Charles Rex

by Ethel M. Dell

  CHAPTER VI

  HOW TO MANAGE MEN

  Bunny's lanky form followed and also cleared the rose-tree withinfinitely less grace, and again the girl laughed, her wide blue eyesalight with mirth.

  "What an antic! I thought you were going to pull up the rose bush withyour heels! What are you doing that for?"

  Bunny's hands were on her shoulders. He was plainly enjoying himselfthoroughly. "I'm feeling for the wings," he explained. "I'll swear younever jumped it. Where do you keep 'em?"

  She drew herself away from his touch. "No, I haven't got any. They don'tgrow on people like me. Don't let's stay here! I feel as if we're beingwatched."

  It was then that Maud spoke from her window in her quiet gentle voicethat yet held a certain authority.

  "Bunny, bring our visitor up to see me!"

  Both Bunny and his companion started and looked up, and Maud saw thegirl's face fully for the first time--a nervous little face with hauntingwide blue eyes made more intense by the short thick black lashes thatsurrounded them, eyes that seemed to plead for kindness. There was charmabout the pointed chin and a good deal of sweetness about the moulding ofthe mouth. But it was the eyes that held Maud's attention. They were theeyes of a creature who has known the wild agony of fear and is not easilyreassured. Yet the face was the face of a child.

  She leaned out a little further on her sill and addressed the stranger."Come up and speak to me!" she said very kindly. "Bunny will show you theway."

  A shy flickering smile answered her. She cast a questioning look atBunny.

  "Yes, that's Maud--my sister," said Bunny. "Come along! This way!"

  They entered the house by a French window, and Maud drew back into herroom. What was there in that childish face that appealed so tremendouslyto her womanhood--wholly banishing her first involuntary sense of recoil?She could not have said, she was only conscious of the woman in herthrobbing with a deep compassion. She stood and waited for the child'scoming with a strangely poignant expectation.

  She heard Bunny's voice talking cheerily on the stairs, but his wordsprovoked no response. She went to the door and opened it.

  Bunny was leading the way; in fact his companion seemed to be laggingvery considerably in the rear.

  Maud moved out into the passage, and Bunny stood to one side with acourteous gesture. "Mademoiselle Antoinette Larpent!" he announced.

  The small figure in blue drew itself together with a certain bravado andcame forward.

  Maud held out her hands. "My dear child," she said, "I expected you longago."

  The hands she clasped were very small and cold. They did not cling to heras she had half expected. The blue eyes flashed her a single nervousglance and fell.

  "I'm sorry I'm late, madam," said the visitor in a low, punctiliousvoice.

  Maud felt amused and chilled in the same moment. "Come and sit down!" shesaid. "We will have some tea upstairs. Bunny, go and order it, will you?"

  "With pleasure," said Bunny. "And may I return?"

  She smiled at him as she passed an arm about the girl's narrow shoulders."Yes, you can come back when it's ready. Come in here, dear! You willlike to take off your things. How long have you been here?"

  "Only five minutes," came the murmured answer; she thought it had adeprecating sound.

  "You must be tired," she said kindly. "You came from town? How is it youare so late? Did you miss your train?"

  "No, madam." Very nervously came the reply. The contrast between this andthe boyish freedom of manner on the terrace a few seconds before wouldhave been ludicrous if it had not been somehow pathetic.

  She passed on, too considerate to press for details. "Take off your hatand coat, won't you? When we have had some tea I will take you to yourroom."

  She was pleased to see that Charlie's _protege_ was garbed with extremesimplicity. Her fair hair, which had been closely shorn, was beginning tocurl at the ends. She liked the delicate contrasting line of the blackbrows above the deep blue of the eyes. She noticed that the veins on thewhite temples showed with great distinctness.

  "Sit down!" she said. "And now you must tell me what to call you. Yourname is Antoinette, isn't it?"

  "I'm generally called Toby," said the visitor in a very shy voice. "Butyou will call me--what you like."

  "Would you like me to call you Toby?" Maud asked.

  "Yes, please," said Toby with unexpected briskness.

  Maud smiled. "Very well, my dear. Then that is settled. We are not goingto be strangers, you and I. I expect you know that Lord Saltash and I aregreat friends--though I have never met your father."

  Toby's pale young face flushed suddenly. She was silent for a moment.Then: "Lord Saltash has been very good to me," she said in her shy voice."He--saved me from drowning. Wasn't it--wasn't it nice of him to--takethe trouble?"

  "Quite nice of him," Maud agreed. "You must have been very frightened,weren't you?"

  Toby suppressed a shudder. "I was rather. And the water was dreadfullycold. I thought we should never come up again. It was like--it waslike--" She stopped herself. "He said I was never to talk about it--orthink about it--so I won't, if you don't mind."

