Somewhat to the annoyance of Grainger and his friends, they found on
their arrival at “Magnetic Villa” that there were several other visitors
there who had apparently come to dine. Whether they were personal
friends of Mrs. Trappème or not, or were “paying guests” like
themselves, they could not at first discover.
“Dinner will be ready at eight o'clock, Miss Grainger,” said Mrs.
Trappème sweetly to Myra, who with Sheila had been shown into their
private sitting-room; and then she added quickly, as she heard a
footstep in the passage, “You have not met my daughter. Come, Juliette,
dear--Miss Grainger, my eldest daughter; Miss Carolan, Miss Trappème.”
The two girls bowed rather coldly to Miss Trappème, who, after the usual
commonplaces, asked Miss Grainger if she were not tired.
“Very--and so is Miss Carolan. We shall be glad of an hour's rest before
dinner.”
The hint was unmistakable, and Miss Trappème smiled herself out,
inwardly raging at what she told her mother was Sheila's forwardness in
so soon thrusting herself upon Miss Grainger.
As she went out, Sheila looked at Myra and laughed. “We are certainly
meant to be treated as members of the family, whether we like it or
not. I wonder if the other people we saw are as pushful as 'Mamma' and
'Juliette.'”
“I trust not; that would be awful--even for a week.”
Mallard was in Grainger's room, sprawled out on the bed, talking to
him and smoking, whilst the latter was opening a leather trunk which
contained some bottles of whisky and soda water, and a small box which
held the remains of the ice.
“We can't let this 'melt on as,' as the Irish would say, Mallard,” and
he placed it in the toilet basin in its covering of blanket. “Now move
your lazy self and break a piece off with your knife, whilst I open this
bottle of Kinahan's and some soda. I trust the cultured family will not
object to the sound of a cork popping at seven o'clock.”
“Not they,” said Mallard, as he rose; “they would not mind if you took
the whisky to the table and drank it out of the bottle. Oh, I can gauge
the old dame pretty well, I think; avarice is writ large in her face,
and she'll squeeze us all she can. She told me in a mysterious aside
that the butler kept all the very best wines and liquor obtainable. I
thanked her, and said I usually provided my own. She didn't like it a
bit; but I'm not going to pay her a sovereign for a bottle of whisky or
Hennessey when I can get a case of either for a five-pound note. Oh!”
he added disgustedly, “they're all alike.”
“Well, don't worry, old man,” said his friend philosophically, as he
handed him a glass; “there, take this. I wonder if Mrs. Trap--Trapper,
or whatever her name is, thinks we are going to dress for dinner.
Neither my sister nor Miss Carolan will, and I'm sure I'm not going to
establish a bad precedent.”
“Same here. If other people like to waste time dressing for dinner, let
them; this town is altogether too new and thriving a place for busy men
like ourselves to worry about evening dress. By the way, Grainger, I've
some news for you that I trust will give you pleasure: your sister has
promised to marry me next year.”
Grainger grasped his friend's hand. “I'm glad, very glad, old man. I was
wondering what made her so unusually bright this afternoon; but she has
kept it dark.”
“Hasn't had a chance to tell you yet. I only asked her a couple of hours
ago.”
“Well, let us go and see her and Miss Carolan before dinner. I can hear
them talking in the sitting-room. Hallo! who is that little fellow out
there crossing the lawn with the younger Miss Trappème. He's in full
fig..”
Mallard looked out of the window and saw a very diminutive man in
evening dress.
“Oh, that's little Assheton, the new manager for the Australian
Insurance Company. He's just out from England. He's a fearfully
conceited ape, but a smart fellow at the insurance business. Great fun
at the 'Queen's' the other day with him. He came in, dressed in frock
coat, tall hat, and carrying a thick, curly stick as big as himself. Of
course every one smiled, and he took it badly--couldn't see what there
was to laugh at; and when old Charteris, the Commissioner, asked him
how much he would 'take for the hat,' he put his monocle up and said
freezingly, 'Sir, I do not know you.' That made us simply howl, and
then, when we had subsided a bit, Morgan the barrister, who is here on
circuit with Judge Cooper, said in that fanny, deep, rumbling voice of
his--
“'Are you, sir, one of the--ah--ah--circus company which--ah--arrived
to-day?'
