PERCY
The days that followed were singularly quiet. To Bobby's great
relief, Rosemary made no attempt to re-open the discussion which had
so distressed her on that dark Sunday afternoon. She herself
returned to her normal ways, and though she realized that the girl
was subdued and unusually silent she judged it to be the result of a
supreme effort to be good and to make amends for her wild outburst.
The brief rebellion was evidently over, and Bobby was very thankful.
She had no time or energy to spare for these devastating struggles;
and though her heart ached over the necessity to curb and discipline
her darling, she would not appear to notice her lack of spirits lest
the flame should rekindle. She went back into her groove of daily
pressing cares and duties and became apparently engrossed in them,
the while Rosemary with outward submission accepted her punishment.
She spent hours every evening poring over her German play, and often
her eyes were heavy with fatigue and misery, but Bobby would not see.
She was very gentle with her at all times, but she would not remit
the sentence. She dared not show weakness in this respect. Rosemary
must be made to learn obedience and self-control. Only so could she
be made fit to encounter the trials and temptations of life. That
her methods were severe she fully realized, but they sprang from the
desperate desire to safeguard her treasure--a motive around which her
whole life seemed to be bent. She would not suffer Rosemary to go to
bed until her task for the day was finished, but neither would she go
herself. She would sit with her, silently mending, till the
appointed portion was mastered and could be repeated without a
mistake.
They had no time for intimate talk in those days, and that also was
in a way a relief to Bobby. Her intense physical weakness had
subsided, but she found it very difficult to maintain her usual
cheery energy. Like Rosemary, she was the victim of unwonted
depression, and her sleep had become fitful and unrefreshing. There
were times when a heavy sense of foreboding weighed her down, for
which there was no accounting. Tiny lines which had never shown
before had begun to gather about her eyes and brow. In repose her
face was no longer serene, but wistful and sometimes anxious. She
looked as if some secret trouble were gnawing at her soul. Neither
Rosemary nor Matilda noticed the change in her, both being too deeply
engrossed in their own affairs. But undeniably it was there,--a
subtle creeping change not to be defined.
Silas would have noted it, but his opportunities had been curtailed
by a note written by Bobby on the evening of that self-same Sunday
which had been so severe a trial to her strength.
"Dear Mr. Hickory," (thus ceremoniously it ran) "I want to thank you
for your great kindness to me to-day, and for your more than kind
offer of partnership. I have considered it very carefully, as you
desired, but I find it quite impossible to avail myself of it.
Please do not think me ungracious or in any way unappreciative when I
say that I feel that my only course is to go on as I am now doing,
and I do beg that you will not attempt to dissuade me from it, for my
decision is quite final. I am of course always pleased to discuss
farm matters with you, but please when we meet let it be for business
only, and not more often than business demands. I hope this request
will not seem to you unreasonable. I feel compelled by circumstances
to make it.
With my renewed thanks,
Yours sincerely,
ROBERTA WENDHOLME."
Silas's reply to this had been contained in one sentence, wholly
unceremonious.
"I accept your decision without reservation till further notice. S.
H."
Bobby had puckered her brow over that sentence, as if something in it
had pained or bewildered her, and the tiny crumple had remained like
a shadowy cloud on her bright face. She had seen nothing of Silas
Hickory since.
Mary had come up one day, and had sat in the kitchen and talked, but
her conversation had been completely commonplace and she had scarcely
mentioned Silas. Peter was much more of an every-day topic with her,
and Peter had only just escaped being tossed by the big bull. He
said it was only play, but she was by no means sure that he was right.
When she had gone again, Bobby found that she had left her
handkerchief behind, and in the morning she sent Rosemary down with
it. Whenever the sun shone now, she made Rosemary go out on one
pretext or another, for she could not bear that white, imprisoned
look that came over her face at night. The strange part was that
Rosemary did not seem to want to go out, and her interest in Jess and
her pups had waned to nothingness.
"I will go if you like, Aunt Bobby," was all she ever said when Bobby
devised some errand to take her out into the sunshine.
On the day of the Rummage Sale, which was the Saturday on which Roper
had invited her to hunt, Bobby took her down with her to the Parish
Room to help in the great sorting of rubbish which annually took
place there. Rosemary went without enthusiasm, but she made herself
quite useful in a detached and uninterested fashion, until Percy
Hudson came suddenly upon the scene and greeted her with a derisive
whoop of welcome.
"I say, you're not going to waste your time over selling this mouldy
collection, are you?" he questioned as he reached her. "Oh, chuck it
and come out with us for a spin! The Old Bean's just outside."
Rosemary's face lighted up as Bobby had not seen it for days, but it
sobered again almost immediately. "Afraid I'm busy, Percy," she said.
"Rats!" said Percy. "It is rats, isn't it, Miss Wendholme?"
appealing to Bobby. "You don't want her here, now do you?"
He spoke coaxingly, waylaying Bobby as she lifted an armful of old
clothes out of a box.
She gave him a smile. Everyone smiled at Percy. "I think it is too
cold for motoring in the open," she said.
"I'll wrap her up," said Percy. "I've got a spare coat. At least,
The Old Bean has. He always takes spares of everything. Do let her
come, I say! I'll bring her back in good condition, I promise."
Rosemary said nothing. She was bent over some price-tickets.
Bobby set down her bundle and looked at her. "Would you like to go,
Rosemary?" she said.
Rosemary stood up. The eagerness flashed back into her face. "I
should love it!" she said.
"Come on then!" said Percy. "Leave all this rubbish and come along!"
"May I, Aunt Bobby?" said Rosemary.
Bobby felt a swift pang at her heart. There was something of the
caged bird about the throbbing appeal. She could not have refused it
had she tried.
