CHAPTER NINETEEN.
"THE OGRE."
It was not a successful tea-party; for the fact of Victor's previousacquaintance with Lady Margot, so far from acting as a bond of union,seemed to cast a constraint over all. The meeting between the two hadbeen cool and unnatural. They persistently avoided speaking to orlooking at each other, and it seemed to Mollie's critical ear as if evenLady Margot's voice had altered in tone since she had turned the cornerof the terrace. She chatted away as easily as before, but the friendlymanner was replaced by something colder and more formal. As she satwith veil turned back, the full rays of the sun shining upon her face,it became more obvious than ever that, in spite of chestnut hair andviolet eyes, Lady Margot fell far short of beauty; but, none the less,the eye dwelt upon her in fascinated attention, so graceful was the poseof the small, stag-like head, so finely cut the curve of chin and cheek;while the smallest action, as of lifting a cup to her lips, became averitable joy to behold.
She was the incarnation of grace, and, looking at her, Mollie becameuncomfortably aware of roughened hair, sunburnt hands, and a dozenlittle deficiencies of toilette. Even Ruth suffered from thecomparison, and, despite an obvious effort to sustain her role ashostess, there was a strained, unhappy expression upon her face whichwent to Mollie's heart.
It was a relief to all when Lady Margot rose to take leave; but when sheoffered her hand to Victor in his turn, he said eagerly--
"Mayn't I walk down with you to the vicarage? It is so long since wemet! Please let me take you so far!"
"Oh, certainly, if you can spare the time!" replied Lady Margot with acareless indifference of manner which made her consent almost moreblighting than a refusal.
Victor winced beneath it, but made no comment, and the two tall figureswalked slowly down the terrace. Immediately they had disappeared, Jacksummoned a servant to wheel him into the house, and the girls were leftalone.
They sat silently for a long time, as true friends can do withoutoffence, Ruth gazing ahead with grey eyes which saw nothing of thebeauty of the scene; Mollie glancing from time to time at her troubledface, then turning quickly aside, lest her scrutiny might be observedand resented.
At length Ruth spoke, letting her figure drop back in her chair with agesture of weariness--
"I wonder how it is that nothing is ever as nice as one expects? If wecould have looked forward two months ago, and seen ourselves as we arenow, we should have imagined ourselves the happiest creatures on earth;but I am not. Sometimes it seems quite perfect for a few moments, butsomething always happens to rub off the bloom. Uncle Bernard is cross,or Mrs Wolff stupid, or--or something else! I believe we are not meantto be happy in this world!"
Mollie looked up with a quick flush of dissent.
"Oh, I think that is such a grudging idea! I hate to hear people sayit, and I can't think how they can, when they look round, and see howbright and beautiful everything has been made! If God had meant us tobe dull and sad, would He have made all the flowers different colours,and every season different from the last, and the sunsets and the dawn,and the wonderful changing clouds? It is just a gorgeous feast todelight our eyes of colour; and all the animals are so cheerful, whilethey are young, at least--they skip and dance by instinct, so surely wemust be meant to be happy too!"
"I don't know," Ruth objected slowly. "Animals have not souls andresponsibilities, but we have, and that keeps us serious. The averageman and woman is not happy, if you can judge by appearances. I rememberreading about a man who walked about the streets of London all day longto see how many people he should meet with a smile on their faces. Iforget how many there were--half a dozen, perhaps--terribly few!"
"Well, there would have been thousands, if people were half as gratefulas they should be. Do you know, I sometimes think that what must grieveGod more than almost anything else is that so many people refuse to behappy, in spite of all He can do, and go on forgetting their blessings,and making themselves miserable about little bits of silly worries andbothers day after day. Imagine if you had a child who was alwaysgrizzling, in spite of all your love and care! How would you feel?"
"But a child is a child. We may be meant to be serious."
"You can be serious without being glum. You can be happy without beingthoughtless."
"Ah, Mollie dear," cried Ruth, turning to her sister and holding out herhand with a rush of tenderness--"ah, Mollie dear, happiness is a gift,which you possess and I do not! I am sad even on this lovely day, inthis lovely place. It may be wrong, but I can't help it, yet I don'tthink I am ungrateful."
