Maud Florence Nellie; or, Don't care! Read online

should waste my time more than I do but for some talcs I've read,"said Martha, colouring.

  "Well, `Waste not, want not.' Read your Bible, I say."

  "That's not in the Bible, Aunt Lizzie."

  "It might be," said Mrs Stroud; "there's a deal of truth in it. But,bless you, Martha, it ain't talcs nor nonsense of that kind thatsignifies. Florrie must be held in. She's that saucy, and thatbouncing and set on her own way, that there's only one in the familyshe's like, Martha Jane, and that's 'Enery himself."

  "Harry! Oh, Aunt Lizzie! But she's a girl."

  "Well, Martha Jane, and if she is? There's plenty of ways for girls totrouble their families. You wasn't more than eleven or so when 'Enerywent; but surely you can recollect him, ramping round. Why, when hecome to sit with his family he was like an engine with the steam up forstarting off again! And he went about that audacious!"

  "I can remember his jumping me off the tomb-stones," said Martha.

  "Ah! He jumped off tomb-stones once too often. It all came of rampingabout and reading, so there's lessons in it for you and Florence both.Well, I promised a call on Mrs Taylor at the upper lodge, so I'llstroll up quietly and meet your father, and come back for a cup of tea."

  Martha made no objection to this proposal; for though she never"answered back," nor asserted herself against her elders, she stronglyresented the connection between ramping about and reading, and betweenherself and the troublesome Florence, and was very glad to get rid ofher aunt for the present.

  She sat still when Mrs Stroud, having assumed her mantle and opened herparasol, walked up the cemetery to meet her brother. She really wishedto be a good elder sister; but what could she do with a girl only threeyears younger than herself, and with more "go" in her little finger thanpoor Martha had in her whole body?

  Surely Florence was not going to be like poor Harry! Martha called him"poor Harry" in her thoughts--it is an epithet often applied half inkindness and half in contempt to the family ne'er-do-weel; but she hadnot a very pleasant recollection of this absent brother. If Florrie wasrude, inconsiderate, and bouncing, she was nothing to Harry at fifteen.Martha recollected his utterly unscrupulous teasing and bullyingalternating with rough good-nature, which had made her hopelessly afraidof him. He got situations, and lost them by practical jokes. He wasstarted in a good place at a large printing establishment in Rapley,and, after sundry smaller feats, had sent the rector of the parish apacket of playbills announcing the performance that night of "TheCorsican Brothers" and "Cut off with a Shilling;" while the manager ofthe theatre received the rector's notices of a missionary meeting, alsobeing got up in a hurry on some special occasion. Neither the rectornor the manager spared the printer, and as Harry Whittaker had beenheard sniggering with a companion over the exchange, it could not passas a mistake, so that situation came to an end. Then he had to contenthimself with being errand-boy at a linen-draper's. There somehow theball dresses which should have been delivered to Lady Temple in time forthe county ball floated down the river instead, and were landed the nextafternoon mashed up in their cardboard boxes.

  And worst of all, a dreadful night, which Matty never did forget, whensome poor people, coming in the dusk to one of those sad hurried eveningfunerals which terrible infection sometimes necessitates, had beenfrightened--how she did not know, but cruelly and unfeelingly by Harry'smeans. Martha remembered her father's just annoyance and anger. Harryhad been sent away to his Uncle Warren's, where something elsehappened--Martha never knew what--and that was the last she heard of hereldest brother.

  A little while before, mother had died, and father grew severe andstrict, and Aunt Lizzie bustled them about till a year ago, when, latein life, she married a well-to-do ironmonger, and turned her energies onto her step-children.

