Chapter III: Making Friends

SARA was not left without visitors. Besides Mrs. Peel, Admiral Burke and his wife came over in an old-fashioned pony-chaise to call upon her, followed by Miss Agnew from the Hall. Sara was delighted to see the old people. They were an ideal couple, as devoted now to each other as they had been when lovers, and were determined to show her hospitality.

"You must come and spend a long day with us, my dear," said the old lady; "we have pretty gardens, and I should like to show you an oil painting presented to us on our marriage by your father. He painted it himself. We have also a photograph of you and your brother as tiny children."

Sara promised she would come, and they had hardly taken their departure before Miss Agnew was announced.

Sara looked at the tall slim handsome girl with much interest. She was dressed in a plain brown holland coat and skirt, and coarse straw hat. Her face was alive with interest and expectation. She was not so impulsive, or so confidential as Mrs. Peel had been, and Sara saw at once that she was of a more thoughtful nature. She told Sara a great deal about the village and places of local interest, and spoke as if she loved it all.

"I have grown up here and never want to leave it. My father and I go to town once every year, so as to widen our outlook and prevent us from running in a groove, but I am always glad to get back here again. Don't you think it is a lovely bit of country?"

"Indeed I do. It strikes me as such luxuriant rich pasture land! Everything looks so flourishing and prosperous."

"Oh, we have our bad times, I assure you, but father farms most of his land himself. He puts a lot of money into it, and I think he gets its worth. I'm so glad you appreciate our part. Have you met Nellie Peel? She's enough to turn a pail of milk sour sometimes."

"Aren't you two great friends?"

The girl laughed.

"In a way I suppose we are. But I hate her grumbling. Why on earth did she marry a parson if she didn't like his life? She's always trying to get out of her sphere into another. She's a parson's daughter, so she ought to be content to be a parson's wife. She's always trying to run down her own sort. She has a very good time, I consider. Her husband is a saint; she has no children, nothing to tie her to the house. And our village is a very pleasant one, and the people happy and well-to-do. She ought to like visiting them and having meetings and clubs and that sort of thing. As it is, I take the clothing and coal club off her shoulders. Nellie is always trying to occupy herself with things that have nothing to do with the parish."

"I think you are hard upon her," said Sara, pleasantly. "Young people are very intolerant sometimes of others' likes and dislikes. She is of no different flesh and blood to yourself—"

May Agnew drew her head up proudly at this and Sara saw she did not like it, but she went on firmly—

"Parochial work does not come easily to every one. She tells me she paints. An artistic nature must find its vent in some way. She may not have been born with that gift of sympathy and interest in her fellow creatures which you perhaps possess, and what comes easy to you as the Squire's daughter and, may I say, as Lady Bountiful of the parish, comes hardly with her. I am a newcomer, and I don't know either of you yet, but my first impressions are pleasant of you both. I feel sorry for Mrs. Peel, she is so young, with such great expectations from life; and those who expect much meet with many disappointments."

"You think she is a square peg in a round hole? By her own showing she is. When first she came here, I felt sorry for her, and had her continually up at the Hall. She comes now, and whenever we have company, I send for her. But she expects to spend her whole time with us. And then when I happen not to ask her if anything is going on, she gets huffy and sulky. Oh, what am I saying? You have bewitched me! What must you think of me! Sitting up and slanging our Rector's wife in this fashion!"

"I will never abuse your confidence," said Sara, quietly. "It is good of you to have talked so openly with me. Don't be too impatient; life slowly impresses its lessons on each one. And Mrs. Peel will learn her lessons like the rest of us."

May Agnew smiled.

"You think me a prig, I expect. It is so easy to see the motes in our neighbours' eyes, is it not? Are you fond of reading? Father has rather a good library, and he would be flattered if you came up and made use of it!"

"How very kind of you! I shall be delighted. A library is always so attractive! I have so much idle time on my hands now, that reading will be possible to me, and I do love it."

When she had gone, Sara mused upon these two girls' lives, running side by side, and yet with such different outlooks. And though in her heart she knew that May Agnew was more high-principled and right-minded than Nellie Peel, her sympathies were most with the latter.

Nellie came to make the promised sketch. And they had an interesting talk about art and its different schools and fashions. Sara went to the Rectory to tea and found Mr. Peel a charming man to talk to. He was very devoted to his young wife, but the latter chose to be in one of her flippant moods that day; and more than once Sara saw the Rector wince at things she said.

She came away rather sad at heart. The home was picturesque in its setting, there was no lack of comfort in it, yet the atmosphere seemed charged with friction.

The contrast when she went to lunch with Admiral and Mrs. Burke was very marked. The old couple were delighted to see her, they talked of the past with many fragrant memories. And Sara told them when she came away that she had never spent such a happy day anywhere for years, as she had now with them.

