smilingly away, while Peggy went back to the big room to find a great
tray full of hothouse treasures waiting to be arranged, and no availing
vases in which to place them. The flowers, however, were so beautiful,
and the fronds of maidenhair so green and graceful, that the work was a
pleasure; she enjoyed discovering unlikely places in which to group
them, and lingered so long over her arrangements that the sudden
striking of the clock sent her flying upstairs in a panic of
consternation. Another quarter of an hour and the vicarage party would
arrive, for they had been bidden a little in advance of the rest, so
that Robert might help his mother and sister in receiving their guests.
Peggy tore off dress and apron, and made all the speed she could, but
she was still standing in dressing-jacket and frilled white petticoat,
brushing out her long waves of hair when the door opened and Esther and
Mellicent entered. They had begged to be shown to Miss Saville's room,
and came rustling in, smiling and beaming, with woollen caps over their
heads, snow-shoes on their feet, and fleecy shawls swathed round and
round their figures, and fastened with a hairpin on the left shoulder,
in secure and elegant fashion. Peggy stood, brush in hand, staring at
them and shaking with laughter.
"He! he! he! I hope you are warm enough! Esther looks like a sausage,
and Mellicent looks like a dumpling. Come here, and I'll unwind you.
You look as if you could not move an inch, hand or foot."
"It was mother," Mellicent explained. "She was so afraid we would catch
cold. Oh, Peggy, you are not half dressed. You will be late! Whatever
have you been doing? Have you had a nice day? Did you enjoy it? What
did you have for dinner?"
Peggy waved her brush towards the door in dramatic warning.
"Rosalind's room!" she whispered. "Don't yell, my love, unless you wish
every word to be overheard. This is her dressing-room, which she lent
to me for the occasion, so there's only a door between us.--There, now,
you are free. Oh, dear me, how you have squashed your sash! You really
must remember to lift it up when you sit down. You had better stand
with your back to the fire, to take out the creases."
Mellicent's face clouded for a moment, but brightened again as she
caught sight of her reflection in the swing glass. Crumples or no
crumples, there was no denying that blue was a becoming colour. The
plump, rosy cheeks dimpled with satisfaction, and the flaxen head was
twisted to and fro to survey herself in every possible position.
"Is my hair right at the back? How does the bow look? I haven't burst,
have I? I thought I heard something crack in the cab. Do you think I
will do?"
"Put on your slippers, and I'll tell you. Anyone would look a fright in
evening dress and snow-shoes."
Peggy's answer was given with a severity which sent Mellicent waddling
across the room to turn out the contents of the bag which lay on the
couch, but the next moment came a squeal of consternation, and there she
stood in the attitude of a tragedy queen, with staring eyes, parted
lips, and two shabby black slippers grasped in either hand.
"M-m-m-my old ones!" she gasped in horror-stricken accents.
"B-b-b-brought them by mistake!" It was some moments before her
companions fully grasped the situation, for the new slippers had been
black too, and of much the same make as those now exhibited. Mrs
Asplin had had many yearnings over white shoes and stockings, all silk
and satin, and tinkling diamond buckles like those which had been
displayed in Peggy's dress-box. Why should not her darlings have dainty
possessions like other girls? It went to her heart to think what an
improvement these two articles would make in the simple costumes; then
she remembered her husband's delicate health, his exhaustion at the end
of the day, and the painful effort with which he nerved himself to fresh
exertions, and felt a bigger pang at the thought of wasting money so
hardly earned. As her custom was on such occasions, she put the whole
matter before the girls, talking to them as friends, and asking their
help in her decision.
"You see, darlings," she said, "I want to do my very best for you, and
if it would be a real disappointment not to have these things, I'll
manage it somehow, for once in a way. But it's a question whether you
would have another chance of wearing them, and it seems a great deal of
money to spend for just one evening, when poor dear father--"
"Oh, mother, no, don't think of it! Black ones will do perfectly well.
What can it matter what sort of shoes and stockings we wear? It won't
make the least difference in our enjoyment," said Esther the sensible;
but Mellicent was by no means of this opinion.
"I don't know about that! I love white legs!" she sighed dolefully.
