Mollie's Prince: A Novel

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

  CHAPTER XXV.

  A WET NIGHT, AND A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION.

  "I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!"

  _Merchant of Venice._

  "Beggar I am, I am even poor in thanks."

  _Hamlet._

  What a strange Christmas Eve it was! Waveney felt as though she were ina dream, as she sat there demurely pouring out the tea, with Bettybeside her, counting the lumps of sugar in each cup.

  "Two for daddie, and one big one for Uncle Theo? Oh, that is not bigenough, is it, Uncle Theo? And oh, dear!"--in a reproachful voice--"youdid put in the milk first."

  "I shall know better next time," returned Waveney, smiling; and then shewatched Betty spreading her father's toast with butter. The child'sconcentrated earnestness, her absorbed gravity, amused her; but Tristramevidently took it as a matter of course. What a cosy room it was!Waveney thought. The crimson curtains were drawn, and a bright fireburnt in both the fireplaces--an unwonted extravagance--in honour ofChristmas Eve; the circle of easy-chairs round the farthest fireplacelooked snug and inviting.

  Thorold did not talk much during tea-time--he left the conversationprincipally to his brother; but he often looked at the little figurethat occupied Joanna's place. His fastidious eyes noticed the neat,dainty movements and the changes of expression on the bright, speakingface, and the lovely dimple when Waveney smiled or laughed. A man couldhardly be dull with such a companion, he thought; and then, at somesudden suggestion, some overwhelming possibility, a dull flush rose tohis temples, and he went to the window to inspect the weather.

  "I am sorry to say that it is still raining, Miss Ward," he said,quietly, "and I am afraid we are in for a wet night; but I will get youa cab----"

  "A cab!" interrupted Waveney, in a dismayed tone. "Oh, no, thank you,Mr. Chaytor, you must do nothing of the kind. I am as strong as a lion,and I never take cold--at least, scarcely ever. And what does a littlerain matter?"

  "You are a Stoic," he returned, somewhat amused at this; but she seemedso horrified at his suggestion that he said no more--being a man ofdeeds, not words. So when Waveney took possession of an easy-chair, andBetty brought her her baby doll to admire, she felt comfortablyconvinced that she would be allowed her own way; but she had reckonedwithout her host.

  Waveney chatted happily to the child, while Tristram watched them withthe lazy enjoyment of a tired man; and she never wondered why Mr.Chaytor was absent so long until he re-entered the room in his ulster.

  "The cab is here, Miss Ward," he said, coolly; "and you will find yourthings in my sister's room. Jemima says they are quite dry."

  Then Waveney only flashed a look of reproach at him, and walked meeklyout of the room.

  Of course he was right, she knew that, and that the idea of the long,lonely walk, in the pelting rain, was absurd in the highest degree. Butas Waveney went upstairs she was not sure that she liked the quiet wayin which Mr. Chaytor asserted his will; it made her feel like a littleschool-girl in the presence of a master. He had not taken the trouble toargue the point with her, or to prove to her that she had made amistake, but had just gone out and brought the cab; and so Waveney, who,in spite of her sweet temper, was a trifle self-willed and obstinate,felt secretly aggrieved, and even offended. And she entered the parlourwith so dignified an air that Thorold, who could read her face, smiledto himself.

  Betty ran to her with a sorrowful exclamation.

  "Oh, must you go, Wavie, dear?" she said, dubiously.

  "Why, Bet," observed her uncle, rather shocked at this familiarity,"aren't you taking rather a liberty with your kind friend?"

  "She told me her name," returned Bet, in eager defence, "and she did saythat I might call her what I liked. I know it was Wavie, or somethinglike it."

  "Very like it, indeed, darling," replied Waveney, kneeling down andputting her arms round the child; "and it is prettier than Waveney, andI shall always want you to call me so. Now good-night, my little Betty."And then, as Betty clung to her and kissed her, Thorold looked at themrather gravely.

  "I am ready now," observed Waveney, resuming her stiff manner. "Isuppose it will be no use telling you, Mr. Chaytor, that I can very wellgo by myself."

  "No," he returned, looking at her with very keen, bright eyes. "I amafraid your words would be wasted. You see, Miss Ward, I have aconscience, and my conscience tells me that I ought to see you safe inMiss Harford's hands." But to this Waveney vouchsafed no reply. Shejumped into the cab and settled herself in her corner, and left Mr.Chaytor to dispose of himself as he would; and when he placed himselfopposite to her, she only looked out intently at the lighted shops.

  Even the rain could not quite damp the festivity. The snow-white turkeysand geese, garlanded with holly, made a brave show; and the butcher'sshop was full of shabby customers. Waveney's soft heart yearned as usualover the babies and little children. Then she turned her head, and metMr. Chaytor's amused glance--it was so kind, it spoke of such completeunderstanding, that she felt a little ashamed of herself.

