Ten days passed by and brought no news of Barney. Steve devoted every
spare moment to the search, the Hermit was unremitting in his efforts,
but with the best will in the world they proved but poor detectives.
The tobacconist remained stubbornly uncommunicative, and as Madge would
not have recognised Barney's companion if she had seen him, it was
little use watching the shop. The insurance clerks were interviewed
again and again, but Barney had been prudent in one respect at least--he
had not breathed a word of his betting transactions in the office. He
had vaguely mentioned "a friend of mine"--"a fellow I know," but had
given no names, and the consensus of opinion was that he must have
picked up acquaintances in the luncheon hour, when, boy-like, he was
fond of wandering about from place to place. The Hermit lunched
diligently in all the principal restaurants in the neighbourhood of the
office, and made a point of entering into conversation with his
companions, but he failed to meet any one who remembered Barney.
"I am at a standstill. I don't know what to do next. I am afraid there
is very little of the Sherlock Holmes about me, Miss Philippa," he said
dejectedly on the tenth afternoon, as he detailed the history of the
day's search. It had become a custom for him to come upstairs to tell
his story and to be refreshed with tea and scones, and the girls
welcomed his advent as a break in the long, anxious day. So far he had
brought no good news, but while he was devoting so much time to their
service, they felt bound to cheer him for his disappointments, and the
effort was good for themselves also.
"Never mind; if you were Sherlock Holmes you wouldn't be yourself, and
you are a much pleasanter neighbour as you are," replied Philippa as she
lifted the little copper kettle from its stand and poured the water into
the teapot. She kept her face turned aside so that he might not see the
disappointment written upon it, and reminded herself for the hundredth
time that she could afford to be patient. Had not Barney promised to
keep straight for her sake? Perhaps, after all, this separation from
home might teach him its value as no amount of petting and spoiling
would have done, and on his return he would show a gentler, more
disciplined spirit. Philippa would never allow herself to believe that
this absence was more than temporary. She handed the plate of home-made
scones to the Hermit, smiling the while with some of her old mischievous
brightness.
"Hungry?"
"I had steak to-day. I find, on the whole, that steak suits me best,"
replied the Hermit, screwing up his eyes in judicial fashion. "It's so
tough that it takes a long time to despatch. Then, again, it takes ten
minutes to prepare. I calculate that I can while away a good half-hour
on a plate of steak, to say nothing of after-courses. In this way I get
several changes of companions, and I manage to work round the
conversation until I can bring in Barney's name, and inquire if they
happen to have met him. I am getting quite skilled in the exigencies of
small-talk."
"Poor thing, and you hate it so! It is noble of you to persevere as you
do, for I am sure there is nothing you dislike more."
"No, no; don't say that. It is good for me. I have studied books too
much, and men too little, in my life--to my own great loss. Before you
took me in hand a year ago I was a veritable hermit, and the old habits
cling about me still. I feel terribly rusty among all those bright,
alert young fellows, and they treat me as if I belonged to a different
species. Do you--do you notice anything pedantic in my manner?"
All four girls were in the room, but it was to Philippa that he
addressed the question; he had a way of looking at her when he spoke, of
which the girl herself was gratefully conscious. Theo and Madge--even
Hope herself--had a way of treating her with affectionate patronage as a
dear, kind, preoccupied Martha who could not be expected to understand
their higher flights. She had suffered beneath this treatment, and was
delighted that these fledglings should now see in what estimation she
was held by a scholar of repute.
"You are the _kindest_ man I ever met. There is no one else among our
friends who would jeopardise his digestion by eating tough steak day
after day in the hope of doing us a service," she cried, deftly evading
a direct answer, which, if honest, must needs have been in the
affirmative. Theo's hand advanced cautiously and gave a meaning
pressure to Madge's elbow. Madge stared into space, with wooden
stolidity of feature. Hope looked wistfully from Philippa to the
hermit, from the Hermit back to Philippa once more.
Then suddenly came the sound of the electric bell, followed by a silence
of expectation. It might portend a letter or a telegram. It might be
even Barney himself!
Mary opened the door, and some one entered the tiny passage to an
accompaniment of gasps and groans and rustlings of silken skirts; the
air became laden with scent, and a second after Minnie Caldecott
staggered into the room and sank down on the nearest chair.
"Where is your lift? You horrible girls, what do you mean by not having
a lift? I'm _dead_!" she announced tragically, fanning herself with the
ends of a chiffon boa, and puffing and blowing in quite an alarming
fashion, until, suddenly catching sight of the Hermit at the other end
of the room, she sat up straight in her chair and recovered her breath
with remarkable celerity.
