THE PILLARS OF THE HOUSE;
Or,
Under Wode, Under Rode.
by
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
Author of 'The Heir of Redclyffe,' etc.
In Two Volumes.
VOL I.
London:Macmillan and Co.1875.
CONTENTS TO VOL. I.
I. THE BIRTH-DAY GIFT II. THE PIC-NIC III. FORTUNATUS' PURSE IV. TWILIGHT AND DAWN V. WORKING FOR BREAD VI. THE CACIQUE VII. THE CHESS-PLAYER'S BATTLE VIII. THE HOME IX. THE THIRTEEN X. THE FAMILY COBWEB ON THE MOVE XI. THE CHORAL FESTIVAL XII. GIANT DESPAIR'S CASTLE XIII. PEGASUS IN HARNESS XIV. WHAT IT MAY LEAD TO XV. WHAT IT LED TO XVI. THE WINTER OF DISCONTENT XVII. MIDSUMMER SUN XVIII. BY THE RIVER XIX. THE HOUSE WITHOUT PILLARS XX. VALE LESTON XXI. A KETTLE OF FISH XXII. THE REAL THING AND NO MISTAKE XXIII. SMOKE-JACK ALLEY
THE PILLARS OF THE HOUSE;
OR,
UNDER WODE, UNDER RODE.
CHAPTER I.
THE BIRTH-DAY GIFT.
'O I've got a plum-cake, and a feast let us make, Come, school-fellows, come at my call; I assure you 'tis nice, and we'll all have a slice, Here's more than enough for us all.' _Jane Taylor._
'It is come! Felix, it is come!'
So cried, shouted, shrieked a chorus, as a street door was torn opento admit four boys, with their leathern straps of books over theirshoulders. They set up a responsive yell of 'Jolly! Jolly!' whichbeing caught up and re-echoed by at least five voices within, causeda considerable volume of sound in the narrow entry and narrowerstaircase, up which might be seen a sort of pyramid of children.
'Where is it?' asked the tallest of the four arrivals, as he soberlyhung up his hat.
'Mamma has got it in the drawing-room, and Papa has been in ever sincedinner,' was the universal cry from two fine complexioned, handsomegirls, from a much smaller girl and boy, and from a creature rolling onthe stairs, whose sex and speech seemed as yet uncertain.
'And where's Cherry?' was the further question; 'is she there too?'
'Yes, but--' as he laid his hand on the door--'don't open the letterthere. Get Cherry, and we'll settle what to do with it.'
'O Felix, I've a stunning notion!'
'Felix, promise to do what I want!'
'Felix, do pray buy me some Turkish delight!'
'Felix, I do want the big spotty horse.'
Such shouts and insinuations, all deserving the epithet of the first,pursued Felix as he entered a room, small, and with all the contentsfaded and worn, but with an air of having been once tasteful, andstill made the best of. Contents we say advisedly, meaning not merelythe furniture but the inmates, namely, the pale wan fragile mother,working, but with the baby on her knee, and looking as if care and toilhad brought her to skin and bone, though still with sweet eyes and alovely smile; the father, tall and picturesque, with straight handsomefeatures, but with a hectic colour, wasted cheek, and lustrous eye,that were sad earnests of the future. He was still under forty, hiswife some years less; and elder than either in its expression of wastedsuffering was the countenance of the little girl of thirteen years oldwho lay on the sofa, with pencil, paper, and book, her face with hermother's features exaggerated into a look at once keen and patient, allthree forming a sad contrast to the solid exuberant health on the otherside the door.
Truly the boy who entered was a picture of sturdy English vigour,stout-limbed, rosy faced, clear eyed, open, and straightforwardlooking, perhaps a little clumsy with the clumsiness of sixteen,especially when conscience required tearing spirits to be subdued tothe endurance of the feeble. It was, however, a bright congratulatinglook that met him from the trio. The little girl started up: 'Yoursovereign's come, Felix!'
The father showed his transparent-looking white teeth in a merry laugh.'Here are the galleons, you boy named in a lucky hour! How many timeshave you spent them in fancy?'
The mother held up the letter, addressed to Master Felix ChesterUnderwood, No. 8, St. Oswald's Buildings, Bexley, and smiled as shesaid, 'Is it all right, my boy?'
'They want me to open it outside, Mamma!--Come, White-heart, we wantyou at the council.'
And putting his arm round his little sister Geraldine's waist, whileshe took up her small crutch, Felix disappeared with her, the motherlooking wistfully after them, the father giving something between alaugh and a sigh.
'Then you decide against speaking to him,' said Mrs. Underwood.
'Poor children, yes. A little happiness will do them a great deal moregood than the pound would do to us. The drops that will fill theirlittle cup will but be lost in our sea.'
