Lover or Friend. Rosa Nouchette Carey

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СКАЧАТЬ what have you there?' she asked in some little excitement. 'Miss Ross, have you really carried all these things? The kettle is boiling, and I have some clean cups and saucers. Kester has been helping me. I think mamma is awake, for I heard her open her window just now.'

      'What a nice, intelligent face she has!' thought Audrey, as she unpacked her basket and displayed the hidden dainties before the girl's delighted eyes. 'I am sure I shall like Mollie. She is not a bit pretty—I daresay Gage and Michael would call her plain; but she has an honest look in her brown eyes.' 'Mollie,' speaking aloud, 'if your mother has awakened from her nap, she will be quite ready for her tea. May I go into the kitchen a moment? I want Biddy to boil these eggs—they are new-laid; and perhaps you could find me a plate for the butter'; and as Mollie ran off Audrey turned coolly into the kitchen—a pleasant apartment, overlooking the street—where she found a little old woman, with a wrinkled face and dark, hawk-like eyes, standing by the hearth watching the boiling kettle.

      The kitchen was in the same state of chaos as the dining-room—the table covered with unwashed dishes, and crates half unpacked littering the floor. It was evident Biddy was no manager. As she stood there in her dirty cotton gown, with her thin gray hair twisted into a rough knot, and a black handkerchief tied loosely over her head, she was the image of Fairy Disorder; her bent little figure and the blackened poker in her hand carried out the resemblance, as she looked up with her bright, peering eyes at the tall young lady who confronted her.

      'Do you think I could find a saucepan, Biddy?'

      'I suppose there is one about somewhere,' was the encouraging answer. 'Perhaps Miss Mollie will be knowing; she boiled some potatoes for dinner.'

      'Do you mean this?' regarding the article with some disfavour. 'Would it trouble you very much to wash it while I make the tea? I have some nice fresh eggs, which I think they will all enjoy.'

      But Biddy only returned a snapping answer that was somewhat unintelligible, and carried out the saucepan with rather a sour face.

      'Disagreeable old thing!' thought Audrey, as she made the tea, but she afterwards retracted this hasty judgment.

      Biddy was a bad manager, certainly, but she was not without her virtues. She was faithful, and would slave herself to death for those she loved; but she was old for work, and the 'ache,' as she called it, had got into her bones. She had slept on the floor for two nights, and her poor old back was tired, and her head muddled with the confusion and her mistress's fretful fussiness. Biddy could have worked well if any one had told her exactly what to do, but between one order and another—between Mr. Cyril's impatience and Miss Mollie's incapable, youthful zeal—she was just 'moithered,' as she would have said herself.

      She brought back the saucepan after a minute, and Audrey boiled the eggs. As she looked down at the hissing, bubbling water, an amused smile stole over her features.

      'If only Gage could see me now!' she thought; and then Mollie came in and rummaged in a big basket for teaspoons.

      Audrey carried out her teapot in triumph. Mollie had done her work well and tastefully: the snowy cloth was on the table; there were cups and saucers and plates; the butter was ornamented with green leaves, the cakes were in a china basket. Kester was dusting some chairs.

      'Doesn't it look nice!' exclaimed Mollie, quite forgetting her shyness. 'How I wish Cyril would come in! He does so love things to be nice—he and Kester are so particular. Mamma!' glancing up at a window above them, 'won't you please to hurry down? May I sit there, Miss Ross? I always pour out the tea, because mamma does not like the trouble, and Kester always sits next to me.'

      'Is your mother an invalid, my dear?' asked Audrey, feeling that this must be the case.

      'Mamma? Oh no! She has a headache sometimes, but so do I—and Cyril often says the same. I think mamma is strong, really. She can take long walks, and she often sits up late reading or talking to Cyril; but it tries her to do things in the house, she has never been accustomed to it, and putting things to rights in Cyril's room has quite knocked her up.'

      'What are you talking about, you little chatterbox?' interrupted a gay, good-humoured voice; and Audrey, turning round, saw a lady in black coming quickly towards them: the next moment two hands were held out in very friendly fashion. 'I need not ask who our kind visitor is,' went on Mrs. Blake. 'I know it must be Miss Ross—no one else could have heard of our arrival. Have you ever experienced the delights of a move? I think I have never passed a more miserable four-and-twenty hours. I am utterly done up, as I daresay my little girl has told you; but the sight of that delicious tea-table is a restorative in itself. I had no idea Rutherford held such kind neighbours. Mollie, I hope you have thanked Miss Ross for her goodness. Dear me, what a figure the child looks!'

      'Yes, mamma,' replied Mollie, with a return of her shyness; and she slunk behind the tea-tray.

      Audrey had apparently no answer ready. The oddest idea had come into her mind: Supposing Michael were to fall in love with Mrs. Blake? He was a great admirer of beauty, though he was a little fastidious on the subject, and certainly, with the exception of Geraldine, Audrey thought she had never seen a handsomer woman.

      Mrs. Blake's beauty was certainly of no ordinary type: her features were small and delicate, and her face had the fine oval that one sees in the portraits of Mary Queen of Scots; her complexion was pale and somewhat creamy in tint, and set off the dark hazel eyes and dark smooth coils of hair to perfection.

      The long black dress and widow-like collar and cuffs suited the tall, graceful figure; and as Audrey noticed the quick changes of expression, the bright smile, and listened to the smooth, harmonious voice, she thought that never before had she seen so fascinating a woman.

      'Gage will rave about her,' was her mental critique. 'She will say at once that she has never seen a more lady-like person—"lady-like," that is Gage's favourite expression. And as to Michael—well, it is never Michael's way to rave; but he will certainly take a great deal of pleasure in looking at Mrs. Blake.'

      'Will you sit by me, Miss Ross?' asked her hostess in a winning voice; and Audrey woke up from her abstraction, colouring and smiling.

      'I have taken a great liberty with your house,' she said, feeling for the first time as though some apology were due; for the queenly beneficence of Mrs. Blake's manner seemed to imply some condescension on her part in accepting such favours. 'I called to see if you needed any assistance from a neighbour, and I found poor Mollie looking so tired and perplexed that I stayed to help her.'

      'Mollie does her best,' replied Mrs. Blake gently; 'but she is a sad manager, and so is Biddy. They nearly worry me to death between them. If they put a thing straight, it is sure to be crooked again the next moment.'

      'I am sure Mollie works hard enough,' grumbled Kester; but his mother did not appear to hear him.

      'I am a wretched manager myself,' she went on. 'If it were not for Cyril, I do not know what would become of us. Poor Kester is no use to anyone. Would you believe it, Miss Ross, that, when we arrived last night, not a bedstead was up? That was Biddy's fault; she forgot to remind the men. We all slept on the floor except Kester. Cyril would put up his bed for him, though I told him that just for once, and on a summer's night, it would not hurt him.'

      Mollie and Kester glanced at each other; and then Kester bit his lip, and looked down at his plate.

      'Oh, mamma,' began Mollie eagerly; but Mrs. Blake gave her a quick, reproving look.

      'Please don't interrupt, Mollie. I want Miss Ross СКАЧАТЬ