May Lawrence was one of those who had taken a great fancy to her, and this invitation to Monckton Manor, a place Effie had only seen once upon a formal call, was rather galling to her.
Sheila started out a little depressed in spirits, for she disliked the feeling that Effie was “cross with her.” She was sensitive, like all young things, to the disapproval of those about her, and thought it very hard to be blamed when she had really done no harm. Sheila was for the first time tasting a little of the discipline of life, and she did not enjoy the experience. She wanted it always to be sunshine about her. She liked to be petted and caressed. She was ready to love everybody, if they would only love her. It seemed to her very hard when she was criticised for something that was not the least wrong. It had never been so in old days, and why should it be now?
However, upon her arrival at the Manor House all troubled thoughts were quickly dissipated by the warm reception she met with. May Lawrence met her with a kiss. The two girls fell into Christian names almost at once. The pleasant old semi-Tudor house was delightful to Sheila, reminding her in many ways of her own home. Mrs. Lawrence welcomed her kindly, saying she had heard a great deal about her and her pretty playing, and May took her into the orchard-house and regaled her with delicious peaches before they did a note of practising.
“And we have such a nice visitor here now, Sheila,” she explained, “an old friend of mother’s, though she is not really old—Miss Adene; only she makes me call her Cousin Mary. She had a very lovely voice when she was young, and it’s quite pretty still, though she laughs when I tell her so. She has given me a lot of hints about my songs. She sings little bits to show me how to do it. She must have been splendidly taught herself! Let’s come to the music-room! Perhaps she will come and listen.”
Sheila followed her willingly, and on their way to the house May exclaimed, “Oh, there she is!” and the next minute Sheila was shaking hands with Miss Adene.
Somehow Sheila’s heart went out at once to this stranger lady. She could not say how it was, but she felt at home with her almost immediately; and Miss Adene seemed to take a liking for the big-eyed, soft-voiced Sheila. She asked her questions about herself, gave her hints about her playing, and was altogether so friendly and kindly that Sheila felt almost more at home in this house after two hours than she had done at Cossart Place after two months.
Cyril appeared at luncheon in company with some of the Lawrence sons. They had known each other at Cambridge, and saw a fair amount of one another in the vacation. May was the only daughter; but she had several brothers, and was good at most games herself, and would have liked to play tennis with Sheila, only that her habit was rather against any such plan.
“But you must come another day—you must come often. I have so few girl-friends here. There are not many houses where mother cares for me to be intimate. But I should like to have you for a friend! I hope you will come often!”
“I should like to,” said Sheila eagerly, “but I don’t know if I can. There is Effie! I am supposed to be her companion. I could not leave her very often.”
“I don’t see why not,” said May, with some of the frank and unconscious selfishness of the present-day girl. “You’re not her nurse or her white slave, I suppose?”