CHAPTER XIV PRISCILLA PAYS ANOTHER CALL

LOVEDAY was not a prisoner, but she was somewhat subdued and ashamed of herself, and Priscilla, who felt very, very sorry for her, and forgot all about her naughtiness and the injury she had done, was quite troubled to see how grave her father looked, and how sternly he spoke to her.

“Well,” he said, “this is a nice thing! Here am I, called away from my patients and everything, to come and help a little girl who cannot be trusted to go a-visiting by herself but she must go and behave disgracefully, and bring shame on us all! What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing, daddy,” cried the disgraced one, flinging herself into his arms and burying her face on his shoulder, while the spade and the bucket with “Thomas” on it went clattering to the ground.

Fortunately, Dr. Carlyon had not put his harrowing questions until they had passed the green and the houses, and were in the little hotel where they were to have dinner before going to interview Bessie. But his stern silence all the way had impressed Loveday more than any words could have done, and when at last he spoke, her poor little troubled heart could bear no more.

“O daddy,” she sobbed, “I only meaned to be very kind, and to make him happy ’cause he’d lost his son and was very unhappy, and we got up in the morning when we were so sleepy and tired we didn’t want to get up a bit, but it was to help him, and we wanted to make it all look nice, and we thought ’twas the piskies put the old straw there, but it was Mr. Winter did it—and how could we know? Of course we shouldn’t have done it if we had! And then Mr. Winter came out and caught us. Oh, ’twas ever so early, and he was so angry, he looked—oh, he looked as if he would eat us! and he said such dreadful things, and I told him all about it. I ’splained everything, but he doesn’t believe there are any fairies, and then he took us indoors and locked us in a room while he thought what he’d do with us, and I was ’fraid he’d heave us to cliff like we heaved the straw, but Aaron said he’d know better than do that ’cause he’d be hanged for it. Aaron talked a lot when we were locked in, and Mr. Winter wasn’t there, but he was nearly crying before. I don’t think much of Aaron, and I’ll—I’ll never like him any more! He said he reckoned Mr. Winter would turn them out of their cottage for what we had done, and ’twould be all my fault, and I told him he was a very bad, mean boy to say such things, and if he didn’t take care all that he ate would turn acid like it did to the wicked uncle in the Babes of the Wood, but all he said was that he wouldn’t mind that, if he could only get something to eat.”

“Well,” said her father, with a patient sigh, but holding his erring little daughter very close, “you seem to have had a pleasant ten minutes in your prison—but get on with your story.”

“Ten minutes!” cried Loveday, drawing back in her surprise to look up at his face; “ten hours more likely, daddy!”

“Oh! was it nearly night then when you came out?”

“Well, no—but it was quite breakfast-time when we got home.”

“I see—it seemed like ten hours.”

“Oh yes!” sighed Loveday, with a very sober shake of her curly head; “and it was such a dirty, horrid little room. I don’t think Mrs. Tucker can be a very clean person,” she added, in a grave confidential tone.

“Never mind Mrs. Tucker—get on with your story. I don’t suppose you were very clean either at that time in the morning!”

“Well—you see we always washed when we got up the second time. We were in too great a hurry the first time.”

“What did Mr. Winter say when he came back and let you out?” asked Dr. Carlyon.

“He said he hadn’t been able to think of a punishment yet, so we might go home then, and he would send for us later. Aaron said that was because it was going to be something dreadful, and I wanted to run away to some place where I could never be caught; but Aaron said it would be mean to go and leave him to face it all. Would it, father?”

“Very. I am extremely glad you did not do that.”

“But, daddy, s’posing he sends me away from you! What shall I do?” and the blue eyes filled with tears again.

And at the sight of them, and the thought of such a dreadful possibility, Priscilla, who had been standing near with a very, very serious face, listening to all the harrowing story, almost wept too, and told her precious secret in her desire to comfort her little sister.

“Oh, dear little Loveday, don’t cry any more! You won’t be sent away—I am sure you won’t. And just look here at the lovely present I’ve got for you! Father, put her down, that she may try it on.”

For the moment, at any rate, all Loveday’s woes vanished, and Priscilla forgot her cares, too, in the excitement and happiness at the pleasure in store for Loveday. And then the basket was opened, and out came the parcel, and the red cloak was unfolded, and displayed before Loveday’s dazzled eyes; and her delight was as great as even Priscilla had hoped it would be.

“For me!” she cried—“me! For my very own! O Prissy, how lovely! What a dear! Let me put it on quick. Do you think it will suit me?” And in another moment the pretty red cloak was round her, and the hood drawn over her tumbled curls, while Prissy, like a little mother, knelt to button it round her, managing as best she could with her one hand.

“Do I look very pretty in it?” asked Loveday, appealing, quite unembarrassed, to her father.

“Well, not so very plain,” said her father, pretending to study her very critically. “I have seen you look worse,” though in his heart he thought he had seldom seen anything so charming as the little flushed face, the eyes still bright with unshed tears, surrounded by its tangle of curls and the red hood.

