Out in the Forty-Five Part 6

I found there all whom I had left, and Hatty and Flora as well. When tea came, and my jumb.a.l.l.s with it, my Aunt Kezia says very calmly,--

"Pa.s.s me those jumb.a.l.l.s, my dear, will you? Amelia won't want any; she is an uncommon woman, and does not care what she eats. You may give me some, because I am no better than other folks."

"O Aunt Kezia, but I like jumb.a.l.l.s!" said Amelia.

"You do?" says my Aunt Kezia. "Well, but, my dear, they don't grow on trees. Somebody has to make them, if they are to be eaten; and 'tis quite as well we are not all uncommon women, or I fear there would be none to eat.--Cary, you deserve a compliment, if you made these all by yourself."

I hastened to explain that I deserved none at all, for Maria had helped me all through; but my Aunt Kezia did not seem at all vexed to hear it; she only laughed, and said, "Good girl!"

"Isn't it horrid work?" said Cecilia, who sat next me, in a whisper.

"Oh no!" said I; "I rather like it."

She shrugged her shoulders in what Hatty calls a Frenchified way.

"Catch me at it!" she said.

"You can come to the kitchen and catch me at it, if you like," said I, laughing. "But it is all as new to me as to you. Till a few months ago, I lived with my grandmother in Carlisle, and she never let me do anything of that sort."

"What was her name?" said Cecilia.

"Desborough," said I; "Mrs General Desborough."

"Oh, is Mrs Desborough your grandmother?" cried she. "I know Mrs Charles Desborough so well."

"That is my Aunt Dorothea," said I. "Grandmamma is gone to live with my Uncle Charles."

"How pleasant!" said Cecilia. "You are such a sweet little darling!"

and she squeezed my hand under the table.

I began to wonder if she meant it.

"O Cary!" cried Cecilia the next morning, "do come here and tell me who this is."

"Who what is?" said I, for I looked out of the window, and could see n.o.body but Ephraim Hebblethwaite.

"Oh, that handsome young man coming up the drive," returned she.

"That?" I said. "Is he handsome? Why, 'tis but Ephraim Hebblethwaite."

"Whom?" cried Cecilia, with one of her little shrieking laughs. "You never mean to say that fine young man has such a horrid name as Ephraim Hebblethwaite!"

Hatty had come to look over my shoulder.

"Well, I am afraid he has," said I.

"Just that exactly, my dear," returned Hatty, in her teasing way. "Poor creature! He is sweet on f.a.n.n.y."

"Is he?" asked Cecilia, in an interested tone. "Surely she will not marry a man with such a name as that?"

"Well, if you wish to have my private opinion about it," said Hatty, in her coolest, that is to say, her most provoking manner, "I rather-- think--she--will."

"I wouldn't do such a thing!" disdainfully cried Cecilia.

"n.o.body asked you, my dear," was Hatty's answer. "I hope you would not, unless you are prepared to provide another admirer for f.a.n.n.y. They are scarce in these parts."

"I cannot think how you can live up here in these uncivilised regions!"

cried Cecilia. "The country people are all just like bears--"

"Do they hug you so very hard?" said Hatty.

"They are so rough and unpolished," continued Cecilia, "so--so--really, I could not bear to live in c.u.mberland or any of these northern counties. It is just horrid!"

"Then hadn't you better go back again?" said Hatty, coolly.

"I am sure I shall be thankful when the time comes," answered Cecilia, rather sharply. "Except you in this family, I do think--"

"Oh, pray don't except us!" laughed Hatty, turning round the next minute to speak to Ephraim Hebblethwaite. "Mr Ephraim Hebblethwaite, this is Miss Cecilia Osborne, a young lady from the South Pole or somewhere on the way, who does not admire us c.u.mbrians in the smallest degree, and will be absolutely delighted to turn her back upon the last of us."

"You know I never said that!" said Cecilia, rather affectedly, as she rose and courtesied to Ephraim.

Ephraim is the only person I know who can get along with Hatty. He always seems to see through what she says to what she means; and he never answers any of her pert speeches, nor tries to explain things, nor smooth her down, as many others do.

"Miss...o...b..rne must stay and learn to like us a little better," said he, good-humouredly. "Where is f.a.n.n.y?"

"Looking in the gla.s.s, I imagine," said Hatty, calmly.

"Hatty!" said I. "She is in the garden with Sophy."

"You are the Nymphs of the Winds," laughed Ephraim, "and Hatty is the North Wind."

"Are you sure she is not the East?" said I, for I was vexed. And as I turned away, I heard Hatty say, laughing,--

"I do enjoy teasing Cary!"

"For shame, Hatty!" answered Ephraim, who speaks to us all as if we were his sisters.

"I a.s.sure you I do," pursued Hatty, in a voice of great glee, "particularly when my lady puts on her grand Carlisle air, and sweeps out of the room as she did just now. It is such fun!"

I had slipped into the next window, where they could not see me, and I suppose Hatty thought I had gone out of the door beyond. I had not the least idea of eavesdropping, and what I might hear when they fancied me gone never came into my head till I heard it.

"You see," Hatty went on, "there is no fun in teasing Sophy, for she just laughs with you, and gives you as good as you bring; and f.a.n.n.y melts into tears as if she were a lump of sugar, and Father wants to know why she has been crying, and my Aunt Kezia sends you to bed before dark--so teasing her comes too expensive. But Cary is just the one to tease; she gets into a tantrum, and that is rich!"

Was it really Cecilia's voice which said, "She is rather vain, certainly, poor thing!"

"She is just as stuck-up as a peac.o.c.k!" replied Hatty: "and 'tis all from living with Grandmamma at Carlisle--she fancies herself ever so much better than we are, just because she learned French and dancing."