England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Love stories; Twins -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Something heavy was being dragged along the passage, accompanied by
extraordinary sibilant sounds, resembling the swishing and hissing of an
ostler rubbing down a horse. Both the girls seemed to recognise the
sounds, for Waveney frowned and bit her lip, and Mollie said, in a
troubled tone,--
"Oh, it is poor old 'Canute' come back;" and then they ran into the
passage and looked over the balusters. Noel and a little fair man in a
shabby velveteen coat were hauling a large picture between them, with
much apparent difficulty. One end had got jammed in the narrow
staircase, and Noel's encouraging "swishes" and "Whoa, there--steady,
old man! Keep your pecker up, and don't kick over the traces," might
have been addressed to a skittish mare. Then he looked up and winked at
his sisters, and almost fell backwards in his attempt to feign excessive
joy.
"Hurrah! three cheers! Here we are again--large as life, and as heavy as
the fat woman in Mrs. Jarley's wax-works. But what's the odds as long as
you are happy, as the lobster said as he walked into the pot."
"Hold your tongue, Noel," returned his father, good-naturedly. "It is
your fault the confounded thing has got wedged. Keep it straight, and we
shall manage it well enough;" and then he looked up at the two faces
above him.
"There you are, my darlings," he said, nodding to them.
"You see I am bringing our old friend back; we will have him up directly
if only this young jackanapes will leave off his monkey tricks." And
then in a singularly sweet tenor voice he chanted,--
"You hear that boy laughing? You think it is fun,
But the angels laugh too at the good he has done.
The children laugh loud as they troop to his call,
And the poor man that knows him laughs loudest of all."
"Oliver Wendell Holmes," whispered Mollie; but Waveney made no answer;
she only ran down a few steps and gallantly put her shoulder to the
wheel, and after a few more tugs "King Canute" was safely landed in the
studio, where Noel executed a war-dance round him, with many a wild
whoop, after the manner of Redskins.
"Father, dear," whispered Mollie, in a delightfully coaxing voice, "sit
down on Grumps while I make your coffee;" for the Ward family, being
somewhat original, gave queer names to their belongings; and since they
were children the old couch had been called "Grumps," tired hands and
tired limbs and aching hearts always finding it a comfortable refuge.
"So I will, dear," returned Mr. Ward; and then both the girls hung about
him and kissed him, and Mollie brushed back his hair, and put a rose in
his buttonhole; but Waveney only sat down beside him and held his hand
silently.
There was no difficulty in discovering where Noel got his good looks. In
his youth Everard Ward had been considered so handsome that artists had
implored him to sit to them; and for many years well-principled heads of
girls' colleges feared to engage him as drawing-master.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account