Acting on the rule of all good housewives, Philippa breathed no word of
the unpleasant incident of the afternoon until dinner was over, and the
workers had been fed and rested after their day's labours. Stephen, it
is true, noted the pucker on her brow, and questioned her dumbly across
the table; but she frowned a warning, and eagerly questioned the girls
as to the success of their expedition. The circulars, it appeared, were
promised in a week's time; and pending their arrival Hope had called on
the vicar on the way home, and arranged to give her first performance to
the members of his infant class on the following Monday. She had
confided to him her anxiety to rehearse her entertainment, and he had
laughingly promised to find her occupation for as many nights as she
liked to give, either in his own parish or in those neighbouring ones
which were even more in need of help.
"So you will gain experience and do good at the same time--a most
agreeable arrangement," said Philippa, smiling. "The next thing is to
buy yourself a really smart frock with the remainder of Uncle Loftus's
cheque, so that you may be ready for the social engagements when they
come. You have nothing suitable, and in this case it is a duty to be
provided with the prettiest and most becoming gown you can find."
"That's the sort of duty I should like. I could be a martyr to it if I
had the chance," cried Madge, with a sigh. "No mortal being knows how
it harrows my artistic soul to wear ugly clothes. I sometimes feel
inclined to kneel down and, do obeisance before the dresses in the Bond
Street shops. And they look so lovely just now! I've had a horrible
temptation sometimes to ask for things to be sent on approval, just for
the pleasure of trying them on and seeing how I look in them."
"Do you think it is an honourable thing to send for things that you have
no earthly intention of buying?" asked Philippa the literal, with a
solemn air, which delighted her mischievous sister.
"No, I don't; I think it's a mean trick. But I'm so dull! I want to do
something reckless for a change. You needn't alarm yourself, Philippa;
if I wrote asking for a selection of Court dresses to be sent on
approval to an address off the Tottenham Court Road, they wouldn't pay
much attention to the order, I'm afraid."
Theo thought not, indeed; while Hope looked pained and penitent, and
said, "I seem to have all the changes--all the good things. I suppose I
ought to dress for the part. But remember the `Amalgamated Sisters'!
Whatever I gain must be divided in equal shares."
"If you want excitement, it is a pity you weren't at home this
afternoon, Madge," said Philippa. Dinner was over by this time, and she
felt free to unburden her mind and receive the longed-for sympathy. "I
had an adventure all to myself, and found it more exciting than I liked.
The Hermit called, and Mary announced him in her own original fashion--
that is to say, left him standing on the mat. He came to lodge some
more complaints, and we had a row royal. I think he is mad, for he made
the most extraordinary statements. But he is worse than mad; he is
dangerous, and means to complain and get us turned out if he can. There
is not the slightest ground for his complaints, but he is an old tenant
and we are new, and it is only natural that his word should be taken
before ours."
"Don't worry yourself about that old girl," said Stephen kindly. "I
have not the slightest fear of being turned out Neighbours in flats are
constantly having these little frictions, and the authorities must turn
a deaf ear to complaints if they wish to succeed or to have any peace in
life. I'll go down some night and talk to the old fellow, and see if I
can bring him to reason. We have been so quiet, too, since Hope went
away. What on earth did he find to grumble about?"
"Oh, my dear, the wildest fancies! He didn't like Hope practising the
children's songs this morning, and was blightingly superior about her
taste; but the worst grievance is that there is a tapping at his study
window which gets on his nerves, and that something wakes him up every
morning before it is light. It sounds too ridiculous to be true, but he
actually supposed that we were responsible."
"What utter folly!" began Stephen angrily; but the next moment he
stopped short, and with one accord four pairs of eyes followed his
towards the corner of the room where Barney sat--shaking, red-faced,
apoplectic. "_Barney_!" cried the head of the house in a terrible
voice. "What is the meaning of this? Do you mean to say that this is
_your_ doing? Have you had any hand in this business? Speak up this
moment."
"I should think I had!" cried Barney. "Both hands in it! Didn't I vow
when Hope went away that I would find some plan of keeping the old
fellow occupied? I flatter myself that I hit on something original this
time, and secured a fine effect with next to no trouble. The tapping
was made by a little lead weight hung on the end of a string fastened
outside the girls' window. It swung about in the air, just at the top
of his panes, and when there was a breeze, tapped away like a machine.
I fastened it up one day, and left it to do its work. It's there still,
if you choose to look. The waking-up business was more difficult. I
found out, by watching the lights at night, that he slept beneath my
room, and I borrowed an alarum from a fellow in the office. I told him
why I wanted it, and he nearly died with laughing. I set it for
different hours, and lowered it down by a cord so that it lay against
the pane. I left my window open, and when it went off it woke me too,
and I hopped out of bed and pulled it up before he opened his window.
It was too dark for him to see anything, but I could hear him muttering
to himself in a tearing rage. It came off splendidly, but I'm not sorry
to give up that part of the business, for it was jolly cold getting out
of bed and standing by that open window. It isn't good enough in this
weather;" and Barney doubled himself up in another burst of laughter at
the success of his plot.
For once nobody joined in the chorus; the girls were dumb and horrified,
while Stephen was filled with righteous indignation.
"Stop laughing this moment, sir," he cried sternly. "You have done
mischief enough; don't make it worse by triumphing over it. If you have
not enough consideration for your sisters to teach you how to behave, I
must find some other way of keeping you in order. I won't have the
peace of the house ruined and Philippa worried to death."
"Leave him to me, please, Steve," said Philippa quietly. She walked
forward until she stood immediately before Barney, and the smile faded
from the boy's lips as he saw her face. She was not flushed as he had
often seen her under the stress of passing irritation, but white--deadly
white--with a look in her eyes before which his own fell to the ground.
"You have made me tell a lie," she said slowly. "Do you hear? I gave
Mr Neil my word that we had had no part in these annoyances. He did not
want to believe me, but I made him; I gave him my word. I will not wait
a minute before going to him and apologising for saying what was not
true. Get up! Come downstairs with me. You shall tell him the whole
story as you have told it to us, and ask his pardon like a gentleman.
Are you coming?"
Barney scowled and looked at her darkly; he opened his lips to say that
he would do nothing of the kind, but Philippa looked at him again, and
the words died away. She walked to the door, and he marched after her;
she held it open, and he passed through. They stood together before the
Hermit's door, and Philippa pressed her fingers on the bell.