More About Pixie, by Mrs G. De Horne Vaizey

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This is another excellent book by Mrs de Horne Vaizey, dating from the end of the nineteenth century. While ofcourse it is dated in its references to the world aroundits actors, yet nevertheless their emotions arewell-described, and no doubt are timeless. 

In some ways the world around the people in the book isrecognisable today, in a way which a book written thirty orforty years before would not have been. They haveelectricity, telephones, trains, buses, and many otherthings that we still use regularly today. Of course onemajor difference is that few people today have servants, while middle-class and upper-class families of the eighteennineties would certainly have had them. It was a passingjoke in the book that it was surprising that the butler, ondiscovering a young couple kissing, did not say, "Allow me, madam. "

Today we travel by aeroplane, while in those days, andindeed for much of my own life, we travelled by ship andtrain. It was normal when travelling back to England fromIndia to disembark at Marseilles, and come on to theChannel Ports by train, perhaps even spending a week or twoin Italy, en route. I have done it myself. 

So it is not so very dated after all. But I do think thereis a real value in reading the book. Oddly enough, I thinkthat a boy would benefit from reading any of theauthor's books, more than a girl would, because it wouldgive him an insight into the girlish mind which he couldnot so easily otherwise obtain. N. H. _________________________________________________________

MORE ABOUT PIXIE

BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY

CHAPTER ONE. 

A NEW NEIGHBOUR. 

The night nurse was dusting the room preparatory to going off duty forthe day, and Sylvia was lying on her water-bed watching her movementswith gloomy, disapproving eyes. For four long weeks--ever since thecrisis had passed and she had come back to consciousness of hersurroundings--she had watched the same proceeding morning after morning, until its details had become almost unbearably wearisome to her weaknerves. 

First of all came Mary to sweep the floor--she went down on her knees, and swept up the dust with a small hand-brush, and however carefully shemight begin, it was quite, quite certain that she would end by knockingup against the legs of the bed, and giving a jar and shock to thequivering inmate. Then she would depart, and nurse would take theornaments off the mantelpiece, flick the duster over them, and put themback in the wrong places. 

It did not seem of the least importance to her whether the blue vasestood in the centre or at the side, but Sylvia had a dozen reasons forwishing to have it in exactly one position and no other. She liked tosee its graceful shape and rich colouring reflected in the mirror whichhung immediately beneath the gas-bracket; if it were moved to the leftit spoiled her view of a tiny water-colour painting which was one of hergreatest treasures, while if it stood on the right it ousted thegreatest treasure of all--the silver-framed portrait of the dear, darling, most beloved of fathers, who was afar off at the other side ofthe world, tea-planting in Ceylon. 

Sylvia was too weak to protest, but she burrowed down among the clothes, and moped to herself in good old typhoid fashion. "Wish she would leaveit alone! Wish people wouldn't bother about the room. Don't care if itis dusty! Wish I could be left in peace. Don't believe I shall ever bebetter. Don't believe my temperature ever _will_ go down. Don't careif it doesn't! Wish father were home to come and talk, and cheer me up. Boo-hoo-hoo!"

The tears trickled down and splashed saltly against her lips, but shekept her sobs under control, for crying was a luxury which was forbiddenby the authorities, and could only be indulged in by stealth. 

The night nurse thought that the patient had fallen asleep, but when shewent off duty, and her successor arrived, she cast a suspicious glanceat the humped-up bedclothes, and turned them down with a gentle butdetermined hand. 

"Crying again?" she cried. "Oh, come now, I can't allow that! What areyou crying about on such a lovely, bright morning, when you have hadsuch a good night's rest?"

"I had a horrid night. I couldn't sleep a bit. I feel so mum-mum-miserable!" wailed the patient dolefully. "I'm so tired of being inbed. "

"You won't have very much longer of it now. Your temperature is lowerthan it has ever been this morning. You ought to be in good spiritsinstead of crying in this silly way. Come now, cheer up! I am notgoing to allow such a doleful face. "

"I'm very cheerful when I'm well. Ask Aunt Margaret if I'm not. I've amost lively disposition. Everyone says so, " whined Sylvia dismally. "I'm tired of everything and everybody. So would you be if you'd beenin bed for two months. "

"Tired of me as well as the rest?"

"Yes, I am. You are a nasty, horrid, strict, cross thing. " But a smilestruggled through the tears, and a thin hand stole out from beneath theclothes and pressed the white-sleeved arms in eloquent contradiction. Whatever Sylvia was tired of, it was certainly not this gentle, sweet-faced little woman who--humanly speaking--had brought her back from theverge of the grave. She snoodled her head along the pillow so as tolean it against the nurse's shoulder, and said in weak, disconnectedsnatches, "I'm sorry--I'm so horrid. I feel so cross and low-spirited. I want--a change. Can't you think--of something nice?"

"You are going to have some beautiful chicken-soup for your lunch. Itis in a perfect jelly. "

"Hate chicken-soup! Hate the sight of soup! Want to have salmon andcucumber, and ice creams, and nice rich puddings. "

Nurse laughed complacently. 

"So you shall--some day! Glad you feel well enough to want them now. Would you like to be carried to the sofa by the window for an hour thisafternoon, while your bed is being aired and made comfortable? I thinkit would do you good to lie in the sunshine, and the doctor could helpme to carry you. It would be quite exciting to see a glimpse of theouter world, wouldn't it?"

"Rather! I can't believe that everything is going on just the same. Are all the neighbours alive still? Is the old man at the corner alive?Has the little girl at Number Five grown-up and put on long frocks? Ifeel as if I had been lying here for years and years. I believe I havegrown grey myself. Give me a hand-glass, Whitey, and let me see how Ilook. "

Whitey walked obediently across the room, and brought back the silver-backed glass from the dressing-table. She was accustomed to hernickname by this time, and was indeed rather proud of it than otherwise. She had been known successively as "Spirit of the Day, " and "The WhiteNurse, " during the hours of delirium, and the abbreviation had a naturalgirlish ring about it, which was a herald of returning health. 

"There, look at yourself, Miss Conceit!" she cried laughingly, andSylvia held the glass erect in both hands and stared curiously at herown reflection. She saw a thin, clear-cut little face, with archedeyebrows, large brown eyes, an aquiline nose, and full, pouting lips. The cheeks showed delicate hollows beneath the cheek bones, and the eyeslooked tired and heavy, otherwise there was no startling change torecord. 

"I don't look as much older as I expected, but I've got a differentexpression, Whitey--a sort of starved-wolf, haggard, tired-out look, just exactly like I feel. Aren't I beautifully thin? It's always beenmy ambition to be slim and willowy, like the people in fashion plates. I shall be quite a vision of elegance, shan't I, Whitey?"

"Um! Well, " said Whitey vaguely, "you must expect to look very slightafter lying in bed for so long, but it doesn't matter about that. Youwon't trouble about appearances, so long as you feel well and strongagain. "

"Yes, I shall!" said the invalid stubbornly. She turned her head on oneside and stared intently at the long plaits of hair which trailed overthe pillow--her "Kenwigs" as she had dubbed them, after CharlesDickens's immortal "Miss Kenwigses, " who are pictorially represented inshort frocks, pantaloons, and tight plaits of hair, secured at the endsby bows of ribbon. 

"My Kenwigs look very thin, " she said anxiously. "I used to have threethick coils. People's hair doesn't come out after typhoid fever, doesit, Whitey? I shall be furious if mine does. "

"Oh, hair generally comes out a little in autumn, " replied Whiteyeasily. "Now you have looked at yourself quite long enough. I will putback the glass and prepare some food while your aunt comes to see you, but I shall tell her not to talk too much, for the doctor won't let yoube moved if you are looking tired and exhausted. "

Sylvia sighed to herself, for interviews with Aunt Margaret were adecided trial in these days of convalescence, when every nerve seemed onedge and ready to be jarred. She was nearly twenty-two, and for thefirst year after leaving school the dear old dad had been in England, and she had had the most delightful time travelling about with him. Healways declared that he was a poor man, that tea was doing sodisgracefully badly, that he expected to retire into the workhouse inthe course of the next year, but, all the same, he never appeared to beshort of money, and the travelling was done in the most comfortable andluxurious of fashions. Sylvia was his only child, and in his eyes wasthe most beautiful and accomplished creature in the world, so that itwas a trying experience to be domiciled with an elderly maiden aunt, whose ideas were as early Victorian as her furniture, who had forgottenwhat it felt like to be young, and was continually aggrieved because herniece had not learned to be old. 

During the long year of idleness Sylvia had cherished the idea that herfather would take her back to Ceylon, when she would reign as Queen ofthe Bungalow, charm the hearts of the coolies by her beauty and dignity, pay frequent visits to Kandy, and become one of the favourites ofsociety; but when it came to the point it appeared that he had nointention of the sort. In two or three years he hoped to be able tosettle in England, and meantime his ambition for his daughter demandedthat she should remain at home and devote her time to music, for whichshe showed an unusual talent. If he had other reasons he kept them tohimself, but as a matter of fact he dreaded a possible marriage abroad, which would condemn the girl to a life of separation from so much thatis good and pleasant, and if any qualms arose as to the cheerfulness ofthe home in which he was leaving her, he consoled himself by thereflection that he would be able to make up for temporary deprivationsin the years to come. 

Mr Trevor sailed off to the East, and Sylvia took up her abode atNumber 6 Rutland Road, in an unfashionable suburb in the north ofLondon, and settled down to being a "good industrious girl" with whatgrace she might. She did not understand Aunt Margaret, and AuntMargaret felt it a decided trial to have her sleepy home invaded by arestless young creature, who was never so happy as when she was singingat the pitch of her voice, rushing up and down stairs, and playing sillyschoolboy tricks; but fate had ordained that they were to live together, and they had jogged along more or less peacefully until that unlucky daywhen the girl had sickened for her dangerous illness. Then, indeed, Aunt Margaret realised that she had grown to love her wayward charge, and all the manifold demands and inconveniences of illness wereswallowed up in anxiety during the first anxious weeks. She allowed notonly one, but two of "those dreadful nurses" to take possession of herspare rooms, submitted meekly to their orders, and saw her domesticrules and regulations put aside without a murmur of protest; but whenthe crisis was safely passed, and recovery became only a matter of time, the old fussy nature reasserted itself, and her eyes were open to beholdthe dire results of a long illness. 

This bright October morning she came stooping into Sylvia's bedroom, aslight woman with a narrow bent back, brown hair smoothed neatly down oneach side of a withered, dried-up face, with a patch of red on the cheekbones, and sunken brown eyes roving restlessly to right and left. Shewore a black stuff dress, a satin apron with pockets and an edging ofjet, and knitted mittens over her wrists--a typical old lady of theancient type. Yet as she stood beside the bed there was a curiouslikeness to be observed between her face and the one on the pillow; andSylvia recognised as much, and felt a thrill of dismay at the thoughtthat some day she, too, would be frail and bent, and wear a cap andmittens, and have rheumatic joints, and attacks of bronchitis if bychance she was so imprudent as to go out without putting on goloshes, awoollen "crossover, " and a big silk muffler beneath her mantle. To one-and-twenty it seemed an appalling prospect, and one to be shunted intothe background with all possible speed. 

"Well, my love, and how are you this morning? Much better, I hear. Agood drop in temperature, " said Aunt Margaret, pecking her niece's cheekwith her lips, and answering her own question without waiting for areply, as her custom was. "Nurse tells me that you will soon be upagain, and I'm sure it is time. This room needs a regular springcleaning, and as for the new drugget on the landing--three new spots ofmilk this morning, to say nothing of what has gone before! If I hadknown you were going to be ill I would have made the old one lastanother year, for it is sheer waste of money buying new things to havethem ruined in six months. The last one was down thirteen years, andlooked very little worse than this does now!"

"Father will buy you another. You must put it down as one of theexpenses. He won't mind so long as I get better, " said the invalidwearily; whereupon Aunt Margaret drew herself up with an air of woundedpride. 

"Indeed, my dear, your poor father will have enough to do to pay all thedoctors and nurses without being called upon for extras. I am willingto bear my own share, though I will say my stair-carpets have had asmuch wear and tear in the last two months as in half a dozen yearsbefore, and that Nurse Ellen is a most careless creature, she leaveseverything in a muddle! If you get up, my dear, you must wear my waddedjacket. I had a young friend--she was the cousin of Sarah Wedderburn, who lived in Stanhope Terrace, and married young Johnson ofSunderland. --You have heard me speak of the Johnsons, who were at schoolwith your Aunt Emma?"

Sylvia blinked her eyelids in a non-committal manner which might betaken either for assent or denial. She was afraid to confess ignoranceof the Johnson family, lest Aunt Margaret's love of biography shouldtake a further flight in order to recall Sarah Wedderburn's cousin toher remembrance. 

"And what did she do?" she queried weakly. "Don't tell me anythinggruesome, please, aunt, because I feel so low-spirited this morning thatI can't bear anything depressing!"

"I should be very sorry to depress you, my dear. Nothing is fartherfrom my wishes, and if she had been careful nothing need have happened. Her sister told me it was all her own fault for not being sufficientlywrapped up. I'll tell you the whole story another day when there ismore time, for now I must go out to do my housekeeping. These mealswill be the death of me! The cloth is never off the table. I quiteexpect Mary will give notice at the end of the month, and goodness knowswhat we shall do then, for it seems impossible to get hold ofrespectable girls. The milk-bill has just come in for the month. Ruinous! Ruinous! Now, my love, you must really cheer up and try tolook more like yourself. Perhaps I shall find you on the sofa when Icome back. Tell nurse not to use my best cushions; your own pillowswill do perfectly well. "

She bustled out of the room, and Sylvia stared into space with a dolefulface. 

"It's all very well to ask me to be cheerful, when she tells me in thesame breath that I am ruining her, and her beloved furniture. I'm sureI didn't want to be ill! If dad were at home he would never reproachme. " The tears were very near falling once more, but just at thatmoment there came the sound of a manly footstep, and in walked thedoctor, large, stout, beaming, a very incarnation of health and goodspirits. 

"Well, and so nurse tells me you think of going to the seaside to-day!You are getting tired of yourself, and want a change--eh? I don'twonder at that. You think you would enjoy having a little peep at theworld again? Let me feel your pulse and see if I can allow it. "

The pulse was quite satisfactory, so nurse and doctor promptly set towork to spread blankets on the couch, draw forward screens to preventpossibility of draught, and bank up pillows to allow a glimpse of theroad beneath. Then Sylvia clasped her arms tightly round the nurse'sneck, the doctor raised her feet, there was a moment's dizzy confusion, while her eyes swam and her ears hummed, and there she lay on the sofa, as at the end of a long and arduous journey, while her attendantswrapped her up in blankets and eiderdowns, and looked anxiously to seehow she had borne the exertion. The little face was very white, butbright with pleasure and excitement, and the offer of smelling salts andcordials was laughed aside with good-natured contempt. 

"No, no--I'm all right--just a little breathless after that whirlthrough space. How funny the room looks! I've looked at it broadwaysso long that I can't recognise it from this point of view. Is that thewater-bed? What a strange-looking thing! just like a lot of hot bottlesjoined together. It _is_ comfortable over here! I'd like to stay allday. Oh, oh, oh! here's the butcher's cart! How lovely it is to seethe world again!"

The jovial-looking doctor shrugged his shoulders as he took hisdeparture. The poor child must have been in sad straits indeed if shefound the sight of a butcher's cart so exciting! He would have enjoyedsitting beside her and listening to her rhapsodies, but was obliged tohurry off to other patients, while Whitey seated herself beside thecouch, and began hemming strips of muslin to be made into those starchedcap-strings which were tied so jauntily beneath her chin. 

"Oh, Whitey, " cried Sylvia, "I feel better already! It all looks sobright, and cheerful, and alive! I'm simply dying to go out for adrive, and to see the people walking about. I used to think this such adull little road, but now it seems quite gay and fashionable. I've seenthree perambulators already, to say nothing of the butcher's cart! Iwish the Number Seven lady would go out for a walk, and let me see herautumn clothes. She wears all the colours of the rainbow, and lookslike a walking kaleidoscope. .. Whitey! Oh, Whitey!"

The weak voice rose to a squeal of excitement, and the nurse bentforward curiously to discover the reason of so much agitation. To theordinary eye, however, there was nothing to be seen, for Sylvia'soutstretched hand pointed to a semi-detached villa in no waydistinguished from the rest of the row. 

"It's taken!" she cried--"Number Three is taken! It has been empty fora year, and I have simply longed for someone to come, for it is the mostconvenient house to watch, and I take such interest in the neighbours. It's pretty lonely for me here, for I haven't a single girl-friend. Father kept me at school in Brussels for the sake of learning thelanguage, but almost all the girls were French or American, and none ofthem live in London. Aunt Margaret introduced me to some `youngfriends' when I first arrived, but I thought they were horrid prigs, andI suppose they thought I was mad, so the friendship didn't progress. Iamuse myself with my music and in dreaming of the time when father comeshome, but every time a house changes hands I have a wild hope that therewill be a girl in the family, who would be lively and jolly like myself. I'm very nice when I'm well, Whitey--I am really! You needn't laughlike that. I daresay you would be fractious yourself if you had to liein bed for months and months, and had an old griffin to mount guard overyou, who made you eat against your will, and bullied you from morningtill night. .. What was I talking about last? Oh yes, I wanted to askif you had seen anything of these new people, and what they were like. "

"I haven't had much time for looking out of the window, but I have seena young lady and gentleman going out and in. I think they are a newly-married couple, for they look very juvenile and affectionate. He isdark and handsome, and she is fair, and I should say very pretty. "

Sylvia's face clouded with disappointment. 

"Bother the husband! She won't want me or anyone else to interrupt theduet. I do wish it could have been a family with a daughter. Thecurtains don't look newly-married, Whitey!"

"No, they don't. I thought that myself. The house doesn't look assmart and fresh as one expects under the circumstances, but perhaps theyare not well off, and had to be content with what they could get. Youshould not leap to the conclusion that she won't want you. Brides oftenfeel very lonely through the day when their husbands are in the city, and I should think she would be delighted to have a friend of her ownage so near at hand. We will watch and see if we can get a glimpse ofher. She is almost sure to have gone out for a walk this fine morning, and if so she will come home in time for lunch. "

From that moment Sylvia's eyes were glued to the window, and every womanbetween the ages of sixteen and sixty was in turn heralded as the bride, and scornfully laughed aside by the nurse. 

"I told you that she was young and pretty!" she repeated laughingly. "Ididn't mean that she was a schoolgirl, or a middle-aged woman. If sheis coming at all she will be here within the next half-hour, so liestill and rest, and I'll play Sister Anne for you. "

Ten minutes passed, twenty minutes, thirty minutes, and Whitey wasbeginning to hint at a return to bed, when at last the longed-for figurehove in sight. Sylvia raised herself on her pillows and peered eagerlyforward, her scarlet dressing-jacket making a brilliant patch of colouragainst the background of white. She saw a slight, graceful figure cladin a tightly fitting black cloth costume, and a mass of flaxen hairbeneath a sailor hat, and even as she looked the girl raised her headand stared upward with eager interest. She had a delicate, oval faceand grey-blue eyes beneath thoughtful brows, but at the sight of theinvalid the whole face flashed into sunshine, and the lips curled into asmile of such irrepressible rejoicing which was more eloquent thanwords. The next moment her head was lowered, and she walked demurely upthe path dividing the little gardens, while Sylvia lay back on herpillows a-quiver with excitement. 

"Oh, oh, the d-arling! What a perfect duck of a darling! Did you seeher smile? Didn't she look glad to see me? Whitey, why did she look sopleased? What can she know about me?"

"My dear, she has seen the doctor's carriage drive up at all hours ofthe day, and two nurses going in and out, to say nothing of the barkwhich was laid down on the road. She must have known that someone wasseriously ill, and no doubt the servants have told her that it was ayoung girl like herself. Yes, it was delightful to see her. You won'thave any better congratulation on your recovery than that smile!"

"Whitey, she is in black! Brides don't wear black. "

"They are obliged to wear it sometimes, dear. You can't lay down a ruleabout such things. "

"She looks too young to be married. She ought to play about with me fora year or two first. I hate that man for taking her from me! That'sthe girl I should marry myself if I had a chance. Do find out what hername is, Whitey. Mary is sure to know, for she gossips with the otherservants while she is cleaning the steps. Yes, I'll go back to bed now. I'm tired, and I don't care to see anyone else. I'll go to sleep anddream about that smile!"

CHAPTER TWO. 

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. 

"Aunt Margaret, can you tell me anything about the people who have cometo Number Three? I saw the lady coming in just now while I was sittingup, and I do so want to know her. Have you been to call while I wasill?"

Miss Munns crossed her hands on her lap, and looked the image ofdignified reproach. 

"My dear, do you suppose I have had leisure for social engagements? Iknow nothing about the people, except that their blinds are invariablycrooked, and every one drawn up to a different length. Most untidy thehouse looks! A dear friend of mine used to say--Mary Appleford, whosefather was the clergyman in my old home in Leicestershire--charming oldman who married Lady Evelyn Bruce--most aristocratic family!--Maryalways declared that she could judge a woman's character by theappearance of her windows. Judged from that standpoint, I should notfeel disposed to call on the mistress of Number Three. "

"But you haven't seen her, aunt; if you did, you could not help lovingher. She looked so delighted to see me sitting up, and gave me such adelicious smile!"

"Smiled at you, do you say? A most unladylike thing to do! The firstadvances should come from our side, as she would know if she had anyexperience of society. I hope, my dear, that you were not so foolish asto respond. One cannot be too careful about strangers in this bigwicked city. I shall never forget my poor dear cousin telling me howshe called on a most superior-looking lady who came to live in the sameterrace, and two months later the police raided the house, and it turnedout that the husband made false coins in the back kitchen, and the wifecirculated them among the tradesfolk. So awkward for Maria!"

Sylvia brought her eyebrows together in a frown, and tossed about on herpillow. She felt irritated and disappointed, and that made her headache, and the headache sent down her spirits again, and eclipsed thebrightness of the morning. If Aunt Margaret refused to call, she couldnot make the acquaintance of the fair unknown, and it would be atantalising experience to see her every day, and, yet be as far removedfrom friendship as if they lived a dozen miles apart!

During the weeks which followed, nurse and patient kept a close watch onthe little house over the road, and were rewarded by witnessing severalinteresting domestic scenes. 

On Saturday afternoon, for instance, Edwin came home early to showhimself in his turn. He was tall, dark, and handsome; dressed in theheight of the fashion, and bore himself with such an air of complacencyand benign patronage towards his fellows, that he looked far more like aprince of the blood than an ordinary city man. He carried a littlebunch of flowers in his hand, and whistled as he drew near the gate inorthodox, newly-married fashion, and the pretty girl flew to the door, and nodded her head at him in happy welcome. He bent down to kiss her, and she took the flowers and sniffed at them lovingly; then they walkedtogether down the little path to examine the growth of some sootychrysanthemums and three struggling creepers placed against the house. 

Edwin shook his head after the inspection, as though it had been farfrom promising, and then, instead of looking disappointed, they bothlaughed, turned round and round to look over their twelve-yard domain, and laughed again as if it were the best joke in the world. ThenAngelina said something in a low aside, whereupon Edwin strolled to thegate, and in the most casual manner looked up the road and down theroad, and then straight across at the window where the invalid lay!

"She told him to look!" cried Sylvia breathlessly, and her pale cheeksflushed until they were almost as red as the dressing-jacket itself. "He is very handsome, Whitey. I don't dislike him as much as Iexpected. Oh dear, they look disgustingly happy! I am sure they don'twant me a bit, and I want them dreadfully. He doesn't seem the sort ofman to coin false money, does he? Do please casually remark to AuntMargaret how very nice and distinguished they look! It's my one objectin life at present to make her call upon them. "

The next day the situation developed still further, for a form was seenseated at a window, who must, of course, be Edwin; yet he lookedstrangely younger and fairer in colouring. Nurse and patient debatedthe point hotly, until presently the door opened and out came one, two, three masculine creatures, all as like as peas in a pod, except for thedifference in years which divided Edwin from the handsome striplings oneither side. They stood together in the tiny garden, obviously waitingfor the mistress of the house, and when she did not appear, the youngestof the three picked up pieces of gravel and threw them up at a bedroomwindow, while the others whistled and beat upon the gate with theirsticks. 

Angelina strolled to the window in response to these demonstrations, andstood smiling at them while she fastened on her hat, but she did notappear to hurry herself in the least, nor did the brothers show anysigns of annoyance at their long waiting. When at long last she madeher appearance, there was great manoeuvring to get a place by her side, and away they trotted, four abreast, pushing everyone else off thepavement, but apparently blissfully unconscious of anything unusual inthe proceeding. 

Sylvia and Whitey watched until the last flutter of the black dressdisappeared from sight, then fell to work to settle the identity of thenew actors in the drama. 

"They are brothers--there is no doubt about that; but they can't livethere, Whitey! That wouldn't be at all newly-married. Do you supposethey are here for the day? Perhaps they are in rooms in town, andAngelina lets them come down over Sundays sometimes as a treat. Theyseem very fond of her, and quite at home. I think that is the mostlikely explanation, don't you?"

"I really think it is. Or they might live in the country and have comeup to pay a visit and see the sights, " said Whitey thoughtfully. 

She was thankful to find a subject of interest in these long days ofconvalescence to keep her patient's mind from dwelling on depressingtopics. Truth to tell, Sylvia was not getting well so quickly as hadbeen expected, and besides more serious drawbacks there were minortroubles, trying enough to the girlish mind. She had to learn to walkagain, like a baby, her back ached so badly that if she tried to stoopshe screamed aloud with pain, and, worse than all, the plaits of hairgrew small and beautifully less, until there was hardly anything left toplait. Sylvia had been proud of her hair, so she grew alarmed, andfinally sent off in haste for her special barber to give advice andconsolation in the difficulty. Consolation was not forthcoming, however, and the advice offered was by no means acceptable. 

"You can't do nothing--there's nothing will be a bit of good, " the mansaid dolefully. "Whatever you do, it's bound to come. The wisest thingwould be to be shaved at once, and give it a start. "

Sylvia fairly screamed with horror and consternation. 

"Shaved!" she cried. "I? I go about with a bald head--a horrible, bare, shiny scalp! I'd rather die! I'd rather--I'd rather--I'd ratheranything in the world! It's no use talking to me, Whitey; I will--not--be shaved!"

"Very well, dear, " assented Whitey easily. "Then you shan't. We willjust have a few inches cut off, and get a lotion to rub in to help thegrowth. I daresay the old hair will keep on until the new appears, andthen you need never have the horrible experience of seeing a bald head. "

"I never should see it in any case. I'd buy a wig and wear it night andday. Nothing would induce me to look in the glass when it was off. Ishould never respect myself again. And oh, Whitey, even at the best thenew hair will be ages growing, and it will be impossible to do anythingwith it!"

"Not at all. You can wear it short and curly. It would look verypretty, and suit you so well. "

Whitey was aggressively cheerful, but Sylvia refused to be comforted. 

"It would be hateful. I don't know anything more dejected-looking thanto see the back of a shorn head under a pretty hat. I won't _allow_ myhair to fall out, and that's the end of it!"

"Well, p'r'aps it won't, after all, miss! We must 'ope for the best, "said the barber cheerfully. 

He and Whitey talked incessantly all the time the hair-cutting wasproceeding, with the fond hope of distracting the girl's attention; butin naughty mood she refused to listen, insisted on sitting directly infront of her glass, and was rewarded for her pains by catching a glimpseof a bald spot on the crown of her head, which put the finishing touchof depression. 

When the doctor arrived for his morning visit, he found a mostmelancholy patient, and held a serious consultation with nurse on thestaircase before departing. 

"She seems very low and listless this morning. Can't you do somethingto cheer her up? I am afraid we are going to have trouble with thatfoot, and if she has to lie up again it will never do for her to get ina melancholy condition. You do your best, I know, but she needs achange. There is no reason why she should not see visitors. Has she noyoung friends who could come to have tea with her, and make her laugh?"

Whitey sighed, and leant against the banisters with a dejected air. Itis exhausting work being cheerful for two, and no one would havewelcomed a laughing stranger more heartily than herself. The questionwas, --where was she to be found?

"She was lamenting to me the other day that she had no girl-friends. She went abroad to school, and has had little opportunity of makingacquaintances since she came home. Miss Munns is very--conservative. She does not care to associate with her neighbours. There is a charminggirl who has come to live opposite. We watch her from the window, andSylvia has been trying to persuade her aunt to call for the last threeweeks; but it is useless. I'm sorry, for she looks just the very personwe want. "

"Won't call, won't she? We'll see about that. I'm not going to have mypatient thrown back, after all the trouble I've had with her, for fiftyold ladies and their prejudices. You leave it to me!" cried the jovialdoctor, and tramped downstairs into the parlour to give his ordersforthwith. 

A little diplomacy, a little coaxing, a few words of warning to reviveaffectionate anxiety, a good big dose of flattery, and the thing wasdone; and, what was better still, Aunt Margaret was left under the happydelusion that the projected visit was the outcome of her owninspiration. She said nothing to the invalid, but at half-past threethat afternoon she put on her woollen crossover, and a black silkmuffler, and her best silk dolman, and dear Aunt Sarah's sable pelerine, and her Sunday bonnet, and new black kid gloves, two sizes too big, carried her tortoiseshell card-case in one hand, and her umbrella in theother, and sailed across the road to call at Number Three. 

Sylvia had gone back to bed after lunch by her own request. The hair-cutting ordeal had tired her out, and there was, besides, a deep-seatedwearing pain in one foot and ankle which made her long to lie still andrest. She tried to sleep, and after long waiting had just arrived atthat happy stage when thoughts grow misty, and a gentle pricklingfeeling creeps up from the toes to the brain, when a patriotic barrel-organ began to rattle out the strains of "Rule, Britannia" from the endof the road, and the chance was gone. Then Whitey read aloud for anhour, but the book had come to a dull, uneventful stage, and thechapters dragged heavily. 

Sylvia longed for tea as an oasis in this desert of a day, anddespatched nurse to bid Mary bring it up half an hour before the usualtime. And then came a charming surprise! Back came Whitey all smilesand dimples, the tired lines wiped out of her face as by a miracle. Shestood in the doorway, looking at her patient with dancing eyes. 

"I've brought you something better than tea!" she cried. "Just lookwhat I have brought you!" As she spoke she moved to the side, as if tomake room for another visitor, and--was it a dream, or could it reallybe true?--there stood the bride of Number Three, the sweet-facedAngelina, in her black dress, her grey eyes soft with welcome. 

"Oh!" cried Sylvia shrilly. "Oh--oh!" She sat up in bed and stretchedout two thin little hands, all a-tremble with excitement. "It's _you_!Oh, how did you come? What made you come? How did you know I wantedyou so badly?"

"I wanted you too!" said the girl quickly. She had a delightful voice;soft, and deep, and musical in tone, and she was prettier than ever, seen close at hand. Best of all, she was not a bit shy, but as frankand outspoken as if they had been friends of years' standing. "Youraunt called on me this afternoon, " she went on, coming nearer the bed, and sitting down on the chair which nurse placed for her. "She invitedme to come to see you some day, but I've a dislike to waiting, ifthere's a good thing in prospect, so I asked if I might come at once, and here I am! I'm so glad you wanted to see me. I have watched youfrom my window, ever since you first sat up in your pretty red jacket. "

"And you looked up and smiled at me! I have watched you too, and wantedto know you so badly. I've been ill for months, it seems like years, and was so surprised to see that your house was taken. You can't thinkhow strange it is to creep back to life, and see how everything has goneon while you have lain still. It's conceited, of course, to expect arevolution of nature, just because you are out of things yourself, but Ididn't seem able to help it. "

"I'm like that myself!" said the pretty girl pleasantly. There was asoft gurgle in her voice as of laughter barely repressed, and shepronounced her i's with a faint broadening of accent, which wasaltogether quaint and delightful. 

Sylvia mentally repeated the phrase as it sounded in her ears, "Oi'mlike that meself!" and came to an instant conclusion. "Irish! She'sIrish. I'm glad of that. I like Irish people. " She smiled for purepleasure, and the visitor stretched out a hand impulsively, and graspedthe thin fingers lying on the counterpane. 

"You poor creature, I'm grieved for you! Tell me, is your nameBeatrice? I'm dying to know, for we had a discussion about it at home, and I said I was sure it was Beatrice. I always imagine a Beatrice darklike you, with brown eyes and arched eyebrows. "

"I don't! The only Beatrice I know is quite fair and fluffy. No, I amnot Beatrice!"

"But you are not Helen! I do hope you are not Helen. The boys guessedthat, and they would be so triumphant if they were right. "

"No, I'm not Helen either. I'm Sylvia Trevor. "

"'Deed, you are, then! It's an elegant name. I never knew anyoneliving by it before, and it suits you, too. I like it immensely. Didyou, "--the grey eyes twinkled merrily--"did you find a nickname for me?"

Sylvia glanced at Whitey and smiled demurely. 

"We called you Angelina. Oh, we didn't think that was really your name, but we called you by it because you looked so happy and er--eraffectionate, and pleased with everything. And we called your husbandEdwin, to match. Those are the proper names for newly-married couples, you know. "

The girl stared back with wide grey eyes, her chin dropped, and she satsuddenly bolt upright in her chair. 

"My _what_?" she gasped. "My h--" She put her hands against her cheeks, which had grown quite pink, and gurgled into the merriest, mostinfectious laughter. "But I'm not married at all! It's my brother. Heis not Edwin, he is Jack, and I'm Bridgie--Bridget O'Shaughnessy, just abit of a girl like yourself, and not even engaged. "

Sylvia sank back in the bed with a great sigh of thanksgiving. 

"What a relief! I was so jealous of that husband, for I wanted you formyself, and if you had been married you would have been too settled-downand domestic to care for me. I do hope we shall be friends. I'm anonly child, and my father is abroad, and I pine to know someone of myown age. "

"I know; your aunt told me. We talked about you all the time, for I hadbeen so interested and sorry about your illness, that I had no end ofquestions to ask. What a dear old lady she is! I envy you having herto live with. I always think one misses so much if there is no oldperson in the house to help with advice and example!"

The invalid moved restlessly on her pillows, and cast a curious glanceat her companion. The grey eyes were clear and honest, the sweet lipsshowed not the shadow of a smile; it was transparently apparent that shewas in earnest. 

Sylvia felt a pang of apprehension lest her new friend was about to turnout "proper, " that acme of undesirable qualities to the girlish mind. If that were so, the future would be robbed of much of its charm; butthe discussion of Aunt Margaret and her qualities must be deferred untila greater degree of intimacy had shown Bridgie the difficulties, as wellas the advantages, of the situation. In the meantime she was longing tohear a little family history, and judiciously led the conversation inthe desired direction. 

"You are four young people living alone, then? for I suppose the twoyounger boys are brothers also. How fond they seem of you!"

"Why, of course. They dote upon me, " said Miss O'Shaughnessy, with anair of calm taking-for-granted which spoke volumes for the character ofthe family. Then she began to smile, and the corners of her lipstwisted with humorous enjoyment. "I wouldn't be saying that we don'thave a breeze now and again, just to vary the monotony; but we admireone another the more for the spirit in us. And it's pleasant having aneven number, for we can fight two against two, and no unfairness. Maybethey are a bit more attentive than usual just now, for they have beenwithout me most of the winter, poor creatures! We have had a troubloustime of it these last two years. My dear father died the spring beforelast, and we had to leave our home in Ireland. Then one sister wasmarried, and another went to Paris for her education, so there were two_trousseaux_ to prepare, and when all the fuss and excitement was over Iwas worn-out, and the doctor said I must do nothing but rest for somemonths to come. The boys went into lodgings, while I junketed aboutvisiting friends, and they are so pleased to get into a place of theirown again, that they don't know how to knock about the furniture enough, or make the most upset!"

It seemed to Sylvia an extraordinary manner of appreciating the delightsof housekeeping, and she attempted to condole with the young mistress, only to be interrupted with laughing complacency. 

"'Deed, I don't mind. Let them enjoy themselves, poor dears. It'sdepressing to boy creatures to have to think about carpets and cushions, and have no ease at their writing for fear of a spot of ink. I care farmore about seeing them happy, than having the furniture spick and span. What was it made for, if it wasn't to be used?"

Sylvia groaned heavily. 

"Wait until you have been in our drawing-room!" she said. "The chairswere originally covered in cherry-coloured repp, --over that is a coverof flowered chintz, --over that is a cover of brown holland, --over thatis a capacious antimacassar, --over that, each night of the week, iscarefully draped a linen dust sheet. The carpet is covered with adrugget, the ornaments are covered with glass shades, the fire-screen iscovered with crackly oilskin. Even the footstools have little hoods todraw on over the beadwork. I have lived here for two years, and on oneoccasion we got down as far as the chintz stratum, when Cousin MaryRobinson and dear Mrs MacDugal from Aberdeen came to stay for thenight, but my eyes have never yet been dazzled by the glory of thecherry-coloured repp. "

Bridgie lengthened her chin, and shook her head from side to side, witha comical air of humiliation. 

"Ah, well, tidiness is a gift. It runs in the family like wooden legs. Some have got it, and others haven't, so they must just be resigned totheir fate. I'm going to see these repp covers, though! I'll wheedleand wheedle until one cover comes off after another, and never feel thatI have done credit to Old Ireland until I get down to the foundation. "She rose from her chair, and held out a hand in farewell. "Nurse said Iwas to stay only a few minutes, as you were tired already, but I maycome to tea another day if you would like to have me. "

"Oh, do, please! Come often! You can't think how I should love it. Will you come for a drive with me some day, when it is bright andsunny?"

"I will. We could have a nice chat as we went along. I have not toldyou about my sisters yet. I have the dearest sisters in the world!"said Bridgie O'Shaughnessy. 

CHAPTER THREE. 

FAMILY PORTRAITS. 

Bright and sunny days are not common in November, but the invalidmanaged to go out driving in such fine blinks as came along, and in eachinstance "Angelina" was seated by her side. The friendship wasprogressing with giant strides, and doctor and nurse looked upon BridgieO'Shaughnessy as their greatest assistant in a period of great anxiety. 

Sylvia was now able to sit up and work and read; head and eyes had comeback to their normal condition, but the treacherous disease had left itspoison in foot and ankle, and the pain on movement became more and moreacute. It required all the cheer that the new friend could give tohearten the invalid when once more she was sent back to counterpaneland, with a big cage over the affected part to protect it from thebedclothes, and all manner of painful and exhausting dressings to beundergone. 

Sylvia fumed, and grumbled, and whined; she grew sulky and refused tospeak; she waxed angry and snapped at the nurse. Worst of all, she losthope, and shed slow, bitter tears, which scalded the thin cheeks. 

"I shall never get better, Whitey, " she sobbed miserably. "I shan'ttry; it's too much trouble. You might as well leave me alone to die inpeace. "

"It's not a question of dying, my dear. It's a question of healing yourfoot. If I leave you in peace, you may be lame for life. How would youlike that?" said Whitey bluntly. She knew her patient by this time, andunderstood that while the idea of fading away in her youth might appearsufficiently romantic, Miss Sylvia would find nothing attractive in theprospect of limping ungracefully through life. The dressings andbandagings were endured meekly enough after that, but the girl's heartwas full of dread, and the long dark days were hard to bear. 

It became a rule that, instead of taking the meal alone, BridgieO'Shaughnessy should come across the road to tea, and sit an hour in thesick-room while Whitey wrote letters or went out for a constitutional. She came with hands full of photographs and letters and family trophies, to give point to her conversation, and make her dear ones live inSylvia's imagination. 

One day there was a picture of the old home--such a venerable andimposing building that Aunt Margaret, beholding it, felt her lastsuspicions of counterfeit coining die a natural death, and gaveinstructions to Mary that the second-best tea-things were to be takenupstairs whenever Miss O'Shaughnessy was present. Sylvia was impressedtoo, but thought it very sad that anyone who had lived in a castleshould come down to Number Three, Rutland Road. She delicately hintedas much, and Bridgie said--

"Yes, it would be hard if we took it seriously, but we don't. It's justlike being in seaside lodgings, when the smallnesses and inconveniencesmake part of the fun. We are going home some day, when Jack has madehis fortune, and until then my brother-in-law rents the Castle from us, and we go over and stay with him once or twice in the year. Esmeraldais mistress of Knock, and is having it put in such terrible order thatwe can hardly recognise the dear old tumbledown place. There is not asingle broken pane in the glass-houses!" Bridgie spoke in a tone ofalmost incredulous admiration, the while she drew a large promenadephotograph from its envelope. "There, that's Esmeralda! Taken in thedress in which she was presented. "

Sylvia looked, and gasped with surprise. Such a vision of beauty andelegance, such billows of satin, such lace, such jewels and noddingplumes, were seldom seen in this modest suburban neighbourhood. She hadnever before had any connection with a girl who had been presented atCourt, and the face which looked out of the photograph was as young asher own--startlingly, dazzlingly young. 

"Your sister? Really! How per-fectly lovely and beautiful! Is shereally as pretty as that? How old is she? What is her husband like?Is she very happy? She must be very rich to have all those beautifulthings. "

"She has more money than she can spend. Can you imagine that? Ican't!" said Bridgie solemnly. "I asked Esmeralda what it felt like tobe able to get whatever she liked without asking the price, and she saidit was very soothing to the feelings, but not nearly so exciting as whenshe used to make up new hats out of nothing at all and a piece of dyedribbon. She is only twenty--younger than I, and as beautiful as apicture. Geoffrey adores her. She has a dear little baby boy to playwith, and wherever she goes people turn round to look after her, so thatshe walks about from morning till night in a kind of triumphalprocession. "

"How nice!" sighed Sylvia enviously. "Just what I should like. No oneturns round to look after me, and I feel a worm every time I walk downBond Street among all the horrible creatures who look nicer than I domyself. People say--sensible old people, I mean--that it is bad for thecharacter to have everything that one wants. Do you think it is so inyour sister's case? Is she spoiled by prosperity?"

Esmeralda's sister hesitated, loyally unwilling to breathe a wordagainst a member of her family. 

"She is just as loving and generous as she can be; thinks of everysingle thing that father would have liked, and makes a perfect mistressof the old place. The people adore her, and are in wholesome awe ofher, too--far more so than they ever were of me. The boys get crosssometimes because she expects us to do exactly what she wishes, and thatimmediately, if not sooner, but it doesn't worry me. I agree with allshe says, and then quietly go my own way, and the next time we meet shehas forgotten all about it. She is just the least in the world inclinedto be overbearing, but we all have our faults, and can't afford to judgeeach other. She has been a dear sweet sister to me!"

Bridgie smoothed the tissue paper carefully over the portrait and put itback in its envelope. Then she picked up a smaller photograph from thetable, and her face glowed with tenderness and pride. "Now!" she cried, and her voice was as a herald's trumpet announcing the advent of theprincipal character upon the stage. "Now, here she comes! Here'sPixie! Here's our Baby!"

Sylvia sat up eagerly and held the photograph up to the light. Shelooked at it, and blinked her eyes to be sure she had seen aright. Shecast a swift look at Bridgie's face to assure herself that she was notthe victim of a practical joke. She pressed her lips together torepress an exclamation of dismay. She had expected to behold a visionof loveliness--the superlative in the scale in which the two eldersisters made positive and comparative, but what she saw was an elf-likefigure sitting huddled in the depths of an arm-chair, with tiny handsclasped together, and large dilapidated boots occupying the place ofhonour in the foreground. Lank tails of hair fell to the shoulders, andwhile the nose was of the smallest possible dimensions, the mouth seemedto stretch right across the face. It seemed impossible that thiscomical little creature could belong to such a handsome anddistinguished-looking family, still more so that her belongings shouldbe proud of her rather than ashamed, yet there sat Bridgie all beams andexpectancy, her sweet lips a-tremble with tenderness. 

"That's little Pixie! Esmeralda gave her two shillings for unpickingsome old dresses, and she went into the village and got photographed formy birthday present. There was a travelling photographer down for aweek, and it's wonderfully like her for eighteenpence. The othersixpence she spent on a frame--green plush, with shells at the corners. Esmeralda had remarks to make when I put it on the drawing-roommantelpiece, and offered to give me a silver one instead. " Bridgiesmiled and shook her head with an expression which showed that the priceof the green plush frame was above rubies. "No, indeed! It's notlikely I will give up Pixie's present. "

"She is not very like any of you!" Sylvia said lamely. She wanted tobe pleasant and appreciative, but could not think what on earth to saynext. "It must be--er--very nice to have a little sister. She is inParis, you say. Will she be away long?"

"She is coming home for good in January. Geoffrey and Esmeralda aregoing over to bring her back, and she will go on with finishing lessonsat home. We can't do without each other any longer. I feel quite sorewith wanting her sometimes, and she is home-sick too. I had a letterfrom her this morning. Would you like me to read it to you to show youwhat she is like?"

"Please do!" said Sylvia politely, but in reality she was rather boredby the prospect. 

It was one of Aunt Margaret's peculiarities that she insisted uponreading aloud the letters which she received from old-lady friends, andthe incredible dulness of the epistles made them a trial to the patienceof her lively young niece. She stifled a yawn as Bridgie straightenedthe sheets of foreign note-paper, and cleared her throat withprospective enjoyment. 

 "`Dearest, Darling People, especially Bridgie, --I was gladder than ever to get your letters this week, because it's been raining and dull, and the mud looked so home-like that it depressed my spirits. Therese has gone out for the day, so Pere and I are alone. He wears white socks and a velvet jacket, and sleeps all the time. He told me one day that he used to be very active when he was young, and that was why he liked to rest now. "All the week I do nozzing, and on Sundays I repose me!" I teach him English, but he doesn't like to talk it much, because it's so difficult to be clever in a foreign language. 

 "`My dear, I never suffered more than when I first came here, and Therese telling everyone how amusing I was, and myself sitting as dumb as a mummy! I can talk quite beautifully now, and wriggle about like a native. I'll teach you how to shrug your shoulders, and you hold up your dress quite differently in France, and it's fashionable to be fat. Last night Therese let me have two girls for _souper_. They are called Marie and Julie, and wear plaid dresses, and combs in their hair. I like them frightfully, but they are very rude sometimes, saying France is better than England, and that we have big teeth and ugly boots. Then they got angry because I laughed, and said England always thought she was right, but that everyone else knew she was a cheat and a bully, and that she was the most disliked nation on earth! "And you are the politest, " says I, quite composed, and at that they got red in the face, for I was all alone, and there were two of them in their own country. 

 "`When they went away they kissed me, and said they were sorry, and that my teeth weren't big a bit, and I said France was an elegant country, but you couldn't wear high heels in Ireland, or you'd never be free of the bog. It's a pity French people don't like us, and I don't think they always mean exactly what they say, but they make beautiful things to eat. 

 "`Therese gives me cooking lessons out of school hours, and I've lost my taste for coffee with grounds in it, like we had at Knock. Everything is as clean as if it were quite new, and there is such a different smell in the houses--a lonely smell! It makes me long for home and you, and a peat fire, and all the people in the streets speaking English, and never as much as thinking of the tenses of verbs. 

 "`You are quite sure I may come home in January, aren't you, Bridgie? You are not saying it just to pacify me? I'll tell you a secret! Once I thought of running away and coming back to you in London, because I couldn't bear myself any longer. I said to Therese, just in a careless kind of way, as if I had only thought of it that moment: "Supposing now that a young girl was in Paris, and wanting to run away to her friends in England, how would she set about getting there?"

 "`And she never suspected a bit, for she said:--

 "`"Supposing that she lived in this suburb, it would be quite easy to manage. She should rest tranquil until the family were in bed, and no one in the streets but thieves and robbers, and then slip out of the house and walk to the station. There would be no _voiture_, but perhaps the thieves may not see her, and all of them do not care about kidnapping children. When she reaches the station, she will take her ticket for England--it costs but a few sovereigns--and she has only to change twice, and get through the custom-house. If all went well, she would be in London next morning, while the poor friends in Paris might cry as much as they liked--they could not bring her back. "

 "`She seemed to think it quite easy, but I was afraid of the thieves, and had only three francs in my purse; and that afternoon they were both awfully kind to me, and Pere called me _cherie_, and Therese took me to the circus. The clown is called August, but the principal one is English, because they are the best. He made English jokes, and I laughed as loudly as I could, to show that I understood. The other people smiled with their lips, don't you know--the way people do when they don't understand, but think it is grand to pretend. I feel so stylish being English in France. When I come home to London, I'll be French!

 "`Esmeralda sent me a book and some money for Christmas presents. Tell Jack to write me a funny letter with illustrations. How is the poor girl with the bark on the road? We haven't a single animal in the house, not even a cat. I miss them frightfully. Do you remember when my ferret died, and I filled up to cry, and the Major bought me a white rat for consolation? Health, and tons of love, darling, from your own Pixie. '"

Sylvia chuckled softly from the bed. 

"It's not a scrap like a letter, " she said. "It is just like somebodytalking. What a jolly little soul! She seems very young, doesn't she?Some girls of sixteen are quite young ladies. "

"Pixie will always be a child, " said Pixie's sister fondly. "There issomething simple and trustful about her which will keep her young allher life. She is so transparently honest, that it never occurs to herthat anyone else can be different; and she is the kindest, most lovinglittle creature that was ever created. Don't you think she looks adarling in the photograph?"

It had come at last, the dreaded question, and Sylvia tried her best tocombine truthfulness with politeness. 

