The day of Evelyn’s freedom came to an end. No remark had been made with regard to her extraordinary dress; no comments when she declined to accompany her own special guest to her bedroom. She was allowed to have her own sweet will. She went up-stairs very late, and, on the whole, not discontented. She had enjoyed her chat with some of the strange children who had arrived that afternoon. Lady Frances had scarcely looked at her. That fact did not worry her in the least. She had said good-night in quite a patronizing tone to both her aunt and uncle, she did not trouble even to seek for Audrey, and went up to her room singing gaily to herself. She had a fine, strong contralto voice, and she had not the slightest idea of keeping it in suppression. She sang the chorus of a common-place song which had been popular on the ranch. Lady Frances quite shuddered as she heard her. Presently Evelyn reached her own room, where Jasper was awaiting her. Jasper knew her young mistress thoroughly. She had not the slightest idea of putting herself out too much with regard to Evelyn, but at the same time she knew that Evelyn would be very cross and disagreeable if she had not her comforts; accordingly, the fire burned clear and bright, and there were preparations for the young girl’s favorite meal of chocolate and biscuits already going on.

“Oh dear!” said Evelyn, “I am tired; but we have had quite a good time. Of course when the Castle belongs to me I shall always keep it packed with company. There is no fun in a big place like this unless you have heaps of guests. Aunt Frances was quite harmless to-night.”

“Harmless!” cried Jasper.

“Yes; that is the word. She took no notice of me at all. I do not mind that. Of course she is jealous, poor thing! And perhaps I can scarcely wonder. But if she leaves me alone I will leave her alone.”

“You are conceited, Evelyn,” said Jasper. “How could that grand and stately lady be jealous of a little girl like yourself?”

“I think she is, all the same,” replied Evelyn. “And, by the way, Jasper, I do not care for that tone of yours. Why do you call me a little girl and speak as though you had no respect for me?”

“I love you too well to respect you, darling,” replied Jasper.

“Love me too well! But I thought people never loved others unless they respected them.”

“Yes, but they do,” answered Jasper, with a short laugh. “How should I love you if that was not the case?”

Evelyn grew red and a puzzled expression flitted across her face.

“I should like my chocolate,” she said, sinking into a chair by the fire. “Make it for me, please.”

Jasper did so without any comment. It was long past midnight; the little clock on the mantelpiece pointed with its jeweled hands to twenty minutes to one.

“I shall not get up early,” said Evelyn. “Aunt Frances was annoyed at my not being down this morning, but she will have to bear it. You will get me a very nice breakfast, won’t you, dear old Jasper? When I wake you will have things very cozy, won’t you, Jas?”

“Yes, darling; I’ll do what I can. By the way, Evelyn, you ought not to have let that poor Miss Sylvia come up here and go off by herself.”

Evelyn pouted.

“I won’t be scolded,” she said. “You forget your place, Jasper. If you go on like this it might really be best for you to go.”

“Oh, I meant nothing,” said Jasper, in some alarm; “only it did seem – you will forgive my saying it – not too kind.”

“I like Sylvia,” said Evelyn; “she is handsome and she says funny things. I mean to see a good deal more of her. Now I am sleepy, so you may help me to get into bed.”

The spoilt child slept in unconscious bliss, and the next morning, awaking late, desired Jasper to fetch her breakfast. Jasper rang the bell. After a time a servant appeared.

“Will you send Miss Wynford’s breakfast up immediately?” said Jasper.

The girl, a neat-looking housemaid, withdrew. She tapped at the door again in a few minutes.

“If you please, Miss Jasper,” she said, “Lady Frances’s orders are that Miss Evelyn is to get up to breakfast.”

Jasper, with a slight smirk on her face, went into Evelyn’s bedroom to retail this message. Evelyn’s face turned the color of chalk with intense anger.

“Impertinent woman!” she murmured. “Go down immediately yourself, Jasper, and bring me up some breakfast. Go – do you hear? I will not be ruled by Lady Frances.”

Jasper very unwillingly went down-stairs. She returned in about ten minutes to inform Evelyn that it was quite useless, that Lady Frances had given most positive orders, and that there was not a servant in the house who would dare to disobey her.

“But you would dare,” said the angry child. “Why did you not go into the larder and fetch the things yourself?”

“The cook took care of that, Miss Evelyn; the larder door was locked.”

“Oh, dear me!” said Evelyn; “and I am so hungry.” She began to cry.

