Chapter XIV

CONCERNING THE ARRIVAL OF MURIEL WAKE AND MOLLY JENKINS

BOSCOMBE was a quaint little village, composed of one long, steep street of white-washed cottages occupied by the fishing folk, whose wives might generally be seen of an evening gossiping on their doorsteps, their fingers busily engaged in knitting navy blue jerseys.

On an eminence at the top of the street was the church, an ancient edifice of granite, with a small graveyard encircling it; and close by stood the vicarage, a substantial building of red sandstone, almost overgrown with ivy and other creepers.

Of late, overlooking the sea, had sprung up a row of brick villas, named Alma Terrace, that were let to lodging-house keepers, who reaped a good harvest during the summer months, as Boscombe was beginning to be rather better known than it had been, for the air from the Atlantic was bracing, and the scenery wildly beautiful along the coast, added to which there were fine sands, where children could find endless amusement in building castles and forts and in gathering shells.

Marigold's aunts had taken a suite of apartments in one of the new villas, where they were very comfortable and pleased with their surroundings. The little girl spent most of her days out-of-doors. In the morning she generally went out with her aunts, and amused herself whilst they worked or read in a sheltered nook, searching for anemones that hid themselves in the little pools between the rocks, or in collecting seaweeds to press between sheets of blotting-paper under her Aunt Pamela's instructions; and in the afternoon she would take a long walk with Barker, visiting different places of interest in the neighbourhood. She sometimes watched other children paddling and building castles in the sand with wistful eyes, wishing she dared ask her aunts to allow her to join them, but never plucking up courage to do so, fearing they would be horrified at the idea.

"Perhaps I am too old to run about without shoes and stockings," she thought, "but it must be lovely, I know!"

It was about a week after their arrival at Boscombe that Marigold was one morning seated with her aunts under the shelter of the sea-wall, when a pebble flung from behind, dropped into her lap, and a merry voice cried—

"You see, I've come at last!"

The speaker was Muriel Wake, who proceeded to scramble down the side of the wall with the agility of a cat.

"We only got here last night," she explained, as she shook hands with Miss Holcroft and Miss Pamela. "We are staying at No. 5 Alma Terrace—Mrs. Jones and I."

"And we are lodging at No. 8," Miss Holcroft said, smiling.

"I never thought you would really come, Muriel!" Marigold told her friend in bright, glad tones. "I am so very glad to see you!"

"Father said he did not mind where we went; and when I told him I wanted so much to go to Boscombe, he made inquiries about the place, and—here I am!"

Muriel ended her sentence with a merry laugh, and sat down on the sand facing Miss Holcroft and Miss Pamela, never doubting but that they were pleased to see her. In reality, they hardly knew whether they were or not, for though Muriel had always been well-behaved in their presence, they were a little distrustful of her still.

Muriel was wearing a short blue serge skirt with a cotton shirt, and a scarlet jelly-bag cap ornamented her golden curls. In her hands she held a spade and a bucket, and she had a towel slung over one arm.

"Have you been having a good time, Marigold?" she asked. "What have you been doing?"

Marigold explained, whilst Muriel's blue eyes opened wide with astonishment as she listened.

"Good gracious, Marigold! Do you mean to tell me you haven't been digging in the sand, or paddling?" she cried.

"Don't you think Marigold is too old for either of those amusements?" Miss Pamela asked, with a tone of reproof in her voice.

"She is no older than I am," Muriel responded quickly, by no means abashed. "There is nothing I enjoy more than wading in the water. I mean to have a net and go shrimping! Oh, Miss Holcroft, you don't intend to prevent Marigold's joining me, do you?"

Thus appealed to, Miss Holcroft looked helplessly at her sister. Marigold was listening anxiously to the conversation; and Muriel now turned her attention once more to her friend.

"Of course you have a spade and a bucket?" she said. "No! What a pity!"

"They sell them at the village shop," Miss Holcroft put in hastily, as she drew out her purse. "Do you wish to dig in the sand with Muriel, my dear? If so, take this money, and run and purchase what you want."

"Oh, thank you so much, Aunt Mary! Will you come with me, Muriel?"

"I think I'll stay where I am till you come back. If you hurry you won't be away many minutes."

Marigold scrambled to her feet, and reaching the flight of steps cut in the sea-wall, was soon lost to sight.

"How did you leave your father, my dear?" Miss Holcroft inquired politely.

"Oh, very well, thank you. He is going abroad in a few days, and may not be home again till Christmas."

