That was at the rectory breakfast table on the last
morning of the visit, and that was Aunt Belle, Mrs.
Pyke Pounce, coming into Rosalie’s life.
“Come and give me a kiss then”; that was
kind, kind Aunt Belle, inviting acknowledgment of
her kindness and the kindness of Uncle Pyke (with
a cheque) and the kindness of Cousin Laetitia (with
a box of beautiful cast-off clothes that would do
beautifully for Rosalie’s school outfit).
“The dear child!” That was Aunt Belle’s
acknowledgment of Rosalie’s most dutiful and
most affectionate and most delighted kiss. (Most amazed
and excited and rather fearful Rosalie! Going
to school! Going away to a boarding school in
London!)
“The dear child!” Such a warm and loving
kiss from Rosalie! And time was to prove it the
kiss of Judas! Yes, in a few years, “I’ve
done everything for you!” Aunt Belle was to cry.
“Everything! And this is the return I get!”
Next, in its turn, and exactly a fortnight before
the beginning of the term at which Rosalie was to
join the boarding school in London, came the letter
from Uncle Tom in India, and with it the beginning
of the second upheaval in the chain of upheavals.
All of this upheaval was very bewildering to Rosalie.
She never understood it properly. At the beginning
it had nothing at all to do with Anna, and yet Anna
from the very first reading of Uncle Tom’s letter—All
that Rosalie understood of it was this.
First the letter came. Tremendous excitement!
Father in wild excitement, Flora and Hilda in frantic
excitement, everyone in highest excitement. Father
read the letter aloud at breakfast to Rosalie’s
mother and to the girls. Such a splendid letter,
said father. Really, Tom was a splendid fellow,
said father. He had wronged Tom. He had
thought Tom selfish in his wealthy indifference.
By Jove, Tom wasn’t. “By Jove, the
way Tom wrote almost brought tears to your eyes.
Listen to this. Listen, mother. Listen, you
girls.”
Uncle Tom, said the letter, would by all means, old
man, have one of the girls. He’d no idea
that things were so bad with you. Poor old man!
Why didn’t you tell us before? He was sending
home a small draft to Field and Company, his bankers,
to help towards the girl’s outfit and her passage
money. “‘Which girl shall you send?’
you ask. Well, it’s no good asking us,
old man. You must decide that for yourselves.
She’ll be abundantly welcome, whichever it is,
and we can promise her a jolly good time. We
are at Simla most of the year. If you want my
advice which girl to send, send the pretti—”
Father stopped reading.
Rosalie was staring at Anna. Anna’s face,
which had been pale, suddenly went crimson. The
suddenness and the violence of it was extraordinary.
One moment she had been pale. In the next, she
was burning red. It was exactly as if a crimson
paint had suddenly been dashed over the whole of her
face. It was extraordinary. Whatever was
it? That nose of hers, perhaps? a sudden frightful
twinge like Rosalie once had had a sudden most awful
jump in a tooth? But Anna didn’t say anything
and no one but Rosalie seemed to notice it. They
were all intent upon father. So intent! Flora’s
eyes were simply shining!
