Books: The Long Vacation
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Long Vacation
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"I'll give thee a tanner and make him a bait,
So in the gin palace was settled his fate."
Some of the party were scandalized, others laughed as much or more
than the effusion deserved.
"We accept drawings," added another voice, "and if any one does
anything extraordinarily good in that way, or in writing, it makes a
little book."
"We have higher designs than that," said Gillian. "We want to print
the cream."
"For the benefit of the school board—-no, the board school."
"Oh! oh! Valetta!" cried the general voice.
"The thing is," explained Gillian, "that we must build a new school
for the out-liers of St. Kenelm's, or 'my lords' will be down on us,
and we shall be swamped by board schools."
"Aunt Jane is frantic about it," said Dolores Mohun.
"There's no escape from school board worries!" exclaimed Anna. "They
helped to demolish Uncle Clement."
"There is to be a sale of work, and a concert, and all sorts of jolly
larks," added Valetta.
"Larks! Oh, Val!"
"Larks aren't slang. They are in the dictionary," declared Valetta.
"By the bye, she has not heard the rules of the Mice," put in Mysie.
"I'll say them," volunteered Valetta the irrepressible. "Members of
the Mouse-trap never utter slang expressions, never wear live birds-—
I mean dead ones-—in their hats."
"Is an ostrich feather a live bird or a dead?" demanded Anna.
"And," said Dolores, "what of the feather screens that the old Miss
Smiths have been making all the winter—circles of pheasants' feathers
and peacocks' eyes outside a border of drakes' curls?"
"Oh, like ostriches they don't count, since peacocks don't die, and
drakes and pheasants _must_," said Gillian.
"We have been getting ready for this sale ever so long," said Mysie.
"Aunt Jane has a working party every Friday for it."
"The fit day," said Dolores, "for she is a perfect victim to other
people's bad work, and spends the evening in stitching up and making
presentable the wretched garments they turn out."
"The next rule-—" began Valetta, but Gillian mercilessly cut her
short.
"You know clever people, Anna. Do you know how to manage about our
Mouse-trap book? Our bookseller here is a school-board man, all on
the wrong side, and when I tried to feel our way, he made out that
the printing and getting it up would cost a great deal more than we
could risk."
"It is a pity that Uncle Lance is gone home," said Anna. "He could
tell you all about it."
"Could you not write to him?"
"Oh, yes, but I know he will want to see a specimen before he can
make any estimate."
It was agreed that the specimen should be forthcoming on the next
occasion, and Miss Mohun coming home, and tea coming in, the
conference was ended. Anna began to unravel the relationships.
Dolores Mohun was a niece of Lady Merrifield. She had lost her own
mother early, and after living with the Merrifields for a year, had
been taken by her father to New Zealand, where he had an appointment.
He was a man of science, and she had been with him at Rotaruna during
the terrible volcanic eruption, when there had been danger and terror
enough to bring out her real character, and at the same time to cause
an amount of intimacy with a young lady visitor little older than
herself, which had suddenly developed into a second marriage of her
father. In this state of things she had gladly availed herself of
the home offered her at Clipstone, and had gone home under the escort
of her Aunt Phyllis (Mrs. Harry May), who was going with her husband
to spend a year in England. Dolores had greatly improved in all ways
during her two years' absence, and had become an affectionate,
companionable, and thoughtful member of the Merrifield household,
though still taking a line of her own.
The Kalliope whom Gillian had befriended, to her own detriment, was
now the very beautiful Mrs. Henderson, wife to the managing partner
in the marble works. She continued to take a great interest in the
young women employed in designing and mosaics, and had a class of
them for reading and working. Dolores had been asked to tell first
Aunt Jane's G. F. S. (Girl's Friendly Society) girls, and afterwards
Mrs. Henderson's, about her New Zealand experiences and the
earthquake, and this developed into regular weekly lectures on
volcanoes and on colonies. She did these so well, that she was
begged to repeat them for the girls at the High School, and she had
begun to get them up very carefully, studying the best scientific
books she could get, and thinking she saw her vocation.
Mrs. Henderson was quite a power in the place. Her brother Alexis
was an undergraduate, but had been promised a tutorship for the
vacation. He seldom appeared at Carrara, shrinking from what
recalled the pain and shame that he had suffered; while Petros worked
under Captain Henderson, and Theodore was still in the choir at St.