"She has very sweet eyes. It is difficult to judge when you have neverseen a person. She--she isn't exactly pretty, is she?"

"_Pretty_--Pixie pretty! I should think not, indeed!" cried Bridgie, with a heat of denial which seemed singularly out of keeping with theoccasion. From the manner of her reply it was evident that sheconsidered Pixie's plainness a hundred times more _distingue_ thanEsmeralda's beauty. "She's the quaintest-looking little creature thatever you set eyes on, with the dearest, funniest face! Father used tocall her the ugliest child in Galway. He was so proud of her, blesshim!"

Bridgie sighed pensively, and Sylvia stared at her with curious eyes. So far she had made the acquaintance of but one member of theO'Shaughnessy family, but it seemed as though they took the varioustrials and vicissitudes of life in a very different spirit from thepeople with whom she herself had associated. Instead of moaning overthe inevitable, they discerned the humour of the situation, and in happyfashion turned the trial into a joke. 

"I wonder, " sighed Sylvia to herself, "I wonder where the joke comes inin losing your hair. I suppose she would say it was so cool to bebald!" Not even to herself would she put into words the deeper, crueller dread which lay hauntingly in the background of her mind!

CHAPTER FOUR. 

DREAD. 

The foot refused to heal, and one morning a well-known surgeon followedDr Horton into the sick-room. The very sound of his name was as adeath-knell to the girl in the bed, but she controlled herself by amighty effort, and strained every nerve to watch the faces of herattendants during the examination which followed. She knew that theywould keep up appearances in her presence, and so long as possible hidethe worst from her knowledge; but if she appeared unsuspicious theywould perhaps be less careful, and a stray word, an interchange ofglances, might show the direction of their thoughts. She lay perfectlystill, not even flinching with pain when the diseased bone was touched, for the tension of mind was so great as to eclipse bodily suffering; butthe cool, business-like manner of the great surgeon gave no hint of hisdecision, while Dr Horton was as cheerful, Whitey as serenely composed, as on ordinary occasions. 

The cage was replaced over the foot, the bedclothes put in order, a fewpleasant commonplaces exchanged, and the trio adjourned forconsultation. Trained to their work of self-repression, not one of themhad given the slightest hint of what was feared, but their precautionswere undone by the thoughtless haste of the watcher outside. 

Miss Munns was hovering about the landing awaiting the verdict, andtrembling at the thought of the news which she might have to send to herbrother, when the door opened and the surgeon came towards her. DrHorton and the nurse followed, and before the door was closed behindthem an eager whisper burst from her lips--

"Can you save it? Must you ampu--"

Before the word was completed the surgeon's hand was over her lips, Whitey brought to the door with a bang, and three pale faces stared ateach other in consternation. Had Sylvia heard? Could she haveoverheard? That was the question which was agitating every mind. Theystrained their ears for a cry from the sick-room, but no cry came. Whitey looked at the doctor and made a movement towards the door, and hebent his head in assent. 

"Yes! Go in as if you had forgotten something. She may have fainted. Poor child, it was enough to make her!"

Tears of remorse were standing in Aunt Margaret's eyes, but she waitedsilently enough now while Whitey re-entered the room and strolled acrossto the window to pick up the book in which she wrote the daily report. She smiled at Sylvia as she passed, and Sylvia looked at her quietly, quite quietly, and the dark eyes showed no signs of tears. Whitey wentback to the doctors with lightened face, and eased their minds by adefinite assurance. 

"She heard nothing. She is lying quite still and composed. She cannotpossibly have heard. "

They turned and went downstairs to the dining-room. Sylvia heard theirfootsteps die away in the distance, the opening and shutting of thedoor. The brown eyes shone with unnatural brilliancy, the hot handswere clasped tightly together beneath the sheet. 

"God, " she was crying deep down in her soul, "do You really mean it?I've been very wicked often, I've forgotten You and taken my own way, but I'm so young--only twenty-one--don't make me lame! I'll be good, I'll think of other people, I'll be grateful all my life. Don't make melame! Think what it means to a girl like me to lose her foot! I haveno mother, nor brothers, nor sisters, and father is far-away. It wouldbe so dreadful to be shut up here and never, never run about any more. Have pity on me. _Don't make me lame_!"

It was a cry from the depths of her heart, very different from theformal prayers which she was accustomed to offer morning and evening--aplea for help such as she would have addressed to her dear earthlyfather in any of the minor difficulties of life, but in this greatcrisis of her fate she must needs go straight to the fountain ofcomfort--the Great Physician who was able to save the soul as well asthe body. 

All the rest of the day, as she lay so quietly on her pillows, she wastalking to Him, pleading for deliverance, setting forth pathetic girlisharguments why she should be spared the coming trial. When the thoughtarose of many others younger than herself who were leading maimed lives, she thrust the memory aside as something which could not be faced, andher lips refused to utter the words which she had been taught to affixto her petitions. "`Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done. ' Ican't say it, Lord. I can't mean it!" she cried tremblingly. "Not yet!Forgive me, and be patient with me. I'm so frightened!" and even asthe prayer went up, the assurance came into her soul that the HeavenlyFather would understand, and show towards her the divinest of sympathyand patience. 

For some reason which she would have found difficult to explain toherself Sylvia felt an intense disinclination to let her attendants knowwhat she had overheard. She perceived that they were more than usuallytender towards herself, and they on their part were puzzled by the quietof the once restless patient. She grumbled no more about smallunpleasantnesses--oh, how small they seemed! She was content to liestill and think her own thoughts, and seemed to have lost all interestin the ordinary events of the day. 

Only once in the twenty-four hours did a smile light up the set face, and that was when Bridgie O'Shaughnessy appeared for her afternoonvisit, and seated herself by the bedside. On one of these occasions, aweek after the surgeon's first visit, Whitey went out for, her dailywalk, and Sylvia watched her go and peered anxiously round the screen tomake sure that the door was really shut. Then she stretched out herhand, and gripped Bridgie by the wrist. It was a very thin, feeble-looking hand, but the grip had nothing feeble about it--it was almostpainful in its strength, and the brown eyes had a glazed misery ofexpression which made Bridgie tremble at the thought of what was tocome. 

"Bridget O'Shaughnessy, you call yourself my friend. Will you tell methe truth?"

"I'll not promise that, me dear. I'll not deceive you about anything ifI can help it, but you are an invalid, and there are some questionswhich you should not ask me. Only the doctor should answer them. "

But Sylvia went on with her story as if she had not heard the protest. 

"The other morning Sir Alfred Heap came to see my foot. He said verylittle about it to me, and after examining it, went out of the room toconsult with Dr Horton. Aunt Margaret was waiting for them on thelanding, and they were not quick enough in shutting the door. I heardwhat she said. To-morrow morning Sir Alfred is coming again. Bridgie, --_is he going to cut off my foot_?"

"He is not, darling. He is going to give you chloroform and dosomething to the bone to try to make it sound and healthy again. "

"And if that fails, will he cut it off then?"

"He will operate again, and go on trying as long as he dare. "

"And if everything else fails, then--"

"Yes, Sylvia, " said Bridgie gently. 

Downstairs in the dining-room Miss Munns had been consulting with Whiteyas to how the patient was to be prepared for the ordeal of to-morrow, and by whom the news should be broken. Whitey had taken the task uponherself with the unselfish heroism of her profession, but her prettyface was worn with the strain of this long anxious case, and Bridgie'sheart had ached for her in her painful task. Now, in the midst of herown agitation, she felt a thrill of unselfish joy that she had been ableto take one burden at least from those heavily-laden shoulders. 

Sylvia knew not only of the ordeal of the morrow, but also of thatnightmare dread of what might have to follow. She had known it for aweek past, and had lain quietly on her bed with all the horror andmisery of it locked up in her own heart. Such restraint seemed almostincredible to the outspoken Irish nature, but Bridgie's words ofadmiration brought an added shade over the invalid's face. 

"No, it was not bravery, it was cowardice! I was like an ostrich hidingmy head in the ground for fear of what I might see. I literally darenot ask until it came to the last moment. Oh, Bridgie, what a week ithas been! Going to sleep with the weight on my heart; waking up andthinking, `What is it? What is it?' and the shock of rememberingafresh! I lay and thought it all out; never to be able to run, norbicycle, nor skate, nor dance, nor even walk without crutches, to dreadgoing upstairs, to be cut off from girls of my own age because I couldnot take part in their amusements, to hear people say `Poor thing!' andlook pitifully at me as I hobbled by. I've tried to be resigned andtake it like invalids in books, but--I can't! I feel desperate. Bridgie, suppose it was you! How would you feel?"

"I should cry myself ill for two or three days, and then brisk up and bethankful that if it was one foot, it wasn't two!" said Bridgie quaintly. "That is, if I were quite certain about it, but I never believe indisagreeable things until they have really happened. Hope for the bestas long as you can. You have clever doctors and nurses, and you willhave a better chance if you keep up your spirits. "

Sylvia shook her head hopelessly. 

"It's easy to be philosophic for someone else. I could preachbeautifully to you, Bridgie, if you were lying here instead of me, butthe suspense is so hard to bear! I feel as if I could not live throughanother week like the last. Have you ever known what it was to dragthrough the days with a nightmare of dread growing bigger and bigger, nearer and nearer, to look ahead and see your life robbed of the thingsyou care for most, to hope against hope, while all the time your heartis sinking down--down--"

"Down--until it is just one great big ache clouding out the whole world?Yes, I know!" said Bridgie quietly. "I have never had a bad illness, but my trouble came to me in a different way, Sylvia, and my time ofsuspense was not days, but weeks and months, I might almost say years, except that even my hopes died out before that time arrived!"

The two girls looked at each other intently, and the blank depression onthe invalid's face gave place to one of anxious sympathy. 

"You mean, of course, that it was a mental trouble. Could you tell meabout it, Bridgie, do you think? I don't want to force your confidence, but I am so interested in you, and it would do me good to be sorry forsomeone beside myself. Was it a--love affair?"

"I cared for him, but I am afraid he could not have liked me very much, "said Bridgie sadly. "I have never spoken of him except to Esmeralda andone other person, but I don't mind telling you, dear, if it will be theleast bit of help to you now. We seem to know each other so well thatit seems absurd to think we had not met, two months ago. 

"It was just someone I met one time when I was visiting, and when he wasordered abroad he asked if he might write while he was away. I was veryhappy about it, for I had never seen anyone I liked so much, and wewrote to each other regularly for over a year. They were not love-letters; just quite ordinary, sensible, telling-the-news, but there wasalways one little sentence in his which seemed to say more than thewords, and to tell me that he cared a great deal. If a stranger hadread it, he would not have understood, but I knew what he meant, and Iused to skim over the pages until I came to those few words, and theywere the whole letter to me. 

"Looking back now I can see how I lived in expectation of mail day, butsuddenly his letters stopped. When father was pronounced hopelesslyill, I sent him a hurried note, saying that we should have to leave theCastle, for all the money was gone, and from that day to this I haveheard no more. It was very hard coming just then, Sylvia!

"For the first few months I was not really uneasy, though verydisappointed. I knew that a soldier's life is not always his own, andthat he might have been ordered to a part of the country where it wasimpossible to send off letters, but then I read his name as taking partin some function in Bombay, and I knew that could be the case no longer. I would not tell Esmeralda to depress her in the midst of herhappiness, so I just sat tight and waited, and the time was very long. 

"When it came near mail day my hopes would go up, for it's my nature tobe cheerful. The postman would knock at the door, and my heart would gohead over heels with excitement, and it would be a circular, or a billwanting payment. Another time he would not come at all, and that wasworse, for one went on drearily hoping and hoping, and pretending thatthe clock was fast. Now I forget mail days on purpose, for it is nearlyeighteen months since he wrote last, and I have given up all hope ofhearing. "

Sylvia drew a deep sigh, and knitted her forehead. 

"I can't believe that anyone could forget you when he had once cared. You are so different from other girls. It is most strange andmysterious. Do you think that perhaps--you won't mind my suggestingit--the money had some influence with him? Perhaps he thought you werean heiress--at any rate, that your people were rich and influential, andwhen he heard that you were poor he may have changed. "

"No!" said Bridgie decisively. "No, I won't think it! I won't letmyself think so badly of anyone for whom I have cared so much. I don'tknow what his reasons were, and perhaps I never shall, but I wouldrather believe the best. Some people don't find it easy to rememberwhen they are far-away, and he might have a delicacy in writing to saythat he had forgotten!

"If I had still been Miss O'Shaughnessy of Knock, I should have sentjust one more letter to ask if anything was wrong, but I had too muchpride to obtrude myself as Bridgie of nowhere. I have no reason tobelieve that my letter went astray, and even if it had, he would havewritten again if he had wished to hear. He is alive and well, I know somuch, and I'm well too, and very happy with my boys. I had a bad timeof it, and the suspense had more to do with making me ill than the hardwork of that summer; but now I have faced the worst, and have far toomuch to do to be able to mope. Boys are such cheering creatures! Theygive you so much work. The very darning of their socks is adistraction!"

"It would distract me in a very different way!" said Sylvia, with asmile. 

CHAPTER FIVE. 

AN INVITATION. 

The operation was successful and unsuccessful--that is to say, the fearof amputation was removed; but it became abundantly evident that itwould be a very long time before Sylvia recovered the power of walkingabout with ease. 

A few weeks earlier she would have been heartbroken at the prospect of aspell of crippledom, but the greater troubles eclipse the less, andcompared with that other paralysing dread, it was a passinginconvenience at which she could afford to smile. 

Poor child! her first impulse on recovering from the chloroform had beento dive to the bottom of the bed to feel if the foot were still there, and her elastic spirits went up with a bound as she listened to thesurgeon's reassuring report. She was perfectly willing to lie on thesofa and give up all idea of Christmas festivities, willing, in fact, inthe relief and joy of the moment, to promise anything and everything ifonly she might look forward to unimpaired strength in the future. 

As for Miss Munns, she rejoiced with grumbling, as her custom was, mingling thankful speeches with plaints for her own deprivations, to themingled distress and amusement of her hearers. Christmas was drawingnear, and there had been no time to prepare for the proper keeping ofthe festival, for cook had been too much occupied with jellies and beef-teas to have any time to spare. There were no mince-pies in the larder, no plum-puddings in their fat cloth wrappings, no jars of lemon cheese, no cakes, no shortbread, not so much as a common bun-loaf, and AuntMargaret hung her head, and felt that a blot had fallen upon herescutcheon. 

"I can't fancy Christmas with bought mince-pies!" she said sadly. "I'vekept house for forty years and never failed to make four plum-puddings--one for Christmas Day, one for New Year, one for company, and one forEaster. Some people make them without eggs nowadays, but I keep to theold recipe. My mother's plum-puddings were quite famous among herfriends. Of course, my dear, we have great cause for thankfulness, andI should have had no appetite if you had lost your foot; but it reallyupsets me to look at that larder! How many pounds of mincemeat have_you_ made, Miss O'Shaughnessy, may I ask?"

Sylvia was lying on the sofa in the drawing-room, to which she had beencarried in time for tea, and Bridgie was sitting beside her, lookingwith wondering eyes at the muffled splendours which she now beheld forthe first time. She blushed as she heard the question, and adroitlyevaded an answer, for, to tell the truth, she bought her pies from thepastry-cook, and congratulated herself on the saving of trouble. 

"Oh, indeed, we get through a great deal, for the boys think nothing ofthree pies at a sitting. I'd be obliged to you, Miss Munns, if youwould lend me your recipe for the pudding, for my cook is not thecleverest in the world, and, as Jack says, there is no monotony abouther results. If she does a thing well three times, there's all the morechance that it will be wrong the fourth, when you are encouraged to aska friend to dinner. "

Aunt Margaret sawed the air with her mittened hands, and shook her capin solemn denunciation. 

"Method, my dear--method! They won't take the trouble to measure theingredients, but just trust to chance, so what can you expect? Youshall have the recipe with pleasure, but if you take my advice you willlook after the weighing yourself. Are you expecting any friends for theday, or perhaps one of your sisters?"

"No--we shall be quite alone. My married sister wanted us all to go toIreland, but the boys cannot spare the time, and I will not leave them. "Bridgie sighed, and a shadow passed over her face. "It won't seem likeChristmas to have no coming nor going, and Esmeralda and Pixie so far-away. I have been trying to think of a diversion for the boys, but Imight spare myself the trouble, for I've no money to pay for it if I hadthe idea. "

"Straitness of means is a great curtailer of pleasure, " said Miss Munns, gazing solemnly into space over the edge of her spectacles. "In my ownfamily we have had sad experiences of the kind. My great-uncle was inmost comfortable circumstances, and kept his own brougham and peach-houses before the failure of the Glasgow Bank. They removed to SyringaVillas after that, and did the washing at home. I shall never forgetcalling upon Emma the first Tuesday that the clothes were hanging out todry in the back garden, and finding her in tears, with the blinds drawndown. She had a great deal of family pride, had poor Emma, for hermother belonged to the leading circles in Wolverhampton, and the steamof clothes in the boiler is most depressing unless you have been broughtup to it from a child. George died soon after. He never held up hishead again, and Emmeline, the daughter, had a very good offer from acorn-broker. She was a fine-looking girl, with black eyes and her poorfather's nose. She looked very well in the evening, when she wasdressed, and had a colour. "

"And did she marry the corn-broker?" queried Bridgie eagerly. 

Sylvia was flushed and frowning, more than half ashamed of the oldlady's disclosures, fearful lest they might affect her own importance inthe estimation of a friend who had lived in a Castle, and owned a sisterwho went to Court, and profoundly uninterested in Emmeline and herdestiny; but Bridgie was all animation and curiosity, her grey eyes widewith anxiety as to the success of the corn-broker and his suit. Here, indeed, was a listener worth having, and Miss Munns warmed to her taskwith even more than the usual enjoyment. 

"My dear, you would hardly believe the time poor Emma had with thatgirl! She took a fancy to a bank clerk on two hundred a year, andnothing would suit but she must be engaged to him. He gave her aturquoise ring, I remember--a shabby thing that could not have cost morethan a sovereign, and Emma was quite mortified when people asked to seeit. They were engaged for five years, and she lost all her looks, andhe had a bicycling accident, and hurt his right arm so badly that hecould not write. 

"Emma insisted that the engagement should be broken off, but the stupidgirl would not listen to reason. She had a little legacy from hergodmother about that time, and his father allowed him something, so theywere married, and went abroad to try a cure for his arm. He is back atwork again, and they seem happy enough; but it was a poor match for her, and they can only afford one servant. The corn-broker said he couldnever look at a girl again, but he married one of the Miss Twemlowswithin the year. Perhaps you know the Twemlows? They are a very well-known family in their suburb. "

No, Bridgie did not know them, but her expression seemed to denote thatshe was quite ready to listen to their family history, in addition tothose which she had already heard. But this was more than Sylvia couldbear, and she hastened to interrupt the flow of her aunt'sreminiscences. 

"You have not heard from Aunt Emma lately--at least, you have not toldme of her letters. I suppose you have not seen her while I have beenill?"

Miss Munns pursed up her lips in a manner which seemed to imply that shewas in possession of some weighty secret, but from motives of prudencewas resolved to conceal it from the world. 

"I have heard from her, my dear. I have not seen her. As I said in myreply, everything must give way to illness, though I am very sorryindeed to think of her alone in the house. Emmeline can't leave thebaby, so it is only natural that her mother should want somecompanionship over Christmas. I would have had her here instead, butthe house is so upset that I am not prepared for visitors. It is verypleasant meeting from time to time, being contemporaries as we are, andhaving gone through so many troubles together. There is nothing I enjoymore than talking them over with your Aunt Emma, and I am grieved todisappoint her. Of course I made up my mind from the first to saynothing about it to you. "

Now it was Bridgie's turn to look blank, and Sylvia's to questionanxiously. 

"Do you mean that she invited you for Christmas, and that you refusedbecause of me? Oh, Aunt Margaret, you must not do that! You need achange, and it would be a relief to have all arrangements taken off yourhands. Whitey and I could manage quite well by ourselves. Do pleasechange your mind and write to say that you will go!"

"My love, I assure you that I considered the matter very carefullybefore I decided, and it is impossible for me to leave home. I havepromised nurse that she shall spend two days with her sister, cominground each morning to attend to your foot, and I should not like todisappoint her. It is only natural that she should wish to be with herown friends. I sympathise with her, but I don't complain. It is notyour fault that your illness has upset my plans, and it is my duty to beresigned and cheerful. "

Aunt Margaret testified to her sense of duty by heaving a sigh offunereal proportions, the while Sylvia's brow became fretted with lines, and she turned a glance of despair upon her friend. 

To be condemned to spend Christmas alone with Aunt Margaret in this moodof melancholy resignation; to realise that she had deprived her of thehappiness of talking over past troubles with poor dear Emma; to listenfrom morning to night to her transparently-veiled repinings--this wasindeed a cheerful prospect for an invalid, who might naturally haveexpected to receive the sympathy herself. 

"Aren't you sorry for me?" the brown eyes asked Bridgie mutely. But, lo! Bridgie was radiant, her face one sparkle of animation, her handsuplifted to hail the advent of a happy thought. 

"The Diversion, " she cried rapturously--"the Diversion! I see it all, and it is perfectly charming! Sylvia shall be the diversion! She shallstay over the New Year with us; Miss Munns shall go to her friend andtalk over old times; nurse shall visit her sister and have a rest afterher hard work; I will look after Sylvia, and Sylvia shall flirt with theboys, and keep them happy. It's a perfectly charming arrangement allround!"

"My dear!" cried Aunt Margaret in horrified protest against the lastitem on the programme. But Sylvia gave a chuckle of cheerfulcomplacency, and, so far from being overcome, looked so much revived bythe prospect that there could be no doubt as to the expediency of theproposed visit, so far as health at least was concerned. 

Miss Munns went through the form of protesting, but her objections wereeasily waved aside, for to tell the truth she was only too ready to bepersuaded, and her objections had no deeper root than the belief that itwas not polite to seize too eagerly on an invitation. 

"I could not think of it, my dear! Such an upset for you. You don'tknow how much work an invalid makes in the house! She has to be carriedup and down stairs, and waited on hand and foot!"

"I have three big strong boys, and you have only women in the house. Pat could put her in his pocket, and not know there was anything there!"

"My dear--how can you! It would take up your spare room, too, and makeso much ringing at the bell with nurse coming in the morning and thedoctor in the afternoon. "

"But what a lesson it would be to me to see them attending to her! Souseful for the next time the boys break their legs! I love Whitey, andfeel better for it every time I see her sweet, kind face. "

"If you had had to prepare meals at all hours of the night and day, youwould be sick of the sight of a nurse, however sweet she might look! Idon't see why you should be upset, my dear, for the sake of my friend. "

"Dear Miss Munns, I am thinking even more of my own friend. It isselfishness which makes me want to have Sylvia with me. We would enjoybeing together and talking over our troubles just as you do. Please lether come!"

"Troubles, my dear--troubles? Has your cook given notice?" cried MissMunns, her mind flying at once to domestic matters, and dwelling thereonwith accustomed enjoyment. She had so many stories to tell of cooks whohad left their places immediately before Christmas, and of the tragicconsequences which followed, that the original subject of discussiontook a secondary position in her thoughts, and when Bridgie beganplacidly to discuss arrangements, she fell into the trap with innocentalacrity. Sylvia could hardly believe her ears. It seemed quite toogood to be true. The week's holiday held out glorious possibilities ofenjoyment, and she began at once to count the hours which must elapsebefore her departure. 

CHAPTER SIX. 

BRIDGIE'S PUDDING. 

It was two days before Christmas, and Bridgie O'Shaughnessy envelopedherself in a white apron, and pensively regarded the contents of thelarder. In a couple of hours Sylvia was expected to arrive, andmeanwhile Mary the cook had been seized with an irresistible craving tovisit an invalid mother, and had taken herself off for the afternoon, leaving the arrangements for dinner in the care of the young mistress, and a still younger parlourmaid. 

Mary's excuse for requesting leave of absence at so inconvenient a timewas somewhat contradictory and involved. Her mother was failing fast, and as it was a custom in the family to die in December, it was adaughter's duty to visit her as often as possible; the shops were alldressed-up for Christmas, and it was hard that a body should not get abit of pleasure sometimes, and the steak was stewed, and could be"hotted up" at a moment's notice. The invalid mother sat up for acouple of hours in the afternoon only, so Mary must get to the house bythree o'clock at the latest, and would it matter if she were aftereleven in returning, as Christmas came but once a year?

Sweet Bridgie assented warmly to each proposition as it was put beforeher, urged a speedy departure, and was rather inclined to think it wouldbe wise to stay at home for the night. She could never find it in herheart to deny a pleasure which it was in her power to grant, and wasgaily confident of managing "somehow" to prepare a palatable meal forher guest, indeed, in the ardour of hospitality was rather pleased thanotherwise to have a hand in the preparations. 

On the principle of "first catch your hare, then cook it, " she lookedcritically over the contents of the cupboards to find some ingredientswhich commended themselves to her limited knowledge of the culinary art. Gelatine had endless possibilities, but time was against her, and shehad the dimmest notions as to the quantity required; pastry was alwaysattainable, but on the one occasion when she had experimented in thisdirection, Jack had taken the nutcrackers to divide his tartlet amidstthe cheers of an admiring audience, so that there was plainly no fame tobe won in this direction. 

Milk puddings were too painfully ordinary, but a bag of macaroni seemedto offer at once an easy and a tasty alternative. Bridgie felt herselfquite capable of boiling the sticks into tenderness, and scraping downcheese to add to the milky concoction, and a further search discovered adark yellow lump stowed away in the corner of a cupboard evidentlydestined for such an end. It was wonderfully hard; Bridgie's fingersached with the strain of cutting it, and she shook her pretty headsolemnly over the wastefulness of servants in not using up materialsbefore their freshness was lost. She had intended to use the whole ofthe piece, but it took so long to prepare that she stopped half-way, andto judge by the mellow brownness of the pudding when she peeped at it inthe oven, quality had more than made up for quantity. 

Sylvia sniffed delicately as she limped over the threshold, for thepudding had a strangely powerful smell, not exactly savoury perhaps, butdistinctly fresh and wholesome. Bridgie bridled in proud consciousnessof success the while she tucked up her guest on the drawing-room sofa. 

"I've been making a pudding for you, dear. Mind you enjoy it! Mary isout, so you are to excuse everything that goes wrong. There's a prettypink cushion to match your dress. I never saw that dress before! Youare wonderfully smart, Miss Sylvia Trevor!"

"It's for the boys, " said Sylvia, laughing. "I want to make a goodimpression, for I am dreadfully afraid they mayn't like me. I knownothing about young men. They never penetrate into Number Six, and AuntMargaret thinks it is proper to ignore their existence between the agesof six and sixty. I thought if I put on the bright dress and my petchiffon fichu, they might not notice how thin my hair is at the top!"

"I'll tell them not to notice, " said Bridgie gravely. She crossed theroom and poked the fire with the best brass poker, a real, live coalfire and no wretched asbestos imitation, and knelt on the rug holdingout her hands to the blaze and scorching her cheeks with undisturbedcomplacency. 

The room was mathematically the same in size and shape as the one acrossthe road, but oh, how different in appearance! The one was a museum forthe preservation of household gods, the other a haven for rest andamusement, where comfort was the first consideration and appearance thelast. Bridgie's mending-basket stood on the floor, Jack's pipe peeredfrom behind a chimney-piece ornament, and a bulky blotter and well-filled ink-bottle showed that the writing-table was really and seriouslymeant for use. 

There was a writing-table in Miss Munns's drawing-room also, on whichwere set out, in formal order, a _papier-mache_ blotter embellished witha view of York Minster by moonlight, a brass ink-stand, which would havebeen insulted by the touch of ink, and a penholder with a cornelianhandle which had never known a nib. Not the most daring of visitors hadever been known to desecrate that shrine. When the mistress of thehouse wished to write a letter, she spread a newspaper over the dining-room table, and a sheet of blotting-paper over that, and carefullyunlocked the desk which had been a present from Cousin Mary Evans on hersixteenth birthday!

It is extraordinary what a complete change of air may be obtainedsometimes by merely crossing a road, or going into the house at theother side of a dividing wall! Sylvia felt that she might havetravelled a hundred miles, so entirely different were the conditions bywhich she found herself surrounded. 

By and by the three brothers arrived in a body, letting themselves intothe house with a latch-key, and talking together in eager undertones inthe hall. Bridgie sat still with a mischievous smile on her lips, andpresently the drawing-room door was noiselessly opened for half a dozeninches, and round the corner appeared a brown head, a white forehead, and a pair of curious brown eyes. Sylvia's cheeks were as pink as herdress by the time that those eyes met hers, but she was the only personto show signs of embarrassment. 

"Pat" came forward to shake hands with swift cordiality, followed insuccession by Jack and Miles, and the three big brothers stood besidethe sofa, looking down on their guest with kindly scrutiny. Pat'stwinkling smile was an augury for future friendship; Miles's air ofangelic sympathy was as good as a tonic; while the rapt gaze of Jack'sfine eyes seemed to imply that never, no never, had he beheld a girl whoso absolutely fulfilled his ideal of womanhood! It was nothing that theconversation was most ordinary and impersonal, concerning itself mostlywith such matters as the weather, the trains from the city, and theChristmas traffic. 

The atmosphere was full of subtle flattery, and Sylvia purred withsatisfaction like a sleek little kitten that stretches up its neck tomeet an unaccustomed caress. Nothing is so inspiring as appreciation, and she was quite startled by the aptness and brilliancy of her ownremarks during the meal which followed. 

Jack helped his guest in to dinner, and once again the pungent odourfrom the kitchen attracted notice and remark, whereat Bridgie bridledcomplacently, and when the macaroni was brought to table it did indeedlook a most attractive dish to be the work of an amateur. So brown wasit, so mellow of tint, with such promise of richness, that the generalchoice settled on it in preference to its more modest neighbour. 

Sylvia was naturally helped in advance, and the moment of swallowing thefirst spoonful was momentous, and never to be forgotten. What hadhappened she could not tell; the room swam round her, the tears pouredfrom her eyes. She recovered from a paralysing shock of surprise justin time to see Pat's mouth open wide to receive a heaped-up spoonful, tohear him roar like a wounded bull, and make a dash from the room. 

"What is the matter?" cried Bridgie in amaze, and Jack smoothed out thesmoking macaroni on his plate and replied cheerfully--

"Scalded himself as usual! He is so impetuous with his food. Do himgood to have a lesson. " Then he in his turn partook of the dainty, andhis eyes grew bigger and bigger, rounder and rounder, the Adam's appleworked violently in his throat. For one moment it seemed as though hetoo would fly from the room, but presently the struggle was over, and heleaned back in his chair, pale and dejected, his glance meeting Sylvia'swith melancholy sympathy. 

"What _is_ the matter?" queried Bridgie once more, and this time therewas a touch of testiness in her voice, for it was trying to have herefforts treated with such want of appreciation, and even if the dishwere not all that could be desired, consideration for her feelings mighthave kept her brothers silent before a stranger. "Miles, _you_ tasteit!" she cried, and Miles smacked his lips for a thoughtful moment, andpronounced sturdily--

"It's very good!"

Sylvia groaned involuntarily; she could not help it, and Jack gaspedwith incredulous dismay, staring at his brother as if he could notbelieve his senses. 

"Well, I always did say that there was nothing in this wide world whichwould quell your appetite, but this beats everything! Take anotherspoonful--I _dare_ you to do it!"

"All right, here goes! It's a very good mixture, " said Milescomplacently, swallowing spoonful after spoonful, while his _vis-a-vis_looked on with distended eyes, and Pat stood transfixed upon thethreshold. As for Bridgie, her face brightened with relief, and shesmiled upon her younger brother with grateful affection. 

"That's right, Miles; never mind what they say! You are the greatestcomfort I have. Some people are so saucy there is no pleasing them. You and I will enjoy it, if no one else will. "

So far she had prudently refrained from experimenting on her ownaccount, but now she took up her spoon, and there was a breathlesssilence in the room while she lifted it to her lips. It fell back onthe plate with a rattle and clang, and an agonised glance roamed roundthe table from one face to another. 

"Oh--oh--oh! How p-p-p-perfectly awful! What can have happened? Itwas so nice when I left it! Has anyone"--the voice took a tone ofindignation--"have any of you boys been playing tricks on me?"

"How could we, now, if you think of it? We have been upstairs or in thedrawing-room ever since we came back. It's not the will that's wanting, but the opportunity!" cried the boys in chorus; but it was not a timefor joking, and Bridgie smote upon the table-gong with a determinedhand. 

"Then it must be Sarah's fault. She has done something to it. It istoo bad--I took such pains!" She looked pathetically at the red markswhich still lingered on her fingers from that painful cutting andscraping, and there was a distinct air of resentment in the voice inwhich she questioned her assistant a moment later. 

Sarah was a round-faced, vacant-looking damsel of sixteen summers, whohad come straight from an industrial home to serve in the O'Shaughnessyfamily. She was scrupulously clean, admirably willing, and so blindlyobedient that in the bosom of the family she was known by the title of"Casabianca. " She understood to a nicety how to dust and sweep, makebeds and turn out a room, but the manners and customs of gentlefolk hadbeen an unknown science to her before entering her present situation, and anything that Bridgie chose to do was, in her eyes, a demonstrationof what was right and proper. She adored her young mistress, andtrembled at the new tone of severity in which she was addressed. 

"Please, ma'am, I did nothing at it!"

"But something has happened to it, Sarah--that's quite certain. Thinknow--think carefully what you have done since I left the kitchen. I amnot angry, only anxious to find out what has gone wrong. "

It was really most embarrassing. The three young gentlemen werewatching her with laughing eyes, the pretty young lady in the pink dresswas staring at her plate and twisting her lips to keep from smiling, theMissis sat up straight in her chair and looked so grave and masterful. Like Topsy of old, Sarah tried hard to find something to confess, butfailed to recall any delinquencies. 

"I took it out of the oven when you said, and put it on a plate. Ibrought it into the room--"

"You are quite sure you didn't let anything fall into it by mistake?"

"Please, ma'am, there was nothing to fall. I had tidied the things awaybefore I touched it. I put the macaroni sticks back in the bag and thebeeswax along of the turpentine for to-morrow's cleaning--all that youdidn't use for the pudding. "

"The--the--what?" gasped Bridgie breathlessly. 

But the next moment a great burst of laughter all round the tablegreeted the solution of the mystery. Pat capered about the floor, Jackput his elbows on the table and peered at Sylvia with dancing eyes, Miles undauntedly helped himself to another spoonful, and wagged hishead as who should say that, beeswax or no beeswax, he stuck to hisfavourable verdict on the "mixture. " Bridgie's soft, gurgling laugh wasfull of unaffected enjoyment. 

"Did ever I hear the like of that? It was a lump of beeswax, and Imistook it for cheese! It looked just like it--so smooth, and yellow, and hard--too hard, maybe--but I was blaming Mary for that, not thecheese, and thinking myself so good and economical to use it up!Beeswax and macaroni! Oh--oh--I'll never forget it while I live!"

"It's a very pretty nose you've got, dear, but it's not much use to you, I'm afraid, " said Jack teasingly. "Did it never occur to you one momentthat it was rather highly scented, and the scent a little different fromthe ordinary common or garden cheese?" and Bridgie shook her head insolemn denial. 

"Never the ghost of a suspicion! It shows how easily our senses aredeceived when we get a fixed idea in our heads; but indeed you were notmuch cleverer yourselves. Every man of you had something to say aboutthe smell, but not a hint of what it was!"

"I thought it was rather spring-cleaningey, " Sylvia said mischievously. "Never mind, Bridgie dear--it has been a great success. I do feel somuch at home--more so than I should have done after a dozen formaldinners where everything went right. I shall always remember it too, and how Mr Miles declared it was nice!"

"Don't call him `Mr, ' please! He is only seventeen, though he _is_ thechampion eater of the world. I wonder what exactly is the effect ofbeeswax taken internally! You must tell us all about it, Miles, if youlive to the morning!"

"How pleased Pixie will be!" murmured Bridgie reflectively, leaving herhearers to decide whether she referred to Miles's problematical diseaseor the latest culinary disaster, and once again Sylvia admired the happyfaculty of seizing on the humorous side of a misfortune which seemed tobe possessed so universally by the O'Shaughnessy family. 

CHAPTER SEVEN. 

A HAPPY INSPIRATION. 

Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard stood in the long gallery of Knock Castle anddrummed wearily on the window-pane with a white, heavily-ringed hand. It had rained for a whole week without stopping, and for the happiestgirl in the world, as she proclaimed herself to be at least three timesa day, she came perilously near feeling shedding tears of depression. 

Geoffrey was out shooting, and the old Castle seemed full of ghosts--ghosts of the living, not of the dead--of those dear, gay, loving, teasing, happy-go-lucky brothers and sisters who had filled the roomswith echoes of song and laughter. Geoffrey was the dearest of husbands, but he had one great, insuperable failing--he was not Irish, and onephase of his wife's character was even yet an inexplicable riddle in hiseyes. Why should she consider it monotonous to have her meals servedregularly at a stated hour; why should she find infinite enjoyment inarranging a festivity in a rush and scramble, instead of making herplans with due leisure and decorum; why should she wear the latest Parisfashions on a day when the thermometer pointed to rain, and walk aboutin the sunshine in an ulster and deerstalker?--these, and many similarquestions, were as puzzling to him as the fact that she found itabsolutely impossible to do a thing twice over in the same way, or tomaster the very rudiments of method. 

Geoffrey inherited the business instincts which had made his fatherssuccessful above their competitors, and when he had become temporaryowner of Knock, he had striven hard to introduce order and punctualityinto the establishment, with more success in the servants' hall than inthose regions where the mistress reigned supreme. 

Esmeralda was a devoted wife, who would have gone through fire and waterto ensure his happiness; she would have shared his poverty with asmiling face, and have worked her fingers to the bone on his behalf, butshe seemed quite incapable of replacing the match-box on his dressing-room mantelpiece when she had borrowed it for her own use, or ofrefraining from taking his nail-scissors downstairs and then forgettingwhere she had put them. 

Geoffrey on his part adored his beautiful wife, and would have fought adozen dragons on her behalf, but when he groped in the dark for hismatches, and knocked his pet ornaments off the chimney-piece, and barkedhis knee against a chair, and tried vainly to get out of the roomthrough a blank wall--well, he was only a man after all, and he was notprecisely lamb-like in temper. 

Some such incident had happened this afternoon when the husband had madea complaining remark, and the wife had poured oil on the troubled watersby murmured allusions to people who were not really men, but "finnickyold maids. " Geoffrey had stalked majestically from the room, leavingEsmeralda to reflect sadly how very unsatisfactory it was to quarrelwhen your adversary was dignified and English. With either of her threebrothers such an introduction would have meant an enjoyable and lengthywrangle; even "Saint Bridget" could snap on occasion, while Pixie wascapable of screaming, "It is not--it is not!" until her breath failed, for pure love of contradiction. 

Esmeralda yawned, and wondered what in the world she could do to whileaway the long afternoon. As the wife of a millionaire, with aprofessional cook in the kitchen who tolerated her mistress's incursionsat stated hours only; with a wardrobe full of new clothes, and a Frenchmaid to sew up every hole almost before it made an appearance; with agardener who did not like interference, and a patriarchal butler whosaid, "Allow me, madam!" if she dared to lift a hand for herself, lifewas not really half so amusing as in the dear old days, when she couldmake potato cakes for tea, re-trim old dresses, with Bridgie as model, and sit perched on one of the empty stages in the conservatory, whileDennis confided his latest love experiences and the gossip of thecountryside. 

Esmeralda had longed for riches all her life, and for the most partfound the experience to her taste, but there were occasions when shefelt fettered by the golden chains. When Bridgie wrote of herexperiences in that funny, cramped little house, of her various devicesfor making sixpence do duty for a shilling, of excursions about London, when she rode with the boys on the tops of omnibuses and dinedluxuriously at an ABC, it was not pity, but envy, which filledEsmeralda's bosom as she drove in state behind coachman and footman topay dull, proper calls on the county magnates. 

It was cold and dark in the gallery this December afternoon, so she wentdownstairs into the room which had been dedicated to lessons, when MissMinnitt the governess tried to instil knowledge into half a dozenignorant heads. It was now metamorphosed into a luxuriant littleboudoir, with pots of hothouse plants banked on the table, a couch piledwith silken cushions taking the place of the old horsehair sofa, acharming grate, all glowing copper and soft green tiles, and beside it adeep arm-chair and a pile of books to while away an idle hour. Esmeralda yawned and flicked over the pages of the topmost of the pile, looked at the beginning to see if it promised excitement, peeped at thelast sentence of all to make sure there was no heart-breakingseparation, finally sank down into the chair, and settled herself toread. 

There was something wanting for perfect enjoyment, however, for in theold days she and Bridgie had agreed that the charms of an interestingbook could only be thoroughly appreciated to an accompaniment of crispsweet apples. Esmeralda O'Shaughnessy had been wont to climb up intothe loft and bring down as many rosy baldwins as she could carry in thecrown of her cap; but Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard crept down her own passageslike a thief, listened breathlessly at the pantry door to make sure thatMontgomery was absent, then abstracted an apple from each of the twopyramids of fruit already prepared for dinner, and flew back to herroom, aghast at her own temerity. 

The presence of the apples seemed to bring back other schoolgirlimpulses, for instead of seating herself in dignified, grown-up fashion, she stretched herself on the rug before the fire, her back supportedagainst the chair, her head drooping ever nearer and nearer thecushions, as warmth and quiet wrought their usual work. She slept anddreamt, and awoke with a start to hear a voice observing, "Tea isserved, madam!" and to see Montgomery the immaculate standing over herwith an unmoved expression, as if, in the many noble families in whichhe had served, it was an invariable custom to find his mistress fastasleep on the floor, with a half-gnawed apple in her hand!

Esmeralda crawled to her feet, trying vainly to look dignified, but shehad no appetite for muffins. She felt like a child who has been foundout, and blushed at the thoughts of her embarrassment that evening whenthe fruit pyramid was handed for her selection. Tea did not taste halfso nice out of the Queen Anne silver as when it had been poured from theold brown pot, which had to be refilled so many times to satisfyclamorous appetites, and the longing for companionship made her hurrythrough the meal, and run upstairs to a wide room overlooking the park. 

With the opening of the door came that sweet, flannely, soapy, violet-powdery smell which is associated with a well-kept nursery, and there onthe rocking-chair sat Mistress Nurse with a bundle of embroidery on herknee, which purported to be O'Shaughnessy Geoffrey, the heir of theHilliards. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you have come, ma'am! I did so want you to see him. He has been so pert this afternoon. I don't know what to do with him, he is so pert! I never saw such a forward child for his age!"

Esmeralda's face softened to a beautiful tenderness as she turned downthe Shetland shawl and looked at her little son. The pert child had afat white face, with vacant eyes, a button of a nose, and an expressionof preternatural solemnity. His head waggled helplessly from side toside as his nurse held him out at arm's length, and stared fixedly intospace, regardless of his mother's blandishments. 

"There now, _isn't_ he pert?" repeated the triumphant nurse. "You knowyour mammie, my precious--yes, you do! The cleverest little sing thatwas ever seen! He will begin to talk, ma'am, before he is many monthsold, I'm sure he will! I was speaking to him just now, and he tried sohard to copy me. I said `Goo-oo!' and he said `Coo-oo!' Oh, you wouldhave loved to hear him! He is a prince of babies, he is! A beautifuldarling pet!"

Esmeralda beamed with maternal pride. 

"He _is_ clever!" she cried. "Fancy talking at three months old! Imust write and tell Bridgie. And he looks so intelligent, too--doesn'the, nurse? So wise and serious! He stares at the fire as if he knewall about it. I believe his hair has grown since yesterday! I do, indeed!"

"He has beautiful hair--so fine! It's going to curl, too, " declared theoptimistic nurse, holding the child's head against the light, when thefaintest of downs could be dimly discerned across the line of thehorizon. "He will smile in a moment if you go on talking to him, ma'am. Perhaps you would like to sit down and take him for a bit?"

Yes, Esmeralda was only too willing, for it was only by act of grace andwhen Mistress Nurse felt inclined for a gossip in the servants' hallthat she was allowed to nurse her own baby. She took the dear littlesoft bundle in her arms and rocked gently to and fro, studying thelittle face and dreaming mother dreams of the days to come. 

If God spared him, the tiny form would grow strong, the vacant facewould become bright and alert with life, the mite of a hand would bebigger than her own--a man's hand with a man's work as its inheritance. There was something awful in the thought, and in her own responsibilitytowards his future. Esmeralda never felt so serious, so prayerful, solittle satisfied with herself, as when she sat alone with her baby inher arms. She knew nothing about children--very little, poor girl, ofthe wise training of father and mother, but the very consciousness ofher own defects added earnestness to the resolve to bring up this childto be wise, and strong, and noble--a power for good in the world. 

That was her resolve, renewed afresh from day to day, and after theresolve followed the relentless conviction that the change must bewrought in herself before she would have power to teach another. Itwould need a noble mother to train a noble son, a mother who wasmistress over her own tongue to teach the lessons of self-control; amother who had fought her own giants of vanity and self-seeking beforeshe could hand on the sword. Esmeralda trembled and shrank weakly fromthe conflict, but the baby turned its wondering eyes upon her andstraightway she was strong again. 

"My son!" she murmured tenderly. "My little son! We shall love oneanother. Oh, how we shall love one another--you and I!"

The beautiful dark head bent low over the shapeless little bundle, andthe croon of a cradle song accompanied the regular rocking of the chair. It was the most peaceful and charming of pictures, and the husband andfather stood noiselessly on the threshold, almost unwilling to speak anddestroy the effect. 

All the afternoon he had been regretting his hasty words, andreproaching himself for want of forbearance towards his impetuous girl-wife. It was unreasonable to expect the habit of a lifetime to beoutlived in a few short months, and at this season there were especialreasons for judging her tenderly. Poor darling! She had suffered abitter disappointment!

Bridgie and the boys had found it impossible to spend Christmas atKnock, and although Joan had not confessed as much in words, theslackness of her preparations showed that she had lost all zest in theseason. She had had a dull time of it since the birth of the boy, andit was only natural that she should long for her own people, especiallythose two dear sisters whose names were so constantly on her lips. Ifit were only possible to indulge her--to hit upon some plan by whichChristmas could be made all she could desire!

Geoffrey knitted his brows in thought, then suddenly came theinspiration, and with it an exclamation of satisfaction which broughtEsmeralda's eyes upon him. She smiled softly, and held up her face toreceive his kiss--such a different face from the one which he had seentwo hours before, with its curling lips and flushed, contemptuous smile!In its sweetness and subdued tenderness it was a type of the youthfulMadonna, and Geoffrey's own expression softened in sympathy. 

"Well, my dearie! Nursing your boy?"

Esmeralda turned back the shawl once more and held up the child for hisfather's inspection. 

"There! Isn't he splendid? Nurse is quite excited about him thisafternoon. She says it is wonderful how he gets on. He has been so`pert, ' as she calls it, that she hardly knew how to manage him. "

"H'm!" The young father regarded the little face with amused, speculative eyes. "`Pert' does not commend itself to me as preciselythe best word which could be found. Solemn little beggar, I call him!He seems quite oppressed by the wickedness of the world. I say, that'srather a peculiar mouth, isn't it? Something funny about the upperlip!"

"It's exactly like yours--the image of it!" said Esmeralda firmly. "Youcan't judge because naturally you can't see yourself. But it really is. Look at that old picture when you were two years old. "

Geoffrey stroked his moustache to one side, and regarded himselfcritically in the mirror. 

"Oh, well, there's hope for him yet!" he pronounced complacently. "Isuppose babies are all ugly in the beginning, but considering hisparentage he ought to come out all right by and by. How long do yousuppose it will be before he gets his hair, and begins to beintelligible?"

"He has hair now, and he is beginning to speak. He said `Coo-oo!' thisafternoon quite distinctly. It's horrid of you, Geoff, to call himugly! Everyone says he is a beautiful boy and the image of you!"

"Much more chance of being beautiful if he were like you, darling!Spoke, did he? Well, I take your word for it, but it's rather a stretchof imagination. He is a jolly little chap, anyway, and I'm very proudof him. Here is nurse coming to take possession. Hand him over andcome along with me. I have something to tell you. "

"Something nice, I hope! I want a distraction, " said Esmeraldawistfully. She slid her hand through her husband's arm as they walkeddown the corridor and peered up in his face. "Somebody was rathervicious this afternoon! I'm sorry you put me in a temper. It's stupidto quarrel when we are so fond of one another. You'll never do itagain, will you?"

"Never, never! It was all my fault, and I apologise abjectly to yourtemper for taking liberties with it. I ought to know by this time thatit's in delicate health. Never mind, I've planned a delightfulprogramme for you! What would you like best for a Christmas present ifyou had the choice?"

He was all radiant with smiles, but Esmeralda sighed, and a far-awayexpression came into her beautiful grey eyes. 

"I'd like--Oh, what's the use of speaking of it, Geoff? They can'tcome, and that's all about it! I haven't thought of any present. Idon't seem to care about anything else. "

"Whisper!" cried Geoffrey triumphantly. "Whisper!" He bent his head, and Esmeralda put her ear to his lips, her face alight with expectation. 