  "Miss Ward, have you forgiven me yet for doing my duty like a man?"

  Waveney struggled with a smile, but she had not quite recovered herself,so she said, rather coldly,--

  "I don't see that my forgiveness matters a bit!"

  "Is not that rather crushing?" he returned. "Especially as it mattersvery much to me. I wish you would be friendly enough to tell me the realcause of offence. You could not reasonably expect that I should let youswim through this"--the rain beating an accompaniment to his words. "Iwould not have let my sister do it"--his voice softening intoinvoluntary tenderness. Never had she seemed so lovable to him, eventhough her childish waywardness was making him smile.

  "It was not the cab I minded so much," stammered Waveney, tingling withshame and confusion to her finger-ends, and glad of the darkness thathid her hot cheeks; "only you did it without telling me"--Waveney didnot dare say what she really thought: that he had managed her like achild--"and it makes me unhappy, it does indeed, Mr. Chaytor, to bringyou out this dreadful night, when you are so tired and have been hard atwork all day."

  "I never felt less tired in my life! And you are giving me greatpleasure, in allowing me to perform this little service for you." ThenWaveney blushed again, but this time for pleasure, for Mr. Chaytor'svoice convinced her that he was speaking the truth, the whole truth andnothing but the truth.

  "Now we have had our first and last little difference," he went on,cheerfully, "and shall be better friends than ever." And there was nooutward dissent to this; only a mutinous sparkle in Waveney's dark eyesshowed a silent protest.

  "Would it be their last difference?" she thought; for she was a shrewd,sensible little woman, and had her own opinions on most things; but atleast she had the grace and honesty to own that on this occasion she hadbeen in the wrong.

  What a short drive it was, after all! Almost before Waveney had seenthat they were at the top of the hill they were driving through thelodge gates.

  Althea came out into the hall to meet them in her heliotrope velveteenand lace ruff. She looked more like Queen Bess than ever.

  "My dear child, I have been so anxious about you! But of course I hopedyou had taken shelter. Thank you for bringing her home, Thorold. Willyou come in, or is your cab waiting? We have our usual mulled wine andChristmas cake, which you ought to taste for the sake of the old langsyne."

  "May I give the cabman some? Poor old fellow, he is so cold!" But it wasa mere form of words. He need not have asked the question. On ChristmasEve not an errand boy or a carol singer left the Red House without beingregaled with Christmas fare--"cakes and ale," as Althea and Doreencalled it.

  Thorold carried out a great mug of hot spiced wine and a mighty wedge ofcake to the driver; then he took his by the hall fire, as he said he wastoo wet and dirty for the library. Waveney found him there alone whenshe came downstairs. Fresh pensioners were claiming the sisters'attention. He looked w
armed and refreshed, and recommended her to followhis example.

  "See what a treat you have given me, Miss Ward!" he said, smiling."There is no mulled wine like this anywhere. The flavour brings back mydear old home to me."

  "Do you mean the old Manor House?" she asked, softly.

  "Yes," he returned, dreamily. "It is the season for old memories, is itnot? At Christmas and New Year's Day the ghosts of the past stalk out oftheir dim recesses; but they are dearly loved visitants, and we do notfear them. Do you know what the Germans call '_heimweh_?' Have you everexperienced it?"

  But he need not have asked, for at the unexpected question the girl'shead drooped to hide her tears. How could he know, how could any oneknow, how that brave young heart ached ceaselessly for her home andMollie. Mr. Chaytor was quite shocked at himself.

  "Dear Miss Ward," he said, gently, "you must forgive me again, you see;but I spoke without thinking."

  Then Waveney shook her head and looked at him with a touching littlesmile.

  "You have done nothing--it is only I who am silly to-night; but oh! I amalways so wanting father and Mollie. But I shall see them to-morrow. Mr.Chaytor, I must go now; but thank you so much for all your kindness andfor bringing me home. I am not ungrateful, really." And Waveney's weteyes looked so sad and beautiful as she raised them to his face that Mr.Chaytor thought of them all through his drive home.

  When Waveney woke the next morning she found the rain had ceased; butit was still too dark to discover anything further. They drove to churchfor the early service, and the warm, lighted church, with its Christmasdecorations, and crowded with worshippers, reminded her of thedearly-loved church where she and Mollie had knelt side by side for somany years.