Matthew's. Maura had become the darling of Mr. White, and was much
beloved by Mrs. White, though there had been a little alarm the
previous year, when Lord Rotherwood and his son came down to open a
public park or garden on the top of the cliffs, where Lord
Rotherwood's accident had occurred. Lord Ivinghoe, a young
Guardsman, had shown himself enough disposed to flirt with the pretty
little Greek to make the prudent very glad that her home was on the
Italian mountains.
Gillian was always Mrs. Henderson's friend, but Gillian's mind was
full of other things. For her father had reluctantly promised, that
if one of her little brothers got a scholarship at one of the public
schools, Gillian might fulfil her ardent desire of going to a ladies'
college. Wilfred was a hopeless subject. It might be doubted if he
could have succeeded. He had apparently less brain power than some
of the family, and he certainly would not exert what he had. His
mother had dragged him through holiday tasks; but nobody else could
attempt to make him work when at home, and Gillian's offers had been
received with mockery or violence. So all her hopes centred on
Fergus, who, thanks to Aunt Jane's evening influence over his
lessons, stood foremost in Mrs. Edgar's school, and was to go up to
try for election at Winchester College at the end of the term. Were
Gillian's hopes to be ruined by his devotion to the underground
world?
CHAPTER VII. THE HOPE OF VANDERKIST
A breath of air,
A bullock's low,
A bunch of flowers,
Hath power to call from everywhere
The spirit of forgotten hours—-
Hours when the heart was fresh and young,
When every string in freedom sung,
Ere life had shed one leaf of green.
JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.
There had been some curiosity as to who would be thought worthy to
bring the precious little baronet to Rockquay, and there was some
diversion, as well as joy, when it proved that no one was to be
entrusted with him but his eldest aunt, Mrs. Harewood, who was to
bring him in Whitsun week, so that he might begin with a half-term.
The arrival was a pretty sight, as the aunt rejoiced at seeing both
her hosts at the front door to greet her, and as Anna held out her
glad arms to the little brother who was the pride of the family.
"Ha, Adrian, boy!" said the Vicar, only greeting with the hand, at
sight of the impatient wriggle out of the embrace.
It was an open, sunburnt, ruddy face, and wide, fearless grey eyes
that looked up to him, the bullet head in stiff, curly flaxen hair
held aloft with an air of "I am monarch of all I survey," and there
was a tone of equality in the "Holloa, Uncle Clement," to the tall
clergyman who towered so far above the sturdy little figure.
Presently on the family inquiries there broke—-
"I say, Annie, where's the school?"
"At the foot of this hill."
"I want to see it" (imperiously).
"You must have some tea first."
"Then you are glad to come, Adrian?" said Mrs. Grinstead.
"Yes, Aunt Cherry. It is high time I was away from such a lot of
women-folk," he replied, with his hands in his pockets, and his legs
set like a little colossus.
Anna had no peace till, after the boy had swallowed a tolerable
amount of bread-and-butter and cake, she took him out, and then Mrs.
Harewood had to explain his mother's urgent entreaties that the
regime at Vale Leston should be followed up, and the boy see only
such habits as would be those of total abstainers.
Poor woman! as her brother and sisters knew, there was reason to
believe that the vice which had been fatal to her happiness and her
husband's life, had descended to him from Dutch forefathers, and
there was the less cause for wonder at the passionate desire to guard
her son from it. Almost all her family had been water-drinkers from
infancy, and though Major Harewood called teetotalism a superstitious
contempt of Heaven's good gifts, and disapproved of supplementing the
baptismal vow, his brother the Rector had found it expedient, for the
sake of the parish, to embrace formally the temperance movement, and
thus there had been little difficulty in giving way to Alda's desire
that, at the luncheon-table, Adrian should never see wine or beer,
and she insisted that the same rule should prevail at Rockquay.
Clement had taken the pledge when a lad of sixteen, and there were
those who thought that, save for his persistence under warnings of
failing strength, much of his present illness might have been
averted, with all the consequent treatment. He believed in total
abstinence as safer for his ward, but he thought that the time had
come for training, in seeing without partaking. Wilmet agreed, and
said she had tried to persuade her sister; but she had only caused an
hysterical agitation, so that weakness as usual gained the victory,
and she had all but promised to bring the boy home again unless she
could exact an engagement.
"To follow the Vale Leston practice at his early dinner," said
Geraldine.
"That may be," said Clement; "but I do not engage not to have the
matter out with him if I see that it is expedient."
