Chapter XX: Violet at Home Again

"OH, mother, how glad I am to be at home again!" cried Violet Wyndham, sincerity in her tone, her eyes shining with a joyous light.

The Wyndhams, mother, father, and children, were assembled in the sitting-room on the evening of Violet's return to her home, after the evening meal, which had been later than usual on the traveller's account. The gas was lit, but the blind was up and the window open wide to admit as much air as possible, for the weather was almost intolerably hot in London. Close to the window Mrs. Wyndham was seated, Violet at her side, and her husband opposite to her, whilst the others hovered around.

"I wonder how many times you've said that within the last hour, Violet," remarked Mr. Wyndham, smiling. "She doesn't appear the least tired, does she?" he continued, addressing his wife; "see what a colour she has! she makes Ruth and Madge look quite pale."

"Oh, I'm not in the least tired," declared Violet, "though it was a very hot journey and the air seemed to get closer and closer as we came further south. I am glad you have met Ann, father; what did you think of her?"

"My dear Violet, I only saw her for a minute or so before her aunt came up and took her away. I noticed she had her father's eyes, however."

"Yes," nodded Violet. "I was disappointed that you did not see more of her, but one cannot say much on a railway-platform, anyway."

"She has gone to stay with a sister of her mother's, has she not?" questioned Ruth. She sat with her eyes fixed on Violet's face, not saying much, but listening attentively to all Violet said.

"Yes. Her aunt met her and took her away in a grand carriage with a pair of horses and servants in livery, whilst father and I got into a humble cab." Violet laughed gaily, and proceeded: "Oh, dear me, how that cab crawled along—or so it seemed to me. I was in such a fever of impatience to get home, wasn't I, father?"

"You were, my dear," Mr. Wyndham replied, "and when at last the cab pulled up you wouldn't wait for me to open the door but opened it yourself, jumped out, and simply flew like a whirlwind into the house."

"Yes," smiled Violet, "and there, in the passage, were mother, and Ruth, and Madge, and the boys—"

"And she kissed all round beginning with mother and ending with me," broke in Billy, "and then she made a rush towards the kitchen stairs to look for Barbara who was coming up, and they bumped against each other and Barbara's cap fell off!" He burst into a roar of laughter, in which his brother joined, at the remembrance of the scene.

"It was a clean cap," said Madge; "Barbara had put it on in honour of Violet; she has been as excited about your return as any of us, Vi."

"Yes," said Frank, "and she's been making such preparations for your arrival, scrubbing and cleaning, and she's been as cross as two sticks."

"You know, dear, she generally is cross when she's more than usually busy," Mrs. Wyndham observed; "I think it's because she does not know what to do first. I make it a rule now to leave her to herself at such times, that's far the best plan."

"Violet doubtless remembers Barbara's peculiarities," remarked Mr. Wyndham, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

They all laughed; they were ready to laugh at very little that evening, for it was so delightful to be all together again, and it added to the pleasure of the occasion to see how full of contentment and happiness Violet appeared. Her eyes took in everything about her as she talked, the fresh curtains in the window, the flowers on the table, and many other evidences that went to prove that efforts had been made to make the room look as attractive as possible on her arrival. She guessed that Ruth had been hard at work all day, and there was tenderness as well as affection in her glance as it rested on her elder sister.

"I can hardly realise now that I have been away from you all for more than six months," she said by-and-by, "and yet, sometimes, at Barford, I used to feel as though I had been parted from you for years."

"You have been very happy, haven't you, dear?" questioned her mother; "the Reeds have been unfailingly kind to you, haven't they?"

"They have been kindness itself always. I've been treated like Ann in every way. At first everything was very strange and I thought Mrs. Reed very strict and particular, but I don't think that now. I've grown to understand her, and I love her dearly. Indeed I have met with a great deal of kindness from everyone, except—except—"

Violet's voice faltered and broke off, whilst the flush in her cheeks deepened and her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

"My dear, what is it?" questioned Mrs. Wyndham, in dismay.

"I didn't mean to tell you to-night," said Violet; "but I suppose I may as well and get it over. I couldn't very well write and explain."

"Someone has been unkind to you?" asked Ruth; "not Ann, surely?"

"Ann?" cried Violet; "what can you be thinking of, Ruth? Why Ann wouldn't be unkind to anyone—not to her worst enemy! But I don't believe she ever had an enemy. It's Agnes Hosking! She's a mean, wicked, cruel—"

"Hush, hush, Violet," interposed her father; "don't get excited and use such violent language. Why, your face is crimson with passion! Try to tell us quietly what Agnes Hosking has done."

Accordingly Violet told the tale of the loss of the tortoise-shell purse, which was listened to with great interest, but when she came to speak of the suspicion which had been put upon her, her parents looked very grave and the indignation of her sisters and brothers knew no bounds.

Agnes had behaved most shamefully, they declared, and she ought to have been severely punished in spite of her apology.

"It is a great pity she was invited to the Reeds' house at all." Ruth observed, when they had all quieted down a little; "I said so at the time, I remember. How did it come about, Violet?"

