Only four days before Aunt Maria arrived to make her great decision!
The Garnetts were living in what Darsie graphically described as "the
hush before the storm," adored, condoned, and indulged by parents who
saw before them the pangs of separation, and by brothers shrewdly
expectant of parting spoils.
Clemence, Darsie, and Lavender were acutely conscious of the rarified
atmosphere by which they were surrounded, and only regretted its
necessarily limited duration.
"Let's take advantage of it!" cried Darsie, the diplomat. "It's our
chance; we should be noodles if we let it slip. Anything we ask now
they'll let us have. It's like prisoners who can order what they like
for supper the night before they're hanged. Let's think what we'd like,
and go in a body and petition mother. She won't have the heart to
refuse!"
The sisters agreed enthusiastically, but were not rich in suggestions.
It is one of the curious things in life that whereas every day one is
brought up sharply against a dozen longings and ambitions, without the
fulfilment of which it seems impossible to live, yet if the sudden
question be put, "_What would you have_?" instantly the brain becomes a
blank, and not a single suggestion is forthcoming. The Garnetts stared
at one another in labouring silence. It was too late for parties; too
early for pantomimes, a definite gift, failed to meet the case, since
each girl thought with a pang, "What's the use? I might not be here to
enjoy it!" Extra indulgences, such as sitting up at night, or being
"let off" early morning practising, did not appear sufficiently
important, since, with a little scheming, these might be gained in
addition. It was Lavender who at last succeeded in hitting the popular
taste.
"A picnic! A real whole-day one this time. Lunch in the woods at
Earley, tea in our old woman's cottage, walk over the fields to the
amphitheatre, and home by train from Oxholm. Whoever goes with Aunt
Maria will be cheated of her holiday, for the well-behaved country
doesn't count. If you have to wear gloves and walk properly, you might
as well be in town at once. For the victim's sake we ought to have one
more day in the woods!"
Clemence and Darsie sparkled, for the programme was an opulent one,
combining as it did the two ordinary picnics into one. The yearly
programme was that--"if you are good"--the Garnett family should be
taken for two half-day excursions into the country on two summer
Saturday afternoons, but though the woods and the amphitheatre were only
separated by three short miles, never yet had the two places been
visited together. An all-day picnic seemed a regal entertainment,
worthy of the unique occasion.
"Ourselves and the Vernons! Mrs Vernon to talk to mother, then they
won't have as much time to look after us. When they begin on carpets
and curtains they forget everything else, and we can do as we like. Do
you suppose Dan would come?"
"Sure he wouldn't."
"Why?"
"My dear!"
Clemence held out eloquent hands. "Does he ever come? He's a man, soon
going to college, and you are only `kids.' I'm older than he is really;
a woman is always older than a man, but he doesn't like me. We are not
_en rapport_." Clemence tried hard to suppress a smirk of self-
consciousness at the use of the French term, while the two younger
sisters jeered and booed with the callous brutality of their kind.
"Ha, ha! aren't we fine? Roll your r's a little more next time, my
dear. It will sound miles better. Your accent leaves much to be
desired. Aren't we grown-up to-day? Aunt Maria _would_ be impressed!
A little stay in Paris just to put on the accent, and it's wonderful to
think of what you might do! _En rapport_! Bet you daren't say that to
Dan! Dare you to tell him that you are not _en rapport_!"
Clemence was seized with agitation, discerning through the innocent
words a thinly veiled threat. If she didn't, Darsie _would_!
"Darsie!" she cried loudly. "You mustn't tell; you must _not_! It's
mean. Only sneaky children repeat what is said in private. Promise
this minute that you won't say a word!"
But Darsie, like her brothers, was keenly alive to the privilege of
holding a rod in pickle over an elder member of the family. So long as
Clemence lived in fear of humiliating disclosure, so long might she
herself walk in safety, free from rebuffs. She laid her head on one
side and smiled sweetly into her sister's face.
