Bruce went unchained, within limits, and had a run nearly every day.
Workmen came to put a railing and gate to the back verandah of his
establishment, and Mrs Breen kept a fidgety watch upon his movements;
but evidently the only son's will ruled, and he was more than faithful
to his compact with Rose. She was able to see this from her commanding
window, and to hear it from Bruce's mouth; and day by day her heart
warmed towards Bruce's master. Many were the friendly smiles and
salutes that passed between the attic window and the Breen back-yard,
all unknown to Rose's sisters.
They were walking with her one Saturday afternoon, when they met Mr
Peter and the collie. Pepper ran forward to greet Bruce, and they
sniffed at each other's noses and wagged their respective tails in a
friendly way. Deb was remarking to Rose that their pity for the Breens'
dog had been quite misplaced, when a bow from her sister and a lift of
the hat by the young man caused her to stop short and raise her fine
brows inquiringly.
"Rose!"
"I--I spoke to him one day," explained Rose, pink as her pinkest
namesake. "About Bruce."
"Who's Bruce?"
"That's Bruce--his dog."
Frances came running up. "Rose," said she indignantly, "did you bow to
that man?"
"He is our neighbour next door," mumbled Rose.
"I know that. So is the wood-carter. But is that a reason why you
should bow to him? Do you know who those people are?"
"They are perfectly respectable people, I believe," said Rose, growing
restive.
"DRAPERS," said Frances witheringly.
"I shouldn't care if they were chimney-sweeps. They have a beautiful
dog, and young Mr Breen is very kind to him, and I--I thanked him for
it." "Oh, Deb!"
"Was that necessary, my dear?"
"Perhaps not. But I did."
"Well, be careful, Rosie. We are not at Redford now, you know. Girls
living alone and going about in public places--"
"And that sort of person," Frances broke in crossly, "always takes
advantage of a little notice. Why, he looked at you as if you were
friends and equals, Rose!"
Rose turned to retort again, but feeling the weight of opinion against
her, forbore. And she was glad she had never mentioned the
circumstances under which she had made poor Peter Breen's acquaintance.
On a later afternoon she was in the attic room, sewing at a frock for
Robbie Goldsworthy--Robert Pennycuick, after the grandfather who had
been expected to leave much money--while Deb and Frances entertained
visitors downstairs. Old Keziah had brought her tea and cakes, and she
had had a pleasant time with her work and her thoughts, and her view of
Bruce and his premises, when suddenly Frances flounced in.
"Now, madam!" exclaimed the irate young lady, "we have to thank you for
this. What did I say? Give these people an inch and they will take an
ell--a mile indeed, if they can get it."
"What people?" inquired Rose faintly.
"Those Breen people--those DRAPERS. They have had the cheek to come and
call on us--to call and leave their cards, 'First and third Wednesday',
as if they expected us to call back again!"
"Who came?"
"Mrs and Miss--with half the shop upon their backs. Debbie"--Deb was
coming in behind her--"you are NOT going to return the call of those
people, I TRUST?"
"Oh, I don't know," smiled Deb easily. "It would please them, and it
wouldn't hurt us. There would be no need, of course, to return a second
one."
"I should think it would NOT hurt us," Rose spoke up, "to behave like
decent people. I never heard that it was considered high breeding and
fine manners to snub your inferiors--if they are your inferiors." "You
have to snub them," said Frances, "if they don't know manners
themselves."
"A very GENTLE snub," said Deb. "We are not going to be rude to the
poor things. We will call once--that is, I will--in a few months' time.
After all, it was hardly their fault."
"No; it is Rose's fault. Please, Rose, in future be so good as to
consider your family a little, as well as your neighbours' dogs."
Rose's only reply was to start the sewing-machine and drive it
vehemently. But her heart burned within her. Evidently Peter's mother
and sister had been insulted in her house, after he had been so good to
her.
He did not appear in the yard that evening, and next day when he did,
his face was turned from her all the time. The day after that, she
rattled the window and encouraged Pepper to bark to draw the young
man's attention, having ready for him a smile that should counteract
Francie's frowns, if smiles could do it; but again he took no notice.
