“KATE," said Mr. Grahame to his daughter, as they were seated together in the quiet twilight about two days after her arrival, "while I was at the Priory this morning, Mrs. Monkton asked me if it were true that you had returned."
“Who is Mrs. Monkton, father?" inquired my young mistress. "'I do not even know the name."
“No; I forgot. She is a lady with whom I have: had a great deal to do lately. There has been some complication of affairs connected with one of her stewards, and I have been engaged dissecting the accounts."
“Why did she ask about me, father?" asked Kate with a half smile. “Does Mrs. Monkton think I can be of any service to her in the same way?"
“No, dear; she was telling me the trouble she had with her last governess. It seems she was a French lady, clever and proficient in all she taught, but thoroughly unprincipled in her training of the little ones."
“Has she a more suitable lady now, father?" inquired Kate, as her thoughts reverted to her own experience on such a subject.
“No; she was asking me if I thought you might know of any one. Mrs. Brooks, who used to be housekeeper to the family, told her that you were on a visit here. It seems she has taken a fancy to you."
“Do you think the work would do for me?" asked Kate, as a new thought came into her mind.
“No, Kate," answered Mr. Grahame readily; "it is a daily governess Mrs. Monkton requires."
“Do you know how many pupils there would be, father?" inquired my young mistress after a pause, during which she had been thinking of the anxious expression of her father's countenance. Even in that short time, though Mr. Grahame had done his best to appear as cheerful as possible in the society of his daughter, she was not mistaken in supposing that the half-abstracted look which so frequently settled upon his face was not the result of any imaginary evil.
“I think Mrs. Monkton said there were three little girls of her own," replied the father; "and I fancy she said something about another little girl who lived near, joining them in their lessons."
“I should like to see Mrs. Monkton, if you could obtain me an interview with her," replied Kate quietly.
“If all is well I shall be at the Priory to-morrow morning, when I will mention your wish," said Mr. Grahame. And the conversation turned upon other subjects. True to his promise, Mr. Grahame mentioned to Mrs. Monkton his daughter's desire for an interview, to which request the lady readily agreed. She intimated that she should be at liberty to receive Kate any time during the course of the evening; and in a prayerful, dependent spirit, Kate went. Greatly pleased with her appearance and conversation, Mrs. Monkton was the first to suggest that if Miss Grahame had no present engagement, could she not arrange, for a time at least, to undertake the charge of her little daughters?
“You will find daily instruction rather different from the methodical way of teaching carried on in boarding schools," said Mrs. Monkton, after making the necessary arrangements with my young mistress. “But you must buy experience in this as well as in other matters. I do not care for the children to recommence duties just yet," added Mrs. Monkton as the interview terminated. “The little folks look for a few days at Easter; and to judge by your pale face, a few days more rest will not do you any harm."
“I am well, I thank you, Madam," replied Kate courteously; "but I shall not object to a few days' respite. When would you like the young ladies to commence their studies? "
“Suppose we say this day fortnight," said Mrs. Monkton pleasantly; "that will suit both parties concerned."
“Furnished or unfurnished rooms, Kate?" asked her father, as next morning they agreed to take fresh lodgings suitable for both.
“We could not live in empty rooms, father," said Kate in some astonishment.
“No; but some of my furniture is still left at Mrs. Gray's. I told her she might use it until I required it again." After many careful surveys of various houses where apartments of all descriptions were on view, Mr. Grahame and Kate finally decided upon three moderately-sized rooms, which occupied the second story of a respectable-looking house in Berkeley Street.
"Seven shillings and sixpence a week, you asked, I think?" Kate inquired of the neat looking woman who conducted them upstairs.
“Yes, miss," answered the woman in a civil tone.
“You keep a servant, I suppose?" asked Kate, scarcely knowing what she ought to inquire about on the occasion.
"Yes miss; but there's no attendance. You'd have all your rooms to yourself." That would be all the better, thought Kate to herself, not understanding the drift of the remark. So the matter was settled. In another week they would enter their new dwelling, Mrs. Brooks requiring that period for the customary notice of removal.
There was much to do during that interval. Mrs. Gray had to be seen, and made acquainted with their desire for the restoration of Mr. Grahame's furniture. She readily promised to assist Kate to "put the bits of things in their proper places." And a very great help Kate found her to be, when the day appointed for moving really arrived.
“How much you remind me of your precious mother, Miss Kate! " said Mrs. Gray, as she looked for a moment at my young mistress, while she smoothed the pillows of the small, but comfortable bed in which it was arranged that her father should sleep. Kate had taken the back room for her own use, as she knew how accustomed Mr. Grahame had grown to the morning sunlight in his bedchamber.
“You have not forgotten my dear mother, I see," said Kate, with a grateful look towards Mrs. Gray.
“No, never, Miss Kate; and I never shall."
But now after all was done, a stranger would not have thought much of those humble arrangements. The carpet was not sufficiently large to cover the whole of the room; and though the defect was supplied by a narrow strip of canvas, yet there was no need to tell Kate's educated eye that it certainly looked “patchy." A few pictures, some of them the products of her own pencils, decorated the walls, while her choicest books were arranged neatly on a small table in a corner of the room. There was little furniture in the apartment, for Mr. Grahame's store had not proved as great as his daughter had anticipated; but a bright fire blazing on the hearth gave a cheerful look to the scantily-furnished apartment, which otherwise was considerably lacking in household comforts.
“What are you thinking of, Kate?" asked her father, as they sat for a few minutes after supper by the pleasant fireside; for though the time of year was Easter, it was unusually cold.
“I was thinking, dear father, of a picture I once heard described," said Kate, rousing from the reverie into which she had fallen. “I never heard the name of the painter, though I should like dearly to know him. His subject was this:-
“An old woman in poor but cleanly garments is seated by a small three-legged deal table. The stool upon which she is seated and the table by her side, are the only furniture in the room. A small crust of dry-looking, coarse, brown bread is being raised to her lips; but some thought arrests her in the performance of the action, and as she gazes upon the piece of bread in her old and wrinkled hand, the wonderful expression of perfect contentment depicted upon her countenance tells its own tale, as she murmurs-' ALL THIS AND CHRIST.' "