A Girl in Ten Thousand | Page 3

had sung to her long ago, his wide-open eyes closed, and he sank off into peaceful slumber.
When she saw that he was quite sound asleep, Effie put him in his cot, drew the cot near the crib where Philip, a dark-eyed little boy of five, lay, and bending down to kiss Phil, said:
"You are to be baby's nurse until Susan comes up; if he wakes or begins to cry, just pat him on his back. I am most anxious that mother should have a quiet time; she is just worn out, and if she hears baby cry she is certain to send for him. Now, Phil, you are a very clever little man when you like--I trust to you to keep baby from crying until Susan comes back!"
"'Es, that I will," replied Phil, in a voice of intense importance. "I do love 'ou, Effie," he said.
Effie kissed him, and softly left the room. She ran downstairs, and began to help the servant to lay supper.
No one could look more bright than Effie as she performed the thousand and one duties which fell to her lot in this poor home. Dr. Staunton was poor, there were six children, Effie was the eldest daughter; it needs no more words to explain her exact position. From morning to night Effie was busy, very busy, doing what she herself called nothing. She was getting discontented with her life. A feeling of discontent had stolen over her ever since her eldest brother George had gone to London, to help his uncle in a large warehouse. For months the dream of her life was to give up the little duties near at hand, and to take some great duties which nobody wanted her to do, far away from home. She was quite prepared for the advice which her friend Dorothy Fraser, who lived all the year round in London, and only came home for the holidays to Whittingham, was able to give her. Effie's conscience was not in the least pricked at the thought of leaving her mother--it seemed to her quite right. "Had she not to make the most of her youth? Why should she spend all her young days in looking after the children, and making things tolerable for her father and mother?"
These thoughts kept swiftly passing through her brain, as she noiselessly laid the table and made it look charming and pretty. When all was done, she took up a little frock of one of the children's, and, sitting down by the window, began to work. Her pretty dark head was bent over her task; her thick curling lashes lay heavy on her rounded cheek. Mrs. Staunton, who had been having a doze on the sofa, started up now and looked at her.
"Oh, Effie dear, I have had such a nice sleep," she said, with a little sigh; "I am ever so much the better for it. But what have you done with baby?"
"I have put him to sleep, mother; he is in his cot now, as comfortable as possible."
"How good of you, Effie! What a comfort you are to me!"
Effie smiled. "I think I hear father coming in," she said, "and supper is quite ready."
Mrs. Staunton started up from the sofa; she pushed back her tumbled hair, and shook out her somewhat untidy dress.
"Now let me make you trim," said Effie.
She ran over to her parent, put back her gray hair with an affectionate little touch, and then kissed her mother on her flushed cheeks.
"You look better for your nice sleep, mother," she said.
"So I am, darling, and for your loving care," replied Mrs. Staunton.
Her husband came into the room, and she took her place before the tea-tray.
Supper at the Stauntons' was a nondescript sort of meal. It consisted of meat and vegetables, and tea and cakes and puddings, all placed on the table together. It was the one hearty meal Dr. Staunton allowed himself in the twenty-four hours. At the children's early dinner he only snatched a little bread and cheese, but at peaceful seven o'clock the children were in bed, the house was quiet, the toil of the day was supposed to be over, and Dr. Staunton could eat heartily and enjoy himself. It was at this hour he used to notice how very pretty Effie looked, and how sweet it was to see her sitting like a little mouse on one side of the table, helping him and his wife in her affectionate way, and seeing to the comforts of all. It did not occur to him as even possible that Effie could carry such a dreadful thing as rebellion in her heart. No face could look more perfectly happy than hers. Was it possible that she was pining for a wider field of usefulness than the little niche