There was no need of the proverbial feather. Mrs. Muldoon made a grab
at the settle but missed it. She caught at a chair, but that gave way.
It was the floor that finally stopped her.
"We're so sorry," apologised Victor. "We thought you knew. We ought
to have said Mademoiselle Malvina."
Mrs. Muldoon regained her feet, and without answering walked straight
into the study.
"They want to know," said Mrs. Muldoon, "if the Fairy's in." The
Professor, with his back to the window, was reading. The light in the
room was somewhat faint.
"Who wants to know?" demanded the Professor.
"The twins from the Manor House," explained Mrs. Muldoon.
"But what?--but who?" began the Professor.
"Shall I say 'not at home'?" suggested Mrs. Muldoon. "Or hadn't you
better see them yourself."
"Show them in," directed the Professor.
They came in, looking a little scared and still holding one another by
the hand. They wished the Professor good evening, and when he rose
they backed away from him. The Professor shook hands with them, but
they did not let go, so that Victoria gave him her right hand and
Victor his left, and then at the Professor's invitation they sat
themselves down on the extreme edge of the sofa.
"I hope we do not disturb you," said Victor. "We wanted to see
Mademoiselle Malvina."
"Why do you want to see Mademoiselle Malvina?" inquired the Professor.
"It is something very private," said Victor.
"We wanted to ask her a great favour," said Victoria.
"I'm sorry," said the Professor, "but she isn't in. At least, I don't
think so." (The Professor never was quite sure. "She slips in and out
making no more noise than a wind-driven rose leaf," was Mrs. Muldoon's
explanation.) "Hadn't you better tell me? Leave me to put it to her."
They looked at one another. It would never do to offend the wise and
learned Christopher. Besides, a magician, it is to be assumed, has
more ways than one of learning what people are thinking.
"It is about mamma," explained Victoria. "We wondered if Malvina would
mind changing her."
The Professor had been reading up Malvina. It flashed across him that
this had always been her speciality: Changing people. How had the
Arlington twins discovered it? And why did they want their mother
changed? And what did they want her changed into? It was shocking
when you come to think of it! The Professor became suddenly so stern,
that if the twins could have seen his expression--which, owing to the
fading light, they couldn't--they would have been too frightened to
answer.
"Why do you want your mother changed?" demanded the Professor. Even as
it was his voice alarmed them.
"It's for her own good," faltered Victoria.
"Of course we don't mean into anything," explained Victor.
"Only her inside," added Victoria.
"We thought that Malvina might be able to improve her," completed
Victor.
It was still very disgraceful. What were we coming to when children
went about clamouring for their mothers to be "improved"! The
atmosphere was charged with indignation. The twins felt it.
"She wants to be," persisted Victoria. "She wants to be energetic and
to get up early in the morning and do things."
"You see," added Victor, "she was never properly brought up."
The Professor maintains stoutly that his only intention was a joke. It
was not even as if anything objectionable had been suggested. The
Professor himself had on occasions been made the confidant of both.
"Best woman that ever lived, if only one could graft a little energy
upon her. No sense of time. Too easy-going. No idea of keeping
people up to the mark." So Mr. Arlington, over the nuts and wine.
"It's pure laziness. Oh, yes, it is. My friends say I'm so 'restful';
but that's the proper explanation of it--born laziness. And yet I try.
You have no idea, Professor Littlecherry, how much I try." So Mrs.
Arlington, laughingly, while admiring the Professor's roses.
Besides, how absurd to believe that Malvina could possibly change
anybody! Way back, when the human brain was yet in process of
evolution, such things may have been possible. Hypnotic suggestion,
mesmeric influence, dormant brain cells quickened into activity by
magnetic vibration. All that had been lost. These were the days of
George the Fifth, not of King Heremon. What the Professor was really
after was: How would Malvina receive the proposal? Of course she
would try to get out of it. A dear little thing. But could any sane
man, professor of mathematics...
Malvina was standing beside him. No one had remarked her entrance. The
eyes of the twins had been glued upon the wise and learned Christopher.
The Professor, when he was thinking, never saw anything. Still, it was
rather startling.
"We should never change what the good God has once fashioned," said
Malvina. She spoke very gravely. The childishness seemed to have
fallen from her.
"You didn't always think so," said the Professor. It nettled the
Professor that all idea of this being a good joke had departed with the
sound of Malvina's voice. She had that way with her.
She made a little gesture. It conveyed to the Professor that his
remark had not been altogether in good taste.
"I speak as one who has learned," said Malvina.
"I beg your pardon," said the Professor. "I ought not to have said
that."
Malvina accepted the Professor's apology with a bow.
"But this is something very different," continued the Professor. Quite
another interest had taken hold of the Professor. It was easy enough
to summon Dame Commonsense to one's aid when Malvina was not present.
Before those strange eyes the good lady had a habit of sneaking away.
