“And this,” said Mrs Fortescue, “this is the first Sunday in our new little home; the first day you have really had an opportunity of—I won’t even say helping me—but of showing yourselves sensible and trustworthy. It might and should have been a peaceful and happy morning. Stand still, Christabel,” as the little girl was flouncing about, “stand still while I tie your hair. It is very good-natured of Harriet to offer to do it, but you and Leila are perfectly able to help each other.”
“She’s not good-natural,” muttered Christabel: “when I told her to come back in ten minutes, she said she couldn’t. She’s very impertinent.”
“Be silent,” was her mother’s only reply. Then, turning to Leila, she went on, “Give me that book,” and Leila did so. Mrs Fortescue glanced at it. It was one of Mrs Ewing’s. “I cannot let you have it again to-day,” she said, “nor to-morrow, unless you are dressed and downstairs by half-past eight, and properly dressed, remember,” and so saying she left the room, and with a very heavy heart slowly made her way downstairs.
It was a dull, grey day, not yet raining, but with small promise of lightening or brightening, and Mrs Fortescue, accustomed to a well-warmed and luxurious house, felt it very chilly. And when she opened the little dining-room door, she felt even chillier, and no wonder, for the window was pushed up as far as it would go, evidently to get rid of smoke, some remains of which was still hanging about. There was only one person in the room, and that person not only a very small one, but so crouched down in a little bundle on the hearth-rug, that for a moment or so Mrs Fortescue really did not see him. Then the bundle stirred, and a small face, rather red and with smutty marks on its cheeks, looked up.
“Jasper,” his mother exclaimed, “what are you doing? Not playing with the fire, surely!” in anxiety, for indeed if Jasper were going to turn mischievous or disobedient, where would she be?
“Playin’, Mummy,” he repeated, with a touch of very excusable indignation, “in course not. It wouldn’t flame up nicely, and I’ve been down a long time. Roley buttoned my waistcoat before he got up, but he’s just comin’. So Susan gave me the bellowses,” and he held them up in triumph, “and it’s burnin’ beautifly now,” and so it was. “I think we might shut the window,” he added, with a glance of consideration.
“My darling,” said his mother, “I hope you haven’t caught cold,” and having closed the window, she turned to this brownie in a sailor suit with some anxiety.
“Oh no, I’m quite hot,” he replied. “Shall I take the bellowses back to Susan?” he went on. “Daddy wouldn’t like to see them here, and you don’t mind us goin’ to the kitchen if it’s a real message, now we mustn’t ring the bells often, do you, Mumsey?”
“No, my boy, take the bellows back by all means,” said his mother, and on he went, murmuring us he did so, “Susan will think I’m handy and clever.”
The funny little scene had cheered Mrs Fortescue again, and she was looking quite calm and happy when Roland and his father made their appearance.