The eldest was now about one and twenty, a fine manly young woman, with a loud voice, and very demonstrative manners, who seemed inclined to do good in the spirit of a prize-fighter, by attacking the evils which she sought to remedy with a masculine vigour, such as would drive them in terror off the field. The second daughter, Clara, was of a rather less commanding appearance than her elder sister, but dressed and talked pretty much in the same fashion. The third, Millicent, would naturally have been quiet and retiring, but had constrained herself to imitate her sisters. She had, however, only so far succeeded as to acquire an abrupt and off-hand style of speaking, which was calculated to shut up old-fashioned people, who had been brought up under the impression that young ladies should belong to the feminine gender. Indeed, when the three Misses Wilder were met on the public road in their walking attire, with natty little hats on their heads, ulsters down to their feet, turn-down collars round their necks, and riding-whips or walking-sticks in their hands, it would have been very difficult for an unpractised observer to determine to what particular sex they belonged.
Their brother was proud of his sisters, and matched them admirably. He was a kind-hearted, outspoken, generous young man, up to anything, from a midnight spree to a special religious service; hating everything like cant as decidedly “low,” and going in for sincerity, truth, and free-thought. Moreover, he spent his money, or, more strictly speaking, his father’s money as well as his own, on horses, dogs, and guns, and left sundry little bills to stand over till the poor creditors had lost both hope and patience.
It was now four o’clock, and the children were assembling for tea, after a series of games, in which they had been joined by Grace Willerly with an unflagging energy, and been occasionally encouraged by a kind word from Mr and Mrs Wilder and their daughters.
“What a charming sight, isn’t it?” said Mrs Wilder to Colonel Dawson, as they strolled up to the tea-tables, which had been set out under the shade of some huge elms. “How happy the dear children seem!”
“Yes,” replied her guest; “it is indeed a pleasant sight, and I am sure we may well learn a lesson of contentment with simple pleasures from the hearty enjoyment of these young ones. What a pity that the world and its attractions should ever get a place in the hearts of these or of any of us, since God has made us for purer and higher things!”
“Ah! Very true, colonel;—but won’t you come into the house? I see our friends are gathering in the drawing-room. We shall find tea there; and Clara and Millicent, with Grace Willerly, will see that their little friends want for nothing. Oh! Here is your nephew.—Pray, Mr Jackson, come in with us; I am sure you will be glad of a little refreshment.”
So the elder guests assembled in the drawing-room, and got through an hour of miscellaneous gossip very creditably; at the end of which all adjourned to the garden again, and strolled about in twos and threes till the school children were dismissed and it was time for the visitors to take their leave.
“What a relief!” exclaimed the colonel to his nephew, as they trotted on side by side on their ride homewards.
“Well, it was dull work, uncle, I allow,” said the young man, laughing. “But these gatherings are, I suppose, useful and necessary, if people are to keep up friendly acquaintance with one another, and do what is civil and neighbourly.”
“Yes, perhaps so,” replied his uncle; “but such an afternoon is little better than bondage and lost time—at any rate to a man of my colonial habits. However, it has given me an opportunity of seeing more of the young ladies at Holly House.”