Kitabı oxu: «The Old Pincushion: or, Aunt Clotilda's Guests», səhifə 7

'Still, it would show a good deal if you were very untidy,' said Philippa. 'The house does look so neat all over. Have you done any work, Kathie? I am in such a fuss about what I can make to send to mamma for her birthday. I've always made her something every year as long as I can remember, and I wouldn't like to miss this year, the first I've been away from her.'

'We'll have to think of something. Aunt Clotilda is very clever at work,' said Kathie. 'You should see her darning.'

'Grandmamma was going to have helped me to get something pretty to work for mamma, only then she got ill,' said Philippa. 'Uncle is going to send out a box soon, so it needn't be a very little thing, not like for going by post. I shall be so glad if your aunt can think of anything.'

'I'm sure she will,' said Kathleen.

But just then Martha tapped at the door with some hot water for 'the young lady,' which was a broad hint that it was time for Philippa to go to bed.

'Good-night, dear,' said Kathleen. 'I think it's going to be fine to-morrow – the sky looks nice and reddy – and we shall be out nearly all day. You like going long walks, don't you, dear?'

'Yes, of course I do; at least, if it isn't too far. But we could always have nice rests, couldn't we? It isn't like going out walks in town, where one has to go on and on, however tired one is.'

'No, indeed. There are lovely places to rest. And, by-the-by, that reminds me – but I won't keep you up, Phil. I'll tell you to-morrow.'

For suddenly there had flashed into Kathie's flighty head the remembrance of the visit she had been eager to pay to the old farmer at Dol-bach. It would be such a nice expedition for Philippa's first day.

'I'll ask aunty early to-morrow morning if we mayn't go,' she thought, as she fell asleep.

But to-morrow morning brought fifty other ideas to volatile Kathie. There were so many things to show Philippa; the house, and the garden, and the poultry, and the dairy absorbed the morning, and in the afternoon Miss Clotilda went out with them herself to show the little guest some of the prettiest views, ending up by a visit to the beach.

'Isn't this sea different to the beach at Bognor, Philippa?' said Kathleen. 'All crowded with people, and Miss Fraser scolding, and no hills or trees. Oh, I forgot! you hadn't been long enough at school to have been at Bognor. That's a pleasure to come for next year. Oh dear! how I wish' —

But she stopped herself, and said no more. Everybody knew what she wished, but they all knew too that there was no use in speaking about it.

'Kathie,' said Neville, partly to change the conversation, 'what's become of our visit to Dol-bach? You were in such a fuss about it two or three days ago.'

'Oh,' said Kathie, 'I forgot. Aunty,' she went on, 'may we go there to-morrow? If it's as fine as it is to-day, mightn't we take our dinner with us, like the other day? And then we could go to Dol-bach on our way home in the afternoon, and very likely they'd give us some milk, and perhaps some cake.'

Aunty had no objection, and so it was settled.

By the next day Philippa had quite got over her tiredness, though Miss Clotilda warned Neville and Kathleen that they must remember she was not quite as strong as they. And the three children set off on their expedition in high spirits.

'You don't want to see your old woman in the cottage near the creek, do you, Kathie? Don't you think, perhaps, you should tell her about the results of searching the pillows?' said Neville mischievously.

Kathleen looked at him indignantly.

'I think you are very unkind,' she said, 'and very mean. You know I don't want to quarrel just as Philippa's come, and you're just taking advantage of it.'

'Come now, Kathie,' said Neville good-humouredly. 'I don't think really you need be so touchy.'

'I only did it to please you, Phil,' Kathie went on.

Philippa opened her eyes at this.

'To please me?' she repeated.

'Well, you know you said you were sure you'd find it if you were in the house, and I didn't want you to think I hadn't looked at all.'

'I didn't say I was sure I'd find it,' said Philippa. 'If I thought that, I'd ask Miss Clotilda's leave to look now I am in the house. But I have a very queer feeling that it is in the house; and last night – now don't laugh at me, Kathie – I had such a queer dream.'

