A RINKING-PARTY.
In spite of Horatia's laugh and her attempt to be as cheerful as ever,
depression seemed to have fallen on every one, and Sarah looked the
picture of melancholy.
'We'd better go and get ready for our rink-party. I expect everybody will
be thankful to have something to do this horrid weather. Not that I mean
that they will have accepted your invitation for that reason,' Horatia
added hastily.
'Oh, they come because we're rich, of course,' said Sarah; and then she
suddenly added, as if it were weighing on her mind, 'I wonder how many
would come if we were to lose all our money. Would you, Horatia?'
'Thank you for the compliment. No, I don't think I should; but I should
not stay away because you were poor, but because you are not what I
thought you were--your character, I mean,' said Horatia, who could speak
her mind at times, as will have been noticed.
'You would be the exception if you did stick to us. I expect Uncle
Howroyd will, and Naomi, and she will have to be our general servant,'
continued Sarah.
Horatia gazed at her in amazement. 'What in the world are you talking
about? How are you going to get poor? Oh,' as a thought struck her, 'is
there anything the matter? Do you know, to-day I thought there was. Tell
me, is there? Because, if so, I don't mean what I said. Of course I will
come and see you, and help to cook, too. I can make toffee.'
But instead of answering, Sarah demanded, 'Why did you think there was
something the matter to-day of all days, when father has just shown you
how much money he can spend merely for a few hours' amusement? What made
you think anything was wrong?'
'I don't really know, now that I come to think of it. I don't think I had
any reason; it was an idea that came to me while your father was talking
at lunch,' replied Horatia, hesitating.
'It must have been intuition,' said Sarah solemnly.
Horatia was not only a year younger than her schoolfellow, but she was
far less fond of study, and she said frankly, 'What's intuition? I know
what tuition is, because my brother has it--private tuition from his
tutor; but what you mean I can't think, and I do wish you'd speak out
plainly and tell me if you are in any trouble about money; because, you
know, you need not go spending it on me. I'm quite content to play
battledore and shuttlecock in the hall, and I didn't want a rink,
really.'
Sarah interrupted her with a smile. 'You need not mind father spending
money like that; he's got more than he knows what to do with at present,'
she said.
'But if he won't have any by-and-by, why don't you save it up for then?'
inquired Horatia.
'He thinks he will always be a millionaire, and so did I till the other
day; and then the idea came into my head, just as it came into yours--I
can't tell how or why--that there was something the matter, or that
there was going to be something the matter, and that one day we should
not be so rich. But, Horatia, please don't ever say such a thing to
anybody; it would do us great harm, even if it were quite untrue, and
perhaps make it come true. And, after all, it may be only my
imagination.'
Horatia looked very grave. 'But, Sarah, if there is any chance of such a
thing, why don't you begin to save up?' she repeated.
'But, don't you see? if the mill failed we should have to give up every
penny we had, however much we had saved. But, of course, you don't
understand these things, and the more I think of it the more impossible
it seems. Clay's Mills are as prosperous as ever. Do let's forget about
it. Not that I should mind for myself, but I should be sorry for mother,
because she likes having lots of money and motors, though she is afraid
to go out in them, so let us hope she will live and die in this hateful
house.'
Horatia did not argue with Sarah as to whether the house was hateful or
not. She rather liked it, for she was too young to perceive that it was
overladen with costly ornaments, and she revelled in the royal rooms in
which she was installed, and of which she had written long and graphic
descriptions home. 'Let us hope so, indeed,' was all she said; and added,
'But do leave off talking about miserable things and get ready for this
party. What ought I to wear? One ought to have winter things for skating,
but I haven't any best winter dress here.'
'Why not wear your white flannel? And, if you don't mind, I'll lend you a
white feather hat and boa. I have never worn them, and I have heaps of
other things to wear; mother has a mania for buying me clothes, and I
have a wardrobeful never touched.'
Horatia was just going to refuse, for she preferred wearing her own
clothes; but she thought it might please Sarah, so she accepted, and went
to her bedroom with them on. 'I've got a new hat and boa, Nanny,' she
announced.
Mrs Nancy looked at them, and cried, 'How well they suit you, Miss
Horatia! The mistress ought to get you some like them;' for she guessed
at once they were Sarah's.
'I'm going to wear them this afternoon,' replied Horatia.
'Wear Miss Clay's hat! Oh Miss Horatia! you can never do such a thing,'
protested the old nurse.
