Chapter 13 The Little Princess of Tower Hill by L. T. Meade
THANK GOD FOR ALL
On a certain lovely evening in the beginning of September, when the air was no longer too warm, and the whole world seemed bathed in absolute peace and rest, little Maggie Ascot and her Cousin Ralph might have been seen walking, with their arms round each other, in very deep consultation. Maggie was quite strong again, had got her roses back, and the bright light of health in her blue eyes. She and Ralph were pacing slowly up and down a shady path not far from the large entrance gates.
"I can't think what it means," exclaimed Maggie; "it is the fourth time Aunt Violet has gone up there to-day, and Susan the scullery-maid has gone with her now, carrying an enormous basket. Susan let me peep into it, and it was full of all kinds of goodies. She said it was for the new laundress. I never knew such a fuss to make about a laundress."
Here Ralph thought it well to administer a little reproof.
"That's because you haven't been taught to consider the poor," he said. "Why shouldn't a laundress have nice things done for her? and if this is a poor lonely stranger coming from a long way off, it's quite right for mother to welcome her. Mother always thinks you can't do too much for lonely people, and she'll wash your dresses all the whiter if she thinks you're going to be kind and attentive. Why, Maggie, our little Jo's mother is a laundress, you forget that. Laundresses are most respectable people."
At the mention of Jo's name Maggie sighed.
"There's nothing at all been done about her, Ralph," she said. "Nobody seems to take any notice when I speak about her. She must be tired of waiting and watching by this time. She must be dreadfully sorry that she did not go away to heaven and God; for she must know now that I never meant anything when I wanted to meet her in the country – and yet I did, Ralph, I did!"
Here Maggie's blue eyes grew full of tears.
"Never mind, Mag," replied her little cousin soothingly; "it is very odd, and I don't understand it a bit, but mother says things are sure to come right, and you know Uncle John wished us to trust him."
"But the time is going on," said Maggie; "the summer days will go, and Jo won't have seen the lovely country where the grass is green. Oh! Ralph, we must do something."
"If only Mrs. Aylmer were the new laundress!" began Ralph. "You can't think what a nice cottage that is, Mag – four lovely rooms, and such a nice, nice kitchen, with those dear little lattice panes of glass in the window, and lots of jasmine and Virginia creeper peeping in from outside, and a green field for the laundress to dry her clothes in, just beyond. Poor laundress! she will like that field awfully, and it would be very unkind of us to wish to take it away from her and give it to Mrs. Aylmer, for of course Mrs. Aylmer knows nothing about it, and the new laundress has probably arrived, and set her heart on it by this time; and she may be a widow, too, with lots and lots of little children."
"But none of the children could be like Jo," said Maggie.
"Well, perhaps not," answered Ralph. "Oh, here comes mother; let's run to meet her. Mother darling, has the new laundress come?"
"Yes, Ralph, she and her family arrived about an hour ago; they are settling down nicely into the cottage, and seem to be respectable people. They all think the cottage very comfortable."
"And are you going to see them again to-night, Auntie Violet?" asked Maggie with rather a sorrowful look on her little face.
"Why, yes, Maggie; they are all strangers here, you know, and I fancy they rather feel that, so it might be nice to walk up presently and take a cup of tea with them. There are some children, so you and Ralph might come too."
"Didn't I tell you how mother considered the poor?" here whispered Ralph, poking the little princess rather violently in the side. "Oh, yes, mother, we'd like to go to tea with the little laundresses. Is there anything we could take them – anything they would like, to show that we sympathize with them for having come so far, and having left their old home?"
"They don't seem at all melancholy, Ralph," said Mrs. Grenville, smiling, "and when they have seen you and Maggie, I fancy they will none of them have anything further to desire to-night. Why, Maggie dear, you look quite sad; what is the matter?"
"I am thinking of little Jo," whispered Maggie. "Her mother is a laundress, too, and she's poor. Why couldn't you have considered the poor in the shape of Jo's mother, Aunt Violet?"
Mrs. Grenville stooped down and kissed Maggie.
"Here come your father and mother," she said, "and I know they too want to see the new people who have come to the pretty cottage. Now let us all set off. I told the laundress and her family that you were coming to have tea with them, Maggie and Ralph. Suppose you two run on in front; you know the cottage and you know the way."
"Tell the good folks we'll look in on them presently," shouted Sir John Ascot, and then the children took each other's hands and ran across some fields to the laundress' cottage. They heard some sounds of mirth as they drew near, and saw two rather wild little boys tumbling about, turning somersaults and standing on their heads; they also heard a high-pitched voice, and caught a glimpse of a remarkably round and red face, and it seemed to Maggie that the voice and the face were both familiar, although she could not quite recall where she had seen them before.
"We must introduce ourselves quite politely," said Ralph as they walked up the narrow garden path. "Now here we are; I'll knock with my knuckles. I wish I knew the laundress' name. It seems rude to say, 'Is the laundress in?' for of course she has got a name, and her name is just as valuable to her as ours are to us. How stupid not to have found out what she is really called. Perhaps we had better inquire for Mrs. Robbins; that's rather a common name, and yet not too common. It would never do to call her Mrs. Smith or Jones, for if she wasn't Smith or Jones, she wouldn't like it. Now, Maggie, I'll knock rather sharp, and when the new laundress opens the door you are to say, 'Please is Mrs. Robbins the laundress in?'"
All this time the girl with the red face was making little darts to the lattice window and looking out, and there were some stifled sounds of mirth from the boys with the high-pitched voices.
"The laundress' family are in good spirits," remarked Ralph, and then he gave a sharp little knock, and Maggie prepared her speech.
"Please is the new – is Mrs. Rob – is, is – oh! Ralph, why, it's Mrs. Aylmer herself!"
Nothing very coherent after this discovery was uttered by any one for several minutes. Maggie found herself kneeling by Jo, with her arms round Jo's neck, and two little cheeks, both wet with tears, were pressed together, and two pair of lips kissed each other. That kiss was a solemn one, for the two little hearts were full.
In different ranks, belonging almost to two extremes, the child of riches and the child of poverty knew that they possessed kindred spirits, and that their friendship was such that circumstances were not likely again to divide them. Waters was right when she said there was a strong link between Maggie and Jo.
That is the story, an episode, after all, in the life of the little princess, but an episode which was to influence all her future days.
THE END