"All my life long it has been my ambition to have white legs. Silk ones
with little bits of lace let in down the front, like Peggy's. They're
so beautiful! It doesn't seem a bit like a party to wear black
stockings; only of course I know I must, for I'd hate to waste father's
money. When I grow up I shall marry a rich man, and have everything I
want. It's disgusting to be poor... Will they be nice black slippers,
mother, with buckles on them?"
"Yes, dearie. Beauties! Great big buckles!" said Mrs Asplin lovingly;
and a few days later a box had come down from London, and the slippers
had been chosen out of a selection of "leading novelties"; worn with
care and reverence the previous evening, "to take off the stiffness,"
and then after all--oh, the awfulness of it!--had been replaced by an
old pair, in the bustle of departure.
The three girls stared at one another in consternation. Here was a
catastrophe to happen just at the last moment, when everyone was so
happy and well satisfied! The dismay on the chubby face was so pitiful
that neither of Mellicent's companions could find it in her heart to
speak a word of reproof. They rather set to work to propose different
ways out of the difficulty.
"Get hold of Max, and coax him to go back for them!"
"He wouldn't; it's no use. It's raining like anything, and it would
take him an hour to go there and come back."
"Ask Lady Darcy to send one of the servants--"
"No use, my dear. They are scampering up and down like mice, and
haven't a moment to spare from their own work."
"See if Rosalind would lend me a pair!"
"Silly goose! Look at your foot. It is three times the size of hers.
You will just have to wear them, I'm afraid. Give them to me, and let
me see what can be done." Peggy took the slippers in her hands and
studied them critically. They were certainly not new, but then they
were by no means old; just respectable, middle-aged creatures, slightly
rubbed on the heel and white at the toes, but with many a day of good
hard wear still before them.
"Oh, come," she said reassuringly, "they are not so bad, Mellicent!
With a little polish they would look quite presentable. I'll tap at the
door and ask Rosalind if she has some that she can lend us. She is sure
to have it. There are about fifty thousand bottles on her table."
Peggy crossed the room as she spoke, tapped on the panel, and received
an immediate answer in a high complacent treble.
"Coming! Coming! I'm weady;" then the door flew open; a tiny pink silk
shoe stepped daintily over the mat, and Rosalind stood before them in
all the glory of a new Parisian dress. Three separate gasps of
admiration greeted her appearance, and she stood smiling and dimpling
while the girls took in the fascinating details--the satin frock of
palest imaginable pink, the white chiffon over-dress which fell from
shoulder to hem in graceful freedom, sprinkled over with exquisite
rose--leaves--it was all wonderful--fantastic--as far removed from
Peggy's muslin as from the homely crepon of the vicar's daughters.
"Rosalind! what a perfect _angel_ you look!" gasped Mellicent, her own
dilemma forgotten in her wholehearted admiration; but the next moment
memory came back, and her expression changed to one of pitiful appeal.
"But, oh, have you got any boot-polish? The most awful thing has
happened. I've brought my old shoes by mistake! Look! I don't know
what on earth I shall do, if you can't give me something to black the
toes." She held out the shoes as she spoke, and Rosalind gave a shrill
scream of laughter.
"Oh! oh! Those things! How fwightfully funny! what a fwightful joke!
You will look like Cinderwella, when she wan away, and the glass
slippers changed back to her dweadful old clogs. It is too scweamingly
funny, I do declare!"
"Oh, never mind what you declare! Can you lend us some boot-polish--
that's the question!" cried Peggy sharply. She knew Mellicent's horror
of ridicule, and felt indignant with the girl who could stand by, secure
in her own beauty and elegance, and have no sympathy for the misfortune
of a friend. "If you have a bottle of peerless gloss, or any of those
shiny things with a sponge fastened on the cork, I can make them look
quite respectable, and no one will have any cause to laugh."
"Ha, ha, ha!" trilled Rosalind once more, "Peggy is cwoss! I never knew
such a girl for flying into tantwums at a moment's notice! Yes, of
course I'll lend you the polish. There is some in this little
cupboard--there! I won't touch it, in case it soils my gloves. Shall I
call Marie to put it on for you?"
"Thank you, there's no need--I can do it! I would rather do it myself!"
"Oh--oh, isn't she cwoss! You will bweak the cork if you scwew it about
like that, and then you'll never be able to get it out. Why don't you
pull it pwoperly?"
"I know how to pull out a cork, thank you; I've done it before!"
