you before I go. It has been so pleasant to have you here, and I hope
we shall soon meet again. Has Pixie been amusing you while we were
upstairs? Come down from that couch, child! You must be quite cramped.
I am here, so you need not mount guard any longer."
"I'm very comfortable where I am," said Pixie easily. She laid her head
on one side, and stared at her sister with large, innocent eyes, which
seemed strangely disconcerting to that young lady's composure. She
frowned, and snapped a bracelet together with quite a vicious snap.
"But you are too old for such inelegant positions. You are almost
grown-up now, and must learn how to behave. For goodness' sake get up
before Geoff sees you! He is so very particular about nice behaviour in
girls."
"'Twas a bad relapse for him when he married you!" muttered Pixie
beneath her breath. She straightened herself slowly and let her feet
slip to the ground, but Esmeralda realised that nothing but a direct
request would convince her of the extraordinary fact that her absence
was for once more desired than her presence. For obvious reasons such a
request could not be made, and as the time was quickly passing nothing
remained but to clothe her hints even more circumspectly than she had
intended.
"I am so glad that your foot is really getting better," she said
graciously to Sylvia. "Bridgie says the nurse is so pleased with its
progress the last few days. You will be able to walk about soon, and
then if you feel inclined for a change we shall be so pleased if you
will come over to visit us. It is quiet at Knock, but I would drive you
about, and the air is so delightful that I am sure it would do you good.
You will hear all about the place from Pixie, so that it would not feel
strange to you when you arrived, and we have a few nice friends within
driving distance.
"She would like Mollie Burrell, wouldn't she, Pixie? That's a young
girl who lives seven miles from us at Knock, but we think nothing of
that distance in the country. She was always over at the Castle before
Jack went away, and we used to say she felt like another sister. You
remember how he used to drive over in the cart, and bring her back to
surprise us?"
"I do so! And the afternoon when she went shopping into the post-office
as they drove through the village, and Tim Hegan came up and began
bidding for the old grey mare, and with that Jack took him into the cart
and drove over to the farm, and never a thought of poor Mollie until the
evening, when she cut him dead limping home through the mud. 'Twas a
cruel thing to do, and the poor creature putting on new boots for the
occasion to do him honour, and says Jack, `I've done for myself this
time! It would take a cleverer man than myself to twist _that_ into a
compliment!'"
"Oh, that's an old-world story!" cried Esmeralda, with her head in the
air. Her cheeks had flushed despite her efforts for composure, and she
was uncomfortably conscious that Sylvia was trying to restrain a smile
at this most open contradiction of the implied attachment between Jack
and his Irish neighbour. Her irritation urged her to stronger measures,
and she said testily--
"It proves how little dependence can be placed upon Jack's promises. If
he could forget Mollie, it is no wonder that he changes his mind every
other day. But they made up that quarrel ages ago, and he was over
there shooting in September and squiring her all over the county. You
should not tell tales out of school, Pixie!"
"Was it me? I thought it was yourself. You began saying that they were
such friends, and I thought maybe it would amuse Sylvia to hear--"
"So it does, Pixie. It amuses me extremely," assented Sylvia with an
intentional emphasis, which made Esmeralda wince once more, for, however
innocent the little sister might be, she felt convinced that Sylvia
Trevor thoroughly understood her implied warning, and was by no means
docile in her manner of receiving it. She sat up stiff and erect,
smiling into space with an expression of scornful superiority which
filled the beholder with unwilling admiration. In just such a spirit
would she herself have accepted interference from the lips of a
stranger. She recognised a kindred spirit, and realised that, putting
Jack out of the question, Miss Sylvia Trevor would be a friend after her
own heart.
The repeated invitation had in it a note of sincerity which had been
wanting in the earlier rendering, but Sylvia only murmured, "Thank you!"
in a politely non-committal manner, and shrank back so decidedly from
the proffered kiss that there was no choice but to substitute a formal
handshake in its stead.
The sisters drove off together to the station, and Sylvia was left alone
to relieve pent-up irritation by making one impetuous resolve after
another, to replace each the following moment by one diametrically
different.