  Since then Martha Jane had done her best for her three sisters, for thebrother, George, who had a good post as clerk on the railway, and forJohnnie and Arthur, the youngest of the family, who still attended theday school. The Whittaker girls had never been sent to a nationalschool, but had got, or were getting, their education at one of the many"Establishments for Young Ladies" which prevailed at Rapley. It wassupposed that in this way they would be less likely to "makeacquaintances;" but acquaintances are very easily made by sociablepeople, and Mrs Stroud had always thought it the proper thing to sendthem all to Sunday school. Martha, however, had had very little ofthis. She was a good girl, with a turn for church-going, and theinterest of most well-disposed girls of her day in varieties of churchservices, church music, and church decorations; but she had no personaltie to the church which the Whittakers attended, and she had not foundthe connection between these tastes and the duties of life.

  She was rather imaginative, and she read every story book she could layher hands on--religious domestic tales from the parochial library,novels from that provided for the servants of the railway company, whichher brother brought home, and quantities of penny serial fiction. Verylittle of it was absolutely bad. Martha would not have read it if shehad known it to be so, but a great deal of it was extremely unreal,silly, and frivolous. Martha's taste and critical powers were souncultivated that she hardly knew that one book was of a higher tonethan another, any more than she knew that it was better written. Therewere fine sentiments which she admired in all of them about love andconstancy and self-devotion, and perhaps Martha was not to blame if shethought that people usually died in carrying out these virtues. Still,the character of the books did make a difference to her; for she was notone to whom a tale was nothing but a tale, and if she learnt from somethat ladies wore wonderful and ever-varying costumes, and spent theirtime in what she would have called "talking about the gentlemen," shelearnt from others that they studied hard, and devoted themselves muchto the good of their fellow-creatures and the comfort of their families.

  Martha, when she might have been attending to the comfort of hers, wassometimes lost in imagining herself reading to a mothers' meeting in "atightly fitting costume of the richest velvet," etc, etc; but, confusedas were her notions, she had ideas and aspirations, and was ready for aguiding hand if only she could have found one.

  CHAPTER TWO.

  A SUNDAY WALK.

  Florrie was troubled with no aspirations and with very few ideas. Shewas just like a young animal, and enjoyed her life much in the same wayand with as little regard to consequences. When she and her littlesisters came out of the great cemetery gates into a broad, cheerful,suburban road, the children ran on, afraid of being late. Florriecaught up, as she had expressed it, with Carrie Jones and Ada Price,also in the full glory of their new summer things, and both eagerlylooking out for her. For Florrie was bigger, smarter, and more daringthan any of them; she was the ringleader in their jokes, and bore thebrunt of the scrapes consequent upon them; she was therefore a favouritecompanion. The three girls hurried along the sunny road, chattering andlaughing, with their heads full of their new clothes, their friends, andthemselves, so that there was not an atom of room left for the Biblelesson which they were about to receive. They came with a rush and abounce into the parish room, where their class was held, just as thedoor was unfastened after the opening hymn, found their places with ascuffle and a titter, pulled some Bibles towards them, and looked allround to greet their special acquaintances, as the teacher began herlesson.

  Florrie Whittaker did not behave worse than several others of the young,noisy, irrepressible creatures who sat round the table; but there was somuch of her in every way that the teacher never lost the sense of herexistence through the whole lesson. Miss Mordaunt was a clever,sensible lady, not very young, nor with any irresistible power ofcommanding attention, but quite capable of keeping her class together,and of repressing inordinately bad conduct. Sometimes her lessons wereinteresting and impressive, and, as she was human, sometimes they wererather dull; but the girls liked her as well as they liked anyone, andif they had been aware that they wanted a friend would have expected herto prove a kind one. But they were mostly young and
well-to-do, withlife in every limb and every feeling; and the Bible class was a verytrifling incident to them.

  Florrie felt quite good-naturedly towards her, but she did like to makethe other girls laugh, and to know that she could upset nearly all ofthem if she liked. She was not clever enough to care with her mind forthe history of Saint Paul, and she was no more open to any spiritualimpression than the table at which she sat, new gloves to button and newhats to compare effectually occupying her attention. She jumped up whenher class was over, a little more full of spirits for the slightrestraint, and rushed out in a hurry with Carrie and Ada, that theymight be round on the other side when the boys' class came out, and seewho was there.

  It was general curiosity on