'Yes, I like what comes from Vale Leston to be still a festive matter,'said Mrs. Underwood; 'and at least we are sure the dear boy will neverspend it selfishly. It only struck me whether he would not enjoyfinding himself able to throw something into the common stock.'
'_He_ would, honest lad,' said Mr. Underwood; 'but, Mamma, you are veryhard-hearted towards the rabble. Even if this one pound would provideall the shoes and port wine that are pressing on the maternal mind, thestimulus of a day's treat would be much more wholesome.'
'But not for you,' said his wife.
'Yes, for me. If the boy includes us old folks in his festivity, itwill be as good as a week's port wine. You doubt, my sweet Enid. Hasnot our long honeymoon at Vale Leston helped us all this time?' Hername was Mary, but having once declared her to be a woman made of thesame stuff as Enid, he had made it his pet title for her.
Mrs. Underwood's thoughts went far away into the long ago of ValeLeston. She could hardly believe that nine years only had passed sincethat seven-years' honeymoon. She was a woman of the fewest possiblewords, and her husband generally answered her face instead of her voice.
Vale Leston had promised to be an ample provision when Edward Underwoodhad resigned his fellowship to marry the Rector's niece and adopteddaughter, his own distant cousin, with the assurance of being presentedto the living hereafter, and acting in the meantime as curate. Itwas a family living, always held conjointly with a tolerably goodestate, enough to qualify the owner for the dangerous position of'squarson,' as no doubt many a clerical Underwood had been ever sincetheir branch had grown out from the stem of the elder line, which hadnow disappeared. These comfortable quarters had seemed a matter ofcertainty, until the uncle died suddenly and with a flaw in his will,so that the undesirable nephew and heir-at-law whom he had desired toexclude, a rich dissipated man, son to a brother older than the fatherof the favourite niece, had stepped in, and differing _in toto_ fromEdward Underwood, had made his own son take orders for the sake of theliving, and it had been the effort of the young wife ever since not todisobey her husband by showing that it had been to her the being drivenout of paradise.
ASSISTANT CURACY.--A Priest of Catholic opinions is needed at a town parish. Resident Rector and three Curates. Daily Prayers. Choral Service on Sundays and Holy-days. Weekly Communion.--Apply to P.C.B., St. Oswald's Rectory, Bexley.
Every one knows the sort of advertisement which had brought Mr.Underwood to Bexley, as a place which would accord with the doctrinesand practices dear to him. Indeed, apart from the advertisement,Bexley had a fame. A great rubrical war had there been fought out bythe Rector of St. Oswald's, and when he had become a colonial Bishop,his successor was reported to have carried on his work; and the beautyof the restored church, and the exquisite services, were so generallytalked of, that Mr. Underwo
od thought himself fortunate in obtainingthe appointment. Mr. Bevan too, the Rector, was an exceedinglycourteous, kindly-mannered man, talking in a soft low voice in the mostaffectionate and considerate manner, and with good taste and judgmentthat exceedingly struck and pleased the new curate. It was the moresurprise to him to find the congregations thin, and a general languorand indifference about the people who attended the church. There wasalso a good deal of opposition in the parish, some old sullen secederswho went to a neighbouring proprietary chapel, many more of erratictastes haunted the places of worship of the numerous sects, who swarmedin the town, and many more were living in a state of town heathenism.
It was not long before the perception of the cause began to grow uponMr. Underwood. The machinery was perfect, but the spring was failing;the salt was there, but where was the savour? The discourses he heardfrom his rector were in one point of view faultless, but the oldScottish word 'fushionless' would rise into his thoughts wheneverthey ended, and something of effect and point was sure to fail; theywere bodies without souls, and might well satisfy a certain excellentsolicitor, who always praised them as 'just the right medium, sober,moderate, and unexciting.'
In the first pleasure of a strong, active, and enterprising man, atfinding his plans unopposed by authority, Mr. Underwood had beendelighted with his rector's ready consent to whatever he undertook,and was the last person to perceive that Mr. Bevan, though objectingto nothing, let all the rough and tough work lapse upon his curates,and took nothing but the graceful representative part. Even then,Mr. Underwood had something to say in his defence; Mr. Bevan wasvaletudinarian in his habits, and besides--he was in the midst of acourtship--after his marriage he would give his mind to his parish.
For Mr. Bevan, hitherto a confirmed and rather precise and luxuriousbachelor, to the general surprise, married a certain Lady Price, theyoung widow of an old admiral, and with her began a new _regime._
My Lady, as every one called her, since she retained her title andname, was by no means desirous of altering the ornamental arrangementsin church, which she regarded with pride; but she was doubly anxiousto guard her husband's health; and she also had the sharpest eye tothe main chance. Hitherto, whatever had been the disappointments andshortcomings at the Rectory, there had been free-handed expenditure,and no stint either in charity or the expenses connected with theservice; but Lady Price had no notion of taking on her uncalled-foroutlay. The parish must do its part, and it was called on to do soin modes that did not add to the Rector's popularity. Moreover, thearrangements were on the principle of getting as much as possible outof everybody, and no official failed to feel the pinch. The Rectorwas as bland, gentle, and obliging as ever; but he seldom transactedany affairs that he could help; and in the six years that had elapsedsince the marriage, every person connected with the church had changed,except Mr. Underwood.
