"Oh, Denis!" She was holding up a lovely bunch of lilies of the valley
to her cheek.
He turned with sudden irritation.
"Don't start about it's being extravagant! It isn't! If you say a word,
I'll chuck 'em in the dust-bin!"
She smiled demurely. The flowers had been behind the water-jug, with a
suspicious air of having been hidden there.
"They're lovely," she said, tucking them into her soft folded belt. "I
must pin them in. Are you coming, twin?"
"If it weren't for taking you two, I wouldn't come at all."
"Oh, yes, you would."
"What's the good? I haven't a ghost of a chance--"
"If you _knew_ you were bound to make the worst speech there," her head
was up, "you would go. We never funk anything, Denis!"
"Neither we do, old lady!"
He seized her round the waist and ran her downstairs to her room.
"Nell," called out the Atom, "aren't you ready? Janie and Benny have
come!"
"O dear, then hurry I _must_! Molly, I wish you were coming, too!"
"I don't! I wouldn't for anything," she whispered eagerly. "I shall go
and talk to Aunt Kezia!"
"Molly, you're getting too good altogether for the likes of us! Don't,
in your exaltation, forget to shut Jim up. Benny, what big eyes! Janie,
how's the cold? Duckies, ask Sarah if we didn't leave two nice cakes at
tea. Coming, Denis! Good-bye, Aunt Kezia. Molly, there's a packet of
butter-scotch somewhere--find it for them. Good-bye!"
Mark Yovil greeted the Atom as an old friend.
"Of course," said Sheila Pat, anxiously, "I don't know which ladies
you've spoke to before I came."
"Oh, that doesn't count," he reassured her.
Nell looked round the room interestedly. There were not many people
there yet. Standing by a lounge talking to a girl with an elaborately
dressed head of colourless hair, she saw Ted Lancaster. Another girl,
younger, sat between her and an older, stouter edition of them both,
obviously the mother. Nell had a quick thought of a hairdresser's shop,
the three heads were so stiffly held, so carefully dressed. Then she
wondered, humorously, whether the husband and father didn't get tired of
seeing his wife in three stages of age and size.
"Will you come?" Mr. Yovil asked. "I'd like to introduce you to Mrs.
Lancaster. She's Ted Lancaster's aunt, you know--he and your brother
are chums, aren't they?"
"Y-yes."
Mrs. Lancaster bent a stiff head, Miss Lancaster and Miss Gertrude
Lancaster did likewise. Ted shook hands.
"Is your brother going to make a speech?" Gertrude asked as Nell sat
down beside her.
"Yes. When are they going to start?"
"I don't know. The whole thing is an awful bore, isn't it?"
"No; I love it."
"Really? Alicia," turning to her sister, "Miss O'Brien is actually
enjoying herself!"
"Really? How queer! We only came because we thought dear Mr. Yovil
would be hurt if we refused."
Up came Denis.
"I say, can't you squeeze me in somehow?"
Gertrude unbent and laughed as he sat down between her and Nell.
Sheila Pat, always earnest, trotted gravely at her host's heels till he
released her. Even then she watched. He was standing talking to an
imposing matron when he felt a sharp little nip on his arm. He looked
down and met Sheila Pat's chiding eyes.
"You've spoken to her _twice_! I would have thought you'd remember
her--_by her nose_!"
The whisper was loud; he muttered a hasty excuse and fled. But he fled
in the wrong direction. After him ran Sheila Pat.
"You haven't spoken _once_ to the lady in the bathing dress!"
In her eagerness her voice rose, and several pairs of eyes glanced
instinctively across the room to where a lady in a red and white striped
silk gown sat amiably looking on, and several people hid smiles.
"Ted isn't a bit nervous," Gertrude Lancaster confided to Nell. "He's
quite calm and cool. Now, that poor Cuthbert Pennington who's just been
introduced to you is all on wires about it."
Nell looked across to where Ted lounged, talking to an old gentleman.
"Is he convinced he'll win the prize?"
"Oh, I don't know. But nothing ever troubles him, I think. Can you
catch his eye? I want to ask him about a dinner-party--I _can't_ make
him look this way!"
"Isn't it unkind to disturb him? He looks so comfortable."
"Oh, no--oh, that's it. Now he'll come."
He came slowly and stood before them.
"You want me?"
Gertrude chattered about an approaching dinner-party, then she turned to
join in another conversation.