The Charrington girls had never before seen the fair Minnie in the
presence of a member of the opposite sex, and the scene which followed
filled them with delighted amusement. The lady elaborately prepared
herself for the fray, set her hat at a more becoming angle, pulled out
the little curls under the veil, and while ostensibly addressing herself
to her friends, sent fascinating glances across the room with her big
blue eyes. The man hunched his shoulders, screwed up his brows, and
looked helplessly miserable and ill at ease. He would have given the
world to escape, but the buxom figure barred the way, and he lacked the
courage to pass by. There was nothing for it but to sit still until she
chose to depart.
"Well, I'm thankful I have found you at home after that climb. You must
think twice before you go out, when you live in a bird's nest like this.
I nearly turned back, but I wanted particularly to see you about some
business." She caught Hope's eager glance, and shook her head in reply.
"Nothing for you, dear. No more songs just now. I say! you _are_
white. What's the matter? Have you been ill?"
"Not ill exactly. We have had an anxious time lately."
Hope could not bring herself to speak of Barney to Minnie Caldecott, and
her cheeks grew pink even as she spoke, for she knew that she was using
the boy's disappearance as a cloak behind which to hide the real trouble
which was sapping her strength. Miss Caldecott nodded her head,
however, as though she understood all about the matter, and said
cheerfully:
"Still trying to make your fortune! Better give it up, my dear, and
follow my example: I'm going to be married." She threw a deprecatory
glance at the Hermit, as though condoling with him on his own late
arrival on the scene. "Told you I should come to that before long!
Fact is, the public is getting tired of me and running after newer
singers, and I must do something to improve my position, so the day is
fixed for the third week in January; and on the fifteenth of December
Minnie Caldecott gives a grand farewell concert, when all her friends in
the profession will give their services for her benefit."
"How kind of them!" said Hope. "I hope you will be very happy. But are
you really going to retire so soon? Your voice is so fresh still--you
are so young--"
The bride-elect laughed her large, hearty laugh. "How old should you
think I was!" she inquired; and this time she addressed the Hermit in
such a marked manner that he could not choose but reply. He looked
annoyed, however, and the pedantic manner was at its height as he said
shortly, "I am afraid I must confess that I have not thought about the
subject at all."
"Think now!" said Minnie, staring at him with her wide blue eyes. She
was like a big baby, Madge reflected--a huge wax doll--just as smooth
and pink-and-white and chubby--just as vacant and soulless in
expression. "Out with it! Don't be afraid," she cried; and the Hermit,
thus goaded, ventured a leap in the dark:
"I should say somewhere about thirty."
Miss Caldecott turned a horrified face towards her friends.
"Well, _he_ doesn't know how to pay compliments.--Thirty, indeed! I'm
only twenty-nine, and in the profession we always knock off at least
five years. No, I am not going to retire. I know a trick worth two of
that. A few months later there will be another concert--`first
appearance since her marriage'--and a year or two after that a second
farewell; but I want to make a big splash with this first one, and it
occurred to me the other day that you might help me." Her eyes wandered
round the room until they rested on Madge's thin face. "You are the one
I want. You designed that swell leaflet for your sister's
entertainment. Don't you think it would be a good chance for you to do
one for me now?"
Madge looked at her quizzically. The Charringtons had learned by this
time that, in spite of her beaming good-nature, Miss Caldecott was a
keen business woman, and that in dealing with her it was necessary to
look well after one's own interests.
"I am not certain that I can undertake any fresh orders just now; I am
so busy with my advertisements," Madge replied grandiloquently, glancing
at the table in the window on which lay the roll of the nursery frieze,
now approaching completion.
As she had expected, Miss Caldecott insisted upon seeing it, and went
into raptures over a spirited rendering of "Hi Diddle, Diddle." The cat
was evidently of Cheshire origin, to judge from its bland and benign
expression; the cow was in the act of drawing itself together for the
fateful leap, while the moon rolled apprehensive eyes towards it, and
the little dog clasped its fore-legs over its heart in an ecstasy of
amusement. In the distance a gentlemanly-looking dish was dragging a
swooning spoon in its wake. It was very funny, very clever, very
original; for Madge, like Theo, had been working at high pressure, and
had been inspired to do her best in the hope of paying off a part at
least of Barney's debts, and thereby giving a sop to her troubled
conscience.
"I am not quite sure who shall have it, Mason's or Fearing's," she said
languidly, mentioning the two largest West End furnishers, in reply to
Miss Caldecott's inquiry as to the destination of the design. "It
depends, of course, upon which makes the highest offer."
