MOLLIE WALTER
It was a wet windy morning. Mollie Walter sat with her needlework in the little drawing-room of Stone Cottage, and looked disconsolately through the French window at the havoc that was being wrought among the late summer flowers in the garden. It was a bright little tight little garden, with flower borders round a square lawn, and ground for vegetables beyond a privet hedge. A great walnut tree overshadowed it, and the grass was already littered with twigs and leaves. Such a garden had to be kept 'tidy' at all costs, and Mollie was wondering how she should be able to manage it, when the autumn fall of leaves should begin in earnest. Her mother was in bed upstairs with one of her mild ailments, which never amounted to actual illness. Mollie had left her to sleep for an hour, and was hoping for a visit from Beatrix, to relieve her loneliness. She had not minded being much alone until lately, but now that she had more real friends than she had ever had in her life she wanted them constantly.
There was a ring at the bell, and Mollie went out to open the door. Yes, it was her dear Beatrix, looking more beautiful than ever, though her long raincoat was buttoned up beneath her chin, and only her flower-like face could be seen. But it was shining with happiness and laughter, as she struggled with the wind to get her umbrella down, before entering the little hall.
"Oh, what weather!" she exclaimed, as the door was shut behind her. "But I had to come to tell you, Moll. It's all right. My darling old Daddy has come to his senses. I'm not angry with him any more."
The two girls embraced warmly. "I knew you'd be pleased," said Beatrix, laughing out of pure lightness of heart, as she took off her coat. "I had to come and tell you. Oh, I'm as happy as a queen."
Presently they were sitting together by the window, and Beatrix was telling her story. "I don't mind the six months a bit," she said when she had finished. "I should have, at first, but I don't now. It's getting out of all the horridness at home that I'm so glad of. I hated not being friends with Dad; I hated it much more than he thought I did."
"But he was unreasonable," said Mollie, who had not seen much of this disinclination during the past weeks.
"Oh, I don't know. Well, perhaps he was, but there were excuses for him. He does love me, and hated the idea of losing me. I believe he'd have been the same about anybody. Anyhow, it's all over now, and I've forgiven him. I'm going to reward him by being very good. I shan't talk about René at all, except sometimes to you, my dear. When the six months are over and he comes again, Dad will have got used to the idea. He must like him, you know, really. He is so nice, and so good. The idea of him being like a Frenchman in a horrid novel! Men are rather like babies in what they can believe about each other, aren't they? I know a lot about men now, having two such nice ones to love as René and Daddy. Oh, I'm awfully happy now, Moll."
"I'm so glad," said Mollie sympathetically. "And six months isn't such an awful time to wait. But don't you think that if you say nothing about him Mr. Grafton will think you've forgotten him, and be very disappointed when he finds you haven't?"
Beatrix laughed. "I expect that's what he wants, poor darling!" she said. "Perhaps I shall say a little word now and then. And Caroline will know that I love him just as much as ever. Daddy will find out about it from her. He always does talk over everything with her."