Great fun indeed! The O’Shaughnessy family was always ready for any excitement, and particularly so at Christmas-time, a season when we all feel that we ought to be festive, and are injured in our minds if there is nothing to make us so.
Esmeralda fell at once to pleating her table-napkin into one shape after another, Mademoiselle smiled over a happy inspiration, whereupon wily Pat put on his most angelic look and asked—
“Will you dress me, Mademoiselle? A man’s no good at this sort of thing. You can’t fasten sheets with screws, and I’m no hand at fancy stitching. I’ve an idea I’d look rather well as—” He whispered a few words in her ear, and Mademoiselle threw up her hands, and laughed, and nodded in emphatic assent.
Pixie and Miles fell to Bridgie’s share, while the Major declared that he would have nothing to do with such foolishness, but with a ruminating expression on his face which belied the words.
Bridgie went upstairs immediately after lunch, and, opening her linen-chest, apportioned its contents among the different members of the family. Some wanted large sheets, some wanted small; some begged for frills to their pillow-cases, some preferred plain; but at last all were satisfied, and were further supplied with tape from the various work-baskets, while Pixie was sent a round of the bedrooms to pick up the pins with which the floors were liberally scattered, as the demand in this direction was so large as to be practically unlimited.
Esmeralda flew off at once, with the boys in her train; but Mademoiselle lingered to help Bridgie to fold away the linen that was not needed, and to enjoy the luxury of a quiet chat, which was not an easy thing to accomplish in this noisy household. Bridgie in company was always laughing and gay, but the visitor had already noticed that Bridgie alone was apt to grow grave and to wear a wistful pucker on her brow. It was there now as she locked the chest and sat down on the lid, stretching out her arms with a sigh of weariness. The wintry light left the gallery full of shadows, and the only bright thing to be seen was the girl’s own golden head outlined against the oak walls. Mademoiselle thought that if she had been an artist she could have wished for no fairer picture than this old-world corridor, with the fair face of the young mistress shining out like a lily in the darkness; but the lily toiled more than she liked to see, and she could not restrain a protest against the custom which gave one sister all the work, and another all the play.
“You are tired already before the day is half over, and now you have those children’s dresses to look after as well as your own! Why do you not make Esmeralda help, instead of doing everything yourself?”
“Esmeralda, is it?” Bridgie’s face lit up with a smile as she repeated the name. “Indeed now, Mademoiselle, I’m never worked so hard in my life as when Esmeralda has been trying to help, and I have to tidy away after her! She has the best will in the world, poor thing; but work doesn’t come naturally to her. You mustn’t be hard on her. She shows her worst side to a stranger, for, though her first impulse may be selfish, when she takes time to think, she is all generosity and kindness. That habit, now! She was longing to have a fitted bodice, but she chose a coat, out of consideration for me. She is a darling, and so young yet that I don’t like to worry her. Let her have a good time as long as she may. It will be hard enough soon.”
Mademoiselle started and looked alarmed questionings, and Bridgie smiled in response, saying in cool, conversational tones—
“We are ruined, you know! We can’t go on living here much longer. Father has spent all his money, and we should have had to leave before now, but that he came into a little more at mother’s death. It was not much, and it is going very fast. It can’t be more than a year or two at most before the crash comes, so you can’t wonder I let the boys and girls enjoy themselves, can you?”