The Third Miss St Quentin

by Mrs. Molesworth

inErmine and Philip--he is anxious to see all he can of you before hegoes. And next week Bernard will be here--they will go back to schooltogether."

  "Oh," exclaimed Madelene, "I am so glad Bernard is coming. Ermie and Ihave always wished so to see him. Only--everything is so sad here justnow," and she hesitated.

  "You and Ermie must come over once or twice to spend a day with us whilethe boys are still here. Ellen would like it--she was saying onlyyesterday how unhappy it makes her to see your young lives so saddened."

  "Poor mamma, she is very unselfish," said Madelene.

  Then Lady Cheynes got up, and followed by her grand-niece, made her wayout of the room, down a long passage with a glass door at the endleading into the garden, where for a moment she stood looking out.

  "I don't see them," she said; "get a shawl, Maddie, and we'll go andlook for them. A breath of air will do you good."

  She slipped her hand through the girl's arm, and together they walkedslowly along the broad gravelled terrace, which ran round two sides ofthe house.

  "They may have gone to the stables," said Madelene. "Ermine is alwaysglad of an excuse for visiting the horses, and papa won't allow her togo alone."

  "I should think not, indeed," said the old lady. "Even with Philip, Idon't know--Philip is only a boy--"

  Laughing voices were just then heard.

  "There they are," said Lady Cheynes, as round a corner came the two sheand Madelene had come out to look for. "Dear me, running races, arethey? Ermie is really a tom-boy, I am afraid."

  But a very attractive tom-boy, it must be allowed, she could not but addto herself, as Ermine, her cheeks flushed with running, her bright brownhair, some shades darker than Maddie's, flying behind her, her merryhazel eyes sparkling with fun, came rushing towards them.

  "We've had such a race," she exclaimed breathlessly. "I expect it'sabout the last time I'll have a chance of gaining. Philip's legs _are_growing so long."

  "Time they should," said Philip. "I think you forget, Ermine, that Iwas fourteen last week. And I'm not anything like as tall as mostfellows of my age."

  "Take your hands out of your pockets if you want to look taller," saidMadelene in an elder-sisterly tone. "It makes boys slouch sodreadfully. And, by the by, Philip, you haven't even offered to shakehands with me."

  The boy started and looked ashamed.

  "Oh, I beg your pardon, Madelene, I do, indeed," he said, "won't youforgive me?"

  He looked up at her--she was a little taller than he--with real distressin his dark eyes. He was a strikingly handsome boy, with hisgrandmother's delicate features, though in his case sun-browned andstronger looking, and eyes which the old lady used to say confidentiallyto some of her friends, made her tremble for the mischief they might doin the future. Already in the present they were not to be resisted.Madelene laughed a little and held out her own hand, which Philip tookeagerly.

  "I am glad," she said, "to hear from Aunt Anna, that your friend Bernardis coming next week to keep you in order till you go back to school."

  "Oh," Ermine exclaimed, "is _he_ coming? I'm not glad at all. I hateprigs."

  Rather to Madelene's surprise Philip said nothing. "Is he a prig?" sheasked.

  Philip coloured a little.

  "No," he said, "of course he isn't. Ask granny. He's not a prig, butI'm cross."

  Lady Cheynes looked rather puzzled.

  "What's the matter, Phil?" she said. "You were pleased enough thismorning about Bernard's coming."

  "I know I was," said the boy. "But it's since coming over here andfeeling the old jolly way. It's so horrid not to see more of eachother. I'd rather have you girls than any one when I'm at home. AndBernard's older and you don't know him. He'll make you seem quitegrown-up, and--"

  "Maddie, perhaps--not me," Ermine interrupted. "Never mind, Phil. Youand I will keep each other company."

  "But I've scarcely seen you these holidays," said Philip. "Granny,can't they come over to us?" Madelene shook her head.

