CHAPTER IX. STEP-DAUGHTERS.
"You look tired, Maureen," said Henrietta, coming forward at that moment, "and as I'm father's child, perhaps he would like me to pour out tea."
Maureen turned very red, but did not speak a word; she sat down quietly on a seat near Colonel Herbert. He looked at the child with unspeakable love and anxiety in his eyes. By-and-by, to Maureen's great rejoicing, she and the Colonel went off for their ride together.
The moment the Rector found himself alone with his step-daughters, for the two boys and Kitty had fled from the hall, Henrietta went and knelt down by the elderly man's side.
"Are you vexed with me, father dear?"
"I am, Henrietta, decidedly vexed. You have no right to take Maureen's place in this house. I did not wish to make a fuss before Colonel Herbert, but clearly understand that Maureen has the management of things at Templemore."
"But I am your child, daddy, and older, too," said Henrietta.
"And so am I, daddy, dad. We are twins, of course, so we are the same age," said Daisy, "and we are older than Maureen by a few months."
"Yes, I know all that," said the Rector.
"Well, you see, it's like this," proceeded Henrietta. "It was quite bad enough to be robbed. Darling father—for you do look a dear old duck—we are not blaming you one little bit, you couldn't help yourself; but mumsie, had she lived, meant all her money to go to Daisy and me. Well, she died, poor dear, so there was an end to that. She was a bit mad when she made that will, but we must put up with it. It's there, and the lawyers say it cannot be changed; only really and truly, father dear, Daisy and I, as your step-daughters, and as mumsie's own children, ought to be heads of everything in this house. We want to order the servants. Maureen can do rough work, of course, if we like to give it to her, but she must do it under our superintendence; don't you think so, Daisy?"
"Certain sure, Henny-penny."
"So you see, father dear," continued Henrietta, fixing the Rector with her fierce bright eyes, "it's better to begin at once. That's why I spoke as I did just now, and why I took possession of the tea-urn."
"And gave me," said the Rector, "quite the most nauseous cup of tea I ever had at Templemore."
"Oh, you are prejudiced, daddy dear," said Daisy. "It was delicious tea. Henny is famed for her tea; but never mind, you shall teach Henny, and she shall give it to you just as you like—only the main point is this: Is not Maureen to understand clearly and at once, that she is under us in this establishment?"
"No," said the Rector, "it cannot be."
"But it is very queer of you, daddy"—sob-sob came from Daisy's lips. "Here are we, your own darling wife's only children, treated anyhow, and that little scamp put on top of us. I don't think we can stand it."
"I don't think you can, Daisy. I think I must give immediate directions to have you and your sister sent to my cousin. She'll manage you if I can't. And now, my dears, although I'm better, I'm not the strongest of the strong, so I must ask you both kindly to leave me."
"But we won't go to that awful cousin of yours. We ought to be heads of this establishment; it's very cruel, that's what I call it. Our money gone, and our mother gone, and we thought nothing of at all. If you were anything of a gentleman, father, you wouldn't have taken us from that nice school that mumsie chose for us, where we had lots and lots of friends."
"My dears," said the Rector, and he laid his hand as gently as he could on Henrietta's shoulder and looked into those fierce eyes so like his poor wife's, and noticed the cloud of red-gold hair; and then he glanced from her to Daisy, who was winking at her sister, and altogether putting on a most disagreeable appearance. "My dears," he said, "God help me—I'm a weak man. I have suffered sorely, and your mother's money is no pleasure to me."
"Oh, don't talk tommy-rot," said Daisy. "If it is no pleasure to you, you can give it back to us."
"There is such a thing as the law of the land, girls, and by that law, the money your mother left behind her can only be spent according to the one will she made. I wish for many reasons it could have been otherwise. I will tell you one thing, my dears: I did not even know of the existence of the will until the very day your poor mother leapt from the dog-cart and broke her neck."
"She must have looked very queer with her neck broken," said Daisy. "Did you see her, father? Was it twisted round or doubled over, or what?"
"Daisy, I refuse to answer any more of your heartless questions. Go away now and leave me in peace. I am feeling terribly tired and upset. But clearly understand, both of you girls, that for the present you are only guests in this establishment, and that Maureen keeps her old place. Now, go!"
"Well, he is a frump," said Daisy to her sister. She uttered these words after she had left the hall. "If you had gone out, Daisy, and left him to me, I would have managed him fine. I'm the sort of girl that can come round any man. But you—you are just contemptible. I'll get the upper hand of Miss Maureen yet, but I'll manage it in my own way. You can back me, of course, if you like."
