Janet's Love and Service Part 80

"It is you who are unjust, Graeme, and unreasonable, and a little out of temper, which does not often happen with you. I am sure I don't understand it."

Graeme laughed.

"Well, perhaps I am a little out of temper, Harry. I know I am dreadfully tired. We won't say anything more about it to-night, except that I don't like to have Rose misunderstood."

"I was, perhaps, a little hard on Rosie, once, but I don't think I misunderstand her," said Harry, wisely. "She is just like other girls, I suppose; only, Graeme, you have got me into the way of thinking that my sisters should not be just like other girls, but a great deal better in every way. And I shan't be hard on her any more, now that it is all right with Charlie."

But was it all right with Charlie? Graeme's talk with Harry had not enlightened her much. Had pretty, gentle Amy Roxbury helped Charlie "to get over it;" as Harry's manner of speaking seemed to imply? Or did Charlie still care for Rose? And had Rose ever cared for him "in that way?" Was Rose foolish, and flippant, and fond of admiration, as Harry declared; and was she growing dissatisfied with their quiet, uneventful life? Was it this that had brought over her the change which could not be talked about or noticed, which, at most times, could not be believed in, but which, now and then, made itself evident as very real and very sad? Or was it something else that was bringing a cloud and a shadow over the life of her young sister? Even in her thoughts, Graeme shrunk from admitting that Rose might be coming to the knowledge of her own heart too late for her happiness.

"I will not believe that she has all that to pa.s.s through. It cannot be so bad as that. I will have patience and trust. I cannot speak to her.

It would do no good. I will wait and trust."

Graeme sat long that night listening to the quiet breathing of her sleeping sister; but all the anxious thoughts that pa.s.sed through her mind, could only end in this: "I will wait and trust."

CHAPTER FORTY.

Graeme awoke in the morning to wonder at all the doubts and anxieties that had filled her mind in the darkness; for she was aroused by baby kisses on her lips, and opened her eyes to see her sister Rose, with her nephew in her arms, and her face as bright as the May morning, smiling down upon her. Rose disappointed and sad! Rose hiding in her heart hopes that were never to be realised! She listened to her voice, ringing through the house, like the voice of the morning lark, and wondered at her own folly. She laughed, as Rose babbled to the child in the wonderful baby language in which she so excelled; but tears of thankfulness rose to her eyes as she remembered the fears of the night, and set them face to face with the joy of the morning.

"I could not have borne it," she said to herself. "I am afraid I never could have borne to see my darling drooping, as she must have done. I am content with my own lot. I think I would not care to change anything the years have brought to me. But Rosie--. Ah! well, I might have known! I know I ought to trust for Rosie, too, even if trouble were to come. But oh! I am very glad and thankful for her sake."

She was late in the breakfast-room, and she found Harry there.

"'The early bird,' you know, Graeme," said he. "I have been telling Rosie what a scolding you were giving me last night on our way home."

"But he won't tell me what it was all about," said Rose.

"I cannot. I don't know myself. I have an idea that you had something to do with it, Rosie. But I can give no detailed account of the circ.u.mstances, as the newspapers say."

"It is not absolutely necessary that you should," said Graeme, smiling.

"I hope you are in a much better humour this morning, Graeme."

"I think I am in a pretty good humour. Not that I confess to being very cross last night, however."

"It was he who was cross, I daresay," said Rose. "You brought him away before supper! No wonder he was cross. Are you going to stay very long, Harry?"

"Why? Have you any commands for me to execute?"

"No; but I am going to introduce a subject that will try your temper, judging from our conduct yesterday. I am afraid you will be threatening to beat some one."

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Now, Graeme, don't you call that flippant? Is it anything about the big doctor, Rosie?"

"You won't beat him, will you Harry? No. It is only about his sister.

Graeme, f.a.n.n.y has given me leave to invite her here for a few days, if you have no objection. She cannot be enjoying herself very much where she is staying, and it will be a real holiday to the little thing to come here for a while. She is very easily amused. She makes pleasure out of everything. Mayn't she come?"

