The Long Vacation

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  Helpmates and hearthmates, gladdeners of gone years, Tender companions of our serious days, Who colour with your kisses, smiles, and tears, Life's worn web woven over wonted ways.--LYTTON.

  "How does he seem now?" said Geraldine, as Lancelot came into thedrawing-room of St. Andrew's Rock at Rockquay, in the full glare of acold east windy May evening.

  "Pretty well fagged out, but that does not greatly matter. I say,Cherry, how will you stand this? Till I saw you in this den, I had nonotion how shabby, and dull, and ugly it is."

  "My dear Lance, if you did but know how refreshing it is to see anythingshabby, and dull, and ugly," Mrs. Grinstead answered with imitativeinflections, which set Anna Vanderkist off into a fit of laughter,infecting both her uncle and aunt. The former gravely said--

  "If you had only mentioned it in time, I could have gratified you moreeffectually."

  "I suppose it is Aunt Cherry's charity," said Anna, recovering. "Thereflection that but for her the poor natives would never have been ableto go to their German baths."

  "Oh, no such philanthropy, my dear. It is homeliness, or ratherhomeyness, that is dear to my bourgeoise mind. I was afraid ofspick-and-span, sap-green aestheticism, but those curtains have donetheir own fading in pleasing shades, that good old sofa can be lainupon, and there's a real comfortable crack on that frame; while as tothe chiffonier, is not it the marrow of the one Mrs. Froggatt left us,where Wilmet kept all the things in want of mending?"

  "Ah! didn't you shudder when she turned the key?" said Lance.

  "Not knowing what was good for me."

  "But you will send for some of our things and make it nice," entreatedAnna, "or Gerald will never stay here."

  "Never fear; we'll have it presentable by the vacation. As for UncleClement, he would never see whether he was in a hermit's cell, if heonly had one arm-chair and one print from Raffaelle."

  There was a certain arch ring in her voice that had long been absent,and Anna looked joyous as she waited on them both.

  "I am glad you brought her," said Lance, as she set off with UncleClement's tea.

  "Yes, she would not hear of the charms of the season."

  "So much the better for her. She is a good girl, and will be allthe happier down here, as well as better. There's a whole hive ofMerrifields to make merry with her; and, by the bye, Cherry, what shouldyou think of housing a little chap for the school here where FergusMerrifield is?"

  "Your dear little Felix? Delightful!"

  "_Ouf_! No, he is booked for our grammar school."

  "The grammar school was not good for any of you, except the one whomnothing hurt."

  "It is very different now. I have full confidence in the head, and thetone is improved throughout. Till my boys are ready for a public schoolI had rather they were among our own people. No, Cherry, I can't do it,I can't give up the delight of him yet; no, I can't, nor lose his littlevoice out of the choir, and have his music spoilt."

  "I don't wonder."

  "I don't think I spoil him. I really have flogged him once," said Lance,half wistfully, half playfully.

  "How proud you are of it."

  "It was for maltreating little Joan Vanderkist, though if it had onlybeen her brother, I should have said, 'Go it, boys.' It was not tillafterwards that it turned out that Joan was too loyal not to bear thepenalty of having tied our little Audrey into a chair to be pelted withhorse-chestnuts."

  "At Adrian's bidding?"

  "Of course. I fancy the Harewood boys set him on. And what I thought ofwas sending Adrian here to be schooled at Mrs. Edgar's, boarded byyou, mothered by Anna, and altogether saved from being made utterlydetestable, as he will inevitably be if he remains to tyrannize overVale Leston."

  "Would his mother consent?"

  "You know he is entirely in Clement's power."

  "It would only be another worry for Clement."

  "He need not have much of him, and I believe he would prefer to have himunder his own eye; and Anna will think it bliss to have him, though whatit may prove is another question. She will keep you from being too muchbothered."

  "My dear Lance, will you never understand, that as furze and thistlesare to a donkey, so are shabbiness and bother to me--a native element?"

  In the morning Clement, raised on his pillows in bed, showed himselfhighly grateful for the proposal about his youngest ward.

  "It is very good of you, Cherry," he said. "That poor boy has been verymuch on my mind. This is the way to profit by my enforced leisure."

  "That's the way to make me dread him. You were to lie fallow."

  "Not exactly. I have thirteen or fourteen years' reading and thinking tomake up. I have done no more than get up a thing cursorily since I leftVale Leston."

  "You are welcome to read and think, provided it is nothing more recentthan St. Chrysostom."

