The day before the eventful picnic the family were seated round the
breakfast-table, when the Dean looked up from a letter which he had just
been reading, and said mildly, and as if he were making the most natural
request in the world:
"Evelyn, will you get ready to go up to town by the five o'clock train
this afternoon? The Archbishop has appointed our interview for three
o'clock to-morrow. You had better pack for two or three nights."
Mrs Faucit gave an irrepressible start of consternation. Was ever
anything so unfortunate! The interview with the Archbishop had been
talked of for months past; half a dozen letters had been exchanged on
the subject within the last fortnight; the question which was to be
discussed was of pressing importance. She realised at once that the
appointment must be kept, but her heart sank as she looked at the three
young faces beside her--aghast, and speechless with horror.
"Oh! is it really to-morrow?" she cried. "Are you quite sure, dear?
Look again! you so often make mistakes in the date. Does he say
Wednesday the sixteenth, or Wednesday the twenty-third?"
The Dean peered at his letter once more.
"He says: _I shall be able to meet you on Wednesday next, sixteenth
instant_. It is certainly to-morrow. Why, Evelyn; is there any reason
why--er--?"
"It is the day of Mrs Newland's picnic. I have accepted her
invitation--"
"Oh, is that all!" Her husband drew a sigh of relief. "You must write,
of course, and explain your absence. She will understand, and it will
be a relief to you, dear. I--er--I have some recollection of being at a
picnic myself years ago. Uncomfortable occasion! Er--earwigs--meals on
the grass--baskets to carry. You would have been very tired. Much more
comfortable at the Metropole!"
Mrs Faucit could not restrain a smile in spite of her concern.
"Just so, Austin; but that is not the light in which the young people
look at it. I was to chaperone the girls. I am thinking of them, not
of myself. It will be a great disappointment."
The Dean put up his eye-glasses, and stared at the three girls in turn.
His own daughters were white with suppressed emotion, but Mildred's face
was tragic in its agony of suspense. She did not say a word, but she
turned her great, grey eyes upon him, piteous as those of a child who
sees a surgeon standing over her, knife in hand; and as he met that
glance the Dean rumpled his hair in perturbation of spirit.
"Dear me! dear me! this is very distressing. Disappointed, are they? I
don't want the children to be disappointed, Evelyn! Let them enjoy
themselves. If they appreciate that sort of thing, let them go by all
means. Why should they stay away because you are obliged to do so?
Mrs Newland will look after them."
"My dear Dean!" Lady Sarah shook out her serviette, and raised her
voice to an even shriller note than usual. "My dear Dean, you don't
realise what you are saying. The girls are not children any longer;
they were fifteen their last birthday. In another two years, or three
at the outside, they will be in society. You cannot possibly allow them
to go to a large affair of this sort without a chaperone. Mrs Newland
will be occupied with her guests, and will have no time to look after
them. If Evelyn is obliged to go away, let the girls stay at home.
They can surely bear a little disappointment. They will have bigger
ones than this to bear as they go through life!"
"True, Sarah,--quite true; but that is the more reason why I wish to
postpone them as long as possible. I don't want the girls to miss their
pleasure, Evelyn! Can nothing be done? Can't you think of some plan,
dear? you are so clever. Is there no other alternative?" And the
kindly Dean looked at his wife with a face full of anxiety.
Mrs Faucit smiled back at him in the peculiarly sweet, reassuring
manner which she reserved for himself and for Erroll, the youngest
member of the family--a mischievous little rascal, who employed himself
in getting into trouble all day long, and in rushing to throw himself
upon his mother's tender mercies after each fresh exploit.
"I think we might surely hit on some plan between us!" she said
brightly. "Such a number of clever people! For instance, it ought not
to be altogether impossible to provide another chaperone for the girls.
There are more people than my important self in the town, and Mrs
Newland will be quite willing to accept a representative under the
circumstances."
"If you mean me, Evelyn, I am not at all sure that I feel equal to the
exertion. If they were going to drive from door to door, and have lunch
in an hotel in reasonable fashion, it would be different; but with so
many changes, and the whole day to be spent in the open air--"
"Oh, my dear Sarah, I never thought of such a thing for a moment! It
would be too much to ask. You would be terribly fatigued." Mrs Faucit
had caught the echo of three separate gasps of consternation, and she
spoke with unusual emphasis. "Oh, no, indeed! I think it will answer
all purposes if Miss Turner takes the girls in charge. Mrs Newland
knows her, and it would be a pity to look any further when we have
someone so suitable in the house. That will be a very good arrangement,
won't it, girls?"
Then for the first time the girls' lips were opened, and they spoke. Up
till now the tension of suspense had been so great that they seemed
scarcely able to breathe.
"Oh, yes, Mother, it will be delightful!"
"Oh, yes, Mrs Faucit, splendid! Miss Turner will be nicer than anyone
if you can't go yourself. But are you really obliged to go away? Why
can't you stay at home when it is only for two days?"
"My dear Mil! and allow Father to go by himself!" Bertha waxed quite
mischievous in the relief of the moment. "You don't know what an
absent-minded creature he is! If Mother were not there to look after
him, he would go to meet the Archbishop without a hat on his head, or
stand gloating over an old bookstall in the street, until he forgot all
about his appointment. Mother has to be very careful not to let him out
of her sight. She writes down all that he wants to say on a piece of
paper, and leads him up to the very door of the room. Then she says:
`Now, Austin, do you know whom you are going to see?' Father stares
blankly, and says: `Er--er--I really er--.' And then she says very
slowly and distinctly: `You--are--going--to--see--the--Archbishop!
You--want--to--see--him--very--badly--indeed. Here is a list of the
things you want to say!' Then she thrusts the paper into his hands,
pushes him inside the door, and shuts it firmly behind him. It's quite
true! I know, because I have been with them."