"Oh!" she cried rapturously, and again, "Oh!" and "_Oh_" in ever-ascending tones of delight. "Do you mean it, Geoff--really--really?It's like a fairy-tale--so perfectly lovely and charming! I shan'tsleep a wink--I know I shan't! Geoffrey, you darling, I do love you forthinking of it!" and in an ecstasy of delight she threw her arms roundhis neck and kissed him rapturously. 

"Any letters for the post, madam?" asked an even voice from the end ofthe corridor, and the husband wrenched himself free, while the wifestared after the departing figure with gloomy eyes. 

"He saw me kiss you! The only marvel is he didn't offer to do it forme. The strain of behaving properly before that man will be the deathof me, Geoffrey Hilliard!"

CHAPTER EIGHT. 

A SURPRISE VISIT. 

The next two days Jack came home early from the city, where a remarkablecessation of work had happened simultaneously with the arrival of MissSylvia Trevor at Number Three, Rutland Road. Bridgie trotted about thehouse preparing for the festival on Thursday, and Sylvia lay idly uponthe couch, with nothing better to do than to listen, sympathise, andadmire. 

It was easy to listen, for in truth Jack gave her no opportunity to doanything else; it was impossible to resist admiring, for he made ahandsome figure, with his broad, muscular shoulders, graceful carriage, and clean-shaven face; it had seemed at first sight as if sympathy werenot required, but Master Jack invented a fresh crop of imaginary woesevery time that he met a pretty girl, for the express purpose ofreceiving consolation. Sylvia beheld in him an exile from home andcountry, toiling at an uncongenial task, for the maintenance of hisorphaned brothers and sisters, and was vaguely given to understand thatsince meeting her, his poverty had become an even more painful barrierto his hopes. He confided in her details of business, which sheunderstood as well as a buried language, and asked her advice on knottypoints in such a flattering manner that she forgot to notice that henever paused for a reply, and when at last he reluctantly rose to leavethe room he sighed profoundly, and in a voice touched with emotiondeclared that she had helped him as he had never before been helped!

"I cannot thank you enough for your sympathy and counsel, but I shallnever forget what you have said to me to-day. It will help me throughmany a dark hour!" he declared, and Sylvia blushed and gasped, and layback on her cushions, all tremulous with excitement. It was her firstexperience of the art of flirtation, and she was pleased and flatteredas it was natural for a girl to be, but she was a sensible little woman, despite her hasty speeches, and her vanity was not big enough to cloudeither her judgment or a remarkably accurate memory. She carefullyrecalled to mind the late conversation, and found that her own sharetherein had been limited to monosyllabic assents and denials; anoccasional, "Really!" and three or four exclamations of, "How sad!"

These, then, were the vaunted sympathy and counsel, these the eloquentwords which Mr Jack had vowed to treasure in deathless remembrance, andwhich were to strengthen him in hours of trial! Sylvia blushed oncemore, from mortification this time, and registered a vow to adopt a newtone with this disciple of the Blarney stone, and put an end forthwithto sentimental confidences. She was still looking hot and flurried whenBridgie came into the room to prepare for tea, and to rest after theday's labours. 

"You look tired, dear!" she said anxiously. "I hope Jack has not beentalking too much. He just dotes upon romancing when he can get alistener, and I didn't like to interrupt when I knew he had come homeespecially to see you. Jack falls in love with every fresh girl hemeets, and they mostly fall in love with him too. He has such lovelyhumbugging eyes!"

"Do they, indeed! He shan't humbug _me_, that's one thing certain!" wasSylvia's mental comment. Aloud she assented cordially. "Most handsomeeyes! I call him unusually good-looking for a man, and he has amused mevery much, but I am more than ready for tea, and a little of yoursociety. There's the clatter of the cups. Welcome sound, it's music inmy ears! How I used to long for it when I was ill!"

"I'll draw the curtains and make the room look cosy. That is one goodthing about a tiny house--you can keep it warm. We were frozen in thegreat draughty barns of rooms at Knock, and Pixie used to look so quaintwith her feet in snow-boots, and her hands in a muff, and her littlenose as red as a cherry. It was so cold that it kept her awake atnights, until the Major bought an elegant little egg-cosy at a bazaar inDublin, and she slept in it regularly through the frost. We used to goto kiss her last thing every night, every man Jack of us, for thepleasure of seeing her lying there, so peaceful, with the cosy perchedover her nose! Muffins, dear? I didn't make them, so you may eat themwith an easy mind. "

Jack came downstairs at the summons of the tea-bell, looking inlanguishing fashion at his comforter as he entered the room, when, tohis surprise, back came an answering glance, as it were parodying hisown, the sentimental attitude belied by twinkling eyes and mischievouslips. The blush and tremor of an hour ago were conspicuous by theirabsence, and the change was by no means appreciated by the startledonlooker. In vain he tried to return to the old footing, accompanyingthe simplest remark with a hint of secret understanding, and waitingupon her with a deference which seemed humbly to inquire the reason ofthe change. 

Sylvia bluntly inquired, "What is it?" in reply to his appealing looks, kept him trotting to and from the tea-table, and said, "How clumsy youare!" when his fingers touched her own over the cake-basket. Even JackO'Shaughnessy found it impossible to continue flirting under theseconditions, and devoted himself to the consumption of muffins with acrestfallen air, while Bridgie regarded him with fond commiseration frombehind the tea-tray. 

It was at this opportune moment that the clatter of wheels stopped atthe door and the peal of the bell rang through the house. Sarah went tothe door, and there was a movement and bustle in the hall, at the soundof which Bridgie nodded complacently. 

"The Parcels Delivery van! I thought something must be coming. Haveyou any change, Jack? I've nothing smaller than sixpence, and the manwill want a Christmas-box--a few coppers, perhaps. "

"Oh, give the poor beggar half a crown. Don't insult him with coppers, "said Jack in his lordly way, pulling a handful of silver from his pocketand selecting the largest coin of the number. "I'll take it to himmyself. You might give him some tea if there is any left. It isperishingly cold outside!"

He stepped towards the door, but before he reached it, it was openedfrom without, a tall figure precipitated itself into the room, and withtwo separate cries of rapture the sisters flew to meet each other, andstood with locked arms, kissing, laughing, and questioning, withincredulous delight. 

"Esmeralda darling! Is it really you? You are not a dream, dear, areyou? I can't believe it's true!"

"It was Geoff's doing! He saw I was fretting for you, and suggestedthat we should come to town and stay over the New Year at an hotel. There was not time to get the house ready. A whole week, Bridgie!Won't we talk! There are such oceans of things to tell you. Baby isbeginning to speak!"

"The precious mite!" Bridgie disentangled one hand and held it towardsher brother-in-law in beaming welcome. "I always did say you were abroth of a boy, Geoffrey, but you have eclipsed yourself this time. Iam so happy I don't know how to bear it. Now Christmas will besomething like Christmas, and--" she smiled encouragingly into Sylvia'sembarrassed face, --"we have a visitor staying with us to make thingsstill more festive. My new friend, Miss Sylvia Trevor, who isrecovering from a long illness. "

Esmeralda wheeled round to face the sofa and stared at the stranger withhaughty scrutiny. Her flowing skirts seemed to fill the little room;her cloak was thrown back, showing a glimpse of costly sable lining; herimperious beauty made her appear older than the gentle Bridgie, ahundred times more formidable. The formal bend of the head brought withit an acute sense of discomfiture to the recipient. For the first timesince crossing that hospitable threshold she realised that she was asolitary unit, a stranger set down in the midst of an affectionatefamily party, and if it had not been for the crippling foot, she wouldhave rushed away to the haven of the room upstairs. As it was, however, she was condemned to lie still and return Esmeralda's commonplaces withwhat grace she might. 

"I am pleased to see you, " said Esmeralda's tongue. "What a nuisanceyou are!" said the flash of the cold grey eyes. "Such a pleasure forBridgie to have a friend. " "But now that I have arrived, you are notwanted any longer, and are terribly in my way!" One set of phrases wereas intelligible as the other to the sensitive invalid, and ifEsmeralda's anticipations were dashed by her presence, she herselfabandoned all prospect of enjoyment, and only longed to be able toreturn home forthwith. 

Bridgie would not need her companionship any longer; she could be but arestraint and kill-joy in the conferences of newly-united sisters. Shestared dismally at the floor, then looked up to see Jack carrying thetea-table bodily across the room and setting it down by her couch. Sarah had brought in fresh tea and cakes for the refreshment of thetravellers, and he motioned slightly towards his sisters, saying in anundertone, --"Bridgie will be incoherent for an hour. Will you come tothe rescue? If we don't look after the tea, no one else will. "

He smiled at her as he spoke, not sentimentally this time, but with astraightforward kindliness which showed that he had understood andsympathised with her embarrassment. Occupation for hand and mind wasthe most tactful comfort which he could have administered, and Bridgie'seager, "Oh, thank you, dear! How good of you!" showed that she wasindeed thankful to be relieved of every duty but that of talking to hersister and watching her with adoring eyes. 

Sylvia's post was no sinecure, for everyone started tea-drinking afreshto encourage the travellers, and amidst the babble of voices Jack's_sotto voce_ explanations made the conversation intelligible, and tookaway the feeling of being left out in the cold. At a touch of realsympathy the false sentiment had disappeared, and her heart warmedtowards the young fellow for his kindly concern for her comfort. It wasa bond of union also to remember that he himself was apt to resent theincursions of this domineering young matron, and she noted with delightthat, while Bridgie was apparently delighted to be trampled underfoot, he was ready and able to hold his own. 

"We came over in a rush, and arrived only two hours ago. I'm adisreputable object!" said Esmeralda, glancing complacently over hersweeping skirts, and arranging the immaculate frills at her throat. "Geoffrey was in such a hurry to get off that he gave me no time to makemyself decent. "

"She had only an hour, poor thing, not a moment longer! She sent meflying off to look for trains and whistle for a hansom, and then kept mekicking my heels while she prinked before the glass, putting on her bestdress and the newest hat to impress you with her magnificence. She isdisappointed that you have not noticed them yet, that's why she pretendsto be humble!" explained Geoffrey in self-defence, whereat his wifegrimaced at him in a manner singularly undignified and eloquent. Thenshe glanced hastily across the room at Sylvia, looking so girlish, soabashed at having been discovered in her schemes, that Sylvia laughedinvoluntarily, and forgot the old offence. 

"Husbands are such blighting creatures; they are always telling thetruth upon you!" sighed Esmeralda sadly. "I intend to bring up Buntingto agree with all I say, and then there will be some chance of making animpression. He is left at home, for he is too young to miss us, and itwas bad weather for moving a nursery. 

"Now about to-morrow! We have arranged for you to spend the day withus, and have lunch and dinner in our private room. The servants can eatup your turkey, or it can wait until the next day. You must come to usdirectly after church. What train will you be able to catch?"

Bridgie knitted her brows and looked embarrassed and distressed. Theinvitation could not, of course, be accepted, and it was thoughtless ofEsmeralda to have given it under existing circumstances. Had not Sylviabeen introduced as a convalescent, and did not her position on the couchprove that she was unable for a journey to town? It would make the poordear so uncomfortable if she were cited as the obstacle; yet what otherexcuse could be made?

Esmeralda had travelled all the way from Knock for the pleasure ofentertaining her brothers and sisters, and would not be lightly turnedfrom her plans. Bridgie looked across the room, and met Jack's eyesturned upon her with a flash of indignation in their clear depths. 

"Well, Bridgie, you can do as you like, but I give you full notice thatI stay at home!" he said firmly. "I have never yet eaten my Christmasdinner in an hotel, and I never shall so long as I have a roof of my ownto cover me. Choose between Esmeralda and me; I am the head of thefamily, and it is my privilege to play host on such occasions, but ifthe house is too small--if we are not grand enough for Mrs Hilliard--"

"Jack!" cried Esmeralda sharply. She pushed her cup on one side, and, springing across the room to her brother's side, laid her hands on hisshoulders and shook him vigorously to and fro. "Come down this minutefrom that high horse! I won't be snubbed, when I've come all the wayover from Ireland to see you. I thought you would like it, dear, because you enjoyed dining with us so much before, and we should havebeen quite private in our own room; but I don't mind where we are, solong as we are together. We will come and dine with you if you will askus. I would far rather have stayed here altogether if you could haveput us up!"

"We could stow you away, but we can't manage the retinue. Miss Trevoroccupies the north-west Tudor corridor, and there is only Pixie's littleden at liberty, " said Jack, laughing, and recovering his complacencywith wonderful quickness. "The servants' hall accommodation is alsolimited, and your maid and valet might not appreciate our _menage_. Wehad a very stylish pudding the other night. You might give Esmeraldathe recipe, Bridgie. "

Esmeralda listened to the history of the beeswax and macaroni with a joytempered by regret. 

"We never have anything so nice as that!" she sighed. "Never a bit ofexcitement as to how things will turn out. D'you remember the day whenold Sukey mixed the lettuce with furniture cream instead of salad-dressing, and Major Denny was so polite, with a crust of bread under oneend of his plate to let it drain down to the bottom, while he ate hismeat high and dry at the top! 'Twas bad luck that none of us fanciedlettuce that day, but kept pressing him to a second helping. "

"Well, we will come here to-morrow morning, then. Don't stay away fromchurch, for, truthfully, I would rather you were out when we arrived. Ihave some rather--large--Christmas presents which must be smuggled inunobserved. I have some--er--preparations to make to-night, so we can'tstay very long. "

Half an hour later husband and wife took their departure, and afterseeing them off, Jack came back into the drawing-room and stood bySylvia's couch. 

"Esmeralda invariably speaks before she thinks!" he said apologetically. "There's a lot of pretence about her, but you will be astonished tofind out what a good sort she is when you know her better. "

Sylvia smiled with a whimsical twist of the lips. She thought that thatprediction might apply to more than one member of the O'Shaughnessyfamily, and cherished a pleasant conviction that Jack's outburst ofindignation had been more on her account than his own. He was not thetype of man to stand on his dignity, and his quick glance into her faceas Esmeralda gave her invitation had been eloquent of understanding. His protest had saved her from a most distasteful position, and onceagain she felt a debt of gratitude towards him. 

CHAPTER NINE. 

CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. 

Christmas morning was heralded by the luxury of a late breakfast, whenno one need hurry off to town, and even Miles could satisfy the demandsof appetite without casting a thought to the time-table. Porridge, bacon, eggs and sausages laid the foundation of his meal, before hetackled marmalade, strawberry jam, fresh oranges and honey, accompaniedby numerous draughts of tea and coffee, and finally by a cup filled withthe united drainings of both pots, which he drank with obvious relish. 

If it had been merry Pat who was so difficult to appease, there wouldhave been no cause for astonishment, but Miles's rapt eyes and etherealexpression seemed to bespeak no stronger diet than moonbeams andmountain dew, and to hear him accompany his last mouthful with an eager, "When's lunch?" was a distinct shock to the visitor. Jack, too, hadsustained a relapse into sentiment, and was only awaiting opportunity towax melancholy and confidential. With a word of encouragement he wouldhave stayed away from church to bear her company, but Sylvia wasprovokingly obtuse, and he went off looking unutterable reproaches withhis "humbugging eyes. "

Left to herself, Sylvia hobbled to the piano and sang Christmas hymns ina weak little voice, which wavered suspiciously towards the close. Christmas is the day of all others when families are united, and itseemed hard that when she possessed just one beloved relation, he shouldbe away off at the other end of the world. The strange house, theunusual silence, and her own inability to move about, added to thefeeling of depression, and her thoughts turned towards Aunt Margaretwith unusual yearning. The old lady was at times a sore trial to herniece's patience, but at least they had a claim on each other'saffection; she was the dear father's sister, and her own legal guardianduring his absence!

Sylvia wondered how the two ladies would pass their day--church in themorning as a matter of course; early dinner and reminiscences of thebrougham and peach-houses; arrival of the postman with cards; renewedreminiscences and family histories of the various senders; one arm-chairat each side of the fire; two white caps nodding sleepily forward; twopairs of cashmere boots reposing on footstools. Arrival of tea andexchange of recipes and household experiences. Letters of thanks tovalued friends for seasonable gifts. Supper of cold turkey and cocoa, with anecdotal references to Christmases of long ago. Mutual exchangeof compliments, bed, nightcaps, and sleeping-socks. 

Oh dear me! It all seemed very flat to one-and-twenty, and why shouldone girl have health and beauty, and brothers and sisters, and anadoring young husband into the bargain, and another be a solitary unit, with no one to cosset her and help her to bear her manifold infirmities?

Sylvia's tears were still rather near the surface, and she mopped hereyes with her handkerchief, and mopped them again, and then carefullydried them on a dry place, and craned forward to look in the glass andsee if they looked very red and tell-tale. The bleared reflection had awonderfully calming effect, and she limped to her couch and readpersistently to distract her thoughts, until the peal of the bellannounced the Hilliards' arrival. From her corner she could not see thedoorway, but judging from the sounds of coming and going, of draggingheavy weights, of scurrying along the passage, of whispered colloquies, and sudden explosions of laughter, it was evident that some greatmystery was in the air. 

Then the cab drove away, the dining-room door closed with a bang, sheheard the furniture being dragged to and fro, and wondered how long itwould be before the drawing-room was raided in its turn. For a quarterof an hour the conspirators remained shut up together, then Esmeraldacame sailing into the room, all smiles and amiability. 

"A happy Christmas to you, Miss Trevor! Excuse me for not coming inbefore, but I am so anxious to arrange my presents before the otherscome home from church. I want the easel from that corner, and I wantyou to promise faithfully that you won't come into the dining-roombefore you are allowed!"

"I can't walk so far without help. You are quite safe so far as I amconcerned, " said Sylvia regretfully, and Esmeralda looked at her withquick scrutiny. 

"So bad as that! I didn't know. Is that why you have been crying?"

"No--oh no! I am used to that now. I felt a little lonely, that's all. I wanted my father. "

The beautiful face changed suddenly, the lips tightened, the eyes grewlarge and strained. There was a ring of pain in the clear voice. 

"Is he dead?"

"No, no, only so far-away. At the other end of the world, in Ceylon!"

"You will see him again!" said Esmeralda shortly. She looked at theportrait of a handsome, reckless face which hung on the wall above thesofa, and drew a fluttering sigh. "That was my father. It is nearlytwo years since he had his accident, and I thought I could never behappy again. If I could write to him, if I could get his letters, andthink that some day, it might be in twenty years to come, he would beback among us again, I should feel as if there was nothing else to wishfor. "

She sat down suddenly by the couch with an air of having forgotten allabout the errand which had brought her into the room, clasped her handsround her knee, and began a series of disconnected childish memories, while Sylvia gazed spellbound at the beautiful, dreamy face, andwondered how she could ever have thought it cold and unfeeling. 

"We were always such chums, from the time that I was a mite inpinafores. I remember his first explaining to me what happened whenpeople died--how their bodies were put into the grave, while their soulswent straight to heaven; but I didn't understand what a soul was, and Iwas frightened and cried out, `Well, I won't go one step without mybody!' I used to play tricks on him, and he would catch me up and carryme into his room, and say, `Will you rather be poisoned, or buriedalive?' and I would prefer the poisoning because it was chocolates outof the corner cupboard. 

"He used to wake me in the mornings coming battering at my door, andsinging, `Come awake thee, awake thee, my merry Swiss lass!' and when wewere learning French fables from Miss Minnitt, we used to take arms, Bridgie and I, and walk up and down before him reciting, `Deuxcompagnons presse d'argent!' It didn't make any difference whether hehad the money or not--he always gave it to us. 

"One day we were going for a picnic, and he walked on with the men, leaving me to drive after them in the cart with the provisions. Therewas only one thing he told me to remember, and that was just what Iforgot--his camera, to take a special view which he'd wanted for an age. Four miles from home it jumped into my mind, and I sat in misery therest of the way. The Major laughed when I told him, and sympathisedwith me for my upset. `You'll forget your own head next, and it will bea pity, ' he said, `for it's a very pretty one. '

"I hated to vex him just because he was so sweet about it. No one everunderstood me as well as the Major, and when I was in a tantrum he wouldsay, `Think it over till to-morrow, my girl. If you are of the samemind then, we will discuss it together, ' and, of course, I never didthink the same two days running. 

"When he was ill he used to lie looking at me, and his face was quitedifferent from that in the picture--so sad and wistful. `I've not donemuch in the way of training you, my girl, ' he would say, `but I've lovedyou a great deal. Maybe that will do as well. You are not one to standa bridle. ' He loved to have me with him; to the last he would stretchout his hand--"

Her voice quivered and stopped, and Sylvia sat with lowered eyes, murmuring incoherent condolences. Esmeralda's love for her dead fatherwas very sweet and touching, but to the more reserved nature it seemedan extraordinary thing that she could speak so openly to a stranger, andin the twinkling of an eye change her mood from gay to grave. 

The hands of the clock were approaching the hour when the rest of thefamily might be expected to return from church, yet there she satdreaming over the past, and apparently absolutely forgetful of thedemands of the present. Sylvia dare not risk a reminder which wouldseem in the last degree unfeeling, but presently the door opened, andGeoffrey Hilliard appeared on the threshold, looking round with anxiousinquiry. 

"Good morning, Miss Trevor. The compliments of the season. " Then helooked at his wife, all incredulous and aghast. "My dear girl, what areyou about? Do you know that at any moment Bridgie may be here? Ithought you had come for the easel. "

Esmeralda leaped to her feet with a cry of dismay. "Hurry! hurry!" shecried. "Oh, what are you waiting for? Carry it for me. Be quick! bequick!" and off she rushed with a swirl of flounces, a rustle of silk, awild waving of arms, while her husband chuckled with amusement, andconfided in Sylvia--

"That's the usual programme! First keeps me waiting for hours, and thenupbraids me for being slow. Keep Bridgie occupied if she comes in toosoon, please, Miss Trevor. This little surprise needs a good deal ofpreparation. "

What could it be? Sylvia grew quite excited as once more peals oflaughter echoed from the dining-room. Esmeralda was evidently sparingno pains to display her presents to the best advantage, and, lucky girl, no want of money had hampered her choice of what would be appropriateand welcome. 

"I'm glad I gave Bridgie my minute offering this morning, so that itwon't be shamed by contrast. I shall be out of this distribution, so itdoesn't matter, but I do hope they will ask me to go in, " said Sylvia toherself. "I hated Esmeralda last night, but I rather love her thismorning. She is like the little girl in the rhyme--when she is nice sheis very, very nice; but when she is bad she is--horrid!"

After all, the mysterious preparations were completed before the returnof the church party, for the service had been unusually lengthy, andEsmeralda was champing with impatience before the latch-key clicked inthe lock. There was great kissing and hugging beneath the mistletoe, and Bridgie was sent flying upstairs to take off her wraps, inpreparation for the great exhibition. 

"I have laid out our presents in the dining-room, and they take up allthe table, so there will be no dinner until they are distributed. I'velighted the lamp, dear, to make it look more festive. Hope you don'tmind? It was just the least thought in the world gloomy in that backroom this morning. "

"Anything you like, dear! anything you like!" cried Bridgie the docile;then she looked at Sylvia, and beamed with satisfaction as Geoffreyoffered his arm to support the invalid's halting footsteps. 

They led the way together, and she seated herself in state in an arm-chair, while the brothers and sisters crowded in at the doorway, exclaiming volubly at the sight which met their eyes. 

The table had been pushed lengthways against the window, the crimsoncurtains making an effective background to its heaped-up treasures. Thelamp stood at the farther end of the room, casting a subdued rosy lighton the eager faces. It was not exactly a "cheery" illumination, but itwas certainly becoming, and lent an air of mystery to the everydaysurroundings. 

"A new lamp-shade! How lovely! Pink silk and roses. Wouldn't it makea sweet garden hat?" exclaimed Bridgie rapturously. "Is that mypresent, Joan? How did you know I wanted a shade?"

"That's a present for the house; yours is over there in that round box;Geoffrey will hand it to you. There's a present for everybody, and onefor you all together. You'll see that last!"

At that every eye turned curiously at the curtained picture-frame whichstood artfully supported by boxes at the place of honour at the fartherend of the table. Evidently this was the grand climax of theentertainment, but meantime there were half a dozen excitements instore, all calling for rapturous acknowledgments. 

Bridgie's round box was found to contain a muff of real Russian sable, on receiving which, to use her own expressive phrase, she "nearlyswooned with delight. " She sat purring over it, and rubbing it fondlyagainst her cheeks, while dandy Jack was presented with a dressing-case, fitted with silver and ivory, Pat with a handsome camera, and Miles witha bicycle deftly wheeled from behind the curtains. 

Even the servants had been remembered, for there was a bulky parceladdressed to each name, and Sylvia grew red with mingled pleasure andembarrassment as a casket of French bon-bons was deposited on her knee. It was a delightful scene, and not the least delightful part of it wasthe enjoyment of the young couple themselves, and their whole-heartedparticipation in the pleasure of the recipients. 

It is the custom of most donors to depreciate their gifts, but that wasnot Esmeralda's way. Not a bit of it! She was a capital show-woman, and if by chance any detail of perfection passed unnoticed, she pointedit out forthwith, and dilated at length upon its virtues. Jack turnedover the silver-topped bottles, and peeped at his reflection in themirror; Miles tingled his bicycle-bell, and balanced himself on thesaddle; Sylvia handed round bon-bons and surreptitiously fumbled todiscover how many rows the box contained; and Pat demanded immediateorders for family groups. It took some little time to restore order, but Geoffrey stood patiently waiting until he could make himself heard, his hand stretched out to uncover the curtained frame. 

"Now for the general present! With best wishes to the family circle, from Joan and myself. Are you ready? Very well, then, here you are!One, two, three!"

With the last word he whisked off the cloth, and a gasp sounded throughthe room, followed by a silence more eloquent than words. 

Sylvia stared with widened eyes at the picture of a girl's head, strangely like and yet unlike that precious photograph which Bridgie hadexhibited with so much pride. It was Pixie--that was quite evident--butan older, bigger, wonderfully smartened edition of the elf-like child. The dark locks were rolled back in pompadour fashion over a highcushion, the plait turned up in a queue, fastened at the nape of theneck by an enormous outstanding bow; the cheeks were fuller in outline, and the disproportion between nose and mouth less marked. She was by nomeans pretty, yet there was a charm about the quaint little face whichmade the onlooker smile involuntarily and feel a sudden outgoing ofaffection. 

"P-pixie!" gasped Bridgie in a breathless whisper. She rested her cheekagainst the muff, and stared before her with rapt grey eyes. "Pixie'sportrait! Oh, Esmeralda--what a lovely thought! You had it taken forus? You sent to Paris for it?"

"Yes--yes!" cried Esmeralda gleefully. "I knew it would please you morethan anything else to have her with us. Do you like it? Do you thinkit is good? Is it quite like her?"

"It's like--yes, but not quite lifelike. Does she really do her hairlike that? I can't imagine Pixie looking so neat. She looks grave, too--graver than she ever looked, except when she was up to mischief. Ihope she is not fretting, poor child! Oh, it makes me long for her morethan ever! I could look at it all day long!"

Jack stroked his chin, and smiled contentedly. 

"That's what I call something like a present! It's a rattling goodportrait of the Piccaninny, judiciously flattered as portraits ought tobe. We can't see it, though, in this light. Let me put the lamp alittle nearer, or take off the shade. "

Esmeralda, however, was standing next the lamp, and refused to moveaside. 

"We arranged it to give the best light, so it's no use trying to improveit. The best view is from over there by the door, " she said in hermasterful fashion which would brook no contradiction. "One can neversee a picture to the best advantage by lamp-light, but you must makeallowances for that. Do you think it is well done? It is by a verygood master!"

"Rather starry about the eyes!" said Pat critically. 

"Laid on the red rather too thickly about the cheeks!" objected Miles. 

Bridgie put down her muff, and went stooping across the room to get anearer view. 

"Is it oil or water-colour? I seem to know the frame. Oh, it _is_ likeher, Esmeralda--oh, so like! Pixie, Pixie, my little Pixie!"

"_Bridgie_!" cried an answering voice. The picture swayed, rockedforward, and fell on its face on the table; a little figure stoodsqueezed in between the table and the window. It was no picture, but areality. Pixie herself stood among them in warm, living flesh andblood!

CHAPTER TEN. 

PIXIE'S REMINISCENCES. 

It is wonderful what money can do--in conjunction with generous impulseand ingenious brain. Esmeralda hung on to Bridgie's arm relating inbreathless accents how, being herself unable to go abroad until afterthe New Year, the happy inspiration had occurred to Geoffrey ofdespatching the French maid to her native city to bring back the dearliving Christmas present which now stood before them; how the travellershad arrived on the previous evening, afire with delight at their ownshare in the conspiracy; how she herself had conceived the idea ofpresenting Pixie in the form of a portrait, and had brought the framefrom home, and tacked across it a piece of black gauze to heighten thepicture-like effect. 

"And I put the lamp as far-away from it as possible, and covered it overso that she might not have to keep still too long. Oh, if you couldonly have seen yourselves staring at her, and taking it all in grimearnest! I never, never enjoyed anything so much in my days!"

"Is it oil colours I am, or water? I'm flattered, ain't I, as aportrait ought to be? Ye couldn't imagine I could be so neat!" criedPixie tauntingly, as she pirouetted to and fro on the top of the table, to which she had lightly sprung at the first moment of discovery. Shelooked like a big French doll, as she swung from side to side, her handsoutheld, her shoulders raised, her tiny feet twinkling to and fro. Herpink frock was marvellously smart, the flounces stood out in jauntyfashion around the ankles, the sash encircled a tiny waist, and thebrothers and sisters stood looking on, joy, incredulity, amaze writtenupon their faces. 

Bridgie's arms kept stretching out and falling back to her side withautomatic regularity, and still the little figure pranced, andgesticulated, and blew kisses to right and left, at one moment a merryIrish vagabond, at the next a French marionette--all smirks and bows andshrugging shoulders. 

"We got the better of you that time, I'm thinking! Oh, la-la! how itwas droll to hear you all making your pleasantries upon me while I keptstill--so still! I have never been so still but when I am up tomischief. If ye could have seen under the table, I was shaking like ajelly, but Esmeralda said, `I'll pack ye back as quick as ye came if youspoil it on me, after all me trouble!'"

"Figure it to yourselves; I was sitting so _triste_ by myself in the_salon_, thinking of you all at home, and the fun ye'd have without me, and the slices of plum-pudding fried up the next day the way I like thembest, and never a bite to come my way, when behold I the door opened, and there enters to me Marie, all smiles and complaisance. Everythingis altered, she bears a letter from Madame Hilliard--I must pack my box, and say my farewells, and be ready to start by the train next day. Fortunately all is ready. Therese has already prepared for my return. There was nothing to do but lay the things in the box and drive away. "

"And what did Therese say to it all? How did she and Pere like partingfrom you in such a hurry?"

"They wept!" said Pixie tragically. Her shoulders approached her earsin eloquent gesture. "But how they wept! I also wept to see them weep, and Marie wept to leave her dear Paris. " She paused, and the solemnexpression gave place to a broad smile of enjoyment. 

"There wasn't a dry rag between the four of us, and Pere took snuff toconsole himself, and that started him crying harder than ever. I was soflurried I couldn't tell which was the topmost, joy or sorrow, until wehad ham and eggs for breakfast this morning, and I felt I was at home. It's an awful thing to live in a country where there's never a bite ofsolid food to cheer your spirits in the morning! Many's the time meheart would bleed, thinking of Miles if he'd been there. Are ye glad tosee me, boys, now you know that I'm real?"

There was no doubt about that. When at last the little sistercondescended to step down from her perch, she was passed from one toanother in a series of bear-like hugs, from which she emerged flushedand complacent, to step briskly towards Sylvia and kiss her effusivelyupon the cheek. 

"How d'ye do, me dear, and how's your illness? I've heard so much aboutit that I expected to see you worse. You look too pretty to be aninvalid!"

"Hear, hear!" muttered Jack softly. 

Sylvia blushed and gripped the little hand which lay so confidingly inher own. 

"Thank you very much. I am getting better, but I don't feel at allpretty. I'm lame, and have to limp about wherever I go, and my hair istumbling out. I have the greatest difficulty to make it lookrespectable. I shall be bald soon!"

Pixie craned forward and examined her head with sorrowful candour. 

"It _is_ thin! Ye can see the scalp shining through like shot silk. You'll look like an old man with a bald head; but never mind! Think ofthe saving in the morning! It will be so easy to do your hair!"

There was a burst of laughter from brothers and sisters, while Sylviacovered her face with her hands and rocked to and fro in mock despair. 

"You need never be unduly elated by a compliment from Pixie, MissTrevor, " said Geoffrey Hilliard meaningly. "She is the mosttransparently truthful person I ever encountered, and favoured me withseveral character sketches of my wife before we were engaged, whichmight have warned me of my fate if I'd been a sensible fellow. I haveremembered them, Pixie, many a time since then, and I'm glad to findyour foreign experiences have not affected your candour. There'sanother thing that is not much altered, so far as I can hear--and that'syour brogue, my dear! It sounds to me almost as pronounced as in theold days when you were running wild at Knock. "

"But it's got a French accent to it now--that's better than English!"cried Pixie eagerly. "I was learning to speak quite elegantly inSurbiton, but Therese wouldn't listen to a word of English out of mymouth, and if you'll believe me, me dears, my very dreams are in Frenchthe last few months. There was a _jeune fille_ in Paris who used topromenade with us sometimes for the benefit of hearing me talk English. She said the words didn't sound the same way as when they taught them toher at school. _Helas le miserable_! The brogue of her put shame on meown before I came away. "

The shoulders went up again, and a roguish smile lit up the little face. Bridgie watched it with rapt, adoring eyes; her Pixie, her baby, wasnow a big girl, almost grown-up, transformed from the forlorn-lookingelf to a natty little personage, more like the pictures of _jeunesfilles_ on the back of French pattern plates than she could havebelieved possible for Irish flesh and blood. Imitative Pixie had caught"the air, " and the good Therese had evidently taken immense pains withthe costume in which her pupil should make her reappearance in thefamily circle. 

Bridgie gazed at the buckled, high-heeled shoes peeping from beneath theflounces, and wondered if it could really be that they held the samelittle feet which used to patter about, buttonless, and down at heel;she looked at the jaunty, outstanding bow which tied back the hair, andcontrasted it with the wisp of ribbon twisted to the proportions of atape, and knotted like a cat-o'-nine-tails, which used to bind togetherthe straggly locks, and as she looked, she felt--shall it beconfessed?--a pang of longing and regret for the days that were no more. It passed in a moment, for whatever her external appearance might be, Pixie was transparently the same at heart, and quick to note thefaintest shadow on the face of the dear mother-sister. She swung roundto face Bridgie, the grey eyes bent upon her in earnest scrutiny. 

They saw something written there that had not been visible two yearsbefore--the outward marks of an inward, and very bitter struggle, andBridgie flushed beneath the scrutiny of that clear-seeing, childlikegaze, and trembled at the thought of what was to come. 

"Has anyone been unkind to ye, Bridgie?" asked Pixie in deep, full-throated tones. She put up her hand and stroked the soft cheek with atenderness of pitying love which was more eloquent than words. "Thereare dips in your cheeks, like Miss Minnitt's when she was getting overthe fever, and your eyes look tired. What has happened to worry ye, medear, and take the colour out of your face?"

"She has enough colour to satisfy you at the moment, hasn't she?" Jacksaid, laughing, and Pixie nodded with ruthless candour. 

"Because she is blushing. What are you blushing for, you silly girl?It isn't as if I had asked about a heart affair. The girls in Francewere always talking of heart affairs, and asking if you were _fiancee_. They thought you were very old, and must be going to _coif_ SaintCatherine. That means that you are going to be an old maid. I saidyes, of course you were, because you were needed at home. Esmeralda wasno use, but we could not get on without Bridgie!"

"You miserable, ungrateful child! This is my reward for all I have donefor you!" declaimed Esmeralda with dramatic emphasis, but Bridgie's facelit up with a smile of whole-hearted satisfaction. 

Thank God! Whatever her personal disappointment might be, she couldnever feel that she was alone in the world--that among all its teemingmillions there was no human being whose happiness depended upon herpresence; she had been spared that worst trial to a woman's heart, andPixie's calm taking-for-granted that she was indispensable to the familycircle was the greatest comfort which she could have given. 

"No, I shan't leave you, darling. I have too much to do looking afteryou and those three big boys, and when you fly away to nests of yourown, Sylvia and I have all sorts of plans for enjoying ourselvestogether. I have promised faithfully to wheel her about in her Bath-chair. "

"And I will make your caps. I'm clever at millinery, " said Sylvia, pretending not to hear Jack's murmurs of protest, and looking verypretty and animated as she sat erect in her chair and gesticulated withher thin little hands. "You shall have one with pearl dangles for highdays and holidays, and nice, stiff little black bows for ordinary wear. We will knit socks and mittens, and play cribbage in the evening, andtalk over the days of our youth. It's almost a pity we know each othernow, for we shan't be able to romance as much as we would like!"

"Perhaps the romance will come in in some other way! Perhaps a husbandmay interfere with the claims of Saint Catherine!" said Geoffrey, putting into words the language of Jack's eyes, and everybody stared atSylvia's face with embarrassing curiosity. 

"I shall never marry!" she said obstinately. Not that she meant it inthe least, for she did not, but she was one of the girls who foolishlythink it the right thing to protest in public, and who are mistakenenough to feel a trifle ashamed of the natural womanly longing forsomeone to love and to protect them, which God Himself has put in theirhearts. A few girls there may be who honestly mean such a decision, butthey are very few indeed, while their hearers are invariably sceptical. 

Not one of the O'Shaughnessys seemed in the least impressed by Sylvia'sdisclaimer, and it was disconcerting to hear Pixie's sympathetic, "Didno one ever ask ye? Never mind! They may still. You are not so veryold!"

Sylvia made up her mind there and then that it was better to say exactlywhat one meant in the presence of Miss Pixie O'Shaughnessy!

CHAPTER ELEVEN. 

ESMERALDA CHECKMATED. 

Three days after Christmas, Esmeralda and her husband returned toIreland, scattering invitations, severally and in bulk, to all theinhabitants of Number Three, Rutland Road. Even Sylvia found herselfinvited for a long visit, and was the more surprised at this mark offavour because Mrs Hilliard's demeanour towards her was tinged withjealousy and uneasy suspicion. She was willing enough to play LadyBountiful, present offerings of fruit and flowers, and be gushinglysympathetic, but she liked to monopolise the whole attention of hersisters, and was not well pleased when they in their turn hung about theinvalid's couch. She had not been an hour in the same room, moreover, before she had intercepted one of Jack's most melting glances, and thestare of the great grey eyes left no doubt as to the disapproval withwhich she viewed the flirtation. 

Sylvia's annoyance converted her into a very hedgehog of dignity, andthe prickly quills kept the young fellow at such a distance that he lostfaith in his own fascinations for the first and only time in his career. He bade Esmeralda an affectionate farewell, but was in truth wellresigned to her departure--a fact which she was quite sharp enough todiscover. 

"Jack is pleased that I am going away!" she said to Bridgie as the twosisters sat together for the last confidential chat. "He knows that Iwatch him flirting with Sylvia Trevor, and thinks he will get on betterwithout me. You really ought to be careful, Bridgie, and not let thembe too much together!"

"Does he flirt with her? Not more than he does with every other girl, "said Bridgie leniently. "I don't see why I should worry myself aboutit. Sylvia is a sensible girl, who is not given to fancying that everyman is in love with her, and Jack is just a dear, soft-hearted boy, whocan't help making pretty speeches, but he would never make serious loveif he did not mean it, and if he did--well, why not Sylvia as well asanyone else?"

But Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard was not to be so easily appeased. She threwback her haughty head, lowered languid eyelids, and drawled out--

"My dear Bridgie, remember whom you are speaking about! Jack is thehead of the family--he's O'Shaughnessy of Knock! Eventually, as we hopeand believe, he will go back to take up his own position, and, thanks toGeoff, the property will be in a very different condition from what itwas when he left. He must make a marriage which will be a help, not ahindrance. And who is she? Answer me that! What do you know abouther?"

"She is a dear girl! She is very attractive! Her father is abroad. She lives with an old aunt. "

"Exactly! A pleasant girl in a London suburb!" Esmeralda's voice wasfull of ineffable condescension. "There are thousands of them, and nodoubt they are charming in their way, but not for Jack. He owes a dutyto the family as well as himself, and you ought to tell him as much. You really ought, Bridgie! Speak to him at once, before it goes toofar!"

"Suppose you speak to him yourself! When you are so hot upon it, it's apity to leave it to me. "

"No, I'd rather not. Jack is so stupid about taking advice. He wouldsnap my nose off if I said anything. "

"I really don't see why my nose is not as valuable as yours! Why shouldI do your disagreeable work for you?" retorted Bridgie with spirit. "You did not know that Geoffrey was a rich man when you promised tomarry him, and it's the last thing I would think of myself, so whyshould we expect any more of Jack? I am not going to interfere, whatever happens, and if you take my advice you won't mention Sylvia'sname to him!"

"I don't intend to, but--"

Esmeralda shut her lips tightly over an unspoken determination. Thereare more ways than one of nipping in the bud an incipient love affair, but she did not care about confiding her latest inspiration to anyhearer, least of all to Bridgie, who would have given up her mostcherished plans rather than hurt the feelings of a fellow-creature. Shechanged the subject, and talked lightly on impersonal topics until themoment of parting drew near, when there came a sudden softening over thebeautiful face, and she said in gentle, diffident tones--

"I didn't like to ask before, but I can't leave without knowing, darling. Have you heard?"

Bridgie shook her head mutely, and the lines which Pixie had noticeddeepened round her eyes and mouth, but the eyes smiled still--a brave, steady smile. 

"I never shall hear now, Joan. I've made up my mind to that. "

"I don't know how you bear it! I can't think how you manage to be socomposed and cheerful! If Geoff had treated me like that, it would havesoured me for life. You were never sour from the first, and now youseem quite happy. Yet, as Pixie says, you have a pathetic look whichshows that you have not really forgotten. You still care, Bridgiedear?"

"I shall always care, " said Bridgie quietly. "There's an ache at theback of my heart, but there are so many things at the front that it getscrowded out. Besides, you know, Esmeralda darling, I don't want to seemto praise myself, but it's a trouble which God has sent me, and I askHim every night to help me to bear it in the right way. It wouldn't bethe right way to let the shadow of it darken other lives besides my own. If I moped and grizzled, everyone in the house would be uncomfortable, and they have their own worries, poor creatures, without suffering formine! I made an excellent rule for my own benefit--to laugh downstairsand cry in my own room, and it answers beautifully, for I'm so tiredwhen I get to bed that I've no sooner begun repining than I wake up andfind it's morning. You try it, dear, when you've got a worry. You'llfind it splendid!"

Esmeralda shook her head. 

"Not for me! What I feel I must show, and sooner than I feel it, ifthat is possible. If I tried to bottle up my feelings it would make meill, and the explosion would be all the greater when it did come. Myonly chance is to get it over as soon as possible, but in your case itis a long slow suspense, which is worse than any definite trouble. Youare an angel, dear, to bear it as you do! It's mysterious that itshould have come to you and not me, for you didn't need discipline, andI, who was always the naughty one, have got all that I want--Geoffrey, and home, and the dear little boy. You must come soon, Bridgie, to seethe boy. He will be getting teeth and all sorts of luxuries, and hisgodmother ought to be there to look after him. "

Esmeralda rose and strolled over to the glass to arrange her hat and pinon a filmy veil. "I must go downstairs now, and say good-bye to MissTrevor. Don't hurry, dear, if you have anything to do. We don't leavefor a quarter of an hour still. "

Unsuspecting Bridgie trotted away to the kitchen to give some orders, while Esmeralda sailed into the drawing-room, all smiles and amiability. A peal of laughter greeted her ears as she entered, and there sat Pixieperched on the end of the sofa, with her hands clasped round her knees, and her chin poked forward, enjoying to the full the discovery of a newaudience, who was apparently as much interested in the sayings anddoings of the O'Shaughnessy family as she was herself. 

Both girls looked up as the rustle of silks heralded Mrs Hilliard'sapproach, but while the younger remained serenely composed, Sylvia'slips tightened, and her eyes gave out an ominous flash. It was as ifshe felt an antagonistic spirit in the air, and braced herself for theconflict. Yet nothing could have been more friendly than Esmeralda'ssmile--more cordial than her voice. 

"I told Bridgie I must really have ten minutes for a farewell chat withyou before I go. It has been so pleasant to have you here, and I hopewe shall soon meet again. Has Pixie been amusing you while we wereupstairs? Come down from that couch, child! You must be quite cramped. I am here, so you need not mount guard any longer. "

"I'm very comfortable where I am, " said Pixie easily. She laid her headon one side, and stared at her sister with large, innocent eyes, whichseemed strangely disconcerting to that young lady's composure. Shefrowned, and snapped a bracelet together with quite a vicious snap. 

"But you are too old for such inelegant positions. You are almostgrown-up now, and must learn how to behave. For goodness' sake get upbefore Geoff sees you! He is so very particular about nice behaviour ingirls. "

"'Twas a bad relapse for him when he married you!" muttered Pixiebeneath her breath. She straightened herself slowly and let her feetslip to the ground, but Esmeralda realised that nothing but a directrequest would convince her of the extraordinary fact that her absencewas for once more desired than her presence. For obvious reasons such arequest could not be made, and as the time was quickly passing nothingremained but to clothe her hints even more circumspectly than she hadintended. 

"I am so glad that your foot is really getting better, " she saidgraciously to Sylvia. "Bridgie says the nurse is so pleased with itsprogress the last few days. You will be able to walk about soon, andthen if you feel inclined for a change we shall be so pleased if youwill come over to visit us. It is quiet at Knock, but I would drive youabout, and the air is so delightful that I am sure it would do you good. You will hear all about the place from Pixie, so that it would not feelstrange to you when you arrived, and we have a few nice friends withindriving distance. 

"She would like Mollie Burrell, wouldn't she, Pixie? That's a younggirl who lives seven miles from us at Knock, but we think nothing ofthat distance in the country. She was always over at the Castle beforeJack went away, and we used to say she felt like another sister. Youremember how he used to drive over in the cart, and bring her back tosurprise us?"

"I do so! And the afternoon when she went shopping into the post-officeas they drove through the village, and Tim Hegan came up and beganbidding for the old grey mare, and with that Jack took him into the cartand drove over to the farm, and never a thought of poor Mollie until theevening, when she cut him dead limping home through the mud. 'Twas acruel thing to do, and the poor creature putting on new boots for theoccasion to do him honour, and says Jack, `I've done for myself thistime! It would take a cleverer man than myself to twist _that_ into acompliment!'"

"Oh, that's an old-world story!" cried Esmeralda, with her head in theair. Her cheeks had flushed despite her efforts for composure, and shewas uncomfortably conscious that Sylvia was trying to restrain a smileat this most open contradiction of the implied attachment between Jackand his Irish neighbour. Her irritation urged her to stronger measures, and she said testily--

"It proves how little dependence can be placed upon Jack's promises. Ifhe could forget Mollie, it is no wonder that he changes his mind everyother day. But they made up that quarrel ages ago, and he was overthere shooting in September and squiring her all over the county. Youshould not tell tales out of school, Pixie!"

"Was it me? I thought it was yourself. You began saying that they weresuch friends, and I thought maybe it would amuse Sylvia to hear--"

"So it does, Pixie. It amuses me extremely, " assented Sylvia with anintentional emphasis, which made Esmeralda wince once more, for, howeverinnocent the little sister might be, she felt convinced that SylviaTrevor thoroughly understood her implied warning, and was by no meansdocile in her manner of receiving it. She sat up stiff and erect, smiling into space with an expression of scornful superiority whichfilled the beholder with unwilling admiration. In just such a spiritwould she herself have accepted interference from the lips of astranger. She recognised a kindred spirit, and realised that, puttingJack out of the question, Miss Sylvia Trevor would be a friend after herown heart. 

The repeated invitation had in it a note of sincerity which had beenwanting in the earlier rendering, but Sylvia only murmured, "Thank you!"in a politely non-committal manner, and shrank back so decidedly fromthe proffered kiss that there was no choice but to substitute a formalhandshake in its stead. 

The sisters drove off together to the station, and Sylvia was left aloneto relieve pent-up irritation by making one impetuous resolve afteranother, to replace each the following moment by one diametricallydifferent. 

"Thank goodness, she has gone at last! I can't think how I ever couldhave liked her! I think I dislike her more than anyone I ever met. Howdare she interfere with me! How dare she imply that I want tomonopolise her precious brother! I shall never speak to him again aslong as I live! I shall go home to-morrow, and take good care that Inever come across when he is likely to be at home. Perhaps she haswarned him too, as if he were not conceited enough already! He is wortha dozen of her all the same, and is far nicer than I thought at first. It's perfectly absurd to think a man and a girl cannot be in the samehouse for a week without falling in love with each other. I won'tcondescend to take the faintest notice of her insinuations. I shall beas nice as I like, and give up snubbing him from this minute. He can beengaged to fifty Mollie Burrells if he likes; that's no reason why Ishould not treat him civilly!"

In the hours which elapsed before the return of the sisters she had hadtime to change her mind a dozen times over, to write letters to AuntMargaret and burn them in the fire, to invent scathing sarcasms by whichpoor Jack was to be reduced to a condition of hopeless subjection, andrehearse melting scenes when her womanly sympathy would soothe ruffledspirits and restore him to calm. 