Ted stood silent.
Nell glanced up at him. "Nothing ever troubles him," rang in her ears.
She frowned impatiently.
"Poor Mr. Pennington!" she said softly.
He glanced across at Pennington, surrounded, the centre of a noisy
group, and raised his eyebrows.
"He's nervous about his speech. He," there was the faintest accent on
the "he," "doesn't feel sure he will win the Shakespeare."
"How queer! Surely each one in his heart is convinced he'll pull it
off!" There was an odd mocking note in his voice.
"Only the conceited ones!" she laughed.
There was a little pause.
She looked up at him, smiling.
"_You_ feel as if you will win it, don't you?" she said amiably.
"Thanks. I take it, Miss O'Brien."
"The speeches are going to begin," observed Gertrude, turning round.
"I say," Cuthbert Pennington's dark face was trying to look injured,
"they've made me go up first! Wish me luck! I'm a-trembling all over.
Shouldn't wonder if I faint away in a swoond!"
His speech was good, bright, and vivacious, and sometimes humorous.
There was a good deal of applause at its finish.
Nell felt terribly excited. She glanced often at Denis, who looked gay
and debonnair enough.
The two next speeches were not so good; in both there was a stiffness of
phrase that made her put them aside with a metaphoric wave of her hand.
Then came the poetic Morley's turn. He was inclined to be
grandiloquent, he brought in a great many poetical quotations, his
metaphors were inclined to run away with him; but he used fervid
gestures, he flung back his hair a good deal, and people seemed
enthusiastic.
Nell felt uneasy; she did not herself care for his speech, but she
recognised a good deal of merit in it.
Ted Lancaster was the next.
He rose and strolled slowly to the end of the room.
"Isn't he at his ease!" laughed Gertrude.
Nell was conscious of a quick, uncharitable wish that his speech should
be bad--bad--that he should receive hardly any applause--that that
conceited ease of his should be ruffled--upset. He bowed to his
audience. A little hot spasm of shame went through her. Surely--surely
he was nervous! His face was quite white, and his eyes stared out
sombrely from beneath frowning brows.
"The Influence of Music on Mankind," he announced in his deep, quiet
voice. He paused, looked down, then straight out before him again.
"It is impossible," he began, "to exaggerate--" his eyes met Nell's, he
stumbled, stopped--"to exaggerate--er--er--the important part that--that
music--that music--has played in the--er--history of the world--"
Nell was tingling all over with shame and pity; her cheeks burnt; she
bit her lip cruelly. She could see his hand, resting on the top of the
Grand piano beside him, shake; and then suddenly, abruptly, in the
middle of a sentence, he bowed and strolled back to his seat.
There was an uncomfortable little silence. A few people clapped feebly.
"Oh," whispered Gertrude in Nell's ear, "_poor_ Ted! He must have been
nervous, after all!"
"You were rather ridiculously out in your opinion, weren't you?"
retorted Nell, hotly.
"How could I know? He--"
Some one said, "Hush!" It was a red-cheeked boy with a twinkle in his
eye, but it stopped Gertrude. Nell forgot Ted then, for it was Denis's
turn next. Head erect, he marched to his place. Nell's hands locked
themselves together; she hardly breathed; but when he turned and bowed
she drew a sharp breath. Denis was nervous! He stood there, tall,
broad-shouldered, his head flung back. His blue eyes looked very dark;
his mouth was shut tightly. And he stood there, silent.
No one moved. No one seemed to breathe. The stillness was awful. Nell
felt as if she would shriek aloud. Then suddenly his eyes met hers; a
little flush rose to his brow: "Early morning--the world gleaming green
and wet through the blue haze--all the young things waking and stirring
about you--" his voice rang out, musical, assured, and left Nell
gasping. Dimly, with his talk of the stream glinting in the sunshine,
the scent of the turf fires, there mingled in her ears--"names that
still ring throughout all the lands--a grand and awe-inspiring age--the
literature of that day--" and the result was bewildering. And then she
was leaning forward, drinking it all in--for here was a bit of their old
life--of Kilbrannan--home itself. Something caught in her throat, and
for a moment Denis shone through a mist.
Others were listening, too,--really listening,--absorbed, interested;
grave and smiling by turns, as he willed. He stood there, before them
all, unself-conscious, eager, making them see what he saw; and the words
came without stumble or pause--easy, fluent, enthusiastic. It was just
a bit of the old life he was showing them--a wild hunt made them laugh
aloud; the peasants, the scenery, kept them absorbed; and when he
stopped, there was a perfect storm of applause. The room fairly rang
with it.
