Princess Sarah and Other Stories Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  HER NEW-FOUND AUNT

  A short, stout, well-dressed woman stood upon the door-step, and thecabman was just hauling a box off the roof of his cab.

  "Mr. Gray's 'ouse?" demanded the stout lady. "Ah, pore thing! I seeit's all over. Pore thing! Well, I'm sorry, of course, though I don'tsuppose 'e'll be much loss to any one; pore, dreaming, shiftless thing!"

  "Miss Sarah is here, mum," said the old nurse, pointing severely towardsthe door of the sitting-room.

  "Miss Sarah--oh, the child! Eh, well, my dear," going into the room,and taking Sarah's limp and shaking hand, "I'm sorry to come on such anerrand the first time ever I see you; but that was your pore pa's fault,not mine. I never was one to turn my back on my own flesh andblood--never, though perhaps I say it that shouldn't; but your pore pa,he was that awkward when he got a crotchet into his 'ead, that there wasno doing aught with him. I think you favour your ma, my dear," shecontinued, with a complete change of tone. "Your pore pa-- Eh? What?oh, the cab! Yes, I'll come," and then she bustled out, fumbling at thefastening of a small leather bag which hung over her wrist, and leavingpoor Sarah struck dumb with astonishment.

  The child crept to the door and watched her new-found aunt settle withthe cabman; and it is certain that never had Sarah seen a cabman settledwith in that fashion before. They had not indulged in many cabs duringthe course of her short life; but, on the few occasions that they hadenjoyed such luxuries, her father had paid for them with the air of aprince, and with a liberality such as made dispute out of the question.Alas, poor child! if the loving father now lying white and silent in theroom above had had less of that princely air, and still less of thatprincely instinct of hospitality and generosity, life would at thatmoment probably have been very different for her. But all this wasbeyond Sarah, who was very young, and therefore not likely to see theadvantages of the lengthened haggling process going on just then at thegate. A moment later Mrs. Stubbs entered the house again in triumph.

  "Lot of thieving vagabonds them cabmen are, to be sure!" she remarked,with an air of indignation mingled with satisfaction. "But he don't getthe better of me, not if I know it; and so I told him. But, dear! dear!_'Ow_ like your pore ma you are, child! Stubbs 'll be glad of it--henever could abide him as is gone, pore thing! Well, well, we needn'tsay aught again him now, for he won't trouble us no more; only, as Isay, Stubbs 'll be glad of it."

  "Please, who _is_ Mr. Stubbs?" Sarah asked plaintively, feelinginstinctively that she had better not try to argue with this strangerelative.

  Mrs. Stubbs, however, was so taken aback at so unexpected a question,that she was obliged to sit down, the better to show the extent of herastonishment.

  "Well, I don't 'old with it!" she exclaimed to the nurse, who had comein to spread the cloth for a cup of tea which the visitor had expressedherself able and willing to take. "It's bringing up the child like a'eathen in ignorance of what her own flesh and blood's very namesis--'pon my word it is; it's 'eathenish."

  "_Miss Sarah_ doesn't understand," put in the old nurse pointedly.

  For a moment Mrs. Stubbs gasped, much as she might have done if theolder woman had dashed a pail of water in her face; but she took thehint with a very good grace, and turned to Sarah again.

  "Your pore ma, my dear, was Stubbs' own sister," she said.

  "Then Mr. Stubbs is my uncle--my own uncle?" Sarah asked.

  "Your own uncle, and I'm your aunt; not your own aunt, of course, Sarah,but that's no matter. I've a good and a feeling 'eart, whatever otherfaults I may have to carry; and what's Stubbs' flesh and blood is myflesh and blood, and so you'll find. Besides, I've seven children of myown, and my 'eart feels for them that has no father nor mother to standby 'em. And I believe in sticking to your own--everybody's not like_that_, Sarah, though maybe I say it that shouldn't. There is folksthat believes in wearing yourself to the bone for other people'sadvantage, and letting your own flesh and blood starve in the gutter, soto speak. Ah, well, I ain't one of that sort, and I'm thankful for it,Sarah."

  Poor little desolate Sarah, with her suddenly empty life and greataching void in her heart, crept a shade closer to her new-found aunt,and rested her tired head against her substantial arm.

