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  "Poor Field's little one? Yes, of course."

  "But tell me! tell me of them all!"

  "All well! all right! But how-"

  "The Mozambique was out of coal and had to put in at Falmouth. You know, I came by her because they said the long sea voyage would be best for this child, and it was so long since I had heard of any one that I durst not send anywhere till I knew-and I knew Froggatt's would be in its own place. Oh! there's the new hotel! the gas looks just the same! There's the tower of St. Oswald's, all shadowy against the sky. Look, Lena! Oh! this is home! I know the lamps. I've dreamt of them! Tired, Lena, dear? cold? Shall I carry you?"

  "No, no; let me!" and he lifted her up, not unwillingly on her part, though she did not speak. "You are a light weight," he said.

  "I am afraid so," answered Angel. "Oh! there's the bus stopping at Mr. Pratt's door."

  "Mine, now. We have annexed it."

  "But let me go in by the dear old shop. The window is as of old, I see. Ernest Lamb! don't you know me?" as a respectable tradesman came forward. "And Achille, is it? You are as much changed as this old shop is transmogrified! And they are all well? Do you mean Bernard?"

  "Bernard and Phyllis may come home any day to deposit a child. They lost their boy, and hope to save the elder one. But come, Angel! if you have taken in enough we must go up to those electrical girls. Dolores is come to give a lecture, with the other girl to assist, Miss Prescott."

  "Dolores! Yes, poor Gerald's love! They are almost myths to me. Ah!" as Lancelot opened his office-door, "now I know where I am! And there's the old staircase! This is the real thing, and no mistake."

  "Angel, Angel, come to tea!" And Gertrude, comfortable and substantial, in loving greeting threw arms round the new comers, Lance still carrying the child, who clung round his neck as he brought her into the room, full of his late fellow travellers, and also of a group of children.

  "It is as if we had gone back thirty years or more," was Angela's cry, as she looked forth on what had been as little altered as possible from the old family centre; and Lance, setting down the child, spoke as the pretty little blue-eyed girls advanced to exchange kisses with their new aunt.

  "Margaret, or Pearl, whom you knew as a baby; Etheldred, or Awdrey, and Dickie! Fely is at Marlborough. There, take little Lena-is that her name-to your table, and give her some tea."

  "Her name is Magdalen," said Angela, removing the little black hat and smoothing the hair; but Lena backed against her, and let her hand hang limp in Pearl's patronising clasp. Nor would she amalgamate with the children, nor even eat or drink except still beside "Sister," as she called Angela. In fact, she was so thoroughly worn out and tired, as well as shy and frightened, that Angela's attention was wholly given to her and she could only be put to bed, but not in the nursery, which, as Angel said, seemed to her like a den of little wild beasts. So she was deposited in the chamber and bed hastily prepared for the unexpected guest; and even there, being wakeful and feverish from over-fatigue, there was no leaving her alone, and Gertrude, after seeing her safely installed, could only go down with the hope that she would be able to spare her slave or nurse, which was it? by dinner-time.

  "Who is that child so like?" said Dolores, in their own room.

  "Very like somebody, but I can't tell whom," said Agatha. "Who did you say she is?"

  "I cannot say I exactly know," said Dolores. "I believe she is the daughter of Fulbert Underwood's mate, on a sheep-farm in Queensland, and that as her mother died when she was born, she has been always under the care of this Angela, living in the Sisterhood there."

  "Not a Sister?"

  "Not under vows, certainly. I never saw her before, but I believe she is rather a funny flighty person, and that Fulbert was afraid at one time that she would marry this child's father."

  "Is he alive?"

  "Which? Fulbert died four or five years ago, and I think the little girl's father must be dead, for she is in mourning."

  "There's something very charming about her-Miss Underwood."

  "Yes there is. They all seem to be very fond of her, and yet to laugh about her, and never to be quite sure what she will do next."

  "Did I not hear of her being so useful among the Australian black women?"

  "No one has ever managed those very queer gins so well; and she is an admirable nurse too, they say. I am very glad to have come in her way."