Yet, perhaps, as senior curate, he had felt the alteration mostheavily. He had to be, or to refuse to be, my Lady's instrument in hervarious appeals; he came in for her indignation at wastefulness, andat the unauthorised demands on the Rector; he had to feel what it wasto have no longer unlimited resources of broth and wine to fall backupon at the Rectory; he had to supply the shortcomings of the new staffbrought in on lower terms--and all this, moreover, when his own healthand vigour were beginning to fail.
Lady Price did not like him or his family. They were poor, and shedistrusted the poor; and what was worse, she knew they were betterborn and better bred than herself, and had higher aims. Gentle Mrs.Underwood, absorbed in household cares, no more thought of rivalrywith her than with the Queen; but the soft movement, the low voice,the quiet sweep of the worn garments, were a constant vexation to myLady, who having once pronounced the curate's wife affected, held toher opinion. With Mr. Underwood she had had a fight or two, and had notconquered, and now they were on terms of perfect respect and civilityon his side, and of distance and politeness on hers. She might talk ofhim half contemptuously but she never durst show herself otherwise thancivil, though she was always longing to bring in some more deferentialperson in his place; and, whenever illness interfered with his duties,she spoke largely to her friends of the impropriety of a man'sundertaking what he could not perform.
One of her reductions had been the economising the third curate, whilemaking the second be always a neophyte, who received his title forOrders, and remained his two years upon a small stipend.
The change last Easter, which had substituted a deacon for a priest,had fallen heavily on Mr. Underwood, and would have been heavier still,but that the new comer, Charles Audley, had attached himself warmlyto him. The young man was the son of a family of rank and connection,and Lady Price's vanity was flattered by obtaining his assistance;but her vexation was proportionably excited by his preference for theUnderwood household, where, in truth--with all its poverty--he foundthe only atmosphere thoroughly congenial to him in all the parish ofSt. Oswald's.
Speedily comprehending the state of things, he put his vigorous youngshoulder to the wheel, and, full of affectionate love and admirationfor Mr. Underwood, spared himself nothing in the hope of saving himfatigue or exertion, quietly gave up his own holidays, was always athis post, and had hitherto so far lightened Mr. Underwood's toil, thathe was undoubtedly getting through this summer better than the last,for his bodily frame had long been affected by the increased amount oftoil in an ungenial atmosphere, and every access of cold weather hadtold on him in throat and chest attacks, which, with characteristicbuoyancy, he would not believe serious. He never deemed himself aughtbut 'better,' and the invalid habits that crept on him by stealth,always seemed to his brave spirit consequent on a day's extra fatigue,or the last attention to a departing cough. Alas! when every day'sfatigue was extra, the cough always depart_ing_, never depart_ed_.
Yet, though it had become a standing order in the house, that foran hour after papa came in from his rounds, no one of the childrenshould be in the drawing-room, except poor little lame Geraldine,who was permanently established there; and that afterwards, even onstrong compulsion, they should only come in one by one, as quietly aspossible, he never ceased to apologise to them for their banishmentwhen he felt it needful, and when he was at ease, would renew themerriment that sometimes cost him dear.
The children had, for the most part, inherited that precious heirloomof contentment and elasticity, and were as happy in nooks and cornersin bed-room, nursery, staircase or kitchen, as they could have been inextensive play-rooms and gardens.
See them in full council upon the expenditure of the annual gift thatan old admiral at Vale Leston, who was godfather to Felix, was wont tosend the boy on his birth-day--that third of July, which had seemedso bright, when birth-days had begun in the family, that no name saveFelix could adequately express his parent's feelings.
