"Oh, I had forgotten your brother! Perhaps you will not like to leave the Moat House whilst he is here?"
"Oh, I shall not mind." Celia blushed as she caught her companion's glance of surprise. "Of course I am looking forward to seeing him," she explained, hastily, "but he and Joy spend most of their time together during the holidays."
"Sir Jasper has not seen him yet, has he?" Lulu questioned. "Perhaps he will make him his heir," she added, after Celia had replied in the negative.
"His heir?" Celia repeated. "Did you know Uncle Jasper's son?" she inquired, presently.
"I never spoke to him, but I used to see him a T— sometimes, driving in the town, when he was visiting his father. His was a dreadful death, wasn't it?"
"I never heard how he died. I suppose mother knows, but she has not told us, and I never thought of asking her."
"He was drowned."
"Drowned? How dreadful!"
"Yes, and especially as his body was never found."
"How did it happen?"
"He went for a walking tour with a friend, a gentleman from London, a barrister like himself, and whilst they were going along a cliff path somewhere in Cornwall, Mr. Amery tripped, and fell right over the cliff into the sea. The tide was going out at the time, and his body was never found."
"Oh, poor fellow!" Celia cried. "And poor Uncle Jasper!" she added sympathetically; "no wonder he looks so sad sometimes."
"He is much brighter than he was before you all came here," Lulu said. "He seems very fond of your mother, doesn't he? I don't wonder, for she has such pleasant manners. Oh, don't you know what I mean? She doesn't rub me the wrong way like Miss Pring does. I believe Miss Pring thinks me a dreadful girl. And when she begins to moralise with me, she aggravates me to such an extent, that I just say the first thing I can think of that I know will shock her."
"Oh, what a shame!" Celia cried, but she could not help laughing. "I don't care for Miss Pring myself, but Joy likes her, and Miss Mary thinks there is no one so good as her aunt. I believe she is very kind; but, did you ever see anyone dress with less taste?"
"Never," Lulu admitted. The conversation having once more turned upon dress, she told Celia of the various costumes she had at home.
"Does your father let you wear what you like?" Celia asked.
"Yes. I always choose my own frocks. Don't you?"
"No."
"It's a shame you can't have nicer clothes!" Lulu said; adding with frank admiration, "And you are so very pretty, you know!"
"Oh," cried Celia, her fair face aflame with blushes, "you mustn't flatter me like that!" But she was very pleased, in spite of her words of reproof, for she was a vain little girl at heart.
CHAPTER VIII. LEFT OUT IN THE COLD.
MRS. WALLIS was far from being desirous that Lulu Tillotson should become very friendly with her young daughters; but, when the lawyer, before bidding her farewell on Monday morning, besought her very earnestly to allow Celia and Joy to spend the following Saturday at his house at T—, she hardly knew how to decline his invitation; and whilst she was hesitating, Sir Jasper interposed, and said it would be a pleasant change for the children.
"You know, my dear Margaret, the carriage is always at your disposal, so there will be no difficulty about sending or fetching the young people," he remarked; "let them go, by all means."
After that Mrs. Wallis saw no course open for her but to accept the invitation, though she did so with some misgivings. She did not dislike Lulu, and was sincerely sorry for the motherless girl; but she much feared she was not a good friend for Celia, for whom she evinced great partiality.
"I would as soon stay at home as go," remarked to her sister as she was getting ready to start for the drive to T— on Saturday morning. "I don't believe Lulu Tillotson wants me, she only asked her father to invite me on your account."
"Don't be silly!" Celia retorted. "You had a lot of friends at school, and I had none, but now Lulu and I are friends you don't like it. You must be jealous."
"Oh, Celia, how can you think that!" Joy cried, reproachfully. There was sufficient truth in her sister's speech, however, to make her pause and reflect. "I only meant that two's company and three's none," she proceeded, after a short silence. "I don't think I am jealous of Lulu; I hope not, but I know you and she will be so wrapped up in each other that I shall be out in the cold."
This actually proved to be the case, for the moment Sir Jasper Amery's carriage drew up before the lawyer's house and the two girls stepped out, Lulu, who had been anxiously awaiting their arrival, appeared on the doorstep and took possession of Celia at once.