  They did not, however, see much of her that evening. The head master of the Grammar School and his wife, the head mistress of the High School, and a few others had been invited to meet them; and Angela could only just appear at dinner, trusting to a slumber of her charge, but, on coming out of the dining-room, a wail summoned her upstairs at once, and she was seen no more that night.

  However, with morning freshness, Lena showed herself much less farouche, and willing to accept the attentions of Mr. Underwood first, and, later, of his little daughter Pearl-a gentle, elder sisterly person, who knew how to avert the too rough advances of Dick- and made warm friends over the pink cockatoo; while Awdrey was entranced by the beauties of the budgerigars.

  Robina had been informed by telegram, and came up from Minsterham with her husband, looking just like his own father, and grown very broad. He was greatly interested in the lecture, and went off to it, to consider whether it would be desirable for the Choristers' School. Lancelot had, of course, to go, and Angela declared that she must be brought up to date, and rejoiced that Lena was able to submit to be left with the other children under the protection of Mrs. Underwood, who averred that she abhorred electricity in all its forms, and that if Lance were induced to light the town, or even the shop by that means, he must begin by disposing of her by a shock.

  It was an excellent lecture, only the two sisters hardly heard it. They could think of nothing but that they were once more sitting side by side in the old hall, where they had heard and shared in so many concerts, on the gala days of their home life.

  The two lecturers, as well as the rest of the party, were urgently entreated to stay to tea at the High School; but when the interest of the new arrival was explained, the sisters and brother were released to go home, Canon Harewood remaining to content their hostesses.

  CHAPTER XXII-ANGEL AND BEAR

  "Enough of science and of art!

  Close up those barren leaves,

  Come forth, and bring with you a heart

  That watches and receives."

  - WORDSWORTH.

  A telegram had been handed to Mr. Mayor, which he kept to himself, smiling over it, and he-at least-was not taken utterly by surprise at the sight of a tall handsome man, who stepped forward with something like a shout.

  "Angel! Lance! Why, is it Robin, too?"

  "Bear, Bear, old Bear, how did you come?"

  "I couldn't stop when I heard at Clipstone that Angel was here, so I left Phyllis and the kid with her mother. Oh, Angel, Angel, to meet at Bexley after all!"

  They clung together almost as they had done when they were the riotous elements of the household, while Lance opened the front door, and Robina, mindful of appearances, impelled them into the hall, Bernard exclaiming, "Pratt's room! Whose teeth is it?"

  "Don't you want Wilmet to hold your hands and make you open your mouth?" said Lance, laughing.

  Gertrude, who had already received the Indian arrival, met Angela, who was bounding up to see to her charge, with, "Not come in yet! She is gone out with the children quite happily, with Awdrey's doll in her arms. Come and enjoy each other in peace."

  "In the office, please," said Angela. "That is home. We shall be our four old selves."

  Lance opened the office door, and gave a hint to Mr. Lamb, while they looked at each other by the fire.

  Bernard was by far the most altered. The others were slightly changed, but still their "old selves," while he was a grave responsible man, looking older than Lancelot, partly from the effects of climate; but Angela saw enough to make her exclaim, "Here we are! Don't you feel as if we were had
down to Felix to be blown up?"

  "Not a bit altered," said Bernard, looking at the desks and shelves of ledgers, with the photographs over the mantelpiece-Felix, Mr. Froggatt, the old foreman, and a print of Garofalo's Vision of St. Augustine, hung up long ago by Felix, as Lance explained, as a token of the faith to which all human science and learning should be subordinated.

  "A declaration of the Pursuivant," said Angela. "How Fulbert did look out for Pur! I believe it was his only literature."

  "Phyllis declares," said Bernard, "that nothing so upsets me as a failure in Pur's arrival."

  "And this is Pur's heart and centre!" said Robina.

  "Only," added Angela, "I miss the smell of burnt clay that used to pervade the place, and that Alda so hated."

  "Happily the clay is used up," said Lance. "I could not have brought Gertrude and the children here if the ceramic art, as they call it, had not departed. Cherry was so delighted at our coming to live here. She loved the old struggling days."