'Why not?' inquired Horatia, as she pirouetted before the cheval-glass,
admiring the pretty feather toque. 'It's the very thing for rinking, and
so is this boa. Look how queerly it is made, with chiffon twined in;
that's what makes it so becoming. Clothes make a lot of difference,
Nanny. I don't look half so ugly with these on.'
'You never look ugly, Miss Horatia, and you look "distangy" whatever you
put on, so there's no need for you to put on other folk's clothes to look
nice; the mistress wouldn't like it at all, I'm sure,' said Nancy.
'I don't think she'd mind, Nanny, and I should vex Sarah if I refused,
and that's just what I don't want to do,' said Horatia.
'Well, they do suit you, and if you've a fancy for them, and to please
Miss Clay, perhaps you'd better; specially if she's got a temper anything
like her father's, for they say he's fairly hated at the mills,' said
Nancy.
Nancy did not like Mr Clay, and not all his wealth could make her think
him a fit host for her young lady; and, indeed, after his explosion in
the back-yard she had taken it upon herself to write to Lady Grace
Cunningham, and said: 'I feel sure, my lady, that if you knew the people
we are with, you would never let us stay; for not but what this is a
palace fit for a king, and we eat like fighting-cocks. Still, they are
not what I've been used to since I've been in your service, and his
language is shocking, except when in Miss Horatia'a presence, which she
has a wonderful influence over him, every one says.' In spite of the
grammar of this letter being somewhat involved, Nancy's meaning and
opinions were pretty clear, and Lady Grace Cunningham took it to her
husband, who had a character rather like Horatia's.
'Let the child stay where she is; it will do her all the good in the
world, as, you see, she is evidently doing good--taming this boor, by all
accounts. Nancy is a rank old Tory, and turns up her nose at any one not
born in the purple. Times have changed, as Nancy will find out one day.'
So Lady Grace Cunningham did not recall them, but only wrote and told
Horatia that she must shorten her visit if she was not happy.
'I'm enjoying myself immensely. I never met kinder people,' Horatia wrote
back. And so she stayed on; and as Nancy was living, as she expressed it,
like a fighting-cock, she resigned herself very contentedly to her lot,
as she resigned herself to Horatia's wearing Sarah's clothes.
Horatia, with very mingled feelings, went down to the motor which was to
take them to the barn. She wondered what kind of people would be there.
She had an idea that, as the invitations were issued by Mr Clay, they
would be his friends or people of his choice, and Horatia looked forward
to an afternoon with a very rough and unrefined set of people.
Sarah wore the daintiest of costumes, just the right thing for the day
and pastime, for Sarah, if left to herself, had very good taste.
'What a lot of motors, Sarah! Does every one have one here?' inquired
Horatia, as she saw a number of cars coming up the three avenues which
led to Balmoral.
'Most people do,' said Sarah carelessly; 'and they'll use them to-day
sooner than their horses because of the bad weather, and some have come a
good distance.'
Tom Fox put on speed so as to arrive at the barn before the first of the
guests, which would not have been hospitable according to Yorkshire
ideas; and the two girls, accompanied by Mrs Clay, had alighted, and were
standing inside the door ready to receive the first guests; or, rather,
Sarah and her mother were there, for Horatia had gone away under the
pretext of putting on her roller-skates, and had her back to the door.
The nearer the time came the less she liked the idea of this
rinking-party, for though she managed to get on with Mr Clay, she felt
that seventy people of that kind would be more than she could bear.
'Well, Miss Horatia, what will you touch with your fairy wand next, eh? I
shall expect my old mill parlour to be turned into Aladdin's palace
after your next visit,' cried a cheery, brisk voice.
Horatia turned with delight to greet Mr Howroyd. 'I'm so glad you have
come!' she said, with more feeling than she had any idea of.
Mr William Howroyd's keen, kindly eyes gave her a quick glance, and his
sympathetic nature jumped at the right conclusion. 'Yes, I'm here; and
now, as I can't skate, and you don't know any one here yet, suppose we go
to those raised seats there; we shall hear the band, and, I can tell you,
our Ousebank band is not to be despised, and we shall see the people
rinking, and if you see any one you particularly want to know we'll go
down and ask Sarah to introduce her. I don't suppose I shall know half
the people here. I'm not a society man, you know.'
The first to arrive were two tall girls and their brother, very
pleasant-looking and lady-like; and after them, people came so fast that
Horatia could not look closely at them all; but she noticed that they
were all well dressed and looked ladies and gentlemen. 'But, then, dress
makes a lot of difference,' she repeated to herself for the second time
that afternoon.
