THE MR. TALBOYS RESORT TO STRATEGY.
On arriving at the Rosery the next morning Honor finds the two old
gentlemen waiting in the garden to receive her, both in an unwonted
state of excitement. For they have been arranging a little plot
together, which they are burning to disclose (partially) when the
right moment shall arrive.
Mr. Edward had gone home the evening before with his thoughts running
on the tin painting, and pinning his brother Ben by the button-hole
without loss of time he told him of a plan which he had thought of
for Honor's benefit, and which only required discussion with him, Mr.
Benjamin, to be carried into instant effect.
"And although I should still like to break Mr. Nathan's head with
this stick," says Mr. Edward to his brother, and shaking the said
stick menacingly, "I cannot help feeling grateful to the rogue, Ben,
for having, as it were, paved the way for our helping Miss Honor,
poor child, in a manner which cannot possibly hurt her feelings.
That was a good thought of yours, Ben, a capital thought, about
Spaull the picture-dealer. If this tin painting is to come into
vogue for a time--and I suppose it will from what Miss Honor said--he
will be just the man to place the paintings with; and of course we
must bind him over to strict secrecy as to our part in the business,
eh, Ben?" and Mr. Ned nudges his brother playfully with his stick.
"Yes," answers Mr. Benjamin, nodding and smiling.
"Why, bless me," adds Mr. Ned, "we shall have to do quite a nice
little piece of acting. But here comes Miss Honor. Now we shall see
what she says to our plan. Mind you must be very careful, Ben, not
to let the cat out of the bag--you run on at such a rate sometimes,
you know; and it would never do for her to think we were paying for
the paintings in the first instance, though of course it will be
quite the same to us when Spaull refunds the money." And here they
trot forward to open the gate for Honor, who has just reached it.
After inquiring rather breathlessly as to the welfare of the roses at
the Rookery, and Molly's real, honest opinion about them, they dash
straight into the subject of the painting.
"We have been talking it all over, Brother Ben and I, and it seems to
us that with your gift for painting, my dear, you might make a very
nice thing of this. Now, we happen to know a man in the
picture-dealing trade, a Mr. Spaull, a most respectable man, who
would be just the very person to suit our purpose; and what we
propose--"
"Yes, what we propose," repeats Mr. Ben, nodding at Honor.
"Is," resumes Mr. Ned, "that you shall paint so many pictures,
varying in size and style perhaps, for a fixed price, which will be
paid--be paid by--by--"
"By the _party_," says Mr. Ben, frowning a little at his brother.
"Exactly--by the party," repeats Mr. Ned.
"Mr. Spaull," quietly suggests Honor with a smile.
"Just so, just so--Mr. Spaull, of course!" cry both the brothers
together. "Dear me, how very warm it is this morning!" continues Mr.
Ned. "Did I say that this--er, this _person_ would pay for the
pictures at once, on completion, you know? and sell them at his, that
is to say, Mr. Spaull's convenience?" And Mr. Ned, concluding rather
abruptly, looks helplessly towards his brother for encouragement.
"The fact is," remarks Mr. Ben, coming nobly to the rescue, "my
brother is apt to become a little confused when speaking of this
firm. There are partners--"
"Yes, yes; partners!" cries Mr. Ned delightedly. "Two partners!"
"_Three_," corrects Mr. Ben; "although only the one name, that of
Spaull, appears. I think my brother wants you to go up to the town
with him to-morrow, to the proper art shop there, where, he says, you
can provide yourself with the necessary materials, and get what
information you require respecting the preparation of the tin at the
same time."
"Yes, that is exactly what I mean, my dear Miss Honor," says Mr. Ned,
nodding approvingly at his brother. "And while you are seeing to
_your_ business, _I_ will go and have a talk with Mr. Spaull. You
see, I think it will be so much more pleasant if you transact your
business with him _through_ me, as it were. So what do you say to
going with me to-morrow? When I say 'me,' of course I mean _us_.
Brother Ben will like to give his opinion as well, I am sure, and we
all know what a valuable one it is on a subject like this. Don't we,
Ben?"
It is useless to try to describe poor Honor's delight and gratitude
at this kind thought of her old friends. As they all go down the
little drive together, she tries to say a few words of thanks, first
to one, and then to the other; but the brothers have so much to say
on their own account that she cannot get a word in edge-ways. When
they reach the gate, Mr. Benjamin takes Honor's hand, and tapping Mr.
Edward on the shoulder with his walking-stick, says:
"My brother here is taking such an active part in the management of
this little affair, that I hope, my dear, you will allow _me_ to
purchase for you all the materials which you are likely to require;
merely as a set off against his part in the business, you know," he
adds hastily, "for I can see plainly that he will become quite
conceited if he has _everything_ his own way."
Honor, with her almost over-scrupulous objection to accepting
anything which actually costs money, hesitates a moment, but she sees
such a look of disappointment creeping over the old man's countenance
that she quickly changes her mind, and thanks him for his kindness
with such a beaming face as to effectually set at rest any fears he
may have had at first of having offended her.
As Honor walks home she takes herself to task about what some people
have called her _fault_ of independence.
"I wonder whether I _do_ carry it too far sometimes," she says to
herself. "Mother and Molly say I do, and Molly at any rate has a
very fair amount of independence in _her_ composition. I suppose if
shown too much it amounts to ungraciousness, as I know it did with
dear Mr. Ben just now, though I do hope I made up for it afterwards.
