Esther had spent a week indoors with a cold, and it was the longest
she could ever remember. June was kindness itself, and fussed and
petted and made much of her, but the days dragged.
There was only one thing to live for--the post! And though the rat-tat
rang through the house three or four times a day, there was never
anything for Esther.
Her own letter to Paris remained unanswered. The telegram for which
she longed never came.
June watched her with a mixture of sympathy and impatience.
What was the good of putting all one's eggs in the same basket? she
asked herself crossly. What was the good of falling in love if nothing
better than unhappiness ever came of it? She began to hate the phantom
lover, as she called him, with increased hatred.
"I don't think you're strong enough to go yet, you know," she said to
Esther one afternoon when they were sitting together in the firelight.
"Write and tell Mrs. Ashton you can't come for another week, or that
you can't go at all. I do wish you would."
Esther shook her head.
"I promised to go, and I must do something. I shall be all right by
Monday. Mrs. Ashton has waited long enough as it is."
She looked pale and ill, June thought angrily, and put it all down to
"that man."
"Has Mr. Mellowes come back from Paris yet?" Esther asked suddenly.
June was faintly amazed; Esther never spoke of Micky. She answered
rather dubiously that she did not know.
"I expect he's having such a good time that he'll stay for weeks," she
added. "I wish he would come back, I want him to get on with my
business...."
"Mr. Mellowes...." announced Lydia at the door.
June scrambled to her feet with a scream of delight.
"Micky! you villain! we were just talking about you. When did you come
back? Why haven't you been before? What have you been doing?"
She dragged him over to the fire; she fussed over him and told him he
was just in time for tea.
"Esther's been indoors a week with a cold," she explained. "No, don't
you get up, Esther. Micky won't mind...." She pushed Esther back
amongst the sofa pillows. "Poor darling! She's really been quite ill,"
she declared.
Micky said formally that he was sorry that she was not well, but that
the weather was enough to kill anybody; he added that he had been in
town since Sunday, but ...
"Four days, and you've not been to see me!" said June. "What a shame,
to neglect us so!"
"I've been busy," Micky defended himself; "I expected to hear you had
gone to Mrs. Ashton's," he said to Esther.
She raised her eyes.
"No--I am going on Monday."
"Oh," said Micky blankly.
June had opened the door and was calling over the balusters to Lydia
for hot water.
"And bring lots of it," she said. "We're thirsty...." She came back
into the room. "The postman's just come," she said with a nod and a
smile to Esther. "Lydia will bring our letters up if there are any."
She turned again to Micky. "Well, truant! And what have you been
doing? Having a good time?"
"No, I have not," Micky said decidedly. "Paris is not what it used to
be, or I am not!" He laughed. "How's the swindle?"
June began to answer, but stopped as Lydia came into the room. She
brought a jug of hot water. June danced up to her.
"No letters? I thought I heard the postman."
"One for Miss Shepstone," Lydia said smilingly.
Micky looked across at Esther--her whole face was transformed as she
turned eagerly with outstretched hand.
There was a moment of silence, then she gave a little sigh of utter
contentment. June sniffed inelegantly--Micky looked hard into the
fire; his heart was thumping; that letter ought to have been delivered
yesterday, he knew; it was cursed bad luck that it should arrive while
he was here.
There was a little silence in the room while Esther opened it. She
seemed to have forgotten that she was not alone. Her pale cheeks were
flushed and her whole face tremulous.
June was bustling about, making a great clatter with the teacups.
Micky got up and began to prowl round the room; his nerves felt jumpy.
Because he knew so well who had written that letter he was sure every
one else must know it too. Presently June nudged him as she passed.
When he looked at her she made a little grimace.
"Isn't it awful?" she said in a stage whisper.
Micky smiled stiffly.
"Can't I help get the tea?" he asked. "Toast some buns or something?"
"There aren't any to toast," she told him. "Sit down and make yourself
at home. Esther!"--she raised her voice elaborately--"are you going to
have any tea, my child?"