All uncertainty as to her conduct was, however, removed by the firstglance at Jack's face when he returned home in the evening, for it borethe unmistakable marks of real anxiety, and the weary sigh with which hesank into his chair was something new to his vigorous manhood. 

Bridgie bustled in with the tea which always awaited his coming, kissedhim lightly, and hurried away to finish some letters. Pixie sat hunchedup before the fire devouring a book, and Jack pushed his chair nearerSylvia's couch, staring at her in a dumb, melancholy fashion which hadin it something singularly beguiling. Despite his great height andmuscular form, he looked so helpless and appealing, like a nice childwho has lost a toy, or a big collie dog which turns pathetic eyestowards his master's face. 

Sylvia smiled involuntarily, but it was a very friendly smile, and hervoice had lost its mocking tone as she inquired--

"Well--what's the trouble?"

Jack put his cup on the table and leant towards her, his elbows restingon his knees, his chin supported on clasped hands. Pixie read onundisturbed, soft gurgles of laughter marking her enjoyment ofsensational passages. 

"I've had a blow, " said Jack, "a ghastly disappointment! This is theday when the firm announces the various arrangements for the year, increases in salary and so on. I quite understood that I should come infor a substantial rise, if not a junior partnership. It was talkedabout when I joined four years back, and as nothing was done lastJanuary I made a certainty of it coming off now. Instead of that, I getnothing--nothing! No advance at all upon the payment of the last twoyears. I had it out with the partners this afternoon, and they seemedto think I had done unusually well. They implied that it was a piece ofpure imagination on my part to have expected to be taken into the firm. "

"But--I know nothing about business except what I have read--but is itnot usual to have something written--a definite agreement which settlesthings without the possibility of argument? If you joined this firmwith the idea of being made a partner, was not an agreement written downin black and white?"

Jack waved his hand in airy dissent. 

"No, there was nothing definite, but we talked it over. --The old fellowcertainly held out hopes for the future! I made so sure of apartnership that we took this house in the prospect of being able to payfor it out of my increased earnings. It's too expensive as it is forpeople brought up as we have been. I'm the most practical of thebundle, and with care and attention can make half a crown go almost asfar as an Englishman's shilling; but Bridgie, bless her! wears herselfout saving pennies, and throws away pounds with the best. In myfather's time there was never any money to trouble about, so she gotinto the way of ordering things without thinking what they would cost, and it's a difficult plan to forsake. She's done her best, poorcreature! I wouldn't blame her for the world. "

"And--and will you have to leave the house?" Sylvia's heart sankdrearily at the prospect. What if the O'Shaughnessys flitted away to asuburb at the opposite end of the city, and Number Three, Rutland Roadwas deserted once more, or tenanted by an ordinary, commonplace family, such as inhabited every other villa in the neighbourhood! After thesweet friendship of Bridgie, the fascinations of Jack, the audacities ofthe two boys, the witcheries of Pixie, and last but not least, theincursions of Esmeralda, exasperating, but to the last degree romanticand beautiful, Sylvia felt a shudder of distaste at the thought of astout mamma and papa, one baby in a perambulator, another in a mail-cart, and a graduated line of school-boys and girls sallying forth dailyto their appointed tasks. "Oh, I'm so sorry you will have to leave!"she sighed, and Jack smiled at her in grateful acknowledgment of herregret. 

"I'm glad you are sorry, but I don't intend to leave. We have been hereonly four months, and I can't face another removal for--many reasons!We will have to squeeze along somehow until things look up. A crop ofbills have come in during the last few days to make matters worse, and Iwill have to talk things over with Bridgie to-night. I hate to worryher, but there must be some system, or we shall find ourselves in theworkhouse some fine day. And now there is the child to think of. Shewill be an extra expense!"

Sylvia glanced quickly across the room at the figure in the depths ofthe arm-chair. She sat motionless, her head bent over her book, butPixie was one of those intensely alive little creatures who seem toinfect their very surroundings with vitality. It seemed to Sylvia thatthe pages fluttered in agitated fashion, the bow of ribbon holding backher hair seemed of a sudden to stand out at attention, the knotted endslooked like two alert, curious ears at the back of her head. 

How much had Pixie heard?

CHAPTER TWELVE. 

A FAMILY COUNCIL. 

That night after dinner Jack broke the news of his disappointment to theassembled family, who bore the shock with surprising resignation. Patwhistled, and said, "Just our luck! Ah, well, if it's no better, let'sbe thankful it's no worse!" Miles suggested cheerfully, "Why don't youchuck it and keep a shop? Then we should get all our food for nothing. "And Bridgie's sigh turned into a smile as she cried, "What a blessingwe took this house when we did! Now we should not have been able toafford it, and we should never have known you, Sylvia dear! It's funny, isn't it, to think that this little crib is too big for us?"

"Oh, awfully funny!" said Jack drily. He had opened the topmost drawerin the writing-table and taken out half a dozen red-backed books and abundle of bills. "The fact remains that we shall have to spend at leasta hundred a year less than we calculated if we want to keep out of theBankruptcy Court. I don't know how it is, but I seem to have given themoney for half these bills, and yet here they are again! I wasperfectly horrified to see them. This coal bill, for instance, --Iremember distinctly giving you two sovereigns one morning just as I wasstarting for town--"

Sylvia sat up hastily and fumbled for the stick by which she supportedherself about the house. It seemed to her impossible that such intimatefamily affairs could be discussed before a stranger, but at the firstmovement Jack inquired eagerly where she was going, and both he andBridgie laughed to scorn the idea of privacy. The presence of astranger seemed indeed to whet their interest in the forthcomingdiscussion, which was conducted throughout with a cheerfulness andcomposure which contrasted strangely with Miss Munns's weeklylamentations over her tradesmen's accounts. 

"'Deed, I remember quite well!" said Bridgie, referring to the moneywhich had been given to her in settlement of the coal bill. "It was themorning the cat got lost in the oven, and all of us searching the houseover because of the piteous mews of it. It crept in, Sylvia, when thedoor was open, after the bacon came out, and Sarah pushed it to as shepassed, so the poor creature had a fine Turkish bath of it before wefound her. Did I not pay the bill, after all? I suppose I was short ofmoney for something else. It's wonderful the way it slips away when youare keeping house!"

Jack sighed and took up another paper from the table. 

"There's another here. I know I gave you ten shillings to settle thisironmonger fellow. Eight and threepence! It's ridiculous running onbills for little sums like this. "

"I paid it! I paid it!" cried Bridgie triumphantly. "I distinctlyremember, because there is such a funny little man in the shop who says, `What is your next pleasure, madam?' when you buy a box of tacks. Iremember distinctly going in and paying something. "

"Very well, then, you must have the receipt. Where have you put thereceipt?"

Bridgie looked vaguely round the room, turned out the contents of herwriting-pad, peeped into a drawer under the table, searched the bottomof the stocking-basket, the pocket of her dress, then stroked her chinmeditatively, and said--

"Perhaps I was paying for something else! I remember now that I _did_buy a saucepan. "

Jack sighed again, and paced up and down the floor, but he showed nosigns of anger or even surprise, and his voice was quite apologetic ashe said--

"I'm afraid you will have to be more methodical, dear, if we stay on inthis house. We shall never know how we stand if bills keep coming inwhen we think they are settled. We had better hold a cabinet counciland decide how much we can afford to spend in housekeeping and otherdepartments, and cut our coat according to our cloth. It will bedifficult after the way things went on at Knock, but it's our onlychance. I tried to put down my private expenses this afternoon, and washorrified to find how heavy they were. "

Bridgie cast an admiring glance upon him, and turned to Sylvia with anair of pride. 

"Isn't he splendid, now, at his age, talking like an old man for wisdomand prudence! You may well say things are different from what they wereat home, for there, if the worst came to the worst, you could alwaysfall back on the pigs and the vegetables that grew for nothing at yourdoor. The idea of paying fourpence for a cauliflower takes me heart outof me every time I go marketing, and the bacon is no sooner bought, thanit is eaten. Well, I'm willing enough to learn method, but who's toteach me? Saving your presence, Jack, you're just a beginner yourself!"

Sylvia chuckled mischievously, and her eyes danced with amusement. 

"There is a mistress in the art at your very door! Aunt Margaret wouldbe enchanted to instruct you, and her housekeeping is a marvel ofaccuracy. She could tell you exactly how much she spent last year onsoft soap, and the reason why it was more in ninety-six than in ninety-seven. She could walk about the house in the dark and put her hand onthe blue-bag and the list of last week's washing. She makes lists ofeverything she possesses, from household linen to the Christmas cardswhich she sends out and receives. Her dresses last for best for fouryears before they are turned for afternoon wear, and two years laterthey are re-dipped for mornings. They have histories, like herrelations, and make valuable Christmas presents to the charwoman ontheir eighth birthday. She thinks I am recklessly extravagant becausemy dresses are worn-out in a year!"

"I'll ask her to teach me at once! I'll begin making lists this veryafternoon! I'll practise shutting my eyes and searching for the blue-bag, " cried Bridgie ardently. "Jack dear, I'll be a model housekeeper, and save so much money that we shall be quite rich. "

She was all smiles and complaisance, and sat down for the cabinetcouncil with an unruffled brow, but, as we all know, it is moredifficult to face one or two definite difficulties than an army ofshadowy deprivations, and when the division of the family income made itnecessary to subtract considerably from her housekeeping allowance, andto saddle her in addition with several outside expenses, MistressBridget sighed and showed signs of rebellion. 

"Such a lot of trouble for such a trifling saving! 'Twill destroy mealtogether to be fussing over every halfpenny. What would it matter ifwe were a trifle in debt at the end of the year? Geoffrey would pay ahundred pounds without knowing it, and be proud to do it into thebargain!"

"But I won't accept it. He has done quite enough as it is. He has paidfor Pat's training, and will give him the agency as soon as he is readyto take it, and he paid for Pixie's lessons in Paris. I could notrefuse what was good for them, but I'll keep my own house, or give it upaltogether!" said Jack proudly, and Sylvia nodded her head in emphaticapproval from her place of vantage on the sofa. 

Pat and Miles also applauded the declaration of independence, andaccepted their own share in the contemplated economies with unperturbedserenity, while Pixie sat solemnly in a corner, turning her eyes on theface of each speaker in turns, her shoulders heaving with suppressedemotion. Of all the members of the family it was evident that she tookthe present difficulty most seriously, and Sylvia was strengthened inthe conviction that she had heard and taken to heart the reference toherself which had been made in the afternoon. 

She made no reference to the subject, but three times over the next daySylvia entered a room in time to hear a hurried rustle and scramble, andbehold Pixie gazing into the fire with an air of elaborateunconsciousness--the newspaper rolled into a ball beneath her chair. Itwas always open at the advertisement sheet, moreover, so that theonlooker had not much difficulty in guessing the character of theletters which were inscribed with such deep-breathed earnestness in theafternoon. 

They were posted in the pillar-box at the corner of the road, and Pixiemarched back to the house and sat herself down with an air of mysteriousimportance. Her head was held proudly erect, her lips pressed tightlytogether as if nothing, no nothing, would induce her to put her secretinto words, and Sylvia smiled to herself, and from the experiences of aweek's acquaintance, gave her exactly five minutes in which to divulgethe whole story. 

"If you were threatened with a danger--a hidjus danger--what should youthink would be the best way to avoid it?" asked Pixie earnestly, at theexpiration of two minutes and a half. 

Sarah had that moment brought in the lamp and brushed up the fire, andthe little room looked wonderfully cheerful and cosy. It was just thetime and opportunity for a confidential chat, and Sylvia sat herselfdown in the arm-chair with a pleasant sense of expectancy. She wasallowed to sit up for an hour or two in the day, and that in itself wasa cheering circumstance. 

"If I were threatened with a danger, how should I try to avoid it? Ireally don't know, Pixie. What do you advise yourself?" she askedsmilingly, and Pixie smote her fists together, and stamped on the floorwith dramatic emphasis. 

"Ye ought to march straight out and meet it! That's what Therese hasbeen teaching me all these years, for, says she, `Bridgie, the dear, isso soft-hearted that she'll never believe but that everything will comeright if ye sit still and look pleasant. ' The last thing but one thatshe said to me before parting was that I must look after the family andkeep them out of trouble; so I've been reading over the papers to seehow I can make some money, and it's wonderful the choice you can have!I thought at first about taking a situation, but it's better that Ishould stay at home to look after Bridgie, and teach her how to use upthe scraps as they do in France. Me dear, the most elegant soup madeout of nothing at all but the scraps ye would throw to the hens!There's one advertisement which says a lady like meself can earn ahandsome income in her own home, without interfering with presentduties. It sounds so light and pleasant that it quite struck my fancy;and only two shillings for samples and directions!"

"Oh, Pixie, did you really send it? I'm so sorry you did that withouttelling me first. I'm afraid it's a hoax, dear! It sounds too good tobe true!"

"But it says so plainly in those very words. I'll show it to you if youlike. It's printed!" cried Pixie in a tone of shocked reproof whichsilenced the protests on Sylvia's lips. If her suspicions were correct, time would teach the lesson that even printed advertisements were notalways accurately truthful, but she had not the heart to dilate on theperfidiousness of mankind in the presence of such innocent trustfulness. She murmured apologetic phrases, and Pixie beamed once more andcontinued her story. 

"There's another gentleman wants you to go round and sell books. I'vewritten to him, but I'd rather do things at home. Did you ever hear ofanyone making a fortune by addressing envelopes? They want someone todo that too, but I write so slowly meself, and it's only a shilling athousand. A literery lady is wanted to correct proofs. That would benice, because they might be stories. How do you spell `literery', Sylvia?"

"L-i-t-e-r-a-r-y!"

"Not `e-r-y?' You are quite sure?"

"Absolutely sure!"

"I put `literery'!" said Pixie, with a sigh. Perhaps it will prejudicehim against me! Spelling was never my strong point, but that was worsethan ignorance--with the paper lying beside me for reference! The bestof all is a shop that wants you to colour photographs. I love paintingpictures, and the scrap-books I've done for hospitals would fill amuseum. Of course, these would have to be done carefully, but I've seenTherese sketching at Versailles, and artists painting in the Louvre, andI'm quick at imitating. They wanted three shillings to sell you thepaints and brushes, and it will be cheap if it brings in pounds a week. "Twas a good thing Esmeralda gave me a sovereign before she left, and Icould get the stamps without anyone being the wiser. I thought, yousee, it would be so nice to keep it a secret until I could go to Bridgiewith my earnings in my hand. You will promise truly and faithfully notto tell?"

"If you will promise not to send any more money without asking myadvice. I think you ought to do that, Pixie!"

"I shan't need to, me dear. I'll earn enough as it is. Will I get thereplies to-morrow, do you think? The letters ought to be delivered to-night!"

Sylvia felt doubtful whether answers would ever be received, but asevents proved, she was wrong, and Pixie was right, for her inquirieswere answered by return of post, and on the first opportunity handedover for inspection. The philanthropist who provided remunerative workfor gentlewomen at their own homes without interfering with presentduties, forwarded samples as promised, the which Pixie spread out on thetable with an air of depression. They consisted of a two-inch length ofa simple stamping-off pattern, a fragment of black net, and a few dozencommon jet beads, wrapped in a paper. 

"You iron off the pattern on the net, and then you sew round it with thebeads, and then ye cut off the scallops, and then it's jetted lace!" sheexplained anxiously. "And when it's jetted lace, ye go out and sell itto the shops. " She sighed deeply, and turned over the patterns with herfingers. "How much a yard is jetted lace, Sylvia?"

"I don't know exactly, but I should think a narrow width like this couldnot be over a couple of shillings at the most. "

"And it would take me months to do, and be puckered at that! It's suchwobbly stuff to sew. Even if I did a lot, I'm afraid the shops wouldnever buy it. "

"I'm afraid not, Pixie. I wouldn't waste your time trying, dear!"

Pixie sighed again and carefully replaced the fragments in theirenvelopes. 

"It was very kind of them to send them so soon, and if I was clever withmy fingers, it would be a fine idea, but I know quite well it would bepuckered. Will I send back the patterns, do you think? They might beuseful for someone else. "

"I think whoever sent them can very well afford to send anotherselection to the next inquirer. I should not dream of wasting a stampon them, " replied Sylvia drily, and as she spoke she pulled Pixie nearerto her, and kissed her with a fervour which was somewhat startling tothe recipient. 

"Are ye sorry for me?" she queried. "Ye needn't be, because I shallhave so much to do with the photographs that I am not disappointed abit. They have sent me one to paint, and if I do it to theirsatisfaction they can keep me in constant work. They don't say anythingabout paying, but I expect that will be settled next week. Here's thepaints, and here's the lady!"

Sylvia looked, and beheld half a dozen cheap paints such as are found ina child's sixpenny box, a thick and a thin brush, equally common, and aphotograph of a buxom lady with a mop of tousled hair, swinging in ahammock-chair under some trees, while a flight of marble steps led up toa palatial mansion in the background. She read the letter, and foundthat Pixie had accurately described its contents. It appeared that thefirm was in pressing need of outside help, and had practically unlimitedwork to bestow upon ladies "with artistic tendencies. "

Judging from the note-paper, the handwriting, and the style of thephotograph itself, the critics could not be very severe, and for amoment Sylvia found herself wondering if by chance Pixie had indeedfound some work within her scope. She herself knew little aboutpainting, but after a long discussion of the different features of thephotograph, she succeeded in dissuading the youthful artist from asomewhat violent scheme of colour, and in extracting a promise that thecompleted picture should be brought across the road for her inspectionbefore it was despatched, for by this time Miss Munns was once moresettled at home, and the last evening of the happy visit had arrived. 

Sylvia tried not to allow herself to think how quiet and dull the dayswould seem with only Aunt Margaret as a companion; how hard it would beto sit contentedly playing cribbage in the evenings, while across theroad, within a stone's-throw from the window, was this dear, bright, homey room, full of young creatures like herself. She told herself thatshe had had a happy holiday, and ought to go home refreshed and cheered. She made noble resolutions to be more patient and considerate, andpretended that she was really quite relieved to be leaving JackO'Shaughnessy, for it was far more difficult to withstand the humbuggingeyes now that she knew what a dear kind fellow he was at heart, and heon his part seemed quite embarrassingly sorry to say good-bye!

"You have not been half so nice to me lately as you were the first fewdays, " he said plaintively in the privacy afforded by the strains of acomb orchestra vigorously conducted at the end of the room. "I musthave offended you without meaning it; clumsy fellow that I am!"

"Oh dear no, not at all. It is only that I am getting better, and mynatural bad temper is asserting itself. Most people are mild when theyare ill, " she replied lightly, but Jack was not so easily silenced. 

"That's not the reason. Saving your presence, you are better tempered, not worse, but there's a difference all the same. I suppose you don'tlike me so well now that you know me better?"

"On the contrary, I like you infinitely more. " Sylvia hesitated amoment, then added with sudden resolution, "I thought you were a veryagreeable flirt; you amused me, and I enjoyed being flattered; but now Ithink you are a real good friend, and I treat you in a different way. One gets tired of compliments, but friendship grows better and betterall the time. "

Jack coloured, and was silent. Sylvia wondered if he were offended bythe plainness of her words, but when he turned to her again, there wasthe frank, manly expression in his eyes which she liked most to see. 

"May I come and call upon you sometimes in the evening? I shall have nochance of seeing you in the daytime. "

"I should like it very much, but it is not my house, remember, and AuntMargaret is not fond of young men. "

"But I am terribly partial to old ladies, and I never met the one yetthat wasn't wrapped up in me before we parted. I've got a way with oldladies!" said Jack complacently. "There was an old dear in Ireland whomanaged everyone for miles around, but she was as soft as putty in myhands. The poor girl, her daughter, was not allowed to join in any ofthe fun that was on hand, and when there was anything special coming on, she'd write pitiful letters and ask me to lunch. I always went--she hadvery good eyes of her own!--and she'd meet me in the drive, and put meup to what she wanted. By the time the old lady had told me all abouther hens, and her servants, and her latest quarrel with her neighbours, and I'd flattered her by saying her rheumatism was the pick of any inthe county, she'd be ready to eat out of my hand. And I'd fix up tocall for Mollie, and see her safely home after the show was over. "

"Mollie? A pretty name! Is it common in Ireland?"

"It is so. We knew a stack of them at Knock, but Mollie Burrell was thebest of the bundle. "

Sylvia smiled, but her lips felt stiff, and the effort was not asuccess. A little weight of depression settled over her spirits. Shefelt anything but sympathetic for the deprivations of Miss MollieBurrell. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN. 

BARGAIN-HUNTING. 

Two days after Sylvia's return home, Pixie took the tinted photographacross the road for inspection. She had toiled at it with conscientiouseffort, but, alas! the result was pathetically bad, the paint being laidon in uncertain daubs, while carmine cheeks and scarlet lips laid thebuxom lady under suspicion of sickening for fever or some other deadlycomplaint. Pixie herself was vaguely disquieted by the general effect, but, as she earnestly explained, you "got used to it after a bit, and itdidn't look so bad. And even if it was only half price this time, itwould be encouraging to the family!"

Sylvia refrained from criticism, but helped to pack the work of artbetween two sheets of cardboard in readiness for the post, and afterthat was done, took her visitor downstairs to be introduced to MissMunns. 

The old lady was sitting darning stockings, with a newspaper spread overone half of the table and a little bowl standing ready to receive thesnippings of worsted. On the baize cloth at the other end stood anindiarubber plant and four little artificial ferns. A gas fireflickered in the grate, a wire blind shut out the view, the chairs stoodranged in mathematical order against the walls, the very newspaper wasfolded into an accurate square and put away in the rack, and Pixielooked round with awed eyes the while she was introduced. 

"This is Bridgie's youngest sister, Aunt Margaret--Pixie O'Shaughnessy. "

"I hope you are quite well, my dear, " said Miss Munns. 

"Good morning, madame!" said Pixie in her most Parisian manner, notattempting to shake hands, but bowing with an air of gracious effusionfrom half-way across the room. 

Aunt Margaret let the stocking drop in her lap and stared over herspectacles, shaking her head solemnly as Sylvia related how the new-comer had just returned from Paris, where she had been living under thecharge of an old governess. 

"That accounts for it!" she said darkly, when the explanations werefinished. "I never can understand why people want to go abroad whenthere are so many good schools at their door. When I was a girl I wentto Miss Banks at Peckham, and it was most select. Every girl overfifteen wore a bonnet; mine was white Dunstable, with check ribbons, blue and white. I wore it with a dress with silk pipings, and it wasvery much admired. My cousin Gertrude went to Paris, because her fatherhad business on the Continent, and she never got over it for years. They gave her dreadful food, and when she could not eat it, it was putaside and brought up meal after meal. She told me as a solemn fact thatthey used to put fruit in the soup, and there was something dreadfulmade of cabbages. Did they give you cabbages, my dear?"

"Mais oui, madame!" returned Pixie, involuntarily returning to thelanguage of the place of which they were speaking. "But they weredelicious, those cabbage! Mademoiselle has without doubt had an unhappyexperience. The cabbage of France is a most excellent cabbage. Heresembles himself absolutely to an English cabbage, but he is more wellprepared. "

"Speak English, my dear, for pity's sake! I never could understand thatgibberish. My poor father paid extra for me to learn under a native, but it seemed as if I always turned against it. Well, I don'tunderstand about the cabbages; Gertrude certainly said they were quitesour, and mixed with all manner of horrible things!"

"Perhaps you mean sauerkraut, Aunt Margaret. She would hardly have thatin Paris. Are you quite sure it was not Germany where she was atschool?"

"Berlin, was it? Berlin!" said Miss Munns, meditating with her fingerto her lip. "Yes, I think it was, because I remember I alwaysassociated it with the wool. All these foreign schools are alike. Nothing comes of them but bowing and scraping. Give me a good soundEnglish education!"

Miss Munns threaded her needle through the heel of the black stockingwith an expression which seemed to imply that the last word was spokenon that subject, and Pixie put on her most engaging manner as shereplied, as if anxious to prove that she was not altogether ruined byher Continental experiences--

"Madame is without doubt so clever that she does not need to be taught. Sylvia has told us that you could teach Bridgie better than anyone else. She is the best meaner in the world, is Bridgie, but it comes naturalto her to forget. Sylvia said it was wonderful the way you managed thehouse. You could find the blue-bag in the dark!"

"Find--the blue-bag--in the--dark! Why should I find the blue-bag inthe dark? What do I want with it in the dark? The blue-bag! Whyshould I look for the blue-bag?" cried Miss Munns, all anxiety to fathomthe meaning of this perplexing statement. 

The most elaborate explanations on Sylvia's part failed to solve themystery, and she kept on reiterating, "Why blue-bag?" in tones ofbaffled curiosity, while Sylvia lay back in her chair and sighed, andraised her eyebrows and stared hopelessly at the corner of the ceiling. It was a trying moment, but Pixie entered gallantly into the breach, andsucceeded in diverting attention into another channel. 

"It was just to shame us beside you, because we couldn't find it in thelight. The sugar-basin would have done just as well. My family hadgone on spending money when there was none to spend, until now at lastit's all gone, and Jack says we must begin to be careful. Bridgiethought maybe if you would give her a hint it would be useful, as shehas no one to teach her. "

"I never earned a sovereign in my life, but I should be afraid to sayhow many I have saved!" said Miss Munns complacently. "There is nothingwasted in my house, my dear, and I should be only too thankful to tellyour sister the way your servants behave when her back is turned. Thelight is flaring in their bedroom until after eleven at night, and I'veseen them myself running after the grocer's lad to give him extraorders. Does your sister allowance them in butter and sugar? Dependupon it, if she doesn't, they eat twice as much as they should. 

"If she brings her books over to me, I will tell her exactly whatquantities she ought to order. It's hard on a young man like yourbrother to have to provide for such a long family. I suppose you willbe doing something for yourself in a couple of years when you are oldenough to go about alone. You will be able to turn your education toaccount, and give lessons in the French language. You look more Frenchthan English, as it is, and have just their way of twisting yourselfabout as you talk. "

"Aunt Margaret!" cried Sylvia reproachfully, but Pixie's eyes brightenedas at a sudden suggestion, and she cried eagerly--

"Do I? Do I really? Oh, I'm so glad! If you saw me in the street, would you think I was a Parisian? Oh, thank you so much for saying so!"

"Humph! You're easily pleased. I should not take it as a compliment ifanyone said that to me. I'm an Englishwoman, and a good subject ofQueen Victoria, and I'm thankful to say I look it. No one would mistakeme for a French madam!"

"No, they wouldn't. You are a different shape, " said Pixie truthfully, whereupon Miss Munns sent a sharp inquiry over the edge of herspectacles, but the glance which met hers was so guileless that nosuspicions could live in its presence. So she said, "Humph!" once more, and that ended the discussion. 

Pixie renewed her study of the newspapers with fresh interest after thisconversation, and made marks against quite a number of advertisements, which, however, she took no active steps to answer, pending the verdictfrom the photographic company. It came at last, and proved to be ajudicious mingling of praise and blame. 

The painting of the photograph, said the critic, displayed great tasteand artistic promise, though unfortunately the execution did not quitecome up to the high standard of excellence required by the firm. Nodoubt this deficiency was largely caused by a lack of proper materials, and he would strongly recommend further expenditure of five shillings, for a complete artist's outfit, given which, and a little more practice, he had no doubt whatever of being able to send a constant supply ofwork, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 

Sylvia was shown this missive in due course, and tossed it from her withimpatient hand. 

"You must not send it, Pixie! You must not dream of sending it. Don'tyou see, dear, they only want to get money from you instead of giving itthemselves? You have already sent three shillings, and now they wantfive more, and probably next time there would be another excuse forgetting some more. You can't afford to throw away money like that, especially without Bridgie's knowledge or consent. Give it up, dear, and have no more to do with them. "

"I will!" said Pixie sadly; "but you mustn't blame them, poor creatures, for it's my own fault. It's the truth that I was short of paints, forthe ones they sent were so dry I could hardly get them to mark, and thecolours wouldn't seem to come right. It's very kind of them to promiseme work, but I must give it up, for I can't do better without takinglessons, and where would be the profit in that? I took hours, andhours, and hours painting that lady, and ye saw yourself she looked morelike a beetroot than a human creature. Don't you say a word to Bridgie, and I'll promise you faithfully I won't send another penny. I've a newidea in my head, which maybe will turn out best of all. "

She refused to say anything more explicit on the subject, but hintedthat definite information might be forthcoming on the following evening, and Sylvia wondered what new web for the unwary had caught this mostinnocent little fly in its meshes. She concluded that Pixie must beexpecting another prospectus, but next day the two sisters came acrossthe road for a few minutes' chat _en route_ for a shopping expedition, and all the time that the elder was speaking, the younger stood in thebackground, rolling her eyes and mouthing unintelligible messages, evidently intended to convey the information that some great issue wasat stake. 

"Don't you envy me, me dear? I am going to buy new clothes!" announcedBridgie, beaming. "Esmeralda gave me a five-pound note before she left, and, `For pity's sake, ' she said, `buy yourself a decent gown! You're adisgrace to be walking about the streets, and with Pixie so smart as sheis, too. Now's your chance to get something cheap at the sales!' andwith that you should have heard her groan to think she'd lost all thepleasure of hunting for bargains through marrying a rich man! I want adress, and a jacket, and a hat, and a blouse or two for the house, andgloves, and--"

"Don't you wish you may get them!" cried Sylvia mockingly. She watchedthe two girls walk down the road, and noted that Pixie was arrayed inher very best clothes to do honour to the mysterious errand, whatever itmight be. Her felt hat was tilted at an extraordinary angle; the smartlittle jacket looked quite different from the ordinary bulky wintergarments which one was accustomed to see; her boots were of patentleather, and her muff was decorated with a huge rosette, and ends ofribbon. 

Miss Munns might have truthfully declared that she looked French thismorning, and there was a suggestion of a strut in her walk which seemedto speak of personal satisfaction in her appearance. Bridgie did indeedlook shabby beside her, but then no clothes, however poor, could evermake the sweet thing look anything but a lady, and she too held up herhead in triumphant fashion, for was she not going shopping with fivebright golden sovereigns in her purse?

When Oxford Street was reached, the novices eagerly examined the windowsof a famous drapery establishment, in which the most thrilling bargainswere displayed to decoy the passers-by, and on the happy Irish principleof placing the pleasantest duty first on the list, elbowed their wayupstairs to the millinery department. The room was blocked with athrong of excited females all engaged in lifting hats from their pegsand trying them on before the various mirrors. Sometimes two of thenumber would set their affections on the same treasure, and then the onewho had been unsuccessful in obtaining possession would stand gloomilyby ready to pounce upon it the moment her adversary laid it down. Twoor three assistants stood at bay trying to answer a dozen questioners atonce, and experienced bargain-hunters were turning over the contents ofthe drawers with one hand, and grasping four or five bonnets in theother. 

For a few moments the new-comers were too much bewildered to know whatto do first, but the spirit of plunder soon laid hold of them in theirturn, and they began to pounce upon the most fascinating of the spoilsand to try them on in breathless excitement. 

Bridgie looked charming in all, her small head and cloud-like hairmaking her an easy person to suit, but, alas! the prices still seemedruinous to her innocent mind, and she sadly turned her attention to themore simple of the models. These were by no means so becoming as theirpredecessors, and Pixie's criticisms were as usual strictly truthful asshe regarded them. 

"Ye look a fright. Ye look old enough to be your own mother. It takesall the colour out of your face. You look quite yellow!"

Bridgie tore the hat from her head, and seized upon a modest brown toquewhich lay close at hand. 

"Is that better, then? Is that dowdy enough to suit you?"

"It's hidjus!" cried Pixie with emphasis. "It's uglier than the other. I wouldn't have it given to me as a present. You look an object fromthe side!"

"But it's useful--it is useful!" sighed Bridgie dejectedly. Buying hatswas not so exciting as she had imagined if she were obliged to abjurethe pretty ones, and buy the useful in which she appeared to suchpainful disadvantage. "And I expect it is cheap, Pixie. Very cheap! Ihave, to think of that, remember!"

She tilted the hand-glass to the side to study the effect which had beencondemned, and as she did so, a sepulchral voice said grimly in her ear, "When you have quite finished with my hat!" and she turned to behold asevere-looking, elderly lady staring fixedly at her headgear, andholding out her hand to claim it as her own. Poor Bridgie! her cheeksflamed for the next hour. She was so hot, and breathless, and agitatedthat she would have rushed straightway from the department, but Pixiestood her ground and remained serenely unperturbed. 

"'Twas true!" she cried. "'Twas only the truth she heard. _'Twas_hidjus, and no words of yours would make it pretty. And as for cheap, she ought to take that for a compliment, seeing the pains she's takingto get another like it! Somebody must be trying on your own hat, I'mthinking. It was lying over the rail of that chair where the fat ladyis resting. You'd better be asking her what she's done with it. "

Bridgie walked forward and put an anxious Inquiry, whereupon the fatlady leapt up in alarm, and there against the back of the chair lay apoor flattened object, with battered crown and crestfallen bows--allthat was left of Bridgie's very best hat! She was horrified at thesight, but the fat lady was more horrified still, and so lavish in herapologies that it was impossible to cherish anger against her. Sheinsisted upon herself smoothing out the ribbons and moulding the crowninto something like the original shape, and in doing so bestowed theinformation that there was another millinery department downstairs, where there might possibly be less crowd and more chance of attention. 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN. 

"A FRENCH LADY. "

The sisters agreed to adjourn forthwith, but just at the moment ofdeparting a hat was discovered which was in every way what was required, so they proceeded straight to the remnant counter where a mountain ofmaterial was being tossed about hither and thither by a crowd ofpurchasers three rows deep. 

"First catch your hare, then cook it, " so runs the old proverb, and inthis case the adventure was by no means concluded when the selection wasmade. It was necessary to pay for what you had bought, and thatnecessitated a wait of a long half-hour before anyone could be inducedto receive the money. The glove department was, if possible, still morecrowded, and it was a relief to see through a doorway a vista of a greathall filled with cases of beautiful ready-made dresses, where, despitethe presence of a goodly number of customers, there was still enoughroom to move about, without pushing a way with your elbows. 

"Let us come in here and breathe again!" cried Bridgie. "I don't thinkI was ever so tired during my life, but I'm enjoying myself terribly. It's so exciting, isn't it, Pixie?--and those blouse lengths are quiteelegant. They will take a lot of making, though. Wouldn't it be niceif I could buy a dress all ready, and be spared the work?"

"It would!" agreed Pixie. "Tell one of the ladies what you're wanting, and maybe she'll have the very thing. Here is one coming this way. Speak to her. "

Bridgie cleared her throat nervously as she made her request, for theshow-woman was a most impressive figure, tall, incredibly slight, withelaborately arranged hair, satin skirts sweeping the ground, and amanner that was quite painfully superior. She swept a scrutinisingglance over the sisters as she listened to the request for a simplehouse dress, volunteered the information that, "Our cheapest costumesare in this stand!" in a blighting tone, and began pulling out theskirts and exhibiting them in professional manner. 

"That is a very nice little dress, madam, very neatly made--quite in thelatest style! Too light? We are selling a great many light shades thisseason. --Do you care for this colour? This is a very well-cut gown. Too dark? I am afraid I have not many medium shades. --Here is a prettygown, very much reduced. Quite a simple little gown, but it looks verywell on. This embroidery is all hand-done. The bodice is prettilymade. "

Bridgie privately thought the simple little gown a most elaboratecreation, but her hopes went up as she heard that "very cheap, " and sheasked the price with trembling hope, whereupon the show-woman referredto the little ticket sewn on the belt, and said airily, --"Eight and ahalf guineas, madam. Reduced from twelve. It really is quite abargain. "

"Ye might as well say a thousand pounds!" said Bridgie hopelessly, relapsing into a deep, musical brogue in the emotion of the moment, and, wonder of wonders, the bored superiority of the great lady's manner gaveplace to a smile of sympathetic amusement. 

She was accustomed to customers who asked the prices of a dozen dressesin succession, and then floated away declaring that they would "think itover, " never, as she knew well, to return again; but not one in athousand was honest enough to make a confession of poverty! She livedin an atmosphere of vanity and affectation, and put on her haughtymanners every morning with her black satin dress; but at night she wasonly a poor, tired, working woman, going home to a dingy lodging, anddividing her earnings with an invalid mother and a family of strugglingbrothers and sisters. Her heart went out to this other girl who was soevidently a lady despite her poverty, and when Bridgie mentioned aludicrously small sum as the limit to which she was prepared to go, sheshowed neither surprise nor the thinly-veiled contempt which is usualunder the circumstances, but volunteered some really useful informationin its place. 

"You will not be able to buy any ready-made costume for that price, madam, but there will be a special sale of dress materials on Tuesdaynext. If you could be here quite early in the morning, and go straightto the counter under the clock, you would find some wonderful bargains. I should advise you to leave it until then, but perhaps there is someother department to which I could direct you. "

"Thank you, I'm dreadfully tired. Could we go somewhere, and have a cupof tea?"

The way was pointed out, and the sisters mounted the stairs once more, took possession of a little table in a corner, and leant back wearily intheir chairs. The room was crowded like the others, but it wascomparatively quiet, for the ladies were resting after the fray, stifling surreptitious yawns, and sipping tea with languid enjoyment. 

It was a long time before Bridgie could find anyone to attend to herwants, and meantime the temptation of the parcels lying before her wastoo great to be resisted. "I really must look at those gloves and thelace ties that are wrapped up with them! I never had so many new pairsin my life, but they were so cheap that I hadn't the heart to leavethem. 'Twill be a refreshment to gloat over them until the tea comes!"She untied the string and complacently folded back the paper, but, alas!what was then revealed was the reverse of refreshing, for, in somemysterious manner, the gloves and laces had disappeared, and in theirplace lay a fragment of dull, prosaic flannel, at which the poorbargain-hunter stared with dilated eyes. 

"F-flannel!" she gasped. "Flannel! It was gloves when it was made up. What's the matter with it--is it witchcraft?"

"I'd call it stupidity, if you asked my opinion, " said Pixie calmly. "You've stolen a poor creature's parcel, and perhaps she wanted to makea poultice with it. It will be awful for her when she goes home, andher husband groaning in agony, and nothing to relieve him but two laceties! I pity her when she finds it out. "

"She has stolen my gloves. I'm not sorry for her at all, and if she isan honest woman she will bring them back at once and hand them in to theoffice. I shall take the wretched flannel there the moment we godownstairs, but I've a conviction that I'll never see my parcel again. I suppose they got changed at one of those crowded counters. I don'tthink I care for sales very much, Pixie; they are too expensive. Wewill go straight home after we have had tea. "

"We will so, and make haste about it. I wanted specially to be back byfour o'clock. "

To Bridgie's surprise, however, ten minutes before the omnibus reachedthe corner at which they were wont to alight, Pixie beckoned to theconductor to stop, and announced her intention of walking the rest ofthe way. There was no time to discuss the point, and as she herself wastoo tired to walk a step farther than she was obliged, she sat still andwatched the little figure affectionately until the omnibus rounded acorner and it was hidden from sight. 

She would have been astonished if she had seen the sudden energy withwhich Pixie immediately turned right about face and walked away in theopposite direction, taking a crumpled square of newspaper from herpocket, and reading over a certain advertisement with eager attention. 

"`Wanted a French lady. '--I'm not whole French, but I'm half. Haven't Ibeen in their country nearly two years? `To amuse two children. '--I'damuse a dozen, and never know I was doing it! `And perfect them in thelanguage for a couple of hours every morning. ' Look at that, now, it'sbetter than the jetted lace! Two hours wouldn't interfere with me onebit, for I've all the day to do nothing. `Apply personally between fourand six at Seven, Fitzjames Crescent. ' Only ten minutes' walk from meown door, as if it had been made on purpose to suit me! And quite agood-looking house it is, with real silk curtains in the windows. "

She tripped undauntedly up the steps and pressed the electric bell, and, all unseen to her eyes, the little god of fate peered at her from behindthe fat white pillars of the portico, and clapped his little hands intriumph. 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN. 

PIXIE SCORES A SUCCESS. 

A butler came to the door, a solemn-looking butler, with a white tie andimmaculate black clothes, but he seemed rather stupid for his age, forhe asked twice over before he could grasp the fact that Pixie had calledin answer to the advertisement, and then stared fixedly at her all thetime he was escorting her to the room where the other lady applicantswere waiting their turns. 

Pixie gasped as she looked round and saw ladies, ladies everywhere, onthe row of leather chairs ranged along by the wall, on the sofa, on thetwo easy-lounges by the fireside, --old ladies, young ladies, middle-agedladies, elderly ladies, shabby and dressy, fat and thin, but alldistinctly past their first youth, and all most obviously French. Theygaped at the new-comer, even as the butler had done, and she bowedgraciously from side to side, and said, "Bon jour, mesdames!" in hermost Parisian manner, then squeezed herself into a little corner by thewindow and listened entranced to the never-ending stream ofconversation. 

A room full of Englishwomen would under the circumstances have preserveda depressed and solemn silence, but these good ladies chattered likemagpies, with such shruggings of shoulders, such waving of hands, suchshrillness of emphasis, that Pixie felt as if she were once moredomiciled in the Avenue Gustave. 

The lady in the plaid dress, who occupied the next chair, asked her withfrank curiosity to recount then how she found herself in such aposition, and, being assured that she was indeed applying for thesituation, prophesied that it would never march! She turned andwhispered loudly to her companion, "Behold her, the poor pigeon! Onesees well that she has the white heart!" But the companion was lessamiable, and enraged herself because there were already applicantsenough, and with each new-comer her own chance of success became lessassured. 

At intervals of five or ten minutes the butler returned and marshalledthe next in order to the presence of the lady of the house, but, shortas were the interviews, it was a weary wait before it came to Pixie'sturn, and she wondered fearfully whether Bridgie had taken fright at herabsence, and was even now searching the streets in a panic of alarm. The hands of the clock pointed to ten minutes to six before the butlergave the longed-for signal, and she smiled at him in her most friendlymanner as she crossed the room towards him. Without any exchange ofwords she divined that he took more interest in herself than in any ofthe other applicants, and also that for some mysterious reason he wassorry for her, and imagined that she was making a mistake, and the smilewas meant at once as thanks and reassurement. 

They walked together down the slippery floor, such a slippery, shinyfloor, that one felt as if skates would be almost more in keeping thanboots, and finally arrived at a cosy little room at the back of thehouse, where a tired-looking gentleman and a bored-looking lady stoodready to receive her. They looked at each other, they looked at thebutler, they looked again at the little pig-tailed figure, with shortskirts and beaming, childlike face, and their faces became blank withastonishment. 

"Bon jour, mademoiselle!" began the lady uncertainly. 

"Good day to ye!" said Pixie in response, and at that the bewildermentbecame more marked than ever. The lady sat down and drew a long, wearysigh. She was handsome and young, but very, very thin, and looked as ifshe had hardly enough energy to go through any more interviews. 

"Then--then you are not French after all?"

"I forgot!" sighed Pixie sadly. She sat down and hitched her chairnearer the fire in sociable fashion. "It's just like me to make up memind, and then forget at the right moment! I intended to let you hearme speak French, before I broke it to you that I'm Irish and all mypeople before me. "

"I almost think I should have discovered it for myself!" said the lady, looking as if she were not quite sure whether to be amused or irritated. "But if that is so, what is your business here? I advertised for aFrench lady. "

"You did. I read the advertisement, but if I'm not French I'm just asgood, for I've just last month returned from Paris, and the lady where Iwas staying was most particular about my accent. Over in Ireland I wasso quick in picking up the brogue that I had to be sent to England toget rid of it, and I was just as handy with another language. If I'dremembered to answer you in French, you would never have known thedifference between me and those old ladies who came in first. "

"Old ladies, indeed! I'll never advertise again if this is what itmeans!" sighed the lady _sotto voce_. She looked across the room, met agleam of amusement in her husband's eyes, and said in a tolerant voice, "Well, then, let me hear you now! I am a pretty good French scholarmyself, so you won't find me easy to deceive!"

"Perfectly, madam, perfectly!" cried Pixie, gesticulating assent. Shefound none of the difficulty in settling what to talk about whichhandicaps most people under similar circumstances, but poured forth astream of commonplaces in such fluent, rapid French as showed that shehad good reason for boasting of proficiency. When she finished, thelady looked at her husband with a triumphant air, and cried--

"There! It shows how important it is for children to learn a languagewhile they are still young. It can never be mastered so well if it isleft until they are grown-up. "

Then turning to Pixie--

"Yes, indeed, you speak French charmingly. I congratulate you, and hopeyou may find it very useful. You are so young that you cannot havefinished your own education. Perhaps you are going to school inEngland?"

"'Deed I am not. I want to teach instead. My brother is a very grandgentleman, but he's in difficulties. He has a fine estate in Ireland, but it is let, and he's over in London trying to make enough money toget back again, and that's none too easy, as you may know yourself, andif I can earn some money it will keep me from being a burden on mefriends. I've answered quite a lot of advertisements, but there wasnothing really to suit me until I saw your own yesterday morning. "

"I see! May I ask if your mother knows what you are doing--if you arehere with her consent?"

Pixie sighed at that, and shook her head in melancholy fashion. 

"I've no mother. She died when I was young, and the Major's horse threwhim two years ago, and I've been an orphan ever since. There's onlyBridgie now!"

"Poor child!" The lady looked at the quaint figure with a kindlyglance, thinking of the two little girls upstairs, and picturing themstarting out to fight the world when they should still have been safewithin the shelter of the schoolroom. "I'm sorry to hear that. Bridgie, I suppose, is your sister? Does she know what you are doing?Would she be willing for you to apply for a situation in this manner?"

"Maybe not at first, but I'd beguile her. I'm the youngest, and Ialways get my own way. I told Sylvia Trevor, who was staying with us, and she was very kind, giving me good advice not to do it, but it is tobe a surprise for Bridgie to help her to pay the bills. If ye wantmoney, what else can you do than try to earn it?"

"But not at your age, dear! You are too young yet awhile!" MrsWallace crossed the room and seating herself in a chair by Pixie's side, laid a hand on her shoulder with quite affectionate pressure. "Iappreciate your kindly intention, but I am afraid it will be a good manyyears before you are ready to take a governess's place. You sawyourself what a difference there was between yourself and the otherladies who came to see me to-day!"

"I'm more amusing! Ye wouldn't believe how amusing I can be when I try!At school there was a prize which was given to the girl who was nicestto the other girls, and they all voted for me, and I've got it now andcould bring it to show you if you liked. I'm not exactly clever, andthere was no chance for anyone else at the bottom of the class, but youdidn't say a word about teaching, except French, and I could talk thatall day long!"

"Yes! I should be quite satisfied if my girlies spoke as well as youdo. Your accent is charming, and you have just the air, but--but youare so young--so ridiculously young!"

"So are the children. They'd like me best!" maintained Pixie sturdily, and at that Mr Wallace burst into a laugh. His eyes had been twinklingfor some time past, and he had been stroking his moustache as if toconceal his amusement, but now he made no more disguise, but laughed andlaughed again, as if he were thoroughly enjoying himself. 

"Upon my word, Edith, I believe she is right! If you consider thechildren's feelings, there is no doubt how they would decide. If youwant them kept happy and bright, now's your chance! After our earlierexperiences this is really quite refreshing, and I am beginning to thinkyour advertisement has been of some use after all. How would it be ifyou interviewed Miss Bridgie--I didn't catch the second name--and if sheis agreeable, you might perhaps make some temporary arrangement!"

"O'Shaughnessy. It's Irish! I'm sure Bridgie would say yes, for itwould be occupation for me in the mornings, and so near that I couldcome by myself. We live in Rutland Road, but the house is so small yewould hardly notice it if you passed by. Jack says if he could getLondon rents in Ireland, he'd never do another honest day's work whilehe lived. You could put the whole place down in the hall at KnockCastle, and never know it was there, and Bridgie says she knows everyblade of grass in the garden. We had the loveliest grounds at Knock, all the flowers coming up anyway, and volunteers drilling in the park, and the glass-houses full of ferrets and white mice, and tomatoes, andeverything you can think of. If I could make some money we should beable to go back sooner than we thought, and Bridgie would be so pleased. When shall I say you are coming to see her?"

"I have not promised to come at all. You must not leap at conclusions. It is a most ridiculous scheme, but really--"

Mrs Wallace laughed in her turn, and going up to where her husbandstood, exchanged a few whispered confidences, some scattered words ofwhich reached the listener's ear. "Typically Irish! Preposterous! Noharm trying. What about Viva? So difficult to manage. "

The discussion was still progressing when from above sounded a suddenpiercing cry, mounting ever higher and higher, the note sustained inevident but determined effort. Footsteps raced across the floor, followed by a bang as of some heavy wooden structure, a murmuredprotest, and two distinct sets of shrieks, each warring against theother. 

Mr Wallace pressed his hands to his head, Mrs Wallace sighed, "Ohdear, dear, dear!" in tones of hopeless distress, but Pixie criedeagerly--

"Will I run upstairs and try what I can do? Will I make them stop, andlaugh instead?"

"You'd deserve the Victoria Cross!" the father declared, while themother hurried to the door, and led the way with rapid footsteps. 