Mr. and Mrs. Underwood had fancies as to nomenclature; and thatstaircase-full of children rejoiced in eccentric appellations. To beginat the bottom--here sat on a hassock, her back against the wall, hersharp old fairy's face uplifted, little Geraldine, otherwise Cherry,a title that had suited her round rosiness well, till after the firstwinter at Bexley, when the miseries of a diseased ankle-joint hadset in, and paled her into the tender aliases of White-heart, orSweet-heart. She was, as might be plainly seen in her grey eyes, aclever child; and teaching her was a great delight to her father, andoften interested him when he was unequal to anything else. Her darkeyebrows frowned with anxiety as she lifted up her little pointedchin to watch sturdy frank-faced Felix, who with elaborate slownessdealt with the envelope, tasting slowly of the excitement it created,and edging away from the baluster, on which, causing it to contributefrightful creaks to the general Babel, were perched numbers 4, 6,7, and 8, to wit, Edgar, Clement, Fulbert, and Lancelot, all threehandsome, blue-eyed, fair-faced lads. Indeed Edgar was remarkable, evenamong this decidedly fine-looking family. He had a peculiarly delicatecontour of feature and complexion, though perfectly healthy; and therewas something of the same expression, half keen, half dr
eamy, as inGeraldine, his junior by one year; while the grace of all the attitudesof his slender lissome figure showed to advantage beside Felix's moresturdy form, and deliberate or downright movements; while Clement waspaler, slighter, and with rather infantine features, and shining wavybrown hair, that nothing ever seemed to ruffle, looked so much as ifhe ought to have been a girl, that Tina, short for Clementina, was hisschool name. Fulbert, stout, square, fat-cheeked, and permanently roughand dusty, looked as if he hardly belonged to the rest.
The four eldest were day-scholars at the city grammar-school; butLancelot, a bright-faced little fellow in knickerbockers, was a pupilof whoever would or could teach him at home, as was the little girlwho was clinging to his leg, and whose name of Robina seemed to havemoulded her into some curious likeness to a robin-redbreast, with herbrown soft hair, rosy cheeks, bright merry eyes, plump form, and quickloving audacity. Above her sat a girl of fifteen, with the familyfeatures in their prettiest development--the chiseled straight profile,the clear white roseately tinted skin, the large well-opened azureeyes, the profuse glossy hair, the long, slender, graceful limbs, andthat pretty head leant against the knees of her own very counterpart;for these were Wilmet and Alda, the twin girls who had succeeded Felix,and whose beauty had been the marvel of Vale Leston, their shabby dressthe scorn of the day school at Bexley. And forming the apex of thepyramid, perched astride on the very shoulders of much-enduring Wilmet,was three years old Angela--Baby Bernard being quiescent in a cradlenear mamma. N.B. Mrs. Underwood, though her girls had such masculinenames, had made so strong a protest against their being called byboyish abbreviations, that only in one case had nature been too strongfor her, and Robina had turned into Bobbie. Wilmet's second name beingUrsula, she was apt to be known as W. W.
'Make haste, Felix, you intolerable boy! don't be so slow!' cried Alda.
'Is there a letter?' inquired Wilmet.
'Yes, more's the pity!' said Felix. 'Now I shall have to answer it.'
'I'll do that, if you'll give me what's inside,' said Edgar.
'Is it there?' exclaimed Cherry, in a tone of doubt, that sent anelectric thrill of dismay through the audience; Lance nearly topplingover, to the horror of the adjacent sisters, and the grave rebuke ofClement.
'If it should be a sell!' gasped Fulbert.
'Suppose it were,' said Felix gravely.
'Then,' said Edgar, 'you can disown the old rogue Chester.'
'What stuff!' interposed Clement.
'I'd cut him out of my will on the spot,' persisted Edgar.
'But it is all right,' said Cherry, looking with quiet certainty intoher brother's face; and he nodded and coloured at the same time.
'But it is not a pretty one,' said little Robina. 'Last year it wasgreen, and before that red; and this is nasty stupid black and white,and all thin crackling paper.'
Felix laughed, and held up the document.
'What!' cried Fulbert. 'Five! Why, 'tisn't only five shillings! thehorrid old cheat!'
'It's a five-pound note!' screamed Cherry. 'I saw one when Papa went tothe bank! O Felix, Felix!'
A five-pound note! It seemed to take away the breath of those who knewwhat it meant, and then an exulting shout broke forth.
'Well,' said Edgar solemnly, 'old Chester is a brick! Three cheers forhim!'
Which cheers having been perpetrated with due vociferation, the crybegan, 'O Felix, what will you do with it?'
'Buy a pony!' cried Fulbert.
'A rocking-horse,' chirped Robina.
'Punch every week,' shouted Lance.
'A knife apiece,' said Fulbert.
'How can you all be so selfish?' pronounced Clement. 'Now a harmoniumwould be good to us all.'
'Then get some cotton, for our ears into the bargain, if Tina is toplay on it,' said Edgar.
'I shall take the note to mother,' said the owner.
'Oh!' screamed all but Wilmet and Cherry, 'that's as bad as not havingit at all!'
Maybe Felix thought so, for it was with a certain gravity and solemnityof demeanour that he entered the drawing-room, causing his father toexclaim, 'How now? No slip between cup and lip? Not infelix, Felix?'
'No, papa, but it's _this;_ and I thought I ought to bring it.'
The dew at once was in the mother's eyes, as she sprang up and kissedthe boy's brow, saying, 'Felix, dear, don't show it to me. You weremeant to be happy with it. Go and be so.'
