was a week old; and I never had any
brother or sister," pursued Rhoda.
"Then you never had any one to love? Poor Cousin!" said Phoebe,
looking at Rhoda with deep compassion.
"Love! Oh, I don't know that I want it," said Rhoda lightly. "How is
Aunt Anne, and where is she?"
"Mother?" Phoebe's voice shook again. "She is going to live with a
gentlewoman at the Bath. She stayed till I was gone."
"Well, you know," was the next remark of Rhoda, whose ideas were
not at all neatly put in order, "you'll have to wear a black gown
to-morrow. It is King Charles."
"Yes, I know," said Phoebe.
"Was your father a Dissenter?" queried Rhoda.
"No," said Phoebe, looking rather surprised.
"Because I can tell you, Madam hates Dissenters," said Rhoda. "She
would as soon have a crocodile to dinner. Why didn't you come in your
black gown?"
"It is my best," answered Phoebe. "I cannot afford to spoil it."
"What do you think of Madam?"
Phoebe shrank from this question. "I can hardly think anything yet."
"Oh dear, I wish to-morrow were over!" said Rhoda with an artificial
shiver. "I do hate the thirtieth of January. I wish it never came. We
have to go to church, and there is only tea and bread and butter for
dinner, and we must not divert ourselves with anything. I'll show you
the ruins, and read you some of my poetry. Did you not know I writ
poetry?"
"No," replied Phoebe. "But will that not be diverting ourselves?"
"Oh, but we can't always be miserable!" said Rhoda. "Besides, what
good does it do? It is none to King Charles: and I'm sure it never does
me good. Oh, and we will go and see the Maidens' Lodge, and make
acquaintance with the old gentlewomen."
"The Maidens' Lodge, what is that?"
"Why, about ten years ago Madam built six little houses, and called it
the Maidens' Lodge; a sort of better-most kind of alms-houses, you
know, for six old gentlewomen--at least, I dare say they are not all old,
but some of them are. (Mrs Vane does not think she is, at any rate.)
You can't see them from this window; they are on the other side of the
church."
"And are they all filled?"
"All but one, just now. I protest I don't know why Madam built them. I
guess she thought it was good works. I should have thought it would
have been better works to have sent for Aunt Anne, as well as you; but
don't you tell her I said so!"
"Don't be afraid," said Phoebe, smiling. "I trust I am not a pick-thank.
But don't you think, when you would not have a thing said again, it
were better not to say it at the first?"
[Note: A meddlesome mischief-maker.]
"Oh, stuff! I can't always be such a prig as that!"
Phoebe was unpacking a trunk of very modest dimensions, and Rhoda,
perched on a corner of the bed, sat and watched her.
"Is that your best gown?"
"Yes," said Phoebe, lifting it carefully out.
"How many have you?"
"This and that."
"Only two? How poor Aunt Anne must be!"
"We have always been poor."
"Have you always lived in Bristol?"
"No. We used to live at the Bath when I was a child. Father was curate
at the Abbey Church."
"How much did he get?"
"Twenty-five pounds a year."
"That wasn't much for seven of you."
"It was not," returned Phoebe, significantly.
"What can you do?" asked Rhoda, suddenly. "Can you write poetry?"
"I never tried, so I cannot tell," said Phoebe.
"Can you sing?"
"Yes."
"And play on anything?"
"No. I cannot do much. I can sew pretty well, and knit in four different
ways; I don't cook much--I mean, I don't know how to make many
things, but I always try to be nice in all I can do. I can read and write,
and keep accounts."
"Can you dance a jig?--and embroider, and work tapestry?"
"No, I don't know anything of that."
"Can't work tapestry! Why, Phoebe!"
"You see, there never was any time," said Phoebe, apologetically. "Of
course, I helped mother with the cooking and sewing; and then there
were the children to see to, and I learned Perry and Kitty to read and
sew. Then there were all the salves and physic for the poor folk. We
could not afford much in that way, but we did what we could."
"Well, I wouldn't marry a parson; that's flat!" said Rhoda. "Fancy
spending all your days a-making salves and boluses! Fiddle-faddle!"
Phoebe gave a little laugh. "I was not always making salves," she said.
"Had you any pets? We have a parrot; I believe she's near as old as
Madam. I want a monkey,
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