"I am only doubtful how Gerald will take it," said his sister.
"Gerald has always been used to it at Vale Leston," said Wilmet.
"True, but there he is your guest. Here he will regard himself as at
home. However, he is a good boy, and will only grumble a little for
appearance sake."
"I should hope so," said Wilmet severely.
"How is the Penbeacon affair going on?" asked Clement.
"Oh, Clem, I did not think you had heard of it."
"I had a letter in the middle of the mission, but I could not answer
it then, and it seems to have been lost."
Geraldine pronounced it the straw that broke the camel's back, when
she heard of the company that only waited to dig china clay out of
Penbeacon and wash it in the Ewe till they could purchase a slice of
the hill pertaining to the Vale Leston estate. Major Harewood had
replied that his fellow-trustee was too ill to attend to business,
and that the matter had better be let alone till the heir attained
his majority.
"Shelved for the present," said Mrs. Grinstead. "Fancy Ewe and
Leston contaminated!"
"John talks to the young engineer, Mr. Bramshaw, and thinks that may
be prevented; but that is not the worst," said Wilmet; "it would
change the whole face of the parish, and bring an influx of new
people."
"Break up Penbeacon and cover it with horrible little new houses.
Men like Walsh never see a beautiful place but they begin to think
how to destroy it."
"Well, Cherry, you have the most influence with Gerald, but he talks
to the girls of our having no right to keep the treasures of the
hills for our exclusive pleasure."
"It is not exclusive. Half the country disports itself there. It is
the great place for excursions."
"Then he declares that it is a grave matter to hinder an industry
that would put bread into so many mouths, and that fresh outlets
would be good for the place; something too about being an
obstruction, and the rights of labour."
"Oh, I know what that means. It is only teasing the cousinhood when
they fall on him open-mouthed," said Geraldine, with a laugh, though
with a qualm of misgiving at her heart, while Clement sat listening
and thinking.
Mrs. Harewood farther explained, that she hoped either that Gerald
would marry, or that her sister would make a home for him at the
Priory. It then appeared that Major Harewood thought it would be
wise to leave the young man to manage the property for himself
without interference; and that the uncle to whom the Major had become
heir was anxious to have the family at hand, even offering to arrange
a house for Lady Vanderkist.
"A year of changes," sighed Geraldine; "but this waiting time seems
intended to let one gather one's breath."
But Wilmet looked careworn, partly, no doubt, with the harass of
continual attention to her sister Alda, who, though subdued and
improved in many important ways, was unavoidably fretful from ill-
health, and disposed to be very miserable over her straitened means,
and the future lot of her eight daughters, especially as the two of
the most favourable age seemed to resign their immediate chances of
marrying. Moreover, though all began life as pretty little girls,
they had a propensity to turn into Dutchwomen as they grew up, and
Franceska, the fifth in age, was the only one who renewed the beauty
of the twin sisters.
Alda was not, however, Wilmet's chief care, though of that she did
not speak. She was not happy at heart about her two boys. Kester
was a soldier in India, not actually unsteady, but not what her own
brothers had been, and Edward was a midshipman, too much of the
careless, wild sailor. Easy-going John Harewood's lax discipline had
not been successful with them in early youth, and still less had
later severity and indignation been effectual.
"I am glad you kept Anna," said Mrs. Harewood, "though Alda is very
much disappointed that she is not having a season in London."
"She will not take it," said Geraldine. "She insists that she
prefers Uncle Clem to all the fine folk she might meet; and after
all, poor Marilda's acquaintance are not exactly the upper ten
thousand."
"Poor Marilda! You know that she is greatly vexed that Emilia is
bent on being a hospital nurse, or something like it, and only half
yields to go out with her this summer in very unwilling obedience."
"Yes, I know. She wants to come here, and I mean to have her before
the long vacation for a little while. We heard various outpourings,
and I cannot quite think Miss Emilia a grateful person, though I can
believe that she does not find it lively at home."
"She seems to be allowed plenty of slum work, as it is the fashion to
call it, and no one can be more good and useful than Fernan and
Marilda, so that I call it sheer discontent and ingratitude not to
put up with them!"
"Only modernishness, my dear Wilmet. It is the spirit of the times,
and the young things can't help it."
"You don't seem to suffer in that way-—at least with Anna."
"No; Anna is a dear good girl, and Uncle Clem is her hero, but I am
very glad she has nice young companions in the Merrifields, and an
excitement in prospect in this bazaar."
