commandment.'
Many voices declared, in forms of varying severity, that it was impossible to speak worse of the Andersons than they deserved.
'Andersons again!' cried Dr. May. 'One, two, three, four, five, six forfeits!'
'Papa himself, for he said the name,' saucily put in Blanche.
'I think I should like the rule to be made in earnest,' said Ethel.
'What! in order to catch Flora's pence for Cocksmoor?' suggested Harry.
'No, but because it is malice. I mean, that is, if there is dislike, or a grudge in our hearts at them--talking for ever of nasty little miserable irritations makes it worse.'
'Then why do you do it?' asked Flora. 'I heard you only on Sunday declaiming about Fanny Anderson.'
'Ha!' cried out all at once. 'There goes Flora.'
She looked intensely serious and innocent.
'I know,' said Ethel. 'It is the very reason I want the rule to be made, just to stop us, for I am sure we must often say more than is right.'
'Especially when we come to the pass of declaring that the ninth commandment cannot be broken in regard to them,' observed the doctor.
'Most likely they are saying much the same of us,' said Richard.
'Or worse,' rejoined Dr. May. 'The injured never hates as much as the injurer.'
'Now papa has said the severest thing of all!' whispered Ethel.
'Proving the inexpedience of personalities,' said Dr. May, 'and in good time enter the evening post.--Why! how now, Mr. May, are you gone mad?'
'Hallo! why ho! ha! hurrah!' and up went Harry's book of decimals to the ceiling, coming down upon a candle, which would have been overturned on Ethel's work, if it had not been dexterously caught by Richard.
'Harry!' indignantly cried Ethel and Flora, 'see what you have done;' and the doctor's voice called to order, but Harry could not heed. 'Hear! hear! he has a fortune, an estate.'
'Who? Tell us--don't be so absurd. Who?'
'Who, Mr. Ernescliffe. Here is a letter from Hector. Only listen:
''Did you know we had an old far-away English cousin, one Mr. Halliday? I hardly did, though Alan was named after him, and he belonged to my mother. He was a cross old fellow, and took no notice of us, but within the last year or two, his nephew, or son, or something, died, and now he is just dead, and the lawyer wrote to tell Alan he is heir-at-law. Mr. Ernescliffe of Maplewood! Does it not sound well? It is a beautiful great place in Shropshire, and Alan and I mean to run off to see it as soon as he can have any time on shore.''
Ethel could not help looking at Margaret, but was ashamed of her impertinence, and coloured violently, whereas her sister did not colour at all, and Norman, looking down, wondered whether Alan would make the voyage.
'Oh, of course he will; he must!' said Harry. 'He would never give up now.'
Norman further wondered whether Hector would remain on the Stoneborough foundation, and Mary hoped they should not lose him; but there was no great readiness to talk over the event, and there soon was a silence broken by Flora saying, 'He is no such nobody, as Louisa Anderson said, when we--'
Another shout, which caused Flora to take refuge in playing waltzes for the rest of the evening. Moreover, to the extreme satisfaction of Mary, she left her crochet-needle on the floor at night. While a tumultuous party were pursuing her with it to claim the penny, and Richard was conveying Margaret upstairs, Ethel found an opportunity of asking her father if he were not very glad of Mr. Ernescliffe's good fortune.
'Yes, very. He is a good fellow, and will make a good use of it.'
'And now, papa, does it not make--You won't say now you are sorry he came here.'
She had no answer but a sigh, and a look that made her blush for having ventured so far. She was so much persuaded that great events must ensue, that, all the next day, she listened to every ring of the bell, and when one at last was followed by a light, though, to her ears, manly sounding tread, she looked up flushing with expectation.
Behold, she was disappointed. 'Miss Walkingham' was announced, and she rose surprised, for the lady in question had only come to Stoneborough for a couple of days with an infirm mother, who, having known Dr. May in old times, had made it her especial request that he would let her see his daughters. She was to proceed on her journey to-day, and the return of the visit had been by no means expected.
Flora went forward to receive her, wondering to see her so young looking, and so unformed. She held out her hand, with a red wrist, and, as far as could be seen under her veil, coloured when presented to the recumbent Margaret. How she got into her chair, they hardly knew, for Flora was at that moment extremely annoyed by hearing an ill-bred peal of Mary's laughter in the garden, close to the window; but she thought it best to appear unconscious, since she had no power to stop it.
Margaret thought the stranger embarrassed, and kindly inquired for Lady Walkingham.
'Much the same, thank you,' mumbled a voice down in the throat.
A silence, until Margaret tried another question, equally briefly answered; and, after a short interval, the young lady contrived to make her exit, with the same amount of gaucherie as had marked her entrance.
Expressions of surprise at once began, and were so loud, that when Harry entered the room, his inquiry was, 'What's the row?'
'Miss Walkingham,' said Ethel, 'but you won't understand. She seemed half wild! Worse than me!'
'How did you like the pretty improving manners?' asked Harry.
'Manners! she had none,' said Flora. 'She, highly connected! used to the best society!'
'How do you know what the best society do?' asked Harry.
'The poor thing seemed very shy,' said Margaret.
'I don't know about shyness,' said Flora.
'She was stifling a laugh all the time, like a rude schoolboy. And I thought papa said she was pretty!'
'Ay? Did you think her so? ' asked Harry.
'A great broad red face--and so awkward!' cried Flora indignantly.
'If one could have seen her face, I think she might have been nice- looking,' said Margaret. 'She had pretty golden curls, and merry blue eyes, rather like Harry's.'
'Umph! said Flora; 'beauty and manners seemed to me much on a par. This is one of papa's swans, indeed!'
'I can't believe it was Miss Walkingham at all,' said Ethel. 'It must have been some boy in disguise.'
'Dear me!' cried Margaret, starting with the painful timidity of helplessness.
'Do look whether anything is gone. Where's the silver inkstand?'
'You don't think she could put that into her pocket,' said Ethel, laughing as she held it up.
'I don't know. Do, Harry, see if the umbrellas are safe in the hall. I wish you would, for now I come to remember, the Walkinghams went at nine this morning. Miss Winter said that she saw the old lady helped into the carriage, as she passed.' Margaret's eyes looked quite large and terrified. 'She must have been a spy--the whole gang will come at night. I wish Richard was here. Harry, it really is no laughing matter. You had better give notice to the police.'
The more Margaret was alarmed, the more Harry laughed. 'Never mind, Margaret, I'll take care of you! Here's my dirk. I'll stick all the robbers.'
'Harry! Harry! Oh, don't!' cried Margaret, raising herself up in an agony of nervous terror. 'Oh, where is papa? Will nobody ring the bell, and send George for the police?'
'Police, police! Thieves! Murder! Robbers! Fire! All hands ahoy!' shouted Harry, his hands making a trumpet over his mouth.
'Harry, how can you?' said Ethel, hastily; 'don't you see that Margaret is terribly frightened. Can't you say at once that it was you?'
'You!' and Margaret sank back, as there was a general outcry of laughter and wonder.
'Did you know it, Ethel?' asked Flora severely.
'I only guessed at this moment,' said Ethel. 'How well you did it, Harry!'
'Well!' said Flora, 'I did think her dress very like Margaret's shot silk. I hope you did not do that any harm.'
