She is very rude, and yet she is very kind, especially to the poor. But she does kind things so rudely, that people now and then wish that she would mind her own business instead. Father says so, though Mother would say that is gossip. But I think sometimes that Mother is thinking of Aunt Catherine when she tells us that in kindness it is not enough to be good to others, one should also learn to be gracious.
Mother thought she was very rude to her once, when she said, quite out loud, that Father is very ill-tempered, and that, if Mother had not the temper of an angel, the house could never hold together. Mother was very angry, but Father did not mind. He says our house will hold together much longer than most houses, because he swore at the workmen, and went to law with the builder for using dirt instead of mortar, so the builder had to pull down what was done wrong, and do it right; and Father says he knows he has a bad temper, but he does not mean to pull the house over our heads at present, unless he has to get bricks out to heave at Lady Catherine if she becomes quite unbearable.
We do not like dear Father to be called bad tempered. He comes home cross sometimes, and then we have to be very quiet, and keep out of the way; and sometimes he goes out rather cross, but not always. It was what Chris said about that that pleased Lady Catherine so much.
It was one day when Father came home cross, and was very much vexed to find us playing about the house. Arthur had got a new Adventure Book, and he had been reading to us about the West Coast of Africa, and niggers, and tom-toms, and “going Fantee”; and James gave him a lot of old corks of the pantry, and let him burn them in a candle. It rained, and we could not go out; so we all blacked our faces with burnt cork, and played at the West Coast in one of the back passages, and at James being the captain of a slave ship, because he tried to catch us when we beat the tom-toms too near him when he was cleaning the plate, to make him give us rouge and whitening to tattoo with.
Dear Father came home rather earlier than we expected, and rather cross. Chris did not hear the front door, because his ears were pinched up with tying curtain rings on to them, and just at that minute he shouted, “I go Fantee!” and tore his pinafore right up the middle, and burst into the front hail with it hanging in two pieces by the armholes, his eyes shut, and a good grab of James’s rouge-powder smudged on his nose, yelling and playing the tom-tom on what is left of Arthur’s drum.
Father was very angry indeed, and Chris was sent to &bed, and not allowed to go down to dessert; and Lady Catherine was dining at our house, so he missed her.
Next time she called, and saw Chris, she asked him why he had not been at dessert that night. Mother looked at Chris, and said, “Why was it, Chris? Tell Aunt Catherine.” Mother thought he would say, “Because I tore my pinafore, and made a noise in the front hall.” But he smiled, the grave way Chris does, and said, “Because Father came home cross.” And Lady Catherine was pleased, but Mother was vexed.
I am quite sure Chris meant no harm, but he does say very funny things. Perhaps it is because his head is rather large for his body, with some water having got into his brain when he was very little, so that we have to take care of him. And though he does say very odd things, very slowly, I do not think any one of us tries harder to be good.
I remember once Mother had been trying to make us forgive each other’s trespasses, and Arthur would say that you cannot make yourself feel kindly to them that trespass against you; and Mother said if you make yourself do right, then at last you get to feel right; and it was very soon after this that Harry and Christopher quarrelled, and would not forgive each other’s trespasses in the least, in spite of all that I could do to try and make peace between them.
Chris went off in the sulks, but after a long time I came upon him in the toy-cupboard, looking rather pale and very large-headed, and winding up his new American top, and talking to himself.
When he talks to himself he mutters, so I could only just hear what he was saying, and he said it over and over again:
“What are you doing, Chris?” I asked.
“I’m getting ready my new top to give to Harry. Dos first feels afterwards.”
“Well,” I said, “Christopher, you are a good boy.”
“I should like to punch his head,” said Chris—and he said it in just the same sing-song tone—“but I’m getting the top ready. Dos first and feels afterwards.”
And he went on winding and muttering.
Afterwards he told me that the “feels” came sooner than he expected. Harry wouldn’t take his top, and they made up their quarrel.
Christopher is very simple, but sometimes we think he is also a little sly. He can make very wily excuses about things he does not like.
He does not like Nurse to hold back his head and wash his face; and at last one day she let him go down-stairs with a dirty face, and then complained to Mother. So Mother asked Chris why he was so naughty about having his face washed, and he said, quite gravely, “I do think it would be such pity if the water got into my head again by accident.” Mother did not know he had ever heard about it, but she said, “Oh, Chris! Chris! that’s one of your excuses.” And he said, “ It’s not my ’scusis. She lets a good deal get in—at my ears—and lather too.”
But, with all his whimsical ways, Lady Catherine is devoted to Christopher. She likes him far better than any one of us, and he is very fond of her; and they say quite rude things to each other all along. And Father says it is very lucky, for if she had not been so fond of Chris, and so ready to take him too, Mother would never have been persuaded to leave us when Aunt Catherine took them to the South of France.
Mother had been very unwell for a long time. She has so many worries, and Dr. Solomon said she ought to avoid worry, and Aunt Catherine said worries were killing her, and Father said “Pshaw!” and Aunt Catherine said “Care killed the cat,” and that a cat has nine lives, and a woman has only one; and then Mother got worse, and Aunt Catherine wanted to take her abroad, and she wouldn’t go; and then Christopher was ill, and Aunt Catherine said she would take him too, if only Mother would go with her; and Dr. Solomon said it might be the turning-point of his health, and Father said “the turning-point which way?” but he thanked Lady Catherine, and they didn’t quarrel; and so Mother yielded, and it was settled that they should go.
Before they went, Mother spoke to me, and told me I must be a Little Mother to the others whilst she was away. She hoped we should all try to please Father, and to be unselfish with each other; but she expected me to try far harder than the others, and never to think of myself at all, so that I might fill her place whilst she was away. So I promised to try, and I did.
We missed Christopher sadly. And Saxon missed him. The first time Saxon came to see us after Mother and Chris went away, we told him all about it, and he looked very sorry. Then we said that he should be our brother in Christopher’s stead, whilst Chris was away; and he looked very much pleased, and wagged his tail, and licked our faces all round. So we told him to come and see us very often.
He did not, but we do not think it was his fault. He is chained up so much.
One day Arthur and I were walking down the road outside the Old Squire’s stables, and Saxon smelt us, and we could hear him run and rattle his chain, and he gave deep, soft barks.
Arthur laughed. He said, “Do you hear Saxon, Mary? Now I dare say the Old Squire thinks he smells tramps and wants to bite them. He doesn’t know that Saxon smells his new sister and brother, and wishes he could go out walking with them in Mary’s Meadow.”