The _Lucania_ was due to arrive in the Mersey early on a Tuesday
forenoon, and Miss Briskett expected to welcome her niece on the evening
of the same day. The best spare room was already swept and garnished,
and nothing remained but to take counsel with Heap the cook, and draw
out a menu of a dinner which could most successfully combat the strain
of waiting. The spinster's own appetite, though sparse, was fastidious,
and Heap was a mistress of her art, so that between the two a dainty
little meal was arranged, while Mason, not to be outdone, endeavoured to
impart an extra polish to her already highly-burnished silver. In the
seclusion of the pantry she hummed a joyful air. "Praise the pigs! we
shall have something young in the house, at last," said she to herself.
"I don't mind the extra work, if she'll only make a bit of a stir!"
By six o'clock the dinner-table was laid, and Miss Briskett was sitting
in state, clad in her newest grey silk gown, though a reference to
Bradshaw made it seem improbable that the traveller could arrive before
seven o'clock. At half-past six hot water was carried up to the
bedroom; ten minutes later Miss Briskett left her seat to move another
few yards nearer the window. Streaks of colour showed in her cheeks,
her fingers clasped and unclasped in nervous fashion. She was conscious
of a quick thud-thud at the left side of the thickly-boned bodice, and
realised with surprise that it came from that almost forgotten organ,
her heart. She had never experienced this agitation before when
awaiting the arrival of her own friends. The old adage was right after
all--blood was thicker than water! What would the child be like?
Edward was a big fair man, with no special beauty of feature. Sybil had
been slight and dainty. It did not seem likely that Cornelia would be
specially pretty, her aunt prayed above all things that she was
unnoticeable--to be unnoticeable was regarded as the climax of elegance
in Norton society!--then with a sudden softening of expression found
herself hoping that there would be something of Edward in looks or
manner! She was a lonely woman, living apart from her kin. To have
someone of her own would be a new and delightful experience. She felt
glad, actually _glad_ that Cornelia was coming!
Seven o'clock! At any moment now a cab might appear bearing the
expected guest from the station. Miss Briskett crossed the room to
alter the arrangement of a vase of flowers, and as she did so, the door
opened, and Mason entered carrying a telegram upon a silver salver.
Miss Briskett tore it open, and read the following message:--
"Safe and sound. Staying night in London with friends. Sight-seeing
to-morrow morning. Be with you at five. God save the Queen!--
Cornelia."
Miss Briskett's lips tightened. She folded the orange-coloured paper
and returned it to its envelope, cleared her throat and said coldly--
"Inform Heap that my niece will not arrive until to-morrow evening, and
be good enough to serve dinner at once."
Mason's face clouded with disappointment. In the kitchen Heap banged
the saucepan-lids, and wanted to know what was the use of doing your
best in a despicable world where you never got nothing for your pains!
Mary repaired dolefully upstairs to take away the hot water, and shroud
the furniture in dust-sheets; even the tweeny felt a sudden dampening of
spirits, while in the dining-room the mistress of her house sat at her
solitary meal with anger smouldering in her heart!
A delay to the boat would, of course, have been inevitable; if Cornelia
had been so fatigued that she felt it necessary to break her journey
half-way, that would have been a disappointment pure and simple, but
that the girl had _chosen_ to delay her arrival for her own amusement
and gratification, this was an offence indeed--a want of respect and
consideration well-nigh unforgivable. Staying in town with friends!--
Staying _where_?--With what friends? Doing the sights to-morrow
morning! Miss Briskett's lip curled in disdain. Then that ridiculous
ending! What would Miss Brewster, the telegraph clerk at the post-
office, think of such frivolity! In this tiny township, everyone was as
well acquainted with their neighbour's business as with their own, and
while Emily Brewster at the post-office was keenly interested in the
advent of the American visitor, Miss Briskett, in her turn, knew all
about Emily's parentage and education, the nature and peculiarities of
the diseases which she had enjoyed, and vouchsafed a patronising
interest in her prospects. It was gall and wormwood to feel sure that
Emily had laughed and made merry over a message addressed to a Briskett,
from a member of her own house!
Everyone has experienced the flatness which ensues when an expected
excitement is postponed at the last moment, leaving the hours to drag
along a slow, uneventful course. It was long since Miss Briskett had
felt so consciously lonely and depressed as at her solitary dinner that
evening. In the drawing-room, even Patience lost its wonted charm, and
she was thankful when the time arrived to sip her tumbler of hot water,
and retire to bed.
