The Two Sides of the Shield. Charlotte M. Yonge
for themselves; and on Dolores proving to have no work of any sort, her aunt sent Gillian to the drawer, and produced a child’s pinafore, which she was desired to hem. Each, however, had a quarter of an hour’s reading aloud of history to do in turn, all from one big book, a history of Rome, and there was a map hung up over the black board, where they were in turn to point to the places mentioned. Before Gillian began reading, the date, and something about the former lesson was required to be told by the children, and it came quite readily, Valetta especially declaring that she did love Pyrrhus, which the others seemed to think very bad taste.
Dolores knew nothing about ancient history, and thought it foolish to study anything that did not tell in a Cambridge examination; but she supposed they knew no better down there; and when it came to her turn to read, she mangled the names so, that Val burst out laughing when she spoke of A-pious-Claudius. Lady Merrifield hushed this at once, and the girl read in a bewildered manner, and as one affronted. She saw he aunt looking at her piece of hemming, which, to say the truth, would not have done credit to Primrose, and the recollection came across her of all the oppressed orphans who had been made household drudges, so that her reading did not become more intelligible. As the clock struck one, a warning gong was heard; everybody jumped up, the work was folded away, and with the obeisance at the door, Gillian and Val ran away.
Mysie stayed a little longer, it being her turn to tidy the room; and Lady Merrifield said to Dolores—
‘I must teach you how to hold your needle tomorrow, my dear.’
‘I hate work,’ responded Dolores.
‘Val does not like it,’ said her aunt; ‘nor indeed did I at your age; but one cannot be an independent woman without being able to take care of one’s own clothes, so I resolved that these children should learn better than I did. Do you like a take a run with Mysie before dinner? Or there is the amusing shelf. Books may be taken out after one o’clock, and they must be put back at eight, or they are confiscated for the ensuing day,’ she added, pointing to a paper below where this sentence was written.
Dolores was still rather tired, and more inclined to make friends with the books than with the cousins. There were fewer than she expected, and nothing like so many absolute stories as she was used to reading with Maude Sefton.
‘Those are such grown-up books,’ she said to Mysie, who came to assist her choice, and pointed to the upper shelves.
‘Oh, but grown-up books are nicest!’ returned Mysie; ‘at least, when they don’t begin being stupid and marrying too soon. They must do it at last to get out of the story, and it’s nicer than dying, but they can have lots of nice adventures first. But here are the ‘Feats on the Fiords’ and the ‘Crofton Boys’ and ‘Water Babies,’ and all the volumes of ‘Aunt Judy,’ if you like the younger sort. Or the dear, dear ‘Thorn Fortress;’ that’s good for young and old.’
‘Haven’t you any books of your own?’
‘Oh yes; this ‘Thorn Fortress’ is Val’s, and ‘A York and a Lancaster Rose’ is mine, but whenever any one gives us a book, if it is not a weeny little gem like Gill’s ‘Christian Year,’ or my ‘Little Pillow,’ or Val’s ‘Children in the Wood,’ we bring it to mother, and if it is nice, we keep it here, for every one to read. If it is just rather silly, and stupid, we may read it once, and then she keeps it; and if it is very silly indeed, she puts it out of the way.’
Mysie said it as if it had been killing an animal.
‘Have you got many books?’
‘Yes; but I don’t mean to have them knocked about by all the boys, nor put out of the way neither.’
‘Mamma said we were to be all like sisters,’ said Mysie, with rather a craving for the new books; but Dolores tossed up her head and said—
‘We can’t be. It’s nonsense to say so.’
To her surprise, Mysie turned round to Lady Merrifield, who was looking at some exercises that Miss Vincent had laid before her.
‘Mamma,’ she said, ‘is it fair that Dolores should read our books, if she won’t give you up hers to look over, and be like ours?’
‘Mysie,’ said Lady Merrifield, ‘you can’t expect Dolores to like all our home plans till she is used to them. No, my dear, you need not be afraid; you shall keep your books in your own room, and nobody shall meddle with them. I am sure your cousins would not wish to be so unkind as to deprive you of the use of theirs.’
By the time Dolores had made up her mind to take ‘Tom Brown,’ it was time for the general flight to prepare for dinner, and she found her room made to look very pleasant, and almost homelike, for her books and little knickknacks had been put out, not quite as she preferred, but still so as to make the place seem like her own. She was pleased enough to be quite gracious to Mysie and Val who came to visit her, and to offer to let them read any of her books; when they both thanked her and said—
‘If mamma lets us.’
‘Oh, then you won’t have them,’ said Dolores; ‘I’m not going to let her have my books to take away.’
‘You don’t think she would take them away, when she said she wouldn’t?’ said Mysie, hotly.
‘Why, what would she do if she didn’t happen to approve of them?’
‘Only tell us not to read them.’
‘And wouldn’t you?’
‘Why, Dolores!’ in such a tone as made her ashamed of her question; and she said, ‘Well, father never makes any fuss about what I read. He has other things to think of.’
‘How do you get books, then?’
‘I buy them. And Maude Sefton, she’s my great friend, has lots given to her, but nobody bothers about reading them. They aren’t grown-up books, you know.’
‘How stupid,’ said Val. ‘You had better read the ‘Talisman,’ and then you’ll see how nice a grown-up book is.’
‘The ‘Talisman!’ Why, Maude Sefton’s brother had to get it up for his holiday task, and he said it was all rot and bosh.’
‘What a horridly stupid boy he must be,’ returned Mysie. ‘Why, I remember when Jasper once had the ‘Talisman’ to do, and the big ones were so delighted. Mamma read it out, and I was just old enough to listen. I remembered all about Sir Kenneth and Roswal.’
‘Tom Sefton’s not stupid!’ said Dolores, in wrath; ‘but—but the book is stupid and out of date! I heard father and the professor say it was gone by.’
Mysie and Valetta looked perfectly astounded, and Dolores pursued her advantage.
‘Of course it is all very well for you that have never lived in London, nor had any advantages.’
‘But we have advantages!’ cried Val.
‘You don’t know what advantages are,’ said Dolores.
‘There’s the gong,’ cried Mysie, and down they all plunged into the dining-room, where the family were again collected, with Hal at one end and his mother at the other.
Dolores was amazed when, at the first pause, after every one was help, Valetta’s voice arose.
‘Mamma, what are advantages?’
‘Don’t you know, Val?’
‘Dolores says we haven’t any. And I said we have. And she says I don’t know what advantages are.’
Hal and Gillian were both laughing with all their might. Their mother kept her countenance, and said—
‘I suppose every one has advantages of some sort, and perhaps without knowing them.’
‘I’m sure I know,’ cried Fergus.
‘Well,