The moat house

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"You must let me know all about the place, and how you get on with Uncle Jasper," Eric said to Joy, who nodded assentingly.

The boy was very fond of both his sisters, but Joy was his favourite, for she took teasing better than did Celia, who was inclined to stand on her dignity, and resented his good-humoured banter, especially when he ridiculed her for her vanity and love of finery. Then, too, Celia was so entirely wrapped up in herself that she took very little interest in what concerned her brother, and was much too dignified a young person to join in his pursuits. She always declined to accompany him in the long walks he loved to take during his holidays, and it was Joy who tramped patiently for miles by his side, simply to spend a few hours fishing in a stagnant pool, and returned home quite satisfied if he was, even though their catch of fish was only a few small roach or perch; and it was Joy who diffidently asked her mother if she could spare Eric a trifle more pocket-money next term, and was delighted to receive an answer in the affirmative.

"I shall have no household expenses now, so I can well make Eric a larger allowance," Mrs. Wallis said, cordially, for she was glad to be in the position to grant her little daughter's request. "I know the poor boy has not had so much money to spend as his companions. I have often regretted the fact, but I have been unable to give him more. He never complained, however."

"Oh, no, mother, he would not do that, for he knows you have always done all you could for him. He says a great many of his school-fellows have rich fathers, but some are no better off than himself. His great chum—Lawrence Puttenham—is the son of a poor curate in London, and he has a very small allowance of pocket-money, indeed. Celia wonders Eric does not make one of the richer boys his chum, but Eric says he likes Putty—that's short for Puttenham, you know—best."

Mrs. Wallis smiled, then sighed. She sometimes wondered where Celia got her worldly-wise notions, for she had certainly never learnt them at home. Joy had made several friends at school, but Celia had not, and her mother suspected, what was actually the truth, that the reason was she did not consider the friendship of her fellow pupils worth cultivating, as they were all children from comparatively poor homes.

Dearly though Mrs. Wallis loved her children, she was not blind to their faults. She knew that Eric was easy-going, and inclined to be idle, and that he did not make the most of his opportunities at school; but, she knew also that he was truthful and honourable, and hoped that as he grew older he would overcome his indolence and recognise that it was his duty to work hard and not waste his time. Joy had her failings, too, but they were not of a kind to cause her mother much anxiety, the chief being a temper quick to anger and to resent a wrong. Celia's character was a complex one, difficult to understand. Often Mrs. Wallis would be painfully astonished to hear her elder daughter pass a remark which would sound cynical from a woman grown; but which was certainly strangely incongruous from the lips of a girl of fourteen who looked childish for her years. Celia would appear so penitent when reproved, the tears would rise to her blue eyes, and the burning blushes to her fair cheeks, that Mrs. Wallis would tell herself she had not meant what she had said, and that she had spoken without thought.

Between the sisters was a very real and deep affection, though they were totally unlike in every way. Joy admired Celia openly, and never experienced the least sensation of jealousy when, as was often the case, new acquaintances were attracted by Celia's pretty face and winning manners, and she herself was overlooked altogether; whilst Celia found Joy generally ready to follow her lead, and to defer to her opinions.

The last few days of the Easter holidays were spent in leave takings. Mrs. Wallis, having lived in A— ever since her marriage, had many friends; but she told them all that at the end of a year's time it was very probable she would be in their midst again, so there were no sorrowful partings.

And yet, when Eric had returned to school, and the day came for the departure of Mrs. Wallis and her little daughters from their home, they were all very grave. Jane had packed her box and gone to her new situation; the family's luggage had been sent to the railway station; and in a very short while the cab would be at the door to fetch the waiting trio. Joy wandered restlessly about the house, and at last joined her mother and sister, who were waiting more patiently in the sitting-room.

"How disconsolate you look, my dear!" Mrs. Wallis exclaimed. "But I don't know that that is to be wondered at. It is always a grave matter to take a new step in life, because we don't know where it's to lead us. God knows," she added, reverently, "and we must trust our future to Him. He will guide us aright."