Silverthorns

by Mrs. Molesworth

head.

  "She is a niece of Lady Mildred's, I believe--perhaps a grand-niece.She may be a Miss Meredon--that was Lady Mildred's maiden name, but Ireally don't know. I did not catch her name when her aunt spoke toher."

  "Oh, you saw her then?" exclaimed Mrs Waldron with some surprise."What is she like?"

  Mr Waldron smiled.

  "Amy, you're nearly as great a baby as Charlotte," he said. "She wasquite excited when I said I had seen this wonderful young person. Whatis she like? Well, I must own that for once gossip has spoken the truthin saying that she is very pretty. I only saw her for half a second,but she struck me as both very pretty and very sweet-looking."

  "Not prettier than Charlotte?" asked Charlotte's mother, half laughingat herself as she put the question.

  "Well, yes, I'm afraid poor Gipsy wouldn't stand comparison with thischild. She is really _remarkably_ lovely."

  "Ah, well," said Mrs Waldron, "Charlotte is above being jealous, oreven envious of mere beauty. Still--altogether--yes, I think I agreewith you that I am sorry Lady Mildred is going to send the girl to MissLloyd's; for we cannot wish that Charlotte and she should make friendsunder the circumstances. It would only be putting our child in the wayof annoyances, and possibly mortification. And I should be sorry tohave to explain things to her or to the boys. I do so long to keep themunworldly and--unsuspicious, unsoured--poor though they may have to be,"and the mother sighed a little.

  "Yes," agreed Mr Waldron earnestly. "I am afraid the worldly _spirit_is just as insidious when one is poor as when one is rich. And do whatwe will, Amy, we cannot shelter them from all evil and trouble."

  "I shall be glad if this Miss Meredon, if that is her name, is not inCharlotte's class," said Mrs Waldron after a little pause. "I shouldthink it unlikely that she is as far on as Charlotte. Miss Lloyd wastelling me the other day how really delighted she and all the teachersare with her."

  "I hope they have not spoilt her," said Mr Waldron. "She is not thesort of girl to be easily spoilt in that way," said Charlotte's mother."She is too much in earnest--too anxious to learn."

  "I wish Ted had some of her energy," said the father. "He is reallysuch a dunce--and yet he is practical enough in some ways. We'll haveto ship two or three of those lads off to the backwoods I expect, Amy."

  "I sometimes wish we could all go together," said Mrs Waldron. "Lifeis so difficult now and then."

  "You are tired, dear. Things look so differently at different times.For after all, what would not Lady Mildred, poor woman, give for one ofour boys--even poor Jerry!"

  "_Even_ Jerry!" said Mrs Waldron. "I don't know one of them I couldless afford to part with than him. Arthur is a good boy, a very goodboy as an eldest; but Jerry has a sort of instinctive understandingnessabout him that makes him the greatest possible comfort. Yes, cold andselfish though she may be, I can pity Lady Mildred when I think of herloneliness."

  "And I don't know that she is cold and selfish," said Mr Waldrop. "Itis more that she has lived in a very narrow world, and it has neveroccurred to her to look out beyond it. Self-absorption is, after all,not exactly selfishness. But it is getting late, Amy, and Sunday is notmuch of a day of rest for you, I am sorry to say."

  "I don't know about that," she replied, smiling brightly again. "Nowthat the boys are old enough not to require looking after, and Charlotteis very good with the little ones--no, I don't think I have any reasonto grumble. My hard-working Sundays are becoming things of the past.Sometimes I could almost find it in my heart to regret them! It wasvery sweet, after all, when they were all tiny mites, with no worldoutside our own little home, and perfect faith in it and in us--andindeed in everything. I do love very little children."

  "You will be more than half a child yourself, even when you have greyhair and are a grandmother perhaps," said her husband, laughing.

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  THE NEW PUPIL.

  "Mamma," said Charlotte to her mother one day towards the end of thefollowing week, "do you think--I mean would you mind?" She hesitatedand grew rather red, and looked down at her dress.