He glanced swiftly, anxiously, at Nell, and then he bowed with all his
own airy grace, again and again, laughing outright. One of the boys
shouted out, "Encore!"
There was only one speaker to come after Denis, and the unfortunate boy
was received with yawns behind fans and barely concealed indifference.
Of course Denis had won the Shakespeare. He received it in a storm of
clapping. Everyone smiled on him and paid him compliments. Unabashed,
he deftly returned them with interest to the ladies. The defeated boys
nearly shook his arm out of its socket. Sheila Pat forgot, for the time
being, her duties as Social Prompter, and went about informing everyone
that she was Denis's sister.
"He doesn't mind me pinching him a bit!" she said proudly.
But she remembered her duty presently, and when Mr. Yovil was talking to
Nell, down swooped Sheila Pat.
"It's not her turn! I think you'd better go and talk to the jingle lady
now."
He went, meek as a lamb.
"Nell," said Denis, coming up to her a moment, "no, I won't answer any
questions."
"But, Denis--"
"I'll tell you when we get home. I want you to be sweet to poor old
Lancaster, Nell."
She blushed guiltily. "I'd like to, but he won't come near me, I'm
afraid."
"I'll manage. Don't you want some sandwiches?"
"Awfully badly."
"I'll send him along with them. Mind," warningly, "that you're nice to
him."
She grew hotter still.
Presently Ted came to her.
"O'Brien asked me to bring you these," he said stiffly.
"Oh, thanks!" She dimpled at him charmingly.
"Don't you want anything to eat or drink? The coffee's awfully good."
"No, thanks."
He stood a moment.
She wondered why he looked so terribly tired, why he was so pale, with
such dark rings round his eyes. All the mother in her wakened, and,
with her shame, swamped the old sense of antagonism and made her long to
make amends.
He turned on his heel.
"I--there's room for you here." She drew her skirt aside with a quick
little nervous gesture.
He looked back at her surprised. She was smiling at him anxiously;
there was soft deprecation in her eyes.
He hesitated.
"I--thanks," he said, and sat down.
She began chattering about Sheila Pat; about the Zooelogical Gardens,
where they had been that day. She rattled on about their own Zoo in
Dublin, in the Phoenix Park. She laughingly owned that the Regent's Park
Zoo was larger. "But it hasn't such a beautiful background, there are
no mountains, and ours is such a dear little Zoo somehow. The pelicans
and peacocks and seagulls wander about in the open. Sheila Pat scorns
your Regent's Park because they don't have polo matches there--"
"Oh, Mr. Lancaster," a fair-haired girl stopped before them, "I _was_ so
sorry for you! It must be _terrible_ to be so nervous!"
He stood up.
"Very kind of you."
Her mother joined in: "Oh, no, everyone is pitying you! And Mr. Yovil
is _wild_ about it! He won't _speak_ of it! So hard and unkind of him!
As if anyone can help being nervous. Come, Lucy, dear."
Ted sat down again.
Nell looked fierce; her lips were shut tight, her cheeks glowing. He
glanced at her.
"Something has vexed you?" he said tentatively.
"Yes."
"Anything I can do?"
"No! Oh, how hateful--_hateful_ people are! What idiots! Oh, I'm as
bad as they are! I didn't mean to worry you, but it--I never can keep
things in. I choke."
"Please don't," he smiled rather bewilderedly. "Say what you like."
"No, I won't. Only how anyone could be so idiotic--so thick-skinned--so
_aggravating_ as those two just now--"
He looked at her incredulously.
"You're angry with them--for me?"
"Of course!" she sounded quite snappy.
"It's awfully nice of you, you know."
"Oh, no, it isn't. And I'm just making it worse--"
"No, you're not, you--you've made it a lot better."
"Have I?" She smiled radiantly. "Oh, I'm so glad!"
"And you know," in an extremely casual tone, "it serves me right for
going in for it! And I was an awful fool, of course."
"You weren't. Denis was only saved by being an Irishman. I'll tell you
a secret--he wouldn't mind...."
"Well, he _is_ a clever chap!"
"And now do have something to eat. I expect," shrewdly, "you didn't
have much dinner."
"But I'm so comfortable here," he pleaded.
