One bright spring afternoon about a week after Ruth's visit to Miss
Maclure, Mollie went out to execute some shopping commissions, and on
her way home took a short cut through the park, which was the great
summer resort of the northern town in which her lot was cast.
She was an ardent lover of Nature, and it was a joy to see the tiny
green buds bursting into life on trees and hedges, and to realise that
the long winter was at an end.
"Nasty, shivery, chilblainey thing,--I hate it!" said Mollie to herself,
with a shiver of disgust. "It might be very nice if one had lots of
furs, and skating, and parties, and fires in one's bedroom. People who
can enjoy themselves like that may talk of the `joys of winter,' but,
from my point of view, they don't exist. Give me summer, and flowers at
a penny a bunch! This dear old park and I have had many good times
together. I think I have sampled most of the seats in my time!"
It was, indeed, a favourite summer custom of the Farrell girls to repair
to a shady bench under a tree with such portable sewing as happened to
be on hand, for when the sun shone in its strength the temperature of
Attica was more like that of an oven than a room. The winding paths
were, therefore, familiar to Mollie; but they were apt to be puzzling to
strangers who, like herself, wished to take a short cut from one side of
the park to another.
To-day as she approached the junction of four cross-ways, she saw before
her the figure of an old man, glancing irresolutely from side to side,
then turning round, as though in search of someone whom he could consult
in his perplexity. Besides Mollie herself, there was no one in sight,
so she quickened her pace and approached the stranger with the bright,
frank smile which came so readily to her lips. Mollie was nothing if
not sociable; she never lost a chance of talking if it came in her way;
even to direct wandering old gentlemen was more amusing than nothing,
and this one had such a curious old-world appearance!
"Can I help you?" she asked brightly; and the old man planted his stick
more firmly on the ground, and stared at her with grim disfavour.
"In what way, may I ask, do I appear to be in need of help?"
It was decidedly a snub, but some people are not easily quelled, and
Mollie Farrell was one of the number. Instead of being annoyed, she was
simply amused, and her grey eyes twinkled with mischief. He was a cross
old dear, and proud too! quite amazed that anyone should suppose it
possible that he should need assistance of any kind.
"I'm sorry," she replied; "I thought you had lost your way, and that I
might be able to direct you. Please forgive me for seeming to
interfere."
She took a step forward, but the old man's eyes seemed to hold her back.
He was looking at her fixedly beneath his heavy brows; such bushy,
black eyebrows they were, and she fancied that the grim expression
softened for a moment as he replied--
"You are right. I _have_ lost my way! My cabman brought me to the park
gates, and as he said there was a direct path across, I thought I should
like the walk. As a result, I find myself completely out of my
reckoning. It is a stretch of imagination to call this a direct path."
"Oh, it's direct enough when you know it," said Mollie easily, "ever so
much nicer than going round by the streets. It is a beautiful park, and
we are very proud of it. When the trees are in blossom, it is like
fairyland--you can't imagine how beautiful it is."
"Possibly not," returned the stranger curtly. "In the meantime,
however, there is nothing particularly alluring in the scene, and you
will excuse my reminding you that we are standing in a direct draught.
I should be obliged if you could direct me to Langton Terrace without
further delay."
Mollie laughed merrily.
"That is just what I have been waiting to do, but you would not tell me
where you were bound. I am walking in that direction myself, and if you
will allow me I will show you the shortest cut. I know the park so well
that I can dodge about from one path to another, and cut off some of the
corners. It is cold just here, but the cross-roads are sheltered even
now."
The stranger shrugged his shoulders, and said "Humph" in an incredulous
manner, and that was his sole reply in words. He turned, however, and
walked by Mollie's side, leaning heavily on his stick, and taking such
short, laboured steps, that it was evident that the exercise was almost
too much for his strength. Mollie longed to offer him the support of
her strong arm, but even her audacity failed at the sight of the grim
face. She looked inquiringly at his feet, for the symptoms of temper
all hinted to the explanation of gout. But no! there were no cloth
shoes to be seen, only the trimmest of well-polished boots.
"Perhaps he is just recovering from an attack, or sickening for
another," said Mollie to herself. "Anyway, he is ill, poor old fellow,
for his face looks quite grey, just like that poor Mr Burgess before he
died. I expect he can't help being cross. I should be horrid myself if
I were always in pain. I remember that day I had on those new boots
that hurt my feet, I quarrelled with Ruth all the way home... The
question is, shall I talk, or let him alone? If it were me, I'd like to
be amused, to make the time pass. I'll try anyway, and see how he
responds."
They had entered one of the smaller paths by this time, and to the right
lay the wide, grey surface of a lake dotted over by little islands, the
largest of which was connected with the shore by an ornamental bridge.