“Has Prissie got one?” she asked, quite undisturbed by her father’s remark.

“Yes—mine is blue,” cried Priscilla, dragging hers out of the basket too. “I like mine best for me, but I like the red best for you. Look, isn’t mine lovely!” and she put the cloak on over her little print frock.

Then came a long comparison and examination of both. “I think I like my buttons best,” said Loveday, at the end of the inspection, “but you have a clasp on yours. Never mind—perhaps I shall get a clasp too some day.”

Then followed the long story of Priscilla’s call on Lady Carey, and of Lady Carey’s sending for the parcel, and every detail of Priscilla’s visit, even to the chair and the bell-pull; and it took so long to tell that the servant came in and laid the cloth and placed the dinner on the table before it was all done.

Loveday was so delighted with her cloak she could not be persuaded to take it off even for dinner, so she wore it throughout the meal, and all the way to Bessie’s too, “because,” as she said, “it matched her bucket so beautifully, and would give Bessie such a surprise.”

And Bessie really was surprised to see her little lady come back enveloped in a long, warm red cloak, with the hood drawn snugly over her head, especially as that same little lady had in the morning protested that it was too hot to bear even a cotton coat over her cotton frock.

Then Priscilla having been welcomed and kissed and crooned over by Bessie, and the cloaks having been admired, and Aaron introduced and allowed to run away and hide, Priscilla and Loveday were sent out to amuse themselves on the beach, while Dr. Carlyon talked over all the dreadful doings of his younger daughter and Bessie’s son.

It was then that Priscilla breathed to Loveday her great plan of going up to call on Mr. Winter. At first she had not intended to let Loveday into the secret, but she soon saw how impossible it would be to get away from her, that there would be a hue and cry if she were missed, and that matters then would be worse than ever. So Loveday was told, and her help proved to be of the greatest use.

“Of course,” said Prissy, “if father is going up there this afternoon, I needn’t go.”

But they soon learnt, to their surprise, that Dr. Carlyon had no intention of going, for, after his talk with Bessie, he came out to them on the beach to say that Bessie had given him the addresses of some lodgings, and he was now going to see if either of them would suit.

“I think you had better not come with me, dear,” he said to Prissy. “You look tired.”

Priscilla agreed, not because she did not want to go, but because she wanted to do something else.

“But—but,” she began nervously, “father, aren’t you going to see Mr. Winter?”

“No, dear,” he said quite cheerfully, and not at all as though he were alarmed. “I think, from what Bessie tells me, that I had better wait until I hear something more from Mr. Winter himself before I take any steps in the matter. Loveday, would you like to come with me or to stay with Priscilla? I expect you would rather stay.”

“No, I’d rather go with you, I think,” said Loveday, her mind full of Priscilla’s plan.

“Well, Priscilla will have plenty of you, and I haven’t seen you for a long time,” said Dr. Carlyon, “so come along. Prissy, you had better rest till we come back. Now, then, Loveday, are you ready?”

And off they went. Priscilla felt rather deceitful as they left her, and she felt even more so when Bessie showed her to the little room that she and Loveday were now to share.

“Now, missie,” she said, “you shall have a nice sleep; the house will be very quiet. Aaron is going to Melland with his father, and I shall be sitting outside the front door with my sewing. If you want me, you have only to call.”

Priscilla thanked her, and thought, with thankfulness, that things seemed to be arranging themselves on purpose for her. She felt rather troubled about it, but she really had taken fresh alarm at her father’s remark that he should wait until he heard more. “Why will they put it off?” she thought anxiously; “they will leave it until too late, and the policeman will come before they have done anything, and then it will be no good!” It seemed to her very, very foolish and rash, and she felt quite glad that Loveday was in her father’s care, for there she would be safer than anywhere.

She went into the bedroom and shut the door, and lay down for a little while, until, at last, she heard Aaron and his father start, and Bessie settle down under the verandah to her sewing. When Priscilla had heard her singing softly to herself for some time, she felt that at last it would be safe to start. To cover her light cotton frock, which would have made her very conspicuous as she mounted the cliff, she put on her blue cloak, hood and all; but she carried her hat beneath it, for she thought it would be more fitting to be wearing a hat when making a first call, and one of such importance too.

Loveday had told her exactly how to go, and Bessie having been unable to get the bars put up at the window yet, Priscilla slipped out easily enough, and was soon hurrying up the cliff. At first all her fear was of being seen, and stopped, but later, when she neared the top, other fears seized her. Mr. Winter seemed suddenly to grow almost too formidable to face, and when she reached the gate she hesitated a moment, really too nervous to go a step farther.

But she thought of Loveday, who would be all the time thinking of her, and counting on her interference; and she thought of all the dreadful things that might happen, making herself picture the very worst, to help to get her courage up. And then she quickly opened the gate, walked gravely up to the door, and knocked before she had time to give way to her fears again.

“Priscilla slipped out easily.”