The Green Casket, and other stories

It was a week or so after this – fully a week, it may have been ten days, after Ruth's accident – that Lady Melicent sent for her one morning to speak to her. Ruth felt just a little frightened; surely nothing was going to be said about the basin now, so long after?

But the old lady's kind face reassured her.

'I sent for you, Ruth,' she said, 'to tell you that for a few weeks your work is going to be a little changed. Not disagreeably so, I hope. My little grand-daughter, Miss Vyner – Miss Flossie they generally call her – is coming to stay with me while her parents are abroad. Her nursery governess is to have a holiday, so we must take care of her ourselves. Mossop will superintend, but you, Ruth, will be with her altogether. You will dress her, and take her out and amuse her. I feel that I may have confidence in you, for you have been carefully brought up, and you have shown that you are obedient and straightforward. I was sorry for my bowl to be broken, and I hope in future you will be more careful, but I was very glad you told about it.'

Ruth flushed a little; partly with shame, for she did feel she had been careless, but more with pleasure. She was glad to have pleased Lady Melicent, and she was delighted to hear the news. To be under Cousin Ellen instead of Naylor was nice of itself, and to have the care of little Miss Flossie would be a treat!

'Thank you very much, my lady,' she said timidly. 'I will do my best, and indeed I will try to be more careful.'

She felt in such good spirits the next day or two, that she did not mind the rather grim looks she got from Naylor. Not that Naylor minded a little extra work to oblige my lady, but she felt sure Ruth would have her head turned once she was removed from her authority, even for a time.

A week, then a fortnight, passed. All was ready for the little visitor. Two days before her arrival Ruth was sweeping the passage leading to the book-room early one morning, when her glance again fell on the cabinet and its contents. It was a very sunny day, and the bright rays showed off as before the green casket, and revealed at the same time that the cabinet was very dusty indeed. Ruth drew near. To a very tidy, expert housemaid there is a sort of fascination in dust. Her fingers quivered.

'I'm sure Naylor often forgets that cabinet,' she said. 'She'd much better let me do it. And what's more, I will, just for this once.'

She lifted off carefully some of the ornaments, and placed them safely on the floor. Then she raised the green casket, admiring it as she did so, when, oh horror! The lid seemed in some extraordinary way to detach itself, and fell to the ground with a sharp sound; and when the girl, trembling with fear, stooped to pick it up, she saw it was in two pieces; a corner, a good-sized corner, was broken off! For a moment or two, Ruth was really too appalled to move; then she looked at it closely. It was a neat fracture, by replacing it on the box, and 'standing' the whole on the cabinet again, the breakage did not show. Just then Ruth heard Naylor's voice; quick as thought she put back the two or three uninjured ornaments beside the casket as usual, and flew down the passage to the book-room, and there Naylor found her a few minutes later, quietly dusting. The temptation to conceal this new misfortune was too great, and Ruth yielded to it.

At first she only said to herself she would wait till the evening – Naylor was in a fussy humour, she could see. But evening came, and then next morning, and her courage grew ever fainter, till at last came the day Miss Flossie was expected, and then Ruth felt it was too late. She could not tell now, and have a scene like the last time, just as the little lady arrived. And evidently Naylor had not discovered the breakage, though the cabinet and the ornaments were carefully dusted. This puzzled Ruth a little; she could only suppose that the upper-housemaid dusted with her feather brush without moving the things about. And she tried to put the matter altogether out of her mind, though there were times – when she knelt to say her prayers, morning and evening, was the worst time – that she could not succeed in doing so, and more than one night she cried herself to sleep, crying more bitter tears than even the day Naylor had been so harsh and unkind. For then Ruth's conscience was clear. Ah, the difference that makes!

Florentia proved to be a quiet, easily-managed child. Indeed she was rather too quiet in the opinion of her grandmother and the old servants, who had known her much more lively.

'Are you quite well, darling?' asked Lady Melicent one day. 'I never hear you racing about and laughing as you did in the winter. Wouldn't you like a nice game of ball in the long passage? You could play with Ruth at the end near the book-room where there is no furniture.'

'No, thank you, Granny,' the little girl replied. 'I'd rather go out a walk with Ruth. I like best playing in the garden.'

'And you like Ruth, dear? She is kind to you, I am sure?'

'Yes, thank you, grandmamma. I like Ruth, and she likes playing in the garden best too.'

A sudden thought struck Lady Melicent. 'Flossie,' she said, 'will you run and fetch me the atlas which you will see lying on the side-table in the book-room. Your mother wants me to show you where they are now, on the map.'