  "Tell me about your father!" said Maud sympathetically.

  For the second time the blue eyes flashed towards her. "Oh, he is stillill in a nursing home and not allowed to see anyone." There was a hint ofrecklessness in her voice. "They say he'll get well again, but--I don'tknow."

  "You are anxious about him," Maud said.

  "No, I'm not." Recklessness became something akin to defiance. "I don'tlike him much. He's so surly."

  "My dear!" said Maud, momentarily disconcerted.

  "Well, it's no good pretending I do when I don't, is it?" said Toby, andsuddenly smiled at her with winning gracelessness. "It isn't my faultWe're not friends--never have been. Why," she made a little gesture ofthe hands, "we hardly know each other. I'd never been on _The Night Moth_before."

  "And you'll never go again," commented Bunny, entering at the moment,"Maud, do you know I took--Miss Larpent--" he turned deliberately to Tobywho snapped her fingers in airy acknowledgment--"to see the races insteadof coming straight back--according to the boss's instructions."

  "Oh! So that's where you've been!" said Maud.

  "Exactly so." Bunny pulled up a chair and disposed his long legs astrideit. "We saw several events, and made a bit. Then Forest Fire let us downbadly and we lost the lot. After that we went into the paddock to coolourselves and met the boss, who at once--somewhat rudely--ordered ushome. I have an impression he's feeling waxy with me for some reason,"Bunny ended, stroking his chin reflectively. "Daresay I shall get overit, however."

  "What a pity you went!" said Maud.

  "Not at all," said Bunny. "We enjoyed it. It's fun doing naughty thingssometimes, isn't it,--er--Miss Larpent?"

  "Don't be an ass!" said Toby tersely.

  Maud raised her brows, but Bunny grinned with delight. "Thank you Toby! Itake the hint. There shall be no more ceremony between us. Ah! There comethe children along the path by the summerhouse!" he sprang to the windowand sent forth a yell, turning back almost instantly to say, "Sorry,Maud! I'm afraid I forgot your head. How is it?"

  He did not wait for her reply, but leaned out again immediately toaddress the advancing children with noisy gayety.

  Toby looked up at Maud, hesitated, and rose. "Let us go and have tea withthe children!" she said. "It will be quieter for you."

  Maud put out a gentle hand to her. "No, dear. You stay with me. Bunny mayif he likes!"

  This time Toby's fingers closed tightly upon her own. "Sure?" said Toby.

  "Quite sure," said Maud, smiling at her.

  Toby turned sharply and pinched Bunny's elbow as he leaned from thewindow. He drew himself in and stared at her.

  "You're making too much noise," she told him curtly. "You go and racketdownstairs!"

  Bunny's eyes widened for a second in indignant amazement, then abruptlyhe threw up his chin and laughed. "I like you!" he
declared. "You're thecockiest thing in girls I've ever seen!"

  Toby pulled at his elbow like a small, persistent dog. "Go on!" shecommanded. "Go down to them! Mrs. Bolton and I want to have our teaalone. I'll come and play with you presently--if you're good."

  It was spoken wholly without coquetry, much as an elder brother mightspeak to a younger. It was plain that she meant to have her way, thoughMaud, who knew that there was a very strong mixture of stubbornness inBunny, wondered much if she would get it. Amusement, however, kept theupper hand with him. Toby's treatment evidently appealed strongly to hissense of humour. Perhaps her determination also made its impression uponhim, for after a little more chaff on his part and brisk insistence onhers he departed, laughing, to join the children.

  Toby saw him to the door and returned calm and triumphant.

  "Well done!" said Maud. "You know how to deal with spoilt childrenevidently."

  Toby looked at her sharply as she sat down, almost as if she expected adouble meaning to the words.

  "Do you mean men?" she said, and for an instant her childish face wore alook of contempt. "Oh, anyone can manage men--given a fair chance.There's not much cleverness needed for that."

  She spoke with the decision of one who knew, and in spite of thedifference of years between them Maud could not question her confidence.She had a curious feeling that--either by experience or intuition--thisgirl knew more than she.

  She made no comment therefore, and after a moment Toby spoke her lastword on the subject with characteristic brevity.

  "There's only one rule to follow with men--that is, if you want any peaceat all. Make up your mind and stick to it! If they don't like it, let 'emgo to--" She checked suddenly, and coloured deeply under Maud's eyes--"Imean, let 'em do the other thing," she ended, on a note that somehowseemed to ask for pardon.

  "I see," said Maud gently, in a tone that conveyed it.

  Toby threw her a little smile, half-grateful and half-mischievous; andcuriously in that moment a bond was formed between them which wasdestined to endure.