'I was very stupid,' said Ethel.
'Poor child!' said her papa, 'she is worse off than I am. If I have but one hand left, she has two left hands.'
'I do mean to try, papa.'
'Yes, you must, Ethel. I believe I was hasty with you, my poor girl. I was vexed, and we have no one to smooth us down. I am sorry, my dear, but you must bear with me, for I never learned her ways with you when I might. We will try to have more patience with each other.'
What could Ethel do but hang round his neck and cry, till he said, but tenderly, that they had given Margaret quite disturbance enough to-day, and sent her to bed, vowing to watch each little action, lest she should again give pain to such a father and sister.
CHAPTER VIII.
'Tis not enough that Greek or Roman page At stated hours, his freakish thoughts engage, Even in his pastimes he requires a friend To warn and teach him safely to unbend, O'er all his pleasures gently to preside, Watch his emotions, and control their tide.'--COWPER.
The misfortunes of that day disheartened and disconcerted Etheldred. To do mischief where she most wished to do good, to grieve where she longed to comfort, seemed to be her fate; it was vain to attempt anything for anyone's good, while all her warm feelings and high aspirations were thwarted by the awkward ungainly hands and heedless eyes that Nature had given her. Nor did the following day, Saturday, do much for her comfort, by giving her the company of her brothers. That it was Norman's sixteenth birthday seemed only to make it worse. Their father had apparently forgotten it, and Norman stopped Blanche when she was going to put him in mind of it; stopped her by such a look as the child never forgot, though there was no anger in it. In reply to Ethel's inquiry what he was going to do that morning, he gave a yawn and stretch, and said, dejectedly, that he had got some Euripides to look over, and some verses to finish.
'I am sorry; this is the first time you ever have not managed so as to make a real holiday of your Saturday!'
'I could not help it, and there's nothing to do,' said Norman wearily.
'I promised to go and read to Margaret while Flora does her music,' said Ethel; 'I shall come after that and do my Latin and Greek with you.'
Margaret would not keep her long, saying she liked her to be with Norman, but she found him with his head sunk on his open book, fast asleep. At dinner-time, Harry and Tom, rushing in, awoke him with a violent start.
'Halloo! Norman, that was a jump!' said Harry, as his brother stretched and pinched himself. 'You'll jump out of your skin some of these days, if you don't take care!'
'It's enough to startle any one to be waked up with such a noise,' said Ethel.
'Then he ought to sleep at proper times,' said Harry, 'and not be waking me up with tumbling about, and hallooing out, and talking in his sleep half the night.'
'Talking in his sleep! why, just now, you said he did not sleep,' said Ethel.
'Harry knows nothing about it,' said Norman.
'Don't I? Well, I only know, if you slept in school, and were a junior, you would get a proper good licking for going on as you do at night.'
'And I think you might chance to get a proper good licking for not holding your tongue,' said Norman, which hint reduced Harry to silence.
Dr. May was not come home; he had gone with Richard far into the country, and was to return to tea. He was thought to be desirous of avoiding the family dinners that used to be so delightful. Harry was impatient to depart, and when Mary and Tom ran after him, he ordered them back.
'Where can he be going?' said Mary, as she looked wistfully after him.
'I know,' said Tom.
'Where? Do tell me.'
'Only don't tell papa. I went down with him to the playground this morning, and there they settled it. The Andersons, and Axworthy, and he, are going to hire a gun, and shoot pee-wits on Cocksmoor.'
But they ought not; should they?' said Mary. Papa would be very angry.'
Anderson said there was no harm in it, but Harry told me not to tell. Indeed, Anderson would have boxed my ears for hearing, when I could not help it.'
'But Harry would not let him?'
'Ay. Harry is quite a match for Harvey Anderson, though he is so much younger; and he said he would not have me bullied.'
'That's a good Harry! But I wish he would not go out shooting!' said Mary.
'Mind, you don't tell.'
'And where's Hector Ernescliffe? Would not he go?'
'No. I like Hector. He did not choose to go, though Anderson teased him, and said he was a poor Scot, and his brother didn't allow him tin enough to buy powder and shot. If Harry would have stayed at home, he would have come up here, and we might have had some fun in the garden.'
'I wish he would. We never have any fun now,' said Mary; 'but oh! there he is,' as she spied Hector peeping over the gate which led from the field into the garden. It was the first time that he had been to Dr. May's since his brother's departure, and he was rather shy, but the joyful welcome of Mary and Tom took off all reluctance, and they claimed him for a good game at play in the wood-house. Mary ran upstairs to beg to be excused the formal walk, and, luckily for her, Miss Winter was in Margaret's room. Margaret asked if it was very wet and dirty, and hearing 'not very,' gave gracious permission, and off went Mary and Blanche to construct some curious specimens of pottery, under the superintendence of Hector and Tom. There was a certain ditch where yellow mud was attainable, whereof the happy children concocted marbles and vases, which underwent a preparatory baking in the boys' pockets, that they might not crack in the nursery fire. Margaret only stipulated that her sisters should be well fenced in brown holland, and when Miss Winter looked grave, said, 'Poor things, a little thorough play will do them a great deal of good.'
Miss Winter could not see the good of groping in the dirt; and Margaret perceived that it would be one of her difficulties to know how to follow out her mother's views for the children, without vexing the good governess by not deferring to her.
In the meantime, Norman had disconsolately returned to his Euripides, and Ethel, who wanted to stay with him and look out his words, was ordered out by Miss Winter, because she had spent all yesterday indoors. Miss Winter was going to stay with Margaret, and Ethel and Flora coaxed Norman to come with them, 'just one mile on the turnpike road and back again; he would be much fresher for his Greek afterwards.'
He came, but he did not enliven his sisters. The three plodded on, taking a diligent constitutional walk, exchanging very few words, and those chiefly between the girls. Flora gathered some hoary clematis, and red berries, and sought in the hedge-sides for some crimson 'fairy baths' to carry home; and, at the sight of the amusement Margaret derived from the placing the beauteous little Pezizas in a saucer of damp green moss, so as to hide the brown sticks on which they grew, Ethel took shame to herself for want of perception of little attentions. When she told Norman so, he answered, 'There's no one who does see what is the right thing. How horrid the room looks! Everything is nohow!' added he, looking round at the ornaments and things on the tables, which had lost their air of comfort and good taste. It was not disorder, and Ethel could not see what he meant. 'What's wrong?' said she.
'Oh, never mind--you can't do it. Don't try--you'll only make it worse. It will never be the same as long as we live.'
'I wish you would not be so unhappy!' said Ethel.
'Never mind,' again said Norman, but he put his arm round her.
'Have you done your Euripides? Can I help you? Will you construe it with me, or shall I look out your words?'
'Thank you, I don't mind that. It is the verses! I want some sense!' said Norman, running his fingers through his hair till it stood on end. ''Tis such a horrid subject, Coral Islands! As if there was anything to be said about them.'
