“Yes, it is a great satisfaction to have you back in your old home, under our wing. I have a great deal to tell you about the arrangements.”
“Oh yes; thank you—”
“Mamma!” roared two or three voices.
“I wanted to explain to you—” But Fanny’s eye was roaming, and just then in burst two boys. “Mamma, nurse won’t undo the tin box, and my ship is in it that the Major gave me.”
“Yes, and my stuffed duck-bill, and I want it, mamma.”
“My dear Con, the Major would not let you shout so loud about it, and you have not spoken to Aunt Rachel.”
The boys did present their hands, and then returned to the charge. “Please order nurse to unpack it, mamma, and then Coombe will help us to sail it.”
“Excuse me, dear Rachel,” said Fanny, “I will first see about this.”
And a very long seeing it was, probably meaning that she unpacked the box herself, whilst Rachel was deciding on the terrible spoiling of the children, and preparing a remonstrance.
“Dear Rachel, you have been left a long time.”
“Oh, never mind that, but, Fanny, you must not give way to those children too much; they will be always—Hark! was that the door-bell?”
It was, and the visitor was announced as “Mr. Touchett;” a small, dark, thin young clergyman he was, of a nervous manner, which, growing more nervous as he shook hands with Rachel, became abrupt and hesitating.
“My call is—is early, Lady Temple; but I always pay my respects at once to any new parishioner—resident, I mean—in case I can be of any service.”
“Thank you, I am very much obliged,” said Fanny, with a sweet, gracious smile and manner that would have made him more at ease at once, if Rachel had not added, “My cousin is quite at home here, Mr. Touchett.”
“Oh yes,” he said, “so—so I understood.”
“I know no place in England so well; it is quite a home to me, so beautiful it is,” continued Fanny.
“And you see great changes here.”
“Changes so much for the better,” said Fanny, smiling her winning smile again.
“One always expects more from improvements than they effect,” put in Rachel, severely.
“You have a large young party,” said Mr. Touchett, looking uneasily towards Lady Temple.
“Yes, I have half a dozen boys and one little girl.”
“Seven!” Mr. Touchett looked up half incredulous at the girlish contour of the gentle face, then cast down his eyes as if afraid he had been rude. “Seven! It is—it is a great charge.”
“Yes, indeed it is,” she said earnestly; “and I am sure you will be kind enough to give your influence to help me with them—poor boys.”
“Oh! oh!” he exclaimed, “anything I can do—” in such a transport of eager helpfulness that Rachel coldly said, “We are all anxious to assist in the care of the children.” He coloured up, and with a sort of effort at self-assertion, blurted out, “As the clergyman of the parish—,” and there halted, and was beginning to look foolish, when Lady Temple took him up in her soft, persuasive way. “Of course we shall look to you so much, and you will be so kind as to let me know if there is any one I can send any broth to at anytime.”
“Thank you; you are very good;” and he was quite himself again. “I shall have the pleasure of sending you down a few names.”
“I never did approve the broken victual system,” began Rachel, “it creates dependence.”
“Come here, Hubert,” said Fanny, beckoning a boy she saw at a distance, “come and shake hands with Mr. Touchett.” It was from instinct rather than reason; there was a fencing between Rachel and the curate that made her uncomfortable, and led her to break it off by any means in her power; and though Mr. Touchett was not much at his ease with the little boy, this discussion was staged off. But again Mr. Touchett made bold to say that in case Lady Temple wished for a daily governess, he knew of a very desirable young person, a most admirable pair of sisters, who had met with great reverses, but Rachel snapped him off shorter than ever. “We can decide nothing yet; I have made up my mind to teach the little boys at present.”
“Oh, indeed!”
“It is very kind,” said the perplexed Lady Temple.
“I beg your pardon, I only thought, in case you were wishing for some one, that Miss Williams will be at liberty shortly.”
“I do not imagine Miss Williams is the person to deal with little boys,” said Rachel. “In fact, I think that home teaching is always better than hired.”
“I am so much obliged,” said Fanny, as Mr. Touchett, after this defeat, rose up to take leave, and she held out her hand, smiled, thanked, and sent him away so much sweetened and gratified, that Rachel would have instantly begun dissecting him, but that a whole rush of boys broke in, and again engrossed their mother, and in the next lull, the uppermost necessity was of explaining about the servants who had been hired for the time, one of whom was a young woman whose health had given way over her lace pillow, and Rachel was eloquent over the crying evils of the system (everything was a system with Rachel) that chained girls to an unhealthy occupation in their early childhood, and made an overstocked market and underpaid workers—holding Fanny fast to listen by a sort of fascination in her overpowering earnestness, and great fixed eyes, which, when once their grasp was taken, would not release the victim; and this was a matter of daily occurrence on which Rachel felt keenly and spoke strongly.
“It is very sad. If you want to help the poor things, I will give anything I can.”
“Oh, yes, thank you, but it is doleful merely to help them to linger out the remnant of a life consumed upon these cobwebs of vanity. It is the fountainhead that must be reached—the root of the system!”
Fanny saw, or rather felt, a boy making signs at the window, but durst not withdraw her eyes from the fascination of those eager ones. “Lace and lacemakers are facts,” continued Rachel; “but if the middle men were exploded, and the excess of workers drafted off by some wholesome outlet, the price would rise, so that the remainder would be at leisure to fulfil the domestic offices of womanhood.”
There was a great uproar above.
“I beg your pardon, dear Rachel,” and away went Fanny.
“I do declare,” cried Rachel, when Grace, having despatched her home-cares, entered the room a quarter of an hour after; “poor Fanny’s a perfect slave. One can’t get in a word edgeways.”
Fanny at last returned, but with her baby; and there was no chance for even Rachel to assert herself while this small queen was in presence. Grace was devoted to infants, and there was a whole court of brothers vying with one another in picking up her constantly dropped toys, and in performing antics for her amusement. Rachel, desirous to be gracious and resigned, attempted conversation with one of the eldest pair, but the baby had but to look towards him, and he was at her feet.
On her departure, Rachel resumed the needful details of the arrangements respecting the house and servants, and found Lady Temple as grateful and submissive as ever, except that, when advised to take Myrtlewood for a term of seven years, she replied, that the Major had advised her not to bind herself down at once.
“Did you let him think we should quarrel?”
“Oh, no, my dear; but it might not agree with the children.”
“Avonmouth! Grace, do you hear what heresy Fanny has been learning? Why, the proportion of ozone in the air here has been calculated to be five times that of even Aveton!”
“Yes, dearest,” said