Suppose--of course the idea was ridiculous, but suppose--something did
happen! As a psychological experiment was not one justified? What was
the beginning of all science but applied curiosity? Malvina might be
able--and willing--to explain how it was done. That is, if anything
did happen, which, of course, it wouldn't, and so much the better.
This thing had got to be ended.
"It would be using a gift not for one's own purposes, but to help
others," urged the Professor.
"You see," urged Victor, "mamma really wants to be changed."
"And papa wants it too," urged Victoria.
"It seems to me, if I may so express it," added the Professor, "that
really it would be in the nature of making amends for--well, for--for
our youthful follies," concluded the Professor a little nervously.
Malvina's eyes were fixed on the Professor. In the dim light of the
low-ceilinged room, those eyes seemed all of her that was visible.
"You wish it?" said Malvina.
It was not at all fair, as the Professor told himself afterwards, her
laying the responsibility on him. If she really was the original
Malvina, lady-in-waiting to Queen Harbundia, then she was quite old
enough to have decided for herself. From the Professor's calculations
she must now be about three thousand eight hundred. The Professor
himself was not yet sixty; in comparison a mere babe! But Malvina's
eyes were compelling.
"Well, it can't do any harm," said the Professor. And Malvina seems to
have accepted that as her authority.
"Let her come to the Cross Stones at sundown," directed Malvina.
The Professor saw the twins to the door. For some reason the Professor
could not have explained, they all three walked out on tiptoe. Old Mr.
Brent, the postman, was passing, and the twins ran after him and each
took a hand. Malvina was still standing where the Professor had left
her. It was very absurd, but the Professor felt frightened. He went
into the kitchen, where it was light and cheerful, and started Mrs.
Muldoon on Home Rule. When he returned to the parlour Malvina was gone.
The twins did not talk that night, and decided next morning not to say
a word, but just to ask their mother to come for an evening walk with
them. The fear was that she might demand reasons. But, quite oddly,
she consented without question. It seemed to the twins that it was
Mrs. Arlington herself who took the pathway leading past the cave, and
when they reached the Cross Stones she sat down and apparently had
forgotten their existence. They stole away without her noticing them,
but did not quite know what to do with themselves. They ran for half a
mile till they came to the wood; there they remained awhile, careful
not to venture within; and then they crept back. They found their
mother sitting just as they had left her. They thought she was asleep,
but her eyes were wide open. They were tremendously relieved, though
what they had feared they never knew. They sat down, one on each side
of her, and each took a hand, but in spite of her eyes being open, it
was quite a time before she seemed conscious of their return. She rose
and slowly looked about her, and as she did so the church clock struck
nine. She could not at first believe it was so late. Convinced by
looking at her watch--there was just light enough for her to see
it--she became all at once more angry than the twins had ever known
her, and for the first time in their lives they both experienced the
sensation of having their ears boxed. Nine o'clock was the proper time
for supper and they were half an hour from home, and it was all their
fault. It did not take them half an hour. It took them twenty
minutes, Mrs. Arlington striding ahead and the twins panting breathless
behind her. Mr. Arlington had not yet returned. He came in five
minutes afterwards, and Mrs. Arlington told him what she thought of
him. It was the shortest supper within the twins' recollection. They
found themselves in bed ten minutes in advance of the record. They
could hear their mother's voice from the kitchen. A jug of milk had
been overlooked and had gone sour. She had given Jane a week's notice
before the clock struck ten.
It was from Mr. Arlington that the Professor heard the news. Mr.
Arlington could not stop an instant, dinner being at twelve sharp and
it wanting but ten minutes to; but seems to have yielded to temptation.
The breakfast hour at the Manor Farm was now six a.m., had been so
since Thursday; the whole family fully dressed and Mrs. Arlington
presiding. If the Professor did not believe it he could come round any
morning and see for himself. The Professor appears to have taken Mr.
Arlington's word for it. By six-thirty everybody at their job and Mrs.
Arlington at hers, consisting chiefly of seeing to it for the rest of
the day that everybody was. Lights out at ten and everybody in bed;
most of them only too glad to be there. "Quite right; keeps us all up
to the mark," was Mr. Arlington's opinion (this was on Saturday). Just
what was wanted. Not perhaps for a permanency; and, of course, there
were drawbacks. The strenuous life--seeing to it that everybody else
leads the strenuous life; it does not go with unmixed amiability.
Particularly in the beginning. New-born zeal: must expect it to
outrun discretion. Does not do to discourage it. Modifications to be
suggested later. Taken all round, Mr. Arlington's view was that the
thing must be regarded almost as the answer to a prayer. Mr.
Arlington's eyes on their way to higher levels, appear to have been
arrested by the church clock. It decided Mr. Arlington to resume his
homeward way without further loss of time. At the bend of the lane the
Professor, looking back, observed that Mr. Arlington had broken into a
trot.
This seems to have been the end of the Professor, regarded as a sane
and intelligent member of modern society. He had not been sure at the
time, but it was now revealed to him that when he had urged Malvina to
test her strength, so to express it, on the unfortunate Mrs. Arlington,
it was with the conviction that the result would restore him to his
mental equilibrium. That Malvina with a wave of her wand--or whatever
the hocus-pocus may have been--would be able to transform the hitherto
incorrigibly indolent and easy-going Mrs. Arlington into a sort of
feminine Lloyd George, had not really entered into his calculations.