She turned her head cautiously to grimace at her sisters, and beheld the
Hermit wreathed in smiles, nodding encouragement, waving his hand as if
imploring her to keep it up. His delight, contrasted with the baffled
expression on Minnie's chubby face, proved almost too much, for Madge's
composure, but she busied herself with covering up the sketches, and
presently returned to her seat, and smiled with bland patronage upon her
visitor.
"And now--er--about this concert!"
"Herman is going to sing, and Marie Ross, and--" Miss Caldecott reeled
off the names of half-a-dozen well-known artistes, checking them on her
fingers with an air of triumph. "They are all _giving_ their services.
My dear, it would be the finest advertisement you could have. Make up
something original and striking in the way of a programme, and they will
all be eating out their hearts with jealousy. You don't know what we
are in the profession, but I do. And you may take it from me that every
one of them will determine on the spot that she will have something even
better when it comes to her turn. You will have your name printed in
the corner. I will crack you up as the coming artist, and they will all
be running after you, and giving you more commissions than you can
take--"
"On the same terms?" queried Madge blandly. "Because if so, I hardly
see where the artist comes in. There must be reciprocity in these
things, Miss Caldecott. I cannot work for nothing. Now, for instance,
if you were going to sing Hope's song--"
Miss Caldecott looked shocked at the suggestion.
"My dear girl, it's impossible. I'm booming three songs for publishers
just now, and get half-a-guinea apiece every time I sing them. That is
what Hope should do: get some firm to push her things, and pay for
having them sung. She will never make a name until she does."
"Just so; but as she is young and unknown, they don't feel inclined to
help her. It would help matters considerably if you would give `The
Song of Sleep' at your concert. You might possibly lose
ten-and-sixpence, but, on the other hand, my charge for an illustrated
programme is five guineas! You would have the best of the bargain."
In the silence which followed the Hermit's chuckle of delight was
distinctly audible. Minnie looked at him sharply, nodded her head as if
in sympathy with his enjoyment, and cried laughingly:
"_She'll_ get on! No fear for her! Knows how to look after herself,
and her sister too. Very well, then, it shall be an encore; but you
must do your best for me, mind--something very fetching. If you could
give a hint of a wedding it would be a good idea. I don't want the
audience to think I am retiring through old age. Thirty, indeed!" and
she threw an indignant glance at the Hermit, the while Madge laughed,
and suggested:
"Wedding-bells, and a wreath of orange-blossoms as a bordering?"
"Yes, yes! Just the thing! Bring the sketch to show me, and we can
consult about it together, for I really can't manage these stairs again.
I'm so pleased it's all settled?"
She rose as she spoke, and prepared to take her leave, but as she did so
her eye fell on the row of photographs on the chimneypiece, and she
walked forward to examine them in her usual free-and-easy fashion.
"Family pictures! There is Hope--not half pretty enough, though. That
was your father, I suppose. So clever, wasn't he! By the way, how is
that young brother of yours getting on?"
If a thunderbolt had fallen through the roof, the occupants of the room
could hardly have been more startled than by this simple question. This
was Miss Caldecott's first visit to the flat; Barney's name had never
been mentioned in her presence; how, then, did she come to know of his
existence? The shadow which had been pushed aside for a few minutes now
returned more heavily than ever, and the pale, tense faces of the four
girls startled the innocent questioner.
"What is the matter? What have I said? Nothing to worry you, have I?"
"We are in trouble about our brother, Miss Caldecott. He has--
disappeared," said Philippa, resting both hands on the back of a chair
to hide their trembling. "Do you mind telling us how you came to know
him?"
"But I don't know him; only heard his name casually from a friend.
Handsome boy, isn't he?--musical--sings comic songs and dances
break-downs--up to all sorts of fun?"
"Yes, yes!" cried the sisters in concert, and the Hermit drew near,
forgetting his embarrassment in his anxiety to hear what might be told.
The five pairs of eyes were fixed hungrily on the silly, pretty face,
and even as they looked they saw it change, soften into sympathy, and
grow sweet and earnest and womanly.
"And he has run away, has he? And you are sitting at home waiting for
him, and breaking your hearts. Poor little girls! Wouldn't it be
lovely if I helped you to find him, after all? Now, I'll tell you all I
know. I had some friends in the other night, and one of the men was
turning over my songs and found `The Song of Sleep.' We laughed about
it a good deal, for I told him it was half my own composition. He
noticed the name--Hope Charrington--and said he knew a young fellow of
that name; who was one of the most amusing boys he had ever met, and
could sing a rattling comic song. He is musical, this man I am speaking
of, and is fond of having little singsongs at his rooms. I asked one or
two questions, found out that it must be your brother, and told Jim I
would warn you that he was not a fit companion for a lad. Oh, I was
only in fun; there's no real harm in Jim, but he is in rather a fast,
betting set, and I have a young brother of my own. I know how I should
feel about it I determined to give you a hint next time we met, and I
_did_ remember, didn't I? I am so glad I didn't forget!"
