“Perhaps not. But I don’t want you to get silly fancies in your head, dear,” said papa, gently. “Trust me that Captain Whyte and his family are not common. It would be a pity for you to lose the chance of nice companions by any prejudice.”
“Oh, Connie would never be so foolish as that,” said mamma; “and the Bickersteths’ friends are sure to be nice people.”
Mr and Lady Honor Bickersteth, I may as well explain, were the former rector of Elmwood and his wife. Mr Bickersteth was a very old man now, and had resigned the living some years ago in favour of Mr Gale, Anna’s father, who had been his curate. Lady Honor was quite an old lady, and though she was very kind, I think most of our neighbours were a little afraid of her. She was what is called “a lady of the old school,” and had very precise ideas about how children should be brought up. I think she was the only person who ever dared to hint that I was at all spoilt. The Bickersteths still lived at Elmwood, in a pretty house a little way out of the town. They had never inhabited the vicarage, but had let the curate have it, so when Mr Gale became vicar it made no difference in that way. And even now Mr Bickersteth still preached sometimes when he was feeling well enough.
“I am quite sure the Whytes are nice people,” papa repeated in a settled sort of way; “and I shall be very glad for Connie to make friends with them.”
His tone was so decided that neither mamma nor I could have made any kind of objection. In my heart, too, I was really pleased, and not a little excited, at the idea of some new friends of my own age.
“Have they only those two children—the girls you spoke of?” asked mamma.
“Those are the only girls, but there are ever so many boys of all ages—from fifteen or sixteen down to a baby, I believe,” papa answered. “The elder boys are to be weekly boarders at Leam; that is one reason why they have chosen Elmwood.”
Mamma raised her eyebrows a very little.
“Then they are not—not rich?” she said.
“Not at all rich,” papa replied promptly. “I want to spare them all the expense I can. Captain Whyte is to pay a very fair rent for the Yew Trees—the same that old Mrs Nesbitt paid. I would have taken less had he pressed it, but he did not. He is very gentlemanlike and liberal—it is curious how you can see the liberal spirit even when people are poor—so I want to meet him half-way. I shall have his final decision to-morrow morning, and if it is closing with the thing, I should like you to drive over with me to the Yew Trees and have a look round. There are some things it is only fair we should do, and as it is your house, Rose, you have a voice in it.”