  "Fulbert said he never felt as if he had been at home till he came here. He never took to Vale Leston."

  "Clement and Cherry have settled in very happily," said Robina, "with convalescent clergy in the Vicarage."

  "I say, Angel, let us have a run over there," cried Bernard, "you and I together, for a bit of mischief."

  "Do, do let us! Though this is real home, our first waking to perception and naughtiness, it is more than Vale Leston. We seem to have been up in a balloon all those five happy years."

  "A balloon?" said Bernard. "Nay, it seems to me that till they were over, I never thought at all except how to get the most rollicking and the finest rowing out of life. It seems to me that I had about as much sense as a green monkey."

  "Something sank in, though," said Lance; "you did not drift off like poor Edgar."

  "Some one must have done so," said Angela. "I wanted to ask you, Lancey, about advertising for my little Lena's people; the Bishop said I ought."

  "I say," exclaimed Bernard, "was it her father that was Fulbert's mate? I thought he was afraid of your taking up with him. You didn't?"

  "No, no. Let me tell you, I want you to know. Field and a little wife came over from Melbourne prospecting for a place to sit down in. They had capital, but the poor wife was worn out and ill, and after taking them in for a night, Fulbert liked them. Field was an educated man and a gentleman, and Ful offered them to stay there in partnership. So they stayed, and by and by this child was born, and the poor mother died. The two great bearded men came galloping over to Albertstown from Carrigaboola, with this new born baby, smaller than even Theodore was, and I had the care of her from the very first, and Field used to ride over and see the little thing."

  "And-?" said Bernard, in a rather teasing voice, as his eyes actually looked at Angela's left hand.

  "I'll own it did tempt me. I had had some great disappointments with my native women, running wild again, and I could not bear my child having a horrid stepmother; and there was the glorious free bush life, and the horses and the sheep! But then I thought of you all saying Angel had broken out again; and by and by Fulbert came and told me that he was sure there was some ugly mystery, and spoke to Mother Constance, and they made me promise not to take him unless it was cleared up. Then, as you know, dear Ful's horse fell with him; Field came and fetched me to their hut, and I was there to the last. Ful told each of us again that all must be plain and explained before we thought of anything in the future. He, Henry Field, said he had great hopes that he should be able to set it right. Then, as you know, there was no saving dear Fulbert, and after that Mother Constance's illness began. Oh! Bear, do you recollect her coming in and mothering us in the little sitting-room? I could not stir from her, of course, while she was with us. And after that, Harry Field came and said he had written a letter to England, and when the answer came, he would tell me all, and I should judge! But I don't think the answer ever did come, and he went to Brisbane to see if it was at the bank; and there he caught a delirious fever, and there was an end of it

  At that moment something between a whine or a call of "sister" was heard. Up leapt Angela and hurried away, while Lance observed, "Well! That's averted, but I am sorry for her."

  "It was not love," said Robina.

  "Or only for the child," said Bernard; "and that would have been a dangerous speculation."

  "The child or something else has been very good for her," said Lance; "I never saw her so gentle and quiet."

  "And with the same charm about her as ever," said Bernard. "I don't wonder that all the fellows fall in love with her. I hope she won't make havoc among Clement's sick clergy."

  "I suppose we ought to go up and fulfil the duties of society," said Robina, rising. "But first, Bear, tell me how is Phyllis?"

  "Pretty fair," he answered. "Resting with her mother, but she has never been quite the thing of late. I almost hope Sir Ferdinand will see his way to keeping us at home, or we shall have to leave our little Lily."

  Interruption occurred as a necessary summons to "Mr. Mayor," and the paternal conclave was broken up, and had to adjourn to Gertrude's tea in the old sitting-room.

  "I see!" exclaimed Agatha, as she looked at the party of children at their supplementary table. "I see what the likeness is in that child. Don't you, Dolores? Is it not to Wilfred Merrifield?"

  "There is very apt to be a likeness between sandy people, begging your pardon, Angel," said Gertrude.

  "Yes, the carroty strain is apt to crop up in families," said Lance, "like golden tabbies, as you ladies call your stable cats."