Peggy shot an angry glance at her hostess, and set to work again with
doubled energy. Now that Rosalind had laughed at her inability, it
would be misery to fail; but the bottle had evidently lain aside for
some time, and a stiff black crust had formed round the cork which made
it difficult to move. Peggy pulled and tugged, while Rosalind stood
watching, laughing her aggravating, patronising little laugh, and
dropping a word of instruction from time to time. And then, quite
suddenly, a dreadful thing happened. In the flash of an eye--so quickly
and unexpectedly, that, looking back upon it, it seemed like a nightmare
which could not possibly have taken place in real life--the cork jerked
out in Peggy's hand, in response to a savage tug, and with it out flew
an inky jet, which rose straight up in the air, separated into a
multitude of tiny drops, and descended in a flood--oh, the horror of
that moment!--over Rosalind's face, neck, and dress.
One moment a fairy princess, a goddess of summer, the next a figure of
fun with black spots scattered thickly over cheeks and nose, a big
splash on the white shoulder, and inky daubs dotted here and there
between the rose-leaves. What a transformation! What a spectacle of
horror! Peggy stood transfixed; Mellicent screamed in terror; and
Esther ran forward, handkerchief in hand, only to be waved aside with
angry vehemence. Rosalind's face was convulsed with anger; she stamped
her foot and spoke at the pitch of her voice, as if she had no control
over her feelings.
"Oh, oh, oh! You wicked girl! you hateful, detestable girl! You did it
on purpose, because you were in a temper! You have been in a temper all
the afternoon! You have spoiled my dress! I was weady to go
downstairs. It is eight o'clock. In a few minutes everyone will be
here, and oh, what shall I do--what shall I do! Whatever will mother
say when she sees me?"
As if to give a practical answer to this inquiry, there came a sound of
hasty footsteps in the corridor, the door flew open, and Lady Darcy
rushed in, followed by the French maid.
"My darling, what is it? I heard your voice. Has something happened?
Oh-h!" She stopped short, paralysed with consternation, while the maid
wrung her hands in despair. "Rosalind, what _have_ you done to
yourself?"
"Nothing, nothing! It was Peggy Saville; she splashed me with her
horrid boot-polish--I gave it to her for her shoes. It is on my face,
my neck, in my mouth--"
"I was pulling the cork. It came out with a jerk. I didn't know; I
didn't see!--"
Lady Darcy's face stiffened with an expression of icy displeasure.
"It is too annoying! Your dress spoiled at the last moment!
Inexcusable carelessness! What is to be done, Marie? I am in despair!"
The Frenchwoman shrugged her shoulders with an indignant glance in
Peggy's direction.
"There is nothing to do. Put on another dress--that is all.
Mademoiselle must change as quick as she can. If I sponge the spots, I
spoil the whole thing at once."
"But you could cut them out, couldn't you?" cried Peggy, the picture of
woe, yet miserably eager to make what amends she could. "You could cut
out the spots with sharp scissors, and the holes would not show, for the
chiffon is so full and loose. I--I think I could do it, if you would
let me try!"
Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman
nodded slowly.
"Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time,
but still it can be done. It is the best plan."
"Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and
for pity's sake don't cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now
the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive
your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no
help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!"
Lady Darcy swept out of the room, and the three girls were once more
left alone; but how changed were their feelings in those few short
moments! There was not the shadow of a smile between them; they looked
more as if they were about to attend a funeral than a scene of
festivity, and for several moments no one had the heart to speak. Peggy
still held the fatal cork in her hand, and went through the work of
polishing Mellicent's slippers with an air of the profoundest dejection.
When they were finished she handed them over in dreary silence, and was
recommencing the brushing of her hair, when something in the expression
of the chubby face arrested her attention. Her eyes flashed; she faced
round with a frown and a quick, "Well, what is it? What are you
thinking now?"
"I--I wondered," whispered Mellicent breathlessly, "if you did do it on
purpose! Did you _mean_ to spoil her dress, and make her change it?"
Peggy's hands dropped to her side, her back straightened until she stood
stiff and straight as a poker. Every atom of expression seemed to die
out of her face. Her voice had a deadly quiet in its intonation.
"What do you think about it yourself?"
"I--I thought perhaps you did! She teased you, and you were so cross.
