The Heart of Una Sackville | Page 3

her temper.

I really must go to bed--Lorna keeps calling and calling--and Florence
is crying still--I can hear her sniffing beneath the clothes. We shall be
perfect wrecks in the morning, and mother won't like it if I go home a
fright. Heigho! the very last night in this dear old room! I hate the last
of anything--even nasty things--and except when we've quarrelled
we've had jolly times. It's awful to think I shall never be a school-girl
any more! I don't believe I shall sleep a wink all night. I feel wretched.
PS--Fancy calling me pretty! I'm so pleased. I shall look nicer still in
my new home clothes.
CHAPTER TWO.
Bed-time; my own room. May 14th. It is different from school! My
room is simply sweet, all newly done up as a surprise for me on my
return. White paint and blue walls, and little bookcases in the corners,
and comfy chairs and cushions, and a writing-table, and such lovely
artistic curtains--dragons making faces at fleur-de-lys on a dull blue
background. I'm awfully well off, and they are all so good to me, I
ought to be the happiest girl in the world, but I feel sort of achey and
strange, and a little bit lonely, though I wouldn't say so for the world. I
miss the girls.
It was awful this morning--positively awful. I should think there was a
flood after I left--all the girls howled so, and I was sticking my head
out of the carriage window all the journey to get my face cool before I
arrived. Father met me at the station, and we spanked up together in the
dog-cart. That was scrumptious. I do love rushing through the air
behind a horse like Firefly, and father is such an old love, and always
understands how you feel. He is very quiet and shy, and when anyone
else is there he hardly speaks a word, but we chatter like anything when
we are together. I have a kind of idea that he likes me best, though
Spencer and Vere are the show members of the family. Spencer is the
heir, and is almost always away because he is a soldier, and Vere is
away a lot too, because she hates the country, and likes visiting about
and having a good time. She's awfully pretty, but--No! I won't say it. I
hereby solemnly vow and declare that I shall never say nasty things of

anyone in this book, only, of course, if they do nasty things, I shall
have to tell, or it won't be true. She isn't much with father, anyway, and
he likes to be made a fuss of, because he's so quiet himself. Isn't it
funny how people are like that! You'd think they'd like you to be prim
and quiet too, but they don't a bit, and the more you plague them the
better they're pleased.
"Back again, my girl, are you? A finished young lady, eh?" said father,
flicking his whip.
"Very glad of it, I can tell you. I'm getting old, and need someone to
look after me a bit." He looked me up and down, with a sort of anxious
look, as if he wanted to see if I were changed. "We had good times
together when you were a youngster and used to trot round with me
every morning to see the dogs and the horses, but I suppose you won't
care for that sort of thing now. It will be all dresses and running about
from one excitement to another. You won't care for tramping about in
thick boots with the old father!"
I laughed, and pinched him in his arm. "Don't fish! You know very well
I'll like it better than anything else. Of course, I shall like pretty dresses
too, and as much fun as I can get, but I don't think I shall ever grow up
properly, father--enough to walk instead of run, and smile sweetly
instead of shrieking with laughter as we do at school. It will be a
delightful way of letting off steam to go off with you for some long
country rambles, and have some of our nice old talks."
He turned and stared at me quite hard, and for a long time. He has such
a lot of wrinkles round his eyes, and they look so tired. I never noticed
it before. He looked sort of sad, and as if he wanted something. I
wonder if he has been lonely while I was away. Poor old dad! I'll be a
perfect angel to him. I'll never neglect him for my own amusement like
Resolution number one! Sentence can't be finished.
"How old are you, child?" father said at last, turning away with a sigh
and flicking Firefly gently with the