"You are to go and get something," she commanded. "I'll keep your place
for you."
At that he rose obediently.
Presently up came Cuthbert Pennington.
"I say, Miss O'Brien, don't you feel puffed up--reflected glory, you
know, and all that? That young sister of yours says she knew he'd get
the prize, because he's Irish. I said, 'Och, begorra, why doesn't his
nose try to look at his brow then?' and she boxed my ears! Did, really!
I've fallen head over heels in love with her. But she says she's going
to marry an Irish breeder of horses. Hard on me, isn't it?"
His white teeth gleamed as he laughed out joyously.
"I say, if I'd known we'd a second what's-his-name amongst us, I'd never
have fagged over books and notes till my hair went grey."
She glanced at his crisp black locks.
"What dye do you use?"
"Oh, a family secret! Won't you have some more coffee? Poor old
Lancaster looks down, doesn't he? Never nervous myself--"
"If you'll let me get a word in edgeways, I'd like to observe that that
seat is taken."
"How unkind you are to me! If you hadn't tempered your words with a
smile, I'd have gone out and hanged myself. All right, I may stay here
till the owner turns up? Thanks. I won't talk," sadly.
She dimpled mischievously.
Pause.
Someone passing smiled and nodded to him.
"I say, Miss O'Brien, see her? Think she's pretty? Well, my mater beats
her hollow! Wish she was here to-night. I'd like you to know her--oh!"
He gave a roar of laughter. "I'm talking! Well, I don't care!"
"I like you to talk," said she, sweetly, but rather absently. She was
looking across to where Ted Lancaster stood in conversation with some
friends. She was wondering when he meant to come and claim his place.
Presently he left the people he was talking to and strolled across to
two boys.
Nell's head went up a little.
"Owner of this place doesn't seem to be coming," observed Pennington.
"Lucky for me. I'm an awfully lucky chap. Oh, you're not going?"
"Denis is making faces at me. Everyone's gone or going. And we have an
aunt who objects to us keeping late hours."
"Going, Nell?" Denis came up, laughing. "Look at the Atom shadowing
poor old Yovil! He was just having a chat with that grey-haired cousin
or something of his--awful nice old lady--and up came the Atom, 'You
_mustn't_ talk to her any more. Go at once and speak to the grumpy one
in green!' She was pretty autocratic, and he as meek as butter."
"O'Brien," exclaimed their host as they reached his side, "I've been
trying to get to you, but," with a whimsical glance down at Sheila Pat,
"I'm under orders to-night. I've never been so polite before in all my
life. Now shake hands! You'll be heard of some day, O'Brien!"
Denis flushed and laughed.
"I'd like to tell you something--"
"Eh?" The glasses flashed on him quickly. He drew him aside.
"Well? Well?"
Presently they heard him give a satisfied chuckle.
"Good! Good! That accounts for a certain want of polish. The
sentences were at times crude--abrupt--rounded off carelessly. There
was tautology once or twice. Good! I'm glad you told me! I like your
family. Shake again! Ah, there's Lancaster. Young man," gripping
Ted's shoulder as he passed, "I have great hopes for you! For you have
made just the same beginning as I did myself many years ago." He
twinkled humorously and shook hands with great heartiness. Nell thought
of the little man's reported "wildness." She had decided that it was
very rude indeed of Ted not to trouble to come back to her when she was
keeping his place for him. So her good night lacked warmth. But then
so did his.
Mr. Yovil turned to Sheila Pat; he tilted up her face and eyed her
amusedly.
"Have I worked you too hard, my Social Prompter?"
She shook her head.
"You haven't spoken _much_ to the bathing-dress lady!"
"Haven't I? I'd sooner speak to you."
"Would you? Perhaps I'll come and see you all alone one day, shall I?"
"I wish you would. And I wonder if I dare ask for a kiss?"
"Your musstache looks rather prickly, I think," she hesitated.
"Try it."
He lifted her high in the air and kissed her. He put her down gently
and turned to bid other guests good-bye. At the door the Atom looked
back and waved her hand.
"Good-bye, Mr. Yovil!" her voice rang out. "Don't forget the one in
the--you know--" An obvious nod at the red and white striped lady
completed the sentence.
When they reached Henley Road the door was opened by Herr Schmidt.
"My brother won the prize, Herr Schmidt." Sheila Pat's tone was full of
decorous pride.
