Aunt Judith Part 7

"I am sure no one will have such a pretty dress, Aunt Debby," she said one afternoon, coming into the parlour and finding Miss Deborah busy over the dainty garment. "It is so good of you to put yourself to all this trouble for me, and I shall never be able to thank you as I ought." Nellie's eyes glistened as she spoke.

"You will soon find out your mistake, my dear," said Aunt Meg from her couch by the fire. "I question if one of your friends will be dressed in so simple and cheap a material. Why, you will be a regular dowdy, and I told Judith so when she showed me her purchase. She could hardly have bought a less expensive fabric."

"Nonsense, Meg," put in Miss Deborah with a displeased frown and rapid glance at Nellie's amazed countenance; "don't place absurd ideas in the child's head. You know perfectly well muslin makes a most appropriate dress for a young girl. I wonder what Judith would say were she to hear you speak in that manner?"

"Look like a saint, and preach to Nellie on the vanity and vexation of the human heart," replied the invalid, who seemed to be decidedly out of humour. "I am well aware of Judith's style, Debby: that is how she covers her stinginess," and Miss Margaret gave a little sarcastic laugh at this point.

"Hush!" almost shouted Miss Deborah, turning a pair of bright, angry eyes in the direction of the couch. "How dare you utter such an untruth? Simply because one of your endless wishes was thwarted. Meg, I am ashamed of you!" and Aunt Debby resumed her sewing with an air of heavy displeasure, while the invalid relapsed into sulky silence, the cause of her ill-humour being Aunt Judith's refusal that morning to grant her a new dressing-gown. "Wait a little longer, Meg; I can hardly afford it just now, and your old one still looks pretty and fresh," had been the quiet answer to the proffered request; but that was sufficient to upset the invalid's equanimity for the rest of the day, and no amount of kindness could soothe her wounded feelings.

Of course Nellie was ignorant of all this. Still, although she did not believe Miss Margaret's statement in reference to Miss Latimer's meanness, the words left a sting, and the pretty dress seemed divested of half its beauty. "Aunt Judith might have purchased something just a trifle more expensive," was the unuttered thought ever rising to her lips; but, oh! how her heart reproached her when, on the evening of the party, Miss Latimer called her into the little sanctum, and, shutting the door, lifted a small box from the table and proceeded to unfasten the lock.

"Aunt Debby has just been showing me your dress, Nellie," she said in her soft gentle voice, "and now that it is finished I think it very pretty indeed. I hardly know why, but I have an idea _you_ consider it too simple for evening wear; and although I am sorry should such be the case, I cannot agree with you. The dress seems to me quite suitable, and its charm lies in its very simplicity. A little trinket round the neck, however, might be an improvement, and so, dear, I am going to forestall my Christmas present and give it to you now. I suppose you will value it none the less because I used to wear it long ago in my girlhood days;" and Miss Latimer, lifting a string of fairest pearls from the box, clasped them round her niece's neck as she spoke.

Nellie's breath came quick and fast.

"O auntie! they are never for me," she gasped excitedly. "They are so beautiful, and I have been thinking such horrid things."

Aunt Judith smiled. "I do not blame you, child. It is only natural such thoughts should crop up; but, Nellie, I am not so very rich, and cannot afford to be lavish with my money. One never knows what may happen, and I must needs guard against a rainy day. No, no; not another reproachful word. I like to see my child look fair and sweet.

Good-night, dear." And kissing her softly. Miss Latimer pushed the repentant girl from the room with gentle hands. Then closing the door, she drew a low chair close to the fire, and, as she sat quietly thinking, the white, set look Nellie had noticed before settled over the patient face, while the lips quivered and drooped like those of one in pain.

What was the mystery in Aunt Judith's life? What suffering had stamped its refining image on that n.o.ble, true face, and bore witness to the fiery trial through which she had pa.s.sed?

Few knew of the life of complete self-renunciation lived out in that little home--the quiet acceptance and patient bearing of a life-long sorrow, and the earnest endeavour day after day to follow closely the Master's footsteps, and live his holy, blameless life. But some day in the great hereafter, she knew the mystery of suffering would be explained, and that there what was here sown weeping would be reaped in joy and gladness; and knowing this, Aunt Judith was content to wait.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CHRISTMAS PARTY.

It was the evening of the party. The bustle and confusion which had reigned throughout the day were now over, and the whole house blazed with light; while the hall-door, standing hospitably open, seemed to offer a gracious welcome to the approaching guests.

"How do I look, Win?" inquired d.i.c.k of his sister as they stood together in the large drawing-room a little apart from the other members of the family. "This get-up is awful," and the boy looked down with a gesture of disgust on his elegant evening suit.

"You'll do beautifully," p.r.o.nounced Win, pirouetting in front of him, a blithe little fairy, with soft cloudy dress of glistening fabric.