The look of elation which accompanied the last words brought a smile to
Hope's face. She had reason to know Miss Caldecott's powers of
forgetting, and it argued a wonderful amount of interest that she should
have, remembered Barney in the midst of the exciting preparations for
her benefit concert. She slipped her hand through the plump arm and
pressed it gently, while Philippa asked half-a-dozen breathless
questions.
"How long ago was that? Have you heard nothing since? Where had he met
Barney? Is he in an insurance office?"
"Insurance? No, that is not it. He has quite a good berth somewhere--
shipping office, I think. Their ships go out to the Cape."
She drew her breath sharply as she finished her sentence, and, to judge
by the startled look which went round, the same thought had flashed
through every mind. Shipping! Ships that went out to the Cape! What
better means by which to frustrate the most diligent search? Barney had
always had a craving for the sea, and if this unknown "Jim" had
influence in his office, and felt himself even indirectly responsible
for the trouble in which the boy found himself, what more likely than
that he would help him to a fresh start?
"I shouldn't wonder one bit if that is the explanation," cried Minnie
triumphantly. "Two to one he has gone off in one of their boats; and a
very good thing if he has. Nothing knocks the nonsense out of a boy
like a good long voyage. He'll be so thankful to get back that he will
settle down to anything you like to mention. Got into trouble, I
suppose, before he went? Nothing serious, I hope."
She had shown herself so kind and sympathetic that Philippa could not
refuse to reply, and Minnie listened to the story of Barney's debts with
indulgent sympathy.
"And so he ran away from them. Just what I have longed to do myself a
dozen times over. Now, you will want to see Jim, and hear what he has
to say. I shall be passing near his lodgings on my way home, and if
Mr--er--Neil, isn't it?--likes to come with me, we might interview him
together. He gets home by half-past five, as a rule."
She looked coquettishly at the Hermit, who was immediately seized with a
paroxysm of embarrassment, twitched nervous fingers, and looked as
supremely miserable as if his last hour had come. With the energy of
despair he managed to blurt out a few words to the effect
that--"Stephen--Mr Charrington--home presently--like to be present.
After dinner, perhaps--could go together if Miss Caldecott kindly--left
address."
"Well, _he_ doesn't know how to flirt!" Minnie exclaimed blightingly
five minutes later as she and Hope stood in the little hall for a few
parting words. "Can't understand a man like that. No patience with him
either. No relation of yours, I hope, dear?"
"None whatever; but, oh Minnie, you should not want to flirt when you
are engaged! I do hope you are not going to be married just because you
are tired and discouraged and need a rest. I do trust you are not
making a mistake," cried Hope earnestly. "Are you quite sure you care
for hint, and can be happy?"
Miss Caldecott laughed lightly. "My dear," she said, "if I look thirty
in my best new veil, it is more than time I was married. And I am so
tired of paying my own bills! Jack is very well off, and I intend to
make his money fly. It will be a new experience to spend money that
some one else has earned." She paused, looked for a moment into Hope's
wistful face, and added impulsively, "If you will promise faithfully
never to tell Jack if you should meet him, I'll let you into a secret.
I'm frightfully happy! I've been in love with him for years. It was
difficult to make up my mind when I had been my own mistress for so
long, but now that I _have_ given in, I wouldn't go back for the world.
It is nice to be loved and taken care of--far nicer than being
independent. You will find that out for yourself some day soon."
"Dear Minnie, I am so glad! I do congratulate you with all my heart;
and `Jack' too. You will make such a nice, cheerful, good-tempered
wife!" cried Hope bravely; whereat Miss Minnie indulged in an
elephantine byplay of bashfulness, and ran rustling down the staircase.
"An appalling woman!" the Hermit was reiterating in the drawing-room;
but none of the sisters would agree with this denunciation.
"She doesn't wear her heart on her sleeve; neither do we," maintained
Hope. "She is ever so much nicer when you know her well."
"She shows great perspicuity in her judgment. Did you hear her say that
I was sure to get on?" cried Madge; and Theo smiled as at a pleasant
recollection.
"Did you notice how her face softened when we spoke of our trouble? Her
lips drooped, and her eyes grew so soft and liquid. My next heroine
shall have eyes like that."
"And if she helps us to find Barney," sighed Philippa softly, "I shall
bless the name of Minnie Caldecott as long as I live."