  "Would I mind what, dear? Don't be afraid to say what it is," said hermother, smiling. Her eyes half unconsciously followed Charlotte's andrested on her frock. It was one which had undoubtedly "seen betterdays," and careful though Charlotte was, nothing could hide the marks ofwear.

  "Is it about your dress?" Mrs Waldron exclaimed suddenly. "I wasgoing to speak about it. I don't think you can go on wearing that oldcashmere at school any more. You must keep it for home--for theafternoons when you are working in the school-room, and the mornings youdon't go to Miss Lloyd's; and you must begin your navy-blue serge forregular wear."

  Charlotte's face cleared.

  "Oh, thank you, mamma," she said. "I am so glad. But--what about abest frock? You know, however careful one is, one can't look reallyneat with only one regular dress," and Charlotte's face fell again.

  "Of course not. Have I ever expected you to manage with only one, so tosay? I have sent for patterns already, and Miss Burt is coming aboutmaking you a new one. And your velveteen must be refreshed a little forthe evenings. By Christmas, if I can possibly afford it, I should liketo get you something new for the evenings. There may be concerts, orpossibly one or two children's parties."

  "I don't care to go if there are," said Charlotte, "I'm getting too oldfor them. In proper, regular society, mamma--not a common little townlike Wortherham--girls don't go out when they're my age, between thetwo, as it were, do they?"

  Mrs Waldron smiled a very little. Charlotte was changing certainly.

  "We cannot make hard and fast rules, placed as we are," she said. "Ifyou don't care to go to any more children's parties you need not. Butof course Wortherham is your--our--home. I might wish it were in adifferent place for many reasons, but wishing in such cases is no use,and indeed often does harm. And on the whole it is better to have somefriendly intercourse with the people one lives among, even though theymay not be very congenial, than to shut oneself out from all sympathiesand interests except home ones." Charlotte did not at once answer, andindeed when she did speak again it was scarcely in reply to her mother.

  "I like some of the girls very well. I don't much care to be intimatewith any of them, except perhaps Gueda Knox, and she scarcely counts,she's so little here now; but they're nice enough mostly. Only they dogossip a good deal, and make remarks about things that don't concernthem. Mamma," she went on abruptly, "might I begin wearing my navy-blueto-morrow? I will take great care of it, so that it shall look quitenice on Sundays till I get my new one."

  "To-morrow?" repeated Mrs Waldron, a little surprised. "To-morrow isFriday. Isn't Monday a better day to begin it?"

  Again Charlotte reddened a little.

  "Mamma," she said, "it's just that I don't want to begin it on Monday.That girl is coming on Monday for the first time--Lady Mildred's niece,you know. And you don't know how I should _hate_ them saying I had gota new dress because of her coming."

  "Would they really be so ill-bred?" exclaimed Mrs Waldron, almoststartled.

  "Oh, yes. They don't mean it, they don't know better. Mamma, I don'tthink you can know quite as well as I do how common some of the peoplehere are," and Charlotte's face took an expression almost of disgust."When you see the ladies you call on, they are on their good behaviour,I suppose, and if they did begin to gossip you would somehow manage todiscourage it. Oh, mamma, you should be glad you weren't brought uphere."

  Mrs Waldron was half distressed and half amused.

  "But we must make the best of it," she said. "We can't leaveWortherham, Charlotte."

  "Couldn't we go and live quite in the country, however quiet and dull itwas? _I_ wouldn't mind."

  "No; for several years at least it would be impossible. There may beopportunities for starting the boys in life here that we must notneglect. And living quite in the country would entail more fatigue foryour father." Charlotte sighed.

  "My
dear child," said her mother, "I don't quite understand you. Youhave never seemed discontented with your home before. You must not getto take such a gloomy view of things."

  "I don't mean to be discontented, mamma," said Charlotte.

  "Well, dear, try and get over it. You will have to meet many people inlife apparently more favoured and fortunate than you. Perhaps thingshave in some