Four Gates by Amy Le Feuvre

"For the work to God the dearest Is the duty lying nearest."

"WELL, 'I' think summer very depressing-given a small house, a treeless garden, and an incompetent domestic. What is there in it to please? All the morning I have been stripping gooseberry bushes in the blazing sun, scratching and tearing the flesh off my hands; and all the afternoon I've been topping and tailing these same gooseberries and standing over a scorching fire seeing them bubble and squeal and subside into sticky jam. And now you want me to pelt along the high road in the dust and heat, carrying your heavy parcel to the tailor's; and it is a good mile and a half each way. Of course, I'll do it. Fanny says she's feeling the heat too much. I'm sure I am. But as I'm not in service, I can't object. You mustn't mind this grumble. It cools me to discharge my feeling."

"I wish, my dear Audrey, you would curb your tongue a little. It is most unpleasant and disturbing. I think I must have my chair moved into the porch; it will be cooler, and I may be able to have a nap when you are gone, for there will be quiet in the house. You keep it in a perpetual ferment when you are in it."

"Oh," said Audrey, with an impatient laugh, "I must let myself go sometimes, father! It will take years to extricate all the gas inside me. There-now I have arranged your chair in the coolest corner. Here are your specs and your newspaper. Anything else? Oh, your hat! You must have left it in the garden. You had it when you were weeding the gooseberries. I'll fetch it."

With a half-smothered sigh, Audrey sped along the neat gravel path that surrounded their small back garden. Her father's failing memory and aptitude for losing his belongings took up a good deal of her time. Mr. Hume was a tall, fine-looking old man, but was stiff and crippled with rheumatism. He had held a Civil appointment in India for many years, and was now living on his pension. He was a man without a hobby, and was consequently very dependent on his daughter for interest and occupation. He read a little, but beyond his daily newspaper, only the works of the lightest fiction did he care about. He wrote occasional letters, and every now and then, when much stirred by any topical subject, would write a letter to the Press. He gardened, but that was more superintendence than actual work, and the rest of the day he spent dozing and sleeping in his arm-chair, varied by short walks along the high road.

The house was one of three in a terrace. On one side of them lived a doctor and his wife, both rather sleepy, middle-aged people; on the other, a solicitor, with his two sisters. No other houses were near, and it was unfortunate that Audrey was not a favourite with her neighbours. They liked to give advice, she disliked receiving it. They invariably took her father's views of life and strongly disapproved of emancipated young women. Audrey loved shocking them, and was intolerant of their narrow views of life. Especially was this the case with the Misses Blunt, who were thin, angular women, with a humble adoration for their only brother, and a rigid primness of conduct and speech.

Mr. Hume was not particularly fond of these good ladies, but he quoted them when annoyed by his daughter, and occasionally made appeal to them when Audrey rebelled against his authority. To do her justice, she was a very dutiful daughter, though from her speech one would hardly credit it. Mr. Hume was irritable and impulsive; periodically, he would have storms of sudden passion which swept through his small household like a tornado. His will was law, and he would never stand the slightest opposition. Audrey had not learnt to bear these storms with serenity; too often she would add fuel to the flames by inopportune remarks. But she struggled to be patient and calm, and sometimes succeeded in pacifying him before he lost entire control of himself.

As she sped along the road to the small country town, with aching head and weary feet, she felt tired of it all.

"Oh! " she said impatiently to herself. "I am just a beast of burden, and have no other outlook. I shall get old and grey cooking jam, carrying parcels, and making talk for old people. But-" here a flash of humour lightened up her depression-"never will I screw my hair into a tight little knot or my mouth into a creasy button, like Miss Julia and Miss Grace Blunt!"

Then she raised her eyes, and over the range of sloping meadows in front of her was the setting sun in all its splendour. The radiant colouring and beautiful cloud effect appealed to her artistic soul.

She watched it in breathless delight.

"Ah! " she said. "I hope I shall enter my West gate through such a sunset."

And then deep, serious thought settled down upon her-thought that stamped itself upon eyes and brow, and made the remaining distance but nothing to her unconscious feet.

She left her parcel and returned home with a bright and smiling face.

Her father looked at her as she helped him back to his sitting-room and lit the lamp to disperse the gathering dusk.

"Did you enjoy your walk?"

"I think I did-the return part of it, at any rate."

She stood at the window, looking up into the sky, her hand raised to pull down the blind. Then she turned quickly to her father.

"Oh, don't you think-don't you wish sometimes that the earth would give itself a little shake and begin to go round the other way? It would be such a revolutionary change. The very thought of it is delicious!"

"You talk a great deal of nonsense," said Mr. Hume testily. "Change! Change! Who wants change? Let well alone. It comes too fast for most of us."