Aunt Patty's Paying Guests by Eglanton Thorne

THE journey and the excitement of my arrival had exhausted me more than I imagined. I woke the next morning with a terrible headache and was unable to leave my bed all day. Nor could I quit my room on the following day, but when it was over, I enjoyed such a long, restful night as I had not known for months.

On the following morning I felt like a new creature, and by mid-day I was seated by the fire in the dining-room, enjoying a glass of delicious milk and such sponge cake as was never bought in London, for aunt's cook had made it specially for me.

The windows of the dining-room looked on to the large garden at the back of the house. With its fruit trees, strawberry bed, and wealth of flowers it was a delightful place in summer, but when presently I moved to the window and stood looking out for a few minutes, I found that in winter it did not lack charm. The early morning had been grey, but now the sun was breaking through the clouds, and each leaf and blade of grass, gemmed by hoar-frost, glittered gloriously beneath its rays. Aunt Patty never failed to spread crumbs for the birds on cold mornings, and I was amused to watch the movements of the thrushes, blackbirds and starlings which came in search of these, and occasionally quarrelled over her bounty.

A long stretch of lawn ran through the garden, and a few years before, not without some grumbling from Uncle George, aunt had instituted lawn-tennis for the benefit of her young friends. There was room, too, for croquet and bowls, so Aunt Patty's guests need not lack outdoor diversion in fine weather.

As I turned from the window I heard the house door open, and the next moment auntie came into the room wearing her bonnet and cloak. I had not seen her since I came downstairs. The servant who brought me the milk told me that her mistress had gone to the village. Aunt was looking pale and tired, but she smiled brightly on me as she said:

"I am glad to find you downstairs, Nan, and, really, you look better already. Our bracing air will soon work wonders for you, I can see."

"It seems very cold air," I said with a shiver, as I bent nearer to the fire.

"It is certainly keener than London," she replied; "but you will soon get used to that, and begin to feel the good of it. I have enjoyed my brisk walk."

Then she told me she had been to the village to see a poor woman whose husband had died suddenly.

"Oh, auntie," I said, feeling shocked, "that was very sad for you."

"Oh, no," she responded. "I felt that I must go to her, because, you see, I can understand. It helped her to feel that I had known the same shock of trouble and was enduring the same loss."

Certainly, if ever woman had "a heart at leisure from itself," auntie had. She would make even her sorrows helpful to others. It was with wonder that I realised how deeply she had loved Uncle George and how truly she mourned him. To us younger people he had always seemed a disagreeable old man, and most persons, I fancy, found it difficult to get on with him. But Aunt Patty's was the love which "taketh no account of evil," but wraps the one beloved in a mantle of goodness and grace which others judge misplaced, though it may fit better than they think. I often marvelled at her capacity for love, and the conclusion to which it invariably led me was that I could never love any one in that way.

Later aunt discussed with me her plans for the future. She told me she had decided to sell all the land with the exception of the pastures immediately adjoining the house, and all her cattle except two cows, which would supply her house with milk and butter. She would keep one horse to draw the wagonette, which would be needed to take people to and from Chelmsford, and a pony for the little chaise. One man-servant would be necessary to drive and look after the stable, and the old gardener also would be retained.

"The garden must not be neglected," said Aunt Patty, "for I shall rely on that to supply us with fruit and vegetables for the table. People have a right to expect good rural fare when they come to sojourn in the country, and I mean that my guests shall have it. I have little fear that cook will not consent to remain with me, for she has often lamented that this place gave her so little opportunity of displaying her talents. She is really clever at made dishes and sweets, but, as you know, your uncle's health obliged him to be very careful in his diet, and I never cared to have anything on the table that might tempt him to break the restrictions imposed by his doctor. But now, if I were so fortunate as to get my house full of 'paying guests,' I should wish her to make plenty of dainty dishes to set before them."

"How many guests could you take, auntie? " I asked.

"Let me see," she said; "there are seven bedrooms besides the servants'. Taking away yours and mine, five are left for the guests; but they are such good-sized rooms that two beds could be placed in most of them. I must hope to have visits from friends and relatives who will be willing to share a room. I could easily accommodate ten persons in that way, and that, I think, would be as many as I should desire to have. I don't know what Jenny would say to waiting upon so many, but, of course, I should help her as much as I could."

"And I would, too," I said, as in duty bound, though in truth I felt very reluctant to take up domestic tasks, and disliked the idea of "Gay Bowers" being invaded by ten strangers. But I had sense enough to know that if I hated the thought of "all sorts and conditions" of people-within certain limits-being free to make their home in the dear old house, it must be inexpressibly more painful to Aunt Patty herself. But I could see that she fought against the feeling and was resolved to face the inevitable bravely. It was the only way in which she could remain in the home she loved, and it was not clear what she could do if she gave it up.