  "All the Mohuns are dark," said Dolores, "and all Aunt Lily's children, except Wilfred; and is not your Phyllis of that colour?"

  "Phyllis's hair is not red, but dark auburn," said Bernard, in a tone like offence.

  "I never saw Phyllis," said dark-browed Dolores, "but I have heard the aunts talk over the source of the-the fair variety, and trace it to the Merrifields. Uncle Jasper is brown, and so is Bessie; but Susan is, to put it politely, just a golden tabby, and David's baby promises to be, to her great delight, as she says he will be a real Merrifield. So much for family feeling!"

  "Sister, Sister!" came in a bright tone, "may I go with Pearl and get a stick for Ben? He wants something to play with! He is eating his perch."

  Ben, it appeared, was the pink cockatoo, who was biting his perch with his hooked beak. The children had finished their meal, and consent was given. "Only, Lena, come here," said Angela, fastening a silk handkerchief round her neck, and adding, "Don't let Lena go on the dew, Pearl; she is not used to early English autumn, I must get her a pair of thicker boots."

  "What is her name?" asked Agatha, catching the sound.

  "Magdalen Susanna. Her father made a point of it, instead of his wife's name, which, I think, was Caroline."

  "I don't think I ever knew a Magdalen except my own elder sister," said Agatha, "and Susanna! Did you say Miss Merrifield had a sister Susan?"

  "An excellent, sober-sided, dear old Susan! Yes, Susanna was their mother's name," said Dolores "and now that you have put it into my head, little Lena, when she is animated, puts me more in mind of Bessie than even of Wilfred, though the colouring is different. Why?"

  "Did you never hear," said Agatha, "that there was one of the brothers who was a bad lot, and ran away. My sister says Wilfred is like him. I believe," she added, "that he was her romance!"

  "Ha!" exclaimed Bernard, "that's queer! We had a clerk in the bank who gave his name as Meriton, and who cut and ran the very day he heard that Sir Jasper Merrifield was coming out as Commandant. Yes, he was carroty. I rarely saw Wilfred at Clipstone, but this might very well have been the fellow, afraid to face his uncle."

  Angela did not look delighted. "She is not destitute, you know," she said, "I am her guardian, and she will have about two hundred a year."

  "Is there a will?" asked Lance.

  "Oh, yes, I have it upstairs! It is all right. It was at the bank at Brisbane, and they kept a copy. I bro
ught her because the Bishop said it was my duty to find out whether there were any relations."

  "Certainly," said Bernard. "In our own case, remember what joy Travis's letter was!"

  Angela was silent, and presently said, "You shall see the will when I have unpacked it, but there is no doubt about my being guardian."

  "Probably not," said Bernard, rather drily.

  "If it be a valid will, signed by his proper name," said Lance.

  Whereupon the two brothers fell into a discussion on points of law, not unlike the editor of the Pursuivant, as he had become known to his family, but most unlike the Bernard they had known before his departure for the East. At any rate it dissipated the emotional tone of the party; and by and by, when Bernard and Angela had agreed to make a bicycle rush to Minsterham the next day, "that is," said Angela "if Lena is happy enough to spare me," the Harewoods took leave.

  When the children had gone to bed, and Angela had stayed upstairs so long that Gertrude augured that she was waiting till her charge had gone to sleep, and that they should have no more of her henceforth but "Lena's baulked stepmother," she came down, bringing a document with her, which she displayed before her brothers.

  There was no question but that it was a will drawn up in due form, and very short, bequeathing his property at Carrigaboola, Queensland, to his daughter, Magdalen Susanna, and appointing Fulbert Underwood and Angela Margaret Underwood and "my brother Samuel" her guardian. It was dated the year after his daughter's birth, and was signed Henry Field, with a word interposed, which, as Lance said, might be anything, but was certainly the right length for the first syllables of Merrifield. Bernard looked at it, and declared it was, to the best of his belief, the same signature as his former clerk used to write.

  "And this," he said, looking at the seal, "is the crest of the Merrifield's-the demi lion. I know it well on Sir Jasper's seal ring."

  "Have you nothing else, Angel?" asked Lance.