  "So here is the letter to Alda," giving it to her open.

  "Short and to the purpose," she said.

  "Alda submits to the inevitable," he said. "Don't appear as if she had achoice."

  "Only mention the alleviations. No, you are not to get up yet. There'sno place for you to sit in, and the east wind is not greatly mitigatedby the sea air. Shall I send Anna to read to you?"

  "In half-an-hour, if she is ready then; meantime, those two books, ifyou please."

  She handed him his Greek Testament and Bishop Andrews, and repairedto the drawing-room, where she found Anna exulting in the decorationsbrought from home, and the flowers brought in from an itinerant barrow.

  "I have been setting down what they must send us from home--your ownchair and table, and the Liberty rugs, and the casts of St. Cecilia andlittle St. Cyrillus for those bare corners, and I am going out for aterra-cotta vase."

  "Oh, my dear, the room is charming; but don't let us get too dependenton pretty things. They demoralize as much or more than ugly ones."

  "Do you mean that they are a luxury? Is it not right to try to haveeverything beautiful?"

  "I don't know, my dear."

  "Don't know!" exclaimed Anna.

  "Yes, my dear, I really get confused sometimes as to what is mere lustof the eye, and what is regard to whatever things are lovely. I believethe principle is really in each case to try whether the high object orthe gratification of the senses should stand first."

  "Well," said Anna, laughing, "I suppose it is a high object not toalienate Gerald, as would certainly be done by the culture of theugly--"

  "Or rather of that which pretends to be the reverse, and is onlyfashion," said her aunt, who meantime was moving about, adding namelessgrace by her touch to all Anna's arrangements.

  "May I send for the things then?" said Anna demurely.

  "Oh yes, certainly; and you had better get the study arm-chair for youruncle. There is nothing so comfortable here. But I have news for you.What do you say to having little Adrian here, to go to school with theMerrifield boy?"

  "What fun! what fun! How delicious!" cried the sister, springing aboutlike a child.

  "I suspected that the person to whom he would give most trouble wouldfeel it most pleasure."

  "You don't know what a funny, delightful child he is! You didn't see himdriving all the little girls in a team four-in-hand."

  It would be much to say that Mrs. Grinstead was enchanted by thisproof of his charms; but they were interrupted by Marshall, the polite,patronizing butler, bringing in a card. Miss Mohun would be glad to knowhow Mr. Underwood was, and whether there was anything that she could dofor Mrs. Grinstead.

  Of course she was asked to come in, and thus they met, the quick, slim,active little spinster, whose whole life had been work, and the faryounger widow, whose vocation had been chiefly home-making. Their firstsilent impressions were--

  "I hope she is not going to be pathetic," and--

  "She is enough to take one's breath away. But I think she has tact."

  After a few exchanges of inquiry and answer, Miss Mohun said--

  "My niece Gillian is burn
ing to see you, after all your kindness toher."

  "I shall be very glad. This is not quite a land of strangers."

  "I told her I was sure you would not want her to-day."

  "Thank you. My brother is hardly up to afternoon visitors yet, and wehave not been able to arrange his refuge."

  "You have transformed this room."

  "Or Anna has."

  On which Miss Mohun begged for Miss Vanderkist to meet her nieces by andby at tea. Gillian would call for her at four o'clock, and show her theway that it was hoped might soon be quite natural to her.

  "Gillian's 'Aunt Jane,'" said Anna, when the visitor had tripped out."I never quite understood her way of talking of her. I think she worriedher."

  "Your pronouns are confused, Annie. Which worried which? Or was itmutual?"

  "On the whole," laughed Anna back, "I prefer an aunt to be waited on toone who pokes me up."

  "Aunt Log to Aunt Stork? To be poked will be wholesome."

  In due time there was a ring at the front door; Gillian Merrifield wasindulged with a kiss and smile from the heroine of her worship, andAnna found herself in the midst of a garland of bright girls. She wasa contrast to them, with her fair Underwood complexion, her short plumpVanderkist figure, and the mourning she still wore for the fatherlyUncle Grinstead; while the Merrifield party were all in different shadesof the brunette, and wore bright spring raiment.

  They had only just come down the steps when they were greeted by a youngclergyman, who said he was on his way to inquire for Mr. Underwood, andas he looked as if he expected a reply from Miss Vanderkist, she saidher uncle was better, and would be glad to see Mr. Brownlow when he hadrested after his journey.