"Yes, go, darling!" she said. "It'll do you good. Wear the extra
coat and be back for lunch!"
Rosemary flung her arms impulsively round her neck. "Oh, thank you!"
she breathed. "Good-bye!"
She was gone like an arrow as though she feared the permission might
be rescinded if she lingered, Percy looking back to promise to take
care of her, in answer to Bobby's earnest request.
Outside the Parish Room, The Old Bean, standing by his two-seater
car, greeted Rosemary with a beaming face. "This is slap-up!" he
declared with enthusiasm. "What on earth have you been doing all
this week? We nearly came to look for you, but didn't quite dare."
"Native caution prevailing," laughed Percy. "Here, give us that coat
of yours, Old Bean! Not the one you've got on, silly! The other
one--the spare! Where is it?"
The Old Bean, however, divested himself of the one he was wearing,
which was of the heavy blanket variety, and held it for Rosemary to
put on.
"You have this one!" he said. "It's better than the one in the back."
She accepted without protest, anxious only to be gone.
"Who's going to drive?" said Percy.
"I am," said The Old Bean, pulling on the dilapidated "spare." "You
jump into the dickey, unless you want to be left behind!"
"Well, I got her, anyway," maintained Percy, as he complied. "I bet
you'd never have faced all that crowd of old women by yourself."
"Oh, do let's start!" cried Rosemary, literally dancing with
impatience. "Get in, Old Bean! You can think of what to say
afterwards."
He got in obediently and she swiftly followed. In another five
seconds, they were splashing in and out of the puddles down the
village street and Rosemary was laughing merrily for the sheer joy of
freedom.
"It's been a rotten week," she said. "Thank goodness it's over!"
But when The Old Bean wanted to know in what its rottenness had
consisted she would not tell him. She was bent upon enjoying her
liberty to the utmost while it lasted.
They ran through the market-town of Bode and on through Foley Down
where the hounds had met that morning.
"We're too late for the meet," said The Old Bean, "but we may see
something of them."
"Oh, don't let's bother about the hounds!" begged Rosemary. "Let's
just go as far as ever we can before we have to turn back!"
He looked at her through his glasses which made his eyes seem greener
than they actually were. Then he pressed the accelerator without
comment, and they shot forward over the shining wet road, while
Rosemary laughed again in sheer, delirious enjoyment.
It was Percy presently who called a halt when they were several miles
on the other side of Bode. He did not feel that he was getting his
fair share of their guest, especially as his acquaintance with
Rosemary was of considerably longer standing than The Old Bean's.
They came to a stand on a wide furze-covered common over which the
sea-gulls were flying in the fitful sunshine with plaintive cries.
"What a heavenly place!" said Rosemary. "And it smells of the sea
too. We can't be very far away from it."
"We're not," said The Old Bean. "Foley Beacon is only about six
miles farther on. I thought perhaps we might get as far if we stuck
to it."
"We can't, then," said Percy. "She's got to be back to lunch,
haven't you, Rosemary?"
"Afraid I have," she said reluctantly.
"There's some chocolate in one of those pockets," said The Old Bean.
"I suppose that wouldn't do instead?"
"Oh, it isn't that," said Rosemary. "I'd go without lunch and tea
and supper too if I could stay out. But I mustn't. Aunt Bobby would
be fussing."
"Well, let's have the chocolate anyway!" said Percy. "I'm famished.
It's beastly draughty at the back here, Old Bean. You can have it
going home."
"Very well," said The Old Bean, "if Rosemary has no objection to your
driving."
Rosemary objected to nothing. She was thoroughly enjoying herself.
There was a subtle pleasure also in feeling that they were vying with
each other to get the most of her. It was a novel experience and a
very gratifying one.
They all sat in the sunshine and ate The Old Bean's chocolate with a
good deal of merriment; then The Old Bean climbed into the
dickey-seat and Percy took his place at the wheel.
She realized at once that he was a far less experienced driver than
The Old Bean, and for a little while she was inclined to regret the
exchange. But, like Percy, she exulted in speed, and very soon his
recklessness had her spell-bound. The Old Bean, huddled in the
background, blue with cold, wholly ceased to count.
All that had been pent up in her during the past week seemed to find
vent in that wild rush homewards. The very blood was singing in her
veins when, awaking to the fact that they were nearing Bode and the
end of their run, she begged Percy to slow down lest they should get
in before their time.
"Better be ten minutes late than early!" she urged.
"Right ho!" said Percy, reducing speed obligingly.
It was just as well, for to have rushed through Bode at that pace
would have been to ask for trouble. As it was, their progress
through the town was as sedate as the most exacting could have
desired and they reached the open country again without incident.
"What are you going to do for Christmas?" asked Percy suddenly.
"Do?" Rosemary looked at him with round eyes of scorn. "Same as
usual, I suppose. What do we ever do besides breathe?"
He laughed. Rosemary's retorts always amused him. "Well, what about
this Boxing Day show at Bode? It'll be something of an event, I
hear. And if you're still game----"
"Of course I'm game!" said Rosemary.
He leaned slightly towards her. "Well, don't tell The Old Bean,
because he's off it. He's a bit of an aunt, you know. We'll do as
we said. I'll come round and pick you up--about nineish, what? I'll
wait for you at the end of the lane. And then we'll go off and have
an almighty spree. How's that?"
Rosemary's eyes had the living fire of jewels. "Percy!" she
breathed. "How--heavenly!"
He laughed again at her. Her vivid, arresting eagerness lent spice
to the adventure.
"Right ho!" he said. "Then that's settled. To-day week, isn't it?"
"To-day week!" cried Rosemary, and her laughter had the wild
sweetness of a stringed instrument touched unawares.
Percy gave her a swift side-glance and drove on.