A POOR RELATION.
"When are we to have the picnic, mamma?" asked Julia at breakfast the next morning.
"Any day will suit me; but as your father and Gerald will only be here for a short time, I think we must arrange to have it as early as possible the week after next."
"Let us have it on Monday. Yes, Monday," cried Rupert and Julia together.
"I am going out boating on Monday," said Gerald lazily.
"Tuesday or Wednesday," suggested Mrs. Woburn.
"I am engaged for Tuesday also, but Wednesday is clear, I believe," replied the young man in a careless manner, as if it did not signify much to him whether he formed one of the party or not.
"How horrid of you to put it off so long," exclaimed his sister angrily. "I daresay Wednesday will be wet."
"Nous verrons," he replied, as he sauntered from the room with his hands in his pockets. He looked in again at the door to say, "I shall not be back until the evening, mother;" and in another moment the banging of the front-door told them that he had left the house.
"It is too bad of Gerald to go off like that the very first day he is here," said Julia. "I suppose he has taken his bicycle and gone out with his friends, the Goodes. Horrid people! Yes, there he is," she cried as Gerald and two other young men on bicycles passed the house bowing and smiling towards the window where the two girls were standing.
"Gerald out with the Goodes? I wish he would choose some other companions," said Mr. Woburn, who had scarcely noticed their previous conversation.
"You see how papa finds fault with him," whispered Julia to her cousin.
"Ruth, I want you to come to my room for a few minutes," said Mrs. Woburn; and her niece followed her upstairs.
"I should like you to try on these things and see how they fit you," she said, as she pointed to some pretty dresses spread out on the bed. There was a pale pink, trimmed with dainty white lace; a figured sateen covered with tiny rosebuds, and finished off here and there with knots and bows of rose-coloured ribbon; a simple holland dress trimmed with white braid, and a shady straw hat with bows of lace and a tiny bunch of rosebuds. Ruth gazed at the garments with admiration and astonishment, then she glanced at her own shabby print frock, blushed rosy red, and the tears began to gather in her eyes.
"What is the matter, Ruth? Do you not like them?" asked her aunt kindly.
"They are very pretty, and you are very kind, auntie; but I would rather not wear them," said the girl, trying hard to repress the tears of mortification that stood in her eyes.
"But, my dear, they have been bought on purpose for you to wear at the sea-side. Do at least try them."
"Thank you, auntie, I would much rather not do so;" and Ruth turned aside to the window, from which she could see nothing for the mist before her eyes caused by the storm of passion and pride surging within her breast.
There was no reply, and when she looked round again she found that she was alone. The sunshine was streaming into the room, shining upon the white hat and the pretty dresses, just such garments as Ruth would have chosen if she had had an opportunity of buying such a stock of clothes for herself. But she remembered Julia's words and manner the previous morning, and felt so proud and angry that she deliberately shut her eyes as she walked out of the room, and gave not a thought to her aunt's kindness.
"It is too bad! I'll not stand it!" she murmured. "I did not come here to be treated like a poor relation. If they don't like me as I am, I will go home again. Yes, I'll go and tell auntie so at once," she continued, her pride rising higher and higher until she reached the bay-windowed drawing-room where her aunt was sitting with Ernest. She did not observe his presence, but went straight to her aunt, her cheeks crimson and her eyes flashing.
"Aunt Annie," she said as calmly as her emotion would permit, "Aunt Annie, I think that I had better go home."
"My dear child, what is the matter?" cried Mrs. Woburn, dropping her work in her amazement.
"I think that if you don't like me as I am, I had better go home," she repeated.
"What do you mean?" asked her aunt, still more perplexed; while Ernest looked up from his book and inquired, "Has Julia been annoying her?"
"No," said Ruth; "but, oh, auntie! I can't bear to be—a poor relation, and—and have clothes given me."
The pent-up sobs would have their way at last, and the girl sank down beside her aunt, who tried to soothe and comfort her.
"Have those dresses troubled you so much, dear?" she asked gently. "I had no idea that that was the cause of your annoyance, but fancied you did not like the style in which they were made. If I had thought that you would have any objection I would have acted differently; but as your mother——"
"Did mother know that you were getting them for me?" inquired Ruth.
"Yes, and she wrote to say that she should be glad for you to be treated in every way like your cousin. And you must never think, dear, that we regard you as 'a poor relation.' Remember that your father is my brother, and whatever I give you has been paid for, and far more than paid for, years ago."
"Thank you, auntie; I am glad to know that," she said quietly.
"I did not think you were so proud, Ruth," whispered Ernest as she left the room, and went up to her own chamber to have a good cry over her foolish behaviour. But, to her dismay, Julia was there dressing for a walk, an occupation which she knew would take her a considerable time.
Oh, how she longed for her little room at home, where she had so often taken her childish troubles, or for a quiet nook upon the shore, such as she had often read of, but which is rarely to be found in a fashionable watering-place. There was no solitude for her just then, and she was obliged to fight the battle within silently, while her companion rallied her upon her mournful looks and red eyes; and to send up her prayer for help from the heart, without using the lips. But help came, and she conquered at last the pride and temper of which she was now thoroughly ashamed. She was anxious to obtain her aunt's forgiveness for the rude reception of her kindness, and tried to make amends by arraying herself in the pink dress and pretty hat, which she showed to Julia, saying how kind it was of auntie to get such lovely things for her. By-and-by when she had an opportunity she said in a low voice, "I am very sorry that I was so proud and rude just now, auntie. I'll try to behave better in future."
And Mrs. Woburn, looking at her niece's dress, saw that her repentance was not only expressed in words.