'Do tell it to us,' said both Neville and Kathleen.

But Philippa was a little out of breath with climbing.

'Let's wait till we sit down to eat our dinner, and then I'll tell it you,' she said.

So they agreed to wait till then.

CHAPTER XI.
THE PINCUSHION MANUFACTORY

After a while the three children had had enough of climbing and scrambling about, besides which they began to feel hungry. They found a nook which, as Philippa said, 'seemed made on purpose to eat their dinner in,' and there they comfortably established themselves for that purpose.

Dinner over, Kathleen reminded Philippa of her dream.

'Oh yes,' said the little girl, 'it really was a very funny one. I thought I was at school, and Miss Fraser was calling to Kathie and me to be quick, and just as we ran out of the room – which had turned into Kathie's room at Ty-gwyn, only that there were seats all round like a railway-carriage, and the door was like a railway-carriage door – Kathie's frock tore, and she called to me for a pin. I put my hand into my pocket to feel for my little pincushion, which I always keep there, and my pocket was all full of some sort of stuff like – like' —

'Like feathers,' said Kathie; 'it was my telling you about the pillows.'

'No,' Philippa went on, 'it wasn't like feathers – it was more powdery.'

'Like dried rose-leaves?' again suggested Kathie. 'What aunty calls "pot-pourri." We were talking of the scent of it last night.'

'Oh, Kathie, do be quiet!' said Neville. 'You can't always explain dreams like that – indeed, you very seldom can.'

'Bits of them you very often can,' Kathleen maintained.

'But it wasn't dried rose-leaves either,' said Philippa. 'I remember the feeling of it in my fingers. If I remember afterwards what it was like, I'll tell you. Well, I pulled my hand out again, and I found I was holding something – not my pincushion. The thing was a little book, only it wasn't made of paper, but of lovely bits of silk, all fastened together, for the leaves. And the funniest thing was that though they were of all sorts of patterns and colours, there seemed to be words on them all, which you could read through the patterns somehow. I fancied that the words on the first page were, "For dear mamma, from her loving Philippa;" and immediately I called out, "Oh, Kathie, see! it's a present for me to send to mamma, only I haven't made it myself." Still I went on turning the leaves. I can't remember any of the words on them till I came to the last, and on it I read, "Look in the – " and then it seemed all a muddle, only I knew it meant the place where the will was. I tried and tried to read it, but I couldn't; and then I called to Kathie to try, and I suppose I must have really made a little squeak in my sleep, for just as I thought I was calling her very loud, I woke.'

'And all the time I was waiting for the pin,' said Kathleen. 'Well, yes, it was a very queer dream, though I could explain a good deal of it. You see, you' —

But Neville put his fingers in his ears.

'We don't want it explained,' he said. 'It's much more interesting to fancy what it could mean – like – like the dreams in the Bible, you know.'

'You're very irreverent, Neville,' said Kathie.

'I'm not,' said Neville. 'Dreams do come sometimes that mean things.'

'But I can't think what the stuff in my pocket could be,' said Philippa; and neither of the others could help her to an idea.

'I think,' said Neville, 'we'd better be going on to old Davis's. It's about twenty minutes' walk from here.'

'Very well,' said the little girls; and they set off, Philippa declaring that she was now 'quite, quite rested.'

They were heartily welcomed at Dol-bach. Mr. Davis introduced his wife, who was as pleasant-looking for an old woman as he for an old man. He had been 'hoping they'd look in some of these days,' he said; and Mrs. Davis had evidently heard all about them, though she, and Mr. Davis too for that matter, looked puzzled as to where Philippa had come from. They were very much interested to hear all about her, and congratulated her on having had a pleasanter ending to her journey than had fallen to the share of her friends.

'It didn't seem so far a way from Hafod to Ty-gwyn yesterday as in the carrier's cart, did it, sir?' said Davis to Neville. 'But the road's a deal better than in my young days; and Mrs. Wynne, she's many a time told us how her mother – the Captain's great-aunt she'd be – never went to Hafod but once a year, and thought a long time about it before she did that. She was a clever lady too – you'll have seen the chairs she worked – wasn't it chairs?' he added, turning to his wife.

