beads, and then ye cut off the scallops, and then it's jetted lace!" she
explained anxiously. "And when it's jetted lace, ye go out and sell it
to the shops." She sighed deeply, and turned over the patterns with her
fingers. "How much a yard is jetted lace, Sylvia?"
"I don't know exactly, but I should think a narrow width like this could
not be over a couple of shillings at the most."
"And it would take me months to do, and be puckered at that! It's such
wobbly stuff to sew. Even if I did a lot, I'm afraid the shops would
never buy it."
"I'm afraid not, Pixie. I wouldn't waste your time trying, dear!"
Pixie sighed again and carefully replaced the fragments in their
envelopes.
"It was very kind of them to send them so soon, and if I was clever with
my fingers, it would be a fine idea, but I know quite well it would be
puckered. Will I send back the patterns, do you think? They might be
useful for someone else."
"I think whoever sent them can very well afford to send another
selection to the next inquirer. I should not dream of wasting a stamp
on them," replied Sylvia drily, and as she spoke she pulled Pixie nearer
to her, and kissed her with a fervour which was somewhat startling to
the recipient.
"Are ye sorry for me?" she queried. "Ye needn't be, because I shall
have so much to do with the photographs that I am not disappointed a
bit. They have sent me one to paint, and if I do it to their
satisfaction they can keep me in constant work. They don't say anything
about paying, but I expect that will be settled next week. Here's the
paints, and here's the lady!"
Sylvia looked, and beheld half a dozen cheap paints such as are found in
a child's sixpenny box, a thick and a thin brush, equally common, and a
photograph of a buxom lady with a mop of tousled hair, swinging in a
hammock-chair under some trees, while a flight of marble steps led up to
a palatial mansion in the background. She read the letter, and found
that Pixie had accurately described its contents. It appeared that the
firm was in pressing need of outside help, and had practically unlimited
work to bestow upon ladies "with artistic tendencies."
Judging from the note-paper, the handwriting, and the style of the
photograph itself, the critics could not be very severe, and for a
moment Sylvia found herself wondering if by chance Pixie had indeed
found some work within her scope. She herself knew little about
painting, but after a long discussion of the different features of the
photograph, she succeeded in dissuading the youthful artist from a
somewhat violent scheme of colour, and in extracting a promise that the
completed picture should be brought across the road for her inspection
before it was despatched, for by this time Miss Munns was once more
settled at home, and the last evening of the happy visit had arrived.
Sylvia tried not to allow herself to think how quiet and dull the days
would seem with only Aunt Margaret as a companion; how hard it would be
to sit contentedly playing cribbage in the evenings, while across the
road, within a stone's-throw from the window, was this dear, bright,
homey room, full of young creatures like herself. She told herself that
she had had a happy holiday, and ought to go home refreshed and cheered.
She made noble resolutions to be more patient and considerate, and
pretended that she was really quite relieved to be leaving Jack
O'Shaughnessy, for it was far more difficult to withstand the humbugging
eyes now that she knew what a dear kind fellow he was at heart, and he
on his part seemed quite embarrassingly sorry to say good-bye!
"You have not been half so nice to me lately as you were the first few
days," he said plaintively in the privacy afforded by the strains of a
comb orchestra vigorously conducted at the end of the room. "I must
have offended you without meaning it; clumsy fellow that I am!"
"Oh dear no, not at all. It is only that I am getting better, and my
natural bad temper is asserting itself. Most people are mild when they
are ill," she replied lightly, but Jack was not so easily silenced.
"That's not the reason. Saving your presence, you are better tempered,
not worse, but there's a difference all the same. I suppose you don't
like me so well now that you know me better?"
"On the contrary, I like you infinitely more." Sylvia hesitated a
moment, then added with sudden resolution, "I thought you were a very
agreeable flirt; you amused me, and I enjoyed being flattered; but now I
think you are a real good friend, and I treat you in a different way.
One gets tired of compliments, but friendship grows better and better
all the time."
Jack coloured, and was silent. Sylvia wondered if he were offended by
the plainness of her words, but when he turned to her again, there was
the frank, manly expression in his eyes which she liked most to see.
"May I come and call upon you sometimes in the evening? I shall have no
chance of seeing you in the daytime."
