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, what are they?’ asked Harry.
‘Having mamma!’ cried the little boy.
‘Hear, hear! That’s right, Fergy man! Couldn’t be better!’ cried Harry, and there was a general acclamation, which inspired gentle Mysie with the fear that her motherless cousin might feel the contrast, and, though against rules, she whispered—
‘She will make you like one of us.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ returned Dolores, a little contemptuously.
‘What did you mean?’ said Mysie.
‘Why, you’ve no classes, nor lectures, nor master, and only just a mere daily governess.’
Dolores did not mean this to be heard beyond her neighbour, but Mysie demanded—
‘What, do you want to be doing lessons all day long?’
‘No, but good governesses never are daily!’
‘That’s a pity,’ said Gillian, turning round on her. ‘Perhaps you don’t know that Miss Vincent has a First Class Cambridge Certificate in everything, and is daily, because she likes to live with her mother.’
‘I think,’ added Lady Merrifield, with a smile, ‘that Dolores has been in the way of seeing more clever people, and getting superior teaching of some kind, but we will do the best we can for her, and try not to let her miss many advantages.’
Dolores felt a little abashed, and decidedly angry at being put in the wrong.
The elders kindly turned away the general attention from her. There was a great deal of merry family fun going on, which was quite like a new language to her. Fergus and Primrose wanted to go out in search of blackberries. Gillian undertook to drive them in the cart, but as the donkey had once or twice refused to cross a little stream of water that traversed the road, the brothers foretold that she would ignominiously come back again.
‘Gill