  "And I have seven cousins of my own?" she said, the shadows in her eyesclearing away for a moment.

  "_Seven_ cousins of your own!" cried Mrs. Stubbs, in an ecstasy ofenjoyment. "_Seven_, Sarah, my dear! Why, I have seven children!"

  "And have I some more aunts and uncles?" Sarah asked, feeling not alittle bewildered.

  "Why, dear, yes, three aunts and two uncles on your pore ma's side, tosay naught of all there may be on your pa's side, with which I'm notfamiliar," said Mrs. Stubbs, with a certain air such as conveyed toSarah that her ignorance was a decided loss to her father's family ingeneral.

  "There's your Uncle Joe--he 'as five boys, and lives at 'Ampstead; andthere's your Uncle George--he 'as only three girls, and lives in greatstyle at Brighton. He's in the corn trade, is your Uncle George."

  Instinctively Sarah realized why once, when they had been going to theseaside for a fortnight, her father had said, "No, no, not Brighton,"when that town was suggested; and as instinctively she kept therecollection to herself.

  "And then there's Polly--your Aunt Mary, Sarah! She's the fine lady ofthe family--very 'aughty, she is, though her and me 'as always been verygood friends, always. Still, she's uncommon 'aughty, and maybe she 'asa right, for she married a gentleman in the City, and keeps her carriageand pair and a footman, too. Ah, well! she 'asn't a family, 'asn't Mrs.Lennard; perhaps if she 'ad 'ad seven children, like me, she'd have 'adto be content with a broom, as I am."

  "We have a broom, too," said Sarah, watching the visitor stir her tearound and round; "indeed, we have two, and a very old one that Jane usesto sweep out the yard with."

  For a minute Mrs. Stubbs was too thoroughly astounded to speak; then shesubsided into weak fits of laughter, such as told Sarah she had made aterrible mistake somehow.

  "A very old one to sweep out the yard with!" Mrs. Stubbs cried in gasps."Oh, dear, dear! Why, child, you're just like a little 'eathen. Abroom is a carriage, a close carriage, something like a four-wheel cab,only better. Oh, dear, dear! and we keep three, do we? Oh, _what_ ajoke to tell Stubbs!"

  "Miss Sarah knows," struck in the old nurse, with some indignation; "thedoctor's carriage is what Mrs. Stubbs calls a broom, dearie."

  Sarah turned her crimson face from one to the other. "But Father alwayscalled that kind of carriage a _bro_-am," she emphasized, "and I didn'tknow you meant the same, Aunt."

  "Well, never mind, my dear; I shouldn't 'ave laughed at you," returnedMrs. Stubbs, stirring her tea again with fat complaisance. "Littlefolks can't be expected to know everything, though there are some asdoes expect it, and most unreasonable it is of 'em. Only, Sarah, it'smore stylish to say broom, so try to think of it, there's a good girl."

  "I'll try," said Sarah, hoping that she had somewhat retrieved hercharacter by knowing what kind of carriage her aunt meant by a "broom."

  Then Mrs. Stubbs had another cup of tea, which she seemed to enjoyparticularly.

  "And you would like to go upstairs, mum?" said the nurse, as she set thecup down.

  "Why, yes, nurse, it's my duty to go, and I'm not one as is everbackward in doing 'er duty," Mrs. Stubbs replied, upheaving herself fromthe somewhat uncertain depths of the big chair, the only easy chair inthe house.

  So the two women went up above together to visit that something whichSarah had not seen since the moment of death.

  She sat just where they left her--a way she had, for Sarah was a veryquiet child--wondering how life would be with this new-found aunt ofhers. She was very kind, Sarah decided, and would be very good to her,she knew; and yet--yet--there was something about her from which sheshrank instinctively--something she knew would have offended her fatherbeyond everything.

  Po
or Sarah! At that moment Mrs. Stubbs was standing beside all that wasleft of him that had loved her so dearly during all the years of hershort life.

  "Pore thing!" she was saying. "Pore thing! We weren't good friends,nurse, but we must not think of that now; and I'll be a mother to hislittle girl just as if there'd never been a cloud between us. Porething, only thirty-six! Ah, well, pore thing; but he makes a prettycorpse!"

  "Pore thing!" she was saying. "Pore thing!"]