Then she was sure that his feelings had been hurt. Mrs and Miss Breen
had returned to report a cool reception of the overtures that had been
made almost certainly at his instigation--had probably reproached him
for exposing them to the insolence of stuck-up snobs. Oh, it was
horrid! And doubtless he thought her as bad as the rest. She had not
gone downstairs to see his mother and sister, and how was he to know
she had been ignorant that they were there? And still he took Bruce out
for walks, before breakfast and after business in the afternoons, when
he might have been playing tennis and enjoying himself.
She bore with this state of things for some time, then suddenly
determined to end it. "Where there's a will there's a way." One of
Deb's petticoats showed signs of fraying, and, Deb-like, she must have
fresh lace for it immediately. Rose offered to go to town to fetch it,
taking with her the money for her purchase.
Never before had she been to "Breen's." Second-rate, if not third or
fourth, was its class amongst Melbourne shops, and the Pennycuicks had
always been accustomed to the best. But when she turned in at the
somewhat narrow and encumbered doorway, she was pleasantly surprised to
note how far the shop ran back, and how well-stocked and busy and
solidly prosperous it seemed.
He was there--not, to her great relief, behind the counter, but in a
sort of raised office place at the farther end--attending to the books
apparently, while keeping an eye upon other matters. Hardly had she set
foot upon the carpeted aisle when his head popped up from behind his
desk, and she saw herself recognised. As it was her object to be
recognised, and to speak to him, she passed the lace department, the
ribbons, the silks, the dress stuffs, until she reached the Manchester
department, where they sold towels and table-cloths, and beautiful
satin eider-downs in all the colours of the rainbow. Here she halted
and asked sweetly for torchon lace.
All the way had Peter watched her, but with his head down, as if
wishing to hide from her. "He fancies I shall be ashamed of him because
he keeps a shop," thought she; and that was exactly what he did fancy,
knowing the world and its funny little inconsistent social ways. So,
when informed that she had left the lace counter far behind her, and
while turning to retrace her steps, she frankly sought his eye, and
catching it, bowed and smiled with all the friendliness that could be
expressed in such fashion.
That smile drew Peter out. But still he came with a bashful and
hesitating air, as if uncertain of his reception; so that she had to
meet him half-way, with bold hand extended.
"How do you do, Mr Breen? How is Bruce? But I see how well he is, and
happy--thanks to you. I am so sorry I did not have the pleasure of
seeing your mother and sister when they were so kind as to call the
other day; but I did not know they were in the house till they were
gone."
He glowed with joy. He clasped her hand with a vigour that made it
tingle for a minute afterwards.
"I was sorry too," he said. "My old mater is a good soul. I think you
and she--I wanted her to see you. Another time, perhaps--"
"Oh, I hope so! We are such near neighbours." She was ready to say
anything that would make him feel he was not being treated as a
shopman. "And did you have your day's shooting? Were you successful?"
"Well," with modest pride, "I came upon snipe unexpectedly, and brought
home a couple of brace. If I had thought you would condescend to accept
them, Miss Pennycuick--if I had dared--"
"Oh, thank you very much, but I could not have let you rob your
mother--"
Conscious of heightened colour, and several pairs of watching eyes,
Rose hastily put out her hand. Peter took it respectfully, slightly
abashed.
"Can I--is there anything--anything I can do for you?"
"Yes, please," she said, struggling to remember what it was.
"Some--er--lace--torchon--for my sister; that is what I came for."
"This way," said Peter gently; and they walked down the long, narrow
shop together, closely scrutinised by the young women behind the
counters. Two or three of these, with ingratiating smirks, converged
upon the spot where their young chief halted and called aloud for
torchon lace. The favoured one brought forth the stock, unexpectedly
large and valuable, and the girl was soon able to make her choice. She
wanted one dozen yards, and there was a piece of fourteen that Peter
styled a "remnant" for her benefit. If he could have presented it to
her free of cost, he would have loved to do so; as it was, she made an
excellent bargain.
