Black, White and Gray | Page 7

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, and a very pure white complexion, with hardly a tinge of colour; and, as she ran forward to kiss her little brown-faced cousins, she was a great contrast to them in every way. Her dress, which was prettily made and fanciful, and her gleaming bronze shoes added to this; for Dennis and his sister seldom wore anything but serge or holland, and their boots were of strong country make, which made their feet look rather clumsy.
"If the children must wear such thick boots, Katharine," Mrs Trevor often said, "you might at least have them made to fit. It gives them the air of little clodhoppers."
But Miss Chester went her own way, and Aunt Trevor's objections had no effect on her arrangements.
"Ask if we may