“I do not know what Mrs. Ascott is talking of,” said the curate. “Is tea ready, my dear, for I have a great deal to do? What have you been putting into that good woman’s head? She is talking of a petition, and of the Lord Chancellor, and of bad news. I hope you are not a politician, Cicely. What is it all about?”
“Here is Aunt Jane, papa,” said Cicely, who was not more comfortable than Miss Maydew. And the old lady had to get up and stretch out her hand to Mr. St. John over the sofa, which was her bulwark in chief.
“But I wonder what she meant about bad news,” he went on; “she seemed to think it affected us. My dears, have you heard anything?”
“Oh, papa, very bad news,” said Cicely with tears in her eyes. “It is in the paper. Mrs. Ascott has seen it, and that is what we were talking about. Oh, dear papa, don’t be cast down. Perhaps it may not be so bad as we think. Something may be done; or at the very worst we are both able and willing to work—Mab and I.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Mr. St. John, and he read the announcement without much change of countenance. “Dear me, so he is gone at last!” he said. “I have long expected this. His health has been getting worse and worse for years. Poor Chester! has he really gone at last? I remember him at college. He was a year younger than I, but always sickly. Poor fellow! and he was a great deal better off than I am, but never got the good of it. What a lesson it is, my dears!”
“But, oh, papa,” cried Mab, who was the most impatient, “it is a great deal more than a lesson. Think what consequences it will bring to you—and us—and everybody.”
He looked at her with a half smile. “Little Mab,” he said, “teaching her elders. Harry will begin soon. Yes, to be sure; we have got fond of this place; it seems hard that we should have to go.”
“But, papa, where shall we go? What shall we do? What is to become of us?” said Cicely.
Mr. St. John shook his head. “If you will consider that I have only just seen it this moment,” he said, “you will see that I cannot be expected all at once—— Was this what Mrs. Ascott was talking of? And what did she mean by petitions, and the Lord Chancellor? I hope you have not been putting anything into her head?”
There was a pause—the girls looked at each other, and blushed as if they were the culprits; then Miss Maydew came boldly to the front. “It was not the fault of the girls, Mr. St. John; on the contrary, they were against it. But I thought there was no harm in saying that a petition from the parish—to the Lord Chancellor—a well signed petition, as there must be so many people here who are fond of you—and that no doubt he would give you the living if he understood the circumstances.”