"They have been brought up by an Indian ayah, and this English nursedoesn't understand them a bit. They _have_ trying tempers, there is nouse denying it, but they are dear little creatures _if_ rightly managed. Oh dear, dear, dear! these dreadful shrieks! They go through my head. "

"Let me go in alone. They will listen better if they don't see you, "said Pixie, and walked undauntedly on to the field of battle. In thisinstance it was represented by a remarkably handsome and well-fillednursery, and the belligerents took the form of two little girls of fourand five, who were seated on the floor, dry-eyed, but crimson-faced fromthe effort to sustain their shrieks. A box of bricks lay scattered bythe window, and an anaemic nurse leant against the wall in an attitudeof despair. 

Pixie walked forward, seated herself on the floor immediately in frontof the children, and gazed at them with benign curiosity. There was noanger in her face, no warning of punishment to come, her expression wasin such striking contrast with that which they were accustomed to beholdon such occasions, that from pure amazement they stopped crying to stareat her in their turn. The moment was hers, and she lost no time inusing it. 

"The fat one, " she said, pointing gravely to the younger of the sisters, "the fat one shouts higher, but the thin one, "--the eloquent finger wasturned towards the maid with the golden locks, --"the thin one keeps onlonger. You have both won! The prize is that I tell you a story aboutthe Spoopjacks, when they went to fight the Bobityshooties in theChristmas holidays!"

Silence. Viva laid her head on one side and considered the project. Inda pouted her lower lip, and burst into the story of her woes. 

"An' I was jest finishin' ze house, and ze chimbleys was getting ready, and she comed against me, an' I pinched her leg, and she throwed itdown, an' it was all spoiled, an' the dolls was going to live in it, an'--"

"The Spoopjacks live in the lamp-posts. There are seven of them, andthey have tin whiskers, and they went to war with the Bobityshootiesbecause they ate all the muffins, and there were none left for tea. SoNicholas Spoopjack bought six rolling-pins and a watering-cart, andmelted down his whiskers for guns, and they put on red gaiters and cleanpinafores, and marched across the park. The Bobityshooties were restingunder the trees, and all the little birds were eating up the muffincrumbs. The Bobityshooties really live in the pantry cupboard, so thatwas how they found the muffins, but they were spending the day in thecountry, and Selina Bobityshooty said to her mother--"

"Is that in a book?" queried the elder Miss Wallace suddenly. She wasan exceedingly precocious young lady, and quick to note the unusualstyle of the narrative. Sometimes the stories in books were about goodlittle girls with whom she had no sympathy, and even if the heroine werenaughty to begin with, she invariably improved at the end, and never, never knocked down her sister's bricks. The Spoopjacks andBobityshooties were new acquaintances and promised well, but she wishedto be reassured as regards the moral. "Is that written in a book?"

"No, it's out of my head. There are billions and billions of littlegirls in the world, and not one of them has ever heard what Selina saidto her mother. If you will kiss your sister and say you're sorry, I'lltell you as a secret. It's awful exciting!"

"All right, I'm sorry, only you pinched me too--go on about Selina!"cried Viva in a breath. She kissed her sister on the cheek, and fatlittle Inda smiled complacently, and repeated, "Go on 'bout S'lina!"

Outside in the passage father and mother looked at each other withsparkling eyes. 

"My dear, she is worth a fortune to us!" cried Mr Wallace rapturously. "She understands children, and they understand her; the girlies will beas good as gold under her care. I'll tell Spencer to bring round thecarriage and send her home in state, and to-morrow afternoon withoutfail you must strike a bargain with Mistress Bridgie!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN. 

VIVA'S STORY. 

Pixie drove home in state, so puffed up with her own importance that itwas a distinct blow to find the curtains comfortably drawn, and hear theecho of laughter from the drawing-room. In all the books which she hadever read, candles were left burning in the windows to guide thefootsteps of wanderers from the fold, to say nothing of bellmen paradingthe streets, and anxious relatives rushing from one police station toanother. Here, however, all was peace and contentment, and, incredibleas it appeared, no one seemed to have been the least agitated about herprolonged absence. 

Bridgie was perched on a stool in the centre of the fire rug, relatingthe history of the day's shopping to the three brothers, and she noddedcheerily at the little sister as she entered, and saluted her withunconcerned composure. 

"Well, dear, here you are! Tired after your long day?"

Pixie sank down on the corner of the sofa, and yawned with a nonchalantair. If there was one thing which she loved above everything else inthe world, it was to make an impression and be the centre of attraction, and it was not likely that she was going to let slip such an opportunityas the present. 

"'Deed I'm not tired, " she said genially. "Carriage exercise was alwaysmore to my fancy than walking about the streets. If we'd been meant towalk, wouldn't we have had four legs the same as the horses, and if wehaven't, doesn't it show that they were meant to do it for us? So whenhe said the butler should get me the carriage, it wasn't likely I wasgoing to refuse, and up I drove to the very door!"

Jack stopped short in the middle of crossing the room, Pat peered roundthe corner of his chair and twinkled with mischievous enjoyment, Bridgie's eyes opened as wide as saucers. 

"Which door? What carriage? What romance are ye telling me? Haven'tyou been with Sylvia since I left you?"

"'Deed I have not. What made you fancy I had?"

"There was nowhere else to go, and you had not come home. I madecertain you were with Sylvia!"

"It's a bad thing to be certain about what you don't know. If anymischief had happened to me, it would be annoying to you to remember howyou were laughing with your back to the fire, while I was run over inthe street, and having my legs sawed off at the hospital. "

Jack frowned at that, and put a quick question. 

"Have you been walking about by yourself? I won't have it at this hourof the night. You can find your own way about the neighbourhood in thedaytime, but I won't have you going into town by yourself, or evenacross the road in the dark. London is not Knock, remember, and itwould be the easiest thing in the world to get lost. Don't let her roamabout without you, Bridgie!"

"'Twas only a step, and barely four o'clock!" Bridgie's forehead wasfretted with anxious lines, but Pixie nodded back cheery reassurement. 

"Don't you repine about me, for I got on famously, and Mrs Wallace iscoming herself to see you in the afternoon. I've engaged myself as aFrench lady to amuse the children, and you shall have the money to paythe bills. It was an advertisement in the paper, and you had to callbetween four and six, so I didn't want you to know before everything wassettled. I don't know how much it will be, but Mr Wallace said I wasworth a fortune, because I made them stop howling. There are only two, but outside the door you would think they were a dozen, and I made themlaugh, and they sent me home in a carriage. "

"What _is_ she talking about?" Bridgie and Jack exchanged bewilderedglances, and stared in incredulous silence at the little figure on thesofa. She had pulled off her hat, and with it the bow of ribbon, andthe loosened hair hung down her back; her hands were crossed on her lap, there were dark shadows under her eyes. She looked so small and frailand childlike that Bridgie felt a lump rising in her throat at thethought of help coming from this strange and most unexpected quarter. She rose, and, going over to the sofa, took Pixie's hand between herown. 

"Is it the truth that you are telling us?"

"It is, then! The solemn truth! Every word of it. "

"What made you think there was any need for you to disturb yourself?What put it in your head to answer an advertisement at all?"

"Because I didn't want to be a burden to ye, my dear, after all themoney you've spent on me education!"

"A little midget like you to speak of being a burden! No one wouldguess you were there if you weren't so upsetting! It's no use fiftyMrs Wallaces coming to see me. Some other French lady will have toamuse her children. This one is wanted at home!"

Pixie smiled composedly, and squeezed the clinging hands. 

"I knew you'd say `No' at the start. So did she. She was first cross, and then she laughed, and said it would be a long, long time before Iwas ready to teach. But she didn't really want teaching, only someoneto be funny in French, and when she heard me telling tales, and thelittle girls both laughing, she began to think she would love to haveme. You remember the stories you used to tell me, Jack, about theSpoopjacks and the Bobityshooties? I made up a new bit, and they simplyloved it. It's two hours every morning, and only ten minutes' walk, andTherese says it's no use beginning to be proud till you've paid yourbills. You would like me to help you, wouldn't you, Jack?"

"Shades of Mrs Hilliard!" muttered Jack, and shrugged his shouldersrecklessly. "She will have a few volumes to write to me if I say `Yes!'You are bound to help me, Piccaninny, whatever you are about, but Ican't bind myself to allow you to go out governessing before you are outof short frocks. It is Saturday to-morrow, so I shall be home in theafternoon, and see this Mrs Wallace for myself. It's a bad scheme onthe face of it, but it's just possible it may be more feasible than itsounds. "

That was all the length which he would go for the moment, and Pixie wascontent to drop the subject, secure in her conviction that time and MrsWallace would win the victory. She was petted and fussed over to herheart's content for the rest of the evening, and the story of hervarious efforts to retrieve the family fortunes was heard withbreathless attention. She wondered why the listening faces wore suchtender, pitiful expressions, why lazy Pat flushed, and Bridgie went overto her desk and spent a whole half-hour sorting out her bills. It neveroccurred to her that her earnest effort to take her own share ofresponsibility was a more eloquent stimulus than twenty lectures!

Next afternoon at three o'clock the two sisters and Sylvia Trevorstationed themselves in positions of vantage behind the curtains, andlooked out eagerly for the advent of Mrs Wallace. Bridgie could notdivest herself of a suspicion that the promise might have been given asthe easiest way out of a difficulty, but before the half-hour struck awell-appointed carriage turned the corner of the road, the coachmanglanced at the number on the door, and drew up his horses, when a fluffyhead peered out of the window, and Pixie cried excitedly--

"That's the thin one! That's Viva! I expect she howled, and they couldnot keep her away. That's Mrs Wallace! Isn't it an elegant hat?"

Bridgie peeped and grew quite pink with excitement, for, truth to tell, mother and daughter made a charming picture as they came up the littlepath. Mrs Wallace looked almost like a girl herself in her becominghat and veil, while the golden-haired child wore a white coat and capedged with fluffy swan's-down. Sylvia retreated to the dining-room. 

Pixie ran to meet the visitors at the door, and the voice thatexclaimed, "Bon jour, Mamzelle Paddy!" was in itself an augury offriendship. The next moment they were in the drawing-room, and MrsWallace was smilingly explaining the title. 

"I am sure you must have been very much surprised to hear of yesterday'sinterview, Miss O'Shaughnessy! `mamzelle Paddy, ' as my husband has namedyour small sister, has made quite a conquest of my little girls, andViva refused to be left behind when she heard where I was going. I hopeyou were not very anxious about her absence yesterday?"

"Indeed I was not, for I took it for granted she was with some friendsnear by. Please sit down, and get warm. 'Twas a ridiculous idea of thechild's to suppose for one moment that she could fulfil yourrequirements; but she's the baby of the family, and has never beenthwarted, and such a kind little creature that she must try to help ifthere is any difficulty. It is good of you to take the trouble to comeand explain, but indeed we have decided already that it is quite, quiteimpossible!"

Mrs Wallace gave a start of consternation, and the smile faded from herlips. She looked first at Bridgie, then across the room to where Vivastood on tiptoe dragging at Pixie's sleeve, and reiterating, "Mamzelle!Mamzelle Paddy, will you come again to my nursery? Will you tell memore stories about those peoples in the lamp-posts?"

"Oh, don't say it is impossible!" she said softly. "I want her to helpme too, and I am so troubled about my children. Could she--could theyboth go into another room for a few minutes, while we talk it overtogether?"

"Certainly they could!" Bridgie raised her voice a tone higher. "Pixiedear, go to Sylvia in the dining-room and take the little girl with you. Show her some of your treasures!"

"I like cake!" remarked Viva pointedly. She skipped to the door, andstared round the hall with curious eyes. "You do live in a poky littlehouse, don't you? My mamma's house is much bigger than your house. Where does the dining-room live? Is there a cupboard in it that youkeep cake in? Is Sylvia your 'nother sister? Who is the man?"

The man was none other than handsome Jack himself, who was enjoying therare luxury of a _tete-a-tete_ with Sylvia Trevor, and was not too wellpleased by this speedy interruption. He frowned when he heard theopening of the door, but when he turned round and saw the vision of pinkand white and gold, he smiled in spite of himself, as most people didsmile at the sight of Viva Wallace, and held out his hand invitingly. 

"Hallo, whom have we here?"

"Quite well, thank you. How are you?" replied Viva fluently. She paidno attention to Sylvia at the other side of the fireplace, but leantconfidingly against Jack's chair, staring at him with rapt attention. His eyes looked as if they liked you very, very much; his moustache hadsharp little ends which stood out stiff and straight, there was a lumpin his throat which moved up and down as he spoke--altogether he was amost fascinating person, and quite deserving of attention. "Are you thepapa?" she asked enviously. "My papa has got a brown face with lines init. He is very old. My muzzer is old too. She is talking to the ladyin the 'nother room, and she said I was to be amused. You are to amuseme!"

"No, no, quite a mistake. You must amuse me!" said Jack solemnly. "Ihave been out all day, and am tired and sleepy, so you must do somethingto cheer me up. What can you suggest, now, that would be really livelyand entertaining?"

Viva reflected deeply. 

"I'm learning the `Pied Piper of Hamelin'!"

"You don't say so!"

"Yes, I am. I'll say it to you now, from the beginning right to thevery miggle!"

"Thanks awfully. I should be delighted--another time. Not to-day, Ithink, if you don't mind. I have rather a sore throat. "

Viva opened her eyes and stared at the Adam's apple which showed abovethe white necktie. She was trying to puzzle out the connection betweenMr O'Shaughnessy's throat and the Pied Piper, but the difficulty wastoo great. She heaved a sigh, and hazarded another suggestion. 

"You tell _me_ a story!"

"That would never do. I should be entertaining you, and it ought to bethe other way about. "

"I'll tell you a story!"

"That's better. Go ahead, then. What is it to be about? Fairies?"

"No, it's not going to be about fairies, --fairies is silly. Giants aremore sensibler than fairies, because there was a giant once. There wasGolosher!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Golosher!"

"Don't know the gentleman. "

"Oh, you naughty! And David killed him in the Bible. I'll tell you astory about giants. "

"I don't think I am interested in giants. "

"Princesses, then, beautiful princesses, and cruel people trying to beunkind to them, and princes running away and marrying them, and livinghappily ever afterwards. "

"That's the style for my money! Fire away, and let us have plenty ofadventure. I'll lean back in this chair and listen to you. "

Viva moistened her lips, swallowed rapidly once or twice, and began herstory in a shrill, high-pitched voice. 

"Once upon a long, long time ago, there was a princess, and she was themost beautiful princess that was ever born. Everyone said so, and herface was as white as snow, and her hair as yellow as--"

"Excuse me--brown!"

"No, it wasn't brown. Bright, curly, golden, down to her--"

"Then she couldn't have been the most beautiful princess in the world, because I've seen the lady and her hair is brown. "

Jack stroked his moustache with a look of lamb-like innocence, andSylvia could have shaken herself with annoyance because she could nothelp blushing and looking stupid and self-conscious. Pixie's melodiousgurgle sounded from the background, and Viva cried severely--

"You couldn't have seen her, because she lived hundreds and hundreds ofyears ago, when you were a teeny baby. Golden hair down to her feet, and her teef were like pearls, and all the godfathers and godmuzzerscame to the christening and gave her nice presinks, only one wicked oldmugian who--"

"Pardon me! One wicked old--?"

"Mugian! He's a man what does things. They always have them instories--that the mamma had forgotten to ask, so he was angry and saidshe should tumble downstairs when she was grown-up and be lame everafter till a beautiful prince made her better. Oh, but I shouldn't havetold you that jest now. You must pitend that you forget I have toldyou. So then the beautiful princess--her true name was Mabel, but onlyI call her Norah because her hair was gold--"

Now it was Jack's turn to gasp and search in vain for the connectionbetween Norah and golden hair! It proved as impossible to discover asthat between a sore throat and the Piper of Hamelin, but there wasanother allusion in the story which was too fortunate to be allowed topass unnoticed. 

"The princess was lame, was she? and no one could make her better butthe prince? That's very interesting. Could you tell me, now, how hemanaged the cure? It might be useful to me someday. "

"Was your princess a lame princess?"

"I think you had better go on with your story, Viva!" Jack saidhurriedly. "Your mother may call you away before it is finished, and Ishould be disappointed. When did the prince arrive on the scene?"

"It doesn't get to that yet. So the princess lived in a house wherethere were no stairs. Only one day when she was walking through thewood, there was a little house and she went in, and she said, `Oh, whatfunny things!' and she went up them, and she tumbled down, and her footwas underneaf, so she was lame. An' she lay on the sofa, and the queen-mamma cried, and the godfathers and the godmuzzers came flying up, onlythey could do nothing, and the king said anyone should have the land whomade her better, an' thousands an' thousands tried, an' at last theprince came riding along on a white horse, an' he looked froo thewindow--"

"Jack dear, will you please come to the drawing-room? We want toconsult you!" Bridgie's head peered round the corner of the door, hercheeks quite pink, her eyes shining with excitement. She gripped herbrother's arm as he came to meet her, and whispered, "It's the mostextraordinary thing--she really means it! She is charming, Jack, charming; I can't say `No' to her. Come and try what you can do!"

But Jack was not a good hand at saying "No, " least of all to charmingladies, and Mrs Wallace took his measure at once, and felt that she hadgained a friend. 

"I am trying to persuade Miss O'Shaughnessy to lend your little sisterto me for a short time every day, to help me with my children, " shesaid, smiling at him under lifted brows. "I understand that you knewnothing about her application, and when I first saw her I felt, as youmust have done, that the idea was preposterous, but Viva and Inda felldesperately in love with her, and have talked of nothing else since sheleft. I think I followed their example, and I am quite sure my husbanddid. He thinks Mamzelle Paddy would be the solution of all our nurserytroubles, if you could be induced to spare her to us. I would be verycareful of her; I promise you that!"

Jack looked at Bridgie; Bridgie looked at Jack. 

"I'd be delighted that she should help you, and it would be an amusementto her to play with the dear little girls. If she might come as afriend--"

"Oh, Miss O'Shaughnessy, how cruel of you, when her great idea was tohelp you! She would be a most welcome friend, but I could not consentto using her time without paying for it. "

Mrs Wallace had approached this question before, and had discoveredthat Bridgie was no more embarrassed by a reference to her poverty thanhad been Mamzelle Paddy herself. "We should think any sum cheap whichensured our little girls being happy and occupied, instead of crying andquarrelling, as I am sorry to say they do now for the greater part ofthe day. They are too young for regular lessons, but they already knowFrench fairly well, and would soon be able to speak fluently. "

"I can't judge of Pixie's French, but her English is so Irish that itwas a stroke of genius to offer herself in the character of aforeigner!" said Jack, stroking his moustache, and smiling to himself inwhimsical fashion. "Of course, she is quite confident that she could doall you require, but you must not listen to her own account of herself. If you offered Pixie the command of the Channel Fleet, she'd acceptwithout a qualm! If you want the kindest-hearted, most mischievouslittle ignoramus in the world, Mrs Wallace, it would be waste of timeto search any farther, for you have found her already! She will keepyour children happy, and never say a word that they wouldn't be thebetter for hearing, but it won't be the orthodox training! I fancyPixie was a big surprise to the English boarding-school when she firstarrived. "

"But she left with the prize for being the most popular and unselfish ofthe girls! Your sister has just shown me the books with the touchinginscription. If she can teach my girlies to be as sweet and helpful, Ishall not mind a few eccentricities. Two hours in the morning would nottake her away too much from home, and she would have plenty of time leftfor her own music. Her ambition seemed to be to pay for her ownlessons, so if I gave her thirty pounds, she could go to a really goodmaster without feeling that she was overtaxing you. It would be such apleasure to me too, Miss O'Shaughnessy. I feel sure your brother willagree, if you consent. Please say `Yes'!"

So it was left to Bridgie to make the final decision, and in after yearsshe used to wonder what would have happened if she had refused herconsent! It was a difficult problem, for to her old-fashioned notionsit was a trifle _infra dig_ for a girl to work for herself, and it hurther tender heart that the Piccaninny of all others should be the one togo out into the world. 

What would the dear dead mother have said to such a project? What wouldthe Major have said? What would Esmeralda think now, and, thinking, say, with all the impassioned eloquence of which she was mistress?Bridgie reflected earnestly on the questions, while Mrs Wallace watchedher face with anxious eyes. 

The dear mother had never been able to resign herself to the happy-go-lucky Irish customs, and had died before her time, worn-out with thestrain of trying to make both ends meet. When she looked down fromheaven with those clear angel eyes, would it seem more noble to her thather baby should preserve a puny social distinction at the cost of apurposeless life, or that she should use the talents which had beengiven to her for her own good and the good of others?

There could be little doubt how the mother would have decided, and asfor the Major, Bridgie smiled with indulgent tenderness as she pictured, one after the other, the swift stages of his behaviour if he had beenpresent to-day. Horror and indignation at the possibility that thePiccaninny should be in subjection to anyone but himself; irritatedimpatience that the O'Shaughnessys should be expected to pay for whatthey desired, like any ordinary, commonplace family; chuckling delightover the smartness of the child; and finally an even greater inabilitythan his sons to say "No" to a charming woman! Storm he never sowildly, the Major would undoubtedly have ended by consenting to MrsWallace's plea, while Esmeralda's wrath would be kept within bounds byGeoffrey's strong common sense. 

Bridgie sighed and looked across the room to where Jack sat. 

"If it is left to me, " she said slowly, "if I am to decide, I think Iwill say `Yes'! She shall come to you for a month on trial, MrsWallace, and we can see how it works. "

Mrs Wallace beamed with relief and satisfaction. 

"That's very kind!" she said. "I am truly grateful. I realise thatyour decision is unselfish, but believe me, you shall never regret it!"

And Bridgie remembered that prophecy, and smiled over it many times inthe happy years to come. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. 

JACK'S DISCOVERY. 

Pixie received the intelligence that she was to begin her new duties onthe following Monday with the unruffled composure of one who hasexpected no other decision. She asked eagerly what salary she was toreceive, and was a trifle depressed to find that it did not run to threefigures. Thirty pounds sounded very little, though she had only thevaguest notion of its purchasing value, but her ambition had been tosupply the whole additional sum which was needed for the support of thehousehold. 

Innocent Bridgie had no idea as to what might be expected under thecircumstances, but Miss Munns, who knew everything, declared that theoffer was a handsome one, and ten pounds in excess of the ordinary rateof payment. Still, as she sagely remarked, one could never tell!People sometimes seemed very generous and pleasant-spoken at first, andthen turned out everything that was exacting and unreasonable. Severalyoung friends of her own had gone out as governesses, and met withtragic adventures. Marianne Summers, the cousin of Summers' CelebratedSnowflake Soap, was with a family at Rochester, and nursed a little boyall through scarlatina, and when she had toothache herself the lady saidit was most inconvenient because a dinner-party was coming. Noconsideration whatever, and the food very poor. She was never so muchas asked to have a second helping!

"Maybe the lady had so many to help that she forgot to ask her. Couldn't she ask herself? It would have been more friendly thangrumbling behind her back, " said Pixie severely. "When I go out tomeals with people I make myself at home. I went to _dejeuner_ with somefriends in Paris, and I was so much at home that when they had cabbage, I remarked that I wished it had been cauliflower. They smiled, andlooked quite pleasant!"

Miss Munns looked over her spectacles, and grunted to herself. Sheconsidered Pixie O'Shaughnessy a most uncomfortable girl, and was neverat ease in her society. She asked embarrassing questions, stared withunconcealed curiosity, while her innocence had a trick of developinginto quite remarkable shrewdness at sudden and inappropriate moments. Miss Munns recalled several incidents when the gaze of the childlikeeyes had filled her with a most unpleasant embarrassment, and declaredthat not for fifty thousand pounds would she have that child living inher house!

Bridgie was different. She was invariably anxious to hear furtheranecdotes concerning relations and friends, and was such a docile pupilin domestic matters, that the old lady had the felicity of practicallyruling two households instead of one. In the fervour of her resolve toturn over a new leaf, Bridgie had made no reservations, but had placedherself and her accounts in Miss Munns's hands, and from that momentthere was no drawing back. The weekly orders were supervised and cutdown, the accounts carefully checked and paid to the hour, the receiptswere endorsed and filed, so that they could be produced at a moment'snotice; extras were faithfully entered into the housekeeping ledger atthe end of each day, and the whole account balanced to a laboriouspenny. When the penny was very difficult to find, Bridgie pleaded hardto be allowed to supply it from her private purse, and could never bequite brought to see that the result would not be the same, but it was aproud moment when Jack surveyed the ledger on Saturday evenings andwrote, "Examined, and found correct!" with a big flourish underneath thefinal addition. Then he would stroke his moustache and twinkle at herwith amused eyes, as he said--

"Bravo, Bridgie, right to a fraction! I'll ask Miss Munns to take me inhand next--since she has scored such a triumph out of you. Eveningclasses two or three times a week, with Sylvia to sit by me and sharpenmy pencils--that would be a happy way of combining instruction andamusement for the winter evenings, wouldn't it?" and--shades ofEsmeralda!--Bridgie smiled, and ejaculated, "You naughty boy!" in a toneas far removed from fault-finding as it is possible to imagine. 

Sylvia Trevor, however, being a young woman of spirit, was by no meansdisposed to provide amusement for Master Jack or any other masculineflirt. If any man wished to win her, she was worth wooing seriously, soshe told herself with a tilt of the pretty dark head, but when Jack saidone thing with his lips, beseeching Miss Munns to take pity on hisignorance, and put him on the path whereon he should walk, and anotherwith his eyes, mutely inviting her to stay and flirt with him the whilehe pretended to listen--then her pride was roused, and she determined toteach him a wholesome lesson. She waited until Miss Munns had producedhalf a dozen ledgers to demonstrate the elaborate system of book-keepingby which she conducted her miniature establishment--until Jack hadseated himself by her side and was irrevocably victimised for theevening; then she rose from her chair and said amiably--

"I mustn't disturb you. You will like to be quiet, so I'll run acrossand chat to Bridgie for an hour, while you are away!"

The "running" was a polite fiction, for in spite of massage and the mostcareful doctoring it would be many months before Sylvia could run again. By walking very deliberately she could just conceal her limp, and nowas she turned towards the door she had a good view of Jack's petrifiedglare of disgust. 

The picture of him sitting by the old lady's side, while she prepared toteach him what he himself knew a dozen times better than herself, wastoo much for Sylvia's composure, and around the corner of the door, where her aunt could not see her, she doubled up with silent laughterand cast on him a glance of such mocking triumph, such sparkling, dimpling, deliciously girl-like derision, as was more eloquent than athousand gibes. 

Jack leapt to his feet; at that moment he would have given half hepossessed to have rushed after the tantalising creature, to have stoodover her, and watched her self-confidence give place gradually toembarrassment, and the pink flush rise to the pale cheeks as it had atrick of doing under his scrutiny, but, alas! the door was shut, andMiss Munns's voice inquired soberly--

"Do you want the lamp? Put it on the mat, please. You can't be toocareful of lamps. If the oil gets on the cloth, nothing will take itout!"

"'Twill be a lesson to me while I live!" sighed Jack sorrowfully tohimself. He was smarting with annoyance and impatience, but he managed, as not one man in a hundred could have done, to keep his irritation tohimself, and be absolutely amiable and courteous to his instructress. Miss Munns thought him a most well-disposed young man, and did notdiscover one of the anxious glances at the clock, nor the yawns sodexterously hidden beneath strokings of the moustache. 

When three-quarters of an hour had passed by, Jack felt as if theinterview had lasted a fortnight, but fate was kinder to him than hedeserved, and sent relief in the person of the widow occupant of NumberTen, who arrived to pay an evening call, cribbage-board in hand. ThenMr Jack departed, and paced up and down the road smoking cigarettes, and meditating on revenge. He caught the echo of girlish laughter fromwithin his own threshold, and could easily picture the scene within--thetwo sisters huddling over the fire, Sylvia seated in state in thegrandfather chair, Pat, her devoted admirer, perched on the end of atable, and placidly maintaining his position in spite of repeatedinjunctions to run away. 

He pictured Sylvia's face also as he had often seen it--the sharply-cutlittle features, the suspicion of pride and self-will in aquiline noseand firmly-moulded chin, the short, roughened hair, which was such across to its owner, but which gave her a gallant, boyish air, which onespectator at least found irresistibly piquant. He saw the firelightplay upon the pretty pink dress and the rings on the restless hands, sawthe brown eyes sparkle with laughter, and grow suddenly soft andwistful. It seemed to him that they were turned towards himself, thather thoughts were meeting his half-way, that she was already repenting, and dreading the result of her hasty flight. 

Jack O'Shaughnessy stopped short in his pacings up and down, and stoodstaring before him with a strange, rapt expression. Out there in theprosaic street the greatest discovery of his life had come to him, andthe wonder of it took away his breath. Young men often imaginethemselves in love with half a dozen pretty faces before they havereached five-and-twenty, but to most of them there comes at last, in theprovidence of God, the one woman who is as far removed from the passingfancies of an hour as the moon from her attendant stars. She hasappeared, and for him thenceforth there is no more doubt or change; hislife is, humanly speaking, in her hands, and her influence over him isthe greatest of all the talents which has been entrusted to her care. Too often he is careless about religious matters, if not activelyantagonistic, and her light words may confirm him in a life ofindifference; but, on the other hand, his heart is never so tender andready to be influenced as at the moment when she has given her life intohis charge, and this golden opportunity is hers to seize and turn tolasting good. In the best sense of the word she is his Queen and he isher knight, who will perform noble and gallant deeds at her behest. 

Jack of the humbugging eyes, handsome, happy-go-lucky JackO'Shaughnessy, had been what he called "in love" since the days when hewore pinafores and little round collars with frills at the edge, but hehad never known what love meant until this winter evening, when at thevision of Sylvia's face his heart leapt with painful violence, and hestood still appalled by the strength of his own emotions. 

He had known Sylvia Trevor for one month, four short weeks in all, yetnow here she was occupying the foremost position in his thoughts, makingthe past years seem blank and empty, blocking the gate of the futurewith her girlish figure. Jack felt dazed and bewildered, a triflealarmed, too, at the extent of the journey which he had travelled sounthinkingly, but he never attempted to deny its reality. He lovedSylvia--that was an established truth; the only question which remainedconcerned the next step in the drama. 

When a man loved a girl, when a girl blushed when he appeared, and, despite all her little airs of superiority, could not hide her pleasurein his society, it was generally easy enough to prophesy a speedyengagement and marriage, but what if Providence had made other ties forthe man before the Queen's appearance? What if, though unmarried, hewas still master of a household, a bread-winner to whom brothers andsisters looked for support?

Jack's thoughts drifted longingly towards a little home of his own, where Sylvia reigned as mistress, and cast pretty, saucy glances at himfrom the other side of the table, but he knew all the time that it wasthe veriest castle of dreams. He could not keep a wife who was hardpressed to fulfil his present obligations; marriage was out of thequestion until the boys were self-supporting, and the girls eithersettled in homes of their own, or comfortably portioned off. That beingso, it was plainly the duty of an honourable man to keep out of thegirl's way, to make no attempt to win her affections, but to hide hislove both from her and those at home, who would otherwise be made tofeel themselves in the way. 

Jack turned and renewed his pacings up and down. There was a heavyweight of depression on his spirits, but he never flinched from theright path, nor did it occur to him that there was anything heroic inthis simple accepting of a hard duty. Family affection was very strongamong the O'Shaughnessys, and not even the glamour of first love couldmake him grudge anything to Bridgie and Pixie, or the two big boys wholooked up to him with such touching confidence. His first duty was tothem, and it would be "caddish" to let them suspect any sacrifice in itsfulfilment. A poor, commonplace word, which it is safe to say wouldhave a nobler translation in the Great White Book, wherein are writtenthe records of men's lives!

Sylvia blushed as she heard the key turn in the latch, and cast anapprehensive glance at the door. Would Jack be angry? How would helook? What would he say? The first glance showed him graver thanusual, but with no shadow of offence in look or bearing, and for someunaccountable reason her spirits sank as she met his unclouded smile. He sat down and held out his hand to Pixie, who promptly seated herselfon the arm of his chair, and amused herself by trying the effects ofvarious arrangements of the curling brown hair. Parted in the middle, it gave a ridiculously dandified expression to the handsome face; pulledforward in shaggy locks over the forehead, the dandy died a suddendeath, and Pat of the cabin and clay pipe appeared in his stead; combedupward by ten little fingers until it stood erect above the forehead, nationality underwent an even more startling change. 

"_Voila_, Adolph!" cried Pixie triumphantly. "Me I have seen a hundredmen, but a hundred, all the same as thou every day I promenade me inParis!" And Jack smiled and, to Bridgie's surprise, allowed himself tobe disfigured without a protest--a surprising thing when a pretty girlwas among the spectators. 

When the hairdressing operations were concluded, he held Pixie's hand inhis own, as if unwilling to let her go, and turned towards Sylvia with asmile. 

"I think your aunt quite enjoyed giving me a lesson, and I was very muchinterested in her original system of book-keeping. What a wonderful olddear she is, so energetic and full of interest in her fellow-creatures!I must go to see her again, and have a game of cribbage, which appearsto be her pet dissipation. I'm fond of old people, but I daresay theyget a little trying if you have no variety. If I relieve guardsometimes, it will set you free to have a chat with the girls!"

Was he sarcastic? Was he paying her back in her own coin? Sylviastared dumbly, but could see no hidden meaning in the glance which methers so frankly. "Thanks awfully. You are kind!" she cried withenthusiasm, but in her heart she thought the kindness the most crueltreatment she had ever experienced. As soon as she could leavenaturally she rose to say good-bye, and then came a fresh blow, for, instead of escorting her across the road as he had insisted on doinghitherto, Jack kept his arm round Pixie's shoulder, and deputed Pat totake his place. 

"Now, then, you lazy fellow, get your hat, and see Miss Trevor home!"

Pat was delighted, and after all it was natural enough that Jack shouldnot care to turn out in the cold so soon after coming in, and yet--andyet--Sylvia stood at her bedroom window looking at the lights across theroad, and as she looked they grew strangely dull and faint. Triumphsare dearly won sometimes, and her mood to-night was the reverse ofvictorious. 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. 

AT THE CIRCUS. 

Mamzelle Paddy began and continued her work in the Wallace nursery withcomplete satisfaction to all concerned. Esmeralda, it is true, hadsurpassed herself in violence of diction in the letter which came inanswer to the one breaking the news; but while Bridgie shed tears ofdistress, and Jack frowned impatience, the person against whom thehurricane of invective was hurled, received it with unruffled and evensympathetic composure. 

As Pixie read over the crowded sheets her eye flashed approval ofdramatic points, she set her lips, and wagged her head, entering sothoroughly into the spirit of the writer that she unconsciously adoptedher manner when aroused, and when the concluding words were read, heaveda deep sigh of satisfaction. "She'll feel a lot better after that!" sheremarked tersely, and the prophecy could not fail to be comforting tothose who knew Mrs Hilliard's temperament. 

After such an outburst, repentance might be expected to set in even morespeedily than usual, and a peace-offering in the shape of a hampercrowded with good things could be confidently looked for in the courseof the next few days. Esmeralda disliked formal apologies, and from theboys' point of view, at least, turkeys and game made a more eloquent_amende_. 

Viva and Inda Wallace were loving and lovable children, but possessedwith a nervous restlessness, an insatiable curiosity, and with sucheasily-roused tempers as would have reduced an ordinary adult governessto despair within a very short period. Their delicate mother wasoccupied with many social duties, and the father, though devoted to hispretty daughters, had little patience with their vagaries, while thefrequent screaming attacks which sounded through the house had a tryingeffect on nerves already strained by long residence abroad. 

Parents and servants alike breathed sighs of relief when each morningpunctually as the clock struck ten, Mamzelle Paddy came running upstairsprimed with half a dozen thrilling devices for amusement and occupation. Viva, as ringleader and rebel-in-chief, had flatly refused to speak, orlisten to, a word of French, but when it was presently revealed to herthat the Spoopjacks understood no other language, there was no courseleft but to withdraw her opposition. The Bobityshooties were English, and stupid at that, but by the time that Nicholas Spoopjack hadsucceeded in teaching them how to address him with propriety, the twounsuspicious listeners to the conversation had themselves mastered thelesson without once suspecting what they were about. 

The adventures which those two enterprising and admirable families wentthrough, were as varied as they were endless, and each day brought athrilling development of the situation. Nicholas Spoopjack thoughtnothing of going out in a diving-bell in the morning, and a balloon inthe afternoon, while the Bobityshooties entertained royalty to dinner inthe kitchen cupboard, and feasted luxuriously on the cruets, and thepinked-out paper which covered the shelves. 

"She don't teach us nuffin': we only plays!" was little Inda's summingup of the situation; but a moment later she would repeat a dialoguewhich had taken place between the rival factions during the morning, reproducing, with the wonderful imitative faculty of children, the veryaccent and gesture with which it had been delivered, and her parentswould look at each other with delighted appreciation. 

Mamzelle Paddy was a grand institution, and being generously disposedpeople, Mr and Mrs Wallace endeavoured to show their gratitude byincluding her in the many amusements which were arranged for thechildren's benefit. She accompanied them on sight-seeing expeditions, organised games at evening parties, and on one memorable occasion paid avisit to the circus. Pixie had always cherished a passion for clowns, and when in Paris had appreciated nothing more than an evening at the"Nouveau Cirque, " where Auguste the Frenchman played a secondary part tohis English brother, and the performance concluded with a play in whichthe British tourist played a large part, conspicuous in plaid suits, sailor hats, and thick-soled shoes. She was all eagerness to see theLondon circus, and nearly as much excited as her pupils, as they droveup to the door, and took their seats on the red velvet chairs. 

Inda sat by her mother and stared solemnly around, but Viva insistedupon being next her dear Mamzelle, and pranced up and down in a mannerwhich augured ill for future comfort. Once she began to fidget, adieuto all hope of peace for her companions. Once she began to askquestions, it was safe to predict that she would go on until despairseized those who were obliged to answer. Pixie recognised signs of thecoming attack, and managed an adroit change of places which would leaveMrs Wallace free to enjoy the afternoon, and punctually at threeo'clock the performance began. 

The ring-master walked in and cracked his whip; the clown tumbled headover heels into the arena, and cried, "Here we are again!" the ladyrider jumped through paper hoops, and blew kisses to the audience. Viva's cheeks grew a vivid pink, and at each change in the performanceshe adopted a change of position. When the hook of her jacket had beenextricated from the hair of the lady in front, she perched herself onthe arm of her own chair; when she had applauded herself backward intoPixie's arms, she leant against the supercilious-looking gentleman inthe next seat, and tickled his cheeks with her fluffy hair. Then thefirst wonder wore away, and she found her tongue. 

"Why does the clown look like that?"

"It's a way they have in the family. They always have those funny eyes, and red and white faces. "

"Did he always look like that?"

"He did--all the time he has been a clown. "

"Is it the same clown that was here before?"

"It says on the paper it's a new one for the occasion. "

"Then why does he say he is here again?"

"I'll ask him next time we meet! Hush now, and listen to what he issaying. See how they are all laughing!"

"Does the clown sleep in the circus?"

"'Deed he does not, poor creature! There are no beds, and the seats aretoo hard. "

"Where does he sleep, then? What is his true home?"

"Number Seven, Poplar Gardens, corner of Phillamore Park--the cornerhouse with the red curtains!"

Pixie understood her pupil's love of detail by this time, and Viva puther head on one side and stared at her with gratified admiration. Ifshe had asked her mother, she would have looked tired and sighed, andsaid, "My dear child! how should _I_ know? Don't ask ridiculousquestions, " but Mamzelle Paddy knew better than that. 

Her face assumed an expression of radiant satisfaction as she ponderedon that house in Poplar Gardens. Big and grey, with flower boxes in thewindows and little clowns looking out of the nursery windows. Delightful! She was silent for several minutes, and the superciliousgentleman took advantage of the pause to examine the party with curiouseyes. The elegant-looking woman was plainly the mother of the littlegirls, but who was this, who was scarcely more than a child herself, whowas addressed as "Mamzelle" and spoke with a strong Irish accent? Hestared at her, and Viva discovering his glance turned round with herback to the ring, and stared back with leisurely enjoyment. 

At first her face expressed nothing but curiosity, but gradually herfeatures became twisted, the lips down drawn, the eyebrows elevated toan unnatural height, until the beholder realised with horror that shewas experimenting on his own expression, and endeavouring to copy it onher own small visage. Many a long year had passed since he had knownwhat it meant to blush, but he blushed then, and hitched round in hisseat to hide his scarlet face from view, while Viva once more turned herattention to the ring. 

The white-skirted lady had disappeared and another was cantering round, clad in a riding habit and gentleman's hat. The horse was black, andshone like satin; he pawed the ground with dainty, cat-like tread; thering-master followed him as he went, and cracked his whip in encouragingfashion. Viva planted one foot on Pixie's toe, and jumped up and downto attract attention. 

"Is the gentleman really angry, that he cracks his whip? Does he pitendto be angry? If he pitends to be angry, why do all the others pitendthat they think he doesn't pitend, but only, --Why does the gentlemancrack his whip?"

"Maybe he hears you talking! I saw him cast his eye upon you, " repliedPixie sagely, and the supercilious gentleman pointed the sentence with asigh, and privately resolved to remove his seat at the firstopportunity. 

The threat of the whip, however, had the effect of quietening Miss Vivafor a good two minutes, and in the meantime Fate sent an unexpecteddeliverance. Certain portions of the auditorium were portioned off intosquares, which did duty for private boxes, and into the nearest of thesethere now entered a party of ladies and children, in whom he recognisedsome intimate friends. To advance towards them and beg the use of avacant chair was the work of a moment, when he proceeded to pour thestory of his woes into the ear of the young lady by his side. She wasfair and pretty, charmingly dressed, and almost as supercilious inexpression as he was himself. 

"Little wretch! How impossible of her!" she ejaculated, and bentforward to examine the wretch forthwith. 

Viva had climbed on the empty seat, and was craning her little face toright and left to discover where the deserter had fled. With her greatblue eyes and rose-leaf complexion set in a frame of golden hair, shelooked like an angel from heaven, or one of the sweet-faced cherubs whofloat in space at the top of Christmas cards and valentines. 

But it was not on Viva that the young lady's attention was riveted, butupon the figure by her side--Mamzelle Paddy in all the glory of a Frenchhat, wearing the very biggest hair-ribbon in her possession, in honourof the occasion. At sight of the profile the young lady started andcried, "It is! It must be!" Then she dodged backwards, saw the hat, and became filled with doubt. "No, it can't be! It's much too smart!"

Finally Pixie turned round to apostrophise Miss Viva, who was in the actof striding the back of her chair, and immediately a flash ofrecognition leapt from eye to eye. The French hat nodded until thefeathers fairly quivered with the strain, and the face beneath became abeam of delight, in which eyes disappeared and the parted lips stretchedback to a surprising distance. The fair-haired young lady had morerespect to appearance in her recognition, but all the same she grewquite pink with pleasure, and cried eagerly--

"It's my dearest friend! We were at school together, but she has beenin Paris finishing her education, and I have not heard from her sinceher return. I must speak to her in the interval--I really must! Youcan't think what a fascinating little creature she is when you get toknow her. "

"Ah, really! She looks distinctly--er--out of the common, " drawled thesupercilious man lazily. "Rather interesting-looking woman, thechildren's mother. Some relation of your friend, I suppose?"

"Oh, I suppose so! The O'Shaughnessys are a very good family. Verywell connected. Beautiful old place in Ireland, " drawled the young ladyin her turn, and in the intervals of the performance she proceeded toexpatiate on the grandeur of the O'Shaughnessy family, the beauty ofEsmeralda, and the riches of her husband, until her companion lookedforward with increased interest to the coming introduction. 

At the first interval Pixie came forward in response to eagerbeckonings, and stood leaning against the side of the box talking to herfriend, with superb disregard of the more extended audience. 

"Fancy, now, the two of us meeting without knowing that we were here!You look quite old, Lottie, with your hair done up. Turn your head andlet me see the back! D'you still curl it with slate-pencils, like youdid at school? I came home at Christmas, and I've thought of writingever since, but I've been too busy. I suppose you're busy too, now youare grown-up and living at home. Have you come out, and gone to dancesin low necks? We had an old servant at Knock, and one day a friend cameto lunch and she says to Bridgie, `That's a fine, handsome young lady!'`She is, ' says Bridgie. `She's just come out!' `Out of w'ere?' saysMolly, staring. "

Pixie darted a quick glance round the box to enjoy the generalappreciation of her joke, then gave a low chuckle of satisfaction. "Ye'll never guess what I'm doing!"

"No, " said Lottie Vane complacently. She too had noticed the smiles ofthe audience, and was anxious to encourage her friend in herreminiscences. In society people were always grateful for being amused, and if in her recital Pixie let fall further references to the standingand importance of her family, why, so much the better for all concerned. 

"What mischief are you up to now, you funny little thing?"

"I'm in service!" said Pixie proudly. 

The shocked amaze of Lottie's expression, the involuntary rustle ofsurprise which went round the box, were as so many tributes to thethrilling nature of the intelligence, and she waited a moment to enjoyit before pointing unabashed in the direction of the two children, andcondescending to further explanations. 

"Me pupils! I've been with them now for over a month. "

"What do you mean? How absurd you are, Pixie!" cried Lottie irritably. "In service--you! I never heard such nonsense. As if you were aservant! I don't know what you are talking about!"

"I get wages, anyhow, and that's all I care about. They are my pupils, I tell you, and I've brought them here with their mother for a littlediversion. I've the training of them every morning for a couple ofhours, and thirty pounds a year paid every month. Jack and I makeenough between us to support the family. "

"You don't really mean it?" gasped Lottie, horrified. Her cheeks werescarlet, and it was evident that she was profoundly uncomfortable, butas she met the triumphant eyes her face softened, and she made a valianteffort to retain composure. "You mean to say you have turned into agoverness at sixteen--you who were always at the bottom of the class, and couldn't get a sum right to save your life! Poor little girls, Ipity their education! How did you ever persuade the mother to takeyou?"

Mamzelle Paddy tossed her head with complacent pride. 

"'Deed, me dear, the room was packed with them, and natives at that, andshe chose me before the whole bunch. I'm not supposed to teach themanything but French, and I don't teach that except by playing games. But I keep them from crying and quarrelling, and ye don't need to behead of your class for that! 'Twasn't cleverness she took me for, asshe told me plainly the first day I went; 'twas m'influence!"

A smothered laugh went round the box at the sound of this curiouscompound word, uttered in tones of complacent pride; but Lottie Vane didnot laugh, and her hand stretched out involuntarily and clasped thelittle fingers which lay on the side of the box. Her face lost itssupercilious expression, and grew sweet and womanly. 

"Dear little Pixie, " she said softly, "I don't pity the pupils afterall. I think they are very well off. May I come over and be introducedto them and their mother? She must be a very wise woman. "

The two girls walked forward together towards the spot where MrsWallace was sitting, and the supercilious man looked after them withthoughtful eyes. He had always admired Miss Lottie Vane, though he hadprivately sneered at her snobbish tendencies, but it occurred to him to-day that he had been over-hasty in judgment. How sweet she had lookedas she answered her little friend, how kindly had been the tones of hervoice! He felt his heart thrill with the beginning of a new and deeperinterest. 

CHAPTER NINETEEN. 

A TEA-PARTY. 

Jack kept his resolve of avoiding dangerous _tete-a-tetes_ with SylviaTrevor, and kept it in so pleasant and friendly a manner that no onesuspected his motives save the person most concerned. She knew only toowell that a wall of division had suddenly risen between them, but thoughher heart ached she carried her proud little head more erect than ever, and was so very, very lively and pleasant that Jack in his turn wasdeceived, and believed that she was relieved by his absence. When theymet, as meet they did from time to time, they laughed and joked, andteased each other about little family jokes, and Bridgie listeneddelightedly, and told herself that it did Jack all the good in the worldto meet Sylvia, for he was growing so much quieter, and seemed soworried over that horrid old business. Miss Munns, however, had thesame complaint to make about her niece, and delivered herself of manyhomilies on the subject. 

"Extremes, " she said, "extremes, my dear, ought always to be avoided. To be constantly running from one extreme to another shows an unbalancedcharacter. A medium path is the wisest which one can choose, and oneshould show neither undue elation nor foundless depression at the eventsof life. I remember a proverb which we used to quote as children:`Laugh in the morning, cry before night!'--and there is a great deal oftruth in it, too. High spirits are bound to be brought low before verylong. "

"Well, I think it's a horrid proverb and a very wicked one into thebargain!" cried Sylvia hotly. "It sounds as if God disliked seeing onehappy, and I believe He loves it and means it, and tries to teach usthat it is a duty! He made the world as bright as He could for us tolive in, with the sunshine and the flowers, and He made all the littleanimals skip and bound, and play games among themselves, so it stands toreason that He expects men and women to be happy too, especially youngones. "

"Exactly! Precisely! Just what I say! I was just pointing out to you, my love, that it is over an hour since you made a remark, and that suchdepression of spirits was very trying to me as your companion, " criedMiss Munns, with an air of triumph. "After the long period of anxietythrough which I have passed, I think I am entitled to expect somecheering society. "

"But then, you see, I might cry before evening!" retorted Sylvia pertly, and had the satisfaction of feeling that she had been rude to herelders, and put herself hopelessly in the wrong, as Miss Munns took upher stocking-bag and began to darn, drooping her eyelids with an air ofstony displeasure. 

