through the township. "Or people will think your Mamma is too poor to buy you a hat."
The children's hearts were heavy. It infected them with fear to see Cousin Emmy so afraid, and to hear her keep saying: "What will Aunt Mary say?"
Not only, it seemed, had the hat cost a lot of money -- to get another like it Mamma would have to send all the way to Melbourne. But it also leaked out that not a word was to have been said about Mr. Angus meeting them, and sitting on the log and talking.
"Why not? Is it naughty?"
"Of course not, Cuffy! How can you be so silly! But ---- " But . . . well, Aunt Mary would certainly be dreadfully cross with her for not looking after him better. How could he be so dishonourable, the first moment she wasn't watching, to go where he had been strictly forbidden to . . . such a dirty place! . . . and where he might have fallen head-foremost down the shaft and never been seen again.
Yes, it was a very crestfallen, guilt-laden little party that entered the house.
Mamma came out of the dining-room, a needle in one hand, a long thread of cotton in the other. And she saw at once what had happened, and said: "Where's your hat? -- Lost it? Your nice, new hat? How? Come in here to me." The twins began to sniff, and then everything was up.
Yes, Mamma was very cross . . . and sorry, too; for poor Papa was working his hardest to keep them nice, and then a careless little boy just went and threw money into the street. But ever so much crosser when she heard where the hat had gone: she scolded and scolded. And then she put the question Cuffy dreaded most: "Pray, what were you doing there . . . by yourself?" In vain he shuffled and prevaricated, and told about the nosegay. Mamma just fixed her eyes on him, and it was no good; Mr. Angus had to come out. And now it was Cousin Emmy's turn. She went scarlet, but she answered Mamma back quite a lot, and was angry, too; and only when Mamma said she wouldn't have believed it of her, it was the behaviour of a common nursegirl, and she would have to speak to her uncle about her -- at that Cousin Emmy burst out crying, and ran away and shut herself in her room.
Then Mamma went into the surgery to tell Papa. She shut the door, but you could hear their voices through it; and merely the sound of them, though he didn't know what they were saying, threw Cuffy into a flutter. Retreating to the furthest corner of the verandah, he sat with his elbows on his knees, the palms of his hands pressed against his ears.
And while Emmy, face downwards on her pillow, wept: "I don't care . . . let them fall down mines if they want to . . . he's very nice . . . Aunt Mary isn't fair!" Mary was saying: "I did think she could be trusted with the children -- considering the care she took of Jacky."
"Other people's children, my dear -- other people's children! He might have been her own."
Mary was horrified. "Whatever you do, don't say a thing like that before Cuffy! It would mean the most awkward questions. And surely we are not 'other people?' If Emmy can't look after her own little cousins . . . . The child might have been killed, while she sat there flirting and amusing herself."
"It's not likely to happen again."
"Oh, I don't know. When I tackled her with it, she got on the high horse at once, and said it wasn't a very great crime to have a little chat with somebody: life was so dull here, and so on."
"Well, I'm sure that's true enough."
"What a weak spot you have for the girl! But that's not all. It didn't take me long to discover she'd been trying to make the children deceive me. They were to have held their tongues about this Angus meeting them on their walks . . . . Cuffy went as near as he could to telling a fib over it. Now you must see I can't have that sort of thing going on . . . the children taught fibbing and deceiving!"
"No, that certainly wouldn't do."
"Then, imagine a girl of Emmy's birth and upbringing plotting to meet, on the sly, a man we don't invite to the house!
The children's hearts were heavy. It infected them with fear to see Cousin Emmy so afraid, and to hear her keep saying: "What will Aunt Mary say?"
Not only, it seemed, had the hat cost a lot of money -- to get another like it Mamma would have to send all the way to Melbourne. But it also leaked out that not a word was to have been said about Mr. Angus meeting them, and sitting on the log and talking.
"Why not? Is it naughty?"
"Of course not, Cuffy! How can you be so silly! But ---- " But . . . well, Aunt Mary would certainly be dreadfully cross with her for not looking after him better. How could he be so dishonourable, the first moment she wasn't watching, to go where he had been strictly forbidden to . . . such a dirty place! . . . and where he might have fallen head-foremost down the shaft and never been seen again.
Yes, it was a very crestfallen, guilt-laden little party that entered the house.
Mamma came out of the dining-room, a needle in one hand, a long thread of cotton in the other. And she saw at once what had happened, and said: "Where's your hat? -- Lost it? Your nice, new hat? How? Come in here to me." The twins began to sniff, and then everything was up.
Yes, Mamma was very cross . . . and sorry, too; for poor Papa was working his hardest to keep them nice, and then a careless little boy just went and threw money into the street. But ever so much crosser when she heard where the hat had gone: she scolded and scolded. And then she put the question Cuffy dreaded most: "Pray, what were you doing there . . . by yourself?" In vain he shuffled and prevaricated, and told about the nosegay. Mamma just fixed her eyes on him, and it was no good; Mr. Angus had to come out. And now it was Cousin Emmy's turn. She went scarlet, but she answered Mamma back quite a lot, and was angry, too; and only when Mamma said she wouldn't have believed it of her, it was the behaviour of a common nursegirl, and she would have to speak to her uncle about her -- at that Cousin Emmy burst out crying, and ran away and shut herself in her room.
Then Mamma went into the surgery to tell Papa. She shut the door, but you could hear their voices through it; and merely the sound of them, though he didn't know what they were saying, threw Cuffy into a flutter. Retreating to the furthest corner of the verandah, he sat with his elbows on his knees, the palms of his hands pressed against his ears.
And while Emmy, face downwards on her pillow, wept: "I don't care . . . let them fall down mines if they want to . . . he's very nice . . . Aunt Mary isn't fair!" Mary was saying: "I did think she could be trusted with the children -- considering the care she took of Jacky."
"Other people's children, my dear -- other people's children! He might have been her own."
Mary was horrified. "Whatever you do, don't say a thing like that before Cuffy! It would mean the most awkward questions. And surely we are not 'other people?' If Emmy can't look after her own little cousins . . . . The child might have been killed, while she sat there flirting and amusing herself."
"It's not likely to happen again."
"Oh, I don't know. When I tackled her with it, she got on the high horse at once, and said it wasn't a very great crime to have a little chat with somebody: life was so dull here, and so on."
"Well, I'm sure that's true enough."
"What a weak spot you have for the girl! But that's not all. It didn't take me long to discover she'd been trying to make the children deceive me. They were to have held their tongues about this Angus meeting them on their walks . . . . Cuffy went as near as he could to telling a fib over it. Now you must see I can't have that sort of thing going on . . . the children taught fibbing and deceiving!"
"No, that certainly wouldn't do."
"Then, imagine a girl of Emmy's birth and upbringing plotting to meet, on the sly, a man we don't invite to the house!
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