Wallace was sitting, and the supercilious man looked after them with
thoughtful eyes. He had always admired Miss Lottie Vane, though he had
privately sneered at her snobbish tendencies, but it occurred to him to-
day that he had been over-hasty in judgment. How sweet she had looked
as she answered her little friend, how kindly had been the tones of her
voice! He felt his heart thrill with the beginning of a new and deeper
interest.
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A TEA-PARTY.
Jack kept his resolve of avoiding dangerous _tete-a-tetes_ with Sylvia
Trevor, and kept it in so pleasant and friendly a manner that no one
suspected his motives save the person most concerned. She knew only too
well that a wall of division had suddenly risen between them, but though
her heart ached she carried her proud little head more erect than ever,
and was so very, very lively and pleasant that Jack in his turn was
deceived, and believed that she was relieved by his absence. When they
met, as meet they did from time to time, they laughed and joked, and
teased each other about little family jokes, and Bridgie listened
delightedly, and told herself that it did Jack all the good in the world
to meet Sylvia, for he was growing so much quieter, and seemed so
worried over that horrid old business. Miss Munns, however, had the
same complaint to make about her niece, and delivered herself of many
homilies on the subject.
"Extremes," she said, "extremes, my dear, ought always to be avoided.
To be constantly running from one extreme to another shows an unbalanced
character. A medium path is the wisest which one can choose, and one
should show neither undue elation nor foundless depression at the events
of life. I remember a proverb which we used to quote as children:
`Laugh in the morning, cry before night!'--and there is a great deal of
truth in it, too. High spirits are bound to be brought low before very
long."
"Well, I think it's a horrid proverb and a very wicked one into the
bargain!" cried Sylvia hotly. "It sounds as if God disliked seeing one
happy, and I believe He loves it and means it, and tries to teach us
that it is a duty! He made the world as bright as He could for us to
live in, with the sunshine and the flowers, and He made all the little
animals skip and bound, and play games among themselves, so it stands to
reason that He expects men and women to be happy too, especially young
ones."
"Exactly! Precisely! Just what I say! I was just pointing out to you,
my love, that it is over an hour since you made a remark, and that such
depression of spirits was very trying to me as your companion," cried
Miss Munns, with an air of triumph. "After the long period of anxiety
through which I have passed, I think I am entitled to expect some
cheering society."
"But then, you see, I might cry before evening!" retorted Sylvia pertly,
and had the satisfaction of feeling that she had been rude to her
elders, and put herself hopelessly in the wrong, as Miss Munns took up
her stocking-bag and began to darn, drooping her eyelids with an air of
stony displeasure.
Sylvia glanced at her from time to time during the next half-hour, and
felt ashamed of herself, and wished she were sweet-tempered like
Bridgie, and thought how nice it would be if she could learn to think
before she spoke, and be cautious and prudent, and never say what she
was sorry for afterwards. She also wished that Aunt Margaret would not
look so particularly old and frail this morning of all others. How thin
she was! What great big hollows she had in her cheeks! It was rather
dreadful to be old like that, and have no one to love and care for one
best of all, no one but a thoughtless girl, who was never so grateful as
she ought to be, and sometimes even really impertinent. The wave of
penitence could not be repressed, and she jumped from her seat with her
characteristic impetuosity, and threw her arms round her aunt's
shoulders.
"I'm sorry I answered you back, auntie; it was horrid of me. I've been
a great trouble to you this winter, but I really am awfully grateful for
all your goodness. Do give me a kiss, and say you forgive me!"
"Well, well, well, my dear child, don't be so impetuous! You have
nearly pulled the cap off my head. Extremes, as I said before, always
extremes! Do please try to exercise some self-control. I quite
understand that you are troubled about your foot, but as the doctor says
it is only a question of time, and if you are patient for a month or two
more, you will be able to go about as well as ever. There is no
necessity to brood about it as you do, no necessity at all!"
Sylvia was not brooding about her foot, but she did not choose to say so
to Miss Munns, and her silence being accepted as a sign of submission,
the old lady became so mollified as to suggest that the two Miss
O'Shaughnessys should be invited to tea forthwith.
