"Such a joke, Jill! The sun is shining, and the Pet is sitting reading,
in the drawing-room window, and I've found a broken piece of looking-
glass in the street.--There's luck! Let's hide behind the curtains and
flash it in her eyes!"
Jill's book fell down with a crash, and she leapt to her feet, abeam
with anticipation. It was Saturday, and she had announced her intention
of "stewing hard" all the afternoon, but the claims of examinations sank
into the background before the thrilling prospect held out by her twin.
"Break it in two! Fair does, Jack! Give me a bit, and let us flash in
turns!" she cried eagerly; but Jack would not consent to anything so
rash.
"How can I divide it, silly?" he replied. "I haven't a diamond _to cut
it_, and if I crunch it with my foot it may all go to smithereens, and
there will be nothing left. I'll lend it to you for a bit now and then,
but you won't aim straight. Girls never do!"
"I do! I do!" Jill maintained loudly. "I will! I will! Come along,
be quick! She might move away, and it would be such a sell. I'll kneel
down here and keep the curtains round me. I wonder what she's reading.
Something awfully dry and proper, I expect! What heaps of hair! It
hangs over her face, so that we shan't be able to dazzle her a bit."
"Yes, we will," contradicted Jack. "She'll see the light dancing about
on the page, and look up to see what's the matter! You watch, but mind
you don't bob up your head and let her see you!"
"Mind you don't let her see your hand! It's sticking right out. You
ought to put on a dark glove, which she wouldn't notice against the
pane."
Jack was pleased to approve of the glove proposition, and an adjournment
was made to the doctor's dressing-room, where a pair of `funeral gloves'
were discovered which seemed exactly what was desired. Jack drew one on
his right hand, Jill drew the other on her left, and thus equipped they
crept back to their hiding-place behind the shabby red curtains, and
proceeded to work.
It was rather difficult to move the glass so as to throw the reflection
on one exact spot, as the conspirators could only peep out for a moment
at a time. The little white circle of light danced all over the big
grey house before it found the window above the porch, and, moving
slowly up and down, eventually alighted on the page of the open book.
Jill giggled, Jack snored loudly, as was his habit when excited; the Pet
gave a little hitch round in her chair, and read on stolidly.
"My turn! My turn!" cried Jill excitedly. "You've had your innings,
now give me mine. Hand it over!" and the two black gloved hands met in
the middle of the window.
"You moved it away too quickly! You must follow her about, and bob it
g-ently up and down. Wait till I get it right. There it is! I've got
it better than you, Jack, ever so much better!"
"That's because the sun's so much brighter. Be careful now. That's
enough! If you go on too long at a time, she'll move away into the room
and it will be all up. Let her settle down again, and imagine she's all
right, then we'll give her another treat!"
It was wonderful how expert one grew with practice! The light now
danced direct to its destination, and move her book as she would, the
Pet could not escape. At last she grew impatient, tossed back her mane
of hair and turned to stare curiously out of the window. This was the
longed-for opportunity, and Jack snored louder than ever with relief
that it had come about when it was his turn to hold the treasured glass.
Quick as thought he waved it to and fro, and the Pet threw up her
hands, unable to withstand the glare. Safe in the seclusion of their
distant room, the twins shrieked with exultation, and had much ado to
keep their position behind the curtains. Jill kept endeavouring to
snatch the glass from her brother, but Jack was too intent on his work
to take any notice of her efforts.
The Pet lifted one hand from her eyes and cautiously peeped out. The
sun was shining with unusual brilliancy for an October morning, but
there was not the slightest difficulty in viewing the landscape as fully
as she liked. She turned her head from side to side in a curious
inquiring fashion, and Jack, with an artist's appreciation of the right
moment, waited until she had abandoned the search, and was about to
settle down again, when another blinding flash of light fell full on her
face, and she shrank back into the shade with a startled gesture.
Seated in this last position, she exactly faced the schoolroom, and the
twins had a moment's horrified fear that she had caught a glimpse of
their peeping faces, but her next movement put an end to suspicion, for
she took up her book and settled down again to her reading exactly as if
she had never been interrupted.
And then an extraordinary thing happened! The mane of golden hair was
tossed back, leaving the face fully exposed, yet though the twins
flashed the light on both eyes and book, the Pet read on stolidly,
turning over the pages with leisurely enjoyment, apparently no whit
disturbed.
"What's the matter with her all of a sudden? Is she blind?" Jill
queried impatiently.
Jack grunted, and flashed more vigorously than ever, but the Pet might
have been a hundred miles away for all the effect produced. It was most
mysterious and perplexing, not to say exasperating to the last degree.
After ten minutes' fruitless effort, Jack went off in search of fresh
victims, and Jill sorrowfully returned to her lessons.