"You are happy enough as a rule; but you do `sup sorrow with a spoon'when you get the chance, old dear! An hour ago, for instance, the skyseemed remarkably bright, and I could make a shrewd guess at the reasonof this cloud; but, if I did, I expect you would snap off my head for mypains!"
"Yes, I should--I certainly should; so be careful what you say!" criedRuth hastily. Then, as if eager to change the subject--"Here is Jamescoming out with the afternoon letters. I hope there is one from home.It seems ages since we heard!"
"Trix! For me. How lovely! I'll read it aloud!" cried Mollie, tearingopen the envelope, and unfolding several odd sheets torn out of anexercise-book and covered with large, untidy handwriting. Trix'scharacteristic epistles were always welcome, and this afternoon'sspecimen had arrived in the very nick of time to stop an embarrassingdiscussion, and cheer Ruth's drooping spirits.
Mollie lay back in her chair, and began reading in her clear freshtones--
"Darling Moll,--While you are basking in the lap of luxury, this poor critter is snatching a few precious moments from `prep' to answer your last epistle, and give what news there is. First and foremost, mother is as well as possible, and goes about with an `open your mouth and shut your eyes, and in your mouth you'll find a prize' expression, which puzzles her friends into fits. Poor mum simply dies to tell them that one of her daughters will shortly become a millionaire! But she shuts her lips up tight, and looks more mysterious than ever, because, of course, there is a chance that it may not come off. Don't let me ever see your faces again if it doesn't, that's all!
"Fancy you having all those fine clothes! I can't imagine how you would look respectably attired. Kindly remember Beatrice Olivia for any cast-off fineries. Hair-ribbons especially desired. I've nothing left but an old Navy-blue, twisted up like a tape.
"We had a general intelligence examination at school this week. Stupid old things! One question was, `What is the complementary colour to red?' I had never heard of a complementary colour in my life, and I was just racking my brains to think what to say, when my eyes happened to light on Miss Smith's carrots. `Ah, ha,' thinks I, `I have it!' So I put down `auburn,' and was jolly well pleased with myself until lunch-time came, when I was telling Gladys my answers, and Miss Bateson heard me, and went into perfect fits! It seems complementary means something idiotic about two colours making a white light--as if they ever could! Anyway, I think my answer was very pretty and tactful--don't you? and I hope it will soften Smithy's hard heart.
"Another silly question was, `Order a dinner for a class of twelve Board-school children, and state what quantities of each article are required.' One girl ordered a pound of roast beef and a pound of potatoes for each child, and ten and a half yards of Swiss-roll for the whole class! I ordered the `scrag-end of the neck.' Haven't the least idea what it means, but I thought it sounded cheap. I likewise gave them suet dumplings for pudding. Hope they liked them!
"Is Mr Melland's ankle getting better? Have you had any more callers, invitations, rides, excursions, or excitements generally? Please answer my questions next time, and don't ignore them, as you generally do. Drummond had a fine adventure yesterday. Another small boy dared him to stick his head between our railings, and he did, but it wouldn't come out! He pushed, and the small boy pulled, and a crowd collected right across the pavement, making kind suggestions,
and commenting on the size of his ears. Whenever he tried to get back, the railings caught them, and they stuck out like sails. Finally his pride gave way, and he howled, and a friendly policeman coming along, poked the rails apart with a stick, or did something or other, and out he came with a rush. He looked very crushed in every sense all the evening, so we hope it may be a lesson to him.
"The next-door girls have new hats--mustard straw, draped with green, and roses under the brim. It seems so sad to reflect that the poor dears probably imagine they look quite nice!
"How is the Ogre? Does he still live in his den, and growl when you appear? I should be very glad he did shut himself up, when he is so cross and disagreeable!
"Well, ta-ta, my darlings! I miss you at home, but I can't say I pine for your return, for it's quite pleasant to be Number One for a change, and boss Attica and the Muz. Take care of yourselves, behave prettily, and don't forget the hair-ribbons.--Your loving Trix."