"Ach, I am glad! Come in. Hush, your aunt sleeps--"
"You weren't sitting up for us, were you, Herr Schmidt?" Nell asked.
"Nein, nein, Fraeulein! I sit up late always, and I tell your aunt I
will open ze door to you. You will come in and tell me about your
evening, hein?"
Sheila Pat's gaiety had gone; her face looked pale and tired.
Up in the Stronghold Molly lay in the arm-chair fast asleep, but Kate
Kearney flew to welcome them.
Nell, looking at the Atom's weary little face, and hearing her sharp
responses to Molly's questions, cut the talk short. Molly went to bed
bewildered with sleepiness and hearing that Denis's speech hadn't been
his speech at all.
To Nell he explained more fully.
"It was your face, Nell! I stood there, and it had all gone--I couldn't
remember a word! Whether it was poor old Lancaster's bad example, I
don't know. And all of a sudden I met your eyes. Oh, Nell," with a
chuckle, "you did look so agonised, so beseeching! And it was exactly
how you looked at me that day when the Colleen Bawn knocked that hole
into her foreleg--d'you remember?--and you were trying to stop the
bleeding, when I came up. Well, I'd got to stop it for you, somehow,
and I did. And to-night I'd got to speak a speech, and I did."
"Yes, you did."
She was silent, gazing into the fire.
"Poor little Atom!" she murmured softly.
"I wish I hadn't done it!" He kicked the fender moodily.
"Oh, don't, Denis! It was splendid. Isn't it a true sign of power to
move your audience? Besides--somehow it has done me good--it has made
me feel--_know_--that we're going back to it all some day!"
"How?"
Her beautiful eyes were misty; she gave a little radiant smile.
"Oh, how should I know! But it _has_! And I'm sure it's done the same
to Sheila Pat!"
But that night she had to turn her pillow round more than once.
*CHAPTER XIV*
Six gold watches at 1d. . . . . . . . 6
Six gold horses at 1d. . . . . . . . 6
Two dolls at 2d. . . . . . . . . . . 4
Bottle of gum at 1d. . . . . . . . . 1
Two drums at 4 3/4d. . . . . . . . . . 9 1/2
\ --
Total . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2-2 1/2
Nell handed it over to Denis with an air of pride.
"That's all we've bought for Christmas so far, Denis. We'd better hurry
up."
"There's not much to get this year," he said gloomily.
She stabbed the table with her pencil.
"Sir William Harrison will give 'em all their Christmas 'comforts,'" he
pursued with a sneer.
She sighed.
"Nora says in the letter I had this morning that they're really very
nice people, only none of them can bear to see them in our home. She
says they're awfully good to the poor people, and--and haven't altered
anything--"
There was a silence.
"There's the hospital," she began; "we must send the box off in good
time, and I want to give Sarah's little brothers and sisters presents,
and now Sheila Pat has chummed up with that milkman, and he certainly
has two of the dearest little chubby girls! There's a good deal to get,
Denis."
"So there is, asthore! To-morrow's Saturday. We'll go shopping
directly after lunch!"
He picked up a chocolate cake from the table and ate it. It was one of
a lot he had bought for Sheila Pat, whose lunch, in punishment for some
misdeed, had been meagre and puddingless. Miss Kezia invariably
punished the Atom so, and Denis invariably bought her a substitute of
cakes and goodies to make up.
"It'll have to be ingenious shopping this year, Denis," Nell said.
He tapped his brow. "Here's an idea now! Surely in big toy shops some
of the toys must get broken! Eh? Here's the shopper. We'll buy the
broken toys, and I'll mend 'em. See, I'll turn carpenter for the nonce!
Oh, we'll drive wonderful bargains between us! What a head I've got!"
The next afternoon they set forth. The first toy shop they came to was
a large and fashionable one. Molly elected to wait outside, but the
others marched gaily in.
A tall and smiling damsel came gliding towards them, but at Denis's
debonair request for damaged toys, the smile froze, and the damsel
informed him coldly that it was not a second-hand shop.
He smiled blandly, and responded that he could see that, but had thought
that even in such an elegant emporium things must occasionally be
broken.
"We'll relieve you of tailless horses, armless and legless dolls,
sailless ships, funnelless engines, neckless giraffes, humpless camels,
trunkless elephants, even noseless tapirs," he ended with a flourish.
The damsel's eye gleamed coldly.
