CHAPTER XIII
Rosemary's Secret
The fresh year flew on wings. The snowdrops—fair maids of February—faded in the school garden, and their pale, ethereal, green-tipped blossoms were replaced by golden daffodils that seemed to reflect the stronger sunshine. Mezereon and other fragrant shrubs put out sweet-scented flowers, and the great white arum lilies were throwing up their sheaths. Violets and early primroses might be searched for under sheltered hedgerows, and the Japanese cherry-trees were bursting into bud. Mother Nature seemed to be shaking her garments, and getting ready for the great carnival of Spring.
With the longer days, Lorraine was often up at Windy Howe. It was the sort of household where you could arrive at any time without presenting an apology for your intrusion.
"You must take us just as you find us," said Claudia. "You know I'm glad to see you, Lorraine, but I shan't treat you as a visitor, and have you shown into the drawing-room. You don't mind?"
Claudia was sitting in the nursery, rocking the latest addition to the Castleton family, a tiny white bundle, with golden down on its pink head. She nursed it dutifully, patting its back with the experience gained with seven other younger brothers and sisters.
"Yes, it's rather sweet," she agreed, in answer to a comment from Lorraine. "I'd like them all right if they didn't cry so much; it's such a nuisance when they're perpetually squalling. The fact is I'm fed up with children. I never seem able to get away from them here. I've the greatest difficulty in doing my home lessons. Violet's always asking me to take the baby or Perugia, and Lilith and Constable are generally tearing about somewhere, to say nothing of Beata and Romola and Madox. Lorraine, I've quite made up my mind. I'm seventeen now, and I'm leaving school this summer. I'm not going to stay at home and just help with the children! It isn't good enough!"
"What would you like to do?" asked Lorraine, watching with sympathy while her friend made another effort to soothe the obstreperous new little brother to sleep.
"I don't know!" said Claudia forlornly. "I don't seem good for anything except to do odd jobs. Perhaps I'll go on the land. It would be a change to make hay and hoe turnips. I should be away from Violet, anyhow. We've been squabbling again dreadfully of late. I can't stand it much longer. If Morland's called up, I'm going off too. I don't care where!"
She spoke resentfully, almost desperately; Lorraine had not seen her in such a mood before. She had sometimes guessed that her friend was not altogether happy at home, though until to-day she had never received such a big slice of Claudia's confidence.