'Stay,' said Mr. Underwood, 'Felix will really enjoy helping us to thisextent more than any private expenditure. Is it not so, my boy? Wellthen, I propose that the sovereign of old prescriptive right shouldgo to his _menus plaisirs_, and the rest to something needful; but heshall say to what. Said I well, old fellow?'
'Oh, thank you, thank you!' cried Felix ardently.
'Thank me for permission to do as you will with your own?' smiled Mr.Underwood.
'You will choose, then, Felix?' said his mother wistfully, her desiresdivided between port wine for Papa, and pale ale for Geraldine.
'Yes, mamma,' was the prompt answer. 'Then, please, let Wilmet and Aldabe rigged out fresh for Sundays.'
'Wilmet and Alda!' exclaimed Mamma.
'Yes, I should like that better than anything, please,' said the boy.'All our fellows say they would be the prettiest girls in all Bexley,if they were properly dressed; and those horrid girls at Miss Pearson'slead them a life about those old black hats.'
'Poor dears! I have found Alda crying when she was dressing forchurch,' mused Mrs. Underwood; 'and though I have scolded her, I couldhave cried too, to think how unlike their girlhood is to mine.'
'And if you went to fetch them home from school, you would know how badit is, Mamma,' said Felix. 'Wilmet does not mind it, but Alda cries,and the sneaking girls do it the more; and they are girls, so one can'tlick them; and they have not all got brothers.'
'To be licked instead!' said Mr. Underwood, unable to help being amused.
'Well, yes, Papa; and so you see it would be no end of a comfort tomake them look like the rest.'
'By all means, Felix. The ladies can tell how far your benefaction willgo; but as far as it can accomplish, the twins shall be resplendent.Now then, back to your anxious clients. Only tell me first how my kindold friend the Admiral is.'
'Here's his letter, Father; I quite forgot to read it.'
'Some day, I hope, you will know him enough to care for him personally.Now you may be off.--Nay, Enid, love, your daughters could not havelived much longer without clothes to their backs.'
'Oh, yes, it must have been done,' sighed the poor mother; 'but Ifancied Felix would have thought of you first.'
'He thought of troubles much more felt than any of mine. Poor children!the hard apprenticeship will serve them all their lives.'
Meantime Felix returned with the words, 'Hurrah! we are to have thesovereign just as usual; and all the rest is to go to turn out Wilmetand Alda like respectable young females.--Hollo, now!'
For Alda had precipitated herself down-stairs, to throttle him with herembraces; while Cherry cried out, 'That's right! Oh, do get those dearwhite hats you told me about;' but the public, even there a many-headedmonster thing, was less content.
'What, all in girls' trumpery?' 'That's the stupidest sell I ever heardof!' 'Oh, I did so want a pony!' were the cries of the boys.
Even Robina was so far infected as to cry, 'I wanted a ride.'
And Wilmet reproachfully exclaimed, 'O Felix, you should have gotsomething for Papa. Don't you know, Mr. Rugg said he ought to have arespirator. It is a great shame.'
'I don't think he would have let me, Wilmet,' said Felix, looking up;'and I never thought of it. Besides, I can't have those girls makingasses of themselves at you.'
'Oh no, don't listen to Wilmet!' cried Alda. 'You are the very bestbrother in all the world! Now we shall be fit to be seen at the breakup. I don't think I could have played my piece if I knew every one waslooking at my horrid old alpaca.'
'And there'll be hats for Cherry and Bobbie too!' entr
eated Wilmet.
'Oh, don't put it into their heads!' gasped Alda.
'No, I'll have you two fit to be seen first,' said Felix.
'Well, it's a horrid shame,' grumbled Fulbert; 'we have always all goneshares in Felix's birth-day tip.'
'So you do now,' said Felix; 'there's the pound all the same as usual.'
That pound was always being spent in imagination; and the voices brokeout again.
'Oh, then Papa can have the respirator!'
'Felix, the rocking-horse!'
'Felix, do get us three little cannon to make a jolly row everybirth-day!'
'Felix, do you know that Charlie Froggatt says he would sell that bigNewfoundland for a pound? and that would be among us all.'
'Nonsense, Fulbert! a big dog is always eating; but there is aconcertina at Lake's.'
'Tina--tina--concertina! But, I say, Fee, there's White-heart beenwishing her heart out all the time for a real good paint-box.'
'Oh, never mind that, Ed; no one would care for one but you and me; andthe little ones would spoil all the paints.'