"I only hope they won't ask me where I got it," she said to herself on
the way home. Happily, they did not. The usual Buckley was taken for
granted, and Deb slashed up the lace without noticing that she had
fourteen yards for twelve.
But Rose was a poor schemer, and it was inevitable that she should soon
be found out.
The sisters were gathered about their window table in the attic room on
the following afternoon. Keziah had brought their tea, and amid the
litter of their needlework they drank it leisurely, enjoying a spell of
rest. Both casements stood wide. Deb, at one end, gazed wistfully at
the Malvern Hills; Frances, at the other, looked down on objects nearer
home. Rose had purposely drawn her chair back farther into the room. A
joyous bark arose.
"There's your young man, Rose," said Frances flippantly. "Really, the
dandy has surpassed himself. Knickerbockers and a Norfolk jacket, if
you please! Why, actually a horse! He is going out to ride. This it is
to be a counter-jumper in these levelling times!"
"He is not a counter-jumper," said reckless Rose.
"How do you know?" returned Frances swiftly.
"Proprietors don't wait behind the counter."
"That is where he has had to learn his business, of course," said Deb.
"But there is nothing disgraceful in counters. Don't be snobbish,
Francie. Every trade--profession too, for that matter--has to have a
counter of some sort."
"Of course it has," said Rose, heartened.
"Oh, but to see a man--a miserable apology for a man--measuring out
calicoes and ribbons, and tapes and buttons, and stays and garters, and
all sorts of things that a man has no right to touch--pugh!"
"Only women sell the stays and garters," corrected Rose vehemently.
"And at least young Mr Breen is not a miserable apology for a man. He
is as much a real man as anybody else--goes out shooting--plays
tennis--"
Again Francie's cat's-paw pounced on her. "How do you know?"
"Why--why--you can see he is one of that sort," squirmed poor Rose.
"Oh!" said Frances significantly, with a firm stare at her sister's
scarlet face. "Deb, there is more in this than meets the eye--even than
meets the eye."
"I don't care what you say," struck Rose blindly.
"Don't tease her," Deb interposed. "And don't be putting preposterous
ideas into the child's head."
"Please, Deb, I am not a child."
"No, my dear, you are not; and therefore you know, as well as we do,
that young Mr Breen is nothing to us."
"Did I say he was anything? It is Francie that makes horrid, vulgar
insinuations."
"But how do you know that he shoots and plays tennis?" persisted
Frances, with a darkling smile.
"Because he told me so--there!"
In five minutes the inquisitor had drawn forth the whole innocent tale.
She fell back in her chair, while Deb seemed to congeal slowly.
"Oh," moaned Frances, "no wonder they thought they could come and call
and make friends with us! And no wonder," she added, more viciously,
"that there he stands leering up at this window, when his horse has
been ready this half hour."
"Is he doing that?" asked Deb quickly.
"Look at him!"
Deb rose and looked; then, with a firm hand, closed the two little
windows and drew down the blinds. With a sob of rage, Rose jumped from
her basket-chair, almost flung her cup and saucer upon the tea-tray,
and rushed out of the room.
Thereupon the little family resolved itself into a strong government
and one rebel.
"When I DO want to marry a shopkeeper," said weeping Rose to her
sisters, "then it will be time enough to make yourselves ridiculous."
But they thought not. "No use," said they, "to shut the stable door
after the steed is stolen." Danger, or the beginning of danger, had
distinctly declared itself, and it was their part to guard the
threatened point. So they took steps to guard it. The name of Breen was
not mentioned, but its flavour lurked in every mouthful of
conversation, like the taste of garlic that has been rubbed round the
salad bowl in the salad that has not touched it; it filled the domestic
atmosphere with a subtle acrimoniousness unknown to it before. And Rose
was watched--not openly, but systematically enough for her to know
it--never allowed to go out alone, or to sit in the attic after a
certain hour; driven into brooding loneliness and disaffection--in
other words, towards her fellow-victim instead of from him.