CHAPTER XIV.

A COUNCIL OF WAR.

The two days have quickly flown, and the family have all settled down into their places in the new house, which Honor's and Molly's busy fingers have rendered not only habitable, but almost comfortable. Mrs. Merivale plaintively approves of all that has been done, but soon announces her intention of retiring to her room for the rest of the day, her nerves, she declares, being quite unequal to the ordeal of going over the house with the girls. They, poor things! have been looking forward to this pleasure.

"Never mind," whispers Doris to Honor, "we'll settle mother comfortably in her room, and then we will all go round together. What time is tea?"

"O, any time we like to have it! What time is it now, Doris?"

"Four o'clock. Well, let us have it at five; that will give us an hour to look at everything, and to get tea ready. What fun, getting tea for ourselves!"

"Yes, all very well at first," says practical Molly, as with hands clasped behind her she follows her mother and sisters upstairs. "You'll soon get tired of it, though, and other things too, when it comes to having to do them whether you like it or not."

Mrs. Merivale is almost enthusiastic--for her--over the arrangements of her bed-room, which the girls have fitted up with much loving forethought and care. There is a tiny dressing-room leading out of the large airy bed-room, into which all ablutionary arrangements have been banished; while the room itself is fitted up as half sitting-, half bed-room.

The tears came into the poor woman's eyes as, looking round the room, she recognizes certain little nick-nacks, which, though valueless in themselves, are from old associations worth much to their owner. Even Honor thought there could be no possible harm in collecting these little possessions when packing for her mother; and so there are a few favourite books, some pretty photograph-frames, a work-basket, and other little trifles, which give the room a cheery and home-like appearance. Although the furniture is of the plainest description, the room is brightened up and made pretty with dainty muslin draperies; and the really warm carpet and the thick curtains at the windows give an air of comfort at once. Indeed the room presents a marked contrast to those of the girls, with their little strips of carpet and curtainless windows, and only what is absolutely necessary in the way of furniture.

Having left their mother comfortably settled in her easy-chair, the girls and boys all go off on a tour of inspection round the house, both inside and out, Honor and Molly proudly doing the honours.

"These are no vagrant fowls, bought anywhere, allow me to inform you," says Molly as the party approach the hen-house; "they came, every one of them, from the Mortons' own farm at Oakleigh. Don't you recognize Mr. Pincher? A rare lot of trouble he gave the boys the other day; but he has settled down pretty well now, I think."

Daisy especially is delighted with this addition to the establishment, and asks anxiously if she may take the fowls into her own care. She and Doris, indeed, are both enraptured with all the arrangements. So far from feeling any dismay at the prospect of living a totally different life from that to which they have been accustomed from infancy, their spirits rise, and with the hopefulness and love of change which are invariably found in youth, they all seem to look forward to their new life with real pleasure, which is only damped when they think of the kind and dear father, still so sorely missed by all at times.

"After all, I think it will be really jolly living in a small house," remarks Dick, following the girls into the house again. "One won't be able to roam about wondering which room to go into; which will be rather a relief, to _my_ mind. There is the dining-room, and the drawing-room, and if they won't do, why, one can just sit on the stairs!"

Unanimous approval of these sentiments is expressed; but as they come to the end of their peregrinations round the house Doris suddenly becomes grave, and putting her arm within Honor's as they turn into the sitting-room for tea, she says:

"Honor, my girl, we must have a good long talk together very soon. I've no end of messages from aunt, and if I don't deliver them at once I shall forget half. Shall we hold a council of war when the children have gone to bed to-night?"

Here Dick begs to be informed if he is expected to consider himself one of "the children" referred to; but being reassured on this point, renews his attack on the bread-and-butter with unruffled composure, while his sisters continue their conversation.