“Had you not better get up, Evelyn?” said the maid. “The servants told me down-stairs that breakfast would be served in the breakfast-room to-day up to ten o’clock.”

“Do you think I am going to let her have the victory over me?” said Evelyn. “No; I shall not stir. I won’t go to meals at all if this sort of thing goes on. Oh, I am cruelly treated! I am – I am! And I am so desperately hungry! Is not there even any chocolate left, Jasper?”

“I am sorry to say there is not, dear – you finished it all, to the last drop, last night; and the tin with the biscuits is empty also. There is nothing to eat in this room. I am afraid you will have to hurry and dress yourself – that is, if you want breakfast.”

“I won’t stir,” said Evelyn – “not if she comes to drag me out of bed with cart-ropes.”

Jasper stood and stared at her young charge.

“You are very silly, Miss Evelyn,” she said. “You will have to submit to her ladyship. You are only a very young girl, and you will find that you cannot fight against her.”

Evelyn now covered her face with her handkerchief, and her sobs became distressful.

“Come, dear, come!” said Jasper not unkindly; “let me help you to get into your clothes.”

But Evelyn pushed her devoted maid away with vigorous hands.

“Don’t touch me. I hate you!” she said. – “Oh mothery, mothery, why did you die and leave me? Oh, your own little Evelyn is so wretched!”

“Now, really, Miss Evelyn, I am angry with you. You are a silly child! You can dress and go down-stairs and have as nice a breakfast as you please. I heard them talking in the breakfast-room as I went by. They were such a merry party!”

“Much they care for me!” said Evelyn.

“Well, they don’t naturally unless you go and make yourself pleasant. But there, Miss Evelyn! if you don’t get up, I cannot do without my breakfast, so I am going down to the servants’ hall.”

“Oh! could not you bring me up a little bit of something, Jasper – even bread – even dry bread? I don’t mind how stale it is, for I am quite desperately hungry.”

“Well, I’ll try if I can smuggle something,” said Jasper; “but I do not believe I can, all the same.”

The woman departed, anxious for her meal.

She came back in a little over half an hour, to find Evelyn sitting up in bed, her eyes red from all the tears she had shed, and her face pale.

“Well,” she said, “have you brought up anything?”

“Only hot water for your bath, my dear. I was not allowed to go off even with a biscuit.”

“Oh dear! then I’ll die – I really shall. You don’t know how weak I am! Aunt Frances will have killed me! Oh, this is too awful!”

“You had better get up now, Miss Evelyn. You are very fat and stout, my dear, and missing one meal will not kill you, so don’t think it.”

“I know what I do think, Jasper, and that is that you are horrid!” said Evelyn.

But she had scarcely uttered the words before there came a low but very distinct knock on the door. Jasper went to open it. Evelyn’s heart began to beat with a mixture of alarm and triumph. Of course this was some one coming with her breakfast. Or could it be, possibly – But no; even Lady Frances would not go so far as to come to gloat over her victim’s miseries.

Nevertheless, it was Lady Frances. She walked boldly into the room.

“You can go, Jasper,” she said. “I have something I wish to say to Miss Wynford.”

Jasper, in considerable annoyance, withdrew, but returned after a minute and placed her ear to the keyhole. Lady Frances did not greatly mind, however, whether she was overheard or not.

“Get up, Evelyn,” she said. “Get up at once and dress yourself.”

“I – I don’t want to get up,” murmured Evelyn.

“Come! I am waiting.”

Lady Frances sat down on a chair. Her eyes traveled slowly round the disorderly room; displeasure grew greater in her face.

“Get up, my dear – get up,” she said. “I am waiting.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“I am afraid your wanting to or not wanting to makes little or no difference, Evelyn. I stay here until you get up. You need not hurry yourself; I will give you until lunch-time if necessary, but until you get up I stay here.”

“And if,” said Evelyn in a tremulous voice, “I don’t get up until after lunch?”

“Then you do without food; you have nothing to eat until you get up. Now, do not let us discuss this point any longer; I want to be busy over my accounts.”

Lady Frances drew a small table towards her, took a note-book and a Letts’s Diary from a bag at her side, and became absorbed in the irritating task of counting up petty expenses. Lady Frances no more looked at Evelyn than if she had not existed. The angry little girl in the bed even ventured to make faces in the direction of the tyrannical lady; but the tyrannical lady saw nothing. Jasper outside the door found it no longer interesting to press her ear to the keyhole. She retired in some trepidation, and presently made herself busy in Evelyn’s boudoir. For half an hour the conflict went on; then, as might be expected, Evelyn gingerly and with intense dislike put one foot out of bed.

