A HARD BLOW
TWO or three days after the visit to the Manor, Pippa came to her aunt
in the afternoon with an air of delighted mystery upon her small face.
"Aunt Ollie, I've had a real letter without a stamp broughted by the
butcher's boy. Now, who 'do' you think it's from?"
Orris looked up from her books.
"Do you want me to read it for you?"
"Please. It's from a grown-up person, because they can't write plain."
Orris took the note from the child's hand. It ran as follows—
"If the Little Elf would like to have a surprise and unearth buried
treasure, let her go into the big bedroom at the top of the staircase,
and press a little knob in the wall under a picture of a curly-haired
dog.
"N.B.*—Lie low, and beware of Snuffy."
* N.B.—nota bene
"Oh, it's my dear Master Jock!" exclaimed Pippa excitedly, beginning
to dance up and down on her toes. "I'll go immechately. It's a secret
room, Aunt Ollie."
"I think I'd better come with you."
"I think no. I'd like to aventure it myself."
"Well, run along, and if you're too long away, I shall come after you."
Orris was feeling a little worried that day. Pippa's mother was
arriving in two days' time, and she felt that she would be rather a
discordant element in the house. Mrs. Snow was not very obliging, and
though the food was good and they were comfortably lodged, yet the
attendance was not what it ought to have been, and Venetia was a most
exacting and inconsiderate person. When Orris told Mrs. Snow that she
would be arriving, she seemed very discomposed.
"I've had a call from Mrs. Villars this morning; there is letters
passing between her and Mrs. Calthrop. I shall be very glad when people
who belong here are in their own again. It is altogether too much for
me. Such plans and changes are most upsetting."
"What is upsetting you?" asked Orris good-humouredly.
"The least said soonest mended," said Mrs. Snow darkly; "you'll hear
soon enough; and maybe this new lady belonging to you had best not
hurry to get here."
Orris could get nothing more out of her. But she felt uneasy and
anxious. And when Pippa had left her, she leant her elbows on her
writing-table and, forgetting her books, gave herself up to meditation.
She was not long left in peace. Peals of childish laughter and flying
feet spoke of the coming of Pippa. She dashed in at the door like a
whirlwind.
"Oh, Aunt Ollie! I'm laughing right through me; my heart is laughing
even—I hear it bump. I found the knob, and it's the lovely, lovely
powder-room; and it has china pictures all round it and above to the
ceiling, and they all come out of the Bible, and the people are quite
ridic'lous, they make me 'roar' with laughing and when I opened the
door there was a hijeous old woman with a tall black hat and kind of
hairy and beardy all over her face, and she was sitting at a table with
a big heap of chocs in front of her to sell. And she winked at me,
and said, 'Two chocs for a kiss!' And I thought she might be a fairy
witch, so I gave her a tiny kiss on the tip of her chin, and I got two
chocs. And then she said, 'Two more if you come and sit on my lap!' And
I thought about it, and then I saw a ring on her finger, and it was
Master Jock's, so I knowed; and I jumped on his knee, and he squeezed
and tickled me; and we screamed, and then we heard somebody coming,
and Master Jock put me outside the door quick, and said, 'Don't tell
Snuffy'; and there she was, and so I ran away. But isn't he a darling
to give me such surprises?"
"I think Mr. Muir is foolish to come here so much," said Orris, with a
frown. "Where is he now?"
"In the powder-room. Come and see it, Aunt Ollie."
Orris was tugged to her feet, but she went willingly enough to the
powder-room, of which she had heard but not seen. She found Jock there
rolling up his disguise. He laughed when he saw her.
"The Elf and I like a bit of fun," he said apologetically. "I promised
to show her this room one day, and I had an hour to spare. Do you see
these old Dutch tiles? Aren't they quaint? I used to spend part of
my Sundays here when I was a youngster. It was considered part of my
scriptural education, but did you ever see such comic illustrations?
The artist must have had a high sense of humour."
Orris looked at the tiles with interest and admiration. The walls were
lined with them from floor to ceiling, but her thoughts took a turn
away from them.
"Tea will be in directly," she said; "come downstairs and have some
before you go. I want to know about Lady Violet Archer and her
daughter."
"They're at Lilac Farm. Came two days ago, but only till they find
other quarters."
"They could find lodgings here," said Orris; "there are so many unused
bedrooms. How I wish the house was mine! But Mrs. Snow is the drawback.
Pippa, darling, run to the nursery. It is your tea-time."
"I'll tell Anita all about this beautiful little room," said Pippa,
dancing away.
Then, as they descended the stairs together, Orris said:
"My sister-in-law is joining me here. I am afraid Mrs. Snow does not
like it, but Mrs. Calthrop gave me leave to have her."
Jock looked at her queerly.
"I rather wish your sister-in-law would keep away. I like you best
alone."