Sylvia glanced at her from time to time during the next half-hour, andfelt ashamed of herself, and wished she were sweet-tempered likeBridgie, and thought how nice it would be if she could learn to thinkbefore she spoke, and be cautious and prudent, and never say what shewas sorry for afterwards. She also wished that Aunt Margaret would notlook so particularly old and frail this morning of all others. How thinshe was! What great big hollows she had in her cheeks! It was ratherdreadful to be old like that, and have no one to love and care for onebest of all, no one but a thoughtless girl, who was never so grateful asshe ought to be, and sometimes even really impertinent. The wave ofpenitence could not be repressed, and she jumped from her seat with hercharacteristic impetuosity, and threw her arms round her aunt'sshoulders. 

"I'm sorry I answered you back, auntie; it was horrid of me. I've beena great trouble to you this winter, but I really am awfully grateful forall your goodness. Do give me a kiss, and say you forgive me!"

"Well, well, well, my dear child, don't be so impetuous! You havenearly pulled the cap off my head. Extremes, as I said before, alwaysextremes! Do please try to exercise some self-control. I quiteunderstand that you are troubled about your foot, but as the doctor saysit is only a question of time, and if you are patient for a month or twomore, you will be able to go about as well as ever. There is nonecessity to brood about it as you do, no necessity at all!"

Sylvia was not brooding about her foot, but she did not choose to say soto Miss Munns, and her silence being accepted as a sign of submission, the old lady became so mollified as to suggest that the two MissO'Shaughnessys should be invited to tea forthwith. 

Afternoon tea under Miss Munns's _regime_ was a more formal meal than isusually the case, and also a trifle more solid, for it was followed byno dinner, but a supper of cocoa and potted meat served at nine o'clock. This arrangement was one of Sylvia's minor trials in life, but PixieO'Shaughnessy saw great compensations in a tea where you really sat upto the table, and had jam in a pot, and a loaf, and scones, and eggs. It fascinated her to see how the table was laid, with a white clothspread diamond-wise under the tea-tray, and the different viands dottedabout on the green baize. 

Miss Munns boiled her own water, and ladled the tea out of a littlesilver caddy, and dipped the bottom of each cup in water before it wasfilled to prevent slippings on the saucer. She had a kettle-holderworked in cross-stitch--red wool roses on a black wool background--and acosy ornamented with a wreath of bead flowers. The eggs were boiled toorder, hard or soft, just as you liked, in a silver pot filled withmethylated spirits out of a fascinating, thimble-like measure. Pixiewatched the various preparations with rapt attention, while the twoelder girls chatted together at the end of the table. 

"I want you to give me Whitey's address, " Bridgie said, "so that I cansend her some flowers. Esmeralda sent me a hamper this morning, so I amrather rich and would like to share my goad things. You said she wasnursing a case in the city, so she probably has no flowers, and it'scheery to have boxes coming in as a surprise. It's so hard for nursesto live in a constant atmosphere of depression and sickness. When oneis ill for a long time, as you were, one gets so bored and wearied bythe monotony of the sick-room, and it's such bliss to be free again, andspeak at the pitch of your voice, and be done with medicines, andpulses, and temperatures, and tiresome rules and regulations, but thenurse never gets free. Just when things are beginning to get cheerful, she goes away to another darkened room and another anxious household, and the whole programme begins over again. They love their work, ofcourse, but it must be very hard sometimes. Don't you think so?"

"I--I--" Sylvia pursed up her lips and elevated her eyebrows indeprecatory fashion. "I never thought of it! It does sound horrid whenyou put it like that, but I'm afraid I just took it for granted that itwas their work. Whitey never grumbled. She left that to me, and wasalways cheerful, though I found out afterwards that she had been awfullyanxious about her sister. I wish I had thought of sending her flowers!"

"Send these--do!" cried Bridgie eagerly. "She will like them betterfrom you, and I don't mind a bit so long as she gets them. I'll sendover the box, and you shall address it and put in a little note. Yes, you must, because I felt rather mean about not bringing some foryourself, but there were not very many, and as I was going into town Icouldn't resist taking some to the woman in the waiting-room. "

"The woman in the-- What do you mean?"

Bridgie laughed easily. 

"At London, of course. There are several waiting-rooms at our station, but I go to the dullest of all, where there is hardly a gleam of light, and one day I saw the woman staring so longingly at some flowers which alady was carrying. Since then I have generally taken her a little bunchwhen I go up to town, and it is quite pathetic the way she grabs them. She knows me now, and looks so pleased to see me!"

That was an easy thing to imagine. Sylvia pictured to herself the long, monotonous day in that dreary little room, the constant hope whichreached its fulfilment when the door swung open and Bridgie's facesmiled a greeting, leaving behind her the fragrant blossoms to sweetenthe hours with their own perfume, and the remembrance of another's care. Such a simple thing to do! Such an easy thing! Why had she neverthought of it herself? She would have done it gladly enough if it hadoccurred to her mind: it was not heart that was wanted, but thought!Oh, what a number of lives might be brightened, what an army of gooddeeds would be accomplished if people would only "think!"

"Well, my dear, I only hope she was a decent woman, and worthy of yourkindness, " said Miss Munns primly. "A lazy life, I call it. I've noopinion of people who make their living by sitting still all day. I hadoccasion to wait at a station some little time ago, and entered intoconversation with the woman in charge. She said she was a widow, and Iadvised her to use my furniture-polish, for the woodwork was in adisgraceful condition, and she answered me back in a most unbecomingmanner. I have done a great deal of charitable work in my day, and amon three committees at the present moment, so I am not easily taken in. 

"I have been investigating cases for relief this very afternoon, and ifyou'll believe me in one house where they asked for help there was amusical-box upon the table! The woman said it was given to her by anold mistress, and that it amused the children while she did her work. Itold her we did not undertake to relieve cases who could afford to keepmusical instruments. I don't know what the poor are coming to in thesedays. She must dispose of it before I can have anything to do withher. "

"But 'twas a present to her! It's not polite to give away presents. Who do you want her to give it to?" queried Pixie, with the wide-eyedstare which always made Miss Munns feel so hot and discomposed. Shefrowned and fidgeted with the kettle, while Pixie continued to discussthe situation. "I know what it is to have children about when there'ssomething to do. Mrs Wallace gave me a book the other day, and theschemes I made to get time to look at the pictures! I was supposed tohave gone out for a walk, and they were to prepare a surprise for mewhen I got back. And 'twas a surprise! They'd pretended to be savages, and pulled all the feathers out of my hat to stick in their hair!"

"Very ill-mannered and impertinent I call it! I hope you gave them agood scolding?"

"I did not, " said Pixie calmly. "I don't like scolding meself, and itmakes me worse. I merely remarked that it was a pity, as I'd have tosew them back again instead of playing games. 'Twas dull work watchingme sew, and I didn't disturb myself with hurrying. Ye couldn't bribethem within yards of me hat this last week!"

"Humph! When I was a child I was whipped when I did wrong, and that wasthe end of it. But things have changed since then, and time will provewhich was the best system. Another cup of tea, Miss Bridgie? I hopeyou have good news of your sister and the little boy?"

"Yes, thank you, Miss Munns. They are both well, and we are hoping tosee them quite soon. They come up to their town house at the beginningof May, and we expect to have quite a gay time. Esmeralda is bringing ahouse-party of old Irish friends with her, and it will be delightful tomeet again. She always loved entertaining, and was clever in devisingnovelties, and now that she has plenty of money she can do as she likeswithout thinking of the cost. You must get your fineries ready, Sylvia. There will be lots of invitations for you next month. "

Sylvia's smile was less whole-hearted than it would have been if onesentence had been omitted from Bridgie's announcement. "Old friendsfrom Ireland" would of a surety include Miss Mollie Burrell, andEsmeralda would see that Jack made the most of his opportunity. Itwould not be exactly pleasure to accept invitations for the sake ofseeing other people flirting together, while she herself sat alone in acorner. 

"I shan't go!" she told herself. "If she asks me I shall refuse. Idon't care to be patronised at Park Lane or anywhere else. I'd ratherstay at home and play cribbage in Rutland Road. " But all the same inthe depths of her heart she knew well that when the time came she wouldnot have enough resolution to say no. The temptation to obtain aglimpse of the fashionable world of which she had read so much and seentoo little would be too great to be resisted; she would go even if itwere to have her heart stabbed with a fresh pain, and to come home toweep herself to sleep!

"My dear, your sister will have plenty of friends to ask withoutthinking of Sylvia. She won't find it plain sailing looking after a bighouse like that. I should advise her to engage a housekeeper if shedoesn't want to be cheated right and left. I know what servants arewhen the mistress is never in the kitchen to look after the scraps. Idaresay I might be able to help her to find a suitable woman inconnection with our different agencies. I'll inquire for you if youthink she would like it. "

"Dear Miss Munns, how kind of you! I'll write to Esmeralda at once, andI daresay she would be most grateful. You make me quite ashamed ofmyself when I think of all the work you do, and how lazy and useless Iam in comparison!" cried Bridgie earnestly. Her grey eyes were fixed onMiss Munns's face with the sweetest, most unaffected admiration, andSylvia looked at them both and thought many thoughts. 

Miss Munns did indeed give both time and strength to charitable work, and withal a generous share of her small income, but her interest was ofthe head, not of the heart, and she was sublimely ignorant of herfailure to help or comfort. Bridgie thought she was not helping at all, and was ashamed of herself because she was on no committees, and knewnothing of authorised agencies. Her ignorance was so sweet that itwould be a sin to enlighten it, but there was something in Sylvia'sexpression which aroused her friend's curiosity. 

"What are you thinking of, Sylvia?" she asked. "Something nice?"

"Very nice!" said Sylvia, smiling. She had just recalled a quotationwhich seemed as though it might have been written to describe BridgieO'Shaughnessy--

 "Sweet souls without reproach or blot, Who do God's will and know it not!"

CHAPTER TWENTY. 

A LUNCHEON BASKET. 

Esmeralda announced her arrival in town on the first of May, a week inadvance of her house-party, so that she might have leisure to visit herbrothers and sisters, and put the final touches to her own preparations. She did not mention the hour of her arrival, but this was easilycalculated, and at home in Rutland Road, Bridgie and Pixie held eagercommittee meetings as to the best method of welcome. It was decided notto go to the station, as Esmeralda did not appreciate being takenunawares, and would of a certainty be annoyed if her son and heir werebeheld at a disadvantage. 

"Babies are bound to be cross at the end of a journey, and his littlefrock would be soiled and crumpled, and she will want him to look hisvery, very best. No! we will go straight to Park Lane, " Bridgiedecided, "and arrive an hour after they are due, so that they will havehad time to get tidy. The house will be upset, of course, for it hasbeen closed for so long, and we may be able to help. I shall neverforget the day we came here--all the furniture piled in the middle ofthe rooms, and nowhere to sit down, and nothing to eat, and my poor backaching as if 'twere broken. That's another thing I was thinking about. We'll take lunch with us all ready prepared--a cold chicken, I think, and some fruit for dessert, and enjoy it together, we three girls, if wehave to sit on the floor to eat it. How lovely it will be to meetagain! It seems too good to be true. "

Pixie was delighted at the idea of the luncheon basket, and when theeventful day arrived one little extra after another was added to theoriginal list, until the weight became quite formidable, but Bridgiedeclared that an omnibus ran to within but a short distance of theirdestination, and the two girls set off in high spirits, each holding ahandle of the basket, and swinging it gaily to and fro. Curious glanceswere cast towards it _en route_, whereat Pixie beamed with pride. Itlooked so like a picnic basket, with the top bulging from the sides, allowing glimpses to be seen of the fruit bags, and the white linenserviette enfolding the chicken; she was convinced that the beholderswere consumed with envy and curiosity!

Arrived at Park Lane, Pixie was much concerned to realise thatEsmeralda's much vaunted town residence was situated in this dull andnarrow street! In vain Bridgie represented that the site was famous theworld over; the little sister smiled quietly, and retained her ownopinion. Bridgie as usual was making the best of the situation, but itwas evident that Geoffrey's riches had been much exaggerated, since thiswas the best he could do for his wife. 

Poor Esmeralda! how disappointed she would be! What a good thing it wasthat they had brought the cold chicken to take off the first edge ofdisappointment! The house itself looked dark and gloomy, but there werea great many windows, and looking upwards Pixie espied a glimpse of agraceful head inside the line of one of the curtains. The travellershad indeed arrived, and in another moment the three sisters would bereunited, after four months' separation. 

"Ring again, darling! I can't. This basket weighs me down!" saidBridgie, straining at the heavy handle, and then came surprise numberone, for even as she spoke the door was flung back, and there appearedon the threshold one immaculate-looking man-servant, while farther downthe hall stood two more in attitudes of attention. Three whole men toopen one door! This was indeed a height of luxury to which the simpleIrish mind had never soared; and where was the upset and confusion whichhad been expected, where the signs of recent arrival, where thesmallest, most trifling evidence of confusion? The stately hall lookedas if it had been undisturbed from immemorial ages, and the butlerstared at the two girls and their basket with lofty disdain. 

"Not at home, madam!"

Bridgie gasped, and looked blank dismay, but Pixie's shrill protestcould not be restrained. 

"Not at home, when I saw her meself not a second ago looking out of thewindow?"

What would have happened it is difficult to say, but at that moment avoice sounded from afar, an eager voice repeating two names over andover again in tones of rapturous welcome. The man stepped aside, andBridgie pressed the basket into his hands and raced along the hall, pastthe staring footmen to the bend of the stairs, where Esmeralda stoodwith arms stretched wide. Pixie was only a step aside, and Esmeraldaescorted the two girls upstairs to her own room, talking breathlesslythe while. 

"Of course he said I was not at home! We arrived only an hour ago, so Ican hardly be ready for visitors yet, but I saw the top of your hatsfrom the nursery windows. You must come this very minute and see theboy. He is sweeter than ever. Everyone says he is a perfect beauty. Oh, me dears, how glad I am to see you! How sweet of you to come!"

"Of course we came; we thought perhaps we might be able to--help!"Bridgie said, looking around the gorgeous staircase with pensive regret. "We imagined you in such an upset, dear, with the carpets up, and thefurniture covered with dust-sheets, and we thought we could dust, andput things straight as we used to do at Knock. You told us you werecoming to open the house!"

"You didn't expect I was going to work myself?" drawled Esmeralda, herimpetuous manner changing suddenly to one of drawling affectation. "Theservants have been here for a week, getting ready for our arrival. Ihave nothing to look after but a few frocks, and preparations for thefray next week! Did you expect to see me in an apron, with a dusterover my head?"

"It makes no difference to me what you wear!" said Bridgie quietly, andat that Esmeralda laughed, and became herself once more. 

"It does to me, though. The best of everything is good enough for me, nothing less! You dear old thing, it's like old times to have youlooking at me with that solemn face. No one keeps me in order now. Geoff tries occasionally, but it's such an evident effort that itdoesn't have much effect. It will be quite good for me to have somefamily snubbings once more. This is the way to the nursery--this door!Now, my beauty, come to mother. She's brought two new aunties to seeyou!"

The beauty regarded his relations in stolid silence for a moment, thenhung his lower lip and began to howl. His mother walked him up and downthe room, striving by various blandishments to win him back to smiles, but he kept turning his head over his shoulder to gaze at his newrelatives with an expression of agonised incredulity, as though loath tobelieve that such monsters could really exist on the earth. He was veryfat and very bald, and, if the truth were told, not a beauty at all, butEsmeralda made a fascinating mother, and was so happily deluded abouthis charms that it would have been cruel to undeceive her. 

Even Pixie managed for once to preserve a discreet silence, whileBridgie's ejaculations of astonishment at size and weight passed musteras admiration with the complacent mother and nurse. 

"You shall see him again later on, " Esmeralda announced, as thoughanxious to soften the pain of separation, as she led her sisters fromthe room. "I must show you over the house before lunch. Geoffrey hadthe drawing-rooms redecorated before we were married, but this is thefirst time I have been able to entertain. I wish you could come andstay here, Bridgie, but I suppose nothing would make you desert theboys. Never mind, you will be here every time that there is anythinggoing on, and it is not much fun preparing when one has a houseful ofservants. Do you remember how we used to be making jellies and creamsall the day before, and running about arranging the house until a fewminutes before the time when the people arrived? That's all over now, and I do nothing but give orders and grumble. This way! There! Whatdo you think of that for an imposing vista?"

It was indeed very imposing, for one long yellow room opened intoanother decorated in palest blue, which in its turn showed a glimpse ofa conservatory gay with flowers. 

The rooms were so huge, so lofty in stature, that Pixie was puzzled tounderstand how the unimposing exterior could contain such surprises, while Esmeralda strutted about displaying one treasure after another, giving detailed descriptions of exactly how the rooms were to bearranged for the contemplated entertainments, and glancing complacentlyat her own reflection in the long mirrors. She looked ridiculouslyyoung to be the mistress of this fine establishment, and despiteoccasional affectations, there was more of the schoolgirl than of thewoman of the world, in her happy voice and eager gestures. 

From the reception-rooms the sisters adjourned to the dining-room, abig, somewhat gloomy apartment facing the street, very handsome, verysevere, and evidently dedicated to one purpose only, and never by anychance entered from the time one meal ended until another began. Thebutler was arranging dishes on the sideboard, the table was spread witha glittering profusion of glass and silver, and an array of colddainties, at sight of which Bridgie blushed, and stared at the floor. She waited, trembling, to hear Pixie's exclamation, but none came, andas they adjourned towards the library she slipped her hand throughEsmeralda's arm, and said, half laughing, half nervous--

"I don't understand the ways of grand ladies yet, Joan dear! I shallhave to get into them by degrees. You wrote that you were coming toopen the house, and I imagined you in the same sort of confusion whichwe were in at Rutland Road, only of course ten times worse, as yourhouse is so big. We thought you would be tired and hungry, and perhapshave nothing to eat but sandwiches or biscuits, and we--we brought somelunch for you and ourselves!"

Esmeralda threw back her head and laughed with much enjoyment. 

"You funny dear, I never heard of anything so quaint! It was sweet ofyou all the same, and I'm ever so grateful. But, oh dear! what wouldthe servants say if they knew! They would think my relations had comeout of the Ark. And where in the world have you put the provisions?"

"I--I--" Bridgie looked round for Pixie, but she had lingered behind, and there was no one to help her out of her plight. "I had the basketin my hand, and we were standing at the door, and I heard you callingand I rushed in. I gave it to someone. I was in such a hurry I hardlynoticed who it was. I think it was the man in the dining-room now!"

"Montgomery!" echoed Esmeralda blankly. She stood staring at Bridgiewith horrified eyes. "Bridgie, how _could_ you? What do you mean byit? What did you bring, and how was it made up?"

"A chicken, and pies, and apples, and a tin of toffee. Everything youliked--and some little rolls and a pot of butter. They were in abasket--a big basket with a serviette over the top!" cried Bridgie, withdesperate candour, determined to tell the worst at once and get it over. 

At home at Rutland Road it had seemed such a simple and natural thing todo, but ten minutes' experience of Park Lane had shown clearly enoughhow unnecessary had been her anxiety, how ridiculous it must seem in theestimation of the household! She looked at Esmeralda with troubledeyes, and Esmeralda flushed, and cried testily--

"A basket of provisions, and you handed it to Montgomery! He wouldthink, of course, that it was his duty to open it, and-- Oh, Bridgie, how could you? He will tell the story in the servants' hall, and theywill all laugh and make fun. It's too tiresome! I can't think how youcan have made such a mistake!"

"I thought of you, you see, and not of the servants. It never occurredto my mind that you could be ashamed of me, whatever I did!" saidBridgie quietly. 

"I'm not in the least ashamed of you, I'm ashamed of the basket! Youask Jack when you go home, and he'll tell you 'twas a foolish thing todo, and you walking, too, and not driving to the door. We won't talkabout it any more, or we shall both get angry, and it's done now andcan't be helped. What do you think of this room? Geoffrey is quiteproud of his books, and we mean to make this our private little den, andretire here when we are tired of living in public. Here's the electriclight, you see, switched on to these movable lamps, so that one can readcomfortably in any position!"

"Very nice! So convenient! It looks most comfortable!"

Bridgie's voice sounded formal and ill-at-ease, and both sisters feltthe position a trifle strained, and were unaffectedly relieved to seePixie strolling towards them at this critical minute. 

She was smiling to herself as at a pleasant remembrance, and lost notime in entering into conversation. 

"I don't know how it is about butlers--they all love me!" she announcedthoughtfully. "The Wallace one turns his back to the sideboard when Italk, and the vegetable-dishes wobble when he hands them round. Hetries hard not to laugh, because it's rude for servants to see a joke, but he really appreciates them frightfully much. Your one has whiskers, too, and isn't he pleasant to talk to? Not half as proud as he looks. We have just been talking about the basket, because he'd got chickensalready, and he asked what he should do with ours. I said we'd take itback, of course, because it would be a treat to us to-night. That wasquite right, wasn't it, Bridgie?"

"Yes, darling, perfectly right!" said Bridgie. 

Esmeralda frowned, bit her lip, and finally succumbed, even as thebutler had done before her, and laughed with a good grace. She huggedPixie, and Pixie hugged her back, and chattered away so freely andnaturally that it was impossible for restraint to live in her presence. 

Esmeralda as usual avoided a formal apology, but when Geoffrey arrivedand the little party were seated round the luncheon-table, she made the_amende honorable_ by telling him of the basket incident in the presenceof three men-servants with as much unction as if it had given her themost unmitigated delight. 

"Thank you, Bridgie, you _are_ a brick! How jolly of you to have takenso much trouble! If I'd known of that chicken before I began lunch, nothing would have induced me to eat anything else!" cried Geoffreyheartily. 

There was no snobbishness about him at any rate, and to judge from theglance which his wife cast upon him it was evident that she was quiteable to appreciate a quality that was lacking in her own composition. 

They seemed very happy together, this young husband and wife, and asBridgie saw them smile at one another across the table, for no otherreason than pure happiness and content in each other's presence; whenEsmeralda announced "Geoffrey says, " as the definite conclusion of anyargument, and Geoffrey said quietly, "Esmeralda likes it!" as though thefact debarred all further discussion--when she heard and saw all this, the pain which was so bravely buried in Bridgie's heart seemed to take afresh lease of life, and stab her with the memory of dead hopes. 

It was not that she envied Esmeralda her happiness--Bridgie had none ofthe dog in the manger in her composition--but she felt suddenlyoppressed by loneliness and a sense of want, which the quiet home-lifefailed to satisfy. Once she had imagined that this happiness would behers in the future, but that hope was dead, and it did not seem possiblethat it could ever come to life again. Even if by chance she met DickVictor in the future, what explanation could he have to offer whichwould wipe away the reproach of that long silence? Bridgie hoped theymight never meet; it would be too painful to see her idol dethroned fromhis pedestal. 

"Are they worth a penny, dear? I've asked you the same question twiceover!" cried Esmeralda mischievously, and Bridgie came back to thepresent with a shock of remembrance. 

"I was wool-gathering again. So sorry! What did you want to know?"

"I was talking about our invitations. Do you want any cards forfriends? Is there anyone whom you would like me to ask?"

"Lottie Vane, please, and Mr and Mrs Wallace, " cried Pixie eagerly, and Esmeralda smiled at the first name, and frowned at the second. Sheremembered having seen the Vanes at a school festival, and beingfavourably impressed by their appearance, but the name of Wallace wasstill repugnant to her ears, and could not be heard unmoved. 

She did not care, however, to appear ungracious in Geoffrey's presence, and reflected that it might be judicious to impress Pixie's employerswith the grandeur of the O'Shaughnessy family, and thus nip in the budany ideas of patronage. A moment later she was thankful that she hadmade no objections, as Sylvia Trevor's name from Bridgie's lipsconvinced her that here at least a stand must be made. 

"Oh, my dear, it is no use asking Miss Trevor. She is lame, and I shallhave enough to do without looking after invalids. "

"She would come with us, and we would take care of her. The boys are sofond of Sylvia. They'd think it a pleasure!" pleaded innocent Bridgie, all unconscious of the fatal nature of her argument, and Esmeraldafrowned again and said impatiently--

"She'd much better stay at home. Crowded rooms are no place for peoplewho need such care. "

"No, but that is all the more reason why she should get what enjoymentshe can. She would love one of the receptions you spoke of, when youwill have music and other entertainments, and her limp can scarcely benoticed now. She would be no trouble to you. You asked her to visityou in Ireland, Esmeralda!"

"'Deed I did, and she snubbed me for my pains. I don't like MissTrevor, and I don't mean to give her the chance of refusing any moreinvitations. "

Bridgie looked aghast, as well she might, and made no attempt to hideher discomfiture. 

"But--but I told her you would! I made quite sure of it, and told hershe would have such a good time. The poor girl is counting upon it. "

"And she is Bridgie's friend. Bridgie wants to bring her. That settlesthe question surely!" said Geoffrey quietly. He looked across the tablewith uplifted brows, and, wonder of wonders, Esmeralda blushed, andmurmured vaguely about being "much pleased. "

"What a mercy it was that Geoffrey was at home! But oh, if you love me, Pixie, never, never let Sylvia guess that we had to plead for herinvitations!" pleaded Bridgie earnestly, as the two sisters made theirway home an hour later on. 

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. 

AN "AT HOME. "

Fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be, there is no hall markof sincerity to distinguish one invitation from another, and the printedcards which were in due time received by Sylvia Trevor differed in norespect from those sent to the most favoured of Esmeralda's guests. Fortunately also the remarks with which invitations are received are notoverheard by the prospective hostess, else might she often feel hertrouble wasted, and repent when it was too late. 

Mrs Hilliard's fashionable acquaintances yawned when they received hercards, and exclaimed, "Another engagement for Thursday! We shall haveto accept, I suppose, but it's a dreadful nuisance! We can just look infor a quarter of an hour on our way to Lady Joan's dance;" andunfashionable Sylvia pursed up her lips and remarked to herself, "Humph!I suppose she wants to dazzle me with the sight of her splendours. Much `pleasure' my company will give her! I shall go, of course. Idon't think I _could_ stay quietly at home and play cribbage, and knowthat Bridgie and the boys were driving away, and that I might have beenwith them. Yes, I'll go, and I will get a new dress for the occasion--abeauty! Dad said I might be extravagant once in a way, without emptyingthe exchequer; and he would like me to look nice. Perhaps Bridgie willgo to town with me and help me to choose. It is nice to have someexcitement to look forward to. What with typhoid and--Jack, --this hasbeen the dullest winter I ever knew. "

The advent of the Hilliards did indeed make a great difference to thetwo quiet households in Rutland Road. Esmeralda was too much occupiedwith her guests to pay many visits in person, but she appeared atintervals, leaning back against the cushions of the carriage, andlooking like some wonderful princess out of a fairy-tale, and as farremoved as possible from the good ladies of the neighbourhood. 

The coachman would draw up before the door of Number Three, the footmanwould throw open the door, and Mistress Esmeralda would saunter up thelittle garden, dragging yards of chiffon and lace in her train, andacutely, delightfully conscious of the heads peering from behind thecurtains on either side of the road. Acknowledged beauty as she was, her advent caused a greater sensation in this suburban district thanamong her own associates, and though she affected to despise itsdemonstrations, they were yet very dear to her vain little heart. 

Sometimes the two sisters were spirited away to lunch or a drive in thePark, and on their return would adjourn into Number Six, and entertainMiss Munns and her niece with the story of their adventures. There wasa party every single day at Park Lane--titled creatures, and "men whodid things, " as Pixie eloquently explained, and Miss Munns recognisedevery name as it was repeated, and inquired anxiously concerningclothes, if the celebrity were of the female sex, concerning manner andchoice of eatables, if he were a man. 

Once, too, before the date of the formal invitation, Sylvia herself wasinvited to accompany her friend to an afternoon reception, when shebeheld the fabled glories with her own eyes. Never before had sheentered such a house, or met so distinguished a company, but not forworlds would she have allowed her surprise to be visible to Esmeralda'seyes. The fashionable expression, she noticed, was one of boredsuperiority, so she looked bored and superior too, refused offers ofrefreshments which she was really longing to accept, and lounged fromone room to another with an abstracted air, as if unconscious of hersurroundings. All the same she felt very lonely and out of her depth, for Bridgie was helping her sister to receive her guests, and Pixie asusual roaming about in search of adventure. 

It is very difficult to sit alone in a crowd and keep up an appearanceof dignity, and Sylvia was grateful when a girl of her own age tookpossession of the chair by her side, and began to talk without waitingfor the formality of an introduction. She was a pleasant-looking, much-freckled damsel, with a wholesome, out-of-door atmosphere, whichdistinguished her from the other ladies present, and she seemed for somereason quite interested in Sylvia Trevor. 

All the time that they talked the honest blue eyes--studied the littleclear-cut face of her companion, and though Sylvia was puzzled toaccount for the scrutiny, she was quite conscious of its presence, andanxious that the decision should be in her favour. She dropped herartificial airs and graces, and talked simply and naturally, askingquestions about the different people present, and listening to thebiographical sketches which were given in return, with much greaterinterest than was vouchsafed to her aunt's more humble reminiscences. 

It was so interesting to meet a celebrated author in flesh and blood, and find that she talked about the weather like any ordinary stupidperson; a statesman in whose hands lay the destiny of a nation, yetcould discuss with seriousness whether he should choose pink cakes orwhite. So extraordinary to discover that this gorgeously-attired ladywas plain Mrs Somebody, while the funny, shabby-looking old woman inblack was a celebrated Duchess, whose name was a household word. 

Sylvia understood now why Esmeralda had been so anxious to place thisguest in the most comfortable chair, and had waited on her with suchassiduous care; she understood, too, why the Duchess herself wore anexpression of patient resignation, and cast surreptitious glances at theclock. Poor creature, these so-called amusements were the business ofher life, and one was so much like another that it was impossible to getup any feeling of interest, much less amusement. She yawned behind herglove, and vouchsafed the briefest of answers to her companions; it wasabundantly evident, in short, that the Duchess was bored, and as thiswas the first time that she had honoured his house by a visit, Geoffreywas naturally anxious that this state of things should not continue. Esmeralda had done her utmost, but her airs and graces had failed tomake any impression on one who had been acquainted with the beauties ofthe last fifty years, and there seemed no one present who possessed therequisite qualities to help him out of his difficulty. The Duchess wasalready acquainted with every visitor of note, and would not care to beintroduced to insignificant nonentities. 

Stay, though! What of the most insignificant of his guests? What ofPixie O'Shaughnessy, of the ready tongue, and the audacious self-confidence, which would flourish unchecked in the presence of kings andemperors? "Pixie for ever! Pixie to the rescue!" cried Geoffrey tohimself, and promptly stole across to the room set apart forrefreshments, where his small sister-in-law sat eating her fourth ice, waited upon with assiduous care by her friend Montgomery. 

"Pixie, " he said, "there's an old lady in black sitting under the bigpalm in the yellow drawing-room and looking dreadfully bored! Just goand talk to her like a good girl, and see if you can amuse her a littlebit before she goes. "

"I will so!" responded Pixie heartily. "It's a very dull party whenthere's nothing to do but be pleasant. I was bored myself, before Ibegan to eat. I'll leave the ice now, but maybe I'll venture on anotherby and by. --In black, you said, under the palm?"

She flicked a lapful of crumbs on to the floor, and pranced away withher light, dancing step. Geoffrey watched her from the doorway, saw hersqueeze herself into the corner of the lounge on which the Duchess wasseated, and gaze into her face with the broadest of broad beamingsmiles, while the great lady, in her turn, put up a lorgnon and staredback in amazed curiosity. 

"Well, little girl, " said the Duchess, smiling, "and what have you gotto say?"

"Plenty, thank you! I always have. Me difficulty is to find someone tolisten!" replied Miss Pixie, with a confidential nod. 

The old lady looked extraordinarily thin; the lines on her face crossedand re-crossed like the most intricate puzzle, her lips were sunken, andthe tips of nose and chin were at perilously close quarters, but hereyes were young still, such sharp, bright little eyes, and they twinkledjust as Pat's did when he was pleased. 

"Talk to me, then. I'll stop you when I'm bored!" she said, and at thatPixie nodded once again. 

"Of course. We always do. Jack stamps on me foot, and Pat snores, thesame as if he were asleep. He says he is strong enough to hear a talesix times over, but he won't listen to it a seventh, to please man norwoman. Bridgie says jokes are one of the trials of family life, becauseby the time you've improved the points so that no one would recognisethem for the same, your relations won't give you a hearing. It's acurious thing, when you think of it, that you get so exhausted withother people's stories, while you go on laughing at your own. Bridgiesays you'll find fifty people to cry with you, for one who willsympathise about jokes. Have you found it that way in your experience?"

"Upon my word, " cried the Duchess with unction, "this Bridgie appears tobe a remarkably sensible young woman! My experience has been that Irarely meet a joke that is not my own exclusive property, to judge bythe faces of my companions. Do you happen to possess a name, myyouthful philosopher? I should like to know to whom I am talking. "

"I'm Pixie O'Shaughnessy, and Geoffrey married my sister Esmeralda. Hecame over to Ireland and fell in love with her in spite of me tellinghim about her bad temper, thinking of course that he was a perfectstranger. I apologised to him after it was settled and said there wasnothing really wrong with her, for she'd always rather be pleasant thannot, only at times it's easier to be nasty, and she's been lazy from heryouth. The night they met they mistook each other for ghosts, andEsmeralda clung to his arm and screeched for help. 

"There was never a thing that girl was frightened at, all her life, until now, and, would you believe it?--it's her own servants! Of coursein Ireland they were like friends, as free and easy as we wereourselves, and entering into the conversation at table; but Geoffrey'sEnglishmen are so solemn and proper that she lives in terror of shockingtheir feelings. One day the butler found her kissing Geoffrey, believing they were alone, and she waited for him to say, `Allow me, madam!' as he always does if she ventures to do a hand's turn forherself. She's says it's dispiriting to think you can't even quarrel inpeace for fear of interruption, and it takes a good deal to interruptEsmeralda when once she's started. "

The Duchess screwed up her bright little eyes, and her shoulders shookbeneath her black lace cape. Sylvia and her companion, watching thestrangely assorted pair from across the room, saw Pixie move nearer andnearer, and whisper a long dramatic history; saw the Duchess nod herhead in appreciation of the various points, and heard the burst oflaughter which greeted the _denouement_. Everyone stopped talking andstared with inquiring eyes. Esmeralda turned towards the lounge, anxiety thinly disguised by smiles, and, seeing her, the Duchess rosefrom her seat with a sigh of regret. 

"Your sister is a born story-teller, Mrs Hilliard. I wish I had moretime to listen. Please ask me to meet her again! It is a long timesince I have been so amused. "

Here was praise indeed! Esmeralda beamed with satisfaction, and seizedPixie's hand with an unusual outburst of affection. 

"How noble of you, dear! She was looking as bored as bored, and I wasat my wits' end. What did you tell her that made her laugh like that?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just things about ourselves, and the adventures athome. 'Twas the beeswax pudding that pleased her most, " said Pixieeasily, and wondered at Esmeralda's sudden extinction of interest. 

"Now what disclosures has that child been making next!" cried thefreckled girl, looking on at this little scene with curious eyes. "Idoubt whether Esmeralda appreciates them as much as the Duchess. Weused to say at home that if there was one thing which should not berevealed, Pixie was bound to choose it as the subject of conversation onthe first possible occasion! And she was so sweet and innocent aboutit, too, that it was impossible to be angry. I expect you have foundout that for yourself?"

"Yes--No!" said Sylvia absently, for she was thinking less of what shewas saying than of certain phrases which her companion had just uttered. "We used to say at home. " Who was this, then, who had known PixieO'Shaughnessy in bygone days--could it by any chance be the dreadedrival towards whom she was prepared to cherish so ardent a dislike? Shestared at the honest, kindly face, and felt that it would be difficultto harbour a prejudice against its owner, even if--if-- "Are you MissBurrell?" she asked, and Mollie smiled assent. 

"I am that, and you are Sylvia Trevor. I've heard about you from--"

"Bridgie--yes! We have been great friends all winter. "

"Not Bridgie--no! We had so much to discuss about the old place and itspeople, that I'm afraid we have never mentioned your name. It was notBridgie. "

"Oh!" said Sylvia, and stared across the room. It might, of course, have been Esmeralda herself who had enlightened Miss Burrell'signorance, but there was a mysterious something in the girl's mannerwhich gave a different impression. She was too proud to ask questions, and Miss Burrell volunteered no information, but smiled to herself as atan interesting reminiscence. It seemed as though what she had heard hadbeen of a distinctly pleasant character!

Sylvia returned home feeling mysteriously happy and elated, and thesight of a letter addressed to herself in her father's handwriting putthe finishing touch on her satisfaction. She took it upstairs to herown room, and sat herself down on the one comfortable chair which shepossessed, to read its contents with undisturbed enjoyment. She was inno hurry to break the seal, however, for it was so pleasant just to holdthe letter in her hand, and lean back comfortably against the cushions, and dream. 

The dreams, it is true, were mostly concerned with the events of theafternoon, and Mollie Burrell's intent and kindly scrutiny; but it waslike the old times when she had thought her own thoughts with her handclasped in that of the dear old dad, and the touch of the sheet on whichhis fingers had rested brought back the old feeling of strength andsecurity. She had told him much about her new friends, and he seemedalways to wish to hear more, asking carefully veiled questions, themeaning of which were perfectly understood by his shrewd littledaughter. 

Dad was anxious about this friendship with a family which included ahandsome grown-up son among its members; a trifle afraid lest she shouldbe spirited away to another home before he had enjoyed his own innings. 

"Poor old darling!" murmured Sylvia remorsefully, for at the bottom ofher heart she knew well which home she would choose if the choice weregiven, and it did seem hard--horribly hard--that a parent should loveand guard and work for his child from the hour of her birth, and thatwhen she had grown old and sensible enough to be a companion instead ofa care, she should immediately desert him for another! "But I couldnever love dad any less, never, never! I'd give anything in the worldto see him again!" Sylvia cried mentally as she opened the envelope andstraightened the thin, foreign sheets. 

It was a long letter, and took a long time to read, and in the processSylvia's expression changed once and again, and finally settled into oneof incredulous dismay. It was not that the news was bad; on thecontrary, it was good--very good indeed--the thing above all otherswhich she would have wished to hear, but it threatened a completeuprooting of her life just as it was growing most interesting, and fullof possibilities. Dad was coming home, was even now on his way, and haddesired her to meet him on his arrival at Marseilles. It wasincredible, quite incredible in its startling unexpectedness. Sheturned again to the wonderful paragraph, and read it over once moreslowly and carefully. 

 "And now, my darling, I have a piece of news, which I hope and believe will be welcome to you. Certain business changes have taken place of late, which you would not understand even if I tried to explain them, but such as they are they set me free to return home at my own convenience. I have been impatiently waiting this settlement of affairs for some time back, as I have been most anxious to see you after your long illness, and to satisfy myself that the best means are being used to restore the full use of your foot. 

 "I have made inquiries here, and believe that a course of baths of the German Spa B--- would probably put the final touch to what has already been done. I propose, therefore, that you engage in good time a trustworthy lady courier from an office in London, and travel in her company to Marseilles, where I will meet you in the first week of June, having previously spent a week or ten days in Italy with my old friends the Nisbets, who return in the same boat. 

 "Come prepared for a summer abroad, and we can fit you up with any extras that are needed before we start on our travels. After you have finished your course of treatment and are, I trust, thoroughly convalescent, we will have a tour through Switzerland, and settle down at some mountain hotel, where the air will brace us up after our sufferings, climatic and otherwise. 

 "For the future, I have as yet no definite plans, except that, of course, you will not return to your present quarters. Perhaps we may eventually find a house that suits us in the south of England, but I can't face English winters after my long residence in this sunny land, and you must make up your mind to humour a restless old Anglo-Indian for the next few years to come. Perhaps by that time I may have regained my old strength and nerve, which have sadly failed of late. I will wire from Brindisi as to definite arrangements. "

Sylvia let the letter drop on her lap, and stared before her with blankeyes. Through the curtains could be seen a glimpse of the houseopposite, the blind at Bridgie's window drawn up at its usual rakishangle. 

In three weeks, in less than three weeks, she would say good-bye forever to Rutland Road and its inhabitants; good-bye to England itself, itappeared, for at least a year to come, and at two-and-twenty a year isas long as a lifetime, if it divides us from those we love. She woulddrift away out of sight, and the last six months would become but anepisode in her own life and those of her friends. 

"D'ye remember Sylvia, --the girl with the bark on the road?" Inimagination she could hear Pixie putting the question in the years tocome, and Bridgie would remember quite well, because she had not thefaculty of forgetting, but other people--other people were reputedlyfickle, and tempted to forget old friends in favour of new! Otherpeople would probably be in love with a fair-haired beauty by that time, and have forgotten all about Sylvia Trevor!

The pain which shot through the girl's heart at these reflections was sosharp that it startled her into a realisation of her own position. Dadwas coming home, she was going to live with him once more, and insteadof being happy and elated she was miserable--miserable! She was goingto leave her aunt's home, with the restrictions and lack of sympathywhich had made it so trying, and was once more to live with the fondestand most indulgent of parents, and instead of filling her with delightthe news seemed like a sentence of banishment from all that made lifeworth living!

To do Sylvia justice she was shocked at her own thoughts, and made avaliant effort to look at the prospect in a more dutiful spirit. Atleast, she determined, no one should suspect a want of loyalty to thatbest and kindest of men! Aunt Margaret would take for granted that shefelt nothing but delight, and she would postpone breaking the news toBridgie until she had grown accustomed to the idea of separation, andcould discuss it with composure. 

It would be easier than usual to keep this resolve, for sinceEsmeralda's arrival the neighbours necessarily saw less of each otherthan in the long winter days when there had been no rival claims ontheir time and attention. Aunt Margaret would be pleased to find thatshe was chosen as counsellor and adviser-in-chief, and during the shorttime which was left she must do her utmost to gratify the old lady, whohad been on the whole very kind and forbearing during the two yearswhich they had spent together. 

"I wish I had been nicer to her!" sighed Sylvia regretfully. "I wasalways meaning to be, but now it's too late. That's the worst ofputting off things in this world; the chance may never come again!"

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 

A whole week passed by before Sylvia had an opportunity of telling hergreat news to her friend. To begin with, Bridgie was absent from homefor three days and nights, attending a ball and a water-party given byEsmeralda for the entertainment of her house-party, and to neither ofwhich Sylvia had received an invitation. To be sure, it was no usegoing to a dance when dancing was an impossibility, and the getting inand out of boats would have been painful and difficult, but all the sameSylvia felt slighted and out in the cold, and, though absent in theflesh, mentally followed every stage in the two entertainments, andtortured herself by imagining Jack's light-hearted enjoyment andabsorption in other company than her own. 

When Bridgie returned home, Miss Munns insisted on several expeditionsto town, and also to surrounding suburbs, where lived those familyconnections to whom it was clearly the girl's duty to say good-bye. Theold lady was quite inclined to enjoy the little stir of preparationinvolved by the trip abroad, and would allow no one but herself tointerview the lady in whose charge her niece was to travel. That shewas entirely satisfied was the best possible guarantee for Sylvia'ssafety, and Mistress Courier Rickman promised to be ready to start themoment the expected wire was received. 

Miss Munns laid in a store of patent medicines, stocked her niece'sworkbox with every imaginable useful, and waxed quite affectionate inher manner, but all the same it was easy to see that she would berelieved to get rid of her charge, and settle down once more in the oldgroove. It requires a great deal of forbearance and unselfishimagination to enable a young person and an old to live togetherhappily, and the lack of these qualities is the explanation of manymiserable homes. 

Old people should remember that the peaceful monotony which has becometheir own idea of happiness, must by the laws of nature spell a verydifferent word to buoyant, restless youth, and also that there comes astage when the children are not children any longer, when they areentitled to their own opinions, and may even--most reverently be itsaid--understand what is best for themselves, better than those of adifferent generation; and the young people in their turn should rememberthe long years of tender care and devotion which they have received, andbe infinitely patient in their turn. They, who are so impatient ofpassing ailments, should try to imagine how it would feel to be alwaysfeeble, and to see in the future the certainty of growing more and moresuffering and incapable. They should realise that it is in their powerto make the sunshine of declining days, and thereby to store up forthemselves a lasting joy, instead of a reproach. 

In looking back upon those two years spent in Rutland Road, Sylviaforgot her aunt's lack of sympathy, her prosy talk, and repeated fault-finding; they were lost in remembering the true kindness of heart whichlay beneath all mannerism. What she was never able to forget was herown impatience and neglect of opportunity. 

Once or twice as the days passed by, Bridgie O'Shaughnessy ran to thegate to intercept her friend as she passed, and exchange a hurriedgreeting, but Sylvia would not trust her great news to such occasions asthese. She waited until an opportunity arose for an uninterrupted talk, and as she waited a desire awoke and grew in intensity, to herself tellJack of the coming separation. Bridgie must, of course, be informed ofthe journey to France and Germany, but she would wait until the eveningof Esmeralda's reception before disclosing the full extent of hertravels. 

When she and Jack were sitting together in one of the charming littleniches in which the rooms abounded, he would naturally begin to talk ofher journey, and she would smile and look unconcerned, and, in the mostcheerful and natural of tones, announce that she was not coming back toRutland Road, that it would probably be a year at least before she sawEngland again. 

Surely when he heard this for the first time, when it was burst upon himas an utter surprise, she would read in his face whether she had beenright in imagining that he really "cared, " or if it had been a delusionborn of girlish vanity. She would be quite calm and serene, would notin any way pose as a martyr or seem to expect any expression ofdistress, but she could not--could not bring herself to go away withoutmaking this one innocent little effort to solve the mystery which meantso much to her happiness and peace of mind. 

So Sylvia purposely kept out of Bridgie's way during the ten days afterthe receipt of her letter, and when they met it was easy to tell justwhat she chose, and keep silent about the rest, for Bridgie was not oneof the curious among womenkind, and never dreamt of questioning andcross-questioning as to the plans of another. She simply took forgranted that Sylvia would return to her old quarters, after a pleasantsummer holiday, just as she was happily assured that her friend feltnothing but purest joy and satisfaction in the prospect before her. 

"Oh, me darling, " she cried rapturously, "I am delighted for you! Isn'tthat the very best news that could happen? So soon, too, and a lovelyjaunt together in the beautiful summer weather. 'Twill make you strongagain in no time, and you will write me long letters telling me all youradventures, and 'twill be almost as good as having them myself. Icouldn't tell you when I've been so pleased!"

"Humph!" said Sylvia disconsolately. Would Jack be delighted also, andhail her departure with rapturous congratulations? "Won't you miss me?Won't you feel lonely when I'm not here?" she questioned earnestly, andBridgie smiled a cheery reassurement. 

"I'll have Esmeralda, you see! She will be here until the end of theseason, and then we are going up to Scotland with her. We shall be sobusy and taken up with one thing and another that I shan't have time tomiss you, darling. "

"Humph!" said Sylvia once more. This was intended for comfort, she wasaware, but it was not the kind of comfort that was required. BridgieO'Shaughnessy might be so unselfish as to rejoice because a friend didnot suffer by her absence, but Sylvia longed to hear that she wasindispensable, and that nothing and no one could fill her place. It wasanother bitter drop in her cup to realise that the O'Shaughnessy girlswere so closely united that any friend must needs be at a discount incomparison with a sister. 

"Ye don't seem as excited as I should have expected. Is anythingworrying you, dear?" Bridgie inquired, and Sylvia hurriedly searchedfor a plausible excuse and found it in her father's health. 

In reality she was not disquieted by his reference to his own weakness, for he had been complaining for months back without apparently growingworse, and she was convinced that the coming rest would speedily restorehim to health. It made an excuse, however, and Bridgie sympathised andoffered a dozen kindly, unpractical suggestions as her custom was. 

Then the conversation drifted to the all-important reception which wasso close at hand, and to which both girls were looking forward with suchexpectation. Bridgie related the latest arrangements for theentertainment of some three hundred guests, while her friend listenedwith eager attention. Esmeralda was sparing neither money nor pains tomake the evening one of the events of the season. Singers and musicianswhose names were known throughout Europe were to perform at intervals inthe great drawing-room; the hall and staircase were to be transformedinto a bower of roses, pink La France roses here, there, and everywhere, wreathed round the banisters, massed on the window-sills andmantelpieces, hanging in great golden baskets from the ceiling. Rose-coloured shades were to soften the glare of the electric lights; the airwas to be kept cool by great blocks of ice, and scented fountains risingfrom banks of moss and ferns; the conservatory was to be illuminated byjewelled lanterns. 

It sounded like a fairy-tale to the girl in the unfashionable suburb, and she would have been less than human if she had not counted the hourswhich must elapse before the evening arrived. Bridgie thought it a pitythat the guests could not be labelled for the edification of theunsophisticated, but Sylvia's greatest interest was centred on figureswhich were too familiar to be mistaken. The whole entertainment was, intruth, but a gorgeous setting to that conversation with Jack, whichmight be their last _tete-a-tete_ for so long to come. 

The dressmaker who was preparing Miss Trevor's dress for the greatoccasion had seldom had more difficulty in satisfying an employer, andthe sum total expended on fineries would have horrified Miss Munns ifshe had been allowed to see the bills. Even Sylvia winced when sheadded up the figures, but she repeated sturdily the old phrase, "Dadwon't mind!" and felt secure that she would meet with no worse reprimandthan a little good-natured banter. On the whole she had been veryeconomical during her stay in England, and her conscience did notupbraid her concerning this one extravagance. 