  "I hope he will not bother him," she added; "I know who he is now. Hewas at Whittingtonia for a little while, but broke down. There's noremembering all the curates there. My aunt likes his mother. Does hebelong to this St. Andrew's Church?"

  "No, to the old one. You begin to see the tower."

  "Is that where you go?"

  "To the old one in the morning, but we have a dear little old chapel atClipstone, where Mr. Brownlow comes for the afternoon. It is all a gooddeal mixed up together."

  Then another voice--

  "Do you think Mr. Underwood would preach to us? Mr. Brownlow says henever heard any one like him."

  Anna stood still.

  "Nobody is to dare to mention preaching to Uncle Clement for the nextsix months, or they will deserve never to hear another sermon in theirlives."

  "What an awful penalty!"

  "For shame, Dolores! Now," as the short remainder of a steep street wassurmounted, "here, as you may see, is the great hotel, and next beyondis Aunt Jane's, Beechcroft. On beyond, where you see that queer tower,is Cliff House, Mr. White's, who married our Aunt Adeline, only they arein Italy; and then comes Carrara, Captain Henderson's--"

  "You are expected to rave about Mrs. Henderson's beauty," said thecousin, Dolores Mohun, as she opened Miss Mohun's gate, between twocopper beeches, while Anna listened to the merry tongues, almostbewildered by the chatter, so unlike the seclusion and silent watchingof the last month; but when Mysie Merrifield asked, "Is it not quiteoverwhelming?" she said--

  "Oh no! it is like being among them all at Vale Leston. My sistersalways tell me my tongue wants greasing when I come down."

  Her tongue was to have exercise enough among the bevy of damsels whosurrounded her in Miss Mohun's drawing-room--four Merrifields, rangingfrom twenty-two to twelve years old, and one cousin, Dolores Mohun, witha father in New Zealand.

  "Won't you be in the Mouse-trap?" presently asked number three, by nameValetta.

  "If I did not know that she would drag it in!" cried Dolores.

  "What may it be?" asked Anna.

  "An essay society and not an essay society," was the lucid answer."Gillian said you would be sure to belong to it."

  "I am afraid I can't if it takes much time," said Anna in a pleadingtone. "My uncle is very far from well, and I have a good deal to doin the way of reading to him, and my little brother is coming to go toschool with yours."

  "Mr. Underwood brought his little boy," said Gillian. "Fergus said hewas one of the jolliest little chaps he had ever seen."

  "Uncle Reginald quite lost his heart to him," said Mysie, "and Aunt Janesays he is a charming little fellow."

  "Oh, Felix Underwood!" said Anna. "Adrian is much more manly. You shouldsee him ride and climb trees."

  The comparative value of brothers and cousins was very apparent.However, it was fixed that Anna should attend the Mouse-trap, and hearand contribute as she could find time.

  "I did the Erl King," said Valetta.

  "'Who rideth so late in the forest so wild? It is the fond father and his loving child.'"

  "Oh, spare us, Val," cried her sister Gillian. "Every one has donethat."

  "Gerald parodied mine," said Anna.

  "'Who trampeth so late in a shocking bad hat? 'Tis the tipsy old father a-hugging his brat."

  "Oh, go on."

  "I can't recollect any more, but the Erl King's daughter is abeggar-woman, and it ends with--

  "I'll give thee a tanner and make him a bait, So in the gin palace was settled his fate."

  Some of the party were scandalized, others laughed as much or more thanthe effusion deserved.

  "We accept drawings," added another voice, "and if any one does anythingextraordinarily good in that way, or in writing, it makes a littlebook."

  "We have higher designs than that," said Gillian. "We want to print thecream."

  "For the benefit of the school board--no, the board school."

  "Oh! oh! Valetta!" cried the general voice.

  "The thing is," explained Gillian, "that we must build a new school forthe out-liers of St. Kenelm's, or 'my lords' will be down on us, and weshall be swamped by board schools."

  "Aunt Jane is frantic about it," said Dolores Mohun.

  "There's no escape from school board worries!" exclaimed Anna. "Theyhelped to demolish Uncle Clement."

  "There is to be a sale of work, and a concert, and all sorts of jollylarks," added Valetta.

  "Larks! Oh, Val!"

  "Larks aren't slang. They are in the dictionary," declared Valetta.

  "By the bye, she has not heard the rules of the Mice," put in Mysie.

  "I'll say them," volunteered Valetta the irrepressible. "Members of theMouse-trap never utter slang expressions, never wear live birds--I meandead ones--in their hats."

