Lunch was no sooner over than the children were eager to show the flowers, and all went out. Barbara and Gladys followed, and spoke when appealed to; but they were not able to control their shoulders so well as they did their tongues. Young girls, when reluctant to do any particular thing, often find their shoulders in the way. These useful, and generally graceful, portions of the human frame appear on such occasions to feel a wish to put themselves forward, as if to bear the brunt of it, and their manner is to do this edgeways.
Emily heard Justina invited to see the rabbits and all the other pets, and knew she would do so, and also manage to make the children take her over the whole place, house included. She, however, felt a shrinking from this inspection, an unwonted diffidence and shyness made her almost fancy it would be taking a liberty. Not that John would think so. Oh, no; he would never think about it.
They soon went to look at the flowers; and there was old Swan ready to exhibit and set off their good points.
"And so you had another prize, Nicholas. I congratulate you," remarked
Emily.
"Well, yes, ma'am, I had another. I almost felt, if I failed, it would serve me right for trying too often. I said it was not my turn. 'Turn,' said the umpire; 'it's merit we go by, not turn, Mr. Swan,' said he."
"And poor Raby took a prize again, I hear," said Emily. "That man seems to be getting on, Swan."
"He does, ma'am; he's more weak than wicked, that man is. You can't make him hold up his head; and he's allers contradicting himself. He promised his vote last election to both sides. 'Why,' said I, 'what's the good of that, William? Folks'll no more pay you for your words when you've eaten them than they will for your bacon.' But that man really couldn't make up his mind which side should bribe him. Still, William Raby is getting on, I'm pleased to say."
Justina had soon seen the flowers enough, and Emily could not make up her mind to inspect anything else. She therefore returned towards the library, and Barbara walked silently beside her.
As she stepped in at the open window, a sound of sobbing startled her. An oil painting, a portrait of John in his boyhood, hung against the wall. Gladys stood with her face leaning against one of the hands that hung down. Emily heard her words distinctly: "Oh, papa! Oh, papa! Oh, my father beloved!" but the instant she caught the sound of footsteps, she darted off like a frightened bird, and fled away without even looking found.
Then the twin sister turned slowly, and looked at Emily with entreating eyes, saying—"Is it true, Mrs. Walker? Dear Mrs. Walker, is it really true?"