MEETING AND PARTING.
Monday morning brought a letter for Gertrude in a distinctly
masculine, but quite unfamiliar handwriting.
Its very unfamiliarity made her let it lie unopened beside her plate
while she began her breakfast. If anyone showed curiosity about her
correspondent she could truthfully say she did not know who the letter
was from, and she liked to amuse herself with wondering about it. Even
the postmark was obliterated. She decided then that the rich American,
who really was leaving for Switzerland at last, had written to say
farewell and to tell her when he was likely to return for the final
wind-up picnic he had promised to Old Keston.
She did not guess that the mysterious writing was well known to Denys
as that of one of Charlie Henchman's friends, and that she had said
to herself as she carried it in from the post-box, "What is Cecil
Greyburne writing to Gertrude for?"
At last curiosity overcame Gertrude. All the family were busy with
their breakfast and their own concerns. Conway and her father were
each buried in a daily paper, Willie and Tony had lesson books propped
in front of them, little Maud was engrossed in bread and milk, and
Mrs. Brougham and Denys at either end of the table were pouring
out tea, and cutting bread, and dispensing porridge and bacon, and
generally devoting themselves to the wants of the family. Nobody was
heeding Gertrude, and she opened her letter and glanced first at the
signature.
Cecil Greyburne!
She was distinctly conscious of a feeling of disappointment, but in
a moment she pushed that aside. It was pleasant to find Cecil had not
forgotten her, though the note was but a short one, nothing to compare
in length with the one that had accompanied the Easter card which he
had ridden fast and far to post.
"MY DEAR GERTRUDE," the note ran, "You know I am always trotting about
the country for my work, and on Monday afternoon I find I pass through
Old Keston station, waiting three minutes by the official time-table
(probably that will mean five). I meant to call in and give you all a
surprise visit, but find there is no suitable train to carry me on
later. If some of you are near the station at 5.15 and can waste a few
minutes on a chat, it would cheer a hot and tiring journey and make it
seem worth while. I shall be in the front of the train; at least half of
me will be, the other half will be outside the window watching for you.
"Yours truly,
"CECIL GREYBURNE."
Monday afternoon at 5.15! Gertrude's memory rapidly ran through her
list of Monday classes and pupils. One of the pupils was ill and, a
most unusual thing, she would be free at four o'clock! She need not go
to the station in her school dress, but have time to come home and
put on something pretty. It was very jolly of Cecil to have thought of
writing. Of course she would go if she possibly could.
She frowned as she wondered whether she must mention Cecil's request
to her mother and Denys. He had said "some of you," but he had written
specially to her. She remembered that Denys always went to help with
a Blanket Club on Monday afternoons and was seldom home before six
o'clock, and she did not see exactly what interest it would be to
Denys to see Cecil.
At any rate she would leave that decision till she came home at
dinner-time.
At dinner-time she had a bright idea. She would take little Maud.
The care of Maud on Monday afternoons devolved on Mrs. Brougham, and
Gertrude knew that a proposal to take the child out would be very
welcome, and it would fulfil Cecil's "some of you." Cecil would like
to see the family pet.
So Denys went on unsuspectingly to the Blanket Club, and at four
o'clock Gertrude turned up at home, announced that for a wonder she
had an hour off, that she was going up to the station and that she
would take Maud with her, if Mrs. Brougham liked.
Then she arrayed herself in her freshest muslin and most becoming hat,
curled up Maud's ringlets and dressed her in a clean and dainty frock,
put her in her little wheel chair, and catching up a library book
to change at the station, as a sort of excuse, started forth to see
Cecil.
Her mother came to the gate with them both and stood watching them
down the road, thinking to herself what a pretty pair they made,
and at the corner they turned and waved to her, and Gertrude's heart
suddenly misgave her. She wished now that she had made no secret
of Cecil's letter, she had even half a mind to run back and ask her
mother to come with them and see Cecil, or at any rate, to send a
message of kind regards to him, but as she hesitated, thinking how
astonished her mother would be that she had not mentioned it before,
Mrs. Brougham, with a final smile and wave of the hand, turned back
to the house, and the chiming of the church clock sounding out warned
Gertrude that it was far later than she had guessed it could be.
Five o'clock! How _could_ she have been so long getting ready?
It was fifteen minutes' steady walk to the station, and the church
clock was often slow, but then the train was sure to be late!
Comforting herself with this reflection Gertrude hurried along, hating
to look hot and flurried, and yet more and more determined not to be
too late, even if she had to run for it.
And run for it she did, for the signal was down when it came into view
a hundred yards away from the station, and as she entered the booking
office she saw the engine of Cecil's train rounding the last bend of
the line, and there were the steps and the subway between her and the
down platform.
If she waited to unfasten Maud's strap, to lift her out, and carry
her down the steps and up the steps, she would miss Cecil. The thought
came to her unbidden as the train thundered in, and hastily pushing
the wheel chair into a corner by the booking office window, she
bade the child look through and see all the lovely big trains, till
Gertrude came back in a minute. Then she flew down the steps
and through the subway and was rushing up the other side when an
unexpected voice arrested her steps.
"Good afternoon, Gertrude. I was just wishing to see you. What are you
in such a flurry for? There is another three minutes before the train
goes!"
"I've to meet someone," explained Gertrude hurriedly, "I'll come and
see you, Mrs. Parsons. I can't stay now."
