Chapter Five.
May Day.
“But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,
For I’m to be Queen of the May, mother, I’m to be Queen of the May!”
—Tennyson.
Agnetta had been quite wrong in saying that Lilac had any idea of being Queen. At the school that afternoon, when amidst breathless silence the Mistress had counted up the votes and said: “Lilac White is chosen Queen”, it had been such a surprise to her that she had stood as though in a dream. Her companions nudged her on either side. “It’s you that’s Queen,” they whispered; and at length she awoke to the wonderful fact that it was not Agnetta or anyone else who had the most votes, but she herself, Lilac White. She was Queen! Looking round, still half-puzzled to believe such a wonderful thing, she saw a great many pleased faces, and heard Mrs Leigh say: “I think you have chosen very well, and I am glad Lilac will be Queen this year.” It was, then, really true. “How pleased Mother’ll be!” was her first thought; but her second was not so pleasant, for her eye fell on Agnetta. It was the only sullen face there; disappointment and vexation were written upon it, and there was no answering glance of sympathy from the downcast eyes. Lilac was an impulsive child, and affection for her friend made her forget everything else for the moment. She left her place, went up to Mrs Leigh, who was talking to the schoolmistress, and held one arm out straight in front of her.
“Well, Lilac,” said Mrs Leigh kindly, “what is it?”
“Please, ma’am,” said Lilac, dropping a curtsy, “if they don’t mind, I’d rather Agnetta Greenways was Queen.”
“Oh, that’s quite out of the question,” said Mrs Leigh decidedly; “when the Queen’s been once chosen it can’t be altered. Why, I should have thought you would have been pleased.”
Lilac hung her head, and went back to her place rather abashed. She was pleased, and she did not like Mrs Leigh to think she did not care. Her whole heart was full of delight at receiving such an honour, but at the same time it was hard for Agnetta, who had so set her mind on being Queen. If only she could be Queen too! That being impossible, Lilac had done her best in offering to give it up, and it was disappointing to find that her friend, far from being grateful, was cross and sulky with her and quite out of temper. When the other children crowded round Lilac with pleased faces Agnetta held back, and had not one kind word to say, but refusing an advances flung herself away from her companions and rushed home full of wrath. Lilac looked after her wistfully; it hurt her to think that Agnetta could behave so. “After all,” she said to herself, “I couldn’t help them choosing me, and I did offer to give it up.”
Everyone else was glad that she was Queen, and ready with a smile and a nod when they met her. If Agnetta had only been pleased too Lilac’s happiness would have been perfect, but that was just the one thing wanting. However, even with this drawback there was a great deal of pleasure to look forward to, and when she went to the Rectory to have the white dress fitted on she was almost as excited as though it was really a royal robe.
“It’s a pity about the fringe, Lilac,” said Miss Ellen as she pinned and arranged the long train; “it’s not nearly so becoming.” Then seeing the excited face suddenly downcast she added: “Never mind; I dare say the crown will partly hide it.”
Her arrangements finished, she called her sister, and they both surveyed Lilac gravely, who, a little abashed by such business-like observation, stood before them shyly in her straight white gown, with the train fastened on her shoulders.
“I think she’ll do very nicely,” said Miss Alice, “when she gets the flowers on. They make all the difference. What will she wear?”
Miss Ellen’s opinion was decided on that point. “It ought to be white lilac, and plenty of it,” she said, “nothing would suit the Queen so well.” Then came a difficulty: there was none nearer than Cuddingham. Could it be got in time?
Lilac was doubtful, for Cuddingham was a long way off, but she promised to do her best, and Miss Ellen’s last words to her were:
“Bring moon daisies if you can’t get it, but remember I should like white lilac much the best.”
Lilac herself thought the moon daisies would be prettier, with their bright yellow middles; but Miss Ellen’s word was law, and as she had set her heart on white lilac, some way of going to Cuddingham must be found since it was too far to walk. There were only two days now to the great event, and during them Lilac did her best to make her wants known everywhere. In vain, however. No one was going to or coming from that place; always the same disappointing answers:
“Cuddingham! No, thank goodness; I was there last week. I don’t want to see that hill again yet a while.” Or, “Well now, if I’d known yesterday I might a suited you.” And so on.