Esther had come to the end of her letter; she folded it hurriedly and
put it away; she cast a quick look at Micky, but he did not see it.
June was chattering away.
"So Esther is going on Monday," she informed Micky, "and I shall be
left once more to my lonesome. I'm not at all sure that I shall stay
on myself," she added. "It's been so jolly having some one to share
this room with me that I'm not looking forward to my own eternal
company."
There was a little silence.
"I may not go after all," Esther said suddenly. There was a note of
nervousness in her voice. She coloured, meeting June's amazed eyes.
June screamed.
"Not go! Well, I never!" She sat down in a heap on the hearthrug
staring at Esther. "I never knew such a girl," she complained. "Micky,
I appeal to you...."
But Micky was not going to be appealed to; he was stolidly stirring
his tea.
"I suppose I can change my mind if I like?" Esther said.
"Oh, it isn't you who have changed your mind," June cut in ironically.
"It's something that phantom lover of yours has said in his letter.
Own up, now."
"Well, and if it is?" Esther demurred. "I suppose he has a right to
say what he likes, hasn't he?" But she was laughing as she spoke; she
felt wonderfully happy and light-hearted. "I believe you're jealous,"
she declared.
"Jealous, indeed!" said June indignantly. Then suddenly she sighed.
"Well, perhaps I am; who knows? What does he say? or mayn't we ask?"
Micky had stopped stirring his tea; there was a sort of intentness
about his big figure.
Esther looked at him, and suddenly she stiffened.
"Never mind what he says," she answered defensively.
June laughed.
"Oh, all right--sorry if I was inquisitive." She deliberately turned
and began talking to Micky; Esther was left to herself, but she did
not mind, she had enough now to think about. The longed-for letter had
come at last.
She woke from her reverie with a start when Micky rose and said he
must be going.
"And don't you be so long before you come and see me again," June said
in her downright way. "And don't go without that sample, Micky--it
will go in your pocket quite easily." She darted off to her room to
fetch it, and Micky moved a step nearer to Esther.
"You have had good news?" he said.
She looked up startled.
Micky's eyes flamed.
"That being so, of course, it is useless for me to ask if you have
changed your mind yet?" he said again.
Esther gave a stifled cry.
"Are you trying to insult me?" she asked under her breath.
He half smiled.
"I am, if it's an insult to ask you to marry me."
There was no time for more. June came back then with her hands full of
samples, which she proceeded to stuff into Micky's pocket.
He submitted laughingly.
"Supposing I get run over!" he said resignedly. "People will think
I've been robbing a beauty shop."
"It will be a fine advertisement for me, anyway," June declared.
"Can't you see all the halfpenny papers coming out with great
headlines? Tragic Death of a Young Millionaire! Pockets Stuffed with
June Mason's Skin Food!" She laughed merrily. "That would be worth
something, eh, Micky?"
"Heartless woman!" he answered. He turned to Esther. "Good-bye, Miss
Shepstone."
Esther was glad that he did not offer to shake hands with her; she was
glad that June went to see him off. As soon as the door had closed on
them she took her letter out again; she pressed the paper to her
lips.
It was worth waiting for, worth the heartache and disappointment; she
closed her eyes for a moment and thought of Raymond Ashton. How she
must have misjudged him in the past. It did not seem true now that
they had ever quarrelled, or parted in anger; that she had ever been
so unhappy that she did not want to live....
June came running up the stairs; she was singing cheerily; Esther
smiled as she listened ... it must be wonderful to be always as happy
and light-hearted as June.
"Well, dreamer?" said June. She shut the door with a little slam and
came over to where her friend sat. "A penny for your thoughts."
She looked at Esther's flushed face in the firelight.
"And so everything is all right after all, eh?" she asked.
Esther nodded.
