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FERNLEY HOUSE




BOOKS FOR GIRLS

By Laura E. Richards


_The_ MARGARET SERIES

        Three Margarets
        Margaret Montfort
        Peggy
        Rita
        Fernley House


_The_ HILDEGARDE SERIES

        Queen Hildegarde
        Hildegarde's Holiday
        Hildegarde's Home
        Hildegarde's Neighbors
        Hildegarde's Harvest

        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
        Publishers
        Estes Press, Summer St., Boston

[Illustration: "HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY, WERE
ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY."]




FERNLEY HOUSE

BY
LAURA E. RICHARDS

AUTHOR OF "CAPTAIN JANUARY," "MELODY," "QUEEN HILDEGARDE," "GEOFFREY
STRONG," ETC.

Illustrated by
ETHELDRED B. BARRY

[Illustration]

        BOSTON
        DANA ESTES & COMPANY
        PUBLISHERS




        _Copyright, 1901_
        BY DANA ESTES & COMPANY

        _All rights reserved_

        FERNLEY HOUSE

        Colonial Press
        Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
        Boston, Mass., U.S.A.




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE

      I. A DUET                                                       11

     II. MRS. PEYTON'S COMPANION                                      23

    III. AN ARRIVAL                                                   33

     IV. UNCLE JOHN'S IDEA                                            46

      V. A VISION                                                     58

     VI. ALI BABA                                                     70

    VII. MORE ARRIVALS                                                86

   VIII. HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF                                      100

     IX. ABOUT NOTHING IN PARTICULAR                                 114

      X. GRACE'S SYSTEM                                              128

     XI. THE MYSTERIES OF FERNLEY                                    143

    XII. THE EGG OF COLUMBUS                                         161

   XIII. IN THE TWILIGHT                                             168

    XIV. THE FIRE                                                    183

     XV. JEWELS: AND AN AWAKENING                                    195

    XVI. FOR AULD LANG SYNE                                          205

   XVII. IN THE GARDEN                                               217

  XVIII. UNCLE JOHN'S BIRTHDAY                                       225




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


                                                                    PAGE
  "HUGH AND MARGARET, ALL UNCONSCIOUS OF HER SCRUTINY,
    WERE ENJOYING THEMSELVES EXTREMELY"                    _Frontispiece_

  "MARGARET DID THE HONORS, STILL FEELING VERY SHY"                   29

  "AT THIS MOMENT POLLY APPEARED, RED-CHEEKED AND BREATHLESS"         33

  "SHE WAS A SLENDERER PEGGY, WITH THE SAME BLUE, HONEST EYES"        86

  "SHE LOOKED UP, AND SAW GRACE SITTING ON A BROAD, LOW BRANCH"      137

  "ON THE SECOND LANDING THEY PAUSED TO SALUTE THE OLD PORTRAITS"    148

  "A TALL, SLENDER FIGURE HALF RAN, HALF TOTTERED INTO THE ROOM"     181

  "'I PROPOSE... THE HEALTH OF THE BEST MAN... THAT LIVES
    UPON THIS EARTH TO-DAY;... THE HEALTH OF MY UNCLE JOHN!'"     238




FERNLEY HOUSE




CHAPTER I.

A DUET


"Well, Margaret!"

"Well, Uncle John!"

"Not a word to throw at a dog, as Rosalind says?"

"You are not a dog, Uncle John. Besides, you know all about it without
my saying a word, so why should I be silly, and spoil your comfortable
cigar? Dear children! They will have a delightful time, I hope; and of
course it is perfectly right that they should go to their father when he
wants them; and--the summer will pass quickly."

"Very quickly!" Mr. Montfort assented, watching his smoke rings float
upward.

"And Peggy is coming; and--oh, we shall be all right, of course we
shall; only--we do miss them, don't we, Uncle?"

"I should think we did! A house is a poor place without children; and we
flatter ourselves that our two--eh, Margaret?"

"Oh, they are the dearest children in the world," said Margaret with
conviction. "There is no possible doubt about that."

She sighed, and took up her work; Mr. Montfort blew smoke rings and
watched them melt into the air. There was an interval of sympathetic
silence.

The children, Basil and Susan D., Margaret's cousins, had hardly been
gone two hours, yet the time seemed already long to Margaret Montfort.
Fernley House, which only this morning had been so running over with joy
and sunlight, and happy noise and bustle, seemed suddenly to have become
a great empty barrack, full of nothing but silence. Margaret, after
putting away, sadly enough, the things that the children had left about,
had been glad to join her uncle on the pleasant back verandah that
overlooked the garden.

Fernley was in the full glory of early summer. The leaves were still
young, and too soft to rustle in the gently moving air; the laburnums
and honey-locusts were in blossom, and the bees came and went,
heavy-laden. The sombre, trailing branches of the great Norway spruces
touched the smooth green turf, starred here and there with English
daisies. Farther back, the tulip-trees towered stately, and the elm
branches swept the crest of the tall box hedges.

