CHAPTER V.

AN EVENING OUT.

BUT when Monday morning came, Olive and Lottie were willing enough to begin lessons under the direction of their new governess. The thaw, as had been predicted, quickly turned to rain, and for the remainder of that last week of holidays the little girls had not been allowed to go out of doors. Consequently they had grown very tired of having no regular employment to occupy them, and not a word of disapproval was expressed when Dora said they must be ready for her in the schoolroom at half-past nine on Monday.

If that first morning might be taken as a fair example of what would follow, they must have felt they would benefit by the change of teachers. They had often declared it to be "very provoking" that just as they were in the most interesting part of a lesson, their mother should be called hastily away, and sometimes half an hour would elapse before she returned to the room. Again she had often been obliged to set them tasks while she attended to some necessary household matter. And when she came back, she would find, perhaps, that Olive was waiting for an explanation of a new rule in arithmetic, or that Giles could not proceed with his French exercise, because he had forgotten how to form the feminine of an adjective with some particular ending, and could not find the example.

Then very often Phil was in the room the whole of lesson time. He had to be there because he could not be left alone, and the little maid-servant was too busy to take charge of him. But his presence did not tend to keep order and quietness, and his doings often drew the interest of the little students from their books.

Now there was no claim on Dora's attention outside the schoolroom, and as Phil was more than content to be with "moder," there was no interruption within. And Dora, as she had promised, tried to make the lessons as interesting as possible. She had determined to spare herself no labour that her pupils might learn easily, and Giles silently owned to himself that "Dora was a deal cleverer than he ever thought." They were all surprised when they heard the clock in the passage strike twelve. Even Lancie, tired as he often got of the lesson hours, had no wish to put away his books.

"Why, the morning hasn't seemed any time," said Olive. "Oh! Do let us go on with our geography a little longer. It's such fun to fancy ourselves a party of rich people travelling in Spain. Are you always going to teach us in this way, Dora?"

"Not always, but it will be pleasant to take make-believe journeys sometimes. But then, you know, it doesn't end there. You have to learn by heart the names of all the mountains and rivers we have crossed, and also to write as good and as full an account as you can of what I have been telling you about the country. I shall expect it done by the next time we have a lesson in geography."

"That'll be on Thursday," said Lottie, who had been looking at her time-table, for Dora had presented each of her pupils with a copy. "I wish we could have it to-morrow instead."

It was very pleasant to Dora to hear that her efforts had been appreciated, and she began to think that teaching was one of the most delightful things in the world. For her part she would have been very willing to go on with lessons until dinner-time, but the recollection of her resolve to be methodical made her say that books must be put aside, and that her pupils must get ready for a walk.

At this moment there was a tap at the door, and without waiting for permission to enter, Robert came in.

"I knew school was over," he said, "by the noise I heard. Giles, would you like me to help you with your Latin declensions, and look over the exercises you have written?"

That Giles was grateful for this offer of assistance was very plain, and as he could go out after afternoon lessons as well as then, he was allowed to follow his own inclinations.

This was not the first occasion on which Robert had done a similar act of kindness. On that morning, when Giles had made up his mind to go on with the studies he had discontinued on his removal from school, he had asked his brother the pronunciation of a certain Latin noun of the third declension. Robert not only gave the information, but asked why Giles wished to know, and on being told, instantly volunteered to give any help in his power.

But though the offer was at once accepted, it was certainly unexpected. Like most weak characters, Robert was selfish, and instead of giving pleasure to the brother, who was only three years his junior, by making him his companion after school hours and during holidays, he treated him with an indifference and neglect which would have been very galling to one more sensitive than Giles. As it was, the younger boy frequently wished Robert "wouldn't snub a fellow like that." Therefore to meet with sympathy and as much practical aid as he liked to ask for was indeed a surprise.

But in many respects Robert had behaved differently during the last week of his holidays. Instead of going off for hours together with some of his schoolfellows, as was usually his custom, he stayed in the house and worked industriously at his "holiday task," or amused himself with some other quiet occupation. He devoted one entire morning to mending a chair that had a broken back, and was actually seen gumming the dilapidated cover to one of his badly used school books. On the Tuesday his holidays would be over, and that he should offer to give up some part of his last day of freedom to help him with his Latin, seemed to Giles especially kind.