"My dear child!" sympathetically. "Then you will have no one but servants to look after you during his absence! You must come and see us as often as you can next term."

"Thank you, Miss Holcroft," Muriel said gratefully; adding in a lower tone, "I've been ever so much happier since Marigold and I have been friends."

"I am pleased to hear it," Miss Holcroft answered, smiling.

"Marigold's so good-natured," the child continued. "Perhaps you don't know it, but I served her very unkindly once, and afterwards she forgave me and did me a good turn. I couldn't have done it myself."

"Oh, but it is right to return good for evil. It is a Christian's duty to forgive an injury."

"But, you see, I am not a Christian!"

"Perhaps you are trying to be one?"

"No. I'm thinking about it, though!"

At this point Miss Pamela, who had been listening to the conversation in silence, asked what had become of Mrs. Jones.

"She's gone into the village to order some things from the shop," Muriel explained. "I told her I was going to see if I could find you."

A few minutes later Marigold returned with a new spade and a bucket, and in a short while she and Muriel had commenced operations on the sand.

"First of all we'll make two comfortable seats for your aunts," Muriel suggested.

"Oh yes, that will be capital!" Marigold agreed eagerly.

They were soon busily engaged at this work, whilst Miss Holcroft and Miss Pamela watched their proceedings with interest. Presently two great mounds of sand had been collected, and under Muriel's directions were fashioned into seats with backs to lean against.

"Pray come and take your easy-chairs!" Muriel cried, when everything was completed.

They obeyed, smiling and good-humoured, whilst the children stood a few steps away, looking on approvingly.

"We must make them seats every day," Marigold declared. "Are you sure you are comfortable, Aunt Mary, and you, Aunt Pamela?"

"Quite sure," they both assured her.

"Now let us go and build castles by the sea," was Muriel's next suggestion; "but you had better take your shoes and stockings off, Marigold, as otherwise you will be sure to get wet, for the tide is coming in."

Marigold glanced doubtfully at her aunts. It was Miss Pamela who answered the look.

"Do as Muriel says, if you wish," she said, "and if it will add to your enjoyment."

Five minutes later the little girls were playing barefooted at the water's edge, and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

During the days that followed the children saw a great deal of each other, and agreed exceedingly well. Mrs. Jones and Barker soon became acquainted, and grew quite friendly whilst they strolled on the sea-wall, or sat beneath its shade, where they could keep their eyes on their respective charges.

Mrs. Jones was a stout, rather slow-witted, elderly woman, genuinely attached to her little mistress. She was the only one of Mr. Wake's servants who had been in his service for any length of time.

"During the seven years I've lived under his roof he hasn't been home, at most, for more than a fortnight at a time," she confided to Barker, "so it's not to be wondered that Miss Muriel ain't fonder of him. He's almost like a stranger to the poor child."

One morning Miss Holcroft received a letter from an Exeter friend which caused her great consternation, for it contained the news of the death of Molly Jenkins' father.

"Oh dear! oh dear! What a shocking affair!" she cried, in distressed accents to her sister and Marigold. "Oh, what trouble for poor Molly! Her father met with a violent death, was knocked down by a carriage in the street, and died whilst he was being conveyed to the hospital!"

"Molly's worst fear has been realised, then!" Miss Pamela exclaimed. "How long ago did this happen, Mary?"

"Several days, I should imagine, as the unfortunate man was buried yesterday. Oh, poor Molly! How I wish I was in Exeter, so that I might try to comfort her!"

The tears were in Miss Holcroft's eyes as she spoke. Marigold looked white and shocked, whilst Miss Pamela appeared in deep thought. There was a brief silence, then Miss Holcroft continued, referring to her letter.

"Molly seems to have been very brave. She attended the funeral, and saw to all the arrangements herself. How sad to be alone as she is! I fear now all is over she will break down."

"Oh no!" Miss Pamela said quickly. "I tell you what you must do, Mary, you must send for her to come to us here."

"Oh, Pamela, do you mean that? Would you be willing to have her as our guest?"

"Certainly," Miss Pamela responded, in her cold, brief way. "You know I always mean what I say."

"Oh, what a darling you are, Aunt Pamela!" Marigold cried, rushing impetuously across the room to her aunt, and giving her an approving hug.

Miss Pamela was so surprised at this unlooked-for demonstration of affection on her niece's part that she actually blushed.

"I think it is a splendid idea!" the little girl continued excitedly. "We'll do all we possibly can to make her happy, won't we?"