  "Not just now," she said sadly. "We really have a good deal to do. Oneor other of us has to walk or ride with papa every afternoon--mammafidgets so if she thinks he doesn't go out--and then one of us must bewithin hail in case she was worse. And then there's Ella--"

  There _was_ Ella in fact. For as she said the words, a little shrillvoice came sounding over the lawn.

  "Maddie, Ermie, I'm here. And oh there's big Phil. Take me a ride,Phil, on you's shoulders, do, _do_."

  "Horrid little minx--" the boy was beginning to say, though in a lowvoice, but the words died on his lips. The little figure looked sobright and innocent as it flew towards them like a lapwing, heedless ofHarvey and her remonstrances in the background, sure, with theirresistible confidence of childhood, of its welcome.

  "Good morning, godmother," she said, holding up her sweet little facefor a kiss. "I'se got a bad cold," and she tried to cough, "but Harveysaid it would do me good to come out a little in the sun. And I'm goingto see mamma when I go in, to let her see my cold isn't worse. Oh, bigPhil, _do_ take me a ride on your shoulders."

  She clasped her hands entreatingly. Everything she did was full ofpretty childish grace, when, that is to say, Ella chose to be in goodtemper.

  "Hoist her up," said Philip, and between them the two elder sistersmanaged to settle the child on his shoulders.

  "That's right--gallop away. Oh! how nice!" she exclaimed, and whenafter two or three canters round the lawn, which was really as much asever Philip had breath for, he deposited her again safely on the ground,she thanked him as graciously as a little princess.

  "What a pity Maddie and Ermie are too big for you to ride them too," shesaid condescendingly, at which they all laughed.

  "Yes," said Lady Cheynes, smiling, but not for Ella to hear, "you can begenerous enough, my little girl, when you get your own way."

  "And when she is _first_" added Ermine. "It is too funny, auntie, tosee that sort of feeling in Ella, already. I'm sure Maddie and Iweren't like that when we were little."

  Lady Cheynes looked round, Harvey was coming up the path, the old ladymade a little sign to Ermine to take care.

  "I think perhaps Miss Ella has been out long enough, if you'll excuseme, my lady," said the maid, in her smoothest tones.

  "Take her in then by all means," said Lady Cheynes. "Ella, my dear,your nurse is waiting for you."

  Ella was playing with Phil, a few paces off.

  "I won't go in," she said coolly.

  Madelene took her by the hand.

  "Come, dear," she said, "you mustn't make your cold worse."

  The child pulled away from her.

  "You're very naughty, Maddie," she said. "You only want me to go awaythat you and Ermie may play with Phil yourselves. Phil, say I'm not togo."

  "Not I," said Philip. "You're a spoilt, rude little girl, and I'm verysorry I gave you a ride."

  Ella turned upon him like a little fury, but Harvey interposed.

  "Come, Miss Ella, my dear," she said. "Sir Philip will think you'regrowing into a baby instead of a big girl if you dance about like that."

  And by dint of coaxing and persuasion which Harvey knew how to employskilfully enough when it suited her, the child was at last got away.

  "Grandmother," said Philip Cheynes, half-an-hour or so later, when thetwo were on their way home in the old lady's pony-carriage, "don't youthink it is a great pity that Colonel St Quentin married again? It hasbrought them all nothing but trouble--Mrs St Quentin so delicate, andthat spoilt little brat."

  "You mustn't abuse my godchild, Phil," Lady Cheynes replied. "She mightbe a charming child. And her poor mother--No, I think Madelene andErmie owe a great deal to her."

  "Oh, well," said Philip, boyishly, "I suppose they do. Maddie's awfullycut up about Ella's going away from them. For my part, I'm very gladshe is going away. Still, she is a jolly little thing when she's in agood temper."

  CHAPTER TWO.

  ELEVEN YEARS AFTER.


  Summer, not spring now. But the same garden and the same people in it--three of them, that is to say, little chance though there might be atthe first glance, of our recognising them.

  They were sitting together on the lawn--the two sisters Madelene andErmine and their cousin Philip. They were less changed than heperhaps--Madelene especially, for she had