"I should like it very much, but it is not my house, remember, and Aunt
Margaret is not fond of young men."
"But I am terribly partial to old ladies, and I never met the one yet
that wasn't wrapped up in me before we parted. I've got a way with old
ladies!" said Jack complacently. "There was an old dear in Ireland who
managed everyone for miles around, but she was as soft as putty in my
hands. The poor girl, her daughter, was not allowed to join in any of
the fun that was on hand, and when there was anything special coming on,
she'd write pitiful letters and ask me to lunch. I always went--she had
very good eyes of her own!--and she'd meet me in the drive, and put me
up to what she wanted. By the time the old lady had told me all about
her hens, and her servants, and her latest quarrel with her neighbours,
and I'd flattered her by saying her rheumatism was the pick of any in
the county, she'd be ready to eat out of my hand. And I'd fix up to
call for Mollie, and see her safely home after the show was over."
"Mollie? A pretty name! Is it common in Ireland?"
"It is so. We knew a stack of them at Knock, but Mollie Burrell was the
best of the bundle."
Sylvia smiled, but her lips felt stiff, and the effort was not a
success. A little weight of depression settled over her spirits. She
felt anything but sympathetic for the deprivations of Miss Mollie
Burrell.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
BARGAIN-HUNTING.
Two days after Sylvia's return home, Pixie took the tinted photograph
across the road for inspection. She had toiled at it with conscientious
effort, but, alas! the result was pathetically bad, the paint being laid
on in uncertain daubs, while carmine cheeks and scarlet lips laid the
buxom lady under suspicion of sickening for fever or some other deadly
complaint. Pixie herself was vaguely disquieted by the general effect,
but, as she earnestly explained, you "got used to it after a bit, and it
didn't look so bad. And even if it was only half price this time, it
would be encouraging to the family!"
Sylvia refrained from criticism, but helped to pack the work of art
between two sheets of cardboard in readiness for the post, and after
that was done, took her visitor downstairs to be introduced to Miss
Munns.
The old lady was sitting darning stockings, with a newspaper spread over
one half of the table and a little bowl standing ready to receive the
snippings of worsted. On the baize cloth at the other end stood an
indiarubber plant and four little artificial ferns. A gas fire
flickered in the grate, a wire blind shut out the view, the chairs stood
ranged in mathematical order against the walls, the very newspaper was
folded into an accurate square and put away in the rack, and Pixie
looked round with awed eyes the while she was introduced.
"This is Bridgie's youngest sister, Aunt Margaret--Pixie O'Shaughnessy."
"I hope you are quite well, my dear," said Miss Munns.
"Good morning, madame!" said Pixie in her most Parisian manner, not
attempting to shake hands, but bowing with an air of gracious effusion
from half-way across the room.
Aunt Margaret let the stocking drop in her lap and stared over her
spectacles, shaking her head solemnly as Sylvia related how the new-
comer had just returned from Paris, where she had been living under the
charge of an old governess.
"That accounts for it!" she said darkly, when the explanations were
finished. "I never can understand why people want to go abroad when
there are so many good schools at their door. When I was a girl I went
to Miss Banks at Peckham, and it was most select. Every girl over
fifteen wore a bonnet; mine was white Dunstable, with check ribbons,
blue and white. I wore it with a dress with silk pipings, and it was
very much admired. My cousin Gertrude went to Paris, because her father
had business on the Continent, and she never got over it for years.
They gave her dreadful food, and when she could not eat it, it was put
aside and brought up meal after meal. She told me as a solemn fact that
they used to put fruit in the soup, and there was something dreadful
made of cabbages. Did they give you cabbages, my dear?"
"Mais oui, madame!" returned Pixie, involuntarily returning to the
language of the place of which they were speaking. "But they were
delicious, those cabbage! Mademoiselle has without doubt had an unhappy
experience. The cabbage of France is a most excellent cabbage. He
resembles himself absolutely to an English cabbage, but he is more well
prepared."
"Speak English, my dear, for pity's sake! I never could understand that
gibberish. My poor father paid extra for me to learn under a native,
but it seemed as if I always turned against it. Well, I don't
understand about the cabbages; Gertrude certainly said they were quite
sour, and mixed with all manner of horrible things!"
