The girls did not find themselves thoroughly comfortable at Templemore. The room upstairs was small. It faced north, and the furniture was shabby. In vain they demanded better furniture. No notice was taken of their request. What the Rector had endured for years without uttering a word they must endure now by their own choice and desire. The Rector's illness had been greatly brought on by his unsuitable bedroom.
Maureen poured out tea, Maureen coaxed the servants into a good humour, Maureen picked flowers, and with the help of Pegeen arranged the menu for the kitchen and also for the hall, where they generally partook of refreshments in the hot weather. Maureen was growing very tall and very slim, and the ugly red glow had faded from her cheek. Nevertheless, she had her trials. Henrietta and Daisy saw that as they could not work openly, they must work by guile. She might still be the pretended head of the establishment, but they could make her unhappy. They managed this by many clever dodges.
On a certain night when the Mostyns had been at Templemore for a few days, the Colonel came to dine. There was an excellent meal planned by Maureen, and the family and visitor alike were waited on by old Burke, and a smart-looking girl, who called herself by the uncommon name of Vivian. She was the head-parlourmaid, and being truly Irish by birth, was accepted by Burke as worth training. When the dinner had come to an end, the Mostyns, who were wearing bright pale blue gauzy frocks (they had refused to put on any sort of mourning for their mother), and Maureen, who was in simple white, with a green bow, the true Irish green, in her soft brown hair, were standing together in the drawing-room.
The Mostyns had not made any way whatever with the Colonel, and, although the Rector was kind to them, it was a distant sort of kindness with no love in it. He had begged them on their arrival to wear black for their mother, but as they positively refused to do anything of the sort, he did not press the point.
Denis and Kitty had both retired to bed; Dominic, the one person whom the girls could endure in the family, was nowhere to be seen; but Maureen was there, looking exquisite and fair, with her pale, creamy complexion, her dark brows and soft brown eyes to match her hair—Maureen, the interloper.
"Do you know," said Henrietta suddenly, "that you are a robber?"
"Please, Henrietta, don't talk like that," said Maureen.
"Let her alone," cried Daisy; "if we don't she'll begin to cry, and we have our fun prepared upstairs to-night."
"Whisper, whisper." The other girl nodded, and a pleased expression came over her face.