by L. T. Meade
CHAPTER III.
MISS MARTINEAU.
Primrose was the soul of hospitality; having decided that MissMartineau was to be admitted that evening, it occurred to her that shemight as well make things pleasant for this angular, good-humored, andsomewhat hungry personage. Primrose could cook charmingly, and whendinner was over she turned to her sisters, and said in her usualrather slow way--
"I am going to make some cream-cakes for tea; and Jasmine, dear, youmight put some fresh flowers in the vases; and Daisy--"; she paused asshe looked at her sister--the child's blue eyes were fixed on her, shenoticed with a pang that the little face was pale, and the dimpledmouth looked sad.
"Daisy," she said, suddenly, "you can go into the garden, and have aromp with the Pink."
"The Pink" was Daisy's favorite kitten.
Daisy laughed aloud, Jasmine started up briskly from the dinner-table,and Primrose, feeling that she had done well, went into the kitchen toconsult with Hannah, the old cook, over the making of thecream-cakes.
The result of all this was that when Miss Martineau, sharp at fouro'clock (the hours were very primitive at Rosebury), arrived at theMainwarings' door, the outward aspect of the house bore no tokens ofviolent grief on the part of its inmates--the blinds were drawn up,not quite to the top, for that would have been ugly, and Jasmine wasfull of artistic instincts, but they were drawn up to let in plenty ofsunlight, the white muslin curtains were draped gracefully, some potsof fresh flowers could be seen on the window-ledge, and a canary in arather battered cage hung from a hook above, and disported himselfcheerfully in the sunlight.
Miss Martineau was very old-fashioned in her ideas, and she did notmuch like the look of the bay window.
She comforted herself, however, with the reflection that even underthe direst afflictions blinds must be drawn up some time, and that shewould doubtless find the poor dear girls in a state of tempestuousgrief within. She imagined herself soothing Jasmine, holdingPrimrose's hand, and allowing Daisy to sit on her knee. Miss Martineauwas most kind-hearted, and would have done anything for the threegirls, whom she dearly loved, only, like many another good-heartedperson, she would wish to do that anything or something in her ownway.
"Good evening, Hannah," she said, as the old cook opened the door;"you have had a sad affliction--a terrible affliction. I hope the dearyoung ladies are--" Miss Martineau paused for a word, then shesaid--"tranquil."
"Oh yes, miss," answered Hannah. "Walk in, please, MissMartineau--this way--the young ladies is hoping you'll take a cup oftea with them, miss." Miss Martineau found herself the next instant inone of the most cheerful sitting-rooms to be found at Rosebury--it hadalways been a pretty room--furnished daintily with the odds and endsof rich and choice furniture which had belonged to Mrs. Mainwaring inher wealthy days. Now it was bright with flowers, and the western sunpoured in at one angle of the wide bay window. The three girls, intheir very simple black dresses, with no crape, came forward in alittle group to meet her. In their hearts they were slightly excitedand upset, but rather than give way they put on an air of extracheerfulness. Miss Martineau, fond as she was of them, felt absolutelyscandalized--to keep her out of the house for a whole month, and thento admit her in this fashion--such a lot of sunlight--such a heap offlowers, no crape on the black dresses, and Jasmine's face quitebright and her hair as curly as usual. Miss Martineau began a littleset speech, but Jasmine interrupted her.
"Do come, and have some tea," she said. "Primrose has made somedelicious cream-cakes, and we are all so hungry, aren't we,Eyebright?" turning to her little sister as she spoke.
"Yes," replied Daisy; "Pink is hungry, too--I chased Pink about fiftytimes round the garden, and she's quite starving. May Pink have somecream in a saucer for her tea, Primrose?"
Primrose nodded, took Miss Martineau's hand, and led her to the placeof honor at the table, and sitting down herself, began to pour out thefragrant tea.
If Miss Martineau had a weakness, it was for really good tea and forcream-cakes. She took off her gloves now, arranged her bonnet-strings,put back her veil, and prepared to enjoy herself. Instead of talkingcommon-place condolences, she chatted on little matters of localinterest with the sisters. Jasmine took care to supply Miss Martineauwith plenty of cream-cakes--Primrose saw that her cup was wellreplenished. Miss Martineau was poor and very saving, and it occurredto her, as she partook of the Mainwaring's nice tea, that she might dowithout much supper by-and-by. This reflection put her into anexcellent humor.
When the tea was over Primrose led her to a comfortable seat by thewindow.
"My dear," she said, "it is well that I should sit just here, withinfull view of the street?--your window is, well, a little too likeseeing company, my loves, and if my bonnet is seen by passers-byyou'll have everybody calling directly."
"Oh, we mean to see everybody now," said Jasmine "we--we--we think itbest, don't we, Primrose?"
"Yes," said Primrose, in her gentle tones. "It does not make us thinkless of dear mamma to see people--and--and--we have decided to go onmuch as usual now."
"You might have admitted me before, dears," replied Miss Martineau--"Ifelt so intensely for you--I could never get you out of my head. I wasa good deal hurt by your refusing to admit me, my dear girls, for inall respects I would have wished to be a mother to you."
"Please, don't," said Jasmine.
"We _couldn't_ have another mother," said little Daisy, clinging closeto Primrose, and looking up into her sister's sweet face.
Primrose stooped and kissed her.
"You may run into the garden, darling, and take the Pink," she said.
