Milly and Olly by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Milly and Olly by Mrs. Humphry Ward
Making Plans
Return to Table of Contents
"Milly, come down! come down directly! Mother wants you. Do make haste!"
"I'm just coming, Olly. Don't stamp so. Nurse is tying my sash."
But Master Olly went on stamping, and jumping up and down stairs, as his way was when he was very much excited, till Milly appeared. Presently down she came, a sober fair-haired little maiden, with blue eyes and a turn-up nose, and a mouth that was generally rather solemn-looking, though it could laugh merrily enough when it tried. Milly was six years old. She looked older than six. At any rate she looked a great deal older than Olly, who was nearly five; and you will soon find out that she was a good deal more than a year and a half wiser.
"What's the matter, Olly? What made you shout so?"
"Oh, come along, come along;" said the little boy, pulling at his sister's hand to make her run. "Mother wants to tell us something, and she says it's a nice something, and I kissed her like anyfing! but she wouldn't tell me without you."
Then the two children set off running, and they flew down a long passage to the drawing-room, and were soon scrambling about a lady who was sitting working by the window.
"Well, monkeys, don't choke me before I tell you my nice something. Sit on my knee Olly. Now, Milly, guess-what have father and I just been talking about?"
"Sending Olly to school, perhaps," said Milly. "I heard Uncle Richard talking about it yesterday."
"That wouldn't be such a nice something," said Olly, making a long face. "I wouldn't like it-not a bit. Boys don't never like going to school. I want to learn my lessons with mother."
"I know a little boy that doesn't like learning lessons with mother very much," said the lady, laughing. "But my nice something isn't sending Olly to school, Milly. You're quite wrong-so try again."
"Oh, mother! is it a strawberry tea?" cried Milly. "The strawberries are just ripe, I know. Gardener told nurse so this morning. And we can have tea on the lawn, and ask Jacky and Francis!"
"Oh, jolly!" said Oliver, jumping off his mother's knee and beginning to dance about. "And we'll gather them ourselves-won't you let us, mother?"
"But it isn't a strawberry tea even," said his mother. "Now, look here, children, what have I got here?"
"It's a map-a map of England," said Milly, looking very wise. Milly had just begun to learn geography, and thought she knew all about maps.
"Well, and what happens when father and I look at maps in the summertime?"
"Why," said Milly, slowly, "you and father pack up your things, and go away over the sea, and we stay behind with nurse."
"I don't call that a nice something," said Olly, standing still again.
"Oh, mother, are you going away?" said Milly, hanging round her mother's neck.
"Yes, Milly, and so's father, and so's nurse"-and their mother began to laugh.
"So's nurse?" said Milly and Olly together, and then they stopped and opened two pairs of round eyes very wide, and stared at their mother. "Oh, mother, mother, take us too!"
"Why, how should father and I get on, travelling about with a pair of monkeys?" said their mother, catching hold of the two children and lifting them on to her knee; "we should want a cage to keep them in."
"Oh, mother, we'll be ever so good! But where are we going? Oh, do take us to the sea!"
"Yes, the sea! the sea!" shouted Olly, careering round the room again; "we'll have buckets and spades, and we'll paddle and catch crabbies, and wet our clothes, and have funny shoes, just like Cromer. And father'll teach me to swim-he said he would next time."
"No," said Mrs. Norton, for that was the name of Milly's and Oliver's mother. "No, we are not going to the sea this summer. We are going to a place mother loves better than the sea, though perhaps you children mayn't like it quite so well. We're going to the mountains. Uncle Richard has lent father and mother his own nice house among the mountains and we're all going there next week-such a long way in the train, Milly."
"What are mountains?" said Olly, who had scarcely ever seen a hill higher than the church steeple. "They can't be so nice as the sea, mother. Nothing can."
"They're humps, Olly," answered Milly eagerly. "Great, big humps of earth, you know; earth mixed with stone. And they reach up ever so high, up into the sky. And it takes you a whole day to get up to the top of them, and a whole day to get down again. Doesn't it, mother? Fr?ulein told me all about mountains in my geography. And some mountains have got snow on their tops all year, even in summer, when it's so hot, and we're having strawberries. Will the mountains we're going to, have snow on them?"
"Oh, no. The snow mountains are far away over the sea. But these are English mountains, kind, easy mountains, not too high for you and me to climb up, and covered all over with soft green grass and wild flowers, and tiny sheep with black faces."