"Wild child!" said Ruth, smiling. "She does write the most absurdletters! Better tear that up at once, Mollie, or burn it when you getinto the house. You have such a trick of leaving things about, and itisn't safe. Uncle Bernard might--"
She started violently, and Mollie jumped to her feet as a harsh voiceinterrupted the sentence--
"Uncle Bernard has already had the pleasure of hearing the way in whicha member of your family writes of him to a visitor in his own house.Ideas of loyalty seem to have altered since my young days, when it wasconsidered a breach of decent feeling to eat a man's salt and speakslightingly of him behind his back!"
Ruth sat silent, crimson to the roots of her hair; Mollie shuffledmiserably from one foot to another, but did not shrink from the oldman's angry gaze.
"But how did you hear, Uncle Bernard? Have you been sitting behind thisopen window, listening to us all the while we have been talking? Idon't think it is quite fair to do that."
"Don't you, indeed! I happened to be reading in my armchair, when youcame and planted your chairs immediately outside. I was the first-comer, you observe, not yourselves, and I cannot say I was interestedenough to listen to your conversation until my attention was attractedby the description of myself. I presume the very descriptive title wasoriginally your invention?"
He planted his stick on the ground, and stared fixedly in Mollie's face.The grey eyes fell before his, and she answered hesitatingly--
"I'm--I'm afraid it was."
"And do you think it was good manners to write in such a way of yourhost?"
"No, I don't; I think it was hateful. But--"
"But?"
Mollie took a step forward, and laid a timid hand on his arm.
"But, in a sort of way, it is true. You shut yourself up, and you dogrowl, and even when you are kind, you pretend to be cross. We havetried and tried to be friends with you, but you won't let us. We havesaid over and over again that we felt as if we were living in an hotel,and it has been a trouble to us all. I don't wonder you feel angry; butdon't you think you are a wee bit in the wrong yourself?"
Mr Farrell stared down at the eager face, the wide grey eyes, thelittle hand upon his arm, then deliberately drew himself away, sayingcoldly--
"You would make a good lawyer, my dear. You have a clever trick ofevading an awkward question, and shifting the blame from your ownshoulders. You will excuse me if I say that I can scarcely consent todiscuss my own conduct with a girl of your years. The point I mentionedwas your own conduct in writing disrespectfully of your host."
"I know, and I've said already that it was horrid; but it was not sohorrid as you think. Trix is my sister, and we all have a habit ofexaggerating and using stronger terms than we really mean. We have ahabit of giving nicknames, too. They are not complimentary as a rule,but we don't mean to be unkind. If you read some of Trix's otherletters, you would see that we have not been altogether ungrateful.Will you read them? I have them all upstairs, and could bring them downin a moment."
"You are very good. Judging from the specimen I have heard, I think Iwould rather decline the honour."
"Yes; but you ought not to decline! It isn't a question of enjoyment;it's a question of justice to Ruth and to me. You accuse us of beingdisloyal and ungrateful, so it's only fair you should hear our defence.I will bring down the letters, and you can read them at your leisure.They may bore you a little, but you will see that we are not so bad asyou think, and that we have not always been uncomplimentary."
She walked hastily towards the house, leaving Ruth and the old manalone. He stood leaning on his stick, staring fixedly at her with hissunken eyes; but her head remained persistently drooped, the dark lasheslying on the flushed cheeks.
In the tension of that silence she could hear the beating of her ownheart, and her ears strained nervously for the sound of returningfootsteps. She had not long to wait. With a clatter, Mollie camescrambling out of the library window, the letters in her hand.
"There's our defence! Please read them before you scold us any more."
Mr Farrell took the letters, thrust them into his pocket, then stoodsilently, as if waiting for something more.
Mollie stared at him curiously, but he paid no attention to her; hisgaze was fixed on Ruth's bent figure and downcast face. At length,surprised at the prolonged silence, she lifted her eyes with afrightened glance, and immediately Uncle Bernard broke into speech.
"Yes, I was waiting for you! Have you nothing to say on your ownaccount?" he demanded sternly. "You seem content to sit silently andlet your sister fight your battles. Is it because you are innocent ofhaving offended in the same way yourself?"
Ruth's cheeks flushed to an even deeper rose.
"I," she stammered--"I--I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"
Mr Farrell turned to re-enter the house.
"Ah," he said coldly," so it was cowardice, after all! I understand.It is an interesting discovery!"
The Fortunes of the Farrells Page 19