'Yes, indeed,' she said. 'Your aunty's not showed them to you? Ah, well, she must feel it hard, things being as they are. But our lady, – that's what we call Mrs. Wynne, – she was handy with her fingers too. I can show you the present she brought me last Christmas as ever was.'

'Oh, yes!' Kathie exclaimed. 'The pincushion! Mr. Davis told us of it.'

It was duly fetched and exhibited. It was rather a new-fashioned kind of pincushion, being one of those made out of a small cigar-box, which served for box and pincushion at once. It was most neatly made, covered with rich and uncommon-looking brocaded satin, which Mrs. Davis eyed with great approval, and edged with a narrow frill of old thread lace.

'Such a useful shape, too,' said Mrs. Davis; 'I'd never seen one like it before, but Mrs. Wynne told me she'd covered a many. The old silk was a piece of a gown of her mother's. I believe there's some fine things of the old lady's still at Ty-gwyn.'

'Yes, aunty has some lovely pieces; she's promised to show us them,' said Kathie. 'Perhaps she'll give us some, Phil.'

Philippa looked up eagerly at this. She had been examining the pincushion with the greatest attention.

'Do you think she would perhaps, really?' she asked, when they were on their way home, having promised Mr. and Mrs. Davis to come to see them again some day soon.

'I daresay she would,' said Kathleen. 'Why are you in such a fuss about it, Phil?'

'Oh, because – because,' said the little girl, 'I have got such an idea into my head. If I could but manage it! Do you think, Kathie, I could possibly make a pincushion like that to send to mamma for her birthday? It would be so beautiful!'

'I don't see why you shouldn't,' said Kathie; 'I don't think it would be so very difficult. And I'm almost sure aunty would give you some bits.'

'If I had one very pretty piece for the top,' said Philippa, 'a plainer kind would do to frill round it, and quite plain would do to line it – just silk that one could get in any shop. And I could get some lace that would do very well. I have some money, you know. Couldn't we write to some shop in London?'

'I should think so. And you'd have to get some stuff to scent it – that one was scented, didn't you notice? What fun it would be to make it! If I had anybody to make one for, I'd like to make one too.'

'Kathie!' Philippa exclaimed, 'you have your own mamma!'

'Oh, but,' said Kathleen, blushing a little, 'I don't remember her, you see. I've never made her anything. It's different from you. Still – if I thought she'd like it. She's often written about my learning to sew and to be neat-handed, and I don't like that sort of thing, so I never answer that part of her letters.'

'It would be very nice for you to make her something, to show her you are neat-handed. Wouldn't it, Neville? Don't you think so too?' asked Philippa.

'Yes,' Neville replied. 'I think it would be very nice. Only there's one difficulty – where are you to get the boxes? There must be a box for that kind of pincushion.'

Philippa's face fell; but Kathie's, on the contrary, brightened up.

'I know,' she said. 'I have an idea. But I won't tell you just yet. Leave it to me, Philippa – you'll see.'

'But, Kathie,' said the little girl plaintively, 'you won't forget, will you? You so often do, you know. I've only a fortnight before the box goes. Uncle and grandmamma had got it nearly all ready before she got ill; there are books and lots of things going out to papa, that can't wait. And if I can't do the pincushion, I must think of something else.'

'Oh, I won't forget,' said Kathie confidently. 'The first wet day – and it's sure to be rain again soon; that's how it does in these hilly places; it's never long the same thing. Well, the first wet day, it would be a capital way of getting through the time to make pincushions.'

Philippa said nothing, but Neville noticed that her little face still looked dissatisfied.

'Never mind, Philippa,' he whispered; 'she's only teasing you. I'll see that she doesn't forget. And if she can't get a box for you, I'll try if I can't.'

'Thank you, Neville! oh, thank you so much!' said Philippa fervently, drawing a deep breath. 'How I wish you were my brother!'