"She asked me to get her an invitation and I did," Violet admitted, "no one had invited her out to tea all the term. I made a mistake in acting as I did, and I have had to suffer for it. Ann is always hoping the purse may turn up, but that's most unlikely now; I expect Agnes dropped it in the street, and whoever picked it up kept it— you see there was considerably more than a pound in it. Oh, dear, it has been a most disagreeable affair altogether, and has caused me more unhappiness than I can express!"

"I have no doubt of that," said Mr. Wyndham; "but we won't let it overshadow your first evening at home, Violet. You have been badly treated, but the truth will prevail—it always does sooner or later—and I believe those girls who have been prejudiced against you will eventually learn that they have done you an injustice, though they may not acknowledge it in so many words."

"I am sure your father is right, Violet darling," said Mrs. Wyndham eagerly, with a brightening countenance; "no one who really knows you could believe you capable of—of theft." She hesitated over the last word, and flushed sensitively.

"No, indeed," agreed Madge. "Oh, you poor, dear Violet, how miserably unhappy you must have been!" The little girl's voice was full of sympathy.

"And how miserably unhappy we should have been if we had known what was going on!" cried Ruth.

"I'm glad we didn't know," said Billy ingenuously. "It wouldn't have done any good if we had," he added quickly, wondering if his candid remark had sounded a little unkind, he had not meant it to be that.

"Don't you think we might, with advantage, change the subject of our conversation?" suggested Mr. Wyndham. "You have said enough about your enemy for to-night, Violet, let us hear about your friends—those two girls whom you went to see in the Easter holidays, for instance. Let me see, what was it they were called?"

"Garret," Violet replied, and forthwith launched into a lengthy description of the Garret girls, whom, next to Ann Reed, she counted as her best friends, and Agnes Hosking's name did not occur in the conversation again.

The family party did not break up till late that night, and long after the rest of the household slept Ruth and Violet talked in their own room. They had so much to say to each other, and excitement kept them from feeling sleepy.

"I believe you have grown inches," declared Ruth, as she sat on her sister's box, whilst Violet, standing before the dressing-table, brushed her wavy brown hair, "and you are looking remarkably well. How do you think father is looking?"

"Capital! I noticed the difference in him the instant I caught sight of him when our train ran into the station; he looks so much younger and brighter than when I went away, and I'm sure he doesn't stoop so much. Oh, Ruthie, you can't think how rejoiced I felt when I heard of his good fortune!"

"I think I can," Ruth replied, smiling happily. "Were you disappointed when you heard we were going to remain on here?" she inquired.

Violet nodded. "Just a little," she admitted, "but it is a nice little house really; I thought how comfortable the sitting-room was to-night, you've improved it."

"Oh, you noticed that!" Ruth exclaimed, much gratified; "I was so afraid the house would appear very mean and small after the one you have been accustomed to lately."

"It's home," Violet said softly, "going away has taught me one thing at any rate, that there's no place so dear as home."

Ruth's face glowed with delight. She had not dared to expect that Violet would return in this contented frame of mind, and she was secretly a little puzzled. It was beginning to dawn on her already that her sister had altered—improved, she thought.

"But, as I said downstairs, I've been very happy at Barford," Violet proceeded; "except for the unpleasantness in connection with Agnes Hosking everything has gone well. Oh, Ruthie, I'm so ashamed when I think of—but there I'll tell you all about it!" And forthwith she explained the pressure Agnes Hosking had put upon her to obtain the invitation to Laureston Square, and how she had weakly yielded to it. She did not look at Ruth the while she was speaking; but, when she had ceased, she glanced around at her and saw an amazed, shocked countenance.

"Oh, Violet," gasped Ruth, at length, "what could the Reeds have thought of you?"

"I don't know what Dr. and Mrs. Reed thought of me, for they never said. I explained everything to Ann, and she told her parents. Ann was amazed, she didn't seem able to understand me—"

"I understand you," interposed Ruth, reproach in her voice, "you were ashamed that your well-to-do school-fellows should know of our poor circumstances, and yet you were not ashamed to bribe Agnes to hold her tongue—it was actually that."

"I knew you would be very disgusted with me," sighed Violet, "and I admit that you have reason to be. Oh, Ruthie, I wish I were more like you and Ann Reed! I wish I didn't care for outside opinion; Ann doesn't care in the very least, and I know if she had been in my place she would have defied Agnes Hosking. That's what I ought to have done, but I was such a mean-spirited coward. You can't think worse of me than I think of myself; only, do believe that in the same circumstances I would act very differently now."

She looked at her sister appealingly as she spoke, and there was a ring of sincerity in her tone, which the other could not fail to note. "You do believe it, don't you?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes," Ruth answered. She never could be angry long with Violet, and, rising, she went to her side and kissed her affectionately.

"Oh, Ruthie, what a dear you are!" cried Violet, as she warmly returned the caress. There was a little choke in her voice. A moment later, she exclaimed: "Listen, surely that's the dining-room clock striking twelve!"

"Yes. We must go to bed and not talk any more to-night."

Accordingly they went to bed, and as soon as Violet laid her head on the pillow she discovered that she really was tired, so that it was not long before she was fast asleep. Ruth lay quietly by her side, listening to her regular breathing, and thinking over all she had heard that evening. It was nearly daybreak before she fell asleep.