The Fortunes of the Farrells

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

  CHAPTER TWO.

  AN EVENING AT HOME.

  The father of Ruth and Mollie Farrell had died when the latter was twoyears old, leaving his wife but a few hundred pounds with which tosupport herself and her children. She was a pretty, winsome creature,the sort of woman who attracts sympathy and love, but a most difficultperson to help.

  Friends came forward with suggestions and offers of assistance, and MrsFarrell thanked them ardently, and wept, and agreed to all that theysaid. In words, she was ready to undertake any exertion, howeverarduous; but when it came to deeds, she was so weak, so incapable, sohopelessly confused, that the school, the boarding-house, and the homefor Indian children ended successively in failure.

  At the end of three years her scanty capital was almost exhausted; butat this critical moment the Fates--which seem to take special care ofthe helpless ones of the earth--sent Ernest Connor to play the part ofrescuer. He was a round stone in a square hole, that is to say, astudent by nature, who, by the exigencies of fortune, found himselfdoomed to a business life, wherein he was a painstaking but consistentfailure.

  Nervous and shy, he shrank from the society of women; but it wasimpossible to be shy with the irresponsible little widow, who confidedall her troubles to him on the first day of their acquaintance, andasked his advice with tears in her pretty eyes. To his amazement, hefound himself confiding his own troubles in return, and the readysympathy accorded to them seemed the sweetest thing in the world. Amonth after their first meeting he asked her to be his wife, explaininghonestly his financial position, and the uncertainty of improvement inthe future.

  "But you will help me!" he said. "The money will go twice as far whenyou hold the purse!"

  And Mrs Farrell agreed with ardour, unabashed by previous failures.She went to her new home full of love and gratitude, and, let it be saidat once, never had cause to regret the step in after years.

  Ernest Connor was a devoted husband, and a most kindly father to the twolittle girls; but life was not easy. It was a constant strain to makeends meet, and as Trix, and Betty, and Drummond, and Ransome, and Brucecame in quick succession to fill the nursery, the strain grew even moreand more acute.

  The elder girls had been educated at a neighbouring high school, butleft as soon as they were seventeen, and after that there was no moneyto spare for music and painting lessons, such as most girls continue asan interest and occupation long after schooldays are over.

  Ruth and Mollie were kept busy teaching the babies and making clothesfor the family--cutting down Trix's dress to do duty for Betty;laboriously planning little pairs of knickers out of trousers worn atthe knees; patching, darning, covering-up, hiding over, turning andtwisting; making up something out of nothing, with the lordly sum offifteen pounds a year each for dress and pocket-money alike. They hadnever known the luxury, dear to girlish hearts, of choosing a garmentsimply because it was pretty or becoming. Dark, useful remnants weretheir lot; sailor-hats in summer, cloth toques in winter; stout, usefulboots, and dogskin gloves which stood a year's hard wear.

  Many a time over had Mollie stretched forth hands and feet for hersister's inspection, quoting derisively--

  "`Her thickly--made country shoes could not conceal the slender contourof her ankles; her rough gloves served only to reveal the patricianbeauty of her hands.' Look at that, my love--there's contour for you!There's patrician beauty! What rubbish those books do talk, to besure!"

  Many a time had the girls groaned together over their impecuniosity, andvaguely vowed to "do something" to remedy their condition, until at lastRuth's unrest had reached the point of action, and she determined toseize the first opportunity of a private conference with her mother.

  It was not easy to secure a _tete-a-tete_ in the house of Connor. Onthis particular evening, Trix was practising scales on the piano in thedrawing-room, while Mollie read a novel, and Betty lolled on the rug;the three boys were busy at lessons, or, as they eloquently describedit, "stewing," round the dining-room table. Mr Connor was smoking hispipe and reading the evening papers in his den at the back of the house;and the little, white-faced mother moved incessantly from room to room,no sooner settled in one place than she was seized with an anxiouspresentiment that she was needed elsewhere.