Miss Martineau had no intention of leaving the Mainwarings withoutspeaking out her mind. It was one of this good lady's essentialprivileges to speak out her mind to the younger generation of theRosebury world. Who had a better right to do this than she? for hadshe not educated most of them? had she not given them of the best ofher French and her music? and was she not even at this present momentJasmine's and Daisy's instructress? Primrose she considered herfinished and accomplished pupil. Surely the girls, even though theyhad refused to admit her for a month, would turn to her now with fullconfidence. She settled herself comfortably in the arm-chair in whichPrimrose had placed her, and saying, in her high-pitched and thinvoice--
"Now, my dears, you will take seats close to me--not too close, loves,for I dislike being crushed, and I have on my Sunday silk. My deargirls, I want us now to have a really comfortable talk. There is agreat deal that needs discussion, and I think there is nothing likefacing a difficult subject resolutely, and going through it withsystem. I approve of your sending Daisy into the garden, Primrose. Sheis too young to listen to all that we must go into. I purpose dears,after the manner of our school-hours, to divide our discourse intoheads--two heads will probably be sufficient for this evening. First,the severe loss you have just sustained--that we will talk over, andno doubt mingle our tears together over; take courage, my dearchildren, such an unburdening will relieve your young hearts.Second--Jasmine, you need not get so very red, my dear--second, wewill discuss something also of importance; how are you three deargirls going to live?"
Here Miss Martineau paused, took off her spectacles, wiped them, andput them on again. She felt really very kindly, and would have workedherself to a skeleton, if need be, for the sake of the Mainwarings,whom she sincerely loved. Jasmine's red face, however, grew stillredder.
"Please, Miss Martineau--yes, Primrose, I will speak--please, MissMartineau, we cannot discuss dear mamma with you. There is nothing todiscuss, and nothing to tell--I won't--I can't--Primrose, I won'tlisten, and I won't talk."
Miss Martineau shook her head, and looked really angrily at Jasmine.
"Nothing to tell," she said, sorrowfully. "Is your poor dear motherthen so soon forgotten? I could not have believed it. Alas! alas! howlittle children appreciate their parents."
"You are not a parent yourself, and you know nothing about it," saidJasmine, now feeling very angry, and speaking
in her rudest tone.
Primrose's quiet voice interposed.
"I think, Miss Martineau," she began, "that the first subject will bemore than Jasmine and I can quite bear--you must forgive us, even ifyou fail quite to understand us. It is no question of forgetting--ourmother will never be forgotten--it is just that we would rather not.You must allow us to judge for ourselves on this point," concludedPrimrose, with that dignity that suited her so well. Primrose, for allher extreme quietness and simplicity of manner and bearing, could looklike a young princess when she chose, and Miss Martineau, who wouldhave quarrelled fiercely with Jasmine, submitted.
"Very well," she said, in a tone of some slight offence; "I came herewith a heart brimful of sympathy; it is repulsed; it goes back as itcame, but I bear no offence."
"Shall we discuss your second subject, dear Miss Martineau?" continuedPrimrose. "I know that you have a great deal of sense and experience,and I know that you have a knack of making money go very far indeed.You ask us what our plans are--well, I really don't think we have gotany, have we, Jasmine?"
"No," said Jasmine, in her shortest tones. "We mean to live as wealways did. Why can't people leave us in peace?"
Miss Martineau cleared her throat, looked with some compassion atJasmine, whom she thought it best to treat as a spoilt child, and thenturned her attention to Primrose.
"My dear," she said, "I am willing to waive my first head, to cast itaside, to pass it over, and consider my second. My dear Primrose, thefirst thing to consider in making your plans--I take no notice ofJasmine's somewhat childish remarks--is _on_ what you have to live."
Primrose knit her brows.
"I suppose," she said slowly, "we shall have what we always had--wespent very little money in the past, and, of course, we shall requirestill less now. We are fond of Rosebury; I think we shall do for thepresent at least just what Jasmine says, and stay on quietly here."
Miss Martineau cleared her throat again.
"My dear girl," she said, "even to live here you must have somethingto live on. Now, are you aware that your mother's annuity as acaptain's widow ceases with her death? I believe something verytrifling will still be allowed to you, as his orphans, but on thatpoint I'm rather in the dark."
"Mother always did get ten pounds a year apiece for us," saidPrimrose.
"Well, yes, my dear, we will suppose, and trust, and hope that thatsmall sum will still be continued; but even at Rosebury you threegirls cannot live on thirty pounds a year."
"But there is the money in the bank," said Jasmine speaking in a moreinterested tone. "You remember Primrose dear, how whenever motherwanted some money she just wrote a cheque, and we took it down to Mr.Danesfield, and he gave us nice shining gold for it. Sometimes it wasten pounds, sometimes it was five pounds, and sometimes it was onlytwo pounds; but whenever we went to Mr. Danesfield's bank withmother's cheque he gave us the money. I suppose, Primrose, you canhave a cheque-book now, and Mr. Danesfield can give you the money."
"Yes," said Primrose, in a cheerful tone, "I forgot about the money inthe bank; mother often told me there was plenty. Even if we can'tquite live on our thirty pounds a year, we can manage with what moneydear mamma had in the bank."
Miss Martineau's face had become extremely lined and anxious.
"My dears," she said, "I fear I've done a rude thing; I fear I'vetaken a liberty; but the fact is, you are so alone, poor darlings, andMr. Danesfield is an old friend of mine--and--and--I took the libertyof asking him what your mother's balance was. He said, my dears--mypoor dears--that it was not quite two hundred pounds."
