was dead-tired and very hungry. My handswere full of parcels. I rushed impetuously into the house. It was timefor lunch; the morning had flown with marvellous swiftness. Nay, more;I was late for lunch. Father was standing alone in the dining-room.Marriage had wrought very little perceptible alteration in him. It istrue he always now wore a perfectly clean collar, and his coats werealways well brushed, but each one seemed to hang upon him in just itsold, loose, aggravating fashion, being worn very high up on the nape ofthe neck, which gave his back a sort of bowed appearance; and hiscollars, however neat when he put them on in the morning, managed to getfinely rumpled before school-hours were over. This was from a habit hehad of clutching his collar fiercely when in the heat of argument.There was no laundress in the whole of London who could have madecollars stiff enough to withstand father's clutch. But even Mrs Grantcould not persuade him to put on a clean one to go back to afternoonschool, nor could she get him to visit the barber as often as shewished. Therefore, on the whole, father looked much as he had alwaysdone. But perhaps he would not have been respected or loved as he wasloved and respected if even his outward appearance had been changed. Hewas in a deep brown study now. He hardly saw me as I rushed into theroom. I went up to him and took both his hands, and said, "Thank you--thank you so much!"
"What in the world are you thanking me about, Dumps?" he said.
He seemed to wake with a start.
"Where have you been? What is the matter? Don't litter the place,please; your step-mother doesn't like it."
He observed the brown-paper parcels.
"They're presents," I said. "Don't speak about them."
He raised his hand wearily to his brow.
"I am not likely to," he said. "Things wrapped up in brown-paper do notinterest me."
"Oh father! they interest most people. But you must--you really must--rouse yourself for a minute or two, for I have to thank you so greatly,darling father."
"What for?" he muttered.
"The money--the money."
"I am unaware, child, that I have given you any money."
What could he mean? I felt a curious damp sensation round my spirits,which were quite high at the moment. Then I remembered that Mrs Granthad told me that I was not to worry father on the subject.
"She said," I continued, with great eagerness, "that you were not to beworried, but that you had arranged it. I am to have an allowance infuture, and she gave me the first quarter's allowance to-day--tenpounds."
"Goodness!" said father. "What wilful waste! Ten pounds! Why, itwould have bought--it would have bought that new--"
He mentioned a volume which had a long Latin name.
I understood now--or thought I understood--why my step-mother haddesired me to be silent on the subject of my allowance. Father shookhimself. I was roused even to a show of anger.
"Well, at any rate," I said, "it might buy you a book, but it can buyother things as well. I was given the money to-day--_your_ money--and Imust thank you; only please in future make it a little more, for Icannot buy dresses with it; it isn't enough."
He stared at me wildly, and just at that moment my step-mother came in.
"Grace," said my father, turning to her, "this child seems to be in asad muddle. She has been endeavouring to confuse me, which isexceedingly wrong of her. I trust that in future you will permityourself, my dear, the extreme privilege of repressing Dumps."
"Oh, oh!" I said.
"Yes," continued father, "of repressing her.--You are, Dumps, tooexuberant, too unmannerly, too impulsive.--Keep her, my dear, frombringing unsightly objects of that sort into my presence."
He pointed to my darling brown-paper parcels.
"And above all things, dear Grace, tell her not to thank me for what Ihave not done. She has been murmuring the most absurd rubbish into myears, talking about a dress allowance. A dress allowance, indeed! Doesshe need money to spend on her outward adornment? Tell her to learnthat hymn of Watts's, `Why should our garments, made to hide'--She hadbetter learn that. Let her learn once for all that,--
"Be she dressed fine as she will, Flies, worms, and moths exceed her still.
"In short, Grace, suppress the child, and tell her not to utterfalsehoods in my presence."
He went out; his wife followed him into the hall. She came back in afew minutes, and her cheeks were redder than was quite becoming.
"Now, Dumps dear," she said, "I told you not to speak of your dressallowance to your father."
"Then he never gave it to me?"
"Well, dear, not exactly. I mean that he did not give it to you in somany words; nevertheless, it is my place to see to these things."
"But was the ten pounds father's?" I asked stoutly.
"What is his is mine, and what is mine is his," she replied.
"Please, step-mother," I said imploringly, "answer me just for once.Did you give me that money, or did my father?"
"My dear child, will you not understand once and for all that it is myaim and wish to do what I can to make you happy? If you go on tryingme, Rachel, as you have been doing lately, you will make me a veryunhappy woman."
She paused; then she said, "Never up to the present moment have I knownwhat real, true unhappiness is. I, Grace Donnithorne, given by natureso cheerful a heart, and, I think, so brave a spirit, and, I believe,the power of looking at things on the bright side--I unhappy!"
She moved away; she stood by the fire. I saw tears starting to herbright, kindly, merry eyes; one rolled down her cheek. I went up to herand took her hand.
"I have not been trying," I said--"I will confess it--I have not beentrying to think kindly of you."
"I know it, Dumps," she said gravely, and she looked round at me.
"And I have been advising the boys not to show you any affection."
"I know it, Dumps," she said again.
"And--and I returned those clothes that you gave me when I was atHedgerow House."
"You did. Why did you do it?"
"If, perhaps," I said slowly--"I don't know, but perhaps if you had toldme the truth then, that you were not being so awfully kind just becauseI was a lonely little girl, but because you were going to marry myfather, I might have stood it better, and I might have acteddifferently; but you deceived me. I thought you were a very kind,middle-aged, rather fat lady, and I liked you just awfully; but when youdeceived me--"
"Don't say any more," she remarked hastily. "It was not my wish--I feltall along that--"
But then, with a great effort, she resumed her usual manner.
"I see I have not won you yet," she said. "But we must go on beingfriends outwardly, and _perhaps_--you have been confirmed, have younot?"
"Yes," I said, somewhat startled.
"Then perhaps when we kneel together at the Great Festival, the feast ofall feasts, your heart may be softened, and you may see that in all theworld no one means more kindly to you than the one whom you used to knowas Grace Donnithorne."
"Oh, if you wouldn't be quite so amiable I think I could love youbetter," I said, and then I really hated myself.
"It will come, dear," she said in a patient tone. "And now, just tellme what you bought. If your father isn't interested in brown-paperparcels, I am."
"They're presents," I said shortly.
"Those delightful things on the sofa are presents? You have spent alittle of your money on presents? Rather extravagant of you, but I'mnot going to scold."
"That sounded such a lot of money," I said, "but it didn't turn out somuch."
"What do you mean, dear? It is a very substantial sum for a youngschoolgirl of your age. I am sorry you did not take me with you tospend it; but you seemed so anxious to go alone, and I thought untilChristmas was over--"
"What is going to happen when Christmas is over?" I said.
"I will tell you when the time comes."
"But please tell me now, step-mother--"
"I wish you wouldn't call me by that name."
"We
ll, I can't call you Mrs Grant; and you are my step-mother, youknow."
"It doesn't matter--call me anything you like, dear."
I wished she was not quite so accommodating; but while I looked at her Isaw there was a change in her face: there was a purpose in it, afirmness, a sort of upper-hand look as though she did not mean that I,Dumps, should have my own way about everything. She asked me what I hadbought for myself, and I said nothing particular, except a few ribbonsand things like that.
"They ought to be bought last of all," she said, "but of course