"I conclude when things are broken they are thrown away," she observed
with haughty nonchalance.
He searched his pockets; his face was very grave.
"Ah, I have not a tract with me bearing on this subject. But, my dear
young lady, it is a subject very near my heart. Waste! Ah, 'Waste not,
want not!' You have heard the wise old proverb? Waste! In thy name
how many sins are committed, daily, hourly, minutely! Think of empty
little arms--outstretched, clamoring--empty--while the dust-bin is full!
Think of armless dolls smiling in the midst of decayed vegetables!
Trunkless elephants sleeping in dust! And they might be hushed on happy
little bosoms!"
He turned aside with a gesture of grief and opened the door for Nell and
the Atom to pass through.
Outside: "Oh, Nell," cried Molly, "what are you laughing at? Oh! and
there are one--two--_three_ heads looking out of the door after us!"
They were more successful in the next shop. In a few minutes the
shop-walker and three assistants were laughingly crawling about
searching for broken toys. Kate Kearney helped too, and demolished a
ball in the process.
But the big success of the afternoon was the fourpence halfpenny shop.
They were enthralled. Shining pots and pans, gorgeous picture frames,
still more gorgeous pictures, vases, tea-pots, and toys, and all for
four-pence halfpenny each! What was fourpence halfpenny? Nothing.
Joyously they marched in. The tubby little woman who came forward to
serve them was delightful, too. When she nodded her head, the bobby
little grey curls at the sides of her face nodded too.
Nell said: "Oh, what a lovely shop! Isn't _any_thing more than
fourpence halfpenny?"
"No, dearie, that is, miss, all the same price. Twenty-four year 'ave
me and Jelks kep' this shop. We find toys and kitching utensils sell
best. That doll now is good valley for your money, miss. Will your dog
do any damage, sir? Oh," as Kate Kearney lay down at Denis's command,
"what a good-beyaved little man! I must fetch 'im a biscuit while
you're looking round like."
The O'Briens were hilarious.
Fourpence halfpenny! They had decided that they must only spend two or
three shillings more; but two or three shillings was untold wealth in a
fourpenny halfpenny shop. No need to be careful now. Gaily they chose
dolls, horses and carts, trumpets, Noah's arks filled with weird and
wondrous animals that Noah himself would never have recognised. Then a
customer came in. He was a small and puny customer, but he marched into
the shop with an air of grave importance before which his ragged clothes
seemed to fade into an abashed oblivion. Denis flung his hat away, and
came forward, rubbing his hands together in true professional style.
"And what can I do for you, sir? Toys? Pots? Pans? Brushes?"
"Ain't Mrs. Jelks in?" gasped the urchin; "'ere, none o' that,"
recovering with Cockney speed. "You're a gent, you are."
"A distant relative of Mrs.--er--Jelks. I'm taking charge of the shop
during her absence. Well, miss," turning to Nell, "have you chosen a
doll yet?"
"I think I'll have this one." She seized recklessly upon a particularly
ugly specimen.
"That's not such good valley for your money as this lady with the golden
locks, madam."
"I'll look about a little longer," she declared demurely.
"Certainly, madam!"
He turned again to the bewildered but now convinced urchin.
"Is it something for yourself you want?" he inquired blandly.
The boy shook his head with an air of deep mystery.
"Whom for, then? If you will tell me, I can help you to choose, you
know."
He hesitated, glanced sharply at Denis's face, and suddenly blurted out
excitedly:--
"It's for Liz, sir! She's my sister what can't walk, you know. I've
got it--look!" opening out a grimy little palm with a penny, six
halfpennies, and two farthings on it. "Ain't it fine? And I put 'er
off--she thinks I only got a penny! She do, true as I stand 'ere!
It'll 'ave to be a secret till Christmas, too!"
"Did you save it all up?" asked Nell.
"Yes, miss! Every fardin'! And she don't know!"
"You will have to choose very carefully, won't you? A doll, do you
think?"
He shook his head.
"Gals are so funny," with a puzzled little frown; "she's got a ole
wooden thing, 'as Liz, with no arms nor legs, and she 'ugs it like
anythink, and I ses to 'er t'other day, 'Liz,' I ses, that artful she'd
never guess what I was up to,--'Liz,' I ses, 'wouldn't it be fine if
Sandy Claws was to come and give you a fine new doll with arms and legs
now?' And she up with 'er face all red, and she ses quite angry like,
'I wouldn't 'ave it,' she ses, 'ugging 'er old wooden doll, 'I'd throw
it in the fire,' she ses, 'my _sweet_ Lily Vilet!'"