"Mr. Muir!"
"Don't, I beseech you; don't do the 'aughty to me, as Snuffy used to
say. Here she is! Oh, dash her! She always catches me."
"Mr. Muir is going to have tea with me, Mrs. Snow," said Orris, with
great dignity of manner.
Mrs. Snow stood before them in the hall with folded arms.
"I never let Mr. Muir in this afternoon," she said with icy coldness.
"No, Snuffy: but you can't keep me out of my old home. I'm part and
parcel of it, and whoever is here will be haunted by me, so I give you
fair warning."
"I shall have to write to Mrs. Calthrop and tell her I can't do my duty
to her," said Mrs. Snow, and she retreated.
Orris felt no compunction in giving Jock a cup of tea.
"I can write to Mrs. Calthrop too," she said. "I know she will not
object to my asking friends to tea. She said I was to look upon it as a
temporary home."
Jock stood on the hearthrug looking round the library with rather
dreamy eyes.
"I wish I were a book-lover," he said, "but I learn all my lessons from
Nature."
"I think I learn a good deal from books," said Orris gravely, "but I
hope I shan't imbibe too much philosophy from some of these dear old
men. I don't want to get stony and unimpressed by my surroundings, and,
personally, my heart warms to an unconventional impulsive person. That
is why Pippa charms me."
"And do include me. I am told that I'm too unconventional for society."
Orris laughed.
"I think you are very audacious to steal in and out of this house as
you do. I don't wonder that Mrs. Snow disapproves. How did you get in
this afternoon?"
"Through one of the open windows. I am not audacious. I have a right
here."
He snapped his lips together like steel. Orris was startled to see
the hardness and determination in his face. Then he looked at her and
smiled.
"If they shut you and the Elf up in jail, I should get to you," he said.
"We were strangers a week or two ago," Orris remarked quietly.
"We're fast, firm friends now," he said, with a little laugh; "and when
once I make friends, I keep them."
Silence fell upon them for a moment.
Jock suddenly broke it.
"Let's pretend, like the children. This is your house and mine. I have
come in rather tired after an afternoon's work in the fields. And
you're waiting to give me my tea."
"How could we share a house?" said Orris, laughing. "What nonsense you
talk!"
"How? By walking into church one day, and coming out man and wife.
Nothing easier."
"Oh, Mr. Muir!"
Orris was reduced to speechlessness.
Jock looked at her with a funny shy repentant look.
"There now! See how you precipitate me into speech! But that will
happen to us one day, you know. Only, of course, I never do take the
proper course, and go slowly. And—don't speak! You'll say we haven't
known each other long enough, and a lot of stuff like that! You bowled
me over that day when you stood looking at me with a mixture of shocked
disapproval and amusement. And you're simply adorable, as you sit there
with the sunlight in your hair and your dimples, which will appear in
spite of your stern resolve to keep them under."
"I shall go away and leave you if you go on talking like this." Orris
spoke very gravely. Her head was raised rather haughtily.
"I'm sorry. Forget my rash speech. I'm desperately in love with you,
and if I can't marry you, I shall be a bachelor for the rest of my
days. There! That's off my chest. Now we'll talk of other things. I'm
not even going to ask you your opinion of me, for fear of hearing
something nasty! I've a message from Dunscombe for you. He would like
to come up to-morrow morning and give you some help over your Persian
MSS."
"I shall be very glad to see him."
Conversation rather languished, but Jock soon took his leave.
"Am I forgiven?" he asked as he took her hand in his.
"Oh, yes," said Orris. "I can see you are not like anyone else. Your
time in the Colonies has made you very un-English."
She felt perturbed and breathless, and longed to be alone. When he had
gone, she drew her chair to the open window. As a girl in the secluded
life with her scholar father she had met very few young men of her own
age. Her father's friends were hers. They were all scholars, and had
very little interest in women. After his death, her cousin Dugald had
come into her life. But beyond a friendly liking for him, she could
not go. He proposed to her at various intervals, and after repeated
refusals, he had to be content with her cousinly friendship. She had
met other men, but none had appealed to her; she had come to think
that she was destined for a single life. Sometimes she wondered if her
ideals were too high, or her opinion of herself and her requirements
too great. She almost laughed now at the thought of this gay,
light-hearted, irresponsible young stranger daring to lay siege to her
heart.
"Preposterous and absurd!" she muttered to herself. "He was making
game of me. I hope he did not think that I took it seriously. But I do
dislike his bringing such a subject forward. He could not have been in
earnest. I must not see so much of him, and I must keep Pippa away from
him. Really, I am rather thankful that Venetia is coming to-morrow.
Now, if he were to take a fancy to her, what a charming stepfather he
would make to my darling Pippa! I am afraid Venetia would not look at
him: farming would be abhorrent to her."