“The poor little beggar was furious, lost his temper, and called us a
lot of ill-mannered, vulgar fellows, and then some one or other whipped
off the offending hat, threw it into the street, and made a cockshy of
it.
“'I'll have satisfaction for this outrage!' he piped. 'Landlord, send
for a policeman. I'll give all these men in charge. Your house is very
disorderly. Do you know _who_ I am?'
“'No, nor do I care,' said old Cramp, down whose cheeks the tears were
running; 'but if you'll come here like that every day, I'll give you a
sovereign, and we'll have the hat. Oh, you're better than any circus I
ever saw. Oh, oh, oh!' and he went off into another fit.
“The poor little man looked at us in a dazed sort of a way--thought us
lunatics, and then when old Char-tens asked him not to mind a bit of
miners' horseplay, but to sit down and have some fizz, he called him 'an
audacious ruffian,' and shrieked out--
“'I am Mr. B. D. Assheton--the manager of the Australian Insurance
Company. Do you possibly imagine I would drink with a person _like
you_?'”
Grainger laughed: “It must have been great fun.”
“Rather--but the cream of it is to come yet. He rushed oat into Flinders
Street, found Sergeant Doyle and a policeman, and came back panting and
furious, and pointing, to Charteris, told them to take him in charge.
Doyle looked at us blankly, saw we were nearly dead with laughing, and
then took Assheton aside, and said in his beautiful brogue--
“'Me little mahn, it's drinkin' ye've been. Do yez want me to arrest the
Po-liss Magisthrate himsilf? Who are ye at all, at all? Ye'd betther
be after goin' home and lyin' down, or I'll lock ye up for making a
dishturbance. Do ye moind me now?'”
Grainger could no longer control his laughter, and in the midst of it,
Myra tapped vigorously at the door, He rose and opened it.
“Whatever is all this noise about, Ted? You two great boys!”
“Oh, take Mallard away, Myra, for heaven's sake!”
A little before eight o'clock the deafening clamour of a gong announced
dinner, and the company filed in. Mrs. Trappème and the Misses Trappème
were in “very much evening dress” as Sheila murmured to Myra, and they
seemed somewhat surprised that neither Miss Grainger nor Miss Carolan
had donned anything more unusual than perfectly-made dainty gowns of
cool white Indian muslin. Grainger and Mallard wore the usual white duck
suits (the most suitable and favoured dress for a climate like that
of torrid North Queensland), and Sheila could not but admire their
big well-set-up figures--both were “six feet men”--and contrast their
handsome, bronzed and bearded faces with the insignificant appearance
of Assheton and another gentleman in evening dress--a delicate but
exceedingly gentlemanly young Scotsman. Of course there were more
introductions--all of which were duly and unnecessarily carried out by
Mrs. Trappème. Others of that lady's guests were the local Episcopalian
clergyman and his wife--the former was a placid, dreamy-looking, mild
creature, with soft, kindly eyes. He smiled at everybody, was evidently
in abject terror of his wife--a hard-featured lady about ten years his
senior, with high cheek-bones and an exceedingly corrugated neck and
shoulders. She eyed Myra and Sheila with cold dissatisfaction, and
after dinner had once begun, devoted herself to the task of extracting
information from the latter regarding her future movements. She had
already discussed her with Mrs. Trappème, and had informed her hostess
that she had “suspicions” about a girl who affected mystery in the
slightest degree, and who could afford to pay six guineas a week for
simple board and lodging.
“Quite so, Mrs. Wooler,” Mrs. Trappème had assented; “I must confess it
doesn't look quite right. Even Juliette thinks it very strange for her
to be so reticent as to who she is and where she is going. Of course I
could have refused to receive her, and am now rather sorry I did not. I
understood from her that Mr. Grainger was an utter stranger to her--and
I was quite surprised to see them all come in together as if they had
known each other for years. Not quite correct, I think.”
“Mr. Grainger is very rich,” said the clergyman's wife meditatively.
“Very,” said her friend, who knew that Mrs. Wooler meant to do a little
begging (for church purposes) as soon as opportunity offered.
“It would be a pity for him to be involved with such a--a
forward-looking young person,” she said charitably.
But for the first quarter of an hour she had no opportunity of
satisfying her curiosity, for Sheila was quite hungry enough not to
waste too much time in conversation. At last, however, a chance came,
when Mr. Assheton said in his mincing voice--
“I believe, Miss Carolan, that like me, you are quite a new arrival in
this country.”
