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Then, when the work was finished, the girls went up the narrow stairs to the attic, a long unfinished room running the whole length of the house with windows at each end. Under one of these windows stood a broad low table. Rose had brought up the blank book, a number of pens, made from goose-quills, and a bottle of ink. She put them on the table and drew up a high-backed wooden chair for Anne.
A violent scene between husband and wife took place in the farm kitchen, but, in spite of this, Anne's visits to the public-house continued as before. One afternoon, when her husband was attending a cattle-mart in a neighbouring town, Anne Learoyd, without saying a word to her daughter, left the house and was still absent when her husband returned for supper.
The much-tried maid snatched away Honey-Sweet and shook her heartily. "Don't, don't, Louise!" cried Anne. "Don't you hurt Honey-Sweet. I'll dress. I'll hurry. I'll be quick." Louise looked keenly at Anne's flushed, earnest face. Then she gave poor Honey-Sweet a smart little smack. "The wicked bébé!" she exclaimed. "She does not permit that you make the toilette.
It was essential that he should be taken away from familiar surroundings and people whom he knew. Anne listened with a whitening face. She asked no questions. Lucas supplied every detail with the precision that characterised most of his utterances.
Just then their feet struck against something hard and round which rolled before them with a little rumble of sound. Rose leaned down. "They're cannon-balls," she whispered. "Oh, Anne! There's a whole pile of them. Don't go another step; we'll fall over them. I do believe the man is a pirate, or else a Tory."
Anne went away confirmed in her impression that Walter had a large acquaintance to whom he was by no means anxious to introduce his wife. He might, she reflected, have incurred the connection through the misfortune of his business. The life of a ship-owner in Scale was fruitful in these embarrassments.
You cannot imagine what a picture you made. What a pity I frightened them away. Now, mind you write me at once." She kissed her radiant friend with a sigh, doubting that even conquest of Lord Hunsdon would make herself look like a goddess, and rode on. Anne went her way, even more slowly than before. She was in no haste to face Mrs.
They all sat down to high tea, Anne and her mother included, and the captain sitting next to Miss Johnson. Anne had put a brave face upon the matter outwardly, at least and seemed in a fair way of subduing any lingering sentiment which Bob's return had revived.
And now he put his hand on Stephen's shoulder. Whether he had seen the incident just past, who can tell? "My son," said he, "I am delighted to see you here. Now that we are such near neighbors, we must be nearer friends. You must know my wife, and my son Jack, and my daughter Anne." Mrs. Brinsmade was a pleasant little body, but plainly not a fit mate for her husband.
Benedicte submitted to her fate, but Anne soon perceived what her father's plan was, and in her indignation she resolved to defeat it. Unlike her younger sister, she had an adventurous spirit, an ardent imagination, a strong desire to play an active part in life.
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