Black, White and Gray | Page 7

she was tucked in again beside Dennis; "Mrs Broadbent doesn't
like cats, and she looked quite cross when I asked her, but I think that

was because Aunt Katharine didn't like Lilian's poker-work frame."
Haughton Park, towards which Jack and Jill were now quickly making
their way, was about four miles from Fieldside, and just outside the
little town of Upwell. It was a large house, standing in a park of some
extent, and was built in what was called the Italian style, with terraces
in front of it, and stone balustrades, and urns and vases wherever they
could be put. Inside, the rooms were very large and lofty, and there was
a great hall with marble pillars, and a huge staircase with statues in
niches all the way up. Perhaps from some association with the sound of
the name, Maisie always thought it was a proud cold house, which
could not stoop to notice any one who came in and out of its doors, and
did not mind whether they went or stayed. Yet, from its very unlikeness
to Fieldside, it had a certain fascination for her, and she could not help
admiring it.
Here, in lonely grandeur, lived Aunt Katharine's widowed sister, Mrs
Trevor, with her daughter Philippa, who was just ten years old. Mrs
Trevor had always wondered why her brother, Captain Chester, had not
sent Dennis and Maisie to Haughton to be educated with Philippa.
Surely nothing could have been more suitable or better for the children!
But by some extraordinary blindness, he had passed over his elder
sister and all her possessions, and chosen Katharine as their guardian
until his return from India. When he did return, thought Mrs Trevor, he
would see what a mistake he had made; even now, if he knew what odd
ideas Katharine had, and how she allowed the children to run wild, and
associate with the villagers, he would regret his choice--but it was no
affair of hers. Nevertheless, it always gave her a sense of injury to see
Dennis and Maisie with their Aunt Katharine. It was not that she envied
her the charge of them, for she was, or fancied she was, somewhat of an
invalid, and would have disliked the trouble. But she felt she had been
slighted when the children were sent to Fieldside, and a slight was a
thing she could not forget.
Mrs Trevor received her visitors this morning in her boudoir, and rose
to greet them languidly from her low chair--a tall elegant figure, in soft
clinging robes. The room was full of the heavy scent of hyacinths, and

warm with the spring sunshine and a bright fire. As Aunt Katharine
entered with her usual alert step, she seemed to bring a great deal of
cold air and life into it from the outside world. The children followed
her rather shyly.
"Here we are, you see," she said, in her loud, cheerful voice. "How are
you, Helen? You look rather white."
"I am suffering from my old enemy to-day," replied Mrs Trevor, with a
forced smile; "my head is very painful."
"Ah," said Aunt Katharine, pulling off her gloves briskly, "a little fresh
air is the best cure for that. To be shut up in this warm room with all
those flowers is enough to poison you. Wouldn't you like a window
open?"
"Pray, Katharine!" exclaimed Mrs Trevor, putting up her hand with a
shudder; "the very idea destroys me. It is an east wind. Warmth and rest
are the only cure." She put up her double eye-glasses, and looked at
Dennis and Maisie. "Did you drive over? How are the children?"
"As jolly as possible," said Aunt Katharine. She stood on the hearthrug,
flapping her gloves against one hand. Maisie always thought that her
aunt wore shorter skirts, rougher tweed dresses, and stouter boots when
she came to Haughton, than at any other time. Also, she seemed to
speak louder, and to look rosier and broader altogether. Perhaps this
only seemed to be so, because Aunt Trevor's skin was so fair, and her
voice so gentle, and because she wore such graceful soft gowns, and
such tiny satin slippers. Maisie was very fond of Aunt Katharine, but
she admired Aunt Trevor's appearance immensely, and always gazed at
her as though she were a picture hanging on the wall. Dennis did not
share in this. He fidgeted about in his chair, fingered the things in his
pockets, hoped it would soon be time for luncheon, and wondered
whether he and Maisie would be allowed to go out first.
"Ah, here is Philippa!" said Aunt Katharine.
A little girl of about Maisie's age--but so much taller and slighter that

she looked a great deal older--came into the room. She had rather long
features, a pointed chin,