HUGH'S MENTOR.
The time soon flies past, every one being in a whirl of excitement
which passes Mrs. Merivale's comprehension. But at last the day
before that fixed for the party arrives, and the house is in a
perfect uproar from attic to basement.
Mrs. Merivale has struck a bargain with the girls that, so long as
they undertake to keep everything in connection with the theatricals
out of her sight and hearing, she will promise to eschew all aches
and pains, and take into her own hands the entire management of the
rest of the entertainment. This is more in her line; and from little
things the girls overhear from time to time they feel satisfied as to
their Christmas party being a success.
On the day in question the general excitement reaches a pitch which
defies description. Downstairs the cook has lately been reduced to a
pitch of frenzy by the constant demand for paste, glue-pots to be
heated, flat-irons, &c. To-day, however, she has struck against
this, for has she not the supper of the next night to prepare? So
she has shut her kitchen doors, and announced emphatically that under
no pretext whatever will she open them to any of the young ladies or
gentlemen until the party is over. Mr. Merivale is heard to declare
that "there is not a place whereon to rest the sole of my foot," for
even his bedroom is not exempt (on this the last day) from litter of
various kinds. On one occasion, when sitting down for a few minutes'
chat with his wife, Doris, looking in to ask a question, suddenly
rushes across the room, and seizing her astonished parent by the
lapels of his coat exclaims, "O, _father_, you're sitting on my Queen
of Hearts dress! and you _must_ have smashed the crown flat! O, how
_could_ you?"
There is to be a dress rehearsal this evening at half-past seven, and
Colonel and Mrs. Danvers are coming to dine quietly, so that the
former can enter upon his duties as stage-manager as well as practise
his part of the "old woman."
It is about five o'clock, and Miss Denison and the young people are
seated at tea in the school-room, when Jane enters, and addressing
herself to Molly says rather mysteriously, "O, if you please, Miss
Molly, Mr. Hugh is down in the hall, and he wants to speak to you
most particular for a minute. I asked him to step into the
drawing-room, but he said 'no,' nor he wouldn't come up here neither."
"What can he want?" says Molly, rising from her chair; "may I go,
Miss Denny?"
Permission granted, down she runs and finds Hugh sitting
disconsolately on one of the hall chairs, his hands in his pockets,
and his eyes fixed moodily upon the ceiling.
"What are you sitting there for like a hall-porter?" she cries with
scant ceremony; "and why couldn't you come upstairs like a reasonable
being? Why, _what_ is the matter? You look as doleful as a
crocodile!" And copying the expression of his face to a nicety, she
plants herself before the young fellow and thrusts her hands into
imaginary pockets. Then she suddenly bursts into irrepressible
laughter.
"Well, you needn't laugh at a fellow! _You_ would look gloomy if
after days and days of work you found yourself in the same quandary
as I am. It's the shoe, that's what it is!"
"O, it's the _shoe_ that pinches, is it?" and teasing Molly goes off
into fresh fits of laughter.
"Well, you needn't laugh! as I said before. The fact is I don't know
how to get it here: it is so large, you see. It's really a beautiful
shoe, and will hold a lot of youngsters, but the fact remains that I
can't even get it out of the door of my own room! What's to be
done?" A pause. Then Hugh goes on, "You see I want to get it in
here while it is dark, because if anyone saw it being taken in they
would think we were all lunatics, naturally."
Molly rests her chin upon her hand and ponders deeply. "How many
pieces is it in?" she asks.
"Only three," mutters Hugh despondently.
"Well, now," says Molly, "why can't you take it to pieces again? I
will help you, and it will be such fun lacing it all up again. We
ought to have had it made _here_, in the house; then there would have
been no bother at all. As it is, to take it to pieces is the only
thing I can suggest. Shall I run and ask Miss Denny if I may go in
now with you, and then we shall get it put together again in time for
the rehearsal to-night?"
"Yes, do, and I will wait here. What a clever girl you are, Molly!
I knew you would think of a way out of the difficulty."
"Pooh!" says Molly. "That's nothing. It's you boys who are so
_helpless_ without us girls to manage for you! I won't be a second;"
and away she bounds up the staircase.
In two or three minutes she reappears with a large piece of cake in
one hand. Tucking the other through Hugh's arm she remarks (rather
unintelligibly, her mouth being full of cake), "Miss Denny said I
might, so I drank my tea standing, and--oh, have a bit of cake, do!
I have only begun it on this side." Hugh with great gravity accepts
the offer, Molly breaking off a good-sized piece of the great slice;
and this matter being satisfactorily arranged, they quickly slip out
of one door and in at the other. As they pass through the hall a
door opens, and a refined, gentle-looking woman of about four or five
and forty pauses on the threshold in surprise at the unexpected sight
of Molly under the escort of her son at that time of the evening.
"My dear boy," she says, "what _are_ you doing with Molly? Why, do
you know that the child has no hat on, nor even a wrap of any kind?"
"I _had_ a wrap, Mrs. Horton, but I have just thrown it off, and it
was not worth while to put anything on my head."