"And I'm not really going to Mrs. Ashton's after all," she said with a
sort of shamefaced delight. "Only I didn't want to say so in front of
Mr. Mellowes.... Oh, aren't you glad?" she asked anxiously.
"My dear, of course I am!" said June heartily. "But for the life of me
I can't understand how it is that this man of yours has got such an
influence over you. He's only got to hold up his little finger and
you're on your knees. I'm beginning to think he must be a kind of
wonder after all."
Esther did not answer for a moment.
"No," she said. "He isn't at all wonderful, really, except to me,
and--and I love him, you see," she added shyly. "I suppose every man
is wonderful to the woman who loves him."
"Until she's his wife," said June tartly. "And then she thinks he's
all sorts of an idiot, and tells him so."
But Esther was too happy to take her seriously.
"You've never been in love," she said, "or you wouldn't talk like
that."
"And I never wish to be in love, thank you," said June. "If you and
Micky are samples of objects who are in love...." She made a little
grimace, screwing up her nose in disgust.
Esther coloured.
"Micky!" she said, surprised into using his Christian name. "Is he in
love? How do you know he is?"
"I'm not a bat, and I haven't known Micky years for nothing. He hasn't
been himself for a long time. I've seen it, though I haven't said a
word. He's in love right enough, there can't be any other explanation,
seeing that he's too rich to ever be in debt, and they are the only
two things that ever make a man miserable," she added.
Esther wondered if June was trying to sound her.
"I don't know who the wretched female is," June went on, puckering her
brows. "I've tried to guess, but it's no good. There was a Miss Deland
he used to go about with at one time, but I know that's all off."
"Was he engaged to her?"
"No--not really! But her people wanted it, and Micky didn't mind; he'd
have drifted into it sure enough if something very tremendous hadn't
happened to make him change his mind. I know Micky--he'd have slipped
into matrimony as easily as he gets into a taxi, unless some one had
turned him away from it." She glanced down at the letter in Esther's
lap. "Tell me what he says," she coaxed. "Take pity on a poor creature
who hasn't a phantom lover of her own, or a real one either," she
added laughing.
Esther hesitated.
"I'm never quite sure whether you're laughing at me or not," she said
nervously. "I know you don't mean to, but----"
June laid her hand on Esther's lap.
"I laugh at every one and everything," she said. "But it's only my
way, and doesn't mean anything. Perhaps I'm a bit jealous--because you
love this phantom lover so much better than you love me," she added.
Esther drew the letter from its envelope.
"I'll read you just a few little bits," she said shyly. The blood
surged into her pretty face.
June leaned back in a corner and closed her eyes. She held a cigarette
between her lips and puffed at it lazily. There was a little silence;
then Esther said suddenly--
"I can't. It makes me feel too self-conscious. But he just says that
he doesn't want me to go into any berth just yet. He says that he may
be home very soon now...."
"Oh!" said June chagrined. "And then, of course, you'll be married and
live happily ever after...."
"Yes," said Esther. "I hope so."
June opened her eyes.
Charlie, curled up on his cushion, started to purr lazily. Presently
June flopped down on her knees beside him and began stroking his
head.
"You'll let me have Charlie when you're married, won't you?" she said
suddenly. "I am sure the phantom lover won't want him."
Esther did not answer; she hated herself for remembering that Raymond
had once said he loathed cats.
"I told you how Micky went into a pond after a drowning kitten, didn't
I?" June asked reminiscently. "I should have loved him for that alone,
if for nothing else...."
Esther made no comment. She moved a little, and the letter slipped
from her lap to the floor.
June picked it up.
"Or is it sacrilege to touch it?" she asked teasingly. She laid it on
Esther's lap.
"Well, I couldn't help seeing the writing," she said, after a
moment. "And, do you know, it's awfully like Micky's! If I hadn't
known it wasn't his I should have declared it was," she said rather
disconnectedly.
Esther grabbed the letter up.
"Well, it isn't his, anyway," she said sharply.
June laughed.