"Perhaps you mean sauerkraut, Aunt Margaret. She would hardly have that
in Paris. Are you quite sure it was not Germany where she was at
school?"
"Berlin, was it? Berlin!" said Miss Munns, meditating with her finger
to her lip. "Yes, I think it was, because I remember I always
associated it with the wool. All these foreign schools are alike.
Nothing comes of them but bowing and scraping. Give me a good sound
English education!"
Miss Munns threaded her needle through the heel of the black stocking
with an expression which seemed to imply that the last word was spoken
on that subject, and Pixie put on her most engaging manner as she
replied, as if anxious to prove that she was not altogether ruined by
her Continental experiences--
"Madame is without doubt so clever that she does not need to be taught.
Sylvia has told us that you could teach Bridgie better than anyone else.
She is the best meaner in the world, is Bridgie, but it comes natural
to her to forget. Sylvia said it was wonderful the way you managed the
house. You could find the blue-bag in the dark!"
"Find--the blue-bag--in the--dark! Why should I find the blue-bag in
the dark? What do I want with it in the dark? The blue-bag! Why
should I look for the blue-bag?" cried Miss Munns, all anxiety to fathom
the meaning of this perplexing statement.
The most elaborate explanations on Sylvia's part failed to solve the
mystery, and she kept on reiterating, "Why blue-bag?" in tones of
baffled curiosity, while Sylvia lay back in her chair and sighed, and
raised her eyebrows and stared hopelessly at the corner of the ceiling.
It was a trying moment, but Pixie entered gallantly into the breach, and
succeeded in diverting attention into another channel.
"It was just to shame us beside you, because we couldn't find it in the
light. The sugar-basin would have done just as well. My family had
gone on spending money when there was none to spend, until now at last
it's all gone, and Jack says we must begin to be careful. Bridgie
thought maybe if you would give her a hint it would be useful, as she
has no one to teach her."
"I never earned a sovereign in my life, but I should be afraid to say
how many I have saved!" said Miss Munns complacently. "There is nothing
wasted in my house, my dear, and I should be only too thankful to tell
your sister the way your servants behave when her back is turned. The
light is flaring in their bedroom until after eleven at night, and I've
seen them myself running after the grocer's lad to give him extra
orders. Does your sister allowance them in butter and sugar? Depend
upon it, if she doesn't, they eat twice as much as they should.
"If she brings her books over to me, I will tell her exactly what
quantities she ought to order. It's hard on a young man like your
brother to have to provide for such a long family. I suppose you will
be doing something for yourself in a couple of years when you are old
enough to go about alone. You will be able to turn your education to
account, and give lessons in the French language. You look more French
than English, as it is, and have just their way of twisting yourself
about as you talk."
"Aunt Margaret!" cried Sylvia reproachfully, but Pixie's eyes brightened
as at a sudden suggestion, and she cried eagerly--
"Do I? Do I really? Oh, I'm so glad! If you saw me in the street,
would you think I was a Parisian? Oh, thank you so much for saying so!"
"Humph! You're easily pleased. I should not take it as a compliment if
anyone said that to me. I'm an Englishwoman, and a good subject of
Queen Victoria, and I'm thankful to say I look it. No one would mistake
me for a French madam!"
"No, they wouldn't. You are a different shape," said Pixie truthfully,
whereupon Miss Munns sent a sharp inquiry over the edge of her
spectacles, but the glance which met hers was so guileless that no
suspicions could live in its presence. So she said, "Humph!" once more,
and that ended the discussion.
Pixie renewed her study of the newspapers with fresh interest after this
conversation, and made marks against quite a number of advertisements,
which, however, she took no active steps to answer, pending the verdict
from the photographic company. It came at last, and proved to be a
judicious mingling of praise and blame.
The painting of the photograph, said the critic, displayed great taste
and artistic promise, though unfortunately the execution did not quite
come up to the high standard of excellence required by the firm. No
doubt this deficiency was largely caused by a lack of proper materials,
and he would strongly recommend further expenditure of five shillings,
for a complete artist's outfit, given which, and a little more practice,
he had no doubt whatever of being able to send a constant supply of
work, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Sylvia was shown this missive in due course, and tossed it from her with
impatient hand.