  She was pretty still, in a pathetic, faded manner; and wherever she wentshe spoke loving, gentle words, and met loving glances in response: but,alas, her efforts seemed rather distracting than helpful! She strokedDrummond's hair, and asked if he was sure his throat was better, just ashe was on the point of completing a difficult addition; she told herhusband the tragic history of the cook's impertinence, and handed him aheavy bill, when the poor man was enjoying the first quiet rest of theday; she requested Mollie's advice about spare-room curtains at themoment when long-separated lovers were united, and it was agony to liftone's eyes from the page for the fraction of a second.

  Husband and children alike answered gently and with courtesy, for, ifthere was little else, there was plenty of love in this shabbyhousehold, and the little mother was the central figure round whicheverything revolved; nevertheless, her departure was marked by half-involuntary sighs of relief, as if a disturbing element had beenwithdrawn.

  Ruth knew that she would have to bide her time until the younger membersof the family had retired to bed; but, too restless to settle down toany definite occupation, she drifted across the drawing-room to whereTrix sat, her fingers scrambling up and down the notes of the piano.Trix was tall and lanky; she had grey eyes, set far apart, a _retrousse_nose, dotted over with quite a surprising number of freckles, and anuntidy shock of light-brown hair.

  In years to come it was possible that she might develop into a prettygirl; at the present moment she despised appearances, and certainlyfailed to make the best of her good points. Now, as she sat by thepiano-stool, with shoulders hunched up and head poked forward, shelooked so awkward and ungainly that Ruth's tried nerves suffered afreshat the sight.

  "For pity's sake, sit up, Trix!" she cried sharply. "You look a perfectobject, bent double like that! You might be deformed, to look at yourback! If you go on like this, you will grow so round-shouldered thatyou won't be able to get straight again, and how will you like that?"

  Trix deliberately finished her scale, then faced her sister, andretorted pertly--

  "Very much indeed, thank you--if you will only realise that I _can't_help it, and leave me alone! I'd rather be a humpback at once, than beworried morning, noon, and night about deportment, as I am now. Myback's my own; I can use it as I like!"

  "It's wicked to talk like that, Trix, and very impertinent as well! Whois to tell you of your faults if we don't at home? Other people lookon, and say, `What a fright that girl looks! How shockingly she carriesherself!' But they don't trouble to tell you about it, and it is notvery pleasant for us when you take it like this. If we did not love youand care for your interests--"

  "Oh dear me," sighed naughty Trix, "then I wish you'd love me a littleless! I could bear it quite well if you lost your interest, and left mein peace. You and Mollie can do the beauty show for the family; I amcontent to represent `intellect and common-sense.' If you wantsomething to do, you might help me with a French exercise instead ofnagging. It's simply awful to-day; and if I lose any more marks, it'sall up with my chance of getting a prize. Now, then--will you, or won'tyou?"

  Trix's method of asking favours was hardly as ingratiating as might bedesired, and for a moment the chances seemed all in favour of a refusal.The colour flamed in Ruth's cheeks, and her black brows drew ominouslynear together. She was fighting a hard battle against pride andresentment; but, as was usually the case, the better self won. Shenodded back at Trix, and said--

  "I will! ... Run and bring your books. We won't venture into thedining-room, for the boys make such a noise that one can't hear one'sown voice."

  There was something very sweet in the absolute surrender of self-will,and Trix, who was the most warm-hearted of mortals, promptly bounded upfrom
her stool and flung her arms round her sister's neck.

  "You duck--you angel! You shall nag at me as much as ever you like, andI'll never be cheeky again. It's brickish of you to worry about me atall; but I'll always be a fright, so what's the use? You are prettyenough for the family, Ruth. Ella Bruce's brother watches behind thecurtains every Sunday to see you pass, and he says you are the prettiestgirl he knows, and are always so nicely dressed!"

  "Poor, deluded mortal; may he be forgiven for his blindness! I'm theshabbiest creature in the parish! It's very nice of him to watch; but Iwish he would come out from behind the curtains and let me see him. Ihave not so many admirers that I can afford to have them hidden fromview. What is he like, Trix; handsome?"

  "Oh, well enough! Ella thinks him a model, but he is too thin and lankyfor my taste. He is not half good enough for you, Ruth, anyway. Youought to marry a duke, and retrieve the fortunes of the family!"