'Yes, resumed Wilmet, from her throne, 'it would be the worry of one'slife to keep the little ones off them; and baby would be poisoned to adead certainty. Now the respirator--'
'Now the concertina--'
'Now Punch--'
'Now the dog--'
'Now the rocking-horse--'
'Now the cannon--'
'I'll tell you what,' said Felix, 'I've settled how it is to be. We'llget John Harper's van, and all go out to the Castle, with a jolly colddinner--yes, you, Cherry, and all; Ed and I will carry you--and dine onthe grass, and--'
A chorus of shouts interrupted him, all ecstatic, and rendered moreemphatic by the stamping of feet.
'And Angela will go!' added Wilmet.
'And Papa,' entreated Cherry.
'And Mamma too, if she will,' said Felix.
'And Mr. Audley,' pronounced Robina, echoed by Clement and Angela. 'Mr.Audley must go!'
'Mr. Audley!' grunted Felix. 'I want nobody but ourselves.'
'Yes, and if he went we could not stay jolly late. My Lady would makeno end of a row if both curates cut the evening prayers.'
'For shame, Edgar!' cried the three elder girls.
While Wilmet added, 'We could not stay late, because of Papa and thelittle ones. But I don't want Mr. Audley, either.'
'No, no! Papa and he will talk to each other, and be of no use,' saidGeraldine. 'Oh, how delicious! Will the wild-roses be out? When shallit be, Felix?'
'Well, the first fine day after school breaks up, I should say.'
'Hurrah! hurrah!'
And there was another dance, in the midst of which Mr. Underwood openedthe door, to ask what honourable member was receiving such deafeningcheers.
'Here! here he is, Papa!' cried Alda. 'He is going to take us all outto a pic-nic in the Castle woods; and won't you come, Papa?'
'O Papa, you will come!' said Felix. And the whole staircase bawled inaccordance.
'Come! to be sure I will!' said his father; 'and only too glad to beasked! I trust we shall prove to have found the way to get the maximumof pleasure out of Admiral Chester's gift.'
'If Mamma will go,' said Felix. 'I wonder what the van will cost, andwhat will be left for the dinner.'
'Oh, let us two cook the whole dinner,' entreated the twins.
'Wait now,' said Felix. 'I didn't know it was so late, Father.' And hecarefully helped his father on with his coat; and as a church bell madeitself heard, set forth with him.
When the service was musical, Felix and his two next brothers bothformed part of the choir; and though this was not the case on thisevening, Felix knew that his mother was easier when he or Wilmet couldwatch over Papa's wraps.
And Mamma herself, with one at least of the twins, was busy enough ingiving the lesser ones their supper, and disposing of them in bed, sothat the discreet alone might remain to the later tea-drinking.
And 'Sibby' must be made a sharer of the good news in her lower region,though she was sure to disbelieve in Alda and Wilmet's amateur cookery.
Sibby was Wilmet's foster-mother. Poor thing! Mr. Underwood had foundher in dire need in the workhouse, a child herself of seventeen, witha new-born babe, fresh from the discovery that the soldier-husband, asshe thought, and who had at least 'gone before the praste with her,'and brought her from her Kilkenny home, was previously husband toanother woman. She was tenderly cared for by Mr. Underwood's mother,who was then alive, and keeping house for the whole party at theRectory; and having come into the Vale Leston nursery, she never leftit. Her own child died in teething, and she clung so passionately toher nursling, that Mrs. Underwood had no heart to separate them, RomanCatholic though she was, and difficult to dispose of. She was not theusual talking merry Irishwoman; if ever she had been such, her heartwas broken; and she was always meek, quiet, subdued, and attentive;forgetful sometimes, but tender and trustworthy to the last degree withthe children.
She had held fast to the family in their reverses, and no more thoughtof not sharing their lot than one of their children. Indeed, it wouldnot have been much more possible to send her out to shift for herselfin England; and her own people seemed to have vanished in the famine,for her letters, with her savings, came back from the dead-letteroffice. She put her shoulder to the burthen, and, with one small scrubunder her, got through an amazing amount of work: and though her greatdeep liquid brown eyes looked as pathetic as ever, she certainly wasin far better spirits than when she sat in the nursery. To be sure,she was a much better nurse than she was a cook; but as both could notbe had, Mrs. Underwood was content and thankful to have a servant soentirely one with themselves in interests and affections; and who hadthe further perfection of never wanting any society but the children's;shrinking from English gossips, and never showing a weakness, save forIrish tramps. Moreover, she was a prodigious knitter; and it was herboast that not one of the six young gentlemen had yet worn stocking orsock, but what came from her needles, and had been re-footed by her tothe last extremity of wear.
Meantime, Felix and Clement walked with their father to the church.There it was, that handsome church; the evening sun in slanting beamscoming through the gorgeous west window to the illuminated walls, andthe rich inlaid marble and alabaster of the chancel mellowed by thepure evening light. The east window, done before glass-painting hadimproved, was tame and ill-executed, and there was, even aesthetically,a strange unsatisfactory feeling in looking at the heavy, thoughhandsome, incrustations and arcades of dark marble that formed thereredos. It was all very correct; but it wanted life.