Lilac began to despair. She thought of Orchards Farm, but she had not courage to ask any favour there while Agnetta was so vexed with her. Even Uncle Joshua, who had always helped her at need, had nothing to suggest now, and did not even seem to think it of much importance. He dropped in to see Mrs White on the evening before May Day, and with her usual faith in him Lilac at once began to place her difficulty before him. But for once he was not ready to listen, and she was obliged to wait impatiently while he carried on a long conversation with her mother. They had a great deal to talk of, and it was most uninteresting to Lilac, for it was all about things of the past in which she had had no share. She might have liked it at another time, but just now she was full of the present, and she became more and more impatient as Uncle Joshua went on. He had to call back the first celebration of May Day which he “minded”, and the smallest event connected with it; and when he had done Mrs White took up the tale, dwelling specially on Jem’s musical talent, and how he had been the very soul of the drum-and-fife band.
“They’re all at sixes and sevens now, to my thinking,” she said. “Jem, he kep’ ’em together and made ’em do their best.”
“Aye, that’s where it is,” said the cobbler with an approving nod; “that’s what we’ve all on us got to do.”
His eye rested as he spoke on Lilac’s eager face, and seizing the opportunity of a pause she rushed in with what she had so much on her mind:
“Oh, Uncle Joshua! to-morrow’s the day, and I can’t get no white lilac for Miss Ellen to make my garland with. What shall I do?”
But Joshua was in a moralising mood, and though Lilac’s question gave him another subject to discourse on, he was more bent on hearing himself talk than in getting over her difficulty. He raised one finger and began to speak slowly, and when Mrs White saw that, she paused with the kettle in her hand and stood quite still to listen. Joshua was going to say something “good.”
“It don’t matter a bit,” he said, “what you make your garland of. Flowers is all perishin’ things and they’ll be dead next day, and wear what you will, they won’t make you into a real Queen. But there’s things as will always make folks bow down when they see ’em, May Day or no May Day, and them’s the things you ought to seek for, early and late till you find ’em. You take a lot of pains to get flowers to deck your outsides, but you don’t care much for the plants I’m thinking of; you leave ’em to chance, and so sometimes they’re choked out by the weeds. An’ yet they’re worth takin’ trouble for, and if you once get ’em to take root and grow they’re fit to crown the finest Queen as ever was; and they won’t die either, but the more you use ’em the fresher and sweeter they’ll be. There’s Love now; you can’t understand anyone, not the smallest child, without that. There’s Truth; you can’t do anything with folks unless they trust you. There’s Obedience; you can’t rule till you know how to serve. There’s three plants for you, and there’s a whole lot more, but that’s enough for you to bear in mind, and I must be going along.”
Joshua departed much satisfied with his eloquence, leaving Mrs White equally impressed.
“Lor’!” she exclaimed, “there’s a gifted man. It’s every bit as good as being in church to hear him. And I hope, Lilac, as how you’ll lay it to heart and mind it when you get to be a woman.”
But Lilac did not feel in the least inclined to lay it to heart. She was vexed with Uncle Joshua, who had not been the least help in her perplexity; for once he had failed her, and she was glad he had gone away so that she could think over a plan for to-morrow. It was of no use evidently to reckon on white lilac any longer, the only thing to be done now was to get up very early the next morning and pick the best moon daisies she could find for Miss Ellen. This determination was so strong within her when she fell asleep, that she woke with a sudden start next morning as the daylight was just creeping through her lattice. Had she overslept herself? No, it was beautifully early, it must be an hour at least before her usual time. She dressed herself quickly and quietly, so as not to disturb her mother in the next room, and then pushing open her tiny window gave an anxious look at the weather. Would it be fine? At present a thin misty grey veil was spread over everything, but she could see the village below, which looked fast, fast asleep, with no smoke from its chimneys and nothing stirring. There was such a stillness everywhere that it seemed wrong to make a noise, as though you were in church. And the birds felt it too, for they twittered in a subdued manner, keeping back their full burst of song to greet someone who would come presently. Lilac knew who that was. She knew as well as the birds that very soon the sun would thrust away the misty veil and show his beaming face to the valley. It would be fine. It was May Day, and she was Queen!
