A Young Mutineer Part 8

Judy wandered about, too restless and unhappy to settle to her play.

Babs shouted in the distance that the wasp was not to be seen. Even the fate of the poor wasp scarcely interested Judy at present. She was watching for Mildred to reappear that she might join her in the avenue and ask why she dared to say those words about Jasper.

"Well, Judy," said Miss Anstruther by and by, "here I am, back at last.

I saw Aunt Marjorie, but I didn't see the Rector, and I didn't see Hilda. Aunt Marjorie tells me that Jasper Quentyns is coming down to-night, so I suppose he's going to take everything all right."

"What do you mean, Milly?" asked Judy.

"Why do you look at me in that fierce way, you small atom?" answered Mildred, stopping in her walk and looking at the child with an amused smile on her face.

"Because I don't understand you," said Judy.

"It is scarcely likely you should, my darling. Let me see, how old are you--nine? Well, you'll know something of what I mean when you're nineteen. Now I must go."

"No, stop a bit, Milly. I don't understand you, but I hate hints. Miss Mills hints things sometimes, and oh, how I detest her when she does!

and you're hinting now, and it is something against Hilda."

"Against Hilda? Oh, good gracious, child, what an awful cram!"

"It isn't a cram, it is true. I can't explain it, but I know you're hinting something against darling Hilda. Why should you say that Jasper will be disappointed? Isn't she going away with him some day? and aren't they going to live in--in a horrid--a horrid _flat_ together, and she won't even have a garden, nor fowls, nor flowers? And you say Jasper will be disappointed. Everything is going when Hilda goes, and you speak as if Jasper wasn't the very luckiest person in all the wide world. _I_ know what it means; yes, I know. Oh, Milly, I'm so unhappy. Oh, Milly, what _shall_ I do when Hilda goes away?"

Mildred was impulsive and kind-hearted, notwithstanding the very decided fit of jealousy which was now over her. She put her arm round Judy and tried to comfort her.

"You poor little thing," she said, "you poor little jealous, miserable mite. How could you think you were going to keep your Hilda always?

There, Judy, there, darling, I really am sorry for you--I really am, but you know Hilda is pretty and sweet, and someone wants her to make another home beautiful. There, I'll say something to comfort you--I'll eat all the words I have already uttered, and tell you emphatically from my heart of hearts that Hilda is too good for Jasper Quentyns."

"Judy, Judy, Judy! I have found the wasp," shouted Babs.

Judy dried her eyes hastily, kissed Mildred, and ran across the lawn to her little sister.

"What a queer child Judy Merton is," said Mildred to herself. "What tempestuous little creatures some children are. How pa.s.sionately she spoke about Hilda, and now her whole heart and soul are devoted to the rescuing of a miserable insect. Yes, of course Jasper is not good enough for Hilda. He has plenty of faults, he is not the prince I have been looking for, and yet--and yet----"

Her heart beat quickly, the color rushed into her face, she felt her firm lips tremble, and knew that her eyes were s.h.i.+ning with unusual brilliance. Someone was coming along the path to meet her. A man with the sunlight s.h.i.+ning all over him--an athletic figure, who walked with the swift bounding step of youth. He was Jasper Quentyns.

"Hullo!" he called, catching sight of her. "I was fortunate in getting an earlier train than I had hoped for, and here I am two hours before I was expected. How is Hilda? Have you been at the house? Are they all fearfully cut up?"

"How do you do, Mr. Quentyns?" replied Mildred. "Yes, I have been at the house, and I have seen Judy and Aunt Marjorie. Judy seems to me to be in a very excitable and feverish state of mind."

"She's rather spoilt, isn't she?" said Quentyns.

"Oh, well, she's Hilda's special darling, the first in her heart by many degrees--after--after somebody else."

"But how could a child like Judy know anything about money loss?"

"It isn't the money that's troubling her at the present moment, it's a poor wasp. Now pray don't look so bewildered, and do try and forget about Judy. Aunt Marjorie is taking her trouble in a thoroughly practical and Aunt Marjorie style. I have not seen Hilda, nor have I seen the Rector."

"It will be an awful blow to them all," said Quentyns.

"Yes," replied Miss Anstruther, looking him straight in the eyes, "an awful blow. And you feel it far more than Hilda," she soliloquized, as she walked back to her own home.

CHAPTER VI.

THE EVE OF THE WEDDING.

Where shall I find a white rose blowing?

Out in the garden where all sweets be.

But out in my garden the snow was snowing And never a white rose opened for me, Naught but snow and a wind were blowing And snowing.

--CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI.

Notwithstanding Mildred Anstruther's inward prognostications, there came no hitch to Hilda Merton's engagement. Quentyns behaved as the best and most honorable of men. He was all that was tender and loving to Hilda, and he immediately took that position toward Mr. Merton which a son might have held. Quentyns was a good business man, and in the catastrophe which overwhelmed the Rectory, he proved himself invaluable.