"I thought a bazaar quite out of your line."
"There seems to be no other chance of saving this place from board
schools. Two thousand pounds have to be raised, and though Lord
Rotherwood and Mr. White, the chief owners of property, have done,
and will do, much, there still remains greater need than a fleeting
population like this can be expected to supply, and Clement thinks
that a bazaar is quite justifiable in such a case."
"If there is nothing undesirable," said Mrs. Harewood, in her
original "what it may lead to" voice.
"Trust Lady Merrifield and Jane Mohun for that! I am going to take
you to call upon Lilias Merrifield."
"Yea; I shall wish to see the mother of Bernard's wife."
Clement, who went with them, explained to his somewhat wondering
elder sister that he thought safeguards to Christian education so
needful, that he was quite willing that, even in this brief stay, all
the aid in their power should be given to the cause at Rockquay.
Nay, as he afterwards added to Wilmet, he was very glad to see how
much it interested Geraldine, and that the work for the Church and
the congenial friends were rousing her from her listless state of
dejection.
Lady Merrifield and Mrs. Harewood were mutually charmed, perhaps all
the more because the former was not impassioned about the bazaar.
She said she had been importuned on such subjects wherever she had
gone, and had learnt to be passive; but her sister Jane was all
eagerness, and her younger young people, as she called the present
half of her family, were in the greatest excitement over their first
experience of the kind.
"Well is it for all undertakings that there should always be somebody
to whom all is new, and who can be zealous and full of delight."
"By no means surtout point de zele," returned Geraldine.
"As well say no fermentation," said Lady Merrifield.
"A dangerous thing," said Clement.
"But sourness comes without it, or at least deadness," returned his
sister.
Wherewith they returned to talk of their common relations.
It was like a joke to the brother and sisters, that their Bernard
should be a responsible husband and father, whereas Lady Merrifield's
notion of him was as a grave, grand-looking man with a splendid
beard.
Fergus Merrifield was asked to become the protector of Adrian,
whereat he looked sheepish; but after the round of pets had been made
he informed his two youngest sisters, Valetta and Primrose, that it
was the cheekiest little fellow he had ever seen, who would never
know if he was bullied within an inch of his life; not that he
(Fergus) should let the fellows do it.
So though until Monday morning Anna was the slave of her brother,
doing her best to supply the place of the six devoted sisters at
home, the young gentleman ungratefully announced at breakfast—-
"I don't want gy-arls after me," with a peculiarly contemptuous twirl
at the beginning of the word; "Merrifield is to call for me."
Anna, who had brought down her hat, looked mortified.
"Never mind, Annie," said her uncle, "he will know better one of
these days."
"No, I shan't," said Adrian, turning round defiantly. "If she comes
bothering after me at dinner-time I shall throw my books at her—-
that's all! There's Merrifield," and he banged out of the room.
"Never mind," again said his uncle, "he has had a large dose of the
feminine element, and this is his swing out of it."
Hopes, which Anna thought cruel, were entertained by her elders that
the varlet would return somewhat crestfallen, but there were no such
symptoms; the boy re-appeared in high spirits, having been placed
well for his years, but not too well for popularity, and in the
playground he had found himself in his natural element. The boys
were mostly of his own size, or a little bigger, and bullying was not
the fashion. He had heard enough school stories to be wary of
boasting of his title, and as long as he did not flaunt it before
their eyes, it was regarded as rather a credit to the school.
Merrifield was elated at the success of his protege, and patronized
him more than he knew, accepting his devotion in a droll,
contemptuous manner, so that the pair were never willingly apart.
As Fergus slept at his aunt's during the week, the long summer
evenings afforded splendid opportunities for what Fergus called
scientific researches in the quarries and cliffs. It was as well for
Lady Vanderkist's peace of mind that she did not realize them, though
Fergus was certified by his family to be cautious and experienced
enough to be a safe guide. Perhaps people were less nervous about
sixth sons than only ones.
There was, indeed, a certain undeveloped idea held out that some of
the duplicates of Fergus's precious collection might be arranged as a
sample of the specimens of minerals and fossils of Rockquay at the
long-talked-of sale of work.
CHAPTER VIII. THE MOUSE-TRAP
If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a talent.
Love's Labour's Lost.
