Her kingdom

by Amy Le Feuvre

Anstice talked to her in her happy natural way, and felt really thankful to find her not swallowed up in her work, or in the amusement of town life, to the exclusion of better things.

When the ten days were over, Anstice received a letter from Justin.

"MY DEAR ANSTICE,—
"Let us know if you arrive by the five o'clock train or the later one, and the day you come. We are all well. The small people are very fairly good—Josie had a lapse yesterday, but I must not tell tales. You will be glad to hear that we spent our Sunday in the orthodox fashion. Three of us went to church in the morning. In the afternoon, Ruffie took command, and ordered me in your chair with the Sunday Book. I was not to read it, but to tell the story as it came. I was a hopeless failure, so after struggling through a chapter of Christian's misadventures, I shut it up and told them some of my own adventures in the South Seas. I had so much domesticity on Sunday, that on Monday, I took my mare out in the morning and never came home till dusk.
"Hunting is beginning, for the frost has gone, and I shall go out to-morrow. Old Tommy Nixon is making good, he will soon be on his feet again, and Ellen is sitting up and thanking her God for leaving her on the earth a little longer. I was over there yesterday. Now, is there anything else you want to know? Don't you let my aunt make you discontented with the Fells. They suit you down to the ground. You might bring the youngsters a table game from Gamages. Isn't there parlour croquet or some such game, which requires hands and no feet? I don't want anything in which the boy cannot join. He has now sent down the enclosed for your perusal. I am sure it will interest you more than this, so no more.
"Yours,
"JUSTIN."

This was Ruffie's letter:

"MY DEAR STEPPIE,—
"Come back this week. You have gone for two long, and Dad goes out and forgets us at six, so we pray you come the very day the posman givs you this letter. Josie is a beest so is Georgie, they would not dare be onceevil if I had legs to katsh them. I made them look under my chare for the new kiten wich never went ther, and then I priked ther legs with my sharpest pensil wich serve them wright, and this is telling tales wich is not a gentilman's duty, but we have all been wicket and loanley till you come back. I draw your face all over my new book, but I can not remember your exack smile. I want it badly, and I luv you next to Dad who does not tell stories like you, and the ake in my head is becorse you are not here.
"Your loving,
"RUFFIE."

Anstice replied to both these by return of post.

"DEAR JUSTIN,—
"I have been having a hectic time, but will keep my promise and return on the tenth day, which will be next Tuesday. Cousin Lucy is well, and we have long talks now just as we are thinking of going to bed, which is a fashion with most women, I believe.
"I shall turn my face homewards with gladness. I have always known that I own a country soul, a soul that would soon get parched and wearied in the bustle and crush of London life. And sometimes now with the distant sound of traffic—for I'm thankful we're in a quiet square—I shut my eyes for a moment and see purple Fells against a lemon sky, and that delicious stretch of calm, cool water below them. So you see, I shall return with no laggard steps—I hope to arrive by that five o'clock train—and am bringing parcels of joy for the chicks. I am so thankful you have been over to the old Nixons. I hope you told them that, directly the weather improves, I shall be coming to see them. You will be interested to hear that I ran across Colonel Malcolm Dermot the other day, and I lunched with him and his wife at Claridges'. Now I must close—au revoir.
"Yours,
"ANSTICE."

"MY LITTLE DARLING,—
"What a long letter, and how tired the poor fingers must have been with holding the pen, and what a business it must have been to think of the spelling, and choose the right words, and guide the tiresome pen to put them down in proper order and without any blots!
"I'm coming back, Ruffie, as fast as the train will take me, on Tuesday next, and I hope to arrive before bedtime. I will try to have my 'exack' smile to greet you. I am sorry there have been ructions of sorts between you young people, and that you have been both wicked and lonely, but I'll tell you a secret! I have felt lonely here, without any little head leaning against my shoulder, and eager voices shouting in my ear, 'Tell us more.' And as for wickedness, our hearts are much alike, and I'm afraid I know what it is to be wicked sometimes! We must all pray hard, and fight hard, mustn't we? How sorry I am that the little head still aches. But you have Dad with you; ask him to stroke the pain away as I try to do.
"And now good-bye, my sweet. And give Josie and Georgie my love. I shall soon be with my dear little people again.
"Your loving,
"STEPPIE."

When Tuesday came, Anstice said good-bye to her old cousin with a light heart. Lady Lucy was not satisfied with her short visit.

"It is no time at all. Justin ought to be made to feel your absence. I hope he has been thoroughly miserable without you, but I'm afraid you left him too comfortable for that."