Next day it seemed somewhat flat to make the same preparations a second
time over, but as no contradictory message had been received, it did not
appear possible that a second disappointment could supervene. The tea-
table was set out with special care, and a supply of home-made cakes
placed on the three-storied brass stand. Once more Miss Briskett donned
her best gown, and sat gazing through the lace window curtains.
At last! A cab drove up to the gate; two cabs, laden with enough
luggage for a family journeying to the seaside. The door of the first
was thrown open and there jumped out--a _man_! a tall, alert young man
clad in a suit of light-checked tweed, who turned and gave his hand to a
girl in blue serge, carefully assisting her to alight. They sauntered
up the path together, laughing and chattering in leisurely enjoyment;
half-way to the house the girl turned round, and stood for a moment to
stare at the view, pointing, as she did so, in frank, unabashed fashion.
Then they approached the door, held hospitably open in Mason's hand.
"Why, Aunt Soph, is that you?" cried a high, clear voice, with a
pronounced American accent, which rang strangely in the unaccustomed
ears. "This is me, anyhow, and I'm real glad to see you. I've had a
lovely ride! This is Mr Eustace C Ross, who crossed with us in the
_Lucania_. He's brought me right here in case I got lost, or fell over
the edge. England's sweet! I've been all over London this morning, and
we did a theatre last night. ... Aunt Soph, you have a look of father
about the nose! Makes me feel kinder homesick to see your nose. I'm
going to kiss it right away?"
And kiss it she did, on its thin, chilly tip, with Mason sniggering with
delight in the background, and the strange young man chuckling in the
foreground. Miss Briskett retreated hastily into the drawing-room, and
her niece followed, casting curious glances to right and to left.
"You've got a real cosy little house, Aunt Soph. It looks real
English--not a mite like our place at home. Is that tea? I'm just
about dying for a cup of tea, and so's Mr Ross. Don't you want a cup
of tea more than anything in the world, Mr Ross? I see you do by the
way you look!"
She sank into an easy chair, and flashed a mischievous glance at the
young man by her side. He was a tall, well-built young fellow, with the
square shoulders and aggressive chin which to the English eye are the
leading characteristics of American men. He had the air of being
exceedingly well able to look after himself, but even his self-
possession wavered before the frosty nature of his reception. He stood
irresolutely, hat in hand, waiting for a repetition of Cornelia's
invitation, but none came, and with an almost imperceptible shrug of the
shoulders, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and announced that it
was imperative that he should hasten back to the station to catch a
return train to town. He proceeded, therefore, to take leave of his
travelling companion, a proceeding characterised on his side by
transparent regret, on hers by an equally transparent indifference.
"You'll be sure to let me know when you come home!"
"Yes, indeed! I'll write when I start, and you shall come down to meet
the boat. Good-bye! You've been real kind! I'm ever so much obliged!"
"Oh, I've enjoyed it enormously. You must be sure to let me know if
there is anything I can do--at any time--anywhere!" repeated the young
fellow, ardently.
He bowed to Miss Briskett, who extended her hand in patronising
farewell, accompanying him to the door of the room, less, it appeared,
from motives of kindliness, than to satisfy herself that he had really
departed.
On her return she found that her niece had taken off her hat, and was
leaning back in her chair, sticking hat-pins through the crown with
smiling complacence. Miss Briskett surveyed her with not unnatural
curiosity, and came to the swift conclusion that she was not at all
pretty, but most objectionably remarkable in appearance. The sort of
girl whom people would stare at in the street; the sort of girl whom
Norton would emphatically disapprove! Her hair in itself was arresting.
Miss Briskett had never seen such hair. It was not red, it was not
gold, it was not brown; but rather a blending of all three colours. It
was, moreover, extraordinarily thick, and stood out from the head in a
crisp mass, rippling into big natural waves, while behind each ear was a
broad streak of a lighter shade, almost flaxen in colour. No artificial
means could have produced such an effect; it was obviously the work of
nature. "American nature!" Miss Briskett told herself with a sniff. A
respectably brought-up English girl could never have possessed such a
head! Underneath this glorious mass of hair was a pale, little face,
lighted up by a pair of golden-brown eyes. The eyebrows were well-
marked and remarkably flexible; the nose was thin and pointed, a
youthful replica of Miss Briskett's own. The only really good feature
was the mouth, and that was adorable, with coral red lips curling up at
the corners; tempting, kissable lips, made for love and laughter. For
the rest, it was difficult to understand how a plain blue serge gown
could possibly contrive to look so smart, or how those tiniest of tiny
brown boots had managed to keep so dazzlingly free from dust throughout
a railway journey.