A few hours later Honor looks into the room where Doris is on her knees before a large trunk, busily unpacking, and says softly, Daisy being asleep:

"Let us go down, Doris, dear, and have our chat. The fire is out in the sitting-room, but there's a splendid one in the kitchen, and Jane won't be there, for mother, feeling a little nervous, said she would like her to sit beside her with her work. I left Dick and Molly roasting apples," she adds, "so if we want to have any we had better look sharp, I expect."

In a few minutes the four young people are comfortably settled round the fire, Honor in state in the only available chair, the second one being occupied by Timothy. Doris, having extracted from Molly a solemn assurance that there is no such thing as a beetle (black) in the house, establishes herself on the corner of the large kitchen-fender, while Molly occupies the opposite one, and Dick perches himself on the table, within easy reach of the plate of apples.

"Well now, to begin," says Doris, "aunt sent her love, and she was very glad indeed that you were able to make her cheque do, because, she says, it shows you _must_ have some ideas of management; and you know what _that_ means with aunt, and she considers it augurs well for the future. She says, too, that she thinks we ought to manage now, with the sum we have yearly, and what we may be able to earn--for of course I told her, girls, that we should all turn to and do _something_,--though goodness knows what _I_ am fit for!" Doris gloomily adds, "However, that's neither here nor there. What was I saying? Oh yes, about the money! Aunt says--what is, of course, very true--that she has given us a fair start, and that, unless any dire calamity should fall upon us, we must not expect her to do anything more, as she would not like to ask uncle again for a long time. She wants you to write, Honor, and tell her everything--what we decide on trying to do, and all that sort of thing, you know; and she implored me not to forget to ask what wages you are paying Jane; because, she says, we have no business to keep an expensive servant. We ought to have some strong girl from the village to do the rough work, and manage all the rest--cooking and all, mind--among us. Well, now wait a minute"--for here Molly shows signs of breaking into the conversation,--"I haven't half finished yet! Aunt has been talking to me about mother, as well. She has had her own doctor to see her; and he says that this shock and trouble have really brought her into a very low and delicate state of health. You know, Honor, aunt _used_ not to have a spark of patience with mother's nervous attacks, and headaches, and so on; but she quite astonished me the other day by suddenly taking hold of my arm and saying: 'Doris, your mother now is really what she has fancied herself for years past--she is a delicate woman, and if you and the others are not careful she will become a confirmed invalid. You are not a child now, and I can speak openly to both you and Honor, I think." And then aunt went on to say plainly that it is not in mother's power--she is sure--to take the management of affairs now; and that _we_ must take all the trouble and worry on our own shoulders, and not bother her about money and so on. 'Let her keep quiet, child,' aunt said, 'and give her little bits of work to do--she likes needle-work, you know; and you girls must learn to do for yourselves; it will be a good lesson for you before you get husbands and homes of your own, if you ever do'" (here Dick laughs softly and derisively), "'and,'" proceeds Doris with dignity, "'your husbands will thank their stars that they have got wives who can do something besides eat and sleep, and dress and make calls!' There--I think I've said everything now; so you can all talk away as much as you please; I am going to eat apples!"

A slight scuffle here ensues between Doris and Dick, both of whom have made a simultaneous dash at the largest apple.

Order being restored, Honor begins to unfold the plans which she and Molly have been making--namely, that she herself means to try and turn her talent for painting to account; while Molly, after many misgivings as to her competency to do so, has made up her mind to try and get pupils for music.

"How do you mean to set about it?" inquires Doris, not without a certain spice of incredulity in her voice.

"Oh, we've settled that--Honor and I!" answers Molly, stirring the fire energetically. "We have the nicest landlords--the dearest old fellows in the world--and they are most anxious to do anything for us that we will let them do. In fact," concludes Molly, "they would jump over the moon, willingly, I am sure, if they thought it would do us the least little bit of good!"

"Molly!" exclaims Honor. "But she is right, to a certain extent; they are the _kindest_ old gentlemen. And they knew father at school, you know, only as quite a small boy; but they make so much of this, and have been, oh, so kind to us! We must take Doris and Daisy to see them, Molly. We promised we would; they are most anxious to make your acquaintance."

