himself be able to join in, that the ball should take place.
I wasn’t quite sure how Mellyora felt about the invitation; she seemed to veer between excitement and melancholy. She was changing as she grew up; she had once been so serene. I was envious and couldn’t hide it.
“How I wish you could come, Kerensa,” she said. “Oh, how I should love to see you there. That old house means something to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, “a sort of symbol.”
She nodded. It often happened that our minds were in tune and I didn’t have to explain to her. She went about with a thoughtful frown for some days and when I mentioned the ball she shrugged the subject aside impatiently.
About four days after she had received the invitation she came out of her father’s study looking grave.
“Papa’s not well,” she said. “I’ve known he hasn’t been for some time.”
I had known it, too; his skin seemed to be getting more and more yellow every day.
“He says,” she went on, “that he can’t go to the ball.”
I had been wondering what sort of costume he would have worn because it was difficult to imagine him looking like anything but a parson.
“Does this mean that you won’t go?”
“I can’t very well go alone.”
“Oh … Mellyora.”
She shrugged impatiently and that afternoon she went out with Miss Kellow in the pony trap. I heard the trap from my window and when I looked out and saw them I felt hurt because she hadn’t asked me to go with them.
When she came back she burst into my room, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks slightly flushed.
She sat on my bed and started to bounce up and down. Then she stopped and putting her head on one side said: “Cinderella, how would you like to go to the ball?”
“Mellyora,” I gasped. “You mean …”
She nodded.
“You are invited. Well, not you exactly, because she hasn’t the faintest notion … but I have an invitation for you and it’s going to be such fun, Kerensa. Much more than going with Papa or some chaperone he might have found for me.”
“How did you manage it?”
“This afternoon I called on Lady St. Larnston. It happens to be her At-Home day. That gave me an opportunity of speaking to her, so I told her Papa was unwell and unable to bring me to the ball, but I had a friend staying with me — so could his invitation be transferred to her? She was very gracious.”
“Mellyora … but when she knows!”
“She won’t. I changed your name just in case she might know you. She got the impression that you are my Aunt, although I didn’t say so. It’s a masked ball. She’ll receive us at the staircase. You’ll have to try to look of sober years … old enough to take a young lady to a ball. I’m so excited about it now, Kerensa. We’ll have to decide what we’re going to wear. Costumes! Just imagine it. Everyone will look glorious. By the way, you’ll be Miss Carlyon.”
“Miss Carlyon,” I murmured. Then: “How can I get a costume?”
She put her head on one side. “You should have worked harder on your needlework. You see, Papa is worried about money so he can’t give me very much to buy a gown; and we’ll have to find two out of one.”
“How can I go without a gown?”
“Don’t be so easily defeated. ‘Life is yours to make it as you will.’ What about that? And here you are saying ‘can’t, can’t, can’t,’ at the first obstacle.” She put her arms round me suddenly and clung to me. “It’s fun having a sister,” she said. “What was that your old Granny said about sharing things?”
“That if you shared your joys you doubled them; if you shared your sorrows you halved them.”
“It’s true. Now that you’re coming, I’m so excited.” She pushed me away from her and sat down on the bed again. “The first thing to do is to decide what costumes we should like to wear; and then we’ll see how near we can get to them. Picture yourself looking like one of those paintings in the gallery
I wasn’t quite sure how Mellyora felt about the invitation; she seemed to veer between excitement and melancholy. She was changing as she grew up; she had once been so serene. I was envious and couldn’t hide it.
“How I wish you could come, Kerensa,” she said. “Oh, how I should love to see you there. That old house means something to you, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, “a sort of symbol.”
She nodded. It often happened that our minds were in tune and I didn’t have to explain to her. She went about with a thoughtful frown for some days and when I mentioned the ball she shrugged the subject aside impatiently.
About four days after she had received the invitation she came out of her father’s study looking grave.
“Papa’s not well,” she said. “I’ve known he hasn’t been for some time.”
I had known it, too; his skin seemed to be getting more and more yellow every day.
“He says,” she went on, “that he can’t go to the ball.”
I had been wondering what sort of costume he would have worn because it was difficult to imagine him looking like anything but a parson.
“Does this mean that you won’t go?”
“I can’t very well go alone.”
“Oh … Mellyora.”
She shrugged impatiently and that afternoon she went out with Miss Kellow in the pony trap. I heard the trap from my window and when I looked out and saw them I felt hurt because she hadn’t asked me to go with them.
When she came back she burst into my room, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks slightly flushed.
She sat on my bed and started to bounce up and down. Then she stopped and putting her head on one side said: “Cinderella, how would you like to go to the ball?”
“Mellyora,” I gasped. “You mean …”
She nodded.
“You are invited. Well, not you exactly, because she hasn’t the faintest notion … but I have an invitation for you and it’s going to be such fun, Kerensa. Much more than going with Papa or some chaperone he might have found for me.”
“How did you manage it?”
“This afternoon I called on Lady St. Larnston. It happens to be her At-Home day. That gave me an opportunity of speaking to her, so I told her Papa was unwell and unable to bring me to the ball, but I had a friend staying with me — so could his invitation be transferred to her? She was very gracious.”
“Mellyora … but when she knows!”
“She won’t. I changed your name just in case she might know you. She got the impression that you are my Aunt, although I didn’t say so. It’s a masked ball. She’ll receive us at the staircase. You’ll have to try to look of sober years … old enough to take a young lady to a ball. I’m so excited about it now, Kerensa. We’ll have to decide what we’re going to wear. Costumes! Just imagine it. Everyone will look glorious. By the way, you’ll be Miss Carlyon.”
“Miss Carlyon,” I murmured. Then: “How can I get a costume?”
She put her head on one side. “You should have worked harder on your needlework. You see, Papa is worried about money so he can’t give me very much to buy a gown; and we’ll have to find two out of one.”
“How can I go without a gown?”
“Don’t be so easily defeated. ‘Life is yours to make it as you will.’ What about that? And here you are saying ‘can’t, can’t, can’t,’ at the first obstacle.” She put her arms round me suddenly and clung to me. “It’s fun having a sister,” she said. “What was that your old Granny said about sharing things?”
“That if you shared your joys you doubled them; if you shared your sorrows you halved them.”
“It’s true. Now that you’re coming, I’m so excited.” She pushed me away from her and sat down on the bed again. “The first thing to do is to decide what costumes we should like to wear; and then we’ll see how near we can get to them. Picture yourself looking like one of those paintings in the gallery
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