CHAPTER XVIII.
It often happens that a big shock which pulls us up with a sharp jerk on the road we are travelling will show us the danger of the way before us, and teach us to walk warily all our days. So it was with Esther. The shock and horror, and the awful fear she endured that afternoon, showed her, as nothing else could, the way she was going. I do not for a moment mean to say that she conquered her unfortunate temper all at once, and became perfectly good and gentle and free from all jealousy from that moment. That would have been impossible to any one, certainly to a child of such strong feelings, so reserved and sensitive, so full of failings as Esther. But she did try, and if she failed she did her best to conquer next time, and only those who have tried too know how hard that is.
Others helped her a little without her knowledge. Penelope tried to restrain herself in a half unconscious habit she had got into of putting herself before her shyer elder sister.
Mademoiselle was careful, too, to show her how much she valued her, and to try not to wound her sensitive, loving heart; so was Cousin Charlotte. And Esther, on her part, taught herself the lesson that one person can love two without loving either the less.
So when Penelope was at last able to creep about again, and Guard seemed as hale and hearty as ever, a new era of peace and happiness dawned for Moor Cottage, and never could there have been a happier, busier, more united little household than that was.
The summer went by like a golden flash, so it seemed to the children, so full was every day of work and play, picnics, lessons, walks, gardening, and a dozen other occupations. No matter what the weather, or how busy she was, Esther never failed to go to Mademoiselle Leperier's three times a week, and twice a week Penelope went for her singing lesson. Penelope was having French lessons of Mademoiselle too, and she and Esther studied together.
Miss Row came back from her journeyings, and, entirely oblivious apparently of all that had passed, sent for Penelope to recommence her organ lessons, and was quite annoyed that she had not kept up her practising. But at this Miss Ashe's gentle spirit rose, and she talked to Miss Row so frankly and seriously that that eccentric lady became very repentant, and to make up for her unkindness promised Penelope the post of organist, at a salary of twenty-five pounds a year, as soon as ever she was capable of filling it.
To Penelope this was success indeed, and as soon as her arm was strong enough to bear it she practised with an assiduity which promised that the time was not so very far distant when she would be fitted to take over her appointment.
Angela, before that summer was over, acquired three more chicks and a fowls' house of her own, and already saw visions of herself presiding over a farm—which should adjoin Moor Cottage—well stocked with fowls and ducks, geese and turkeys, cows and pigs, horses and dogs.