The Project Gutenberg eBook, Melbourne House, by Elizabeth Wetherell

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Title: Melbourne House

Author: Elizabeth Wetherell

Release Date: June 26, 2006 [eBook #18686]

Language: English

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MELBOURNE HOUSE***

Warner, Susan, 1819-1885, Melbourne House, 1864, Ward Lock edition 1907.

Produced by Daniel FROMONT

MELBOURNE HOUSE

BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL

AUTHOR OF "WIDE, WIDE WORLD."

"Even a child is known by his doings, whether his work be pure, and whether it be right." - Prov. xx. 11

LONDON

WARD LOCK AND C° LIMITED

1907

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. DAISY'S QUESTION

CHAPTER II. THE PONY-CHAISE

CHAPTER III. THE BIRTHDAY

CHAPTER IV. THE HAM

CHAPTER V. STRAWBERRIES

CHAPTER VI. THE EPERGNE

CHAPTER VII. A SOLDIER

CHAPTER VIII. GEOGRAPHY

CHAPTER IX. AFTER TROUT

CHAPTER X. A FIELD OF BATTLE

CHAPTER XI. THE WOUNDED HAND

CHAPTER XII. THE HUNDRED DOLLARS

CHAPTER XIII. OBEDIENCE

CHAPTER XIV. SUNDAY EVENING

CHAPTER XV. SCHROEDER'S MOUNTAIN

CHAPTER XVI. JUANITA'S COTTAGE

CHAPTER XVII. THE LITTLE CONFESSOR

CHAPTER XVIII. WONDERFUL THINGS

CHAPTER XIX. THE DOCTOR

CHAPTER XX. SUN AND MOON

CHAPTER XXI. TEA AT HOME

CHAPTER XXII. BEING ROBBED

CHAPTER XXIII. THE MAP OF ENGLAND

CHAPTER XXIV. THE PICNIC PARTY

CHAPTER XXV. A SHOWER

CHAPTER XXVI. DAISY'S SUPPER

CHAPTER XXVII. RANSOM AND FIDO

CHAPTER XXVIII. MRS. GARY'S PRESENT

CHAPTER XXIX. THE ROSEBUSH

CHAPTER XXX. MOLLY'S GARDEN

CHAPTER XXXI. THE PICTURES

CHAPTER XXXII. THE BASKET OF SPONGE-CAKE

CHAPTER XXXIII. SATIN AND FEATHERS

CHAPTER XXXIV. CHARITY AND VANITY

CHAPTER XXXV. QUEEN ESTHER

CHAPTER XXXVI. TABLEAUX VIVANTS

CHAPTER XXXVII. AN ACCIDENT

CHAPTER XXXVIII. SOMETHING WRONG

CHAPTER XXXIX. BREAKING UP

CHAPTER I.

DAISY'S QUESTION.

A little girl was coming down a flight of stairs that led up from a great hall, slowly letting her feet pause on each stair, while the light touch of her hand on the rail guided her. The very thoughtful little face seemed to be intent on something out of the house, and when she reached the bottom, she still stood with her hand on the great baluster that rested on the marble there, and looked wistfully out of the open door. So the sunlight came in and looked at her; a little figure in a white frock and blue sash, with the hair cut short all over a little round head, and a face not only just now full of some grave concern, but with habitually thoughtful eyes and a wise little mouth. She did not seem to see the sunlight which poured all over her, and lit up a wide, deep hall, floored with marble, and opening at the other end on trees and flowers, which showed the sunlight busy there too. The child lingered wistfully. Then crossed the hall, and went into a matted, breezy, elegant room, where a lady lay luxuriously on a couch, playing with a book and a leaf-cutter. She could not be busy with anything in that attitude. Nearly all that was to be seen was a flow of lavender silk flounces, a rich slipper at rest on a cushion, and a dainty little cap with roses on a head too much at ease to rest. By the side of the lavender silk stood the little white dress, still and preoccupied as before a few minutes without any notice.

"Do you want anything, Daisy?"

"Mamma, I want to know something."

"Well, what is it?"

"Mamma" Daisy seemed to be engaged on a very puzzling question "what does it mean to be a Christian?"

"What?" said her mother, rousing herself up for the first times to look at her.

"To be a Christian, mamma?"

"It means, to be baptised and go to church, and all that," said the lady, turning back to her book.

"But mamma, that isn't all I mean."

"I don't know what you mean. What has put it into your head?"

"Something Mr. Dinwiddie said."

"What absurd nonsense! Who is Mr. Dinwiddie?"

"You know him. He lives at Mrs. Sandford's."

"And where did he talk to you?"

"In the little school in the woods. In his Sunday-school.
Yesterday."

"Well, it's absurd nonsense, your going there. You have nothing to do with such things. Mr. Randolph? "

An inarticulate sound, testifying that he was attending, came from a gentleman who had lounged in and was lounging through the room.

"I won't have Daisy go to that Sunday-school any more, down there in the woods. Just tell her she is not to do it, will you? She is getting her head full of the most absurd nonsense. Daisy is just the child to be ruined by it."

"You hear, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph, indolently, as he lounged finally out of the room by an open window; which, as did all the windows in the room, served for a door also. By the door by which she had entered, Daisy silently withdrew again, making no effort to change the resolution of either of her parents. She knew it would be of no use; for excessively indulgent as they both were in general, whenever they took it upon them to exercise authority, it was unflinchingly done. Her father would never even hear a supplication to reconsider a judgment, especially if pronounced at the desire of her mother. So Daisy knew.

It was a disappointment, greater than anybody thought or would have guessed, that saw her. She went out to the large porch before the door, and stood there, with the same thoughtful look upon her face, a little cast down now. Still she did not shed tears about the matter, unless one time when Daisy's hand went up to her brow rather quick, it was to get rid of some improper suggestion there. More did not appear, either before or after the sudden crunching of the gravel by a pair of light wheels, and the coming up of a little Shetland pony, drawing a miniature chaise.

"Hollo, Daisy! come along; he goes splendidly!"

So shouted the driver, a boy somewhat bigger than Daisy.

"Where are you going?"

"Anywhere down to the church, if you'll be quick. Never mind your hat!"

He