Christmas Eve, which was also a Sat.u.r.day, dawned brightly on Henrietta, but even her eagerness for her new employment could not so far overcome her habitual dilatoriness as not to annoy her cousin, Busy Bee, even to a degree of very unnecessary fidgeting when there was any work in hand.

She sat on thorns all breakfast time, devoured what her grandpapa called a sparrow's allowance, swallowed her tea scalding, and thereby gained nothing but leisure to fret at the deliberation with which Henrietta cut her bread into little square dice, and spread her b.u.t.ter on them as if each piece was to serve as a model for future generations.

The subject of conversation was not precisely calculated to soothe her spirits. Grandmamma was talking of giving a young party--a New-year's party on Monday week, the second of January. "It would be pleasant for the young people," she thought, "if Mary did not think it would be too much for her."

Beatrice looked despairingly at her aunt, well knowing what her answer would be, that it would not be at all too much for her, that she should be very glad to see her former neighbours, and that it would be a great treat to Henrietta and Fred.

"We will have the carpet up in the dining-room," added Mrs. Langford, "and Daniels, the carpenter, shall bring his violin, and we can get up a nice little set for a dance."

"O thank you, grandmamma," cried Henrietta eagerly, as Mrs. Langford looked at her.

"Poor innocent, you little know!" murmured Queen Bee to herself.

"That is right, Henrietta," said Mrs. Langford, "I like to see young people like young people, not above a dance now and then,--all in moderation."

"Above dancing," said grandpapa, who, perhaps, took this as a reflection on his pet, Queen Bee, "that is what you call being on the high rope, isn't it?"

Beatrice, though feeling excessively savage, could not help laughing.

"Are you on the high rope, Queenie?" asked Fred, who sat next to her: "do you despise the light fantastic--?"

"I don't know: I do not mind it much," was all she could bring herself to say, though she could not venture to be more decidedly ungracious before her father. "Not much in itself," she added, in a lower tone, as the conversation grew louder, "it is the people, Philip Carey, and all,--but hush! listen."

He did so, and heard Careys, Dittons, Evanses, &c., enumerated, and at each name Beatrice looked gloomier, but she was not observed, for her Aunt Mary had much to hear about the present state of the families, and the stream of conversation flowed away from the fete.

The meal was at last concluded, and Beatrice in great haste ordered Frederick off to Sutton Leigh, with a message to Alex to meet them at the Church, and bring as much holly as he could, and his great knife.

"Bring him safe," said she, "for if you fail, and prove a corbie messenger, I promise you worse than the sharpest sting of the most angry bee."

Away she ran to fetch her bonnet and shawl, while Henrietta walked up after her, saying she would just fetch her mamma's writing-case down for her, and then get ready directly. On coming down, she could not help waiting a moment before advancing to the table, to hear what was pa.s.sing between her mother and uncle.

"Do you like for me to drive you down to the Church to-day?" he asked.

"Thank you," she answered, raising her mild blue eyes, "I think not."

"Remember, it will be perfectly convenient, and do just what suits you,"

said he in a voice of kind solicitude.

"Thank you very much, Geoffrey," she replied, in an earnest tone, "but indeed I had better go for the first time to the service, especially on such a day as to-morrow, when thoughts must be in better order."

"I understand," said Uncle Geoffrey: and Henrietta, putting down the writing-case, retreated with downcast eyes, with a moment's perception of the higher tone of mind to which he had tried to raise her.

In the hall she found Mrs. Langford engaged in moving her precious family of plants from their night quarters near the fire to the bright sunshine near the window. Henrietta seeing her lifting heavy flower-pots, instantly sprang forward with, "O grandmamma, let me help."

Little as Mrs. Langford was wont to allow herself to be a.s.sisted, she was gratified with the obliging offer, and Henrietta had carried the myrtle, the old-fashioned oak-leaved geranium, with its fragrant deeply-indented leaves, a grim-looking cactus, and two or three more, and was deep in the story of the orange-tree, the pip of which had been planted by Uncle Geoffrey at five years old, but which never seemed likely to grow beyond the size of a tolerable currant-bush, when Beatrice came down and beheld her with consternation--"Henrietta!

