“Well, that’s a good thing,” said Mrs Greenways. “Because, now you’re left so desolate, you’ve got nothing to look to but your own hands and feet. But as to being any help—you’re small and young, you see, and you can’t be anything but a burden to us for years to come.”
A burden! That was a new idea to Lilac.
“And so,” finished Mrs Greenways, rising, “I hope as how you’ll be a good gal, and grateful, and always remember that if it wasn’t for us you’d be on the parish, instead of at Orchards Farm.”
She made her way out of the door, and stopped at the garden gate to call back over her shoulder:
“Mind and bring no rubbish along with you. Nothing but clothes.”
Lilac’s tears dropped fast into the painted deal box as she packed her small stock of clothes. But she felt that she must not wait to cry; she must be ready by the time Ben came, and her aunt’s visit had been so long that it was already late. When she had finished she went downstairs to take a last look round. There stood all the well-known pieces of furniture, dumb, yet full of speech; they had seen and heard so much that was dear to her, that it seemed cruel to leave them to strangers. Above all she looked wistfully at a small twisted cactus in a pot standing on the window ledge. Mrs White had been fond of it, and had given it much care and attention. Might she venture to take it with her? How pleased Mother had been, she remembered, when the cactus had once rewarded her by producing two bright-red blossoms. That was long ago, and it had never done anything so brilliant again. Content with its one effort it had since remained unadorned, yet as it stood there, with its fat green leaves and little bunches of prickles, it had the air of saying to itself, “I have done it once, and if I liked I could do it a second time.” Even now as she bent tenderly over it Lilac thought she could make out the faint beginning of a bud.
“I do wish I could take it,” she said to herself. “If it was only in bloom maybe they’d like it.”
But the cactus was very far from blooming, and perhaps had no intention of doing so; in its present condition it would certainly be considered “rubbish” at Orchards Farm.
Lilac turned from it with a sigh, and glancing through the window was startled to see that the cart with Ben sitting in it was already at the gate. Ben looked as though he might have been waiting there for some hours, and was content to wait for any length of time. She ran out in alarm.
“Oh, Ben!” she cried, “I never heard you. Have you been here long?”