Flossie hesitated. Lady Melicent and she were in the boudoir.

'In the book-room?' she repeated.

'Yes,' said her grandmother decidedly, 'in the book-room. Be quick, dear.'

Flossie went. But she was not quick, and when after some minutes she returned, she seemed rather out of breath.

'Why have you been so long? It doesn't take a minute to run down the passage,' said the old lady.

Flossie grew red.

'I went the other way,' she said. 'I don't like the passage. I went down-stairs, and up the back-stairs.'

Her grandmother looked at her keenly.

'What a strange idea!' she said. 'Do you think there is an ogre in the passage?'

But Flossie did not laugh or even smile. And just then Ruth came to fetch her. Lady Melicent sighed when she was left alone. 'I wonder,' she thought, 'if I took Ruth into my confidence, if perhaps she might help to make Flossie tell. I can see the child will not be happy till she does, and I do not want to ask her. I should be so afraid of making her deny it. Ruth behaved so well about my beef-tea bowl, I am sure she has nothing underhand about her.'

And the old lady looked quite anxious and depressed.

Ruth and her little charge meanwhile were sauntering slowly up and down the garden. In spite of Flossie's saying that it amused her to 'play' in the garden, it did not look very like it. She seemed spiritless and dull, and Ruth too appeared to have lost her usual bright happy eagerness. Neither spoke for some time; at last Ruth half started, as it suddenly struck her that she was scarcely fulfilling her duty.

'Miss Flossie, dear,' she said, 'wouldn't you like a game? It's not warm to-day, and we're walking along so slowly. Shall I fetch your ball or your hoop? Or would you like to run races?'

'No, thank you; I'd rather just walk along,' said the child. Then after a moment's silence she went on. 'I don't like much being at the Tower House now. Do you like it, Ruth? Would you not rather be at your own home?'

Ruth hesitated.

'Yes, for some things I would,' she said. 'But I was very pleased to come here.'

'Were you?' said Flossie, rather incredulously. 'You don't look very happy. I thought so the first day. I wrote to mother that you had a kind face, but not a happy one.'

'Did you, Miss Flossie?' exclaimed Ruth, rather taken aback. 'Well, at home I was called the merriest of everybody, and, and – I've been merry here sometimes.'

'But you're not now, Ruth,' said Flossie gravely. Then she peered up into the little maid's face with her big gray eyes. 'I'll tell you what, Ruth,' she said, 'I believe you've something on your mind. It's very bad to have something on your mind. I know about it,' she went on mysteriously.

Ruth grew scarlet.

'You know about me having something on my mind, Miss Flossie,' she said. 'What do you mean?'

Flossie did not at once answer.

'I hate passing that way,' she murmured to herself. 'I shut my eyes tight not to see the cabi – . What are you staring at me like that for, Ruth?' she broke off suddenly, finding the girl's eyes fixed upon her. 'I only said it's very bad to have something on your mind, and so it is.'

Ruth by this time was as pale as she had been red.

'But what do you mean – how do you know, Miss Flossie? How do you know I have anything on my mind, and what were you saying about the old cabinet?'

'I was speaking to myself. You shouldn't listen,' said Flossie crossly. 'I've something on my mind, but you needn't ask about it. You may be sorry for me, just as I'm sorry for you, but you needn't ask questions about what it is.'

'I – I wasn't asking questions,' said Ruth, more and more bewildered. 'I was only wondering why – what – what made you speak of the old cabinet in the passage? Did anyone – Naylor or anyone – say anything about it since you came, Miss Flossie?'

It was Flossie's turn to start.

'No,' she said, 'of course not. Nobody knows – oh, I wish I hadn't come here!' she suddenly broke off, 'and I wish you wouldn't speak of horrid things, Ruth. You weren't here in the winter; you couldn't know. And oh, I am so unhappy,' and throwing herself into Ruth's arms, the little girl burst into loud weeping.

CHAPTER IV. – A DOUBLE CONFESSION

This was what was on little Flossie's mind, and on her grandmother's mind too, for that matter! It had happened several months ago, during the child's last visit to the Tower House.

One day Flossie had a cold. Not a very bad one, but enough to make her cross and uncomfortable. She was tired of reading, tired of her dolls, tired of everything, and it was a very woebegone-looking little girl that came to say good-night to grandmamma.

'I wish I'd something to amuse me,' she said dolefully. 'If my cold isn't better to-morrow and I can't go out, I don't know what to do all day.'

Lady Melicent considered.