Margaret's eyes kept wandering from her work. How could she stitch, when
things were looking like this? There was the oriole, swinging on the
bough beside his nest, pouring out his song, "Joy! joy! joy!" The eggs
might be hatched to-day. Basil had begged her to promise that she would
let neither cat nor squirrel meddle with the young birds. What should
she do, if she saw a cat up there, forty feet from the ground? Dear
Basil! he never could understand why she could not climb trees as well
as he and Susan D. Dear Basil! dearest of boys! how nice he looked in
his new blue suit; and who would mend the first "barndoor" that he tore
in jacket or trousers?

And little Susan D.! the warm clasp of her arms seemed still about
Margaret's neck, in that last strangling hug of parting. She had grown
so dear, the little silent child! "I will be good," she whispered.
"Cousin Margaret, I will try not to die without you, and I will remember
the things you told me about papa; but don't make me stay very long,
because I haven't got enough goodness to last very long, you know I
haven't."

Margaret was roused from her reverie by her uncle's voice.

"When did you say Peggy was coming, my dear?"

"Next week, Uncle John. School closes on the eighteenth. Dear little
Peggy! think of her being a senior! it seems hardly possible. She is
afraid I shall tell her to put her hair up; I certainly shall not, at
least while she is here. I am sure you prefer the pigtail, don't you,
Uncle John?"

"Yes! oh, yes!" said Mr. Montfort, abstractedly. "Pigtail--yes, by all
means. And how will you and Peggy amuse yourselves, my dear? No Rita
this summer to electrify us all. You will not find it dull?"

"Dull, Uncle John? how could Fernley possibly be dull? Why, Peggy and I
are going to be as happy as possible. I have all kinds of plans made.
You see, it is time Peggy was learning something about housekeeping and
that sort of thing, and I thought this summer would be the very best
time to show her a little. Of course, when she is at home, she wants to
be doing twenty thousand things on the farm, just as she always has
done, and the time goes so quickly, she has not begun to think yet about
the indoor things; so I am going to be the Humdrum-major, Uncle, and
give her some lessons; if you approve, that is."

"Highly, my dear, highly. Every woman should be able to take care of her
own house, and the only way for her to learn is to begin upon some one
else's. I should think Peggy might make a vigorous little housekeeper,
if a chaotic one. Don't let her loose in the library, Margaret, that is
my only prayer."

"Uncle John, I really do believe that you think housekeeping consists
entirely in dusting and setting things to wrongs, as you call it."

"Well, my love, I confess that has always seemed to me a prime element
in the art. But I also confess my ignorance, and the depth and darkness
thereof. Am I humble enough? Now I must go and take the puppies for an
airing. Till dinner-time, May Margaret!"

Mr. Montfort strolled away, and Margaret bent with renewed energy over
her work, giving herself a little shake as she did so. Her uncle's words
still sounded in her ears: "You will not find it dull?" She had answered
out of the fulness of her heart, thinking it impossible that dulness
should come where Uncle John was, especially as he happened to be at
Fernley House, the most enchanting place in the world. Yet--and yet--it
was going to be very, very different, of course, from the life of the
past year, so filled full and running over with delight. It was not only
that she missed the children; it was that in the care of them, the
watching over the growing bodies and the eager minds, she was learning
so much herself, feeling the world grow, almost hourly, bigger and
brighter and sweeter. The mother-nature was strong in Margaret Montfort,
and the children were bringing out all that was best and strongest in
her. Well, she must do without that now for awhile; and there was no
doubt that the prospect seemed a little flat, even with Peggy to
brighten it. Dear Peggy! Margaret loved her fondly; but she was so grown
up now, so strong herself, so helpful and self-reliant, that there was
no question of taking care of her any more. "Why, she knows twenty times
as much as I do," said Margaret, "about most things, except history. I
don't suppose she will ever remember the difference between Mary Stuart
and Mary Tudor. But, foolish creature," cried Margaret to herself, "what
have you just been saying to Uncle John? Here is all the world of
housekeeping, about which Peggy knows little or nothing, and which,
thanks to Elizabeth and Frances, you do begin to understand a little. Is
it a small thing, I ask you, to teach the qualities and fine shades of
damask, and the high-lights of huckaback? or the different cuts of meat,
and when what is in season? I am ashamed of you, Margaret Montfort! And
then there are the puppies, too! Don't let me hear another word of
dulness from you, miss, do you hear? Perhaps you would like to be
weaving cotton in a factory this heavenly day, or selling yards of hot
stuffs in a shop? Go away!" and Margaret shook her head severely, and
was surprised at herself.

The puppies were two fine young setters, Nip and Tuck by name, which the
wise uncle had bought on purpose to soften the blow of the parting with
the children. Margaret had never known dogs before, and though Messrs.
Nip and Tuck were being strictly trained, and had to spend much of their
time in the stable-yard, she still had many a pleasant half-hour with
them, when her uncle took them for a run over hill and dale, or gave
them a lesson in the garden. Her one anxiety was lest they should meet
the Queen of Sheba, her great Angora cat, and there should be trouble;
for the Queen was a person of decided temper. Margaret had taken
infinite pains, ever since the arrival of the puppies, to keep them out
of one another's sight; but Mr. Montfort warned her that she was merely
putting off the inevitable, and that the day must come when cat and dogs
should meet.