Mollie felt a kind of possessive pride in the scene, and pointed out the
beauties thereof as eagerly as though she were the owner of all she
surveyed.
"It's the largest lake in any of the parks in the north; some people say
it is nearly as big as the Serpentine. I don't know, for I have never
been in London. In summer-time hundreds of men come and sail boats--
quite great big boats--from side to side. It looks so pretty to see all
the white sails floating about in the sunshine."
"Indeed!"
("Doesn't care for boats. I'll try something else.") "Do you see that
big island, the biggest of all?" pursued the indefatigable Mollie aloud.
"It is full of peacocks. There are dozens and dozens of peacocks! You
can see them sometimes strutting about with their tails spread out, and
roosting right up in the trees. People say that peacocks are the
laziest birds in existence. They go to rest earlier, and get up later
than anything else."
"Indeed!"
Still grimmer silence; still slower and more halting footsteps.
Presently the stranger stopped short and asked abruptly--
"How far are we still from Langton Terrace? Five minutes' walk--ten
minutes? We are more than half-way, I suppose?"
"Not quite, I am afraid. If you are tired, would you not rest on this
seat for a few minutes? It is really quite sheltered behind the trees.
If you can tell me which end of the terrace you want to reach, it will
make a little difference in the way we ought to take. There are three
blocks of houses, which are all known by the same name. You wanted to
go to--"
"Number 7," said the stranger; and sat down heavily upon the seat. He
leant both hands on his stick and rested his chin upon them, as though
thankful for the support; and Mollie stood before him staring fixedly at
his face.
Aquiline features, sharpened by suffering into yet finer lines, closely-
set lips drooping out into lines of fretful impatience, sunken eyes
beneath overhanging brows. She studied them one by one, until, struck
by her silence, the old man looked up in surprise.
"Number 7, I said. If you live in the neighbourhood, you may know the
house, and possibly its inmates?"
"Yes, I know them all; they are nice people and very kind to me. I've
known them quite a number of years."
"Mr and Mrs Connor have a large family, I believe--a number of young
children."
"Oh, dozens!" replied Mollie easily. She was enjoying herself
intensely, but trying to preserve an appearance of innocent calm. "What
an adventure," she was saying to herself--"oh, what an adventure. What
fun to tell it all to Ruth and the girls! I must remember every word,
so as to repeat it in style!" Aloud, she added carelessly, "There are
two girls, and lots of little boys. It seems as if there were boys,
boys everywhere, wherever you turn all over the house; but they are
ubiquitous creatures, so perhaps there are not quite so many as it
seems. They are handsome little fellows, and I believe clever too.
Mrs Connor is a very pretty woman, and always kind and gentle.
Everybody likes her. Mr Connor is nice too. I don't think he is at
all strong, and he has to work very hard for that big family."
"Indeed!" The strange old man did not display the slightest sign of
sympathy for Mr Connor's anxieties. He relaxed his hold of the stick,
and sank wearily against the back of the seat. "There are two step-
daughters, I believe--the two Miss Farrells?"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mollie deeply. It was quite a tragic note, as who
should say, "Now we are beginning to talk! Now, at last, we reach the
real point of the discussion! Just that deep `Ah,' and no more, until
perforce another question must be asked.
"You know the Miss Farrells also?"
"I do!"
"And find them as attractive as the rest of the family?"
"Oh, more--much more! They are darlings!" cried Mollie, with unction,
"especially the younger. Her name is Mary, but they call her Mollie,
because it suits her better. Don't you always imagine a Mollie very
sweet, and charming, and attractive?"
"I can't say that I have devoted any attention to the subject. So Mary
is the younger of the two, is she? And the elder?"
"Ruth! she's pretty and serious, and very, very nice; but Mollie is
nicer, all the same. When you get to know them, you must promise to
like Mollie best, for my sake! I'm so fond of her, that I want
everybody to be the same. I like her better than anyone I ever knew!"
The old man smiled grimly.
"You appear to be of an enthusiastic temperament; I fancy I shall prefer
to judge for myself when I make the young lady's acquaintance. We had
better be getting on now. I am sorry to hinder your progress, but it is
not possible for me to move more quickly at present. I should not have
attempted the walk if I had known that it was so long; but the cab
jolted insufferably, and the sunshine was tempting. Well,--there is
nothing for it but to make another effort!"
He pressed his hands on the seat to lighten the effort of rising, but
before he had got any further, Mollie stepped forward eagerly, and laid
a hand on his shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed with colour, her eyes
a-sparkle with excitement.
"Unless you will let me help you! ... I'm very strong; I could support
you easily, if you would take my arm and lean on me. I'd love to do it.
Do let me? Won't you,--_Uncle Bernard_?"