Lady Frances saw nothing. She was now murmuring softly to herself. She had long – very long – accounts to add up.

Evelyn drew the foot back again.

“Nasty, horrid, horrid thing!” she said to herself. “She shall not have the victory. But, oh, I am so hungry!” was her next thought; “and she does mean to conquer me. Oh, if only mothery were alive!”

At the thought of her mother Evelyn burst into loud sobs. Surely these would draw pity from that heart of stone! Not at all. Lady Frances went calmly on with her occupation.

Finally, Evelyn did get up. She was not accustomed to dressing herself, and she did so very badly. Lady Frances did not take the slightest notice. In about half an hour the untidy toilet was complete. Evelyn had once more donned her crimson velvet dress.

“I am ready,” she said then, and she came up to Lady Frances’s side.

Lady Frances dropped her pencil, raised her eyes, and fixed them on Evelyn’s face.

“Where do you keep your dresses?” she said.

“I don’t know. Jasper knows.”

“Is Jasper in the next room?”

“Yes.”

“Go and fetch her.”

Evelyn obeyed. She imagined her head was giddy and that her legs were too weak to enable her to walk steadily.

“Jasper, come,” she said in a tremulous voice.

“Poor darling! Poor pet!” muttered Jasper in an injudicious undertone to her afflicted charge.

Lady Frances was now standing up.

“Come here, Jasper,” she said. “In which wardrobe do you keep Miss Wynford’s dresses?”

“In this one, madam.”

“Open it and let me see.”

The maid obeyed. Lady Frances went to the wardrobe and felt amongst skirts of different colors, different materials, and different degrees of respectability. Without exception they were all unsuitable; but presently she chose the least objectionable, an ugly drab frieze, and lifting it herself from its hook, laid it on the bed.

“Is there a bodice for this dress?” she asked of the maid.

“Yes, madam. Miss Evelyn used to wear that on the ranch. She has outgrown it rather.”

“Put it on your young mistress and let me see her.”

“I won’t wear that horrid thing!” said Evelyn.

“You will wear what I choose.”

Again Evelyn submitted. The dress was put on. It was not becoming, but was at least quiet in appearance.

“You will wear that to-day,” said her aunt. “I will myself take you into town this afternoon to get some suitable clothes. – Jasper, I wish Miss Evelyn’s present wardrobe to be neatly packed in her trunks.”

“Yes, madam.”

“No, no, Aunt Frances; you cannot mean it,” said Evelyn.

“My dear, I do. – Before you go, Jasper, I have one thing to say. I am sorry, but I cannot help myself. Your late mistress wished you to remain with Miss Wynford. I grieve to say that you are not the kind of person I should wish to have the charge of her. I will myself get a suitable maid to look after the young lady, and you can go this afternoon. I will pay you well. I am sorry for this; it sounds cruel, but it is really cruel to be kind. – Now, Evelyn, what is the matter?”

“Only I hate you! Oh, how I hate you!” said Evelyn. “I wish mothery were alive that she might fight you! Oh, you are a horrid woman! How I hate you!”

“When you come to yourself, Evelyn, and you are inclined to apologize for your intemperate words, you can come down-stairs, where your belated breakfast awaits you.”

CHAPTER X. – JASPER WAS TO GO

What will not hunger – real, healthy hunger – effect? Lady Frances, after her last words, swept out of the room; and Jasper, her bosom heaving, her black eyes flashing angry fire, looked full at her little charge. What would Evelyn do now? The spoilt child, who could scarcely brook the smallest contradiction, who had declined to get up even to breakfast, to do without Jasper! To allow her friend Jasper to be torn from her arms – Jasper, who had been her mother’s dearest companion, who had sworn to that mother that she would not leave Evelyn come what might, that she would protect her against the tyrant aunt and the tyrant uncle, that if necessary she would fight for her with the power which the law bestows! Oh, what an awful moment had arrived! Jasper was to go. What would Evelyn do now?

Evelyn’s first impulse had been all that was satisfactory. Her fury had burst forth in wild, indignant words. But now, when the child and the maid found themselves alone, Jasper waited in expectancy which was almost certainty. Evelyn would not submit to this? She and her charge would leave Castle Wynford together that very day. If they were eventually parted, the law should part them.

Still Evelyn was silent.