How interested they would have been if they could have overheard a
conversation which was even then taking place across the road!
"Dear child!" cried a lady lying on a sofa at the far end of a
beautifully-furnished drawing-room. "Dear child, what are you doing?
For the last five minutes I have been watching you pretending to read
with your eyes shut. It's not a lesson book, and Miss Mason is not
here, so what can you be thinking about, dear wee goose?"
The fair head turned round, and the book dropped to the floor.
"I'm thinking," said a very sweet, sad little voice, "I'm thinking that
I wish I were a large family, mother. I'm so tired of being only one!"
"Oh, Cynthia!" cried the lady--and there was a world of mother-yearning
in her voice--"is it that old trouble again? Poor child, it is dull for
you, but I do all I can for you, darling. I stayed at home especially
to be near you, and I do my best to be a companion, and to sympathise in
all your interests. Don't tell me that I have failed altogether!"
Cynthia crossed the room, knelt down on the floor by her mother's couch
and laid both hands on her knee. The two faces that confronted each
other were as much alike as was possible, given a difference in age of
twenty-five years. Cynthia was a beautiful girl, and her mother was a
beautiful woman, and the beauty lay as much in expression as in feature.
Miles Trevor had been entirely mistaken when he compared the girl to a
doll, for the direct glance of the eye, the sweet, firm lips and well-
formed chin, belonged to no puppet, but showed unusual strength of
character.
"You are a darling, and I adore you!" cried Cynthia fondly. "But you
are old, you know, and I am so dreadfully young. There's something all
fizzling inside me for want of a vent. I'm just desperate sometimes to
do something wild, and exciting, and hilarious; it doesn't matter how
silly it is; the sillier the better! I'm so dreadfully well-regulated,
mother, considering I'm only sixteen. Lessons--`studies,' as Miss Mason
calls them--musical exercises, constitutional, luncheon, more studies,
dinner, polite conversation, performances upon the piano, that's my
daily round, and I get _so_ tired! Don't think I don't appreciate you,
mother. You know I do. We are the best friends in the world, but
still--"
"I know," said Mrs Alliot, and sighed once more. She stroked her
daughter's golden head in thoughtful silence, then asked curiously,
"What made you feel your loneliness especially to-day, dear?"
A flicker of laughter passed over Cynthia's pink-and-white face.
"The boy and girl in Number 1, the corner house, were playing tricks on
me, trying to dazzle my eyes with something--a piece of old looking-
glass, I suppose. I could not understand what caused the sudden glare
until I caught a glimpse of their faces peering out from behind the
curtains."
"Trying to dazzle you! That doctor's children? How exceedingly rude!
They must be very badly brought up. And you were sitting with your eyes
shut pretending to go on reading. You curious child! Why?"
"It was their joke; they enjoyed it. It would have been mean to cut it
short. Besides," added Cynthia, with a twinkle, "it was my joke too!
They must have been so puzzled when I seemed to go on reading, for they
couldn't see that my eyes were shut, and I went on turning over the
pages at regular intervals, as if I were perfectly comfortable and
happy. Oh no, I don't think they are rude, mother; only frisky, and I
love frisky people! There are such a lot of them, and they do have such
a good time. Schoolroom tea all together, and the big girl pours out.
I could see them quite well when they first came, and the afternoons
were light. They go in pairs--a big boy and a big girl, a middling boy
and a middling girl, and then a dear little girl with a face like a
kitten. I like them all so much, but--" and her voice died away in a
plaintive cadence, "they don't like me!"
"And how have you found that out, may I ask?"
"I--I feel they don't," sighed Cynthia sadly. "They watch me out of the
windows, and talk and laugh, and make remarks among themselves. The
window seemed full of faces the other day..."
Mrs Alliot's delicate face flushed resentfully.
"Abominably rude! Really, dear, I don't think you need worry yourself
what such people think. There can be no possible excuse for such
behaviour!"
"Oh yes, dear, there is, for they don't intend me to see! It was quite
extraordinary how they all vanished into space the very instant I raised
my eyes. You might just as well say it is rude of me to stare into
their windows, and I do, for I can't help it. It's a sort of magnet to
me every time I pass. I do so wish I knew them, mother dear!"
Mrs Alliot smiled and stroked her daughter's head once more. She was
thinking that for Cynthia's sake she must really manage to cultivate
some friends with large families; but she had not the least intention of
introducing her daughter to the strange doctor's mischievous,
unconventional children.
In many cases, however, there is something stronger than the will of
parents and guardians. Some people call it fate, some by a higher name.
In later years Cynthia Alliot considered her friendship with the Trevor
family as one of the greatest providences of her life.