Salome Part 13

"Here are the little ones," exclaimed Salome, as the sound of the children's voices was heard in the porch.

Hans and Carl were in the highest spirits. They had chattered all the way from the station, and were ready to be pleased with everything.

They brought with them a relic of the old home, in the person of a little white fluffy dog, named Puck, which came bustling in at their heels, flying up at every one in expectation of a welcome, and regardless of Salome's--

"Mother, what will Mrs. Pryor say to a dog? I thought Puck was to be given to the De Brettes."

"The children begged so hard to bring him," Mrs. Wilton said. "Puck is a dog no one can object to."

Salome looked doubtful, and said--

"I am sure Mrs. Pryor won't let him get on the chairs," as Puck seated himself on one of them. "Get down, Puck."

"I thought it was a mistake to bring Puck," Ada said; "but the children would have their own way."

"He is a very well-behaved dog in general," said Stevens, anxious to make peace and avoid discussion with Mrs. Pryor; "and if he forgets his manners, we must teach him, that is all."

"Where is the nursery?" Carl asked, "and the school-room? Are we to have tea there?"

"You shall all have tea together this evening," Stevens said; "but I will show you your room, my dears. Come upstairs."

"Where is Raymond?" Mrs. Wilton asked.

"Raymond!" exclaimed Salome. "He said he would go to the station. Did you not see him?"

"No," Reginald said. "Digby Wilton and I walked down together from the cricket match. Digby is not so bad after all."

"I think him very nice, and I like Kate. I had quite an adventure, mamma. Lady Monroe, who says she knew you years and years ago, brought me from Edinburgh Crescent in her carriage, and was so kind. Do you remember her, mother? She came to Maplestone last year."

Poor Mrs. Wilton, who had been trying to keep back her tears, found the very mention of her old home too much at this moment. A sob was the only answer; and Ada said--

"Mamma had better go and take off her things and rest a little. Show us the way, Salome." Reginald followed, and tried not to be disappointed that his mother did not notice the book-shelves and several little contrivances in her room. And Salome wished Ada would not say, "How dreadfully small the house is; and how this huge ugly bed fills up the room,"--the four-post bed which was Mrs. Pryor's glory.

She had come up behind the party, and hearing her most valued possession thus slighted, took her revenge forthwith.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I don't wish to intrude; but I do not take _dawgs_. No dawgs or cats are allowed in _my_ house. I don't take _children_ as a rule--never; but a dawg I cannot put up with. It would wear my spirits out. I hope," looking round, "you are _satisfied_, ma'am!"

"Oh, it is all very clean and neat, thank you," Mrs. Wilton faltered out; "it will do very nicely, and--and I will see about Puck: if he is troublesome, he must be sent away."

Alas! the very spirit of mischief, whose name he bore, seemed to have suddenly possessed Puck. A great bustling and low growling was heard on the staircase, and Hans and Carl laughing and saying, "At it, Puck--good Puck." In another moment Puck appeared shaking something soft frantically, and tearing wildly about with it in his mouth, letting off the spirits which had been pent up on his journey from Fairchester.

"What has he got? Take it from him, children.--What is it, Salome?"

"It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down," said Reginald sternly, seizing Puck by his fluffy tail, and administering several hard slaps.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down!'" _Page 113._]

When at last Puck dropped his prey, Mrs. Pryor exclaimed, "My feather brush--my dear, dear mistress's feather brush! I've seen her dust her own chayny with it _times_. I wouldn't have taken a pound for it. Oh dear! oh dear!"

"It is not much injured, I hope," said Mrs. Wilton. "Only two feathers have been loosened."

"A nasty, mischievous little thing," said Mrs. Pryor in an injured tone, making a thrust at Puck with the short handle of the feather brush.

It was not in dog nature to take this patiently, and Puck stood at bay, barking furiously, and growling as an interlude between every fresh outburst.

Mrs. Pryor put her hands to her ears, and saying something about calling her son to protect her, she toddled away. After a storm comes a calm.

Puck stood apologetically on his hind legs when his enemy was gone; and Carl, seizing him in his arms, carried him off to the little room he was to occupy with Hans, saying, "That horrid old woman should not touch him."

Like the sun shining through a cloud was the appearance of Ruth's good-natured face.

"I will manage it all," she said to Stevens. "If mother makes a great fuss, why, I'll take the little creature to live with us. _I_ am not so particular or fidgety. Don't take any notice of what mother may say; she means well."

Alas! how many people "mean well," and how much better it would be if they made their meaning clear. Their good intentions are often like a riddle, hard to find out. If the intention is good, it is a pity that it is not better fulfilled. People who say they mean well are, I am afraid, often very disagreeable, and do not make the lives of others easier by their "good meaning."

The evening pa.s.sed. Tea was over. The "little ones" were in bed. Stevens was sitting at supper with Mrs. Pryor when Raymond rang the bell.

"Where have you been, Raymond?" Salome said, going out to meet her brother. "Why did you not go to the station to meet mamma?"

"Why didn't I go?--there were plenty without me," he said crossly. "I have been with Barington; I met him in Roxburgh, and I was thankful to get out of this hole."

"Raymond, don't say that to mamma," Salome entreated.

"Well, my dear boy," Mrs. Wilton said, rising wearily from her chair as Raymond went into the room, "I was getting quite anxious about you;" and then she kissed him affectionately.

"I met an old friend--Barington," Raymond said; "and I knew Reginald would meet you.--Hallo, Ada, how are you? Barington wanted to come to-morrow to see you. He admires your photograph so much; but I could not let him see us here, so I put him off."

Ada looked up with a placid smile from her work--for Ada was never idle for a moment--and said, "Who is Barington?"

"Oh, an awfully nice fellow!--I say, mother, you won't stay here, will you? No decent people will call upon you. I can easily find you some nice lodgings Barington told me of."

"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked.

"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the score."

Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest.

"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too near them."

"Nonsense, Raymond," Salome broke in.

"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually."

"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says."

"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your interference."

"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go back till Christmas."