“Oh, dear no! I have lived here ever since I was two years old.”
“Heah! in Townsville?”
“I meant Australia,” Sheila observed placidly.
“Then you are not an Australian born, Miss Carolan?” put in Mrs. Wooler
with a peculiarly irritating condescension of manner and surprised
tone, as if she meant to say, “I am sure you are--you certainly are not
lady-like enough to be an English girl.”
“No, I am not,” was the reply. “Do you think you will like Queensland,
Mr. Assheton?”
“I really have as yet formed no definite impression. Possibly I may in
the end contrive to like it.”
“Do. It would be a great pity for the country if you did not,” said
Sheila gravely, without moving an eyelid.
“Do you purpose making a long stay in Queensland, Miss Carolan?” pursued
Mrs. Wooler.
“A very long one, perhaps--perhaps on the other hand a very short one.
Or it may be that I may adopt a middle course, and do neither.”
Grainger, who was opposite, heard her, and as she looked across at him,
he saw that she was “playing” her questioner and quite enjoying it.
Never for one moment did the clergyman's wife dream that Sheila meant
to be anything else but evasive, so she followed up. To her mind it
was absolutely incredible that any woman would dare to snub her--Mrs.
Wooler--daughter of a dean, and possessing an uncle who had on several
occasions been spoken of by the Bishop of Dullington as his probable
successor; such a thing was impossible!
“I presume, however, that your stay in Townsville itself will be short,
Miss Carolan? You will find it a very expensive place--especially if you
have no friends to whom you can go.”
Sheila's face flushed. Her blood was getting up, and Myra looked at her
nervously.
“Is there no 'Girls' Friendly Society,' 'Young Women's Christian
Association,' or other kindred institution, where I could 'be taken in
and done for'?” she asked sweetly.
“Not as yet; but I am thinking of taking steps to found a Girls'
Friendly Society. Such an institution will soon be a necessity in a
growing place like this.”
“How nice it would be for me to go there instead of staying at--at a
boarding house!”
Juliette Trappème's sallow face flushed with rage, and Mrs. Trappème,
who saw that something was occurring, spoke loudly to Mr. Wooler, who
answered in his usual soft voice. But Mallard, who was seated next to
Miss Lilla Trappème, shot Sheila an encouraging glance.
“Quite so,” went on Mrs. Wooler. “I disapprove most strongly of any
young woman incurring risks that can be avoided.”
“What risks?” and Sheila turned and looked steadily at Mrs. Wooler.
The sharp query somewhat upset the inquisitive lady, who hardly knew
what she meant herself.
“Oh, the risks of getting into debt--living beyond one's means--and
things like that.”
“Oh, I see, madam,” and Sheila bowed gravely, although the danger
signals were showing now on her cheeks. Then she added very clearly and
distinctly, “That would be most dreadful to happen to any one, would it
not, Mr. Assheton?”
“Oh, howwible--for a lady.”
“But,” she went on--and as she spoke she gazed so intently into Mrs.
Wooler's face that every one at the table saw her change colour--“but
I am sure, Mrs. Wooler, that no girl could possibly come to such a sad
condition while _you_ are in Townsville, to give her the benefit of
_your_ years, _your_ advice, and _your_ experience--even though that
advice was thrust upon her in a manner that I believe might possibly
cause well-deserved resentment,” and then, with a scornful smile still
on her lips, she turned to Mr. Assheton and asked him sweetly if he did
not “think it was beginning to be very warm so early in the year?”
“By heavens!” mattered Mallard to Myra, “she has done the parson woman
good. Look at her face. It's unpleasant to look at.”
Mrs. Wooler's features were a study. Unable to speak, and her hands
trembling with rage, she gave the girl one glance of hatred, and then
tried to eat; and Viveash, who had the sense to do so, at once began
telling her some idiotic and pointless story about himself when he sang
in a cathedral choir until his voice “failed him.”
Just then a long ring was heard at the front door, and the butler
presently came to Mallard, and said--
“One of the reporters, sir, from the _Champion_ wishes to see you. Most
important, sir, he says. Will you please see him at once?”
Making his excuses, Mallard left the dining-room and went into one of
the sitting-rooms, where the reporter was awaiting him.