The next morning was devoted to another house-hunting expedition,
unsuccessful as its predecessor, while in the afternoon came a fresh
excitement, in the shape of a call from Arthur's "chief," accompanied by
his wife and daughter. Mr Rob had had a slight acquaintance with
Colonel Saville years before, so that the interview lost some of the
stiffness incidental to such occasions; and while the two men talked
together in one corner of the room, their wives exchanged condolences on
the ever-fruitful subject of domestic arrangements, and the three girls
cast curious glances at one another in the intervals of conversation.
"I am afraid you must find the weather chilly. Our English springs are
very treacherous!" remarked Miss Rollo properly, turning her card-case
round and round in her hands, and blinking rapidly with a pair of shy
grey eyes, veiled by eyelashes of extraordinary length and silkiness.
As the only child of distinguished parents, Miss Eunice Rollo was a
personage of some importance in society; but she appeared much more
afraid of the two girls than they were of her, and kept her eyes fixed
so persistently on the carpet that Mellicent enjoyed an unusual
opportunity of indulging a favourite pastime, and sat braced against the
back of her chair, staring stolidly up and down, down and up, until she
could have passed an examination on the minutest detail of the
stranger's appearance and clothing. As for Peggy, she prattled away on
the engrossing subjects of sun and rain, while her thoughts went off on
an excursion of their own, and busied themselves with criticisms on the
new visitor.
"Eunice by name, and Eunice by nature! A more Eunicey creature I never
beheld. Grey eyes like Mrs Asplin... I could love her for those
alone, but _so_ solemn! I'd like to wake you up, my dear, and make you
look more like a real live girl, and less like a marionette. The way
that Mellicent stares is disgraceful. She must be made to stop."
Peggy cleared her throat in meaning fashion, met the wide blue eyes and
frowned a warning. Any other girl in the world would have understood
and obeyed; but Mellicent only gaped the more, raised questioning
eyebrows, and even mouthed a dumb inquiry. Peggy screwed up her face
into a vicious glare of anger, at which moment, it is needless to say,
Eunice seized the opportunity to lift her eyes from the carpet. For one
second amazement held her motionless, then she fell to work on the card-
case with redoubled zeal, and tilted her hat over her face. Her eyes
could not be seen, but her lips were twisted on one side, and her cheeks
grew suddenly, mysteriously pink. Was she laughing? Was she angry?
Peggy could not tell, but she felt an intense curiosity to discover, and
a dawning suspicion that Eunice was perhaps not quite so "Eunicey" after
all.
"It is very nice to come home to the old country again, and to see all
our friends. Miss Asplin and I had lessons together for four years, so
that, as you may imagine, we have a great deal to talk over now that we
have met again," she explained; and Miss Rollo replied with elaborate
politeness:
"I can indeed. It must be delightful I hope you will bring Miss Asplin
with you, if you come to us on Wednesday. We are having a reception in
the evening, with music and tableaux. It will be a crush, I'm afraid,
but you may find it amusing. Rosalind Darcy is coming. She has been
staying in the country for a week, but she will be back by then, and
would like to see you, I'm sure. I hope you will be able to come."
"Oh, I hope so!" The answer came simultaneously from two pairs of lips,
and Mellicent drew in her breath with a gasp of pleasure. It was
beginning already. What excitement--what joy--what delight! Only the
first day of her visit, and behold! an invitation to one of the best-
known houses in London, where with her own eyes she should behold those
great people of the world whom she had read about, but never, never
expected to see. At this rate, Mellicent reflected, she would find
herself on intimate terms at Court before the fortnight was concluded;
and oh! the joy of returning home and speaking in casual tones about
Princes of the Blood, Dukes and Marquises, and Cabinet Ministers, for,
the edification of village hearers! Her complacency vented itself in a
long postscript to the letter already written to her mother, a
postscript of such characteristic nature as delighted that appreciative
lady, and which was read aloud with much unction to her husband, and a
friend of the family who happened to be paying a call at the time,
whereby, as will be seen, certain things came to pass which would not
otherwise have happened.
The prospect of Mrs Rollo's reception was so dazzling as to throw all
other experiences into the shade; but the two intervening days were full
of excitement, for Peggy was delighted to play "country cousin" for her
friend's benefit, and the two girls drove about from one place of
interest to another, from early morning until late at night.
Westminster Abbey had, of course, special claims on the affections, and
evoked that thrill of mingled awe and patriotism which all true-born
Britons must feel on entering that glorious edifice. When the voices of
the choristers rang out in the psalms for the morning, Mellicent shed
tears on her Prayer-book, and felt icy-cold all the way down her spine,
and Peggy's eyes flashed fire, and the rare colour burned in her cheeks.
When the service was over the two girls wandered about together gazing
at the monuments, reading the inscriptions which recalled noble deeds,
and exchanging ardent confidences the while.
