Aunt Mary | Page 2

well
off, and could have sent her daughter Clara to a first-rate school, had
she been so disposed. Mrs. Beaumont, however, knew too well the
benefit her child was likely to derive from the real education she would
receive from her sister Mary, to hesitate for a moment as to putting her
under that lady's exclusive care; and thus at the same time that Oak
Villa received Mrs. Maitland's two little girls, Annie and Dora, it
became also the pleasant home of Clara Beaumont, who although she
was the youngest of the trio, was certainly the most seriously disposed;
perhaps, poor child, on account of the loss of her dear papa, who had

died very unexpectedly, in the prime of life, from neglected cold, which
terminated in acute bronchitis. This, though it had occurred six months
previous to Clara's advent at Oak Villa, was an event still deeply felt
and lamented by the sensitive child, and produced a seriousness of
character seldom seen in children of her age; but the change was likely
to prove very beneficial both to her health and spirits, and it was not
long before Aunt Mary saw, with much pleasure, that her niece gladly
entered upon her studies, and appeared very desirous to overtake her
young companions in their several lessons, which, as she was
exceedingly industrious, she was very likely to do before many weeks
had passed away.
We must now, however, look after Aunt Mary's second sister, Mrs.
Ellis, whose eldest daughter, Mabel, was only a few months older than
Clara Beaumont, but whose character at this time was as unlike that of
her young cousin as could possibly be imagined, which the reader will
soon perceive when we introduce her in the next chapter, associated as
she will be with the gentle and amiable daughters of Mrs. Maitland,
who, together with her niece Clara, had been Aunt Mary's pupils for
some months, though at present it was holiday-time.
CHAPTER II.
A GREAT DISAPPOINTMENT.
'Mamma dear,' said Dora Maitland, the eldest of that lady's two
daughters, a sweet gentle-looking girl about twelve years of age, 'may
Annie and I go and ask Mabel and Julia Ellis to take a walk with us this
afternoon? We are going to see John Hutton's beehives; he has got
some new glass ones, and he says it is so interesting to watch the little
creatures at work. I am sure we should all like to see them, and I do so
wish that Clara was here, to go with us, she is such a dear girl.'
While this request was making, Dora's younger sister, Annie, stood
looking with beseeching eyes at mamma, evidently very anxious for
that lady's reply, which was not immediately given, for Mrs. Maitland
was apparently debating in her own mind whether it were desirable, or

not, to attend to Dora's request.
'May we, mamma?' urged the young pleader timidly. 'You are not
afraid to let us go, are you?' she inquired.
'Oh no, not afraid,' replied Mrs. Maitland; 'at least, not afraid of your
going alone; but what I am afraid of is, that it may be inconvenient to
Mrs. Ellis to let your young friends accompany you, as at present I
know that their nurse is away, and--and she herself is not at all well.'
'Then do you think, mamma, that we may ask Julia to go with us? We
like her best, and Mabel could stay at home and take care of the
children, as she is the eldest.'
'Not a bad suggestion, my dear Dora,' replied her mother, 'only I fear
there would be some objection on Mabel's part to such an arrangement.
From what I have observed in that young lady,' continued Mrs.
Maitland, 'she is not very loving, nor very tractable, and I fear she has
been spoiled by over indulgence. However, if you will promise not to
press the matter, should you see that it is likely to be inconvenient to
Mrs. Ellis, you may go; it is a lovely afternoon, and I hope you will
enjoy yourselves.'
With light hearts and buoyant footsteps, the two fair girls set off on
their errand of inquiry to Camden Terrace, where Mr. Ellis resided,
meeting with a very kind reception from Mrs. Ellis, and a joyful
greeting from Mabel and Julia, who, to say the truth, were getting
rather tired of the monotony of home, especially as, the nursemaid
being away for a fortnight, and mamma not being well, they were under
the necessity of taking care of the children, if care it could be called,
where neither love nor forbearance were in exercise; but the little ones
were only prevented from doing mischief, or hurting each other.
As the engagements of Mr. Ellis kept him from home all day, he