"O, if you have only just come from next door that is a different
matter," says Mrs. Horton, reassured. "What has Hugh dragged you in
here for now?" she continues kindly while she puts one arm
affectionately round the girl's shoulders. "It is surely your
tea-time now, dear, and it is too bad if he has taken you away from
that."
Hugh looks guilty, but Molly comes to the rescue for the second time.
"O, I didn't mind, indeed, Mrs. Horton," she says. "Hugh was so
dreadfully put out about the shoe, you know, so I thought it best to
come in and see what we could do about it. He didn't ask me to come
at all; I offered to myself."
"I shouldn't have bothered Molly about it at all, mother," the young
fellow puts in; "but you see it is your 'at home' day, and I didn't
know whether every one had gone. And what to do about this blessed
shoe I didn't know, with the time running on so fast too; and I had
_promised_ to have it ready for to-night's rehearsal. Molly's a dear
good-natured girl, and I knew she would find some way of managing."
"Well, Hugh, you know I would gladly have done anything I could for
you about it; but of course, as you say, I couldn't very well leave
my guests. Now, shall we go up and see what this tyrannical shoe
requires?"
On reaching the large room upstairs which is devoted exclusively to
the use of the boys, they find all the other four engaged in
different occupations, more or less noisy. The babel of tongues
ceases, however, at the sight of the trio looking in upon them, and
there is a general rush towards the door. While Ted and Joey seize
upon their mother, Regy and Alick dart at Molly, and dragging her
across the room to where a funereal-looking object is reclining
against the wall, they proceed to describe noisily the difficulties
of the case.
"I wanted it lowered out of the window!" cries Alick, determined to
be heard, "and hauled up again into yours. That would have been
_quite easy_, you know, and not half the fuss in my opinion."
"Who cares for _your_ opinion, Alick?" says Regy contemptuously.
"No, but really," goes on the boy, not to be suppressed, "it will be
an awful shame to take it all to pieces. Why, I declare I never knew
Hugh to work at anything so hard before."
"Nor I," mutters Regy, glancing at his brother, who is leaning up
against the mantel-piece staring gloomily at the object of discussion.
"Well, Molly knows best," he remarks decidedly, "so it's no use
discussing it any longer. Who's got a pair of sharp scissors or a
knife or something? Mother, you will help us take it to pieces,
won't you?"
"And you and I and Colonel Danvers will soon have it together again
when once we get it in there," says Molly, jerking her head in the
direction of the next house. "O, good gracious, what's this?" she
exclaims, as she trips up over some hard object sticking out from
under the shoe.
"Why, it's one of the supports--_wood_, you know," explains Ted,
nodding solemnly at Molly. "You weren't such a goose as to think
cardboard would stand up in that way alone, were you?"
"Where are your manners, Ted?" puts in Hugh. "Molly, did you hurt
yourself? Come round, and let me show you the whole concern."
The "whole concern" having been duly admired, and all its points of
beauty expatiated on, they all set to work, and in a very short time
the shoe is once more in three distinct pieces; and while the boys
are busily taking the laces out with elaborate care, Molly,
thoroughly at home in the house, as indeed are all the girls, strolls
out of the room and down the passage to a little room at the
end--Hugh's private sanctum and study.
"_Study_, indeed!" thinks Molly to herself as she stands looking
scornfully round; for the room, it must be confessed, does not
suggest the idea of any very violent mental work going on within its
four walls. Books there are in plenty, certainly: good, substantial,
solid reading too; but there they are, comfortably reposing on their
shelves, "looking," as Molly says to herself, "as if they had not
been touched for the last six weeks." She has just marched up to the
books in question, and is in the act of drawing her finger along
their dusty backs, when Hugh puts his head in at the door.
"Now, Miss Molly, what are you doing in my study?" he demands, "and
what are you turning up that elegant little nose about? Come, what's
wrong, eh?" And crossing over hastily, he reaches the girl's side
just in time to see her finish writing with her finger the word
"dust" in large capital letters.
"_That_ is what is wrong," she says, turning round slowly and facing
the young fellow; "d-u-s-t, _dust_! A fine study indeed!" she
continues, glancing round contemptuously. "Look how painfully tidy
the rest of the room is! My goodness, you should just see our
school-room when we are in the thick of our lessons and really mean
business! Doris and I get covered with ink, and our hair gets all
rumpled up, and sometimes we stick pens into it without knowing.
Honor knits her brows and frowns away like anything, and Miss
Denison's voice is several degrees more severe than usual. Oh, I
assure you we look _tragic_ when we really _are_ working! I should
like to know, now, what use it is your going to Sandhurst," she
continues severely, "when you never so much as open a book at home?
Ah! you are a lazy fellow, Hugh; and I don't believe you will ever
pass all your exams. If you ever do get into the army (which I very
much doubt) it will be by the backdoor, I verily believe."
"Why, what do _you_ know about the backdoor, Molly?" exclaims Hugh,
bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
"O, I know all about it," replies Molly, nodding gravely. "I heard
father talking about it to Colonel Danvers the other evening. Father
was saying he wondered how Cyril Harcourt got into the army. And
Colonel Danvers said, 'Oh, _he_ got in by the backdoor, you know.'