Yes, I suppose I overdo it sometimes; and I know Dr. Sinclair thought
so the other day, when he spoke so kindly of there being plenty of
time for sending in his bill. I _know_ I answered him ungratefully,
and as if we had ten thousand a year at least, when he knows just as
well as I do, I daresay, that ten thousand pence is much nearer the
mark. I felt what an idiot I had made of myself, with my nasty,
false pride; for where in the world the poor man is to get his money
from at all _I_ can't see, unless anything really comes of this
painting and I can save up. Yes, it is all very well; but where, I
wonder, would I have got the money for the tin and things, if good
old Mr. Ben had not taken it upon himself to buy them. I am sure I
am thankful enough now that he told me he would, especially after
wasting those three shillings yesterday. O, dear me, I hope the Mr.
Talboys know how grateful I am to them! I wonder what would have
become of us all since we came here if it hadn't been for them. Ah,
well! I must try and remember in future that real, proper
independence is a perfectly different thing from the feeling which I
know has been growing on me lately, and which I am _sure_ now is
false pride. Aunt was quite right in what she said to me the other
day; I am afraid I do not consider the feelings of others enough
sometimes."
Therefore it comes about that Honor has a softened manner with her
from this time. Not that it is in the girl's nature ever to be
anything but gentle and kind to every one around her. But,
nevertheless, there is a _something_ different now which causes her
mother to say, "Ah, poor girl! anyone can see what a load is lifted
from her shoulders, now that she has the prospect of making a little
money."
And Doris says to Molly one day, "Honor is not so excruciatingly
particular in the spending of a penny or so as she used to be, is she
Molly? Poor old girl! I'm afraid the struggle to make the best of
our poverty has been a hard one for her---harder than we think, I
expect, for she is not one to _say_ much, you know. She never talks
openly about what she feels, as some people do."
"No," says Molly. "Honor's a little brick, there's no doubt about
that; and it is plain to see that this painting, for which she is
sure to be properly paid, is an immense relief to her mind."
It is now that the attic which the Horton boys had taken such pains
to fit up, comes to be thoroughly appreciated.
Honor and the Mr. Talboys have paid their visits respectively to the
ironmonger's (where Mr. Benjamin was with difficulty prevented from
purchasing a whole roll of tin), to the art material shop, and to Mr.
Spaull's the picture-dealer. To this last, however, Mr. Edward
preferred going alone, telling his brother with a very palpable nod
and wink that he is sure Miss Honor will like to have a look at the
shops, and that it will save time, therefore, if they separate for a
while.
Well supplied with everything she can possibly need, Honor now
snatches every spare moment and spends it in the "studio," painting
away with an energy which Doris and Molly declare takes their breath
away. Sometimes Daisy sits up there, cosily curled up in the most
comfortable arm-chair. But this does not happen very often, as the
smell of the oils and turpentine turn the child faint.
Molly, however, who has taken to "reading herself up," as she calls
it, is often up there, and may be found in her favourite attitude
when particularly absorbed in anything--her elbows planted on the
table, and her fingers buried in her hair.
Doris at this time is much taken up with needlework, her five pounds
having been expended chiefly in materials for underclothing, boots
and shoes, and other really necessary things for a prolonged visit
abroad.
"I would far rather your aunt found you a little badly off as regards
dresses or hats, than in linen and such things," said Mrs. Merivale
sensibly. "Your aunt is a generous woman, and if she finds that her
present has been wisely spent, I do not suppose she will let you
suffer in the matter of dresses."
So between them all they had managed to cut out these garments, and
Mrs. Merivale and Doris are busily engaged in making them, with
occasional assistance from the others.
Doris, therefore, is often to be found upstairs also; and Honor and
Molly, having suddenly awakened to the necessity of their sister
being able upon her arrival on foreign shores to say a sentence or
two in French without utterly disgracing herself, they form a sort of
class, which Doris (under protest) is made to join.
"And for one whole mortal hour," said Doris, complaining to Hugh
Horton afterwards, "did we sit like three noodles, hammering away at
French conversation, Molly with a huge dictionary at her elbow, and
both she and Honor pretending they liked it. You may imagine that
_my_ remarks were few and far between. They call it 'rubbing up' my
French, you know; and I'm sure it is all labour thrown away, for all
the rubbing up in the world, even with the best French polish, would
never make me express myself decently in any language but my own.
And to tell you the truth, Hugh," lowering her voice, "I am not
always so _very_ confident of doing that. It's dreadfully shocking,
of course, but none the less true."
And so there is often quite an industrious party to be found up in
the attic studio, with the windows wide open, letting in the sweet
soft air, laden with the scent of the rich grass (so soon to fall
beneath the scythe), and the multitudes of early summer flowers; and
the girls feel that they are happier in their busy useful life, even
though there are still crosses and trials for all to bear at times,
than in former days, when living a life of luxury and ease. There is
one never-to-be-forgotten sorrow which all share, however, and though
some time has elapsed now since their kind and indulgent father
passed away, his memory is still as fresh as ever in their young
minds. It is, indeed, a common thing with them all, even still, to
study what probably would have been his wishes in settling little
matters concerning their own affairs, saying to themselves, "I wonder
if father would have approved," or "I think that would have pleased
father," showing, therefore, that the good influence of his gentle
though firm training still remains with them.