The Palace in the Garden Part 15

"Did you live here long ago, and then not for a great while?"

"No, I never lived here, and then I'm not so old as all that. I heard about the old days of course from----" but then she got red, and stopped suddenly. "I think it's time to go," she said.

"Wait a minute," said I; "will you show us some of the rooms of the house? We should so like to see them."

The new princess hesitated. Then she shook her head. "No, dears," she said, "I'd better not. Just try to keep to your old fancies, and take Gerald's way: it's the best just now. And now listen: this is Wednesday.

I can't come to-morrow. You'll promise to come on Friday?"

"Yes," we all said.

"I particularly want you to come on Friday," she went on, and her face grew a little sad, "though I can't quite explain why--except--just that after that perhaps I can't see you for a good while."

"Oh! don't say that," we all cried together; "do try and not let it be that way. We will come on Friday, you may be sure."

"But don't expect me very early," she said. "I may not be able to come till pretty late."

And then she kissed us all again, and she went her way, and we ours.

It happened very well that she had asked us to come on Friday, and not on Thursday, for on Thursday it was so _extra_ pouring wet that nurse wouldn't let us go out at all. And we were exceedingly anxious on Friday morning to see what the weather was going to be, and we were all delighted to see it was fine.

"We must have a long afternoon to ourselves, nurse," we said. "It's horrid to be cooped up in the house all day."

"Well, I'm sure, my dears, I'm as sorry as you can be when it has to be so," said nurse. "But it's very wet everywhere still to-day. It did pour so yesterday. You must be sure to take your goloshes, and to come in at once if you feel chilly or s.h.i.+very. I wouldn't for anything have you take cold."

"We never do, nurse," Tib said. "You must allow that we don't give you much trouble about our being ill."

"As if I'd grudge any trouble, my dear," said Liddy--she was very matter of fact. "But it's true you've given no trouble of any kind since you've been here, and so I shall tell your dear grandpapa--and so, I'm sure, will Mrs. Munt. She thinks there never were such children. But do be careful now, dears, not to catch cold just as your dear grandpapa's coming?"

"Grandpapa coming! You never told us," we exclaimed. "When is he coming?"

"To-morrow; and Mr. Truro too. At least, Mrs. Munt's sure it's him, though Mr. Ansdell only says to prepare the same rooms as last time. I meant to tell you when we began speaking--Mrs. Munt just got the letter this morning."

"What a good thing he's not coming to-day," we said to ourselves. "Nurse would never have let us out at all, or else we would have had to come in early, and _she_ said she couldn't come early. I wonder, Tib," I went on, "I wonder if somehow her wanting us so much to-day, and what she has said, has anything to do with grandpapa's coming?"

"How could _she_ know he was coming before we knew it ourselves, even?

Gussie, it's not _me_ that's too fanciful nowadays," said Tib. "Of course, on _our_ side, knowing he was coming might have made us say perhaps it would be the last time. You know we've promised her and ourselves to tell Mr. Truro all about her, and then he or we must tell grandpapa, and who knows what he'll say? It's to be hoped he's not so busy and worried as he was when he was here before."

But the thought that it _might_ be the last time we should see our pretty princess--that grandpapa might even forbid our ever going to our palace, as we still called it, at all, made us rather sad and subdued, and it was not as merrily as usual that we ran through the tangle to the door in the wall.

"Be quick, Gerald," I said, when he had got the key in the lock, and was turning it--he always counted it his business; "what are you pulling at?"

"It's stiff to-day--it may have got rusty with it raining so yesterday,"

he said. For we still always left the key in the summer-house--we were afraid to take it into the house. "It needs oiling again, perhaps;" but he had managed to open the door by this time, and he took the key out of the lock as he spoke, and we all pa.s.sed through, Gerald locking the door again _inside_, and leaving the key in the lock, as we always did.

Regina was not yet there, but we were not surprised: she had said she might be late of coming, and we had not waited, just _for fear_ of nurse stopping us at the last minute. We amused ourselves with some of the puzzles she had brought and left for us to play with when we were not inclined for noisier games, and in about an hour, to our delight, we heard the key turn in the big door, and in came our princess, a basket on her arm, which she set down on the floor, while she locked the door inside, and put the key in her pocket.