"And, mother, is there a garden to Uncle Richard's house, and are there any children there to play with?"
"There's a delightful garden, full of roses, and strawberries and grapes, and everything else that's nice. And it has a baby river all to itself, that runs and jumps and chatters all through the middle of it, so perhaps Olly may have a paddle sometimes, though we aren't going to the sea. And the gardener has got two little children, just about your age, Aunt Mary says: and there are two more at the farm, two dear little girls, who aren't a bit shy, and will like playing with you very much. But who else shall we see there, Milly? Who lives in the mountains too, near Uncle Richard?"
Olly looked puzzled, but Milly thought a minute, and then said quickly, "Aunt Emma, isn't it, mother? Didn't she come here once? I think I remember."
"Yes, she came once, but long ago, when you were quite small. But now we shall see a great deal of her I hope, for she lives just on the other side of the mountain from Uncle Richard's house, in a dear old house, where I spent many, many happy days when I was small. Great-grandpapa and grandmamma were alive then. But now Aunt Emma lives there quite alone. Except for one creature, at least, an old gray poll-parrot, that chatters away, and behaves as if it were quite sensible, and knew all about everything."
"Hasn't she got any pussies, mother?" asked Olly.
"Yes, two I believe; but they don't get on with Polly very well, so they live in the kitchen out of the way-"
"I like pussies better than pollies," said Olly gravely.
"Why, what do you know about pollies, old man?"
"Pollies bite, I know they do. There was a polly bited Francis once."
"Well, and pussies scratch," said Milly.
"No, they don't, not if you're nicey to them," said Olly; who was just then very much in love with a white kitten, and thought there were no creatures so delightful as pussies.
"Well, suppose you don't make up your mind about Aunt Emma's Polly till you've seen her," said Mrs. Norton. "Now sit down on the rug there and let us have a talk."
Down squatted the children on the floor opposite their mother, with their little heads full of plans and their eyes as bright as sparks.
"I'll take my cart and horse," began Olly; "and my big ball, and my whistle, and my wheelbarrow, and my spade, and all my books, and the big scrap-book, and-"
"You can't, Olly," exclaimed Milly. "Nurse could never pack all those up. There'd be no room for our clothes. You can take your whistle, and the top, and the picture books, and I can take my dolls. That'll be quite enough, won't it, mother?"
"Quite enough," said Mrs. Norton. "If it's fine weather you'll see-you won't want any toys. But now, look here, children," and she held up the map. "Shall I show you how we are going to get to the mountains?"
"Oh yes," said Milly, "that'll be like my geography lesson-come, Olly. Now mother'll teach you geography, like Fr?ulein does me."
"That's lessons," said Olly, with half a pout, "not fun a bit. It's only girls like lessons-Boys never do-Jacky doesn't, and Francis doesn't, and I don't."
"Never mind about it's being lessons, Olly. Come and see if it isn't interesting," said Mrs. Norton. "Now, Milly, find Willingham."
Willingham was the name of the town where Milly and Oliver lived. It is a little town in Oxfordshire, and if you look long enough on the map you may find it, though I won't promise you.
"There it is," said Milly triumphantly, showing it to her mother and Olly.
"Quite right. Now look here," and Mrs. Norton took a pencil out of her pocket and drew a little line along the map. "First of all we shall get into the train and go to a place called-look, Milly."
"Bletchley," said Milly, following where the pencil pointed. "What an ugly name."
"It's an ugly place," said Mrs. Norton, "so perhaps it doesn't deserve a better name. And after Bletchley-look again, Milly."
"Rugby," said Milly, reading the names as her mother pointed, "and then Stafford, and then Crewe-what a funny name, mother!-and then Wigan, and then Warrington, and then Lancaster. Ox-en-holme, Kendal, Wind-er-mere. Oh, mother, what a long way! Why, we've got right to the top of England."