Mr. Bevan was not there, he had gone out to dinner, and thecongregation consisted of some young ladies, old men, and three littlechildren. Mr. Audley read all, save the Absolution and the Lessons; andthe responses sounded low and feeble in the great church, though therewas one voice among them glad and hearty in dedicating and entrustingthe new year of his life with its unknown burthen.
Felix had heard sayings and seen looks which, boldly as his sanguinespirit resisted them, would hang in a heavy boding cloud over his mind,and were already casting a grave shadow there.
And if the thought of his fivefold gift swelled the fervour of his'Amen' to the General Thanksgiving, there was another deep heartfeltAmen, which breathed forth earnest gratitude for the possession of sucha first-born son.
'That is a very good boy,' the father could not help saying to Mr.Audley, as, on quitting the churchyard, Felix exclaiming, 'Papa, may Ijust get it changed and ask about the van?' darted across the street,with Clement, into a large grocer's shop nearly opposite, where a briskevening traffic was going on in the long daylight of hot July; and hecould not but tell of the birth-day gift, and how it was to be spent.'_Res angusta domi_,' he said, with a smile, 'is a thing to be thankfulfor, when it has such effects upon a lad.'
'You must add a small taste of example to the prescription,' said Mr.Audley. 'Is this all the birth-day present Felix has had?'
'We
ll, I believe Cherry gave him one of her original designs; butbirth-days are too numerous for us to stand presents.'
The other curate half sighed. He was a great contrast--a much smallerman than his senior, slight, slim, and pale, but with no look ofill-health about him; brown eyed and haired, and with the indefinablelook about all his appointments and dress, that showed he had livedin unconscious luxury and refinement all his days. His thoughts wentback to a home, where the only perplexity was how to deal with anabsolute glut of presents, and to his own actual doubts what to sendthat youngest sister, who would feel slighted if Charlie sent nothing,but really could not want anything; a book she would not read, a jewelcould seldom get a turn of being worn, a trinket would only be freshlumber for her room. Then he revolved the possibilities of making Felixa present, without silencing his father's confidences, and felt thatit could not be done in any direct manner at present; nay, that itcould hardly add to the radiant happiness of the boy, who rushed acrossthe road, almost under the nose of the railway-omnibus horses, andexclaimed--
'He will let us have it for nothing, Father! He says it would be hiringit out, and he can't do that: but he would esteem it a great favourif we would go in it, and not pay anything, except just a shilling toHarris for a pint of beer. Won't it be jolly, Father?'
'Spicy would be more appropriate,' said Mr. Underwood, laughing, as thevehicle in question drew up at the shop door, with Mr. Harper's nameand all his groceries inscribed in gold letters upon the awning.
'I'm so glad I thought of Harper's,' continued Felix. 'I asked himinstead of Buff, because I knew Mamma would want it to be covered. Nowthere's lots of room; and we boys will walk up all the hills.'
'I hope there is room for me, Felix,' suggested Mr. Audley.
'Or,' suggested Mr. Underwood, 'you might, like John Gilpin, "ride onhorseback after we."'
'Felix looks non-content,' said Mr. Audley. 'I am afraid I was not inhis programme. Speak out--let us have it.'
'Why,' said Felix, looking down, 'our little ones all wanted to haveyou; but then we thought we should all be obliged to come home toosoon, unless you took the service for Papa.'
'He certainly ought not to go to church after it,' said Mr. Audley;'but I can settle that by riding home in good time. What's the day?'
'The day after the girls' break-up, if you please,' said Felix, stillnot perfectly happy, but unable to help himself; and manifesting quiteenough reluctance to make his father ask, as soon as they had parted,what made him so ungracious.
'Only, Papa,' said Felix frankly, 'that we know that you and he willget into some Church talk, and then you'll be of no use; and we wantedto have it all to ourselves.'
'Take care, Felix,' said Mr. Underwood; 'large families are apt to getinto a state of savage exclusiveness.'
Felix had to bear the drawback, and the groans it caused from Wilmet,Edgar, and Fulbert: the rest decidedly rejoiced. And Mr. Underwoodprivately confided the objection to his friend, observing merrily thatthey would bind themselves by a promise not to talk shop throughout theexpedition.
It was a brilliantly happy week. Pretty hats, bound with dark bluevelvet, and fresh black silk jackets, were squeezed out of the fourpounds, with the help of a few shillings out of the intended hire ofthe van, and were the glory of the whole family, both of those who wereto wear them and those who were not.
