“Grandfather, here’s little ladies for you—two little ladies! They’ve been like to have lost themselves in the storm, so Master Brenton’s been telling me. They’ll be best to come in here—eh, grandfather? And maybe they’ll warm themselves with you, till I fetch Elizabeth to wait on them.”
Jim stood on one side, his happy excitement controlled by an instinctive wish to be quiet and unobtrusive in the company of young gentlefolk. The two girls, with ready thanks on their lips, passed by their conductor into a fair-sized room furnished with much homely comfort, and saw in an arm-chair by the fire an old man, whose fine head, with its massive forehead, keen eyes, and firm mouth, denoted strength of will and individual character. William East’s silvery locks were quick to command the respect of the two girls, who stepped slowly towards their aged host.
“Elizabeth has gone home, grandson,” said East, speaking in a quavering voice which still retained a note of decision and authority, as towards one who had been taught prompt obedience. “So you will wait on the little ladies yourself. Chairs to the fire for them, Jim,—and off with their boots. Then you’ll make some hot, strong coffee, and see you’re quick with it. These are not the kind as needs to lose themselves in snowstorms.” East turned his face to the girls, and it softened wonderfully, while he addressed them in very different tones: “Come near to the fire, Missies, and tell me all about it. Why, you both look fairly spent. There, there, dearies—the recklessness one sees in young folk! But sit you down, and be sure you’re kindly welcome.”
“You’re very good,” said Frances gratefully. “I don’t know why you should be troubled with all of us boys and girls. There are four of us, Mr. East,—and a pony. We’ve left the carriage somewhere in the snow. I’m afraid we’re a great bother, but you must please try not to let us worry you;—Max Brenton has been telling us that you aren’t very well just now, and I’m so sorry.”
Frances’s sympathy was sure of appreciation—it was so earnest and sincere, and expressed with the simplest good-will. Old East greeted it with many nods and smiles, and beckoned Frances to the chair nearest to himself. Indeed, he was amazingly pleased to see this bright young lady by his side.
Jim waited deftly on both the girls, taking off their wet boots and coats, and trying to rub some feeling back into their half-frozen feet. Next he went away with the boots into the kitchen, and set about making coffee in his best style.
Meanwhile Frances and Florry made great friends with the ailing grandsire.
“I must tell you our names,” said Frances presently, when the boys had joined the group in the cottage parlour. “Of course you know the Doctor’s son—everybody knows Doctor Max.”
“Ay, he’s his father’s son truly—I can’t say better for him than that.”
“And the boy beside him is my brother Austin. Then this is Miss Florry Fane, the best of girls; and I am Frances Morland.”