The Two Sides of the Shield

‘Now, Dolly, what do you mean? You would not have it all betrayed?’

‘I’ve a great mind to tell Uncle Regie all about it.’

‘Now, Dolly! When you said so much about the Mohun pride and scorn of your poor, dear uncle.’

‘Uncle Regie is not proud. And he would know what to do.’

‘But,’ cried Constance, in a fright, ‘you would never tell him! You promised that it should be a secret, and I should be in such a dreadful scrape with Lady Merrifield and Mary.’

‘Well! it was your doing, and you had all the pleasure of it, flourishing about the platform with him.’

‘How can you be so disagreeable, Dolores, when you know it was all on business. Though I do think he is the most interesting man I ever did see.’

‘Just because he flattered you.’

However, there is no need to tell how many cross and quarrelsome things the two tired friends said to each other. They were sitting on opposite sides of the fire, one very gloomy, and the other very pettish, when the waggonette stopped at the gate, to put out Miss Hacket and take up Dolores. Hands pulled her up the step, and a hubbub of merry voices received her in the dark.

‘Good girl, not to keep us waiting.’

‘Oh, Dolly, Dolly, Macrae says Uncle Regie’s come!’

‘Oh, Dolly, it has been such fun!’

‘Take care of my parcel!’

‘Ah, ha! you don’t know what is in there.’

‘Here’s something under my feet!’

‘Oh! take care! ‘Tisn’t my—’

‘Hush, hush, Val—’

And so it went on till on the steps was seen in full light among the boys, Uncle Reginald, ready to lift every one out with a kiss.’

‘Ha! Dolly, is that you?’ he said, as they came into the hall. ‘I saw such a likeness of you at one station that I was as near as possible jumping out to speak to her. She had on just that fur tippet!’

‘That comes of living in Ireland, Regie,’ said Aunt Lily. ‘Once in a shop at Belfast, a lady darted up to me with “And it’s I that am glad to see you, me dear. And how’s me sweet little god-daughter? Oh! and it isn’t yourself. And aren’t you Mrs. Phelim O’Shaugnessy?’” And under cover of this, Dolores retreated to her own room. She took off her things, and then looked at the cheque.

Professor Muhlwasser was a clever German, always at work on science, counting, in the most minute and accurate manner, such details as the rays in a sea anemone’s tentacles, or the eggs in a shrimp’s roe. He was engaged on a huge book, in numbers, of which Mr. Maurice Mohun had promised to take two copies—but whereas extravagances upon peculiar hobbies were apt not to be tolerated in the family, and it was really uncertain whether the work would ever be completed, Mr. Mohun had preferred leaving a cheque for the payment in his little daughter’s hand, rather than entrust it to one of the brothers, who would have howled and growled at such a waste of good money on such a subject. Thus he had told Dolores to back the draft, get it changed, and send the amount by a postal order to Germany, if the books and account should come, which he thought very doubtful.

And now the professor was dead, Dolores looked at the cheque, and supposed she could do as she pleased with it. Mother helped Uncle Alfred. Yes, but mother earned all she sent him herself! Perhaps he would not ask again. How much more he had talked to Constance than to herself. Dolly wished she had not seen him to get into this difficulty. She was tired, cold, and damp. Oh! if she had never gone, and not been half caught by Uncle Regie!

CHAPTER XII. – A HUNT

Dolores was glad to recollect, when she awoke, that Uncle Reginald was in the house. It was as if she had a friend of her own there who might enter into all the ill-usage she suffered, and whom she could even consult about Uncle Alfred, so far as she could do so without disclosing all the underhand correspondence. She called doing so betraying Constance, but, in truth, she shrank more from shocking him with what he might think very wrong—since, after all, he belonged to that hard-hearted generation of grown-up people who had no feeling nor understanding of one’s troubles.

As she went downstairs she was aware of an increasing hubbub, and frequently looking over the balusters, perceived the top of Primrose’s wavy head above the close-cropped one of Uncle Regie, as, with her mounted on his shoulder, he careered round the hall, with a pack of others vociferating behind him.