"Don't look so fierce, dear boy, however, or you will frighten all the young ladies from your side."

d.i.c.k struggled into his gloves. "Much I care so far as that goes," he grumbled. "What I wish to know is, why one needs all this war-paint and tomfoolery. Can a fellow not be allowed to enjoy himself without dressing up a perfect guy? I feel every seam in my coat splitting, and I tell you there will be a tremendous explosion soon. Just listen!"

and bending forward, the boy proved the truth of his words as an ominous crack sounded, and Winnie's dismayed eye caught the glimpse of a tiny hole in one of the back seams.

"Be careful," she cried in an awestricken voice; "there is a split, and you'll make it worse if you wriggle about so. Be a good boy, d.i.c.kie, and try to prove agreeable to every one."

Saying this, Winnie treated her brother to a charming smile, and then tripped forward as the first bevy of guests were ushered into the room.

d.i.c.k made a grimace, twisted his neck, and vehemently denounced high collars and white ties as being decided nuisances; then remembering his sister's parting injunction, he attempted to call up an angelic smile to his face, and to make his most polite bow on every necessary occasion.

The room began gradually to fill. One after another carriages came and went, depositing their happy burdens of laughing boys and girls before the great hall-door, near which some little ragged children were standing, gazing on the fairy figures and joyous faces, and wondering, as the wind fluttered their tattered rags, why the world was so unequally divided--why some should have so much of the good things of this life, and others apparently so little. Poor, weary, aching hearts, on whom the burden and heat of the day had already fallen, they knew not as they watched the carriages come and go, and peeped into the warm hall all ablaze with light, how a.s.suredly "compensation is twined with the lot of high and low," and that the loving eye of the Almighty Father was regarding them with the same tender care he bestowed on their happier brothers and sisters. They only realized, as the door closed at last with a loud clang, and they turned away to their miserable homes, that within that large house there were warmth, light, and gladness, and that they were shut out from them all. The calm hushed sky had for them no lessons of faith and peaceful waiting; the bright stars no tale of an Eye that neither slumbers nor sleeps. They only knew it was cold, cold, and that life had for them no brightness.

So the little naked figures crept shivering away; and the happy boys and girls gathered together in the beautiful holly-decked drawing-room never thought of the dark places of the earth, where the sunshine rarely penetrates, and young hearts know not what it is to laugh the glad joyous laugh of happy childhood.

d.i.c.k, who had gathered five of his special friends around him, was evidently holding a consultation in which he himself played the most prominent part. The subject under consideration was that of showing special attention throughout the entire evening to Nellie Latimer, and of completely ignoring Ada Irvine's presence.

"Now, comrades," concluded the young orator, as a loud burst of music warned him that the night's entertainment was about to commence, "I presume you thoroughly understand me. Not a single hop, remember, with Miss Irvine, and any amount of polkas and waltzes with Miss Latimer.

The former is one of your stuck-up young ladies, who grow old before their time; the latter, a tip-top girl like Win. I have told you what I know concerning both of them; go ahead and prosper, brethren, with my humble blessing following you." d.i.c.k, as he spoke, changed the tragic att.i.tude he had struck, and a.s.sumed one of staid demeanour, which contrasted comically with his shock of fiery hair, now standing all on end, as people say, and laughter lurking in his eyes.

The boys, however, entered heartily into the spirit of his scheme, and replied, "You are our leader. Forward then; light the first match, and we will follow the train,"--whereat they all shook hands and indulged in a low chuckle of glee.

At that moment a pretty, gloved hand touched d.i.c.k's arm, and Edith Blake's clear, flute-like voice said, "We are forming sets for the lancers, d.i.c.k, and you must dance. Mamma requests you to choose Miss Irvine for your partner, so please go and ask her at once."

The boy's eyes flashed mischievously. "You bet I shall," he replied with alacrity; and crossing the room, he stood before Nellie, saying in his most genial tones, "May I have the pleasure, Miss Latimer?"

The young girl looked up with a happy smile. "Certainly," she said, rising and slipping her hand within his arm; "the music is splendid, and I am so fond of dancing."

"That's right," answered d.i.c.k, leading her into the centre of the room, and vastly enjoying the indignant glances of his step-mother and Edith.

"I like a hop myself at times, so I guess we'll get on well together.--Now then, gentlemen, bow to your partners;" and as he concluded, the wild boy swept Nellie the most profound bow, and started off through the first figure with more energy than grace.

His friends, true to their promise, had all chosen partners, the sets were formed, the music floating through the room, and still Ada Irvine remained in her seat, fair, sweet, and smiling to the outward view, but with a world of angry pa.s.sion surging in her heart. As she sat watching the merry boys and girls winding joyously through the mazy dance, Mrs. Blake came forward, and, sitting down by her side, proceeded to question her about her parents and their movements abroad; and Ada answered each query in a pretty, graceful manner infinitely charming. Then school and school-life were touched upon. Had Miss Irvine many friends in town? Did she not often feel very lonely? and why could she never come and spend an afternoon with Winnie? These and other questions being asked, the first drop of poison was instilled with the skill and caution of an adept hand.

