It was late that evening when two men entered Mrs Griffiths' drawing
room at Scarborough. One was Mr Griffiths, and the other Horace
Aldworth, Nesta's half-brother. Mrs Griffiths was overpowered by
Horace's presence. She had spent a wretched time since Nesta had gone.
The girl was scarcely out of the house before the elder woman decided
that she had done very wrong to lend her money; there was no saying what
she might do, nor how she would spend it. She might not go home at all.
She was a queer girl--unlike her Flossie. She had done a strange, a
most unaccountable thing; just for the sake of a bit of pleasure, she
had left her own friends, her mother, her sisters--she had planned it
all cleverly, but--and here lay the sting--she had not planned it alone.
Flossie was in the thick of the mischief.
Mrs Griffiths' uneasiness with regard to Nesta presently melted down
into a tender sort of regret. Her real sorrow was for her Flossie, her
little black-eyed, dancing, mischievous girl, Flossie, who had always
been fond of her father and mother, and who had never given herself
airs, but had just delighted in Nesta because she must have some friend,
but who would not do what Nesta had done for the wide world. And yet,
try as she would, Mrs Griffiths could not get over the fact that
Flossie had aided and abetted Nesta; that she knew all about it. Mrs
Griffiths thought she could understand. She had recourse to her
favourite adage--"Girls will be girls." She remembered the time when
she was at school. Girls' schools were somewhat common sort of places
in Mrs Griffiths' early days. She remembered how she had smuggled in
cakes, how she had secreted sticky sweetmeats in her pockets, how she
had defied her teachers, and copied her themes from other girls, and
what romps they had had in the attics, and how they had laughed at the
teachers behind their backs. All these things Mrs Griffiths had done
in the days of her youth; but nevertheless these things did not seem so
grave or serious as what Flossie had done. Of course, she would forgive
her; catch a mother being long angry with her only child; but then
Griffiths--Mrs Griffiths always called her husband by that name--he
would be wild.
"Griffiths will give it to her, and she's that saucy she'll answer him
back, and there'll be no end of a row," thought the poor woman.
So it was an anxious-faced, wrinkled, rather elderly woman who started
up now to receive the two men. Griffiths came in first.
"I have brought Mr Horace Aldworth back with me, wife. Did you receive
my telegram?"
"I did, dear. You will be wanting a bit of supper. How do you do, Mr
Aldworth? I hope your poor mother is easier--suffering less, getting
stronger by degrees."
Horace bowed and murmured something in reply, and took a seat with his
back to the light. Griffiths strutted over to the hearthrug, put his
hands behind him, swelled out,--as Mrs Griffiths afterwards expressed
it,--looked as red as a turkey-cock, and demanded the presence of the
two girls.
"The girls," said Mrs Griffiths--"they are out."
Her first impulse was to hide the fact that she had lent Nesta money;
but second thoughts rejected this. Griffiths would worm it out of her.
Griffiths could get any secret out of her--he was terrible when he
reached his turkey-cock stage.
"The girls," she said timidly, "they're not in."
"Neither of them?"
"Neither of them."
"Then where in the name of all that is good are they?" thundered the
angry man.
"Flossie is away on a picnic with the Browns."
"I'm not inquiring for Flossie in particular at present. I want that
other hussy--I want Miss Nesta Aldworth. Where is she?"
"I have come," said Horace, breaking in at this juncture, and speaking
in a most self-restrained voice--"to take my sister Nesta home with me,
and to thank you most sincerely, Mrs Griffiths, for your kindness."
"It's the most dastardly, disgraceful thing that ever occurred, and to
think that I should have had a hand in it," said Griffiths. "I have
been done as neatly as ever man was. I, paying all the expenses and
treating the girl as though she were my own child, and thinking that
Aldworth, there, and his father, would be pleased, and believe that I
meant well by his family, and all the time I was doing them a base
injury. It's a wonder that girl's mother isn't in her grave, and so she
would be if it wasn't for--"
"My mother is all right, thank you," said Horace. "But I am most
anxious to catch the last train back to Newcastle. Is Nesta upstairs?
Can she come down? I want to take her away."
"She is not," said Mrs Griffiths, and now she trembled exceedingly, and
edged nearer to Horace, as though for protection. "It is my fault, you
mustn't blame her. I got the telegram--I'd rather not say anything
about it, but I can't hide the truth from you, Griffiths. You are so
masterful when you get red in the face like that--I'm just terrified of
you, and I must out with the truth. The poor child was so frightened
that she told me what she had done. She owned up handsome, I must say,
and then she said: `Lend me a little money to take me home--I will go
home at once.' She was frightfully cut up at nobody really missing her.
