"O, let them stay a bit longer," says indulgent Mr. Merivale, and crossing over to the piano he seats himself beside his three girls, and listens with no little pride to Molly's musicianly playing. The piece ended, Mrs. Merivale keeps to her word, and hardly allowing Sir Peter time to thank Doris and Molly for the musical treat which he declares they have given him, she bids her daughters say "good-night," and with a kiss to each, dismisses them.
CHAPTER III.
SHOPPING AND A REHEARSAL.
The next morning breaks dismally enough outside. The streets are thickly carpeted with snow, which has fallen plenteously and almost without cessation during the previous night. There is a deadened, muffled sound of occasional traffic only in the usually busy streets, and even this is soon drowned in the scrape, scrape of shovels with which armies of small boys parade the quieter streets and terraces, wherein are the houses of the rich and prosperous men of the large, smoke-begrimed manufacturing town, whilst the fortunate occupants of these large fashionable mansions, who are still curled up comfortably under warm eider-down quilts, are unpleasantly roused to a consciousness of what awaits them by the loud persistent cries of "Sweep yer doorway, ma'am,—doorway ma'am?"
Indoors things look somewhat more cheerful, especially at the Merivales, who are an early-rising family. It still wants a few minutes to eight, but Doris and Honor, true to habit, are already kneeling on the rug before the bright fire, spreading their hands as near as they dare over the glowing coals, and carrying on a spirited talk, which proves that the few hours' sleep of which they have been deprived has not done them much harm. The door opens, and enter Molly—yawning hopelessly, and it must be confessed looking haggard and pale, with dark rings round her large blue eyes.
"Hallo, Moll! late hours don't evidently suit you, my dear. You do look an object of pity, upon my word. Here, come to the fire and stop chattering your teeth, for goodness' sake!"
Molly accepts the invitation and joins her sisters, and after a few minutes Mr. Merivale comes in rubbing his hands briskly.
"Now, girls, let the old man see a bit of the fire! Ah! just eight," taking out his watch and comparing it with the clock on the mantel-piece. "Good girls, to be punctual after your late hours. Ring the bell, Honor; it's no use waiting for your mother this morning. She has one of her bad headaches, and I shouldn't wonder if she does not come down at all. She said she would send word by Lane after prayers, so we need not wait now."
By this time the servants have filed into the room and taken their places; and the old nurse having also appeared with her two particular charges, Daisy and Bobby, Mr. Merivale takes his place at a side-table, and morning prayers are commenced. Before leaving the room again nurse places the two children in their usual places at the breakfast-table, and at the same moment Lane steps forward from the row of servants, and going up to Honor says, "If you please, Miss Honor, your ma says will you make breakfast this morning, for her head is that bad she can't raise it from her pillow?"
"Honor, of course!" and with a pout and a flounce Doris takes her usual seat at the table, while Honor moves to the end opposite her father, who is busily occupied in sorting the letters.