"Winnie and she had been very good friends once, before Nellie Latimer's appearance on the scene, but since then a misunderstanding had arisen and the friendship had been broken up. Was Miss Latimer an amiable girl? Winnie seemed very much attached to her. Ada would rather not commit herself, but certainly Nellie's position was not such as to justify her in being Winnie's chosen friend. Her family were poor, very poor indeed; her aunts eccentric, winning their own bread, doing their own work, and living in a common locality."

All this, however, was told with much reluctance (at least apparently so) and the earnest endeavour to tone down disagreeable parts. Mrs.

Blake was charmed, and wondered how Winnie could prefer a fresh, countrified-looking girl to the sweet, amiable creature Miss Irvine appeared to be. As she sat pondering over these things in her heart, Ada's low voice broke again on her ear.

"Mrs. Blake," she pleaded, "kindly do not betray my confidence. I never meant to tell you anything about myself, and Winnie would hate me were she to discover that I had prejudiced you against her friend; indeed I am very sorry I spoke."

A true, n.o.ble woman would have scorned to condemn any one on account of lowly origin and humble rank in life; but Mrs. Blake was a woman of the world--proud, arrogant, and haughty. She took little interest in her younger step-children; they were allowed to live pretty much their own lives and follow their own desires; but still there were some things that must be checked, and this friendship with a low-born girl was one of them.

Turning to her young guest with a swift, bright smile, she replied sweetly, "Do not apologize, my dear; I am only too glad to have received your information in time. I had no idea Miss Latimer's friends were in the position you speak of. Had that been the case, certainly she would not have been here to-night. Winnie is allowed no small amount of liberty, but close companionship with a girl so much her inferior will not be countenanced for a moment. You need not fear, however, my betraying your confidence; and I trust soon to see you and my wilful little step-daughter fast friends once more."

As she spoke Mrs. Blake rose and moved gracefully away, leaving Ada with a bevy of laughing girls, who came flocking towards her as the music ceased.

"Did you enjoy our dance, Nellie?" inquired d.i.c.k, wiping his warm forehead and glancing with ludicrous dismay at the rents in his once spotless gloves. "I thought it all tip-top."

"Splendid," replied Nellie decidedly; "and you really managed to get through the figures wonderfully well."

The boy's amazed countenance was amusing.

"I managed to get through the figures wonderfully well!" he reiterated in astonishment. "Why, Nellie, I am an accomplished dancer" (with mock solemnity), "and have been so since the days when I was a little thing.

You should see me at the Highland fling and sword-dance. My eye! I go at them well," and d.i.c.k's legs began to shuffle about as if they desired to commence the performance.

Nellie laughed. "Forgive me," she said pleasantly. "I did not mean any disparagement; only boys, as a rule, do not care about dancing, and you seemed somehow to enjoy it all so thoroughly."

"That I did" (with emphasis), "but--hallo, Archie! is it really you?"

as a boy pa.s.sed his side at that moment. "Allow me to introduce you to Miss Latimer.--Here, Nellie, is the very partner for you; he will dance you off your feet in a few minutes," and d.i.c.k, hurrying away, left the two young people regarding each other with looks of rather comical dismay.

After that, the evening fled by all too quickly for Nellie, to whom every moment was fraught with the purest pleasure. d.i.c.k saw she had no lack of partners, and const.i.tuted himself her guardian for the night, greatly to Mrs. Blake's annoyance and Winnie's satisfaction. The former could find no means of laying any more commands on him, for the boy mischievously eluded her every attempt to cross his path, and failed most provokingly to catch her eye when a convenient season presented itself for so doing. Nellie, with true appreciation of his kindness, thanked him warmly in her innocent heart, and thought she had never spent such a pleasant evening. There was never a cloud to darken her enjoyment or dim the brightness of her happy face. Mrs. Blake's studied avoidance pa.s.sed by unnoticed, as also the haughty looks of Winnie's elder sisters; and even Ada Irvine's calm, contemptuous face failed to ruffle her joyous spirit.

Long years afterwards she liked to look back on that evening of thorough, uninterrupted enjoyment, when she could say in all sincerity and truth, "I was happy;" when she danced with what seemed to be winged feet, and the smile of gladness was ever on her lips. Closing her eyes softly, she could see it all again--the large holly-decked drawing-room, with its blazing lights and bevy of merry boys and girls; Winnie's little figure flitting here and there--her flushed cheeks and great starry eyes; d.i.c.k's honest freckled face and kindly smile; and the beautiful, stately hostess, who moved in the midst of them all with the dignity of a queen.