A TICKET FOR ONE.
As Cecil very justly observed to Gertrude, it was a perfect afternoon
for a ride, and the two went gaily along the upper road to the
Landslip, till they came to a sign-post in a place where four roads
met.
Gertrude jumped off her machine and stood gazing up at the directions
indicated.
"You see!" she observed, "we have lots of time before that slow donkey
gets there. We might make a detour and get into the road again later
on. We don't want to sit staring down the Landslip till they arrive.
Besides, we've seen it all yesterday, haven't we?"
Cecil acquiesced. It amused him to see Gertrude's cool way of
arranging matters, and it was certainly less trouble to be entertained
and directed hither and thither than to take the initiative and
entertain. At any rate it was a change.
But bicycles, like donkeys, are not always satisfactory means of
locomotion. The pair had not gone much further when Gertrude's tyre
punctured, and a halt was called while Cecil repaired it.
Cecil was not a good workman; he made a long job of it, and when at
last they started again, time was getting on and they had but reached
a small colony of houses when Gertrude exclaimed that her tyre was
down again.
She glanced round at the little cluster of houses. "There's a cycle
shop," she said, "and a tea shop next door. How convenient. We had
better have the punctured tyre mended for us and we can have tea while
we wait!"
Cecil obediently wheeled her cycle into one shop and followed her into
the second.
He found her seated at a little table, examining the watch on her
wrist.
"Guess what the time is," she said laughing. "Let us hope they won't
wait tea for us at the Landslip, for I am sure we shall never get
there! The woman here says there is no way of getting there except by
going back to the cross-road!"
Cecil looked rather blank. He had not at all counted on failing to
keep the appointment at the cottage, or on running the risk of thereby
offending Mrs. Henchman, and where would be his promise to himself of
making it up to Audrey at tea-time?
However, the tea was already being placed on the table, a plate of
cakes was at his elbow, and Gertrude was asking if he took milk and
sugar.
He shrugged his shoulders mentally. "In for a penny, in for a pound,"
he said to himself, "here I am and I may as well enjoy myself."
So while Denys waited and watched for them in the Landslip cottage,
these two laughed and ate and chatted and at last mounted their
bicycles and rode off back to Whitecliff in a leisurely manner,
arriving five minutes after Audrey, dressed in her very best white
frock, had departed to her breaking-up school concert, leaving Denys
to hastily change her dress, eat a much-needed tea and rush up to the
station to meet Charlie.
Gertrude came in with her usual easy manner.
"Well!" she said, "here we are! Where is everybody? Did you think we
were lost?"
"I am awfully sorry we missed," said Cecil quickly. "The fact is we
got into a road that did not go there at all, and then Miss Gertrude
had a puncture, and then a second, and by the time we got back to the
right road we knew it was too late to do anything."
Gertrude looked at the tea-table approvingly.
"I will ask you to tea, Cecil, as Denys does not. Where is Mrs.
Henchman, Denys? You don't seem very communicative to-night."
"She is lying down till Charlie comes," said Denys. "We had a bother
with the donkey and it upset her. Audrey had to come back with her
and I went on to the Landslip to find you. I have only just got back.
Audrey has gone to her concert; she was able to get a ticket for you
after all, and she said she was sorry she could not wait for you, as
she was playing, but she would come and speak to you in the interval."
Gertrude glanced at the ticket and tossed it on to the table.
"I shan't go all by myself," she said, "I shall go and hear the
Stainer. I shall like it much better; it is too utterly dull to sit by
one's self."
Denys's heart sank. She had so counted on this treat alone with
Charlie, and had secretly been much pleased when Audrey and Gertrude
had planned to go to the concert together, and now here she was
saddled with Gertrude's company. Besides, what would Audrey say?
She poured out the tea and as she put milk into the third cup, she
almost smiled.
She had forgotten Cecil! Of course, though there was but one ticket
for the concert, there were no tickets needed for the Church!
But she herself must start for the station almost immediately, and the
Service of Song was not till eight o'clock. She must leave the couple
behind her, and then if Gertrude changed her mind again and stayed
at home after all, what _would_ Mrs. Henchman think when she came
downstairs and found them amusing themselves over the drawing-room
fire?
Somehow since she came to Whitecliff, Denys had felt bewildered and
out of touch with God, and had forgotten her usual habit of praying
about the little everyday worries and perplexities; but now suddenly,
fresh from the walk under the moonlit trees which had reminded her of
Gethsemane, as she stood with the teapot in her hand, she bethought
her of the words, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help
in trouble," and with the remembrance of Him, came the suggestion of
what she had better do.
She would run up and say good-bye to Mrs. Henchman and tell her what
they were all planning for the evening, and then the responsibility
would be no longer on her shoulders.
And even as she decided this, Cecil looked up from a perusal of
Audrey's concert ticket.
"If neither of you want this ticket," he said, "I think I will take
it. I would like to hear Audrey play, and she will feel it dull if
there is nobody there that she knows."
Denys looked up gratefully.
"Oh, I am so glad!" she said. "I was afraid she would be very
disappointed to see no one. That is really kind."
Gertrude pouted openly.
"Look here, Denys!" she said, "mind you and Charlie look out for me!"
That little touch of God's hand had made all the difference to Denys.
"All right," she said cheerfully, "we will do our best."
She ran lightly upstairs and knocked softly at Mrs. Henchman's door.
She found Mrs. Henchman lying on her sofa beside a bright little
fire, and after telling her their plans, she bent down and kissed her
affectionately.
"Shall you be lonely with us all out?" she asked solicitously.
"I daresay I shall be all right, my dear," Mrs. Henchman replied, a
little grudgingly. This weakness which had come upon her in the last
few months was a sore trial--not an accepted trial--under which she
chafed and fretted day by day.
Denys longed to be able to say, "I will gladly stay and keep you
company," but then Charlie had arranged this evening's engagement and
she knew Mrs. Henchman would not allow it to be altered.
Instead, she said, "Will Mary come up, and see if you want anything?"
"I really can't say, my dear. Mary is a funny person. Run along now or
you will be late for Charlie."
Denys left her, but as she passed down the stairs she saw the kitchen
door ajar, and with a sudden impulse she tapped at it.
"Mary!" she said, "we are all going out. You will take care of Mrs.
Henchman, won't you?"
"Well, Miss!" Mary's tone and face were indignant. "I always _do_ take
care of Mrs. Henchman."
Denys retreated.
"Oh, dear!" she said to herself as she closed the front door behind
her. "I am afraid I have made a mistake."