The Fairchild Family

by Mrs. Sherwood

  Great Changes

  "Here, ma'am, you can gather any you like"]

  Henry arose the next morning as soon as he heard the step of John inthe garden, and was very soon with him, asking him what he could do tohelp him. Henry loved to help John.

  John did not answer in his own cheerful way, but said:

  "I don't know, Master Henry; it can't much matter now, I reckon, whatwe do, or what we leave undone."

  "Why, John?" said Henry.

  "You will know soon enough," John answered, "but it shan't be from meyou shall learn it. I suppose, however," he added, "that we must getthe peas for dinner; folks must eat, though the world should come to anend next Michaelmas."

  "What is the matter, John?" said Henry; "I am sure something is."

  "Well," replied John, "if there is nothing else, is it not enough tohave that lady's-maid there in the kitchen finding fault witheverything, and laying down the law, and telling me to my face that Idon't understand so much as to graff a tree?"

  "Who says so, John?" asked Henry.

  "Why, my lady's maid," replied John; "that Miss Tilney or Tolney, orsome such name, as is written as large as life on her boxes. As to theold lady, she has a good right to come here, but she did very wrong tobring that woman with her, to disturb an orderly family. Why, MasterHenry, she makes ten times the jabbering Mag does."

  "I wish, then, she would fly away over the barn," said Henry, "as Magdid."

  "We would none of us go after her," replied John, "to bring her back;but I am a fool," added the honest man; "here have I lived ever sincemaster came here, and most of these trees did I plant and graff with myown hands, and made the sparrow-grass beds and all, and now this womanis to come with her nonsense, and turn everything topsy-turvy."

  Henry was quite puzzled; he saw that John was vexed, and he knew thatthe words topsy-turvy meant upside-down; but he could not understandhow the lady's-maid could turn the roots of the trees up in the air. Hewas going to ask an explanation, when a very shrill voice was heardscreaming, "Mr. John, Mr. John!"

  "There again!" cried John, "even the garden can't be clear ofher--there, Master Henry, put down the basket and be off, she is nocompany for you. If you see her, and she asks for me, tell her I amgone to clean the pig-sty; she will not follow me there." So off ranJohn one way, and Henry another.

  But Henry was not so lucky in his flight as John was; he ran into anarrow walk enclosed on each side with filberts, and before he wasaware came quite opposite to the lady's-maid. He thought she lookedvery fine--quite a lady herself; and he stopped short, and wished hergood-morning. Had she been the poorest person he would have done thesame, for his parents had taken great pains to make him civil toeveryone.

  "Master Fairchild, I presume," cried the maid. "A charming morning,sir. I was looking for Mr. John, to ask him if he would please toselect some flowers to arrange in my mistress's room: she always hasflowers in her dressing-room at The Grove."

  "John," said Henry, "is gone to clean the pig-sty."

  The lady's-maid drew up her lip, and looked disgusted.

  "Faugh!" said she, "I shall not think of troubling _him_ to cull theflowers."

  "Shall I get some for grandmamma?" asked Henry.

  She thanked him for his politeness, and accepted his offer.

  The little boy walked before her to where there was a bit of raisedground covered with rose-bushes.

  "There, ma'am," he said, "you can gather any you like."

  "Upon my word, Master Fairchild, you are uncommon polite," she said; "Ishall tell our people at home what a handsome genteel young gentlemanyou are. They will be so desirous to know all about you--and not at allhigh and proud neither, though you have such great prospects."

  "What do you mean by great prospects, ma'am?" asked Henry; "I do notunderstand you."

  "That is your humility, Master Fairchild," said the maid; "to be sure,this place is but small, and I wonder how you could have managed in itso long, but it is neat and very genteel; yet, when you have seen TheGrove, you will think nothing of this little box here."

  "What box?" asked Henry.

  "This house, Master Fairchild," she answered; "you might put the wholeplace into the hall at The Grove."

  "What an immense hall!" said Henry in amazement.

  "Poor Betty, as I tell her," said the maid, "will be quite out of herplace amongst so many servants; she can't bear to hear it talked of."

  "What talked of?" answered Henry. "But please not to gather therose-buds; mamma does not like them to be gathered."

  "To be sure, Master Fairchild," said the maid, "and that is just right.In a small garden like this one should be particular; yet, at TheGrove, a few rose-buds would never be missed. But you are a very goodyoung gentleman to be so attentive to your dear mamma; I am sure Ishall delight our people by the account I shall have to give when I goback; and I am to go back when Mrs. Johnson comes, and that will be ina few days. I shall tell them there that you are not only very good,but vastly genteel, and so like pretty Miss Ellen--and she was quite abeauty--dear young lady! You will see her picture as large as life inthe drawing-room at The Grove, Master Fairchild."

  Henry did not understand one-half of what the maid said to him, and wasvery glad when he heard the step of someone coming round the littlemound of rose-bushes. It was Emily's step; she came to call him tobreakfast; she was dressed with a clean white pinafore, and her hairhung about her face in soft ringlets; she looked grave, but, in herusual way, mild and gentle.