"Well, then," Nell suggested, "something _for_ the doll?"
"Yes, miss, that's it!"
He was studying the treasures around him with solemn gaze.
"This little doll's house?" suggested Denis. "Or this Noah's ark--it
seems to be filled chiefly with brown paper, by the way. Or this
beautiful cradle? All good valley," twinkling at Nell, "excellent
valley."
The urchin looked from one thing to another.
"It's differcult to know which, ain't it?"
"Take your time, take your time. I'll be serving my other customers."
He eyed Molly concernedly.
"Don't you feel well, miss? You look sort of hysterical. Twenty-four
year 'ave me and Jelks kep' this shop and never 'ad our goods laughed at
before!"
He turned his attention to Sheila Pat, who was rummaging earnestly for
broken toys.
"That's a splendid ball you're looking at, miss. Let me show you how it
bounces."
In an instant Kate Kearney was after it; there was a crash, a
tumble--and a horse, a donkey, a tin pail, and a box of bricks lay on
the floor. K.K., unabashed, seized the donkey and shook it.
"Drop it! Drop it, K.K.!"
The little urchin, after one glance round at the crash, went on staring
at the treasure of treasures he had found on the counter--a small wooden
table with pink and white cups and saucers, plates, tea-pot, milk jug,
and sugar basin set out invitingly on a spotless white cloth. The last
brick hunted out of the last corner and put back into its box, they
turned their attention to their small customer again. Nell whispered
quickly to Denis:--
"Quick, before she comes back--pretend its fourpence halfpenny for
_both_! _Don't_ let him guess--it would spoil it all for him!"
"Chosen anything yet?" Denis queried. "Take your time. We are
accustomed to purchasers not being able to decide between the wondrous
bargains we display. Now this," he waved aloft a particularly awful tin
plate on which was painted in very vivid colours a big-headed little
girl caressing a dog several sizes larger than herself, "this is a
wonderful artistic product--after Landseer. You might think the animal
was perchance an elephant--"
"They're fourpence ha'penny for the table, and fourpence ha'penny for
the cups and things, in course," the urchin interpolated with a big
sigh, and never a thought for Denis's nonsense. "They beat everythink
in the shop into fits!"
"This table? This tea-set? Well, you're a born shopper. Fourpence
ha'penny for 'em both! Best valley I've got in the shop!"
"'And 'em over, sir!"
He held out his money in a grubby little hand that positively shook with
eagerness. Then his fingers closed on it suddenly. He said with
suspicion:--
"Yer sure it's for _both_? I ain't got no more money, so it's no use
trying to bluff me into buying more'n fourpenny 'a'penny worth!"
"My dear sir, this shop is above suspicion. Twenty-four year 'ave me
and Jelks kep' it!" He had seized a newspaper and was rolling it round
the toys. "For twenty-four years has it stood in conscious rectitude--"
"'Ere, don't I git a box to put 'em in?" the urchin interrupted,
unimpressed.
"A box, is it?"
Nell interposed, stern disapproval in her tone.
"Of course you should have a box! He's a most careless young man!
There's the box that the tea things fit into just at his elbow!"
She watched delightedly his vain efforts to fit the cups and saucers
into the shaped spaces cut into the cardboard.
"Really," she observed to the urchin, "I wonder Mrs. Jelly has such a
very foolish young man to attend to her shop!"
"J-Jelks," came from the background in Molly's voice and with Molly's
giggle.
In dignified silence Denis sought valiantly to ram the sugar basin into
the place where the milk jug belonged; he put a cup into a plate hole,
the cup disappeared and ran about under the cardboard.
"That ain't where it belongs! New to the business, ain't yer?" scoffed
the urchin.
"That is where it is going to stay," Denis said firmly. "I never tempt
Providence."
Nell came forward with an air.
"Young man, hand them over to me! I really am surprised at Mrs.
Jel--Jelks! I will arrange the tea things."
As the urchin took the parcel from her, he said in a confidential
aside:--
"Tell yer wot it is, miss, 'e's too 'igh and mighty for 'is business!"
"I expect so. You can see that he is consumed with conceit."
The urchin nodded his head towards Molly.
"That young lidy's just laughing at 'im, ain't she?"