The House of Arden | Page 3

true--up to a
hundred pounds or a thousand--we forget what we used to mean to do
with our money, and spend it all in stocks and shares, and eligible
building sites, and fat cigars and fur coats. If I were young again I
would sit down and write a list of all the kind things I meant to do
when my ship came home, and if my ship ever did come home I would
read that list, and--But the parlour bell is ringing for the eighth time,
and the front-door bell is ringing too, and the first-floor is ringing also,
and so is the second-floor, and Eliza is trying to answer four bells at
once--always a most difficult thing to do.
The front-door bell was rung by the postman; he brought three letters.
The first was a bill for mending the lid of the cistern, on which Edred
had recently lighted a fire, fortified by an impression that wood could
not burn if there were water on the other side--a totally false impression,
as the charred cistern lid proved. The second was an inquiry whether
Miss Arden would take a clergyman in at half the usual price, because
he had a very large family which had all just had measles. And the third
was THE letter, which is really the seed, and beginning, and backbone,
and rhyme, and reason of this story.
Edred had got the letters from the postman, and he stood and waited
while Aunt Edith read them. He collected postmarks, and had not been
able to make out by the thick half-light of the hall gas whether any of
these were valuable.
The third letter had a very odd effect on Aunt Edith. She read it once,
and rubbed her hand across her eyes. Then she got up and stood under
the chandelier, which wanted new burners badly, and so burned with a
very unlighting light, and read it again. Then she read it a third time,
and then she said, "Oh!"
"What is it, auntie?" Elfrida asked anxiously; "is it the taxes?" It had

been the taxes once, and Elfrida had never forgotten. (If you don't
understand what this means ask your poorest relations, who are also
likely to be your nicest and if they don't know, ask the washerwoman.)
"No; it's not the taxes, darling," said Aunt Edith; "on the contrary."
I don't know what the contrary (or opposite) of taxes is, any more than
the children did--but I am sure it is something quite nice--and so were
they.
"Oh, auntie, I am so glad," they both said, and said it several times
before they asked again, "What is it?"
"I think--I'm not quite sure--but I think it's a ship come home--oh, just a
quite tiny little bit of a ship--a toy boat--hardly more than that. But I
must go up to London to-morrow the first thing, and see if it really is a
ship, and, if so, what sort of ship it is. Mrs. Blake shall come in, and
you'll be good as gold, children, won't you?"
"Yes--oh, yes," said the two.
"And not make booby traps for the butcher, or go on the roof in your
nightgowns, or play Red Indians in the dust-bin, or make apple-pie
beds for the lodgers?" Aunt Edith asked, hastily mentioning a few of
the little amusements which had lately enlivened the spare time of her
nephew and niece.
"No, we really won't," said Edred; "and we'll truly try not to think of
anything new and amusing," he added, with real self-sacrifice.
"I must go by the eight-thirty train. I wish I could think of some way
of--of amusing you," she ended, for she was too kind to say "of keeping
you out of mischief for the day," which was what she really thought.
"I'll bring you something jolly for your birthday, Edred. Wouldn't you
like to spend the day with nice Mrs. Hammond?"
"Oh, no," said Edred; and added, on the inspiration of the moment,
"Why mayn't we have a picnic--just Elf and me--on the downs, to keep

my birthday? It doesn't matter it being the day before, does it? You said
we were too little last summer, and we should this, and now it is this
and I have grown two inches and Elf's grown three, so we're five inches
taller than when you said we weren't big enough."
"Now you see how useful arithmetic is," said the aunt. "Very well, you
shall. Only wear your old clothes, and always keep in sight of the road.
" Yes; you can have a whole holiday. And now to bed. Oh, there's that
bell again! Poor, dear Eliza."
A Clapham cub, belonging to one of the lodgers, happened to be going
up to bed just as Edred and Elfrida came