"I shouldn't like exactly, positively, to _promise_, don't you know, for
I _am_ such a creature of impulse. If it rushed over me suddenly, it
might pop out, don't you know, bang! before I knew what I was about! Of
course, on the other hand, I _might_ not--"
"Very well," snapped Clemence sharply, "then I stay at home! It would
be no fun for _me_ to go for a picnic with that sort of thing hanging
over my head all the time. I know very well how you'd behave--rolling
your eyes across the table, and beginning half-sentences, and
introducing `_en rapport_' every other moment. If I'm going to be made
miserable, I'll be miserable at home. You can go to our last picnic as
an undivided family without me, the eldest of the family, and I only
hope you'll enjoy it; that's all!"
"Oh, Darsie!" pleaded Lavender tragically, moved almost to tears by the
pathos of those last words, and Darsie shrugged her shoulders,
philosophically accepting her defeat.
"All right, I promise! I'll hug the remembrance secretly in my own
breast. It will cheer me through the dullest hours!"
Clemence bridled, but made no further protest. To think of Darsie
chuckling in secret was not agreeable, but it was as nothing compared
with the humiliation of meeting Dan's grave stare, and seeing the curl
of his lip at the repetition of her high-sounding phrase. As the
quickest way of changing the conversation she suggested an adjournment
to the morning-room, where mother sat busy over the eternal mending-
basket, to broach the picnic project without delay.
Mother agreed instantly, eagerly, indeed, so that there was something
almost uncanny in the unusualness of the situation. To every demand,
every suggestion came the unfailing, "Yes, darlings! Certainly,
darlings!" Even the audacity of the double programme aroused no more
notice than the remark that it was an admirable idea. Darsie, striking
while the iron was hot, went a step farther and attacked the subject of
lunch.
"Could we--for once--have something substantialler than sandwiches?
Chickens?" She gasped at the audacity of the request, for chickens were
a state dish, reserved for occasions, and in summer for some inscrutable
reasons just because they were smaller cost more than ever. "Chickens
cut up are so easy to eat. We needn't have knives and forks. And
little cobby dinner-rolls from the confectioner's, with crisp, browny
crust, cut open and stuffed with butter and potted meat, and little
green pieces of lettuce. They had them that way at supper at the
Masons' party, and they were superb! And cakes and fruit! Do, mother,
let us have a real swagger lunch just for once!"
And mother said, "Yes, darling!" like a lamb, swallowing as it were
spring chickens and cobby rolls at a gulp. It was impossible in giving
the invitation to the Vernons to refrain from a hint at the magnificence
of the preparations, though good manners would, of course, have prompted
silence on such a point.
The Vernons accepted with acclamation, all except Dan, who rudely
declared that he "refused with pleasure," when Darsie bearded him in his
den and proffered the invitation. He was seated at his desk, for the
moment the only occupant of the workroom, and his manner was not
expressive of welcome to the new-comer. He was a big, heavily built
youth, with a face which was oddly attractive despite irregular features
and a dull complexion. Dark eyes looked at you straight and square
beneath bushy eyebrows; thin lips curved into the oddest, most
expressive of lines, the square chin had a fashion of projecting until
it seemed to become one of the most eloquent features in his face.
Close observation showed that there was a shadow of his upper lip, and
rumour had it that he shaved, actually _shaved_ every morning of his
life. His huge hands had a grip of steel, but it was wonderful how deft
and gentle they could be on occasion. Every album and collection in the
house was labelled by Dan, indexed by Dan, embellished with ornamental
flourishes and headlines, which Dan's big fingers alone had the power to
produce. Now he leaned an elbow on the desk, turned round on his chair,
and tilted that eloquent chin in scorn.
"Picnic? Not much. Hate 'em like poison! You don't want me!"
"We _do_ want you! We shouldn't have asked you if we didn't. Don't be
unsociable, Dan. It's an extra special occasion, and it would be so
much jollier to be complete. The boys will behave better if you're
there."