Forgetting his lunch, he must have wandered aimlessly about, not
returning home until late in the afternoon. During dinner he appears
to have been rather restless and nervous--"jumpy," according to the
evidence of the little serving maid. Once he sprang out of his chair
as if shot when the little serving maid accidentally let fall a
table-spoon; and twice he upset the salt. It was at mealtime that, as
a rule, the Professor found his attitude towards Malvina most
sceptical. A fairy who could put away quite a respectable cut from the
joint, followed by two helpings of pie, does take a bit of believing
in. To-night the Professor found no difficulty. The White Ladies had
never been averse to accepting mortal hospitality. There must always
have been a certain adaptability. Malvina, since that fateful night of
her banishment, had, one supposes, passed through varied experiences.
For present purposes she had assumed the form of a jeune fille of the
twentieth century (anno Domini). An appreciation of Mrs. Muldoon's
excellent cooking, together with a glass of light sound claret, would
naturally go with it.
One takes it that he could not for a moment get Mrs. Arlington out of
his mind. More than once, stealing a covert glance across the table,
it seemed to him that Malvina was regarding him with a mocking smile.
Some impish spirit it must have been that had prompted him. For
thousands of years Malvina had led--at all events so far as was
known--a reformed and blameless existence; had subdued and put behind
her that fatal passion of hers for change: in other people. What
madness to have revived it! And no Queen Harbundia handy now to keep
her in check. The Professor had a distinct sensation, while peeling a
pear, that he was being turned into a guinea-pig--a curious feeling of
shrinking about the legs. So vivid was the impression, that
involuntarily the Professor jumped off his chair and ran to look at
himself in the mirror over the sideboard. He was not fully relieved
even then. It may have been the mirror. It was very old; one of those
things with little gilt balls all round it; and it looked to the
Professor as if his nose was growing straight out of his face.
Malvina, trusting he had not been taken suddenly ill, asked if there
was anything she could do for him. He seems to have earnestly begged
her not to think of it.
The Professor had taught Malvina cribbage, and usually of an evening
they played a hand or two. But to-night the Professor was not in the
mood, and Malvina had contented herself with a book. She was
particularly fond of the old chroniclers. The Professor had an entire
shelf of them, many in the original French. Making believe to be
reading himself, he heard Malvina break into a cheerful laugh, and went
and looked over her shoulder. She was reading the history of her own
encounter with the proprietor of tin mines, an elderly gentleman
disliking late hours, whom she had turned into a nightingale. It
occurred to the Professor that prior to the Arlington case the
recalling of this incident would have brought to her shame and remorse.
Now she seemed to think it funny.
"A silly trick," commented the Professor. He spoke quite heatedly. "No
one has any right to go about changing people. Muddling up things they
don't understand. No right whatever."
Malvina looked up. She gave a little sigh.
"Not for one's own pleasure or revenge," she made answer. Her tone was
filled with meekness. It had a touch of self-reproach. "That is very
wrong, of course. But changing them for their own good--at least, not
changing, improving."
"Little hypocrite!" muttered the Professor to himself. "She's got back
a taste for her old tricks, and Lord knows now where she'll stop."
The Professor spent the rest of the evening among his indexes in search
of the latest information regarding Queen Harbundia.
Meanwhile the Arlington affair had got about the village. The twins in
all probability had been unable to keep their secret. Jane, the
dismissed, had looked in to give Mrs. Muldoon her version of Thursday
night's scene in the Arlington kitchen, and Mrs. Muldoon, with a sense
of things impending, may unconsciously have dropped hints.
The Marigolds met the Arlingtons on Sunday, after morning service, and
heard all about it. That is to say, they met Mr. Arlington and the
other children; Mrs. Arlington, with the two elder girls, having
already attended early communion at seven. Mrs. Marigold was a pretty,
fluffy, engaging little woman, ten years younger than her husband. She
could not have been altogether a fool, or she would not have known it.
Marigold, rising politician, ought, of course, to have married a woman
able to help him; but seems to have fallen in love with her a few miles
out of Brussels, over a convent wall. Mr. Arlington was not a regular
church-goer, but felt on this occasion that he owed it to his Maker.
He was still in love with his new wife. But not blindly. Later on a
guiding hand might be necessary. But first let the new seed get firmly
rooted. Marigold's engagements necessitated his returning to town on
Sunday afternoon, and Mrs. Marigold walked part of the way with him to
the station. On her way back across the fields she picked up the
Arlington twins. Later, she seems to have called in at the cottage and
spoken to Mrs. Muldoon about Jane, who, she had heard, was in want of a
place. A little before sunset she was seen by the Doctor climbing the
path to the Warren. Malvina that evening was missing for dinner. When
she returned she seemed pleased with herself.