  Breakfast was ready for them on their return, and they had the usualnoisy welcome from Fuss and Fury. But Waveney was a little perplexedwhen Althea told her, with a smile, that she must eat her breakfast asquickly as possible, as they had plenty of business before them. "It isa comfort the rain has stopped," she continued, with an irrepressibleshiver, "for we cannot possibly have the carriage out again, until wedrive to town. How thankful I am that Aunt Sara gave me that fur-linedcloak last Christmas!" she went on, addressing her sister. "It keeps outthe cold as nothing else does. I feel as cosy as that robin does in hisred waistcoat."

  Waveney ate her breakfast a little silently; she was wondering why therewas no greeting word from home. Perhaps the postman had not come.

  "Have you finished, Waveney?" asked Doreen, a little abruptly."By-and-bye, if you have, we may as well go to the library, or we shallnever get our parcels undone before it is time to start for church."

  Waveney opened her eyes rather widely at this; but when she entered theroom, she stared in amazement. The centre-table seemed a mass of plants,and brown paper parcels of every size and description were heaped onevery available space.

  To her surprise Althea quietly drew back the curtain of Cosy Nook, andmotioned her to enter.

  "You can amuse yourself there for a little while," she said, brightly,"while Doreen and I open our parcels. You will see Aunt Sara has notforgotten you." And then, with a kindly nod, she withdrew.

  It was a pity that no interested observer saw the girl's start and blushof delight, for there, just opposite her, was a dress, flung across achair, and a paper pinned on one sleeve. "Waveney, from her lovingfriend, Althea Harford."

  Althea had pleased her own taste in the choice of that frock. It was adark sapphire blue velveteen of the same shade as the cloak, and wasperfectly plain, except for a dainty little ruff of yellowish lace; andnothing could have suited Waveney's pale, little face better.

  She stood for a long time with folded hands, in mute admiration of thatmarvellous garment; she knew now why her white dress had disappeared somysteriously for a day or two. It wanted doing up, Nurse Marks told her.But when it had been returned, Waveney could see very little difference.The poor, little frock looked sadly frayed and shabby; no wonder MissAlthea thought she needed a new one. But the kindness and the generosityof the gift were beyond everything, and there was a lump in Waveney'sthroat as her fingers touched the soft pile of the velveteen.

  Doreen's present was a box of handkerchiefs, with Waveney's initialsprettily embroidered by one of the workers at the Home, and Mrs.Mainwaring, with characteristic kindness and good taste, had contributeda beautiful little muff.

  But Waveney's pleasure reached its climax when her eyes discovered aneat, little umbrella, with a note from Mollie attached to the ivoryhandle. "Please do not think me extravagant, darling," it began,"because I really can afford to give myself a big treat this year. The_menu_-cards have sold splendidly. Mr. Ingram says his sister has givenhim a commission for three more sets, so I shall be quite rich. I havebought myself a new jacket and hat, and father says that he certainlymeans to get me a tweed dress for Christmas, so I shall be as smart asyou. He is only sending you gloves, but I know you will like them.

  "And I have bought the umbrella out of my own earnings. You cannot thinkhow proud I am of that! The poor old Gamp you were using would not keepa sparrow dry, it was so worn out, and I could not bear to think of yougetting wet through. A happy Christmas to you, my darling! and no moreat present from your loving Mollie."

  Noel's present was wrapped up with the gloves; it was only a smallmanuscript book, neatly bound with blue ribbon, and in Noel'sflourishing school-boy hand was written,--

  "The further adventures of Monsieur Blackie, by a Humourist, anddedicated with the author's compliments to old Storm-and-Stress."

  Ten minutes later, when Althea peeped through the curtain, she foundWaveney still hugging her umbrella, while she looked over thepen-and-ink sketches with eyes twinkling with amusement. "Do you thinkit will fit?" she asked, softly. Then the girl started to her feet, herface crimson with emotion.

  "Oh, Miss Althea, how am I to thank you?" she exclaimed. "You are tookind, oh, far too kind to me." And then, almost tearfully, "I havenothing to give you in return."

  "Nothing! I thought I saw a pretty penwiper among my parcels, but Isuppose I must have dreamt it; and I had an impression that Doreenshowed me a needle-book."

  "Oh, but they were only trifles."

  "My dear, no gift, however small, from one who loves us, is a trifle,and I shall value your present. We have all we want, dear child, and thekindness of our friends almost embarrasses us. When you come back I mustshow you the beautiful things some of the girls have made for me, butthere is no time to look at them now, for the church-bells are ringing."And then, as they went upstairs, Waveney laden with her treasures, thecrowning touch was put to her day's pleasure. "I am so glad you likeyour frock, dear," remarked Althea; "it is certainly seasonable forwinter evenings. You will find a parcel in your room directed to Mollie;it contains a similar dress for her." And the flash of joy in Waveney'seyes certainly repaid her.