"When you have quite finished, Honor, I'll go on with what _I_ was saying," says Molly in an aggrieved tone; adding, "We mean, Doris, to consult these old gentlemen. They know every one about the place, of course; and surely there must be some children wanting the very superior musical education that _I_ can give them--a-hem! Then they are already tremendous admirers of Honor's drawings; I saw them nodding their old heads over that little village scene of hers the other day, and Mr. Ned said, 'Excellent! admirable! so true to nature--is it not, Brother Ben?' And Brother Ben answered, 'Surely! surely!' as he always does, you know."

"It's all very well for you, girls," suddenly breaks in Dick, who, having finished the last apple, finds leisure now for putting in a word, "but no one seems to consider _me_ in any way. I suppose _I_ should like to do something to help also."

"Well, so you can. There will be heaps of things to do about the house that you could easily manage; and that would be really a help," says Doris.

"I don't mean that sort of thing," answers the boy testily. "If you girls are going to work and make money, I must say I should like to do the same. And I would too--only the worst of it is I haven't half finished my schooling yet;" and Dick breaks off with a sigh.

"Poor Dick'" says Honor, taking his hand in hers, "I have been thinking so much about that, and what is best to be done. Bobby's and Daisy's education we can easily carry on among us, and I shall keep Molly up to her French, and teach her the little German I know; but what we are to do about Dick, I don't know, girls. I do know a good bit of Latin, but I daresay he knows as much as I do. Oh, how I wish Uncle John had offered to keep him at Marlborough--if only for another year! he might have done much in that time."

"Well, don't you worry about me, girls," says the boy, looking up with a flushed face; "I daresay I shall get along somehow."

"Well now," says Doris, "I want to know all about the Horton boys. Were they really of much use in the moving? and is Hugh reading hard now? Oh, and that reminds me!" she cries, without waiting for answers to her questions, "Colonel and Mrs. Danvers called while we were at aunt's to say good-bye; they start for India in a week's time. The colonel told me to tell you both how sorry he is not to see you before leaving; and he begged me to say to you especially, Molly, that if Hugh is ordered to the same part of the country when he goes out he will keep an eye on him."

Molly, with a lingering remembrance of "the maiden-all-forlorn" episode, tosses her head with a slightly heightened colour, but takes no notice of the message otherwise. There is rather a long pause; then Doris, clasping her hands behind her head and leaning back against Honor's knees, says:

"How good every one has been to us in all this trouble! If it were not for the loss of dear father, the rest would have been almost worth going through if only for those proofs of real friendship which have been shown us--by Sir Peter and others--to say nothing of aunt's and Uncle John's kindness in starting us afresh."

"Yes," says Honor musingly, "we have indeed been fortunate. Who would have thought that the dear old piano would ever he ours again! and how glad dear father would be if he could know that some of his favourite pictures were hanging on these walls! That was such a kind thought of Colonel Danvers."

"Yes; it touched mother very much; and so did the Hortons' kindness--I don't know what you girls would have done without them. It's all very well for people to talk about the world being hard and cold; but to _my_ thinking it's a very pleasant world, with lots of kind-hearted people in it."

Molly shakes her head dubiously.

"It has certainly been the case so far," she says, "but we don't know what is in store for us; we are none of us very old yet!"

"Well, you _are_ a Job's comforter!" cries Doris, getting up and shaking herself. "I think after that we had all better shut up and retire to bed--don't you, Honor? We had better get all the sleep and strength we can before we are all hurled into this sea of trouble which Molly apparently descries looming in the distance! Hallo! here's Dick asleep! Wake up, my boy, wake up!--we're all off to bed!" and Doris administers sundry little sisterly pullings and pinchings, which eventually arouse Dick sufficiently to enable him lazily to follow his sisters up the stairs to bed.