A happy woman
When Mrs. Shiplake came in with the tea, she said—
"Well-a-day, ma'am, you've had Mrs. Peel a long time. Her don't dress
or talk or act like our Rector's wife should, do her? Her be but a
giddy thoughtless child, an' they say, her leadeth her husband a
terrible life!"
"I thought she was a very bright pleasant little person," said Sara.
"She is very young certainly, but that is a fault that will mend
itself."
She would not discuss Mrs. Peel further with Mrs. Shiplake.
That good woman retired discomfited, but relieved her feelings by
taking Lacy into her confidence. And when that worthy heard a list of
young Mrs. Peel's indiscretions, she quietly said—
"Then the more she comes here the better, for Miss Darlington will do
her good."
And Mrs. Shiplake had not a word to say.
CHAPTER III
MAKING FRIENDS
SARA was not left without visitors. Besides Mrs. Peel, Admiral Burke
and his wife came over in an old-fashioned pony-chaise to call upon
her, followed by Miss Agnew from the Hall. Sara was delighted to see
the old people. They were an ideal couple, as devoted now to each
other as they had been when lovers, and were determined to show her
hospitality.
"You must come and spend a long day with us, my dear," said the old
lady; "we have pretty gardens, and I should like to show you an oil
painting presented to us on our marriage by your father. He painted
it himself. We have also a photograph of you and your brother as tiny
children."
Sara promised she would come, and they had hardly taken their departure
before Miss Agnew was announced.
Sara looked at the tall slim handsome girl with much interest. She
was dressed in a plain brown holland coat and skirt, and coarse straw
hat. Her face was alive with interest and expectation. She was not so
impulsive, or so confidential as Mrs. Peel had been, and Sara saw at
once that she was of a more thoughtful nature. She told Sara a great
deal about the village and places of local interest, and spoke as if
she loved it all.
"I have grown up here and never want to leave it. My father and I go to
town once every year, so as to widen our outlook and prevent us from
running in a groove, but I am always glad to get back here again. Don't
you think it is a lovely bit of country?"
"Indeed I do. It strikes me as such luxuriant rich pasture land!
Everything looks so flourishing and prosperous."
"Oh, we have our bad times, I assure you, but father farms most of his
land himself. He puts a lot of money into it, and I think he gets its
worth. I'm so glad you appreciate our part. Have you met Nellie Peel?
She's enough to turn a pail of milk sour sometimes."
"Aren't you two great friends?"
The girl laughed.
"In a way I suppose we are. But I hate her grumbling. Why on earth did
she marry a parson if she didn't like his life? She's always trying to
get out of her sphere into another. She's a parson's daughter, so she
ought to be content to be a parson's wife. She's always trying to run
down her own sort. She has a very good time, I consider. Her husband is
a saint; she has no children, nothing to tie her to the house. And our
village is a very pleasant one, and the people happy and well-to-do.
She ought to like visiting them and having meetings and clubs and that
sort of thing. As it is, I take the clothing and coal club off her
shoulders. Nellie is always trying to occupy herself with things that
have nothing to do with the parish."
"I think you are hard upon her," said Sara, pleasantly. "Young people
are very intolerant sometimes of others' likes and dislikes. She is of
no different flesh and blood to yourself—"
May Agnew drew her head up proudly at this and Sara saw she did not
like it, but she went on firmly—
"Parochial work does not come easily to every one. She tells me she
paints. An artistic nature must find its vent in some way. She may not
have been born with that gift of sympathy and interest in her fellow
creatures which you perhaps possess, and what comes easy to you as the
Squire's daughter and, may I say, as Lady Bountiful of the parish,
comes hardly with her. I am a newcomer, and I don't know either of you
yet, but my first impressions are pleasant of you both. I feel sorry
for Mrs. Peel, she is so young, with such great expectations from life;
and those who expect much meet with many disappointments."
"You think she is a square peg in a round hole? By her own showing
she is. When first she came here, I felt sorry for her, and had her
continually up at the Hall. She comes now, and whenever we have
company, I send for her. But she expects to spend her whole time with
us. And then when I happen not to ask her if anything is going on, she
gets huffy and sulky. Oh, what am I saying? You have bewitched me! What
must you think of me! Sitting up and slanging our Rector's wife in this
fashion!"
"I will never abuse your confidence," said Sara, quietly. "It is good
of you to have talked so openly with me. Don't be too impatient; life
slowly impresses its lessons on each one. And Mrs. Peel will learn her
lessons like the rest of us."
May Agnew smiled.
"You think me a prig, I expect. It is so easy to see the motes in our
neighbours' eyes, is it not? Are you fond of reading? Father has rather
a good library, and he would be flattered if you came up and made use
of it!"
"How very kind of you! I shall be delighted. A library is always so
attractive! I have so much idle time on my hands now, that reading will
be possible to me, and I do love it."
When she had gone, Sara mused upon these two girls' lives, running side
by side, and yet with such different outlooks. And though in her heart
she knew that May Agnew was more high-principled and right-minded than
Nellie Peel, her sympathies were most with the latter.
