Thistle and Rose by Amy Walton (little red riding hood ebook txt) 📕

room had regained its ordinary look. Then she stretched her arms above her head, gave a sigh of relief, and strolled out of the open French windows into the garden. The air was very calm and still, so that various mingled noises from the town could be plainly heard, though not loudly enough to produce more than a subdued hum, which was rather soothing than otherwise. Amongst them the deep recurring tones of the church bell, ringing for evening prayers, fell upon Delia's ear as she wandered slowly up the gravel path, her head full of busy thoughts.

They were not wholly pleasant thoughts, and they had to do chiefly with two people, one very well known to her, and the other quite a stranger-- Mr Goodwin, and his grandchild, Anna Forrest. Delia could hardly make up her mind whether she were pleased or annoyed at the idea of Anna's arrival. Of course she was glad, she told herself, of anything that would please the "Professor," as she always called Mr Goodwin; and she was curious and anxious to see what the new-comer would be like, for perhaps they might be companions and friends, though Anna was two years younger than herself. She could not, however, prevent a sort of suspicion that made her feel uneasy. Anna might be proud. She might even speak of the Professor in the condescending tone which so many people used in Dornton. Mrs Forrest at Waverley always looked proud, Delia thought. Perhaps Anna would be like her.

"If she is," said Delia to herself, suddenly stopping to snap off the head of a snapdragon which grew in an angle of the old red wall--"if she is--if she dares--if she doesn't see that the Professor is worth more than all the people in Dornton--_I will_ despise her--I will--"

She stopped and shook her head.

"And if it's the other way, and she loves and honours him as she ought, and is everything to him, and, and, takes my place, what shall I do then? Why, then, I will try not to detest her."

She laughed a little as she stooped to gather some white pinks which bordered the path, and fastened them in her dress.

"Pretty she is sure to be," she continued to herself, "like her mother, whom they never mention without praise--and she is almost certain to love music. Dear old Professor, how pleased he will be! I will try not to mind, but I do hope she can't play the violin as well as I do. After all, it would be rather unfair if she had a beautiful face and a musical soul as well."

The bell stopped, and the succeeding silence was harshly broken by the shrill whistle of a train.

"There's the five o'clock train," said Delia to herself; "to-morrow by this time she will be here."

Mrs Winn and Miss Gibbins meanwhile had pursued their way home together, for they lived close to each other.

"It's a pity Delia Hunt has such blunt manners, isn't it?" said the latter regretfully, "and such very decided opinions for a young girl? It's not at all becoming. I felt quite uncomfortable just now."

"She'll know better by-and-by," said Mrs Winn. "There's a great deal of good in Delia, but she is conceited and self-willed, like all young people."

Miss Gibbins sighed. "She'll never be so amiable as her dear mother," she said.--"Why!" suddenly changing her tone to one of surprise, "isn't that Mr Oswald?"

"Yes, I think so," said Mrs Winn, gazing after the spring-cart which had passed them rapidly. "What then?"

"He had a _child_ with him," said Miss Gibbins impressively. "A child with fair hair, like Prissy Goodwin's, and they came from the station. Something tells me it was Prissy's daughter."

"Nonsense, Julia," replied Mrs Winn; "she's not expected till to-morrow. Mrs Forrest told Mrs Hunt so herself. Besides, how should Mr Oswald have anything to do with meeting her? That was his own little girl with him, I daresay."

"Daisy Oswald has close-cropped, black hair," replied Miss Gibbins, quite unshaken in her opinion. "This child was older, and her hair shone like gold. I feel sure it was Prissy's daughter."


CHAPTER THREE.

WAVERLEY.

Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide.

Milton.

While this went on at Dornton, Anna was getting nearer and nearer to her new home. At first she was pleased and excited at setting forth on a journey all by herself, and found plenty to occupy her with all she saw from the carriage windows, and with wondering which of the villages and towns she passed so rapidly were like Dornton and Waverley. It was surprising that the old lady sitting opposite to her could look so placid and calm. Perhaps, however, she was not going to a strange place amongst new people, and most likely had taken a great many journeys already in her life. Anna was glad this was not her own ease: it must be very dull, she thought, to be old, and to have got used to everything, and to have almost nothing to look forward to.