"You must not send it, Pixie! You must not dream of sending it. Don't
you see, dear, they only want to get money from you instead of giving it
themselves? You have already sent three shillings, and now they want
five more, and probably next time there would be another excuse for
getting some more. You can't afford to throw away money like that,
especially without Bridgie's knowledge or consent. Give it up, dear,
and have no more to do with them."
"I will!" said Pixie sadly; "but you mustn't blame them, poor creatures,
for it's my own fault. It's the truth that I was short of paints, for
the ones they sent were so dry I could hardly get them to mark, and the
colours wouldn't seem to come right. It's very kind of them to promise
me work, but I must give it up, for I can't do better without taking
lessons, and where would be the profit in that? I took hours, and
hours, and hours painting that lady, and ye saw yourself she looked more
like a beetroot than a human creature. Don't you say a word to Bridgie,
and I'll promise you faithfully I won't send another penny. I've a new
idea in my head, which maybe will turn out best of all."
She refused to say anything more explicit on the subject, but hinted
that definite information might be forthcoming on the following evening,
and Sylvia wondered what new web for the unwary had caught this most
innocent little fly in its meshes. She concluded that Pixie must be
expecting another prospectus, but next day the two sisters came across
the road for a few minutes' chat _en route_ for a shopping expedition,
and all the time that the elder was speaking, the younger stood in the
background, rolling her eyes and mouthing unintelligible messages,
evidently intended to convey the information that some great issue was
at stake.
"Don't you envy me, me dear? I am going to buy new clothes!" announced
Bridgie, beaming. "Esmeralda gave me a five-pound note before she left,
and, `For pity's sake,' she said, `buy yourself a decent gown! You're a
disgrace to be walking about the streets, and with Pixie so smart as she
is, too. Now's your chance to get something cheap at the sales!' and
with that you should have heard her groan to think she'd lost all the
pleasure of hunting for bargains through marrying a rich man! I want a
dress, and a jacket, and a hat, and a blouse or two for the house, and
gloves, and--"
"Don't you wish you may get them!" cried Sylvia mockingly. She watched
the two girls walk down the road, and noted that Pixie was arrayed in
her very best clothes to do honour to the mysterious errand, whatever it
might be. Her felt hat was tilted at an extraordinary angle; the smart
little jacket looked quite different from the ordinary bulky winter
garments which one was accustomed to see; her boots were of patent
leather, and her muff was decorated with a huge rosette, and ends of
ribbon.
Miss Munns might have truthfully declared that she looked French this
morning, and there was a suggestion of a strut in her walk which seemed
to speak of personal satisfaction in her appearance. Bridgie did indeed
look shabby beside her, but then no clothes, however poor, could ever
make the sweet thing look anything but a lady, and she too held up her
head in triumphant fashion, for was she not going shopping with five
bright golden sovereigns in her purse?
When Oxford Street was reached, the novices eagerly examined the windows
of a famous drapery establishment, in which the most thrilling bargains
were displayed to decoy the passers-by, and on the happy Irish principle
of placing the pleasantest duty first on the list, elbowed their way
upstairs to the millinery department. The room was blocked with a
throng of excited females all engaged in lifting hats from their pegs
and trying them on before the various mirrors. Sometimes two of the
number would set their affections on the same treasure, and then the one
who had been unsuccessful in obtaining possession would stand gloomily
by ready to pounce upon it the moment her adversary laid it down. Two
or three assistants stood at bay trying to answer a dozen questioners at
once, and experienced bargain-hunters were turning over the contents of
the drawers with one hand, and grasping four or five bonnets in the
other.
For a few moments the new-comers were too much bewildered to know what
to do first, but the spirit of plunder soon laid hold of them in their
turn, and they began to pounce upon the most fascinating of the spoils
and to try them on in breathless excitement.
Bridgie looked charming in all, her small head and cloud-like hair
making her an easy person to suit, but, alas! the prices still seemed
ruinous to her innocent mind, and she sadly turned her attention to the
more simple of the models. These were by no means so becoming as their
predecessors, and Pixie's criticisms were as usual strictly truthful as
she regarded them.
