Lover or Friend

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

'So you see, dear Mollie,' she went on, in a soft, persuasive voice, 'that you will be as great a comfort to me when you are away as you have been here. When I think of you all, I shall say to myself: "Mollie is taking care of them."'

'Yes, I see; and indeed, indeed I will try to do my best for Cyril and mamma,' replied Mollie, with a sob. 'I know how unhappy poor Cyril is; and mamma will not be the comfort to him that she used to be. Is it not sad to think of it, Miss Ross? Mamma sometimes shows me his letters—she always did, you know—but somehow they seem so different. I wonder sometimes if she notices the change in them; but she never says so. He does not want her to come up to London—one can see that so plainly—he keeps begging her to be patient, and give him time to settle things. But you know mamma: she is always in such a hurry—she never can wait for anything,' finished Mollie, in her artless way.

Audrey suppressed a smile. Mrs. Blake's children certainly read her truly; but with all her faults they loved her well. Perhaps Kester had stood aloof from her most; but Mollie had always been devoted to her mother.

'You will miss the country, of course,' went on Audrey cheerfully; 'but London has its charms. You must get your brother to take you in the parks and Kensington Gardens; you must tell him that you and Zack want exercise, and then he will not refuse.'

'Mamma will walk with me,' returned Mollie disconsolately. 'She is very fond of crowded streets and shops; she will want me to go with her, and then we shall be obliged to leave Zack at home, for fear he should be lost. Oh, I know all about it!' continued Mollie, with a sigh. 'I shall be far too tired to walk with Cyril, even if he asked me; but he would not, because he knows mamma would be hurt: she always likes him to ask her.'

'Never mind,' replied Audrey, changing the subject abruptly. 'Remember, Mollie, we can only do our best for people, and leave all the rest. I am sure that in a thousand ways you will be a comfort to them. You have always been their thoughtful little housekeeper, and you can be that still. You can keep the place bright and cheery, and make it look as home-like as possible. And, Mollie, I want you to do something; but it is to be a secret between you and me, and no one—no one'—repeating the word emphatically—'is to know about it.'

And Mollie promised faithfully to hold her tongue.

'Your mother is passionately fond of flowers.' (But Audrey, in her heart, knew someone else loved them too.) 'I want you to lay out this prudently and by degrees;' and she slipped a sovereign into Mollie's hand. 'Flowers are so plentiful in London, and you can always have a nice fresh bunch for the breakfast-table. I remember your mother once saying she would go without food to buy flowers. When I think you have come to an end of the money, I shall send you some more.'

'But if anyone asks me who bought them,' asked Mollie, with one of her wide-open glances, 'what can I say then, Miss Ross?'

'Say that you have bought them with your own money—for it is your money, Mollie; and if you would rather buy gloves with it, you are welcome to do so.'