Kathleen caught the last word. 'That's always the way,' she said. 'Perhaps if he was your brother, he wouldn't be so nice to you as he is.' Kathie was in one of her mischievous, teasing moods, and when this was the case she said things she did not really mean. But Philippa was rather matter-of-fact. She looked quite distressed.

'Oh, Kathie!' she began.

'Well?' said Kathie.

'You don't really mean that, do you? I know you've often told me that Neville was a very good brother to you. I'm sure she doesn't really mean it, Neville.'

Neville smiled at her anxious little face.

'No, I'm sure she doesn't,' he said. 'It is a shame of you to tease Phil, Kathie. You've made her look quite troubled, poor child.'

'I'm very sorry,' said Kathleen. 'Phil isn't to look troubled once the whole time she's here. Tell me, dear, what can I do to make up for teasing you?'

Philippa slipped her hand through Kathie's arm.

'Kathie,' she said, 'if you would but see about the pincushions without waiting for a wet day. Now I've got it into my head, I do so want to do it. And I think it would take a good while to make, do you know – longer than you think, to do it quite neatly.'

'Very well, you little fusser,' said Kathie. 'I'll see what I can do. But mind, I'm not going to be mewed up sewing and bothering at pincushions all day, if it's beautiful, fine weather like this.'

'I don't want you to do anything of the kind,' said Philippa. 'That's why it's so much better not to put off about it. We can take several days to them, and do a little every day.'

'Humph!' was Kathleen's reply.

'Why do you say that?' asked Philippa.

'Oh,' said Kathie, 'I know what your "doing a little bit every day" means. I know it of old. When she gets a thing in her head, Neville, she fidgets at it till it's done, and won't give herself any peace.'

'Well, then, Kathie,' said Philippa, 'I just promise you I won't do that way about the pincushion, if only you'll set my mind at rest by helping me to get it begun.'

And she looked so pitiful, speaking in her quaint, earnest way, that Kathleen could not help kissing her, and promising to do what she could at once.

That evening, after tea, Kathie touched her aunt's arm as they were leaving the dining-room.

'I want to speak to you a moment, aunty,' she said, and Miss Clotilda turned back with her.

'Do you remember, aunty,' she said, 'that one day, when I first came, you said you would show me some of the pieces of old silk and things of Mrs. Wynne's? And I think you said you'd give me one or two. Would you let us see them? And do you think you could give Phil some? She's taken such a fancy in her head;' and Kathie went on to explain about the box going out to India, and the pincushion old Mrs. Davis had shown them, which Philippa so much wished to copy for her mother.

'And,' Kathie went on, 'I've another idea too. We were thinking it would be very difficult to get a box to make it with. That morning when the cupboard was left open in my room, I saw several old pincushions that you said you had meant to cover fresh. Might, oh! might we have two of them? We could easily get some plain thin silk for lining them with – Phil has some money, and I have a very little – if some of the nice old pieces would do for the outside.'

Miss Clotilda looked a little bewildered.

'Two, my dear?' she said. 'I thought it was Philippa who wanted to make one. Do you want one too?'

Kathie blushed a little.

'They said,' she began, 'Neville and Phil said, it would be so nice if I made one for mamma too. I've never made her anything – I don't like sewing, you know, aunty, and she's always writing about things like that.'

Miss Clotilda patted Kathie's head.

'Yes, dear,' she said; 'I do think it would be very nice indeed. I am sure it would please your mamma. I am almost sure I can give you two of the soiled ones that you can undo and cover and line freshly. If you undo them carefully, you will see exactly how they are made without my helping you. You would rather make them all by yourselves, would you not?'

'Yes,' said Kathie, 'if we can. It would be much nicer, as they are to be presents to our mothers. Thank you so much, aunty.'

'I will bring down the bundle of old pieces this evening, if you like,' Miss Clotilda went on. 'I know exactly where they are; I can put my hand upon them in a moment. It will amuse us to look them over and choose which will do.'

