They were sitting together on the low window-seat of the room that the sisters occupied; and Cathy had come in, with her long black hair floating over her shoulders, to chat over her friend's new prospect. It was one of those quiet, calm summer nights, when a "peace be still" seems whispered to God's universe; a white crescent moon hung in the dark blue sky, bright facets of gold glimmered here and there, the dark sycamores hardly stirred in the faint breeze, the tombstones shone in the pure white light; below them the church stood in dark shadow.
"I like this better than our old garret," whispered Emmie. "I am so fond of that churchyard, Cathy; I like it better than Mrs. Fawcett's garden. I like to lie in bed and think of the real people who are buried there, and wonder what they were like when they walked and talked as we are doing. The world seems so full of dead and living people somehow."
"Talking of churchyards always makes me shiver," returned Cathy, exchanging a meaning glance with her friend. Emmie was not always quite canny, she thought. "I would rather talk about Queenie's new cottage, and all the fun we mean to have there. I shall come to tea nearly every night, and in the winter you and I will toast muffins, Emmie, and roast chestnuts. I think I must give you one of my Persian kittens, since you have left yours at Carlisle; no cottage is complete without a cat on the hearth."
"But, Cathy," remonstrated her friend, "I am afraid there will be little time for fun of any sort. There will be French lessons to give on two or three evenings in the week; and by-and-bye there will be Emmie to teach, and our clothes to mend, and then, as we can only afford a girl to clean up and do the rough work, I shall have to teach myself cooking. And, oh dear, the day will never be long enough for all I shall have to do," sighed poor Queenie, all at once oppressed by a sense of her future work.
"Do you suppose that I shall sit down with folded hands and see you slave yourself to death in that fashion?" returned Cathy in an aggrieved voice, "is that your notion of friendship, you disagreeable old Queen? You will have teaching enough with the village children and Mrs. Morris's seven little hopes; you may make up your mind just to leave Emmie to me."
"But that is nonsense. What would Langley say to such a proposal?"
"Langley is charmed at the notion; we settled it between us this morning. Emmie is to come and do her lessons with me every morning, and her music with Langley. I shall make a first-rate governess, my dear Madam Dignity; and," mimicking Langley's soft serious voice, "think what a grand thing it will be not to let my acquirements rust, but to turn them to solid account!" Then with a burst of her old vivacity, "think what a blessing you and Emmie will be to me! you will give me occupation, and prevent my dying of ennui in this mill-pond of existence, as Ted calls it."
Queenie's eyes looked unutterable things, but she only said, "Oh Cathy, Cathy, how can I ever repay all your goodness?"
"Goodness to myself, you mean. I will tell you what we will do, Queen: we will coax Langley to let us go into the kitchen and take regular lessons from Susan; it will be rather hot work this weather, but we will go through the furnace of affliction together. You are beginning house-keeping on rather a small scale, my poor dear; but to live we must eat, and to eat I fear we require a certain amount of ingredients, concerning the price and the cooking of which I fear we are profoundly ignorant."
"Yes, indeed," returned her friend ruefully, "This must be rectified at once. What a blessing you are to me. I was sighing for new worlds to conquer, and now frying-pans and mending open a new scope for my feminine talents. How I used to envy those Israelitish women when I was at school."