The Time of Roses. Meade L. T.

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      The Time of Roses

      CHAPTER I.

      HOME AT LAST

      It was on a summer's evening early in the month of August that the little Mummy was once again seen on the platform at Dawlish.

      She looked now very much like she did when we saw her of yore – slightly broadened, it is true, by the added years, but she still wore somewhat rusty widow's black, and her face still had that half-anxious, half-comical expression, which made people turn to look at her with something between a smile and a sigh. She was commonplace and plain, and yet in one sense she was neither commonplace nor plain. She had a character, and that character had developed during the last few years, and rather for the better.

      There were very few passengers on the platform, and the little woman paced up and down, thinking to herself.

      "She is coming home at last. I don't know whether I am glad or sorry. I wonder what sort of girl Miss Sharston is. She has been very kind to Florence; but it was rash of Florence to invite her. Still, I suppose we shall be able to manage all right."

      Just then the signal announcing the approaching train was lowered, and a moment or two later the said train drew up at the platform and one or two passengers alighted. Amongst these was a tall, well-set-up, dark-eyed girl, and accompanying her was another girl, who was not so tall and was very slender, with an ethereal sort of face, and large, speaking grey eyes.

      The tall girl rushed up to where the little Mummy was standing.

      "Here I am, Mummy," she said, "and this is Kitty, and we are both tired and hungry, and glad to see you again. Is there any sort of trap for our luggage, or can the porter take it and shall we walk to the cottage?"

      "The cottage is just as small as ever it was, Florence," replied the little Mummy. "Oh, I am so glad to see you, Miss Sharston." Here she shook hands with Kitty Sharston.

      "We like things small," said Kitty; "we want to have a real charming time in the country. It is very good of you to consent to take me in, Mrs. Aylmer."

      A porter now appeared. Florence bustled off to see to the luggage, and Mrs. Aylmer and Kitty slowly left the station. Florence ran after them in a moment or two.

      "Well," she said, "here we are! Both of us have done with school for ever and a day. We are grown-up girls ready to take our place in the world, and to give you a right good time, Mummy; isn't that so, Kitty?"

      "Yes," said Kitty, in that gentle voice which always had a pathetic ring in it. Then she added after a moment's pause: "But I don't know that I am glad to have left school; I must confess that I enjoyed the last few years at Cherry Court School immensely."

      "Don't talk to me of Cherry Court School," said the widow, with a little shudder.

      She glanced round in an inquiring way at Florence, who coloured faintly and then said, in a stout voice: "I have repented of that old sin long ago, and I do not in the least mind having Cherry Court School alluded to. I have had a right good time, and it was a very lucky thing for me I did not win that Scholarship, for if I had I should have been eating the bread of dependence now, whereas – " Here she drew herself up, uttered a quick sigh, and looked ahead of her.

      Her face was not handsome, but it was bright and taking. She was a head and shoulders taller than the little Mummy, who gazed at her with something of her old expression of mingled affection and fear. Florence had quite double the strength of the little Mummy, and this astute personage was aware of the fact.

      They reached the tiny house, where Sukey was standing on the steps, looking not a day older than she had done six years ago. She dropped a curtsey when she saw Florence, but Florence ran up and wrung her hand.

      "How do you do, Sukey?" she said. "I am very glad to come home, and this is my great friend Miss Sharston."

      Sukey stared up at Kitty; then she glanced at Mrs. Aylmer and slowly shook her head.

      "It's a very, very small house," she said, "and how we are to fit you two young ladies in is more than I can tell."

      "Never mind, Sukey," said Mrs. Aylmer; "I have it all arranged; don't you go and put your finger into the pie and spoil things, you silly, stupid old thing."

      Here Mrs. Aylmer shook her hand with a playful gesture at Sukey, and then the entire party found themselves in the house. Florence had not been home for two or three years. Kitty had never seen the cottage at Dawlish before. Certainly the one sitting-room was very tiny.

      "How it has dwindled!" said Florence, looking round her. "Good gracious! Why, the ceiling nearly reaches my head, and as for the walls" – she stretched out her long arms playfully – "I can almost touch from wall to wall; but never mind, it's home; it's your house, Mummy, and you are good to take us girls in and look after us for a whole delightful fortnight."

      "There is a very nice supper waiting for you," said Mrs. Aylmer, "and quite in the old style – crabs and a water-cress salad. I thought you would appreciate that; we so often had crabs for supper when – when you were here last, Flo. You remember them, don't you?"

      "Nothing could be more appetising," replied Florence. "Would you like to come upstairs now, Kitty?"

      Mrs. Aylmer had given up her wee bed-room to the two girls. Where she was to sleep was a mystery known only to herself; but, as she seemed quite cheerful and happy over it, Florence advised Kitty not to investigate matters too closely.

      "It's the Mummy's way," she said; "she likes managing; she quite adores the thought of having us both with her in this little dull house. Can you put up with it, Kitty?"

      "The place is quite lovely," replied Kitty, "and I would put up with anything after the news I told you this morning."

      "Oh, that your father is really coming back: that you have not to go to India after all: that you are going to live here and take a beautiful house and be real mistress of a home," said Florence.

      "I don't know anything about the beautiful house, nor being mistress of a home," replied Kitty; "but I am going to be with father wherever he is, and that," she added, "will be home to me."

      "Of course," answered Florence, in a somewhat wistful tone.

      "But what are you going to do, Flo?"

      "I am going to earn my living," replied Florence stoutly.

      "Of course; but how?"

      "I shall talk things over with you and the Mummy. I have left school at last for good. What a blessing it is that I shall not have anything to do with Aunt Susan! I feel so jolly independent; but I should like to meet her and – "

      "Girls, supper is ready," called out Mrs. Aylmer's voice from below, and the two ran downstairs.

      The meal was very merry; the old schoolfellows were glad to be together. Mrs. Aylmer chatted in very much the way she had chatted six years ago. She could not help constantly alluding to Mrs. Aylmer the great.

      "I have not seen her," she said; "but she sends me my money regularly once a quarter – twelve pounds ten shillings. She never misses a day, I will say that for her, and I think I am a very good manager not to be one farthing in debt."

      "You are perfectly splendid, mother," replied Florence.

      "She has never once asked for you; she said she would not, and she has kept her word," continued Mrs. Aylmer.

      "Well, mother, does it matter?" replied the daughter.

      "They say, too," continued the little Mummy – and here she heaved a heavy sigh – "that she has adopted a young man as her heir. I have never seen him, but his name is Maurice Trevor. He is no relation of any sort, and goodness knows why she has adopted him. They say he is a very pushing and a very designing young man, and that he twists poor Susan round his little finger. I know she sent him to Cambridge and spent an enormous sum on him there – two or three hundred a year at the very least – and now he has returned and lives with her, and is to take the management of her estates. She has been buying a lot of fresh property; but there – I am sick of the subject. You didn't play your cards well, Florence; you ought to have been in the position which young Mr. Trevor occupies."

      "I