On Saturday evening, just as the four elder young people were aboutto sally forth to do the marketing for their pic-nic, a great hampermade its appearance in the passage, addressed to F. C. Underwood,Esq., and with nothing to pay. Only there was a note fastened to theside, saying, 'Dear Felix, pray let the spicy van find room for mycontribution to your pic-nic. I told my mother to send me what wasproper from home.--C. S. A.'
Mrs. Underwood was dragged out to superintend the unpacking, whichshe greatly advised should be merely a surface investigation. Thatwas quite enough, however, to assure her that for Felix to lay in anyprovision, except the tea and the bread she had already promised, wouldbe entirely superfluous. The girls were disappointed of their cookery;but derived consolation from the long walk with the brothers, in whicha cake of good carmine and a lump of gamboge were purchased for Cherry,and two penny dolls for Robina and Angela. What would become of therest of the pound?
On Sunday, the offertory was, as usual on ordinary occasions, ratherscanty; but there was one half-sovereign; and Mr. Underwood wasconvinced that it had come from under the one white surplice that hadstill remained on the choir boys' bench.
He stayed in the vestry after the others to count and take care ofthe offerings, and as he took up the gold, he could not but look athis son, who was waiting for him, and who flushed all over as he methis eye. 'Yes, Papa, I wanted to tell you--I did grudge it at first,'he said hoarsely. 'I knew it was the tithe; but it seemed so muchaway from them all. I settled that two shillings was the tenth of myown share, and I would give that to-day; and then came Mr. Harper'skindness about the van; and next, when I was thinking how I couldsave the tenth part without stinting everybody, came all Mr. Audley'shamper. It is very strange and happy, Papa, and I have still somethingleft.'
'I believe,' said Mr. Underwood, 'that you will find the consideringthe tithe as not your own, is the safest way of keeping poverty fromgrinding you, or wealth from spoiling you.'
And very affectionately he leant on his son's shoulder all the wayhome; while Mr. Audley was at luncheon at the Rectory with my Lady, andher twelve years old daughter.
'Mamma,' said Miss Price, 'did you see the Underwoods in new hats?'
'Of course I did, my dear. They were quite conspicuous enough; but whenpeople make a great deal of their poverty, they always do break out inthe most unexpected ways.'
'They are pretty girls,' said the Rector, rather dreamily, 'and Isuppose they must have new clothes sometimes.'
'You will always find,' proceeded Lady Price without regard, 'thatpeople of that sort have a wonderful eye to the becoming--nothingeconomical for them! I am sorry for Mr. Underwood, his wife is bringingup a set of fine ladies, who will trust to their pretty looks, and bequite above doing anything for themselves.'
'Do you think Wilmet and Alda Underwood so very pretty, Mr. Audley?'inquired Miss Price, turning her precocious eyes upon him.
'Remarkably so,' Mr. Audley replied, with a courteous setting-down tonethat was the only thing that ever approached to subduing Miss Price,and which set her pouting without an answer.
'It is a great misfortune to girls in that station of life to have thatpainted-doll sort of beauty,' added my Lady; 'and what was it I heardabout a pic-nic party?'
'No party, my dear,' replied the Rector, 'only a little fresh air forthe family--a day in Centry Park. Felix spends his birth-day presentfrom his godfather in taking them.'
'Ah! I always was sure they had rich friends, though they keep it soclose. Never let me hear of their poverty after this.'
Answers only rendered it worse, so my Lady had it her own way, and notbeing known to the public in St. Oswald's Buildings, did not troublethem much. Yet there was a certain deference to public opinion there,when Alda was heard pouting, 'Felix, why did you go to that horridHarper? Just fancy Miss Price seeing us!'
'Who cares for a stuck-up thing like Miss Price?' growled Felix.
'I don't care for her,' said Edgar; 'but it is just as well to havesome notion of things, and Felix hasn't a grain. Why, all the fellowswill be asking which of us is pepper, and which Souchong? I wouldn'thave Froggatt or Bruce see me in it at no price.'
'Very well, stay at home, then,' said Felix.
'You could have had the waggonet from the Fortinbras Arms,' said Alda.
'Ay--for all my money, and not for love.'
'For shame, Alda,' said her twin sister; 'how can you be so ridiculous!'
'You know yourself, Wilmet, it is quite true; if any of the girls seeus, we shall be labelled "The Groceries."'
'Get inside far enough, and they will not see you.'
'Ay, but there'll be that
disgusting little Bobbie and Lance sitting inthe front, making no end of row,' said Edgar; 'and the whole place willknow that Mr. Underwood and his family are going out for a spree in oldHarper's van! Pah! I shall walk.'
'So shall I,' said Alda, 'at least till we are out of the town; butthat won't do any good if those children will make themselves sohorridly conspicuous. Could not we have the thing to meet us somewhereout of town, Felix?'
'And how would you get Cherry there, or Mamma? Or Baby?--No, no, if youare too genteel for the van, you may walk.'