On one point, however, he was very firm. His marriage with Hilda must not be delayed. No persuasive speeches on her part, no longing looks out of Judy's hungry eyes, no murmurs on the part of Aunt Marjorie, would induce him to put off the time of the wedding by a single day.

He used great tact in this matter, for Quentyns was the soul of tact, and it quite seemed to the family, and even to Hilda herself, that _she_ had suggested the eighth of January as the most suitable day in the whole year for a wedding--it seemed to the whole family, and even to Hilda herself, that _she_ was the one who desired to go, whereas in her heart of hearts, in that innermost heart which she scarcely ventured to probe at all just now, she would have gladly shared Aunt Marjorie's discomforts and sat by her father's side while he composed those sermons which were to teach his flock, with a sure note of truth running through them, that the blessed man is the man whom the Lord G.o.d chasteneth.

The wedding-day was fixed, and notwithstanding poverty and its attendant shadows, preparations for the great event went on merrily enough.

A check for Hilda's trousseau was sent to her by a rich aunt in India, and the pleasant excitement which even the quietest wedding always causes began to pervade the Rectory.

When the day was finally arranged, Aunt Marjorie ceased to murmur and cry. She talked a great deal now of Hilda's coming responsibilities, and spent all her leisure moments copying out receipts which she thought might be useful to her niece in her new position as wife and housekeeper.

"You have never yet told me where you are going to live, Hilda," she said, on the New Year's Day which preceded the wedding.

"I am not quite sure myself," replied Hilda. "Jasper has seen a great many suburban houses which he does not quite like, and a great many flats which he considers absolutely perfect. He says there is no special hurry about choosing a house, for after we have returned from our wedding tour we are to stay with some of his relations in town, and during that time we can make up our minds as to what kind of home we will have."

"Very prudent of Jasper," said Aunt Marjorie. "He really is an excellent fellow--so wonderfully thoughtful for such a young man. Of course he has far too much sense to think of selecting a house for you himself. As to a flat, you will of course not dream of going into one--a house is better in all respects, more airy and more interesting."

"I should like a house best," said Hilda, "but Jasper, of course, is the one really to decide."

"Now, there you are wrong, my love. _You_ are undoubtedly the right person to make the final choice. I am old-fas.h.i.+oned in my ideas, Hilda, and I think the wife ought to be in subjection to her husband, for we have Scripture for it, but I don't believe St. Paul meant that rule to extend to domestic matters. In domestic matters the wife _ought_ to have the casting vote. Be sure, my dear Hilda, you don't yield to Jasper in domestic affairs--you will rue it if you do--and be quite sure that in selecting a house you have a wide entrance-hall, a s.p.a.cious staircase, and a large drawing room."

"But, Auntie, such a house will be beyond our means."

"Tut, tut, my love--the rent _may_ be a few pounds more, but what of that? A large entrance-hall is really essential; and as it is easier to keep large rooms and wide staircases clean than small ones, your servants will have less to do and you will save the extra rent in that way. Now here is your great-grandmother's receipt for plum-pudding--two dozen eggs, three pounds raisins, one pound citron. Hilda, I particularly want to give you a hint about the _spice_ for this pudding; ah, and I must speak also about this white soup--it is simply made, and at the same time delicious--the stock from two fowls--one pint single cream--your father is particularly fond of it. Yes, Susan, what is the matter?"

"A parcel for Miss Hilda, ma'am," said the neat parlor-maid. "It has come by 'Carter Patterson'; and will you put your name here, please, Miss Hilda."

Hilda signed her name obediently, and a square wooden box was brought in. It was opened by Aunt Marjorie herself with great solemnity. Judy and Babs came and looked on, and there were great expressions of rapture when an exquisite afternoon tea-service of Crown Derby was exhibited to view.

Wedding presents were pouring in from all quarters. Hilda put this one away with the others, and calmly continued her occupation of adding up some parochial accounts for her father. She was a very careful accountant, and had the makings in her of a good business woman when she had gained a little experience.

Aunt Marjorie sat and mumbled little disjointed remarks with regard to her niece's future state and subjection. She gave her many hints as to when she was to yield to her husband and when she was to firmly uphold her own will.

Had Hilda followed out Aunt Marjorie's precepts, or even been greatly influenced by them, she and Jasper would have had a very unhappy future, but she had a gentle and respectful way of listening to the old lady without taking in a great deal that she said. Her thoughts were divided now between Jasper and Judy. Her heart felt torn at the thought of leaving her little sister, and she had an instinctive feeling, which she had never yet put into words, that Judy and Jasper were antagonistic to each other, and, what is more, would always remain so.