"My dear," said Mrs. Burke, kissing her, "it is good of a young thing like you to be interested in the old."

"I don't feel at all young," said Sara. "I always feel I have much more in common with those who are getting through their journey than with those who have just begun it."

"There are two young people close to you who will be glad of your advice and help," said Mrs. Burke, gently. "We know them both; and wonder often how things will go with them. May is a dear girl. She is her father's right hand—such a useful life she leads—but it makes her a little hard on the less energetic ones. And she can never forget that she is the Squire's daughter. I think I may tell you in confidence that she was engaged to a nephew of ours for six months. He is in the Horse Artillery, and always spent his leave with us. It was broken off because she wanted to manage him, and he would not have it. She has managed everybody since she was twelve years old, when her mother died. She insisted then, though she had a governess, upon dining with her father every night; and she would take her seat at the foot of the long dining-room table opposite him like any old woman."

"Both Mrs. Peel and Miss Agnew are inclined to be very friendly," said Sara. "I don't think there is any danger of my feeling dull."

And there was not. Time slipped rapidly by, the baby Oliver growing bigger and bonnier every day, and Sara, with her usual aptitude for making friends and winning confidences, was continually in request by either the Squire's daughter or the Rector's wife.

Nellie Peel made a water-colour sketch of her. It was cleverly done, and she caught the sunshine in Sara's face and eyes, as she sat against a background of apple-trees, with her small nephew in her arms.

It was a bright and vivid portrait.

"The only pity," said Nellie, "is that you aren't the baby's mother. For nobody would believe that you were not. You have such a motherly face! I shall call this sketch, 'Sunshine.' Now, would you like to have it? I should love to give it to you."

"My dear, I could not take it."

"Why not? I love painting for painting's sake."

"If you are really going to make me a present of it, I should like to send it to an old lady, a very great friend of mine. But I hope I am not taking advantage of your generosity."

"I never give away anything unless I want to," said Nellie, carelessly. Then she looked down upon the sketch on her knee.

"You're a very happy person, aren't you? I wish I could feel as happy as you do, but I suppose you have always had your own way, and have done what you liked."

"Oh, Nellie dear, that doesn't make a person happy."

"Yes, it does. It makes me happy, but something or somebody is always crossing my will, and then I'm angry."

"I don't think any of us can sail through life without any buffetings or storms," said Sara.

For a moment a shadow dimmed her eyes. There was not a day or an hour that Graham Laird did not figure in her thoughts. She knew he belonged to another woman now. She tried to think of him in a detached impersonal way, but she had an intense longing to know if he was happy, and this longing brought an ache into her heart which stayed there.

"People say we can't cultivate happiness," Sara went on thoughtfully; "for the more we think about it, the less we feel it. Happiness is a very elusive thing, isn't it? But certain habits bring it to us."

"What habits? I like to hear you talk. Go on. I am just putting the finishing touches to my sketch."

"I think the habit of recognizing the good things which we possess is one. If we take an inventory of our possessions sometimes, we shall find it is a pretty long one. And the habit of taking an interest in other people and things outside ourselves is a great help. I was feeling rather sad the other morning before I came down to breakfast. But I had two distinct bits of cheer, and thinking of them warmed my heart up."

"Do tell me what they are."

"Don't laugh at my first bit of cheer. It was a mother thrush out of my window. She was taking a walk with three of her young ones. Our tabby cat saw her, and came stalking through the long grass. The mother saw the creature and gave her cry of alarm, and two of her nestlings fluttered up to the high laurel bush where their nest had been. The third little bird was either weak on his legs or else he had entangled himself in the grass. He fluttered his wings but could not rise. Then the mother flew over the tabby's head and tried to distract her attention, and after several struggles the little thrush rose successfully, and joined the others in their refuge. The mother flew after him, Tabby crept away disappointed, and the little family of thrushes rejoiced in their safety; I couldn't help rejoicing too."

"How ridiculous you are! What was the other event?"

"I knew you would laugh at me! I came down to breakfast, and Mrs. Shiplake came in with a beaming face—

"'Oh, ma'am, I've had a piece of luck this morning. I were worritin' over a new gown for the Flower Show up tu the Hall. I'm that shabby, I felt like staying at home, an' if I haven't heard from my sister what married last spring, and she sends me one poun' forward for eggs an' cream an' chicken she have ordered for a gran' entertainment tu her part. Her husband be land steward to Sir Philip Baker! An' las' market-day I saw a nice grey skirt and coat marked up at Taylor's for nineteen shillings and elevenpence. An' it were my fit jus' as if it were made for me, but times have been bad, and I didn't have the money. Now 'tis ready and I'll go straight off to Taylor's this very afternoon and send off some chickens and eggs at the same time!'

