Red Rose and Tiger Lily | Page 8

him, and, in short, to
try to take my mother's place."
"Eh, dear, we all know that," replied nurse, "and a sweeter young
mistress there couldn't be. Why, there isn't a servant in the house who

wouldn't do anything in the world for you, Miss Hetty; and everything
in apple-pie order, and the meals served regular and beautiful, and
inside and out perfect order, and all because there's an old head on
young shoulders. There, perhaps it isn't a compliment I'm paying you,
my dearie, but in one sense it is."
"Do you really think I manage well?" asked the girl, an anxious tone in
her voice.
"Manage well? You manage beautiful. Your own mother, if she were
alive, couldn't do better."
"I can never forget my mother," replied Hester, tears rising to her eyes.
"Well, nurse, you will be very careful what you say to Nan. The object
of my life is to make my father happy. If I can do that, I am content."
"You do, you do," replied the old woman. "No mortal can do more than
their best, and you do that. Now, good-night, Miss Hester."
Hester took up her candle and went away. Nurse stood and watched the
pretty young figure as it disappeared down the corridor.
"There," she said to herself as she began to prepare for her own bed.
"There's another victim. Don't I know what my mistress was, and don't
I know that Sir John's coldness and sharpness and no-heartedness just
hurried her into her grave? Never a bit of real hearty love could he give
to anyone. Just as just could be--righteous as righteous could be, but
hard as a flint. My mistress drooped and faded and died, and Miss
Hester will follow in her footsteps if I don't look after her. Sometimes I
wish the master would marry again, and that he'd get a tartar of a wife.
He might think of another wife if things were a bit uncomfortable here,
but that they never will be while Miss Hetty is at the helm. She's a born
manager, bless her, with her gentle ways and her firm words and her
pretty little dignity. Miss Nan's business in life, it seems to me, is to set
places all in a muddle, and Miss Hetty's to smooth them out again. Of
course it's due to Miss Hetty to be mistress of the Grange, but
sometimes I fear the life is too much for her, and she'll fret and fade
like her mother before her; if I really thought that, I'd set my wits to

work, old as I am, to get a real selfish wife for the master, who'd teach
him a thing or two, for that's what he wants."
At this stage in her meditations, nurse laid her head on her pillow and
was soon fast asleep.
The next morning promised a perfect day, and Hester, Annie, and Nan
met in high spirits in the breakfast-room. The post had not yet arrived,
but a letter was lying on Hester's plate.
"That's in dad's writing," said Nan, going up and examining it critically;
"now what's up?"
Hester took the letter and opened it. It contained a few brief words. She
read them with a sinking of heart which she could not account for--
"MY DEAR HETTY,--Your young companions will make the house
quite gay for you. I shall, therefore, take the opportunity of going from
home for a few days. I will send you a line to let you know when you
may expect me back.--Your affectionate father, JOHN THORNTON.
"P.S.--I shall have left before you are down in the morning. Give my
love to Nan, and wish Miss Forest good-bye for me. By the way, she is
interested in Australia, so will you show her where Henry Kingsley's
novels are to be found in the library?"
Nan, who had been peeping over Hester's shoulder while she was
reading, now suddenly clapped her hands, shouted "hurrah" at the top
of her voice, and, running up to Annie, began to waltz round and round
the breakfast-table with her.
"Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, "then little girls may be heard as well as seen.
Annie, there are two proverbs which are the bane of my life. I wonder
dad has not had them both illuminated and framed and hung up in my
nursery. One of them is: 'Little girls should be seen and not heard.'
What a detestable old prig the person must have been who invented that
proverb! I ask you, Annie, what would life be without little girls and
their chatter? The other proverb is nearly as objectionable. This is it:

'Make a page of your own age.' According to dad, that only applies to
little girls, and it means that they must always be fagging