There was a lull, for Lady Merrifield came out of her room just as Dolores had paused; Primrose was put down, the morning salutations took place, and Dolores had her full share of them. She was even allowed to sit next her uncle at breakfast; but her rasher of bacon had not been half eaten, before she had perceived that, as to possessing him as she used to do at home, he was just as much everybody else’s Uncle Regie as hers, for during the time of their being stationed at Belfast, he had been so often with them, that he was quite established as the prince of playfellows.

‘Uncle Regie, will you have a crack at the rabbits tomorrow? Brown said we might have a day, and we have been keeping it for you.’

‘Uncle Regie, the hounds meet at the Bugle this morning, won’t you come and see them throw off?’

‘Oh, let me come too!’ ‘And me!’ ‘And me!’

‘My dear children,’ exclaimed their mother, ‘I can’t have the whole tribe of little ones and girls going galloping after your uncle. You will only hinder him.’

‘No, no, Lily! the more Merrifields, the merrier the field. I’ll drill them well. How far off is this Bugle?’

‘Not two miles over Furzy Common.’

‘Oh! not so far, Hal!’

‘That’s nothing. Who is coming?’

A general outbreak of ‘Me’s’ ensued, but mamma laid an embargo on Primrose, who must stay at home and ‘help her,’ while Gillian looked wistful and doubtful, knowing that more efficient help than the little one’s might be desirable.

‘You had better go, my dear,’ said her mother, ‘if you are not tired. I don’t like to send Mysie and Val without some one to turn back with them if your uncle and the boys want to go further.’

But whereas it was not nearly time to start, Uncle Reginald was dragged down to inspect all the live stock in the stable-yard, at their feeding-time, and went off with Val and Primrose clinging to his hands, and the general rabble surrounding him.

Nothing could have been more alien to Dolores’s taste than going out to a meet on foot through mud and mire—she who hated the being driven out to take a constitutional walk on the gravel road or the paved path! But she had some hope that while all the others ran off madly, as was their wont, she might secure a little rational conversation with Uncle Reginald. So she came down in hat and ulster, and was rewarded with ‘That’s right, Doll; I’m glad to see they have taught you to take country walks.’

‘It is all compliment to you, Uncle Regie,’ said Gillian. ‘She hates them generally.’

‘Are we all ready? Where are Japs and Will?’

‘Gone to shut up the dogs; and Hal is not coming.’

‘Beneath his dignity, eh?’

‘I think he has some reading to do,’ said Gillian.

‘Now mind, Reginald,’ said Aunt Lily, coming on the scene, ‘you are not to let those imps drag you farther than you like. It is a very different thing, remember, children, from going out with the hounds like a gentleman.’

‘Yes, mamma,’ returned Fergus. ‘If you would only let me have the pony!’

‘And send home the girls as soon as you find them in the way,’ she added.

‘All right,’ answered he, and off plunged the party; but Dolores soon found that she was not to be allowed much of Uncle Reginald’s exclusive society. He did begin talking to her about her father’s voyage, last letters, and intended departure from Auckland, but Valetta kept fast hold of his other hand, and the others were all round, every moment pointing out something—to them noticeable—and telling the story of some exploit, delighted when their uncle capped it with some boyish tales of Beechcroft, or with some droll, Irish story.

With such talk, the strong, healthy young folk little heeded the surface mud or the lanes. Even Dolores when she heard her father’s name in the reminiscences,’ was interested for a time, and was always hoping that the others would fly off and leave her to her uncle; but she was much less used to country mud and stout boots than the others, and she had been very much tired by her expedition on the previous day, so that she had begun to find the way very long before they came out on an open green, with a few cottages standing a good way back in their gardens, and as their centre, one of the great old coaching inns of past days, now chiefly farmhouse, though a sign, bearing a golden bugle-horn upon a blue ground, stood aloft in front of it, over the heads of the speckled mass of tan, black, and white, pervaded with curved tails, over which the scarlet-coated whips kept guard, while shining horses, bearing red coats and black coats, boys, and a few ladies, were moving about, and carriages drew up from time to time.

There was a long standing about, and Colonel Mohun, being a stranger there himself, kept his flock on the outskirts, only Jasper plunging in, at sight of a mounted schoolfellow, while Gillian and Mysie told the names of the few they recognized. At last there was a move, and Jasper came back to point out the wood they were going to draw, close at hand. Should they not all go on and see it?

‘Oh! let us! do come, Uncle Regie,’ cried Mysie and Val.