'Don't follow them out, my dears,' said Mrs. Norton to Dora and Annie Maitland, who had risen from their chairs to do so. 'I am sure,' she continued, 'that Mabel would much rather be without your sympathy, and you cannot possibly render her any a.s.sistance. Poor foolish girl,' added the lady, 'I cannot say I am sorry for _her_; but I well know what trouble she must give her mamma, whom I really am sorry for.'

'But, Laura dear,' inquired Mr. Norton, 'don't you suspect that some blame must attach itself to the young lady's mother? Faults, you know, like ill weeds, grow apace if they are not corrected; and the weeds, if suffered to grow rank, will destroy the beautiful flowers which we expected to see in our gardens. Is it not so, do you think?'

'Yes, you are quite right, no doubt,' replied the lady; 'and I fear that my poor friend, Mrs. Ellis, will find it very difficult, if not impossible, to correct faults, which, through weak indulgence, seem to have taken deep root. But,' added Mrs. Norton, rising to go, 'this is no place for sermonising. We have had a pleasant day, notwithstanding the troubles of our young friends; we had better look after them now, and wend our way homewards.'

CHAPTER VIII.

A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT.

'No, my dear, I am determined that Mabel shall not go with her sister to Mrs. Maitland's juvenile party. You over-ruled my wish yesterday, and suffered her to go to the Gardens, and I think you have been properly punished for that' (alluding to the sleeves). 'To-day I insist on having my way. It is most painful to me to see, as I cannot help doing, that through your weakness of character, or want of discipline, Mabel has grown up to be a plague to us, instead of a comfort.'

This unwelcome truth was uttered by Mr. Ellis before he left home on the morning after the visit to the Gardens; and he added, before he left the room:

'I am very glad that your sister, Aunt Mary, is coming home this week, for I intend to ask her as a particular favour to take Mabel under her care. I wish we had sent her to Oak Villa twelve months ago; we might have been spared much trouble.'

This parting rebuke and warning had the usual effect of making Mrs.

Ellis very nervous; she could not bear the thought of communicating the ill news it contained to Mabel. She had come to have almost a childish dread of the girl's temper, yet she knew well that her husband's mandate must be obeyed. There could no greater trial come to Mabel, at least so she thought, than to deprive her of the pleasure of this visit; and the indulgent mamma shrunk with great pain from the task, which had been imposed upon her: yet there was no escape.

As the girls had finished breakfast and left the room before their papa went out, they of course had not heard his disagreeable intimation, and they were now in their own rooms, looking over their dresses.

'What will you do, Mabel?' inquired Julia, 'about your silk frock? You cannot possibly wear it to-day; it is quite spoiled in front with the tea. I know mamma did not notice it last night, though she and papa were so angry about your wearing it, and about the sleeves too.'

'Now just mind your own business, if you please,' said the uncourteous Mabel. 'I hear,' she added, 'that papa has gone out, so I shall go down and coax mamma to get a dress for me. I have seen plenty of pretty dresses in the shop windows, some of them very cheap; I dare say she won't object to buy me one.'

After the delivery of this speech Mabel hastily left the room, and, as she had expected, found her mamma still seated in the breakfast-room, but looking very sad.

She had not, however, at all _expected_ to hear the unwelcome truth which had now to be told, and which greeted her on the first mention of a new dress.

'You need not trouble yourself about a new dress, my dear Mabel,' said her mother, sorrowfully. 'Your papa says, that he will not allow you to go with your sister to Mrs. Maitland's party.'

'Not to go!' exclaimed the astonished girl; 'and do _you_, mamma, say that I am not to go?' she inquired, actually stamping her foot in rage.

'_I_ have no say in the matter, Mabel,' replied her mother; 'your papa's will must be obeyed. He thinks that it is my fault that you are so proud and wilful, and he has made up his mind to send you next week to your aunt Mary, where you will be taught and disciplined, and he hopes in time become a sensible girl, like your cousin Clara.'

'Mamma, mamma!' exclaimed the pa.s.sionate girl, with vehemence, 'I hate Clara, and Aunt Mary too. I would rather die than go and live at Oak Villa, with that cross-grained old aunt and stupid cousin.'

'Mabel,' said Mrs. Ellis, greatly shocked at hearing such expressions, 'it is very wicked of you to give way to your pa.s.sion, and to make such unjust remarks as you have made, both of your aunt and cousins. Neither is your aunt cross, nor your cousin Clara stupid; though cross if they were, you would still be obliged to submit to your papa's decision.

Remember,' continued Mrs. Ellis, 'you have brought the trouble upon yourself, and you have been repeatedly warned of the consequences if you did not amend. Now it is too late, for I am persuaded that nothing either you or I could say would alter your papa's determination.'

A pa.s.sionate burst of tears was all the reply that the humbled, but not penitent, Mabel, could make. She sat herself down on a low stool, and covering her face with her hands, continued to cry and sob, in spite of the kind remonstrances of her mamma, and even of her promises to intercede for her. Mabel knew that what her mother had before stated was quite true, and that all intercession with papa now would be in vain; and she was too much absorbed in selfish sorrow to care anything, even if she thought anything, of the pain she was giving to her poor mother, though she well knew that any trouble of mind increased the malady with which that lady was affected. Her own mortification, her own bitter disappointment, it was the thought of these that kept the sluices of sorrow open such an unreasonable time; and when Julia, on coming into the room, went to speak some words of comfort to her sister, she received a blow on the face which made her nose bleed, though certainly it was not intended, for the pa.s.sionate girl was not aware of Julia's close proximity, as she threw out her hand only to indicate that she wanted no condolence.

