A moment Jack and Jill stared at each other in horrified silence, then
the same words burst from both lips--
"We must help him! We must see if he is hurt!" Out from behind the
bushes they flew, raced for the nearest gate, and ran panting to the
scene of the accident.
The rays from the lamp near at hand lighted up the pavement, and showed
the old gentleman already dragging himself to his feet, assisted by a
lady whom Jill recognised in the flash of an eye as the much-admired
occupant of Number 17. There she stood in her smart fur coat, a little
red velvet toque perched on her dark locks, supporting the old gentleman
by the arm, and so evidently overpowered by his weight that she was
overjoyed to welcome further assistance.
No words were spoken, but quick as light Jack darted forward and pulled
with all his force, while Jill placed both hands against the blue
broadcloth back and vigorously pushed forward. As a result of these
united efforts, the old gentleman was hoisted to an upright position,
with a celerity which appeared to startle him almost as much as the
preceding fall. He leant against the railings, puffed and panted,
groaned and grumbled, while the onlookers listened with sympathy and
self-reproach.
"Injured for life--strained in every muscle--nervous shock--police--
disgraceful--much obliged--advice at once--no time for delay." The
different phrases detached themselves from attacks of groanings and
sighings, and, hearing the last words, Jack was blessed with a brilliant
inspiration.
"There's a doctor at the corner, sir. Would you like me to help you to
the house?" he said in his politest manner.
It seemed as if, after all, good might arise out of evil if the accident
were the means of providing his father with a new patient. There was
not much wrong with the old fellow--anyone could see that--but he was
fidgety and nervous about himself, which, of course, would make him the
more valuable from a doctor's point of view. Later on the boy would be
obliged to confess his own responsibility in the accident. He would
feel a sneak if he did not, but the present was the time for action, not
confession.
"Doctor at the corner, eh? Well, well, get me to him as quickly as
possible. Shattered! Quite shattered! Must have a rest, and drive
home! Bad day's work! Never the same again!"
The old gentleman laid his hand on Jack's shoulder and hobbled stiffly
away, pausing just one moment to lift his hat and say courteously--
"My best thanks to you, madam, for your assistance." Jill and the
pretty lady were left standing in the middle of the pavement, staring
curiously into each other's faces.
The pretty lady was dark, and quite young, astonishingly young, like a
big girl dressed in important clothes. Her eyes were very bright and
happy-looking, and her lips looked as though they were made for
laughter. Jill's pert little face was left fully exposed by the cloth
cap which was perched at the top of her curly locks; her expression was
divided between triumph and consternation.
"Do you think he is hurt, really hurt?" she asked eagerly. "He made a
great fuss, but men generally do, and he walks nearly as well as before.
He can't have broken anything, can he?"
"Oh no!" cried the pretty lady. "I think you can be quite sure of that,
but at such an age any shock of this kind may be serious. He is a very
heavy old man."
She paused, looking at the girl with an inquiring expression, as if
waiting for something which had not yet been said, and to her own
astonishment Jill found herself answering the unspoken question.
"It was our fault that he fell at all. We did it. We were in the
Square hiding behind the bushes, and we had a parcel just the right size
to hold something nice and pretty--it was cotton-wool really!--very
neatly tied up. We dropped it out through the railings and waited till
people came along, and then we twitched it away by the end of a long
black thread."
The pretty lady's expression changed suddenly. Up till now she had been
all interest and vivacity, almost one might have imagined of approval,
but at the last word she frowned and shook her head. Jill expected a
vigorous remonstrance, but the words, when they came, were not in the
least what she had expected.
"Thread!" echoed the pretty lady shrilly. "But how stupid! Elastic is
far better. It jerks ever so much bet--" She stopped suddenly with a
gasp of recollection, and continued in a stiff, mincing voice, "It is
very unwise to play practical jokes. One can never tell what the
consequence may be."
Jill laughed gaily, being much too sharp to be put off with so
transparent a pretence. She drew a step nearer to the pretty lady, and
looked up in her face with twinkling eyes.
"Oh, it's no use pretending! You weren't shocked a bit! I believe"--
she gave a little gasp at the audacity of the idea, but her courage did
not fail--"I believe you have even--done it yourself. However did you
manage to think of elastic? It's a lovely idea!"
The pretty lady wrinkled her brows in a funny, apologetic fashion.
"It doesn't follow because I did a thing that it is not foolish and
rash. I am afraid I was known for my foolish tricks. I was one of a
big family--such a lot of sisters that people used to call us `the
houseful of girls,' and I was the most mischievous of all. I don't want
to preach to you--it wouldn't be fair, would it, when I have done far
sillier things myself?--but next time you try the parcel trick, get it
out of the way when old people come along. Don't let them run the risk
of a fall, like this poor old gentleman, or even have the trouble of
stooping for nothing. Try to remember, won't you? And,"--eyes and
teeth flashed in an irresistible smile,--"_try the elastic_!"
Jill's merry trill rang out again, and the pretty lady looked at her
with smiling approval. The girl's natural attractiveness was as
conspicuous as ever, despite the disadvantageous circumstances, and it
would have been a cold heart that did not warm towards her, as she stood
with hands thrust deep into her pockets, fresh, wholesome, and bonnie,
like a bit of summer in the midst of the grey London gloom.
The pretty lady had heard high praise of the skill of the new doctor who
had come to live in the Square, and also of the personal character of
himself and his wife, but at this moment it is to be feared that she
felt little interested in them as individuals, but regarded them solely
as the parents of their daughter.
"It is getting rather dusk for you to be out alone. I will walk with
you to the corner. You are one of the doctor's daughters, aren't you?
I have watched you and your sisters from my windows, and envied you for
being together. I do so miss my own sisters. I have five--think of
that!--and only one married besides myself. You can think what a lively
time of it we used to have!"
But Jill was too busy thinking of something else to have any thought to
spare for the lively times of the past.
"Are you married?" she inquired breathlessly. "Truly and really? You
look much too young. We thought you were engaged, and had an invalid
mother in the house. I suppose he is the husband?"
"Yes, he is the husband, sure enough, and we keep no invalids nor
skeletons of any sort in the cupboards, only such a lot of big, empty
rooms, waiting for girls to fill them. I do love girls. I can't be
happy without girls. We have been away constantly the last few months,
but now that we are settled at home I must call on your mother, and ask
if she will spare you to come and have tea with me sometimes. Would you
like to come?"
"Rather!" replied Jill in expressive, schoolgirl fashion, and the pretty
lady laughed again.
"That's all right! We must arrange a day quite soon, and I must ask
Cynthia Alliot to meet you. She is a lonely little soul who needs
livening. There now, here we are at your door, and I am sure you are
longing to see how the old gentleman is getting on. Good-bye! We shall
meet soon again."
She waved her hand, and hurried homewards, the red toque gleaming out
brightly as she passed under the lamp-post, and Jill gazed after her
with adoring eyes. Young girls often cherish a romantic affection for
women older than themselves, and where could there be a more fitting
object on which to lavish one's devotion--so young, so pretty, so
friendly, so--so understanding! She had not preached a bit, only just
thought it would be better to leave old people alone; and then that
suggestion of elastic! In itself it was sufficient to establish her as
a miracle of good sense and ingenuity!