As the day wore on, and the hot afternoon sun streamed in at the windows, the old lady, who was her only companion, fell fast asleep, and Anna began to grow rather weary. She took the case with her mother's picture in it out of her pocket and studied it again attentively. The gentle, sweet face seemed to smile back kindly at her. "If you are half as beautiful and a quarter as good," her father had said. Was she at all like the picture now? Anna wondered. Surely her hair was rather the same colour. She pulled a piece of it round to the front--it was certainly yellow, but hardly so bright. Well, her grandfather would tell her--she would ask him on the very first opportunity. Her grandfather! It was wonderful to think she should really see him soon, and ask him all sorts of questions about her mother. He lived at Dornton, but that was only two miles from Waverley, and, no doubt, she should often be able to go there. He was an organist.

Her father's tone, half-pitying, half-disapproving, came back to her with the word. She tried to think of what she knew about organists. It was not much. There was an organist in the church in London to which she had gone every Sunday with Miss Milverton, but he was always concealed behind red curtains, so that she did not even know what he looked like. The organist must certainly be an important person in a church. Anna did not see how the service could get on without him. What a pity that her grandfather did not play the organ in her Uncle John's church, instead of at Dornton!

She made a great many resolves as she sat there, with her mother's portrait in her hand: she would be very fond of her grandfather, and, of course, he would be very fond of her; and as he lived all alone, there would be a great many things she could do to make him happier. She pictured herself becoming very soon his chief comforter and companion, and began to wonder how he had done without her so long.

Lost in these thoughts, she hardly noticed that the train had begun to slacken its pace; presently, it stopped at a large station. The old lady roused herself, tied her bonnet strings, and evidently prepared for a move.

"You're going farther, my dear," she said kindly. "Dornton is the next station but one. You won't mind being alone a little while?"

She nodded and smiled from the platform. Anna handed out her numerous parcels and baskets: the train moved on, and she was now quite alone. She might really begin to look out for Dornton, which must be quite near. It seemed a long time coming, however, and she had made a good many false starts, grasping her rugs and umbrella, before there was an unmistakable shout of "Dornton!" She got out and looked up and down the platform, but it was easy to see that Mrs Forrest was not there. Two porters, a newspaper boy, and one or two farmers, were moving about in the small station, but no one in the least like Aunt Sarah. Anna stood irresolute. She had been so certain that Aunt Sarah would be there, that she had not even wondered what she should do in any other case. Mrs Forrest had promised to come herself, and Anna could not remember that she had ever failed to carry out her arrangements at exactly the time named.

"If it had been father, now," she said to herself in her perplexity, "he would perhaps have forgotten, but Aunt Sarah--"

"Any luggage, miss?" asked the red-faced young porter.

"Oh yes, please," said Anna; "and I expected some one to meet me--a lady."

She looked anxiously at him.

"Do 'ee want to go into the town?" he asked, as Anna pointed out her trunks. "There's a omnibus outside."

"No; I want to go to Waverley Vicarage," said Anna, feeling very deserted. "How can I get there?"

She followed the porter as he wheeled the boxes outside the station, where a small omnibus was waiting, and also a high spring-cart, in which sat a well-to-do-looking farmer.

"You ain't seen no one from Waverley, Mr Oswald?" said the porter. "This 'ere young lady expects some one to meet her."

The farmer looked thoughtfully at Anna.

"Waverley, eh," he repeated, "Vicarage?"

"Ah," said the porter, nodding.

Another long gaze.

"Well, I'm going by the gate myself," he said at last. "I reckon Molly wouldn't make much odds of the lot," glancing at the luggage, "if the young lady would like a lift."

"Perhaps," said Anna, hesitatingly, "I'd better have a cab, as Mrs Forrest is not here."

"I could order you a fly at the Blue Boar," said the porter. "'Twouldn't be ready, not for a half-hour or so. Mr Oswald 'd get yer over a deal quicker."

No cabs! What a strange place, and how unlike London! Anna glanced uncertainly at the high cart, the tall strawberry horse stamping impatiently, and the good-natured, brown face of the farmer. It would be an odd way of arriving at Waverley, and she was not at all sure that Aunt Sarah would approve of it; but what was she to do? It was very kind of the farmer; would he expect to be paid?

"Better come along, missie," said Mr Oswald, as these thoughts passed rapidly through her mind. "You'll be over in a brace of shakes.--Hoist them things in at the back, Jim."

Almost before she knew it, Anna had taken the broad hand held out to help her, had mounted the high step, and was seated by the farmer's side.

"Any port in a storm, eh?" he said, good-naturedly, as he put the rug over her knees.--"All right at the back, Jim?"

A shake of the reins, and Molly dashed forward with a bound that almost threw Anna off her seat, and whirled the cart out of the station-yard at what seemed to her a fearful pace.

"She'll quiet down directly," said Mr