Thistle and Rose Part 10

"I'm afraid it's getting late," said Anna, hesitatingly.

"'Twon't take you not five minutes altogether," said Daisy, scrambling hastily down from the gate. "Come along."

Anna followed her back to the farmyard, where she pushed open the door of a shed, and beckoned her companion in. All was dim and shadowy, and there was a smell of new milk and hay. At first Anna could see nothing, but soon she made out, penned into a corner, a little, brown calf, with a white star on its forehead; it turned its dewy, dark eyes reproachfully upon them as they entered.

"You can stroke its nose," said its owner, patronisingly.

"Shall you call it Daisy?" asked Anna, reaching over the hurdles to pat the soft, velvety muzzle.

"Mother says we mustn't have no more Daisies," said its mistress, shaking her little, round head gravely. "You see puppa called all the cows Daisy, after me, for ever so long. There was Old Daisy, and Young Daisy, and Red Daisy, and White Daisy, and Big Daisy, and Little Daisy, and a whole lot more. So this one is to be called something different.

Mother say Stars would be best."

As she spoke, a distant clock began to tell out the hour. Anna counted the strokes with anxiety. Actually seven! The dinner hour at Waverley, and whatever haste she made, she must be terribly late.

"Ah, I must go," she said, "I ought not to have stayed so long.

Good-bye. Thank you."

"Come over again," said Daisy, calling after her as she ran to the gate.

"Come at milking-time, and I'll show you all the lot."

Anna nodded and smiled, and ran off as fast as she could. This was her first transgression at the Vicarage. What would Aunt Sarah say?

CHAPTER SIX.

DIFFICULTIES.

No man can serve two masters.

Anna found her life at Waverley bright and pleasant as the time went on, in spite of Aunt Sarah's strict rules and regulations. There was only one matter which did not become easy, and that was her nearer acquaintance with her grandfather. Somehow, when she asked to go to Dornton, there was always a difficulty of some kind--Mrs Forrest could not spare the time to go with her, or the pony-cart to take her, or a maid to walk so far, and she must not go alone. At first, mindful of her resolves, she made efforts to overcome those objections, but being always repulsed, she soon ceased them, and found it easier and far more pleasant to leave her aunt to arrange the visits herself.

In this way they became very rare, and when they did take place, they were not very satisfactory, for Anna and her grandfather were seldom left alone. She did not, therefore, grow to be any fonder of Back Row, or to a.s.sociate her visits there with anything pleasant. Indeed, few as they were, she soon began to find them rather irksome, and to be relieved when they were over. This was the only subject on which she was not perfectly confidential to her new friend, Delia, who was now her constant companion, for although Anna went very seldom to Dornton, Mrs Forrest made no objection to their meeting often elsewhere.

So Delia would run over to the Vicarage whenever she could spare time, or join Anna in long country rambles, and on these occasions it was she who listened, and Anna who did most of the talking. Delia heard all about her life in London, and how much better she liked the country; all about Aunt Sarah's punctuality, and how difficult it was to go to Dornton; but about the Professor she heard very little. Always on the lookout for slights on his behalf, and jealous for his dignity, she soon began to feel a little sore on his account, and to have a suspicion that Anna's heart was not in the matter. For her own part, she knew that not all the aunts and rules in the world would have kept her from paying him the attention that was his due. As the visits became fewer this feeling increased, and sometimes gave a severity to her manner which Anna found hard to bear, and it finally led to their first disagreement.

"Can you come over to church at Dornton with me this evening?" asked Delia one afternoon, as she and Anna met at the stile half-way across the fields.

"I should like to," said Anna, readily, "very much indeed, if Aunt Sarah doesn't mind."

"I'll walk back with you as far as this afterwards," said Delia. "You would see your grandfather. You've never heard him play the organ yet."

"I don't _suppose_ aunt would mind," said Anna, hesitatingly, her fair face flus.h.i.+ng a little.

"Well," said Delia, "you can run back and ask her. I'll wait for you here. You will just have time."

The bells of Saint Mary's church began to sound as she spoke.

"Only you must go at once," she added, "or we shall be too late."