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. 

A TELEGRAM. 

As soon as her room was in order on the day of the reception, Sylviabegan the delightful task of opening boxes and parcels, and laying theircontents on the bed. The satin skirt was spread out with carefulfingers, and over it a foam of frills and flounces which must surelyhave grown, since it was inconceivable that they could have beenfashioned by mortal hands. Fan, and gloves, and little lacyhandkerchief lay side by side on the pillows; little satin shoes stoodat a jaunty angle, the crystal buckles shining in the sun. The pearlnecklace, which had been a present from dad on her twenty-firstbirthday, lay on the toilet-table ready to be snapped on, and a spray ofwhite roses and maiden-hair floated in a basin of water. 

All was ready, and Sylvia beamed with delight at the result of herpreparations. She had come upstairs ostensibly to rest, but in realityshe was far too excited to settle down even to read, and could onlywander about the room inventing one little duty after another, andweaving endless day-dreams. In a corner of the room stood hertravelling-box, a convenient receptacle into which to put the newpurchases as they arrived from the shops. 

The travelling dress, the piles of cool garments for summer wear layneatly packed away, looking fresh and dainty enough to have charmed anygirl's heart, but this afternoon Sylvia had no thought for the future;every hope and ambition was centred on the events of the next few hours. 

Three o'clock! How slowly the time passed! Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine--six hours still to while away before she would drive fromthe door with Pixie by her side, and Jack _vis-a-vis_, leaning forwardto look her over, and exclaim in admiration at her fine feathers. 

Sylvia could almost imagine that she heard him speak, and saw the suddensoftening of the handsome eyes, and for once in her life she wasinclined to rejoice that Bridgie was again staying at Park Lane, sincePixie and Pat would be so much engrossed in their own discussions as toensure a virtual _tete-a-tete_ for their companions. She roserestlessly from her seat and walked to the window. Was Pixie occupiedeven as she had been herself in laying out her dress for the evening?She peered curiously through the opposite windows, but no sign of theinhabitants was to be seen; she yawned, drummed her fingers against thepane, and stared idly down the road. 

It was not a lively neighbourhood at the best of times, and to-day itseemed even duller than usual. A nurse was wheeling a perambulatoralong the pavement, a milkman's cart was making slow progress from doorto door, a telegraph-boy was sauntering down the middle of the roadwhistling a popular air. Sylvia wondered where he was going, and whatwas the nature of the message which he bore. Some people were sonervous about telegrams--Aunt Margaret, for instance! It was so rarelythat her quiet life was disturbed by a message of sufficient importanceto make it worth while for the sender to expend sixpence on itsdelivery. 

Sylvia's heart gave a leap of apprehension as the thought arose thatperhaps the message was for the O'Shaughnessy household to tell of somedire accident which had interfered with the festivity of the evening. She had hardly time to breathe a sigh of relief as the boy passed thegate of Number Three before apprehension re-awoke as he approached herown doorway. 

A telegram for Aunt Margaret! What could it be? Ought she to godownstairs to lend the support of her presence, or stay in her roomwhere she was supposed to be enjoying a refreshing nap? She heard theopening of the door and the sound of voices in the hall, then to hersurprise footsteps ascended the stairs, and someone whispered a gentlesummons--

"Sylvia! Are you awake? A telegram has arrived for you, my dear. Youhad better see it at once. "

Miss Munns looked flurried and anxious, but her niece smiled a placidreassurement. 

"I expect it is from father, fixing the date of my journey. He said hewould wire. " She tore open the envelope and glanced hurriedly at theaddress. "Yes, it is! He is at Marseilles. `Come at--'" Her voicedied away, and she stood staring at the words in horrified incredulity, while Miss Munns stepped forward hurriedly, and peered over hershoulder. 

"Come at once. Father dangerously ill. Remain in charge till youcome. --Nisbet. "

"Nisbet! Nisbet! That was the name of the friends with whom he was totravel. `Dangerously ill!' `At once!' What can it mean?"

Sylvia laid the paper on the bed and pressed her hands against her head. She was deathly pale, but perfectly composed and quiet, and theexpression of her eyes showed that so far from being stunned, she wasthinking in quick, capable fashion. 

"There is a train from Charing Cross at four o'clock, " she saidpresently. "I should arrive in Paris at midnight, and at Marseillessome time to-morrow. It is three now. My box is more than half packed. I shall have time. Mary must go out and order a cab!"

"My dear, it is impossible! You cannot possibly leave to-day. I willgo with you myself, and I cannot get ready at an hour's notice. Waituntil to-morrow, and--"

Sylvia turned round with a flash of anger in her eyes, but suddenlysoftened and took both the old lady's hands in her own, holding them ina tender pressure. 

"Listen, " she said, and her voice, gentle though it was, had in it a newquality which awed and impressed the hearer. "Listen!--there is not onesingle minute to spare. If there was a train at half-past three, Ishould catch that, box or no box, for father is dying, Aunt Margaret--hewould not have let me be summoned like this for any passing ailment. Nothing in all the world would make me wait here until to-morrow, soplease, dear, do not hinder me now. I know it is impossible for you tocome with me, but I will telegraph the moment I arrive, and if--if thereis still time, you can follow then. "

"But you can't travel alone! Edward would not like it. He is soparticular. How can you manage about the trains?"

"Listen! I have thought of that too. Put on your bonnet and go to thetelephone office at the corner. Ask the people at the agency if theycan possibly send a lady courier to meet me at the train at CharingCross. If they can, very well! If they can't, I am twenty-two, and canspeak French easily, and am not afraid of travelling by myself. I willtelegraph to Cook's agent to meet me in Paris, if it will make you anyhappier, but I am going, auntie dear, and I have not a moment to spare. I will get dressed now, and the cab must be here in half an hour. "

Miss Munns turned without a word, and left the room. She had the senseto know when she was beaten, and, having once faced the situation, setto work in her usual business-like fashion, and proved the most capableof helpers. Having been successful in arranging for a lady courierthrough the convenient medium of the telephone, she returned home towrite labels, fasten together cloaks and umbrellas, and order a hastybut tempting little meal for the refreshment of the traveller. Thisaccomplished, she returned once more to the bedroom, where Sylvia wasputting the last touches to her packing. 

"Nearly finished? That's right, my dear. You have eight minutes still, and tea is waiting for you downstairs. Don't trouble to tidy the room, I'll attend to that after you have gone. All these things on the bed--they had better be packed away in the attics, I suppose. It's a pitythey were ever bought, as things have turned out. You may never needthem now. "

"No, I may never need them now!" said Sylvia steadily. "In one minute, aunt, just one minute. You go down and pour out my tea, and I'll followimmediately. I've just one thing more I want to do. "

"Don't dawdle, then--don't dawdle! Mary will fasten the straps--don'twait for that. "

Miss Munns departed, unwillingly enough, and Sylvia shut the door afterher, and gave a swift step back towards the bed. The satin dress, andthe fan, and the gloves, and the jaunty little shoes lay there lookingprecisely the same as they had done an hour ago--the only difference wasin the eyes which beheld them. 

Sylvia had read of a bride who was buried in her wedding dress, and shefelt at this moment as if she were leaving her own girlhood behind, withthat mass of dainty white finery. What lay in the future she could nottell; only one thing seemed certain, that those few words on the slip ofbrown paper had made a great chasm of separation between it and thepast. The opportunity for which she had longed was not to be hers; shemust leave England without so much as a word of farewell to the friendswho of late had filled such a large part of her life. 

If her plans had been frustrated by one of the annoying little_contretemps_ of daily life, Sylvia would have exhausted herself inlamentations and repinings, but she was dumb before this greatcatastrophe, which came so obviously from a higher Hand. When herfather lay dying, there was no regret in her heart for a lost amusement, but this hurried departure might mean more--much more than theforfeiture of Esmeralda's hospitality. She stretched out her hand, andsmoothed the satin folds with a very tender touch. 

"Good-bye!" she whispered softly, in the silence of the room. "Good-bye, Jack!"

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. 

TOO LATE. 

Sylvia's journey was quiet and uneventful, and her companion wastactfully silent, leaving her at peace to think her own thoughts. Astime passed by, the natural hopefulness of youth reasserted itself, andshe began to think that she had been too hasty in taking it for grantedthat her father was hopelessly ill. 

After all he had not despatched the telegram; it had been signed by hisfriends, the Nisbets, who, no doubt, were unwilling to accept a positionof responsibility. When she arrived she would nurse him so devotedly, would surround him with such an atmosphere of love and care, that hecould not help recovering and growing strong once more. He would belonging to see her, poor dear old dad, working himself into an invalid'snervous dread lest they might never meet again, as she herself had donea few months earlier, and the sight of his child would be his bestmedicine. 

They left the train and took their places in the boat. It was acloudless summer afternoon, and the white cliffs stood out in strikingcontrast to the blue sky and sea. What a change from the big grey citywhich even now was beginning to grow close and dusty, what a gloriousopen prospect for one who had been shut up for months in the confines ofa narrow street, and yet Rutland Road had been far more beautiful to onevoyager at least, for at that moment, exactly at that moment, as timedby the little watch at her wrist, Jack O'Shaughnessy would have turnedthe corner of the main road to saunter towards his own home. 

Jack always sauntered, with the air of a gentleman at large who hadnever known the necessity of hurry. Sylvia had watched him many timesfrom the shelter of her window curtains, and knew exactly how he wouldcarry his head, and twirl his stick, and glance rapidly across the roadas he unlatched the gate. Pixie would open the door and breathlesslyunfold the news with which she had by this time been made acquainted, and how would Jack look then? Would the smile fade away, would he feelas if all zest and interest had departed from the evening entertainment, or would he make the best of things in happy O'Shaughnessy fashion andconsole himself in Mollie's smiles?

The breeze grew fresher and more chill, and the stars began to peep; thetravellers had reached the shores of France; and far-away in LondonEsmeralda's guests were beginning to arrive, the carriages were jostlingone another in the narrow street. Then came Paris, and a space for restand refreshment before starting on the next stage of the journey. 

Sylvia had hoped that a telegram might be waiting for her at this point, but none was forthcoming, and its absence was a bitter disappointmentdespite the old adage that no news is good news. She sat in the bigdeserted buffet, drinking bouillon and eating poulet and salad; andcatching sight of her own pallid reflection in one of the mirrors, smiled feebly at the contrast between the present and the "might havebeen"! This white-faced, weary-looking girl was surely not the SylviaTrevor whose day-dreams had woven such golden things about this veryhour. 

The lady courier engaged a sleeping compartment for the first stage ofthe long journey to Marseilles, but though it was a comfort to lie downand stretch her weary limbs, there was little sleep for Sylvia thatnight. She was up and gazing out of the window by six o'clock in themorning, and the day seemed endless despite the interest of the scenesthrough which she passed. "Through thy cornfields green, and sunnyvines, O pleasant land of France. "

The lines which she had read in her youth came back to memory as thetrain crossed the broad waters of the Loire and sped through valleys ofgrapes and olives, surrounded by hills of smiling green. The sun washot in these southern plains, and the dust blew in clouds through thewindows; it was a relief when evening fell again, and brought the end ofthe long journey. 

Sylvia stepped on to the platform and looked around with eager gaze. Although she had never met her father's friends, she knew theirappearance sufficiently well from photographs and descriptions to beable to distinguish them from strangers, but nowhere could she seeeither husband or wife. It was unkind to leave her unwelcomed and withno word to allay her anxiety, and she had hard work to keep back hertears as her companion ran about collecting the scattered pieces ofluggage. 

She was so tired mentally and physically that this last disappointmentwas too much for her endurance, and she thanked God that in a fewminutes the strain would be over, and she would be seated by herfather's side. They drove along the quaint, foreign streets, andpresently arrived at the hotel itself, a large building set back in acourtyard in which visitors sat before little tables, smoking anddrinking their after-dinner coffee. 

They looked up curiously as Sylvia passed, but no one came forward tomeet her, and the waiter gesticulated dumbly in answer to herquestionings, and led the way upstairs without vouchsafing a word inreply. It was humiliating to think that her accent had so degeneratedas to be unrecognisable in his ears, but there was no other explanation, and it was at least evident that she was expected, since he seemed in nodoubt as to where to conduct her first. He turned down a corridor tothe right, stopped at the second door, and threw it open, and Sylvia sawwith surprise that it was not a bedroom, but a sitting-room, in which alady and a gentleman were already seated. 

The gentleman leapt to his feet, wheeled round and stood with his faceto the window; the lady shrank back into her chair, then suddenly jumpedup and ran forward with outstretched hands. It was Mrs Nisbet, thoughlooking older and more worn than Sylvia had expected to see her, andnothing could have been kinder or more affectionate than her greeting. 

"My dear child--my poor dear child, how tired you must be! You have hadan awful journey. Come in, dear, and rest a few minutes while I willmake some tea for you. English people always like tea, don't they? AndI will make it myself, so that it shall be good. Come, dear, sit down!Let me take off your hat. "

She stroked the girl's cheek with her hand--such a hot, trembling hand--and there was an odd, excited thrill in her voice which filled Sylviawith a vague alarm. She stepped back a step, and drew herself upstraight and determined. 

"Thank you very much, but I don't want any tea. I want to go at once tofather. It has been such a long, long journey. I mustn't waste anymore time!"

"No, no, but you are not ready just this moment. You must havesomething to strengthen you first. If you won't wait for tea, here issome wine. Drink a glass, dear, do. To please me!"

Sylvia stared at her fixedly, and from her to that other figure whichstood motionless by the window without so much as a glance for hisfriend's child. A cold fear seized her in its grip, the room swambefore her eyes, and out of the confusion she heard a weak voice sayingbrokenly, "Tell me quickly, please! It won't help me to drink wine. Father--"

Mrs Nisbet burst into a passion of tears, and clasped the girl tightlyin her arms. 

"You are too late, dear. An hour too late! We did everything we could. He left you his last love and blessing. "

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was all over. The two long days of waiting, the last glimpse ofdad's still face, the funeral in the foreign cemetery, and Sylvia satalone in the hotel sitting-room, striving to recover sufficiently fromthe shock to decide on the next step which lay before her. 

In the crushing weight of the new sorrow it seemed as if it wereimpossible to go on living at all, yet it was absolutely necessary tomake her plans, for she could not be an indefinite burden on herfather's friends. They had come home to enjoy a hard-earned rest, andas the holiday had begun so sadly there was all the more reason why theremainder should be passed under cheerful conditions. Mr and MrsNisbet had pressed the girl to spend the next few months travelling intheir company, but Sylvia was resolute in her refusal. 

"I should be a constant care to you, and a constant kill-joy, and thatwould be a poor return for all you have done for me, " she said sadly. "It will comfort me all my life to remember that you were with dadduring those last dreadful days, and some day I should like very much tovisit you when I can be a pleasure instead of a burden. It does notseem now as if I could ever be happy again, but I suppose it will comein time. "

"It will, if you trust in God and ask Him to help you. He sendstroubles to teach us lessons, dear, and to draw our thoughts to Him, butnever, never to make us miserable, " said Mrs Nisbet softly. "You didnot feel that you had lost your father when he was far-off in India, andhe is a great deal nearer to you now in the spirit world. Never thinkof him as in the grave, think of him in heaven, and it will grow dearand home-like to you just because he is there. It would have grievedhim to the heart to see your young life clouded, so you must try to behappy for his sake. I don't mean by that that you can be lively, orcare for the old amusements; that can only come with time; butunhappiness comes from rebellion against God's will, and if you submitto that and leave your life in His hands, you will find that all thesting has gone out of your trouble. "

The slow tears rose and stood in Sylvia's eyes. 

"Thank you!" she said meekly. "I will try, but it's hard to be resignedwhen one is young, and all one's life seems shattered. I don't knowwhat to do next. Every arrangement so far has been made, `till dadcomes home, ' and now that hope has gone, and what am I to do? I have nohome, and no work, and nobody needs me. Aunt Margaret would take me in, of course, but she would not like it as a permanency any more than Ishould myself. She has her own way, and I have mine, and we did notagree very well. She was very kind when she thought I was going away, but at the bottom of her heart she was glad. She doesn't need me, yousee! I don't help her at all. "

"But you could _make_ her need you! You could help her if you went backdetermined to make it your work in life!"

Mrs Nisbet took the girl's hand in hers and pressed it gently, andSylvia looked into her face with miserable, honest eyes. 

"Yes--I could! I could shut my lips up tight and never answer back, andlook interested when I was bored, and go little walks up and down theterrace, and play cribbage when I wanted to read, and read aloud dullbooks when I wanted to read lively ones to myself, and pretend to likewhat I really hate and detest. "

"Poor lassie! It does sound dull. I'll tell you a secret, though. Itwould not be pretence very long, for it is one of the blessedrecompenses in life that if we conquer self, and perform a duty whole-heartedly and cheerfully, it is distasteful no longer, but becomes moreinteresting than we could have believed possible in the old rebelliousdays. "

"Does it? But I don't think I quite want to be satisfied with that kindof life, " Sylvia said slowly. "I don't wish to seem disrespectful, butreally and truly Aunt Margaret's ideas are terribly narrow and old-fashioned, and I shouldn't like it a bit if I were like her when I wasold. I have managed pretty well so far, for I had nice friends, and wasalways looking forward to the time when I should have my own home, butdon't you understand how different it is now, and how dreary it seems tosettle down to it as a permanency?" She looked up wistfully in MrsNisbet's face, and met a smile of kindest understanding. 

"But there is no necessity to grieve over the future, child! At yourage arrangements are rarely `permanent, ' and you are concerned only withthe next step. It seems for the moment as if it were the right courseto return to London, so try to look upon the situation from a newstandpoint, and face it bravely. Forget your aunt's shortcomings, andremember only that she is your father's only remaining relative, theplaymate and companion of his youth, and that you are connected by acommon sorrow and a common loss. Set yourself to brighten her life, andto fill it with wider interests; forget yourself, in short, and thinkabout other people. When you have learned that lesson, dear, you willhave solved the great secret of life, and found the key to happiness andpeace of mind. "

"Yes, " sighed Sylvia faintly. It sounded very sweet and very beautiful, but, oh, so terribly difficult to accomplish! If it had been a bigthing, on great, heroic sacrifice which she was called upon to make, shecould have braced herself to the effort, and have borne it with courage, but the little daily pin-pricks, the chafings of temper, the wearinessof uncongenial companionship--these were the hardest test, the mostcruel tax upon endurance. 

Day after day, week after week, month after month, the same uneventful, monotonous existence--and suppose for one moment that Jack marriedMollie Burrell, and Bridgie returned to her Irish home! Sylvia shiveredand shut her eyes as at an unbearable prospect, and Mrs Nisbet's voicesaid softly in her ear--

"`I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step enough for me!' Takeeach day as it comes, dear, and try to live it bravely without thinkingof to-morrow. We will travel with you as far as Paris, and have a fewdays together before you go on to London. I wish you would have stayedwith us longer, but perhaps it will be better for us all to be apart fora time, and meet again later on. We shall be in London in autumn, andone of my first visits will be to you. Your father has been like abrother to my husband for years past, and we shall always feel a veryclose interest in your welfare. 

"By the way, dear, how are you off for money? Would it be a convenienceif I lent you some to pay for mourning and the return journey? You cameaway expecting to be responsible for a few days only, and, as you know, when a man dies it is not possible to touch his money until certainlegal formalities have been observed. We should be only too delightedto act as your bankers until matters are settled. "

"Thank you very much, but I think I shall have enough. I drew out whatmoney was in the bank before leaving home, and I would rather not getinto debt until I know exactly how I am placed. There may be verylittle left. Father always spoke as if he were poor. "

"He told you nothing about his affairs, then? You know nothing aboutthem?"

Mrs Nisbet looked at her curiously as she spoke, and Sylvia's heartgave a throb of fear. She knew something; there was evidently somesecret with which she herself was unacquainted, and in her presentdepressed condition of mind and body it was only natural that she shouldleap to the conclusion that the news must be bad, and, ostrich-like, tried to hide her head in the sand. 

"He told me there had been some changes lately, which I should notunderstand. His lawyers will write to me some time, I suppose, but Idon't want to think about money yet. I have sufficient for the next fewmonths, for I shall go nowhere, and need no more clothes. "

"Yes, yes, dear! It's all right. You will get along nicely, I'm sure, "said the other soothingly, and Sylvia felt another thrill of foreboding. 

"Get along nicely!" Did that mean that she would have to earn her ownliving? She dared not inquire further, shrinking from the possibilityof another blow, but it was impossible to keep from wondering what sheshould do if indeed there was no provision for her support. 

Pixie's adventures in search of employment had proved how difficult itwas for an inexperienced girl to escape becoming the prey of fraudulentadvertisements, and it was humiliating to reflect on her own incapacity. What could she do that a thousand other girls could not accomplishequally well? She could play fairly well, sing fairly well, paintfairly well, trim a hat so that it did not look obviously home-made, make a trifle or creams, though she was densely ignorant about boiling apotato. She possessed, in fact, a smattering of many things, but hadnot really mastered one which, if needs be, would be a staff throughlife. 

A hundred poor girls find themselves in this position every year, yettheir short-sighted sisters continue to fritter away their time, oblivious of the fact that to them also may come the rainy day when theymust face the world alone. Learn to do one thing _well_, compare yourproductions, whatever they may be, not with those of other amateurs, butwith perfected professional specimens, and do not be content until yourown reach the same standard. This is a golden rule, which every girlought to take to heart. 

During the ten days which elapsed before Sylvia's return to London, shewas haunted by the fear of monetary troubles which would make her eitherdependent on her own efforts, or a burden upon her aunt's narrow income, but neither Mrs Nisbet nor her husband referred again to the subject, and some time must still elapse before she could hear from her father'slawyer in Colombo. 

The week in Paris passed away quietly, but more pleasantly than shecould have believed possible under the circumstances; for nothing couldhave been kinder or more considerate than the way in which she wastreated by her father's friends, while the brilliant sunshine acted as atonic to the spirits. Every day they went long drives in the Bois, ortook the train to Versailles, and spent long quiet hours in the woods, and Sylvia even found herself able to enjoy a visit to one of the hugeMagasins, where Mrs Nisbet invested in quite a collection of presentsto send home to English friends. Sylvia was tempted to buy some on herown account, and it was a new and depressing experience to feel that shemust not spend an unnecessary penny. Her little hoard was diminishingrapidly, and she was growing more and more anxious to be safest home, and free from at least immediate anxiety. 

There was no lady courier to accompany her on this journey, for the daysof independence had begun, and she preferred to be alone to wrestle withher forebodings, and try to bring herself into a fitting frame of mindfor that trying return to the old scenes. 

The parting from the Nisbets was like saying good-bye once more to thedear dad, and she felt hopelessly adrift without their wise and tendercounsels, and the feeling of loneliness grew ever deeper and deeper asshe approached the English shores. 

The great shock through which she had passed had loosened all the tiesin life, and made the friends of a few weeks ago seem but the merest ofacquaintances. Bridgie had written the sweetest of sympathetic letters, but sorry though she might be, the force of circumstances kept the twogirls so far apart, that what had been the saddest time in her friend'slife had seen the climax of her own gaiety. She had been dancing, andsinging, and pleasure making while Sylvia shed the bitter tears ofbereavement, and in a few weeks more she would be spirited off inEsmeralda's train to another scene of gaiety. The O'Shaughnessys wereby nature so light of heart that they might not care to welcome amongthem a black-robed figure of grief!

Sylvia felt as though the whole wide world yawned between her and theold interests, and did not yet realise that this feeling of aloofnessfrom the world and its interests is one of the invariable accompanimentsof grief. She was young and not given to serious reflection, and sheknew only that she was tired and miserable, that the white cliffs aboutwhich she had been accustomed to speak with patriotic fervour, lookedbleak and cheerless in the light of a wet and chilly evening. 

June though it was, she was glad to wrap herself in her cloak, and pullher umbrella over her head as she passed down the gangway on to thestage. In Paris it had been a glorious summer day, and the change towet and gloom seemed typical of the home-coming before her. The cloakedand mackintoshed figures on the stage seemed all black, all the same. She would not look at them lest their presence should make her realisemore keenly her own loneliness; but someone came up beside her as shestruggled through the crowd, and forcibly lifted the bag from her hand. She turned in alarm and saw a man's tall figure, lifted her eyes, andfelt her troubles and anxieties drop from her like a cloak. 

It was Jack O'Shaughnessy himself!

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. 

A COMFORTER. 

Think of it! Think of it! The grey, inhospitable skies, the rain-sweptstage, the feeling of hopeless loneliness, as one traveller afteranother was greeted with loving exclamations, and borne away by friendlywatchers; and then suddenly to feel your hand grasped, and laid tenderlyon a protecting arm, and to see, looking into your own, the face of allothers which you would have wished for, had the choice been given! Tofeel no longer a helpless unit, belonging to no one, and having nocorner of the earth to call your own, but to know that someone hadwatched for your arrival, and to read how you had been missed, in theflash of eloquent eyes. 

"Oh, Jack!" cried Sylvia involuntarily; "oh, Jack!" and clung to his armwith a sob of pure joy and thanksgiving. "Oh, I'm so glad! I was solonely. How did you--whatever made you come?"

"A great many reasons, but principally because I couldn't stay away!"replied Jack, not smiling as was his wont, but looking down upon herwith an intent scrutiny, which aroused Sylvia's curiosity. She did notrealise how changed she was by the experience of the last few weeks, orwhat a pathetic little face it was which looked up at him between thedead black of hat and cape. 

The brown eyes looked bigger than ever, the delicate aquiline of thefeatures showed all the more distinctly for their sharpened pallor, andJack looked down at her through the mist, and thanked God for the healthand strength which made him a fitting protector for her weakness. Thesound of that involuntary "Oh, Jack!" rang sweetly in his ears, and gavea greater confidence to his manner, as he steered her through the crowd. 

"Miss Munns told us when you were expected, and we talked of meeting youat the station, but I decided that I had better stay away; then I wrotea letter to welcome you, and tore it up; then for no purpose at all Ibegan looking at Bradshaw, and it seemed there was a train which I couldcatch. And it rained! It's dismal arriving in the rain. Next thing Iknew I was in the station, and the train started when I was sittinginside, and--here I am!"

Sylvia laughed softly, it was such an age since she had laughed, and itwas such a happy, contented little sound that she was quite startledthereat. The custom-house officials were going through the farce ofexamining the luggage, and while the rest of the passengers groaned andlamented at the delay, Jack and his companion stood together in thebackground, blissfully unconscious of time and damp. 

"Are you glad to see me, Sylvia?" he asked, for the joy of hearing hersay in words what voice and eyes had already proclaimed; and she wavedher hand round the bleak landscape, and said tersely--

"Look! It felt like that; black and empty, and heart-breaking, and allthe others seemed to have friends--everyone but me. I think I was neverso glad before. I shall bless you for coming all my life!"

Jack laughed softly, and pressed her hand against his arm. "Poor littlegirl! I knew just how you would be feeling; that's why I came. Wouldn't you have come to meet me, if you had been the man and I thegirl?"

"Yes, to the ends of the earth!" Sylvia replied, but not with her lips, for there are some things which a self-respecting girl may not say, however much she may feel them. Instead she murmured a few non-committal phrases, and gave the conversation a less personal tone, byinquiring after the various friends at home--Miss Munns, Bridgie, Pixieand the boys, and Jack answered in his usual breezy fashion, relatinglittle incidents which made Sylvia smile with the old happy sense offriendship, repeating loving speeches, which brought the grateful tearsto her eyes. The world was not empty after all, while she possessedsuch faithful, loving friends. 

When the luggage had passed the inspection of the custom-house andreceived the magic mark in chalk, Jack led the way down the platform, before which the train was already drawn up, and passed by one carriageafter another, until at last an empty compartment was discovered, ofwhich he immediately took possession. 

"Now we can talk!" he said, and sat himself down opposite Sylvia, looking at her with compassionate eyes. 

"I have gone through it myself, " he said. "Tell me all you can. "

And as the train steamed onward, Sylvia told the story of the pastweeks, told it quietly, and without breakdown, though the dark eyes grewmoist, and tears trembled on the lashes which looked so long and blackagainst the white cheeks. It was a comfort to tell it all to one whounderstood, and was full of sympathy and kindness, and strange though itmight seem, separation, instead of widening the distance between Jackand herself, had only drawn them more closely together. 

The old formalities of intercourse had dropped like a cloak at the firstmoment of meeting; they were no longer Miss and Mr, but "Jack" and"Sylvia"; no longer acquaintances, but dear and intimate friends. 

"Miss Munns has been terribly distressed, " Jack said, when at last thesad recital came to an end. "She loved your father more than anyone inthe world, and you come next as his child. Poor old lady! it was quitepathetic to see her efforts to make your home-coming as cheerful aspossible. Bridgie says she has put up clean curtains all over thehouse, and discussed the menu for supper for the last week. It's herway of showing sympathy, the creature! and you understand better thanmyself all that it means. Different people have different ways, haven'tthey, Sylvia? _I_ came to Dover!"

"Yes!" assented Sylvia, with a flickering smile. "You came to Dover, and Aunt Margaret put up clean curtains, and ordered a roast fowl forsupper--I know it will be a roast fowl!--and if you had not warned me intime, I should probably have said I could not eat anything, and gone tobed supperless, without even noticing the curtains. I am afraid I havebeen horrid to the poor old soul in that sort of way many times in thelast two years. It is good of her to take such trouble, because, honestly speaking, she won't be any more pleased to have me back as apermanency than I am to come. We have mutually comforted ourselves withthe reflection that it was `only for a time, ' but now it is different. I want to be good--I have made, oh! such a crowd of good resolutions, but I don't know how long they will last!"

Jack looked down at his boots, and drew his brows together thoughtfully. 

"You--er--it's too early, I suppose, to have made any plans for thefuture. You hardly know what you will do?"

"No: my natural home is, of course, with Aunt Margaret as father'ssister, but there are other considerations. " Sylvia hesitated a moment, then added impetuously--it seemed so natural to confide in Jack!--"Aboutmoney, I mean. I don't know what I have, or if I have anything at all. Father always said he was poor, though he seemed to have enough for whathe wanted, and to give me all I asked. Perhaps he made enough to keepus, but had nothing to leave behind. Mrs Nisbet just referred to thesubject one evening, and I could see from her manner that there wassomething I did not know, so I turned the conversation at once. I hadhad so much trouble that I felt as if I simply could not bear any morebad news just then, and would rather remain in ignorance as long aspossible. It was weak, perhaps, but--can't you understand the feeling?"

"Me name's O'Shaughnessy!" said Jack simply. "We never face adisagreeable fact until it comes so close that we hit ourselves againstit. I'm sorry; but don't worry more than you can help. I've been shortof money all my life, but I don't know anyone who has had a better time. So long as you have youth and health, what does it matter whether youare rich or poor? It's all in the way you look at things. For usefulpurposes, most people can make their money go farther than mine, but forsheer fun and enjoyment I'll back my half-crown against another fellow'ssovereign!"

"Ah, but you're Irish! You have the happy temperament which can throwoff troubles and forget all about them for the time being. They sitright down upon my shoulders--little black imps of care, and anxiety, and quaking fears, and press so heavily that I can remember nothingelse. Perhaps I could be philosophical too, if I were one of a big, happy family--but when one is all alone--"

"All alone--when I'm here! How can you be all alone, when there are twoof ye!" cried Jack impulsively. 

He had resolved, not once, but a hundred times over, that he would speakno words but those of friendship; that no temptation, however strong, should make him break his vow of silence; but some impulses seemindependent of thought. He did not know what he was going to do, he wasconscious of no mental prompting, but one moment he was quietly sittingin his corner opposite Sylvia, and the next he was seated beside her, with both arms wrapped tightly round her trembling figure, and she wasshedding tears of mingled sorrow and happiness upon his shoulder. 

"I've been in love with you ever since the first evening you came to ourhouse. Before that! Ever since I saw you sitting up at your window inyour little red jacket. You knew it, didn't you? You found that outfor yourself?"

"No--Yes! Sometimes. Only I thought--I was afraid it couldn't be true, and there was--Mollie!" faltered Sylvia incoherently, hardly knowingwhat she was saying, conscious of nothing but an overwhelming sense ofcontent and well-being, as the strong arm supported her tired back, andthe big, tender finger wiped away her tears. 

Jack laughed at the suggestion, but did not indulge in the depreciatoryremarks concerning Miss Burrell which many men would have used under thecircumstances. 

"Good old Mollie!" he said. "She's a broth of a girl, but I would assoon think of marrying Bridgie herself. She was my confidante, blessher, and cheered me up when I was down on my luck. You might havenoticed how interested she was in you that night at Esmeralda's crush!"

At that Sylvia opened her eyes wide, with a sudden unpleasantrecollection. 

"What will Esmeralda think? Oh, Jack, what will she say?"

"Plenty, my dear! You may be sure of that, " replied Jack, laughing;then he, too, gave a little start of surprise, and, straighteninghimself, held Sylvia from him at the length of his strong young arms. "I say--what's this? You little witch, what have you done to me? I hadmade a solemn vow not to speak a word of love-making, and it seems to meI have broken it pretty successfully. Have I been making love to you, Sylvia--have I?"

It was a very charming little face that laughed back at him, pale nolonger, but flushed to a delicate pink, the dark eyes a-sparkle withhappiness, and a tinge of the old mischievous spirit. 

"Yes, you have! Do you want to draw back?"

Jack's answer was wordless but convincing, but the next moment hesobered, and said in that charming way of his, which was at once somanly and so boyish, "But I didn't want to bind you, I spoke only formyself. I am your property, darling, and your slave to command, but Ican't ask you to marry me yet awhile, for I've the children on my hands, and until they are settled I can't think of myself. I am the head ofthe house, and must do what I can for them, poor creatures. 

"Pat will be off to the Agricultural College next term, and then back toIreland to do agent's work; Miles is doing well in the city, but can'tkeep himself for several years to come; and then there are the girls. Ihad no right to speak as I did; it wasn't fair to you. I won't bind youdown to a long, uncertain engagement. You must feel yourself free, perfectly free. "

"I don't want to be free! I like to be bound--to you, Jack!" Sylviasaid firmly. "I'm so thankful that you did speak, for it makes just allthe difference in my life. I am young, and can wait quite happily andcontentedly, so long as I know that you care, and can look forward--"

Sylvia stopped short, awed at the prospect of happiness which hadsuddenly opened before her, and Jack was silent too, holding her hand ina close pressure. His face was very tender, but troubled through allits tenderness, and when he spoke again, it was in very anxious accents. 

"But are you contented to leave it a secret, darling, a secret betweenyou and me? You see, if Bridgie knew we were waiting, she'd know nopeace, feeling that she was in our way, and the young ones would get thesame fancy, and be wanting to turn out before they were ready. Theyhave no one but me, and I couldn't have them feeling upset in their ownhome. That was why I determined to keep silent, and it's bad of me tohave broken my vow, but it's your own fault, darling! I couldn't bewith you again, and keep quiet. Do you care for me enough to waitperhaps for years before we can even be publicly engaged?"

Sylvia smiled at him bravely, but her heart sank a little, poor girl, asit was only natural it should do. A girl is by nature much quicker thana man projecting herself into the future, and in realising all that isinvolved. 

Jack was conscious only of a general regret that he could not claim hisbride before the world, but Sylvia saw in a flash the impossibility offrequent meetings, the minute chance of _tete-a-tetes_, the quicksandsin the shape of misunderstandings, which must needs attend so unnaturala position. On the other hand, she honoured Jack the more for hisloyalty to his home duties, and agreed with the wisdom of his decision. 

"Yes, Jack, I do. I'd like to wait. I love Bridgie with all my heart, and could not bear her to suffer through me. It shall be exactly as youthink best for them in every way. "

Jack bent and kissed her, even more tenderly than before. 

"My little helpmeet!" he said, and Sylvia found her best reward in thesound of that word, and the knowledge that she was strengthening him inthe right path. Surely it was the best guarantee for the happiness oftheir new relationship, that it was inaugurated in a spirit of self-sacrifice and care for others. 

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. 

REMINISCENCES. 

Bridgie was not waiting at the station. "She heard me saying that Imight be here myself, and maybe remembered that two are company, " saidJack, with a laugh. 

But when Rutland Road was reached someone stood waiting to open the doorof the cab and welcome the wanderer in the sweetest tones of a sweetcontralto voice. She said only a few words, but with true Irish tactchose just the ones which were most comforting under the circumstances. 

"Welcome back, dear. I've missed you badly. So have we all. " Then shelooked at Jack, and smiled as if his presence were the most naturalthing in the world. "You have brought her home safely. That's right, "she said. It was one of Bridgie's most lovable qualities that she neverasked awkward questions, nor showed undue curiosity about the affairs ofothers. 

Brother and sister said good-bye at the door, leaving aunt and niecealone, and, as the door closed behind them, Sylvia felt a spasm ofloneliness and regret. It was hard to part from Jack with that formalshake of the hand, to feel that days might elapse before they met again, and, as she looked round the ugly little dining-room, she felt like aprisoned bird which longs to break loose the bars and fly to its mate. 

It seemed impossible to settle down to the old monotonous life, andyet--and yet--how much, much worse it might have been! How thankful sheought to be! If one hope had been taken away, another had been grantedin its stead. The path ahead was still bright with promise, and asudden pity seized her for the woman whose youth was gone, and who hadlost the last tie to the past. She returned her aunt's kisses withunusual affection, and roused herself to notice and show appreciation ofthe efforts which had been made on her behalf. 

The table was laid with the best china, the red satin tea-cosy had beenbrought from its hiding-place upstairs and divested of its muslin bagand holland wrappings; the centre mat presented by Cousin Mary Fergusontwo Christmases ago was displayed for the first time; the servietteswere folded into rakish imitations of cocked hats. 

It was half touching, half gruesome, to find the occasion turned into a_fete_, but Sylvia was determined to be amiable, and said gratefully--

"How kind of you to have supper ready for me, Aunt Margaret! I couldnot eat anything on the boat, but now I believe I am hungry. It alllooks very good. The chickens one gets in France are not the least likethe ones at home. "

"They don't know how to feed them, my dear. I am glad you have anappetite. I always find that when I am in trouble nothing tempts me somuch as a cup of tea and a slice off the breast. Just take off yourhat, and sit down as you are. Everything is ready. "

Miss Munns was evidently gratified to receive an acknowledgment of herefforts, and insisted upon waiting upon her niece and loading her platewith one good thing after another; but after the meal was over therefollowed a painful half-hour, when Sylvia had to submit to a searchingcross-questioning on the events of the past weeks. 

Unlike Bridgie, Miss Munns insisted upon detail--had a ghoulishcuriosity to know in exactly what words Mrs Nisbet had broken the sadnews, in exactly what words Sylvia had replied, in exactly what mannerthe first black days had been spent. Her spectacles were dimmed withtears as she listened to what the girl had to tell, and her thin lipsquivered with genuine grief; but she was still acutely interested tohear of the number of carriages at the funeral, of the meals in thehotel, and the purchase of Sylvia's mourning garments. 

"You must show them to me to-morrow. I expect they are very smart--coming from France. I always wear black, so there was not much to bedone. I had the black satin taken off my cashmere dress, and folds ofcrape put in its place, and some dull trimming, instead of jet, on mycape. I haven't decided about my bonnet. You must give me your advice. Of course, I wish to do everything that is proper, but it's been anexpensive year. "

"Yes, " assented Sylvia absently. She rose from her seat and, walkingacross the room, leant her elbow on the mantelpiece. There wassomething she wanted to say, and it was easier to say it with avertedface. "Aunt Margaret, I want to ask you a question. Please tell me thetruth. Shall I have any money? Was father able to provide for me? Iknow you are not well off, and I could not bear to be a burden to you. If I have no money of my own, I must try to earn some. "

"I should be telling you the truth, my dear, if I said that I knew lessabout it than you do yourself. Your father was very close aboutbusiness matters--very close indeed. He was supposed to have a goodbusiness a few years ago, and was always very handsome in his ways, buthe has grumbled a good deal of late, and I don't know how things will benow he is gone. He had a lawsuit with an old partner in Ceylon, whichhung on a long time. I don't know if it is settled yet; and, if not, weshall have to let it drop. You can always have a home with me; butthere will be nothing to spare for lawyers' expenses. Give me a bird inthe hand, as I said to your father the last time he was home. 

"If the worst comes to the worst, you can give some music lessons in theneighbourhood. Mrs Burton was telling me on Monday that her little boyhas quite a taste--picks out all the barrel-organ tunes on the pianowith one finger. You might get him as a beginning. "

"Yes, " assented Sylvia faintly; and to herself she cried, "Oh, Jackdear--how good of you to love me! How good of you to give me somethingto live for! How dreadful, dreadful, dreadful I should be feeling nowif you had not met me, and made the whole world different!"

Miss Munns was watching her anxiously, fearing a burst of tears, and wasgreatly relieved when she turned round and showed a composed and evensmiling face. "I'll find some work if it is necessary, auntie; and I'lltry to help you too. You have been very good to me, and I'm afraid Ihave been rather horrid sometimes. I thought of it when I was away, anddetermined to make a fresh start if you would forgive me this time. Weare the only two left, and we ought to love each other. "

"I am sure I am very much attached to you, my dear. I was saying so toMiss O'Shaughnessy only to-day. I don't deny that your manner is rathersharp at times, but there's nothing like trouble for taming the spirits. I shouldn't wonder if we got along much more happily after this. MissBridgie brought a little parcel for you--I mustn't forget that. It ison that little table. She told me to give it to you at once. "

"What can it be, I wonder?--something I left over there by mistake, Isuppose, " Sylvia said listlessly, as she unfolded the paper; but herexpression altered the next moment as she beheld a flat leather case, inside which reposed a miniature painting of the same face which used tosmile upon her from her own chimney-piece. 

Surprise held her speechless, while a quick rush of tears testified moreeloquently than words to the faithfulness of the portrait. The paintingwas exquisitely fine and soft, the setting the perfection of good tastein its handsome severity. It seemed at the moment just the greatesttreasure which the world could offer. Who could have sent it?

Sylvia reluctantly handed the case for Miss Munns's curious scrutiny, the while she opened the note which had fallen from the paper. Bridgie's handwriting confronted her; but she had hardly time to marvelhow so costly a gift could come from such an impecunious donor, beforesurprise number two confronted her in the opening words. 

"Esmeralda told me to give you this miniature from myself, but I wantyou to know that it is entirely her idea and present from the beginning. As soon as she heard your sad news, she asked me to borrow the bestphotograph of your father, to be copied by the same artist who paintedthe Major for her. She has been to see how he was getting on almostevery day, till the poor man was thankful to finish it, just to be ridof her, and here it is to welcome you, dear, and, we hope, to be acomfort to you, all your life. "

"Esmeralda!" echoed Sylvia blankly. It seemed for a moment as ifBridgie must be romancing, for the staid English mind refused to believethat one who had at one time appeared actively antagonistic, and at thebest had shown nothing warmer than a lofty tolerance, should suddenlybecome the most thoughtful and generous of friends. Yet there it was, specified in black and white. Esmeralda had originated the kindly plan;she had engaged no second-rate artist, but one to whom her own work hadbeen entrusted, and had given freely of what was even more value to herthan money, her time, in order that the gift should arrive at the rightmoment. 

Sylvia flushed with a gratification which was twofold in its nature, forhere at last seemed an opening of drawing near in heart to thatbeautiful, baffling personality, who was Jack's sister, and might someday--oh, wonderful thought!--be her own also. It would be a triumph, indeed, if in these days of waiting she could overcome the lastlingering prejudice, and feel that there would be no dissentient notewhen at last the great secret was revealed. 

Aunt and niece hung together over the case with its precious contents, the one exhausting herself in expressions of gratitude and appreciation, the other equally delighted, but quite unable to resist looking the gifthorse in the mouth, and speculating in awed tones concerning theenormous cost of ivory miniatures. That jarred, but on the whole theevening passed more pleasantly than Sylvia could have believed possible, the unexpected excitement breaking the thread of that painful cross-examination, and carrying the old lady's thoughts back to the far-offdays when she and her brother had been sworn friends and playmates. 

"Tell me what you used to do, auntie! It must be so nice to havesomeone to play with. Do tell me some of your escapades!" she pleadedwistfully, and Miss Munns shook her head, and assumed a great air ofdisapproval, though it was easy to see that she cherished a secret pridein the remembrance of her own audacities. 

"I am afraid we were very naughty, thankless children. One day, Iremember, Teddy, as we used to call him, had been very rightly punishedfor disobedience, and he confided in me that he intended to run away, and go to sea, as a cabin-boy. We always did everything together inthose days, so of course nothing must suit me but I must go too. We gotup early the next morning, and ran out into the garden, where we wereallowed to play before breakfast, and then slipped out of the side door, to walk to Portsmouth. 

"Portsmouth was eighteen miles away, and I was only six, and before wehad walked two miles, I was crying with fatigue and hunger. Teddy hadbrought some bread-and-butter, so we sat under a hedge to eat it, and hetold me we must be very nearly there. Just then up came a tramp, andstopped to ask why we were crying, and what we were doing out there inthe road at that hour in the morning. `We are going to Portsmouth to becabin-boys, ' we told him, and I can remember to this day how he laughed. `If you are going to be cabin-boys, you won't want those clothes, ' hesaid. `You had better take them off, and give them to me, to change forproper sailor things. '

"We thought that a splendid idea, so he took Teddy's suit, and my frockand hat, and left us shivering under the hedge waiting his return. Ofcourse he never came, and an hour or two later, my father came drivingalong to look for us, and we were taken home, and punished as wedeserved. That is to say, Teddy was whipped, and I was only put to bed, for he insisted that the idea was his, and that he alone was to blame. "

"Nice little Teddy!" murmured Sylvia fondly, looking down at thepictured face, which, despite grey hair and wrinkles, had still thegallant air of the little boy who shielded his sister from blame. 

Having once started, Miss Munns told one story after another of herchildhood's days; of the lessons which brother and sister used to learntogether--a whole page of Mangnall's Questions at a time, and of thedire and terrible conspiracy, by which they learnt alternate answers, easily persuading the docile governess to take the right "turns. " ThusTeddy, when asked "What is starch?" could reply with prompt accuracy, while remaining in dense ignorance of the date when printing wasintroduced into England, concerning which his small sister was so wellinformed. 

Sylvia was told of the books which were read and re-read, until thepages came loose from their bindings; of the thrilling adventures of oneMasterman Ready, whose stockade, being besieged by savages, it became animmediate necessity to guard the gate at the head of the nursery stairs, and to hurl a succession of broken toys at the innocent nurse, as sheforced an entry; of a misguided and stubborn "Rosamond" who expended hersavings on a large purple vase from a chemist's window, and found to herchagrin that when the water was poured away, it was only a plain glassbottle; and of a certain "Leila, " who sojourned on a desert island inthe utmost comfort and luxury, being possessed of a clever father whofound all that he needed on the trees in the forest. 

An hour later, when Sylvia went up to her room, it was impossible toresist drawing aside the blind to look across the road, and in aninstant, another blind was pulled back, and a tall dark figure stoodclearly outlined against the lighted background. 

Sylvia understood that Jack had been watching for her advent, and feltcomforted by his presence, and all that was meant by that waving hand. She wondered whether she had better write to Esmeralda, or try to seeher in person, but the question was decided by Pixie, who came overearly the next morning to announce Mrs Hilliard's arrival in theafternoon. 

"She wants to see you, and say she's sorry, " she explained, and whenSylvia exhausted herself in expressions of gratitude and delight, "Oh, Esmeralda would give you her skin if it would fit ye!" she said coolly. "She's the kindest of us all when she isn't cross. Give her her way, and you may have all the rest. I've known her raise the roof on us, andappealing to every relation we owned, to get what she wanted, and thenwrap it up in brown paper that very day, and post it back where it came. I'm glad ye like it so much. Now if I'd been clever, and bought somemore paints when those people wanted me, maybe I could have done it foryou meself. " Her face grew suddenly grave and wistful. 

"When I got my telegram at school, the girls all brought me homepresents from the walk--pencil-boxes, and jujubes, and a little toyrabbit that wagged its head. I don't know how it was, but they soothedmy feelings! I should have liked to buy you something, Sylvia, but Idon't get my wages till the end of the month, and then they are spent. You'll excuse me, won't you, me dear, for you know I am sorry!"

"My darling girl, I don't want presents! Come to see me as often as youcan, and go on being fond of me--that's all I want, " cried Sylviawarmly, and Pixie brightened once more. 

"There's no credit in that. It isn't as if you were nasty. I'll not beable to call on ye as often as I'd like, for I'm off to the seaside. Mrs Wallace has taken a house on the Thames, and her cousin is cominghome from the wars and a friend with him, and lots of ladies andgentlemen all staying in the house to be entertained, so they want me togo too. Of course!"

"Of course, " repeated Sylvia gravely. There was something so charmingin Pixie's simple assumption that everyone desired her company, that shewould not for the world have tried to destroy it. "I hope you willenjoy yourself very much, dear, and come back with some colour in yourcheeks, though I am afraid that particular part of the `seaside' is notvery bracing. Tell Mrs Hilliard with my love that I shall be charmedto see her this afternoon!"

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. 

ESMERALDA'S VISIT. 

Miss Munns was greatly excited to hear of the expected visit, and busiedherself taking the holland covers off the drawing-room chairs, anddisplaying the best antimacassars in the most advantageous position. 