[Illustration: HE DEVOTED ONE ENTIRE MORNING TO MENDING A CHAIR.]

"I think I am well enough to go out to-day," said Lancie, wistfully, as he looked from his brothers, now settled at the table with their books, to the window, through which fell a ray of pale sunshine. "Will you ask mother what she thinks, Dora?"

As he felt equal to the exertion, Mrs. Grainger thought the fresh air would do him good, and accordingly, after being well wrapped up, he went out with his sisters.

But he had not gone the length of the street before he was tired, and said he must return. Dora was pained at the ring of disappointment and weariness she detected in his voice, and telling Olive and Lottie not to go out of the street until she had joined them again, she went back with him.

"Oh, Lancie!" she said. "How I wish we could afford to give you a ride in a bath chair sometimes, as we used to do before father had to pay all that money for that horrible man."

"Never mind," said Lancie, trying to look cheerful, though he felt just the reverse, "we shall be out of debt after a while. And who knows whether long before then you mayn't be able to earn some money? If so, I am sure I should get my rides."

"If only I could!" exclaimed Dora. "Whatever put the idea into your head? Oh, Lancie! Can't you think of some thing I could do!"

"I only said it because I knew it would please you," he said, smiling.

"Yes, of course, I know that; but couldn't I do it!"

"I'm afraid you can only dream about it yet awhile. If it's going to make you unhappy, I shall wish I'd never said such a silly thing."

"Make me unhappy? No indeed it shall not. But, Lancie, you've put the thought in my head and the longing in my heart, and it won't be for want of trying if I do not devise some plan by which to earn money."

The "plans" that suggested themselves to Dora were to give music lessons, and to advertise, in a way that would cost nothing, for a pupil or pupils to share her brother's and sisters' lessons. But on hearing of her wish, her mother quietly said that she had set herself more than enough to do as it was, and she was too young and inexperienced to undertake the more responsible work of teaching the children of strangers.

A little sensible reflection would have made Dora see that this was a right opinion, but though she listened in silence, she was not convinced of the soundness of her mother's reasoning, and in spite of the success which had attended her efforts that day, she went to bed feeling that her desire to give Lancie benefit and pleasure, and help pay off their debt in actual coin, had not met with the appreciation and sympathy it deserved.

The next day was not only the first of the new term at school for Katie as well as for Robert, but it was also the day of Connie's party, and during breakfast Katie was full of excitement at the prospect before her.

"Aren't you really sorry that you are not going, Dora?" she asked, as she came into the sitting room with her hat and jacket on, just before starting for school.

"Not one bit," was her sister's reply. "We mean to spend a happy evening here, don't we, Olive and Lottie! And I shouldn't wonder if we have the best of it after all."

In one way Dora was quite out of her reckoning, for it happened that only baby Phil kept her mother company at home that evening.

An hour or so later, when she and her pupils were busy in the schoolroom, the sound of a strange voice made them suddenly look up from their work. Their visitor was Mrs. Armstrong, a dear old friend of their mother, who, with her only son, lived in lodgings about half a mile from Madeira Street.

"Why!" exclaimed Lottie, as she jumped up to give her a kiss. "However was it we didn't hear you come in?"

"I suppose you were too busy," said Mrs. Armstrong, smiling. And then she shook hands with each, lingering a little when she came to Lancie's chair.

"What do you think brought me here so early this morning?" she asked, as she took the seat Olive placed for her by the fire.

They declared they couldn't guess, and begged her to tell them at once.

"I came to ask you to give me a birthday present."

"Is to-day your birthday?"

And then at their visitor's reply, there was a chorus of:

"Many happy returns, many happy returns."

"Thank you," and Mrs. Armstrong gave them all a very affectionate look. "Now for my present," she went on, smiling. "I want you all to give me the pleasure of your company at tea this evening. It will make me so happy to see your bright, young faces round me. I hear that Katie has an invitation already, so I must not look for her. But I hope Robert will come straight from afternoon school, and I have no doubt Edgar will stay a little while when he calls to take you home. Anyway, you must ask him to do so."

"I cannot come, thank you," said Lancie, and there was a little quiver of pain under the quiet tone in which he spoke. "I went out yesterday, but before I got to the end of the street, I was tired and had to turn back."