  "I'm willing, my dear. Produce him, and I promise you I will not standin the way. I could do quite easily with being a duchess. It would beso soothing to be called `Your Grace,' and a coronet is peculiarlysuited to my style of beauty. I won't have you for a bridesmaid,though, if you stoop like that. Get your book, Trix, and let us set towork. Better take advantage of my good mood while it lasts."

  Trix departed obediently, and returned with a pile of books, which shedropped upon the table with a bang, which made the other occupants ofthe room start in their seats, and for the next hour the two girlswrestled with the difficulties of an advanced Brachet exercise. Truthto tell, Ruth was not much more expert than Trix herself; but she wasinfinitely more exact, and, by dint of hunting up back rules, and makingendless references to the irregular verbs, the result achieved wasfairly correct.

  It was ten o'clock. Betty and the three boys had departed to bed;Mollie still sat gloating over her novel, with a forefinger thrust intoeither ear to shut out the sound of the disturbing discussion on moodsand tenses. Trix collected her books with a sigh, and prepared to goupstairs in her turn. She looked white and tired, and the freckles onher nose seemed darker and more conspicuous than ever.

  "Good-night, old Ruth! Thanks, most awfully! I'll do as much for yousome day."

  "Good-night, young Trix! Mind you do. I shall remind you when the timecomes."

  The door opened and closed; Ruth rose wearily, and laid her hand onMollie's shoulder. Such a charming face was lifted to meet her glance--so fresh, so bright, full of such dazzling youth and vigour! True,Mollie had been lazing all the evening while the others worked; but asRuth stood looking down at her she wondered for the hundredth time howit was that so little was made of Mollie's beauty in comparison with herown.

  The golden hair rippled back in a thick, soft wave; the grey eyes werelarge, and generously lashed; the laughing lips parted, to show white,even, little teeth; yet a stranger, looking for the first time at MollieFarrell, rarely remarked upon her good looks.

  "What a nice girl! What a dear girl! What a delightful creature!" theycried, according to their different degrees of enthusiasm. They wantedto know her, to have her for a friend, and forgot to think of mereoutward appearance.

  "What a noise you have been making, Ruth!" said Mollie lazily. "I can'tthink why you can't be quiet when you get a chance! This book is tooexciting for words. I told you how the lovers quarrelled just afterthey were married, and he went abroad, thinking, of course, that shedidn't love him any more; while, of course, she simply adored the groundhe trod on, but thought that he had grown tired of her, while he wasmore madly in--"

  Ruth gave an exclamation of impatience.

  "Oh, what rubbish! I don't believe such things are possible! If theyreally loved each other, do you suppose they could keep on pretendingwhile they lived together every day, and when it came to saying good-byeinto the bargain? Nonsense! She'd break down and howl, and he wouldcomfort her, and take off his coat. Look here, Mollie--go to bed! I'vewaited all the evening to have a talk with mother, and you are the onlyimpediment left. Take your book with you if you like,--but go!"

  Mollie rose, unwillingly enough.

  "I know what you want to talk about," she said, looking into Ruth'sface. "I know; and it's not a mite of use. Mother won't let you leavehome; she needs you far too much. I shan't go to sleep, for I shallwant to hear every single word when you come upstairs. I'll snoodle upto the hot bottle, and read till you come."

  The programme sounded very attractive,--to snoodle up to the hot bottle,and lie at ease reading an interesting book,--much more attractive thanto linger downstairs by the dying fire, and discuss disagreeableproblems with an anxious mother. But Ruth did not waver in herdecision, and a few moments later Mrs Connor was caught paying a roundof visits to the children's bedrooms--"just in time," as Ruth thoughtwhimsically, "to waken the poor souls from their first sleep!"--andescorted back to the chair which Mollie had vacated.

  "Is anything wrong, dear?" she asked nervously. Poor little woman, if asurprise were in store, it seemed so much more likely that it should bedisagreeable rather than bright! "You don't feel feverish, or ill,or--"

  "No, no, my dear; I just want to talk to you about my own affairs. I'mquite well, and so strong and--and grown-up, don't you know, that it istime I grew independent, and began life on my own account. You haveMollie at home, and Trix and Betty growing up, and I think, mother dear,that I ought not to be dependent on the pater any longer. He has beenvery good and kind to us all these years; but, still--"

  She hesitated, and Mrs Connor looked at her with anxious tenderness.She had honestly considered the welfare of her two little girls as muchas her own when she decided to marry a second time, and it had been aconstant joy to feel that her expectations had been fulfilled; yet herewas Ruth, her firstborn darling, her right hand in household affairs,actually talking of leaving home!