Nellie came to make the promised sketch. And they had an interesting
talk about art and its different schools and fashions. Sara went to
the Rectory to tea and found Mr. Peel a charming man to talk to. He
was very devoted to his young wife, but the latter chose to be in one
of her flippant moods that day; and more than once Sara saw the Rector
wince at things she said.
She came away rather sad at heart. The home was picturesque in its
setting, there was no lack of comfort in it, yet the atmosphere seemed
charged with friction.
The contrast when she went to lunch with Admiral and Mrs. Burke was
very marked. The old couple were delighted to see her, they talked of
the past with many fragrant memories. And Sara told them when she came
away that she had never spent such a happy day anywhere for years, as
she had now with them.
"My dear," said Mrs. Burke, kissing her, "it is good of a young thing
like you to be interested in the old."
"I don't feel at all young," said Sara. "I always feel I have much more
in common with those who are getting through their journey than with
those who have just begun it."
"There are two young people close to you who will be glad of your
advice and help," said Mrs. Burke, gently. "We know them both; and
wonder often how things will go with them. May is a dear girl. She is
her father's right hand—such a useful life she leads—but it makes her a
little hard on the less energetic ones. And she can never forget that
she is the Squire's daughter. I think I may tell you in confidence
that she was engaged to a nephew of ours for six months. He is in the
Horse Artillery, and always spent his leave with us. It was broken off
because she wanted to manage him, and he would not have it. She has
managed everybody since she was twelve years old, when her mother died.
She insisted then, though she had a governess, upon dining with her
father every night; and she would take her seat at the foot of the long
dining-room table opposite him like any old woman."
"Both Mrs. Peel and Miss Agnew are inclined to be very friendly," said
Sara. "I don't think there is any danger of my feeling dull."
And there was not. Time slipped rapidly by, the baby Oliver growing
bigger and bonnier every day, and Sara, with her usual aptitude for
making friends and winning confidences, was continually in request by
either the Squire's daughter or the Rector's wife.
Nellie Peel made a water-colour sketch of her. It was cleverly done,
and she caught the sunshine in Sara's face and eyes, as she sat against
a background of apple-trees, with her small nephew in her arms.
It was a bright and vivid portrait.
"The only pity," said Nellie, "is that you aren't the baby's mother.
For nobody would believe that you were not. You have such a motherly
face! I shall call this sketch, 'Sunshine.' Now, would you like to have
it? I should love to give it to you."
"My dear, I could not take it."
"Why not? I love painting for painting's sake."
"If you are really going to make me a present of it, I should like to
send it to an old lady, a very great friend of mine. But I hope I am
not taking advantage of your generosity."
"I never give away anything unless I want to," said Nellie, carelessly.
Then she looked down upon the sketch on her knee.
"You're a very happy person, aren't you? I wish I could feel as happy
as you do, but I suppose you have always had your own way, and have
done what you liked."
"Oh, Nellie dear, that doesn't make a person happy."
"Yes, it does. It makes me happy, but something or somebody is always
crossing my will, and then I'm angry."
"I don't think any of us can sail through life without any buffetings
or storms," said Sara.
For a moment a shadow dimmed her eyes. There was not a day or an
hour that Graham Laird did not figure in her thoughts. She knew he
belonged to another woman now. She tried to think of him in a detached
impersonal way, but she had an intense longing to know if he was happy,
and this longing brought an ache into her heart which stayed there.
"People say we can't cultivate happiness," Sara went on thoughtfully;
"for the more we think about it, the less we feel it. Happiness is a
very elusive thing, isn't it? But certain habits bring it to us."
"What habits? I like to hear you talk. Go on. I am just putting the
finishing touches to my sketch."
"I think the habit of recognizing the good things which we possess is
one. If we take an inventory of our possessions sometimes, we shall
find it is a pretty long one. And the habit of taking an interest
in other people and things outside ourselves is a great help. I was
feeling rather sad the other morning before I came down to breakfast.
But I had two distinct bits of cheer, and thinking of them warmed my
heart up."
"Do tell me what they are."
"Don't laugh at my first bit of cheer. It was a mother thrush out
of my window. She was taking a walk with three of her young ones.
Our tabby cat saw her, and came stalking through the long grass. The
mother saw the creature and gave her cry of alarm, and two of her
nestlings fluttered up to the high laurel bush where their nest had
been. The third little bird was either weak on his legs or else he had
entangled himself in the grass. He fluttered his wings but could not
rise. Then the mother flew over the tabby's head and tried to distract
her attention, and after several struggles the little thrush rose
successfully, and joined the others in their refuge. The mother flew
after him, Tabby crept away disappointed, and the little family of
thrushes rejoiced in their safety; I couldn't help rejoicing too."
"How ridiculous you are! What was the other event?"
"I knew you would laugh at me! I came down to breakfast, and Mrs.
Shiplake came in with a beaming face—
"'Oh, ma'am, I've had a piece of luck this morning. I were worritin'
over a new gown for the Flower Show up tu the Hall. I'm that shabby,
I felt like staying at home, an' if I haven't heard from my sister