The young ladies were truly in an intense state of excitement about
the sale of work, especially about the authorship; and Uncle Lancelot
having promised to send an estimate, a meeting of the Mouse-trap was
convened to consider of the materials, and certainly the mass of
manuscript contributed at different times to the Mouse-trap magazine
was appalling to all but Anna, who knew what was the shrinkage in the
press.
She, however, held herself bound not to inflict on her busy uncle the
reading of anything entirely impracticable, so she sat with a stern
and critical eye as the party mustered in Miss Mohun's drawing-room,
and Gillian took the chair.
"The great design," said she impressively, "is that the Mouse-trap
should collect and print and publish a selection for the benefit of
the school."
The Mice vehemently applauded, only Miss Norton, the oldest of the
party, asked humbly—-
"Would any one think it worth buying?"
"Oh, yes," cried Valetta. "Lots of translations!"
"The Erl King, for instance," put in Dolores Mohun.
"If Anna would append the parody," suggested Gillian.
"Oh, parodies are-—are horrid," said Mysie.
"Many people feel them so," said Gillian, "but to others I think they
are almost a proof of love, that they can make sport with what they
admire so much."
"Then," said Mysie, "there's Dolores' Eruption!"
"What a nice subject," laughed Gillian. "However, it will do
beautifully, being the description of the pink terraces of that place
with the tremendous name in New Zealand."
"Were you there?" cried Anna.
"Yes. I always wonder how she can look the same after such
adventures," said Mysie.
"You know it is much the same as my father's paper in the Scientific
World," said Dolores.
"Nobody over reads that, so it won't signify," was the
uncomplimentary verdict.
"And," added Mysie, "Mr. Brownlow would do a history of Rockquay, and
that would be worth having."
"Oh yes, the dear ghost and all!" cried Valetta.
The acclamation was general, for the Reverend Armine Brownlow was the
cynosure curate of the lady Church-helpers, and Mysie produced as a
precious loan, to show what could be done, the volume containing the
choicest morceaux of the family magazine of his youth, the
Traveller's Joy, in white parchment binding adorned with clematis,
and emblazoned with the Evelyn arms on one side, the Brownlow on the
other, and full of photographs and reproductions of drawings.
"Much too costly," said the prudent.
"It was not for sale," said Mysie, obviously uneasy while it was
being handed round.
"Half-a-crown should be our outside price," said Gillian.
"Or a shilling without photographs, half-a-crown with," was added.
"Shall I ask Uncle Lance what can be done for how much?" asked Anna,
and this was accepted with acclamation, but, as Gillian observed,
they had yet got no further than Dolores' Eruption and the unwritten
history.
"There are lots of stories," said Kitty Varley; "the one about Bayard
and all the knights in Italy."
"The one," said Gillian, "where Padua got into the kingdom of Naples,
and the lady of the house lighted a lucifer match, besides the horse
who drained a goblet of red wine."
"You know that was only the pronouns," suggested the author.
"Then there's another," added Valetta, "called Monrepos-—such a
beauty, when the husband was wounded, and died at his wife's feet
just as the sun gilded the tops of the pines, and she died when the
moon set, and the little daughter went in and was found dead at their
feet."
"No, no, Val," said Gillian. "Here is a story that Bessie has sent
us-—really worth having."
"Mesa! Oh, of course," was the acclamation.
"And here's a little thing of mine," Gillian added modestly, "about
the development of the brain."
At this there was a shout.
"A little thing! Isn't it on the differential calculus?"
"Really, I don't see why Rockquay should not have a little rational
study!"
"Ah! but the present question is what Rockquay will buy; to further
future development it may be, but I am afraid their brains are not
yet developed enough," said Emma Norton.
"Well then, here is the comparison between Euripides and
Shakespeare."
"That's what you read papa and everybody to sleep with," said Valetta
pertly.
"Except Aunt Lily, and she said she had read something very like it
in Schlegel," added Dolores.
"You must not be too deep for ordinary intellects, Gillian," said
Emma Norton good-naturedly. "Surely there is that pretty history you
made out of Count Baldwin the Pretender."
"That! Oh, that is a childish concern."
"The better fitted for our understandings," said Emma, disinterring
it, and handing it over to Anna, while Mysie breathed out—-
"Oh! I did like it! And, Gill, where is Phyllis's account of the
Jubilee gaieties and procession last year?"
"That would make the fortune of any paper," said Anna.
"Yes, if Lady Rotherwood will let it be used," said Gillian. "It is
really delightful and full of fun, but I am quite sure that her name
could not appear, and I do not expect leave to use it."
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