Miss Briskett sat herself down by the tea-table, and cleared her throat
ominously. Her niece had not been ten minutes in the house, yet already
an occasion had arisen for a serious rebuke.
"Are you engaged to that young man, may I ask, Cornelia?"
Cornelia gave a little jump upon her seat, and opened her golden eyes in
a stare of amazement.
"Mussy, no! What in the land put such an idea in your head?"
"Your tone and manner, my dear, and the fact of his accompanying you all
the way from town. It is not usual for young men to put themselves to
so much trouble for a mere acquaintance."
"He don't think it a trouble. He loves flying around! He's a sweet
thing," said Miss Cornelia, with smiling recollection, "but he's not my
Chubb! I'm sorry he couldn't stay to tea, for he's real amusing when he
once gets started. He'd have made you screech with laughter."
Miss Briskett looked down her nose, in her most dignified and rebuking
fashion.
"I am not accustomed to `screech' about anything, and in this country,
my dear, it is not considered convenable for young girls to accept the
escort of a gentleman to whom they are not engaged. No English girl
would think of doing such a thing!"
"They must have a middling dull time of it," retorted Cornelia, calmly,
"I must teach them a thing or two while I'm over." She rose to take the
teacup from her aunt's hand, and to help herself to a couple of
sandwiches from a dainty heart-shaped dish. "Well--aren't you pleased
to have me, Aunt Soph? I've wanted years to come over and see you. It
seemed too bad that I knew none of Poppar's people. And now I'm here!"
She wheeled round, teacup in hand, staring curiously around the
handsome, over-furnished room; at the big ebony console table,
ornamented with bunches of fruit manufactured out of coloured pebbles;
at the grand piano in its walnut case; the piano which was never opened,
but which served as a stand for innumerable photographs and ornaments;
at the old-fashioned sofas and chairs in their glazey chintz covers; at
the glass-shaded vases on the marble mantelshelf. "I'm here, and it's
too quaint for words! Everything's--_different_! I suppose England
_is_ different, isn't it, Aunt Soph?"
"Very different!" Miss Briskett's tones fairly bubbled with innuendoes.
She put down her rolled slice of bread and butter, and added frostily,
"Before we go any further, Cornelia, I must really beg you to address me
by my proper name. My name is Sophia. You have no intention of being
disrespectful, I feel sure, but I am not accustomed to abbreviations. I
have never had a nickname in my life, and I have no wish to begin at
this late date."
"My! you poor sufferer, how lonesome for you! Nicknames are so homely
and cosy. I have about as many as I have toes. One of my friends calls
me `Corney.' He's a bit of a wag--(`He,' indeed!)--Another one calls me
`Nelia,'--`Neel-ya!'" She threw a lingering sentiment into the
repetition, and chuckled reminiscently. "To most of my chums I'm just
`Neely.' Life's too short for three syllables every day of the week!"
"Over here in England we are not too hurried to address people in a
proper manner. I shall call you by your full name, and expect you to do
the same by me."
"All right, Aunt Sophia Ann, just as you please," cried Cornelia,
naughtily. She was standing up, cup in hand, but even as she spoke she
subsided on to a footstool by Miss Briskett's side, with a sudden lithe
collapse of the body, which made that good lady gasp in dismay. She had
never seen anybody but a professional acrobat move so quickly or
unexpectedly, and felt convinced that the tea must have been spilt, and
crumbs scattered wholesale over the carpet. But no! not even a drop had
fallen into the saucer, and there sat Cornelia nibbling at an undamaged
sandwich with little, strong, white teeth, as cool and composed as if
such feats were of everyday occurrence.
"This is how I sit by Poppar at home; it's more sociable than right
across the room. Poppar and I are just the greatest chums, and I hate
it when he's away. There was a real nice woman wanted to come and keep
house, and take me around--Mrs Van Dusen, widow of Henry P Van Dusen,
who made a boom in cheese. Maybe you've heard of him. He made a pile,
and lost it all, trying to do it again. Then he got tired of himself
and took the _grippe_ and died, and it was pretty dull for Mrs Van.
She visits round, and puts in her time the best way she can. She'd have
liked quite well to settle down at our place for three or four months,
and I'd have liked it too, if it hadn't been for you. I wanted to see
you Aunt Soph--ia Ann!"
She put up a thin little hand, and rubbed it ingratiatingly up and down
the shiny silk lap, to the stupefaction of Mason, who came in at that
moment bearing a plate of hot scones, and retired to give a faithful
rendering of the position to her allies in the kitchen, sitting down on
the fender stool, and stroking the cook's apron in dramatic imitation,
while that good lady and her satellites went into helpless fits of
laughter.