She ran on, and Mrs. Parsons followed her leisurely. She liked to
know everybody's business and she lived opposite the Stacey's and had
observed that Gertrude had attended every festivity provided by the
American cousin, while her own daughter had been invited only once.
She had also heard that the American was leaving for Switzerland
to-day, and she immediately jumped to the conclusion that Gertrude had
come to see him off. So she strolled along the platform and made her
observations.
No, it was not the American, but it was a young fellow; a tall and
pleasant-looking fellow too. He stood on the platform, one hand on
the open door of the carriage, talking eagerly to Gertrude, and Mrs.
Parsons stationed herself at a moderate distance, partly screened by a
pile of luggage, and waited. She wished the engine would cease blowing
off steam, she could perhaps have caught snatches of that interesting
conversation, for she had wonderful hearing, besides an imagination.
"I was awfully disappointed I could not call and see you all," Cecil
was saying, "I seem to know you all through Charlie and Denys. I hoped
Denys would have come with you, but I suppose she was too busy. I saw
Charlie yesterday and I had heaps of messages for her."
Gertrude coloured, "I'm sorry!" she said, a little nettled that he
should be unsatisfied with her company, "you didn't mention Denys
specially and she is always at the Blanket Club on Mondays, so I
didn't even tell her I was coming, but I did bring Maudie, only we got
late somehow and there wasn't time to bring her round, so I left her
on the other side in the booking office."
"Here's twopence to get her out again," laughed Cecil, "Well!
better luck next time. I suppose you got late by making yourself so
fetching!"
"Perhaps!" answered Gertrude with a tiny bit of starch in her tone,
but the next moment she laughed, and asked him when he would be making
the return journey.
So the minutes slipped by till their chat was overpowered by the rush
and roar of a train coming in on the up side and there was a sudden
waving of flags and shouting by porters of "Take your seats," along
Cecil's train.
"Hullo! we're off!" he exclaimed as he jumped on to the footboard,
"we were waiting for that train to cross I suppose, but they gave us
a jolly long three minutes; its been quite six, I should say. I knew
they would. It's awfully good of you to come down and see me. Give my
love to everybody. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" she echoed, "mind you write when you come through again,
and see if I don't bring Denys and Maud and mother and anybody else I
can lay hold of, to meet you!"
"All right!" he said, "that's a promise!"
The train moved and she stood back smiling and waving, watching him
till the train passed round the bend. Then she turned, and encountered
Mrs. Parsons.
"I thought I would wait for you, my dear. It is a pity to trouble you
to call when you must have so _many_ engagements. It is only a matter
of a couple of words."
"Then I must get you to come round to the booking office," said
Gertrude, trying to hide her annoyance, "for I have little Maud
waiting for me, and she will think I am never coming back."
They passed down the steps and up the other side to the booking
office, and Gertrude, entering first, went quickly to the corner where
she had left her little sister.
"Well, Maudie!" she said cheerfully, "did you think I----"
She stopped short, aghast. There was the wheel chair, just as she had
left it, but it was empty. Little Maud was not there.
"Maud!" she said, looking round into every corner as if the child
might be hiding. "Maud! wherever are you?"
There was no answer. The office was empty except for the wheel chair.
Gertrude glanced up and down the platform, then out at the door that
stood open to the road. Then she knocked at the office door.
"Have you seen anything of my little sister?" she asked, "I left
her in that chair five minutes or so ago, and I can't think what has
became of her."
The clerk shook his head.
"I didn't see her," he said, "I was giving out tickets for the up
train. There was a terrific scrimmage between two dogs--no end of a
row. Perhaps your brother or your father came in by the up train and
took the child home. It was enough to frighten anybody to hear the
lady that the little dog belonged to! She was right down screaming for
somebody to rescue her dog."
"It might be that," assented Gertrude. All her bright colour had
departed, she looked pale and anxious, and such an upset of her nicely
laid plans was extremely annoying. Besides, she might be very much
blamed for leaving Maud alone.
"Well! I'm not going to wheel home that empty chair," said she, "you
might keep it for me till to-morrow."
Then she turned to Mrs. Parsons. It was an aggravation of annoyance to
have her as a witness of these _contretemps_.
"Really, Mrs. Parsons!" she said sharply, "I cannot attend to any
business to-night. I must get home and see about Maud. It's very
thoughtless of Conway to take her off without my knowing."
Mrs. Parsons had quite intended to accompany Gertrude to St.
Olave's and see the end of the story, and she was highly offended at
Gertrude's tone.
So she turned homewards alone and she told the story in her own way.
Gertrude's footsteps grew quicker and quicker as she neared St.
Olave's. It seemed to her that a string was being tied round her neck
so tightly that she could scarcely get her breath.
If Conway had taken Maud home, why had he left the wheel chair?
On the doorstep she paused to pull herself together. It was ridiculous
to be so nervous.
She went straight to the dining-room. Her mother and Denys were
sitting peacefully at tea.
"Are father or Conway home?" she asked abruptly.
"No, they expect to be late," answered Mrs. Brougham serenely.
"Have you been up to the station, Denys?"
"No," said Denys, glancing up wonderingly.
"Nor Pattie?"
"No! whatever is the matter, Gertrude?"
"Somebody has taken Maud!"