The Two Sides of the ShieldYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Two Sides of the Shield
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
‘Now, Dolly, what do you mean? You would not have it all betrayed?’
‘I’ve a great mind to tell Uncle Regie all about it.’
‘Now, Dolly! When you said so much about the Mohun pride and scorn of
your poor, dear uncle.’
‘Uncle Regie is not proud. And he would know what to do.’
‘But,’ cried Constance, in a fright, ‘you would never tell him! You
promised that it should be a secret, and I should be in such a dreadful
scrape with Lady Merrifield and Mary.’
‘Well! it was your doing, and you had all the pleasure of it,
flourishing about the platform with him.’
‘How can you be so disagreeable, Dolores, when you know it was all on
business. Though I do think he is the most interesting man I ever did
see.’
‘Just because he flattered you.’
However, there is no need to tell how many cross and quarrelsome things
the two tired friends said to each other. They were sitting on opposite
sides of the fire, one very gloomy, and the other very pettish, when
the waggonette stopped at the gate, to put out Miss Hacket and take
up Dolores. Hands pulled her up the step, and a hubbub of merry voices
received her in the dark.
‘Good girl, not to keep us waiting.’
‘Oh, Dolly, Dolly, Macrae says Uncle Regie’s come!’
‘Oh, Dolly, it has been such fun!’
‘Take care of my parcel!’
‘Ah, ha! you don’t know what is in there.’
‘Here’s something under my feet!’
‘Oh! take care! ‘Tisn’t my--’
‘Hush, hush, Val--’
And so it went on till on the steps was seen in full light among the
boys, Uncle Reginald, ready to lift every one out with a kiss.’
‘Ha! Dolly, is that you?’ he said, as they came into the hall. ‘I saw
such a likeness of you at one station that I was as near as possible
jumping out to speak to her. She had on just that fur tippet!’
‘That comes of living in Ireland, Regie,’ said Aunt Lily. ‘Once in a
shop at Belfast, a lady darted up to me with “And it’s I that am glad
to see you, me dear. And how’s me sweet little god-daughter? Oh! and
it isn’t yourself. And aren’t you Mrs. Phelim O’Shaugnessy?’” And under
cover of this, Dolores retreated to her own room. She took off her
things, and then looked at the cheque.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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