"I should like to come here every day," said Mellicent softly, "every
single day. I should like to be a verger, and spend my life in an
abbey. I think I could be awfully good if I lived here always. It
makes one feel so small and insignificant, that one wouldn't dare to be
selfish, and think one's own happiness so important. I can't believe
that it was ever built by men--ordinary common working men. It seems
like a mountain--a great, wonderful thing that God must have made
Himself, and given to His people."
Peggy looked at her with bright, astonished eyes.
"You dear thing, what a sweet idea! I feel the same about it; but
perhaps, after all, it was better that men _should_ have made it. It
must have done _them_ good. One cannot imagine that a workman in such a
task could remain `common.' I have read charming stories about men who
have devoted their whole lives to little pieces of carving or ironwork,
to be placed in insignificant corners of old Continental cathedrals. It
did not trouble them that their work would not be seen; they were so
impressed with the spirit of the place that they simply could not endure
to do less than their very, very best, and were willing to remain poor
all their lives in order to be able to do it. That's fine! That's
grand! None of your miserable scamping spirit there. The place made
the men, as well as the men the place."
"Yes, yes, that's just what I feel. I'd like to do something for it
too, if it were only the dusting," sighed Mellicent, passing her finger
along a ledge of wood, and pensively regarding the ridge of dust on her
light kid gloves. "I assure you, Peggy, the shivers were running down
my back the whole time of that service like a cold-water tap. I was
freezing!"
"And I was tingling. Oh, to do something big enough--great enough--to
be brought here when I die, and be laid among these fine old heroes!
Isn't it maddening sometimes to be a woman, and feel penned in, in a
wretched little body?" Peggy stood still and faced her companion with
kindling eyes. "At this moment, my dear, the spirit of Hercules is
within me--I feel as if I could lift mountains, and look at _that_."
She held out her hand, staring with intense disfavour at the fragile
little wrist. "That's my weapon! If I tried to lift that _bench_, I
should sprain my wrist. If I work my brain for several hours on end, I
have a sick headache I'm a lion in a cage, dear; a little, miserable,
five-foot cage, and it's no use beating at the bars, for I'll never get
out;" and Peggy stared miserably at the statue of the "third great
Canning" which stood opposite, and sighed her heart out, to think how
impossible it seemed that the name of Mariquita Saville would ever be
emblazoned by his side.
From the Abbey the sightseers drove to the Academy, where they spent a
couple of hours in making their way through the crowded rooms. Mrs
Saville and her daughter were unaffectedly interested in the pictures,
but Mellicent declared the study of them such a "neck-achey" process
that she soon abandoned the effort, and contented herself with
criticising the people instead. After living all one's life in
provincial parishes where every inhabitant recognised and saluted the
vicar's daughter, it was a little bewildering to find oneself surrounded
by hundreds of absolutely strange faces; a trifle depressing too, to
one-and-twenty, to realise afresh her own countrified appearance, as
slim-waisted _elegantes_ floated past in a succession of spring
toilettes, each one more fascinating than the last. Mellicent sat down
on one of the centre couches and gave herself up to despair.
"My sleeves aren't right, and my neck isn't right, and my back isn't
right! My skirt sticks out where it should be flat, and is flat where
it ought to stick out. My hat looks like the ark, and my gloves are too
big. I ought to be superior like Esther, and not care a bit, but I
_do_. I care frightfully. I feel a worm, and as it I'd like to crawl
away and hide myself out of sight,"--and Mellicent's fair face clouded
over with an expression of such hopeless melancholy, that Peggy,
catching sight of it, came forward instantly to discover the reason.
"Tired?" she cried cheerily. "Never mind, we won't be long now, and
then we'll drive home, and you shall be tucked up in bed, and have a
comfy rest. Sight-seeing _is_ tiring... Which do you like best?"
"The blue, I think, with the lace edgings. The body is so sweet, with
all the tiny, lovely little tucks, and the colour would suit my hair,"
said Mellicent plaintively, all unconscious of the open-eyed wonder with
which she was regarded.
"What has your hair to do with it, and how _could_ a body be covered
with tucks? You are sleepy, dear, and didn't hear what I said. I asked
what picture you liked best."
"Oh-h, picture! I thought you meant dresses. I was thinking about the
dresses--"
"Mellicent Asplin, I'm shocked at you! You remind me of the visitor to
Paris who was asked how she liked the Louvre, and replied that the Bon
Marche was cheaper for ribbons. To think that you could sit opposite
some of the finest pictures of the year, and find more enjoyment in
looking at frocks."
"I haven't enjoyed it at all. I've disenjoyed it horribly. You
wouldn't like it yourself, if you saw seven hundred and fifty girls, and
each one looked seven hundred times nicer than you did yourself. I
detest them all, but I hate the blue one worst! Didn't you see her,
Peggy--pale, _pale_ blue, with white lace and--"
"Poor old Mill. Come along, dear, we'll go back to the hotel, and not
worry about them any more. You shall come straight to my room, and I'll
give you a tonic that will do you good."
