It was noticeable that everyone who spoke to Madame did so with a sense
of subdued reverence.
Madame turned to Marjolaine. "Ask Miss Barbara to chaperone you, as I
have to go out."
"Bien, Maman."
"You are to speak English, dear."
"Bien, Maman--O! I mean yes, mother!"
Sir Peter and Mr. Brooke-Hoskyn both sidled up to Madame, while Mrs.
Poskett stood utterly neglected and looked on with the air of an injured
saint.
"May I not offer you my escort?" said both gentlemen in one breath.
"O no!" laughed Madame. "I have Nanette. Nothing can happen to me while
I have Nanette."
"As if anything ever could happen in Chiswick!" said Mrs. Poskett, a
little spitefully.
Madame signalled to Nanette to lead the way, and followed her past the
Eyesore and out of the Walk, convoyed by the gallant Admiral as far as
the corner, where he stood looking after her an appreciable time.
Meanwhile Marjolaine had run up to the railings of Number Three where
Miss Ruth Pennymint was sewing in the window.
"Miss Ruth," she cried, "is Barbara busy?"
Miss Ruth looked up from her work with a smile as she saw the eager
young face. "She's closeted with Doctor Johnson."
"Will you ask her to come out when she's done?" and Marjolaine came back
to the tree. Basil rose from his seat. "Pray don't move," said the
young girl, prettily, "Barbara will be here in a moment. She is with
Doctor Johnson."
Basil's face was very grave. It looked almost like the face of a man
who finds himself in the presence of a great tragedy; or of one who
knows he is fighting an insuperable obstacle. "Ah, yes," he sighed,
"Doctor Johnson. Surely that is very pathetic." And he turned away and
leant disconsolately against the railings, with his eyes fixed on the
door of Number Three.
"Come and sit down, Missie, come and sit down," cried the Admiral,
heartily.
Marjolaine accepted his invitation. "I used to be so afraid of you, Sir
Peter!"
"Gobblessmysoul! Why?"
"You were so angry with us for painting our house white!"
"Hum," coughed the Admiral, looking guiltily at Mrs. Poskett and Mr.
Brooke-Hoskyn. "Ah--hum!--the others were green, ye see. But it's an
admirable contrast."
Mrs. Poskett sniffed. She had not forgotten the Admiral's ignominious
surrender.
Now Miss Ruth and Miss Barbara came out of their house, hand in hand, as
usual. Miss Ruth was, as we are aware, considerably older than her
sister, and still treated her like a pet child. Barbara disengaged
herself as soon as she caught sight of Marjolaine, rushed at her with
bird-like hops, and pecked a little kiss off each cheek as a bird pecks
at a cherry.
"Oh, Marjolaine, dearest!" she cried with enthusiasm, "Doctor Johnson
has been most extraordinarily eloquent!" The two girls walked away
together with their arms gracefully entwined around each other's waists.
Ruth joined the others under the tree.
"Good afternoon," she said, "Dear Barbara!--She has just had her hour
with the parrot. Her memories of Lieutenant Charles are at their
liveliest."
Mr. Basil, who had never taken his eyes off Barbara, heaved a
soul-rending sigh, and came up to Miss Ruth.
"Very unwholesome, _I_ think," said Mrs. Poskett, sharply. Miss Ruth
explained to Basil: "Lieutenant Charles was in His Majesty's Navy, you
know, and dear Barbara was affianced to him."
"So I have heard," answered Basil, coldly. As a matter of fact, he had
heard it on an average twice every day. Ruth went on relentlessly,
"Unhappily he was abruptly removed from this earthly sphere."
Bare politeness forced Basil to show some interest. After all, Ruth was
Barbara's sister. "I presume he fell in battle?"
"Say rather in single combat."
The Admiral with difficulty suppressed a guffaw. He whispered to Basil
with a hoarse chuckle, "As a matter of fact he was knocked on the head
outside a gin-shop."
"But," the unconscious Ruth went on, "he had bestowed a token of his
affection on dear Barbara, in the shape of the remarkable bird you may
have seen."
Basil had seen him often and had heard him constantly. For whenever the
bird was left alone, he filled the air incessantly with ear-piercing
shrieks.
"Doctor Johnson," continued Ruth, "named after the great Lexicographer
in consideration of his astonishing fluency of speech. Doctor Johnson
is Barbara's only consolation."
Basil suppressed a groan. The obstacle! The obstacle!
"Yes, dear," said Barbara, who had come up with Marjolaine. She spoke
with pretty melancholy, but with a side-glance at Basil. "Yes, dear, he
speaks with Charles's voice, and says the very things Charles used to
say."
Basil moved away. This was almost more than he could bear.
"How lovely!" cried Marjolaine. "I wish I could hear him!"
"Ah, no!" Barbara's chubby face fell into the nearest approach to
solemnity she could manage. "Not even you may share that melancholy
joy. The things he says are too sacred."
Sir Peter had sidled up to Basil. "I tell you, sir, that bird's
language would silence Billingsgate. The atmosphere of that room must be
solid, sir--solid." Basil stared at him with amazed reproof, and the
Admiral turned to Marjolaine. "Well, Missie, we all hope you 've grown
to like the Walk?"
"I love it! And so does Maman."
The Admiral grew enthusiastic. He turned towards the houses glowing in
the late sun. "It is a sheltered haven. Look at it! A haven of
content! What says the poet? 'The world forgetting, by the world
forgot.'"
All had turned with him. They were just an ordinary, every-day set of
people. There was not a poet among them, if we except Basil, and yet
the Walk, basking in the evening sun, touched some chord in each heart.
The Admiral saw his flag drooping in the still air, and remembered his
fighting days; Mrs. Poskett thought of Sempronius, and her tea-kettle
simmering on the hob; Ruth was grateful for the shelter her little house
had given her in her misfortune; Barbara thought of Doctor Johnson
and--must I say it?--of Basil; Basil thought of Barbara; Mr.
Brooke-Hoskyn thought of patient, unattractive Selina, and the four baby
girls; Marjolaine, in her fresh girlhood, could only think of how pretty
the flowers looked in the window.