"Thank goodness, she has gone at last! I can't think how I ever could
have liked her! I think I dislike her more than anyone I ever met. How
dare she interfere with me! How dare she imply that I want to
monopolise her precious brother! I shall never speak to him again as
long as I live! I shall go home to-morrow, and take good care that I
never come across when he is likely to be at home. Perhaps she has
warned him too, as if he were not conceited enough already! He is worth
a dozen of her all the same, and is far nicer than I thought at first.
It's perfectly absurd to think a man and a girl cannot be in the same
house for a week without falling in love with each other. I won't
condescend to take the faintest notice of her insinuations. I shall be
as nice as I like, and give up snubbing him from this minute. He can be
engaged to fifty Mollie Burrells if he likes; that's no reason why I
should not treat him civilly!"
In the hours which elapsed before the return of the sisters she had had
time to change her mind a dozen times over, to write letters to Aunt
Margaret and burn them in the fire, to invent scathing sarcasms by which
poor Jack was to be reduced to a condition of hopeless subjection, and
rehearse melting scenes when her womanly sympathy would soothe ruffled
spirits and restore him to calm.
All uncertainty as to her conduct was, however, removed by the first
glance at Jack's face when he returned home in the evening, for it bore
the unmistakable marks of real anxiety, and the weary sigh with which he
sank into his chair was something new to his vigorous manhood.
Bridgie bustled in with the tea which always awaited his coming, kissed
him lightly, and hurried away to finish some letters. Pixie sat hunched
up before the fire devouring a book, and Jack pushed his chair nearer
Sylvia's couch, staring at her in a dumb, melancholy fashion which had
in it something singularly beguiling. Despite his great height and
muscular form, he looked so helpless and appealing, like a nice child
who has lost a toy, or a big collie dog which turns pathetic eyes
towards his master's face.
Sylvia smiled involuntarily, but it was a very friendly smile, and her
voice had lost its mocking tone as she inquired--
"Well--what's the trouble?"
Jack put his cup on the table and leant towards her, his elbows resting
on his knees, his chin supported on clasped hands. Pixie read on
undisturbed, soft gurgles of laughter marking her enjoyment of
sensational passages.
"I've had a blow," said Jack, "a ghastly disappointment! This is the
day when the firm announces the various arrangements for the year,
increases in salary and so on. I quite understood that I should come in
for a substantial rise, if not a junior partnership. It was talked
about when I joined four years back, and as nothing was done last
January I made a certainty of it coming off now. Instead of that, I get
nothing--nothing! No advance at all upon the payment of the last two
years. I had it out with the partners this afternoon, and they seemed
to think I had done unusually well. They implied that it was a piece of
pure imagination on my part to have expected to be taken into the firm."
"But--I know nothing about business except what I have read--but is it
not usual to have something written--a definite agreement which settles
things without the possibility of argument? If you joined this firm
with the idea of being made a partner, was not an agreement written down
in black and white?"
Jack waved his hand in airy dissent.
"No, there was nothing definite, but we talked it over.--The old fellow
certainly held out hopes for the future! I made so sure of a
partnership that we took this house in the prospect of being able to pay
for it out of my increased earnings. It's too expensive as it is for
people brought up as we have been. I'm the most practical of the
bundle, and with care and attention can make half a crown go almost as
far as an Englishman's shilling; but Bridgie, bless her! wears herself
out saving pennies, and throws away pounds with the best. In my
father's time there was never any money to trouble about, so she got
into the way of ordering things without thinking what they would cost,
and it's a difficult plan to forsake. She's done her best, poor
creature! I wouldn't blame her for the world."
"And--and will you have to leave the house?" Sylvia's heart sank
drearily at the prospect. What if the O'Shaughnessys flitted away to a
suburb at the opposite end of the city, and Number Three, Rutland Road
was deserted once more, or tenanted by an ordinary, commonplace family,
such as inhabited every other villa in the neighbourhood! After the
sweet friendship of Bridgie, the fascinations of Jack, the audacities of
the two boys, the witcheries of Pixie, and last but not least, the
incursions of Esmeralda, exasperating, but to the last degree romantic
and beautiful, Sylvia felt a shudder of distaste at the thought of a
stout mamma and papa, one baby in a perambulator, another in a mail-
cart, and a graduated line of school-boys and girls sallying forth daily
to their appointed tasks. "Oh, I'm so sorry you will have to leave!"
she sighed, and Jack smiled at her in grateful acknowledgment of her
regret.