You seemed to be standing so very near her, and you are jealous of her--
and she looked so lovely! I thought perhaps you did..."
"Mellicent Asplin," said Peggy quietly, and her voice was like the east
wind that blows from an icy-covered mountain,--"Mellicent Asplin, my
name is Saville, and in my family we don't condescend to mean and
dishonourable tricks. I may not like Rosalind, but I would have given
all I have in the world sooner than this should have happened. I was
trying to do you a service, but you forget that. You forget many
things! I have been jealous of Rosalind, because when she arrived you
and your sister forgot that I was alone and far-away from everyone
belonging to me, and were so much engrossed with her that you left me
alone to amuse myself as best I might. You were pleased enough to have
me when no one else was there, but you left me the moment someone
appeared who was richer and grander than I. I wouldn't have treated
_you_ like that, if our positions had been reversed. If I dislike
Rosalind, it is your fault as much as hers; more than hers, for it was
you who made me dread her coming!"
Peggy stopped, trembling and breathless. There was a moment's silence
in the room, and then Esther spoke in a slow, meditative fashion.
"It is quite true!" she said. "We _have_ left you alone, Peggy; but it
is not quite so bad as you think. Really and truly we like you far the
best, but--but Rosalind is such a change to us! Everything about her is
so beautiful and so different, that she has always seemed the great
excitement of our lives. I don't know that I'm exactly fond of her, but
I want to see her, and talk to her, and hear her speak, and she is only
here for a short time in the year. It was because we looked upon you as
really one of ourselves that we seemed to neglect you; but it was wrong,
all the same. As for your spoiling her dress on purpose, it's
ridiculous to think of it. How could you say such a thing, Mellicent,
when Peggy was trying to help you, too? How _could_ you be so mean and
horrid?"
"Oh, well, I'm sure I wish I were dead!" wailed Mellicent promptly.
"Nothing but fusses and bothers, and just when I thought I was going to
be so happy! If I'd had white shoes, this would never have happened.
Always the same thing! When you look forward to a treat, everything is
as piggy and nasty as it can be! Wish I'd never come! Wish I'd stayed
at home, and let the horrid old party go to Jericho! Rosalind's crying,
Peggy's cross, you are preaching! This is a nice way to enjoy yourself,
I must say!"
Nothing is more hopeless than to reason with a placid person who has
lapsed into a fit of ill-temper. The two elder girls realised this, and
remained perfectly silent while Mellicent continued to wish for death,
to lament the general misery of life, and the bad fortune which attended
the wearers of black slippers. So incessant was the stream of her
repinings, that it seemed as if it might have gone on for ever, had not
a servant entered at last, with the information that the guests were
beginning to arrive, and that Lady Darcy would be glad to see the young
ladies without delay. Esther was anxious to wait and help Peggy with
her toilet, but that young lady was still on her dignity, and by no
means anxious to descend to a scene of gaiety for which she had little
heart. She refused the offer, therefore, in Mariquita fashion, and the
sisters walked dejectedly along the brightly-lit corridors, Mellicent
still continuing her melancholy wail, and Esther reflecting sadly that
all was vanity, and devoutly wishing herself back in the peaceful
atmosphere of the vicarage.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
FIRE!
It was fully half an hour later when Peggy crept along the passage, and
took advantage of a quiet moment to slip into the room and seat herself
in a sheltered corner. Quick as she was, however, somebody's eyes were
even quicker, for a tall figure stepped before her, and an aggrieved
voice cried loudly--
"Well, I hope you are smart enough to satisfy yourself, now that you
_are_ ready! You have taken long enough, I must say. What about that
first waltz that you promised to have with me?"
Peggy drew in her breath with a gasp of dismay.
"Oh, Rob, I am sorry! I forgot all about it. I've been so perturbed.
Something awful has occurred. You heard about it, of course--"
"No, I didn't? What on earth," began the boy anxiously; but so soon as
he heard the two words "Rosalind's dress!" he shrugged his shoulders in
contemptuous indifference. "Oh, that! I heard something about it, but
I didn't take much notice. Spilt some ink, didn't you? What's the odds
if you did? Accidents will happen, and she has a dozen others to choose
from. I don't see anything wrong with the dress. It looks decent
enough."
