Miss Con

by Agnes Giberne

I do not think any more passed between us. One cannot always talk when one feels the most.

Now and then the farmer, Mr. Stockmoor, and I exchanged a few words across the silent Elfie. I found his Yorkshire dialect less difficult to understand than I should have expected; but doubtless many speak far more broadly. He told me that there has been heavy rain lately, so the river is unusually full. Also I learnt that the Dale is somewhere about ten miles long; and that Beckdale House occupies a position over six miles from the Head, and between three and four from the farther and lower end, where is situated the small town of Beckbergh. We might have gone to Beckbergh Station, had it been so willed, but an extra change of trains would have been involved thereby, and Mr. Romilly has a mortal aversion to changes. I suspect, however, that he will prefer to endure any number in future, rather than commit himself to the horrors of "that frightful descent."

The six miles seemed short to me, and I think to Thyrza also, with such surroundings to study. July twilight, especially in the north, is not very profound, or very quick to deepen into darkness.

I could hardly believe that the drive was ended, when we found ourselves entering a garden-gate and immediately stopping before a house,—"t' hoose" our new friend called it,—grown thickly over with creepers. It stood very close to the road, and was a less imposing edifice than I had perhaps expected.

Rouse opened the door; and I explained to her at once, briefly, how things were. Though I did not exactly state my new position in the household, she seemed in a measure to understand, appealing to me as well as to Maggie in respect of sleeping arrangements. After Glynde House, the rooms appeared limited both in number and size. Rouse had settled matters to the best of her ability, and I thought wisely: but Maggie at once proposed a bouleversement of the whole. She objected to the room set apart for her use and Thyrza's, declined to fall in with my suggestion that she should for the present occupy the best bedroom, complained that Miss Millington's was "horridly uncomfortable," roamed discontentedly up and down stairs, contradicted everybody, kept the hungry and tired children waiting for their supper, and showed herself for once unequivocally out of temper. Of course I knew too well the cause; and I augured badly for the future from her mood.

It was my earnest wish to avoid needless struggles, so I only counselled patience to the younger girls, and then did the best I could to smooth matters by offering to share my own bedroom with Thyrza for a few days. Maggie at first flatly refused the offer, but gradually came round to it; and as a next move, she requested Miss Millington to share her bedroom—the same which she had just before denounced as "not big enough" for two sisters.

"Instead of that poky little hole you have now, Millie dear," she said, with a defiant glance at me from her pretty grey eyes.

"Millie" demurred, but agreed. I made no objections, though I could not approve of the plan. I did not believe that Mr. or Mrs. Romilly would like her to sleep so far-away from the children in her charge. This difficulty, however, was removed to some extent by Thyrza's immediate—"Then I shall sleep in that room, and leave Miss Con in peace."

She said to me later, "I know it is better for you: and of course the little ones can't be left with no one near. Such a shame of those two!"

I said little in answer, except to thank her for helping me. The comfort of a room to myself still is not small,—though indeed I would rather have Thyrza for a companion than any one else.