Afternoon tea under Miss Munns's _regime_ was a more formal meal than is
usually the case, and also a trifle more solid, for it was followed by
no dinner, but a supper of cocoa and potted meat served at nine o'clock.
This arrangement was one of Sylvia's minor trials in life, but Pixie
O'Shaughnessy saw great compensations in a tea where you really sat up
to the table, and had jam in a pot, and a loaf, and scones, and eggs.
It fascinated her to see how the table was laid, with a white cloth
spread diamond-wise under the tea-tray, and the different viands dotted
about on the green baize.
Miss Munns boiled her own water, and ladled the tea out of a little
silver caddy, and dipped the bottom of each cup in water before it was
filled to prevent slippings on the saucer. She had a kettle-holder
worked in cross-stitch--red wool roses on a black wool background--and a
cosy ornamented with a wreath of bead flowers. The eggs were boiled to
order, hard or soft, just as you liked, in a silver pot filled with
methylated spirits out of a fascinating, thimble-like measure. Pixie
watched the various preparations with rapt attention, while the two
elder girls chatted together at the end of the table.
"I want you to give me Whitey's address," Bridgie said, "so that I can
send her some flowers. Esmeralda sent me a hamper this morning, so I am
rather rich and would like to share my goad things. You said she was
nursing a case in the city, so she probably has no flowers, and it's
cheery to have boxes coming in as a surprise. It's so hard for nurses
to live in a constant atmosphere of depression and sickness. When one
is ill for a long time, as you were, one gets so bored and wearied by
the monotony of the sick-room, and it's such bliss to be free again, and
speak at the pitch of your voice, and be done with medicines, and
pulses, and temperatures, and tiresome rules and regulations, but the
nurse never gets free. Just when things are beginning to get cheerful,
she goes away to another darkened room and another anxious household,
and the whole programme begins over again. They love their work, of
course, but it must be very hard sometimes. Don't you think so?"
"I--I--" Sylvia pursed up her lips and elevated her eyebrows in
deprecatory fashion. "I never thought of it! It does sound horrid when
you put it like that, but I'm afraid I just took it for granted that it
was their work. Whitey never grumbled. She left that to me, and was
always cheerful, though I found out afterwards that she had been awfully
anxious about her sister. I wish I had thought of sending her flowers!"
"Send these--do!" cried Bridgie eagerly. "She will like them better
from you, and I don't mind a bit so long as she gets them. I'll send
over the box, and you shall address it and put in a little note. Yes,
you must, because I felt rather mean about not bringing some for
yourself, but there were not very many, and as I was going into town I
couldn't resist taking some to the woman in the waiting-room."
"The woman in the-- What do you mean?"
Bridgie laughed easily.
"At London, of course. There are several waiting-rooms at our station,
but I go to the dullest of all, where there is hardly a gleam of light,
and one day I saw the woman staring so longingly at some flowers which a
lady was carrying. Since then I have generally taken her a little bunch
when I go up to town, and it is quite pathetic the way she grabs them.
She knows me now, and looks so pleased to see me!"
That was an easy thing to imagine. Sylvia pictured to herself the long,
monotonous day in that dreary little room, the constant hope which
reached its fulfilment when the door swung open and Bridgie's face
smiled a greeting, leaving behind her the fragrant blossoms to sweeten
the hours with their own perfume, and the remembrance of another's care.
Such a simple thing to do! Such an easy thing! Why had she never
thought of it herself? She would have done it gladly enough if it had
occurred to her mind: it was not heart that was wanted, but thought!
Oh, what a number of lives might be brightened, what an army of good
deeds would be accomplished if people would only "think!"
"Well, my dear, I only hope she was a decent woman, and worthy of your
kindness," said Miss Munns primly. "A lazy life, I call it. I've no
opinion of people who make their living by sitting still all day. I had
occasion to wait at a station some little time ago, and entered into
conversation with the woman in charge. She said she was a widow, and I
advised her to use my furniture-polish, for the woodwork was in a
disgraceful condition, and she answered me back in a most unbecoming
manner. I have done a great deal of charitable work in my day, and am
on three committees at the present moment, so I am not easily taken in.
