Two Maiden Aunts Part 6

Just at this moment Peter came in from the mill, and the two young ladies thanked him till he got red to the tips of his ears. It was nothing at all to do, he said, and he was glad the young master was none the worse, and a first-rate climber he was, that he was, and him such a little bit of a fellow. And so the girls went away, very much more cheerful than they had come.

'We won't say any more about it to G.o.dfrey,' Angelica said on the way home; 'it's just as Martha says, we can't make him say he's sorry, and if he is he'll tell us so by-and-bye, and it'll be worth waiting for, won't it?'

So the two waited, and in the evening they had their reward. Angelica put G.o.dfrey to bed and heard him say his prayers, adding herself a few words of thanksgiving for his preservation that day. When she leaned over him to say good-night, he asked in his sudden way:

'If I had tumbled down and my head had been broken off would you have cried?'

'Indeed I should,' said Angel gravely; 'I am afraid to think about it even.'

'But I wasn't a good boy then,' went on G.o.dfrey, with his wide grey eyes studying her face; 'are you going on loving me?'

'My little G.o.dfrey, I shall go on loving you as long as I live, and longer, longer, dear.'

The next moment he put his arms round her and gave her his first real kiss.

'I love you,' he said gravely; 'I won't make you and the other angels cry. You can tell the other one, the Aunt Betty, that I won't climb up that tree again.'

'Yes, that I will,' Angel said joyfully, and she went downstairs to the parlour where Betty was reading and Penny clearing away supper, with her quiet face glowing with happiness.

'Betty,' she said, 'G.o.dfrey is quite sorry now for frightening us. He told me to tell you that he wouldn't do it again.'

'Bless him!' exclaimed Penny, almost dropping the lamp.

'Darling!' cried Betty, letting her book tumble into the fender.

'Angel, did he--did he say "Aunt Elizabeth"?'

'Well, no,' said Angel, picking the book up and dusting off the ashes; 'but, Betty, do you know, I think perhaps we'd better not make a fuss about that if he thinks the other sounds nicer; if we're too strict about little things we sha'n't know what to do about big ones, I think.'

'I thought perhaps he'd find "Aunt Elizabeth" easier to respect,' said Betty a little regretfully.

'I think he'll respect the person and not mind about the name,' said Angel, and she added thoughtfully, looking into the fire, 'I really mind more about my own name, because I'm afraid he mixes me up with what he has learnt about guardian angels, but I must just wait, and he'll find out his mistake all in good time.'

Old Penny was carrying the supper tray out of the room, and, as she stopped to shut the door after her, she remarked to herself:

'Bless your heart, my dear, if young master makes no worse mistakes than that in his life he won't go far wrong!'

[Ill.u.s.tration: Chapter IV headpiece]

CHAPTER IV

A HEART OF OAK

'For a-fighting we must go, And a-fighting we must go, And what's the odds if you lose your legs, So long as you drub the foe?'

It was Sunday afternoon, the fourth Sunday after G.o.dfrey's coming to Oakfield. It was almost the end of October now, but the spell of warm weather which we call St. Luke's summer had come, as it often does in late autumn, and the sun was warm and pleasant as Angelica paced up and down the garden path with a book in her hand. Mr. Crayshaw sat in the sunny parlour window where Angel's work-basket stood on week-days; he, too, had a book before him, but I'm afraid he was nodding over it, for there was a sleepy quiet about the house that afternoon. Only at the bottom of the garden by the arbour voices could be heard, and Angel caught a word or two every time she reached the end of the gravel walk, words that mingled strangely with the book of poetry she was reading.

'Be useful where thou livest, that they may Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still,'

read Angel as she strolled along the path. Then came Betty's clear tones from behind the yew hedge which separated her from the arbour:

'Now, G.o.dfrey, say after me: "To love, honour, and succour my father and mother."'

'No, Aunt Betty, I needn't learn that. Penny says we oughtn't ever to waste precious time, and I hav'n't any papa and mamma to succour, so it's waste of time to learn about succouring them.'

'No, G.o.dfrey, it isn't; because it means any one that stands in the place of a papa and mamma to you, your relations and friends that take care of you.'

'Aunts?' inquired G.o.dfrey.

'Yes, certainly aunts.'

'Cousins?' asked G.o.dfrey, with much unwillingness in his tone. Angel had turned round again before Betty's answer came. She was rather glad the question had not been put to her. G.o.dfrey always would have his inquiries answered, and Angel felt sure he would not like to be told that it was his duty to succour Cousin Crayshaw. She paced up the gravel path and back again with her head bent over her book.

'Scorn no man's love, though of a mean degree, Love is a present for a mighty king.'

She had got so far when she reached the arbour again, and this time there was a shadow of impatience in Betty's tones.

'G.o.dfrey, you are not attending. "Not to covet nor desire other men's goods."'

'What are goods?'

'Things that belong to them. If you wanted my desk or Cousin Crayshaw's watch it would be naughty of you. G.o.dfrey, you must not put your foot on Miss Jane's head; her nose is off already.'

'I don't want his watch, I want a much bigger one. Aunt Betty, was that lady as ugly when she was alive as she is now?'

'G.o.dfrey, that isn't a kind thing to say. People have been cruel to her--you wouldn't be pretty if your nose was off; and besides, she is dead, and it isn't right to speak so about her.'

'What killed her?' asked G.o.dfrey gravely.

'Well, of course, we don't know for certain, but your Aunt Angelica and I feel almost sure she died young. You see she was _Miss_ Jane, she wasn't married, and we have always had an idea that she died of a broken heart.'

'What broke it?' said G.o.dfrey's interested voice.

'Of course I don't know for certain; but she was a maiden, you see--'demoiselle' means a maiden--and she may have been a maiden aunt--there's no reason why she shouldn't have been--and her nephew may have broken her heart by his bad ways.'

'What did he do?' asked G.o.dfrey earnestly.

'It may have been what he didn't do,' said Betty impressively. 'Not learning things that were for his good, and--and that sort of thing.'

'When people's hearts break do you hear them crack?' was the next question.

'No, you don't hear anything,' said Betty solemnly; 'the people get paler and paler and thinner and thinner every day, till at last they die.'