The Palace Beautiful: A Story for Girls by L. T. Meade (short novels in english TXT) 📗

kitten similar to the Pink. Primrose, on the contrary, was proud and shy, and had no idea of treating any stranger in a confidential manner.

Mrs. Ellsworthy chatted on, but she never got beyond commonplaces; she invited the girls to visit her at Shortlands, and Primrose, reading a great desire in Daisy's blue eyes, answered simply, "Thank you; we shall like to come very much."

"I'll manage it when I get them to my own house," thought Mrs. Ellsworthy; "it's quite absurd to be baffled by three little chits, but I'll settle everything in a satisfactory fashion when I get them to Shortlands."

Aloud she said, "My dears, I shall be very glad to see you—and can you come to-morrow? To-morrow I shall be quite alone."

"Primrose," burst from Daisy, "there's a Newfoundland dog, and a mastiff, and two English terriers at Shortlands. The Newfoundland is black and woolly and the mastiff is tawny, like a lion."

"Will you really show us over your beautiful conservatories?" asked Jasmine. "Primrose, she was telling us about her flowers; and they must be lovely."

"I'll show you everything, and take you everywhere," responded Mrs. Ellsworthy, stooping down to kiss Jasmine's upturned face. "You'll bring your sisters to-morrow, Miss Mainwaring," she continued, turning to the grave Primrose.

"Thank you—yes. It is kind of you to ask us," answered Primrose.

Mrs. Ellsworthy drove away in state, and the sisters saw her off from their door-steps. They made a pretty group as they stood together—Daisy's arms clasped her elder sister's waist, and Jasmine shaded her dark eyes from the full blaze of the sun with her little white dimpled hand.

As the great lady drove away Jasmine had actually the audacity to blow a kiss to her.

The neighbors at the opposite side of the street felt quite scandalized, and said to themselves that surely the poor young ladies had seen the last of Mrs. Ellsworthy, after such a piece of impertinence. But the lady of Shortlands was really delighted.

"To think of my being here all these years, and never knowing those charming creatures," she soliloquized. Just then she saw Miss Martineau crossing the street, and she ordered her coachman to draw up.

"I have been with them, dear Miss Martineau—they are delightful—so fresh—and so—so pretty! They are coming to Shortlands to-morrow. Good-bye—warm morning, is it not? Home, Tomlinson."

The girls had entered the little house, cheered by Mrs. Ellsworthy's visit. Primrose, it is true, did not share her younger sisters' enthusiasm, but even she was pleased, and owned to herself that Mrs. Ellsworthy was a very different neighbor from the village folk.

Primrose's mind, however, was a good deal absorbed by what she had discovered in her mother's little old-fashioned cabinet. A letter directed to herself lay there unopened. She longed to break the seal, and to acquaint herself with the contents of this message from the dead. She longed to read the letter, but she knew she could only do so at some quiet moment. She must peruse those beloved words when she was alone and quite sure of being undisturbed. She thought she might slip away into a little glade at the back of the house that afternoon, and there read her letter, and ponder over its contents.

Events, however, were to occur which would prevent Primrose carrying out this scheme.

Immediately after dinner Miss Martineau's well-known knock was heard at the hall-door, and Miss Martineau herself, bristling with excitement and curiosity, invaded the girls in their drawing-room.

"Now, my dears, tell me all about her. Is she not fascinating? She is greatly pleased with you three—you have made a most proper impression; and you are to go to spend the day at Shortlands to-morrow. Now, my loves, tell me what arrangements she has come to—I am so deeply interested, my poor darlings."

Miss Martineau, as she spoke, kept her eyes fixed on Primrose; but that young lady only gave her a puzzled look, and, after a short pause, said quietly—

"I don't understand you. We have made no special arrangements. Mrs. Ellsworthy was friendly, and she asked us to come and see her at Shortlands; and we are going. Miss Martineau, I am so very busy this afternoon; will you forgive me if I run away?"

Primrose left the room, and Miss Martineau, turning to Jasmine, clasped her hands in some excitement.

"Oh, my dear!" she exclaimed, "I do hope Primrose won't spoil everything by those little proud airs of hers; they really are—yes, I am grieved to be obliged to say it—but they really are affected. Now, Jasmine darling, a great deal depends on this visit—yes, a great deal. You and Daisy must be on your very best behavior. You have never been in a great house like Shortlands, and it is only right that I, your instructress, should tell you how you are to behave. You must take no liberties, dear; and you must not speak too much, or too fast; and you must look very grateful when Mrs. Ellsworthy notices you, loves. Oh, my poor dears! I feel over anxious, for so much depends on to-morrow."

It was now Jasmine's turn to stare, and to begin to say—"I don't understand you." But Daisy burst out volubly—

"We are going up to Shortlands to run about—she said so. She said we were to see the dogs—the black woolly Newfoundland and the tawny mastiff; and she has got a snow-white Persian kitten, only she likes the Pink best; and I promised her that if ever the Pink had a little kit of her own she should have it. Mrs. Ellsworthy didn't say a word about being horrid, and proper, and waiting until you are spoken to. I won't go to Shortlands if I have to behave like that, I won't," concluded spoiled Daisy, pouting her lips.

Jasmine bent forward and kissed her. "You may do just what you like, darling little Eyebright," she said.

"Oh, Miss Martineau, really Mrs. Ellsworthy is not at all what you picture her. I should say she was the kind of lady who likes a real romp. Anyhow, she does not at all want people to be stiff with her. Daisy, and she, and I were as jolly as possible until Primrose came downstairs, and I suppose Primrose agreed with you, and thought it was manners to be formal. But, poor dear, she did not like it a bit. We three were having such a chatter before Primrose came. She is going to show me all her conservatories to-morrow, and she took a great fancy to my carnations. I promised her some slips. Oh dear! oh dear! who is that knocking at the hall door? Daisy, run and peep from behind the curtain, and let me know."

