continued,"you'll have left school and be back here with me. I look forward tothat time, my little Annie; there will be a power of things for you todo, and the parish will be all the better for your society."
Annie shuffled her feet and grew red. The old rector did not especiallynotice her. He was absorbed in contemplation. He had eaten his largebowl of Quaker oats, and now he laid the spoon on his plate and gazedinto the fire.
"It's a fine thing," he said, "to be able to help the poor and needy. Ialways say to myself, `When my bit Annie comes back we'll do so-and-so.We'll have more mothers' meetings and classes for young women.' Thereare some mill-hands near here, Annie, who are neglected in theirspiritual part shamefully. They want a lady like yourself to understandthem and to show them what girls ought to know. You might havesewing-classes, for instance; and you might read aloud to them just tointerest them, you know. I have been thinking a lot about it. And thenwhat do you say to a Sunday afternoon class, just in one of the bigrooms here, for the mill-hands? It would be a pretty bit of work, and Iwouldn't be above catching them, so to speak, by guile--I mean that Iwould give them tea and cake. Mrs Shelf wouldn't mind. We'd have tomanage her, wouldn't we, Annie?"
"Yes, uncle," said Annie, yawning; "yes."
"Then there's a carving-class for the young men."
"I wouldn't mind that so much as the other," said Annie suddenly.
"Now, that is really nice of you, my child, for those rough mill-handsare often very troublesome. I would always accompany you myself to thecarving-class. We'd get our patterns from London, and you wouldencourage them a bit."
"Only I can't carve," said Annie.
"Well, well, that needn't be a difficulty; for it is easy to learn, I amtold; and you might have lessons during your last term at school. Oh,there'll be a deal for you to do, my pretty one, and no minute leftunemployed; and you, all the time while you are so busy, the verysunshine of your old uncle's life."
"Am I, Uncle Maurice?" she asked.
"Are you that?" he replied. He rose and held out his arms to her."Aren't you just all I've got," he said--"all I have got?"
She allowed him to kiss her, and even faintly responded, for she hadmade up her mind not to trouble him about Paris that night.
After a time he allowed her to go to bed, which she was exceedingly gladto do. But when she had flung herself in her bed and was quickly lostin slumber, the old man himself sat up and thought a great deal abouther, and prayed for her not a little.
"She is a bonny lass, and a pretty one," he said to himself; "and, thankthe Lord! I don't see a trace of that dark-eyed mother about her. Shetakes after Geoffrey, the best of men. Yes, she is a good child, andwill settle down to my busy life here, I make no doubt, with greatequanimity. I have much to be thankful for, and my Annie is the appleof my eye. All the same, I wish--I do wish--that she was just a_little_ more responsive."
The next day Annie awoke with the lark. She jumped up, and long beforebreakfast was out of doors. The house was shabby enough, but theRectory garden was a place to revel in. The rector cared nothing aboutindoor decoration, but his hobby was his garden. Lawns with some of thefinest turf in England rolled majestically away from the house towardsthe swift-flowing river at the other end of the grounds. There were gayparterres filled with bright flowers. There were shrubberies andpaddocks, and even a labyrinth and an old Elizabethan walk where theyew-trees were cut into grotesque forms of foxes and griffins. Therewas an old sun-dial, which at one time used to interest Annie but whichshe had long ceased to notice; and there was a kitchen-garden, whichought to have delighted the heart of any young person; for not only werethe vegetables first class, but here was to be found the best fruit inthe neighbourhood. The rector was celebrated for his peaches andapricots, his pears, his apples, his nuts. He had a long vinery full ofchoice grapes, and there were hotbeds containing melons of the finestflavour; and there were even--and these were as a crown of all crowns tothe old rector--pines growing here in perfection.
Annie was too self-loving and too keenly appreciative of the good thingsof life not to like the old garden. She forgot some of her grievancesnow as she walked here and there, helping herself indiscriminately tothe ripest and beet fruit.