'Hallo, Horatia!' cried a boy's voice in her ear; and, turning, Horatia
saw her cousin, once removed, George Cunningham, grinning at her.
'Oh George, how on earth did you get here?' she demanded, beaming with
delight.
'In the Maddoxes' car, to be sure. Didn't you know I was staying there?'
'I knew you were staying somewhere in Yorkshire, but I didn't know it was
near here,' she replied.
'As a matter of fact, it isn't so very near; but we came over in an
hour, in spite of the beastly roads. But, I say, it's a jolly good idea
of yours this,' he observed.
'Of mine? What do you mean? This isn't my party; it's Mr Clay's and Mrs
and Miss Clay's idea--this rink, I mean.'
'Oh, well, he called it Miss Horatia Cunningham's party. That's what made
us come. I wanted to see you, and see how you get on with these people.
But I'm jolly glad I came. The old buffer does it in style.'
'This is Mr Howroyd, Mr Clay's brother,' said Horatia hastily, to warn
her cousin that he must be careful what he said; but when she turned to
introduce her cousin to him, Mr William Howroyd had disappeared. He had
slipped away as soon as he saw that Horatia had a congenial companion.
That was William Howroyd's invariable way, always doing kindly,
unobtrusive acts, and then effacing himself.
George Cunningham gave a hearty laugh. 'The bird has flown,' he said.
'And a good thing, too. Suppose he had heard his brother called an "old
buffer"?' said Horatia reprovingly.
'He's heard him called much worse than that, by all accounts. Your host
isn't too popular, for all his money.'
'Well, anyway, it's horrid of you to come and eat his food, and then
criticise him,' said Horatia.
'Begging your pardon, I haven't eaten anything yet; and talking of grub,
what do you say to coming and having some? There's a splendid spread
behind that glass screen,' he said.
'It's much too early. Don't be so greedy, but come and rink before it
gets too full,' said Horatia; and the two went off.
When they had made several rounds, Horatia stopped near the two tall
girls who had come in first, and they immediately complimented her on her
rinking. 'You rink as if you thought no one was looking at you,' they
told her.
Horatia laughed. 'How should one rink when people _are_ looking? In a
different way?' she asked.
'No, one shouldn't; only most people look a little self-conscious,' they
replied.
Horatia noticed the slight Yorkshire intonation which she thought so
musical, and was inclined to laugh at her former fears, for there were no
'Mark Clays' at the party, and she soon heard many familiar names
mentioned as being present.
One of the Maddox party eventually asked her to have an ice. 'Come and
sit in this alcove place, and I'll fetch you one,' he suggested.
Horatia was tired, for she had already rinked for some time in the
morning, and she sat back in the alcove, half-hidden from sight.
'I always wonder how many more entertainments Mark Clay will hold out
for?' said a voice quite near her.
'Why, is he shaky?' inquired another.
'Not that I know of; but these fortunes made in a day, so to speak,
generally melt away in the same way.'
'I understood he was a solid man,' said the second speaker.
'So he is--so he is, for aught I know. I only know that we all have that
feeling about him. Perhaps the wish is father to the thought, for he's
none too popular.'
'Still, you need not wish him to be ruined, even if you don't like him. I
suppose he does some good with his money? These rich Yorkshire
manufacturers are most generous as a rule,' said the other, evidently a
stranger.
'He's an exception. His half-brother, Howroyd, gives twice as much, with
not a quarter his money. Pity he's not the millionaire, now. He's beloved
far and near.'
'What's wrong with Clay? This is a generous entertainment, for instance.'
'Oh yes, he'll do this to show off; but he's an awful brute to his
workpeople--grinds them down and shows no mercy to weak or worn-out
employés.'
'Here, Horatia, I've got the ice,' said young Maddox.
'Thank you. I'm glad we're not millionaires, Jack. People only hate you
for it,' she remarked.
'Do they? I'd chance that if I could be one. Look what this man can do?
Anything he likes! Make a rink in a day! Come on and have a turn,' said
young Maddox, to whom this particular example of the power of wealth
naturally appealed.
Horatia was unusually quiet, for her, that afternoon, and the moment Mr
Clay appeared at the door she started up to him to tell him how much they
were enjoying themselves, for she wished to show him attention, and to
show him, too, that she had not meant to criticise him that afternoon.