03 Mary Wakefield by Mazo de La Roche Read Free Book Online Page A

that the medical attention he gave the two children fully compensated for them. To the grown-ups at Jalna he sent a bill, which was moderate.
    “I don’t want anything this morning, thank you. What I came in for was to see if the wee ones would like to accompany me on my rounds. ’Twould be a change for them.”
    The children had got past the age when to go on his rounds with their grandfather was a treat. They had ponies of their own. And also he expected too much from them in sedateness of behaviour and was given to lecturing. Philip thanked Dr. Ramsey. “But they are busy at their lessons, sir. You see, the new governess arrived last night.”
    “Well, is that so? And what like is she?”
    “Very nice.”
    “Verra nice,” repeated the doctor irritably. “That conveys nothing to me. I mean does she appear to be a woman of strong character and erudition? The last one was a fool.”
    Philip stroked the mare’s neck. “I’ve scarcely had time to judge. I expect that my brother went into these things.”
    “Hm. What age is she?”
    “It’s hard to tell. Youngish.”
    “Under forty?”
    “Yes.”
    “I don’t see eye to eye with you in bringing over an English-woman to train your children. Now, if she were Scottish it would be different.”
    “It’s really my mother and Ernest. By the way, he’s made some amazingly good investments lately.”
    “That’s fine. For they are usually quite the revairse, aren’t they?”
    Philip looked after his father-in-law, sitting very upright as he rattled off in his dog-cart, and wondered what he would say when he beheld Miss Wakefield. Behold was the right word for a girl so stunning as she. Yes, she was stunning. You forgot what you were saying to her, for staring at her. That is, for trying
not
to stare at her. It wasn’t so much actual beauty perhaps, as that willowy graceful form, that smile that had something melancholy in it; her mouth went down at the corners rather than up when she smiled. He wasn’t sure. He must notice.
    His three Clumber spaniels, Sport and Spot and their half-grown puppy, Jake, came leaping about his legs. He bent and distributed caresses as equally as he could, considering that Jake was determined to get more than his share. Philip had to cuff him gently away to give the parents a chance.
    “Come along, then, we’ll go for a walk.” He turned in the direction of the orchard where the spraying of the apple trees was going on. A fine crop promised. All the land, the woods, the fields, shone this morning, as though in beneficent mood. The very house wore its mantle of Virginia creeper with a smiling air, as though conscious of its decoration. The myriad little leaves of the silverbirch trees on the lawn trembled with life. Philip had in himself a feeling of almost creative achievement, as though he were a part of the secret purpose of the universe.

IV
T HE H OUSE B Y T HE L AKE
    M ARY HAD LITTLE trouble with the children during the rest of that morning. She gave it over to trying to make friends with them, in finding out what their studies had been and letting them show her their text-books. Some of these had been handed down from their father and uncles, some were forty years old, dog-eared and out of date, yet for some reason it was these the children liked best. There was a tattered history of Ireland with their grandmother’s name, Adeline Court, in it and her age, fourteen. The books which had belonged to Ernest were in much better condition than those which had belonged to Nicholas. Those in which Philip’s name was scrawled were worst of all.
    When Mary touched Meg the little girl drew away but sometimes Renny would lean against her shoulder, as though deliberately. Once he turned his eyes and looked close into hers and she wondered what lay behind their mysterious darkness. He could read and write quite well for a seven-year-old. She felt new courage to attack her work. The morning passed quickly.
    The children chattered all