But she never put herself before Anne, and so we got in the way of me being the one to do most for mums. I told you at the beginning—didn't I?—that some people might think me rather a girl-y boy, but I don't mind one scrap of an atom if they do. I have my own ideas. I know the splendidest cricketer and footballer you ever saw is a fellow whose sister's a cripple, and she can't bear any one to lift her but him, because he's so gentle. ”

“ Anyway, there came one morning that poor Hebe couldn't get up at all; indeed, she could scarcely speak. We all ran in to see what was the matter, and she just smiled a tiny little smile, and put out her poor little hand—it was burning hot—and whispered, 'I daresay I'll be better soon.'
Nurse was frightened; but she's very good and sensible. She just told me to go down to mother's room and ask her to come up, as Hebe had had a bad night, and perhaps we'd better send for the doctor to come early. And, of course, I knew how to do it without startling mums more than could be helped. ”

“ Mother looked bewildered.
'Anne and Serry,' she said. 'What do you mean? Didn't they go to the dancing with the rest of you?'
'Yes, of course; they've been in since then,' said Hebe. 'Miss Stirling brought us all to the door. But they've gone out again, we're afraid;' and seeing mother looking more and more puzzled, she turned to Maud. 'You tell mums, Maud,' she said. 'You know most.'
Mother sat down on a chair in the hall. She seemed quite shaky and frightened. Nurse ran off to get a glass of water, and Maud told her all we knew or guessed in her quiet little particular way. ”

“ And the truth is that grandfather expects everybody and everything to give in to him. Not always father, for he does see how grand and clever father is, and that he can't be expected to [Pg 16] come and go, and do things, and give up things, just like a baby. But oh, as for poor little mums!—that's mother—her life's not her own when gran's with us. And it isn't that she's silly a bit. She's awfully sensible; something like Hebe and Maud mixed together, though to look at her she's more like Anne. It's real goodness makes her give in. ”

“ I thought afterwards Anne had been right, but I wouldn't agree with her when she said it. I didn't want Serry at all; I wouldn't have minded Maud, but I knew Serry would spoil it all. So I said to Anne it would never do; they'd fidget or make a noise, and the lady who was playing might hear us and be vexed, and it would be horrid to have any fuss in a church, we might get scolded by the verger or possibly even the clergyman,—what would father and mother and gran think of such a thing? ”

“ Anne looked round—no, there was no sign of nurse; she and Serena were alone.
'Serry,' she said in a whisper, 'I've thought of [Pg 65] something,' and then she went on to tell Serry what it was.
That's all I'll tell just now; the rest will come soon. Till you try, you've no idea how difficult it is to tell a story—or even not a regular story, just an account of simple things that really happened—at all properly. The bits of it get so mixed. It's like a tangle of thread—the ends you don't want keep coming up the wrong way, and putting themselves in front of the others. ”

“ She understood what he said better than I did then; for she is really clever—much cleverer than I am about poetry and thinking sort of cleverness, though I have such a good memory. So I remembered what father said, and now I understand it.
After dinner we went up to the littlest drawing-room—the one mother wanted for so long to refurnish prettily. There was a fire, for it was only March, and mums sat in one of the big old armchairs close to it, and Anne and Hebe beside her. ”

“ Only I was sorry for Anne. I had rather forgotten about her when I begun about it to Flossy, and I hadn't told about Anne's having meddled with the pin; and when Flossy went on talking, I felt as if Anne would think me unkind.
But Anne's not like that. She only sat looking very grave, and when I had answered Flossy's questions, she just said—
'I'd give anything, I'd almost give myself, to find it.'—c. iv. p. 48. ”

“ For father is splendid at anything like that; he's so practical, and I think I take after him. (I don't know but what I'd like best of all to be a private detective when I grow up. I'll speak to father about it some day.)
But all was no use, and when we came up to the drawing-room again there was mums in her crimson teagown, looking so anxious. It went to my heart to have to shake my head, especially when poor Anne came out of a corner looking like a dozen ghosts.
Still, we had rather a nice evening after all, though it seems odd. It was all thanks to father. ”