"I'm glad you are sorry, but I don't intend to leave. We have been here
only four months, and I can't face another removal for--many reasons!
We will have to squeeze along somehow until things look up. A crop of
bills have come in during the last few days to make matters worse, and I
will have to talk things over with Bridgie to-night. I hate to worry
her, but there must be some system, or we shall find ourselves in the
workhouse some fine day. And now there is the child to think of. She
will be an extra expense!"
Sylvia glanced quickly across the room at the figure in the depths of
the arm-chair. She sat motionless, her head bent over her book, but
Pixie was one of those intensely alive little creatures who seem to
infect their very surroundings with vitality. It seemed to Sylvia that
the pages fluttered in agitated fashion, the bow of ribbon holding back
her hair seemed of a sudden to stand out at attention, the knotted ends
looked like two alert, curious ears at the back of her head.
How much had Pixie heard?
CHAPTER TWELVE.
A FAMILY COUNCIL.
That night after dinner Jack broke the news of his disappointment to the
assembled family, who bore the shock with surprising resignation. Pat
whistled, and said, "Just our luck! Ah, well, if it's no better, let's
be thankful it's no worse!" Miles suggested cheerfully, "Why don't you
chuck it and keep a shop? Then we should get all our food for nothing."
And Bridgie's sigh turned into a smile as she cried, "What a blessing
we took this house when we did! Now we should not have been able to
afford it, and we should never have known you, Sylvia dear! It's funny,
isn't it, to think that this little crib is too big for us?"
"Oh, awfully funny!" said Jack drily. He had opened the topmost drawer
in the writing-table and taken out half a dozen red-backed books and a
bundle of bills. "The fact remains that we shall have to spend at least
a hundred a year less than we calculated if we want to keep out of the
Bankruptcy Court. I don't know how it is, but I seem to have given the
money for half these bills, and yet here they are again! I was
perfectly horrified to see them. This coal bill, for instance,--I
remember distinctly giving you two sovereigns one morning just as I was
starting for town--"
Sylvia sat up hastily and fumbled for the stick by which she supported
herself about the house. It seemed to her impossible that such intimate
family affairs could be discussed before a stranger, but at the first
movement Jack inquired eagerly where she was going, and both he and
Bridgie laughed to scorn the idea of privacy. The presence of a
stranger seemed indeed to whet their interest in the forthcoming
discussion, which was conducted throughout with a cheerfulness and
composure which contrasted strangely with Miss Munns's weekly
lamentations over her tradesmen's accounts.
"'Deed, I remember quite well!" said Bridgie, referring to the money
which had been given to her in settlement of the coal bill. "It was the
morning the cat got lost in the oven, and all of us searching the house
over because of the piteous mews of it. It crept in, Sylvia, when the
door was open, after the bacon came out, and Sarah pushed it to as she
passed, so the poor creature had a fine Turkish bath of it before we
found her. Did I not pay the bill, after all? I suppose I was short of
money for something else. It's wonderful the way it slips away when you
are keeping house!"
Jack sighed and took up another paper from the table.
"There's another here. I know I gave you ten shillings to settle this
ironmonger fellow. Eight and threepence! It's ridiculous running on
bills for little sums like this."
"I paid it! I paid it!" cried Bridgie triumphantly. "I distinctly
remember, because there is such a funny little man in the shop who says,
`What is your next pleasure, madam?' when you buy a box of tacks. I
remember distinctly going in and paying something."
"Very well, then, you must have the receipt. Where have you put the
receipt?"
Bridgie looked vaguely round the room, turned out the contents of her
writing-pad, peeped into a drawer under the table, searched the bottom
of the stocking-basket, the pocket of her dress, then stroked her chin
meditatively, and said--
"Perhaps I was paying for something else! I remember now that I _did_
buy a saucepan."
