“Why need you call any one? Tell me where I shall put them.” Mattie broke into a loud laugh. She could not help it. It was too droll of Archie. She must write and tell Grace. 135
Archie heard the laugh as he marched out of the room with his burden, and it provoked him excessively. He made some excuse about admiring Laddie, and went out on the lawn for a few minutes, accompanied by Nan. When they came back, the curtains were finished and the two girls were talking to Mattie. Mattie seemed quite at ease with them.
“We have such a dear old garden at the vicarage,” she was saying, as her brother came into the room. “I am not much of a gardener myself but Archie works for hours at a time. He talks of getting a set of tennis down from town. We think it will help to bring people together. You must promise to come and play sometimes of an afternoon when you have got the cottage in order.”
“Thank you,” returned Phillis; and then Nan and she exchanged looks. A sort of blankness came over the sisters’ faces,—a sudden dying out of the brightness and fun.
Mr. Drummond grew a little alarmed:
“I hope you will not disappoint my sister. She has few friends, and is rather lonely, missing so many sisters; and you are such close neighbors.”
“Yes, we are close neighbors,” returned Phillis. But her voice was a little less clear than usual; and, to Archie’s astonishment,—for they all seemed talking comfortably together,—her face had grown suddenly pale. “But you must not think us unkind if we refuse your hospitality,” she went on, looking straight at him, and not at Mattie. “Owing to painful circumstances, we have made up our minds that no such pleasure are in store for us. We must learn to do without things: must we not, Nan?”
“Yes, indeed,” returned Nan, very gravely. And then the tears came into Dulce’s eyes. Was Phillis actually going to tell them? She would have run away, only she was ashamed of such cowardice.
“I hope you do not mean to do without friends,” stammered Archie. “That would be too painful to bear.” He thought they were excusing themselves from partaking of their neighbors’ hospitality because they were too poor to return it, and wanted to set them at their ease. “You may have reasons for wishing to be quiet. Perhaps Mrs. Challoner’s health, and—and—parties are not always desirable,” he went on, floundering, a little in his speech, and signing to Mattie to come to his help, which she did at once, breathlessly:
“Parties! Oh, dear, no! They are such a trouble and expense. But tennis and tea on the lawn is just nothing,—nothing at all. One can give a little fruit and some home-made cake. No one need scruple at that. Archie is not rich,—clergymen never are, you know,—but he means to entertain his friends as well as he can. I should like you to see Miss Middleton. She is a charming person. And the colonel is as nice as possible. We will just ask them to meet you in a quiet way, and, if 136 your mother is not too much of an invalid, I hope she will give us the pleasure of her company, for when people are such close neighbors it is stupid to stand on ceremony,” finished Mattie, bringing herself rapidly to a full stop.