"I have been investigating cases for relief this very afternoon, and if
you'll believe me in one house where they asked for help there was a
musical-box upon the table! The woman said it was given to her by an
old mistress, and that it amused the children while she did her work. I
told her we did not undertake to relieve cases who could afford to keep
musical instruments. I don't know what the poor are coming to in these
days. She must dispose of it before I can have anything to do with
her."
"But 'twas a present to her! It's not polite to give away presents.
Who do you want her to give it to?" queried Pixie, with the wide-eyed
stare which always made Miss Munns feel so hot and discomposed. She
frowned and fidgeted with the kettle, while Pixie continued to discuss
the situation. "I know what it is to have children about when there's
something to do. Mrs Wallace gave me a book the other day, and the
schemes I made to get time to look at the pictures! I was supposed to
have gone out for a walk, and they were to prepare a surprise for me
when I got back. And 'twas a surprise! They'd pretended to be savages,
and pulled all the feathers out of my hat to stick in their hair!"
"Very ill-mannered and impertinent I call it! I hope you gave them a
good scolding?"
"I did not," said Pixie calmly. "I don't like scolding meself, and it
makes me worse. I merely remarked that it was a pity, as I'd have to
sew them back again instead of playing games. 'Twas dull work watching
me sew, and I didn't disturb myself with hurrying. Ye couldn't bribe
them within yards of me hat this last week!"
"Humph! When I was a child I was whipped when I did wrong, and that was
the end of it. But things have changed since then, and time will prove
which was the best system. Another cup of tea, Miss Bridgie? I hope
you have good news of your sister and the little boy?"
"Yes, thank you, Miss Munns. They are both well, and we are hoping to
see them quite soon. They come up to their town house at the beginning
of May, and we expect to have quite a gay time. Esmeralda is bringing a
house-party of old Irish friends with her, and it will be delightful to
meet again. She always loved entertaining, and was clever in devising
novelties, and now that she has plenty of money she can do as she likes
without thinking of the cost. You must get your fineries ready, Sylvia.
There will be lots of invitations for you next month."
Sylvia's smile was less whole-hearted than it would have been if one
sentence had been omitted from Bridgie's announcement. "Old friends
from Ireland" would of a surety include Miss Mollie Burrell, and
Esmeralda would see that Jack made the most of his opportunity. It
would not be exactly pleasure to accept invitations for the sake of
seeing other people flirting together, while she herself sat alone in a
corner.
"I shan't go!" she told herself. "If she asks me I shall refuse. I
don't care to be patronised at Park Lane or anywhere else. I'd rather
stay at home and play cribbage in Rutland Road." But all the same in
the depths of her heart she knew well that when the time came she would
not have enough resolution to say no. The temptation to obtain a
glimpse of the fashionable world of which she had read so much and seen
too little would be too great to be resisted; she would go even if it
were to have her heart stabbed with a fresh pain, and to come home to
weep herself to sleep!
"My dear, your sister will have plenty of friends to ask without
thinking of Sylvia. She won't find it plain sailing looking after a big
house like that. I should advise her to engage a housekeeper if she
doesn't want to be cheated right and left. I know what servants are
when the mistress is never in the kitchen to look after the scraps. I
daresay I might be able to help her to find a suitable woman in
connection with our different agencies. I'll inquire for you if you
think she would like it."
"Dear Miss Munns, how kind of you! I'll write to Esmeralda at once, and
I daresay she would be most grateful. You make me quite ashamed of
myself when I think of all the work you do, and how lazy and useless I
am in comparison!" cried Bridgie earnestly. Her grey eyes were fixed on
Miss Munns's face with the sweetest, most unaffected admiration, and
Sylvia looked at them both and thought many thoughts.
Miss Munns did indeed give both time and strength to charitable work,
and withal a generous share of her small income, but her interest was of
the head, not of the heart, and she was sublimely ignorant of her
failure to help or comfort. Bridgie thought she was not helping at all,
and was ashamed of herself because she was on no committees, and knew
nothing of authorised agencies. Her ignorance was so sweet that it
would be a sin to enlighten it, but there was something in Sylvia's
expression which aroused her friend's curiosity.
"What are you thinking of, Sylvia?" she asked. "Something nice?"
"Very nice!" said Sylvia, smiling. She had just recalled a quotation
which seemed as though it might have been written to describe Bridgie
O'Shaughnessy--
"Sweet souls without reproach or blot,
Who do God's will and know it not!"