So I asked father afterwards what it meant, and he told me by getting
into the militia first; and I thought to myself, 'Ah! that's what
Hugh will have to do.' And so you will, you know, if you ever do get
in, which, as I said before, I very much--"
"No, don't say it again," says the young fellow, putting his hand
over Molly's mouth. "I'll do anything in the world to please you,
Molly, and I'll work like--like fury, only don't pitch into me any
more. Encourage me a bit sometimes, and I shall do wonders yet. I
daresay you could even help me sometimes if you only would. I don't
mean in the actual way of studying, you know, though I believe you
are a hundred times more clever than I am; but I mean as to keeping
me up to the mark, and all that sort of thing."
"Yes, that's all very well," says Molly, shaking her head. "I do try
to do that, I'm sure; but if you won't help yourself, _I_ can't help
you. And look here, Hugh, it is all very well to say you will do it
to please _me_; but what about your mother, who I know worries
_dreadfully_ about you? It's downright wicked of you, when you come
to think of it. Upon my word it is."
"So it is, Molly. You are quite right, and I deserve every word you
are saying," says Hugh dejectedly.
"Now, will you make me a promise, like a dear, good boy?"
"Yes, that I will!" he cries with energy. "And what is more, I will
keep it, my wise little mentor."
"That is right, Hugh. Well, I won't say anything about to-morrow, of
course, because until that has come and gone I don't suppose we shall
any of us know whether we are on our heads or our heels. But will
you promise me that the next day you will really set to work--real
_hard_ work, such as other young men do? Then you will soon make up
for lost time, with your talents, which it is perfectly _sinful_ to
throw away. You will very soon get used to it, and after a bit it
won't seem such a trouble to you to work. And look here, Hugh," she
adds, suddenly growing grave, and speaking in a whisper, "'Help
yourself, and God will help you,' you know. Now, will you promise
me?" And looking anxiously up into her companion's face, Molly holds
out her hand.
"I will, Molly; upon my word I will," replies Hugh earnestly. And
taking the girl's hand in both his own, he adds, "What a dear, good
girl you are, Molly, and how I wish I had a sister like you! Ah!
never fear, I shall fire away now and pass all my exams, in less than
no time; and then you shall see what I can do afterwards, Miss Molly!"
"O, yes!" says the girl, moving towards the door, "I have no fear for
you when once the studying is over; it is _that_ which is the
stumbling-block, eh? But thanks so very, very much for your promise,
dear Hugh. I consider your exams, all as good as passed, now that I
have that. Hark! there they are calling us. All right--coming!"
And away she darts down the passage, all life and fun again.
Hugh follows, in time to see her pounced upon by all the four boys,
who, it seems, are in the midst of a violent dispute as to who shall
have the honour of carrying in the several portions of the shoe next
door. At last the question is settled, and the parts are carried
with much caution and solemnity out of the Hortons' house and into
the Merivales' by the three elder boys, Molly, escorted by Ted and
little Joey bringing up the rear with the laces, &c.
"Good gracious!" exclaims Doris, whom they meet half-way up the
staircase, "what a _time_ you have been! We are all ready; and Miss
Denny, and nurse, and Honor have been dressing up Colonel Danvers,
and he looks splendid!"
"Does he? All right! we shall not be two minutes in putting the shoe
together again; come along, boys!" And away scampers Molly up to the
school-room, closely followed by all the Hortons.
At last it is ready, and Colonel Danvers and Mr. Merivale, assisted
by most of the boys, hoist it up satisfactorily into its place.
As the colonel is looking somewhat embarrassed in his petticoats,
shawl, and big poke-bonnet, it is decided that the "old woman who
lived in a shoe" shall be rehearsed next. It is also settled that
this picture shall be placed first in the programme, instead of third
as originally intended. This is partly because Colonel Danvers
declares he shall be consumed with nervousness until his part is
over, and he can once more appear in his own proper attire.
"You see, I am not used to petticoats and long gowns," he remarks
plaintively; "so _please_ let us get that tableau over as early as
possible!"
It being necessary to have everything in working order, the curtain
is let down, and in the first trial rests itself triumphantly at one
end on a part of the shoe, leaving a startling array of ankles and
feet plainly visible to those looking on.
This being remedied, great consternation is caused by the sudden
mysterious disappearance of Bobby. On search being made it is
discovered that the curtain in its first descent has knocked him over
into the interior of the shoe, from which strange, unearthly sounds
are issuing. He is speedily rescued, however, apparently none the
worse for his sudden collapse, except that his mouth, eyes, and hair
are pretty freely filled with dust. Having, however, been once more
set upon his legs, he soon recovers from his sneezing fit and joins
in the laugh with the rest.
In the second trial all goes well, and the other pictures are duly
rehearsed according to their order on the programme. After a few
hours' steady practising they are one and all pronounced to be
satisfactory by the audience, which, though limited (consisting only
of Mrs. Merivale, Mrs. Danvers, and Mrs. Horton), is decidedly
critical; and after a little light refreshment, for which they all
betake themselves to the dining-room, the party is dispersed, the
colonel in a devout state of thankfulness at feeling himself, as he
expresses it, a man once more.