"Certainly, if you would like her to come; I should like to know her very much."

"And is the big brother to come, too?" asked Arthur.

"No. He leaves town to-day. Will you go with me, Harry, to fetch her here?"

"But what about 'papa and mamma,' to whom you were to be shown? The cunning, little thing has some design upon you, Rosie, or, perhaps, on some of the rest of us."

Rose laughed.

"Don't be frightened, Harry. You are safe, as you are not domesticated with us. And I intend to show myself to 'papa and mamma' later, if you don't object."

"There! look at Graeme. She thinks you and I are quarrelling, Rosie.

She is as grave as a judge."

"Tell us about the party, Harry," said f.a.n.n.y.

"It was very pleasant. I don't think Graeme enjoyed it much, however.

I wonder, too, that she did not, for there were more nice people there than we usually see at parties. It was more than usually agreeable, I thought."

"You are degenerating, Harry," said his brother. "I thought you were beyond all that sort of thing. I should have thought you would have found it slow, to say the least."

"And then to make him lose the supper! It was too bad of you, Graeme,"

said Rose.

"Oh! she didn't. I went back again."

They all exclaimed. Only Harry laughed.

"Can I do anything for you and your friend, Rosie?" asked he.

"Yes, indeed you can. I intend to make a real holiday for the little thing. We are open to any proposal in the way of pleasure, riding, driving, boating, picnicking, one and all."

"It is very kind of you, Harry, to offer," said Graeme.

"Hem! not at all. I shall be most happy," said Harry.

"Oh! we shall not be exacting. We are easily amused, little Etta and I."

Miss Goldsmith's visit was a success. She was a very nice little girl, whose life had been pa.s.sed in the country--not in a village even, but quite away from neighbours, on a farm, in which her father had rather unfortunately invested the greater part of his means. It might not prove to be unfortunate in the end, Etta explained to them, because the land was valuable, only in the meantime it seemed to take all the income just to keep things going. But by and by she hoped farming would pay, and the place was beautiful, and they lived very happily there, if they only had a little more money, Etta added gravely.

d.i.c.k was the hero who was to retrieve the fallen fortunes of the family, Etta thought. He was her only own brother. All the rest of the children were only her half-brothers and sisters. But notwithstanding the hard times to which Etta confessed, they were a very happy family, it seemed.

Everything was made pleasure by this little girl. It was pleasure just to drive through the streets, to see the well-dressed people, to look in at the shop-windows. Shopping was pleasure, though she had little to spend. An hour in a bookseller's, or in a fancy shop, was pleasure.

The churches, old and new, were wonderful to her, some for one reason, some for another. Rose and she became independent and strong-minded, and went everywhere without an escort. They spent a day in wandering about the shady walks of the new cemetery, and an afternoon gazing down on the city from the cathedral towers. They paid visits and received them; and, on rainy days, worked and read together with great delight, if not with much profit. Rose, with both heart and hands, helped her friend to make the most of her small allowance for dress; and contrived, out of odds and ends, to make pretty, inexpensive ornaments for her, and presents for her little brothers and sisters at home. She taught her new patterns in crochet, and new st.i.tches in Berlin wool. She even gave her a music lesson, now and then, and insisted on her practising, daily, that she might get back what she had lost since she left school, and so be able the better to teach her little sisters when she went home. In short, she contrived to fill up the time with amus.e.m.e.nt, or with work of some sort. Not a moment but was occupied in some way.

Of course, Graeme was sometimes included in their plans for the day, and so were f.a.n.n.y and baby, but for the most part the young girls were occupied with each other; and the visit, which was to have been for a few days, lengthened out beyond the month, and might have been longer than that, even, only Rose had a slight, feverish attack which confined her to her room for a day or two, and then Etta could no longer hide from herself that she ought to go home.

"I hope I shall not find that this pleasant time has spoiled me. I think papa and mamma are somewhat afraid. I mean to be good, and contented, and helpful; but I know I am only a silly little thing. Oh!