And the kind creature set off up-stairs at once to fetch them, while Kathie, overjoyed, ran to tell Philippa the success of her application.

The pieces of silk proved quite as interesting as they expected.

'It reminds me,' said Miss Clotilda, with a smile, 'of Mrs. Goodrich in "The Fairchild Family," a story I read when I was little, when she gave Bessy and Lucy and Emily each two pieces of old brocaded silk or satin as a test of their neat-handedness. You have never seen the book, but it was a very favourite one of mine as a child.'

And she went on to tell them the rest of the story of the patches of silk, how the good little girls turned theirs to purpose, and how the poor naughty girl threw a bottle of ink over hers.

'Poor naughty girl!' said Kathie. 'I am afraid I must be rather like her, aunty. And Philippa is like all the good little girls rolled into one. Oh, aunty! what a lovely piece that is!'

It was a narrow satin and silk stripe of a curious salmon colour, and here and there were little daisies embroidered in gold thread. There was another pale grey satin, with wreaths of flowers running all over it, which was greatly to Philippa's taste; and as there was enough for the purpose of each of these, Miss Clotilda gave them to the children. Then a letter had to be written to be sent by the carrier to the draper's at Hafod, where Mrs. Wynne had always dealt, to order a yard of plain rose-coloured silk for Philippa, and the same quantity of white for Kathie, as linings for both pincushions. A contrast would be best, Miss Clotilda told them, as it was all but impossible to match the strange and delicate shades of the old silks, except perhaps in very rich and expensive materials. Bedtime had come before all this was done, and the children went off to dream of 'flowered padusoy,' and pearl-grey satins 'that would stand alone.'

Miss Clotilda had some difficulty the next morning in persuading them to go for a walk early and not to set to work till later.

'It will be very hot this afternoon,' she said. 'Indeed, I think there is thunder not far off. You will have a nice quiet time for getting to work after dinner, and I will look out the old pincushions this morning.'

They set off, though rather reluctantly, for Kathie, now that she had taken up the idea, was more full of it than even Philippa. And she was much less ready than Philippa to yield her wishes and opinions to those of others.

It did not rain that afternoon, but, as Miss Clotilda had foreseen, it was very hot. And the children, all three – for Neville too seemed bitten by the pincushion mania – found it very pleasant to sit round a table in the nice cool library, busy with their work.

There was not much they could do at first beyond unpicking and measuring. Miss Clotilda had given them two of the pincushions out of the cupboard, and, as Philippa had foreseen, when they came to take them carefully to pieces, they found that there would really be more work to do than they had expected.

'What patience Mrs. Wynne must have had,' said Kathie, 'to do them so beautifully! Did you ever see anything so neat? Just look at the hemming of this frill, Phil.'

Philippa took it up to admire.

'We might hem our frills this afternoon,' she said, 'and then to-morrow, when we have the silk from Hafod, we can go on with the linings.'

'I do hope to-morrow will be a wet day,' said Kathie. 'We could get on so splendidly if it were.'

Neville looked up suddenly from one of the now uncovered pincushions which he had been examining.

'You've forgotten about the scent,' he said.

'No, we haven't,' said Kathleen. 'Aunty has some sachet-powder she is going to give us.'

'And I'll tell you what,' he went on, 'you'd better get some fresh bran. This cushion does smell a little musty, and it won't be much trouble to unfasten it from the top of the box, and fill it fresh. Look, it's only tacked down at the corners. The silk top keeps it in its place. Mrs. Wynne must have been a faddy old lady. Just see – there's a sheet of note-paper under the cushion – and the date she made it.'

He drew out the paper as he spoke. On it was written, as he said, the date, 'Ty-gwyn, January 24th, 1865.'

'What a good plan!' said Philippa; 'the thick paper keeps it all so nice and even – perhaps she did it for that too. Let us put papers in ours with the date, Kathie. Perhaps our great-grandchildren will find them some day. We'd better put our names too.'

Kathie had no objection. And Neville very good-naturedly went off to the 'shop' to get some nice bran, to be ready for to-morrow.