She had evidently thought she would be sent for at once. I own that
she did wrong."
"Of course, she did wrong," shouted Griffiths. "I never heard of a
meaner thing to do, a meaner and a lower, and if I thought that my
child--"
It was on this scene that Flossie, radiant with the success of her happy
day, broke. She opened the door wide, rushed in, and said:
"Oh, if I haven't had--where are you, Nesta? Why, whatever is the
matter?"
"You come along here, Flossie," said Griffiths. "There's no end of a
row, that's the truth. Come and stand by me. Tell me what you know of
this Nesta business--this runaway business, this daring to deceive an
honest man, this creeping off, so to speak, in the dark. Tell me what
you know. Own up, child, own up, and be quick."
"Yes, tell us what you know," said Horace. His voice was kind; Flossie
turned to him.
"I--it was my fault as much as hers."
"Your fault?" bellowed her father. "Your fault?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake, Griffiths, don't frighten the wits out of the
poor child; let her speak," exclaimed the mother.
But when all was said and done, Flossie had grit in her. She was not
going on this day of calamity to let her friend bear the brunt alone.
"We did it between us," she said. "Poor old Nesta, she was having such
a bad time, and I wanted her so much. We planned it together. We knew
that if father knew it he would not take her, so we planned it, and you
never guessed, father, and, and--Oh, I suppose you will give me an awful
punishment--send me to a terrible school or something of that sort."
But Griffiths was past himself.
"You knew it--you planned it! Why, you are as bad as she is!"
He took her by her shoulders and shook her. Her black eyes blazed up
into his face.
"Yes, I am quite as bad as she is," she said.
"Then go out of the room. Go upstairs."
"Griffiths, Griffiths," moaned the mother.
"You must do just as you please with regard to your daughter," said
Horace then. "I am sorry for Miss Griffiths; I don't think,
notwithstanding her confession, that she can be as bad as Nesta; but
what I want to know is, where is Nesta?"
"I will tell you, Mr Aldworth. If my poor child was brave enough to
fight her father when he was in the turkey-cock stage, I'm not going to
be a whit behind her. We may be bad, Floss and I, but we're not
cowards. The poor child was so cowed by the tone of Griffiths' telegram
that she begged and implored of me to lend her money to go home before
Griffiths got back. That is the long and short of it, and she's safe
back at Newcastle by this time, and safe in your house, and doubtless
her mother has forgiven her. I lent her the money to go."
"How much?" said Horace sternly.
"Not a penny more than ten shillings. The poor child said she would let
me have it back again. Not that I want it--indeed I don't."
Horace put his hand into his pocket, took out half a sovereign and laid
it on the table.
"I have to thank you both," he said, turning to Griffiths, "for your
great kindness to my sister. You meant well, however ill she meant. I
have nothing to say with regard to your daughter's conduct except that I
would not be too hard on her, Mr Griffiths, if I were you. The girl
might have tried to get out of it, but she did not; there is always
something in that. Now I shall just have time to catch my train."
"You won't take bite nor sup, Mr Aldworth? We're so honoured to have
you in the house, sir, so pleased, so delighted. You are sure you won't
take bite nor sup?"
"I am sorry, but I must catch my train; it leaves at 9:10."
"And how, if I might venture to ask you, is your poor mother, Mr
Aldworth?"
"My mother is better. She is not at home at present. She is at Hurst
Castle with Miss Angela St Just. Miss St Just has had a wonderful
effect upon her, and has managed to get her over there, and I trust she
may come back a very different woman."
"Then after all," said Mrs Griffiths, "poor little Nesta did not injure
her mother; that is something to be thankful for, and when you are
scolding her, sir, I hope you will bear it in mind. And I hope,
Griffiths, you will also bear it in mind, and act handsome by our child,
and take her in the true spirit and forgive her."
"I am disgusted," said Griffiths, "disgusted."
He stalked to the door, pushed it wide open, let it bang behind him, and
went down the stairs.
"There!" said Mrs Griffiths, bursting into tears, "he will be
unmanageable, not only to-night, but to-morrow, and the day after, and
the day after. A pretty time Floss and I'll have--a pretty time truly.
But I'm glad you spoke up, Mr Aldworth. You are not offended with us,
forsooth?"
"Offended with you, madam," said the young man; "how can I do anything
but thank you for your kindness to my poor silly young sister? But now
I must really be off."