She drew a deep breath of delight, went downstairs on tiptoe, found a basket and a knife, tied on her bonnet, and unlatched the door; but there she stopped short, checked on the threshold by a sight so surprising that for a moment she could not move. For at her feet, on the doorstep, lying there purely white as though it had fallen from the clouds, was a great mass of white lilac. There were branches and branches of it, so that the air was filled with its gentle delicate scent, and it was so fresh that all its leaves were moist with dew. Someone had been up earlier even than herself. The question was—who?
Uncle Joshua of course; he had not failed after all, though how even such a very clever man could have got to Cuddingham and back since last night was more than Lilac could tell. That did not matter. There it was, and what a fine lot of it! “He must have brought away nigh a whole bush,” she said to herself. “Miss Ellen will be rare and pleased, surely.” She gathered up the sweet-smelling boughs at last, and put them into one of her mother’s washing-baskets. There was no need to pick moon daisies now, and as she swept and dusted the room and lit the fire she gave many looks of admiration at her treasure, and many grateful thoughts to Uncle Joshua. Mrs White also had no doubt that he had managed it somehow; and she was so moved by the fact of his kindness, and by Lilac being Queen, and by a hundred past memories, that her usual composure left her, and she threw her apron over her head and had a good cry.
“There!” she said when it was over, “I can’t think what makes me so silly. But Jem he would a been proud to have seen you—he always liked the laylocks.”
But now came the question as to how it was to be carried down the hill to the school room. Lilac could not lift the great basket, and it was at last found best to pile up the branches in her long white pinafore, which she held by the two corners. When all was ready she looked seriously across the fragrant burden, which reached up to her chin, and said:
“You’ll be sure and be up there in time, won’t you, Mother, or you won’t see me crowned?”
“No fear,” said Mrs White as she held the gate open. “Mind and walk steady or you’ll drop some, and you can’t pick it up if you do.”
Lilac nodded. She was almost too excited to speak. If it felt like this to be Queen of the May, she wondered what it must be like to be a real Queen!
It was a glorious morning. The mist had gone, the sun had come, and all the birds were singing their best tunes to welcome him. To Lilac they sounded more than usually gay, as though they were telling each other all sorts of pleasant things. “The sun is here—it is May Day—Lilac is Queen.” All the trees too, as they bent in the breeze, seemed to talk together with busy murmurs and whisperings: they tossed their heads and threw up their hands as if in surprise at some news, and then bowed low and gracefully before her, for what they had heard was—“Lilac White is Queen!”
Her heart danced so to listen to them that it was quite difficult to keep her feet to a measured step, but when she reached the turn of the hill something made her feel that she must look back. She turned slowly round. There was Mother waving her hand at the gate. When they next met it would be up in the woods, and Lilac would wear crown and garland. She could not wave her hand or even nod in return, but she made a sort of little curtsy and went on her way.
At the bottom of the hill she met Mrs Wishing, who, bent nearly double by a heavy bundle, was crawling up from the village.
“Well, you look happy anyhow, Lilac White,” she said mournfully. “And you haven’t forgotten to bring enough flowers with you either.”
“I can’t stop,” said Lilac, “I’ve got to go and put these on Father first. It’s so far for Mother to come.”
She gave a movement of her chin towards the primrose wreath which Mrs White had added at the last moment to the heap of flowers.
“Ah! well,” sighed Mrs Wishing, “in the midst of life we are in death. I haven’t much heart for junketing myself, but I shall be up yonder this afternoon if I’m spared.”