"You may be sure I'll do that, Henny! I couldn't live but for you, but I do get so passionately angry when I think of the way we have been treated. Just to think of that little whipper-snapper having a horse of her own and a Colonel to ride with her, and she put before everyone and getting as much money as we shall have. Oh, I call it detestable!"
"Well, you heard what father said—that the will can't be changed," said Henrietta. "Let's go now and visit the kitchens and scold the servants. They at least shall imagine we are mistresses."
"Oh, what larks!" said Daisy. "Come along, Henny; you are just splendid."
There were a good many servants seated at tea in the old kitchen, for Mr. O'Brien, owing to his added wealth, had increased his staff. They were all Irish Mollies, Bridgets, and Norahs, in addition to which there was the old butler Burke, who sat at one end of the long table, while Pegeen occupied the place of honour at the other. This goodly group of men and maids—for several of the gardeners had come in without permission for their meals—were talking in the soft, low-pitched voice of the Irish. They were drinking tea, too, according to the invariable fashion, out of saucers, their elbows resting on the table-cloth, which was by no means too clean.
"Lawk-a-massy," one of the men was saying to Norah, the under-housemaid, "why, what Mr. Burke has been a-telling to me fair takes my breath entirely. It seems to grip me like. That young minx taking our Miss Maureen's place and slopping out the tea, half into the saucer and half into the cup; and Miss Maureen, the angel that she is, not a word out of her, but just setting down near the Colonel, blessed man, and taking her tea, as though it was nice, although the left cheek of the poor lamb was all swelled up; wasn't it, Burke?"
"It was that so," replied Burke, "and fiery red for that matter."
"And herself such a pale little colleen," said Norah. "My word, one of 'em must have riz a hand at her."
All this time Pegeen had not uttered a word, but her sunken black eyes looked very black indeed, and her breath came in short, quick puffs from her almost toothless mouth.
It was upon this scene that the Misses Mostyn burst in.
"Hullo, hullo, you good people!" said Daisy.
"Hold your tongue, Daisy, and let me speak," interrupted Henrietta.
But here Pegeen rose to her feet, the rest immediately following her example.
"I'll thank ye, madames, to walk out of my kitchen. Ye are not welcome here, and that's flat."
"Oh, dear, dear, what horrid people you all are!" exclaimed Daisy. "We poor orphan girls can't go anywhere to get a bit of welcome."
"To be sure now," said Pegeen, "and there is much of the grief of the orphan about yez. I niver did see it, niver, displayed so touchin' like. Ye are your mother over again, and she war a bad 'un if ever there was a bad 'un. What call had ye, I'd like to know, to go and push yourself into Miss Maureen's place—her little darling self that is the angel of the world? Yes, yez did that; and, what's more, one or other of ye, I can't say which, sthruck her across the left cheek. What call had ye to go on like that, and then come prying in on us? Get out of the way, that's what I say—quick!"
"Please," said Henrietta, who thought it best to be as polite as she knew how, for all the servants were glaring at her as though they would tear her in pieces. "Please let me speak and then I'll go, but I'll take good care to tell the master—my father—what a disgraceful scene I have lighted on. I don't believe for one moment those men have any right to be in the kitchen, and—why, I do declare that is peach jam you are eating, and new-laid eggs. I'm the head of the house in future, so you'd better accept the fact. But now, what I wish to know is this: When is Miss Daisy's and my room to be changed?"
"Sakes alive—ye have got a fine bedroom! Haven't ye tuk to it?"
"We were taken to a room where my mother slept until she died. Do you think we would put up with a haunted room?"
"I did hear the banshee two nights ago," said Norah. "She was crying at one of the windows. It was a sure sign of another death."
"And you expect us to sleep there," said Henrietta. "That's likely. However, the matter is settled, and whoever is the housemaid—I'm sure I don't know how many there are—dozens, I should say—but anyway the housemaids, as soon as they have finished their peach jam and new-laid eggs, are to go upstairs and put our beds into father's room, and father will sleep in the haunted room. He has given orders to that effect, and if you don't believe me, impertinent Irish savages, you'd better go and ask him."
"My word, I will that," said Norah.
"And so will I," said Bridget.
"And so will I," cried Molly. "It will be a nice change for the masther, for his room is mighty poor and what you might call rickety, whilst 'herself' had what was the best room in the house. I'm right glad ye heard the banshee, Norah, for now the poor dear masther will have a dacent room to sleep in; and as like as not, for that matter, the banshee'll cry at the window of the room ye'll be sleeping in, misses. It's ye she's after—the same as your poor mother. Oh, my word, we must bustle to."
"Finish your tay," said Pegeen; "and, young ladies—what calls theirselves such—lave the kitchen!"