Ellen flirted off and jumped into bed more angry than ever, that Mrs. Merrill should have thought Mary had made her get up to speak to her, and that she should think her of so little consequence as not to mind what she said.
CHAPTER IV.
AN UNRULY SPIRIT.
We cannot give an account of half the disputes between Mrs. Merrill and Ellen which were generally reported to Mr. Villars by both parties, until he was ready to go anywhere from his hitherto quiet home, in search of peace. And yet, when the difficulties in which he had become involved through Mr. Leslie began first to be perceived, and Mr. Villars to fear that he must leave his home, it seemed dearer to him than ever. Besides, he would say to himself, as he sat thinking over the threatened changes—What is to become of these poor children—and my old servants—and Mrs. Merrill—good Mrs. Merrill—who, I am sure, never expected to leave me, and is now too old to look out new friends? Distressed by such thoughts, it is no wonder if Mr. Villars looked sad, and sat silent for hours together, sometimes looking out of a window sometimes turning his eyes upon a book which he generally held in his hand, as an excuse for not talking; though it was easy to see that he was not reading,—or if he was, it must be the same page, over and over again, as he never turned a leaf. Mary had noticed all this, and it grieved her greatly, for except Ellen, there was no one now in the world whom she loved half so well as her Uncle Villars. She tried at first to amuse him by talking to him; but finding that, though he always answered her kindly, he would at such times soon leave the parlor where they were seated, and go, either to his own room or to the library, she determined not again to disturb him when he seemed so thoughtful. But though Mary ceased to talk to her Uncle Villars, she could not cease to observe him and to wish that she knew the cause of his sadness. This cause she at last thought she had discovered in the differences of Ellen and Mrs. Merrill. Vainly did poor Mary try to accommodate these differences, her efforts generally ended in making both of the disputants displeased with her. It must not be thought that Mrs. Merrill was cross and ill-tempered. On the contrary, all her difficulties with Ellen arose from her desire to do what was kind and right by an orphan girl placed in her charge, for Mr. Villars before he brought his nieces home had said, "There will of course, Mrs. Merrill, be many things in which these girls will require the attention of a woman to their conduct and their comforts. In these things I know I may trust to your goodness,"—and Mrs. Merrill was determined his trust should not be disappointed.
Mary and Ellen had walked out together one afternoon, and when they returned, laid their bonnets carelessly upon the table in the parlor. There they remained, till Mrs. Merrill came in to see the table prepared for tea. "Miss Mary, Miss Ellen, why, here are your new crape bonnets. You should always put them away as soon as you come in; crape is very expensive, my dears, and very easily injured."
Mary rose and removed the bonnets from the table. Ellen remained seated with her head bent over a piece of paper, on which she seemed to be drawing.
"Miss Ellen," said Mrs. Merrill, "did you hear what I said?"
"Yes, Mrs. Merrill, I heard you."
"I will put both bonnets away, Mrs. Merrill," said Mary; "I always put Ellen's away for her."