“Oh Eve – my dear Miss Evelyn – my treasure!” said the afflicted woman.

“Yes, Jasper?” said Evelyn then. “It is an awful nuisance.”

“A nuisance! Is that all you have got to say?”

Evelyn rubbed her eyes.

“I won’t submit, of course,” she said. “No, I won’t submit for a minute. But, Jasper, I must have some breakfast; I am too hungry for anything. Perhaps you had better take all my darling, lovely clothes; and if you have to go, Jasper, I’ll – I’ll never forget you; but I’ll talk to you more about it when I have had something to eat.”

Evelyn turned and left the room. She was in an ugly dress, beyond doubt, but in her neat black shoes and stockings, and with her fair hair tied back according to Lady Frances’s directions, she looked rather more presentable than she had done the previous day. She entered the breakfast-room. The remains of a meal still lay upon the table. Evelyn looked impatiently round. Surely some one ought to appear – a servant at the very least! Hot tea she required, hot coffee, dishes nicely cooked and tempting and fresh. The little girl went to the bell and rang it. A footman appeared.

“Get my breakfast immediately,” said Evelyn.

The man withdrew, endeavoring to hide a smile. Evelyn’s conduct in daring to defy Lady Frances had been the amusement of the servants’ hall that morning. The man went to the kitchen premises now with the announcement that “miss” had come to her senses.

“She is as white as a sheet, and looks as mad as a hatter,” said the man; “but her spirit ain’t broke. My word! she ’ave got a will of her own. ‘My breakfast, immediate,’ says she, as though she were the lady of the manor.”

“Which she will be some day,” said cook; “and I ’ates to think of it. Our beautiful Miss Audrey supplanted by the like of her. There, Johnson! my missus said that Miss Wynford was to have quite a plain breakfast, so take it up – do.”

Toast, fresh tea, and one solitary new-laid egg were placed on a tray and brought up to the breakfast-room.

Evelyn sat down without a word, poured herself out some tea, ate every crumb of toast, finished her egg, and felt refreshed. She had just concluded her meal when Audrey, accompanied by Arthur Jervice, ran into the room.

“Oh, I say, Evelyn,” cried Audrey, “you are the very person that we want. We are getting up charades for to-night; will you join us?”

“Yes, do, please,” said Arthur. “And we are most anxious that Sylvia should join too.”

“I wish I knew her address,” said Audrey. “She is such a mystery! Mother is rather disturbed about her. I am afraid, Arthur, we cannot have her to-night; we must manage without. – But will you join us, Evelyn? Do you know anything about acting?”

“I have never acted, but I have seen plays,” said Evelyn. “I am sure I can manage all right. I’ll do my best if you will give me a big part. I won’t take a little part, for it would not be suitable.”

Audrey colored and laughed.

“Well, come, anyway, and we will do our best for you,” she said. “Have you finished your breakfast? The rest of us are in my schoolroom. You have not been introduced to it yet. Come if you are ready; we are all waiting.”

After her miserable morning, Evelyn considered this an agreeable change. She had intended to go up-stairs to comfort Jasper, but really and truly Jasper must wait. She accordingly went with her cousin, and was welcomed by all the children, who pitied her and wanted to make her as much at home as possible. A couple of charades were discussed, and Evelyn was thoroughly satisfied with the rôle assigned her. She was a clever child enough, and had some powers of mimicry. As the different arrangements were being made she suddenly remembered something, and uttered a cry.

“Oh dear!” she said – “oh dear! What a pity!”

“What is it now, Evelyn?” asked her cousin.

“Why, your mother is so – I suppose I ought not to say it – your mother – I – There! I must not say that either. Your mother – ”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake speak out!” said Audrey. “What has poor, dear mother done?”

“She is sending Jasper away; she is – she is. Oh, can I bear it? Don’t you think it is awful of her?”

“I am sorry for you,” said Audrey.

“Jasper would be so useful,” continued Evelyn. “She is such a splendid actress; she could help me tremendously. I do wish she could stay even till to-morrow. Cannot you ask Aunt Frances – cannot you, Audrey? I wish you would.”

“I must not, Evelyn; mother cannot brook interference. She would not dream of altering her plans just for a play. – Well,” she added, looking round at the rest of her guests, “I think we have arranged everything now; we must meet here not later than three o’clock for rehearsal. Who would like to go out?” she added. “The morning is lovely.”

The boys and girls picked up hats and cloaks and ran out immediately into the grounds. Evelyn took the first covering she could find, and joined the others.