The next afternoon Venetia arrived. She seemed a little distrait and
cross, but made a great fuss over Pippa. The child was an affectionate
little soul, but was not very demonstrative, and Orris listened rather
impatiently to her sister-in-law's talk.
"Haven't you missed me, my pet? Have you forgotten your mummy? Your
poor mummy, who has nobody left to love her except her little girl.
Come and kiss me again! Tell me you love me. If I thought that Auntie
Ollie was stealing your heart from me, I would take you right away!"
"Oh, Venetia, how can you talk so!" Orris said.
"I mean every word. People are unkind, cruel to those who have no
money, and are down in their luck. I've been proving the truth of that,
visiting round. No one is anxious to receive an impecunious widow,
especially if she is at all good-looking. Who have we near us here in
the shape of neighbours?"
Orris tried to tell her. Venetia was interested at once in Jock, and
told Pippa that she must take her to see him. Then she said:
"Come upstairs, my darling, and I will show you what a sweet silk frock
I've bought you. White silk with little roses round neck and sleeves."
"Oh, Venetia! She has so many frocks," expostulated Orris.
Venetia nodded at her, laughing as she left the room with her child.
Putting her head in at the door, she said:
"And the bill is coming in to you, Orris. I got it at Gorringe's."
Venetia brought a different atmosphere into the old house at once. She
made her presence felt, and she and Mrs. Snow had a good many passages
of arms together before many days passed.
A small trap and pony were discovered in the village, and with some
little persuasion, Orris had it placed at her sister-in-law's disposal.
Dan drove her about in it, and Pippa accompanied her. They were soon
friendly with both Jock and Mr. Dunscombe.
The latter came over and gave Orris a good deal of help with her
catalogue. Jock did not come to the house so much. He was working on
the farm, and it was at his work that Pippa introduced her mother to
him. Orris was relieved that he stayed away.
And then, about ten days after Venetia arrived, the thunderbolt fell.
The postman brought a letter to Orris from Mrs. Calthrop.
She read it at breakfast, and she read and re-read it, and did some
deep thinking before she spoke to Venetia about it.
It was a lovely sunny morning. Pippa was sitting up, with eager
anticipation in her shining face.
"Let's talk plans, mummy. I've thoughted of a lovely one. We'll take
the trap and make the pony take us to the sea somewhere, and we'll take
our dinner with us. Sangwiches and eggs and sponge cakes, with 'plenty'
of jam in the middle. 'And' gingybeer, 'and' mushrooms and cheese!"
Her mother laughed.
"To be taken, and then well shaken, Pips! And then the sea! You
ridiculous child, we're nowhere near the sea."
"No, but we can get there, mummy. We've only to go far enough. Because,
you know, England is an island, and the sea comes all round it. Did you
know that, mummy? Anita told me yesterday."
"Ask your auntie what she's looking so dismal about?" said Venetia
languidly.
Orris gave a start and looked up from her letter.
"Have you finished breakfast, Pippa? Could you run out into the garden
and pick some flowers for my vase in the library? You were going to do
it yesterday, were you not? But it rained."
"So I will," said Pippa cheerfully and unsuspectingly. She danced out
of the room, and Orris drew a long breath.
"I want to speak to you, Venetia. I know you haven't been very
satisfied with this old house, nor with the attendance you get in it,
so perhaps you will not mind. But—we shall have to flit."
"What on earth do you mean?"
Venetia sat up, all attention at once.
"There's a long rigmarole from Mrs. Calthrop saying how heavy her
expenses are abroad, and that Mrs. Villars, our Rector's wife, has
asked her if she could possibly let the house to some old friends of
hers, who will pay very handsomely for it. They are the people I told
you about who are now lodging at Lilac Farm. They took a house with an
unfortunate history could get no servants to stay with them."
"Oh, I remember. Lady Violet Archer is the woman's name. I met her once
in town. Mrs. Calthrop can't turn us out."
"I'm afraid she can. She has offered, of course, to add to my salary in
lieu of board and lodging. She says Mrs. Snow could not manage for all
of us, and I quite see that she could not. They want to come at once,
for Lady Violet is not in good health, and there is not room at the
farm for her maid."
"I never heard of such proceedings," said Venetia angrily. "We can't
be turned out into the street like dogs. You had better throw up your
work and come back to town, Orris. Pippa has recovered her health in
a wonderful way. She is fat and rosy, and perfectly untiring in her
energy! And I honestly tell you this country will bore me to death. We
have no neighbours. Mr. Muir is amusing, but he's a farmer, or wants to
make himself into one. And Mr. Dunscombe is a dull bookworm. But Mrs.
Calthrop has broken her contract with you. I should make her pay for
doing it. You 'must!'"