This accident, however, had the beneficial effect, for a time, of turning the current of Mabel's ideas from self. She was indeed shocked to see what she had done, though kind-hearted Julia made light of the blow, and declared it did not pain her at all.

'I am sure you must all hate me--I think everybody hates me,' cried impetuous Mabel; 'but I didn't mean to hurt you, Julia, and I am very, very sorry for what I have done.'

'Oh, I know you are,' replied her sister; 'don't think anything more about it. And don't cry any more, dear; I can't bear to see you cry;'

and she added in a whisper, 'It makes mamma ill.'

This little episode had done more to convince Mrs. Ellis of the wisdom of her husband's plan, with regard to his daughter Mabel, than all that he had said previously on the subject; and she made up her mind to offer no opposition to anything he might propose. Coming to this conclusion, she dismissed Mabel and Julia, under the plea that it was absolutely necessary that she should remain quiet for a time.

CHAPTER IX.

THE JUVENILE PARTY.

The morning after the visit to the Gardens was temptingly fine; and at breakfast-time, Harry Maitland proposed a trip to the Kew Gardens, where, he said, there would be no fear of monkey tricks, and they would have the satisfaction of seeing specimens of the famous blue gum tree.

'But you have forgotten, I think,' said his cousin Dora, 'that we are expecting two of your school-fellows and their two sisters; Mabel and Julia Ellis, and the vicar's son and daughter, Robert and Edith Newland.'

'Oh yes, I had quite forgotten the party,' replied Harry; 'I beg everybody's pardon for being so careless. I will do as you suggest, aunt, and help Dora and Annie to prepare for the guests.'

'Thank you, my dear,' said Mrs. Maitland; 'I shall be glad to avail myself of your services, especially as I hear your cousins wish to have tea on the lawn, where there will be plenty of room for you to display your taste. I am only sorry that our good neighbour Miss Livesay, and her niece Clara, have not yet come home; so that we shall not have the pleasure of their company.'

'O, we are all very sorry on that account,' said Dora, 'for there is no one like Aunt Mary, as we call her, for making everybody feel happy and joyful. We call her the _sunbeam_,' added Dora; 'and Clara Beaumont we call the _evening star_, she is so gentle and quiet, though she is quicker at her lessons than we are, a great deal.'

'I remember Clara,' said Harry Maitland; 'poor girl, I think she was in mourning for her father when I was here in the winter. I thought she was a very nice girl, and I too am sorry that she won't be here this afternoon.'

'I believe Miss Livesay is expected home to-morrow,' said Mrs. Maitland, 'so you will have an opportunity of meeting with both her and her niece, Harry; but now, young people, you must set yourself to work, for I have many things to arrange in household matters, and can have nothing to do with decoration. Fruits and flowers, festoons and garlands, I leave entirely in your hands; I have the fullest confidence in your taste,'

added the lady, laughing, and bidding them good-morning, and wishing them all success in their delightful occupation.

The Laurels, or Laurel Villa, as it was sometimes called, was a most desirable residence. Exactly like Oak Villa, its next-door neighbour, in size and appearance, so far as the house was concerned; but the gardens differed very materially, Mr. Maitland's being so well stocked, or so over-stocked with laurels, that they had actually given a name to the pleasant abode.

We won't complain of them, for they formed a delightful shade to many a rustic seat in the large back garden, and kept quite secluded the front of the house. The breakfast-room, which was at the back part of the house, opened on to the lawn with large folding gla.s.s doors; over which the balcony of the drawing-room formed a pleasant and very convenient shade in the summer season, at which time it rejoiced in a profusion of sweet-scented clematis, whose delicate tendrils hung luxuriantly over the bal.u.s.trade, and in some places even swept the gravel walk.

The balcony itself was filled with choice flowers, and was attended to with great care, by the lady of the villa herself. The wall surrounding the garden was almost hidden by the profusion of laurels, and half a dozen rather tall trees at the bottom of the garden formed a picturesque background to the whole. The smooth-shaven lawn must not be unmentioned; it made a delightful promenade; it had been the scene of many a joyous party, and it was to be the arena on which the young invited guests of to-day were to bear witness to the artistic taste, as well as to do justice to the profusion of good things provided by their kind entertainers.

'I hope Maurice Firman won't play any of his foolish pranks to-day,'

said Harry. 'He is always getting into trouble at school, yet the boys like him because he is so good-natured, and so ready to help them with their lessons; he seems as if he could not keep out of mischief. Edward is quite a different fellow, and his sisters, Ella and Lucy, are very nice girls; but they always seem afraid of Maurice, he is so fond of practical jokes.'

'I hope he won't play any while he is here,' said Dora. 'I was going to ask mamma to let us have her gold and purple cups and saucers, but if Maurice Firman is so mischievous, they might be broken.'

'Oh, as to that,' said Harry, 'I don't suppose he would attack the tea equipage, though he is a very good hand at clearing bread-and-b.u.t.ter plates,' he added, laughing; 'and I expect if that Miss Mabel Ellis comes, that we shall have a scene, for he is sure to turn her into ridicule.'

'Oh, I hope he wouldn't be so rude,' said Annie Maitland; 'surely he knows better how to behave himself when he is in company, and where there are young ladies?'

'I am not at all sure of him, Cousin Annie,' said Harry; 'but I do hope that silly conceited girl will not be here, to put Maurice to the test.'

'I really don't think that she will come,' said Dora; 'her papa appeared to be so angry about her going with us yesterday, that she told me that he perhaps would not give his consent to her being of our party to-day.'

'Well done, Mr. Ellis!' said Harry. 'Keep the young lady at home; we can do much better without than with her.'