Lilac passed quickly on, nodding and smiling in return to the greetings which met her. At the door of the shop stood Mr Dimbleby, his face heavier than usual with importance, and a little farther on she saw her Uncle Greenways’ wagon and team waiting in charge of Ben, who leant lazily against one of the horses. Mr Greenways always lent a wagon on May Day so that the very old people and small children might drive up the worst part of the hill. Certainly it was there in plenty of time, for it would not be wanted till the afternoon; but it is always well not to be hurried on such occasions, and many of the people had to walk from outlying hamlets.
Lilac laid her primroses on her father’s grave, and turned back towards the school-house just as the clock struck twelve. There were now many other little figures hurrying in the same direction with businesslike step, and all carrying flowers. Primroses, daisies, buttercups, cowslips, and honeysuckle were to be seen, but there was nothing half so beautiful as the heap of white lilac. Agnetta saw it as she passed into the school room, and gave an astonished stare and a sniff of displeasure: she had only brought a basket of small daisies, and had taken no trouble about them, so that her offering was not noticed or praised at all. Then Lilac advanced, and dropping her little curtsy stood silently in front of Miss Ellen and Miss Alice holding out her pinafore to its widest extent. There were exclamations of admiration and surprise from everyone, and Agnetta stamped her foot with vexation to hear them.
“It’s exquisite!” said Miss Ellen at last. “Where did you get such a beautiful lot of it?”
“Please, ma’am, I don’t know,” said Lilac. “I found it on the doorstep.”
Agnetta’s wrath grew higher every moment. No one paid her any attention, and here was her insignificant cousin Lilac the centre of everyone’s interest. She overheard a whisper of Miss Alice’s: “She’ll make far the loveliest Queen we’ve ever had.”
What could it be they admired in Lilac? Agnetta stood with a pout on her lips, idle, while all round the busy work and chatter went on.
“Now, Agnetta,” said Miss Ellen, bustling up to her, “there’s plenty to do. Get me some twine and some wire, and if you’re very careful you may help me with the Queen’s sceptre.”
It was a hateful office, but there was no help for it, and Agnetta had to humble herself in the Queen’s service for the rest of the morning. To kneel on the floor, pick off small sprays from the bunches of lilac, and hand them up to Miss Ellen as she wove them into garland and sceptre. While she did it her heart was hot within her, and she felt that she hated her cousin. The work went on quickly but very silently inside the schoolroom. There was no time to talk, for the masses of flowers which covered table, benches, and floor had all to be changed into wreaths and garlands before one o’clock, for the Queen and her court. Outside it was not so quiet. An eager group had gathered there long ago, composed of the drum-and-fife band, which broke out now and then into fragments of tunes, the boy with the maypole on his shoulder, and bearers of sundry bright flags and banners. To these the time seemed endless, and they did their best to shorten it by jokes and laughter; it was only the close neighbourhood of the schoolmaster which prevented the boldest from climbing up to the high window and hanging on by his hands to see how matters were going on within. But at last the latch clicked, the door opened wide: there stood the smiling little white Queen with her gaily dressed court crowding at her back. There was a murmur of admiration, and the band, gazing open-mouthed, almost forgot to strike up “God save the Queen.” For there was something different about this Queen to any they had seen before. She was so delicately white, so like a flower herself, that looking out from the blossoms which surrounded her she might have been the spirit of a lilac bush suddenly made visible. The white lilac covered her dress in delicate sprays, it bordered the edge of her long train, it twined up the tall sceptre in her hand, it was woven into the crown which was carried after her. At present the Queen’s head was bare, for she would not be crowned till she reached her throne in the woods.
Then the procession began its march, band playing, banners fluttering bravely in the wind, through the village first, so that all those who could not get up the hill might come to their doors and windows to admire. Then leaving the highroad it came to the steep ascent, and here the wind blowing more freshly almost caught away the Queen’s train from the grasp of her two little pages. The band, in spite of gallant struggles, became short of breath, so that the music was wild and uncertain; and the smaller courtiers straggled behind unable to keep up with the rest.
