Three Girls from School

“Yes, my dear,” he answered, brightening up at her interest in the Rectory animals; “and Dewlip has such a lovely calf with a white star on her forehead. We have called it after you – Annie. I hope you don’t mind. Mrs Shelf would do it; for she took it into her head that the calf had a look of you.”

“Really, uncle! That’s not a compliment; but I don’t care. I’ll have some of that strawberry jam, if you please.”

“The jam is good, isn’t it?” said Mr Brooke. “It is made from the last crop of strawberries. Mrs Shelf is a first-rate housekeeper.”

Annie helped herself plentifully. She poured rich cream on the jam, and ate with an epicure’s appreciation. At last her appetite was satisfied, and she had time to consider as to when she would break her tidings to Uncle Maurice.

“Are you coming out with me?” she asked. “What are we going to do with ourselves this morning?”

“Well, my love – I am really sorry – it is most unlucky – I haven’t suffered as I am doing to-day – I may say for months. I suppose it is the excitement of having you back again, little Annie; but I really do fear that until my head gets better I must remain quiet. I get so giddy, my darling, when I try to walk; but doubtless by lunch-time I shall be better. You must amuse yourself alone this morning, my little girl; but I have no doubt that Mrs Shelf has all kinds of plans to propose to you.”

Annie stood up. Outside, the garden smiled; but the little room in which they breakfasted, warm enough in the evening, was somewhat chilly now, for it faced due west.

“I do want to talk to you so badly,” she said; “and – can I just have a few words with you between now and post-time? I must write a letter for the post, and I have to consult you about it. I won’t worry you, dear; only the thing must be talked about and arranged, so when shall I come to you?”

“The post goes early from here,” said the rector – “at one o’clock. It is nine now; come to me at twelve, Annie. I dare say I shall be all right by then.”

“All right or not,” thought Annie, “he’ll have to hear my little bit of information not later that twelve o’clock.”

She went out of the room. The rector watched her as she disappeared. He did not know why he felt so depressed and uneasy. His headache was rather worse, and he felt some slight shivers going down his old frame, caused no doubt by the open window.

He left the breakfast-room and entered his study, where a fire was burning, and where, in his opinion, things were much more comfortable. He did not feel well enough to settle down to any special work. He drew up an easy-chair in front of the fire and sat there lost in thought.

His darling was safe at home; the apple of his eye was with him. She was all he possessed in the wide, wide world. There was nothing he would grudge her – nothing in reason; but, somehow, he dreaded the time when she would return and talk to him about that letter which must catch the post. Anxiety was bad for him, and his head grew worse.

Meanwhile Annie, avoiding Mrs Shelf, took her writing materials into the garden, and in the sunniest corner penned a long letter to her friend.

“Of course I am coming, dear Mabel,” she wrote. “I have got to tackle the old uncle at twelve o’clock, but it will be all right. When I have seen him and got the needful, or the promise of it, I will write to Lady Lushington. I am looking forward beyond words to our time together. You need not be uneasy; I will manage the horrid bills. Whatever else your Annie lacks, she is not destitute of brains. Trust to me, dear, to see you through. Oh! I am glad that you appreciate my efforts on your behalf. – Your loving friend, —

“Annie Brooke.”

This letter was just written when Mrs Shelf approached Annie’s side.

“I wonder now, Annie,” she said, “if you would mind riding into Rashleigh to fetch Dr Brett. I don’t like the state your uncle is in. You could have Dobbin to ride; he’s not up to much, but really I think Dr Brett should come. I don’t like Mr Brooke’s appearance. He is so flashed about the face, and so queer in himself altogether.”

Chapter Eleven

The Letter

“I will go, of course,” said Annie, jumping up; “what is the hour, Mrs Shelf?”

“It is a quarter to twelve. You had best go at once; if you don’t delay you will catch Dr Brett when he returns home for lunch. Billy can put the saddle on Dobbin for you, and there’s the old habit hanging on the peg in your bedroom.”

“Detestable old habit,” thought Annie, “and horrid Dobbin, and shocking side-saddle! Oh dear! oh dear! But whatever happens, I must get that letter off immediately.”