“ I hate those mothers who are always trying to look young. And I think mums looks all the younger because she dresses like a mother and not like a girl. I've got ideas about dressing though I am a boy. I can't help having them.
'I do hope Mossmoor Farm will be nice,' she went on again. 'The only thing is I wish we were going to be all together there.'
'So do I,' I said. I hate being away from mums, and then I've a feeling she may be wanting me always.
'Perhaps, if Hebe gets much stronger at Ventnor, after two or three weeks there, the doctor may let us join you all at this place,' said mother. ”

“ Poor gran, and he doesn't say one word about that unlucky brooch. He has been very good about it.'
'Perhaps he thinks every one concerned has been sufficiently punished about it,' said father.
And Anne, who was down at breakfast with us, grew very red, and looked down at her plate.
Well, gran came, and I think mums managed beautifully, though she must have been pretty tired. We rather went to the wall. That's to say I did, for there was an end of all my nice quiet times with mums—afternoon teas in the little drawing-room, and driving out with her to shop. ”

“ For she's not a bit lazy, like some mothers I know.
When she does have breakfast in bed, she lets me look after her. It's awfully jolly. Father is sure to say as he goes off, 'You'll see to your mother, Jack.'
The girls don't mind. Anne wouldn't be much good at anything like that—at least, she wouldn't have been then, though she's ever so much better now about forgetting things, and spilling things, and seeming as if all her fingers were thumbs, you know. ”

“ Mums did look worried.
'It's a most tiresome and trying thing,' she said; 'and neither Hebe nor Maud is very strong. Perhaps I shouldn't have told you, Jack. You must be sure not to speak of it to any of them.'
I promised, of course. And then poor mums, instead of having a nice rest, declared she must get up at once, and go off to catch the doctor before he went out. Wasn't it too bad? She wanted to know what to do—whether it was any good trying to separate Anne and Serry from the rest of us, and how soon it would show, and a lot of things like that. ”

“ I looked round for Serry. She wasn't in the corner we had seen her in.
'I expect Serry's outside in the porch,' I said to Anne. But no, she wasn't.
'She was sitting in the same place just before the girl came in,' said Anne. 'I saw her.'
'She can't have gone home,' I said. 'She's not very fond of walking about alone. ”

“ I daresay some of the children I was thinking of, the long long ago ones, kept on looking at that window every Sunday, and saints' days too—for people long ago went much oftener to church on saints' days, you know,—all through their lives; for before there were railways, or even coaches, and travelling cost so dear, lots of country people never went farther away than a few miles from their own village at all. It is strange to think of. I thought to myself I'd like to show Anne the church. ”

“ But father looked grave still.
'My dear child, don't be too confident. You won't find that you can cure yourself all at once. The force of bad habit is almost harder to overcome in small things than in great: it is so unconscious.'
'Yes, father,' said Anne. ”

“ She comes, you know; she's not a living-in-the-house one, and she's pretty strict, so we like her best the way she is. But doing our lessons is when we're learning them. Most days, in winter anyway, we go a walk till four, or a quarter to, and then we learn for an hour, and then we have tea; and if we're not finished, we come down again till half-past six or so, and then we dress to go into the drawing-room to mums.
She nearly always dresses for dinner early, so we have an hour with her. The little ones, Serena and Maud, never have much to learn. It's Anne and Hebe and me. ”

“ Then down she came, and walked up and down the aisles as fast as she dared, considering it was a church, to get her cramped legs warm again, and just as she was thinking what she was to do to get out, the door opened, to her delight, and in came the man who had care of the church—what we call a verger—followed by the old body who cleaned and swept it. ”

“ I've got things very neat inside; I often feel as if it was a cupboard, and I like to know exactly which shelf to go to for anything I want. Mums says, [Pg 17] 'That's all very well so far as it goes, Jack, but don't stop short at that, or you will be in danger of growing narrow-minded and self-satisfied.'
And I think I know what she means. There are some things now about Anne, for all her tiresome ways, that I know are grander than about me, or even perhaps than about Hebe, only Hebe's sweetness makes up for everything. But Anne would give anything in a moment to do any one a good turn. ”

“ I'm staying at the Home here. I left my music in church, for I went off in a hurry. But what in the world were you all doing here?'
'We came to listen to you,' I said, and then Anne went on to explain. She did it so nicely, not exactly putting the blame on Serry, which would not have been kind just then, but she quite made Miss Merthyr understand.
'You poor little souls!' she exclaimed. 'Of course, I remember hearing you were somewhere down here, but I've been away. I only came back again a few days ago. And Maud, poor child, you do look blue. ”