It made its way, however, notwithstanding these difficulties, and from the top of the hill where crowds of people had now gathered it was watched by eager and interested eyes. First it looked in the distance like a struggling piece of patchwork on the hillside, then it took shape and they could make out the maypole and the flags, then, nearer still, the sounds of the three tunes which the band played over and over again were wafted to their ears, and at last the small white figure of the Queen herself could plainly be distinguished from the rest. It did not take long after this to reach level ground, and as the procession moved along with recovered breath and dignity to the music of “God save the Queen”, it was followed by admiring remarks from all sides:
“See my Johnnie! Him in the pink cap. Bless his ’art, how fine he looks!” Or “There’s Polly Ann with the wreath of daisies!”
“Well now,” said Mrs Pinhorn, “I will say Lilac looks as peart and neat as a little bit of waxworks.”
“She wants colour, to my thinking,” said Mrs Greenways, to whom this was addressed.
The Greenways stood a little aloof from the general crowd, dressed with great elegance. Bella rather looked down on the whole affair. “It’s so mixed,” she said; “but we have to go, because Papa don’t wish to offend Mr Leigh.”
“I call that a real pretty sight,” said Joshua Snell, turning to his neighbour, who happened to be Peter Greenways. “They’ve dressed her up very fitting in all them lilac blooms. But wherever did they get such a sight of ’em?”
Peter had been forced into a shiny black suit of clothes, a stiff collar, and a bright blue necktie, that he might not disgrace the stylish appearance of his mother and sisters. In this attire he felt even less at his ease than usual, and his arms hung before him as helplessly as those of a stuffed figure. Perhaps it was owing to this state of discomfort that he made no other answer to Joshua’s remark than a nervous grin.
“I don’t see the Widder White anywheres,” continued Joshua, looking round; “but there’s such a throng one can’t tell who’s who.”
Lilac, too, had been looking in vain for her mother amongst the groups of people she had passed through, and as she took her seat on the hawthorn-covered throne she gazed wistfully to right and left. No, Mother was not there. Plenty of well-known faces, but not the one she wanted most to see.
“She promised to be in time,” she said to herself, “and now she’ll miss the crowning.” It was a dreadful pity, for Lilac could only be Queen once in her life, and it seemed to take away the best part of the pleasure for Mother not to be there. She had been looking forward to it for so long. What could have kept her away? The Queen’s eyes filled with tears of disappointment, and through them the form of Peter Greenways seemed to loom unnaturally large, his face redder than ever above his blue neckcloth, his mouth and eyes wide open. Lilac checked her tears and remembered her exalted position. She must not cry now; but directly the crowning and the dance were over she resolved to search for her mother, and if she were not there to go home and see what had prevented her coming.
This determination enabled her to bear her honours with becoming dignity, and to put aside her private anxiety for the time like other royal personages. She danced round the maypole with her court, and led the May-Day song as gaily as if her pleasure had been quite perfect. But it was not; for all the while she was wondering what could possibly have become of her mother.
At last, her public duties over, the Queen found herself at liberty. The crowd had dispersed now, and was broken up into little knots of people chatting together and waiting for the next excitement—tea-time.
Through these Lilac passed with always the same question: “Have you seen Mother?” Sometimes in the distance she fancied she saw a shawl of a pattern she knew well, but having pursued it, it turned out to belong to someone quite different. She had just made up her mind to go home, when one of her companions ran up to her with an excited face:
“Come along,” she cried; “they’re just agoin’ to start the races.”
Lilac hesitated. “I can’t,” she said; “I’ve got to go and look after Mother.”
“Well, it’ll be on your way,” said the other; “and you needn’t stop no longer nor you like. Come along.”
She seized Lilac’s arm and they ran on together to the flat piece of ground on the edge of the wood, where the races were to take place. The steep side of the down descended abruptly from this, and Lilac knew that by taking that way, which was quite an easy one to her active feet, she could very quickly reach home. So she stayed to look first at one race and then at another, and they all proved so amusing that the more she saw the more she wanted to see, though she still said to herself: “I’ll go after this one.” She was laughing at the struggling efforts of the boys in a sack race, when suddenly, amidst the noise of cheers and shouting which surrounded her, she heard her own name spoken in an urgent entreating voice: “Lilac—Lilac White!”