“They ought to consult me more,” she said to herself. “I see there is no help for it; I must live here for a bit and put Audrey down – that at least is due to me. But when next there are people here I shall be arranging the charades, and I shall invite them to go out into the grounds. It is a great bother about Jasper; but there! she must bear it, poor dear. She will be all right when I tell her that I will get her back when the Castle belongs to me.”

Meanwhile Arthur, remembering his promise to Sylvia, ran away from where the others were standing. The boy ran fast, hoping to see Sylvia. He had taken a great fancy to her bright, dark eyes and her vivacious ways.

“She promised to meet me,” he said to himself. “She is certain to keep her word.”

By and by he uttered a loud “Hullo!” and a slim young figure, in a shabby crimson cloak, turned and came towards him.

“Oh, it is you, Arthur!” said Sylvia. “Well, and how are they all?”

“Quite well,” replied the boy. “We are going to have charades to-night, and I am to be the doctor in one. It is rather a difficult part, and I hope I shall do it right. I never played in a charade before. That little monkey Evelyn is to be the patient. I do hope she will behave properly and not spoil everything. She is such an extraordinary child! And of course she ought to have had quite one of the most unimportant parts, but she would not hear of it. I wish you were going to play in the charade, Sylvia.”

“I have often played in charades,” said Sylvia, with a quick sigh.

“Have you? How strange! You seem to have done everything.”

“I have done most things that girls of my age have done.”

Arthur looked at her with curiosity. There was – he could not help noticing it, and he blushed very vividly as he did see – a very roughly executed patch on the side of her shoe. On the other shoe, too, the toes were worn white. They were shabby shoes, although the little feet they encased were neat enough, with high insteps and narrow, tapering toes. Sylvia knew quite well what was passing in Arthur’s mind. After a moment she spoke.

“You wonder why I look poor,” she said. “Sometimes, Arthur, appearances deceive. I am not poor. It is my pleasure to wear very simple clothes, and to eat very plain food, and – ”

“Not pleasure!” said Arthur. “You don’t look as if it were your pleasure. Why, Sylvia, I do believe you are hungry now!”

Poor Sylvia was groaning inwardly, so keen was her hunger.

“And I am as peckish as I can be,” said the boy, a rapid thought flashing through his mind. “The village is only a quarter of a mile from here, and I know there are tuck-shops. Why should we not go and have a lark all by ourselves? Who’s to know, and who’s to care? Will you come, Sylvia?”

“No, I cannot,” replied Sylvia; “it is impossible. Thank you very much indeed, Arthur. I am so glad to have seen you! I must go home, however, in a minute or two. I was out all day yesterday, and there is a great deal to be done.”

“But may I not come with you? Cannot I help you?”

“No, thank you; indeed I could not possibly have you. It is very good of you to offer, but I cannot have you, and I must not tell you why.”

“You do look so sad! Are you sure you cannot join the charades to-night?”

“Sure – certain,” said Sylvia, with a little gasp. “And I am not sad,” she added; “there never was any one more merry. Listen to me now; I am going to laugh the echoes up.”

They were standing where a defile of rocks stretched away to their left. The stream ran straight between the narrow opening. The girl slightly changed her position, raised her hand, and called out a clear “Hullo!” It was echoed back from many points, growing fainter and fainter as it died away.

“And now you say I am not merry!” she exclaimed. “Listen.”

She laughed a ringing laugh. There never was anything more musical than the way that laughter was taken up, as if there were a thousand sprites laughing too. Sylvia turned her white face and looked full at Arthur.

“Oh, I am such a merry girl!” she said, “and such a glad one! and such a thankful one! And I am rich – not poor – but I like simple things. Good-by, Arthur, for the present.”

“I will come and see you again. You are quite wonderful!” he said. “I wish mother knew you. And I wish my sister Moss were here; I wish she knew you.”

“Moss! What a curious name!” said Sylvia.

“We have always called her that. She is just like moss, so soft and yet so springy; so comfortable, and yet you dare not take too much liberty with her. She is fragile, too, and mother had to take great care of her. I should like you to see her; she would – ”

“What would she do?” asked Sylvia.

“She would understand you; she would draw part at least of the trouble away.”

“Oh! don’t, Arthur – don’t, don’t read me like that,” said the girl.

The tears just dimmed her eyes. She dashed them away, laughed again merrily, and the next moment had turned the corner and was lost to view.