"Ye look a fright. Ye look old enough to be your own mother. It takes
all the colour out of your face. You look quite yellow!"
Bridgie tore the hat from her head, and seized upon a modest brown toque
which lay close at hand.
"Is that better, then? Is that dowdy enough to suit you?"
"It's hidjus!" cried Pixie with emphasis. "It's uglier than the other.
I wouldn't have it given to me as a present. You look an object from
the side!"
"But it's useful--it is useful!" sighed Bridgie dejectedly. Buying hats
was not so exciting as she had imagined if she were obliged to abjure
the pretty ones, and buy the useful in which she appeared to such
painful disadvantage. "And I expect it is cheap, Pixie. Very cheap! I
have, to think of that, remember!"
She tilted the hand-glass to the side to study the effect which had been
condemned, and as she did so, a sepulchral voice said grimly in her ear,
"When you have quite finished with my hat!" and she turned to behold a
severe-looking, elderly lady staring fixedly at her headgear, and
holding out her hand to claim it as her own. Poor Bridgie! her cheeks
flamed for the next hour. She was so hot, and breathless, and agitated
that she would have rushed straightway from the department, but Pixie
stood her ground and remained serenely unperturbed.
"'Twas true!" she cried. "'Twas only the truth she heard. _'Twas_
hidjus, and no words of yours would make it pretty. And as for cheap,
she ought to take that for a compliment, seeing the pains she's taking
to get another like it! Somebody must be trying on your own hat, I'm
thinking. It was lying over the rail of that chair where the fat lady
is resting. You'd better be asking her what she's done with it."
Bridgie walked forward and put an anxious Inquiry, whereupon the fat
lady leapt up in alarm, and there against the back of the chair lay a
poor flattened object, with battered crown and crestfallen bows--all
that was left of Bridgie's very best hat! She was horrified at the
sight, but the fat lady was more horrified still, and so lavish in her
apologies that it was impossible to cherish anger against her. She
insisted upon herself smoothing out the ribbons and moulding the crown
into something like the original shape, and in doing so bestowed the
information that there was another millinery department downstairs,
where there might possibly be less crowd and more chance of attention.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
"A FRENCH LADY."
The sisters agreed to adjourn forthwith, but just at the moment of
departing a hat was discovered which was in every way what was required,
so they proceeded straight to the remnant counter where a mountain of
material was being tossed about hither and thither by a crowd of
purchasers three rows deep.
"First catch your hare, then cook it," so runs the old proverb, and in
this case the adventure was by no means concluded when the selection was
made. It was necessary to pay for what you had bought, and that
necessitated a wait of a long half-hour before anyone could be induced
to receive the money. The glove department was, if possible, still more
crowded, and it was a relief to see through a doorway a vista of a great
hall filled with cases of beautiful ready-made dresses, where, despite
the presence of a goodly number of customers, there was still enough
room to move about, without pushing a way with your elbows.
"Let us come in here and breathe again!" cried Bridgie. "I don't think
I was ever so tired during my life, but I'm enjoying myself terribly.
It's so exciting, isn't it, Pixie?--and those blouse lengths are quite
elegant. They will take a lot of making, though. Wouldn't it be nice
if I could buy a dress all ready, and be spared the work?"
"It would!" agreed Pixie. "Tell one of the ladies what you're wanting,
and maybe she'll have the very thing. Here is one coming this way.
Speak to her."
Bridgie cleared her throat nervously as she made her request, for the
show-woman was a most impressive figure, tall, incredibly slight, with
elaborately arranged hair, satin skirts sweeping the ground, and a
manner that was quite painfully superior. She swept a scrutinising
glance over the sisters as she listened to the request for a simple
house dress, volunteered the information that, "Our cheapest costumes
are in this stand!" in a blighting tone, and began pulling out the
skirts and exhibiting them in professional manner.
"That is a very nice little dress, madam, very neatly made--quite in the
latest style! Too light? We are selling a great many light shades this
season.--Do you care for this colour? This is a very well-cut gown.
Too dark? I am afraid I have not many medium shades.--Here is a pretty
gown, very much reduced. Quite a simple little gown, but it looks very
well on. This embroidery is all hand-done. The bodice is prettily
made."