The Stokesley Secret [55]
heard her mamma say otherwise, then it is a different thing."
Susan cowered into the dark cupboard. Nurse must be in a dreadful way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!
Nothing more could be done. The pence could not be found. Nurse would not let Rhoda be examined; and all that could be found out from the children had been already elicited.
Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and, her head aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet be thrown on the matter. There must be pain and grief whenever it should be explained; but this would be far better, even for the offender, than the present deception: and the whole family were in a state of irritation and distrust, that hurt their tempers, and made her bitterly reproach herself with not having prevented temptation by putting the hoard under lock and key.
She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening, and made herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went off heavily. The next morning, Susan came back early from her housekeeping business, with her honest face grave and unhappy, and finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told her she had something REALLY to say to her if she might; and this being granted began, with the bright look of having found a capital notion: "I'll tell you what I wish you would do."
"Well?"
"If you would call every one in all the house, and ask them on their word and honour if they took the pence."
"My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no right to do that; besides, I do not believe it would discover it."
"What! could a thief get in from out of doors!" said Susan looking at the window.
"Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who could steal would not scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not wish to cause this additional sin."
"It is very horrid; I can't bear it," said Susan, puckering up her face for tears. "Do you know, Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so angry that you said anything about Rhoda?"
"You did not mention it, my dear?"
"Oh no; nor Sam. It was Nurse herself! But they all say that you want to take away her character; and they won't have strangers put over them."
"Pray, Susie; don't tell me this. It can do no good."
"Oh, but PLEASE!" cried Susan. "And then Mary--I can't think how she could--but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly, and that she had been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but she was your favourite, and so you vindicated her. And Nurse began teasing her to confess, and tell the truth, and told her she was a wicked child because she would not; but it was all because we were put under strangers! I'm sure they do set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to her."
"When was this, my dear?"
"Last night, when we went to the nursery to be washed. It was our night, you know. Oh! I wish Mamma was well!"
"Indeed I do my dear. And how did poor Bessie bear it!"
"She got quite white, and never said a word, even when they told her she was sulky. But when we got into bed, and I kissed her and cuddled her up, oh! she did cry so; I didn't know what to do. So, do you know, I got my shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not gone to sleep, and he came and sat by her, and told her that he believed her, and knew she was as sound a heart of oak as any of us; and we both petted her, and Sam was so nice and kind, till she went to sleep. Then he went to the nursery, and told Nurse how horrid it was in her; but Cook said it only made her worse, because she is jealous of our taking part with you."
"My dear, I DO like to hear of your kindness to Bessie; but I wish you would not mind what any of the maids say, nor talk to them about it. It only distresses you for nothing."
"But I can't help it," said Susan.
"You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you need not talk to Cook or Mary about it. It is of no use to vex ourselves with what people say who don't know half a story."
"Can't you tell them not?" said simple Susan.
"No, I cannot interfere. They would only do
Susan cowered into the dark cupboard. Nurse must be in a dreadful way to call her Miss Merrifield, instead of Missy!
Nothing more could be done. The pence could not be found. Nurse would not let Rhoda be examined; and all that could be found out from the children had been already elicited.
Christabel could only beg that no more should be said, and, her head aching with perplexity, hope that some light might yet be thrown on the matter. There must be pain and grief whenever it should be explained; but this would be far better, even for the offender, than the present deception: and the whole family were in a state of irritation and distrust, that hurt their tempers, and made her bitterly reproach herself with not having prevented temptation by putting the hoard under lock and key.
She ordered that no more should be said about it that evening, and made herself obeyed; but play was dull, and everything went off heavily. The next morning, Susan came back early from her housekeeping business, with her honest face grave and unhappy, and finding Miss Fosbrook alone, told her she had something REALLY to say to her if she might; and this being granted began, with the bright look of having found a capital notion: "I'll tell you what I wish you would do."
"Well?"
"If you would call every one in all the house, and ask them on their word and honour if they took the pence."
"My dear, I am not the head of the house, and I have no right to do that; besides, I do not believe it would discover it."
"What! could a thief get in from out of doors!" said Susan looking at the window.
"Hardly that, my dear; but I am afraid a person who could steal would not scruple to tell a falsehood, and I do not wish to cause this additional sin."
"It is very horrid; I can't bear it," said Susan, puckering up her face for tears. "Do you know, Miss Fosbrook, the maids are all so angry that you said anything about Rhoda?"
"You did not mention it, my dear?"
"Oh no; nor Sam. It was Nurse herself! But they all say that you want to take away her character; and they won't have strangers put over them."
"Pray, Susie; don't tell me this. It can do no good."
"Oh, but PLEASE!" cried Susan. "And then Mary--I can't think how she could--but she said that poor dear Bessie was always sly, and that she had been at the cupboard, and had got the pence; but she was your favourite, and so you vindicated her. And Nurse began teasing her to confess, and tell the truth, and told her she was a wicked child because she would not; but it was all because we were put under strangers! I'm sure they do set on Johnnie and Davie to be cross to her."
"When was this, my dear?"
"Last night, when we went to the nursery to be washed. It was our night, you know. Oh! I wish Mamma was well!"
"Indeed I do my dear. And how did poor Bessie bear it!"
"She got quite white, and never said a word, even when they told her she was sulky. But when we got into bed, and I kissed her and cuddled her up, oh! she did cry so; I didn't know what to do. So, do you know, I got my shawl on, and went and called Sam; and he was not gone to sleep, and he came and sat by her, and told her that he believed her, and knew she was as sound a heart of oak as any of us; and we both petted her, and Sam was so nice and kind, till she went to sleep. Then he went to the nursery, and told Nurse how horrid it was in her; but Cook said it only made her worse, because she is jealous of our taking part with you."
"My dear, I DO like to hear of your kindness to Bessie; but I wish you would not mind what any of the maids say, nor talk to them about it. It only distresses you for nothing."
"But I can't help it," said Susan.
"You could not help this attack in the nursery, but you need not talk to Cook or Mary about it. It is of no use to vex ourselves with what people say who don't know half a story."
"Can't you tell them not?" said simple Susan.
"No, I cannot interfere. They would only do