"Steady, Marigold!" Miss Holcroft interposed. "You are settling matters too quickly. We do not know yet if she will come or not. I think, Pamela, I will write at once, and suggest her coming to us straight away."

"Yes," agreed Miss Pamela. "Tell her she will disappoint us all if she declines our invitation; and, Mary, I think you had better send the money for her journey, don't you? You can do it in such a way that she cannot mind accepting it."

Miss Holcroft nodded comprehensively, and sat down with her writing materials at hand to consider how best to word her letter.

Meanwhile, Marigold having caught sight of Muriel waiting for her outside, went out to join her friend. The two children strolled down to the beach together. Marigold informed her companion that they were likely to have an addition to their party. Muriel heard all Marigold had to say about Molly Jenkins in silence. She did not appear much interested, and was decidedly not pleased.

"I don't see what your aunts want to have her here for," was the first remark she made, after Marigold had told her all there was to tell. "Don't you think she'll be a great nuisance?"

"No; why should she be?"

"She is lame, isn't she?"

"Yes; but she can walk with crutches, you know. I thought we should be able to make her a seat on the sands like we do for my aunts, so that she could sit there reading or working, and watch us at play."

"But why should she come here at all? She's only a common lace-maker, isn't she?"

"She is a lace-maker, certainly," Marigold responded, with a bright flash of anger in her eyes, "but she's not in the least common!"

"Now you're cross with me," Muriel said, with a discontented pout.

Marigold made no answer, and the other continued—

"You won't think anything of me when that lame girl comes. I know what it will be; you'll be dancing attendance upon her all day long, and I shall be left in the lurch!"

"Nonsense, Muriel! You know better! Of course, I shall be as nice and kind to poor Molly as I possibly can, because I like her, and because she will be very sad at having lost her father!"

"What a horrid man he must have been!" Muriel cried, with a gesture of disgust.

"Molly loved him," Marigold answered gently, "and I expect she is in great trouble now he is gone. You'll be kind to her, won't you, Muriel?" coaxingly.

Muriel made no reply for a moment, then she burst out—

"Oh, Marigold, I am a bad, wicked girl! I am, really! I cannot help feeling jealous of this Molly Jenkins. I'm so afraid you'll like her better than you like me! I know it's horrid of me to mind, but you are the first real friend I ever had, and I don't want anyone to come between us."

Marigold looked greatly surprised, for she was never in the least jealous herself, and could not realise how much anyone might suffer from such a failing.

"Molly won't come between us," she said reassuringly. "Why, she's years older than we are!"

"I know. I suppose you think me very selfish, don't you?"

"I think when you see Molly you'll like her yourself," Marigold replied, ignoring her companion's question. And such proved to be the case, for Molly accepted the invitation to come to Boscombe, and a few days later arrived, pale and tired, but with a look of patient resignation on her countenance that made Muriel feel ashamed of the jealous thoughts she had harboured against her.

"How dreadful to be lame like that!" Muriel whispered to Marigold, as, the first day after her arrival, the cripple girl joined them on the sea-wall. "Oh, poor thing, will she be able to get down on the beach, I wonder!" And it was Muriel who ran to Molly's assistance and helped her down the flight of steps with a care and a tenderness that surprised her friend. "We have made you such a beautiful seat with a nice back," Muriel said. "Do try it!"

Molly willingly complied, looking with a grateful smile at the pretty, blue-eyed child who seemed so eager for her comfort.

"Well?" Muriel asked. "Is that right?"

"Oh yes, indeed, thank you! How good you are to me!"

"Oh no!" shrinking back a trifle abashed. "It was Marigold's idea!"

The lame girl smiled as she looked from one face to the other.

"Thank you both!" she said. "How delightful it is here! How fresh the air smells! It seems to blow new life into one!"

"Yes," agreed Miss Holcroft, joining them at that moment. "We shall soon have you looking as brown as these two children, Molly! Did you ever see such a pair of gipsies? They are out-of-doors from morning till night."

"We will try to catch you some shrimps when the tide is farther out," Marigold told Molly. "Come along, Muriel. Let us go and ask one of the fishermen what time it will be low water." And the two children went off together, whilst Molly looked after them with eyes that were moist with tears, for she was in that weak condition when it is easier to weep than to smile. During the last few weeks she had gone through a great deal, but she still had faith to say: "Thy will be done," though the thought of her dead father brought such anguish to her heart as only God in His good time could heal.