Henrietta! what are you about?" cried she, breaking full into the story.

"Do make haste."

"I will come in a minute," said Henrietta, who was a.s.sisting in adjusting the prop to which the old daphne was tied.

"Don't stop for me, my dear," said Mrs. Langford: "there, don't let me be in your way."

"O, grandmamma, I like to do this very much."

"But, Henrietta," persisted the despotic Queen Bee, "we really ought to be there."

"What is all this about?" said grandmamma, not particularly well pleased. "There, go, go, my dear; I don't want any more, thank you: what are you in such a fuss for now, going out all day again?"

"Yes, grandmamma," said Beatrice, "did you not hear that Mr. Franklin asked us to dress the church for to-morrow? and we must not waste time in these short days."

"Dress the church! Well, I suppose you must have your own way, but I never heard of such things in my younger days. Young ladies are very different now!"

Beatrice drove Henrietta up-stairs with a renewed "Do make haste," and then replied in a tone of argument and irritation, "I do not see why young ladies should not like dressing churches for festivals better than arraying themselves for b.a.l.l.s and dances!"

True as the speech was, how would Beatrice have liked to have seen her father or mother stand before her at that moment?

"Ah, well! it is all very well," said grandmamma, shaking her head, as she always did when out-argued by Beatrice, "you girls think yourselves so clever, there is no talking to you; but I think you had much better let old Martha alone; she has done it well enough before ever you were born, and such a litter as you will make the Church won't be fit to be seen to-morrow! All day in that cold damp place too! I wonder Mary could consent, Henrietta looks very delicate."

"O no, grandmamma, she is quite strong, very strong indeed."

"I am sure she is hoa.r.s.e this morning," proceeded Mrs. Langford; "I shall speak to her mamma."

"O don't, pray, grandmamma; she would be so disappointed. And what would Mr. Franklin do?"

"O very well, I promise you, as he has done before," said Mrs. Langford, hastening off to the drawing-room, while her granddaughter darted upstairs to hurry Henrietta out of the house before a prohibition could arrive. It was what Henrietta had too often a.s.sisted Fred in doing to have many scruples, besides which she knew how grieved her mamma would be to be obliged to stop her, and how glad to find her safe out of reach; so she let her cousin heap on shawls, fur cuffs, and boas in a far less leisurely and discriminating manner than was usual with her.

"It would be absolute sneaking (to use an elegant word), I suppose,"

said Beatrice, "to go down the back stairs."

"True," said Henrietta, "we will even take the bull by the horns."

"And trust to our heels," said Beatrice, stealthily opening the door; "the coast is clear, and I know both your mamma and my papa will not stop us if they can help it. One, two, three, and away!"

Off they flew, down the stairs, across the hall, and up the long green walk, before they ventured to stop for Henrietta to put on her gloves, and take up the boa that was dragging behind her like a huge serpent.

And after all, there was no need for their flight; they might have gone openly and with clear consciences, had they but properly and submissively waited the decision of their elders. Mr. Geoffrey Langford, who did not know how ill his daughter had been behaving, would have been very sorry to interfere with the plan, and easily reconciled his mother to it, in his own cheerful pleasant way. Indeed her opposition had been entirely caused by Beatrice herself; she had not once thought of objecting when it had been first mentioned the evening before, and had not Beatrice not first fidgeted and then argued, would only have regarded it as a pleasant way of occupying their morning.

"I could scold you, Miss Drone," said Beatrice when the two girls had set themselves to rights, and recovered breath; "it was all the fault of your dawdling."

"Well, perhaps it was," said Henrietta, "but you know I could not see grandmamma lifting those flower-pots without offering to help her."

"How many more times shall I have to tell you that grandmamma hates to be helped?"

"Then she was very kind to me," replied Henrietta.

"I see how it will be," said Beatrice, smiling, "you will be grandmamma's pet, and it will be a just division. I never yet could get her to let me help her in anything, she is so resolutely independent."

Queen Bee did not take into account how often her service was either grudgingly offered, or else when she came with a good will, it was also with a way, it might be better, it might be worse, but in which she was determined to have the thing done, and against which her grandmamma was of course equally resolute.