It seemed a little hard that this meeting must take place when the
master was not present; but the finger of Fate pointed, and at this very
moment, while Margaret was sitting with her peaceful thoughts, Michael,
the stable-boy, chanced to drop the leash in which he was leading the
puppies to their master. Three minutes later, Nip and Tuck were
careering wildly around Margaret, leaping on her with frantic caresses,
and talking both at once, and very loud, as dear dogs will sometimes do.

"Down, Nip!" cried Margaret. "Tucky, do behave yourself. Now, boys,
however did you get away? Charge, do, like dear boys, and wait for the
master; he will be here in a minute."

Nip and Tuck explained breathlessly that they had just got out by the
luckiest chance in the world, that they loved her to distraction, and
that, upon the whole, they preferred her society to that of any one else
in the world, if only she would let them lick her nose. This Margaret
firmly refused to do, and they lay down panting for a moment, but only
for a moment. Again the finger of Fate pointed; and so it came to pass
that as Mr. Montfort came round one corner in search of his run-aways,
the Queen of Sheba came round the other. There seemed but one white
flash as the two puppies, recognizing their destiny on the instant, flew
to meet it, yelling like demons of the pit.

"Oh, Uncle John!" cried Margaret, starting up in distress. "My poor
Queen! my poor Sheba! they will--"

"I wouldn't worry, Margaret," said Mr. Montfort. "Sheba can take care of
herself, if I am not greatly mistaken."

The great cat stiffened herself into a bristling bow, and waited the
charge with gleaming eyes. The dogs' frenzied rush carried them within a
foot of her whiskers, and there they stopped. This was not what they had
looked for. They had seen cats before, and had chased them, with
infinite joy; their mother had taught them that cats were made to be
chased, with a special eye to the healthful amusement of good little
dogs. But this furry, glaring creature, radiating power and
menace,--could this be a cat?

Nip and Tuck put their heads on one side and considered. The Queen of
Sheba advanced one step, slowly; the puppies retired, too, and sat down,
wagging their tails. Perhaps, after all, it was a kind of dog; their
minds were cheerfully open to new impressions, and they were full of
good will toward all creation. Perceiving their innocence, the Queen of
Sheba, who had seen many generations of puppies, lowered her warlike
arch, and, sitting down opposite them, proceeded to wash herself
elaborately. Nip and Tuck looked on with open-mouthed admiration.
Presently Tuck, who was a bold dog, gave a short bark of decision, and,
stepping forward, began with infinite politeness to assist in the
washing. Sheba received the attention with regal condescension. Five
minutes later, all three walked off together, rubbing sides cordially,
and presumably in quest of rats.

Margaret drew a long breath. "Did you ever see anything like that?" she
cried. "Look, Uncle John; they are talking to one another; you can
almost hear the words. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Very pretty," said Mr. Montfort. "Now they'll be friends for life,
you'll see. Sheba will be of great assistance in their education. It
takes an intelligent cat to understand puppies, and Sheba is a
remarkably intelligent cat. Well, May Margaret, and now shall we take
our four-legged children for a walk?"

"Oh, Uncle John, I was so afraid you were not going to ask me! Will you
wait just half a minute while I get my hat? and on the way back I will
stop and see Mrs. Peyton. I have not been there since the dogs came or
the children went, and I ought to be ashamed."

Margaret ran up-stairs lightly, saying to herself as she ran, "Dull,
with that man? and Peggy and the puppies beside? Margaret Montfort, I
_am_ ashamed of you!"




CHAPTER II.

MRS. PEYTON'S COMPANION


"Dear me!" said Mrs. Peyton. "Here is Patience, down off her monument,
come all this way to smile at Grief! I am Grief, my dear; allow me to
introduce myself. Well, Margaret, and how do you get on without your
brats--I beg pardon! I mean your pets?"

"As well as could be expected," said Margaret, lightly, as she stooped
to kiss the ivory forehead. Mrs. Peyton was charming, but one did not
confide one's troubles to her. "We are behaving beautifully, Mrs. Peyton.
Not only have we dried our tears and hung our pocket-handkerchiefs
out to dry, but we have set up some new pets already."

"Not more children? Not another set of 'The Orphans of Fernley,' bound
in blue denim? That would be unendurable."

"No; four-legged pets this time. We have two dogs, Mrs. Peyton;
beautiful Gordon setters. I hope you are fond of dogs."

"Oh!--dogs? Yes, I like dogs. As a rule I like them better than
two-legged torments. You are a two-legged torment, Margaret, when you
move about the room in that exasperatingly light-footed manner. I don't
suppose you actually do it to make me feel my helplessness, but it has
that effect. Do sit down! you are not a bird. And don't, for pity's
sake, look patient! If there is one thing I cannot abide, it is to see
people look patient when I insult them. If I had only