CHAPTER I

CINDERELLA

"ROSE COTTAGE is let at last!"

"How do you know?"

The question was asked by three somewhat excited young people in chorus.

"Because I saw a van-load of furniture there this afternoon."

Kenneth Snowden, aged twelve, looked as he felt, highly pleased with himself in being able to impart such interesting information to his brother and sisters.

"I wonder who in the world has taken that little hole of a place." This from Rupert, Kenneth's twin brother. "I'd as soon live in a rabbit-hutch as there."

"A rabbit-hutch would just suit you, with your long ears," laughed Kenneth, his eyes twinkling with fun.

Rupert was in no wise offended at his brother's personal remark, nor at the giggles with which it was greeted by his sisters, Gertie and Marcia.

"I'd rather have long ears," said he, "than a freckly nose like yours, old chap. But now," he went on, "what about Rose Cottage? Did you see anything of the people who have taken it?"

"Yes," was the prompt reply. "I saw an old woman and a little girl get out of a cab. They were plainly dressed, both of 'em; but somehow I don't fancy they were common people."

"Common people!" It was Nurse who here spoke. She was sitting by the window at needlework, doing her best to catch the receding winter daylight. "I should just think they are not indeed," said she. "Mrs. Russell, the lady who has taken Rose Cottage, used to be so rich that she could have curled her hair in banknotes if she had chosen to do so."

If Nurse had wished to create a sensation, she had succeeded. Four pairs of eyes greeted hers with excited interest. It was little seven-year-old Marcia, however, who first spoke—

"Oh, how funny!" she cried. "Fancy curling your hair in banknotes. Do people ever do such things, Nurse?"

"Of course not, you little silly!" cried Gertie, with the wisdom of ten years. "Be quiet, and let your elders talk."

Little Marcia, thus snubbed, relapsed for a while into silence.

"What made the old lady poor, Nurse?" asked Kenneth. "She must be jolly hard-up to take a place like Rose Cottage."

"She lost her money in a big bank smash," replied Nurse; "and since that time she's been so proud and unsociable she won't have anything to do with anybody. My sister used to be her maid; that's how I know."

"I wonder if she'll let the little girl be friends with us," said Marcia, with a wistful note in her voice.

"I don't suppose she will. Poor little motherless Ella!" Here Nurse sighed and looked very sympathetic. "She has rather a hard time of it, I should fancy."

"What about her father?" questioned Rupert.

"Oh, he's away, trying to make his fortune in Africa."

At this moment the tea-bell rang, and the conversation ended; but Nurse had said enough to rouse a great interest in the hearts of her young charges concerning the new inmates of Rose Cottage.

As it happened, Kenneth was the first of the Snowden family to make the acquaintance of little Ella Russell. Their meeting was in this wise.

A day or two after the inmates of Rose Cottage had settled in their new abode, Kenneth chanced to see Ella standing in the garden.

Rose Cottage was situated close to the large white gates which led to Berryland Hall—the residence of the Snowden family—hence the children's interest in the tiny abode.

It was a bleak January morning, and little Ella, with a dust-pan in her hand, was about to sprinkle cinder ashes on the garden path. It was in an exceedingly slippery state owing to the frost.

"Hullo, Cinderella!" said Kenneth with a twinkle in his eye. "What are you doing that for?"

"Because it's so slippery," replied the child with a certain little dignity; "and my name isn't 'Cinderella,' please."

"No, but that's what I'm going to call you. Your name is Ella, isn't it?"

"Yes, but how did you know?" Little Ella looked surprised.

"A little bird told me," said Kenneth mysteriously. "And as we are getting friendly over the cinders, you see, it's just the right name for you."

For a moment Ella looked doubtful as to whether to be cross or pleased at her new name, but her natural sweet temper soon came to the fore.

"If I'm Cinderella," she said, "I know who's the Prince."

"Who?" questioned Kenneth with interest.

"Father is," she answered confidentially; "when he comes home, Grannie and I are going to live in a big house again, and we shan't be poor any more."

"That'll be jolly for you, won't it?"

Kenneth was beginning to feel much interested in this little girl with the pretty blue eyes and brown curly hair.

"Yes, I should just think it will," said Ella; "but I mustn't stop talking any more. Grannie will be ever so cross if she—"

The rest of the sentence was never finished, for little Ella, in turning round to fulfil her task, suddenly slipped and fell to the ground.

A cry of unmistakable pain came from her lips, and then she grew so dreadfully white that Kenneth was frightened.

"I say, you aren't hurt much, are you?" he asked in anxious concern.

"It's—it's my arm," sobbed out the child. "I'm afraid—afraid—"

The little voice died away. Poor "Cinderella" had well-nigh fainted with the pain of a broken arm.

Kenneth, now thoroughly alarmed, rushed to the cottage door and shouted his loudest.

"Gracious me! Whatever is the matter?" It was old Mrs. Russell who answered his call, the one little maid which the household boasted having gone into the town shopping.

"It's Cinder—the little girl, I mean," cried Kenneth agitatedly; "she's tumbled down and hurt her arm."

"You pushed her, I suppose; you great rough boy!" was the old lady's harsh reply. She was so upset that she felt she must scold somebody.

"No—no, I didn't; she fell, and now she's fainted."

"Rubbish!" was the ejaculation. "Ella," she went on, calling in a thin, shrill voice, "pick yourself up, like a good girl, and come in out of the cold. Be quick about it, too."

There was real anxiety in her tone, but to Kenneth it sounded horribly cross and unsympathetic.

At this moment poor little Ella opened her eyes, her faintness being only of a slight nature.

With Kenneth's aid, for Mrs. Russell was afraid to venture herself upon the slippery pathway without her stick, she managed to get up and walk slowly to the house.

Mrs. Russell's keen eyes soon saw that the child's left arm was broken, and her first thought was for a doctor. Kenneth, guessing what was in her mind, suggested that he should run for Dr. Soames, who lived not far off. The old lady's face softened at his thoughtfulness.

"You are a sensible lad," said she, "and I shall be much obliged if you will."

Kenneth needed no second bidding, but hurried off for Dr. Soames as fast as his legs could carry him.