THE FIRST INVITATION.
Mrs. Aarons kept her promise, and called upon the Kings on Saturday.
Mrs. M'Intyre saw her get down at the gate of No. 6, at about four
o'clock in the afternoon, watched the brougham which had brought her
trundling slowly up and down the street for half-an-hour, and then saw
her get into it and drive off; which facts, communicated to Paul Brion,
gave him the greatest satisfaction.
He did not see his neighbours for several days after. He heard their
piano, and their footsteps and voices on the verandah; but, whenever
he essayed to go outside his own room for a breath of fresh air, they
were sure to retire into theirs immediately, like mice into a hole when
the cat has frightened them. At last he came across them in an alley of
the Fitzroy Gardens, as he and they were converging upon Myrtle Street
from different points. They were all together as usual--the majestic
Elizabeth in the middle, with her younger sisters on either side of
her; and they were walking home from an organ recital in the Town Hall
to their tea, and a cosy evening over a new book, having spent most
of the morning at the Public Library, and had their mid-day dinner at
Gunsler's. As he caught sight of them, he was struck by the change
in their outward appearance that a few weeks of Melbourne experience
had brought about, and pleased himself with thinking how much their
distinguished aspect must have impressed that discerning woman of
the world, who had so kindly condescended to take them up. They were
dressed in their new gowns, and bonneted, booted, and gloved, in the
neatest manner; a little air of the mode pervaded them now, while the
primitive purity of their taste was still unadulterated. They had never
looked more charming, more obviously "born ladies" than to-day, as he
saw them after so long an interval.
The three black figures stood the shock of the unexpected meeting
with admirable fortitude. They came on towards him with no faltering
of that free and graceful gait that was so noticeable in a city full
of starched and whale-boned women, and, as he lifted his hat, bowed
gravely--Elizabeth only giving him a dignified smile, and wishing him
a good evening as she went by. He let them pass him, as they seemed
to wish to pass him; then he turned sharply and followed them. It was
a chance he might not get again for months, perhaps, and he could not
afford to let it slip.
"Miss King," he called in his imperative brusque way; and at the sound
of his voice Elizabeth looked back and waited for him to join her,
while her younger sisters, at a sign from Patty, walked on at a brisk
pace, leaving her in command of the situation. "Miss King," said Paul
earnestly, "I am so glad to have an opportunity of speaking to you--I
have been wanting all the week to see you, that I might thank you for
your kindness in asking me to tea."
"Oh," said Elizabeth, whose face was scarlet, "don't mention it, Mr.
Brion. We thought of it merely as a--a little attention--a sort of
acknowledgment--to your father; that it might please him, perhaps,
for you to see that we had settled ourselves, as he could not do so
himself."
"It would have pleased _me_, beyond everything in the world, Miss King.
Only--only--"
"Yes, I know. We forgot that it was not quite _de rigueur_--or, rather,
we had not learned about those things. We have been so out of the
world, you see. We were dreadfully ashamed of ourselves," she added
candidly, with a little embarrassed laugh, "but you must set it down
to our ignorance of the laws of propriety, and not suppose that we
consciously disregarded them."
"The laws of propriety!" repeated Paul hotly, his own face red and
fierce. "It is Schiller, I think, who says that it is the experience
of corruption which originated them. I hate to hear you speak of
impropriety, as if you could even conceive the idea of it!"
"Well, we are not in Arcadia now, and we must behave ourselves
accordingly," said Elizabeth, who was beginning to feel glad in her
gentle heart that she had been able to make this explanation. "I think
we are getting corrupted with wonderful rapidity. We have even been
_called upon_, quite as if we were people of fashion and consequence,
by a lady who was dressed in the most magnificent manner, and who came
in her carriage. Her name was Aarons--Mrs. Aarons. She said she had
heard of of our being here, and thought she would like to make our
acquaintance."
"Did she?" responded Paul warmly, thinking how nice and delicate it
was of Mrs. Aarons to respect his anxious wish that his name and
interposition should not be mentioned, which was certainly more than he
had expected of her. "And were you all at home when she called?"
"As it happened--yes. It was on Saturday afternoon, when we are
generally rather busy."
"And have you returned her call yet?"