“Why are you so slow?” said Mrs Shelf, looking at the girl with great annoyance. “Your uncle wants medical aid, and he ought to have it.”

“I will go, of course,” said Annie, “but not for a few minutes. Don’t fidget, please; I don’t believe there is anything serious the matter with Uncle Maurice. He often has these headaches.”

She went slowly towards the house. Mrs Shelf stood and watched her.

“Well, if there is a heartless piece in the whole of England, it is that girl,” thought the good woman. “What my dear master finds to like in her beats me. If she doesn’t go off immediately for Dr Brett, I’ll put Dobbin to the gig and drive to Rashleigh myself.”

Meanwhile Annie entered the house. Mr Brooke was lying back in his chair, his face flushed, his hands tremulous.

“I am very sorry, my darling,” he said when he saw Annie, “but I have been a little bit faint. It will pass, of course; but poor Mrs Shelf is nervous about me, and wants Brett to be called in. I don’t suppose it is really necessary.”

“Of course it isn’t a bit necessary, uncle,” said Annie. “You are just excited because I have come back. Now do listen to me, darling. Your Annie has such a big favour to ask of you. You must not think it unkind of me to speak of it now, but it is so tremendously important. I will go and fetch the doctor immediately afterwards – I will indeed – if you really want him; but don’t you think you are just a wee bit nervous?”

“No, dear, not nervous,” said the old man. “I am really ill. This attack is sudden, but doubtless it will pass, and I must not be selfish.”

“It is horrid to disturb you when your head aches,” said Annie, “I wish now I had spoken to you this morning. I did not like to when you seemed not quite the thing. I am naturally thoughtful, you know.”

“Yes, yes, my little girl,” he answered, patting her hand. “I shall be well very, quickly now you are back.”

“But, Uncle Maurice, dear – oh, Uncle Maurice! you won’t say no? I have an invitation. I – I —want to accept it. It is from a very great lady. Here it is; can you read it?”

She put Lady Lushington’s letter into the old rector’s hand. He read the words slowly and with apparent calm. Then he laid it on his knee. For a minute there was silence between the two. Annie’s heart was beating hard. At last Mr Brooke said:

“You want to go?”

“I want to go,” said Annie with emphasis, “more than I want anything else in all the wide world.”

“You understand,” said the rector very slowly, “that I am old and not well. This will be a keen disappointment to me.”

“I know, I know, darling Uncle Maurice; but you are so unselfish. You would not deprive your own Annie of her pleasure.”

“No, Annie,” said Mr Brooke, rousing himself, no longer lying back in his chair, but sitting upright; “God knows that I should be the last to do that. You are young, and want your pleasure.”

“Oh, so much! Think what it means.”

“But what sort of woman is Lady Lushington?”

“Uncle Maurice, she is delightful; she is the aunt of my greatest friend, Mabel Lushington, one of my schoolfellows.”

“And yet,” said the rector, “the aunt of one of your schoolfellows may be the last person I should think it desirable to send you to. I pray God to keep me from the great sin of selfishness, but I would not have you spend your holidays with a woman, whom I know nothing about. Before I allow you to accept this invitation, Annie, I must inquire of Mrs Lyttelton something with regard to the character of Lady Lushington.”

“Oh uncle! uncle!”

“My mind is firmly made up, child. I will write to Mrs Lyttelton by this post. If her report is favourable I will give you money to go to Paris – not a great deal, for I am poor, but sufficient. This is all that I can say.”

“But listen, darling uncle. Lady Lushington wants me to meet her at the Grand Hotel in Paris on Tuesday night. You cannot hear in time from Mrs Lyttelton. I shall lose my chance of joining Lady Lushington and Mabel. Oh, do – do be reasonable!”

“Annie, I have made up my mind. I will not give you one farthing to join this woman until I know something about her from one who is at least acquainted with her. My child, don’t be angry; I am absolutely determined.”

“Then you are unkind. It is dreadful of you,” said Annie.

She burst into petulant tears and ran out of the room. Here was a checkmate. What was to be done? She was trembling from head to foot. Her heart was full of anger – such anger as she had not known for years. Mrs Shelf was hovering about outside.