Orris was silent; she was conning over in her mind the different houses
in the village. It would be comparatively easy to find lodgings for
herself and Pippa, but Venetia was a different matter. Mrs. Calthrop
had suggested lodgings in a farm or cottage, so that she could come to
her work daily. Orris felt that this easy happy life of hers had very
soon taken wings and flown away.
But she had not much time for thinking, for breakfast was hardly over
before Mrs. Snow came in announcing that a lady was in the drawing-room
and wished to see her.
"Who is it?" Orris asked.
"Miss Archer," said Mrs. Snow shortly.
In another moment, Orris was shaking hands with a very young pretty
girl. She was dressed in rough Harris tweed, with a grey felt hat
pulled over her soft brown hair, but everything about her was dainty
and fresh, and her complexion like that of a blush rose.
"I have come on 'such' a disagreeable errand," she said; "and I feel
you will dislike us very much when you know that Mrs. Calthrop has let
this house to mother for some months. But, believe me, it was only this
morning that we realized that you were going to be turned out for us.
And mother said that I had better come round and explain that it was
not our doing. Mrs. Villars has arranged everything with Mrs. Calthrop,
and we knew nothing about you until yesterday evening, and then we were
talking with Mrs. Preston and she told us."
"My dear Miss Archer, please don't feel uncomfortable about it. This is
only a temporary job, and I did not expect to settle down here for good
and all. I have felt very sorry for you. I heard about your troubles."
"I wish that we had never come to this part," said the girl ruefully.
"It was such a surprising and uncomfortable experience at the Towers.
Are you superstitious? Of course, Mrs. Villars laughs at it all, but I
wish she would sleep there a few nights, as we did."
"Tell me about it," said Orris sympathetically.
Reyne Archer responded instantly to her interest. She did not seem to
have much definite complaint of the Towers beyond queer noises, but she
declared the whole atmosphere of the house was eerie and melancholy.
And from the unfortunate house, she went on impulsively to confide
in Orris a good many of her difficulties in her home life. Orris had
a way of inspiring confidence with total strangers. She learnt that
Reyne had been dragged about in attendance on an invalid mother from
the time she had been fifteen. Lady Violet always spent her winters on
the Riviera, and divided her time at home between London and Brighton,
and occasional visits to Scotland. Reyne had never been to school; she
had a haphazard, desultory education, attending classes at intervals,
and having governesses and masters for a few months at a time, and for
the last four years had been going out with her mother to the different
social functions that came in their way.
"I am so tired of it all," she said, heaving a sigh; "and now the
doctors say mother must have rest and quiet in the country. It is so
unfortunate that our first venture should prove so disastrous. I don't
believe she will be here very long, but she has promised her doctor she
will stay quiet in the country all this summer."
"What are your hobbies?" Orris asked. "You must have some."
"Oh," said the girl, with heightened colour, "I want to be of some use
in the world. It's all so empty and unsatisfying, going to dances and
theatres and at-homes; always seeing the same people, and talking the
same kind of talk. I've had it since I was quite a little girl. Mother
always took me with her everywhere. I had no proper childhood. And two
years ago, in the town, I heard a sermon, and it has altered my whole
life. May I tell you about it? You won't laugh?"
"No," said Orris softly; "I shall like to hear."
"It was an unknown preacher in an unknown church. At least, it wasn't a
church where many of our sort go—I drifted into it one wet evening. And
the text was: 'Where art thou?' He told us of places where we might be,
and asked us to catalogue ourselves in one of them. I don't remember
all the places. 'In the far country,' was one, 'lost on the mountain,'
'hiding behind fig leaves,' 'standing idle in the market-place,' and
then he suggested a change of life and scene to 'in the fold,' 'on the
highway of holiness,' and 'in the Lord's hand.'
"I can't tell you how eloquent he was. I came away and went to my room
and hunted about till I found a little old Bible that I had given me
as a child, and then I prayed, and, oh, I can't explain, but though my
outward circumstances haven't altered, my heart has."
She paused, then added hurriedly:
"You will think me quite mad, talking to you like this the first time
I see you. I don't know what has made me do it. But you're leading a
useful life and your face tells me you understand these things. May
I—will you be friendly with me and let me pour out to you sometimes?"
"Certainly I will," said Orris with warmth that surprised herself. She
was about to say more, but they were interrupted by Mrs. Snow in the
usual way. And after discussing business with that worthy person, Reyne
Archer took a hurried leave. But as she was going, she said to Orris:
"May I suggest that if you do want comfortable rooms that you
should come to Lilac Farm? Mrs. Preston is such a dear, and she has
half-suggested it herself."
"There's nothing I should like better," said Orris, "but we're too
large a party. Four in number. She hasn't the rooms. Besides, Mr. Muir
is going to occupy her spare room."
"Well, come over and talk to her about it. Do, and I shall see you
again."