CHAPTER TWENTY.
A LUNCHEON BASKET.
Esmeralda announced her arrival in town on the first of May, a week in
advance of her house-party, so that she might have leisure to visit her
brothers and sisters, and put the final touches to her own preparations.
She did not mention the hour of her arrival, but this was easily
calculated, and at home in Rutland Road, Bridgie and Pixie held eager
committee meetings as to the best method of welcome. It was decided not
to go to the station, as Esmeralda did not appreciate being taken
unawares, and would of a certainty be annoyed if her son and heir were
beheld at a disadvantage.
"Babies are bound to be cross at the end of a journey, and his little
frock would be soiled and crumpled, and she will want him to look his
very, very best. No! we will go straight to Park Lane," Bridgie
decided, "and arrive an hour after they are due, so that they will have
had time to get tidy. The house will be upset, of course, for it has
been closed for so long, and we may be able to help. I shall never
forget the day we came here--all the furniture piled in the middle of
the rooms, and nowhere to sit down, and nothing to eat, and my poor back
aching as if 'twere broken. That's another thing I was thinking about.
We'll take lunch with us all ready prepared--a cold chicken, I think,
and some fruit for dessert, and enjoy it together, we three girls, if we
have to sit on the floor to eat it. How lovely it will be to meet
again! It seems too good to be true."
Pixie was delighted at the idea of the luncheon basket, and when the
eventful day arrived one little extra after another was added to the
original list, until the weight became quite formidable, but Bridgie
declared that an omnibus ran to within but a short distance of their
destination, and the two girls set off in high spirits, each holding a
handle of the basket, and swinging it gaily to and fro. Curious glances
were cast towards it _en route_, whereat Pixie beamed with pride. It
looked so like a picnic basket, with the top bulging from the sides,
allowing glimpses to be seen of the fruit bags, and the white linen
serviette enfolding the chicken; she was convinced that the beholders
were consumed with envy and curiosity!
Arrived at Park Lane, Pixie was much concerned to realise that
Esmeralda's much vaunted town residence was situated in this dull and
narrow street! In vain Bridgie represented that the site was famous the
world over; the little sister smiled quietly, and retained her own
opinion. Bridgie as usual was making the best of the situation, but it
was evident that Geoffrey's riches had been much exaggerated, since this
was the best he could do for his wife.
Poor Esmeralda! how disappointed she would be! What a good thing it was
that they had brought the cold chicken to take off the first edge of
disappointment! The house itself looked dark and gloomy, but there were
a great many windows, and looking upwards Pixie espied a glimpse of a
graceful head inside the line of one of the curtains. The travellers
had indeed arrived, and in another moment the three sisters would be
reunited, after four months' separation.
"Ring again, darling! I can't. This basket weighs me down!" said
Bridgie, straining at the heavy handle, and then came surprise number
one, for even as she spoke the door was flung back, and there appeared
on the threshold one immaculate-looking man-servant, while farther down
the hall stood two more in attitudes of attention. Three whole men to
open one door! This was indeed a height of luxury to which the simple
Irish mind had never soared; and where was the upset and confusion which
had been expected, where the signs of recent arrival, where the
smallest, most trifling evidence of confusion? The stately hall looked
as if it had been undisturbed from immemorial ages, and the butler
stared at the two girls and their basket with lofty disdain.
"Not at home, madam!"
Bridgie gasped, and looked blank dismay, but Pixie's shrill protest
could not be restrained.
"Not at home, when I saw her meself not a second ago looking out of the
window?"
What would have happened it is difficult to say, but at that moment a
voice sounded from afar, an eager voice repeating two names over and
over again in tones of rapturous welcome. The man stepped aside, and
Bridgie pressed the basket into his hands and raced along the hall, past
the staring footmen to the bend of the stairs, where Esmeralda stood
with arms stretched wide. Pixie was only a step aside, and Esmeralda
escorted the two girls upstairs to her own room, talking breathlessly
the while.
"Of course he said I was not at home! We arrived only an hour ago, so I
can hardly be ready for visitors yet, but I saw the top of your hats
from the nursery windows. You must come this very minute and see the
boy. He is sweeter than ever. Everyone says he is a perfect beauty.
