'She mightn't have thought that we were any relation,' said Margaret, simply. 'Harper isn't a very particular name. And you see we're not very near to the head of the family now. Lord Elvedon is only father's cousin, and they never stay near here. Father and mother see them sometimes in London, but they've got a very large family, and they're not rich—not extra rich themselves; for the one before this Lord Elvedon, the one who was father's uncle, you see, was very extravagant, though it was mostly his brother's fault—that was our grandfather. His name was Bernard Harper, and'——
'It's awfully interesting,' said Frances, 'but I'm afraid I'm getting rather muddled. Your grandfather—what was he, then, to Lady Myrtle?'
'I'll begin at the other end,' said Margaret; 'that will make it plainer. There was a Lord Elvedon who had two sons and a daughter; the daughter was Lady Myrtle. The sons were younger than the daughter, and they were both extravagant. The elder one was a weaker character than his brother, and quite led by him, and before their father died they had already wasted a lot of money, and given him a great deal of trouble, especially Bernard, the second one. So old Lord Elvedon left all he could to his daughter, Lady Myrtle; of course the estates and a good deal had to go with the title, but still the new Lord Elvedon was much less rich than he should have been, you see, and our grandfather—that was the son called Bernard—was really poor, and his children, our father and his sisters, have always been poor. Father says a good deal will go back to the title when Lady Myrtle dies, and she is quite friends with the present Lord Elvedon, her nephew. But she couldn't bear her brother Bernard—I believe he behaved very badly to her and to all his people—and she has never taken the least notice of father, though father is really a sort of an angel;' and Margaret's eyes glistened. 'You know it is like that sometimes,' she went on; 'a bad father—and I am afraid our grandfather was a bad man, though I don't quite like saying it—sometimes has very good children.'
'But Lady Myrtle can't know about you all—about your father especially,' said Frances. 'I think he should write to her, or do something. Very likely she's got quite wrong ideas about him.'
'No,' said Margaret, 'she must know he is a very good man. He was in the army, you know, like your father, and he was very brave and did lots of things, but he had to leave because of a wound, when he was only a captain. When he and mother married he hoped to stay on till he became a general, and at first they weren't so badly off, for mother had some money. But a good deal of it was lost somehow.'
'I do think Lady Myrtle should be told—I really do,' said Frances, stopping short and speaking with great energy.
But Margaret only shook her head.
'She does know a good deal,' she said. 'We are sure she does, for some years ago my aunt—that's father's only sister—the other died quite young—wrote to her about us. Aunt Flora isn't badly off in a way, for she has no children, and her husband is a judge in India. But she can't do much for us, and—you see it's her husband's money; it isn't as if it was a relation of ours.'
Frances had never thought of things in this way; she was years and years younger in mind, or rather in experience and knowledge of life, than Margaret Harper, her junior by nearly twelve months. For Margaret with her older brothers and sisters had early had to face practical difficulties and troubles, the very existence of which was unknown to her young companion.
'It's a shame—a regular shame; that's what it is!' said Frances vehemently, her face flushing with indignation, 'and something should be done.'