Daisy started off on the instant, and returned in a moment with the intelligence that Mr. Danesfield, the manager of the bank, was standing on the steps, and that his face was very red.

On hearing this intelligence poor Miss Martineau's face also became suffused with a deep flush, and she pushed her poke bonnet a little backward in her excitement. An awful idea had suddenly darted through her brain.

Perhaps Mr. Danesfield had called to announce some misfortune. Perhaps the two hundred pounds was lost; perhaps there was no balance at the bank!

When the good gentleman was ushered into the room she glanced at him mysteriously, and even while he was shaking hands with Jasmine and Daisy, began letting fall short, but mysterious sentences—

"Mrs. Ellsworthy has called—much pleased—inclined to take them up. They are to spend to-morrow at Shortlands." Mr. Danesfield raised his eyebrows, pulled Daisy to stand between his knees; and, staring at Miss Martineau over his gold-rimmed glasses, said—

"Eh! eh!—Shortlands—Ellsworthy's—worthy folk!" here he laughed, pleased with his pun; "yes, Miss Martineau, a good opportunity, undoubtedly!"

At this moment Primrose came into the room, and Miss Martineau, judging that she might best serve her cause by retiring from the scene of action, went away.

Mr. Danesfield did not pay a long visit. He had known the Mainwarings, although not very intimately, for years. He was a good-hearted, kind, and very busy man, and during their mother's lifetime he had taken but little notice of the girls.

To-day, however, he seemed to regard them with fresh interest. He assured Primrose that if he could assist her in any business capacity he would only be too pleased to do so. "Our good friend Miss Martineau assures me that your means are likely to be a little straitened, my dear. I am sincerely sorry, although there are worse troubles—yes, assuredly, far worse troubles. It cannot do a healthy girl any harm to work. Yes, come to me for advice if you care to, and look on me as an old friend. And hark ye, Miss Primrose, I am glad Mrs. Ellsworthy has called. Make the most of your opportunity at Shortlands, my dears. Yes; I'll look in another day with pleasure. Good-bye, good-bye."

When Mr. Danesfield went away the two elder sisters looked at each other. What did it all mean? What mystery was there in the air? Jasmine thought both Miss Martineau and Mr. Danesfield very disagreeable but Primrose pondered these things and felt anxious.

CHAPTER VII. SHORTLANDS.

"A most extraordinary thing has happened," said Mrs. Ellsworthy that evening to her husband. "We have lived for several years at Shortlands, and except when we have people in the house I have actually been without any society. My dear Joseph, you will forgive my counting you as nobody at all. Well, we have lived here, and I have often been dull beyond words, and yet the nicest creatures have been within a stone's throw of me."

Mr. Ellsworthy was at least twenty years older than his wife—a reserved individual, with a rather long and melancholy face. Mrs. Ellsworthy was plump, and round, and pretty—kittenish some people called her.

She was certainly fond of emphasizing her words, and of going into raptures, and her husband now only raised his eyebrows, and said, "Well, Kate?" in a somewhat lethargic voice.

Mrs. Ellsworthy left her seat, and drew a small easy-chair close to the fire, for though the weather was hot Mrs. Ellsworthy always insisted on indulging in this evening luxury.

Planting herself luxuriously in this chair, the little lady began her narrative.

"Now, Joseph, I will tell you my story. Do you remember that outlandish-looking governess who came up here for a week to try to keep Frankie in order before we sent him to school? Oh, what a blessing it is to have that boy at school! Do you remember Miss Martineau, Joseph?"

"There was an authoress of the name, my love; but surely she died before we came to Shortlands?"

"Joseph, how stupid you are! I mean a dear, obsolete creature in the village. However, it is not the slightest matter whether you remember her or not. She came here again this morning, and begged of me to interest myself in the cause of three destitute orphans who lived in a little house in the village. She spoke most kindly about them, but said they were a little unfinished, and not, in her opinion, very capable; but she described them as pretty and young, and, oh, so appallingly poor! And somehow the good old creature touched my heart, and I said I would certainly help them. I ordered the carriage and drove into the village. I expected to see—well, you know, the sort of girl who is likely to be found in a little village like Rosebury, Joseph—the awkward and shy young miss. I imagined them as being so grateful for my notice; indeed, a little overpowered; for, you know, I don't know the Rosebury folk. Well, my dear, what do you think I found?"

"It is really difficult to tell, Kate. I should judge, however, from your excited manner and your unusual enthusiasm, that you found young ladies."

"Joseph, you are a genius. I did. In the funniest, pokiest, queerest little house that you can possibly imagine; I discovered three charming, well-bred girls. The two youngest made friends with me in their shabby little garden. They greeted me, I assure you, with the most delightful frankness and ease. I told them who I was, and they were not the least impressed; on the contrary, the one they called Jasmine—oh! she is a pretty creature—fancied I was dying for some carnations like hers, and the little one holds out hopes that some day I may possess a kitten similar to the one she thrust into my arms. They were as shabbily dressed as possible, but who could look at them, dear pets, and think twice about their dresses? We got on most pleasantly, and found we had many interests in common, for the little one shared my love for animals, and the elder my passion for flowers. On this scene the eldest sister made her appearance. I assure you, Joseph, it is almost too absurd, but it is a fact; she actually contrived to snub me. I read as plainly as possible in those pretty, serene eyes of hers the question, 'How