Oh, me dears, how glad I am to see you! How sweet of you to come!"
"Of course we came; we thought perhaps we might be able to--help!"
Bridgie said, looking around the gorgeous staircase with pensive regret.
"We imagined you in such an upset, dear, with the carpets up, and the
furniture covered with dust-sheets, and we thought we could dust, and
put things straight as we used to do at Knock. You told us you were
coming to open the house!"
"You didn't expect I was going to work myself?" drawled Esmeralda, her
impetuous manner changing suddenly to one of drawling affectation. "The
servants have been here for a week, getting ready for our arrival. I
have nothing to look after but a few frocks, and preparations for the
fray next week! Did you expect to see me in an apron, with a duster
over my head?"
"It makes no difference to me what you wear!" said Bridgie quietly, and
at that Esmeralda laughed, and became herself once more.
"It does to me, though. The best of everything is good enough for me,
nothing less! You dear old thing, it's like old times to have you
looking at me with that solemn face. No one keeps me in order now.
Geoff tries occasionally, but it's such an evident effort that it
doesn't have much effect. It will be quite good for me to have some
family snubbings once more. This is the way to the nursery--this door!
Now, my beauty, come to mother. She's brought two new aunties to see
you!"
The beauty regarded his relations in stolid silence for a moment, then
hung his lower lip and began to howl. His mother walked him up and down
the room, striving by various blandishments to win him back to smiles,
but he kept turning his head over his shoulder to gaze at his new
relatives with an expression of agonised incredulity, as though loath to
believe that such monsters could really exist on the earth. He was very
fat and very bald, and, if the truth were told, not a beauty at all, but
Esmeralda made a fascinating mother, and was so happily deluded about
his charms that it would have been cruel to undeceive her.
Even Pixie managed for once to preserve a discreet silence, while
Bridgie's ejaculations of astonishment at size and weight passed muster
as admiration with the complacent mother and nurse.
"You shall see him again later on," Esmeralda announced, as though
anxious to soften the pain of separation, as she led her sisters from
the room. "I must show you over the house before lunch. Geoffrey had
the drawing-rooms redecorated before we were married, but this is the
first time I have been able to entertain. I wish you could come and
stay here, Bridgie, but I suppose nothing would make you desert the
boys. Never mind, you will be here every time that there is anything
going on, and it is not much fun preparing when one has a houseful of
servants. Do you remember how we used to be making jellies and creams
all the day before, and running about arranging the house until a few
minutes before the time when the people arrived? That's all over now,
and I do nothing but give orders and grumble. This way! There! What
do you think of that for an imposing vista?"
It was indeed very imposing, for one long yellow room opened into
another decorated in palest blue, which in its turn showed a glimpse of
a conservatory gay with flowers.
The rooms were so huge, so lofty in stature, that Pixie was puzzled to
understand how the unimposing exterior could contain such surprises,
while Esmeralda strutted about displaying one treasure after another,
giving detailed descriptions of exactly how the rooms were to be
arranged for the contemplated entertainments, and glancing complacently
at her own reflection in the long mirrors. She looked ridiculously
young to be the mistress of this fine establishment, and despite
occasional affectations, there was more of the schoolgirl than of the
woman of the world, in her happy voice and eager gestures.
From the reception-rooms the sisters adjourned to the dining-room, a
big, somewhat gloomy apartment facing the street, very handsome, very
severe, and evidently dedicated to one purpose only, and never by any
chance entered from the time one meal ended until another began. The
butler was arranging dishes on the sideboard, the table was spread with
a glittering profusion of glass and silver, and an array of cold
dainties, at sight of which Bridgie blushed, and stared at the floor.
She waited, trembling, to hear Pixie's exclamation, but none came, and
as they adjourned towards the library she slipped her hand through
Esmeralda's arm, and said, half laughing, half nervous--
"I don't understand the ways of grand ladies yet, Joan dear! I shall
have to get into them by degrees. You wrote that you were coming to
open the house, and I imagined you in the same sort of confusion which
we were in at Rutland Road, only of course ten times worse, as your
house is so big. We thought you would be tired and hungry, and perhaps
have nothing to eat but sandwiches or biscuits, and we--we brought some
lunch for you and ourselves!"