  When she saw the maid, she, too, said, "Good-morning."

  "That young lady is your sister, no doubt, Master Fairchild," said themaid.

  "It is Emily," said Henry.

  "I should have known the sweet young lady anywhere," she answered; "solike the family, so pretty and so genteel. Miss Emily, I wish youhealth to enjoy your new place."

  Emily was as much puzzled as Henry had been with Miss Tilney'sspeeches. She said, "Thank you, ma'am," however, and walked away withHenry.

  Their grandmother had slept later than usual; she had not rested wellin the early part of the night, and had fallen asleep after the rest ofthe family were gone down.

  She was not, therefore, present in the parlour; and when Henry came in,and had gotten his breath--for he and Emily had run to the house--hebegan to repeat some of the things which the maid had said to him, andto ask what they meant. Emily also repeated her speech to herself; andLucy looked to her mother to explain these strange things.

  "Cannot you guess, my children?" said Mrs. Fairchild, rather changingcountenance; "but I had hoped that for a few days this business mightnot be explained to you. Our servants would not have told you, but Isee that others will, so perhaps it is best that you should hear itnow."

  "What is it, mamma?" said all three at once; "nothing bad, we hope."

  "Not bad," replied Mrs. Fairchild, "though it is what I and your dearpapa had never wished for."

  "Oh, do tell us!" said Lucy, trembling.

  Mrs. Fairchild then told them that, by the death of their poor cousin,their father had come into the possession of the house and estate atThe Grove, and, in fact, the whole of his late brother's fortune.

  The children could not at first understand this, but when they did,they were much excited.

  Their mother, after a while, told them that it would probably benecessary for them to leave that dear place, and go to The Grove, theirgrandmamma wishing to be always with them, and having her owncomfortable rooms at The Grove.

  Lucy and Emily began to shed tears on hearing of this, but they saidnothing at that time.

  Henry said:

  "But John, mamma, and Betty--what can we do without them?"

  "Can't they go with us, my dear?" said Mrs. Fairchild.

  "And John Trueman, and nurse, and Mary Bush, and Margery,and--and--and----" added Henry, not being able to get out any morenames in his impatience.

  "And the school!" said Emily.

  "We do not live in the same house with these pe
rsons last mentioned,"answered Mrs. Fairchild, "and therefore they would not miss us as thosewould do with whom we may reside; we must help them at a distance. Ifyou, Lucy and Emily, have more money given you now, you must save itfor these poor dear people. Kind Mrs. Burke will divide it amongst themas they want it; and she will look after the school."

  "Oh, Emily!" said Lucy, "we will save all we can."

  Emily could not speak, but she put her hand in Lucy's, and Lucy knewwhat that meant.

  Who could think of lessons such a day as this? As soon as breakfast wasover, Henry ran to talk to John about all that he heard: and Lucy andEmily, with their mother's leave, went out into the air to recoverthemselves before they appeared in the presence of their grandmother.They were afraid of meeting the maid, so they went up to the top of theround hill, and seated themselves in the shade of the beech-trees.

  For a little while they looked about them, particularly down on thehouse and garden and the pleasant fields around them, every corner ofwhich they knew as well as children always know every nook in theplace in which they have spent their early days. They were bothshedding tears, and yet trying to hide them from each other. Lucy wasthe first who spoke.

  "Oh, Emily!" she said, "I cannot bear to think of leaving this dearhome. Can we ever be so happy again as we have been here?"

  The little girls were silent again for some minutes, and then Lucy wenton:

  "Oh, Emily! how many things I am thinking of! There--don't you see thelittle path winding through the wood to the hut? How many happyevenings we have had in that hut! Shall we ever have another? And thereis the way to Mary Bush's."

  "Do you remember the walk we had there with Betty a long time ago?"said Emily.

  "Ah! I can remember, still longer ago, when you were very little, andHenry almost a baby," said Lucy, "papa carrying us over the field thereto nurse's, and getting flowers for us."

  "I should like," she added, "to live in this place, and all of ustogether, just as we are now, a hundred years."

  "I feel we shall never come back if we go away," said Emily.

  "We shall never come back and be what we have been," replied Lucy;"that time is gone, I know. This is our last summer in this happyplace. Oh, if I had known it when we were reading Henry's story at thehut, how very sad I should have been!"

  "I cannot help crying," said Emily; "and I must not cry before our poorgrandmamma."

  "These things which are happening," said Lucy, "make me think of whatmamma has often said, that it seldom happens that many years passwithout troubles and changes. I never could understand them before, butI do now."

  "Because," added Emily, "we have lived such a very, very long time justin the same way."

  The two little girls sat talking until they both became more calm; butthey had left off talking of their own feelings some time before theyleft the hill, and began to speak of their grandmother; and they triedto put away their own little griefs, as far as they could, that theymight comfort her. With these good thoughts in their minds, they camedown the hill and returned to the house.

  "_It was Emily's step._"--Page 411.]