L. Meade - The Girls of St. Wode's

“Yes, you may,” shouted out Mabel. “I am keeping back the crispest of the hot cakes, and there is buttered toast in a covered dish by the fire.”

Leslie’s steps were heard running quickly upstairs, and a minute or two later she entered the room. She was a tall girl, with quantities of golden-brown hair, large brown eyes, a complexion of cream and roses, and straight regular features. It needed but a glance to show that she was a beautiful girl, with beauty above the average; but it was not only the regularity of her features and the clearness of her complexion which made Leslie’s face so specially attractive. It was the marked and wonderful intelligence on her open brow, the speaking, thoughtful expression in her eyes, the firm, proud outline of her beautiful lips.

Mrs. Gilroy just glanced up when her eldest daughter came into the room. That one glance showed that the girl was the mother’s special idol; that she loved her with a worship which was almost idolatry, that she was a shade more proud of her and dreamt more daydreams about her than about any of the others.

Llewellyn, who could read his mother like a book, who loved her passionately, saw all these thoughts now in her eyes. He suppressed a sigh, and attacked the loaf with vigor.

“Come, Leslie,” said her mother, “here is your place by me as usual. Now, have a good tea, my darling, for we have much to talk of afterwards. I want all of you children to be present too; you must all hear my good news.”

“Good news, mother. That’s cheering,” said Leslie. “I have had such a cross day.”

“Cross – what do you mean?” said Kitty. “Do tell us, Leslie, what can have happened. Didn’t you get on with your pupils?”

“No, they were contrary; they would play and would not learn. I didn’t seem to have any control over them. Mother, dear, I am sick of teaching!”

“What rot!” cried Llewellyn. “One must go on with a thing whether one is sick or not.”

“Oh, I know, Lew, dear old boy, and I really don’t mean to grumble; only I felt cross and I am owning to it. I don’t feel cross now,” added the girl.

She helped herself to brown bread and butter. Kitty put a quantity of honey on her plate. Tea came to an end presently, and then the children in orderly file began to remove the tea-things.

In less than a quarter of an hour the little parlor – they always sat in the parlor in the evenings – was looking as snug and comfortable as a room could look. The lamp, beautifully trimmed and burning clearly, stood on the center table, the red curtains were drawn round the windows; a fire, blazing merrily, gave a final touch of cheerfulness to the pleasant room.

“Now, then, mother, get into your own special chair and tell us the news,” said Leslie. – “Llewellyn, you are not going away, are you?”

“No,” said Llewellyn.

“But before you begin, mother, do wait for us,” cried Mabel. “Kitty and I must go upstairs to turn down the beds, and then I must see Elfreda in order to get her to put the fish in soak for to-morrow’s breakfast. She does forget things so dreadfully.”

“Yes, and I have got to wash the tea-things; it’s my turn, I’m sorry to say,” remarked Hester, a somewhat heavy-looking girl, the least attractive of the family.

“Well, dears, I will wait for you three for exactly twenty minutes,” said Mrs. Gilroy. “Be as quick as possible; bustle away, get the house into perfect order, and then you shall come down to hear my good news.”

The children ran off.

When the door closed behind them Leslie looked at her mother.

“Must you go out again to-night, mother?” she asked.

“No, my darling, not to-night. To-morrow I shall not be home until very late. I have to attend two big functions, and must take my copy afterwards to the Grapho and the Daily Post .”

Llewellyn fidgeted; he stood up and then sat down again. He looked at his mother as if about to speak, and then restrained himself.

“What’s the matter, Lew? What are you worrying about?” said his sister.

“It’s only the thought of mother doing this beastly grind night after night,” he said. “It drives me half-wild sometimes.”

“My dear boy, I enjoy it,” said the mother; “and you shall take my place all in good time. There is an excitement about the life which exactly suits me. I could never be a drone even if I wished it, Lew – not even to please you, dear old fellow.”

The mother bent forward as she spoke and gave the boy one of her rare caresses, just a touch on his white forehead. He sat down near her. Another boy would have held out his hand for his mother to clasp, but Llewellyn’s long hands hung between his knees. He was bending over the fire, looking into the blaze. The daydreams which he had so often seen in those flames were receding farther and farther away. His face was pale, and the expression of his gray eyes heavy.

But Mrs. Gilroy, too much interested in Leslie at present to notice her son’s depression, continued to talk cheerfully. By and by she would see it all and speak of it, but not just now.

Quite within the appointed time the three girls returned. They took up their work, for never for a moment in this family was idleness allowed, and sat down near the lamp.

“Now then, we are ready,” said Hester; “but I do wish, before mother begins, that you would show me, Kitty, how you turn this heel. I know I am doing it wrong.”

“I should think you are, you old goose,” said Kitty. “Well, I can’t show you at present. Just take the needles out and unravel a few rows, then put the needles in again, and I’ll be ready to give you a lesson before bedtime. But, remember, I am going to charge for it. It’s a farthing a lesson, and the money to go to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Is not that a good idea, mother?” continued Kitty, looking up.

But Mrs. Gilroy was not listening. She had something important to say, and the mere idle chatter of this happy family passed over her ears unnoticed.

“Leslie,” she said laying her hand on her eldest girl’s arm, “my news has to do with you; but, as we have no secrets in our family, I will tell it before the rest of the children.”

Leslie looked eager and excited. Even Llewellyn dropped his despondent air and stood up, big and manly, five feet ten, on the hearthrug.

His mother glanced at him, noticed, without really noticing it, the marked look of power on his intellectual face, and then turned to her favorite child.

“I was in my usual place at the office of the Grapho to-day,” she began. “I was busily engaged preparing copy for to-morrow’s issue when a gentleman, an old friend of your father’s, a certain Mr. Parker, came in.”

“Mr. Parker! A friend of father’s! I never heard of him before,” said Leslie.

“He has been in Australia for the last twelve years, but has just returned home. He sent in his card and begged to see me. As soon as ever I saw him I remembered that your dear father had constantly spoken of him. Well, he wishes to do something for – for the sake of his old friend.”

Mrs. Gilroy’s voice faltered.

“He is quite a gentleman,” she continued, “though a little rough; but a capital good fellow at bottom. He spoke to me most frankly, and finally ended by making me an offer. The offer has to do with you, Leslie.”

“With me?” said Leslie.

“Yes, darling. He asked me all about our means. He was not at all prying; he was good and kind and oh! so generous at heart. I hated to tell him, and yet I felt obliged to. He was shocked; he thought your father would have left us better off.”

“He had no right to ask about our father’s means,” grumbled Llewellyn. “No one could have worked harder than our father did.”