Black Rainbow Read Online Free Page B

and when the repentant sinner flung sticky arms around Megan's knees and cooed, "I do love you, Miss Megan," that softhearted young woman had a hard time enforcing even the mild discipline Miss Mandeville insisted upon.
    With Lizzie she was on the best of terms. The housekeeper had taken a fancy to the pathetic bedraggled creature who had fallen into her arms, and Megan sensed Lizzie would have felt the same way about one of the stray cats or injured birds Lina was constantly bringing to her for treatment.
    The physical comforts she enjoyed were pleasant, too. When, on the day after her arrival, she had asked Miss Mandeville where she was to be lodged, the latter had raised a surprised eyebrow. "Is the room not to your taste? It is next to Lina's, so I thought it convenient. But if you lack anything . . ."
    In the other families Megan had known, children were relegated to a distant part of the house, along with the persons who cared for them. However, Miss Mandeville did not believe in exiling children from human society, as if they were wild beasts or savages. Besides, as she frankly admitted, she liked the company; it was a big, rambling house, and without Lina she would have been entirely alone in the west wing.
    Miss Mandeville had firm convictions about a good many things. She was the center of that peculiar household, and the source of its unusual structure.
    Megan's guess about Jane Mandeville's age had been close to the truth. She was only twenty. Her brisk manner and her capability, in a number of areas, made her seem older. She was interested in everything and skilled at almost every task she undertook, but she had not a speck of feminine vanity. Admittedly she was not pretty, or even "handsome"—that kindly euphemism applied to any young lady of elevated social standing—but she had a quality that made her appear more attractive than women with well-formed features and figures. Languid boredom never dulled her eyes or drew her face into lines of weariness. She found life a source of unending amusement, and her enjoyment made the lives of those around her more worth living.
    All the same, she was undoubtedly eccentric. The shock Megan had felt the night Miss Mandeville spoke so openly about "breeding" and "mating" was repeated a dozen times in succeeding days. Jane thought nothing of kilting up her skirts and climbing a tree to get a handful of cherries for Lina, and on one occasion Megan watched in horror as she plunged through a group of staring onlookers to snatch a kitten from under the hooves of the big bull. Though her clothing was of fine material, it was almost as plain as the drab gowns a governess was supposed to wear, and her hair, disdaining curls and waves, was pulled into a knot or bundled any which way into a net. Her small, capable hands were too brown and calloused to be pretty; but she had dainty little feet with arches so high water could flow under them—the traditional sign of three hundred years of noble ancestry. They were her only beauty and her only aristocratic feature. Her round, snub-nosed face and wide mouth were as common as brown bread.
    Of all the lady's peculiarities none struck Megan so forcibly as the one she learned about the morning after her arrival. Miss Mandeville had joined her and Lina in the breakfast room, but had risen after a hasty bite or two, remarking that it was time she was off to work.
    "I had hoped to spend a few hours with you today, but there is trouble with one of the looms at the mill. If I don't see to it, those foolish men will stand around all day scratching their heads and debating the matter."
    "The mill?" Megan repeated.
    "Mandeville's Best Woollens and Worsteds. I don't suppose you have heard of it; we are a small concern and prefer to stay that way. Till this evening, then, Miss O'Neill— Lina."
    Lina's giggle made Megan realize she was gaping in an unbecoming manner, but she was unable to control her amazement. Mandeville's Best Woollens! And she