"You should have seen her face. It was like a round shining sun! I began my breakfast in quite good spirits."

"You are an extraordinary person!"

Nellie had laid her sketch down, and was regarding Sara with puzzled eyes.

"Those kind of things would never touch me at all. Do you remember saying to me the first day I called upon you that I ought to find the one thing that would make my life a joy instead of a burden? I have often thought of it since. What did you mean?"

"Something very real, and deep and lasting," said Sara, quietly.

"You don't mean anything religious, do you? That sounds like it."

"Do you dislike everything connected with religion?"

"Yes, I don't want it in my life. I want to enjoy myself."

Then Sara said very softly—

"'Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and wine increased.'"

"I never thought you would preach me a sermon!"

Nellie got up quickly. She put her sketch into Sara's hands.

"Don't thank me any more. If you're a good person, you're rather a nice sort, but I don't want any goody talk. I get plenty of that from my husband."

She was off and away before Sara could say another word.

A few days afterwards, Sara heard from Mrs. Laird, in acknowledgment of the sketch which she had sent.

"MY DEAR, DEAR SARA,

"I cried when I opened the parcel. It is you to the life! Just the light in your eyes that I always loved to watch. And what a dainty, delicate bit of work it is! The colouring is so sweet. Your soft blue dress which matches the sky in the background, and the golden-haired, happy child. Oh, Sara, Sara, why didn't you marry my son? Excuse my outburst. But you are wasted where you are. Well, your portrait will bring sunshine into my room. I shall place it where I can always see it.

"Graham came in for a moment to-day. He quite started when he saw it. I put it on the mantelpiece for the time being. He is worn and weary. This colliery is giving him a great deal of anxiety and trouble, and Eva is, as I thought, no help to him. She has developed great delicacy since their marriage, is quite the nervous invalid. She told Ina that she had a weak heart, but I think it must be fancy. She has never looked strong, but she has always rushed about from place to place, and has had far more energy and strength than most. They have settled into their new house.

"Eva has insisted upon having a motor, and is very luxurious. I have been to see her once or twice. She never comes here. Her little girl has gone to stay with a little schoolfellow for the summer holidays. Graham says that Eva does not feel strong enough to have her at home.

"I am looking forward to seeing you in September. You will not disappoint us, will you? I don't think I must pay you a visit this summer. When Ina goes, I shall have one or two of her classes to look after, and I do not give up this house till Christmas. I am happy when I am busy, so I keep myself always occupied; but my thoughts are perpetually with you, and with my poor boy. Why did he marry her? I keep asking myself. For, Sara, he does not love her, he is sorry for her with his usual wonderful compassion for everybody who is weak and helpless. And she apparently, even at this early stage of their wedded life, has lost her love for him. She is entirely self-centred, and thinks that by day and night he ought to be her willing devoted slave. She looks ill, but will not speak of her health to me. She has become a peevish discontented woman. I will not write about her any more. And I am ready to go to her at any time, should she want me.

"As I look at your happy smiling face, I feel a warmth in my heart. We have much in common to make us happy, Sara. I hope this is not a wail, for I am happy—happier than I have ever been for years. And heart happiness gets deeper than mere surface enjoyment. Good-bye. May God bless you!

"Your loving old friend,

"RACHAEL LAIRD."

Sara read this letter over and over again. She hungered for news of her friends, and longed to know every detail of their daily life.

As September drew near, she wondered if it would be wise to go up there amongst them all again. And then the matter was taken out of her hands. Little Oliver was taken ill. It was not very serious, but enough to make and keep her anxious. It began with an internal chill, and then fever. He soon pulled round, but had lost weight, and was a shadow of his former self.

When the time for the wedding drew near, he still wanted the greatest care and attention, and Sara felt that she could not leave him. She wrote very regretfully, for she knew that both Mrs. Laird and Ina would be disappointed, and she herself, now that she was prevented from going, began to think of all that she would miss.

But the baby occupied all her time, for which she was thankful. She heard all about the wedding from Mrs. Laird. Eva was not well enough to be present, but Graham gave away the bride. And Colonel Fleming was like a boy in his excitement and delight.

Ina wrote to her during her honeymoon.

"I can hardly believe that I am on earth at all," she finished up with; "Jack spoils me utterly and entirely. Mrs. Laird used to say I was much older than he in my talk and behaviour: I feel like a child again now. He is so gay and cheerful and so full of fun, and then suddenly he gets quite grave and opens a sacred corner of his heart to me, and I know then what a really good husband I have got. I have made a resolve that I will always be his comfort and help, for he never thinks of himself at all, only of doing good and helping others."

Sara smiled and sighed.

"An ideal couple," she murmured, "but then they revolve round the same Centre. There is no gulf between their respective goals."