Chapter XVI: Presents From Boscombe

"HOW happy Muriel looks, and how much she appears to like her stepmother! I am sure I hope they will continue on such good terms with each other."

The speaker was Miss Pamela Holcroft, as she sat at breakfast with her sister, and niece, and Molly Jenkins.

Several days had passed since the unexpected arrival of Mr. Wake and his bride. The couple still lingered at Boscombe, though they talked of leaving shortly.

"I daresay they will be good friends," Miss Holcroft responded. "I like Mrs. Wake, don't you, Pamela?"

"Yes; she seems a sensible young woman. I had a long chat with her on the beach yesterday, and she talked a great deal of Muriel. I believe she means to do her duty to the child; I think, too, she realises she has been neglected at home."

"Poor Marigold has been rather overlooked by her friend of late, I fear," Miss Holcroft said. "I hope you are not jealous, my dear?" turning a smiling glance on her little niece.

"No, indeed! I am so glad Muriel likes Mrs. Wake."

"I confess I am rather surprised that she does," Miss Pamela remarked. "I should have thought a stepmother would have aroused her jealousy at once."

"Ah, but you see she never knew her own mother," Miss Holcroft interposed; "and I don't think she is fond enough of her father to fear being supplanted in his affections by another person. It may be that through the stepmother, father and child will be drawn closer together. Mrs. Wake told me she should try to persuade her husband not to remain abroad long; we shall see if she has sufficient influence over him to obtain her desire. He has been a rolling stone for so many years that it will be difficult for him to settle down quietly at home."

"He seems a very nice gentleman," Molly put in, in her gentle tones. "He talked to me for quite a long while yesterday, and helped me across the rough ridge of pebbles on the beach."

"Muriel says she thinks he's nicer now he's married," Marigold said eagerly. "She never saw so much of him before as she has during these last few days. How strange that is!"

"I think it was a wise step his marrying before telling her anything about it, as it turns out," Miss Holcroft said reflectively. "If he had told her she was to have a stepmother, she would doubtless have formed a prejudice against Mrs. Wake that she might never have overcome."

Miss Pamela sat silent. She was thinking of the prejudice she had entertained for so many years against Marigold's mother; lately she had known how unjust it had been.

A few days later, Mr. and Mrs. Wake left Boscombe, much to the regret of Muriel, who had made many enjoyable excursions with them to Bude, and other places in the neighbourhood. On one occasion they had gone to Tintagel, to visit King Arthur's Castle, taking Marigold and Molly Jenkins with them, as well as Muriel. That had been a treat for the lame girl, the remembrance of which lived in her memory for many a year afterwards; and Miss Holcroft and Miss Pamela had been very pleased that the Wakes had invited their visitor as well as their little niece.

It had been arranged that Mrs. Jones and Muriel should travel back to Exeter with Miss Holcroft's party; and the day had been fixed for their departure.

Marigold was now considering what she should take back to her friends, and the servants at home, as she was beginning to call her aunts' house in Powderham Crescent. She spent much time outside the village shop, peering at the shelf that was labelled "Useful Presents," and after careful thought made her purchases. She bought china ornaments with views of Boscombe printed on them for the servants; an elaborate shell-box, with a little looking-glass at the back of the cover, for Mrs. Barker; and photographs of different well-known places of interest in the district for several of her girl friends.

"I wish I could send mother something," she thought. "I was never able to give her a present in my life; and now I have plenty of money, only I don't know if Aunt Pamela would mind—"

Her reflections came to an abrupt conclusion. She was standing outside the shop, and her quick eye had caught sight of a little old-fashioned blue china teapot that was the very thing her mother would admire, she felt certain.

She pushed open the shop door and went in. The woman behind the counter, Mrs. Treffry by name, greeted her with a smile, for she knew Marigold very well, having constantly seen her during the last few weeks.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Treffry," the little girl said briskly. "I want you to allow me to look at that small blue teapot you have in the window, if you please."

"Certainly, miss."

Mrs. Treffry fetched it, and placed it on the counter, remarking as she did so—

"It's a bit of old-fashioned china, miss, and very good, I'm told."

"What is the price?" Marigold inquired.

"A guinea, miss."

"A guinea!" in astonished accents. "Oh, then I cannot afford to buy it. I did not know it was worth so much money as that. I thought it was very pretty, and so it is, but it is far too expensive."

"You see, miss, it's like this," Mrs. Treffry explained: "that teapot belonged to an old maiden lady who lived at Boscombe some years ago. When she died her household goods were all sold by auction, and I bought that little teapot for eighteenpence, and thought I had given money enough for it too! But a few weeks ago a young gentleman came into my shop here, and asked if I could make him a cup of tea, which I did, making it in that teapot, miss. 'Hullos!' said he, as soon as he'd clapped eyes upon it, 'that's a good bit of china you've got there!' 'It's pretty ain't it?' said I. 'Pretty!' he cried out, 'why, any dealer in old china would give you a guinea for it!' That surprised me, but I didn't tell him so; instead, I said, 'You shall have it for that price, sir.' But he shook his head, saying he was a poor chap who couldn't afford to spend his money on an old-fashioned teapot like mine when a common brown earthenware one would answer his purpose as well, though he knew a bit of rare china when he saw it, and could tell what it was worth. 'Now mind you don't sell that teapot for less than a guinea!' were his parting words to me, and I made up my mind I wouldn't."

"Fancy its being so valuable!" Marigold exclaimed, her disappointment plainly visible both in her face and voice.

"I thought if I put it in the window it might catch the eye of some visitor who knew something about old china," Mrs. Treffry continued. "I must own I don't see the worth of a guinea in the teapot myself, but seeing it is worth that, I shouldn't be justified in selling it for less."