Still Anna hesitated. She hated the idea of asking Aunt Sarah, and seeing her mouth stiffen into that hard line which was so disagreeable; but it was almost as bad to face Delia, standing there, bolt upright, with her dark eyes fixed so unflinchingly upon her.

"I know," she said, appealingly, "that Aunt Sarah _has_ arranged for me to go to Dornton next week."

"Oh," said Delia, coldly.

"And," pursued Anna, turning away from her companion and stooping to pick a flower, "she does like me, you know, to go to the service at Waverley with her. She says uncle prefers it."

Delia's glance rested for a moment in silence on the bending figure, with the pale yellow hair outspread on the shoulders gleaming in the suns.h.i.+ne; then she said in rather a hard voice:

"The fact is, I suppose, you don't _want_ to go. If so, you had better have said so at first."

Anna rose quickly, and faced her friend:

"It's unkind, Delia," she exclaimed, "to say that. I _do_ want to go.

You know I like to be with you--and I should like to go to Dornton church much better than Waverley."

"Then why don't you ask Mrs Forrest?" said Delia, calmly. "She can't mind your going if I walk back with you. It's worth the trouble, if you want to see your grandfather."

Anna cast down her eyes and fidgeted with the flowers in her belt.

"You don't understand," she began, rather nervously, "how difficult it is to ask Aunt Sarah some things--"

"But this is quite a right, reasonable thing," interrupted Delia; "there's nothing wrong in wis.h.i.+ng to see your grandfather sometimes. Of course, if you never ask Mrs Forrest, she thinks you don't care about it."

"I do ask," said Anna. "I have often asked; but, you know I told you, Delia, Aunt Sarah never likes me to go to Dornton."

"Then you mean to give it up, I suppose," said Delia, coldly.

"If I'm staying with Aunt Sarah, I suppose I ought to do as she wishes,"

said Anna; "but, of course, I shan't give it up entirely. She doesn't wish me to do that."

Delia stood for a moment in silence, her eyes fixed on Anna's pretty, downcast face. The sound of the church bells came softly to them over the fields from Dornton, and "Well," she said, with a little sigh, "I mustn't stay, or I shall be late, and I promised to meet the Professor after church. He half expects to see you with me. What shall I say to him?"

"Oh, Delia!" cried Anna, looking up into her companion's face, "I _do_ wish I could go with you."

"It's too late now," said Delia, turning away. "Good-bye."

Anna lingered at the stile. Would not Delia turn round once and nod kindly to her, as she always did when they parted? No. Her compact figure went steadily on its way, the shoulders very square, the head held high and defiantly. Anna could not bear it. She jumped over the stile and ran after her friend. "Delia!" she called out. Delia turned and waited. "Don't be cross with me," pleaded Anna. "After all, it isn't my fault; and I _should_ like to go with you so much. And--and give my love to grandfather, please. I'm going to see him next week."

She took hold of Delia's reluctant hand and kissed her cheek. Delia allowed the embrace, but did not return it. Her heart was hot within her. Mrs Winn had said that Anna was not straightforward. Was it true?

Anna had not much time for any sort of reflection, for she had to get back to Waverley as fast as she could, and, in spite of her haste, the bell stopped just as she reached the garden gate, and she knew that her aunt would have started for church without her. It was barely five minutes' walk, but she had to smooth her hair, and find some gloves, and make herself fit for Mrs Forrest's critical eye, and all this took some time. When she pushed open the heavy door and entered timidly, her footfall sounding unnaturally loud, the usual sprinkling of evening wors.h.i.+ppers was already collected, and her uncle had begun to read the service. Anna crept into a seat. She knew that she had committed a very grave fault in Mrs Forrest's sight, and she half wished that she had made up her mind to go to Dornton with Delia. She wanted to please every one, and she had pleased no one; it was very hard. As she walked back to the Vicarage with her aunt after service, she was quite prepared for the grave voice in which she began to speak.

"How was it you were late this evening, Anna?"

"I'm very sorry, aunt," she answered. "I was talking to Delia Hunt in the field, and until we heard the bell, we didn't know how late it was."