"You needn't do that," said Tib and I, rather offended; "we're not going to try to go out of the room, since you told us you didn't want us to."

"I did it without thinking," said Regina. "I know I can trust you. Now kiss me, darlings, and let us be as happy as we can."

"But we're not very happy," we answered; and then we told her that grandpapa and Mr. Truro were coming the next day, and that perhaps we wouldn't be allowed to come to see her any more. She looked sorry, but not very surprised.

"We must hope the best," she said. "Mr. Truro is so kind, you say. Won't _he_, perhaps, be able to get your grandpapa to let you come?"

"Perhaps," we said. But it was only "perhaps."

But Regina wouldn't let us be sad. She opened her basket, which was filled with things she thought would please us, and we had our afternoon luncheon, as Gerald called it, together. Then as we weren't much in the humour for games, she sat and told us stories--such pretty ones, I wish I could write some of them down, for I believe she made them up out of her head--till, feeling afraid it was getting late, she looked at her watch, and jumped up in a fright, like Cinderella again.

"Darlings, darlings!" she cried, "I must go," and she kissed us very lovingly, but very hurriedly.

"And when are we to see you again?"

Regina shook her head.

"That is more for you to know than for me," she said. "We must leave it this way--if you _can_ come again, you'll find some message from me, and you can leave one for me, and then I'll come."

"But listen," I said; "the other day you said you weren't sure that _you_ could come, and to-day you didn't seem surprised that perhaps _we_ can't come. Regina, tell me, did you know grandpapa was coming before we did? _Are_ you a fairy?"

She shook her head, laughing, but she would say nothing, and in another moment she was gone.

We sat still, talking, for some time after she had gone--we couldn't help feeling dull and sad. We were so afraid of what grandpapa might say.

"It's a very good thing Mr. Truro's coming," said Tib. "It would have been too dreadful to have had to tell grandpapa ourselves."

"I don't see that," I said. "You speak as if we had done something very naughty, that we should be ashamed of telling. I'm not a bit afraid of telling grandpapa, in that way; _I'm_ only afraid for fear he should forbid us ever to come to the old house again;" we had left off calling it the palace, since Regina had explained it was really a house, and the "_old_ house" sounded nice, somehow.

"Well, yes," said Tib, "that's what I'm the most afraid of too, of course."

"And there's something we can't understand altogether," I went on. "Why did grandpapa stop us knowing anybody here? I'm sure the people at the Rectory would be kind to us, and I daresay there are other nice people.

Then, who is Regina? and how does she know about us? and whose house is this? and why is it shut up? and----" I stopped, out of breath.

"And who is the portrait? and why is it like her, and like me? And the lady at the Rectory--the oldish lady, and the young one Mr. Markham spoke of--who are they? Oh yes, there are just thousands of things we don't understand. I don't think I shall ever wish for mysteries again,"

said Tib, dolefully. "Just because Regina is so fond of us, and we are so fond of her--just because of that you may be sure we shall never see her again."

At these words Gerald began to cry. I was half vexed with him, and half sorry for him.

"Don't cry, Gerald," I said; "though, all the same, Tib, I don't see why you need always make the worst of things. It may be all right, Gerald dear--perhaps grandpapa may not mind. And just think how nice it would be to be able to have her to come to see us at Rosebuds!"

Gerald began drying his eyes, for which purpose another little grimy ball--this time blue and white--was brought into requisition.

"I'm sure I love her the best of us all," he said, as a sort of apology.

"You can't love her more than we do," said Tib and I, rather grumpily.

Then we began to think perhaps we had better be going home. We had some lessons still to do for Mr. Markham, and it must be near tea-time, though we weren't very hungry, on account of the afternoon luncheon we had had.

We left the saloon with a lingering look at all, especially at the old princess, as we now called her--our first friend, whom we felt we had rather neglected of late. There she was, smiling as usual, with the sweet, but slightly contemptuous smile she had always worn--as if she knew herself to be above all foolish weaknesses and changeablenesses, and could afford to smile at them amiably.