"I hate tonics. They taste like rusty spoons. I'm quite well, and
don't want it."
"We'll see about that. It's a new brand, warranted to be especially
efficacious in the case of young females. It isn't in the least like a
rusty spoon, and exercises an exhilarating effect on the spirits. You
wait and see."
Peggy looked at her friend, and her eyes twinkled. It was evident that
some mystery was in the air, and that the word `tonic' was used in a
figurative rather than a literal sense. Mellicent pondered, hit on the
solution of chocolates, and being an inveterate sweet-tooth, found
consolation in the prospect. Perhaps Peggy was going to present her
with some of the treasures she had brought home from Cannes, in which
case there would not only be the enjoyment of the bonbons themselves,
but the case would remain as a permanent joy and pride. So fascinating
did the idea appear that it was quite a shook to see a long narrow roll
emerge from the wardrobe when the crucial hour arrived.
"Here is your tonic," said Peggy. "It has come all the way from India,
and was ordered for you a whole year back. I didn't tell you what your
present was the other night, for I wanted you to have the fun of opening
it yourself. I do like opening my own parcels, don't you, and not
knowing what I'm going to see!"
"Oh, I do! I love it!" agreed Mellicent rapturously, taking the roll in
her arms, and prodding at it with the end of her fingers. "Peggy, how
sweet of you! I know I shall like it... It's very hard, and so
narrow... I can't imagine what it can be. Ordered a year ago--that
sounds as if it had to be made. Is it--er--ornamental or useful?"
"Oh, useful! very, very useful!" cried Peggy, and chuckled with
enjoyment at Mellicent's gallant attempt to hide disappointment beneath
a pretence of satisfaction.
"Oh yes, how nice! Useful things are much more--_useful_, aren't they?
I believe it's an umbrella, and yet it's rather thick for that. I can't
imagine what it can be."
"Cut the string and look! That's the best way out of the difficulty,"
suggested Peggy; and Mellicent followed her advice, and slowly unrolled
the parcel on the bed. Silver paper came first, rolls of silver paper,
and a breath of that delicious aromatic perfume which seems an integral
part of all Eastern produce, last of all a cardboard cylinder, with
something soft and white and gauzy wrapped around it. Mellicent
screamed aloud, and jumped about in the middle of the floor.
"It is! It is!" she cried rhapsodically. "It's a dress like yours--
like the one that was burned in the fire, and that I loved so much. But
prettier. Oh, Peggy, it's prettier! There are more of the lovely white
silk flowers, and the muslin is softer and finer. You wicked, wicked
girl, how dare you say it was useful!"
"Because it was true. You can let Carter make it up, and wear it over
your white silk at the Rollos' on Thursday, and if _that_ isn't useful,
what is, I should like to know? I wish you could have seen your face
when I said it was useful. It grew about a yard long."
"I knew it did, though I tried so hard to smile and look pleased. You
see, Peg, I have nothing but useful things at home, for we can't afford
anything else, and I do so dearly love a taste of luxury now and then.
I simply hate useful presents, and when we get any sent to us they
invariably are of that order, for people say to themselves, `Poor
things, they are not at all well off, better send them something that
will be _of use_.' And I do assure you, my dear girl, that the
Christmas before last I got four dozen handkerchiefs, and five separate
pairs of gloves. Gloves I don't mind, for they are _nicely_ useful; but
I nearly spread out all the forty-eight handkerchiefs on the bed, and
wept over them with sheer rage that they weren't something else... Oh,
you ducky, darling dress! Sha'n't I look nice! Peggy Peggy, I do love
you for thinking of it, and giving me such a pleasure. You can't think
how I shall enjoy being really well-dressed for once in my life."
"I'm so pleased you are pleased. It's ever so much nicer to give than
to receive. When my three French dresses came home, I was in a bad
temper for the rest of the day, because the collars were too high and
stuck into my chin, and the dressmaker had not carried out all my
instructions; but I'm enjoying this as much as you are, and shall feel a
reflected glory in your appearance on Thursday. I'm so glad Arthur will
be there, for it will be a comfort to see one familiar face among the
throng. I wish--"
"What?"
"Nothing. It's lovely to be back again; but sometimes one feels a
little lonely when people are all talking together, and going off into
little groups. In Calcutta it was different, for we knew every one, and
every one knew us. Is one _always_ disappointed, I wonder, when a thing
happens which one had longed for, for years and years? I don't know
what I want, but I want _something_!" cried Peggy drearily, and pressed
her hands to her brow, while her friend looked on with sympathetic gaze.
"It's tea!" she declared oracularly. "It is five o'clock, and you know,
Peggy, you always did get melancholy if tea was later than usual. Let
us go downstairs and order it at once."
Peggy slid her hand in her friend's arm with a soft explosion of
laughter.
"So we will," she said cheerily. "It's a capital explanation. Tea!
Oh, you sensible old Chubby!"