Sylvia longed to introduce a little disorder into the painful severityof the room, but it would have distressed her aunt if she had moved achair out of the straight, or confiscated one of the books which wereranged at equal distances round the rosewood table, and, as it was oneof her resolves not to interfere with domestic arrangements, sheshrugged her shoulders resignedly, and hoped that Esmeralda might be asunnoticing of her surroundings as were her brothers and sisters. 

At four o'clock a carriage drove up to the door, and Esmeralda alighted, clad from head to foot in black, as Sylvia noticed at the first quickglance. She was waiting in the little drawing-room, and scarcely wasthe door opened when the tall figure was at her side, and her hands werecrushed with affectionate fervour. She looked up, and was startled bythe beauty of the face above her, startled as even Esmeralda's brothersand sisters were at times, when as now the grey eyes were misty withtears, and the lips all sweet and tremulous. 

"If I'd known--if I'd had the slightest idea he was ill, I would ratherhave killed myself than have behaved as I did! Oh, don't pretend youdidn't notice! I was hateful to you when you were ill, too, poorcreature, and my sister's guest. I told Geoff all about it. I hatetelling him when I do wrong, so I did it just as a penance, and he wasso vexed with me. Do you know why I spoke as I did? Did you guess thereason?"

Sylvia shrank into herself with an uneasy foreboding, for Esmeralda wasan impetuous creature, who might be expected to be as undisguised in herpenitence as in offence. 

"Oh, please don't say anything more about it!" she cried hurriedly. "Itwas very trying for you finding me there when you came over for a visit. I have forgotten all about it, if there is anything to forget; and nowthere's this lovely miniature. How can I thank you?"

"Oh, that is nothing--that's nothing!" cried Esmeralda, waving aside thesubject, and insisting upon a full confession of her fault. "I wasjealous of you--that is what it was--jealous because they all seemed sofond of you, and I wanted their attention for myself. It was horriblymean, because I have Geoff and the boy, and it is only natural that theyshould want their own interests. 

"I daresay Pixie has told you how father spoiled me all my life, andBridgie gave way to me until it seemed natural to think first of myself. But I don't now. I think of Geoffrey and the boy, and I'm trying to bebetter for their sake. Geoff says he got me only just in time. He israther stern with me sometimes, do you know. He doesn't say much--perhaps I don't give him the chance--but his face sets, and his eyes areso large and grave. I can't bear it when he looks at me like that, because, as a rule, you know, "--she gave a soft, happy little laugh--"heloves me so frightfully much, and we are so happy together. I ought towant every girl to be as happy as I am, and I do--really I do. 

"In a month or two, when we are home at Knock, will you come and staywith me, Sylvia, and learn to be fond of me too? I'm rather lonely overthere now that all the others have left, and I have not many girl-friends. The one I cared for most will be engaged soon, I think, andthe man lives abroad, so she may be leaving the neighbourhood. It isnot settled yet, but I think Mrs Burrell will give in. "

She stared ostentatiously through the window, and Sylvia blushed, andhad some ado not to smile at this very transparent intimation ofhostility withdrawn. 

"Thank you so much! I'd love to come, " she said simply; and then thetwo girls talked quietly together for a few minutes before Miss Munnscame in and dispensed tea and reminiscences of all the grand people whomshe had ever met, with a view of impressing her visitor, who, of course, was not impressed at all, but secretly amused, as listeners invariablyare under such circumstances. 

Esmeralda was just rising to leave when a loud rat-tat at the knockermade Sylvia's heart leap in expectation; and the next moment Jack cameinto the room in his most easy and assured manner. 

"I thought I would come across for my sister, and inquire how MissTrevor was after her journey, " he announced; and once more Sylvia smiledto herself as she noted how Esmeralda immediately plunged into animatedconversation with Miss Munns, to keep her attention engrossed at theopposite end of the room. 

Jack O'Shaughnessy stood by the window, and looked down upon his littlelove with tender, dissatisfied eyes. 

"I say, " he said softly, "I can't stand this sort of thing! Twominutes' talk, with two other people in the room. How much longer doyou suppose I can stand this?"

"You have had only one day yet. It's too soon to complain. You mayhave seven years!" retorted Sylvia saucily; but at the bottom of herheart she was glad that he found it difficult to be patient. 

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT. 

BY THE RIVER. 

Pixie went off in great spirits to join the Wallaces at the riversidecottage which they had rented for the remainder of the summer. The heatin town was already growing oppressive, and it was delightful to thinkof being in the country again and running free over the dear greenfields. Esmeralda had presented her with quite a trousseau of summerdresses, with a selection of hair-ribbons to match, at least an inchwider than any which she had previously possessed, and she piled up herpompadour higher than ever, and pulled out the bows to their farthestextent in her anxiety to do justice to the occasion, and the importanceof her own position as the instructor of youth. 

A pony-cart was at the station to meet her, with Viva and Inda clingingtogether on the front seat, ready to pour breathless confidences intoher ear the moment she appeared. They spoke with a curious mingling oftongues, but had apparently no difficulty in understanding her when shereplied in rapid, colloquial French, so that it was evident that thehours of play had not been wasted, but had the effect of successfulstudy. 

"Mamzelle! Mamzelle Paddy, we have boats in our house!" cried Vivaeagerly. "Three boats with cushions, and a punt, and one with a funnelin the miggle. And Cousin Jim takes us out with the 'nother gentleman, and we splash with our hands, and the lady was cross because of hersash, and she dried it in the sun. And there's tea in the garden, and abig steamer that makes waves, and muzzer says if we are very good youwill play with us at being gipsies under the wheel-barrow. "

"An' we got in a box, and the water went up, an' up, an' up, an' then itwent down, an' down, an' down, an' then we came home, " contributed fatlittle Inda in her deep, gurgling voice, and Pixie turned from one tothe other and cried, "Vraiment!" "Sans doute!" "Bravo!" and beamed indelighted expectation. 

The house-party were assembled on the lawn drinking tea when the pony-carriage turned in at the gate, and Pixie looked round with sparklingeyes, quite dazzled by the beauty of the scene. The narrow road, running at the back of the houses, had been dull and uninteresting, butbefore many yards of the drive had been traversed, there came a viewover the wide sunlit river, and beyond it green meadows stretching awayas far as the eye could reach. 

The house was not a cottage after all, but quite a large, imposing-looking house, and the lawn sloping to the river bank was smooth andsoft as velvet. Baskets of flowers hung from the verandah; picturesquestumps of trees were hollowed out to receive pots of geraniums; a redand white awning shaded the tea-table; and the wicker chairs wereplentifully supplied with scarlet cushions. It was Pixie's first peepat the summer glories of the river, and she felt as if she had steppedinto fairyland itself. 

The little girls seized her hands and dragged her in triumph across thelawn, and Mrs Wallace looked round, and said smilingly to her friends--

"Here's my French governess--the latest addition to the household. Whatdo you think of my choice?"

"Governess! That girl! She looks a child herself. Edith, whatnonsense are you talking?"

"Sense, my dear, I assure you. The wisest thing I ever did, as you willsee before many hours are past. We shall have some peace now that shehas arrived. Bon jour, Mamzelle. How I am happy to see thee again!Thou are not fatigued--no? Seat thyself in this chair, and I will makeknown to thee my friends. "

She spoke in French, and evidently wished her governess to appear asFrench on this occasion at least; and Pixie rose to the occasion, sweeping elaborate bows from side to side, unconsciously elevating hershoulders, and waving expressive hands. She discoursed volubly abouther long and adventurous journey of three-quarters of an hour'sduration, and Mrs Wallace's guests looked on with smiling faces, putting an occasional laborious question as she appeared to be reachingthe end of her story. 

There were several ladies, all young and pretty and beautifully dressed, and three strange men, including Cousin Jim and his soldier friend fromIndia. Cousin Jim had bright, twinkling eyes, and looked full of lifeand spirit; but his friend's brown face was lined and haggard, and hissmile was half-hearted, as if his thoughts were not in the present. 

Pixie noticed, however, that it was to his side that little Inda creptfor support, and that his disengaged hand softly stroked the child'shead from time to time, as if he found comfort in her presence. Suchgood friends did they appear that after the meal was finished sherefused to be separated from him, and implored his company in the gipsytent in the paddock. Mrs Wallace protested, but the young fellowdeclared that he enjoyed being victimised, and walked off with theschoolroom party with the utmost good humour. 

"But I can't speak French, Viva, " he explained--"not well enough to beable to converse with Mademoiselle, at least! You must explain to herthat I am only a stupid Englishman, and ask her to excuse me. You cantranslate that for me, I suppose?"

"She's not French either; she's only pitending. She's only English thesame as me, " protested Viva sturdily; and Pixie nodded at him withcomplacent smiles. 

"But I've lived abroad; so I speak it to them for their good. You'vebeen away too, haven't you? I hope you enjoyed yourself?"

He smiled, but it was rather a sad little smile, despite its amusement. "I went for work, you know, not pleasure. We accomplished what therewas to do, which was satisfactory; but I can't honestly say I enjoyedit. "

"I hate work!" agreed Pixie sympathetically. "We all do; it's in thefamily. `Never do to-day what you can put off till to-morrow, ' mybrother used to tell me, for you never know what may happen, and you mayget out of it altogether if you wait. But if we are obliged to do it, we pretend we like it, for it's so dull to be unhappy. And if it washorrid abroad, it makes it all the nicer to come back, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes, " he said shortly. 

They had reached the gipsy encampment by this time, and wereperemptorily commanded to sit down on a bench pending certain importantpreparations under the wheel-barrow; so he took possession of onecorner, and Pixie took the other and stared at him with unabashedscrutiny. He was unhappy, she decided, and that was enough to enlisther whole-hearted sympathy; but besides being unhappy, he was very goodto look upon, with his bronzed skin, well-cut features, and soldierlybearing. She admired him immensely; and the admiration was mutual, though of a different nature. 

She was a quaint-looking little soul, the young fellow decided--plain-looking, he had thought on first sight, but there was something oddlyattractive about the wide eyes and large curving lips; you wanted tolook at them once and yet again, and each time you looked the attractionincreased. What was it? Not beauty, not intellect, not wit--nothing, it appeared, but a crystalline sincerity and sweetness of heart, whichexercised an irresistible claim on the affections. His face softened, and he bent towards her with a kindly questioning. 

"How do you come to be governessing these children? You are so youngstill--sixteen--seventeen, is it? You ought to be in the schoolroomyourself!"

"There was nothing else I could do, and I wanted to earn some money, because we're poor. I'm small, but I've known a lot of trouble, "replied Pixie, with a complacent air which was distinctly trying to hercompanion's composure. He stroked his moustache to hide the twitchinglips, and said solemnly--

"I'm sorry--very sorry to hear that! I hope, however, it is all in thepast. You look remarkably cheerful now. "

"That's because I'm helping; and we are such a nice family at home. Ifyou are with the people you like best, that makes you happy, doesn't it, without thinking of anything else?"

"Yes, " he said shortly, and rose from his seat to walk across to wherethe children were scrambling on the grass. They leapt on him, and hungon his arms; and he played with them for five or ten minutes, thenproduced a packet of chocolate from a pocket, and giving it to Pixie todistribute, made his escape to the house. 

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. 

A CONFIDENCE. 

During the next few days the "Capting, " as Viva called him, wasconstantly deserting his companions to join himself to the schoolroomparty in their walks and games. 

As Pixie had suspected, his heart was sore, and the innocent affectionwhich the children lavished upon him made their society more congenialthan that of his own companions, who were enjoying their stay in thecountry in merry, uproarious fashion. 

Viva and Inda were interesting and original children, while "MamzellePaddy" was a house-party in herself--a delicious combination ofshrewdness and innocence. He had little chance of private conversationwith her, for the children were exacting in their demands; but theirintimacy rapidly increased, as was only natural under the circumstances. 

It was impossible to remain on formal terms with one who was united withyourself to withstand an assault of wild savages, as portrayed by twolittle girls with branches of bracken waving above their heads, andgeranium petals stuck in ferocious patterns about their cheeks;impossible not to feel an affection for the tallest member of thebattalion which marched regularly every morning to the corner of thepaddock to be drilled by their commander, scarlet sashes crossedsideways over holland dresses, and Panama hats fastened by immaculateblack chin-straps. 

In the afternoon, when the grown-up members of the household drove offin state to attend garden parties at neighbouring mansions, the Captainfound it infinitely more enjoyable to punt slowly down the stream, dreaming his own dreams, or listening with a smile while the older childamused her juniors by quaint and adventurous stories. 

She was always happy, this little Mamzelle Paddy. Another girl of herage might have felt lonely and diffident in this large, bustlinghousehold, but she was sunshine personified--content to work, content toplay, content to go on an expedition, content to be left behind, havingno desires of her own, it would appear, excepting only this one--tolove, and be loved by those around. 

"Some day, Mamzelle, " the Captain said, "I will take you and thechildren a little jaunt on our own account. We will take a boat and goup the river to a dear little spot which I know very well, and there wewill have tea and pretend to be Robinson Crusoes on a desert island. Itis an island, you know; and we will take a basket of provisions with us, and boil our own kettle, and spread the tablecloth under the trees. Robinson didn't have tablecloths, I believe; but we will improve on thestory, and go shopping in the village to see what we can buy. "

"Wants to go now!" Inda insisted; while Viva executed a war-dance oftriumph, and Pixie murmured deeply--

"I love picnics! We had a beauty once when I was young. 'Twas somefriends near by, and they asked me and Miles; and ye could smell thecooking coming up the drive--all sorts of things cooked for days before, and packed in hampers. We went there by train--to the place we weregoing to, I mean--but by bad luck the hampers went somewhere else, through leaving them on the platform without seeing them put in. Ye getvery hungry when you are enjoying yourself, and there was nothing to bebought in the village but bread and spring-onions and herrings inbarrels. 'Twas a lucky accident, all the same, for we had the picnic, and a party next day to eat up the food. "

"Well, we'll look after the hamper this time. We should not find eventhe onions on our island, " said the Captain, laughing. "We will askMrs Wallace's permission when she comes home, and begin preparationsto-morrow morning if it is fine. "

Mrs Wallace protested that the children were being spoiled by so muchkindness, but was delighted to give her consent, and the next morningwas happily employed in packing the tea-basket, and purchasingstrawberries, cakes, and chocolates from the shops in the village. 

Several of the visitors pleaded to be allowed to join the party, andtried to wheedle invitations from the children during the luncheon-hour, to their own humiliation and defeat. 

"You would like to have me with you, wouldn't you, darling? You wouldlike to sit next to me in the boat?" pleaded one pretty young lady ofthe chubby baby; but Inda wriggled away, and replied sturdily--

"Don't want you in the boat! Don't want nobody only the Capting andMamzelle. You go anuzzer picnic by yourself!"

"You must forgive us, Miss Rose, but this is strictly a limitedexpedition. We children want to be as mischievous as we like withoutthe controlling influence of grown-up people. No best frocks, please, Mrs Wallace! Just holland pinafores that we can soil as much as welike!" pleaded the Captain, feeling more than rewarded for his firmnessas he met the adoring glances of three pairs of innocent eyes. 

There was quite a little assembly by the boat-house to speed theexpedition on its way, and it is safe to say that no boat on the riverthat afternoon carried a happier, more excited party. The Captainrowed; Pixie sat in the stern and pulled the rudder-lines according toinstructions, with occasional lapses of memory when she mistook herright hand for her left, and was surprised to find the boat going in anopposite direction from what had been intended; the little girls sat oneither side, as yet too mindful of their promises of good behaviour evento splash the water. They snored with excitement at the mystery of thefirst lock, and wrapped their hands in their pinafores to keep themsafely out of the way, since the Captain said that it was impossible tobe too careful in such places. 

Along the banks were dotted beautiful houses set back in luxuriantgardens; round the bend of the river stood a house-boat known by thefascinating name of The Yellow Butterfly. The paint was white, buteverything else was a rich, glowing yellow--yellow plants and flowers inbaskets; yellow curtains to the windows; yellow cushions on the chairs;actually--if you can believe it--a yellow parakeet in a golden cage onthe top deck. 

"I should like to live and _die_ in that house-boat!" cried Vivarapturously. 

Presently came the sound of music from afar and a thud, thud, thud, which foretold the advent of a steamer. Now there would be waves--real, true, up-and-down waves, and you could pitend you were going to bedrowned, and the boat go upside down. What fun! What fun! The gurglesof excitement, the clutchings of Mamzelle's skirts, the shrieks ofexultation as the happy moment drew near, were as charming to thebeholder as to the children themselves. 

In the sunny reaches of the river the boats carried Japanese umbrellaswhich made charming touches of colour against the green. Under thegreat trees more boats were moored in the shade, while their occupantsbrought out the tea-baskets from beneath the seats. 

Viva and Inda regarded all such proceedings as deliberate offencesagainst their exclusive rights, and angrily pointed out the fact that"other people" were having picnics too; but the Captain soothed them bya promise that the island should be their private property, and that hewould fight to the death to keep off foreign invasions. Already thisland of promise was looming in the distance, and presently they wererowing slowly round and round looking for a convenient place of landing, tying the rope to the trunk of a willow whose branches dipped in thestream, and stepping cautiously ashore. 

The children were wild with excitement, but the Captain claimed forhimself a quarter of an hour's rest and smoke before proceeding to thedifficult business of boiling the kettle; and the two little girlsscampered off to explore the island, promising faithfully to keep clearof the banks. 

"Mamzelle shall stay and talk to me! It's my turn to be amused, " hesaid; but for once Pixie did not seem in a talkative mood, but leantsilently against the stump of a tree, staring around her with dreamyeyes. 

The young fellow watched her curiously as he pulled his pipe out of hispocket and prepared for the longed-for smoke. "What are you thinkingof, Mamzelle?" he asked; and Pixie looked round with a little start ofremembrance. 

"I don't know. Everything. Nothing in particular, only that it's sowarm and sunny and pretty; and you are so kind. I wasn't thinkinganything, only being happy. "

"`_Only_ being happy, ' were you?" he repeated softly. "Does it seem soeasy, little Mamzelle? Some of the richest men in the world would giveall their money if you could teach them that little secret. `Only beinghappy' is a very difficult thing to some of us as we grow older in thisworld. "

Pixie looked at him with an anxious scrutiny. 

"But you were happy once, weren't you, " she asked, "before you weremiserable? People have been kind to you too, and made you happy beforeyou began to be worried?"

"I worried! I miserable! Mamzelle, what can you mean? I am out for apicnic, with three charming ladies for my guests. How can I be anythingbut proud and delighted?"

He spoke with affected hilarity; but Pixie was not so easily convinced, and shook her head incredulously as she replied--

"No--you are not happy, really--not through and through! Ye sigh in themiddle of laughing, and think of something else when you pretend tolisten. I've been in trouble meself. Once there was an awful time whenthe girls sent me to Coventry for weeks on end, and there was a horriddull pain inside me, as if I'd swallowed up a lump of lead. Was someoneunkind to you too?"

He laughed--a short, mirthless laugh--and pushed his hair from his brow. It was a strange thing that he should dream of confiding his story tothis bit of a girl, yet never before had he known such an impulse tospeak. 

"No, Mademoiselle, " he said, --"not unkind; it was not in her nature tobe that. The mistake was all on my side. I was a conceited coxcomb tothink that she could ever care for me; but I did think it, and went ondreaming my foolish castle in the air, until one day it fell to theground, and left me sitting among the ruins. "

"It was a heart affair, then! I thought it was, " cried Pixie shrewdly. "I heard a lot about heart affairs in Paris, and I had a sister once whowas married. Her husband used to look just like you do when she wascross to him; but really and truly she wanted to be kind, and now theyare married and living happily ever after. It will come all right foryou too, some day!"

"No, never! There's no hope of that. She married someone else. Thatwas the news which came to me one day and wrecked my castle!"

"Oh, oh!--how could she! The misguided creature! And when she mighthave had you instead! I'd marry you myself if I were big enough!" criedPixie in a fervour of indignation which was more soothing than anyexpressions of sympathy; and the Captain stretched out his hand andpatted her tenderly on the shoulder. 

"Would you really? That's very sweet of you. Thank you, dear, for thecompliment. We will be real good friends in any case, won't we? and youwill keep my confidence, for no one in this place knows anything aboutit. And we won't talk of it any more, I think; it's rather a soresubject, don't you know. We might begin unpacking those baskets. Thechildren will want their tea. "

CHAPTER THIRTY. 

IN THE LOCK. 

The tea-making was attended with the usual excitements, and the kettle-boiling with the inevitable misadventures. A scouting party wasorganised to discover a sheltered spot in which to lay the fire, butalthough until this minute the day had appeared absolutely calm andtranquil, all the winds of heaven seemed to unite in blowing upon thatunfortunate fire from the moment that the match was applied!

When at long last a feeble flame was established, the sticks promptlycollapsed and precipitated the kettle to the ground; when rebuilt moresolidly, it died out for want of a draught; and when at last, and atlast, and at very long last, the smoke was seen issuing from the kettle-spout, lo, the water was smoked, and unfit to drink! So decided theCaptain, at least, but while he drank milk with the little girls, Pixieemptied the tea-pot with undiminished enjoyment. 

"It gives it a flavour, " she said. "I like to taste what I'm drinking. "

It was not a trifle like smoked tea which would mar Mamzelle Paddy'senjoyment when on pleasure bent!

The Captain's preparations had been on so lavish a scale that there wasquite a supply of good things left when the meal was finished, and by akindly thought these were packed together to give to the children of thelock-keeper on the way up stream. 

When every odd piece of paper had been religiously collected and packedin the hamper with the cups and saucers, the little girls were liftedinto the boat, Pixie pulled the rudder-ropes over her shoulders, and theCaptain pushed the boat from the shore and jumped lightly into his seat. 

They were off again, rowing homewards and passing once more all thefascinating landmarks which they had noticed on the way down. Thepicnickers on the banks were fastening hampers and preparing to depart;on the green lawns by the waterside servants were flitting to and frocarrying trays into the house. Inda was beginning to yawn and long forbed. She leant against Pixie, the weight of the small head becomingever heavier and heavier, but roused up again as the boat entered the"box, " as she persisted in calling a lock. She wanted to hand out theparcel of good things without a moment's delay, but the Captain told herto wait until the water had lifted the boat nearer to the bank. 

It seemed an extraordinary thing that, whereas, in passing through thelock before they had gone down, down, down, they should now rise higherwith every moment that passed. The children had a hundred questions toask, while the Captain stood up and kept the boat in position with aboat-hook. He explained the mystery as simply as possible, and also whyhe was at such pains to keep at a safe distance from the walls. 

"You see those things sticking out from the side of the boat into whichI put my oars? They are called `rollocks, ' and when you are coming upstream through a lock you have to be careful indeed not to let themcatch under any of the beams. It would be almost impossible to get themloose again, you see, because every moment more water would pour in, andpress them tighter and tighter!"

"And what would it do to us if it did press them?" Viva inquiredcuriously, whereat the Captain smiled and shook his head. 

"Something very disagreeable, I'm afraid--give us all a good wetting inthe water! You needn't be afraid of that, though, when you are with me, for I shall take good care of my little crew. You see how far I keepaway with this oar. "

"Yes, I see. But why does one end of the boat stick out into themiddle, and the other into the side?"

"It's the current that sweeps it round, the force of the water that iscoming in under the gates. That doesn't matter so long as we are notcaught. "

"But the end _is_ caught, isn't it? That little bit of iron that sticksup at the pointed end!" cried Pixie suddenly. She was densely ignorantof all that concerns boats, and invariably alluded to the bow and thestern as the "blunt" and "pointed" ends, to the Captain's intenseamusement. 

This time, however, he did not smile. Pixie saw his face set suddenlyas he turned his head to look in the direction of her outstretchedfinger, but his voice sounded reassuringly confident. 

"Oh, I see! Yes. Let me pass you, dear, for a moment. Sit quitestill!"

He stepped past her into the space occupied by the hampers, and stampedvigorously first with one foot, then with two, jumped with all hisweight, then stepped quickly back to the centre of the boat and calledto the man at the sluices--

"Hi, there! _Stop_! My boat is caught! Turn off that water! Quick, man, do you hear me!"

But the man's head was turned in the opposite direction, and he was somuch engrossed with his work that it was some moments before he heard, and meantime it was terrifying to see how swiftly the water arose, howdangerously near to its edge grew the side of the boat! The childrenbegan to shriek and stand on their seats, and the Captain seized Inda inhis arms and held her up, calling loudly for help. 

The lock-keeper was hurriedly dropping the sluices, but at the sound ofthe continued cries his wife ran out of the house and across thebridgeway. In another moment she would be able to lift Inda ashore; butViva, frantic with terror, was clamouring to be taken too, and Pixieimpetuously lifted her towards the bank. 

What happened next it is difficult to describe, so swiftly did ithappen, so like a nightmare did it appear for ever after in the memoriesof those concerned. The woman came rushing forward, followed by herhusband; they seized the children and dragged them on the bank. 

The boat, relieved suddenly of a weight, gave an unexpected lurch, andthe next moment Pixie and the Captain were in the water. The childrenscreamed aloud in terror, but the Captain had hardly disappeared beforehe was up again, capless, and shaking the water from his head, butlooking none the worse for his ducking. But it was a long, agonisingminute before there came a swirling and bubbling at the end of the lock, and Pixie's white, unconscious little face floated on the surface. TheCaptain's arm was round her in an instant, the lock-keeper threw a ropeto help him to the iron ladder fixed in the walls of the lock, andbetween them the two men carried the dripping figure along the bank andinto the house. 

There was a sofa in an inner room, and there they laid her, while thewoman, assisted by her eldest daughter, took off the wringing garmentsand wrapped her round with warm blankets and coverings. The Captain ranout into the village, sent a messenger flying for a doctor, and rushedback again in terror lest the two little girls should have takenadvantage of his absence to get into fresh mischief. 

This was a pretty ending to their expedition! What would Mrs Wallacesay to him when he got home, and what should he say to himself ifthrough any fault or carelessness a serious injury had happened to sweetlittle Mamzelle!

"Why on earth do they want to put these irons at the end of a boat?Wretched, dangerous things!" cried the distracted man to himself. "Tothink that I have been through a thousand locks in safety, and that thisshould have happened just when I had made myself responsible for a partyof children! Never again! Never again, if I get safely out of this! Iwonder how long that doctor fellow will take to come along?"

Viva and Inda were sitting in the front kitchen, glancing askance atseveral rosy, curly-headed children who were shyly huddled together bythe door. The fascination of new surroundings and possible newplaymates had diverted their minds from their misfortunes, and theCaptain heaved a sigh of relief as he passed into the inner room. 

The lock-keeper's wife had filled two bottles with hot water, and putone to Pixie's feet, and another between her cold hands; a towel waswrapped round the wet locks with somewhat ghastly effect, and the youngman shivered as he looked down at the still, white face. 

"She is not--she can't be--" he faltered, not having the courage topronounce the dread word; and to his inexpressible relief the womansmiled at the thought. 

"Not she! Stunned a bit, that's all. Perhaps hit her head in falling. I've often had them like this before, and they are pretty well all rightin a few hours. We have a lot of people up here in summertime who knownothing about managing a boat--no offence to you, sir--I daresay you arewell accustomed to them, but accidents will happen!"

"I thought I was!" sighed the Captain dismally. He knelt down by thecouch, and touched the cold cheek with his fingers. "Feels a littlewarmer, doesn't she? For goodness' sake, take that thing off her head, I can't bear to see it. "

The woman lifted the head from the pillow to unloosen the tight folds, and at the movement Pixie sighed, and opened wide, bewildered eyes. Forthe first moment they held nothing but blankest surprise at findingherself in so extraordinary a position, but, even as the Captain heldhis breath in suspense, a spark of remembrance came into the cleardepths, and the face lit up with a flickering merriment. 

"Were we drowned?" she whispered hoarsely. "The two of us?--Vivajumped, and the boat slipped, and my feet went down. Who saved me? Wasit you?"

"I suppose it was, but it was not a very heroic rescue--only a few yardsto the bank. You are sure you feel all right? Quite warm andcomfortable? Your head doesn't ache?"

Pixie shook her dishevelled head from side to side, frowning the whilein speculative fashion. 

"I think it does--a little bit, but I'm not quite sure. It feelsmuzzy!" she declared, with a gesture and accent which lent someenlightenment to the enigmatical expression. Then she stretched out ahand, and touched him anxiously on the shoulder. "You're drenched!You'll catch all sorts of diseases in those wet clothes. Can't you havesome blankets too? I'm so lovely and warm. "

"My husband is putting out some clothes for you upstairs, sir. You hadbetter go and change. The young lady is all right now, and I will tellyou when the doctor comes. "

"Doctor! Is a doctor coming? To see me?" Pixie asked, rapturouslyincredulous. 

To find herself the heroine of an adventure, a genuine thrillingadventure, to lie stretched upon a sofa, wrapped in blankets, with twoattendants anxiously inquiring her symptoms; to know that a doctor washurrying to her side--this was indeed a glorious ending to the day'senjoyment! She lay back on the cushions wreathed in smiles, and thedoctor, coming in hurriedly, was somewhat taken aback to behold soradiant a patient. 

"I fainted!" cried Pixie proudly. "I never fainted before in all mylife. I don't remember a single thing after I slipped, until I woke upon this sofa. "

"Indeed!--and a very sensible arrangement. Just as well to know nothingabout these disagreeable experiences. "

The doctor smiled, and fingered her head with a careful touch. "Doesthat hurt you? No? Does that? Do you feel any tenderness there? Alittle bit, eh? You don't like me to press it? You probably grazedyourself slightly as you fell, and that caused the `faint. ' Nothingserious, though. You need not be frightened. "

"I like it!" said Pixie stoutly, and the burst of laughter with whichthe two hearers greeted this statement, sounded pleasantly in theCaptain's ears as he dressed himself in the lock-keeper's Sundaygarments in the room overhead. 

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. 

LOVERS' MEETINGS. 

The doctor saw no reason why Pixie should not be driven home, andoffered to order a closed carriage in the village, and pending itsarrival, the adventurers enjoyed another cup of tea, not smoked thistime, and made merry over the change in their appearance, wrought by theborrowed clothing. 

Pixie's red merino dress was the pride of little Miss Lock-keeper'sheart, but about two sizes too big for its present occupant. The bodicehung in folds about her tiny figure, the sleeves came down to herfinger-tips; the Captain's shiny black suit made him appear quite clumsyand awkward, but that was all part of the fun, in the estimation ofthree members of the party, at least. 

Mrs Wallace was undecided whether to laugh or to cry as she welcomedher truants and listened to the story of their adventures. Nothingwould satisfy her but to despatch Pixie to bed forthwith, to that younglady's intense mortification, and to order the Captain upstairs to havea hot bath and a dose of quinine. When he came downstairs, she wasputting a letter in the post-box in the hall, and, motioning towards it, explained its purport. 

"I've been writing to Mamzelle's sister in London. These lock accidentsget into the papers sometimes, and are generally exaggerated intosomething really so thrilling and terrible. It's best to tell the truestory ourselves. "

"And I have brought this trouble upon you! I could kick myself for mystupidity. You will never trust me again, but please make me thescapegoat to the sister, and let her wreak her wrath on me. It's notfair that you should be blamed. "

"Oh, I am not afraid of any wrath, I assure you. She's a charming girl, and as sweet as Mamzelle herself. I have asked her to come down to-morrow and see for herself that there is no harm done. I thought thatwas the best way out of the difficulty; and please don't blame yourselftoo much. It was an accident, and we must just be very, very thankfulthat you were all preserved from harm. "

The next morning the Captain took himself off for a long walk, ostensibly to call on some friends, in reality to avoid meeting thevisitor from town; for though a man may boldly acknowledge hisresponsibility and offer to bear the blame, he has an instinctiveshrinking from the society of females in distress, and will walk a verylong distance in order to avoid anything like a scene. 

It seemed the height of bad fortune that this particular visitor shouldarrive in the afternoon, instead of the morning, and that he shouldstumble into the library almost immediately after she had arrived. Shewas seated on an ottoman with her back towards him, but Mrs Wallace'squick exclamation took away any chance of retreating unseen. 

"Why, here he is!" she cried. "This is the culprit, or the hero, whichever you choose to call him. Come and tell your own story, Dick. This is Mademoiselle's sister, Miss O'Shaughnessy. "

But he had recognised her already. She had turned her head as MrsWallace spoke, and beneath the curving brim of the hat he had seen theface which had been enshrined in his heart for three long years, thesweet face which had brought to him at once the greatest joy and thebitterest sorrow of his life! He stood still in the middle of the room, staring at her as if suddenly turned to stone, and Bridgie rose to herfeet, the pretty colour fading out of her cheeks, her lips a-tremblewith emotion. 

Mrs Wallace looked from one to the other, and with a woman's intuitiondivined something very nearly approaching the truth. Dick was quitechanged from his old happy self--everyone had noticed it, and speculatedas to the cause. In his last furlough he had stayed some time inIreland. Could it be--could it possibly be--

"You have met before?" she said quickly. "That is very nice. You knoweach other, and can talk over yesterday's adventure without my help. Will you excuse me if I leave you for a few moments, while I give someorders to the maids?"

No one answered, but she lost no time in hurrying from the room, and asthe door closed behind her, the Captain came slowly across the room, staring at Bridgie's white face. 

"_Miss O'Shaughnessy_! She called you `_Miss O'Shaughnessy_'!"

She shrank before him, scared by his strange, excited manner. 

"Yes, it is my name. I am Bridgie O'Shaughnessy. Don't you rememberme?"

"Remember you!" he repeated with an emphasis which was more eloquentthan a hundred protestations. He seized her hands in a painfulpressure. "You are not married, then? It was not true! You did notmarry him as they told me?"

"I? You thought I was married! Oh, what put such an idea into yourhead?"

"I heard it eighteen months ago--shortly after your last letter arrived, telling me about your father, and hinting at other changes which mightfollow. My friend wrote that Miss O'Shaughnessy was engaged to a fellowwith a lot of money--Hilliard--that they were going to be married almostat once. Was it all an invention? Was there no truth in it at all?"

"It was quite true--quite, but it was Esmeralda, not me! She marriedhim over a year ago. "

"Esmeralda! your sister--but he said the eldest daughter, and you arethe eldest. I knew I was not mistaken about that, for I remember everyword you had told me. "

Bridgie smiled faintly; the colour was coming back into her cheeks, andthe grey eyes met his with shy, incredulous happiness. 

"But most people give her the credit for it, all the same. There's somuch more of her, you see. You never wrote to--to ask if it were true?"

"I was too proud and hurt, badly hurt, Bridgie--mortally badly! And younever wrote to ask why I was silent. Were you proud too, orcontemptuous--which was it? Did you think I was nothing but a flirt, and a heartless one at that?"

"I never thought unkindly of you, but I suppose I was proud, for Icouldn't write when all the money was gone, and I was so poor. Ithought you had forgotten, or met someone else! I hoped you were veryhappy, only I--wasn't!" faltered Bridgie, with a little break in hervoice as she spoke that last word, which brought the tears to theCaptain's eyes. He bent his head over the clasped hands, and kissedthem a dozen times over. 

"Bridgie, Bridgie!" he cried brokenly. "Is it true? Have I found youagain after all these years? Can you forgive me for this wretchedblunder which has brought such unhappiness upon us both? I am thankfulto know you were unhappy too, for I had nothing to go on, Bridgie, noclaim whatever upon you, only you must have guessed how I felt. I couldnot believe that you had really given yourself to me in that shorttime. "

"I couldn't myself!" said Bridgie naively. "I tried to pretend that itwas all a mistake, and that I was quite happy without you. " She lookedup at him shyly, and shook her head in the most beguiling denial. "'Twas not a mite of use. I remember all the same! And are you sure--quite sure--that you thought of me all the time? Was there never anyoneelse all these long, long years?"

The Captain smiled and stroked his moustache in amused, contemplativefashion. 

"There was never anyone, except one girl! I met one girl who quitestole my heart, and I think I stole hers into the bargain. "

"Oh! oh! How dreadful! Why did you tell me? But you didn't--you neverthought of marrying her, did you, Dick?"

"I'm not so sure. She did!" He laughed, and seized her hands oncemore. "No, it is too bad! I won't tease you. It was Mamzelle Paddy, darling, to whom I confided my story, and who comforted me in her ownsweet fashion. And she is your sister, and it is she who has brought ustogether! Bridgie, if I didn't love you with all my heart, I believe Ishould still have to marry you, for nothing else than to be Mamzelle'sbrother. "

But Bridgie did not affect to be jealous. She threw back her head, andsmiled happily as she answered, "I'm thankful to hear you say it, forwhoever marries me must love Pixie too. I can never leave her behindme!"

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO. 

CONCLUSION. 

The news of Captain Victor's engagement and long attachment to thecharming Miss O'Shaughnessy caused the greatest interest and excitementamong the guests at the cottage, while his old friends rejoiced to seethe happy brightness on his face. 

"Welcome home, Dick!" Mr Wallace cried, shaking him warmly by thehand. "Thankful to see you back again, instead of that other fellow whohas been moping about in your clothes!" and Pixie commented on theannouncement with her usual outspoken honesty. 

"I told ye it would come all right! I suppose it was you Bridgie wasfretting about, when I thought it was the bills! She's got dips in hercheeks, only you can't see them now, because she's blushing. I'm gladyou are coming into the family, but I don't see how you can ever bemarried! She can't be spared!"

The Captain laughed at that statement, and vowed that she would have tobe spared, and that at an early date; but a shadow fell across Bridgie'sface, and as they sat alone in the garden she said anxiously--

"I am afraid I have been selfish, Dick! I can think of nothing but you, but, after all, Pixie was quite right--I can't possibly be spared for along time to come. She won't be old enough to take charge of a housefor three years at the soonest, and Jack has been so good and unselfishthat I couldn't possibly leave him in the lurch. You have waited solong that you won't mind waiting a few years longer, will you?"

"It doesn't seem to me a particularly logical conclusion, sweetheart!"the Captain said, smiling. "Personally I feel that I ought to berewarded at once, but I won't make any promises one way or another untilI have met your brother and heard his views. Don't worry yourself, youshan't do anything that you feel to be wrong, but I don't despair offinding a solution of the difficulty. When it is an alternative betweenthat and waiting for you for three years, Bridgie, I shall be very, veryresourceful!"

"I don't know what you can do. It's no use suggesting a housekeeper--the boys would not hear of it, and she'd be destroyed in a week with thelife they would lead her!" So argued Bridgie, but she was willing to beconvinced, and too happy in the present to feel much concern for thefuture. 

The weight of depression which had lain on her heart despite her bravecheeriness of manner was lifted once and for ever now that she wasconvinced of Dick's faithful love, and it seemed impossible that shecould ever be more content than at this moment. Until now almost allthe joys of her life had come from an unselfish pleasure in the goodfortune of others, but this wonderful new happiness was her very own, hers and Dick's, and she could hardly believe that it was true, and nota wonderful dream. 

Mrs Wallace's letter had conveyed an invitation to stay for the night, so the lovers had two days to sit and talk together in the lovely summergarden before returning to give an account of themselves in RutlandRoad. 

Jack was not prepared to see a stranger accompanying his sister, but hewelcomed him with Irish heartiness, and guessed how the land lay at thefirst glance at Bridgie's face. So did Pat; so did Miles; but theyconcealed their suspicions with admirable tact, and talked persistentlythrough the evening meal with intent to relieve the embarrassment whichwas so evidently experienced by the hostess. 

Poor Bridgie was painfully conscious of the enormity of her conduct asshe looked from one to the other of her three big brothers. Jack'smanner was nervous and excited. Poor fellow! he was evidently dreadingthe explanations which were in store. Pat was looking pale; he grew sofast that he needed constant care. Miles kept handing her the mustardwith sympathetic effusion; he had a heart of gold and could be led witha word, but it must be the right word, and woe to the housekeeper of thefuture if she tried to rule by force! She smiled at him with wistfulapology, and Miles patted her hand affectionately under the tablecloth. 

It was a pity when a sensible girl like Bridgie made an idiot of herselfby falling in love, but they all seemed to do it sooner or later, andthere was no use making a fuss, Master Miles told himself resignedly. She seemed to have met this Captain Victor years ago, and to havecorresponded with him in India, but she had never mentioned his name athome. How strange to know that Bridgie had had an interest beyond herown brothers and sisters! Miles felt mildly aggrieved, but consoledhimself by the reflection that the Captain seemed a decent sort offellow with plenty to say for himself. He had been on active servicetwice already, and though he refused details of manslaughter, gave sucha graphic account of tiger-shooting expeditions as made Miles's lipswater, and aroused rebellious repinings at his own hard lot in living ina miserable suburb where the only sport to be obtained was the trackingof a few superfluous cats!

When dinner was over, the two boys discreetly lingered behind whiletheir elders retired to the drawing-room, and Bridgie grew rosy red withembarrassment as the door closed behind them. 

"We wanted to tell you, Jack--" she began nervously. "I would have toldyou before, only there was nothing to tell. There isn't now! At least, I mean, it won't be for a long, long time, dear. Not until you don'twant me any more. "

"Better let me try, Bridgie!" cried the Captain, laughing. He put hishand on her shoulder in a proudly possessive fashion, and looked Jackfull in the face. "She is dreadfully afraid of what you will say, andashamed of herself for daring to think of anything but her home duties. It doesn't seem to strike her that she has a duty to me too, when I havebeen thinking of her for the last three years. I must explain to you, O'Shaughnessy, that a friend wrote to tell me that your eldest sisterwas about to be married to a man called Hilliard, and by an unfortunatecoincidence Bridgie herself had vaguely referred to coming changes inher last letter, so I believed the report, and we have mutually beeneating our hearts, and believing the other to be faithless. There wasno engagement, you must understand, but I made up my mind about her thefirst day we met, and she now acknowledges that she ran away because shewas afraid I might interfere with her home claims. You see, I havealready spared her to you for three good years, so I think it is my turnnow! My friends will tell you that I have been miserably dull andsurly, and for their sakes alone I feel I ought to make a stand. "

"And Bridgie has been always sweet and cheerful. We have each expectedher to be sorry for us in turns, and never once suspected that sheneeded us to be sorry for her too. Thank you, Bridgie!" said Jack, looking across at her with a loving look which was the sweetest rewardwhich she could possibly have received for the struggles which had beenso gallantly concealed. 

"It was my greatest comfort to have you all to work and care for when Ithought he had--forgotten!" she cried hastily. "And I have lovedhelping you, Jack! Please speak honestly, dear, let us all speak outhonestly. Of course I want to be with Dick, but I want most of all todo what is right--we all do--and the children must come first. Youcan't be left alone, Jack, and there is no one else to take my place. "

"Unless--" began Jack slowly. Bridgie looked at him in surprise, andsaw the red flush come creeping up from beneath his collar, touch hischeeks, and mount up and up to the roots of his curling hair. "Unless Imarried myself!" he said breathlessly, and at that Bridgie dartedforward and caught him by both hands. 

"What? What? What? Jack, what do you mean? Is it Sylvia? Of courseit is Sylvia! And does she--Jack, what does it mean? Are you engagedtoo? Have you been keeping it from me because you thought--"

"We wouldn't let you think you were in our way; we loved you too much, old girl, so we were quietly waiting until--"

"I came along!" concluded Dick Victor tersely. 

The three young people stood staring at each other for a moment, and thetears brimmed over in Bridgie's eyes, but presently she began to laugh, and the young men joined in with a sense of the happiest relief. Eachone had been thinking of the other, and putting personal hopes in thebackground, and lo, in the simplest, most delightful of fashions, theknot was cut, and each was left free to be happy after his heart'sdesire. 

"Oh, it's perfectly, perfectly perfect!" Bridgie cried rapturously. "The boys adore Sylvia, and will be her devoted slaves; she is twice thehousekeeper that I am, and she has been so lonely, poor darling, withouther parents. Oh, Jack, how nice of you to care for her, and give her ahome!"

"That's what she says!" replied Jack naively. "Shall we send for her tojoin the council? She ought to have her say. I'll run across--"

"No, no! Send Mary. I want to see her first--I want to see exactly howshe looks when she knows she is found out, " Bridgie insisted; so Marywas promptly despatched on her errand, and back came Sylvia, wonderingand excited, and not a little mystified by the presence of the tallstranger. 

"Master Jack has good taste!" said the Captain to himself as he lookedat the dainty figure and erect little head with its crop of curls. "Rather an embarrassing position for the poor girl! Hope they break itto her gently!"

But it was not the O'Shaughnessy custom to break news gently, or in acircuitous fashion, and the moment Sylvia entered the doorway, Bridgieflew at her with outstretched arms, crying incoherently, and withsublime disregard of grammar--

"Oh, Sylvia, Sylvia, I'm engaged! That's him! It's been a mistake allthe time, and we are going to be married at once. We are all going tobe married! Dick and me, and you and Jack, and you are coming here tolook after the house! I thought I couldn't be married because of Jack, and he thought he couldn't be married because of me, and now it's allright, and we can all be happy. I congratulate you, Sylvia!Congratulate me! I made Jack let me tell you, for I knew you would beso surprised. Don't you feel too bewildered to take it in?"

"I do!" replied Sylvia, with much truth. Red as a rose was she, at thissudden and public announcement of her engagement, not knowing where tolook, or what to say, yet with a consciousness of immense happiness tocome, and unfeigned delight at the happy ending to Bridgie's love-story. 

Dick Victor came forward and introduced himself, and presently they allseated themselves, and tried to discuss the future in staid, responsiblefashion. The Captain expected to be quartered in England for theimmediate future, but could not of course be certain of his ultimatemovements. He proposed that he and Bridgie should look out for afurnished house, so as to have a home of their own and yet be ready forsuch changes as might arise. 

Jack anxiously questioned Sylvia as to the responsibility which would behers, and she professed herself only too ready to sister the two dearboys. 

"And Pixie--I should love to have Pixie!" she cried, whereat Bridgiefrowned, and fidgeted restlessly on the sofa. 

"We will make definite arrangements later on, " she said. "Everythingcannot be decided at once. The boys will be quite enough trouble foryou, me dear! They are as good as gold, but they will grow, and theirclothes wear out so fast, and since we came to town they've taken adistaste to patches, and they want money in their own pockets, the sameas the other boys they meet. `If I give you some shillings just tojingle, and show they are there, will that satisfy you?' I asked Patonly last week, and he laughed in my face! It's hard to say `No' whenthey smile at you, Sylvia, but you'll have to do it. "

"I--don't--know!" said Sylvia slowly. The others looked at herquestioningly, and she turned to Jack with a sparkling face. "I waswaiting for a chance of telling you. Mr Nisbet telegraphed to Ceylonabout father's death, and I've had a letter from his lawyers. It camelast night, and I'm rich, Jack! Isn't it lovely?--really quite rich!The lawsuit was settled in his favour, and he was coming home to settle, and now everything comes to me. I can help with the boys, and some day, when you are ready, we can go back to Knock, and live in the old homeagain! I've been so happy since I heard, thinking that at last I coulddo something for you too. You are pleased about it, aren't you, Jack?Do say you are pleased!"

Jack's beaming smile was the best answer to that question. 

"'Deed, I'm delighted!" he declared. "I'll spend money with any manalive, and the more there is, the better I'm pleased. We will staywhere we are and see the boys settled, and let Geoffrey enjoy his lease, and then we'll go home, and I shall probably have some savings of my ownto add to yours by that time, and not feel I am living on my wife. I'mthankful you have the money, and I'm thankful that I knew nothing of itbefore we were engaged. "

"And so am I!" said Sylvia softly. 

A week later there was a second conference, at which every member of thefamily put in an appearance, and the question of the hour was, "Whoshall have Pixie? Where shall Pixie have her home?"

"I am the head of the family. It is the right thing that she should bewith me. Sylvia and I would both like to have her, so it is unnecessaryto discuss the point any further, " said Mr Jack, with an air. 

"I don't wish to say anything in the least unkind to Sylvia--you knowthat, don't you, dear?" cried Esmeralda the magnificent, sitting amidstbillows of chiffon and lace, and smiling sweetly across the room. "Butthe fact remains that I am Pixie's real sister, and she is not; and Ithink a sister's claim comes before a brother's. Bridgie will have nosettled home, and I am at Knock. Anyone might see at a glance that herhome ought to be with me, under the circumstances. "

"I want Pixie!" said Bridgie softly. "I want Pixie!"

And Pixie sat on the edge of the sofa, and looked from one to the otherwith bright, bird-like glances. Everyone wanted her, everyone had anargument to prove a prior claim; they were all arguing and strugglingfor the supreme happiness of welcoming her into their households. Itwas the happiest moment of her life. 

"It's like Solomon and the babies!" she cried exultantly. "Ye'll haveto cut me in threes, and divide the pieces. Esmeralda shall have myhead, for the times when she loses her own; Sylvia shall have my feet, because she limps herself; and, "--she looked across the room deep intoBridgie's eyes--"Bridgie shall have my heart! It would be with her, anyway, wherever she went. "

The tears brimmed over in Bridgie's eyes; Esmeralda frowned quickly, then glanced at Geoffrey, as he stood by her side, and softened into asmile. 

Jack stifled a sigh, and said gravely--

"Pixie has settled the question for herself. After that confessionthere can be no more to say. Take her, Bridgie, but be generous andspare her to us for part of the year. We all need you, Pixie--wiselittle head, willing little feet, loving little heart--every single bitof you. Come and help us as often as you can. "

THE END.