"No, no!" Marigold readily agreed.

"Can't I show you anything else to-day, miss?"

"No, I think not, thank you, Mrs. Treffry. I am sorry to have troubled you to take the teapot from the window."

"Oh, it has been no trouble, I'm sure, miss."

Marigold was turning away when the door opened, and her Aunt Pamela entered the shop. She glanced inquiringly from her niece to the teapot which Mrs. Treffry held in her hand. Marigold's colour rose, as it usually did on the slightest emotion from whatever cause, whilst Mrs. Treffry began to explain the situation in her usually wordy manner.

"You have excellent taste, Marigold," Miss Pamela said, smiling, when Mrs. Treffry had concluded speaking, which was not for some minutes, as she had again recounted the story of the young man who had advised her of the teapot's value. "This is a charming piece of old-fashioned china, and well worth a guinea, I'm sure."

"I daresay it is, Aunt Pamela; but I did not think it would be more than a few shillings."

"Why did you want it? Was it your intention to make a present of it to someone?"

"Yes—" with a slight hesitation in her manner; adding in a lower tone, "I—I wanted to give it to mother."

Miss Pamela turned abruptly away, and a stab of jealousy shot through her heart, for it had occurred to her that her little niece might have wished to present the teapot to her aunts.

"Will you let me examine it?" she said to Mrs. Treffry, who willingly complied.

Miss Pamela scrutinised the teapot carefully. "There's not a chip or a crack anywhere," Mrs. Treffry assured her.

"I see there is not. If we purchase it from you, have you a box we could pack it in?"

After a few minutes' search the shopkeeper discovered a wooden box beneath a heap of odds and ends under the counter, which proved to be just the right size.

"That will do capitally," Miss Pamela said. "We will certainly have the teapot, Mrs. Treffry, if you can pack it for us. We want to send it to London. I suppose it would go by parcel post?"

"Oh yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Treffry fetched some shavings, and packed the teapot so carefully that it could not possibly smash, then she fastened down the lid of the box, put a clean sheet of brown paper outside, and tied it securely with strong cord. After that, Miss Pamela asked for a label, and requested Marigold to address it to her mother. This the little girl accordingly did, and after seeing the package stamped, and paying Mrs. Treffry, aunt and niece left the shop together.

"Aunt Pamela!" cried Marigold, her voice trembling with excitement, "how can I thank you? Oh, how delighted mother will be!"

"She will recognise your handwriting on the label, will she not?"

"Oh yes! Thank you so much, Aunt Pamela! You cannot guess how pleased I am! What will mother say when the box arrives, I wonder? Oh, I should like to be able to see her face when she catches sight of the teapot!"

"She will write and tell you what she thinks of your present, I expect."

"Oh yes! Isn't it a lovely little teapot? I was so disappointed when I found I had not enough money to buy it! I have five shillings; and please, Aunt Pamela, you'll let me pay you that, won't you?"

"You will probably want it for something else, Marigold."

"No. I should like you to take the money, please, if you do not mind, for then it will seem more like my present to mother, won't it?"

"Very well. You need not mention to her that I paid anything towards it; do you understand, child?"

"I will not tell her if you don't wish it, Aunt Pamela. Let me see; she will get it to-morrow, and if she writes at once, I shall have a letter from her the day after."

Marigold was right in her surmise, for two days later came the expected letter. Mrs. Holcroft told what a surprise Marigold's present had been to her, and how much she liked and admired it. Then she went on to say that the boys had returned from Hastings set up in health, and looking as brown as berries, after a most enjoyable visit. "I shall never be able to properly thank all those who are so good to my dear children," she wrote, "but I am sure God will bless them! Oh, Marigold, if your father could but know! Perhaps he does."

Marigold showed her mother's letter to Miss Pamela, who read it in silence, and returned it without a word.

"Mother is very pleased, isn't she?" Marigold said timidly.

"Evidently. I am glad your brothers have benefited by their change."

"Yes," the little girl answered happily. "So am I!"

A few days later the pleasant summer holiday was at an end; and the lodgings at No. 5 and No. 8 Alma Terrace were vacant.

Marigold gave her presents to the servants on the night of her return home; and next day she paid a visit to Mrs. Barker, who received her with evident pleasure. Marigold presented her with the shell-box, and was pleased to see she was delighted with it.

"I wanted to bring you something from Boscombe," the little girl said, glad to see she had selected an article that evidently met with the old woman's approval, "and I thought this little box would be useful."

"Very useful," Mrs. Barker agreed, with sparkling eyes. "I do feel proud of it. I shall keep it on that little table in front of the window, where it will show."

"Barker sent a message to say she was coming to see you this evening," Marigold said, changing the conversation. "I expect you're longing to see her, aren't you?"

"Indeed, yes, miss!"

"We have been away nearly six weeks," the little girl continued. "Such a happy holiday we have had! Boscombe is a lovely place! I think Barker has enjoyed herself too."

"I am sure she has, miss, for she wrote to me several times whilst you were away, and told me so. I got a neighbour of mine to read the letters."

"Have you seen Mrs. Adams lately?" Marigold inquired.

"Yes, miss. She has been to see me twice. She called one day last week, and asked me if I knew when you were all coming home. I expect you'll be sure to see her soon."

"I hope so," Marigold answered, for she was greatly looking forward to meeting Farmer Jo and his mother again.

She felt quite glad to be back in Exeter once more, and was waiting eagerly and with pleasurable anticipation the commencement of the next term. What a lot she would have to tell Grace Long and her other friends at school!

Meanwhile, she saw Muriel Wake nearly every day. Muriel was wondering how long her father and stepmother would remain abroad, and confided to Marigold that there was a great upset amongst the servants at home on account of her father's marriage, and all but Mrs. Jones were going to leave.