Jack sighed again, and paced up and down the floor, but he showed no
signs of anger or even surprise, and his voice was quite apologetic as
he said--
"I'm afraid you will have to be more methodical, dear, if we stay on in
this house. We shall never know how we stand if bills keep coming in
when we think they are settled. We had better hold a cabinet council
and decide how much we can afford to spend in housekeeping and other
departments, and cut our coat according to our cloth. It will be
difficult after the way things went on at Knock, but it's our only
chance. I tried to put down my private expenses this afternoon, and was
horrified to find how heavy they were."
Bridgie cast an admiring glance upon him, and turned to Sylvia with an
air of pride.
"Isn't he splendid, now, at his age, talking like an old man for wisdom
and prudence! You may well say things are different from what they were
at home, for there, if the worst came to the worst, you could always
fall back on the pigs and the vegetables that grew for nothing at your
door. The idea of paying fourpence for a cauliflower takes me heart out
of me every time I go marketing, and the bacon is no sooner bought, than
it is eaten. Well, I'm willing enough to learn method, but who's to
teach me? Saving your presence, Jack, you're just a beginner yourself!"
Sylvia chuckled mischievously, and her eyes danced with amusement.
"There is a mistress in the art at your very door! Aunt Margaret would
be enchanted to instruct you, and her housekeeping is a marvel of
accuracy. She could tell you exactly how much she spent last year on
soft soap, and the reason why it was more in ninety-six than in ninety-
seven. She could walk about the house in the dark and put her hand on
the blue-bag and the list of last week's washing. She makes lists of
everything she possesses, from household linen to the Christmas cards
which she sends out and receives. Her dresses last for best for four
years before they are turned for afternoon wear, and two years later
they are re-dipped for mornings. They have histories, like her
relations, and make valuable Christmas presents to the charwoman on
their eighth birthday. She thinks I am recklessly extravagant because
my dresses are worn-out in a year!"
"I'll ask her to teach me at once! I'll begin making lists this very
afternoon! I'll practise shutting my eyes and searching for the blue-
bag," cried Bridgie ardently. "Jack dear, I'll be a model housekeeper,
and save so much money that we shall be quite rich."
She was all smiles and complaisance, and sat down for the cabinet
council with an unruffled brow, but, as we all know, it is more
difficult to face one or two definite difficulties than an army of
shadowy deprivations, and when the division of the family income made it
necessary to subtract considerably from her housekeeping allowance, and
to saddle her in addition with several outside expenses, Mistress
Bridget sighed and showed signs of rebellion.
"Such a lot of trouble for such a trifling saving! 'Twill destroy me
altogether to be fussing over every halfpenny. What would it matter if
we were a trifle in debt at the end of the year? Geoffrey would pay a
hundred pounds without knowing it, and be proud to do it into the
bargain!"
"But I won't accept it. He has done quite enough as it is. He has paid
for Pat's training, and will give him the agency as soon as he is ready
to take it, and he paid for Pixie's lessons in Paris. I could not
refuse what was good for them, but I'll keep my own house, or give it up
altogether!" said Jack proudly, and Sylvia nodded her head in emphatic
approval from her place of vantage on the sofa.
Pat and Miles also applauded the declaration of independence, and
accepted their own share in the contemplated economies with unperturbed
serenity, while Pixie sat solemnly in a corner, turning her eyes on the
face of each speaker in turns, her shoulders heaving with suppressed
emotion. Of all the members of the family it was evident that she took
the present difficulty most seriously, and Sylvia was strengthened in
the conviction that she had heard and taken to heart the reference to
herself which had been made in the afternoon.
She made no reference to the subject, but three times over the next day
Sylvia entered a room in time to hear a hurried rustle and scramble, and
behold Pixie gazing into the fire with an air of elaborate
unconsciousness--the newspaper rolled into a ball beneath her chair. It
was always open at the advertisement sheet, moreover, so that the
onlooker had not much difficulty in guessing the character of the
letters which were inscribed with such deep-breathed earnestness in the
afternoon.
They were posted in the pillar-box at the corner of the road, and Pixie
marched back to the house and sat herself down with an air of mysterious
importance. Her head was held proudly erect, her lips pressed tightly
together as if nothing, no nothing, would induce her to put her secret
into words, and Sylvia smiled to herself, and from the experiences of a
week's acquaintance, gave her exactly five minutes in which to divulge
the whole story.