"Come up to my bedroom and take off your hat," she said; then turning to Joy she added, apparently as an after-thought: "And you too, Joy."
The lawyer's house was comfortably furnished, regardless of expense, and Lulu's room was as fresh and dainty an apartment as any little girl could wish to call her own, with its suite of white enamelled furniture, and its brass-mounted, white-curtained bed. The window looked out into the main street of the busy town, and Saturday being market day at T— there were many people about, mostly farmers and their wives and daughters. Joy watched the pedestrians passing to and fro, whilst Lulu disclosed the contents of her set of drawers and wardrobe, which she evidently considered a mode of entertainment, for Celia's benefit.
Many were Celia's exclamations of gratification as she turned over Lulu's numerous possessions; but she shook her head when Lulu would have made her a present of a turquoise brooch which she had particularly admired. "No, no, I can't take it, but thank you so much for wishing to give it to me," Celia cried, gratefully. "It is a lovely brooch; but I am certain mother would not like me to accept such a valuable present."
"Oh, you must have it, Celia! These blue stones are the very colour to suit you. Surely Mrs. Wallis would not mind your taking it when I so much wish you to have it? Let me pin it in your frock, and then you will see how it looks."
This was done, and Celia surveyed herself in a looking-glass. Lulu was right; she thought the brooch with its blue stones certainly suited her fair complexion. She longed to keep it, but she knew her mother would not approve of her doing so; therefore, she shook her head more decidedly than she had done before, and unfastening the brooch, handed it back to Lulu. "It is very kind and generous of you to wish to give it to me," she said with a sigh, "but I must not take it, really. Mother would not like me to do so, would she, Joy?"
"No, she would not," Joy agreed, decidedly. "I think if you took it she'd most probably make you return it," she added, bluntly.
Lulu looked really disappointed, for she had set her heart on making a present of the brooch to her new friend; but she now put it away without another word. She was not so disappointed as Celia, though.
When Lulu had exhibited all her treasures, she took her visitors into the drawing-room, which was upstairs, as most of the lower rooms of the house were given up to offices; she explained that she was always trying to induce her father to take a private house in the suburbs of the town, but he would not.
"He says perhaps he will when I leave school," she told her companions, "but that won't be for ages. That's my mother's likeness over the mantelpiece."
It was an enlarged photograph of quite a young girl with a happy-looking countenance, which bore some slight resemblance to Lulu's.
"How very young she looks!" Celia exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes; she was only nineteen when she died," Lulu replied. "Do you think I am at all like her? Father says I am, sometimes." Then, without waiting for a reply to her question, she continued: "Do you know, father declared the other day that occasionally I appear older to him than my mother when he married her."
"How strange!" cried Joy, her eyes still examining the photograph of the late Mrs. Tillotson.
"He was cross with me when he said it," Lulu confessed, "and he isn't often that. He had caught me reading a book he didn't approve of, and he said he didn't know what the children of this generation were coming to. I am sure it was a very nice book."
"What was it?" Celia asked, curiously.
"It was called 'Lady Isabella's Treachery,' a most exciting story about a nobleman's wife who stole some jewels, and put the blame off on someone else. One of the servants lent it to me, and father made me give it back to her; but I borrowed it again, and finished reading it after all. You would enjoy it, Celia. It is so interesting. Father said himself there was no real harm in it," she proceeded, hurriedly, as she noticed both her hearers looked surprised, and more than a little shocked; "he said it was mere trash, but it was most exciting, and a I'd rather read a story like that than the books he would like to see me with—Sir Walter Scott's novels, for instance."
"Joy thinks Sir Walter Scott's novels are splendid," Celia said with a smile, "but I find them rather dull myself."
Being market day, Mr. Tillotson was very busy, and had no time to devote to his daughter's visitors; but at dinner he suggested that Lulu should take them for a walk, and show them the town; so a little later in the afternoon they put on their hats and sallied forth into the street.