Peggy followed the direction of his eyes, and caught a glimpse of
Rosalind floating past on the arm of a tall soldierly youth. She was
sparkling with smiles, and looking as fresh and spotless as on the
moment when she had stepped across the threshold of her own room.
Neither face nor dress bore any trace of the misfortune of an hour
before, and Peggy heaved a sigh of relief as she watched her to and fro.
"Jolly enough, isn't she? There's nothing for you to fret about, you
see," said Rob consolingly. "She has forgotten all about it, and the
best thing you can do is to follow her example. What would you think of
some light refreshment? Let's go to the dining-room and drown our
sorrows in strawberry ice. Then we can have a waltz, and try a
vanilla--and a polka, and some lemonade! That's, my idea of enjoying
myself. Come along, while you get the chance!--"
"Oh, Rob, you _are_ greedy!" protested Peggy; nevertheless she rose
blithely enough, and her eyes began to sparkle with some of their wonted
vivacity. There was something strong and reassuring about Robert's
presence; he looked upon things in such an eminently sensible,
matter-of-fact way, that one was ashamed to give way to moods and tenses
in his company.
Peggy began to feel that there was still some possibility of happiness
in life, and on her way to the door she came face to face with Lady
Darcy, who reassured her still further by smiling as amiably as if
nothing had happened.
"Well, dear, enjoying yourself? Got plenty of partners?" Then in a
whispered aside, "The dress looks all right! Such a clever suggestion
of yours. Dear, dear, what a fright we had!" and she swept away,
leaving an impression of beauty, grace, and affability which the girl
was powerless to resist. When Lady Darcy chose to show herself at her
best, there was a charm about her which subjugated all hearts, and, from
the moment that the sweet tired eyes smiled into hers, Peggy Saville
forgot her troubles and tripped away to eat strawberry ices, and dance
over the polished floor with a heart as light as her heels.
One party is very much like another. The room may be larger or smaller,
the supper more or less substantial, but the programme is the same in
both cases, and there is little to be told about even the grandest of
its kind. Somebody wore pink; somebody wore blue; somebody fell down on
the floor in the middle of the lancers, which are no longer the stately
and dignified dance of yore, but an ungainly romp more befitting a
kitchen than a ballroom; somebody went in to supper twice over, and
somebody never went at all, but blushed unseen in a corner, thinking
longingly of turkey, trifle, and crackers; and then the carriages began
to roll up to the door, brothers and sisters paired demurely together,
stammered out a bashful "Enjoyed myself so much! Thanks for a pleasant
evening," and raced upstairs for coats and shawls.
By half-past twelve all the guests had departed except the vicarage
party, and the sons and daughters of the old squire who lived close by,
who had been pressed to stay behind for that last half-hour which is
often the most enjoyable of the whole evening.
Lord and Lady Darcy and the grown-up visitors retired into the
drawing-room to regale themselves with sandwiches and ices, and the
young people stormed the supper-room, interrupted the servants in their
work of clearing away the good things, seated themselves
indiscriminately on floor, chair, or table, and despatched a second
supper with undiminished appetite. Then Esther mounted the platform
where the band had been seated, and played a last waltz, and a very last
waltz, and "really the last waltz of all." The squire's son played a
polka with two fingers, and a great deal of loud pedal, and the fun grew
faster and more uproarious with every moment. Even Rosalind threw aside
young ladylike affectations and pranced about without thinking of
appearances, and when at last the others left the room to prepare for
the drive home she seized Peggy's arm in eager excitement.
"Peggy! Peggy! Such a joke! I told them to come back to say good-bye,
and I am going to play a twick! I'm going to be a ghost, and glide out
from behind the shwubs, and fwighten them. I can do it beautifully.
See!" She turned down the gas as she spoke, threw her light gauze skirt
over her head, and came creeping across the room with stealthy tread,
and arms outstretched, while Peggy clapped her hands in delight.
"Lovely! Lovely! It looks exactly like wings. It makes me quite
creepy. Don't come out if Mellicent is alone, whatever you do. She
would be scared out of her seven senses. Just float gently along toward
them, and keep your hands forward so as to hide your face. They will
recognise you if you don't."
"Oh, if you can see my face, we must have less light. There are too
many candles, I'll put out the ones on the mantelpiece. Stay where you
are, and tell me when it is wight," Rosalind cried gaily, and ran across
the room on her tiny pink silk slippers.