“ And [Pg 100] a strange nurse came—one with a cap and an apron, like you see in pictures of children in hospitals; she was rather pretty and not old at all, and she and mums took turns of watching Hebe; and the air of the room had to be kept exactly the same hotness, like a vinery, you know. And there was a queer, strange, solemn feeling all about, that I can't explain. We all felt it, even though they didn't tell us—not even me—how bad the poor little sweet was. The angel of death came very near us that time, mums told us afterwards, and I know it was true. ”

“ She so often loses things, because she's got a trick of putting them down anywhere she happens to be. Often and often I go to her room when she's dressing, and tap at the door and say—
'Have you lost something, mums?'
And ten to one she'll call back—
'Yes, my dear town-crier, I have.' ('My gloves,' or 'my card-case,' or 'my keys,' or, oh! almost anything.) 'But I wasn't worrying about it; I knew you'd find it, Jack.'
And Maud does finder for Anne, just the same way, only her finding sometimes gets me into trouble. Just fancy that. ”

“ Mums isn't a bit selfish. The brightest rooms in the house have always been ours. They're two floors over the drawing-rooms, which are really very [Pg 19] big rooms. We have a nursery, and on one side of it a dressing-room—that's mine—and two other rooms, with two beds each for the girls. We do our lessons in the study—a little room in front of the dining-room, very jolly, for it looks to the front, and the street is wide, and we can see all the barrel-organs and monkeys, and Punch and Judys, and bands, when we're doing our lessons. ”

“ And then we really have had some adventures: that makes it more interesting to make out a story about ourselves, for I think a book just about getting up and going to bed, and breakfast, and dinner, and tea, would be very stupid—though, all the same, in story-books I do like rather to know what the children have to eat, and something about the place they live in too.
To go back about grandfather. The reason we don't much like his being with us isn't exactly that [Pg 15] we don't care for him. He's not bad. ”

“ She said it was much best to make no mystery about it. Serry was as sharp as a needle about mysteries, and she'd only set herself to find out. So that Thursday morning at breakfast—the day nurse was to be away—I said quietly, 'Anne and I are going to church this evening for half an hour. Nurse, please tell Serry that she and Maud may stay with Mrs. Parsley in her kitchen while we're out.'
'Yes,' said nurse. 'You hear, Miss Serry and Miss Maud. It'll make a little change for you.'
'I like being in Mrs. Parsley's kitchen for a while in the evening very much, don't you, Serry?' said Maud. ”

“ Yes, really, she was too 'old-fashioned' for anything, as old nurse said. She wasn't quite as sweet as Hebe— Hebe looked like a little crushed flower when she first began to be better; you could scarcely help kissing her every minute. She isn't so what people call 'clinging' as Hebe, but still she's a good, kind little girl, and it's not hard to get on with her. My life would be a very different affair if I had four sisters all like Hebe and Maud—wouldn't it just? ”

“ And when dessert was on the table, and the servants had gone, father called Anne to him, and put his arm round her.
'My dear little girl,' he said, 'you must try to leave off crying. It only makes mother more troubled. I can't deny that this loss is a great vexation: it will annoy grandfather, and—well, there's no use telling you what you know already. ”

“ How long does it take by train, and how far is the farm—what's the name of it, by the bye?—from the station?'
'About a mile and a half. But they have a pony-cart of some kind and could meet you. The name is Mossmoor—Mossmoor Farm, Fewforest.'
It seemed wonderfully lucky. We were all three as pleased as anything. There was only one thing I wanted to make sure of.
'Mums,' I whispered. I was just giving her her second cup of tea. I always make her tea when we're alone. 'Mums, if you do go down one day to see the farm, you'll take me with you, won't you?'
Cousin Dorothea has quick ears. ”

“ Ludovic Barry stared at her.
'It's because they've lost one,' said Flossy quickly, 'at least their mother has, and they would give anything to find it. It's a—I forget the word—a family treasure, you know.' [Pg 59]
'An heirloom,' I said. 'Yes, that's the worst of it. But, Anne, don't look so wild about it,' I went on, laughingly. 'What is the brooch like, that your cousins have found? Is it diamonds?' I went on to the Barrys.
'I think so,' said Ludo. 'It's some kind of jewels. But the Nearns are quite small children; they wouldn't know, and I don't suppose they've seen it. ”