Lover or Friend

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

But in spite of this little rift in her perfect harmony, Audrey thoroughly enjoyed the next month; she was almost sorry that the vacation was so near. It had been a very gay month. Relays of visitors—distant relations or mere friends—had been invited to Woodcote and Hillside. Mrs. Ross's garden-party had rivalled Mrs. Charrington's, and there had been a succession of picnics, driving parties, and small select dinners at all the Hill houses. But in spite of her many engagements—her afternoons on the cricket-field, the tennis tournament, in which she and Cyril Blake won, and various other gaieties—Audrey had not neglected Mollie. Twice a week she devoted an hour and a half to her pupil. When the music-lesson was over, Audrey would read French with her or correct her exercises. She was a very conscientious mistress, and would not allow Mollie to waste any of her time in idle gossip. When she was putting away her books, Mollie's voluble tongue would make amends for the enforced silence.

'Oh, Miss Ross,' she exclaimed one day, 'do you know, Cyril has given mamma such a beautiful present! You will never guess what it is!'

Audrey prudently refrained from any guesses; besides, she was still correcting Mollie's translation.

'It is a black silk dress—a real beauty, as mamma says. She has borrowed Miss Marshall's last copy of the Queen, and she means to make it up herself. Mamma is so clever! It is to have a long train; at least, a moderately long train, and an open bodice—open in front, you know—with tulle folds. Oh, I forget exactly; but mamma explained it to me so nicely!'

'It was very kind of your brother,' observed Audrey gravely.

For once Mollie was not checked.

'Yes; isn't he a darling for thinking of it? He went to Attenborough himself and chose it, and mamma thought he was on the cricket-field all the time. He got her a pair of long gloves, too. Cyril always thinks of everything. Mamma cried when she opened the parcel, she was so pleased; and then Cyril laughed at her. The worst of it is'—and here Mollie's face lengthened a little—'Kester will have to wait for his new suit, and the poor boy is so shabby! Cyril went up to his room to tell him so; because his leg was so painful, he had gone to bed early. Of course, Kester said he did not mind a bit, and he would much rather that mamma had her new gown and could go out and enjoy herself; but, all the same, it is a little hard for Kester, is it not?'

'I don't think boys care about their clothes quite so much as girls do.'

'Oh, but Kester does; he is almost as particular as Cyril. He does love to have everything nice, and I know he is ashamed of that old jacket. He has outgrown it, too, and the sleeves are so short; and now he is so much with Captain Burnett, he feels it all the more. Oh, do you know, Miss Ross'—interrupting herself—'Captain Burnett is going to drive Kester to Brail in his dogcart!'

'That will be very nice. But, Mollie, you really must leave off chattering; you have translated this sentence quite wrongly. This is not one bit the sense.' And Mollie did at last consent to hold her tongue.