By-and-by the postman was seen coming up the avenue. Annie ran to meethim. She had been delayed for a day in leaving Lyttelton School, andshe knew, therefore, that Mabel's invitation would probably arrive atRashleigh Rectory this morning. Yes; here it was in Mabel's ownwriting. Annie looked at the outside of the envelope for a minute ortwo with intense appreciation; then she deliberately opened it and tookout two letters. The first was from no less a person than LadyLushington herself:
"My dear Miss Brooke,--I write by Mabel's wish to beg of you to join myniece and myself here early next week. We are going to Switzerland,where we hope you will accompany us, but will remain here at the `Grand'until Wednesday. If you can manage to be with us on Tuesday night, thatwill be quite time enough. I hope your uncle will spare you to us; andyou may assure him that while you are my guest you will be treated asthough you were my child, and will have no expense of any sort.
"Looking forward to making your acquaintance, and with my compliments toyour uncle, believe me, yours sincerely, Henrietta Lushington."
"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Annie. She read the other letter, but morecarelessly; Lady Lushington's was the important one. Mabel wrote:
"Dear Annie,--It is all right. Don't fail to be with us on Tuesdaynight. Aunt Henrietta will send Parker to meet you at the Gare du Nord,and you will doubtless find some escort to bring you to Paris. It'sgreat fun here, although the weather is very hot, and we are dying to beaway amongst the cool mountains of Switzerland. Aunt Henrietta goes toall the fashionable hotels, and dresses exquisitely, so if you can screwa little money out of that old flint of an uncle of yours, so much thebetter; but even if you are shabby, I dare say I can manage to rig youup.--Your affectionate friend, Mabel Lushington."
"_P.S._--That awful bill has not come yet! I shake when I think of it.
"_P.S._ Number 2.--I am very glad now that I took your advice. It isheavenly to be emancipated. I wouldn't be back at that odious schoolfor a kingdom. Do come quickly."
Armed with these letters, Annie now entered the same little room whereshe and her uncle had partaken of their supper on the previous night.
CHAPTER TEN.
THE ILLNESS.
Mr Brooke was not very well. He was subject to very severe headaches,and had at these times to stay quiet. Annie might have noticed by hislanguid brown eyes and his slow and somewhat feeble step that somethingwas wrong with him, had she not been so absorbed in her own pleasure.
"Good-morning, Uncle Maurice," she said. "I hope you are hungry forbreakfast; for if you are not, I am."
"I can't manage much this morning, my love," said the old rector. "Justa cup of tea, please, and--and--well, yes--a very small piece of toast."
"Are you ill?" said Annie a little crossly, for she had small sympathyfor suffering.
"Not exactly, my love. I have a headache; but it will pass."
"Oh, if you only knew how I suffered from them at school," said Annie ina careless tone. "Dear me! isn't this room too hot, Uncle Maurice? Doyou mind if I open the window?"
"No, my love," he answered. But when she flung wide the window heshivered slightly, although he would not show his discomfort for theworld.
Annie helped herself to the excellent breakfast provided by Mrs Shelf.She was really hungry, and was in excellent spirits. Things wereturning out well. Even the Rectory would be endurable if she mightleave it on Monday. She made a careful calculation in her own mind.This was Friday morning. She would have to go to London on Mondaynight.
She must sleep at a hotel; that would be all the better fun. Then shewould start on Tuesday from Victoria Station and arrive in Paris thatnight. Nothing mattered after that; all would be golden after that.Her reaping-time would arrive; her harvest would be ready f
or her togather. Oh yes, she was a happy and contented girl this morning!
"How nice the home-made bread is!" she said; "and the butter is so good!Have you got Cowslip and Dewlip still, Uncle Maurice?"
"Yes, my dear," he answered, brightening up at her interest in theRectory animals; "and Dewlip has such a lovely calf with a white star onher forehead. We have called it after you--Annie. I hope you don'tmind. Mrs Shelf would do it; for she took it into her head that thecalf had a look of you."
"Really, uncle! That's not a compliment; but I don't care. I'll havesome of that strawberry jam, if you please."
"The jam is