"I'd as soon stroke a nettle myself," said the cook, "but there's no
accounting for taste! You take my word for it, if she goes on stroking
much longer, she'll get a sting as she won't forget in a hurry!"
Upstairs in the drawing-room, Miss Briskett's fidgeting uncomfortably
beneath that caressing hand. In her lonely, self-contained life, she
was so unused to demonstrations of the kind that she was at a loss how
to receive them when they came. Instinctively she drew herself away,
shrinking into the corners of her chair and busying herself with the re-
arrangement of the tray, while Cornelia asked one question after another
in her high-pitched, slightly monotonous voice.
"It's mighty quiet out here, Aunt Soph--ia Ann! Does it always go on
being just as still? Do you live all the year round, right here in this
house by your lonesome, listening to the grass growing across the lane?
What do you _do_, anyway? That's a real smart-looking maid! Will she
be the one to wait upon me? Most all my shirt waists fasten up the
back, and there's got to be someone round to fix them, or I'm all
undone. I guess you're pretty tidy by the looks of you, Aunt Soph. I
can't see after things myself, but I fidget the life out of everybody if
I'm not just so. I've got the sweetest clothes.--Do you have gay times
over here in Norton? Is there a good deal of young society? I love
prancing round and having a good time. Poppar says the boys spoil me;
there's always a crowd of them hanging round, ready to do everything I
want, and to send me flowers and bon-bons. I'm just crazed on bonbons!
My state-room was piled full of bouquets and chocolates coming over. I
had more than any other girl on board!"
Miss Briskett's lips tightened ominously. "If by `boys' you mean young
men, Cornelia, I am surprised that your father allows you to receive
indiscriminate gifts from strangers. I fear he hag become a thorough
American, and forgotten his early training. In England no young man
would venture to send a gift to a lady to whom he was not either
related, or engaged to be married."
"My! how mean! Amurican men are for ever sending things, and the girls
just love to have them do it. Seems to me, Aunt Soph, it's about time I
came over to teach you how to do things in this benighted isle! Poppar
says you're all pretty mouldy, but, short of an earthquake, he can't
think of anything better calculated to shake you up, than a good spell
of me waltzing around. I guess he's about right. I'm never quiet
unless I'm sick. There's not much of the Sleeping Beauty about Cornelia
E Briskett!"
Miss Briskett sat still, a pillar of outraged propriety. This was worse
than anything she had expected! The girl appeared to have no modesty,
no decorum, no sense of shame. She might straighten her back until it
was as stiff as a poker, might arch her brows into semicircles, and
purse her lips into an expression of disapproval which would have
frightened Elma Ramsden out of her senses, but Cornelia never appeared
to notice that anything was amiss, and continued her meal with bland
enjoyment. When she had finished the sandwiches she rested her left arm
more firmly on her aunt's knee, and raised her pointed chin until it
rested, actually rested, upon the edge of the table, the while she
carefully scrutinised the different varieties of cake, and selected the
piece most to her taste. At this she proceeded to nibble with evident
satisfaction, lifting it to her lips in one thin hand, while the other
still rested caressingly on that shiny silk lap. Miss Briskett's dumb
swellings of anger gradually subsided to the point when it became
possible to put them into words. She cleared her throat with the usual
preliminary grunt, whereupon the girl turned her stag-like head, to gaze
questioningly upwards, her expression sweetly alert, her eyes--limpid,
golden eyes--widely opened between the double line of lashes!
Miss Briskett looked, and the remonstrance died on her lips. The scene
shifted, and in an instant she had travelled back through the years to a
day long, long ago, when she sat, a girl in her teens, talking to the
little boy brother who was the dearest of all created things, telling
him stories, and watching the wonder in his eyes! Pert, self-
sufficient, and presumptuous as she might be, by some contradictory
freak of nature, that divine innocence still lingered in this young
girl's eyes. The sight of it arrested the words on the spinster's lips.
She realised with shame that almost every word which she had spoken to
the girl since her arrival had been tinged with reproof, and blushed for
her own lack of hospitality. The frown faded, and was replaced by a
struggling smile. With a half-strained movement she advanced a chilly
hand to meet the girl's warm grasp.
Cornelia drew a long, fluttering sigh; a sigh of utter contentment, and
laid her russet head on the folds of the stiff grey silk.
"Oh, Aunt Soph--ia! you are just as sweet!" she murmured beneath her
breath.