“Who is it wants me!” she said, starting up and trying to force her way through the crowd. “I’m here; what is it?” The people stood back to let her pass.
“It’s Mrs Leigh wants you,” said a woman. “She’s standing back yonder.”
It was strange to see Mrs Leigh’s beaming face look so grave and troubled, and it gave Lilac a sense of fear when she reached her.
“Is Mother here, ma’am?” was her first question. “Does she want me, please?”
Mrs Leigh did not answer quite at once, then she said very seriously:
“Your mother is at home, Lilac. You must go with me at once. She is ill.”
Self-reproach darted through Lilac’s heart. Why had she put off going home? But she must do the best she could now, and she said at once:
“Hadn’t I best send someone for the doctor first, ma’am?”
“He is there,” answered Mrs Leigh. “He was sent for some time ago; Daniel Wishing went.”
The next thing was to get back to Mother as quickly as possible, and Lilac turned without hesitation to the way she had meant to take—straight down the side of the hill. But Mrs Leigh stopped aghast.
“You’re not going down there, surely?” she said.
“It’s as nigh again as going round, ma’am,” said Lilac eagerly; “and it’s not to say difficult if you do it sideways.”
Mrs Leigh still hesitated. It was very steep; the smooth turf was slippery. There was not even a shrub or anything to cling to, and a slip would certainly end in an awkward tumble. At another time she would have turned from it with horror, but she looked at Lilac’s upturned anxious face and was touched with pity.
“After all,” she said, grasping her umbrella courageously, “if you can help me a little, perhaps it won’t be so bad as it looks.”
So they started, hand in hand, Lilac a little in front carefully leading the way; but she was soon sorry that they had not gone round by the road. This was a short distance for herself, but it proved a long one now that she had Mrs Leigh with her. A slip, a stop, a slide, another stop—it was a very slow progress indeed. As they went jerking along the flowers fell off Lilac’s dress one by one and left a white track behind her. She had taken off her crown and held it in her hand; its blossoms were drooping already, and its leaves folded up and limp. How short a time it was since they had been fresh and fair, and she had marched up the hill so bravely, full of delight. Now, poor little discrowned Queen, she was leaving her kingdom of mirth and laughter behind her with every step, and coming nearer to the shadowy valley where sadness waited. After many a sigh and gasp Mrs Leigh and her guide reached the bottom in safety. They were on comparatively level ground now, with gently sloping fields in front of them and the sharp shoulder of the hill rising at their back. There, within a stone’s throw stood the Wishings’ cottage, and a little farther on Lilac’s own home. How quiet, how very still it all looked! Now and then there floated in the calm air a shout or a sudden burst of laughter from the distant merry-makers, but here, below, it was all utterly silent. The two little white cottages had no light in their windows, no smoke from their chimneys, no sign of life anywhere.
“Mother’s let the fire out,” said Lilac.
Mrs Leigh came to a sudden standstill. “Lilac,” she said, “my poor child—”
Lilac looked up frightened and bewildered. Mrs Leigh’s eyes were full of tears, and she could hardly speak. She took Lilac’s hand in hers and held it tightly. “My poor child,” she repeated.
“Oh, please, ma’am,” cried Lilac, “let’s be quick and go to Mother. What ails her?”
“Nothing ails her,” said Mrs Leigh solemnly; “nothing will ever ail her any more. You must be brave for her sake, and remember that she loves you still; but you will not hear her speak again on earth.”
The revels on the hill broke up sooner than usual that night, and those who had to pass the cottage on their way home trod softly and hushed their children’s laughter. For ill news travels fast, and before nightfall there was no one who did not know that the Widow White was dead.
And thus Lilac’s May-Day reign held in its short space the greatest happiness and the greatest sorrow of her life. Joy and smiles and freshly-blooming flowers in the morning; sadness and tears and a withered crown at night.