  "Is an ostrich feather a live bird or a dead?" demanded Anna.

  "And," said Dolores, "what of the feather screens that the old MissSmiths have been making all the winter-circles of pheasants' feathersand peacocks' eyes outside a border of drakes' curls?"

  "Oh, like ostriches they don't count, since peacocks don't die, anddrakes and pheasants _must_," said Gillian.

  "We have been getting ready for this sale ever so long," said Mysie."Aunt Jane has a working party every Friday for it."

  "The fit day," said Dolores, "for she is a perfect victim to otherpeople's bad work, and spends the evening in stitching up and makingpresentable the wretched garments they turn out."

  "The next rule--" began Valetta, but Gillian mercilessly cut her short.

  "You know clever people, Anna. Do you know how to manage about ourMouse-trap book? Our bookseller here is a school-board man, all onthe wrong side, and when I tried to feel our way, he made out that theprinting and getting it up would cost a great deal more than we couldrisk."

  "It is a pity that Uncle Lance is gone home," said Anna. "He could tellyou all about it."

  "Could you not write to him?"

  "Oh, yes, but I know he will want to see a specimen before he can makeany estimate."

  It was agreed that the specimen should be forthcoming on the nextoccasion, and Miss Mohun coming home, and tea coming in, the conferencewas ended. Anna began to unravel the relationships.

  Dolore
s Mohun was a niece of Lady Merrifield. She had lost her ownmother early, and after living with the Merrifields for a year, had beentaken by her father to New Zealand, where he had an appointment. Hewas a man of science, and she had been with him at Rotaruna during theterrible volcanic eruption, when there had been danger and terror enoughto bring out her real character, and at the same time to cause an amountof intimacy with a young lady visitor little older than herself, whichhad suddenly developed into a second marriage of her father. In thisstate of things she had gladly availed herself of the home offered herat Clipstone, and had gone home under the escort of her Aunt Phyllis(Mrs. Harry May), who was going with her husband to spend a year inEngland. Dolores had greatly improved in all ways during her two years'absence, and had become an affectionate, companionable, and thoughtfulmember of the Merrifield household, though still taking a line of herown.

  The Kalliope whom Gillian had befriended, to her own detriment, was nowthe very beautiful Mrs. Henderson, wife to the managing partner in themarble works. She continued to take a great interest in the young womenemployed in designing and mosaics, and had a class of them for readingand working. Dolores had been asked to tell first Aunt Jane's G. F. S.(Girl's Friendly Society) girls, and afterwards Mrs. Henderson's, abouther New Zealand experiences and the earthquake, and this developed intoregular weekly lectures on volcanoes and on colonies. She did theseso well, that she was begged to repeat them for the girls at the HighSchool, and she had begun to get them up very carefully, studying thebest scientific books she could get, and thinking she saw her vocation.

  Mrs. Henderson was quite a power in the place. Her brother Alexis wasan undergraduate, but had been promised a tutorship for the vacation.He seldom appeared at Carrara, shrinking from what recalled the pain andshame that he had suffered; while Petros worked under Captain Henderson,and Theodore was still in the choir at St. Matthew's. Maura had becomethe darling of Mr. White, and was much beloved by Mrs. White, thoughthere had been a little alarm the previous year, when Lord Rotherwoodand his son came down to open a public park or garden on the top of thecliffs, where Lord Rotherwood's accident had occurred. Lord Ivinghoe,a young Guardsman, had shown himself enough disposed to flirt with thepretty little Greek to make the prudent very glad that her home was onthe Italian mountains.

  Gillian was always Mrs. Henderson's friend, but Gillian's mind was fullof other things. For her father had reluctantly promised, that if oneof her little brothers got a scholarship at one of the public schools,Gillian might fulfil her ardent desire of going to a ladies' college.Wilfred was a hopeless subject. It might be doubted if he could havesucceeded. He had apparently less brain power than some of the family,and he certainly would not exert what he had. His mother had dragged himthrough holiday tasks; but nobody else could attempt to make him workwhen at home, and Gillian's offers had been received with mockery orviolence. So all her hopes centred on Fergus, who, thanks to Aunt Jane'sevening influence over his lessons, stood foremost in Mrs. Edgar'sschool, and was to go up to try for election at Winchester College atthe end of the term. Were Gillian's hopes to be ruined by his devotionto the underground world?

  CHAPTER VII. -- THE HOPE OF VANDERKIST