  "Aren't you happy, Ruth? Have you not been happy all these years? Ithought you were quite content and satisfied."

  She sighed; and Ruth gave an echoing sigh, and answered honestly--

  "Quite happy, darling, as far as you and the pater are concerned. Hecould not have been kinder to us if we had been his very own daughters.But satisfied? Oh no, mother; never satisfied for a long time back!How could I be? I don't want to seem ungrateful; but I'm only twenty-one, and it has been all work and no play, and there are so many, manythings that I want to do, and see, and feel. I've never been to aproper grown-up dance in my life, for if we have been asked we have nothad decent clothes to go in, and we never invite anyone here, so nowpeople have given over asking us even to quiet evenings. I hardly everspeak to a soul outside this house, and I get so tired of it all;--andonly fifteen pounds a year for dress and pocket-money! Remember whatyour allowance was when you were a girl, and all the jolly times youhad, and the parties, and the visits, and the trips abroad,--and thenthink of our lives. It _is_ dull for us, isn't it, dear?"

  Mrs Connor's pale cheeks flushed with a touch of offence. Not havingsufficient insight into girls' natures to understand that there wasnothing either undutiful or unnatural in Ruth's lament, she felt herselfpersonally injured thereby.

  "Mollie is happy--Mollie is content!" she said briefly.

  And Ruth assented with a brief "Yes," and said no more.

  If the difference between Mollie's nature and her own was not patent totheir own mother, it was useless to enlarge upon it. She waited amoment or two to regain composure, then continued quietly--

  "But that was not exactly the point. I did not mean to speak of my owntroubles. What I feel is that when business is so bad, it is not rightfor two grown-up girls to stay at home. You could get on without me,with a little extra help for sewing, and in time I might earn enough,not only to keep myself but to help the others. Honestly, now, don'tyou think I am right? In my place, would you not feel it your duty tothe pater to be independent, and lighten his responsibility, if even bya little?"

  Mrs Connor sat silent, torn between two thoughts--dre
ad of parting fromRuth, and a longing to help the overburdened husband, who had come as arescuer in her own need. No one but herself guessed how it tore herheart to present him with fresh bills, or to ask for money for all thethousand-and-one needs of a growing family. Her very dread andnervousness made her choose inappropriate moments for her requests, andMr Connor's aloofness from the ordinary workaday world made mattersstill more difficult. He probably considered fifteen pounds a year alordly dress allowance for his two step-daughters; certainly he wouldnot have noticed if they had worn the same garments every day for yearson end. His own clothes lasted him for an incredible period, and werealways neatly brushed and folded. It did not occur to him that girlsneeded more change than himself.

  Mrs Connor sat and pondered. It was terrible to think of parting fromRuth, but the strain of making both ends meet was becoming so acute thatsome method of retrenchment must inevitably be found. It is easy forrich people to cut down expenses--to give up carriage and horses,dismiss two or three servants, and indulge in fewer pleasures andexcitements; but it is a very different matter when there are nosuperfluities with which to part, but only, as it seems, the barestnecessaries of life. Mrs Connor's eyes filled slowly with tears as shestretched out her hand and laid it over her daughter's. It was thesignal of capitulation, and Ruth recognised it as such, and felt asinking of the heart.

  "You will let me go, mother?" she asked.

  And Mrs Connor answered brokenly--

  "If I must, I must! You would come home for the holidays: we should notlose you altogether. But oh, Ruth, not yet! Wait until the beginningof the term. Years ago, when things were at their very worst with me,and I did not know where to turn for help, God sent my dear husband totake care of me and you two babies. Perhaps--perhaps something mayhappen again. Perhaps, after all, it may not be necessary!"

  They kissed each other silently, and parted for the night. Half-wayupstairs Ruth remembered that her mother had not once inquired as to thenature of the work she intended to undertake, and smiled whimsically toherself. It was so very characteristic of the irresponsible littlemistress of the household!