"Oh, nothing. I was thinking--chap sent me tickets for private
show--pity to waste 'em--Neil O'Donoghue's pictures, you know--"
"Oh, Ted, the Irish landscape man?"
He nodded.
"Teddie, you angel! Oh, I'll use your tickets. There's no false modesty
about me, when you hold out a bait like that! Can we go now--_now_?"
"Rather! Look here, Nell, you--I mean you _will_ let me-- Jolly place
just close by--give you ripping luncheons! You will all come, won't
you?"
"Oh! Well, you know--"
"Oh, I say, be a brick, Nell!"
She laughed out.
"I was only hesitating because I felt I _ought_ to! I won't be polite
with you ever again, Ted! You do look so abjectly miserable. I'd love
to end up like that!"
"That's all right. I'll just scoot round to the bank and tell Denis to
meet us outside at half-past one. Will you all be ready when I get
back?"
"I should think we will indeed."
When he came back they met him at the gate.
"I'm not coming, Ted," said Nell, buttoning her glove.
He smiled.
"Good-bye, then."
"You see, we've given Sarah a holiday, and Aunt Kezia would faint if she
knew we'd left the house unguarded."
"There's Kate Kearney."
"Oh! You cruel boy! Why, Sheila Pat took her into the maids next door.
You don't think we'd leave her all alone, do you? No, I'm going to stay
and guard the house. Do hurry, we're missing precious moments."
Sheila Pat led the way into the picture gallery, lured on by a glimpse
of a large water-colour painting--just a bit of her own Emerald Isle.
How they enjoyed those pictures!
"Oh, Teddie, they're beautiful--beautiful! Can't you see how he _loves_
every bit he paints? He's got the spirit of it all--the meaning--so
beautifully! Look at that dear, misty bit, over there, with the sun
breaking through! Isn't it glorious? She never cries without a laugh at
the end of it, you know! And those mountains there--so mysterious--so
_silent_! And the little stream laughing up at them--it's such an
impudent little stream--all laughter and ripples and sun-flecks--no
awing _that_--" Her breath caught suddenly and she stopped.
Sheila Pat said never a word from the moment she entered the gallery to
the moment she left it. She studied the paintings alone, her odd little
face absorbed. But when they left the place, and saw Denis just coming
towards them, she made a sudden, wild little run at him, and caught hold
of his arm. He lifted her up.
"Take my hat off for me, asthore!"
It was rather a silent luncheon party at first, but Denis soon altered
that.
Ted insisted on presenting them with a huge box of chocolates at the end
of lunch.
"Now for two hansoms," he said, when they came out. "There's the horse
for me!"
"Um," observed Denis, as the cab drew up, "don't think much of him.
Forelegs a bit groggy. Hi! Here!" he shouted to another driver. "Now
that's a cute little beast if you like!"
Ted preferred his own choice.
"Race you to No. 35!" Denis exclaimed. "Bet I beat you!"
"Done!"
Nell, the Atom, and Ted hurried into one hansom; Molly and Denis into
the other.
"Double fare if you beat that!" Denis shouted.
"Same here!" yelled Ted.
Off they went.
It was a close and very exciting race. Denis's horse seemed the
likeliest to win at first. He led all along Regent Street; then in a
block at the Circus Ted's driver manoeuvred cleverly and got in front.
Then for a while they raced neck by neck. Round the corners they
rocked.
"By Jove, this chap can drive!" ejaculated Ted, as they rocked round a
corner, shaving the curb, and gaining a yard or two on the other hansom.
From that came fragments of angry shouts. "Idiot!--drive a cow!--afraid
of-- 'Tisn't a _funeral_, man!"
"This is Henley Road," cried Nell, "and we're still leading!"
There was a final mad and unlawful spurt, and Ted's hansom leading by a
yard or two, they dashed up in style before a pair of incredulous,
horrified eyes watching their mad approach from Mrs. Barclay's
drawing-room window. Moreover, the window was open, and a pair of ears,
as incredulous and horrified as the eyes, listened to a babel of
laughter and talk, to arguments on the horses' and drivers' merits.