"Eh? eh? eh? What this! what's all this?" The Dean pushed his chair
from the table, and stared at his daughter with a comical expression of
amused embarrassment upon his face. "Upon my word, Sarah, I believe you
are right! The children are growing up--they are growing up! I--I
never heard such an accusation in my life! Absent-minded! Am I indeed,
Miss Bertha? I see a great deal more than you imagine, young lady!"
His lips were twitching, his grave eyes twinkling with amusement. He
was a Dean and a scholar whose fame was world-wide; who wrote books the
very names of which Mildred was unable to understand, but he had shown
himself so considerate of the young people's enjoyment, he looked, at
the moment, so kindly and mischievous that a sudden wave of affection
swelled within the girl's heart. Up she leapt, and bounding across the
room to his side, threw her long arms round his neck, and kissed him
rapturously upon the lips. It was an extraordinary liberty to take, but
what followed was more extraordinary still, for the Dean returned the
salute with the utmost alacrity, and keeping one arm round Mildred's
waist, twirled off with her towards the door in something that was
perilously,--perilously like a polka!
When he reached the doorway, and saw the old butler coming along the
passage, he shook himself free in a moment, and shuffled off to the
study, looking as sober as if he had never indulged in a game of romps
in his life; but when Mildred turned back into the room the twins were
clapping their hands in delight, Lady Sarah struggling in vain to
restrain a smile, while Mrs Faucit was laughing softly to herself, with
a glimmer of tears in her eyes.
There are two sorts of tears, however, and these of the Dean's wife were
certainly not those of sorrow. Perhaps she was thinking of the days
when she was a girl herself, and of a certain lanky schoolboy who spent
the vacations with her brothers, and who behaved in such harum-scarum
fashion that an onlooker would have been ready to prophesy anything of
him, rather than that he should have developed into a sober dignitary of
the church!
But a day of busy preparation lay before Mrs Faucit. She had no time
to waste in day-dreams, so excusing herself to Lady Sarah, she carried
the girls upstairs to her room, where she proceeded to read them a
gentle lecture on their behaviour for the next few days.
"Now do, dears, try to help me while I am away! I shall be miserable if
I feel that things are not going on well at home, and it all depends
upon you. Make up your minds that you will not allow little things to
annoy you, and set yourselves to be cheerful and forbearing. The rest
will follow as a matter of course. Bertha, I leave the children to
you--see that they are happy. If any accident or sudden illness should
happen, telegraph at once for me. Lois, you must take my place in the
house. Look after the flowers, and see that a fire is lit in the small
drawing-room if the weather is at all chilly. Mildred, I have a task
for you too. I wonder if you can guess what it is? I am going to leave
Lady Sarah in your care! Yes, really, dear--I mean it! I ask you as a
favour to look upon her as your special charge while I am away--to see
that she is comfortable and has all she wants. She is very old,
Mildred, and in spite of her sharp manner, she appreciates kindness.
Now remember, dear, I trust you!"
"Oh, dear!" groaned Mildred; "I wish you wouldn't! I don't like it a
bit. I'd much sooner arrange the flowers--mayn't I arrange the flowers,
Mrs Faucit, please, and let Lois look after Lady Sarah? You said
yourself I had quite a gift for arranging flowers!" Then, as Mrs
Faucit only smiled and shook her head, she went off into fresh
lamentations. "It's perfectly miserable that you have to go away at
all. Things do happen so nastily in this world! Just as I was going
home Robbie fell ill, and now the very day before the picnic this letter
arrives! It's horrid. Cecile said you were going away, but I never
believed you would!"
Mrs Faucit looked up sharply.
"Cecile said!" she repeated. "Cecile! What did she know about it,
pray? The date of the interview was so uncertain that I have never
spoken of it in the house. I hoped that, as it had been so often
deferred, it might not come off until the end of the holidays. What did
Cecile say?"
"Oh, not much!" replied Mildred easily. "Something about finding out
what Lady Sarah was like when you went away and she was left in charge.
I said you were not going away, and she muttered something about hearing
the servants talk. I really forget what it was."
Mrs Faucit wrinkled her brows, and looked perturbed. How could Cecile
know of plans which had only been discussed between husband and wife?
Could it be that the Dean, in his carelessness, had left a letter on the
subject lying about, and that Cecile had been unprincipled enough to
read the contents? It was the only explanation of which she could
think, and it was sufficiently unpleasant to send her downstairs to
interview Lady Sarah with a fresh weight on her mind.
"Will you be kind enough to take care of the keys for me, Sarah?" she
asked. "There are a good many valuables in the chest in the
strong-room, and I should feel more comfortable if you were in charge.
James will apply to you for anything he needs, and pray do not hesitate
to give him your instructions in return. By the way, Mildred has just
been telling me that Cecile spoke to her some days ago of our leaving
home! I can't imagine how she can have known about it. I am afraid I
have never got over my first dislike to that woman, Sarah. I don't like
her prying ways, and I don't like her manner to you. You are not given
to spoiling your servants, but it seems to me that you are allowing
Cecile to get the upper hand; and if that goes on, it will be a great
mistake. She does not impress me as a woman whom it is safe to
indulge!"
Lady Sarah gave an impatient toss to her head.
"Oh, my dear Evelyn!" she cried; "it is easy for you to talk. You have
your husband and children, and are not dependent upon a servant. I am!
Cecile has it in her power to make my comfort or misery, and she is a
capable woman, who understands my requirements. I have suffered so much
from inefficient maids that I cannot afford to quarrel with one who
really suits me!"
She evidently did not appreciate her friend's interference, and Mrs
Faucit realised that there was no more to be said on the subject.