"Stop a bit, Milly, and let me tell you something about these places. First of all we shall get out of the train at Bletchley, and get into another train that will go faster than the first. And it will take us past all kinds of places, some pretty and some ugly, and some big and some small. At Stafford there is an old castle, Milly, where fierce people lived in old days and fought their neighbours. And at Crewe we shall get out and have our dinner. And at Wigan all the trees grow on one side as if some one had come and given them a push in the night; and at Lancaster there's another old castle, a very famous one, only now they have turned it into a prison, and people are shut up inside it. Then a little way after Lancaster you'll begin to see some mountains, far, far away, but first you'll see something else-just a little bit of blue sea, with mountains on the other side of it. And then will come Windermere, where we shall get out and drive in a carriage. And we shall drive right into the mountains, Olly, till they stand up all round us with their dear kind old faces that mother has loved ever since she was a baby."
The children looked up wonderingly at their mother, and they saw her face shining and her eyes as bright as theirs, as if she too was a child going out for a holiday.
"Oh! And, mother," said Olly, "you'll let us take Spot. She can go in my box."
Now Spot was the white kitten, so Milly and mother began to laugh.
"Suppose you go and ask Spot first, whether she'd like it, Olly," said Mrs. Norton, patting his sunburnt little face.
Vivian clutched her Hermès bag, her doctor's words echoing: "Extremely high-risk pregnancy." She hoped the baby would save her cold marriage, but Julian wasn't in London as his schedule claimed. Instead, a paparazzi photo revealed his early return-with a blonde woman, not his wife, at the private airport exit. The next morning, Julian served divorce papers, callously ending their "duty" marriage for his ex, Serena. A horrifying contract clause gave him the right to terminate her pregnancy or seize their child. Humiliated, demoted, and forced to fake an ulcer, Vivian watched him parade his affair, openly discarding her while celebrating Serena. This was a calculated erasure, not heartbreak. He cared only for his image, confirming he would "handle" the baby himself. A primal rage ignited her. "Just us," she whispered to her stomach, vowing to sign the divorce on her terms, keep her secret safe, and walk away from Sterling Corp for good, ready to protect her child alone.
I had been a wife for exactly six hours when I woke up to the sound of my husband’s heavy breathing. In the dim moonlight of our bridal suite, I watched Hardin, the man I had adored for years, intertwined with my sister Carissa on the chaise lounge. The betrayal didn't come with an apology. Hardin stood up, unashamed, and sneered at me. "You're awake? Get out, you frumpy mute." Carissa huddled under a throw, her fake tears already welling up as she played the victim. They didn't just want me gone; they wanted me erased to protect their reputations. When I refused to move, my world collapsed. My father didn't offer a shoulder to cry on; he threatened to have me committed to a mental asylum to save his business merger. "You're a disgrace," he bellowed, while the guards stood ready to drag me away. They had spent my life treating me like a stuttering, submissive pawn, and now they were done with me. I felt a blinding pain in my skull, a fracture that should have broken me. But instead of tears, something dormant and lethal flickered to life. The terrified girl who walked down the aisle earlier that day simply ceased to exist. In her place, a clinical system—the Valkyrie Protocol—booted up. My racing heart plummeted to a steady sixty beats per minute. I didn't scream. I stood up, my spine straightening for the first time in twenty years, and looked at Hardin with the detachment of a surgeon looking at a tumor. "Correction," I said, my voice stripped of its stutter. "You're in my light." By dawn, I had drained my father's accounts, vanished into a storm, and found a bleeding Crown Prince in a hidden safehouse. They thought they had broken a mute girl. They didn't realize they had just activated their own destruction.
Blinded in a crash, Cary was rejected by every socialite—except Evelina, who married him without hesitation. Three years later, he regained his sight and ended their marriage. "We’ve already lost so many years. I won’t let her waste another one on me." Evelina signed the divorce papers without a word. Everyone mocked her fall—until they discovered that the miracle doctor, jewelry mogul, stock genius, top hacker, and the President's true daughter… were all her. When Cary came crawling back, a ruthless tycoon had him kicked out. "She's my wife now. Get lost."
Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.
"Stella once savored Marc's devotion, yet his covert cruelty cut deep. She torched their wedding portrait at his feet while he sent flirty messages to his mistress. With her chest tight and eyes blazing, Stella delivered a sharp slap. Then she deleted her identity, signed onto a classified research mission, vanished without a trace, and left him a hidden bombshell. On launch day she vanished; that same dawn Marc's empire crumbled. All he unearthed was her death certificate, and he shattered. When they met again, a gala spotlighted Stella beside a tycoon. Marc begged. With a smirk, she said, ""Out of your league, darling."
After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
TOP
GOOGLE PLAY