“She would not wish to worry you,” added Muriel in haste; “and she did not speak definitely—only, I understood it was a question between home duties and school lessons. As Frances has passed the Oxford Junior Locals, I wanted her to get ready for the Senior; but if she has not time for the necessary preparation, there is no more to be said.”
“I had a scholarship in view for Austin,” said Carlyon, before Mrs. Morland could speak. The brother and sister felt themselves on thorny ground, and feared a retreat might be forced on them. “It would help to take him to the University. Still, he is right to stick to his sister.”
“You mustn’t let our foolish ambitions vex you, dear Mrs. Morland,” said Muriel, rising to lay her hand with a pretty gesture on the elder woman’s arm. “If our young people choose the better part, we can only love them all the more, and be all the more proud of them. They will learn a great deal in helping Jim. Do you know, I am quite jealous of Frances’s success as a rival teacher? Now, Edward, you and I must run away. We are due at the rectory at six o’clock.”
The visitors said good-bye to a very stately, monosyllabic hostess, whose geniality had vanished, and left moroseness behind. At first Mrs. Morland was strongly moved to summon Frances for a severe lecture, but she felt herself handicapped by her ignorance as to the truth. She had no real knowledge of the manner in which her children spent their days; and had objected to the work they had undertaken, in Elizabeth’s place, on account of its nature, not because she realized its amount. But if it were indeed the case that sweeping and scrubbing had absorbed the hours due to Latin and mathematics, in what direction could she exercise her authority? Somebody must sweep and scrub, if the spotlessness on which Mrs. Morland tacitly insisted were to be maintained at Rowdon Cottage.
For a time, indignation with her “trio” and their too officious friends occupied Mrs. Morland’s thoughts entirely; but compunctions were stirring her memory, and she began to recall more exactly, and to examine more thoroughly, the few remarks her late visitors had made. She wondered whether she had indeed left it to an outsider to notice that Frances looked “pale and tired”, and why her girl and boy should not have come first of all to their mother with their doubts as to their ability to keep up their lessons. Mrs. Morland had seen plainly that the Carlyons had spoken with some trepidation and fear of giving offence. She felt obliged to admit that they had not willingly broken the laws of good taste, but had made an honest effort to serve their young friends by letting fall such hints as might induce the children’s mother to give more attention to their affairs.
Mrs. Morland’s thoughts were still dwelling on these matters, when the door opened softly and Frances entered, carrying a snowy table-cloth of finest damask, such as it was Elizabeth’s pride to handle. Next came Austin, with a folding-stand and butler’s tray, which he set up close to the door. Mrs. Morland was seated so that she could face her children, and she watched them furtively from the cover of her fan. The young pair were so unaccustomed to attract their mother’s notice while about their daily duties that they behaved as though she were as deep in Tennyson as they supposed her to be.
Frances deftly spread the cloth, while Austin fussed gravely over his tray. Presently they began to lay the covers for two, and to deck the table with pretty crystal and silver. There were no “specimen” vases, but they had a big bowl filled with white narcissus and ivy for a centre-piece.
“Is Jim ready?” questioned Frances in a low voice. “I have no soup to-day, but Mr. Carlyon brought a lovely pair of soles, and I have fried them most beautifully. Mamma likes fried soles. Jim is so thoughtful, he is sure to remember to say he won’t have any; then there will be one left for Mamma’s breakfast.”
“Good!” said Austin laconically. “Isn’t there anything for Jim?”
“Silly! Of course there is! I made rissoles out of that cold beef.”