Celia and Lulu had so much to say to each other that Joy was quite left to herself, and began to feel aggrieved. She followed her companions from shop to shop, and waited patiently whilst they remarked on the goods in the windows, and discussed the fashions; but the time dragged for her, and the afternoon seemed interminable. They visited the market, where Joy found some amusement in watching the farmer's wives and daughters gossiping behind their stalls; but they did not remain there long, and returned to the shop windows.
Joy was rejoiced when their walk was over, for she had never been so utterly ignored in her life before, and was really very indignant. Mr. Tillotson was not present at tea-time; but he came from his office when Sir Jasper's carriage arrived to take the little girls back to the Moat House, and shook hands with them very cordially in the hall.
"I hope you have spent a pleasant day," he said, in his quiet, serious way, his eyes resting first on Celia's smiling face then on Joy's, which was graver than usual.
"Oh, yes! We have had such a happy time!" Celia answered. "I don't know when I have enjoyed a day so much."
He escorted them to the carriage, telling them they must come again soon, whilst Lulu stood on the doorstep, and waved her hand in farewell.
Joy nodded and smiled at Mr. Tillotson as the carriage was driven away, but she never glanced at Lulu.
For a while there was silence between the sisters; but Joy, her heart swelling with indignation, was too angry to keep silence long, and presently she burst forth:
"How I dislike that Lulu Tillotson! I will never spend a day with her again—not if she asks me a hundred times. If Mr. Tillotson invites us, you may go, but I will not—and so I shall tell mother."
"What's the matter, Joy?" Celia asked, apparently very surprised.
"As though you do not know! But you are as bad as Lulu. You took no notice of me all the afternoon. You never spoke to me once, or thought of asking if it was fun for me to be looking at the fashions in the drapers' windows. You were so wrapped up in that silly, frivolous girl, who is just like a dressed up doll, that you thought of no one else."
Joy's quick temper was now at its height. Celia knew from experience that it would soon begin to cool, so she remained silent, her conscience not quite easy.
"I don't think Lulu is a nice girl at all," Joy proceeded; "you heard what she said about reading that book her father didn't wish her to read? She didn't mind disobeying him. I am sure mother would think that was very wrong."
"Oh, surely you are not going to tell tales about poor Lulu!" Celia cried, reproachfully. "That would be a mean thing to do. Whatever you may think of her, you ought to remember we have been her guests, and that should keep you from running out against her. And you must not blame her for not talking as much to you as to me. You don't care for the same things as she does. Why, when she was showing us her clothes you were not a bit interested, but sat looking out of the window all the while! I am sure she has not the least idea she has displeased you. Don't be foolish and resentful, Joy, for it is not worth while. We may not see Lulu again for ages."
"I hope not," Joy answered; "the less I see of her the better I shall be pleased."
"I don't think she's a bad-hearted girl," Celia said, reflectively. "See how she wanted me to take that turquoise brooch. She must be very lonely sometimes, I expect, with only the housekeeper and the servants to speak to. She says that often her father remains in his office till late at night. Don't be too hard on her."
"Well, I won't," Joy said, her face clearing, "for, after all, if she was rude to me, I daresay it was because she knew no better. Perhaps if her mother had lived she would have been different," and her heart softened, as she spoke, towards the motherless girl.
"You won't complain about Lulu to mother, will you?" Celia asked, presently, in coaxing tone.
"No, I won't."
Celia heaved a sigh of relief. She realized that Joy had just cause to be indignant at the indifferent manner in which Lulu had treated her; but, at the same time, she was conscious that she herself had been at fault for not including her sister in the conversation, as she might have done. Flattered by Lulu's preference for her society, she had no desire to share her friendship with Joy. She was not blind to Lulu's faults; but she was glamoured by her fine clothes and personal possessions, and longed to be as well off with this world's goods as the lawyer's daughter, who had only, so it seemed to her, to wish, to have. Although she had said they might not see Lulu again for ages, yet she had been making plans with her as to how and when they should meet again. The Moat House, being only two miles from T—, was within walking distance of that town, and Lulu had declared her intention of accompanying her father when he paid Sir Jasper the calls he frequently made during the summer evenings, after office hours.