"No. We don't mean to return it," said Elizabeth composedly; "we did
not like her enough to wish to make an acquaintance of her. It is no
good to put ourselves out, and waste our own time and theirs, for
people whom we are sure not to care about, and who would not care about
us, is it?"
"But I think you would like her if you knew her, Miss King," pleaded
Paul, much disturbed by this threatened downfall of his schemes. "I
am sure--at least, I have always heard, and I can speak a little from
personal knowledge--that she is a particularly nice woman; thoroughly
kind and amiable, and, at the same time, having a good position
in society, and a remarkably pleasant house, where you might meet
interesting people whom you _would_ like. Oh, don't condemn her at
first sight in that way! First impressions are so seldom to be trusted.
Go and call, at any rate--indeed, you know, you ought to do that, if
only for form's sake."
"For politeness, do you mean? Would it be rude not to return her call?"
"It would be thought so, of course."
"Ah, I was not sure--I will call then. I don't _mind_ calling in the
least. If she has done us a kindness, it is right to acknowledge it in
whatever is the proper way. It was my sisters--especially Patty--who
took a dislike to her, and particularly wished not to see her again.
Patty thought she asked too many questions, and that she came from some
motive of curiosity to pry into our affairs. She was certainly a little
impertinent, I thought. But then, perhaps, ladies in 'the world' don't
look at these things as we have been accustomed to do," added Elizabeth
humbly.
"I don't think they do," said Paul.
By this time they had reached the gate through which Patty and Eleanor
had passed before them out of the gardens. As they silently emerged
into the road, they saw the pair flitting along the pavement a
considerable distance ahead of them, and when they turned the corner
into Myrtle Street both the slender black figures had disappeared. Paul
wondered to see himself so irritated by this trifling and inevitable
circumstance. He felt that it would have done him good to speak to
Patty, if it were only to quarrel with her.
Elizabeth bade him good-night when she reached the gate of No. 6, where
the hall door stood open--putting her warm, strong hand with motherly
benevolence into his.
"Good-night, Miss King. I am so glad to have seen you," he responded,
glaring fiercely at the balcony and the blank window overhead.
"And--and you will return that call, won't you?"
"O yes--of course. We will walk there on Monday, as we come home from
the Library. We are able to find our way about in Melbourne very well
now, with the help of the map you were so kind as to give us when we
first came. I can't tell you how useful that has been."
So, with mutual friendship and goodwill, they parted--Elizabeth to join
her sisters upstairs, where one was already setting the tea-kettle to
boil on the gas stove, and the other spreading a snow-white cloth on
the sitting-room table--Paul Brion to get half-an-hour's work and a
hasty dinner before repairing to the reporters' gallery of "the House."
He did not see them again for a long time, and the first news he heard
of them was from Mrs. Aarons, whom he chanced to meet when she was
shopping one fine morning in Collins Street.
"You see, I remembered my promise," she said, when matters of
more personal moment had been disposed of; "I went to see those
extraordinary _protégées_ of yours."
"Extraordinary--how extraordinary?" he inquired stiffly.
"Well, I put it to you--_are_ they not extraordinary?"
He was silent for a few seconds, and the points of his moustache went
up a little. "Perhaps so--now you mention it," he said. "Perhaps they
_are_ unlike the--the usual girl of the period with whom we are
familiar. But I hope you were favourably impressed with your visit.
Were you?"
"No, I wasn't. I will be frank with you--I wasn't. I never expected to
find people living in that manner--and dressing in that manner. It is
not what I am used to."
"But they are very lady-like--if I am any judge--and that is the chief
thing. Very pretty too. Don't you think so?"
"O _dear_ no! The middle one has rather nice eyes perhaps--though
she gives herself great airs, I think, considering her position. And
the youngest is not bad looking. _Miss_ King is _plain_, decidedly.
However, I told you I would do something for them, and I have kept my
word. They are coming to my next Friday. And I do _hope_," proceeded
Mrs. Aarons, with an anxious face, "that they will dress themselves
respectably for the reputation of my house. Do you know anyone who
could speak to them about it? Could you give them a hint, do you think?"
"_I!_--good gracious! I should like to see myself at it," said Paul,
grimly. "But I don't think," he added, with a fatuity really pitiable
in a man of his years and experience, "that there is any danger of
their not looking nice. They must have had their old frocks on when you
saw them."