"If you were threatened with a danger--a hidjus danger--what should you
think would be the best way to avoid it?" asked Pixie earnestly, at the
expiration of two minutes and a half.
Sarah had that moment brought in the lamp and brushed up the fire, and
the little room looked wonderfully cheerful and cosy. It was just the
time and opportunity for a confidential chat, and Sylvia sat herself
down in the arm-chair with a pleasant sense of expectancy. She was
allowed to sit up for an hour or two in the day, and that in itself was
a cheering circumstance.
"If I were threatened with a danger, how should I try to avoid it? I
really don't know, Pixie. What do you advise yourself?" she asked
smilingly, and Pixie smote her fists together, and stamped on the floor
with dramatic emphasis.
"Ye ought to march straight out and meet it! That's what Therese has
been teaching me all these years, for, says she, `Bridgie, the dear, is
so soft-hearted that she'll never believe but that everything will come
right if ye sit still and look pleasant.' The last thing but one that
she said to me before parting was that I must look after the family and
keep them out of trouble; so I've been reading over the papers to see
how I can make some money, and it's wonderful the choice you can have!
I thought at first about taking a situation, but it's better that I
should stay at home to look after Bridgie, and teach her how to use up
the scraps as they do in France. Me dear, the most elegant soup made
out of nothing at all but the scraps ye would throw to the hens!
There's one advertisement which says a lady like meself can earn a
handsome income in her own home, without interfering with present
duties. It sounds so light and pleasant that it quite struck my fancy;
and only two shillings for samples and directions!"
"Oh, Pixie, did you really send it? I'm so sorry you did that without
telling me first. I'm afraid it's a hoax, dear! It sounds too good to
be true!"
"But it says so plainly in those very words. I'll show it to you if you
like. It's printed!" cried Pixie in a tone of shocked reproof which
silenced the protests on Sylvia's lips. If her suspicions were correct,
time would teach the lesson that even printed advertisements were not
always accurately truthful, but she had not the heart to dilate on the
perfidiousness of mankind in the presence of such innocent trustfulness.
She murmured apologetic phrases, and Pixie beamed once more and
continued her story.
"There's another gentleman wants you to go round and sell books. I've
written to him, but I'd rather do things at home. Did you ever hear of
anyone making a fortune by addressing envelopes? They want someone to
do that too, but I write so slowly meself, and it's only a shilling a
thousand. A literery lady is wanted to correct proofs. That would be
nice, because they might be stories. How do you spell `literery',
Sylvia?"
"L-i-t-e-r-a-r-y!"
"Not `e-r-y?' You are quite sure?"
"Absolutely sure!"
"I put `literery'!" said Pixie, with a sigh. Perhaps it will prejudice
him against me! Spelling was never my strong point, but that was worse
than ignorance--with the paper lying beside me for reference! The best
of all is a shop that wants you to colour photographs. I love painting
pictures, and the scrap-books I've done for hospitals would fill a
museum. Of course, these would have to be done carefully, but I've seen
Therese sketching at Versailles, and artists painting in the Louvre, and
I'm quick at imitating. They wanted three shillings to sell you the
paints and brushes, and it will be cheap if it brings in pounds a week.
"Twas a good thing Esmeralda gave me a sovereign before she left, and I
could get the stamps without anyone being the wiser. I thought, you
see, it would be so nice to keep it a secret until I could go to Bridgie
with my earnings in my hand. You will promise truly and faithfully not
to tell?"
"If you will promise not to send any more money without asking my
advice. I think you ought to do that, Pixie!"
"I shan't need to, me dear. I'll earn enough as it is. Will I get the
replies to-morrow, do you think? The letters ought to be delivered to-
night!"
Sylvia felt doubtful whether answers would ever be received, but as
events proved, she was wrong, and Pixie was right, for her inquiries
were answered by return of post, and on the first opportunity handed
over for inspection. The philanthropist who provided remunerative work
for gentlewomen at their own homes without interfering with present
duties, forwarded samples as promised, the which Pixie spread out on the
table with an air of depression. They consisted of a two-inch length of
a simple stamping-off pattern, a fragment of black net, and a few dozen
common jet beads, wrapped in a paper.