"Your mother and I have talked that over, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, "and you are to come and return in a cab. If you are tired when you get to me, you can lie down on my sofa, and we will draw the tea-table close to you, so that there will be no need for you to move at all. I may expect you, mayn't I, Lancie?"

His answer could be read in the glow of pleasure which flushed his face.

And thus it came to pass that about four o'clock that afternoon, a cab, full of happy, smiling children, drove off from 99, Madeira Street.

Katie's party did not begin till six, so she was much later in starting. Her mother helped her dress, and then, with the white serge screened from sight and damp beneath her waterproof, she left for the Paffords. Mary went the short distance with her, and it was arranged that Edgar should be asked to call for her on his way home from Mrs. Armstrong's. Mr. Barfitt's accounts were now finished, and his evenings were therefore once more at his own disposal.

But though Dora, when giving her mother a good-bye kiss, had said they should certainly be back by ten, it was more than half-past when the cab drove up to the door, and eleven had struck before the whole family was again gathered beneath the same roof.

"Oh, Katie, we've had such a jolly time," said Lottie, as her sister and Edgar entered the room. "I'm not one bit sleepy, and we are all getting warm before we go to bed. Have you had a happy evening?"

The little girl spoke so rapidly that she stopped for sheer want of breath.

"Well," replied Katie, "there was nothing but dancing, and of course it isn't the pleasantest thing in the world to sit still oneself and watch other people moving about."

"I should think not indeed," said Dora. "You had much better have been playing musical chairs and dumb charades and post. I'm sure I enjoyed it as much as Olive and Lottie."

"I don't know," said Katie, stiffly, "whether I could bring myself to play such childish games now. If we'd only been taught dancing like other people, of course I should have got on very well. But we had a lovely supper—turkey, and chicken and ham, and tarts, and jellies, and everything you can think of. Then the house was so large and handsomely furnished. I always get tired of Mrs. Armstrong's one pokey little room."

"Katie dear," said her mother, gently but reprovingly, "I think you are tired and a little disappointed with your evening. You, as we all do, must honour Mrs. Armstrong, for we know that her husband left her with very small means and a little baby to bring up and educate. She has undergone great hardships and worked very hard in order to fit her only son to be a doctor. But she told me this morning that she thought her long struggle was nearly over now, for Percy was in a position to earn enough money to keep them both. For that reason she said she thought she might be a little extravagant on her birthday, and thus it was that you have been so pleasantly entertained." Then, changing the subject, she asked, "Was Percy at home to-night?"

"Yes, he came ever so much earlier than usual on purpose to see us," replied Olive. "But Giles talked to him such a deal that there wasn't a chance for anybody else to say much."

Giles blushed furiously.

"I wanted to know some things, and he told me," he said, and that was all the information he would vouchsafe.

But he was more communicative when, in a very little while, he and Edgar went upstairs together. No one was within earshot and Giles began eagerly,—

"Of course I didn't let Percy Armstrong know why I asked him such a lot of questions, but I did so want to find out whether there wasn't some hope for you. He said lots of men don't even begin to study medicine till they're older than he. Perhaps in a few years, we shall be better off, and you'll be able to be a doctor after all."

Edgar was greatly touched.

"Giles," he said, "I had no idea you were such a dear, sympathetic old fellow! Anyway, you've made me feel that it will all come right. And I'll keep that hope steadily in view, and every spare hour I get I'll give to study. But remember, I shall never be too busy to help you with your Latin."

How wonderfully happy those words made Giles! He was so happy that he lay awake for a full half-hour; and when at last he slept, he dreamt that Edgar was a famous physician, and went to see his patients in a coach like the Lord Mayor's, and lived in a house that was fit for a prince!

Somebody else was a still longer time in going to sleep that night. In the course of the evening Mrs. Armstrong had asked Dora whether she had seen the announcement of prizes that the editor of a certain magazine for young people offered for short original stories, and on her reply in the negative, had produced the number, and shown her the page. Sums, varying from two guineas to five shillings, were offered for the best tales of a specified length, and Dora was instantly filled with a desire to become one of the competitors. There were yet three weeks before the stories need be sent in—ample time in which to make trial of her skill, and the idea having once entered her mind, it did not leave her until it had taken tangible form. That was not until the small hours of the morning, when, having thought out the incidents and characters of her tale, she fell asleep.

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