SHE CARES NOT
Next morning, while he was sitting with his _fiancee_ in the bank
drawing-room, the ladies of the house having discreetly pleaded domestic
engagements, Mrs. Oxenham was announced--to see Miss Liddon.
Jenny rose from the sofa, pale and palpitating. Anthony neither moved
nor spoke, but watched his sister narrowly.
"I have come," said Mary; and then she stopped, and held out her arms.
Jenny rushed into them, sobbing; and it was made evident that all
opposition was at an end, as far as this Churchill was concerned.
"I am not _de trop_, am I?" she inquired, with a tremulous laugh. "You
don't mind my sitting here with you for a few minutes, do you, Tony?"
He got up, and solemnly kissed her. "You are a good old girl, Polly," he
said, in a deep voice. "Sit down, and tell us that you wish us
joy--it's about the only thing that could make us happier than we are
already."
"I came on purpose," she replied, "to wish you joy, dears, and to fetch
you both back to Wandooyamba. Jenny, you will come back to me, my
darling? I understand now--I didn't before. And Harry--he is your
devoted admirer, you must know--he commissioned me to say that he
expects you."
Jenny looked at her lover, who shook his head.
"Can't," he said. "We have telegraphed to her mother, and have arranged
to go down by this afternoon's train."
"Oh, no, Tony!"
"Yes, Polly! we can't put it off now. I must see her mother. And we are
going to close the tea-room, and--and lots of things. But we can come
back again."
Mrs. Oxenham was then prevailed on to wait to see them off, and the
Rogersons sent out for champagne that lunch might be served in a style
befitting the occasion. Having made up her mind to support Tony, there
was nothing Mary would not do to please him; and she fraternised with
Jenny's relatives, invited them to Wandooyamba, drove them to the
station, and otherwise effaced herself and her social prejudices, in the
spirit of a generous woman who is also a born lady. On the platform she
kissed the lovers in turn, regardless of spectators.
"I declare," she said, aside to her brother, "it is ridiculous of you
two to be going away like this; you should have gone alone, Tony, and
left Jenny with me."
He laughed derisively.
"You could have come back for her when you had seen her mother, or I
could have brought her down. You look exactly like a bride and
bridegroom starting off on their honeymoon, with all this party seeing
you off."
"We'll be that when we come back again," said he.
"Oh, I hope you are not going to put off coming to me till then!"
He laughed again, and dropped his voice. "I'm going to take her to
Europe, Polly, and we must sail not later than March, you know, on
account of the Red Sea, and the English spring, which I don't want her
to miss."
"_Tony!_ You are _not_ going off again, before we've hardly got you
back!"
"She has never seen the world, as we have, and I'm going to show it to
her. It's what her little heart is set on. And time she had some
pleasure, after all her hard work."
"Ah, ah! 'She' will be everything, now!"
"She won't be everything, but she'll be first. Where is she, by the way?
Come, little one, jump in."
Jenny stepped into a small compartment of the ancient carriages provided
for this unimportant branch line, and he sprang in after her. Though it
was close to Christmas, and other compartments were fairly full, they
had this one to themselves--whether by fair means or foul did not
transpire. As soon as they were off Anthony proceeded to unfold in
detail the plans he had been hatching through the night, because, he
said, the main line train would be crowded, and he might not have
another opportunity.
"We'll go abroad, Jenny, first, and then settle----"
"But I am not going to desert my family all in a moment, as you seem to
think," she protested. "Indeed, indeed I cannot----"
He simply put his hand over her mouth.
"It won't take very long, and I shall want to have a house preparing for
us to come to when we get back. I shall want to feel that we have a
home, all the same--for we may get tired of wandering at any minute. And
this is a thing one can't leave to other people. One must choose for
one's self. So I shall at once look round for a nice place--Hush, Jenny!
Don't interrupt me when I'm speaking, it's rude--and then I shall see if
I can't persuade your mother and sister to look after it for us. You
see, we shall be sending home furniture and all sorts of odds and ends
from different places as we travel about, and we shall want somebody we
can trust to receive the things and take care of them. I hardly like to
ask such a favour of her, but for your sake I believe your mother would
like the job; and I daresay she will feel lonesome with nothing to do
when the tea-room is shut up. I shall take passages _immediately_,
because berths are bespoken months before at this time of year. For
February, if possible."
Jenny gasped. "Oh, talk of cheek and impudence--! Am I not to have any
say at all?"
"Certainly not. An infinitesimal little mite like you!"
"You seem to think that, because I am small, I'm not to be counted as a
woman with a will of her own."
"Oh, no. But you have had your turn of bossing people and managing
things. Now I'm going to have mine, and you must submit to be bossed in
your turn. Do you see? That's only fair."
The sort of bossing that she received that day was too delicious for
words. After her long toil and struggle to take care of others, the
being cared for herself, in this strong and tender fashion, was perhaps
the sweetest experience she ever had in her life. The main line train
was crowded, but no one crowded her. Refreshments, such as they were,
were produced without any trouble to herself, whenever she wanted them.
But the charm of all was to sit beside him, content and peaceful, and
know that she had nothing to do or to fear--that the combined world was
powerless to touch her through the shield of his protection.
Jarvis was at Spencer Street, and took her luggage and instructions what
to do with it. A hansom was waiting for his master, and into this he put
Jenny, and drove her home through the gas-lit streets to her impatient
mother and sister.
Mrs. Liddon had been prepared by Sarah for the tale they had to tell;
nevertheless, she wept with joy when she heard it, and was particularly
enchanted to know that her sister Emma had been properly taught not to
look down on them that were as good as herself and better. Likewise she
thanked God that Joey's future was assured. And she folded her eldest
daughter to her breast, and declared that Mr. Churchill had got a
treasure, though she said it that shouldn't; and bade him forgive her
for being an old fool and crying over it, when she was really that happy
that she didn't know if she stood on her head or her heels.
The tea-room had long been closed, and she had had time to exercise her
special talents in the production of a charming supper, to the
excellence of which he testified in the only satisfactory way. He ate
largely, and remarked that he had never enjoyed anything more in his
life.
"Well, I never enjoyed cooking things more," she said; and added, rather
pathetically, "I must say I do get a little tired of making nothing but
scones, day after day."
"You shall not make any more," said Jenny. "We are going to talk to Mrs.
Allonby in the morning, and see if she will not take over the tea-room,
and set us free."
"She'll be only too glad to jump at the chance," said Mrs. Liddon
proudly, "if we make the terms reasonable. But, ah!"--shaking her
head--"she'll never make scones like I do."